#man her voice sounded incredible and powerful

[apricotdraws]

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. angst; smut (p in v unprotected sex; handjob - logan receiving; oral - reader & logan receiving). canonically bisexual reader. mentions of pregnancy attempts. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: in the Void, after leaving the other dead in your own timelines, you and Logan are reunited.

words: 8.5k.

notes: this was inspired by not your man by @studioghibelli and the worst logan by @coweye! please go and read both these fics and show their authors some love, they are both incredibly talented writers who deserve it! dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

The past couple of days have been a lot. 

To be honest, anything that isn’t sitting at a bar drinking the place dry is a lot to Logan nowadays. He’s used to low lights, rumbling conversation around him, the fuzzier end of consciousness. Even now he aches for a drink, knowing he’ll have to wake up sober next to the asshole in red he spent the night putting down in that fucking minivan. 

He hopes, at least, he has been met with all the surprises that this place can afford him. 

Ah. But that’d be too fucking easy, right?

That Cajun bastard’s liquor sits comfortably in the cradle of his palm and he chases away lucidity one swig at a time. Tries to block out the half-baked plan Wade is concocting with the other poor bastards who have been stuck here, even if it’s all probably pointless. He only chimes in to laugh at their hope. 

Then Elektra turns, withering pity in her eyes, and seems to properly assess him for the first time. 

“They’re gonna be so disappointed when they see you.”

“Who?” he snorts, past the point of caring that he’d disappoint anyone. It’s then that Elektra hits him like a fucking freight train with just one word spilling from her lips: your name. 

Logan feels a flood of memories come back to him. Ones he’s spent too long trying to drink away. The early morning when you’d hide under the blankets together, your hand cradling his face and letting the whole world consist of just the two of you. The stolen kisses in quiet corridors so the students at the mansion wouldn’t catch you and start silly little rumours. 

Him holding your lifeless body in his arms surrounded by the rubble of what used to be your bedroom, your powers unable to save you. 

He doesn’t have anything to say, merely spitting vitriol to anyone who tries to speak to him, even that damn kid who still prefers the other dead Logan to him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s a fucking mess, worth less than nothing, and that Logan was a hero. 

He retreats in the evening to lick his wounds or, hopefully, drown them. People keep trying to fucking talk to him and he does not want it. Yet they’re fucking relentless, like the Void is perfect at creating gut punch after gut punch for him. Laura walks away into the darkness after successfully making him feel like shit - not that it’s difficult these days - and when he hears more footsteps he assumes it’s Wade coming to harass him about tomorrow. 

“Oh, will you fuck off - ?” he snarls, but the sight of you there, half lit by a dying fire with orange dancing on your skin, oh, it just kills any venom he can muster dead in his throat. 

Logan is looking at a ghost and he has never been less prepared for anything in his long, long life. 

Your mouth has fallen open into a soft “o” as you look at him, brows knitted together as you take in every imperfect aspect of his being. 

“Lo?” you whisper. Your voice hasn’t changed. 

“Logan,” he replies, gruff, unsure if he’s confirming or correcting. But fuck does it sound good to hear his name out of your mouth again, even if it’s just a syllable. 

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and take a seat on one of the logs which has been pulled up as a makeshift bench. He tries not to watch the way the fire lights up your eyes. There’s an agonisingly long pause before you finally attempt conversation.  

“Long time no see, huh?” you ask with a weak grin. Fuck. It’s like a dagger. Your humour was always something which endeared you to him. Unlike Wade you never took it too far, cultivating your sincerity with your silliness in order to grow yourself into peoples’ hearts. 

His heart especially, and now it aches. 

He grunts, because he can’t bring himself to actually say anything. Can barely look at you. You keep talking, either not noticing or barrelling on regardless. 

“You know, when the gang said that you were here… I didn’t believe it. Thought there was no way a fucking Wolverine would fall into this place.”

“Let me guess,” he sneers, taking another long drag of bourbon, “I’m not what you expected.”

You laugh, an easy little thing, and part of him hates you for it. For reminding him of how it sounds. 

“I mean, you’re not. But not because of what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” It comes out as a snap, lip curling back over his teeth in disgust. You do not look bothered in the least, just crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. 

“Because I know you, Logan. Knew my Logan too. Bet you’re spiralling, making yourself out to be some kinda disappointment. Well you’re not. You could never be.”

He desperately wants to argue but he simply doesn’t have the gumption. Besides, it’s nice to hear someone say something kind about him after all these years. 

“So,” you say after another one of those painful pauses, “considering every time you look my way you wince, you have a me in your timeline?”

He laughs without any humour in it, stares into the flames for so long they start to hurt his eyes. 

“Yeah. I did.”

“Ahh. ‘Did’. I died, then?”

You say it so flippantly, he can’t fucking stand it. 

“Mmm.”

“Makes sense. Don’t think I’d leave you in any timeline, so the only way I could see us ending would be if I wasn’t there any more.” You sigh, stretching your legs out to warm them. “Can I ask how it happened? Call it morbid curiosity.”

He absolutely does not want to talk about this. But, also… it’s you. Maybe not the you that was his, exactly, but it is you. Perhaps you deserve to know. He tries to stay dispassionate, as if he is a doctor quietly recounting the facts of death to a family member. 

“Mansion was attacked. Everyone died, including you. I wasn’t there. We’d had a fight, I went out drinking. When I got back you were gone.” He flexes his fist around the neck of the bottle, trying to avoid shattering it, but desperately needing to hold onto something. 

“Oh.” The fire crackles loudly. “What did we fight about?”

This will kill him. He will die in this Void. 

“You wanted to do another round of IVF. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.”

The words settle like a cloud of choking ash over the two of you. He takes a long drink. What a fucking failure he is, couldn’t even knock you up properly. 

“Fuck, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it help if I tell you I probably wasn’t that mad? I’ve never been really angry with you, you know. My Logan… we used to bicker a lot, we both had short fuses, but it never meant anything in the long run.”

He doesn’t know if it does help or not. Is it better to know that you died hating him, making it easier? Or that you were snuffed out while loving him the whole time?

“Your turn,” he says, because he can’t bear to continue this particular line of conversation, but for some reason he wants to keep talking to you. Your voice is a comfort he thought he’d long since lost. 

“You wanna see a picture?” you ask, a grin pulling at the sides of your mouth. No, he doesn’t, but when you reach into your jacket to grab the photograph, he finds himself holding his hand out to take it. You slowly float it over, telekinesis absolutely unnecessary - but you always did use it to make the little things easier. 

It’s old. Frayed and disintegrating at the edges, a thing which has been held and looked at over and over again. Faded slightly despite the fact that you clearly try to take good care of it. 

“Oh,” he says, eyes widening. You chuckle. 

“I know.”

Because, despite the lack of facial hair and addition of a decent rack, the woman with her arm around you in the photo is him. 

The Logan in the picture is about as butch as they come, decked out in a Wolverine’s trademark flannel and leather. One of her arms is wrapped around you to keep you close against her, the other playfully flipping the camera off with a middle claw, and she’s laughing with a joy he hasn’t seen on his own face for years. You’re pressing a kiss into her cheek and hanging onto one of her thick biceps. The two of you exude happiness. 

“She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She could be a mean cunt sometimes, smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, but fuck we were the centres of each other’s world.” You let out a long sigh and hold your hand out - Logan goes to give you the photo but instead you gesture for the bourbon. He passes it and you and you drink deeply, gratefully. “I’d been in a string of bad relationships. Guys who took me for granted, women who were toxic but I didn’t realise until I was in too deep. Then she came along and well… she was a fucking angel in plaid.” 

Logan’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the photo. He’s pretty sure there’s a near-identical one back in his timeline. 

“Our mansion was attacked too. She died getting the kids out.”

Fuck. Fuck. No, he can’t do this. He can’t face the way he should have died. He really is the fucking worst Wolverine. He snatches the bottle back from you, you give no resistance, and he polishes it off. The photo flutters to the ground. 

“I think it’s time you fucked off,” he growls out. You roll your eyes, fucking roll your eyes at him, something his version of you did on pretty much a daily basis, and the knife in his heart twists further. 

“Well, Logan, I’m not gonna do that. Because this conversation is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t. He does. He wants you to disappear forever. He wants to hold you close and kiss you, beg you never to leave again. He hates you. He loves you so, so much. 

He’s such a ruined man that it is laughable. 

“So what, I come along and just replace your little girlfriend? First Wolverine that you manage to get your hands on; is that what you’re hoping for?”

You bark out a laugh. It echoes around the trees. There are tears in your eyes when he turns to look. 

“Girlfriend? Logan, you were my fucking wife!” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that the laughter engulfs you, peals of giggles that double you over. You hold your head in your hands and it soon turns to bitter sobs. He wants to reach out and hold you, apologise for ever making you sad. He tries to get any lingering drops from the bourbon instead. 

“We got married at the mansion. Charles officiated. The kids made us cards. We didn’t get a honeymoon because we didn’t have the fucking time. We had five years. Five really happy years and you know what? We wanted a baby too. We were getting a donor lined up! And then when the attack happened you were the one getting all the kids out I begged you to come with us but you were too fucking good, you had to stay behind and make sure nobody followed us. And it cost you your fucking life. They ripped you apart Logan. I know because all I found of you was your head and your wedding ring. I didn’t even get time to mourn because I had a dozen children to fucking take care of! And I did because I knew that’s what you’d want me to do. It’s what you died for. So I lived in the fucking woods with all of them for years, and they were my family, and I made sure they were as safe and happy as I could make them. And you know what happened then? When they were all grown? A fucking TVA agent appears out of nowhere and tells me, ‘oops! Sorry! Your Logan wasn’t supposed to die, it was meant to be you!’ So they fucking throw me in this hellhole to rot away into nothing and I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry that when I heard you were here I got my fucking hopes up that you might be happy to see me, because if there was one person who understood all of the shit I’m going through then it might be you.” You throw your head back up to stare him dead in the eyes. “And it’s pathetic because you know what? Even after all this? I’m still not angry with you. I’m still happy you’re here. Because seeing you makes me feel better, despite everything.”

It’s a long-ass rant, and your words hang in the air after you’re done. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He opens his mouth to apologise but the words just won’t come out. Because, yeah, if he really dissects himself and looks at the parts laid bare, he’s glad you’re here too. 

He reaches down to rescue the photo before an ember lands on it, gingerly extending into you. When you take it back his fingers brush yours. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves. 

“Who was the donor?” he asks eventually. That does a lot to alleviate the mood, and you smile through tear-streaked cheeks. 

“You might not like the answer.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was Scott.”

“The two of you got on okay! Butted heads a lot but he was always a good friend to us. Plus it was cheaper than going through an agency.”

He growls to himself and it makes you laugh, but properly this time. Things have started to soften and it’s… nice. To be like this with you again. You pause for a moment, stuck on whether to ask a question; hesitate over whether it’s a good idea, then barrel on regardless. 

“Can I ask a weird question?”

“You’re dangerously close to sounding like Wade,” he replies. You groan at that idea. 

“Ugh. Fucking Deadpools, man. We get one come along every now and then and trash the place before fucking off again. Apparently there’s like, a tribe of them out there somewhere.” You give a full-body shudder. “Imagine. No, it’s nothing like that, I guess. Can you… can you take off your glove? Left one.”

He has a horrible feeling about this but when you ask so nicely, that air of vulnerability around you, well it just seeps into his fractures and breaks him open. It takes a moment but he does, flexing his bare hand in the cool air. 

You reach around your neck and pull at a thin chain he’d barely noticed. The ring at the end slides up from where it’s been resting on your sternum under your shirt, glinting as you remove it. 

“Give me your hand.”

This is a bad idea. 

He does anyway. 

You slip the ring on his fourth finger, softly twisting it to fit over his knuckle as you go. It is the perfect size. 

“Will you look at that,” you mumble, not releasing your grip on him. “She… you always told me your hands were kinda big because of the claws. Like I cared. One of my favourite parts about you.”

Your fingers trace along his, finding the spaces between them and gently slotting your hands together. Logan isn’t sure if he’s the one who closes the grasp or if it’s you, but a beat passes and suddenly you’re holding hands. 

He’s not done this with you for so fucking long. An age of aching which is relieved at the feeling of your palm up against his. 

“So now what?” he eventually has to ask. You smile. 

“Well, I mean, your Deadpool is probably gonna get us all killed tomorrow…”

“Ugh. Don’t call him ‘my Deadpool’.”

“… so I’d quite like to just spend tonight holding your hand, if that’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice final night to me.”

When you hit him with those soft eyes, what other fucking choice does he have?

You don’t speak much for the rest of the night. Eventually the fire dies out. Laura comes to seek you out the next morning, and is surprised to find you lying side by side with this other Logan, the most deeply asleep she’s ever seen you, fingers laced together so tightly with his it looks like it might hurt. 

He comes to the fight, of course; dredging up what little courage he has left in him in order to prove he’s not totally pathetic. You catch his eye and smile so wide that he feels likes he’s done at least one good fucking thing in his life. He hears the sound of you ripping into people with an enthusiasm he hasn’t witnessed for years. The last glimpse of you he gets before he jumps through the portal is you using your telekinesis to tear a man’s head off and he does not want to examine himself too closely when it sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. 

They leave you all there to face the end, but everyone knew that’s what you were all getting into. There has been a net gain and loss of nil. He never had you again. Not really. Not for anything longer than a night, and maybe that will be enough. 

Yes. That’s enough. It has to be. 

When he tells Wade he’ll go into that room, when he volunteers to die, he does it with the knowledge he’ll be doing something good, finally. Something you’d be proud of him for doing. And with you waiting for him on the other end of oblivion it really doesn’t seem too bad a fate. 

But then Wade does what he always does and fucks up his perfectly meticulous plan, and they both make it through, so he has to keep going. 

When Wade asks the TVA agent to help the group of you they left behind, Logan is sure to add on that people should get the opportunity to go back to their timelines - surely it’s what you’d want (this oddly selfless request has Wade raising an eyebrow which he ignores). After all, why wouldn’t you want to go back? It’s where you belong. Where you’ll be happiest. Putting things nice and neatly back into their place after this whole fucked-up venture. 

He doesn’t have you, but he’s still alive and wants to be, and that’s something. A lot more than he’s had for a long time now to be honest. 

His life becomes this strange little thing that’s wrapped up with Wade’s. He sleeps on his pull-out sofa until he has somewhere proper to put down his roots. Tries to lay off the booze as much as he can even if each day is a fucking struggle. Makes steps towards finding a proper place for himself; even gets a job on the door at the bar across the street. It’s okay. One step at a time. He can put himself back together like that. 

Imagine his surprise, then, when a week later there’s a knock at the door. 

He assumes it’s Al who’s forgotten her keys, or is too drunk to fish them out of her purse after bingo, so opens it without really thinking. 

The second time you’ve nearly stopped his heart in seven days. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Oh,” is what he can manage. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your go-to. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, followed you back, I suppose. The TVA were gonna send me home but I asked where you were and when the answer was ‘here’, well… didn’t make sense for me to be any place else.”

He blinks at you. After a beat of silence he can tell you hate, no doubt wondering if your choice was the wrong one, he lifts his hand to cup your face. You stiffen for a second and then nestle into his palm. 

“You’re real,” he states. You press your hand to his. 

“I am.”

He pulls you into his chest and you are more than willing to come. He feels the way you bury yourself into him, nose first, remembering what he smells like. Your arms wrap around him so tight it’s like you’re scared he will disappear when it should be the other way round: if anyone is dreaming it’s him. You bothered coming here for him. You uprooted your whole life for it. 

He could hold you forever but the neighbours are nosy and the apartment is a mess. He presses his mouth close to your ear. 

“Wanna get a coffee?”

You pull back to meet his gaze. 

“I’d love that.” Your eyes drop and you pull a face. “Oh, uhh, you might wanna get changed first, though.”

He looks down and realises what shirt he’s wearing before letting out a groan, which gets you chuckling. 

“Wilson’s letting me borrow his shirts until my first paycheck comes in. Just to slum around the apartment.”

“Oh, so you’re not ‘employee of the month at the dick sucking factory’?” You ask, reading the slogan on his tee.

“No. Looks like Wilson won out over me.”

The fact he’s made a joke hangs in the air for a moment and you burst into laughter, real actual laughter, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever heard.

He grabs the only plain shirt Wade has left out, slices off the sleeves just because, and grabs twenty dollars from his roommate’s wallet. Soon enough you’re sitting in the little café near his building. The sky is grey and overcast, just threatening to rain but not quite bothering, and the two of you are tucked away in a corner table while Taylor Swift plays over the sound system. 

Logan does not like that he knows it’s Taylor Swift. This is what living with Wade has done to him. 

You watch him with affectionate eyes across the table, making sure nobody is paying close attention before using your telekinesis to stir the little metal spoon around in your latte. You nod at his mug. 

“You take coffee the same way as she did. Boring and black.”

Logan’s nostrils flare a little in a laugh. 

“Yeah, and you take yours the same way too. So fucking dense with syrup that it’s not coffee at all.”

“Oh you were always such a coffee snob! ‘Babe you gotta try it plain first so you can appreciate the aroma’,” you say, putting on a gruff affectation as a parody of his voice. 

“You do need to try it plain f—”

He’s interrupted when a sugar lump floats into the air from the pot in the middle of the table and launches itself at him, bouncing off of his pectoral. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Real mature, bub.”

“Grouch.”

“Contrarian.”

“I’m not a—” you pause, realising there’s no way to win against that accusation, and grin at him instead. 

“Where are you staying?” he asks after a long drink. It’s not booze. He kinda wishes it was booze. But also, he knows it’s best not to go down that path again, for everyone’s sake.

“The mansion. Turns out I died in this timeline too, so you and I are two for two here” - there’s a hint of a smile at your own macabre observation - “but they were using my room for storage so they just let me have it back.” You grimace a little. “It’s been weird. It’s my space but it’s not, y’know?”

“I get that.”

He probably gets it better than anybody. Nice to have someone to share this strange, singular feeling with. 

“You should come around. Laura’s there too, I know she’d be glad to see you too.”

“She settling in okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll take a while, but everyone has been really understanding and kind. I think she’ll thrive here.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You give him a smile that lets him know you believe it. Your eyes cast over him, taking in this new, slightly more settled Logan, falling still when you see what’s pressed against his fourth knuckle. 

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

“Oh,” he replies, surprised. Flexes his fingers as he looks at it. It’s been so comfortable there, so utterly unobtrusive and right, he hasn’t even noticed. “You want it back?”

A beat passes as you consider the question. Coffee is sipped. Another sugar added and stirred, perhaps just for show. 

“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I kinda like seeing you wear it but… if you were gonna have my ring, I’d want it to be one that was meant for you.”

He lets that idea settle between the two of you. Suddenly, slowly, you’re reaching forward, laying your smaller hand over his thick, rough one. 

“Logan. I want to be with you. In every way you’ll have me, all of it. I don’t know if it was fate or god or plain luck that threw us back together but I’m certain I don’t wanna waste this opportunity. I’d love you in every lifetime, in every timeline. I can’t be without you ever again, I think it would just kill me - and if I know you, you feel the same.”

He doesn’t even bother arguing because he does. When you turned up on his doorstep a scant couple of hours ago a part of his soul had been healed; your existence like kintsugi to piece him back together. A man made of adamantium and gold. 

“I’d like that,” he manages. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes glimmer with a hope which he’s not been privy to for a long time now. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay then,” you say with a smile, and drink your coffee. 

The two of you do not take it slow. How does one take it slow when your soulmate comes back into your life? You are not exactly the same person he once knew, but you understand each other in every way which matters. Your souls fit together like puzzle pieces. The two of you are whole again. 

Then again, perhaps he doesn’t need the version of you he used to have. Maybe, now, he needs this you - rougher around the edges, a little older and more wary, a fit which is better for him. Someone who can put up with his bullshit as Al once bluntly put it. 

You barely spend a night apart. You stay over with him on Wade’s pullout (inciting an input of, “something the two of you had better do, we can’t afford a kid on my income—!” before Logan had hurled a water bottle at him) meeting up with him after his shift is done in the small hours, getting something to eat at one of the greasy spoons which remain open. He devours full plates of fatty food; you stick to slices of pie which you feed him bites of from your fork. When you get back to the apartment you cuddle up on the uncomfortable mattress which folds from the sofa and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

He sleeps pretty well nowadays. 

The two of you only realise you haven’t kissed yet when you do it for the first time. You’re making a coffee run, tugging on his jacket because you like the smell of cigar smoke and it’s thicker than yours. A little act of intimacy which has become commonplace. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Boring,” you make an exaggeration of a sigh, before leaning over the back of the sofa to press your lips to his. He automatically leans into it, tilting his head up so that he can meet you; it’s a chaste little thing, a peck between two people who will only be parted for a moment, but you pull back in surprise when you realise what’s just happened. 

“Oh!” you say with delight, eyes sparkling.

Your hand slips around his neck to cradle him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You gently pull him back for another. Longer this time. Lips slip together, moving carefully in something a little deeper. When you break for a moment it’s Logan who pulls you back. This third kiss is on the brink of hungry. He slides his tongue to swipe against your mouth and you let out a happy little hum at the intrusion. 

His arm curls around your back. With a little tug he pulls you over the back of the sofa and into his lap, making you yelp with glee. His mouth returns to yours, crushing, greedy for any little noises you’re able to make. You relax into it and are happy to take whatever he gives you. 

Wade finds you making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, coffee forgotten. He does not let Logan live it down for a week. 

The apartment is fine, but not a long term solution. Wade and Al are constant presences that stops the two of you being fully at ease together. Logan knows that invitation to go to the mansion is always there, but it’s a while before he takes it - he really isn’t sure what he’ll feel, being back at a place he last saw burned to the ground because of his pigheadedness. Might just break him all over again. 

But ah, when you nock your fingers in the spaces between his, he can face anything. 

One night, exhausted and full of diner food, he agrees to go back to yours - the two of you have had a late night coffee meaning you’re still a tiny bit buzzed, a little too much to fall asleep on the pullout. Instead you get a taxi to yours, near enough, tipping the driver well when he drops you in the middle of a random street and choosing to walk the last minutes hand-in-hand.

The mansion is quiet. Everyone is mostly asleep. And Logan does feel strange being back here, but it isn’t a bad strange. Just another aspect of this new life he has to compartmentalise. 

You drag him through low-lit halls, confident in the steps which will lead you back to your room; he recalls a similar journey from his own timeline in the night you first hooked up, smuggling him to your bed down the corridors all wandering hands and breathless kisses and giddy giggles; but there’s no part about you that wants to hide this. 

You’d show your Logan off to the world. 

You’ve tried to make the room your own, he can tell. It’s pretty big and spacious. Good view. Has an ensuite which he plans on monopolising. He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in just his boxers, arms holding you to him so he can feel every part of your body against his. His chest hair bristles between your shoulder blades and you hum contentedly. 

He agrees to come to breakfast the next morning and, to their credit, people are good at not staring. The members of the team he recognises from his past keep their distance unless he seeks to close it. Hank gives him a smile. 

“Good to see you, Logan.”

“Mmm,” he manages. Laura comes down to grab something to eat and lights up when she sees him. She gives him a hug which skews on the side of awkward but he’s grateful to receive it, and he can see how pleased you are watching this development. 

He comes around more and more often. 

Less time spent at the apartment with Wade - who constantly complains about the fact and Logan cannot tell if he’s sincere or not - more living in the pocket of you. He helps you sort out the furniture in the room so that there’s more space; you’re moving a chest of drawers to another corner together when a photo falls out from behind them. Trapped against the wall for years. Long forgotten. 

“Oh,” you say, lifting it up and bringing it to your hand with a wave. Your face twists into something strange and bittersweet, a mask Logan isn’t quite sure how to comprehend, but he quickly understands why when he joins you. 

It’s a picture of the two of you. 

Not exactly the two of you, of course; the ones of you who lived in this timeline. Logan is posing on the back of his Harley, you’re propped up on the seat next to him with your head thrown back in laughter. The two of you look… young. This must have been taken when you first started going out. 

Your thumb caresses the photo in a movement he’s familiar with. 

“Huh. Looks like we were together here, too. Who’da thunk it,” you mutter.

He slips an arm around you then because he’s feeling oddly sentimental. It’s reassuring. No matter what timeline it is, there’s a you who loves him and a him who loves you. A simple and irrefutable truth, like the fact that the sun rises every day or the moon moves the tides. 

“Apparently Magneto got me in the late noughties. Feels like a bit of a pathetic way to go, but diverging timelines, I guess.”

Logan knows that in this timeline, he stuck around for a while after. Poor bastard, he thinks. Having to live those years without you. That’s a misery he understands all too fucking well. 

But not any more. 

You leave the photo on your dresser, loathe to throw it away, and continue moving furniture to make room for the TV you just bought. Logan hates sharing the one in the living room, especially when the hockey’s on.

Eventually Logan is spending so much time with you he’s barely living at Wade’s any more. You’ve suggested they’d be happy to have him back in the mansion for a “teaching job” like you have, though he knows there’s never much teaching involved, more helping kids learn to defend themselves without too much collateral damage. Still it’s a fair chunk of change better than his current miserable doorman’s salary and it means he’d be living at more sociable hours.

Plus he’d get to move in with you, an idea you’re both secretly happy about. 

So he hands in his notice at the bar and packs the scant few belongings he has at Wilson’s into a cardboard box from Bad Dragon, which is strangely the only one Wade could find him (“god Peanut that’s so weird, oh well!”). Looks around the apartment he’s called home for some time, feels not entirely pleased to be leaving it. 

“And remember sweetie, if it all goes incredibly wrong and you realise the place you’ve belonged the whole time is on my undoubtedly piss-soaked pull out sofa bed, Al and I will be happy to have you back with minimal taunting.”

Logan fixes him with a look. 

“Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word is odd coming from his mouth but not insincere. Wade goes to say something that’s no doubt stupid and inappropriate, however he softens at the last moment. 

“Any time. Go get ‘em, tiger, I’m rooting for you.”

You’ve moved your stuff so he can have a side of the closet, and drawers in the dresser, and he resumes his life with you. 

It takes only a couple of days for him to settle and realise how much he prefers this. Living with you properly. How, really, he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. How he wants to be there for every second, hear every laugh which drips from you, comfort you whenever something threatens to ruin your happiness. 

He falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms every night. Wakes up with you there. Pretty fucking perfect if you ask him. 

There’s nothing special about the morning when you first make love except for the fact it’s the morning when you first make love. It’s a border the two of you haven’t quite crossed yet. Almost as if you’re both afraid to make the commitment, like it may break you apart; there’s perhaps an underlying fear that you’re being unfaithful to your partners from your own timelines. That being together like that dishonours their memory. 

It’s a salve, then, that the longer you’ve been together the more you realise that you don’t love each other as a stand-in for the ones who died, but entirely on each other’s own merits. He doesn’t look at you and see the body he held in the manor. He sees someone who he’d protect, give his life to, become a dog for because he’s utterly in love with this you, the one who was so happy to find him in the Void, the one who patched him back together when he was at his most broken. 

There’s nothing to second guess in this relationship. It is the most solid foundation he’s ever had, and from the way you look at him every morning as if he’s hung the stars, you feel the same. 

That morning he’s holding you particularly tight. It’s a Sunday, the quietest day at the mansion, and the two of you are in bed later than you’d usually be. You’re both awake because you’re pressing more and more into each other’s bodies, nestling together like nesting dolls. His arm slung around your waist, hips against the swell of your ass. 

You shift slightly and he feels his cock harden in interest. Why wouldn’t it? Most beautiful person in the whole world right here in his bed. He might be old but he’s not a fool. 

He’s aware your hips are moving again, pressing yourself into him harder. He lets out a quiet, gruff laugh. 

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Mmm, maybe I am, Howlett. What are you gonna do about it?”

You squeak with laughter as he surges upwards, pinning your hands to the mattress either side of your head so that he can look down at you. Such a pretty picture beneath him. Hair all fanned out, eyes sleepy and sexy, ready to take in the syrupy-slow pace of the morning. 

His lips press into yours softly but firm. You hum into the kiss, slipping your wrists from his grasp so that you can wrap your arms around his broad neck and tug him closer. Your legs slowly match pace, looping at his waist. His cock is free to press against your clothed core now and he doesn’t waste a second of the opportunity; he grinds down, never letting it distract from the kiss for a second, even smiling into it when he can feel the blunt head of his dick catch your clit. You gasp. 

“Logan…”

Oh yes, that’s it. That’s the voice. He could listen to you say his name a million times and it would still be the sweetest sound in the whole fucking universe. 

He kisses you again and again, getting more fierce now. Tongues slide together and you moan into his mouth. Teeth clack with the force of it. He wants every sense to be drowned in you. Your smell, your taste, your touch. You’re holding him so tightly it’s like you’re worried you’ll just float away from the bliss of it all.

He’d never let that happen. He’ll keep you right here in this bed, forever, if you’d let him. 

With a display of telekinesis he’s not expecting, Logan finds himself on his back. You stare down at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he’s never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask breathlessly, and he finds himself huffing out a laugh because fuck, as if you’d ever have to ask. You take his meaning and giggle before you start to make your way down the plain of his chest. A kiss dropped on the top of his pectoral, followed by you moving that sweet mouth around one of his nipples to play with it. Logan huffs and arches into your touch like a schoolgirl. You use your teeth to continue the trail, tracing around his abs - which have become less pronounced ever since he started eating right, and you’ve often expressed your pleasure at this fact - mouthing at where his muscles shape his Apollo’s belt. 

Your hand goes to palm his cock through his boxers and he has to make a concentrated effort not to come. It’s been a while since he was touched properly like this, and though he used to be able to go all night when he was a younger man, he truly doesn’t know if he has it in him today.

You seem delighted by this development though. Holding his gaze you slowly drag his waistband down to his thighs, watching in delight as his cock bobs up, half-hard. You take him in hand and pump him lazily, languidly, enjoying every stroke which makes him firmer. You prop yourself up on your free arm, elbow on the mattress and palm cradling your jaw, eyes on him like he’s the show of the century.  

“Handsome, handsome, handsome man,” you sigh, dreamily. 

“Old man,” he chuckles. 

“Not mutually exclusive.”

He has to concede that with the way you’re looking at him like you might eat him alive.  

When he feels your mouth around his cock his brain almost short-circuits. It’s warm and wet and willing, your tongue gliding along the thick vein you find there before caressing his head. Logan grunts, fisting the blankets, and a familiar snik has you looking up. You grin around his shaft when you see his claws have popped out from the intensity of his gripping hands. 

Pleased, you continue with your work. You bob up and down as the fire builds in his belly, a low heat which is soon bubbling over when he feels you press the tip of your tongue into his slit, humming with pleasure as the taste of his pre floods you. Logan is aware he’s beginning to tighten in a way which suggests that if you don’t stop now things will be over entirely too soon.

Claws retracting, his hand comes to grab your hair. His cock is enveloped in the sweet velvet of your throat, in fact he can feel himself brush against your uvula, and when you look up at him like that he almost gives up completely. He powers through though, carefully guiding you up and off. You wipe your spit-soaked mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Oh… was it not…?” you don’t voice the word ‘good’ but it hangs there anyway. Logan rumbles with a laugh.

“Fuck, it was the best thing I’ve felt in years. Wanna fuck you properly, though. Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Need to taste you.”

Your eyes go wide. Like he’s come up with the idea of the century.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

There is nothing elegant about the way you pull yourself up the length of his body, but it is filled with a primal need which is far more sexy. You pause at his abdomen in order to rub your soaked cunt across his abs a couple of times. Fucking the muscles there. You throw your head back in gratification and continue up along his chest before a strong thigh is planted either side of his face.

Looking up at you from his back is his favourite view. Logan wastes no time in clamping an arm around either one of your legs and pulling you cunt-first onto his tongue, you gasp and writhe in delight.

“Oh fuck, Logan!” you hiss. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the voice he wants to hear. All strung out with sex and pleasure because of him. He fucking buries himself in you. Kisses your pussy sloppily, changing his attention from between your clit and your folds, no rhythm to his need. When your fingers scratch his scalp in your need to grab a fistful of hair he thinks he might be in heaven. His hips buck into the air, imagining the action of taking you before he’s even properly started. You start to fuck yourself on his face. Hips grinding down onto his beard, groaning at the stubble there which prickles and pleases.

“I’m gonna--”

“Fuckin’ do it,” he mumbles from between your legs. You cum in his hot, wanting mouth; all the furniture in the room rattles as you let out a little involuntary telekinetic jolt.

You are not done. This was the appetiser. Eyes still ravenous you peel your pussy off of his face, sweeping down to kiss him so you can taste yourself there. Moaning in delight at the musk.

“Wanna ride you…”

“Anything,” he breathes because, yeah. He will do anything you ask, anything you want. He’s a loyal hound at your heel. 

When you take his cock it’s with less teasing this time, more intent. Spreading your legs wide you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down. He wants to grab. Your flesh, the blankets, anything. Sensing his desperation you hold out your hands when he’s far enough inside you and he meets them in midair, pressing his fingers between yours, knuckles white from the effort.

Hips nestle against his. You begin to move.

“Logan…” 

Your name leaves his lips in a similar whisper, dragged out through his throat from his very heart. You look down at him, eyes clear and wide and lucid despite the heady pleasure.

“Logan. I love you. I love you.”

Yes, you love this him. Not as a stand in for the Logan you lost, not as some sort of idol on a pedestal, but because you’ve fallen for him just like he’s fallen for you. He is worth loving. He is. He is worthy of you. It is a realisation which hits him with the force of a bomb. He grips you tighter.

“I love you too,” he confesses. He feels his pulse sync with yours from where he’s sheathed inside you, grips your hands tighter because he knows you can take it; you hold him back just as hard. Your hips rock in a wild rhythm as he brings his own up to meet them. It’s hard to know who’s fucking who, it’s wild and desperate and raw, but you keep chanting those words as a manta.

Logan. I love you. Logan. I love you.

He only lets go of one of your hands when he can feel he’s about to finish, dropping it to your clit in order to press rough circles there. You come messily over his cock and he spills inside you, pumping you full of him. Marking you as his.

You collapse into his arms, sweaty and spent. He holds you with arms like iron. Cock still inside, softening now, but he doesn’t want to to break the contact.

You pull back after a moment of breathing together, propping your elbow on his chest.

“Hey.”

He smiles back, a real smile, something he’s not been truly able to produce for years.

“Hey.”

“I meant it, you know. I love you,” you trace a pattern on his collarbone, silly and intimate. 

“I know. So did I.”

“Mmm, okay, good.” You kiss him and hum into it. “We should get up.”

“Probably.”

“But let’s not.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”

You laugh, and oh you are the sunlight. 

The summer heat is cloying but Wade has set up some parasols on the top of his building to hide under, he did not specify where he got them but a few local restaurants seemed to be without on the journey back to the apartment. The group of you are definitely not meant to be up here, but with the weather so hot, nobody cares enough to cause a fuss. 

It’s a small gathering. Logan stands at the grill because it’s where he’s most comfortable, supervising the chaos. That awful mutt of Wade’s is looking up at him with expectant eyes and, when he’s sure nobody is watching, he throws her a hamburger which she goes crazy for. 

And it’s… nice. He didn’t even complain when Wade put on the 1989 album. A few of his old roommate’s friends, a couple of them now mutual - Piotr is a pretty relaxed guy to be in the mansion with, and the two teens who Wade somehow befriended get along with Laura. You’re talking with Peter who for some reason is always at these gatherings but he’s probably the least offensive person here. 

He says something which makes you laugh, and you look over to Logan as you both settle. You gesture at the bottle of soda in your hand, an invitation; he nods. 

You stand, rummage in the cooler, and close the gap. He eyes the glass bottle of Dr Pepper with disapproval; you give him a playful shove. 

“C’mon, be good. You just got your one month chip. Keep it up, we’re proud of you.”

He grumbles his acceptance and takes it. It is pretty refreshing to be fair. He settled the hand he’s not using on the grill around your waist, pulling you so that you settle nice and snug against his flank. You grin up at him, pleased with the show of affection.

“Hey handsome,” you chuckle. 

“Hey gorgeous.”

“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, you know that?”

Day by day he’s letting himself believe it. That he’s the kind of man who could make someone as amazing as you happy, as over-the-moon with joy as you make him. 

Before he can answer Yukio appears by the grill, pointing a Polaroid camera in your faces. 

“Smile!” she says, and the two of you do, because she’s a nice kid and you don’t wanna let her down. She snaps a photo and watches it quickly develop, shaking it loudly in the air before admiring her work. 

“Awww, cute! I hope me and Ellie are like you guys when we’re your age. Here ya go!”

She passes over the photo before skipping away to find her next victim. Logan has to try and hide a laugh at the indignant splutters that are escaping you. 

“Our age…?!” you mutter, but soften when you look down at the picture. It’s nice. The two of you make a good-looking pair that’s for damn sure, he can almost understand Wade’s insistence of “letting him watch one night”. But most importantly, the two of you look… happy. With each other. With this slice of life. 

“This is a great one,” you declare. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

When you get home tonight, late by the time you pull up to the mansion, you’ll toe off your shoes as you walk in through the door like you always do, but this time you’ll pause to put this photo in front of the one you found behind the chest of drawers, and Logan will feel content that he never has to be without you again. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[ladsheadcanoncorner]

oooh a new headcanon blog Im excited to see what you do with it ill start with a spicy ask what are the boys like in bed?

starting the spice right off of the bat i love it! thanks for the first ask, dear <3

rating: nsfw, 18+, minors dni cw: smut ✉︎♡: ask box open, tumblr users + anons

✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦

Xavier:

We already know from so many of his cards that this man changes the name of the game to love and freakspace

The best way to get what you want from this man is, ironically, denying him whatever he wants

Tease him about his jealousy. Make an offhand comment about Charlie or, god forbid, Lumiere

Xavier is on you in seconds

He likes to push you up against different surfaces and take you from behind to start

Makes the dirtiest comments whispered in the sweetest sounding voice. “I can’t wait to see how well you take me.” “You’re already so wet and we haven’t even started.” “I’m going to show you how much you’re mine.”

Will only move to the bed once you are begging for him to be inside of you

So grabby. Your hair, your chin, your cheeks, your hips, anywhere he can reach to get a better angle inside of you

Loudest moaner punctuated with broken gasps, and he is doing all of it in your ear or with his lips flush against your skin

He likes finishing on the small of your back, watching the way it pools and covers the entirety of your backside

Never beating the sleepy boy allegations, but he will trace comforting circles on your back before falling asleep with you wrapped in his arms

Zayne:

Another contender for renaming the game to love and freakspace

Loves taking you on different surfaces. His office desk, the couch, up against the ladder in his library, in the shower

Has the most desperate sounding moan in the back of his throat whenever you go down on him

He likes positions where your legs can be up on his shoulders so that he can kiss your calves and your thighs. Loves watching you get goosebumps and shiver with pleasure underneath him

Usually steady surgeon hands get shaky when he is close, god you’ll be his undoing every time

One distinct groan and this man is definitely finishing all over your stomach. As a doctor, he’s heard all of the horror stories about accidental pregnancies, but if you get him in the right mood and you're both using protection, he can also be convinced to finish inside of you

If you weren’t doing it in the shower already, Zayne will carry you into the shower to clean up together afterwards

Sometimes this leads to round two, sometimes it ends with him lathering your skin with a touch so gentle you could cry

He’ll kiss every spot he touched to make sure that, even if he was a little rough before, you only feel how much he loves you after

Rafayel:

This man works himself up just thinking about you

Sends you a frenzy of texts that make you think he must be in some sort of mortal danger

When you get to his place, he acts all innocent like you were the one overreacting, but you can see that familiar hunger in his eyes

It doesn’t take long before he is all over you. Hands in your hair and up your shirt, kissing you so deeply that you'd think you were his first drink after days of dehydration

Likes hickeys, giving and receiving

You will be leaving with multiple marks on your neck, your chest, and anywhere else he can reach

He likes positions where the two of you have equal power. He starts on top, then you, then back to him. He’s happy to let you do the work but has no problem taking charge either

Whines and moans when he is close to finishing, he is incredibly vocal

Facial king. Bonus points if it drips down your chin and onto your chest

Most likely to post about taking your girl out to eat after absolutely railing her, but you’re so hungry and happy that you don’t really care

Sylus:

There is a TikTok where a girl is advocating for bringing back dry humping, and the president of this initiative is Sylus 

Nothing drives him crazier than seeing the way you are absolutely losing yourself by just rolling your hips over his. He likes to buck up against you so that you can feel even more pressure too

Also president of the munch club

Does everything so slowly and deliberately because he loves hearing the broken, desperate way his name is coming out of your mouth

In terms of positions, I can see him being down to do whatever you want, but if he had his preference he’d prefer more of the classic ones where he can see your face - each nuance of your expression another clue to how he can pleasure you even better

Has insane stamina and can go all night if you want, but will also call it quits the second you say you want to stop

Breathy sounds and grunts are how you know he is close to finishing

His favorite place to finish is deep inside you (he likes seeing his massive dick twitching all the way up your abdomen), but he’s also a pearl necklace enjoyer

Has a towel warmer by the bed specifically so that he can clean you up with a warm washcloth afterwards

Will never admit it but he loves pillow talk afterwards. The two of you snuggled up in his bed, you laying on his chest while you talk about your day or your plan for tomorrow or the next outfit you want to buy for Mephie. He could listen to you talk for hours, and especially loves the way your kiss-swollen lips look after

Caleb:

He loves nothing more than just seeing you in his space when he comes home from work. The thought of you in his home, all alone, waiting for him makes him rock hard before he even walks through the door

Dominant af (as if his cards/story weren’t enough of a giveaway). Doesn’t waste any time and closes the gap between you with such speed and efficiency you almost don’t realize it until he is kissing you hungrily

You: “Not even a ‘hello?’” Caleb: “I thought I’d show you how much I missed you instead.”

He is a giver, and he prefers pleasuring you in his bed (he’s a big guy, he likes the space)

Will quite literally fuck you into the sheets if you let him. He is gripping the headboard, the bedframe groaning under the sheer strength of his thrusts, and you are helpless to do anything except beg him for more

Lots of “you like that, baby?” and “you’re doing so good for me”

When he gets close, he is the whimpering king. Biting his lip, ragged thrusts, your name and a string of profanities punctuating each whimper

Another guy who I think would absolutely love seeing his dick stretched all the way inside of you when he finishes. Nothing says you’re his more than his come leaking out of you after you’ve been thoroughly fucked

Will cook you your favorite dinner after you’re done, not letting you lift a finger because you were such a good girl for him. The rest of the night you’ll be pampered to your heart’s content

[historiaxvanserra]

In Hades I Am With You | Chapter One

Pairing: Azriel x Hewn!city reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: With rising tensions across the sea causing unrest in the capital, the two warring factions of the Night Court must come to terms.

Reader is the ill-fated daughter of a cruel Lord of Night; plagued with prophetic dreams and cursed with rare, arcane gifts. Azriel is the stoic spymaster; forged from violence, lethal and honed to a fatal sharpness. The pair find themselves bound to one another through sacred oaths. For better or worse.

Tags: Forced proximity, strangers to lovers, Night Court lore, Priestess reader, discussions of SA and abuse, discussions of sex work, criticism of misogyny, sexism, and general abuse in all its forms, eventual smut, slight corruption kink, reader is incredibly romantic and horny.

Please let me know what you think. This chapter and readers powers are heavily inspired by Poppy from From Blood and Ash.

I was born on a night like this, I think. 

Storm-streaked, he had once called me. If only he could see me now; standing at the foothills of the mountain, wind-beaten and with the acrid taste of seafret on my lips. When I was a girl my father had told me that I came into the world the way the Old Gods had. Born from the merciless, blue-green depths of the sea. 

To be beautiful and cruel, and fearless.

Now fear is all I know.

The streets of the great mountain city are plagued by a feverish summer storm and, at the fatal peal of thunder I cast my eyes skyward. A terrible dread coils in the pit of my stomach. 

The visions come with the storm; fleeting images of an unforgiving tempest as it ravages all in its wake. The dark figure of a man, who whispers my name like a prayer. 

The God of plagues and prophecy.

Death had first come to me in a dream. Haunting and prophetic. Shrouded in seraphic blue light. 

Heat swells beneath the surface of the hydrangea clouds and the dark waters of the Sidra turn violent. Ivory seafoam coils and contorts violently like the tendrils of some grotesque sea-snake. I think of an old story my father had told me once. A human princess from the continent. She had been beautiful once. Until some dark, deathless God had lay claim to her. A monstrous thing. Rising from the depths of her watery tomb to lay waste to the men who had hurt her. Thrashing and writhing as the waves crested over the port of this wretched city. 

The crack of forked, white lightning against the darkening horizon breaks my reverie and Scylla nestles into my side with a bruising force. I smooth a hand flat on her muzzle. Her lustrous dark mane feels soft under my tender touch and she exhales a hot breath that rises like steam in the wet heat of the Summer storm. 

“Calm, Scylla.” I whisper tenderly to the mare I had taken to mount. My lips graze her dappled coat along her muzzle and I welcome the earthy fetor as it fills my senses. 

“Gentle, girl.” I reaffirm, patting the mount affectionately as I tie the reins to the crumbling statue of some prince long dead. 

“I’ll be back soon.” I promise. My voice wavers with another rumble of thunder. 

When I was a girl, my father had told me to count the moments between the cacophony of thunder and the flash of white lightning to work out how many leagues away it might be. 

At this moment I know that I am standing in the eye of the storm. 

Scylla watches warily as my figure disappears into the darkness of the lower city. I still hear her in the distance long after I am gone. Cloistered in the darkness of the city’s narrow alleys I remove the onyx veil that shrouds my features. I bury it in the folds of the plain, grey cloak I had stolen from Leda. 

I weave through the long, winding streets. I observe the world in flashes of cruel light and sound that permeates the suffocating darkness that saturates the lower city. I hear the echo of it in the lurid shouts of merchants, and the vulgar songs of sailors, coming home from the docks at the mouth of the Sidra. I listen to them all; as they beg, barter and brawl in the filthy streets. The fetor of decay lingers in the air like festering fruit flesh in the feverish heat of the slums. Throngs of beggar children chase the merchant's carts as they roll through the putrid pools of waste upon the wet, cobbled stone. Though, I only catch fleeting glimpses of them each time the cruel, seraphic light cuts through the blanket of the dark. 

As I pass through the Streets of Silk, I hear the bawdy rhymes of the painted whores as they call out into the night like a siren song; all sultry-eyed and dressed in lace that billows in the wretched breeze like the tendrils of a monstrous chimera. Fated to lure wayward sailors to their watery tombs. 

It is then, as the city bells toll their mournful song, that I reach my destination. 

The building stands as one of the last unsanctioned pleasure halls in the city; its weary slate facade is cut from the same dark stone as the mountain that oppresses the city. Its neglected roof tiles gleam in the pallid silver faelights like moonlight on the murky-green depths of the Sidra. Above the door, I observe the pillory that bears the establishment's name. The Jade Pearl, painted in varying gaudy shades of green and gold. 

The pleasure hall on the outer banks of the mountain city is alive with sordid activity. The whores in their fine silks twirl and dance in merry rings like water nymphs, and the serving girls sing sultry harmonies like siren songs, as they fill up the cups of patrons with sticky, honeyed mead. The high-arching melody of lyres and harps cut through the cacophony of carnal sounds; the officious laughter of Darkbringers, the vulgar curses and honeyed words, whispered into the skin of wind-beaten sailors and fat merchants. 

I traverse the narrow corridors that run like veins into the heart of the tavern. Its dark antechamber is bathed in shadow and dying fireglow that casts the word in a pallid light. The emerald bar curves around the hall in the shape of a crescent moon and the tables dapple the room like stars. 

“What a pretty creature you are, Mistress.” A beautiful wraith compliments, tugging and the long sleeves of my stolen robes. With tender touches and whispers the wraith works the buttons of my robes until I am left in the thin champagne shift I had worn beneath my cloak. 

She’s a slender looking creature, with pale blue eyes that look almost silver in the dying light of the hearth. Her long, white hair is braided over her shoulder like the tendril of some mythical siren. 

Dangerous and inviting. 

“Whatever you desire, be it wine or women, I will procure for you tonight,” She purrs, her voice low and sultry as she looks at me with those pale eyes. She’s dressed in the gauzy, silk robes of a whore. The garment flows like water over the curve of her hip and with a deep slit in its middle that exposes the graceful swell of her breasts beneath. And through her guise of beauty and seduction, I see the chains that bind her.

As I am bound. To this court. To the mountain that we call home.

“A drink would be nice,” I acquiesce, sliding a gold coin across the polished surface of the bar, “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“It is no trouble at all, mistress- but this far too much coin.” The wraith begins to untether the cracked leather coin purse from her hip. She begins to exchange the gold for smaller coins of silver and bronze, counting them in her open palm. 

“Please - keep it -- I’ve no use for such things anyway.” I command, nodding towards the coin in her hand. The wraith shakes her head and tries to protest but a call from the brutish looking owner draws the girl's attention away from me. I look up from my spot, across the painted emerald surface of the bar, to the games table. A voice, thick with mirth and malice, beckons my attention. 

“There are rumors amongst the legion that the High Lord will return to Court by the moon's turn.” The cruel laugh of a Darkbringer draws my interest as they sit around an emerald table. Crimson cards and dice litter the surface of the table and in its center a collection of coins. The male at the head of the table is dressed in his court robes; a dark overcoat with silver embroidery along the collars and cuffs. The others have abandoned their stifling robes in lieu of casual black tunics and pants. It is only through the tendrils of dark that shroud them in shadow that I know what they are.

These men are members of The Night Court’s legion of Darkbringers; and servants of the High Lord’s Steward. The larger of the three, unsheathes his dagger and places it atop the pile of coins in lieu of money. 

A reminder of their lethal potential. 

A vein of dark power that speaks to a coming vision plagues me in those spaces between the seconds. Untethered and adrift in the ether I allow my fragile mind to wander. I see a lake from which the dead rise like a devastating tempest. I see a King atop a dias, and a throne of splintered bone. And, through the blanket of the dark, I see the gleam of Illyrian Steel and age worn bone. 

Then, that tenuous connection to the Otherworld is severed. 

“The commander of the city watch says that tensions in the lower city are rising.” The deep timbre of the Darkbringer rouses me from thought again.

“I heard that the Lord Protector plans to broker an alliance with the Death Lord himself,”

“ if only to free himself of Rhysand’s leash.” 

“--bring him and that bitch of his to heel morelike.” The youngest of the three smiles malevolently.

“Enough of that, boys, we’re in the presence of a Lady.” The leader implies dangerously and at once, three heads incline in my direction. There are no Ladies allowed in this part of the city. The females of this forsaken city are bound to the Moonstone Palace. Forced to our knees in deference to our male oppressors. The only women that still dwell in the lower city are whores and exiles. Of which I am neither. 

Something dark and terrible roils in the pit of my stomach as the male approaches. I pull the hood of the austere, grey cloak to veil my face in shadows. The pale eyes of the Darkbringer meet mine through the din and his smile curls around the sharpness of his teeth.

The cold, amethyst hilt of a dagger kisses the tender flesh of my thigh beneath the many lawyers of dark fabric and I am reminded of my own lethal potential. The dagger had been passed from my grandsire some years ago. Made and forged from the ancient power that dwells beneath the mountain that we call home. The dagger itself had been set in a hilt of dark wood, trimmed with silver and precious gems; amethyst, sapphire and onyx. Its blade was fashioned of Illyrian steel and honed to a fatal sharpness.

“What a pretty little bird, she is.” He taunts as he approaches, his manner imposing and vindictive as he takes my chin roughly between his fingers. 

“I am no Lady, Ser.” I swallow thickly. It is true, of course. I am no Lady of the Night Court. I had been a babe when they found me. The cursed daughter to a cruel lord and some terrified nymph. 

My mother died giving me life and left me at the ruined Temple of Beara, the Mistress of Storms, deep in the foothills of the mountain. In the hopes that the Priestesses would shelter me from the cruelty of this court. After the temple fell I was brought before the Lords of Night and given to the Temple of Astarion on account of my rare and ancient gift. 

“Then perhaps you might regale my friends and I with the tale of how a pretty thing like you ends up here.” The Darkbringer replies, sliding a coin across the table. His gaze drops to the rings that adorn my hands; fine rings of onyx and amethyst, mined from the wretched bowels of the mountain that I have come to call home. The mark of my good breeding. 

“I assure you Ser, I am no whore either.” I chastise, sliding my hand beneath the folds of my cloak. The lust that pools in his eyes is a dreadful thing. Lecherous and heinous. Though I take comfort in the knowledge that my true identity is concealed. 

As the Pythia of the Night Court a dark veil typically obscures my features from the view of men; save from my eyes, which are heavily darkened with kohl and pigments of sapphire and amethyst that hail from the mines of Illyria. The veil protects me as much as it oppresses me. For if male like this knew of the power I possess, they would seek to control it, to covet that power until I were a vessel of their ill intent. That is why I was given to the Temple as a child. Why my estranged father and the Steward of the Night Court seek to make me their weapon. I know then that if I am discovered I will suffer for it. The kind of suffering that only exists here, in the rotting depths of Hewn City.

“No, I see that now.” Devilment darkens his pale gaze and the cut of amethyst shines in his dark eyes, he releases me from his bruising grip with a dark laugh. 

“Curious little thing.” One of the men whispers. 

“This is not the place for a gentle creature like you, Lady” He whispers, his pointed finger ghosts the cut of onyx on my hand,  “luckily for you I am feeling quite merciful.” 

“I am not as gentle as I look, Ser.” I warn. The three Darkbringers laugh cruelly. I turn to leave when a firm hand closes around my wrist and twists me so I am held in the Darkbringers bruising embrace. His lips drag a tortuous line along the side of my jaw. 

“Now, now little bird,” He coos mockingly against the shell of my ear as I struggle violently against him, “flighty little thing.” 

Bile rises in my throat as the Darkbringer’s companions laugh and fingers dig into the knife at my thigh, unsheathing it in a moment and pressing it against the male's pale throat. Unshed tears line my eyes like flecks of silver starlight as his hands still on my waist. 

“That is what you call mercy?” I laugh bitterly at the man, his eyes hardening as the Illyrian steel blade glints in the dim light. 

“Let go of her, Aeres.” The eldest of the three orders and the Darkbringer unhands me at once.

“Now fly back to your cage, little bird.” The elder male nods towards the rear exit beyond the bar. 

On uncertain feet I Traverse the narrow aisle of the tavern I find myself adrift amongst the dancing tide of patrons. A throng of women, clad in gauzy robes and underthings, twist and contort like columns of technicolor seafoam. The cruel laughter from the dance floor pulls me deeper into the wretched heart of the pleasure house. Lurid whistles and a series of vulgar gestures rouse my attention. A female; dressed in spider silk and lace coils around a portly merchant at the games table. She slips into his lap with a serpentine grace. I watch as the merchant’s weathered hand traces the line of her throat to the swell of her breasts. Smacking his hand away, the woman laughs, it is a beautiful, false thing that glitters in the pallid light.

“Well, girl I hope you fuck better than you play cards.” The merchant complains, laying down his deck of crimson cards. The female curls a painted hand around the cuffs of his tunic and whispers into his ear and the merchant's mouth curves into a lurid smile. One thick hand draws down her stomach, the other brushes the flesh of her thigh, slipping under the folds of her robe between her legs --

Oh.

I avert my eyes at the scene as a blush kisses its way along my neck and chest at the intimacy of it. The merchant rises from his seat at the table, taking the female slender hand in his. The whispered words they exchange are too low for me to hear but her answering smile is enough to know it was something wicked. The female rises leads the merchant towards the sleeping chambers beyond the emerald curtains. 

I watch as the merchant's shadowy figure is swallowed by the darkness as the curtain is drawn. My attention lingers far after they are gone, leaving only the smell of salt and jasmine in their wake. 

I am overcome with a strange, prophetic awareness.; dreams of shadowed light and a bleeding star, scarred hands that track the constellations as they reign over the black tapestry of the sky.

The high-arching symphony of strings and lyres blossoms in the feverish heat of the tavern. The soft melody of the lyres seems to echo off of the high, domed ceiling, as the heavy beat of a drum joins the cacophony of sound. It’s a hypnotizing, deeply sensual beat, that is unlike anything I have ever heard. 

Primal and carnal. 

I find myself adrift in the sway of the dancing sea. Slowly, I make my way along the length of the bar, reaching out to touch the gauzy jade curtains, parting them slowly --

“I don’t think you want to go in there, Mistress.” The lilting voice of the wraith warns. 

“Why not?” I ask curiously, lowering my hand from the curtain. The wraith laughs prettily, her cerulean eyes glinting in the dying light of the fire. 

“Some don’t appreciate an audience, Sweet girl.” 

“An audience?” I ask. 

Through the darkness of the antechamber, I see the silhouettes of the whores and their patrons, writhing and undulating with the beat of the drum. The music is punctuated by panting breaths and lilting moans, and the vulgar sound of men as they find their pleasure. 

“Oh.” The wraith laughs again, her painted lips curl into a wicked smile.

“Is it your first time here, Priestess?” The wraith leans in, the rich tenor of her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. Fear coils in my stomach and my grip on the emerald surface of the bar tightens. 

“I’m no priestess.” I try to emulate her melodious laughter and my eyes narrow in faux concern. 

“You needn't lie to me, Pythia. Your secret's safe with me.” Her words resound in my head and realization dawns. She’s daemati. 

“That type of secret is not safe with anyone.”

“What could I gain from exposing it to anyone? I wish you no ill will.” She returns. 

“You’d earn the Lord Protector's favor, of that I am certain --.” 

The wraith's face twists into a grimace and her sapphire stare hardens to a cold, wicked thing. “I have no need for that viper’s favour.” The venom laced in her voice speaks to the malice she holds for this place, its patrons and the cruel light of Hewn City. Many within the court resent the way in which we live, clinging to the slivers of power we are allowed, cowering in the darkness of the mountain. 

Things are changing as of late, war looms ever closer and whispers of dissent from the continent bring about unrest in the people. Many turn to the High Lord and his Lady for liberation from the dying vestiges and brutal traditions of this court. For many years I myself have lived in servitude and isolation, serving Keir, The Lord Protector and Steward of the ancient mountain city. 

As his coveted oracle; a conduit for his own power.

A cruel wind cuts through the heat of the pleasure hall as the doors open to announce an influx of new patrons. Three men, dressed in court robes enter through the archway, each shaded in shadows and dark wisps of power. My heart hammers thunderously in my chest as the men enter the heart of the establishment. 

“A flagon of wine and some dice, Arik.” The Darkbringer announces to the man behind the bar. My face pales from where I stand. These men are of my personal guard; formidable and unwaveringly loyal to my keeper. 

These men, these good men, are sworn to a monster, and they must do monstrous things to survive here. 

As we all must. 

I veil my face with the hood of my stolen cloak, tucking my hair into the collar so that it is concealed from view, and my face obscured almost entirely. If they were to discover me they would be duty bound to drag me back to the Moonstone Palace and throw me down atop the emerald dias for Keir and my father to punish as they see fit. 

I take another tentative look across the room and observe the men crowded around the game table with women hanging off them, like a swarm of beautiful and merciless harpies. 

“That one’s usual girl looks like you--” The wraith whispers to me, casting her own gaze to Ares who stands alone near the fire rather forlorn for a male in the middle of a brothel.  

“She’s busy with her favorite client upstairs. Perhaps you might retrieve her and make your escape.” Slowly, I turn to the wraith who takes my hand gently and leads me along the length of the bar. 

“You will find Aelle on the second floor -- take sanctuary there. I’ll come for you when your friends are occupied.” 

I hold her hand fondly and press a gold coin into her palm. 

“Thank you.” I say. She presses a chaste kiss to my cheek and ushers me up the stairs. 

As I ascend the steps of the pleasure hall, I slip a hand between the folds of my cloak, fingers ghosting the hilt of the dagger strapped to my thigh once more. 

The upper levels of the house are painted a deep emerald color and the flickering fae lights saturate the long, narrow corridors in onyx wisps of shadow. The room at the end of the corridor is stepped in near darkness, veins of indigo and navy that obscure everything in a shroud of blue-darkness. The mantle is hung with half-burned candles and a garland of foxglove and jasmine. The antique furniture looks as though it has been carved from the black wood of ash trees and the armchairs in front of the dying hearth are embroidered with dark floral motifs and silver threads. 

I draw in a sharp breath and the scent of pine and night-blooming florals shrouds me in its winter kiss. 

A flash of seraphic light illuminates the room and a deep voice, shaded in nightshade calls out from the blue-darkness.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” 

[swappedman]

A Retirement Trip Part 1

David Miller, a 55-year-old accountant, had spent his entire adult life working long hours, saving diligently, and dreaming of the day he could finally take a vacation without worrying about deadlines or spreadsheets. When his coworkers surprised him with a retirement gift—a weeklong trip to Exchange Island—he was both excited and skeptical. The concept of swapping bodies with someone else for a week sounded bizarre, but his friends insisted it would be the adventure of a lifetime.

“Why not?” he thought as he packed his suitcase. “It’s time to try something new.”

The island was as beautiful as the brochures had promised, with golden sands, turquoise waters, and luxurious bungalows dotting the coastline. As he checked in, the staff explained the process.

“Once you step into the transition pod, you’ll wake up in the body of another guest. The swap is random, but don’t worry—your original body will be well cared for,” the receptionist said with a reassuring smile.

David chuckled nervously, imagining himself as a young, fit traveler or perhaps even an older, seasoned adventurer like himself.

When the moment came, David stepped into the sleek silver pod. A brief flash of light blinded him, and he felt a strange tingling sensation. When he opened his eyes, everything was… different.

He looked down and gasped. His body was lean, muscular, and bronzed. His chest and arms rippled with strength he hadn’t felt in decades. He ran his hands over his flat stomach, where defined abs replaced the slight paunch he’d grown used to.

“What the…?” His voice was deeper, smoother, filled with youthful energy.

Stepping out of the pod, he caught his reflection in a nearby mirror and nearly laughed out loud. His new body was that of a man in his 20s, with a confident smile, short brown hair, and a physique straight out of a fitness magazine. The realization hit him: for the first time in years, he felt powerful, free, and unstoppable.

David spent the first day marveling at his newfound physical abilities. Jogging along the beach, he didn’t feel the usual twinge in his knees. Instead, his strides were long and effortless. He waded into the ocean, swimming with a strength and speed he hadn’t experienced in decades.

On the second day, David decided to push his limits. He joined a volleyball game with a group of other guests, diving and spiking the ball with ease. “This is incredible!” he thought as the other players cheered him on. Later, he tried paddleboarding for the first time and was amazed at how easily his body balanced on the board.

For the first time in years, David wasn’t worried about what people thought of him. Walking along the beach in nothing but swim briefs, he felt confident and carefree. Younger guests smiled at him, and he found himself chatting easily with strangers.

By midweek, David was exploring parts of himself he hadn’t touched in years—his adventurous spirit, his curiosity, and even his flirtatious side. He struck up a conversation with a woman in her 40s who’d swapped bodies with a younger guest. Together, they laughed about the absurdity of their situations and danced under the stars at the resort’s beachside party.

As the final day approached, David found himself reflecting on the experience. The swap hadn’t just given him a younger body—it had reminded him of what it felt like to live without limits. He realized he’d spent so much of his life playing it safe, saving for the future, and forgetting to enjoy the present.

When the time came to return to his own body, David stepped back into the pod with mixed feelings. He was grateful for the chance to be young again, but he also felt ready to embrace his true self with a new perspective.

Emerging from the pod, David looked down at his hands—now older and familiar. He smiled, feeling a renewed sense of gratitude. The island had given him more than just a week of adventure; it had given him a second chance at living fully, no matter his age.

As he boarded the ferry back to the airport, David knew one thing for certain: he would be taking another trip to Exchange Island in the future.

[doumadono]

doumaaaa! luv ur writing! could ya make dabi x nurse reader? basically him 'seducing' her or smth?

Warnings: smut w/o plot, semi-public, rough smut, pussy fingering, nurse!reader, Touya being Touya, creampie, dubcon

A/N: this request got the highest number of votes during the Sinful Sunday poll I held. I must admit, the difference between this prompt and the second-highest voted one was incredibly small! Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA & MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital seemed to flicker in time with the steady beeping of monitors. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee that had become your lifeline through the long shifts. 

You were used to the routine, the endless cycle of patients coming and going. But nothing could have prepared you for him.

Dabi. Or rather Todoroki Touya. The infamous villain, arrested after the chaos of the Paranormal Liberation War. His capture had been nothing short of a miracle - or perhaps, a well-calculated move. 

The new burns that marred his body, the very marks of his quirk, had left him in dire need of medical attention. 

And you, as the head nurse of this ward, had been chosen to treat him.

You approached his room with concern. 

The door slid open with a whisper, revealing the man who had caused so much destruction. He lay on the bed, his body a patchwork of scars and fresh bandages. His turquoise eyes, like chips of ice, flicked up to meet yours, assessing and unyielding. Metal restraints bound his wrists and ankles to the bed, a necessary precaution against the notorious villain. “Here to patch me up, nurse?” His voice was rough, a dark rasp that sent shivers down your spine.

You forced a calm smile. “I’m here to make sure you don’t fall apart any more than you already have.”

He chuckled, a low, almost menacing sound. “Good luck with that, bitch.”

Setting your tray of supplies on the table beside the bed, you began your work in silence. 

The burns on his body were severe, some still fresh from recent battles. You carefully removed the old dressings, your fingers gentle yet efficient. Despite your attempts at professionalism, you couldn’t ignore the heat that radiated from him, a constant reminder of the power he wielded.

As you applied a cooling salve to his burns, you felt his gaze on you, intense and unwavering. “What’s your name, nurse?” he asked suddenly.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, tasting the syllables. “A pretty name for a pretty nurse.”

You ignored the flush that crept up your neck, shaking your head slightly. 

He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why so cautious, sweetheart?" Dabi's voice broke through the silence, raspy and teasing, as he watched you with an amused smirk. "Afraid I might bite?"

You met his gaze steadily, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small, resigned grimace. "I'm not afraid of you," you replied, adjusting the flow on his IV. "I'm just being professional. And you called me a bitch moments earlier, so don’t expect me to become more friendly towards you."

Dabi chuckled, the sound low and husky. "Professional, huh? I guess that's a first for me. People usually just want to fix me up quickly and get rid of me."

The casual way he spoke of his own status made you pause. "Everyone deserves proper care," you said, securing the IV line. "No matter who they are."

That seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, he just stared at you, something flickering behind his eyes before he masked it with another smirk. "You’re different, aren’t you? Not scared, not judgmental. Just doing your job."

You shrugged, feeling his intense gaze as you checked his chart. "That's what I'm here for."

He watched your every move, noting the efficiency and confidence with which you worked. It was clear you weren’t easily intimidated - a trait he found both intriguing and useful. “I suppose it’s your job to keep an eye on me too, huh? Make sure I don’t do anything foolish?”

“Something like that,” you admitted, adjusting the monitor beside his bed. 

His heart rate was steady, too steady for someone who should be in pain. Suspicion flickered in your mind.

“It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it? A nurse looking after someone who can burn down entire cities.”

“It is,” you agreed quietly, meeting his eyes. “But pain is pain. Healing is healing. It doesn’t choose sides.”

“Philosophical for a nurse,” he chuckled, shifting slightly. His chains rattled, a jarring sound that matched the slight grimace of pain his movements brought.

“You’d be surprised what you learn in this job,” you responded, checking the restraints to ensure they were secure, a mandatory procedure that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

Two nights later, you approached Dabi’s hospital room, a mix of anxiety and anticipation thrumming through your veins. 

The night was quiet, almost oppressively so, the sterile hallways of the hospital washed in the dim glow of emergency lighting, casting long shadows that flickered softly.

The two guards who were always stationed at the door to Dabi's room and had become a constant fixture in the hallway - silent, stoic sentinels in the muted chaos of the hospital, were absent. Their absence was as puzzling as it was alarming. No explanation, no trace of their whereabouts, just an empty space where they should have been standing guard.

As you reached his room, the usual sound of the monitoring machines greeting you was conspicuously absent. A cold wave of unease washed over you. Pushing the door open fully, you stepped inside, your eyes immediately drawn to the bed that had become so familiar over the past few days.

It was empty.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your mind racing to catch up with what your eyes were seeing. The sheets were askew, tossed aside rather than neatly arranged by a nurse. The heart monitor was silent, its screen dark. Most telling of all, the metal chains designed to secure the villain, to prevent exactly this scenario, lay on the floor, melted into twisted, useless strips of metal.

Panic knotted in your stomach as you hurried forward, searching the room for any sign of him. You checked the bathroom, the small closet, even under the bed, though you knew it was futile. 

Dabi was gone. 

There was no sign of struggle, no alarm raised - it was as if he had simply vanished into the night, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of his presence.

Questions raced through your mind. How had he escaped? Did he plan this all along, or was it a spur-of-the-moment decision driven by some unknown factor? 

Suddenly, the light that was pouring into the room was cut off as the door swung shut with a soft, definitive click. 

A brief moment of tense silence ensued, broken only by the familiar sound of a tongue clicking. Then, a characteristic, raspy voice followed, tinged with a teasing undertone, "Well, hi there, little nurse."

Fear gripped you, paralyzing every muscle in your body. You knew well that Dabi was right behind you, yet the terror that washed over you made it impossible to turn around. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart pounding furiously against your chest as seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. 

Then, a confirmation of his presence came - not through words, but through the rough, unmistakable touch of his hands as they settled on your shoulders.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, his voice a blend of malice and allure. “You know, there’s a lot of things I’ve been thinking about doing to make myself feel better,” he murmured, his tone dripping with a dark, seductive edge. His fingers tightened around your wrists, not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his control. “And since you’re the nurse, always so eager to help, you should be willing to assist with my recovery.”

His words were laced with a mocking sneer, yet his touch wandered with a boldness that betrayed his intent. He was provoking you, testing how far he could push before you’d snap or succumb. Dabi’s hand traced a path up your spine, sending shivers through your body despite your resolve. “I can think of a few therapies that might help,” he continued, his voice low and husky, teasingly listing his twisted desires. “Imagine, all the things you could do to ease my pain, to make me feel alive. Wouldn’t that be fulfilling your duty, little nurse?”

Every fiber in your being screamed to pull away, to reclaim your space and autonomy, yet his presence was overwhelming, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“You should thank me,” Dabi chuckled darkly, his lips barely grazing the curve of your ear, sending an involuntary shudder through you. “Most don’t even get the chance to hear my voice. They’re not quick enough. Never as quick as my flames,” he taunted, his tone dripping with mockery.

You gasped. His mockery stung, a stark reminder of the dangerous game that played out between you. “How?” you whispered, barely moving your lips.

Dabi's low laugh resonated close to your ear, a sound that mixed amusement with a sinister edge. “Curious, are we?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I just turned up the heat a bit.” His smirk was palpable in his voice as he recounted his escape with a nonchalance that belied the danger of his actions.

Your heart pounded, the implications of his words sinking in. “And the guards?” you managed to ask, your voice a whisper of sound, betraying your fear.

Dabi’s tone took on a sharper edge, his amusement soaring into something darker. “There was some commotion, some urgent cries over their radios, something about a threat to the hospital staff. They ran off to play heroes.” His hand tightened slightly on your forearm, his fingers pressing into your skin as he leaned closer. “Perfect timing, wouldn’t you say? Gave me just the right moment to melt away those pesky chains and walk right out. It was almost too easy.”

Dabi smoothly spun you around to face him, his movements precise and fluid. Catching your chin between his index finger and thumb, he gently tilted your head up to meet his gaze. The touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of his usual demeanor. "You're quite pretty, you know," Dabi murmured, his eyes scanning your face with an appreciative glint. "Even with those dark circles under your eyes." His thumb brushed lightly under your eye socket, his touch featherlight. "It tells a story, doesn't it? All those long hours spent caring for people like me."

Touya smiled, a wry, knowing smirk that hinted at his awareness of the toll his words took on you. "Working too hard, aren't you?" he mused, his gaze lingering on your face as if committing every detail to memory. "Caring for the broken, the dangerous. It's a heavy burden for such delicate shoulders. But what if I told you I want more than just professional care?"

Gathering every ounce of courage, you met Dabi’s intense gaze. “Please, let me go,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I promise, I won’t tell anyone. I'll keep quiet. You'll have time to get away from here.” 

The plea hung in the air between you, underscored by the palpable tension that seemed to stretch out endlessly. Your eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign of compliance or compassion, hoping he would see the sincerity in your offer and realize it was his best chance to escape without further complications.

Dabi chuckled.

You felt a cold wave of fear wash over you, but you refused to let it show. "And I'm not here for your entertainment," you said, your voice steady despite the panic rising within you.

Dabi's laugh echoed through the room, a dark, menacing sound. "Oh, I know that," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you see, I'm not exactly in a position to ask nicely." His hands moved to your waist, pulling you back against him. 

You could feel the heat of his body through your overall, a constant reminder of the power he held. "Let me go," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to remain calm.

Dabi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your ear. "But what if I don't want to?" he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You struggled against his hold, but it was like trying to move a mountain. "Please," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "You don't have to do this."

Dabi's grip loosened, his hands sliding down your arms. "But what if I want to?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt his lips against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. You gasped, your body betraying you as a shiver ran down your spine. "Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He shook his head for no. His hands moved to the buttons of your uniform.

You felt the fabric of your overall give way, the cool air of the room brushing against your exposed skin. Dabi's hands moved to your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. His hands were oh so warm...

You gasped.

Dabi's laugh was low and dark. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his fingers continuing their assault on your nipples.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan. "Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Dabi's hands moved to your waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants before tugging them down. "Please what?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You hesitated, your mind racing. You knew you should tell him to stop, but your body had other ideas. "Please, don't stop," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dabi's laugh was low and triumphant. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, his hands pulling down your pants.

You felt the cool air of the room brush against your exposed skin, your body trembling with anticipation. 

Dabi's hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you back against him, making you arch your back slightly. 

You could feel his cock, hard and insistent against your ass.

Dabi's hands moved to your thighs, spreading your legs apart. 

You felt his fingers brush against your wetness, a low moan escaping your lips. 

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan.

Dabi's fingers worked fast, pushing the material of your thong aside, and soon they moved inside you, his thumb pressing against your clit. 

You moaned even though you hated yourself for this, your body was trembling with pleasure.

He teased you slowly, his fingers moving in and out, drawing out your moans with every thrust. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. He didn’t stop himself from leaving a hickey here and there.

You arched against him, your body pleading for more. "Please," you gasped again, your voice breaking.

“Hush,” he whispered, licking a trail up the column of your neck. He pumped his long fingers in you, faster and faster, enjoying all of the sounds you made, just for him. Finally, his fingers withdrew, and you felt a momentary loss before his hands gripped your hips, turning you to face him. His eyes burned with an intense heat as he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as your arms wrapped around his neck.

You could feel his dick, straining his pants, pressing against your slick, naked pussy, and instinctively, your hands moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Dabi's left forearm slipped under your ass, easily securing you in place as his other hand joined yours, and together you managed to free him, the hard length of his dick springing free.

With a swift motion, he aligned the tip of his cock with your dripping entrance, and pushed it up so the head went in between your delicious outer labia. Finally, he slowly shoved himself into your dripping vagina. 

As soon as he entered you, your eyes and mouth both opened wide. You looked like you were in disbelief that you were actually doing this. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his rhythm slow yet deliberate. “Gosh…” Your pussy was stretching painfully to accommodate him. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, his name falling from your lips like a mantra. You hated yourself for that.

His scarred lips found yours, capturing your moans as his pace quickened, each movement driving you closer to the edge. “Fuck. So fucking tight. I love how wet and tight you are f’me,” he growled, pecking your cheek.

You could feel yourself tightening around his cock, your climax building with every hard thrust he delivered. You gasped against his lips. 

Dabi took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, then suck on your bottom lip, all while completely inside you. He began to bounce you on his cock faster, each upward thrust hitting deeper than before, the tip of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongy spot deep inside you. 

The feeling of being suspended and at his mercy driving you wild. You rolled your hips to meet his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes,” you whined. You were painfully aware you acted like a cheap whore, but you didn’t mind at the time.

The friction between your bodies created a heat that was almost unbearable, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. His warmth of course added to the sensation. And his cock was oh so hot.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "So desperate, so needy. Fucking bitch." He pulled his cock out until only the tip remained between your parted, lower lips, then slammed his hips back against yours, burying himself in your pussy to the hilt of his shaft.

You couldn't respond, your mind lost in the overwhelming sensations. You could only moan, the sound echoing in the room as he continued to bounce you on his cock, the pace quickening. You were trembling in his arms, even though you shouldn’t. Your boobs were swaying forward and backward as he fucked you raw.

“Be fucking quiet, little nurse, or the guards will hear us if they’re back,” he slapped your cheek, and grunted as his balls hit the curve of your ass yet again.

Your bodies made a wet smacking noise each time, and Dabi could see strands of your fluids spider-webbing between your skin each time he pulled away from your heated, dripping core. 

Your tits, still in your bra, pressed firmly against his chest as you leaned into him, already breathless. Your head rolled forward, resting against the crook of his neck where his marred skin was exposed. “Mmmm…. Mmmmm…. I’m gonna… I can’t anymore….” Your pussy clenched around his cock in anticipation, and a growl rose in your throat.

Your needy, seductive voice worked its magic on the scarred man. 

Dabi's head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips as he came, spilling his thick seed deep within you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppier and more frantic. “Fuck, take it, bitch, take it all.” 

With Dabi’s cock nestled within your core, you felt every pulse as he reached his climax. Every pulse and eruption of cum filling your tight pussy sent twin waves of pleasure and a wonderful, comforting warmth through your entire being, and three or four pulses in, you found herself cumming as well, pussy spasming and clenching around Touya’s  cock, milking it of his wonderful, hot cum.

You felt his cum filling you to the brim and beyond, and spilling out of you, dripping to the floor, even though you two were still connected.

Dabi's hands moved to your waist, his fingers gentle as he pulled out of you. He gave himself a few more jerks before grabbing your overall and wiping his flaccid cock in it. After that, he tossed your uniform aside, and improved his pants and belt. Dabi's voice was low and dark as he spoke. "You're quite the little slut, aren't you?"

As you hastily tried to dress, your cheeks burning with a mix of emotions, you muttered, "It was a moment of weakness…" Your gaze drifted nervously toward the door, half-expecting it to burst open at any moment.

Suddenly, Dabi was before you again, his presence imposing. His hand shot out, capturing your cheeks with an intensity that made you wince. He squeezed firmly, his eyes burning into your very soul as he seethed a harsh reminder, "Not a word until five minutes pass. Understand?" The threat in his voice was unmistakable, echoing in the charged air between you.

Releasing your face, he moved swiftly to the window with the fluid grace of a predator. His silhouette framed against the dim light from outside was both menacing and mesmerizing. As he swung one leg over the sill, he paused, turning to fix you with a piercing look. "You'll never be rid of me, not until death takes me." His words hung heavy in the room, a promise or a curse. Then, he jumped out, vanishing into the night like a ghost. 

You stood frozen, the imprint of his fingers still tingling on your skin, his final words echoing in your mind. You waited, counting each second of those five minutes he had demanded. You were scared to see him again, yet part of you wondered, perhaps even hoped, for that very possibility.

[cherrycranes]

Private Show (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader Summary: You're a burlesque star who caught the eye of the infamous Tommy Shelby, and one night after your show he decides to pay you a little visit backstage. Word count: 3,292 Contents: (Minors DNI) Unprotected sex, hair pulling, semi public sex? pull out, cum shot. Author's notes: Once more, my bestie @fuckiingloser and I collaborated to make this. Give her some love! I've had this in mind for quite a while now so I hope you enjoy it. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. ILY!

The roar of your beloved London audience followed you across the backstage hall. You were a star. A burlesque princess adorned in sequins and rhinestones, enamouring the audience with your unique presence and charm that got you where you stood at this very moment. Adrenaline coursed madly through your veins, mapping out every inner crevice of your risqué scarlet costume. Another job well done. Another night of the glory of bright lights, music and performance.

Every single sound got muffled out right after you entered your small private dressing room. A privilege of being the main attraction. No more snarky comments and unhealthy competition between a stressed out dance troupe. It was just you in your velvety stool, admiring your own self in the vanity mirror. What a beautiful woman. Carefully, you removed your feathered headpiece and let your hair down in relief, finally winding down.

You removed your bracelets and hairpins, carefully placing them in their respective decorated boxes when a soft knock on your door interrupted you. Definitely the stage manager, you thought, already picturing what he would say to you about your next show. To your surprise, however, when you opened the door you met with a completely different man…

Thomas Shelby, in all of his infamous gangster glory standing right in front of you, that signature cheeky smirk upon his devilishly handsome face. 

He looked like he wanted to swallow you whole. 

You knew of this man. The Shelbys had risen to power throughout the years and now, anyone with a working brain knew who they were. The name Tommy Shelby made many shudder, and now, you had him just a step away. 

“Can I help you?” You looked straight into his perfect blue eyes, fearlessly. You owed nothing to anyone and you had no reason to cower in front of him, no matter how dangerous or handsome he was. 

“I don’t know, love, can you?” His smile grew a bit, his voice was husky and rich in a Birmingham accent. He didn’t bother to conceal the way his eyes roamed all over your scantily clad body, so beautifully adorned in red jewels and feathers and so deliciously leaving little to the imagination.

“Backstage is private, you know…” You pretended to chastise him, leaning against the doorframe like you didn’t have a feared criminal shamelessly checking you out. He didn’t even try to hide his intentions. He laughed a bit, your heart raced. No security could ever stop him from doing what he pleased and you both knew it.

 “I've seen your pretty picture on flyers all over town…  Figured I’d come see what all the fuss is about…” He remarked as your eyes locked on each other finally. 

“And?” You asked with a pretty smile. “Was it everything you dreamed and more?” His smirk grew to a big grin. He knew you were a tease, feeding him with playful banter that he absolutely enjoyed.

“You were a sight to behold out there, love… Body like that, face like that and voice like yours… I’ve never seen anything quite like you… You were a goddess up there.” Thomas practically purred to you in that thick accent that made your pussy tingle and sent shivers down your spine. His tongue, quick yet unmissable to your eyes, wet his lips after speaking. So subtle but incredibly sensual. You wanted to drop down to your knees…

But you also wanted to make him work for it a little…

Charmingly, you invited him in for a drink. An irresistible offer. You shut the rest of the world out and closed the door behind him. Just you and him in your little shoebox dressing room. He sat down on the small futon across from you and you sat at your vanity, pouring you two glasses of whiskey from your secret stash. The room was so tiny your knee brushed against his when you spun your stool around to face him and hand him his drink.

“There was buzz amongst the other girls of a Shelby brother in the crowd tonight…” You started, lipstick staining your glass and your legs crossing. “I was hoping it was you…” Thomas smirked like a devil, your admission feeding his ego. 

“And why’s that, love?” He took a large sip of whiskey like it was a sip of you, savoring the burn like he wanted to savor you. It made you nervous, restless… And you were a performer, your nerves were supposed to be of steel. But Tommy had something about him, an aura, a natural disarming confidence that made you want to bow down in submission. You swallowed a bit, just to gain some confidence back, knocking your head out of the trance his accent and icy blue eyes put you under. 

“Well you’re the leader right? The big man in charge…” You charmed through your smirk like he was your audience, looking over at his crisp, expensive navy blue suit. Tommy laughed, pulling a cigarette out and rubbing it against his plump bottom lip before lighting it up.

“That’s right…” He smirked, a puff of smoke adorning his words. He leaned forward a bit, his large calloused hand finding its shameless way to the exposed skin of your knee and rubbing it softly with his thumb. Naughty girl, not even wearing a pantyhose for your performances. A mischievous glint shimmered in his eyes. 

You couldn’t help but bite your lip and clench your legs together at his touch. The sexual tension hung thick and heavy in the air of your tiny dressing room, threatening to burn you both alive. 

“I'm known for getting what I want… When I want it, love…” There it was, expected yet it caused a strong reaction in you. The closer he leaned in, the more he spoke with that deep voice of his, the more you wanted it. He stabbed his cigarette out in the ashtray next to you on your vanity, your faces now inches apart. 

“And I'd love a private show…”  He whispered, his voice raspy. His hand reached out and the tips of his fingers brushed over the red jewels on your breast, nearly feeling the pulse of your racing heart. You could feel yourself soaking through your underwear from just the thought of what he wanted to do with you. To you.

“I'm not a whore, Mr Shelby…” You retorted softly, finding pleasure in resistance despite how turned on you were for him already. Tommy, accustomed to most women giving in easily, smirked, thrilled by the challenge.

“But you could be, couldn’t you? Just for me…?” His voice was attractive, persuasive. One of his hands came up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, his eyes bearing into yours deeply. There was always something so captivating about a man with no shame about getting what he wants… And this man just so happened to want you.

Hungry eyes moved from your alluring cleavage towards your gaze again. You had found yourself completely speechless at his proposition, not even a single witty comment popping into your head at that moment. For a second, you got lost in the crystal blue, enthralled by the obvious knowledge of what would come next for you both.

Without another word he sat up and leaned forward, closing the gap between you. His plump lips met yours, the taste of cigarettes and whiskey melding in your mouth. You closed your eyes, letting him sink you to the depths of his desire, your tongue melting slowly against his. You took your time with each other, just soaking in the sensuality of it all, sharing a few gentle moans before his hand came up to grip the back of your head.

You made out slowly, almost teasingly for around a minute, then finally pulled back for air. There was that smirk again, Tommy reveled in as his hand snaked between your thighs and his thumb rubbed gently over the satin of your costume, right over your pussy. He pressed against your clit through the fabric and you bit your lip, stifling back a moan.

He took in every single detail of your reaction and loved each one. You felt a nice shiver running down your spine as his mouth came closer to your ear.

“You little minx… This little pussy’s already wet for me and all I had to do was kiss you…”. His hot breath on your ear mixed with his words had your brain buzzing, expertly knowing how to push your buttons.

Soft kisses peppered the skin of your neck, sending another shiver through your spine and goosebumps all over your body. His rough, greedy hands reached back to undo the fastenings of your costume, then gently pulled it down your chest, your warm tits finally bare for his eyes to rake over.

“Jesus… You are just gorgeous…” He rasped, unable to stop himself from tracing the soft underside of your breast. Not that he would have to stop. But even then, for such a rugged, scary gangster, he was so gentle. So reverent. It truly took your breath and words away, filling the now empty space with butterflies instead. From your chest to every nerve ending of your fluttering pussy, a deep need for him ran rampant. 

“You've got me rock hard…” Tommy whispered, proudly proving it to you. His growing bulge in his trousers looking right at you, mirroring your own desire. He rose slowly, looming over you and your vanity set.

“Stand up for me love… Let’s get this costume off you,  I need to see this beautiful body naked and bent over this vanity for me…” 

Your eyes widened, but you weren’t against his request. Without thinking it twice, you stood up, one of his hands slid off your red satin costume bottoms, the other took your hand and helped you step out of them. The metallic jeweled necklace around you felt heavy with all the loss of clothing items, you reached behind to unclasp it, but Tommy stopped you.

“Keep it…” He whispered, slowly turning you around until you faced the mirror of your vanity. You looked utterly gorgeous. Completely naked besides the beautiful ruby necklace you had on. You watched his smile widen in the reflection and his strong arms wrapping around you.

One hand came up to squeeze the soft flesh of your breast, the other now traced slow tempting patterns over your skin, down your stomach and between your legs. One finger rubbed between your slit tortuously slowly, making you moan and close your eyes. You melted against him, perfectly placing your ear close to his hot breath. 

 “Ah ah ah… Keep those pretty eyes open… I want you to watch yourself fall apart on my cock…” Tommy purred, his voice so deep and sexy you wondered why your arousal wasn’t dripping down the inside of your legs already. Obediently, you nodded and opened your eyes, locking gazes with yourself in the mirror. 

“Yes, sir…” You moaned back, his fingertip rubbing painfully slow, hard circles on your clit. He grinned, proud of just how easily you yielded to his touch, how easily you submitted yourself to him.

Slowly, he grinded his aching hard-on against you back, a reminder of what was to come. Gentle, wet kisses left a fiery wake on your neck that extended to your earlobe, he nibbled it, his finger never once forgetting your clit.

“Bend over…” He commanded, a little whine of protest leaving your lips when he withdrew his finger from you. Hoping to get that much needed stimulation back, you did as he said, bending over your vanity and displaying yourself for him. Tommy responded with the sound of his belt unbuckling and the rustling of his trousers being undone. 

In the reflection of the mirror, you watched him pull down his trousers and briefs in one go, his large thick cock springing free and slapping obscenely against his pelvis. Its head was already red and dripping, aching to be buried deep inside you.

Not wasting a single second, he palmed your ass cheeks, spreading them apart a bit to get a better look at you and your puffy wet folds. He groaned, knowing that in a few minutes his cock would be buried deep between them.

He looked up into the mirror, locking eyes with you and giving you a sexy smirk. It was an unforgettable image, with you laid there, bent over your vanity panting in anticipation. The lighting of the room cast a warm glow over your naked body, making the rubies around your neck glimmer. 

“Looks like it’ll be a tight fit love… But we’ll make it work… Won’t we?” He cooed, voice dripping with need like you were dripping wet for him. 

You nodded, your eyes on the mirror, paying close attention to every movement of his and hoping it would lead him closer to fuck you. The way he licked his lips, how he reached down to line up behind you. It all seemed so slow in your own arousal-clouded mind. When he gripped your hips, you felt relief, and when he finally started to sink into your dripping center, you moaned. It was a breathy, soft moan with a grateful undertone. Such a sweet relief after centuries of teasing and foreplay. 

Tommy groaned loudly, one part for pleasure, one part for being proved right. You were indeed really tight. Your pussy stretched and swallowed his aching cock, already feeling so full and he still hadn't pushed all the way in yet. You whimpered, getting split open further like never before in your life. Any discomfort from adjusting to his length and girth completely outshined by total and complete pleasure.

“Fuck me… This pussy is so perfect… Gripping my cock so fuckin’ good…” Tommy groaned, managing to push even further and finally filling you full. He gave you a merciful second to adjust before moving his hips, slowly pumping in and out of you.

Involuntarily, your eyes shut, moaning repeatedly for him in this newfound sea of pleasure. You felt his hand tug around your hair hard, your neck craning up to look into the mirror. A warning. Remembering, your eyes shot open, you whimpered like an apologetic prey to the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“I said… Keep those eyes open…” He growled, stern eyes looking at you through the mirror. As discipline, he pistoned his hips faster, you whined loudly. He drilled into you relentlessly, skin slapping with fury against skin and filling your changing room with obscene noises.

“Y-yes sir…” You managed to moan out, noticing how the pale blue of his eyes never once left the reflection of your deeply fucked form. Your mouth hung open, your eyes were half lidded and struggling to follow his command. In your mind, every single thought disappeared, all of them fucked out of your head until only him remained. 

The thick tip of his cock nudged that special spot inside you, over and over with every perfect, hard thrust of his hips. You babbled incoherently, still watching like he wanted. Your reflection bouncing and jiggling with each hard and fast movement. 

Tommy smirked, but even through his triumph he was lost in the pleasure too. He panted hard, his fingers sunk into the flesh of your hips and made sure there would be evidence of the encounter tomorrow morning. As if you minded. 

The vision of you falling apart on his cock got to him in the best way possible. From the way you were moaning to how you almost drooled as he fucked into you hard. It was obvious you weren’t going to last much longer, and neither would he.

“Jesus Christ-  This pussy’s so good- I think it was made for me… Won’t last much longer…” He groaned to you, a hint of vulnerability escaping in between the words.

At this point, your body and mind had a major disconnect, so well fucked forming a coherent sentence took all your brain power.

“P-please… please come..” You stuttered pathetically, eyes fixed on his reflection. His hand tightened its grip on your hair for leverage as his thrusts got sloppier and sloppier, his strong hips pistoning into you. 

His left hand left its vicious grip on your hip and snaked around to find your clit, beginning to rub hard circles on it. The combination of his long cock poking your g-spot with every thrust and his fingertips rubbing your clit had you seeing God… Your orgasm built in the pits of your stomach, threatening to boil over any second now…

“I want you to come first love…  Want this perfect pussy to cream all over my cock…” He rasped, his voice deep and thick with need, almost like he was begging you to.

And that’s what did it for you.

The pressure in you finally reached its peak and exploded into the best orgasm you had ever experienced. Every nerve of your body relented to the sinful pressure, making you cry out a string of loud whiny moans and mindless curses. Your pussy clenched him tight, like you never wanted to let him go. For a moment you disobeyed his previous command, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and lost track of the private show your reflection in the mirror was giving.

He moaned loudly, feeling you clamp around him. The satisfaction of seeing the reflection of your face contorting and twisting in pleasure was priceless, Tommy truly understood just how much he loved to see you fall apart for him… Because of him…

He fucked you through your orgasm, chasing him. The feeling of your pussy spasming around him had his usually crystal clear mind completely hazy with pleasure. The way you looked, sounded, felt… It was too much for him… So much it sent him over the edge.

His hips slowed their movements a bit and it hit him.

 “Oh fuck love- I’m coming…” He warned with a strangled moan. Quickly, he pulled out, shooting thick hot ropes of his cum onto your ass cheeks, eyes still focused on the mirror. 

You watched too, biting your lip at the feeling. Tommy’s brows furrowed together while he moaned for you, his warm load slowly dripping down your ass and taking over your senses. You both stayed there for a second, catching your breath, basking in the afterglow together.

After a while, Tommy tucked his tired cock back into his trousers, grabbing a shirt off your vanity and wiping you clean. You finally stood up, turning around to face him despite how weak and wobbly your legs felt. Being bent over your vanity felt like forever, although it was the fastest a man had ever made you finish.

“Well, that was certainly something…” Tommy smirked cheekily, eyes still on you and arms wrapping around your naked waist. You couldn’t help but laugh and blush a little, his presence alone making you feel so shy, as if you hadn’t been moaning like a whore for him just a moment ago.

“You really do put on one hell of a show, love. You’re a natural born performer…” He smiled at his own words, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours before giving you a hot kiss. Then, he pulled back, just enough to whisper his proposition against your lips.

“How about we make this a regular thing? I come to all your shows… Maybe even bring you flowers… In return you be my naughty little showgirl and let me fuck n’ fill that perfect cunt and make you scream?”

You smiled without even having to think of your answer… How could a girl say no to that?

Pinterest board made by @fuckiingloser

Random Tommy playlist made by me cause why not

[nicestgirlonline]

Something Sweet

Pairing: Sugar Daddy! Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut ahead!!! Thigh riding, public stuff, dirty talk, sugar relationships, power dynamics, dom/sub undertones

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary : A chance run in with a handsome stranger turns out to be the opportunity of a lifetime

a/n: for @the-slumberparty September Bingo Challenge! No bingo for me this round, I got it in JUST UNDER THE WIRE! Takes me waaaaayyy to long to write lol. Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3

You placed the candy bar on the counter in front of the very bored cashier. You dug through your purse and pulled out your debit card and handed it over. A queue had started to form behind you as you tapped your hand in anticipation. 

“Declined.” The cashier said, holding out the card for you. Your stomach dropped. You were afraid this was going to happen. You were so sure that you had enough in your account for at least a candy bar. You had paid the overdraft fees from last month, so you should have been set. Your stomach gurgled a bit. You were so hungry. 

“Um, can you try it again?” You asked, hoping it was some sort of mistake, that the bank was just a little slow to catch up with your account. She let out a sigh and placed it in the machine again.  

You could feel the stares behind you. You looked back at the line; directly behind you was a tall man dressed in a suit, checking his watch. He looked like he must be very important. He had dark brown hair that was neatly styled and just a touch of a five o’clock shadow. It was incredibly handsome. His icy blue eyes flicked from his Rolex to you, making you quickly turn back to the cashier. 

“Declined. Again.” The cashier handed it back this time with a look insisting you take the card from her. Humiliated, your cheeks began to turn red. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you shoved your card back into your purse so you could clear the shop as quickly as possible. In your haste, you accidentally ran into Mr. BusinessMan. You collided with his body like a brick wall. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! Fuck I’m a mess.” You cried out as you ran past him this time. 

You ran directly out onto the street, the cool air filling your lungs. You dropped down onto the curb to spend a minute catching your breath. You could feel your heart still racing, your body going into fight or flight mode. 

Money, money, money. It all always came back to money. If you didn't have the money for a god damn candy, how were you going to make rent in less than two weeks? Tears threatened to escape your eyes and you squeezed them shut. 

Here you were, no food in your stomach and soon to be no roof over your head. You looked at your phone, a flip phone from 2013 that miraculously still worked. The last text you had gotten was from your mom “Fridge broken. Send more this month.” 

God fucking damn it. 

“Hey! I think you forgot this.” A deep voice called out behind you. You turned to see the business man from the shop! Confused, you grabbed your purse and checked to make sure you hadn’t left your keys or something. The man held the bar you had left at the counter. He held it out to you. You didn’t go to grab it, you just stared.

“Oh. Um, you didn’t have to…” You began but he squatted down next to you and placed the candy on your lap. 

“We all have bad days. Doesn’t cost me nothing to be nice. You look like you deserve something sweet.” He had a very kind smile on his face. It did cost him something though, it cost him more than what was currently in your bank account. “You ok?”

“I’m…I’m ok. I’m going to be ok. Thank you, really.” You could feel the tears spilling over and you started to wipe your face so he wouldn’t see.

“You must really like candy to be crying over it.” He lightly joked, which only made you want to cry more. You let out a little laugh that sounded more like a strangled gasp. It was so overwhelming, the simple act of charity.

“It’s just…really really nice of you.” You gasped, the tears finally flowing freely. “I don’t remember the last time anyone has ever given me something…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey, you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I’m James.”

You gave him your name, finally ceasing your tears. You took a deep breath, you couldn’t just fall apart in front of this kind stranger, he was probably running late to some sort of business meeting anyway.

“You have a way to get home?” he asked, he pulled out his phone and began to tap on it. You nodded your head. 

“Yes, yes I do. I have money left on a bus card, really thank you so much James.” He smiled at you when you said his name. He placed his phone back into his suit jacket. He took your hand and helped you up.  With your spiral into darkness slightly stalled, you took in your savior. He was so classically handsome. When you looked into his blue, blue eyes you felt like you were drowning in them. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, your heart raced. 

“Get home safe, alright doll?” You nodded, clutching the candy bar to your chest. You took off down the street after giving a soft goodbye. The kindness of strangers had given you more hope than you had in a long time. 

You idly wondered about James as you ate on the bus. Your money problems were still lingering in the back of your mind but your thoughts were clear. 

You tore open the candy bar, taking a bite of the delicious treat. The chocolate melting on your tongue, the sugary sweetness coated your mouth. You got a rush from the sugar and let out a sigh. 

Maybe things were going to be ok, it was a sign that the universe was on your side. 

{}{}{}

You put on your waitress face and did your best to keep up the highest energy tonight. You were all bubbles and giggles throughout the shift. You would smile and laugh at every lame joke a customer would tell you.

Half way through your shift the place was packed. You should be grateful it was busy, you were getting good tips but hadn’t had a moment to breathe since you walked out onto the floor. You carefully balanced a tray of shots and an order of bacon-wrapped dates to drop off before you made it to the party that just sat down in your section. The hostess had put them back in the booth that was partially tucked away with velvet curtains. Big spenders for sure. You smoothed down your dress and tossed your hair over your shoulders as you made your way over. 

“Hiii how are we doing tonight Gentle--” You began your usually bubbly opener, voice high pitched and energetic but as you took in who was sitting in front of you, you stumbled. 

James. Your candy savior. The bodega hero. Him and three other men were waiting to be served. He was wearing a new suit, this one with no tie and a few buttons undone from his shirt. Damn he could really rock a suit, he filled this one out perfectly too. FUCK.  

“Ahem, excuse me gentlemen. So what can I start you off with?” You quickly recovered, grabbing your pad and pen and focusing your eyes on the paper. You prayed that with your heavy makeup and fluffed up hair that maybe he wouldn’t recognize you, or maybe just wouldn’t even remember. 

“Hey there sweetheart, hope my good looks didn’t startle you.” His charming grin grew as you bashfully waved your hand at him.

“Oh I'm used to handsome, it's just a little busy in here tonight. Are we just starting out the night? Maybe with some shots?” You offered with a grin of your own. He seemed pretty pleased with your flattery. James was silent as the other two ordered a round of shots, his gaze was fixed on you. You went to turn to put the order in but as you went James’s hand shot out and he grabbed your wrist. 

You froze and stayed.

“Hold on a minute Doll, you didn’t take my order yet.” His voice was low and easy. You lightly moved your hand out of his grasp to put pen to paper. You nodded to him hoping to get his order. “I want a whiskey. Neat. And bring the whole bottle out.”

“Whoa, we’re getting bottles tonight?”

“Sounds like you guys are going to have some fun!” You said quickly writing down the order with a flourish. This time you managed to escape to put the orders in. As you waited by the bar for the orders you felt your heart racing. It wasn’t just the adrenaline of the fast paced night. Seeing James again had put you completely off kilter. It was humiliating, the last time he saw you, you were crying in the street. He must find you so pathetic. If he even recognized you?

James and his party stayed practically til closing, ordering more and more. The bill they were racking up was so notable that Jeremy himself came out to thank them for their patronage. The other girls were all playfully jealous, it wasn’t you who could normally hook in the big spenders like that. 

“Sadly, it seems we’ve got to end it here. Little guy can’t hold his liquor.” James said motioning to the one you learned was named Sam.

“M’fine.” He slurred. The blonde man who was called Steve laughed and threw an arm around him as he swayed. The two made their way to the exit leaving you alone at the table with James. He smiled at you expectantly. You just wanted the night to be done with. 

“Whenever you’re ready!” you placed down the bill on the table. 

“Hold on Doll, I’m ready now.”  He pulled out a shiny black card from his wallet, and quickly scribbled down on the receipt. You took the card with a smile, ready to go charge it. You glanced down on the tip and your eyes nearly fell out of your head. 

He had given you a 100% tip.

“Problem?” He asked, innocently cocking his head to the side. You glanced at the bill again, rereading it as slowly as you could to try to make sure you weren’t mistaken.

“I think you might have mixed up the tip and the total-” 

“No mistake. I’m tipping for the fantastic service.” 

“I really don’t know how comfortable I am with that James. Is this because of this morning?” Your voice was pathetically small. 

“Oh so you do remember me?” He asked flatly. You looked up at him. His sudden tone made your stomach clench. 

“I mean…of course I do but that’s not very professional of me. I’m sorry-” You immediately tried to amend the situation. This was somehow your fault, you could tell. 

“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to be sorry for getting something you want.” James’s tone was no longer angry. 

“I don’t need pity.”

“It's not pity, Doll. You gave me a service and now I’m paying you what I think is fair. I know you probably aren’t used to people giving you what you’re worth. You probably don’t even know what your worth is, do you?” When his icy blue eyes met yours it was like you were really being seen for the first time. You loved it as much as you hated it. 

“I’m not…I’m not worth anything much. Here’s your card sir, have a good night.” 

You ran off, your face hot with humiliation. 

{}{}{}

You had hoped that would be the end of it. Even with the insane tip from James you were still on the outs with your money. Now that rent could be made there was the electricity, gas, and water. Then the money you would send back to your family, oh and food for yourself. You couldn’t forget that. You kept all ten shifts that you had managed to beg Jeremy for. The big night with James made him much more amenable to your requests. 

It was only for a split second but you saw him at the hostess table. With two different men at his side, there stood James for the second night in a row. You whipped your head around and scurried to the back. 

“Wanda, he’s here again. Again!” You squealed to your co-worker who was just preparing to start her shift. 

“Who, Mr. Moneybags? Well aren’t you lucky.” She said, giving you a playful glare. 

“I don’t want to deal with him again. Please take my table?” you pleaded. 

“Don’t need to ask me twice, I’ll be getting that nice tip tonight.”  She tossed her coppery hair over her shoulder and smoothed down her dress one final time before strutting out onto the floor. 

He wasn’t here for you, you told yourself. You were just being paranoid. Wanda was going to have all of them eating out of her hands by the end of the night, you told yourself as you started out towards your first table. You pushed it from your mind. 

But you couldn’t help but glance over to his table, and the glance was more than enough to see that James was not happy. Wanda and her incredible curves didn’t seem to distract him at all. You could see her laughing and chatting but James was a dark cloud.  

Fine, who cares, he was going to give Wanda a ludicrous tip because he was a generous tipper. He wasn’t pitying you, he wasn’t trying to give you charity, that's just who he is. You scamper towards the kitchen to put in your orders and hopefully hide out a while. 

Wanda came back towards the kitchen, placing her orders and grabbing the food that was ready. Her beautiful smile fading into a line when she made eye contact with you. 

“They were really really insistent that it has to be you tonight. Even just to go over and say hi. ” She said, her tone was dry. Nervous butterflies erupted in your stomach. You bit your lip. What could this possibly mean? 

{}{}{}

You were normally pretty steady in your heels, but the floor was suddenly uneven as you approached James’s table.

“Well hi there, gentlemen. I-I can take your drink orders tonight. Give Wanda a hand.” You babbled, trying not to flub over any words. 

James smirks at you victoriously. He doesn’t need to say anything, his eyes say it all. He had gotten his way.  

The party once again racked up a ridiculous tab.  Nothing was stopping him. The rest of the table had cleared out quickly, leaving just you and James. 

He opened his wallet and laid out the tip, bill by bill. He pushed the fat stack to you, not breaking eye contact once. 

It was multiple hundred dollar bills, but you were too stunned to count. The anxiety that had been building since you first caught a glimpse of James again finally came bursting out of you in a tidal wave. You tossed the cash back on to the table. 

“Please stop. I can’t…I can’t keep doing this, I don’t know what you expect from me.”  You gasped, allowing your facade to crack as you stared up at him with tears wetting your eyes. 

You weren’t scared. But you were confused. This sort of attention must have meant he wanted something from you and…you were fairly certain of what that was. 

“This is how this business works, you did something for me, and I paid for your services.”

“I -- I--” Your breath was caught in your throat as he leaned closer to you to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Poor thing, you’ve never been treated well in your whole life, have you? I know why you’re so nervous. You’re not stupid, you're really smart. I don’t expect anything from you tonight.”

He took a breath and it was like he was stealing the air right from your lungs. “But. I would like to make an offer, if you’d be interested. I just want one hour of your time.” 

“I’m not a whore.” 

He caught your chin in his hand and made you look back at him, his eyes dark and humorless.

“What an ugly word. Nobody’s calling you that doll. Have dinner with me.” His thumb traced over the apple of your cheek.  

{}{}{}

One hour of your time. You kept thinking about it over and over again. It was just one hour. This ostentatiously wealthy man was paying you to have dinner with him. It’s not a crime. But it felt so dangerous. Sneaky and dirty. Part of it was terrifying but it was also…exciting. 

This restaurant was leaps and bounds above your place of work. It was all very classy. You tugged on your skirt just a bit, hoping you weren’t going to stick out. You were brought through the restaurant, up some stairs to a private party room. It was a huge table, with only two places set,  a glow with dozens of candle’s soft light. The walls were all windows, looking over the restaurant the other a breathtaking view of the city. 

James was waiting for you when you arrived. He looked you up and down appreciatively, his eyes lingering. He stood up like a gentleman when you got to the table. He pulled the chair out for you. 

“Oh um, thank you.” You said as he pushed you into your spot once you were seated. 

“No thanks necessary, Doll.” He placed the napkin from the plate on your lap before returning to the seat across from you. The waiter who brought you up took your drink orders before leaving you alone. 

The door clicked closed and suddenly there was a tense silence between you two. What was next? Were you supposed to say something? Or should you wait for him? 

“I trust the ride over was pleasant?”

“Yeah, um, no issues at all. I’ve never been here before, any recommendations?” Why were you so awkward? Should you be seductive? Should you be professional? Was this a business transaction or a date? Every time your eyes met his he looked hungry. For you. It made you flush. 

“You can get anything your heart desires. Pick out whatever has the most zeros next to the name.” He grinned. “The seabass is pretty good too.”

You wrinkled your nose a bit. “It's not too…fishy is it?” 

“Well it is fish.”

“But is it fishy fish?” James laughed at that. 

“It's a fishy fish. The steak is good too, but it's a steaky steak. So you know.” He joked. It made you laugh a bit too. It was like a spell was cast over you, the tension was released and your nerves vanished. The conversation flowed between the two of you easily.  

Your food came, he didn’t bring up anything. He had asked for an hour of your time, because he was going to propose something to you. You had friends who had “boyfriends” who weren’t really their boyfriends. Men who would pay for the fun that night, but they got paid back in other ways. 

You never had thought of yourself as that girl. But here you were. The anticipation made you nervous but you couldn’t deny the excitement.

He ordered dessert for the two of you, champagne and strawberries with cream and chocolate. 

You glanced at your phone, there was about ten minutes left of “your time” that he had purchased. 

“I hope I’m not so boring that you’re counting down the minutes.” James commented as you put your phone back in your purse. You shake your head.

“No I just…we have some things to discuss right? And an hour is what you asked for…”

“I am willing to pay overtime, if you’re still enjoying yourself. But if we’re down to the minute here, we should talk.” He folded his hands on the table. 

“I like you, I think that we can make something together. You seem like you need some help and call me old fashioned but I just can't resist a damsel in distress. I’m a busy man, with a lot of work and a full schedule, not really much time for dating. Not a fan of the apps either. What I am looking for is an arrangement. I want a companion and can keep you very well compensated for it.”

“So you’ve had…arrangements like this before.” You asked slowly. It didn’t make much sense to you. He was so unbelievably handsome. How could he have trouble finding anyone to be with?. He filled out his clothes so well, his strong square jaw made you want to swoon. How could it be you that he wanted? 

“Yes. Does that bother you?” 

“I-I’ve never done anything like this before.” You admitted. You cleared your throat. “What sort of things are you looking for from your…companion.” Your eyes were suddenly very focused on the bowl of strawberries in front of you. You hadn’t had a boyfriend before, but you’d been with men. Your idea of a sugar daddy was always a creepy old man, desperate for a young thing to fuck. But he didn’t seem desperate at all. The way he pinned you with his gaze was making you feel desperate for him. 

James reached out and placed his hand over yours.

“I am looking for everything. I want someone who’ll keep me company at home, someone I can buy gifts for, someone I can take out on dates.” He squeezed your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over your wrist. “I’d like someone who’s going to stay the night too.”

Your stomach flipped. You knew what he meant. 

“Ah, like, sleepovers?” You giggled nervously. “I was never allowed to have those, as a kid. I always had to watch over my siblings.” 

“I didn’t have any either. Romanian immigrant parents. They didn’t really…get it?” James smiled, it was different from the grin that had been on his lips all night. It almost seemed shy.  “So maybe we should make up for lost time, hm?”

“But what would it be like? Being your…companion?” You were testing the waters. He was being a bit too vague for your liking. The word sugar baby had never been said but that’s what this was going to be wasn’t it? He wasn’t asking you to be his girlfriend. But he wanted you. And you wanted him. 

Should you get a contract? Or was that only something that happened in trashy romance novels?

He picked the bottle of champagne, his veins bulged in his strong grip. He easily flicked the cork off, popped the champagne with a loud bang that made you jolt. He smirked at your reaction. He poured himself a glass effortlessly then stood, walking to your side of the table. He was completely relaxed, in total control the whole time. 

He towered above you as he poured the bubbling liquor into the champagne flute in front of you. You could smell the rich musk of his cologne. He picked it up to offer it to you.

“If you agree to be mine, I would take you out to nice places like this, buy you whatever you like and then we would keep having fun all night.” His eyes sparkled. Your heart began to flutter, his eyes making you feel like you were the only person on earth. And you could get anything you wanted. 

You took the flute from him. You took a sip of the dry sparkling wine. It tasted expensive. 

“Do you want me to quit my job?” You said plainly. 

“Being CEO means I don't exactly have a 9-5 schedule and neither does a cocktail waitress. I don’t want to have to deal with scheduling around each other. Part of this is about you being available to me. You can take a leave of absence?” He was still standing, but had leaned against the table facing you. The CEO drop gave you a slight pause. You knew he was rich but…you were nervous to ask just how rich. Did it matter? You wondered to yourself. He was so handsome, you didn’t need specifics. You needed him.

“I don’t think that's an option for me.” You said trying not to roll your eyes. 

“Trying not to seem too pushy Doll, but…I want you to quit your job. I’ll be your job from now on. I can cover any of the expenses you’d need a job for. Being mine means spending late nights at my apartment, weekend trips to Europe, I don’t want you to worry about anything but me. If you agree, of course.”

He held out his hand to you. “Or is my time up?” 

You grabbed his hand. Your fingers interlocked. You nodded your head. James smiled and pulled you out of your seat. You quickly stood, eyes looking up into the icy blue pools that captivated you. His lips lightly pressed against yours. It was so soft and romantic, you surrendered to him easily. Your lips moved against him, assuring him, assuring yourself, you could do this. 

“You know why I got the strawberries right?” He asked as he pulled away motioning to the nearly forgotten dessert. 

“Yes…I’ve seen Pretty Woman. They bring out the sweetness of the champagne” You replied smartly. He laughed again. You made him laugh a lot, and every time you did your heart would race.

“I got them because I’m pretty sure you have a sweet tooth. And I thought it could be fun.” He scooped a dollop of cream onto a berry and brought it up to your lips. You obediently opened your mouth, taking a bite of the fruit. The bright, sharpness of the berry was contrasted by the fluffy sweetness of the cream. It was so decadent you needed a minute before you could take another bite. 

He pressed his hands against the small of your back and guided you slowly towards him.

He eased down onto the chair, planting his feet on the floor. 

He gripped your hips and pulled you to straddle his thigh. He guided you down and you followed his lead. You slowly lowered onto him.Your crotch rubbed against his thigh, you grabbed onto his shoulders to try and steady yourself. His fingers went to your dress and hiked it up to your waist.

You let out a gasp, your eyes quickly darting to the door. He grabbed your chin and pulled your focus back to him. 

“You don’t have to worry about anything tonight. You just have to be mine.”  He murmured, his breath fanning over your face. Your face was burning with embarrassment, you’d never been so intimate in public before.

He began to tap his heel making you bounce up and down. His hands went to your ass. The delicious friction made you bite down hard on your lip as your arousal started to mount. 

“James ahh--” You tried to ask but pleasure started to rocket up your core. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to rock you on his thighs. He shushed you, burying his face in your neck. His hands finally left your hips and grasped your breasts.  You moaned at the sensation. You wrapped your arms around his neck, arching your back bringing his face to your cleavage. 

Your hips moved of their own volition now, faster as the sweet ache between your legs grew. 

They glided over and over his thick thighs, building in speed as you chased after your high. Bouncing up and down, no longer concerned with anyone who might see. 

“What do you want?” he gasped. Suddenly stopping you mid thrust, his grip on your ass held you still. 

“Huh?” you whined, wiggling your hips a bit, but he held you firm. 

“Tell me sweetheart, how do I close this deal, what do you want?” James whispered in your ear, letting his breath tickle you. 

“I--” You took a moment. Your panties were soaked through, you could feel your slickness on his pants. You felt so wanton, but this was what you wanted. “I want my rent paid.”

“Done.” 

“And I want a new phone.” He just nodded as his lips connected with your neck. You moaned as he lightly bit down on your neck alternating between pain and sweet kisses. You suddenly felt powerful, more powerful than you ever had in your life. “I also have student loans and money for savings a-and my sister’s starting high school this year and she’s going to need a laptop, so--” 

His lips had finally worked your neck enough and collided with your lips. He kissed you so fiercely, so overwhelmingly hot that you completely lost your train of thought and surrendered to it. 

“Deal.” he panted as he pulled away from your lips, his forehead resting against yours. You started to ride his thigh again, desperate for a release as the coils inside you wind together tighter and tighter.

“Fuck Doll that’s right, use me, ride my thigh, you’re mine now. Show you how good it is to be mine.” James grunted as you chased your high.

Waves of pleasure came crashing over you. You writhed on his thigh, your panties sticking to the sides of your walls as you collapsed forward. Pressing your head to his shoulder, you could feel him chuckling.

You liked being his. You felt small in his lap as he smoothed down your dress. He wiped some of the sweat off your brows. 

You take another sip of the champagne. It wasn’t sweet, but you could get used to it.

[stealingyourbones]

Short DPXDC Prompts #881

The Daily Planet hired a new journalist for their politics sector. According to the gossip Lois heard, the new hire is a meta who impressed Perry on a potential scoop on a major violation of the Meta Protection Act. Perry instructed her to show the new guy the ropes, it’s a bit under her pay grade but she accepted. She can take a small break writing columns to train a newbie. A knock on her office door had her pause writing a new column on another Lex Luthor scandal. “Come in.” The door opened. On the other side was a man even larger than Clark. His flaming hair, red eyes, clawed fingers and massive frame cast him as an extremely imposing figure. Good thing that Lois is used to imposing, but this man was a different form of towering than Clark. While Clark did his best to look small and as unassuming as possible; this man’s shoulders stood tall. His dark suit and circular sunglasses gave him a powerful and menacing energy that was fully intentional. It’s eerily similar to how Bruce held himself during his business meetings, not nearly as menacing as his Batman persona; but still strikes as serious and imposing as he directs his company as the CEO of Wayne Industries. The looming figure met her eyes and nodded, giving her what she assumed to be a grin meant to make him less menacing, his razor sharp canines prevented it from being very effective. She mentally makes a reminder to get him lessons from her husband on making his approach more friendly. Clark has lots of experience on the matter. “Mrs. Lois Lane.” His voice was low and gruff, a deep rumbling tone that equally sounded soothing and dangerous. Shutting the door and walking over to a chair opposite her desk. He stuck out a hand, his claws glinting in the light. “The names Dan Phantom ma’am. It’s very nice to meet you.” She noted with mild surprise that he moved more deftly than she suspected a man of his bulk would. Smiling, she grabbed the outstretched hand and shook his hand firmly. Lois smiled and shook his hand firmly. He had the same gentleness as Clark’s handshakes. Still incredibly strong, but a feeling of carefulness. Like her hand was made of glass and he was afraid it’d shatter if he grasped it too firmly. Lois mentally filed ‘Superstrength’ in the lists of potential powers this man might have. “Likewise Dan. Welcome to the Daily Planet.”

[mya-valentine]

The Crimson Bond

Synopsis: As Muzan’s chosen companion, you wield an influence even the Twelve Kizuki fear, binding the Demon King to your fragile humanity and becoming his greatest obsession—and weakness.

The sun had long since sunk below the horizon, leaving the world drenched in velvety darkness. It was a time when humans cowered behind their doors, clutching talismans and muttering prayers against the evils of the night. For you, however, the night brought not terror but a bittersweet symphony of emotions. Your life was unlike any other, entwined with the life of Muzan Kibutsuji, the Demon King himself.

How you came to be in Muzan's world was a mystery even to you. A fleeting memory of your capture lingered—a cold night, an eerie silence, and the ghost of his crimson eyes piercing through the shadows. When you awoke, it was to the sight of him staring down at you, curiosity dancing behind his stoic expression.

Unlike others who would have trembled before his gaze, you merely stared back, unflinching. It was this act of defiance—or perhaps indifference—that intrigued him. You were no ordinary human, and Muzan recognized it immediately. He didn’t kill you. Instead, he made you his chosen companion, a title that left you in a position few dared to question.

Muzan was a man of control. His reign over the Twelve Kizuki was absolute; even the most powerful demons bowed before him. Yet, with you, there was an inexplicable shift in his demeanor.

You were no demon, though he offered you the transformation countless times. Each time, you refused. The idea of being like them didn’t appeal to you, and Muzan, much to the surprise of the Kizuki, never forced the matter.

"I could make you stronger," he’d said one night, his voice velvet-soft as he traced a clawed finger along your collarbone. "You wouldn’t have to worry about death, or fear anything, ever again."

"I don’t need strength," you replied evenly, meeting his gaze. "And I certainly don’t fear you."

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Nakime, who had been silently plucking at her biwa nearby, froze mid-strum. Even the ever-loyal Kokushibo, who stood like a sentinel in the corner, tensed visibly. Muzan’s crimson eyes darkened, his lips curling into a dangerous smirk.

"Is that so?" he mused, leaning closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. "You’re either incredibly brave… or incredibly foolish."

But he didn’t strike you down. Instead, he laughed—a low, chilling sound that sent shivers down the spines of those who overheard it. You had earned his respect in a way no one else had.

Over time, it became evident that you held a power over Muzan that no one else did. The Twelve Kizuki feared you—not because you posed a physical threat, but because Muzan listened to you. He valued your opinions, sought your company, and, on rare occasions, even heeded your advice.

When Akaza knelt before Muzan, apologizing profusely for failing to kill a Hashira, you had been there. Muzan’s anger was palpable, his aura suffocating as he prepared to reduce Akaza to nothingness. But then you spoke, your voice calm and measured.

"Enough, Muzan," you said, placing a hand on his arm. "Killing him won’t change what’s already happened. Focus on the bigger picture."

The room froze. Akaza, trembling, dared to glance up, disbelief etched on his face. Muzan’s eyes flicked to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the tension was unbearable. Then, to everyone’s shock, he relented.

"You’re lucky," Muzan murmured coldly, dismissing Akaza with a wave of his hand. "Don’t make me regret this."

The Kizuki whispered of your influence in hushed tones, their fear of you almost rivaling their fear of Muzan himself.

Despite your unique bond, Muzan’s obsession with immortality never wavered. He despised your humanity, not because he found it weak, but because it reminded him of his own mortality. You were a constant paradox in his life—precious yet fleeting.

One evening, as you sat beside him in his grand estate, he studied you intently. His pale fingers traced patterns along your wrist, his touch cool against your warm skin.

"You’re fragile," he said, almost bitterly. "A single mistake, a moment of carelessness, and you could be gone."

"Everyone dies eventually," you replied, your tone matter-of-fact. "Even you."

His grip tightened ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing. "I won’t allow it. Not for me, and certainly not for you."

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You can’t control everything, Muzan. Not even death."

It was the first time you’d ever seen him falter, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before his mask of indifference returned.

Your relationship with Muzan was a double-edged sword. While you held sway over him, it also made you a target. The Kizuki, though obedient, harbored resentment and jealousy. Daki once dared to voice her displeasure, her tone dripping with venom as she addressed you.

"You’re just a human," she sneered. "What makes you think you’re worthy of standing beside Lord Muzan?"

Before you could respond, Muzan appeared. His presence was like a storm, his anger palpable. Daki barely had time to bow before he struck her down, his voice a deadly whisper.

"Question me again, and you won’t live to regret it."

From that moment on, no one dared to challenge your place at Muzan’s side.

One night, as the full moon bathed the world in silver light, Muzan took you to a secluded garden—an oasis hidden from the world. It was a rare moment of peace, a reprieve from the chaos that surrounded him.

"You’ve changed me," he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve made me… care."

You looked at him, surprised by his vulnerability. "Muzan…"

"Don’t misunderstand," he added quickly, his usual arrogance creeping back. "I’m still the Demon King. I still rule over life and death."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Of course, you do."

For the first time, Muzan smiled—a genuine smile that softened his sharp features. He pulled you close, his hand resting on the back of your neck as he whispered against your ear.

"You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who dares to take you from me."

You knew your time with Muzan couldn’t last forever. Whether it was your mortality or his insatiable hunger for perfection, something would eventually tear you apart. But for now, you reveled in the rare, fragile connection you shared with the Demon King—a bond that defied logic, fear, and even death itself.

And as the moonlight cast its glow over the garden, you found solace in the knowledge that, for a brief moment in time, you had tamed the untamable.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[littleprinces]

Day 26: Werewolf

Kim Minju x OC! Werewolf

Kinkvember Day 26

Tw// Major Character Death, Cannibalism

Read at your own risk

Minju hesitated for a moment before standing up. She out of the bar, into the night, and into the unknown.

The woods were dark, the trees casting long, eerie shadows. Minju could hear the distant howl of a wolf, and she shivered, both from the cold and from the anticipation.

She look at the man she meet before at the wood, and then he began to change. His body shifted and contorted, bones cracking and snapping as fur sprouted from his skin. Minju watched in horrified fascination as the man named focus she had been talking to just moments before transformed into a massive wolf, standing before her on two legs.

Minju's breath hitched in her throat, and she took a step back. "Focus?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The wolf tilted its head, regarding her with those glowing blue eyes. It was Focus, she realized. The man she had meet at the cafe with just moments before was now a werewolf, standing before her in the woods.

Minju took another deep breath, steeling herself. She had to admit, there was something incredibly sexy about the sight of Focus in his wolf form. He was powerful, dangerous, and completely wild. She could feel her body responding to him, her heart pounding in her chest and her breath coming in short gasps.

Focus took a step closer, and Minju could see the muscles ripple beneath his fur. She reached out a hand, tentatively touching his side. His fur was soft, but she could feel the power beneath it. She could feel the wolf.

Focus nuzzled her hand, his breath warm on her skin. Minju could feel the heat radiating off him, and she let her hand linger, stroking his fur. She could feel the tension building between them, a electric charge that seemed to fill the air.

The wolf growled, a low, primal sound that sent a shiver down Minju's spine. She could see the desire in his eyes, the hunger that matched her own. She took a step closer, her hand still stroking his fur. "Show me," she whispered.

Focus growled again, and then he was moving, his powerful body pushing her back against a tree. Minju could feel the rough bark against her skin, and she let out a soft gasp as Focus leaned in, his muzzle brushing against her neck. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, and she moaned softly, her body arching against his.

Focus's tongue licked her neck, his teeth gently nipping at her skin. Minju could feel her body responding, her nipples hardening and her pussy growing wet. She could feel the heat between her legs, the desire that was building inside her.

Focus's hand pushed her skirt up, his fingers stroking her thigh. Minju could feel the heat of his touch, and she moaned softly, her hips pushing against his hand. She could feel his claws, sharp against her skin, but she didn't care. She wanted more.

"Shhh Focus, eat me, I'm your dinner now" Minju moan so hard and begging.

then he was tearing her panties off, his claws ripping through the delicate fabric. Minju gasped, but she didn't protest. She wanted this, wanted him. She could feel his hot breath on her pussy, and she moaned softly, her body arching against him.

Focus's tongue licked her slit, and Minju cried out, her hands gripping his fur. He licked her again, his tongue long like human's cock and rough, and Minju could feel the pleasure building inside her. She could feel her body tensing, her muscles coiling as she got closer and closer to the edge.

Focus's tongue flicked her clit, and Minju screamed, her body convulsing as she came. She could feel the waves of pleasure washing over her, her body shaking as she rode out the orgasm.

When she finally came back to herself, she found Focus standing before her, his cock hard and ready. Minju reached out, stroking his length, feeling the heat and the power beneath her fingers.

Focus growled, and then he was inside her, his cock filling her completely. Minju gasped, her body adjusting to his 75cm cock size. She could feel him stretching her, could feel the pleasure and the pain mixed together.

"Ahh it is too big" Minju scream so hard as 75cm cock thrust into her small pussy

Focus began to move, his hips thrusting against hers. Minju could feel every inch of him, could feel him hitting all the right spots. She moaned, her body moving with his, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust.

"Faster," she gasped, her body aching for more. "Harder please"

Focus growled, and he obliged, his hips slamming against hers. Minju could feel her body responding, her muscles tightening as she got closer and closer to the edge.

"Yes," she panted, her body on fire. "Yes, yes, yes."

Focus's hips were a blur, his cock pounding into her with a force that was almost brutal. Minju could feel her body tensing, her muscles coiling as she got closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh, god," she moaned, her body shaking. "Oh, god, Focus, I'm going to cum."

Focus growled, and then he bit her, his teeth sinking into her shoulder. Minju screamed, her body convulsing as she came, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that was almost violent.

Focus out of control, the hunger he feels look Minju as a raw meat, Focus start to eat her neck until it bloody and make her head detach from his body, Minju final scream was done and her dead body still get fucked by Focus until he cum in her dead pussy.

And after it, Focus make minju as her dinner, he ripped her body and get her raw flesh meat to his mouth and eat her deadbody until the bone.

[muzansfangs]

Shinji arguing with wife reader cuz he don't want her going on missions turning into passionate breeding 🙏🙏

Maternity leave.

Starring: Shinji Hirako x f!reader;

Format: drabble;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding kink, mention to pregnancy, turn back the pendolum arc, power imbalance, dirty talk, established relationship, married couple, altercations, overprotective Shinji, jealousy, kind of toxic Shinji;

Plot: When you decide to request a transfer from the Fifth Division to the Twelfth, your husband feels the ground shake beneath his feet. All of his efforts to keep you away from supposedly dangerous missions had turned out to be useless. Maybe, then, it is time for him to assure your absence from the battlefield for nine months.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“What did ya say?” the Captain of the Fifth Division disinterestedly asked you, cheek propped onto the upturned palm of his hand, his posture indecent for a man of his rank. Trying to keep Shinji Hirako in line, however, was impossible. You had given up on it long ago, leaving the absurd and tiresome task to the brilliant Lieutenant your husband had just appointed.

Anyway, biting your tongue not to reprimand him for his deleterious habit of slacking off early in the morning, you huffed and threw your hands in the air in frustration “I said that’s my last day in the Fifth Division. Do I have to ask Captain Unohana to check your hearing?” you replied pointedly sarcastic in the inclination your voice took.

He blinked. A reaction. This time you had his full attention.

“What the heck? — he scoffed — I don’t think I get it”.

“Well, that’s not my problem. I’ll keep my rank of Fourth seat, but I’ll be working for Captain Urahara starting from tomorrow” you informed him, narrowing your eyes at his scornful attitude. You expected him to hamstring your initiative. After all, he was your husband and your Captain. He refused to let you go.

Despite that, Captain Hirako had it coming. After decades of denying you the consent to go on ‘risky’ missions in the World of the Livings, you had officially decided you were not going to accept such a treatment any longer. You were even better than the Third seat he had promoted a couple of years ago, yet he had confined you to a lower rank for the sake of his obsession to keep you safe and sound. You were so fed up. His decisions were questionable and even your collegues were starting rumors about ‘the Captain’s favoritism towards his wife’. On the other hand, arguing daily with your husband hurt you. The best solution was for you to be another Captain’s underling.

“Why? Do ya really think I’m gonna sign the documents to allow—”.

“It won’t be necessary” you cut him off, unfolding a paper signed from the Captain Commander himself. Of course you had outfoxed him. You were far-sighted, sadly. Your husband knew how sneaky you could be, when you wanted something so desperately.

He tsked, scrunching up the paper in indignation and tossing it in the bin underneath his desk “You can’t do that to me! What have I done to deserve this?”.

“And what did I do to be perpetually the last choice for missions? You secrifice lower ranks to spare my life, when I could easily get the job done unscathed and save them from a miserable death!” you snapped, watching your husband clench his fists down his sides and circle the desk to stand directly in front of you.

The tension was palpable between you two. Shinji knew you were right. He had sent the ninth and tenth seats to fight off a couple of Hollows in Karakura only for them to never return. The mission was initially yours to take. The kind Lieutenant had even offered you his support, suggesting your husband to let you make your experinces under his watch.

The idea of you in another dimension with a man that was not him revolted Shinji. Sending two young recruits to die had been incredibly reckless from his behalf, but it was not yours the name your comrades were mourning now, right?

“You should be grateful I’m protecting you!” Shinji retaliated, staring you down coldly and expecting you to fold like you always did when this got messy.

The moment you bitterly laughed at his face and shook your head at his declaration, he realized how serious you were about abandoning the Division and spit on his face for loving you a little too much “This is your excuse for making me cast off my role of a shinigami? I have been serving the Gotei 13 longer before we started dating. I am a warrior, Shinji. No matter what happens to my sentimental life. I have sweared to protect this place before you decided protecting me was your priority”.

You watched his eyes widen in horror, hand palming his forehead before he closed his eyes in what you assumed was defeat. There was nothing he could do to prevent you from working for Urahara. Still, there was actually something he could do to temporary keep you out of the battlefield. You had been talking about it for years now, but the longevity of your lives somehow alleviated the pressure of procreating. Here. This was what he had to do. He had to impregnate you, fucking you so hard and intensely you were going to beg him to fill you up over and over again.

The hot minute of silence between you two made you think it was time to leave to pack your stuff, but you were suddenly spun around by your husband whose lips stole a scorching kiss from you.

The initial surprise left your body almost instinctively as you began to reciprocate his kisses. His hands fumbled with the sash of your hakama to yank your pants down your thighs. You could sense some eagerness in his frantic actions, his nimble fingers working their way insides your underwear to pry your dewy folds open. Sharp intakes of air filled the silence of his office, whilst he began to rub your clitoris furiously.

“You can’t solve your problems with sex” you pointed out, a strained moan erupting from your throat the moment he sank his index into you hole.

“Too bad you let me fuck your attitude out of you every damn time then” Shinji rasped out, teeth nipping at your earlobe while he heedlessly backed you to his desk. How many times he had wrecked you on the office forniture. How many times you had let him do that. Today was not an exception.

You rolled your eyes at him, legs finally free from your trousers as he lined his shaft to your entrance and hovered over you completely. Your legs enveloped his narrow his, a blond waterfall of silky hair draping over your face as he snapped his hips forwards. You moaned out in pleasure, his cock splitting your warm walls apart gradually. How beautiful you looked like that to him.

Mouth ajar, you spasmed out in bliss, allowing him to bask in your beauty.

“C’mon, tell me I’m a massive idiot for putting your safety above anythin’ else” he flaunted himself, pulling himself half way out before plunging back into you with force.

The desk creaked, you whined “You think a quickie can change my mind? Bold of you to assume I’m so shallow” you retorted, hands tugging at the long strands of his hair as he liked you to do.

But Shinji knew what he was doing, when he did not pull out that night. He knew what he was doing when the following day he sent you to Urahara with wobbly legs and his seed leaking out of you with each step you took. He knew he had won when you got pregnant and Urahara granted you a maternity leave.

After all, he was not going to lose the argument, or you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Happy Halloween, guys! I have literally picked a random thirst from my inbox and … Well, I have written it down impulsively. Hopefully, this does not suck. Anyway, let me know your precious opinions and remember to support your favorite blogs by liking, commenting and, above all, re-posting!

Love,

– Luce

TAGS: @j-u-u-z-o @jesurum-says-hi @villainsrtasty @yeowangies @my-my-my @dehemetera (un po’ di Shinji non guasta mai), @noirfan12 @pin-k-ink @persuasivus

[blueblossomrose]

hi, I hope you are well!

i have a askk

what about Genshin Impact characters with a fem!reader who has powers similar to Gojo Satoru?

Hey! Sorry for the late delivery 😭

You didn't specify which characters you wanted so I just put the ones I thought fit on my proposal 👁

Characters: Wanderer (Scaramouche), Lisa, Diluc, Xiao, Thoma, Lumine/Aether (both travelers).

Content: It can be interpreted as platonic or romantic, some swear words perhaps, mention of violence typical of the Jujutsu Kaisen canon, reader is gn but more like male because Gojo is a man.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

[Name] was a complex individual. He/She came to Teyvat along with the traveler, apparently being from a noble family from his/her and the traveler's original world. Yet, his/her incredibly strong strength and abilities coupled with his/her arrogant personality make the residents of Teyvat confused.

"What the f*ck are you doing?" Wanderer, or Scara, as you call him against his will, while you two were on a mission, looking for mint for the traveler.

"Can't you see? Water fall! Hehe~" you laughed foolishly as your technique prevented the water from reaching you, making a small waterfall above your head.

Scara let out a sound similar to a grunt mixed with a deep sigh.

"Why in the world traveler just have to put me with you?"

“Oh, stop complaining. I bet you’re secretly having fun.”

“Having fun? What in Teyvat makes you think that’s fun?” Scara narrowed his eyes at [Name], clearly exasperated.

“Well, you’re still here, aren’t you? If you really wanted to leave, you would have found a way by now.”

For a moment, the Wanderer was silent, his prepared response dying in his throat. He stared at the waterfall, and as much as he wanted to deny it, there was something... comforting about the scene. Something so simple, yet so absurdly peaceful that he couldn't help but let his guard down a little. He looked away, sulking.

"You're insufferable." he finally muttered, though his voice sounded less sharp.

"That sounds like a compliment coming from you!" [Name] replied with a wink.

Scara gave him a long, sharp look. "If you don't find the mint in ten minutes, I'll throw you under the waterfall for real."

The traveler was worried that you would end up killing each other. Surprisingly, you are always cursing each other but you have never gotten physical.

Perhaps it helped that the traveler made it clear to the Wanderer that you were the strongest in your world. Scara is not stupid, he doesn't pick fights with the stronger ones. Yet, he learned a lot about the kind of person you are.

"I'd like to find those artifact books before the traveler gets mad at me. I mean, Lumine/Aether can even cry!" [Name] said with an overly dramatic air, leaning forward slightly as she stared at Jean.

Jean just shook her head and sighed. Despite everything, a slight smile played at the corners of her lips, evidence that she did, in fact, find [Name]'s antics amusing.

"You never miss a chance to put on a show, do you?" Jean commented.

At the top of the stairs, Lisa watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Leaning against the banister, she looks at [Name]. “Hmm, if I were crying, would you comfort me? Honestly, I would love that.”

[Name] looked up at Lisa, eyes shining with provocation. “Ah, Lisa, but you never cry! You’re too strong for that.”

“Aha, really?” Lisa smiled and laughed softly.

When Traveler asked if you really thought Lisa was that strong or were joking, you just shrugged.

Honestly, Lisa could be really strong!... or it could be pure flattery too, who knows?

“What kind of bartender doesn’t like alcohol?” [Name] asked, arching an eyebrow as watched Diluc with a wry smile, fiddling with the dessert glass you had just finished devouring.

Diluc paused for a moment, the cloth falling onto the counter with a restrained sigh. He stared at [Name] with an expression that was on the edge of patience, his eyes narrowed. "I don't think you're the ideal person to judge me," Diluc retorted, his fingers touching the glass gently. "Being the psychotic for sweets that you are, I mean."

You made a dramatic movement of placing your hand over your chest, simulating an expression of exaggerated offense.

"Aaah, but that has nothing to do with it! I don't own a wine cellar!" You replied, turning your face away.

"If I work as a gravedigger, do I need to be buried?" Diluc said dryly, placing the glass back on the shelf with precision.

"That doesn't even make sense!" [Name] exclaimed, shrugging. "You're just making things up because you have no arguments." the sarcasm was clear in your voice, but there was also a subtle glint in your eyes that suggested you was enjoying the exchange.

Diluc let out a sigh, looking more tired than irritated.

"Tell me, [Name], why exactly is someone who clearly doesn't enjoy alcohol here in my wine cellar, filling my counter with candy crumbs?" he asked, taking a step towards the counter to organize the bottles with meticulous precision.

[Name] made a dramatic gesture with the hands, smiling teasingly. "Oh, it's nothing. I just like looking at your face and your red hair~"

Diluc huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at [Name] with a mixture of irritation and resignation. “[Name], don’t you have anything better to do than break into my wine cellar and distract me while I work?” he asked, his tone exasperated but low enough not to draw the attention of his employees.

“No, actually, I don’t,” [Name] replied, with a mischievous smile that contrasted with Diluc’s scowl. “Besides, you have to admit that company does lighten the mood of this place. It’s so… melancholy. It seems like someone here is carrying a lot of grief.”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t bite at the provocation. He slung the cloth over his shoulder and grabbed a fresh bottle of wine to organize the shelves, turning his attention back to his work. “If you think this place is gloomy, maybe you shouldn’t be here. I’m sure Jean or Albedo would love to hear your unnecessary comments elsewhere.”

“But neither of them have that hair,” [Name] replied, plucking an imaginary strand out of the air and twirling his fingers theatrically. “You know, you could use a little more lightheartedness. Maybe I should bring you some sweets next time. Something that matches your hidden charm.”

“I don’t need a lightheartedness, and certainly not your sweets scattered all over the counter,” Diluc retorted, finally turning to face him. “Why are you really here, [Name]? It can’t be just to tease me.”

[Name]’s expression changed for a moment, the playful smile softening. “Maybe I enjoy your company, Diluc. It’s refreshing to see someone so… genuine. No matter how grumpy they are.”

Diluc was silent for a few seconds, his red eyes fixed on the you. He sighed, as if admitting a silent defeat, and went back to work. "Do whatever you want. Just don't leave any more crumbs on my counter."

[Name] laughed, leaning forward to support him with her elbows. "I knew that deep down you like me, redhead. You just don't know how to admit it."

"In your dreams..." Diluc replied, but the corner of his mouth almost threatened to form a smile.

You're honestly annoying. But he likes you. But he doesn't admit it.

"You really don't talk much, do you?" [Name] commented, leaning forward a little. "But that's okay, I'm good enough for two." Your voice was filled with a confidence that didn't go unnoticed.

"I'm also the type who doesn't have the patience for a long silence. In my world, being the strongest is something that comes naturally. No one dares to doubt that, and I can assure you that my power is something... unquestionable."

“You talk too much.” Xiao finally replied, his voice low and somewhat harsh, as natural of his voice. “And yet… you have no idea what it means to truly carry the weight of eternity.” He pause. “I am a Yaksha, you know. We are more than just strength.”

"You have this aura of mystery, this... silence one. I'm very good at noticing details. And you, my friend, are full of them." You say, your tone naturally laden with arrogance, but Xiao sharpens his eyes.

"Very presumptuous for someone young." Xiao says, but shakes his head in the end.

It may not seem like it, but he is not bothered by your presence.

You tend to talk a lot, he honestly doesn't mind. It may seem like he's not listening, but he is.

He cares about you. Even though you keep saying that you are the strongest in your world. He wasn't around to see your displays of power, so he doesn't believe it.

He knows your arrogance will get you into trouble. That's why he's always around.

“Thoma, it’s been a while!” [Name] exclaimed with a wide smile, your eyes shining with amusement as you saw Thoma’s blond head in the distance at the shop where the Kamisato Clan’s caretaker was buying some items for the day.

Your voice echoed through the street, carrying an unmistakable confidence, as if you had just met an old friend after a long period of absence.

Thoma, who had been distracted by picking out some ingredients for dinner, looked up quickly, immediately recognizing [Name]’s presence. He smiled back, his expression friendly and relaxed, his eyes sparkling with a hint of humor.

“Oh, ah! [Name]!” he exclaimed, raising one of his hands in greeting. He took a step towards [Name], with his usual welcoming smile.

"How have you been, Thoma?" [Name] asked with a mischievous smile. "Continuing your mission to solve all the problems in Inazuma, as always?"

Thoma, for his part, chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly, his eyes shining with amusement. “I try. But what about you? How’s life in Teyvat? Still enjoying your… ‘games’?” Thoma’s tone was friendly, in no rush to get serious about any conversation, but it was also a bit teasing. He knew [Name] had a tendency to make fun of situations and people, though he could also tell that behind that arrogance was something else, something more human.

“Ah, you know… Life is much more interesting when you can joke around with others. I can’t help but be amused by the situations you and your Kamisato Clan get yourselves into.”

Thoma laughed, his smile now wider, he had grown accustomed to this dynamic of teasing and teasing between them. "I know, I know. But if you need help with any problems, you know where to find me."

"I know," [Name] replied, smile turning into a more relaxed expression, but still with a glint of mischief in the eyes. "I just hope you don't get into too much trouble with your duties. I don't want you to be too busy to help me when I need it."

You two act like you've known each other for ages. It honestly surprises everyone around.

Thoma cares about you just like Xiao does, but he personally believes that you are capable of handling yourself even without ever seeing your displays of power.

You've known each other for a long time. A really long time. Like, since birth.

Aether knows you like the back of his hand. Your family has always been rich and famous in the world you came from, your clan being the largest. Yet, you know the twins by literally sneaking them into your house.

"Come on, come up!" A child [Name] insists at the small window of your room. Aether was crouched on the lawn and whimpered.

"I can’t do it! It's too high!" Aether says.

"Ugh, you crybaby!" [Name] grumbles.

You then start to rummage through your room looking for something. You grab a stool, quickly climbing onto it and leaning against the window. "Give me your hand."

"U-Uhh, but what if I fall??" Aether says hesitantly.

"Hurry up!"

Even though he was scared, Aether closed his eyes tightly and grabbed [Name]'s hand.

"I won't let go. I'll never let go." [Name]'s words made Aether open his eyes, seeing those deep vibrant blue eyes, and a smile. Not malicious like usual, but honest. "See? You don't have to be afraid of anything."

You didn't really let go of him. You never let go of him.

And he couldn't be happier about it.

You two will find Lumine. And you all will go home, together.

“Tsk, this is ridiculous.” [Name]’s voice was cold, but filled with a quiet anger that made even Lumine feel uncomfortable.

You had always been the type of person to keep himself in control, but when your emotions boiled over, it was clear how unpredictable you could be. Lumine watched as your made impatient gestures, she can count on one hand the times she's seen you so upset.

“That fatui trash thinks he can mess with you? Good news, he CANNOT,” [Name] continued, voice a bit louder than usual, revealing a fierce anger that rarely displayed.

You was referring to Tartaglia, who had tried to approach Lumine with a sly smile, his intentions veiled, as always. Lumine didn’t respond right away.

She leaned forward a little, looking at him with a surprised expression.

“Why are you so upset about this?” she asked.

“Because no one has the right to treat you that way,” you said, still carrying an inner strength that could not be ignored. “I will not allow some piece of weak trash to think he can do whatever he wants.”

“You really need to stop getting so angry over that small thing.” Lumine says, but quickly shakes her head. "I can take care of myself, you know."

“I know you can defend yourself, Lumine, but sometimes the world needs to remember who’s really in control.” [Nome] spoke with renewed confidence, but this time it was more of a statement than a threat.

"You don't have to worry, [Name]. I can take care of myself." Lumine said in a soft but firm tone.

[Name] watched her for a moment, and for a brief second, the gaze softened. "I know, Lumine. I know." You finally murmured.

Like, yeah. No one messes with the ones you care about.

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

thinking some thoughts about ghost x sunshine!disneyprincess-energy!reader..

OKAY THESE ARE JUST SOME CUTE THIUGHTS BUT LIKE OKAY. what if reader is just so incredibly sweet to everyone and everything n simon is just standing behind her like a guard, all scary and intimidating.. like shes such a disney princess!! BUTBUT what if she teaches him how to be gentle?? like he’s spent so many years of his life killing people for his job and using his hands to hurt others for his work. he’s been told his whole life that he needs to toughen up, so what if reader just completely brings out the incredibly soft side of him that he didn’t even know was there?

i can just imagine reader doing cute things and simon standing idly by whilst she picks flowers from the ground to put in her purse so she can make pressed flowers bookmarks for the both of them?? his heart just melts at the sight when you knelt down to pick some pretty yellow flowers in the summertime when you two went for a nice summer’s evening walk.

or you find this like baby chick by your home (cuz u both live in a cottage area, duh) and its wing is hurt so you squat down; a bright, but kind, grin on your face. you put your hands outward in a bowl-like shape, sweetly whispering to the injured creature as it chirps, “cmere, you poor thing..” when the chick waddles in your hands, simon swears you must be a fairy of some sort. simon watches you intently--one of his favorite activities. the way the chick trusts you immediately..he can’t take it you are so perfect.

the yellow fuzz ball of a chick chirps every so often, and you use gentle hands to pet it before standing up and looking up at simon, eyes wide and full of joy.

he smiles, his cheeks dimpling when you giggle and pet the chick.

“you wanna hold him?” you ask quietly, as to not threaten the bird—or possibly to relax simon’s tense body. before he can respond, you say, “here, open your hand---"

he hesitates. “what if i hurt it?“ he asks, genuine concern sounding in his gruff voice (although it's more quiet than usual as to not frighten the chicklet).

you pout slightly, glossy lips turned down.

“you won’t," you begin with a comforting smile, trying to comfort your burly boyfriend. simon nibbles his bottom lip as he glances his dark eyes from you, then to the bird, then you again. "i promise you won't hurt 'im, simmey. hold him like you hold me when im sad! okay?"

he nods faintly, letting out a small chuckle.

carefully, you bring the baby chick closer to him as you tell him to cup his hands together.

his body is stiff as he holds the chick, small chirps from the animal making him nervous.

“see? you’re doin so good, simmey !!” you encourage, running a comforting hand along his tattooed bicep. the chick is completely dwarfed in ghost’s tattooed, scarred hands.

something so innocent being cared for by someone so..not.

like the relationship between the two of you.

not that simon was a bad man—far from it. he just never knew the power of being gentle.

and he was so grateful that you brought that out of him; a soft, loving gaze and smile set on his hardened features as he watched you stand on your tippy toes and pet the bird gently with your pointer finger.

[hollyseb]

BARTENDER (part 1)

You need to make ends meet. How far are you willing to go?

Mob! Bucky x Reader

Authors note; this is my first fic. Pls be nice :)

Warnings; drinking. Minors DNI. Will get saucier lol.

Who am I? You were staring at yourself in the mirror of your janky apartment. Little red dress, white thigh high lacey socks. This wasn’t you. You felt silly. But you needed this

Since finishing college, the job market had been dry. You were broke. Undeniably. The rent payments are piling up, student loans begging to be paid, your unforgiving landlord constantly up your ass.

You smoothed down your dress, reminding yourself that this was temporary, just to make ends meet before finding a job in your field. You couldn’t deny that despite feeling a little on-show, you looked hot. Your dress hugging your curves, and your heels making your legs look everlong.

You’d picked up a job at a club uptown. You’d never been but you knew it was high-end, elite, and intimidating. Powerful men frequented this club. You were dreading meeting them; misogynists and man-whores, you thought. It’s okay, I’m just a waitress. Your only job was to serve at the bar, and deliver drinks to those rich enough to reserve tables. All I need to do is look good and smile.

Your best friend, Nat, had managed to land the job for you. She’d been working at the club for 6 months, and the money was supposedly “incredible”. You remembered laughing at that, accusing her of flirting with the regulars.

With that thought, you picked up your jacket, hugging it around your body, and headed out the door.

You adapted to the job easily enough; the thumping music, the strobing lights. Nat was constantly approaching you, checking in on you, “you’re okay right? Well you look amazing”, she whispered in your ear, winking at you, as you poured another drink.

She helped you climatize to the new environment. When service slowed, you found yourself drinking in those who frequented the club. The men on the floor were sleazy, approaching women while heavily drunk. The girls were dancing, swinging their hips, some finding company in those men. A part of you was envious, this had never been your scene and you felt a little excluded.

You were dragged out of your thoughts by Natasha asking you to drop some drinks off at one of the reserved tables. You felt a little reluctant, the table being hidden by a velvet curtain. You had yet to do this part of the job yet. I wish I could eye them up before approaching. Another part of you felt a little excited though, anticipatory.

You headed to the table, deep and low voices sounding. Some men were laughing, and others engaging in low conversation. Pulling the curtain back, a silence fell across the group of men sitting in the secluded area. You paused, taken aback. You had semi-expected the men to ignore your presence, you hadn’t expected this.

“H-hello. I have five whiskey cokes?” Your voice came across weaker than you hoped under the intimidating stares of the men. You hated the way your claim sounded like a question.

Your eyes fell upon the man at the head of the table. All black suit, perfectly tailored, with his hair falling over his piercing blue eyes. He wreaked power. His eyes were raking over your face. Drinking you in. You felt the breath get stuck in your throat when you met his eyes. He is gorgeous.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” a deep voice emerged from the man. It posed more of a statement than a question. Could he sense your anxiety?

“Yes I am”, you were painstakingly aware of how breathy your voice sounded, and also of how you were still awkwardly standing with the tray in your hands.

You eyed the other men, seeing the way their eyes dragged over your body, your curves. You felt naked. The eyes of the man at the head of the table had never left your face. He was enamored.

You cleared your throat and placed the tray on the corner of the table, trying to hide the way your hands were beginning to tremble. God, why am I shaking? You shot the men a fake smile before spinning on your heel and pulling back the curtain, their eyes burning into your ass.

When you had left the table, Bucky cleared his throat. “Get her name. Her social media. Her address. I want to know everything about her”.

Once leaving the room, you hunted your best friend down. “Nat, the men I delivered those drinks to…”, you waved your hands incredulously, reminiscing on the tense encounter and expecting her to have an explanation.

“Yes?” She smirked. She knew exactly what you were referencing. The intensity, the intimidation.

“What the hell was that? I mean- the guy at the head of the table… questioned me about being new, and the rest of them… ugh”, you rambled, your hands punctuating your questions.

“Oh…”, she raised her eyebrows at you, her face glowering in how she knew information that you didn’t, “the guy that questioned you, yeah he owns the club”, her smirk growing into a Cheshire Cat grin. She knew she had dropped you in the deep end.

Your eyebrows practically flew into your hairline, “the o-owner? God, Nat I’ve made a clutz of mysel-, I was stood there with the tray for so long, he must think I’m so stupi-”

She cut you off. “Well, at least he actually acknowledged you. He never even looks at the rest of us”, she explained, only exaggerating your confusion. “Shame really, considering he is probably the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, I mean, I would”, she winked at you again.

You laughed at that, knowing that she really would. She always knew what to say, and she was right. He really was breath-taking. But, he was also your boss. He probably only noticed me because I did something wrong.

You didn’t allow yourself to dwell on the encounter, convincing yourself that you were overthinking the fire in his eyes. He was staring at you because you were so awkward. He could tell you felt out-of-place, you thought, sighing to yourself and shaking the thoughts. Serving people drinks and cleaning the bar made for the perfect distraction.

The night continued without event, you were glad. You felt yourself ease up over time, Nat making you giggle as drunk men tipped you rather excessively. You weren’t sure if it was your best friend's humour, or the feeling of knowing you’d managed to cover this week's rent, but you felt pleased.

You picked up your coat, and slung your bag over your shoulder, deciding to call a cab to get home. You felt eyes on you as you hugged Nat goodbye. Looking over her shoulder, you locked eyes with that man again. Your boss. Stood at the top of the stairs, overlooking the bar. In a vast crowd of people, his eyes were narrowed in on you. You unlocked from Nat, drowning out her qualms about letting her know when you arrived home safely. You couldn't focus on anything else. He was the epitome of power; tall, broad, perfectly tailored.

You had to force yourself to rip your eyes from his, bidding Nat a farewell and heading out the door.

Bucky watched you until the door shielded you from view. He was fixated. It was only when Steve slapped his hand down on Bucky’s shoulder that he was brought back to the present.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through her body if you keep staring at her like that, pal”, Steve stated teasingly. He saw the way you commanded his friends' attention from the second you approached the table. It had been a long time since he had seen someone have such an effect on him.

Bucky turned to Steve, an exhale escaping his nose, “she is… certainly something”.

Steve continued, “… innocent, right?”, eyeing Bucky for his reaction. He tread on eggshells, he knew Bucky had taken a shine to you, he didn’t want to overstep.

Bucky nodded, his jaw twitching, “too innocent to be working here”. The pair nodded in unison.

You stepped outside and took a deep breath, relishing in the relief of being released from his intense gaze. You hailed a cab, being pleasantly surprised by the car that rolled up to you. Sleek and matte. A Mercedes. This was the nicest taxi you’d ever seen. When the taxi pulled up to your apartment block, you attempted to pay him with a remainder of your tips.

“Fee has been covered by… James Buchanan Barnes”.

Part 2 here https://www.tumblr.com/hollyseb/737991483216494592/bartender-part-2

[wonyowonyo]

Match Point (K. Minju X M! Reader)

GRAHHHH MY ANGEL MINJUUU! Anyways. Hello there, wonyowonyo here back again with another update! This one's about 4.9k words! This was one of the most enjoyable stories I've written so far. Now then, I hope you enjoy as always!

The gym buzzed with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floors and volleyballs thudding against the ground. As the ace spiker of the team, Y/N was at the center of it all, his powerful spikes and precise serves leaving everyone in awe. His athletic prowess made him a natural leader, and his teammates looked up to him, knowing he could turn the tide of any game. But amidst the intensity of practice, his eyes often wandered to the sidelines, where Minju, the team manager, was diligently taking notes and encouraging the players.

Minju had been Y/N's best friend since childhood. They grew up in the same neighbourhood, attended the same schools, and spent most of their free time together. They shared countless memories, from building sandcastles at the beach to pulling all-nighters for exams. Their bond was unbreakable, forged through years of shared experiences and mutual support.

Y/N cherished the moments they spent together, whether it was studying late into the night, enjoying ice cream at the park, or simply talking about their dreams and aspirations. Minju was the calm to his storm, always knowing how to ground him and make him laugh even in the most stressful times.

Their friendship was pure and sweet, filled with laughter and unspoken understanding. Y/N always felt a sense of comfort and happiness when Minju was around. She was the first person he wanted to share his victories with and the shoulder he leaned on during defeats. But he never realized how deep his feelings ran until the day his formidable rival entered their lives.

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The joint training camp brought teams from different schools together, and Y/N's team was no exception. The camp was an opportunity to learn from others, improve their skills, and build camaraderie. Among the new faces, one stood out—Jinwoo, the star player of another school, and Y/N's biggest rival on the court. Jinwoo was known for his incredible agility and strategic mind, making him a formidable opponent.

From the moment they met, there was an unspoken animosity between them, a fierce competition that extended beyond volleyball. Their clashes on the court were legendary, each pushing the other to their limits. Off the court, they were civil but distant, the rivalry ever-present in their interactions.

One evening, after an intense practice match, Y/N found himself alone in the gym, practicing his spikes. The sound of the ball hitting the ground echoed through the empty space. He was so focused that he didn't notice Jinwoo entering the gym.

"Practicing late?" Jinwoo's voice broke the silence.

Y/N turned to see his rival leaning against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face. "Just trying to stay sharp," Y/N replied, not wanting to show any signs of intimidation.

Jinwoo walked over, picking up a stray ball. "You know, you're not the only one aiming for the top. But there's more to life than just volleyball."

Y/N frowned, unsure of where this conversation was heading. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jinwoo tossed the ball in the air, catching it effortlessly. "I've seen the way you look at Minju. You're not just competing on the court, are you?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't realized his feelings were so transparent. "Minju and I are just friends," he said, though even he didn't fully believe his own words.

Jinwoo's smirk widened. "If that's the case, then you won't mind if I pursue her, right?"

The thought of Jinwoo trying to win Minju's affection made Y/N's blood boil. He clenched his fists, his competitive nature flaring up. "Do whatever you want. But don't think for a second that I'll back down."

Jinwoo chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension. "May the best man win, then," he said before leaving the gym, the challenge hanging in the air.

Over the next few days, Jinwoo's interest in Minju became increasingly obvious. He frequently sought her out during breaks, engaging her in conversation and making her laugh. Y/N watched from a distance, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. He couldn't understand why it bothered him so much. Minju was his best friend, and he should be happy for her if she found someone who made her smile. But the thought of losing her to Jinwoo was unbearable.

One afternoon, Y/N found Minju sitting alone by the edge of the court, her expression thoughtful. He approached her, sitting down beside her.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Minju looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, just thinking."

"About Jinwoo?" Y/N couldn't help but ask.

Minju's smile faded slightly, and she looked down at her hands. "He's... different. He makes me laugh, and he's really charming. But..."

"But what?"

She sighed, meeting Y/N's eyes. "I don't know. Something feels off. Like he's trying too hard."

Y/N felt a flicker of hope. "You don't have to rush into anything, Minju. Just follow your heart."

Minju nodded, her smile returning. "Thanks, Y/N. You always know what to say."

As they sat there, a comfortable silence settling between them, Y/N realized that he needed to sort out his own feelings. He couldn't stand by and let Jinwoo take Minju away without a fight. But first, he needed to understand why he felt this way and what Minju truly meant to him.

————————————————————

The training camp ended, and life returned to normal. But the thoughts of Jinwoo's attempts to woo Minju lingered in Y/N's mind. He found himself replaying their interactions, each smile and laugh Minju shared with Jinwoo gnawing at his heart. The realization of his feelings hit him like a tidal wave—he was in love with Minju.

One evening, after practice, Y/N decided to take a walk to clear his mind. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the neighborhood. He found himself at the park where he and Minju often spent time together. Memories of their childhood flooded his mind: the time they built a makeshift fort out of blankets, the countless hours spent playing tag, and the late-night conversations about their dreams and fears.

As he sat on a bench, lost in thought, he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Minju walking towards him, a concerned look on her face.

"Y/N, are you okay? You seemed off during practice," she said, sitting down beside him.

Y/N took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "Minju, there's something I need to tell you. Something I've been trying to figure out."

Minju turned to face him, her eyes filled with worry. "What is it?"

Y/N hesitated, the words caught in his throat. But he knew he couldn't keep his feelings hidden any longer. "I've realized something over the past few days. Watching you and Jinwoo together made me see it clearly. I... I love you, Minju. Not just as a friend, but as more than that."

Minju's eyes widened in surprise, and she seemed to be processing his words. "Y/N, I..."

Before she could finish, Y/N continued, his voice filled with emotion. "I can't stand the thought of losing you to someone else. You mean everything to me, Minju. You're the first person I think of in the morning and the last person I think of before I sleep. I love you, and I can't keep it to myself anymore."

Tears welled up in Minju's eyes as she listened to his heartfelt confession. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. "Y/N, I don't know what to say. This is so unexpected."

Y/N's heart sank, fearing her reaction. "I'm sorry if this complicates things. I just needed you to know how I feel."

Minju squeezed his hand, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I need some time to process this. But I promise we'll talk about it soon."

Y/N nodded, his heart heavy but relieved to have finally told her the truth. As they sat there, hand in hand, he knew that whatever happened next, they would face it together. Their bond was strong, and he hoped it would be enough to withstand the challenges ahead.

In the days that followed, Y/N and Minju continued to navigate their friendship, the weight of Y/N's confession hanging between them. They spent time together, their conversations sometimes dipping into deeper, more personal territories. Minju seemed more contemplative, often lost in thought, and Y/N gave her the space she needed to sort through her feelings.

One afternoon, as they were walking home from school, Minju finally broke the silence. "Y/N, I've been thinking a lot about what you said."

Y/N's heart raced as he turned to face her. "And?"

Minju took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. "I care about you more than anything, Y/N. You've always been there for me, and I can't imagine my life without you. But I'm scared. Scared that if we take this step, things might change between us."

Y/N took her hands in his, his gaze steady. "I understand, Minju. And I don't want to rush you into anything. But I had to tell you how I feel because keeping it inside was tearing me apart."

Minju nodded, her eyes filled with tears. "I need some time to figure out my own feelings. But no matter what, I don't want to lose you, Y/N."

Y/N pulled her into a hug, his heart swelling with hope. "Take all the time you need, Minju. I'll be here, no matter what."

————————————————————

The spring tournament arrived, and Y/N's team was determined to make it to the nationals. The atmosphere in the gym was electric, with teams from various schools warming up and strategizing for the upcoming matches. Y/N's team gathered in a huddle, their coach giving them a final pep talk.

"Remember, we play as a team," the coach said, his voice firm. "Trust each other, support each other, and give it your all."

Y/N nodded along with his teammates, his focus laser-sharp. Minju stood nearby, her encouraging smile giving him an extra boost of confidence. He knew that this tournament was not just about winning; it was about proving himself, not only to his team but also to Minju.

Their first match was against a strong opponent, but Y/N's dominance on the court was unmatched. His spikes were powerful and precise, leaving the opposing team scrambling to keep up. The crowd erupted in cheers every time he scored, the energy in the gym fueling his determination.

During a timeout, Minju approached Y/N with a bottle of water. "You're doing amazing," she said, her eyes sparkling with pride.

Y/N took the bottle, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. "Thanks, Minju. I couldn't do it without you."

The rest of the tournament continued in a similar fashion, with Y/N's team breezing through their matches. By the end of the day, they had qualified for the semi-finals with ease. As they gathered their things and headed back to their hotel, Y/N felt a sense of accomplishment, but he knew the toughest challenges were yet to come.

————————————————————

The semi-finals were upon them,Minju had always been there to support Y/N, cheering him on from the sidelines, but this match felt different. The stakes were higher, and the tension in the air was almost unbearable.

Y/N's team faced off against a formidable opponent, and the match was intense from the start. Y/N's spikes were as powerful as ever, but the opposing team was equally skilled, blocking his shots and countering with their own.

As the game progressed, Y/N's team struggled. They were behind by several points, and Y/N seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Minju watched as he pushed himself to the limit, refusing to give up despite the odds.

The tension in the gym was palpable, with both teams giving it their all. Y/N's focus was unwavering, his eyes darting to Minju on the sidelines, her presence a constant source of strength. 

But midway through the match, a minor injury forced Y/N to leave the game temporarily. In a particularly intense moment, Y/N went for a diving save that left him sprawled on the court. He got up slowly, clearly in pain but determined to keep fighting. Minju's heart ached at the sight of him struggling, and she found herself wishing she could do something to ease his burden.

Minju was by his side in an instant, assisting him to the medical office. They shared an intimate moment, her concern for him evident in her eyes.

"You always push yourself so hard," Minju said softly, her hand resting on his.

Y/N looked at her, his heart swelling with emotion. "I do it for you, Minju. Because you're important to me."

Minju’s heart skipped, as she heard him uttered those words. Minju had always admired Y/N. His dedication to volleyball, his unwavering spirit, and his kind heart made him stand out among everyone she knew. But it wasn't until now that she slowly truly understood the depth of her feelings.

Fortunately, the injury was minor, and Y/N was cleared to return. As Y/N returned back to the court, he reassured his team that his injury wasn’t anything serious and that he can play again. Before the match continued, Y/N once again glanced towards the stands his eyes meeting Minju’s. The contact wasn’t for long, as Y/N immediately set his focus back unto the court, as the referee blew the whistle. 

On the other hand, Minju felt a jolt of emotion she couldn't quite describe. She saw the exhaustion in his eyes, but also an unwavering resolve. In that instant, she realized just how much he meant to her.

It wasn't just admiration or friendship. It was something deeper, something that had been growing inside her for a long time. She realized that she loved him—not just for his strength and determination, but for his kindness, his passion, and the way he always put others before himself.

As the match continued, Minju's mind raced with memories of Y/N. She remembered the countless times he had stayed late after practice, working on his skills and encouraging his teammates. She thought about how he always had a kind word for everyone, how he never hesitated to help others, even when he was tired or stressed.

She recalled the times they had spent together off the court—how he would listen to her worries and dreams with genuine interest, offering support and advice. Y/N had a way of making her feel valued and understood, and she realized that these were the qualities that had drawn her to him all along.

Meanwhile in the center of the court, Y/N’s determination never faltered. His back continued to serve as an inspiration and foundation for his team. The title of the team's ace came with immense responsibility, and Y/N was determined to live up to it. His resolve shone through his every movement, inspiring his teammates and striking fear into the hearts of his opponents.

From the moment he stepped back onto the court, the atmosphere shifted. Y/N's presence was electrifying, and it reignited the flame of hope within his team. His eyes, blazing with unwavering determination, conveyed a message of resilience and strength that transcended words.

"Let's do this!"

Y/N shouted, rallying his teammates.

"We're not giving up now!"

With a powerful serve, Y/N immediately pulverized the defense of their opponents, sending the ball hurtling across the court with incredible speed and precision. It was as if he had never been injured, he refused to let it hinder his performance as his movements continued to be fluid and unstoppable. The spectators watched in awe as Y/N led his team with unmatched energy and skill, his will palpable in every spike and serve.

The opposition tried to counter his attacks, but Y/N was relentless. He smashed through every wall they put up, his spikes like thunderclaps that reverberated through the entire court. The intensity of his play left no doubt—he was the ace, and he would not be denied.

As the game progressed, Y/N's leadership became even more apparent. His teammates fed off his energy, their confidence growing with each point scored. They moved in perfect synchronization, driven by Y/N's unwavering resolve. He set an example, showing them what it meant to fight until the very end.

During a crucial rally, the ball soared high, and Y/N leaped into the air with grace and power. His hand connected with the ball in a spike that seemed to defy gravity, the force behind it sending the ball crashing into the opponent's court. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sound echoing like a battle cry.

But it wasn't just Y/N's physical prowess that inspired his team. It was his spirit, his refusal to back down in the face of adversity. Every time he hit the ball, every time he encouraged his teammates, he was reminding them that they were capable of greatness. His determination was infectious, spreading through the team like wildfire. And with that, Y/n led his team to victory, clinching their spot through the finals.

————————————————————

After the match, which Y/N's team narrowly won, Minju found herself sitting with her best friend, Yena, at a nearby café. She needed to talk to someone about the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling.

"Yena, I... I don't know what's going on with me," Minju began, her voice filled with confusion.

Yena looked at her with concern. "What do you mean, Minju? What happened?"

Minju sighed, her eyes welling up with tears. "It's Y/N. Seeing him today, fighting so hard... it did something to me. I felt this... this overwhelming urge to help him, to be there for him. And when he looked at me during the timeout, it was like everything else disappeared."

Yena leaned in, listening intently. "Go on."

Minju took a deep breath. "I think about him all the time. Not just about volleyball, but about everything. His smile, his kindness, the way he makes everyone feel important. I don't know if it's just because we're friends or if it's something more."

Yena's eyes softened with understanding. "Minju, it sounds like you have deeper feelings for him than you realized."

Minju shook her head, frustrated. "But how can I be sure? What if I'm just confusing admiration with... with love?"

Yena reached out and took Minju's hand. "I've seen the way you look at him, Minju. The way your face lights up when he's around, and how you always want to be there for him. Those aren't just feelings of admiration. That's love."

Minju's eyes widened as Yena's words sank in. They both called it a day as they both head home, with Minju continuing to figure out her own feelings.

————————————————————

After her conversation with Yena, Minju felt a mix of clarity and confusion. She had spent countless nights thinking about Y/N, replaying their moments together and trying to understand her feelings. The fact that Y/N had already confessed his love to her added a new layer of complexity to her emotions. She knew he liked her, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to take the next step.

One evening, as the sun began to set, Minju found herself sitting by the school fountain, lost in thought. The gentle sound of water provided a soothing backdrop as she contemplated her next move. The shadows grew longer, mirroring the uncertainty that clouded her heart.

Minju's best friend Yena soon joined her, her presence comforting as always. Yena sat down beside Minju, not saying a word, knowing that Minju needed time to gather her thoughts.

Finally, Minju broke the silence, her voice tinged with hesitation. "Yena, what if I'm wrong about my feelings for Y/N? What if it's just a phase, and I'm mistaking admiration for something more?"

Yena looked at Minju with a gentle smile. "Minju, feelings can be complicated, and it's okay to have doubts. But from everything you've told me, it seems like your feelings for Y/N run deeper than just admiration. You've known him for so long, and your bond is special."

Minju sighed, her eyes reflecting her inner turmoil. "I know, but what if I'm just caught up in the moment? What if I'm projecting my admiration for his dedication and kindness into something more because I've been spending so much time with him?"

Yena took Minju's hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Minju, it's natural to question your feelings, especially when it comes to someone you care about so deeply. But think about how you feel when you're with Y/N. The way your heart races, the way you miss him when he's not around, and the way you want to be there for him. Those are signs of something more than just friendship."

Minju looked down at their joined hands, her thoughts swirling. "But what if I'm not ready to take that step? What if I hurt him by hesitating?"

Yena nodded, understanding Minju's fears. "I get it, Minju. Taking that leap is scary, and there's always a risk. But Y/N already knows how he feels about you. He's waiting for you to figure out your own heart. You need to be honest with yourself and with him."

Minju looked up at Yena, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "But what if I'm not enough for him? What if he deserves someone who can give him all the love and support he needs without any doubts?"

Yena shook her head gently. "Minju, Y/N loves you for who you are. He knows you're not perfect, and he doesn't expect you to be. What matters is that you care about him and that you're willing to work through your feelings together. Relationships aren't about being perfect; they're about growing and supporting each other."

Minju took a deep breath, Yena's words sinking in. "You're right, Yena. I need to be honest with myself and with Y/N. I need to figure out my feelings and not let fear hold me back."

Yena smiled, giving Minju's hand one last squeeze. "That's the spirit, Minju. Take your time, but don't be afraid to follow your heart. Y/N is worth it, and so are you."

————————————————————

The finals arrived, and Y/N found himself face-to-face with Jinwoo once again. They exchanged words before the match, the tension between them palpable.

"Ready to lose, Y/N?" Jinwoo said with a smirk, leaning against the net.

Y/N narrowed his eyes, determination radiating from him. "Not a chance, Jinwoo. This is our time to shine."

Jinwoo chuckled, crossing his arms. "We'll see about that. But remember, this game isn't the only thing at stake. Minju deserves someone who can give her everything, not someone who's still figuring things out."

Y/N's jaw tightened, his competitive spirit flaring. "Minju deserves the best, and I'm going to prove that I'm the one for her. On and off the court."

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "We'll see if you can back those words up."

The match began, and the intensity was palpable from the very first serve. Both teams gave it their all, every player pushing themselves to their limits. The gym was filled with the sound of sneakers squeaking, volleyballs thudding, and the shouts of players and coaches.

Y/N's team took the first set, their coordination and teamwork shining through. Y/N's spikes were unstoppable, his serves precise and powerful. But Jinwoo's team fought back fiercely in the second set, their determination evident as they clawed their way to victory.

The third set saw Y/N's team pulling ahead once more, with Y/N leading the charge. His eyes frequently darted to the sidelines, where Minju watched with bated breath. Her presence was a constant source of strength for him, pushing him to play harder and better.

The fourth set was a nail-biter, with both teams exchanging points in rapid succession. Jinwoo's skill on the court was undeniable, and he seemed to be everywhere at once, blocking spikes and setting up perfect plays for his teammates. The set ended with Jinwoo's team barely edging out a win, setting the stage for a dramatic final set.

————————————————————

Both teams were exhausted, but Y/N's determination burned brighter than ever. He saw Minju on the sidelines, her encouragement giving him the strength to push through. The final set began with both teams fighting fiercely for every point. The gym was filled with the sound of cheers and the tension of the match.

Jinwoo's team gained an early lead, but Y/N's team fought back, point by point. The score was tied, and the match point was in favor of Jinwoo's team. Y/N's heart pounded in his chest as he glanced at Minju, her eyes locked onto his.

In the final moments of the game, with his back against the edge, Y/N found himself in the spotlight. The pressure was immense, but he focused on Minju's face in the crowd, her eyes filled with unwavering support

With renewed determination, Y/N stepped up to serve. His first serve was a powerful ace, the ball slamming into the ground before the opposing team could react. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Y/N felt a surge of adrenaline.

The second serve was equally powerful, another ace that brought the score to their match point. Y/N's teammates rallied around him, their energy matching his. The final serve was crucial, and Y/N took a deep breath, focusing all his energy into it.

The serve was perfect, the ball flying over the net with incredible speed. Jinwoo's team scrambled to return it, but Y/N's teammates were ready, blocking the spike and setting up the perfect play. Y/N jumped high, his hand connecting with the ball in a powerful spike that landed squarely in the opponent's court.

The gym erupted in cheers, his teammates swarming him in celebration. Amidst the jubilation, Y/N's eyes sought out Minju, who was making her way through the crowd towards him. She reached him, her face glowing with pride and emotion.

"You did it, Y/N! I'm so proud of you!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

Y/N held her close, his heart pounding. "Minju, I couldn't have done it without you."

As the cheers and applause continued around them, Y/N knew that this was the moment. He gently pulled back, looking into Minju's eyes. "Minju, there's something I need to say."

Minju nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. "What is it, Y/N?"

Y/N took a deep breath, his voice steady and filled with emotion. "Minju, I love you. I know I told you before, but I need you to know that it's real. You're the most important person in my life, and I can't imagine my future without you."

Tears streamed down Minju's cheeks as she listened to his heartfelt words. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands. Minju looked into Y/N's eyes, her own filled with determination. "Y/N, I have something to tell you too. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I've realized that my feelings for you are more than just friendship. I love you, Y/N. I always have, even if I didn't fully understand it until now."

Y/N's heart soared at her words, and he too, cupped her face in his hands, his eyes shining with happiness. "Gosh, I really love you, Minju. More than anything."

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss, sealing their mutual love and the promise of a future together.

The world seemed to fade away as they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.

As they pulled back, their foreheads resting against each other, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of their journey together. With Minju by his side, he felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges life threw their way.

And so, amidst the cheers and applause of their teammates and friends, Y/N and Minju took their first steps into a new chapter of their lives, their love shining brightly and their bond stronger than ever.

————————————————————

The nationals were just around the corner, and Y/N's team was more determined than ever. With Minju by his side, Y/N felt invincible. Their love gave him a newfound strength, and he was ready to face any challenge that came his way.

As they trained and prepared for the nationals, Y/N and Minju's relationship blossomed. They supported each other through the highs and lows, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.

One evening, as they walked hand-in-hand through the park, Minju turned to Y/N, her eyes filled with love and determination. "No matter what happens, we'll face it together, right?"

Y/N smiled, his heart filled with warmth. "Always, Minju. Together, we can achieve anything."

And with that, they continued their journey, ready to face whatever the future held, confident in their love and the unbreakable bond they shared.