#man his return is gonna be wild

[kaontic]

Alright, lemme get this straight.

We got the gleeful psychopath:

Monotone psychopath:

Sadistic psychopath:

And Megatron:

No really, it does.

[claitea]

god sorry i Cannot get over az being. a hotel manager of all things. like can you imagine if in bw2 you didnt find n in the castle, you found him working at the casteliacone stand instead

[nanamiskentos]

MY STRATEGY ✤ 呪術廻戦

SYN. ➤ You're a man-eater, and he's just a light snack. A.K.A how you're just driving these sorcerers wild. ૮ • ﻌ - ა

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Sukuna, Chōsō, Tōji, Hiromi, Naoya, Gojō, Kashimo

cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, màting préss, oràl (m), food play (?), drunk séx, semi-public séx, bàckshots, breéding kínk, proposals, créampié, bathtub séx, jealousy, wall séx, ooc naoya, reader is called a slút, cowgírl, pràise kink, big díck gojo, face sítting, oràl (f), múnching

wc. tba

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) someone requested a jealous!naoya fic so i just incorporated it in this 😭 and as a returned reward for me, i decided to add kashimo so we actually won 😁

➤ GETO SUGURU

"Fuckin' soaking all over me, darling. I'm really g-gonna' –"

Frankly, much of this evening has become a blur for Geto but he can faintly remember seething at those useless cunts over at the temple, and at the stack of paperwork piling up on his desk (yeah, apparently running a cult involves a lotta' bureaucracy).

He had thrown aside the heavy violet gojō-kesa, rummaging away for a faded, dark hoodie and thick cargo pants. He remembers knocking at the door of your apartment, and doing his best not to fall to his knees when you sweetly answered the door, pulling him in by the hand.

And somehow, between that blurry haze and him desperately kissing his girlfriend like his very life depended on it, Geto had found himself a happy, happy man, with your pretty ankles twitching around his shoulders. Pressing deeper into you, so your thighs were knocked straight up against your chest — pressing right into the fat of your tits as he slapped his hips right up against yours in the meanest mating press possible.

Your hands are in the mood to wonder too, it seems. Trembling ever so slightly for the surefire hits that Geto delivers when his rummaging, girthy cock thwacks! into you, over and over.

But your nails are running over the traditional dragon design that licks and curls up his left arm, trailing over his upper bicep where the ink tapers off over his back. A tattoo, something from his early days, often hidden underneath the draping robes he dons at the temple.

"Thaaat's my good girl," Geto murmurs, running his tongue behind his teeth, jostling himself closer to you so he could sip at your pretty mouth once more. Slick strands of saliva glistening between your lower lip and his, violet eyes narrowed as he feels your pussy clench around him in such a dizzying way.

"M-missed you so bad, Sugu', all day." You're whining, cunt twitching and quivering, releasing dribbling puddles of slick all over the fresh bedsheets.

Geto just chuckles, nipping his teeth over the juncture of your collarbone, leaving a faint, bruised mark that is certain to bloom into pretty petals, "I know, think ya' might have missed me jus' a bit too m-much, hmm?" Dipping a fat thumb to roll at your clit, "Pretty pussy was already sticky n' wet for me when I got here."

How sweet. Geto's practically swabbing every inch of your insides with his cock, and yet, the mere mention of him knowing about your lovely fingers spreading yourself apart and playing with yourself has you flushing so beautifully. God, Geto thinks to himself, if he doesn't marry you, he might really just die.

"Look at ya', wish I could take a photo," Geto murmurs, and you can hear just how much he truly does love you. Your (mildly suspicious) enigmatic boyfriend with his titan-steel thighs, and choppy dark hair is whispering sweet nothings in your ears, professions of loves that you know will make him fluster and blush all the more sweetly later on, "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen in m' whole life."

Raking your nails past the hypnotising dragon tattoo, to claw at his rippling biceps. Crimson lines blooming in your wake, as crescent edges leave their mark in a way that makes Geto groan. "Gonna' cum for me, baby? Can f-feel ya' sucking me up, god."

The rhythmic clenches of your pussy, the sheer, powerful arc of clear fluid spraying over Geto's groin and drenching his cock are enough to make the man moan, loudly, and not giving a single fuck at who hears. He's only burying himself further into you, driving himself right home with each spattering drivel and swivel of his hips into your glorious heat.

"Good g-girl, takin' it all for m' like a champ."

➤ RYOMEN SUKUNA

"What the fuck has gotten into you? Been in the cellars again, have we? Now, what did I say about that, eh?"

It's rare to hear Sukuna so bewildered, but the fact that the King of Curses is allowing you to manhandle him, to push his beefy, four-arm form into your private chambers is sign enough that he's indulging you.

"Wanna' kiss you, 'Kuna." You murmur, catching your husband's faint look of surprise, russet eyes widening as you yank his shoulders down. Planting your lips to his, muffling whatever snarky comment was sure to leave his fanged mouth, "Didn't like how she was looking at you."

Sukuna pulls back, if only to briefly trace his tongue along the side of your neck, down those fine crimson robes he so loved to see you in, "Who?"

"That courtesan." You shudder as gleaming fangs nip at your soft skin, shoving Sukuna closer towards the plush, vast expanse of your shared bed, "She was all over you, 'Kuna."

"Ah, that's what this is. My lil' Queen is jealous," Sukuna's back hitting the mattress, looking far too priggish and self-satisfied with your envy, "They're courtesans, brat. They pour our wine, flitter around like gnats, it's all a part o' the job description."

And because Sukuna truly can't resist himself, riling you up even further, "Besides, are you really surprised they're makin' stupid eyes at me, heh? I mean, look at me, I'm allll muscle and – mmph!"

In the short time that Sukuna took to gas himself up and rile up his pretty wife, you had already managed to snake your hands into the loose waistband of his wide pants. Clawing the fabric down absurdly broad, muscled thighs and undoing the thick, black knot holding his garments together.

A gentle peck on the upper-stacked of his two sculpted cocks has Sukuna suddenly glaring right down at you. All four eyes suddenly glazing over, "This is the game you wanna' play, brat? Really? 'Cause I can – fuck!"

You're pressing the flat of your tongue, the textured muscle right against the thick vein that runs along the underside of his absurdly long, girthy shaft. Ensuring that the second of his cocks doesn't feel left out, beginning to pump it slowly in the other hand.

"S-shut up, and let me do this." You're muffling around the smooth, taut skin at the very tip, beaming red and weeping the more you lave at it, "Wanna' taste you, 'Kuna."

"Heh, if I ever say no to that . . there's a knife in that wooden chest over there. I'd want you to use that on me, 'cause I'd hafta' be out of my damned mind to —"

There's a faint frazzled jump, a whine, colouring Sukuna's tone and you can tell that he's doing his best to muffle the sound. Determined to keep at least some dignity for himself, dark claws come to settle in your hair. Keeping that same steady pace to bob your pre-stained mouth up and down on the upper of the two shafts.

"Ouh, I was gonna' send those courtesans away, you k-know, if they were makin' my wife upset," Sukuna snickers, both cocks engorged enough that you really have to put in an effort to stretch both your hand and your mouth over them, "But if t-this is what I get outta' it, then they might jus' stay."

You glide your mouth away from Sukuna's cock with a loud pop! Giving your husband an unimpressed stare as he flounders, scowling, "Okay, m' sending them away. Was o-only a joke."

You can taste salty beads sinking into your tongue, and if you angle your head just right, you can press your head down enough for blush-pink hairs to tickle at your nose. The scent of him, the taste, the feeling of his hot n' heavy inches weighing on your tongue — you can feel a hot pulse beginning to jump up between your legs.

When it rains, it pours. When Sukuna climaxes, it. . also pours.

You know that there is no way you could possible envelop that much of his seed, but you lick gently at the spurting ropes of white, thick and opaque release. Feeling splatters paint all over your chin, your chest and the edges of those gorgeous robes Sukuna gifted you for your name-day.

"Wanna' climb on, brat?" Sukuna's peering down at you, and you can take some satisfaction in the flustered blush that he is furiously trying to hide, lolling his head away from your line of sight to little avail, "Still got another cock if ya' wanna ride. Gotta' fill ya' up so the whole estate can know that what my wife wants, she gets."

➤ CHOSO KAMO

Yeah, so introducing Choso to the idea of Friday night drinking? Probably not your most. . strategic decision. But after a gruelling day of training, and an even more excruciating day of self-restraint and not throwing yourself immediately at your boyfriend, you figured a good bottle of red, two glasses and a quiet evening on the wooden deck were well-earned.

So, now, here you are, perched in his lap, watching that wine-kissed flush bloom across his pale, clammy cheeks. His hazel eyes roam over you, shy, as berry-red stains his lips, and you lean in to sip the taste right from your favourite source.

Oh, and you're both utterly naked, training robes discarded in crumpled piles on the outdoor deck. Normally, you'd be a bit concerned that someone could turn the corner and find you perched over Choso's bare thighs, but the hour has grown late and you're on the far end of campus.

Thus, there's only one other massive factor to really consider here. And massive, well, that's an understatement of the century.

Choso's surprisingly relaxed like this, milky thighs flexing as he props you up, pulling you closer to him, but what really grabs your attention is the gleaming, red shaft that must be agonising by now, prodding right at your core. Right where you're balanced over the fat tip.

"No-one is gonna' walk past right?" Choso's blinking, dark lashes so long that they almost brush his lower brow as he flutters his eyes up.

You giggle, tilting the wine glass in your hand so more wine spills over the rim, dribbling down your bare form. And Choso, ever the greedy one, follows the slow trickle, laving his searing lips over your skin, right down your collarbone and over your breasts to lick up every last drop.

"Nah, and if there is gonna' be anyone, it'd be like. . a curse that got past the curtain." You're hiccuping, tracing faint lines over the edge of Choso's jaw, "And we'd have bigger problems anyway."

Your eyes are trailing downwards, to the curl of dampened, dark hair right over the base of his thick cock, and Choso scoffs, "You're about to say something lecherous, aren't you?"

"Wanna' give me a bigger problem, then, Cho' ?" Batting your lashes ridiculously at him, but even the half-curse can't resist how his heart is pounding, leaning in to plant a sweet curse on your lips.

"Are you sure?" Choso's gentle hands rolling over your spine, softly ghosting over your bare back that pebbles in the cool night air. Mahogany air tickling at your cheek as he situates large, soft palms over your waist. Swivelling you around so his impressively carved line of abdominal muscles are pressed against your back, and his breath ghosts are your ear.

"Gonna' be a biiiig stretch, sweet thing." Choso murmurs, planting a tender kiss at the nape of your neck, and god, he was not joking for the sheer girth often manages to catch you unaware each time.

But he's eager to help out, thick fingertips trailing over you to paw at your slick folds, spreading them apart even wider. He's murmuring something and you strain to here it, but you think that he's gasping, "I think I'm gonna' cum. Early, again."

You giggle, knowing that he flushes a vibrant shade of strawberry-red each time that he busts his load in you this early. For that faint, mere kiss of your arousal and your cunt's pretty walls against his cock is enough to make the half-curse shudder and swear as he spills glossy fillings right up in you.

"It's okay, Cho', you can – inside, you know."

"R-really, lovely? Inside, yeah?" Choso doesn't need further encouragement because he's already groaning, and you're already feeling wads of buttery cum drip down your thighs, feeling your hips twitch and shudder as the half-curse is determined to make up for this. Running his fingers along the side of your clit in a determined V-line, flicking gently over the swollen nub.

You're dazed, feeling the sudden build-up from your own orgasm creep up over you. The wine going straight to your head and making every cell in your body so tingly, and sensitive.

Watching with faint fascination at how fucking filthy this all is, the sopping leak of Choso's creamy cum dribbling out from under you, mingling with the blood-red drizzle of the wine still plastered to your thigh. A faint, pale shade of pink that has you aching to swipe your fingers through it, bringing it to your lips. And it has Choso groaning, cock hardening alll over again in you.

"You're going to be the death of me, sweet thing."

➤ TOJI FUSHIGURO

"Yeahh, arch ya' back for me like that, beautiful."

And fuck, Toji swears that if he had not been ass-naked, and there had been a ring in his back pocket right now, he would have whipped it out to propose to you, right then and there. Because, god, he's so truly in love with you, and the way that your pussy is a killer.

Capable of rendering an assassin dumbstruck, slack-jawed as he does his best to attach himself to reality once more. But all he can feel is the tight slick of your cunt clenching once more around him, the plush of your ass bouncing back to meet the base of his wide cock. Skin slapping so filthy and sticky against the trail of dark hair pattering down his abdomen.

Two wide palms searing into your skin, scooping him right up so his deliciously long cock can curve and glide right through your pussy. Bullseye! Right onto that sweet spot that makes you keen, and claw and whine, "Toji – right there, fillin' me up so good."

And you always know the right things to say because that rough, lil' scar on the upper corner of Toji's mouth is twitching, fighting off the dopey, love-struck grin that plasters itself on his face. Fighting the rising blush that threatens to make itself visible on his back, neck and ears.

He's a grown man, for fuck's sake! But never has he ever felt something so disarmingly charming and incredible as this, caging you in his arms as he pounds his hips into you, slap! slap! slap!

"We should get m-married, right? Right, doll?"

Toji doesn't even realise what he's babbling, too intent on feeling every inch of your walls, every sticky divot that he can press his inches into but god, he means every word that's falling from his slack lips, "M-marry me, doll. Gon' get ya' a diamond ring, anything ya' ask for, just say the word to ol' Toji here."

At first, the buzzing in his ears is so loud, so goddamn obnoxious that he cannot make out what droopy, muffled words are falling from your glossy, beautiful lips. But he strains his ears to catch them over the sound of his hips pistoning themselves against your skin, strands of translucent gloss stringing and snapping.

"W-wanna marry you too, Toji!"

For all of Toji's hard work in the sweltering gyms in the shitty basement of his apartment complex, his vast, muscular arms suddenly lose their strength. Everything in his broad, heavenly carved body turning into jitters, heart dangerously leaping up into his throat at just how much he loves you.

There, he said it. And now, he thinks he'll never be able to stop.

Emerald eyes not even sure where to focus on, the bounce of your tits that he can spy from underneath your glorious arch, the soft bounce of your ass against him, or the beautiful curve of your spine, "Loveee ya' doll, gonna' give you the whole package, I swear."

Each phrase puncuated by the heavy thwack! of his weeping tip against your cervix, pressing right up against where he's hoping his seed will take, "Gonna' make ya' my wife, my gorgeous wife." Sweeping a muscled arm beneath you to find your sensitive clit, pressing right at the sensitive bud, "Gonna' fill this pretty pussy up so good, wanna' see you allll round and g-glowing for me."

"Fuck, I'll even pay that s-shitty clan a visit, eh? Make 'em hand over the family ring, just so I can see it on ya' finger." God knows that those little shits don't need it, that pretty band of emerald that Toji can already see in his mind's eye, gleaming on your ring finger as he presses gentle kisses to your hand.

The very vision of you with your belly round, gleaming like the fuckin' sun itself, has Toji shuddering, planting his knees further into the mattress so he can jostle you even closer for a good fill. His wife, yeah, she'll get only the best.

Groaning as he feels wrinkled skin tighten, before thick ropes of sloppy, pearly cum shoot out from his angry tip. Overflowing in droves as he continues to buck his hips against yours, watching as your squelchy, puffy folds take up every single drop.

"I'm all yours, doll. I mean it."

➤ HIROMI HIGURUMA

"This was what you wanted . . angel?" Your husband coos, spreading his thick thighs (deliciously dusted with fine, dark hair) further apart, so you can slot comfortably in-between. So you can press your naked back to his bare chest, letting the warm water of the tub gently soothe that miserable ache in your bones.

"Mhm." You sigh, letting your head rest back against glistening, creamy skin, "Been so long, 'Romi. You're always soo busy with work, baby."

The man behind you sighs, rubbing gentle hands down your pebbled arms, pressing soft and loving kisses to your neck, "I know, and m' sorry. Wish we could find more time like this, my love."

You can hear the apologetic tone in his voice, frowning at the idea that he must believe that you're truly upset with him, your beautiful and wide-eyed husband, "I'm jus' glad you're now, and. . .uh." You shift back slightly, hoping that he gets the hint from where you're pressing up against him.

"Aw, angel's all needy now?" Hiromi laughs against the shell of your ear, "Ah, I shoulda' known you were gonna' start squirming like this. Gorgeous lil' thing."

You feel his large hands wrap around you, exploring and wandering your chest. Pinching, flicking and softly caressing the sensitive skin, his large nose brushing against your neck, "Bet you want me to go even lower, am I right?"

"Please."

Your husband never lets you down, never leaves you dissatisfied, for his quick fingers are already dancing over your abdomen before dipping in between your legs. You squeal at the sudden contact, the damp pads of his thick fingers brushing against your folds, and the water lurches in the wide tub.

"Careful, now. Otherwise, we're gonna' have to clean up the mess after," Hiromi chuckles, but he seems just as eager to let his fingers explore you. To play you masterfully, nipping at every nook and cranny of where you're most sensitive.

He's even gasping in faux-surprise, baritone chuckle giving way to a marvelled rasp, "And so wet already? Barely even touched ya', and your pretty cunt's all slippery for me."

"What can I say?" You slick back a little against his chest, head falling lower as you squirm to help him find the right angle, "It's never as good when I do it with m-myself."

Hiromi's sudden grunt amuses you, your stoic and clever lover suddenly envious from the mere mention of him missing the sight of you pleasuring yourself, "Always gotta' play some games, don't you, angel?"

He doesn't wait for your stuttering response, a wide finger already breaching past your glossy entrance, brushing against your inner walls as heat licks greedily at your groin, "S-soo good already, baby."

"Jus' be patient, and let me do more," Hiromi mutters, his lips pressing to the juncture of your neck. Another finger joining the first, your walls clenching down on the welcome intrusion. He begins to set a steady pace, pistoning the digits in and out, and again, in and out of your pussy in a way that makes breathy whines fall from your open lips.

"Gorgeous." And it's his honest, love-struck praise that makes you flush, a rough thumb brushing over your needy clit, gentle swipe proving that sometimes less is more, "Spread 'em a bit wider for me, love."

And you comply, thighs shifting wider, muscles trembling with the bulk of Hiromi's fingers smearing your slick arousal back and forth over your folds. A soft and breathless whimper escaping as the pleasurable ache deepens, "Wha –"

The trembling, excited question beginning to fall from your lips, just as Hiromi slips his fingers out of you, prompting a whine that's quickly silenced by him pressing the sweetened digits past your lips, "Had to stretch m' wife out there, now taste."

You gasp around his fingers, feeling something far heavier, and wider prod at your entrance from behind, keening as Hiromi lifts you ever so slightly higher so the flushed mushroom-tip of his cock can easily slip into your cunt, curving deliciously up into your pussy.

So perfectly snug as your husband stifles a loud moan, bucking his hips up, water pooling over the edges of the bathtub, "We're gonna' be making that m-mess, angel, so hold on."

➤ NAOYA ZEN'IN

Oh, you are so in for it now. For you've never seen your petulant husband like this, never this riled up, not with such a wild and burning edge. The short walk from the feast hall to your private chambers felt like a blur as he hadn't even spared a second glance back, dragging you from your seat on the finely-woven tatami mats.

"Tch', keep up," Naoya's snapping, golden eyes darkened with a heavy haze that you suspect the sake may have played a role in. His long, dark lashes flicker against flushed, peachy cheeks as Naoya grips your wrist with a hand that's searingly warm.

He doesn't even glance back to see if anyone still lingers in the dim hallways, no, he does not even care. And Naoya's not quite sure why you suddenly do, "Oh, so now you wanna' see if someone's around? Didn't care sooo much when you were practically draped over that man's lap like a slut, right?"

One hand roughly swinging the screen door open, and another stroking over your pulse, pushing you in. And well. . you would be lying if you said that this didn't fill you with some form of glee. That this hadn't all been a part of your plan for the evening to provoke the Zen'in heir, to get some reaction from your husband,

But god, you certainly had not expected this. Hadn't expected Naoya to press the full weight of his toned form against yours, to have you right up there against the wall with no shame. His clever hands are skimming under your verdant robes to scoop strands of slick, heavy arousal between thin fingers, all while sharp fangs nip at the shell of your ear.

"So, my wife was just that desperate for attention. . wasn't she?" Naoya's scoffing, batting amber eyes at you as his tone takes on a bratty, raspy pitch, he sounds ruined. "Were ya' just really so needy t be fucked, like this? Couldn't even wait 'till the feast was over, and now m' gonna' have to explain this to everyone, yeah?"

Naoya's always oddly chatty when he's running his hands over you, mouth running wild and desperate. His fingers have torn away beautiful, new emerald-green silk robes, pinching and tweaking your swollen clit between clipped nails. Scoffing and snickering when you buck your hips into him, whining his name.

"Ha! As if m' gonna' let you have this easy, you think I'm just gonna' give you my cock now, like you weren't just whorin' yourself allll over that sorcerer's lap – heh, he must've been thinking it was all the wine." Naoya snarls, already tugging at his own dark haori, and the thin waistband of his pants, "He should have asked me then, I coulda' told him just how cock-drunk my wife gets when she's lookin' for my attention."

What your husband has lacked for in wide girth, he makes up for in length, and he takes some (really fucking annoying) egotistical pride in knowing how to wield those inches. He's using his warm hands to hold your thigh up — to run the angry, pink tip down your dewy cunt. Hissing when the tip snaps on your weeping entrance.

The first few inches has you keening into him, not caring about how this is the man that you profess to love on some days, and vow to poison with arsenic on others.

Naoya's patting your cheek with short taps of his manicured hands, bullying his cock further into you, "Hey, wifey. Pay attention now, look d-down. This is what ya' wanted, right?"

And you do look down, gulping at the sight. His veined cock being enveloped by your swollen, puffy folds. And each time that your husband teases and draws his cock out in heavy strokes, well, it comes out glistening and creamy. And it's clear that Naoya is amused by your dazed giggles and sighs, but even he isn't above the sheer pleasure that your pussy gives him, shaking his head of sandy, soft hair.

"Ouh, take a look at that, she's l-loud tonight, isn't she?"

And you profusely flush, hearing the pap! pap! pap! echo through your quarters, the slick thwacks! of his cock sliding in and out of your heat as you mewl. And Naoya almost, just almost, looks fond of you, his wife, pressing a shaking thumb to the pad of your lower lip, pressing down as you nip sharp teeth around flesh.

"Pretty, p-pretty lady," Naoya babbles out, probably without even realises that he's paid you an accidental compliment, loose strands of flaxen hair brushing against his forehead as he leans in to press a filthy kiss to your lips, "Wanna' go one more time on the bed? O-or how 'bout the hallway? Everyone can hear how I make ya' scream."

➤ GOJO SATORU

"Oouh, you just make everything so much better for me, baby." Gojo's laugh rumbles from his bare chest, snowy lashes fluttering over creamy, flushed skin as he presses his back further into the plus mattress.

You sigh, and it's a happy, content sound that makes something awfully soft settle in Gojo's chest. You're pressing soft kisses to his reddened, twitching mouth, melding yourself to his lips.

"Now, c'mon, off!" You tug at the black silk wrapped around his eyes, curling your fingers into the smooth fabric to just yank it down. Your eyes meeting Gojo's lazy, pleased gaze as you do. He's just so smug like this, knowing that he's got you naked in his arms. You can see his jewel-blue stare appreciatively run over your bare form, his favourite sight in the entire world. A veiny hand pulling at the curve of your ass, pushing you further on top of your fiancé.

"And to think I was in such a bad mood earlier, baby," Gojo murmurs, tapping his muscular thighs. A silent indication for you to hop right on, hovering your dripping core right over his angry, weeping tip. "Thought I was gonna' have the worst day ever, the higher-ups fuckin' with me and all. But how could I ever forget m' pretty baby waiting at home?" Each sentence delivered with a soppy, sweet kiss to your smiling lips.

"Thaaaaat's it, there we go," Gojo snicker as you slowly lower yourself over his considerable, fat inches. And the strongest is just so amused, watching you bite your kiss-stung lips, struggling to keep the wanton moans in, but you're not letting him off that easy. For the second, the very second that your hips meet the base of his groin, slick seeping into that thatch of white curls, you're giving him a thick squeeze.

"F-fuck!" Gojo wheezes, white strands of hair falling back against the pillow as he does his absolute best to not lose the last semblance of iron composure. But the way your gorgeous, tight cunt is wrapping him good, he fears the game is long over before it even began.

Yeah, he considers himself a pretty lucky man.

"Ya' good, 'Toru?" You giggle, threading your fingers through tousled, frosty strands, feeling Gojo practically purr from underneath you. He's cracking a stormy eye open, pressing his mouth into a thin line, "Yeah, girl. Never been b-better."

See, Gojo Satoru was a. . .practical man. Well, no, scratch that. He was the strongest, but when faced with your dizzying, maddening grip — he feared that there was no power or technique on this planet that would be able to help him.

"Have you gotten bigger, 'Toru?" You plant your shaking hands on his broad chest, nose scrunching as you stifled a weak sniffle at the sheer magnitude of the delicious stretch. Trying to keep your head smart on your shoulders, but god, it's just soo difficult when you can feel every veined-inch throb and pulsate in the gummy walls of your pussy, his second-favourite girl.

Gojo just squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that if he were to crack cerulean eyes wide open, the sorcerer would immediately bust a fat load at the sight of his wife's naked form, and that's not to mention the magnetic pull of his gaze to your chest. He's gasping as you begin rocking forward, setting your own comfortable pace that already has him seeing stars, "Wha', bigger?"

"Yeah, s-so much bigger, each time – each time, I swear." You're mewling, words tumbling right into each other. And that, that mere sight of you struggling to accomodate to wide girth of him. . .well, that is almost enough to have Gojo busting a thick wad of seed into you.

Shaking fingers come to pinch at the fat of your ass, gently tapping it for good measure, "Don't say stuff like that, wifey. M' already s-sensitive." Gojo's huffing, admiring the way that you roll those killer hips faster now, gliding around his thick cock in gooey, filthy circles, and taking every inch of him so well.

You laugh in uneven, frayed bursts — trailing a single finger down the handsome line of his jaw, feeling his pulse jump underneath for he's so in love. "So much better than that stupid m-meeting, right?" Arching your back just a little more on top fo him, so the probing curve of his cock is brushing gentle kisses on your insides, swabbing over that rough patch of nerves that has you suddenly gasping and keening.

Gojo threads a quivering hand at the nape of your neck, so you can feel the cool band of his wedding ring brush at your skin. Bringing you down for a messy kiss, all so sloppy and desperate, "Y-yeah, so glad I left early, heh. Just knew I was needed here, c'mon, baby. Arch for me a b-bit more."

He feels dizzy, lightheaded and he know he must look a whorish mess. His staff uniform already scattered somewhere on the floor, having been discarded in a desperate trail on your way to bed. Dark blindfold having slipped under his face, and ice-white hair dishevelled in raked tendrils. Sticky strands of his pre-cum and your glossy arousal pulling away with each slap! slap! slap! of your pelvis against your hips.

"Think ya' can go a bit f-faster, baby?" Gojo runs his large, warm hands over your chest. Cupping your tits with calloused palms, and pinching them in a way that makes you squeal, "Or how 'bout this? Just move back a lil', yeah, up. So I can feel you here."

Here being in-between your thighs slapping against his, your swollen clit absolutely aching for his attention. And Gojo, duly, delivers. Rubbing furious, tight circles over where you needed the most, sending you hurtling head first into a dazzling orgasm that has you shaking in his beefy, muscled arms.

The rapid, pulsing clenches of your pussy have Gojo seeing visions of wedding vows and golden rings, amplified only by how his own ground-shaking orgasm washes over him and runs him senseless, your tight walls milking him dry for all he's worth.

Thick, glossy ropes of white seed shooting out of his tip, steaming and searing as they fill you right up, pressed right up against your cervix. And in such greedy volumes too, for you're leaking sticky cream all over your aching, shaking thighs.

"You should keep going, sweets, ride m-me as much as ya' can," Gojo gasps out, feeling the overstimulated sensation of your cunt clenching as you writhe on top of him, "If you can make me cry, m' gonna' marry you tomorrow."

➤ HAJIME KASHIMO

". . .What did you just say?" You gape at the teal-haired sorcerer, eyes wide as Kashimo suddenly seems to find the floor far more interesting than you. His heel dragging against the ground, scuffing the pristine white of his boot.

Kashimo just clears his throat — once, twice, then pointedly looks anywhere but you. How adorable, you think, watching as he turns away from you, tugging his cream martial robes apart. "Do not make me say it again, dove."

"Baby, if I didn't hear you right the first time, then. . ."

"Just sit on my face, please."

You're grinning, far too sweetly for the medieval sorcerer to keep his cool, "Say less, 'Jime." Almost cooing at the vibrant red flush climbing up Kashimo's back.

It's a once-in-a-blue moon spectacle, the bratty warrior genuinely conceding defeat for his wants. No smug, fanged grin nor insufferable gloating. So, as you watch him practically collapse onto your bed, limbs sprawled and cyan hair pooling around his head in a tangled mess, you clench your thighs subconsciously, already feeling a bit light-headed.

There's a gangly lurch in your steps, a sway to your balance as you're peeling your panties away from damp thighs. Stepping out of your underwear so you can inch just a bit closer, watching as Kashimo's eyes widen. Turquoise eyes, the same disconcerting shade as his glossy hair, widen — glazing over with something far more familiar to you. The same look in Kashimo's eyes when there's a battle that he has to win, and this endeavour warrants no less ambition in him.

"Come here, girl, let me – ouh," Kashimo's voice has hardened into a needy rasp, his eyes not leaving your mound even once, pupils trailing after a single droplet of slick tearing down your thigh. He's hastily slamming his arms forward, wrapping your thighs up in his tight hold.

Laving his sharp, pink tongue over that droplet and groaning, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before he's mouthing soft kisses over the gentle, plush flesh. Catching any more stray strands of slick before the main meal.

But there's a very slight hesitation in your movements, the faintest uncertainty as you hover with aching muscles over Kashimo's torso. Gnawing on your lower lip, contemplating whether you should actually —

"What's wrong, little dove?" Kashimo frowns, scarred hands reaching out to hungrily envelop your thighs, dragging your sopping cunt closer to his chin.

"Are you sure you want me to, uh, –" You're gesturing to his face, trying to convey that you're suddenly having second thoughts about suffocating the sorcerer with thighs around his head, and Kashimo seems to glean your thoughts, clicking his tongue, "Silly, aren't you? Jus' sit, I have you."

"What if you don't want to – . ."

It is a rare thing to see Kashimo smile, a genuine grin without the promise of bloodshed or storms afterwards, but he's snickering now, eyes hazed over with an even rarer fondness. Sharp, toothy fangs peaking out from underneath cherry-lips, "I cannot even tell you how much I want you to just let me have a taste, right now."

And god, he certainly was not exaggerating for the very minute your aching cunt met his lips, Kashimo was drinking you in like a man starved. Teal lashes fluttering closed over his blissful expression, those magenta-lightning marks at the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stifles back a heady moan, "Mmph. . holding out on me with this. How did I go s-so long without – "

You don't even hear the rest of his desperate, pussydrunk words. World already turning into a bright mush of vibrant colours and sounds around you, streaks of blue and lightning-hot white across your eyes. The slick, filthy sounds of your sopping heat dripping over Kashimo's chin, dribbling down onto his neck.

The very tip of his long tongue prodding at your entrance, already slipping past your pussy's ring of muscle, "Fuuuck, 'Jime, feels so, soo good." Unsure on where to even place your jittering hands, settling to run them past the hem of your top. Slipping the fabric off and away, so you can cup your tits, and grip the sensitive flesh.

You see Kashimo's eyes crack open, and a faintly muffled whine reaches your ears, murmured encouragement of just how much he's enjoying the sight being groaned into your wet, glistening pussy, "Soakin' allll over me, little dove. Heh, tryna' drown me?"

You buck your hips over his face with greater force, feeling the bridge of his sharp, handsome nose brush against your clit as you squeal, "Shh, shh, m' already c-close."

"Already?" Kashimo's tastebuds determined to soak every drop of you in, as though you were the sole thing in this world quenching his thirst, "Always t-take suchh good care of you, right? You gotta' s-say that I do – that it's m-me making ya' feel like this."

"You, y-you, 'Jime, only you." You whine, knowing exactly what Kashimo wants to hear, what you truly believe, how he's the only being able to coax such mind blowing pleasure from you. The only one to have you perched over his mouth, gliding yourself back and forth over his glossy, swollen tongue.

"Good, heh." And you suddenly fear that you had grown too complacent, to willing to believe that this would not be another one of Kashimo's battles.

Because the sorcerer's gaze is suddenly all the more focused, laser-sharp with his eyes on the prize, your tacked clit throbbing for attention from his lips. That look when he's capable of going multiple rounds to prove that he can win, and will win. You briefly wonder if there will be any sensation left in your twitching legs by the time Kashimo is done.

"We can do this all n-night, little dove."

[sai-int]

return to sender simon making reader sit on his face despite her lack of experience and fear she'll suffocate him

this one got a little lengthy I fear...

cw: oral (f), face sitting, mdni below the cut

“you sure?”

you’re perched on top of him, straddling his chest as his hands wander along the expansive of your thighs

“i mean—are you seriously sure?”

the overhead light is off, the bedroom dim, lit only by the amber glow of the bedside lamp . simon blinks up at you like you’ve asked him something utterly ridiculous.

“am i sure?” he repeats. sis voice is low and amused, rough at the edges like gravel and thunder. “sweetheart, m’fuckin’ starvin’.”

you let out a nervous little laugh, trying to brush off the fluttering panic in your belly. “i just… i don’t know what im doing, babe.”

his brow furrows—not in frustration, but something gentler. he sits up just enough to brace one arm behind him, the other reaching for you, hand warm on your hip. “y’don’t have to do a thing,” he murmurs. “let me take care of it.”

“i’m not trying to chicken out, i swear—”

“i know, love,” he cuts in. not unkindly. his voice softens, lips brushing your knee as you softly shift. “you’re overthinkin’ again.”

you drop your gaze, fingers fidgeting in the hem of your sleep shirt. “i just… what if i hurt you? i mean—you’re big, si, but i don’t wanna suffocate you or something.”

he blinks, and then—laughs. a deep, hearty sound from his chest that makes your whole face heat up.

“if i die,” he says between chuckles, gripping your waist to draw you closer, “that’s the way i wanna go.”

“simon.”

“‘s true, girl. buried ‘tween these thighs?” he sighs, mock-dreamy, and presses a kiss to the inside of your leg. “hell of a way to go out.”

he’s being sweet, trying to lighten you up—but you’re still hovering there on your knees, skin hot, breath shaky. you know what he’s offering, and you want it, want him, but the vulnerability of it all feels damning.

he sees it. reads you like a map he’s memorized front to back (he has).

“hey.” his voice dips, quieter now, lower. “y’trust me baby?”

you look into those eyes—dark, steady, safe. and you nod.

“then come here, love.” he lies back again, mouth tilted in the smallest, cockiest smile. “sit that pretty cunt on my face like a good girl, yeah?”

your breath catches.

he doesn’t grab. doesn’t yank you down. he waits—patient, confident. like he knows you’ll do it. because he knows you want to. that all your hesitation is just nerves, not refusal.

you ease up toward his shoulders on shaky legs, and his big, calloused hands scrape up your thighs, then under your shirt—palms searing and slow as they spread over your hips and waist.

“c’mon, sweets,” he murmurs, voice like a dark promise. “right here. let me have you.”

you settle just above his mouth, barely letting your weight rest on him, and he growls.

“uh-uh. full weight, y’hear me?” one hand leaves your hip to land a sharp smack to your ass. “sit.”

—as if you’re a dog.

you gasp, lowering until you feel the heat of his mouth on you. his tongue—god. long, wide, confident—sweeps up your folds with a guttural sound like he’s been waiting for this since he first ate you out on your dresser months ago.

it’s overwhelming. wet and messy and so fucking good you forget your own name.

you try to lift off, try to relieve some pressure, but his grip tightens.

“nah” he grunts against you, the vibration making you tremble. “stay down. y’not goin’ anywhere.”

he eats you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. like you’re dinner, dessert, salvation. tongue fucking into your weeping hole, nose brushing your clit, hands bruising on your hips. you’re moaning, writhing like a pornstar as your thighs tremble, but he just keeps going, like a man possessed. like he needs it more than air.

“si—,” you gasp, overwhelmed. “si, baby, i—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growls, finally pulling back just enough to speak clearly, chin glistening, eyes wild. “y’ gonna sit pretty and come for me , pup. c’mon, love. come in m’mouth.”

he doesn’t give you time to argue. mouth back on you, rougher now, greedy, tongue circling your clit until your hips stutter and grind and shake—until you're crying out and your whole body goes tight and hot and shattering.

and even then—even then—he doesn’t stop. licks you through it, holds you steady as you fall apart above him, as you drip and leak into his mouth, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of you.

when you finally slump forward, completely spent, he coaxes you off with care—arms wrapping around you as you collapse alongside him. he shifts, flips you onto your back so he’s the one holding you, protective and proud, one hand stroking your hair.

you’re panting. blinking up at the ceiling, dazed and fucked-out and utterly wrecked.

he kisses your temple. his voice is quiet. smug.

“still worried about killing me, sweets?”

[screampied]

oh my godddd I need choso with a breeding kink

choso and his breeding kink ★

warnings. fem! reader, breeding kink, unprotected, p i v, praise, whiny pussydrunk choso, manhandling, mdni.

you let choso shoot into you raw once, just once and he becomes addicted immediately,

it drives him wild, the feeling of goopy amounts of viscous cum pouring into you every few seconds makes his mouth water tremendously with shaky hands glued to your hips, a sweetened mewl slides out of his lips. “ohh, ‘m c-cummin’ again,” and he dryly laughs to hide his whiny moan that were trying to escape from his compressing lips. despite his voice faltering on its own, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. you lay underneath him, an ankle of yours rubbing down his back. you felt his tense muscles and its warmth grazing against your skin. “mhm, ‘s good for me—more please,” he pleads, leaning in to suck against your neck. a few strands of his hair that was naturally down tickles against your cheek. speaking of strands, a few strands stick against his own forehead as he slows his pace. it’s so much dribbling into you before a little trail of his syrupy seed starts to run its way down your left thigh. “i- i’m gonna get you pregnant, baby. i jus’ wanna make a mess out of you. make a mess outta my pretty girl.”

“you love saying that, hm?” you stroke his cheek, panting breaths departing from your lips before you arch forward.

choso was infertile—being a half human half curse, you weren’t sure if he could actually even get you pregnant but he’s always dreamt of the idea. the thought of you walking around with a rounded, swollen tummy has him nearly drooling into your collarbone. baring a fang into the crook of your neck, his sucking intensifies—you’re so full. he only gives you a silent nod, nibbling his teeth into your skin as he’s still got you stuffed full of cock. “how many babies this time?”

“m- maybe um,” he breaks away to stare into your eyes once more.

choso was sweating, a nice glossing sheet of sweat paints against his flushed face before he gulps at your direct eye contact. prying your thighs open just a bit more to stare at the volumes of cum spilling out of your cunt and onto the sheets, he sighs. “wanna give you twins.”

“. . . oh,” you tease, feeling his warm weight press against your entire body. the heat of each body makes his cravings escalate further. he wants you so bad. choso knew you were teasing from your tone alone but still, he furrowed his darkened brows.

as his dick curls into your gummy, gripping walls that forevermore clung onto him tightly, he whines. “oh? oh— what? is that not enough?”

“i was thinking more like . . five, baby,” you whisper against his ear.

whilst you’re still laid flat against your back, feeling his smooth tempo pick up again, a moan almost drags out of your throat. choso always knew how to make you feel good, vice versa. your breaths were so quickened irregular, it’s as if you’d return from a midnight job. with the back of your foot playfully slides down his stiff back muscles, you cup his chin. “maybe six . . or seven, eight . . ”

“s-so basically, you want an entire family,” he whimpers, a mere smile forming onto his lips.

within a few positions, it was safe to say choso was already pussy-drunk. you had him right where you wanted, and once he saw your nod at his question, he only moans into your neck. “okay, i’ll try. gonna try my best for you,” and a flat palm of his circles against your bare stomach. “and this pretty tummy. ‘s gonna be so full when ‘m done.”

choso was a man who never went back on his word.

he says he’s gonna breed you and that’s exactly what he does—

there was simply no sugarcoating it. it’s been about a plethora of positions and as promised, you were filled to the utmost brim with his cum. choso loves more than anything to have you in missionary. he wants to hold your face as he’s fucking his cum back into you.

a pout spreads against his lips as he feels the slippery slope of his own seed pour its way out of your cunt. he wants you to savor it. it drives him mad—with your legs wrapping around his waist, the desire to give you more of him only increases.

“ugh, ‘s good. you’re gonna be so full. take more, pretty please. saved so much for you,” and he’s just babbling.

it’s cute—he’s whimpering sweet nothings against your skin as he’s languidly swinging his hips into your very core. it’s sloppy, yet it feels almost blissful—each time he finishes inside it literally takes his breath away. chills roam all through his spine as he’s dumping such velvety amounts of cum into you. choso bites his lip at the sudden waves of electricity coursing through his veins. he has a bit of a short circuit and it’s cute. with blow irises, he gasps before making a cute attempt to kiss you, but in reality he’s just sucking on your bottom lip. “take it, t- take it, gimme a baby.”

and his words were raspy, yet his tone was whiny. his head’s spinning but he wants more. choso’s so in love, in love with love, in love with you.

“kiss me, ‘cho.” you mewl out breathlessly, moving a few strands out of his face. once he heard you said that, you didn’t have to tell him twice.

a thumb of yours massage against the bridge of his nose, tickling against the scar before you drag him into your lips. choso loudly moans into your mouth as his thrusts become more precise and slow. you glue against him so good that it’s just carnally lustful..

his hips twitch against your own as he’s shoving his own spilling cum right into your cunt. you’re sopping already, a few creamy droplets already start to rundown your thighs as you cling onto him tightly.

“mhm, i love you. i love you s’much, gonna be such a good mommy,” he whines, resuming to babble between kisses.

mwah after mwah . .

with hooded eyes, and a sheepish little grin, he gazes at your after glow. so pretty, saliva cobwebs string out of your mouth as he breaks away only to kiss you again. a hand still rubs against your tummy before it’s his turn to cup your chin. “p- princess,” he breathes in a raspy way. a tongue swipes its way against your bottom lip. his dick was still inside, idle and not moving—yet it’s just plugging feverish excess amounts of cum into you.

“yes baby.” you stare right back into his eyes, a thumb gliding against his flushed cheeks.

“i- i love you,” he whines, his heart melting from the softness of your touch. you bring a hand of his towards your mouth to kiss it. “i love you but- but ‘m not done. need to fill you some more,” and you gasp once he flips you over, making you get on all fours. “i wanna love you more, especially from behind, h-heh.”

[logaenhowlett]

WHEN YOU TOUCH ME - L.H.

Summary: Since when do neighbours fuck like this?

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, Fluff, Flirting, Dirty talk, Fingering, Nipple play (ft. Logan 'Big Hands' Howlett), Unprotected sex (hint: floor-length mirror)

A/N: Yes, I’m aware the image is from The Wolverine, but let’s pretend it’s Worst!Logan (this man needs more domestic scenes fr). Another one for my A Weekend with Logan Howlett event! The prompt was FURTHER. Title creds to Brandy.

MASTERLIST

Logan didn’t mean to kiss you.

Just as he didn't mean to unravel you, so mercilessly; two fingers deep, your desire a flame, licking at the edges of his own.

It so happened that, days ago, he'd eavesdropped on complaints of a broken AC amongst other casual chatter you and Wade shared in the hallway outside your apartments. And the thought of you, flushed and slightly dishevelled in the sweltering heat, was enough because the doorknob had somehow twisted itself, and just like that he was there with a playful "I can fix it".

God, he was such a liar.

Nerves coiled in his stomach every time. Still, he persisted, returning your sly comments, your teasing smiles, your barely-there touches. It was simply exhilarating - this game of cat and mouse.

So, when he showed up this morning, tools slung over a shoulder, mischief glazing his eyes, one thing was clear: trouble had certainly arrived. "Well, aren't you gonna let me in?" he'd drawled as you were suddenly, inexplicably, speechless.

Heat prickled his skin as he worked; the flannel stripped off without a second thought. Logan toyed with a bolt, biceps flexing with each turn until the wrench finally gave way. Even as your sharp gaze missed nothing - the slight tremor in his fingers, the slackening grip on the screwdriver - he remained stubbornly focused.

The lemonade you'd offered burned his throat with every swallow. He watched you tilt back, the ice in your glass clinking as you drank. A single droplet slid down your neck, his eyes fixed on its slow descent.

And then, snap.

It wasn't gentle, not at all. His tongue fought yours with a wild desperation, hands finding purchase on your hips until you were locked in place.

Logan had often imagined this. You, kissed by the warm glow of his bedside lamp, arching your back as he fucked you senseless. You, branded by his teeth marks, grinding against his abs till your cum smeared across his happy trail.

You. You. You.

But they were mere fantasies - well, until now.

Because somehow, in the stillness between one breath and the next, you're spun around. Logan's hand claims your chin, his thumb a shackle bruising your lower lip, forcing your gaze to the nearby mirror.

His fingers graze the hem of your skirt, the fabric bunches at your hips, and anticipation - tempting as the taste of forbidden fruit - stings between his legs.

Flush against your back, the jeans do little to conceal his arousal. Yet, he takes his sweet time, kneading the plump cushions of your thighs, savouring every whimper spilling from your lips.

It's almost lazy. The way his fingers pump in and out, a slow, mocking rhythm that just drips of cocky satisfaction - and the bastard has the audacity to pause.

"Eyes on me, darlin'," he rasps, leaving a fleeting kiss below your ear. It's enough, apparently. Dark lashes flutter in surrender as heavy lids part, finding him in the reflection. "Good girl."

His other forearm brushes your side, only briefly stealing your attention, before snaking beneath your shirt. The swell of your breast barely fills his palm, and he nearly loses it all right there.

Rough, calloused skin caresses your nipple. Logan rolls it between his index and thumb, toying the delicate bud until it hardens beneath his touch.

He could laugh, really.

And so, he does - something close to a growl that wakes goosebumps across your flesh. Even as you're writhing against him, hardly standing straight, he doesn't relent. Only deeper, only faster - his fingers thrust into your cunt.

"Fuck Lo– you're a lil’ shit, you know that?"

But he's heard the name you moan when you're playing with yourself. Late-night showers, hot water pounding down your back as you explore your body. Quiet afternoons on the couch, soft cushions muffling your gasps as you lose control. In bed, in the sun, in the shadows - whenever the mood strikes, it seems, he's on your mind.

"How 'bout you hm? Think I can't hear through these fuckin' walls?"

It's far from a threat, yet your laugh amuses him. Carefully, he brushes your hair aside, trailing his nose along your neck. And for a second - a single, pussy-drunk second - he's convinced you've doused yourself in every aphrodisiac known to man.

So he doesn't think twice.

His teeth close around your nape. Sharp and possessive, the bite makes you groan in pleasure. His tongue follows immediately, soothing the reddened bruise now begging to be kissed.

Mesmerised, Logan grins as your head slumps back on his shoulder, the world caught in a dizzying waltz as you lock eyes, your cum coating his hand while a sinful trail glistens down your thighs.

One lick.

That's all it takes; your sweetness lingers in his mouth as his fingers pop free, nice and clean. Logan twirls you between his arms until you're finally face to face. A visible bulge stretches the denim as you draw closer, your grip tightening around the contours of his biceps.

In the mirror, you're simply breathtaking.

His hands settle on your ass, playful squeezes shaping the soft curves beneath his touch. Giggles tumble from your lips, light and airy, as you melt against him.

"Since when do neighbours fuck like this?" you tease, kissing his jawline.

And suddenly, you're swept off your feet. Something like affection shines through his eyes as he nudges your bedroom door open.

"Think we're past that now, honey."

It's not long before your moans weave themselves into his name.

[chilumi-shipper]

A prompt came into mind.. up to you if you're interested.

So, character and reader got married but character cheated because he said he doesn't love the reader anymore. They're technically done, but haven't finished doing the divorce files (because it's expensive and takes a long long time). But.. character got into an accident.. which made him forget everything that happened recently, and only remember the days he loved the reader. Reader's conflicted, the mistress that character has doesn't know what to do either. Character was confused on why he would marry anyone else when he has the reader fo begin with.

I think this fits your styles.

Btw, I LOVE ALL YOUR STORIES! I RE-READ THEM EVERYDAY-

Someone Better

Childe x Fem!Reader

Summary: Childe was a wild spirit, so when he got bored of your relationship, he sought the excitement of another woman. You were heartbroken, ultimately asking for a divorce. But just as your connection was almost severed, he got into an accident, losing every memory of his infidelity and returning to the man that made you fall in love him.

Tags: Cheating, Amnesia, Pining, Angst/No Comfort

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You were staring at the tremendous amount of divorce paperwork sitting on the desk of your hotel room.

It was very complicated, five years of marriage with joined insurance, property, bank accounts, and now you have to meticulously separate all your joined assets, all while constantly on the verge of a breakdown.

Not to mention you had no family to stay with in Snezhnaya. There's absolutely no one you could talk to about everything, you've left your homeland thinking your future in the cold nation with the love of your life would be nothing less that fantasy.

As you rest your head on the desk and closed your eyes tightly to ease the headache, your ears perk up as loud knocks hit your door.

With a groan, you got up and opened it to reveal your two of Childe's older siblings.

"He's looking for you." The older sister said, Alevtina, her seriousness evident, looking at you somewhat panicked.

"I know, big si-" I paused for a moment, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. "I'm working on the assets, I'll send it as soon as possible."

"No." The chilly tone of the older brother, Alexei, sent shivers down your spine. "You need to come with us."

...

"Big sister Y/N is here?" You hear Teucer's innocent voice as you enter their home. The younger children laid their eyes on you, seemingly eager to come closer, but perhaps they've been told that now would not be the time.

"Honey... Thank you for coming..." Their mother embraced you warmly, still accepting you with motherly affection. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry..."

"Mama, has he calmed down?" Alexei asked from behind you.

Your mother-in-law parts from you slightly, looking at you tenderly. "She will definitely help."

You put your confusion and questions aside, seeing the somewhat tense air within the house.

"Stop staring." You weren't looking at him, but you felt his eyes watching you set down a tray of soup and medicine on his bedside table.

Childe lets out a chuckle. "Sorry, love, I can't help it..." His eyes never faltered, containing a look of admiration that you've been unfamiliar with for so long.

"After the avalanche, I got a pretty bad head injury. When I woke up, you were the first thing on my mind. And when Mama said you weren't here with me, I freaked out."

You sat down on a chair next to his bed, your eyes observing the bandages wrapped around his head. "What did the doctor say about your injury?"

"I'm gonna get some very bad headaches, and I also got a bit of amnesia, I think." Childe looks as if he's in thought. "Do I seem like I forgot something?"

"Maybe some things..."

"But I love you just the same! So I bet what I forgot wasn't even that important!"

...How cruel.

Having to take care of the man that broke you apart, even worse, a version of him that you loved too much to despise.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

It was painful, staying with him.

Childe would keep you close, call you his different pet names, cuddle up to you, all while you were under the pitiful gaze of his family that knew of his infidelity.

On the other hand, he's been feeling the cold responses his advances have been receiving. But to him, he thinks he can solve it by smothering you in more of his love.

He is pretty observant, he's put it two in two together that he may be missing a memory in which he had done something wrong. He just didn't know how much it had hurt.

Though, not only from you, Childe had also felt that his younger siblings seem distant as well, no longer asking him to play snow games outside, or looking up to him as some sort of hero.

One early morning, when he walks up to the kitchen to see you cooking for the whole family, a smile formed on his face.

He steps closer, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist. "Hmmm... Morning, honey..." He basks in the feeling of you.

You remain quiet, letting him do as he pleases. The ginger frowns, however, feeling unsatisfied by your lack of reaction.

"Babyyyy... Loveee meee backkkk..." He whines, nuzzling his face on your neck.

"Ajax, come on..." You stifled a laugh, moving slightly away as his action tickled you. He hears the slight giggle of your words, smiling against your skin.

You compose yourself, pushing him away from you. "Stop." He lets you push him away, and you feel him freeze slightly at the harshness of your tone.

His blue eyes looked at you worried. "...Hey," He starts. "I'm sorry, darling, did you not like that?"

With a sigh, you looked down. "When the others wake up, tell them I already made breakfast. I have somewhere to be."

You walk pass him, but you did not miss the hurt tone of the faint call of your name.

...

You come back to his family's home after doing some more paperwork for the divorce that your husband doesn't even remember, feeling your head pounding as you ready yourself to face him again.

What you don't expect to see this late at night is Childe sitting on the porch with a lantern next to him, his head hung low as if he's thinking deeply.

"Childe?"

He looks up, but he frowns at you. "Ajax, darling..." He reminds you.

Standing up, he pulls you into his warm embrace. "I love you... I missed you..."

His words take you aback, as you reluctantly wrap your arms around him.

"I've been thinking about this morning, about you. You hate me."

"I know I must've done something... you can tell me." He kneels in front of you, staring at your eyes while his sparkle with the light of the lantern. "And even if I don't remember, I'll make it right..."

As you look down at him, you see the fiery passion of love that burned in his eyes as he knelt down to ask you to marry him so long ago.

It scares you...

You might not be able to control yourself...

"It's just hard to take care of you sometimes." You smile ever so slightly, yet his frown only deepens as tears start to escape your eyes.

He stands, his hand finds its way to your cheek. "Love..." His eyes held such conviction that you've not seen for years. "I'm so sorry..."

You close your eyes to hold in the tears, shaking your head and swaying his hand away. "...You're not."

Despite the tears, you tug at his arm. "Come on, let's head inside."

He's filled with questions, but seeing your sad face makes him set all those aside and focus on you for now.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"Teucer, hey, little man." Childe calls for his little brother.

The little boy looks at him wide eyed. "I don't want to talk to you." He crossed his little arms, turning around to leave with a displeased look.

"What...? Oh come on..." The harbinger pouted, getting down on his little brother's level. "What did I do wrong...? All our siblings are acting so mean to me..." He whined, frowning as he tries to persuade the little ginger.

"But you were also very very mean!" Teucer refused to look at his older brother, the one he used to look up to the most. "We don't like you anymore!"

Childe's playful facade faded as his expression contorted to a confused one. "Hey, what do you mean...?"

"You're so mean to Y/N, you hurt her! She doesn't deserve tha-"

"Teucer!" Just as his brother erupted to a crying mess, screaming at him with all his little heart, their mother walked into the room, grabbing the little boy.

"Don't talk like that to your elders!"

"But it's true, Mama!"

"That doesn't matter, say sorry to-"

"What does he mean, Mama? Why did I do?" Childe looked at his mother expectantly, his voice starting to shake as he saw the fit of rage Teucer had because of him. "W-What did I do to Y/N?"

HIs mother shook her head, trying to ease her expression with a smile. "Nothing..."

"It's not nothing, Mama!" He raises his voice by accident due to his frustration. "I see it, the way she looks at me, it's different. The way you all look at me, like you have a monster inside your house."

Teucer forced his way out of his mother's hold, running to his older siblings room all teary eyed. Childe felt bad, but he desperately needed answers from his mother.

"Mama, please, I need to know why Y/N doesn't... love me anymore..." It hurts him to say, but based on the way you're acting, he could only make the assumption that your feelings have wavered.

"Oh, Ajax... it's not like that..."

The ginger then felt a sharp pain in his head, making him fall down onto the couch. He groaned as he clutched his head.

"Hey... where are you heading off to so late at night?" He hears your soft voice in a static audio playing in his head.

"Out." He then hears himself replying coldly.

"Ohh, when will you-"

He's out the door before you could even finish your question.

"Ajax, honey!' His mother's voice was a hazy blur as he keeps his eyes closed to envision what he's hearing in his head.

He tries to shake the feeling away, but his mind is flooded by fragmented memories.

"You've been going out a lot more recently." Your concerned voice entered his ears.

"I've been busy."

"Busy where?"

He then hears shatters of glass and yells as you sob while trying to talk to him.

He pictures your face, your crying, begging face, asking for some sort of salvation from his cold and merciless actions.

"T-There's someone else?"

"Someone better."

"H-How could y-you do this?"

"When I look at you now... I feel... nothing."

Childe opened his eyes, not realizing that tears had started to flow to his cheeks. "Mama..."

"Y-Yes, dear?"

"I hurt her..." He was in a state of disbelief. "I-I... Why...?"

His tears fell faster, looking at his mother for answers. "W-Why, Mama? Why was I so stupid? Why did I choose to lose her?"

"I don't know, dear, but that's simply what happened, and you could never make her forget that, even if you forgot."

His breathing started to accelerate, feeling like he wanted to punch himself. As his head started spinning, his vision turns black.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You took a deep breath as you walked into the house, feeling everyone's eyes on you as you entered.

"Honey..." Your ex mother-in-law embraces you once again, holding you tight. "I'm so sorry... I didn't want to make it difficult for you..."

"N-No, no..." You returned her hug, sniffling as you start to tear up. "I readied myself for this, I'm just here to drop off the final papers..."

"Could you talk to him?" Alevtina suddenly asked, looking at you hesitantly. "I know he's been a jerk... but he won't eat unless he talks to you."

You parted from their mother, feeling the pressure of their request.

"It's okay to curse him, or to scream, or rough him up, I'll even help you." Alexei placed his hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

You nodded, sighing as they guided you to his room. And as you entered with a heavy feeling in your chest, he immediately sat up, alerted by your presence. You stare at each other for a bit before you muttered a word.

"Hi." You greeted him shortly.

"Hey..." His voice was soft, and his eyes followed you attentively.

"I'm sorry to intrude, I'll make this quick." You breathe deeply, trying to relax yourself. "I finished the papers, split the assets, got the lawyers."

"I talked to her, y-your woman..." You looked down, fidgeting with your hands. Childe seemed unfazed by it, though his gaze seem to falter at the mention of 'his woman'.

"She... umm... wasn't really interested anymore after the accident..." You breathe heavily, feeling small under his gaze. "But... your family's here to take care of you..."

Clearing your throat, you continued. "I do have one request, if I could... I would like a safe boat ride back home." You stepped closer, intending to hand him the envelope that contained all the paperwork to finalize your divorce.

"Take it all." You stopped in your tracks as he spoke.

"The house, the mora, the boat. It's all yours..." He lays back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Would you also do me a favor?"

You looked at him, encouraging him to speak.

"Carve my heart out and take it with you."

"...Can we be serious for a second?" You sighed.

"I would like to stay with you. I think that would be a good way to do it without constantly wanting to punch myself." You noticed that his eyes started to flood with tears.

"Ajax... I'm sorry this happened to you..."

"No, Y/N, I'm sorry... I'm sorry for everything." He sat up again, tears falling from his eyes as he looks up at you with genuine eyes. "I don't know why I did that. And I... I regret it so much..." He reached for your hand, and you let him hold onto you for strength.

"Every tear I had in me I already cried when you left me for her." You smiled bitterly, though you remained soft, making him even more guilty as you try to stay strong. "But I appreciate the apology..."

You pull your hand away from him slowly, feeling that he was reluctant to let go.

"I-I still love you..."

You gave him a final smile. "You'll love someone better than me... Childe..." You back away, leaving him alone in his room still yearning for the days where his memory only consisted of loving you.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Hiiii again after quite a while! I think I've been noticing that my recent fics have been angst, I guess I just feel like hurting you guys this season of giving (I give pain :D)

Anywayy, anon, I think at some point I went my own direction and didn't fully stick to your request (I'm sorryyy TvT) but I hope you like it anyway!

[radishaur]

ꕤ helping hand ꕤ

Warnings: brief mention of Sabaody & Marineford in Luffy's part Genre: fluff Characters: Luffy, Zoro, & Law Summary: How they realize they have feelings for you (acts of service edition) Author's Note: We're back finally omg. Zoro's part of this stumped me so hard because I wanted to keep the idea I had for him for the next installment of this series so sorry if this one falls flat! I kind of hate it, but I promise all the Zoro fans out there will be well-fed in the next segment. ;_; I'm so glad you guys have been enjoying them so far. I hope you guys enjoy this one and as always happy reading! masterlist

Luffy always acts on instinct which makes it all the more pure when he does something nice.

If he sees something that reminds him of someone or wants to do something nice, he'll just do it. He's also surrounded by people who are constantly doing the same for him. However, I think someone really going the extra mile to do something meaningful for him would most likely make his heart flutter and cause him to re-evaluate how he feels about you.

~

Storms are a common occurrence out on the sea, especially while traveling in the Grand Line. They've had their fair share of wild storms, sometimes with weather phenomena beyond belief, but Luffy loved them all.

Caution to the wind, he was always sitting on the mast, right on the Sunny where he belonged. Nami hated it, always yelling at him about how one of these days he would fall in and something bad would happen, but he knew Zoro would always go and get him, so did it really matter?

So, when he was sitting on the Sunny as he always did and another storm began to start, he simply shoved his hat further onto his head and ignored at all of the crew's attempts to get him to come down and head inside.

"You're gonna get yourself killed, Luffy!" Nami scolded, yelling from her place on the upper deck as Luffy continued ignoring her.

He simply laughed, turning to look at her over his shoulder as the crew scrambled around trying to ready the ship for the winds and rain. "If I fall, Zoro will just come and get me!"

The man in question was still dozing on the deck, seemingly unbothered by the onslaught of rain pelting him. Nami glared, walking down the stairs and hitting him on the head hard enough to leave a welt and the two of them began to bicker. Luffy laughed again, always enjoying his crew's antics and trusting that they would figure everything out. They always did.

He catches your eyes as you're starting to run around the deck, grabbing furniture and rushing it inside with Sanji's help and you flash him a reassuring smile. He returns it, watching as you pick up the foldable table Robin was reading at not a few minutes ago before running inside. He feels warmth spread across his chest and he tells himself that it's his sign that everything will be fine. And it is for a while until a particularly harsh wave crashes against the side of the Sunny as he's watching you grab the last of the furniture. He loses his grip, his balance thrown off by being twisted around and looking the wrong way, and before he can catch himself he's splashing into the sea, sapping all his strength in an instant.

The cold water rushes around him, pulling him further and further down into the water and he can feel his vision blurring the longer he stays in the water. He vaguely sees someone jump into the water causing a splash above and then Zoro's familiar green hair is swimming towards him. All he can manage to do is give him a weak smile before Zoro grabs him and hauls him back up to the surface of the water. Eventually, he's laid out on the deck of the ship, the crew immediately crowding around him as he coughs out water from his mouth.

"You idiot, this is exactly what I said would happen!" Nami chides, hitting him on the head this time instead of Zoro.

He groans, complaining half-heartedly. "But Zoro got me just like I said!"

Nami bickers with him for a little longer until he has enough strength to sit up. He reaches behind him to grab his hat and pull it onto his head once again but is surprised when he's met only with the cold skin of his neck instead of the familiar well-worn straw. His hand goes to his head next, wondering if somehow he was already wearing it and it hadn't fallen off his head while he was in the water, but all he's met with is his wet messy hair.

"Where's my hat?" he asks, turning to Zoro.

Zoro cracks open his eye from where he settled in to resume his nap and looks like he's about to give some snarky reply before he stops. His mouth snaps shut and his eye widens slightly as he seems to remember something.

"I don't know," he says, causing a wave of anxiety to crash through Luffy immediately. "I just pulled you out of the water. I didn't see your hat. Isn't it around your neck?"

Luffy stands up then, running over to the side of the railing to look for it. The waves have picked up in intensity so despite his best efforts, he can't find any signs of his hat. He looks over his shoulder, the rest of the crew besides Zoro oblivious to his panic, too busy resuming their clearing of the ship's deck. He once again catches your eyes and you immediately sense that something is wrong, like you always seem to be able to do when it comes to him, and you run over as Zoro curses under his breath and gets up himself.

"What's wrong Luffy?" you ask, concern evident as you meet him.

He looks back out at the water, still desperately searching for any hint of yellow or red as he responds. "My hat."

It doesn't explain anything, but you know him well enough to fill in the blanks, immediately looking at him and noticing its absence and putting the rest together. By now, it seems that Zoro has informed the rest of the crew as the ship is coming to a halt and everybody has begun to look out to the sea for his hat.

He moves back toward the figurehead, thinking that maybe it caught on the Sunny's head before he fell but has no luck. He can feel a pit forming in his stomach at the thought of him losing his hat forever, of not being able to keep his promise to Shanks, but then he hears your shout.

"I can see it!"

He runs over to the stairs, eyes following your point out to sea and finally, he sees his hat. It's a little far out, but it's there, floating on the water's surface amongst the waves. He looks back just in time to see you hauling yourself up onto the railing, throwing your jacket onto the deck before jumping headfirst into the icy cold water. He hears some shouts of protest from the crew but you've already disappeared into the water, oblivious to their cries.

"What are they thinking?" Usopp calls as he begins climbing the ladder up to the crow's nest. "The waves are so powerful, will they be ok?"

A new kind of panic wells inside of him at Usopps words. He knows that you're strong and he's seen you swim before on the few rare beach days the crew gets, but he also knows that the ocean is a force to be reckoned with, waves and currents pushing and pulling with intense force. He runs over to the railing once more, keeping his eyes trained on his hat and waiting to see you pop up next to it. The rest of the crew joins him quickly, everyone waiting with bated breath as you swim under the water.

Eventually after what feels like minutes but was most likely only a few seconds, you do pop out of the water right next to his hat. You grab it in your hand and turn to face the ship, waving your hand with a smile. His relief is short-lived, however, when a giant wave comes crashing down right on you, pulling you under the water. He hears someone scream your name and it takes a few seconds before he realizes that it's him screaming. He wants to jump in and save you like his instincts are telling him but he feels so helpless, just like on Sabaody, just like at Marineford, because you're right there and he can't help you.

Thankfully, before his body can move and doom himself to drowning, Zoro is jumping in after you. Once again, he's left waiting, wondering if this is how the crew always feels when he's gone overboard and needed to get saved. Seconds tick by before the water breaks once more and there you two are. Zoro begins paddling over to the ship and you're coughing water out while clutching his hat to your chest.

When you're finally lifted onto the ship, all you can do is lean against the railing, still holding his hat to your chest. You finish catching your breath as Robin comes over holding your jacket. You smile up at everyone, first at Robin and then at him. You lift the hat up towards him. "I got it, safe and sound."

The crew breathes a giant sigh of relief, seeing you and your humor still intact. Robin leans you forward and lays your jacket over your shoulders while Nami begins to criticize you for jeopardizing your health. All he can do is stand in front of you, paralyzed as he watches you recovering from your swim. The breeze picks up again and a particularly strong one causes you to shiver, clothes still soaked with seawater.

"Come on, let's go inside. We don't want anyone catching a cold," Nami says, ushering everyone inside.

You stand up with Robin's help and before you go inside, you step towards him. You're holding the hat out to him, more firmly this time as your strength from fighting the water comes back.

"Here," you offer, "The string is broken, so you'll need to fix it but otherwise it's in good condition."

He picks it up, brushing his hand over the familiar three slashes in the top that Nami had carefully sown up all those years ago and he's filled with such gratitude for you. You risked your life to go and retrieve his hat after his carelessness, had held it so close to you as if it was something precious, knowing how important it was to him that you would throw caution to the wind, so it's with a smile that he finds himself placing the hat on your head instead of his own.

"You wear it for now. Consider it my thanks!" he says, his sunny smile radiating the warmth that's spreading across his own chest at the thought that you would risk so much for what most would consider just a hat.

As he heads inside and Sanji begins to serve dinner, he can't help the flutter in his heart every time you look at him in his hat. It suits you so well that he can't find it in himself to take it back from you until you settle it on his head before heading to bed. From now on, he finds more excuses to give his hat to you, and every time it makes his heart stop. He realizes quite quickly why he's feeling this way and it only encourages him to give you his hat even more. The person he loves deserves it, after all.

Zoro really values the actions of others. It's easy to say things without following through, so purposeful actions or a promise kept means everything.

Zoro never says anything he doesn't mean, but he certainly doesn't say anything he doesn't intend to follow through on. Actions prove everything to him and he values the fact he's on a crew that feels the same. I think someone sharing that same devotion to showing care and intent through your actions, especially if it's something for him, would be huge and make him realize his feelings for you.

~

Zoro isn't one to hold back, but especially not when he fights. He gives everything he has to give, plus a little bit more. In order to be the best, he'll push himself well past his limits. He doesn't see the issue with it, always willing to sacrifice himself for the team because the best should be able to take it. To handle the weight of the world.

Normally, this method works out, but it also leads to him getting wounded more often than he likes to admit.

He always lets Chopper treat his injuries but doesn't always strictly adhere to his recovery plans. Before his injuries truly have a chance to fully heal, he's already off to his next battle or training session. Over time, those injuries turn into something much worse and that was exactly what happened in the Straw Hat's most recent fight.

He'd gone into the battle with a strained muscle in his arm and all it took was for him to put a little too much power into a swing for it to turn into a full-on tear. Chopper had given him a long lecture after the fight and was still getting on him about properly resting this time around as he finished treating him.

"I put a wrapping on the affected area to keep it compressed. You need to rest and keep the area elevated as much as possible. Ice it for 15 minutes every few hours," Chopper instructed as he began rooting around in his medicinal cabinets for something, "I'm serious this time. If you keep pushing yourself you'll cause irreparable damage."

Zoro nodded, humming lowly in agreement as he twisted his arm, trying to get used to the bandages. After a few more seconds, Chopper found what he was looking for and grabbed a small metal tin. He got down from the desk and gave the container to Zoro, who opened it to find a green salve inside.

"That should help with the recovery process. If you apply it once a day it should speed up the healing. I would apply it myself, but it works best when you apply it with skin-to-skin contact which my hooves can't do. You'll have to ask someone else to help," Chopper explained.

"I'll just do it myself," Zoro said, getting up to leave.

"Zoro," Chopper said, the seriousness of Chopper's voice forcing him to stop. All it took was one look from Chopper for him to get the message. He sighed, relenting easily. "Fine. I'll ask someone."

The rest of the day was as close to normal as he could possibly get. He slept on the deck, argued with Sanji (sans swords), and ate dinner with everyone like any other day. He'd almost forgotten he was injured until he went to do his nightly training and received a nasty glare from Chopper that forced him to reconsider.

It was his own personal hell to not be able to train himself like he's used to, but what was even worse was knowing he'd need to suck up his own pride and ask someone to rub ointment all over his arm the next day.

There was only one person on the ship he'd even consider asking, so he wasted no time the next day ci coming to find you.

He knew the most likely place to find you was in the library with your nose in a book and he was pleased when he found you there, all by yourself. He made his presence known by clearing his throat and you smiled at him as you set your book down and gave him your full attention. "I don't suppose you're here to read a book?" you teased.

He rolled his eyes, not even deeming to give a response as he crossed his arms to prepare himself. "No, I'm here to... ask for a favor."

"A favor? Sure, what is it," you asked, any pretense of teasing gone.

Zoro took the chair next to you and placed the container of ointment in front of you. You frowned, not understanding.

"Chopper gave me some stuff to put on my arm, but he told me I needed someone to help me," he explained, a frown pulling at his lips as he continued. "I'd appreciate it if it could be you who does it."

At this, you smiled. Zoro felt his cheeks warm as you shifted your body to face him. "Alright, sure. I can help you."

You never failed to surprise him with how easily you came to his aid. He started to unwrap his arm as you grabbed some of the salve with your fingers. When he finished unwrapping his arm, he held it out to you in an offering. You took his arm in your free hand, your touch more gentle than it ever needed to be with him, and began to rub the mixture into his arm.

"So, why exactly do you need help with this?" you asked to break the silence.

"Something about skin-to-skin," he grumbled, enjoying the feeling of your fingers massaging his skin more than he liked to admit. "Chopper said it heats up or something. Speeds it up."

"Well, I'm happy to help," you hummed, grabbing some more of the mixture and moving to a new spot.

It was cold at first, but the skin of your palm against his arm made it bearable. The longer you rubbed, the more it heated up and the more aware of your touch he became. He couldn't help the way his heart picked up the pace and he only prayed you couldn't feel it.

What the hell was up with him?

When you finally finished, you wiped your palm off and closed the tin, handing it back to him. "How long do you have to do this for?" you asked, already getting back into your book.

"A week or something," he sighed, already missing his regular routine after only one day.

"Gotcha. Well, I'll be here tomorrow if you need me," you said, giving him one last smile before continuing to read your book.

Once again, here you were offering him an olive branch. He felt his stomach flip as he left the room, but he told himself it was his nerves. That being read by you so easily caught him off guard.

For the next week, he came down to have you apply his ointment for him and every day you did it without complaint. Sometimes, he'd stick around, content to enjoy your company over sleeping on the deck. Sometimes, you'd tell him about your research and any progress you'd made while other times he'd doze off while you read your next bit of literature.

Soon enough, his last day of rest comes along and while you're applying his rub, he knows he has to say something.

"Thank you," he mumbles, clearing his throat before continuing, "For helping me."

"Of course. I'm always here for you," you reply, your voice light with the smile that lights up your face.

"Why?"

The question slips out before he can think better of it. He flinches, his immediate reaction to pull away, but with your firm grasp on his arm, he can't get far. Your brows are furrowed and when you look up at him he can't help but get nervous, because the truth is that he does want to know. He can't understand why you always drop everything for him, with a devotion he's only given and rarely received, and why it makes his stomach flip and his heart clench.

"Why?" you repeat, the slightest laugh in your voice as you grin up at him. "Because we're a team. I'd do it for all of you."

He can't help but feel disappointed in your answer, but he doesn't know why. He's about to brush it off and continue when you beat him to it.

"But also... I guess I do it because I can't help but want to. There's just something about you that I can't say no to. When you ask for help, what else can I do but give it to you?"

Zoro is silent for a moment as he lets your words sink in. You continue on like you haven't just bared your soul to him, like sharing something so vulnerable with him wasn't difficult in the slightest. Something about those words made him feel like he was floating, his heart soaring amongst the clouds.

"I feel the same," he says, forcing himself to respond after a long minute of silence.

For a moment, he could swear you clench his arm a little tighter, but your touch is feather light before he has time to process, so he writes it off as his imagination.

After that, he parts ways with one last final thank you, but his thoughts linger on your answer to his question long past that. He mulls it over until he feels like he's lived the moment a million times. It's not until days later that he realizes why your devotion to him makes his heart skip a beat and the realization only makes his feelings worse.

Law is the king of acts of service. This is where his true feelings absolutely shine if you're willing to read between the lines.

I also think this is what means the most to him. Growing up in the circumstances he did, he holds actions in a much higher regard than words or empty promises. I think having someone go out of their way to do something nice or considerate for him, and him actually wanting to do something back in return, would speak volumes to him and would make him consider his feelings.

~

Law likes to think that he takes good care of himself, but as he struggles to read the same page of his latest reading of choice as the words blur together from exhaustion, he has to concede that the evidence is really stacked against him.

He sets the papers down on his desk, leaning back slightly in his chair and rubbing his hand down his face and against his eyes, trying to will them into focusing when he hears a knock on his office door. A quick glance at the clock indicates that it's a few hours past dinner time and that almost the entire crew should be asleep.

"Come in," he calls out, exhaustion evident in his voice as he straightens back up in the chair. "What is it?"

The door opens and he's immediately met with your warm smile.

"Captain," you greet, peeking into the room with one hand opening the door, "I thought you might still be up."

Your smile softens the edges of the headache that's quickly forming in his head and he knows that you don't interrupt him unless you have something important, so he sits up in his chair even straighter and you take that as your signal to come in. You push the door open and he smells the soft scent of food waft over to him as the door pulls in the air from the hallway. He can feel his stomach churn, realizing just how hungry he is.

The source of the smell becomes immediately apparent when he looks up at you from where he was absentmindedly straightening the papers he set down. In your free hand is a plate piled high with what he assumes is the dinner the crew ate no more than a few hours ago.

"I was on clean-up duty today after dinner, so I made you a plate before I go to bed," you explain, coming over to his desk and carefully placing it on the little space not occupied by books or papers. "You never came out to eat so I thought you'd be hungry."

The meal is simple, but it makes his stomach growl loudly. You smile softly at him and he clicks his tongue against his teeth, the sound only serving to embarrass him and prove you right. He swallows, the fluttery, warm feeling in his chest making him stumble over what he should say. After a few moments of drawn out silence, you seem to take his lack of response as your sign to go.

"Don't stay up too late, ok?"

You're gone before he can say anything back and he finds himself internally kicking himself for just sitting there like an idiot. He sighs, diving into the plate of food after his stomach growls once more. When he's finally about to sleep hours later, he decides to be responsible and brings the plate into the kitchen for the morning crew to take care of. He places it on a counter in the kitchen just as another plate catches his eye.

Walking over, he sees 3 rice balls, carefully wrapped to preserve them, sitting on a plate next to a little note. He recognizes the handwriting as yours almost immediately and he picks it up to read it.

An early morning snack for our hardworking Captain <3

His fingers pinch the edge of the note hard enough to make a dent as he feels heat crawl up his neck and across his face. His eyes linger on the little heart you scribbled at the end of the note and the clenching he feels in his stomach is not at all related to his hunger. He eats the snack, grateful that there's no pickled plum filling, and pockets the note before leaving.

This little routine continues for a few weeks. You don't always appear at the same time, but you always do eventually, knocking on his office door and bringing him a plate of whatever the crew's eaten without him. He also finds himself looking forward to your little notes, the collection of them growing in one of the drawers of his desk. You write something different every night, but there's always that little heart at the end that sends the same warm feeling through him even though he knows it will be there every time.

Tonight, however, he finishes his reading a lot quicker. He's been noticing that happening more frequently, his eyes not blurring so much and allowing him to read everything at a steady pace instead of having to read the same lines over and over. He doesn't want to admit that it has anything to do with the fact that he's now eating at least twice a day consistently, but he is a doctor and he knows it does. With nothing else to read, he decides to bring his plate to the kitchen early and head to bed.

He's surprised when he finds the light on in the kitchen and even more surprised when he sees you still awake, back turned away from him as you hum to yourself. You're not wearing your boiler suit, instead wearing what looks like your pajamas as you mix something in a bowl, completely unaware of his presence. He sets the plate down and clears his throat, watching as you jump slightly before turning around, one hand on your chest as the other grips the counter. You let out a shaky breath of relief, the same honey-sweet smile you always give him melting onto your face as you look at him.

"Oh, it's just you. You scared me," you say, laughing slightly as you calm yourself down. You take a glance at the clock and then look back at him. "You're here early."

He frowns, not needing to look at the clock to know how late it is. He knows that he doesn't usually make it to the kitchen until much later, but he also knows that the crew ate dinner hours ago and that it's well past when you should be asleep, so he doesn't bother answering you, opting instead to answer with a statement of his own. "You're up late."

You smile at him again, always do, and begin mixing the contents of the bowl together once again. He crosses his arms, leaning against the counter as he waits for you to explain.

"Just making your snack," you explain, voice soft as you finally set the bowl down, satisfied with it.

He frowns, finally catching the mixture and recognizing it as the filling of his rice balls. He also sees the steam rising as you have some rice cooking and the sheets of seaweed paper laid out, ready to be molded around the rice.

"Why now? It's late," he continues, something in his gut telling him that he's still missing something here.

He knows he's right when he sees you bite your lip and catches the nervous way your gaze flicks over to him. You always meet him head-on, so to see you avoiding him even slightly makes his heart clench, and not in a good way. He narrows his gaze slightly and you open your mouth, about to say something when you're interrupted by the telltale beeping of the machine telling you the rice is done.

You shut your mouth, lips pressed into a line as you quickly start pouring the rice out and getting ready to mold it. He waits for a few moments, wanting to see if you'll say anything on your own, but quickly realizes you won't. If it was anyone else, he would have lost his patience long ago, but he can't seem to get mad at you like he does the others. You give him so much patience, much more than he's ever deserved, so he takes a different route.

He says your name firmly and watches as you sigh, placing the spoon with the filling in it back down into the bowl as you turn to look at him, guilt written across your face. You only stare at him for a few moments before you finally answer him, turning to resume making the rice balls as you do.

"I'm not on clean-up duty today so I had to wait until they were done. It wouldn't be fair to make them stay up late and clean up after my own personal mess, so whenever I'm not on clean-up duty I always just wait."

He doesn't know why it never occurred to him that you would be going so far out of your way to make his late-night/early-morning snack, but the realization smacks him across the face now. He feels more stupid than he's felt in a long time for not realizing that of course you wouldn't always be on the nightly kitchen duty and even angrier at himself that it took him coming into the kitchen early to realize that you prepared all the food by yourself and that it wasn't something you easily pieced together out of dinner's scraps.

But, along with his anger, he feels the familiar twitch of his heart as it thuds against his ribcage. The warm feeling blooms in his chest once more as the idea that you go out of your way to do something nice for him every night, losing precious sleep in the process, settles on him. He's grateful you aren't looking at him, too absorbed in shaping his rice balls to notice the way his ears flame up and the way his grip tightens on the counter behind him.

He swallows, forcing his mind to quiet down as he directs his attention to you once again.

"Here, all done," you say, picking up the plate and taking the few steps necessary to cross over and hand it to him.

He takes the plate and finds himself speechless again, much like he was the first time you brought him dinner in his office, and he hates that he can't just force the words thank you out of his mouth as you turn to begin cleaning the bowl you used out in the sink. He grips the plate and just stares at it for a little while longer before finally picking one up to eat. He takes his time this time, trying to savor what he now knows is something you make with extreme care and at the cost of your own schedule.

When he looks up, you're sitting on the counter just watching him with a satisfied smile on your face and he decides that he has to at least say something.

"What were you going to write?" he asks. He sees your face scrunch up and your head cock slightly to the side out of confusion and he realizes that he'll need to explain. He can feel his cheeks heat up as he forces himself to clarify. "On the note. What were you going to write?"

"Oh," you say, the nervous smile returning to your face as you look off to the side. You bite your lip again, seemingly debating something before coming to a decision and reaching behind you.

He doesn't know how he hadn't seen it earlier, but in your hand is a small piece of paper, the same one you always write your notes on. You push yourself off the counter and hold it out to him, motioning to the now-empty plate still in his hand. "I'll trade you."

He accepts, his fingers grazing yours as he takes the paper and you grab the plate, turning to wash it in the sink. He looks down at the paper and his heart almost explodes.

Tried a new filling today, let me know if you like it. Don't worry, they're still made with love <3

He stuffs the note into his pocket quickly, feeling his face set aflame. He makes the decision to leave, save himself the embarrassment of you seeing him all worked up, so he clears his throat and makes his way to the doorway. He can feel your eyes on him, burning a hole into his back, but he can't bring himself to face you, so he simply lifts his hand and grunts out a goodnight before walking off.

As he passes his office, he finds himself slowing down. There's a nagging feeling in his chest again that's telling him it's not enough. He wants to say thank you, to express how much it means to him that you would do something like this for him, to tell you that he's noticed it helping him, making his day a little easier and the nights not so long, but he knows the second he opens his mouth that none of that will come out and he's left feeling frustrated all over again. He almost gives up, shoving his hands into his pockets to head to bed, but the feeling of your note he stuffed inside earlier gives him an idea.

He heads inside his office, grabbing a piece of paper and quickly writing his own message down on it. It's short, with no cute little heart to accompany it, but he hopes it gets the message across. He stares at it, the simple thank you he'd managed to write staring back at him, and he shambles it into your room before he can think twice about it.

The next morning, you greet him with an especially large and heartwarming smile and he feels the urge to write you another one, if it means you'll look at him like that again. There's an itch in his chest, gnawing at him all day as his heart stutters every time he thinks about the smile on your face and the image of you in the kitchen making him food. At night, he finds himself unable to read his papers once again, but this time his eyes are focused and his mind isn't foggy. No, this time he just can't stop thinking about you and he knows exactly what that means, the innocent flutter in his chest just another piece of damming evidence to his own feelings.

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[bluudsucka]

i'm so tender on you - stack m. x fem!reader

summary: the smokestack twins left mississippi for bigger and better things, they were big fishes in a small pond, but that doesn't negate the sting you felt when stack, your boyfriend, left town without a uttering a word about it to you. not even call nor a letter to let you know he was safe in the big city of chicago. rumors on the streets about the twins return bubbled over - they were hosting a cookout and the whole neighborhood was invited - including you.

word count: 8k

warnings: smut, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex, slight mentions of cheating, slight toxic dynamics, slight mentions of drugs, set in the 90s, light mary slander (lmaoo)

author's note: ahahaa i had a lot of fun writing this ya'll omg, this one is pretty long i just couldn't help myself!! thanks for reading ya'll much appreciated <3

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The faint sounds of Saturday morning cartoons muffled within the background of your room; it was hot today - unbearably so, and it killed you that the AC in your bedroom was busted. Your grandpa said he'd get it fix, urging you not to waste your money on a new one. One thing about your grandad - he was a staunch penny pincher - always claiming he could fix something. Stating that your generation couldn't keep money in their pockets if their life depended on it. Always splurging on unnecessary 'foolishness'. But it seemed like every time he would tinker with your AC the worse it got.

You were gonna go out and buy one today, preparing for a long winded lecture - but you'd rather hear his complaints than sitting in a hot ass house. Your niece, who was only eight years old, sat on the floor at the foot of your bed. Her brown eyes watched the cartoon in front of her intensely, Tom and Jerry was her favorite - and the only cartoon you'd tolerate watching with her. You just got done doing her hair, the twist were held in place with pink Bobos with white and pink butterfly barrettes at end of the twist.

You were glad to be done with her hair - the girl was tender headed and it felt like you were entering a boxing match every time you attempted to comb and brush through her thick tresses. You hunched over on the bed, painting your toe nails with your favorite red nail polish from your local beauty supply and your head rested on the phone that was between your shoulder and ear - listening to your best friend, Pearline, on the other side of the phone.

She wanted you to go to a kickback with her; she was messing with Sammie aka Preacher Boy who lived around the block from you. She would gush about him saying that he was the sweetest man she'd ever been with - not to mention he had the best head - telling you stories about how good he would eat her out. You would spit out a: "Girl!" every time she would share a little too much, but you were happy for her - maybe a tad bit jealous too.

You didn't want Sammie - he was like a little brother to you; it was his older cousin that made your heart race. You and Stack had a thing in the past, the relationship was heavy, intense, and passionate. You genuinely thought that he could be the one, but out of the blue he left Mississippi - with his twin brother in tow - without uttering a word about it to you. And to makes matters worse the week that he up and ghosted you found out he was fucking another girl on the side.

Mary.

You were heart broken, blowing up his pager in hopes to get some sort of answers from him - but he ignored you like the plague. Which meant you two were done.

"Who all gone be there?" You asked Pearline, careful hands slowly painted your big toe with cherry nail polish.

"Everybody, that's why you should come - it'll be fun!" She replied, you could tell she was hiding something from you.

"Who is everybody?"

A pause lingered onto the conversation, which earned an eye roll from you.

Of course...He'd be there.

News spread like wild fire around the neighborhood about the twins coming back home; you couldn't avoid the whispers about them. You were cool with Smoke - even though he kept to himself and was hard to read, but you knew he was a genuine man that held good morals within his heart.

But Stack?

He was a trifling ass man who only looked out for himself - though you did admire his fierce loyalty he had for his brother and little cousin, Sammie. But you wished that his loyalty extended towards you.

"I'm not goin', sorry sis. You have fun, though." You said cutting through the tension between you and Pearline - which made her sigh in annoyance.

"You not even gonna see him, I doubt he'd be there."

"Isn't the party at Smoke's place? You think his twin brother ain't gonna be there? Please, Stack follows Smoke around like his damn shadow." You shot back in a matter of fact tone. She couldn't argue against you about it - you were right.

If you saw one twin, the other was close by.

"Please, please come with me! I know you're still raw about it--"

"You goddamn right I'm still raw. Pearline, he left me without giving me the courtesy of tellin' me and on top of that, after everything I did for his sorry ass, he went and fucked that bitch Mary!" You shouted, cutting your friend off in the middle of her sentence.

"Swear words." Your baby niece chimed in, ear hustling the conversation you had on the phone, she couldn't understand what you were talking about due to her age, but you gave her a light mean mug - not serious enough to hurt her feelings.

"You stay outta grown folks business, watch the show or Imma kick you out my room." You reprimanded which made the girl turn her attention back onto the cartoon. A chuckle hit your ear again, Pearline's light laughter made you playfully roll your eyes.

"Look, sis. I get it - I do. But I know you don't wanna be sittin' in that hot ass house sad all night. Come out with me! Enjoy some good food, music, 'allat stuff. Fuck him, don't let him ruin your mood," she then paused as and you could tell she was smiling from ear to ear. "And some fine ass men will be there - single. It's about time you broke that dry spell."

You thought about the words she said and you thought about the pros and cons of going to the party. The pros: free booze, free bud, good music, great food, seeing friends, and potentially getting flattered by some fine ass dudes.

Cons: Elias "Stack" Moore.

"If I come you better make sure you keep him away from me." You whispered out, closing the nail polish and placing it on your wooden end table, a high pitch static scream of excitement pierced your ear through the phone - a smile clinging to your face.

"Ah! Of course! I'll come over at three - I need you to fix my hair; this girl I went to fucked me up."

"I told you! You should've just waited for me to do it."

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If it was hot inside - it was scorching outside. Sweat already formed on your body as you and Pearline walked side by side towards Smoke's home - the sound of music blast through the speakers and the smell of barbeque floated within the air made your mouth slightly water. You were ready to dance and eat. Tucking your braids behind your ear, you Pearline towards the backyard were the party resided. Opening the chain linked gate - her eyes lit up as she saw Sammie walking towards her.

"Hey, baby," He said, planting a tender kiss on her lips, holding her close towards his body. His brown irises then landed on you, giving you a warm smile. "Whatssup?" Sammie greeted you and you gave him a quick hello.

"I didn't think you was coming." Sammie chuckled out as his arm wrapped around Pearline's shoulders, lovingly leaning his weight slightly on her smaller frame.

"I wasn't - but your lil' girlfriend forced me." You jested back, which made Pearline dramatically gasp, her hand playfully slapping the warm skin on your arm.

"Sounds like her, c'mon, it's hot out here, I know you ladies could use a cold drink." Sammie tilted his head back towards the crowd that danced in the large backyard, signaling for you to follow him. The thumping of music reverberated through your body as you followed behind the couple, passing the speakers and towards the multiple coolers, 'hellos' rolling off of your lips as you briefly greeted familiar faces you saw around the neighborhood. Pearline was right - everyone was here.

"Water, beer, soda, or juice?" Sammie asked.

"Water, please." Pearline spoke as she rubbed Sammie's back, her giddy smile never fading.

"Ugh, ya'll don't got liquor?" You asked, trying your best to mask your slightly annoyed face - but Sammie could tell you weren't feeling the options he gave. With a chuckle, handing Pearline a water bottle he spoke: "We don't, technically. It's bring your own booze - but since we know you; ask Smoke, he got some stashed away, only for family."

"And I'm guessing that's the same for bud, too?" You asked with crossed arms, and Sammie nodded.

"Yea', but you're a girl, I doubt you have trouble findin' somebody who let you face a blunt or two." Sammie shrugged, which earned a jab to the side from Pearline, he quickly reassured he was only kidding.

But you knew there was some truth to within his joke. You're a pretty girl - and most of these men at the party were thirsty just to be in your presence.

"Well I ain't gonna hover over ya'll all night, I'm gonna find Smoke - I need a shot," you said but before you left you took one last gaze at Pearline, her brown eyes gazing back at you knowingly. "Make sure he don't come nowhere near me - let me know if you see him..."

"Mhm, don't worry about it." She replied.

Pushing through the crowd your eyes scanned multiple faces, trying to find the older twin within all the commotion. Couples grind against each other, oldheads getting drunk off of beers, and multiple friend groups huddled up. Some playing cards while others shared neighborhood gossip. The backyard was packed and you were thankful that there were trees around, creating multiple shady spots to cool off when needed. Noticing a familiar face leaning against a tree you slyly walked over towards him, a soft smile clinging onto your plump lips.

"Ah! If it isn't lil' big brother!" You shouted slightly over the blaring music, making Smoke snap his head towards you. Chewing on a toothpick that rested in his mouth he dipped his head towards you in respect. Smoke looked so different than the last time you saw him, he was taller and he had a stronger built. Smoke was never a scrawny man - but you could tell that he's been in the gym as his thick biceps flex with each movements of his arms.

"Whatssup," Smoke said as a sliver of a smile danced on his lips. He gave you a side hug, squeezing your shoulder slightly before letting go of you. "How you been?"

"Been better, hangin' in there, you know how it is. But whatssup with you? The big city got too small for ya'll?" You asked, you were nosy and you were unsuccessfully dry begging some information on Stack - and it seemed like Smoke could tell your intentions. Yes, you didn't want to be around Stack - and yes, you despise that man. But you also still have some love for him, even if it pained you to admit that. He held you down through some of your darkest hours; during those days were you didn't have the strength to get out of bed. Sticking to guy code and loyalty to his little brother, Smoke wouldn't spill anything to you and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Somethin' like that." He muttered as his brown eyes flicked towards the crowd quickly, making sure that people wouldn't get too rowdy in his backyard.

"Mhm, still tightlipped as ever," you sighed, resting your hands on your hips. "Sammie told me to talk to you about getting some liquor - ya'll got tequila?"

"Light or dark?"

"Dark - you already know I don't drink that light shit." You answered. Smoke tilted his head towards his home, pulling the toothpick out of his mouth as he muttered - he didn't want the party patrons getting the idea of raiding his liquor cabinet. Or worse; pestering him to spare a bottle or two.

"Inside, pass the kitchen, turn on your left. Should see a cabinet with what you lookin for." Smoke quickly replied, his deep southern accent cutting through the loud bass of the music playing.

"Thanks, Smoke."

"Don't let nobody know where you got it from and keep them outta my house. Bad enough these folks trashin' my backyard."

You gave Smoke a wide and toothy smile - some of your teeth were covered in gold caps, they weren't permanents like Smoke's or Stack's - but you would always wear them when 'special' occasions happened. And besides Stack gifted them to you on your birthday; one of the gems that adorned your gold teeth was your birthstone.

Weaving through the dancing crowd your shoulders brushing against distant relatives and strangers you would see around the neighborhood. The sweet barbeque smoke curled into the thick summer air - the smell of cooked meat, spices, and vegetables cutting through the scent of sweat, weed smoke, and spilled beer. Passing through a group that huddled around a small folding table the sound of glass bottles clinking against each other and cheers made you smile.

Today was a good day, you loved being around such good vibrations.

Stepping up onto the cracked slab of the concrete patio, your hands yanked open the sticky glass sliding door that separated the backyard chaos and the calm empty house. The air inside of the home was cooler - quieter, and the shadows from the sun setting crept across the wooden floors. With a grunt you slide the door closed and the muffling bass of the music was still heard through the thick walls. Smoke's home smelled like strong incense, lemon scented cleaner, sage, and fresh linen.

Annie had definitely been here prior.

Moving with purpose now, the sound of your sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor revibrated through you and your eyes scanned for the liquor cabinet - following the directions Smoke gave you. Turning the corner your irises were met with a large brown cabinet that was filled to the brim with all sorts of spirits and drinks. Making a brisk track towards it your hand ghosted over the handle, pulling open the glass door and reaching in to grab the bottle of tequila. Reposado - your favorite.

The bottle was full and the glass was slightly cold under your warm hands, with a sigh of victory you turned on your heel to make your way back outside. But then you paused. Standing in the small hallway of the home your eyes lingered on the golden sunrays that pooled onto the floor, the front door of the home was open, only the thin mesh of the screen door was holding back the bugs and summer air from entering. You knew Smoke wouldn't be the type to just let his front door wide open - even if him and half of the men in this party weren't lacking any 'peacekeepers', you're sure it would bother him if someone he didn't know would stumble into his home causing trouble.

Walking towards the open door in an attempt to close it shut, your legs turned into jelly and your heart raced as if you just got done running a marathon. Across the small stretch of dead grass on the front lawn and cracked pavement on the side walk, your irises lingered onto him.

Stack.

He sat lazily in the diver seat of the light brown lowrider, it's rims obnoxiously gaudy, they were gold and it seemed like wheels could barely fit the body of the car. The engine was off but he sat with the car door wide open, surrounded by some guys you met in passing through the neighborhood - his friends. Laughing too loud their words exchanged between each other were sharp and quick witted, yet long and casual like summer itself.

Stack was shining in gold like always, but now you've noticed he adorned more accessories than the last time you saw him. Multiple golden chains rested around his neck, gold glistening from the sunlight as he adjusted his watch that wrapped around his wrist, and the bright red color gem stones shined within the rings that he wore.

Smoke wore some jewelry too. Three chains - one of them was a Jesus piece - a watch and golden teeth just on the side of his mouth. His jewelry wasn't extravagant but anyone with a good eye could tell it was expensive. But Stack? He looked as if he was a pharaoh - the he himself was made out of gold.

A red tee balled up in Stack's lap, revealing his strong biceps and arms, the white tank top clung onto his skin and the soft cotton only accentuated his muscles even more. You remember those long winter nights of running your hands over his hard chest, feeling each and ever dip and valley of the muscles on his body. How your lips would kiss his abs, trailing down lower and lower...

He looked good.

All you could do was just watch and stare, the tequila bottle hanging loosely in your hands, dangerously close to dropping the glass bottle. Your reservations about seeing him melted away, you wanted to open the door and call out his name - to see if he still felt the same way about you. But then the memories of him ghosting you, ignoring any and all attempts of you reaching out to him; and the fact that he had another girl on the side made the butterflies in your stomach turn sickening.

With a bitter chuckle to yourself, you turned on your heel and made your way back towards the party.

This night will interesting to say the least.

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A few hours passed and the sky melted into a deep burnt orange color as the sun dipped behind the multiple rooftops, disappearing from the sky in due time. The orange and scorching glow washed over the multiple brown bodies that danced on the makeshift dancefloor, red plastic cups and sweat-slicked skin shined brightly within the summer afternoon.

The party didn't slow though - it only grew louder, brighter, more alive as more people showed up. You were feeling good - no, you were feeling great. The multiple shots of tequila you shared with Pearline pushed away all the negative emotions you felt hours prior, not to mention the sun that nipped at your skin made you a little bit sun-drunk. The burn of the liquor grounded you - and you were laughing again - joking with Pearline as you both swatting away dudes who couldn't get the hint that ya'll weren't interested.

You told Pearline that you saw Stack earlier and she asked if you wanted to leave - she reassured that she'd leave with you without complaints - but you told her it was fine, as long as Stack kept his distance you'd gladly stay.

"He's not gonna mess with you, sis. I got you" Pearline whispered in your ear with a supportive smile dancing on her lips. You nodded your head as you reached for the juice - using it as a chaser to kill the bite from the tequila shots. Both of you sat side by side on cheap plastic chairs, your knees touching against hers. Sammie who was once standing besides Pearline now stood in front of the patio, he was DJing now and your eyes would flick between Pearline and Sammie as she shouted cheers.

They were cute together, like lovesick school kids.

Sammie was in the zone, his head nodding with the thunderous beat and skillful fingers glide across the board, and the bass from the chopped and screwed beat rippled through the joyous crowd. Your smile widen now, showing of the golden grills that adorn your teeth, and your body relaxed into the rhythm and for a moment you almost forgot about Stack.

Almost.

Your eyes noticed the backdoor sliding open and there he was in all of his glory.

Stack.

He was wearing that same balled up red Nike shirt from earlier, shielding the white cotton tank, but you could see the soft fabric peaking through the collar and under the chains around his neck. He moved with purpose as he stepped down the concrete slab; making his way towards the party. That same easy going smile that you use to worship danced across his handsome face, gold teeth catching the light of the ember sunset. He dapped up Sammie, whispering something in the younger cousin's ear, which made him shake his head with a small laughter escaping his lips. And his focus was placed on the DJ board again.

Stack dapped up the people who were brave enough to say hello, he was like a magnet that pulled people's attention towards him without even trying. And even though the sun heat rays beat down on you - an oppressive chill ran cold through your body as he went deeper into the party - towards you.

The tequila and juice twisted within your stomach and your breathing became rapid - you weren't the type of get sick off of liquor - you can handle your drink. But seeing Stack, the heat, and the unfortunate decision of taking a few shots without eating first made you dizzy. Pearline noticed your once mellow mood turning sour and without a word she placed a calming touch on your thigh. Your eyes met with hers briefly and she whispered affirmations in your ear - telling you to take a deep breath and that you both could leave now.

You told her it was okay between long breathes, but your jaw was clenched tight and your hands gripped onto the plastic arm rest of the chair, your leg bouncing with rapid successions. Her hand didn't leave your skin as she handed you a cold bottle of water - and you chugged the bottle as if you've haven't drank anything in days.

Brown familiar irises flicked towards you and your eyes widen like saucers, as if you saw a ghost. Stack noticed you; of course he did. He could pick you out any crowd like it was nothing - like it was second nature to him. His smile curled up in a mischievous grin, but that smile wasn't full of an apology nor regret of hurting you so bad - but instead his golden grin was laced with nothing but cockiness that use to send butterflies to your core, making your heart race with desire and need.

It still did.

With a tilt of his head, Stack signaled you to come over to him, as if nothing problematic happened between the two of you - as if he never left you high and dry. You didn't move, you barely even flinched and you broke eye contact with him, your gaze lingering on the card game that was happening behind you. Slim was chattering away about how folks just don't know how to play the game. The biting warmth of the tequila was now replaced with a cold sting in your heart, you hope that Stack would cut his losses and leave you alone.

But that wasn't him, he never gave up.

Leaning off of the wooden fence he casual shuffled through the dancing crowd, people stepped out of his way without him even uttering a single word while his eyes were still trained on you. He reached you and Pearline within seconds.

She stood up from the chair, her hands resting on her hips as she spoke: "Uh, uh. Not tonight, boy."

But Stack was barely moved by her warning as his smirk only grew. Raising his hands up in a playful display of innocence his dark eyes flicked between you and Pearline who shielded you from his sultry gaze.

"Relax," Stack casually said as he placed his hands to sides, his head lulling back to see your expressions at hearing his voice. "I ain't here to start no drama. This a party, I just wanted to know if ya'll enjoyin' it, that's all."

But he was only met with silence from you and Pearline. You were still sitting in the plastic chair, your arms crossed over your chest as Stack's intense gaze never left your body. You wore a baby blue color tube top with dark acid washed shorts that stopped just above the curve of your ass, and your white Nike cortez with blue accents kicked at the small patch of dirt.

Your eyes refuse to even look at him.

"Damn, baby. You still mad at me?" Stack chuckled out with a knowing glint in his eyes - he was loving the tension between the two of you, even as toxic as it sounded - he liked when you were pissed off, it made him feel wanted and desired. It also didn't hurt that the make up sex would be more tender the angrier he made you.

You replied with a short irritated grunt and leered at him, giving off the vibe of 'don't test me', and your body stayed stock still in the chair. A small laugh escaped Stack's plump lips, he knew he was getting under your skin - and he soaked up each and every annoyed sigh you sent his way.

Stack's intense gaze pulled away from you and landed on Slim who slammed down a playing card on the plastic table. The older man was complaining about the new age music that was popular today.

"Slim, whatssup with you, unc?" Stack called out, which made Slim's face lit up. They both dapped each other up as the older man reclaimed his seat.

"Nothin' much, just tellin' these cats about some real music. None of that 'bitches and hoes' nonsense ya'll be listing to," Slim then took a sip from his flask, his face twisting at the bitter taste of liquor hitting his lips. "What happen to lovin' a woman, cherishin' her - takin' her out and bein' tender on her. Nowadays I wonder if ya'll actually love these queens."

"Look man; I ain't got love for these hoes, the only thing I love is pussy and money - ain't nobody tryna hear all that mushy shit tonight." Stack laughed, which earn a roar of chuckles from the men that were playing cards with Slim - some of them even dapped up Stack at his statement. Slim shook his head and waved his hand towards Stack, as if shooing him away.

But his harsh words stung at your heart and the burning sensations of tears nipped at your eyes, Pearline noticed this but before she could comfort you - you pushed yourself out of the chair, the legs of it scrapped against the concrete, silencing the laughter between the men. You raced towards the crowd as you made your way to Smoke's house. Multiple eyes followed you pushing through the dancefloor. Pearline glared at Stack and something within the man tinged with remorse.

He finally realized that you were hurt and that this wasn't a game anymore.

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The house was empty and the tequila in your veins burned with heartbreak and rage. Your legs rushed down the hallway and with hasty movements you flung open the bathroom door, slamming it loudly behind you. Cold tile met the burning skin of your back as your hands shielded your face, your breath hitching within your throat until it finally snapped like a rubber band.

Tears spilled freely from your eyes, slipping pass the cracks between your fingers as your body shook with each wail. With trembling lips your mind raced. You thought that you could handle it, that seeing him wouldn't wound you. But hearing Stack talk as if nothing mattered, as if he wasn't even affected by your presence made you feel hollow inside. He didn't just leave - he thrown you away. And that shit cuts deep, it felt like a knife hit your gut from his casual actions towards you.

A knock cut through your cries as your head throb with an ache, inhaling the sharp cold bathroom air your fingers wiped away the smeared makeup on your face due to the tears.

"Yea', you can come in." You whispered out, you assumed that Pearline was on the other side of the door - it made sense because only close friends of the twins were allowed to enter the vacant house. The sound of the door creaking open sent a wave of embarrassment through you.

But it wasn't Pearline your eyes were meet with.

It was Stack.

Stepping inside of the small bathroom he quietly closed the door behind him. His expression was different from the charming smile he wore prior to making you cry, all the jokes and cocky aura melted away like ice under the heat of the Mississippi sun. Guilt tugged Stack's face as he looked over your tear stained cheeks, your mascara running and your cherry red lipgloss slightly smeared from your hands pressing closely to your face.

"I-I didn't know you were cryin'." Stack muttered softly, his body leaning on the door and his brown eyes refusing to leave your shaking form. You didn't reply to him and you bit your lip, the gold teeth in your mouth slightly jabbing against the plump skin on your bottom lip. Glaring at Stack through glossy eyes you shook your head - you were growing tired of his antics.

"Hey, I didn't come in here to hurt you I just--"

"But you did hurt me, Stack! You did!" You shouted, cutting him off from his rambling. Your arms were crossed around yourself in an attempt to self soothe the anxiety that was threatening to spill over. Silence fell over the two of you and his eyes soften at your words.

"You left me like I wasn't shit. No goodbyes, not even a fuckin' breakup call! A-And then I find out you cheated on me with some bitch who lives in the suburbs," you shook your head as a pained smile danced across your lips, and with teary eyes you continued. "And now you show up and act like nothin' happened between us - you're such a joke, Stack."

Stack looked down as his hands rested in the pockets of his pants, guilt crashing into him like waves in a tsunami. He felt like shit hearing those words escape from your mouth - but those words were the truth - the bitter truth. He wasn't a good boyfriend to you; yes he took care of you, he praised you, and he adored you - but good to you? That wasn't the case. He treated you like a random fling even though the feelings he felt about you were so much more intense.

"I'm a coward," Stack mumbled. "I-I just didn't know how to be with you and still become the man I wanted to be."

"Oh, boo-hoo! You ain't even try!" You snapped as your voice cracked with each word you cried out, you hated how hurt you sounded and how raw you felt. Stack didn't flinch at your words and with a roll of his shoulders he spoke again, his southern accent curling around your ears like music.

"I was scared, I thought if I left without tellin', you'd realize that I'm no good - that you'll move on to someone better," he stepped closer towards you and the feeling of his shirt lightly grazing the exposed skin of your crossed arms. "But when I came back in town; I asked about you, and I was happy to know that you were still here - that maybe I could start over and fix this shit."

The air between you two were thicker now, more intense, and you couldn't take your eyes off of Stack.

You didn't want to.

"I never stopped thinkin' about you," he whispered low. "Even when I tried to, you were always on my mind when I left, I damn near felt lost without you."

"Then why you actin' like I never meant anything to you?"

Stack's lips twitched and his expression looked like he was scanning his scattered thoughts, as if trying to find the right words to say. His large and calloused hand reached out slowly, hovering over your arms, unsure if he could touch you without you swatting his hand away.

"Because if I admit to myself just how much you mean to me; then I woulda had to realize that I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me too..."

A tight lump formed in your throat at his words, you wanted to scream in his face, to push him out the bathroom and tell him to leave you alone - forever.

But you didn't.

You just stared at him as your chest heaved with shallow breaths. You hated him, you loved him, you missed him, and you never wanted to see him again. Your hands moved as if they had a mind of their own and you rested them on his broad shoulders, the feeling of the soft fabric under your fingers sent shockwaves and aching desire towards your core. Stack was the man that ruined you - but he was also the same one who built you up when no one would have.

Stack shuttered out a sigh of relief under your touch, as if feeling your hand press against his tense muscles was all he needed. His strong arms wrapped around your waist tightly, pulling your frame towards his, and his forehead rested on your bare shoulder. The party that was just outside of the door was muffled by the heavy breathing that escaped both of your lungs.

Leaving his head from the crook of your neck - both of your eyes clashed with each other - neither one of you breaking the intense gaze. And with a passing second your lips met his, the kiss was soft as if your bodies were trying to get reacquainted with each other, and his strong hands raced over your backside - clinging onto you as if you'd disappear from his touch.

The once soft kiss grew deeper - more hungry. And your fingers interlocked behind his head, the cold feeling of the multiple chains he wore grazed your knuckles. Tears still clung onto your long lashes as Stack cupped your face in his hand, both of your tongues fighting and dancing against each other. The taste of weed and alcohol filled your mouth as his bit your lip, begging you if he could go further pass just kissing.

You knew that you shouldn't do this; he hadn't earn to touch you like this again, he hadn't fix the broken heart that he shattered brutally, and he hadn't changed enough to re-enter your life as if he never left. But your heart, so tender and pure, still remembered those nights were he held you close. Making love to you and touching you places where only he knew that made you shiver in ecstasy.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you, Stack."

"I know, baby. But lemme show you how much I missed you."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You and Stack slipped through the dark and quiet home like ghosts, his strong hands held your waist flush against his body as he guided you through the dark hallways of his older brother's house. The wooden floorboards creaked and groan beneath your feet with each step you both took. Stack's lips brushed the soft skin of your shoulder, placing tender kisses up your neck - just stopping below your ear.

You could feel his growing bulge pressing against your ass as his steady and firm hands grasp at your waist, a shiver of delight rushed through your body as memories of him fucking you made the ache between your thighs grow in anticipation. You grinded your self onto Stack which only made him quicken the pace through the house.

Your pulsed quicken under his open mouth and you could feel him smiling against your skin, cutting through the neat living room, you and Stack reached the guest bedroom. With careful hands he slowly turned the knob and his head lulling back to make sure no one saw the two of you sneaking inside of the bedroom. When the coast was clear - you both shuffled into the room. His arm still wrapped around your waist and quiet click was heard, he locked the door making sure no one would interrupt the two of you.

The once burnt orange of the evening sunset had faded away; now the blue shadows of nighttime crept into the dark room, the silver moonlight pooling across the empty bed and you turned on your heel, crashing your lips against his and his hands squeezing your ass. You gasp at the feeling of his ring slightly scraping against the skin of your ass, which made him deepen the kiss again. Your hands tightly gripped his shirt within your fist, pulling him closer until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Stack adjusted his body weight as he hovered over you, making sure that he wouldn't crush you underneath him, and the sound of his jewelry clinking against each other made your head spin. You bit his lip as he pulled away from the kiss, which earned a low hiss from him. You smiled lazily as his knowing hands traced over the hem of your shorts, his fingers tracing small shapes over the denim pockets until they landed on the button.

You began to kick your shoes off as Stack unbutton your shorts, your lip tugged between your teeth as you watched his movements. The sound of the zipper becoming undone made a wave of arousal clung at your already soaking pussy and your hips slightly bucked forward as Stack slowly pulled your shorts off, leaning on your forearms you raised your hips - helping him slip off the denim on your body.

All you wore now was your tube top, cotton panties with a small bow at the waistband, and white cotton socks. He reached for your shirt but you swatted his hands away from the thin fabric.

"If I take a piece of clothing off it's only fair that you do too." You whispered, showing off the golden grills that Stack gifted you years ago. Seeing your already beautiful smile made his heart flutter - but the sight of you with golden capped teeth made his already stiffening member grow even harder - the man was straining against his pants.

With nimble fingers Stack pulled off his shirt along with the tight beater that clung onto his hard muscles, he was shirtless now and his multiple chains glistened under the moonlight - the diamonds danced against his brown skin and it looked as if he himself was glowing. Laying on his back you straddled him and your hands steered his towards your top, his chestnut colored irises lit up when he felt your breast through your shirt.

"When you get your titties pierced?" He asked as he pinched the sensitive buds on your chest, making you grind your soaking core against his jeans, you could feel his dick twitch within his pants as you continue to rock your hips.

"A couple of weeks after you left; I wanted somethin' different."

"Fuck, baby. Lemme see 'em." Stack requested as both of your hands slipped off the blue top over your head. A small giggle escaped your lips at the sight of his face; his mouth went slack and his eyes were glued to your half nude body. His calloused hands raced across your skin and the sound of him kicking off his sneakers made you look back and with strong arms he pulled himself towards the headboard of the bed with you still sitting on his lap.

Once situated his hands cupped your breast and his thumbs slowly rolled over the pierced buds, slightly pressing down on the silver jewelry that adorn your chest, a shiver ran up your spine as you moaned out his name. You nipples were already sensitive, but after getting them pierced that sensitivity doubled, and you were practically shaking within Stack's arms.

With one hand he pinched your nipple, the sharp yet pleasurable sensation zapped through your body and straight to your aching pussy, his free hand held onto your hip as he lowered his head and latched his mouth onto your breast. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked your nipple, his teeth slightly pulling at the jewelry. Your nails dug into his strong shoulders as you threw your head back, encouraging words fell from your lips as you begged him to keep going and how good you were already feeling.

Stack hummed against your chest and your hand lovely stroked his hair carefully as to not mess up his waves. His tongue swirled your nipple as he helped you grind yourself on his hard dick, he still had his pants on as his hips bucked into you. With a wet pop, he release your breast from his mouth, biting his lip when your eyes connected again.

"You're too damn sexy, baby. I need to taste her. It's been too long and I know she misses me..." Stack whispered against your chest. He would always refer to your pussy as 'she' or 'her' when he got in this mood.

And you loved it.

"Feel how much she missed you, baby." You said into his open mouth as your hand guided his towards your wet sex, you still wore your panties but that didn't stop Stack from rubbing small circles on your clothed clit while his ring finger pressed against your entrance through the thin fabric. You humped against his hand which made a chuckle fall from his hips, his eyes trained on the movements of your hips against hand.

"Take these off, they gettin' in the way." He stated, which you gladly did, listening to his demand without a second thought. Leaning on his back against the soft blanket of the bed your breast pressed firmly onto his hard and well trained muscles on his chest. Your hips rising off of his body as you slide your panties off, kicking the soaked fabric off of your legs.

With a quick peck on the lips, Stack guided you to climb higher, your exposed pussy now in view as your hands rested on the headboard. Stack rested his head on the many pillows within the bed and his warm breath against your thigh made you tremble in anticipation. Lowering your hips with his hands, you were now sitting on his face, and his tongue flatten against your clit. Rolling your hips you began to ride his face, his tongue lazily yet full of expertise swiped across your aching entrance.

The tip of his tongue circled your clit and the rough feeling of his grills rubbing against the sensitive bud as he raced his tongue across your sex made you shiver. Stack's strong hands held onto your hips as he guided them against the movements of his tongue, with a vice grip you held onto the wooden headboard, and your eyes gazed down at the man. His brown eyes looked up at you, soaking up all of the curves on your body and the sweet taste of your pussy that danced on his tongue made him roll his eyes back in pleasure.

"Ugh, fuck!" You groaned out as your hips bucked against his face. Stack's lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud and the overbearing sensation made you lean forward; resting your cheek on the headboard. You chanted out Stack's name - his actual name - as if it was a holy hymn. Hearing his name roll sweetly off of your tongue made Stack's head spin, and with strong arms he held onto your waist, leaning himself over.

You let out a small yelp in surprise as your once steady grip on the headboard disappeared - now replaced with soft bedsheets. Your body weight rested on your shoulders and your legs were up in the air, Stack's arms were wrapped around your torso, pulling you close to his muscular chest. Working over your core Stack slowly slipped his middle finger inside you and the feeling of his rings grazing your clit earned a giggle of pleasure from you.

With precise movements Stack moved his hand, pressing his finger in and out of your pussy as his lips kissed your inner thigh, and the feeling of his mustache tickled at your skin. Your hands rested on the bedsheets, gripping the fabric within your fist. Stack added another finger in, the wet sounds of your pussy echoed through the room, and the slick sounds only made him speed up his movements.

Stack's fingers were now fully inside of you, his ring and middle finger filling you up as they skillfully worked over your core. High pitched moans fell from your lips as your feet fluttered from the pleasure, and the familiar intense feeling swarmed towards your core. Stack pulled his mouth away from your pussy as his fingers began fucking into you. He whispered promises to you that you know he'd never keep, but in this moment you believed every word he spoke - lapping up those lies as if they were dipped in honey.

Within an instant a wave of euphoria crashed into you and a loud cry of pleasure escaped your lungs. Your body trembled within his vice grip, trying it's best to regulate itself from experiencing coming so hard on his thick fingers.

"Mhm, just like that, baby." Stack praised with a cocky smile plastered on his handsome face, his fingers continued to thrust into your sensitive core, which earned a cry from overstimulation from you. Your hands clung onto his forearms in an attempt to slow the pace of his fingers, taking the hint he slowly pulled them out of you, and with a playful slap against your pussy - he released you from his tight grasp - your body laying limp on the bed as he stood up.

Catching your breath your eyes danced over Stack's toned body, his hands unbuckling his belt, slipping off his jeans and boxers in one swift movement freeing himself. Stack was big, and each time he would fuck you after a fight, you'd walk with a limp the next day. His thick and heavy member twitched with anticipation of fucking you again after all these years. Stack's mind would wonder towards your body when he would touch himself or decided to fuck some random woman he would entertain during those grueling years in Chicago.

But his hands weren't yours and those women weren't you.

Pumping himself with his hand Stack flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling you close to him so your lower half dangled off the edge of the bed. You looked over your shoulder as you watched Stack's face twist with pleasure as he slowly entered you.

"Fuck..." He groaned out as his hands held onto your hips. The feeling of your pussy squeezing around him almost made him come right then and there, he was convinced that you both were made for each other - you were the only woman who could have that kind of effect on his body by just entering. Pushing himself all the way in, he paused his hips, savoring the feeling of you, and also helping you adjust yourself to him. You were so tight and so wet, he could stay in your pussy for hours if you let him.

"C'mon, Elias..." You begged as you began rocking your hips, urging the man to fuck you, which he gladly did. High pitched grunts fell from your lips with each thrust he made and the arch in your back became to much to support by yourself, his strong arms pushed you flush against the bed while holding your waist to keep your back arched against his powerful thrust of his hips. Your legs turned into jelly as they shook underneath you and your feet barely touched the ground - you were practically standing on the tips of your toes.

"Keep fucking me, keep fucking me!" You begged out between moans, Stack was rendered to only grunts and groans, but that didn't stop him from replying to you - in his own way of course. With a swift smack he landed a sharp slap against the plush skin of your ass, making you hiss out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He continued fucking into you, smacking your ass, and holding your waist in a vice grip.

You sure you'll have bruises later.

Leaning upwards you turned your head with your mouth open, signaling to him that you wanted a kiss. Stack's needy lips crashed into yours as your tongue danced across his, you could taste how sweet you truly were on his lips and mustache. Your golden grills bumped into his in the passionate make-out session and his heavy body was leaning flush against your sweaty back. His chest heaved shallow breaths as his hips sporadically bucked into you - feeling his hard cock inside of you twitch you knew he was close.

And so you were.

Pulling away from the sloppy kiss, the string of saliva that connected between both of your bottom lips snapped, and Stack rested his head onto your shoulder. The same familiar feeling of overbearing pleasure that needed to be alleviated came back within your abdomen, and with a loud cry you came on Stack's dick. Your eyes rolled back as your fist gripped the bedsheets below you.

"Damn, baby. W-Where you want it?"

"Inside me, baby."

And without missing a beat Stack came too, a guttural groan reverberated through his body and crashed into you. The feeling of his hard jewelry pressing into your back grounded you as you catch your breathe, and the warm feeling of his come filling you up made you smile in relief. You both paused your movements and Stack was still inside of you, rolling his shoulders he slowly pulled out of you - which made you groan from the sensation. You rested your sore body onto the bed and your cheek rested on a soft pillow. Stack smiled as he playfully patted your ass.

"Good shit, baby." He smiled which made you roll your eyes, turning your head to look away from him, trying your best to kind the lopsided smile that clung onto your lips.

"You're so annoy--" but before you could finish your statement a sharp knock was heard on the door, the handle violently jiggling between each knock.

"Stack? I know ya'll ain't in there doin' what I think ya'll doin'!" The voice of Smoke shouted behind the lock door. Stack spat out a 'shit' and quickly sat up from the bed, putting on his boxers as he wiped his face with the back of his hand that was covered in your juices. You sat up and your eyes widen in alarm as you reached for your clothes, but Stacked waved at you to stop your movements.

Unlocking the door Stack's body stood in front of the small crack, hiding your naked form. Hushed whispers were shared between the twins and you assumed that Stack was getting cursed out by his older brother and with a sharp: "Clean that fuckin' room before ya'll leave." Smoke slipped away from the door, which made Stack shout back in his usual playful tone.

"I was already gon' do that!" And he closed the door behind him, sucking his teeth as he threw himself onto the bed next to you, making you bounce a bit from his added weight on the mattress. Brown eyes stared into each other as silence now fell over the two of you. Leaning in to close the space between each other Stack ran his fingers through your hair, tucking the braid behind your ear, and the sound of his chains clinking against each other made you ease under his touch.

"I'm so tender on you, girl...I promise I'll do right by you; just give me another chance." Stack whispered, his eyes training on your features as you bit your lip. You were terrified of being hurt by him again, but you were also scared living the rest of your days without feeling his touch too. Reaching for his shoulder you pulled him closer towards you - your lips ghosting over his and you finally gave him your answer.

"Okay, but don't mess this up..."

[nolita-fairytale]

and for us, it won't be long | joaquin torres x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: after joaquin's accident, you reconnect with your childhood friend

warnings: hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, eventual smut, spoilers for captain america: brave new world, swearing, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers

word count: 2.7k

a/n: so i think this is a small cute mini series of exactly 3 parts. i haven't written a fic in a while so this is wild but i'm happy to be here. the title of this fic is from baynk's song, grin.

read chapter two here

You watch him fall out of the sky on national television, the footage juxtaposed with an exterior shot of the Walter Reed Military Medical Center that’s got been stock footage, resulting in the world’s worst case of emotional whiplash. The news anchor’s voice is clear—reassuring, even—as he explains the situation: 

An accident involving the Falcon. 

In critical condition. 

The new Captain America at his side.

Hopeful. 

It’s the word he keeps repeating. 

The doctors are hopeful. 

But his words are lost on you, traveling in through one ear and out through another. In a state of shock, you’re only able to comprehend bits and pieces because watching the man you’ve known for most of your life soar through the air—not to mention, in flames—and plummet straight into the Indian Ocean, makes you feel like you’re going to pass out. 

It’s not like you expect for him to pick up—but you’re calling Joaquin’s phone, your heart practically beating out of your chest like he could—because there isn’t much else you feel like you can do. Besides, if, when he wakes up, you want him to know that you’ll be there.

You get his voicemail. 

Of course. 

But you can’t sit with this alone.

So you call your mom. And then his. And then three of you hold each other through the phone like he held your father all five years through The Blip. 

And when all is said and done, after days of agonizing nothingness, you get a text from his mother saying: 

He’s going to be okay. 

*

It’s the seventh time in the last ten minutes that Sam sees the screen of Joaquin’s phone flash upwards toward the hospital ceiling, signaling that he’s got yet another notification. 

“You should give ‘em a call,” Sam encourages.

Joaquin shoots a quizzical look to the man he’s looked up to his whole life, as Sam nods towards the cell phone once again, clarifying his previous statement with: “Your family, Torres. And whoever else’s been blowin’ your phone all day.” 

His face falls. 

The doctors had called to let his family know that he had made it through a successful surgery, and that he was going to be okay, but he hadn’t reached out just yet. Hell, he was almost grateful that his phone had been dead for days, crossing his fingers that the hospital wouldn’t find a spare charger. But then Sam came in this morning, brand new phone charger in hand, forcing Joaquin to return to reality: an overwhelm of missed calls and texts.

“I don’t-, I… I don’t want to worry them,” Joaquin hesitates, the disappointment in himself evident in how cautious he is. It’s why he’s been putting it off. He can’t seem to beat the nagging feeling that he should’ve done some differently—something so he didn’t have to make this kind of call. 

But he knows he’ll have to face the music sooner or later. 

“What-? What do I say? What am I supposed to tell them?” he asks earnestly, searching the face of his mentor for any kind of guidance. 

“Tell ‘em you’re gonna be okay,” Sam replies gently, the reassurance in his words allowing the obvious to land a little softer than it would had he chosen a different path. Joaquin nods slowly in response, reaching for the phone on his hospital bedside table. 

With a sigh and a heaviness he can’t yet name, Joaquin begins to scroll through the notifications. While he expects to see calls and texts from his parents, extended family members he hasn’t spoken to in years, he doesn’t expect to see 5 missed calls and 3 texts from you. 

Sam watches carefully as a look of surprise washes over his friend, colleague, and wingman’s face, and there’s something different about his reaction when his thumb hovers over your messages. 

“I’ll give you a few minutes, man,” Sam bows out, respectfully. 

*

When Joaquin finally texts you, it’s just a stupid GIF of a zombie rising from the grave. You’re less than amused by his humor at a time like this, but your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest as you see that the notification is from him. 2:08 pm 

You: Not funny, asshole! We’ve all been worried sick. 2:10 pm 

Joaquin: 😣You talked to my mom?!

2:15 pm 

You: 🖕Fuck off. You know Lydia likes me more than you. 

2:16 pm 

Joaquin: 💔

Savage. 

2:16 pm 

I’m jk. Mom told me how wonderful you’ve been with her and Dad. Thank you. 🙏

2:22 pm 

You: I’m just glad you’re okay. 

2:30 pm 

Joaquin: 😅

2:30 pm 

You: Can I call you later? 

2:31 pm 

Joaquin: Yeah :)

*

You’ve never been this girl: the girl that waits by the phone for some guy to text her.

But in the days following Joaquin’s accident, you have to remind yourself that the fact that you’re practically glued to your phone waiting for updates is just a result of the fact that you could’ve lost him. 

Besides, he’s not just some guy. It’s Joaquin: he’s the neighborhood kid you grew up with, the sweet seventeen year-old boy who took you to your senior prom, and the man that both of your mothers still swear to this day that you’ll marry. 

It’s Captain America—Sam, he insists that you call him—who eventually puts you out of your misery by inviting you to see Joaquin, when he notices his wingman’s recovery is going better and better all thanks to his mysterious pen pal. 

“I know kids these days can’t get off their phones, but something’s telling me there’s a cute girl on the other end, Buck,” Sam mentions over the phone one day, when the latter asks him about Joaquin’s recovery. “Hey, I’m not mad at it! Seems like it’s helping him.”

“Kid’s gotta girl?” Bucky asks from somewhere along the campaign trail, a hint of curiosity in his voice as he inquires further. “There’s only one way to find out,” Sam shrugs with a little mischief in his voice. 

It’s not hard to swipe Joaquin’s phone, considering his recovery still requires lots and lots of rest. The last thing you had expected that day was a call from Captain America himself—from Joaquin’s phone, no less—asking you to come to DC to reunite with your childhood friend. 

What’s even more shocking is the fact that it’s Sam Wilson himself, who’s there to meet you at the hospital. You try to keep your cool as you introduce yourself, but you can’t shake the giddy feeling of excitement that fills you upon meeting the Avenger you and Joaquin used to see on TV. He leads you down the long hospital hallways, warning you quietly that Joaquin was pretty badly injured, and he may have a little more wear and tear than you expected. 

You don’t mean to gasp, but your sharp intake of breath upon seeing him in his hospital bed isn’t exactly subtle. Your eyes trace over him worriedly, as you take in the burn scars on his neck and the still-healing cuts and scrapes on his face. It’s the moment you realize that, since making the choice to join The Avengers, your superhero friend is not so invincible. 

“What’re you-?” Joaquin balks, speechless at the sight of you. He looks from you to Sam, then back to you, before returning to Sam once more, his eyes landing on the man like he’s Benedict Arnold. “Sam, you didn’t-. How did you-? You called her?!” 

“Wasn’t hard to swipe your phone when you need a nap every 2 hours,” Sam replies casually, as if he isn’t acting like the world’s most embarrassing dad right now. “And I got tired of watching you wait by the phone all day for your girl to finally text you.”

“Oh my god!” Joaquin groans, at the very same time you let out a:

“Oh he’s not my-!” 

“Dude, we’re not-,” Joaquin gestures towards you in a panic, as he searches for the right words, saying a silent prayer that he can get out at least one full-finished sentence. “I’m not like, waiting by the phone but It’s not like I can go anywhere right now, man!” Sam chuckles only to be met with a very dramatic eye roll from Joaquin as he tries to defend himself. 

“Listen, we’re old friends. We’ve just been catching up,” he tries to explain again, gesturing towards you once more. 

Sam smirks, uttering an unconvinced, “Sure. Well, whoever she is or isn’t to you… seems like she’s been helping your recovery. Thought it couldn’t hurt.” 

You laugh, exchanging a look with Joaquin. 

“I still can’t believe you called her,” Joaquin shakes his head, still trying his best to process this. 

“Well, of course he called me, Torres, considering you’ve always been shit at asking for help,” you finally chime in, with a ball-busting attitude he’s missed. 

“Oh shit,” Sam says, looking from you back to Joaquin as he waits for a reaction. 

Joaquin grins, gearing up to explain: “When she feels threatened, she has a tendency to lash out.” 

Sam chuckles. 

“Feisty. I like it," he smirks with a nod of approval. And he knows that this that’s his cue. It’s time to give you kids some time alone. “Imma step out for a second. You guys… catch up. Or whatever.” 

You press your lips together, stifling another laugh, and waiting a beat as Sam disappears. 

“Dude,” you start, taking a few steps closer to Joaquin, with a look of disbelief.

“Dude,” Joaquin mimics you, unable to hide the smile on his face upon seeing you. 

“That’s like… Captain America,” you nod towards the hallway as you take a few more steps forward. 

“I know,” Joaquin says back, an excitement between the two of you. 

“Captain fucking America,” you emphasize.. 

You’ve really been doing the best to keep your cool, but you’re not sure you can contain it any longer. 

“I know!” he fanboys with you this time, because Joaquin still can’t believe this is real either. 

That he works with Sam Wilson. That he’s Captain America’s wingman. That you’re here, in DC, with him. 

It’s as if a piece of home has joined him for the first time in a long time in this new chapter of his life. 

The two of you exchange another smile and a wave of relief washes over you. 

You take a beat and one step closer to him, sitting down in the chair next to his hospital bed. You shake your head and this time, the expression on your face goes from soft to a much more hardened and worried look. 

“Joaquin,” you start, the tone of your voice a warning enough. 

“Oh God,” he sighs, recognizing that tone. 

“I could kill you,” you threaten, the next part reinforcing his more than accurate evaluation of you from earlier. “But clearly you don’t need my help.” 

“Well, I did technically die,” he parries, light heartedly. 

“Joaquin!” You interject, your voice going up in pitch as you cut him off. 

“What? You scared you’d miss me or something?” he teases, meeting your fire with his. 

“Oh fuck off,” you scoff, with a shake of your head. “It’s not-, don’t joke about that! It’s not funny!” 

“Didn’t you just threaten me with-?” he continues, knowing all the buttons to press. 

“Yeah, but it’s different when I-. Didn’t you just say that I have a tendency of lashing out when I feel threatened?” you snap, the worry in your voice enough to get him to stop. 

You sigh, your eyes scanning him once more, because maybe it would be easier if he really were invincible.

You take a beat, and the two of you share a full silence between you. It’s comfortable, yet filled with ‘what ifs’ neither of you want to acknowledge. 

“I can’t believe Sam stole my phone and called you,” Joaquin shakes his head this time, groaning again because Captain America really should be renamed to America’s Most Embarrassing Dad for this. “How did you get here so fast, anyway? My parents won’t even arrive till tomorrow.” 

“Oh I uh-. Well, you’ve been busy saving the world so I haven’t exactly been able to tell you,” you reply, realizing that it hadn’t even come up in conversation via text yet. “I moved to Philly a few months ago.” 

“Philly?” Joaquin asks, a little surprised, because he’s not sure he could picture you anywhere that has a properly cold Winter season. “Yeah,” you chuckle, immediately recognizing his look. “I had to buy my first Winter coat this year but… the trade off is that I’m only an hour train ride away from you now.”

His face lights up as soon as you spell it out for him. 

“Well, my parents are coming in tomorrow. Are you-, think you’ll be around?” he asks, hopefully. 

“Do you want me to be?” you ask in return. 

He nods, “Yeah. Think they’d like to see you.” “Okay,” you agree softly. “I’ll stay.” 

A beat. 

And another silence between the two of you, one that feels much heavier than the last. 

“You could’ve died, Joaquin,” you state quietly. 

“I know,” he replies, the guilt evident in his voice. 

You could’ve-,” you begin to repeat, your voice breaking this time. 

“I know,” he says again, much firmer as he reassures you. “But I didn’t. And we’re here now.” 

He reaches for your hand, and you’re almost angry with the way your body betrays you. With tears in your eyes you look back at him, shaking your head. 

“Goddamit,” you swear with a small laugh. “You’re the one who gets hurt yet you’re here comforting me.”

He shakes his head this time, squeezing your hand as he smiles, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.” A beat. “But I’m still gonna kill Sam.”

You laugh, wiping a few tears out of your eyes with your free hand. 

“And yeah. I would,” you finally admit, your voice soft. 

“Hm?” Joaquin asks, his lashes heavy as he blinks, taking you in. 

“I would really, really miss you,” you answer, a vulnerability in your voice this time that you’re quick to put an end to. “So don’t fucking do this shit again!” 

Joaquin laughs as he squeezes your hand once more, knowing it’s not a promise he can make to either of you. 

*

9:45 am 

Joaquin: Mom and Dad left yesterday and Mom told me to tell you that she misses you already. 

10:01 am 

You: You can just admit that you miss me already. 

10:03 am 

Joaquin: 🤐

Thanks though. I think they’re a little less worried now that they know you’re close by. 

10:08 am 

You: How’s it going? 

10:13 am 

Joaquin: Good! I got discharged a few days ago and am heading to Wakanda in a few weeks. 

New suit! 🦸

The last time you see me can’t be in a hospital gown. 

10:15 am 

You: I don’t know why you’d say that! It’s a great look for you. 

10:20 am 

Joaquin: 🙄

Guess I should’ve swiped one from the hospital to wear all the time.

What’re you doing next weekend? 

10:21 am 

You: Nothing. What’s up? 

10:30 am 

Joaquin: What do you think about me coming to Philly? 

10:31 am

You: To visit me? Or just because?

10:32 am Joaquin: Yes to visit you 😆

Thought we could hang out before I go.

10:33 am 

You: Yeah! I know it’s only an hour train ride in and out, but I’ve got a super comfy couch you can crash on if you want. 

So that’s an option. 

The next text you receive is a selfie of him, wearing a plain grey crewneck sweater. 

You laugh. The guy loves a good selfie. 

10:40 am

Joaquin: 1 photo attached

Rocky ain’t ready for this 

10:43 am 

You: LOL 

Please don’t tell me you’re coming to Philly so you can recreate the Rocky training montage.

And if you’re wondering, I will not be partaking. You’re on your own with that one. 

But yeah, I’d be happy to host you! 

10:48 am 

Joaquin: Deal. 

I’ll call you later. We can work out the details :) 

11:00 am 

You: Deal :)

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ how they react to you giving them flowers

ᨳ♡₊➳ feat. gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: request from this ask!

₊⊹. Satoru Gojo

You hand Gojo a bouquet of flowers, fully expecting—at most—a smug little quip or maybe some insufferable flirting in return.

What you do not expect is for him to have a reaction so over-the-top that you briefly wonder if you accidentally proposed.

He gasps. Loudly. Tragic heroine energy. A hand flies to his chest like he’s been personally victimized by this act of kindness. His knees buckle. He stumbles backward as if you’ve just struck him with the sheer magnitude of your affections. “What’s the occasion? Did I forget our anniversary? Are you breaking up with me? Did you poison these? Are they funeral flowers?! Oh my god, am I the funeral? Am I already dead?"

You have to physically grab his face to stop the spiral. “Gojo. Take the flowers.”

And so he does. He delicately cradles the bouquet in his hands like it’s a newborn baby or the last piece of cheesecake on earth. His fingers tremble. His eyes widen behind his blindfold. If this were a shoujo anime, there’d be sparkles and cherry blossoms flying around him right now.

“YOU GOT THESE… FOR ME?” He sounds like a Disney princess who just found out true love exists.

“Yes?”

“LIKE… AS A GIFT???”

“Yes, Satoru.”

“BECAUSE YOU LIKE ME???”

“…Yes, Satoru.”

In true Gojo fashion, he holds the bouquet up like Simba from The Lion King and proceeds to give it a full government-mandated, 15-minute TED Talk about how this moment is historic and should be documented in the national archives. He fake-cries. He sniffs the flowers obnoxiously loudly, making a show of how deeply moved he is. At one point, he even pulls out his phone, snaps a picture of himself with the bouquet, and immediately sets it as his lock screen.

You’re about to make a sarcastic remark when he suddenly gasps again and looks at you, horrified. “Wait. WAIT. Have I been a bad boyfriend this whole time? Have I never gotten you flowers???”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but—”

You better not be surprised when he starts giving you even bigger flower arrangements in retaliation.

“Oh, you got me a little bouquet? That’s cute,” he says a day later, as an entire truck pulls up with a floral arrangement the size of a small car. “I WIN. I LOVE YOU MORE!!!” he yells, standing triumphantly on top of the pile like a victorious gladiator.

“…This is why I don’t do nice things for you.”

₊⊹. Suguru Geto

You hand Geto a bouquet, and immediately, something feels… off. He doesn’t react. At all. Not even a blink. His expression is unreadable—like he’s either deeply moved or deeply confused, and you have absolutely no way of knowing which.

Panic sets in. Oh god. Did you miscalculate? Is he allergic? What if this is some kind of tragic backstory moment, and flowers remind him of a long-lost lover? What if you just triggered a dramatic flashback sequence?

The silence stretches on, unbearably awkward. Five seconds have never felt this long. You start sweating. Your soul briefly leaves your body.

And then—finally—he smiles. That smile. The one that makes your heart do an entire Olympic-level gymnastics routine.

He takes the bouquet with the kind of effortless grace that suggests this is a totally normal occurrence. Like people just randomly shower him with flowers every day. Like he’s some untouchable, dark-haired romance anime protagonist who was born to receive grand romantic gestures. He holds them delicately, fingers brushing over the petals with reverence. You’re convinced that this man has secretly starred in a historical drama where he played a prince.

"These… are for me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, eyes twinkling with amusement. He looks way too pleased with himself.

You nod, hesitantly, like you’re handing a wild animal food and aren’t sure if it’ll accept it or bite your hand off. He chuckles—a low, warm sound that should be illegal—and twirls one of the flowers between his fingers.

"You’re so sweet," he says, voice soft and filled with fondness.

As time passes, you catch him treating the flowers with an almost comical level of care. He arranges them in a vase like he’s the world’s most dedicated florist, adjusting each stem with surgical precision. If a single petal looks out of place, he fixes it. If a leaf is even slightly bent, he frowns at it like a disappointed art critic.

He also starts calling you "my flower" unironically, and you’re never escaping that nickname. Ever.

₊⊹. Kento Nanami

Nanami stares at the flowers for exactly ten seconds before saying, “Why?” in the most confused voice you’ve ever heard.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate them. He’s just genuinely confused. You can actually see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out if this is some kind of hidden message.

You tell him it’s just because you love him and the moment you say that, he softens instantly. His entire posture relaxes, and you see it—that tiny, almost imperceptible smile that only you get to see.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice warm in a way that makes your stomach flip.

He puts them in a vase immediately. He is so serious about them. He waters them religiously and learns way too much about flower care overnight. This man reads care guides, watches YouTube tutorials, and probably takes notes. Every time he looks at them, he thinks about how much he loves you, and at some point, he starts drinking his coffee next to them like it’s a little morning ritual.

He also buys you a bouquet. Except it's way more expensive and has some deep, poetic meaning behind the flower choices. Because of course it does.

When the flowers you gifted him eventually die, you catch him looking a little sad. So, naturally, you get him another bouquet, and suddenly, this becomes a thing.

Nanami will never outright ask you for more flowers. But if you keep giving them to him? He’s never been happier.

₊⊹. Choso Kamo

Choso doesn’t know what to do with himself. His ears turn red. His hands hover awkwardly over the bouquet like they might explode if he touches them wrong. “For… me?” he asks, like you might be pranking him.

Once he realizes you’re serious, his grip on the bouquet tightens slightly like someone is about to take them away. He blinks at you. Blinks at the flowers. Back at you. “…What do I do with them?”

You try to explain, but he’s so invested in getting this right that he overthinks every step. “Where do I put them? Do they need a special container? What happens if they die? Will that mean I failed?”

He ends up putting them in a large water bottle because he doesn’t own a vase. The bottle label is still on. He is very proud of this solution.

He stares at the flowers in deep concentration. “You okay?” you ask.

Choso looks at you, dead serious. “I have to take care of them. You gave them to me.”

And he does. Aggressively. He researches proper water levels. He constantly moves them around to get “the right amount of sunlight.” He talks to them like they’re his children. He defends the flowers with his life. If anyone even so much as accidentally sneezes near them, Choso will glare at them like they just committed war crimes.

The next time you see him, he shyly hands you a single flower he found outside.

₊⊹. Toji Fushiguro

Toji squints at the flowers like they just personally insulted him. “What the hell am I supposed to do with these?”

You tell him they’re a gift. For him. His eyebrows go up. His expression is so deeply confused you’d think you just handed him a mortgage bill.

“…You’re givin’ me flowers?”

“Yes.”

“…Voluntarily?”

“Yes??”

“…You sure you meant to give these to me and not some poor bastard standing behind me?”

“Toji, just take the damn flowers.”

He takes them, holds them in one hand, and just stares. Like he’s waiting for them to do something. He then grabs a beer bottle from the counter, chugs the last of it in one go, fills it up with water, and shoves the flowers inside like that’s normal.

He does not own a vase. That is now the vase.

“That’s not a vase.”

“Works, don’t it?”

The worst part? He actually gets really attached to them. He won’t admit it, but he kind of likes having them around. Every time he sees them, he remembers you. He starts getting weirdly good at keeping them alive.

He plays it off like he doesn’t care, but you catch him smirking at them sometimes. He’ll be sharpening his weapons, glance at the flowers, and just... smirk. Like they’re in on something together.

If you ever get him more, he will grumble and roll his eyes—but he always keeps them.

[georgeclarkeys]

drunken nights - arthurtv x reader

summary - chris asks you to help him wrangle arthur for soccer saturday - 1k words

trying to get back in the groove of things post surgery :)

hope y'all don't hate it!

~

The sun had been up for several hours, but you and Arthur had yet to make it out of bed. You had your cheek pressed against his collarbone, allowing your forehead to rest comfortably in the crook of his neck. His arms fit around you like they were made to be there, and your hands had wound themselves into his soft curls. 

You were enjoying a lazy morning, because Arthur was scheduled to film a Soccer Saturday video with Chris and the rest of his friends in a few short hours. This meant that you would have the majority of the day to yourself, until your boyfriend had finished enough drinks to start sending you an overwhelming amount of drunk texts. 

The sharp ping of your phone drew your attention from Arthur for the first time in hours. Your face scrunched as you read the name on the screen.

“Why is Chris’s producer texting me?” You glanced up at Arthur, who shrugged his shoulders looking just as confused as you were. 

unknown number - 9:37 AM

Hi (Y/N), this is Laura from ChrisMD’s production team! Chris is busy getting everything ready for the video today, so he asked me to reach out to you about potentially joining us for filming this evening. You will not be on camera or in the video, we just might need your assistance with a few things 🙂 (to be completely honest with you, Chris needs you to wrangle Arthur. He is infamous for being a bit of a handful on these shoots. 😉) Let me know if you are available so I can relay to Chris. Thanks!

As soon as your eyes finished scanning the paragraph, you started giggling uncontrollably and flipped your phone around to let Arthur read the message. His eyes widened in shock.

“I do not misbehave that bad! I can’t believe they are calling in my girlfriend for me!” He huffed out a pouty sigh before continuing, “are you going to come?”

“It sounds like they need me,” you chuckled, “what do you think?”

Arthur thought about it for a moment, “I will never turn down the chance to spend the day with you. Join us, it will be fun.”

He pecked your cheek and slid out of bed while you responded to the text, mentally preparing yourself for a wild night.

~

As your day had progressed you found yourself in a pub before noon, and on a train to Doncaster that had taken several hours in delays, before landing in the streets of the city. Arthur was sloshed before the group had even made it onto the train, and his inability to walk in a straight line ahead of you was making it clear to everyone. He had been on a different level all evening. You were pretty sure he had been talking to anyone who would listen, but only about a third of the things he was saying made any sense at all. He had also found himself in the middle of a confrontation on the street by pointing out a man’s silly costume. Luckily, Bach stepped in to handle the angry partier while you pulled Arthur away by the hood on his jacket.

Now, you were at a complete loss of words as you stared up at your incredibly intoxicated boyfriend, who had somehow made it up a tree in the five minutes it took you to find a bathroom.

Looking around at the crew and the rest of the group you sighed, “how the hell did this happen.”

Your voice altered Arthur that you had returned. He found your gaze and beamed down at you, “babe! I’m in a tree!”

“Arthur Tree Vee!” George slurred out before jumping up and down and high fiving Bach. You turned to the sober members of the crew, who were all looking at you with exasperated expressions.

“Arthur! You need to get down, love, you’re gonna get hurt,” you called up to him.

“Okay (Y/N)!” he exclaimed before grabbing onto a branch and making an awkward, uncoordinated, spinning dismount from an incredibly dangerous height. He landed on feet before falling onto his back on the pavement. One of the cameramen stepped forward to capture Arthur’s flushed face and drunken grin and he proclaimed, “I always do what (Y/N) tells me.”

The rest of the group descended into fits of laughter, several of them even falling to the ground to join him. 

You and Arthur Hill rushed over to check on him, but he seemed unharmed. While pulling him to his feet, you noticed a cut on his hand at the same time that he did. His eyes snapped to Bach’s.

“We’re bleeding! We’re bleeding!” They both repeated, holding their hands to the camera and jumping up and down. You scrubbed a hand over your face, your boyfriend a handful when he was drunk and you desperately needed caffeine to handle it. Before you could think about it too much, Arthur and Bach started trading screams back and forth in the middle of the street. You slapped your hand over Arthur’s mouth, muffling the screams before he retaliated by licking a stripe across your palm.

You deadpanned, “Literally what is wrong with you.”

He just smiled at you, tilted his head slightly, and lightly bit the tip of your nose before skipping away to join the group, yelling out “I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND” into the starry Doncaster sky.

This was going to be a long night.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟlater that night

yourusername posted a story!

[wynnevee]

BOB FLOYD REQUEST

running into wife!r at a flower shop while trying to buy flowers for her bc he felt like it, but she was doing the same for him!!

flowers

fluff

bob floyd x wife!reader

synopsis: the request

warnings: reader is a stay at home wife, kissing, barely proof read (i wrote this in an hour after working a double don’t judge me)

notes: awww, so cute, keep these coming!!

“baby on board! what’s with the rush, man?” hangman asked, turning toward the door at the sound of the jingling bell.

“i have a few errands to run,” bob shouted back, not even stopping on his way out. he was eager to come home to you, even if it had just been a standard day at work—first and foremost, though, he had a tradition to uphold.

every first of the month, without fail, bob brought you flowers. an extravagant bouquet, a small bundle of hand picked wild flowers, a pot for you to plant in your own garden—in 5 years of marriage, he has never missed his mark.

usually, he bought from a local place but since the street was blocked off for construction for a week, he was forced to reroute to one in the next town over. he hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking about what this month’s flowers would be…

it was july, so perhaps larkspur would work out nicely, maybe mixed in with some delphiniums. maybe roses—he hadn’t gotten those in a while. oh, maybe he’d mix it up and buy some seeds, that way you could plant them and watch them grow together.

by the time he pulled into the parking lot, he was lost in his own little mind garden, far too oblivious to notice your car just a few spots down from his own.

the bell above the door dinged, the man behind the counter sending a greeting before returning to his bouquet arrangements. bob nodded and smiled, eyes scanning the selection.

his eyes caught some daffodils, sprouting from their pot in a lively stance—perfect. you had just complimented the neighbor’s daffodils a few days before. he picked up the pot, inspecting the bottom to check for any cracks or impeding blemishes; however, what came next almost sent the pot hurtling towards the ground anyways.

“bobby?”

he spun, managing not to let the daffodils slip from his hands as his eyes met yours. his brow furrowed, looking between you and the small pot of lavender in your hands.

see, you loved bobs monthly flowers. it was one of the many, many ways your husband made you feel like the most important person in the world… but just once… you kinda wanted to beat him.

usually, he gave you your flowers in the morning, leaving extra early to get them before work. however, this morning, he hadn’t been able to, and just like that, you had your chance.

you took special care to leave early, making sure you’d arrive home before him. you even turned off your phones location services so he wouldn’t spot you sneaking around.

nevertheless, your plan had been foiled.

“hey, beautiful,” your husband smiled, setting down the pot and wrapping his arms around your waist. he nodded down to the lavender. “what’s this?”

you pouted, looking down at the flowers. “i was gonna surprise you and get you flowers today, and you were just saying that you liked the smell of that lavender shampoo i bought you, so…”

his smile widened as you trailed off, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss just below your ear. “awww, my girl was buying my flowers?”

“well, you’ve gotten me so many, i wanted to turn the tables a little!” you explain, smile beginning to overturn your frown. “why are you here anyways? you should still be at work, mister.”

he shrugged, continuing to kiss the side of your neck. “mav let us out early for the weekend.”

“stupid maverick,” you grumbled. “ruined my plan. i’ve been thinking about this for a month!”

he laughed, taking the lavender from your hands and guiding you to retrieve the daffodils as well. “c’mon, baby, we’ll get both and then we can head on home.”

you shook your head, taking the lavender back from him. “you can’t pay for your own flowers!”

he squints. “you would’ve been spending the same money anyways, we’re a single income household.”

you frowned. “it’s the principle of the thing. i deep cleaned the kitchen, that’s basically overtime for a stay at home wife. i was practically saving up!”

he shook his head, rolling his eyes playfully. “fine, you can pay with your own card… that links back to our shared bank account…”

you smacked his shoulder, snatching the lavender back. “damn right i will.”

[luveline]

I would love to do a request if you would like! Some sort of Spencer Reid x Reader where the reader is super bad ass, tough, doesn’t show much emotion is kind of cold to others but has the biggest soft spot for Spencer!! 🫶🏻

thanks for your request lovey, I would love to write more of this pairing if you have any more requests ♡ fem!reader

"Here comes the ice queen," Morgan mutters, turning his chair away from the walkway. 

You walk down the steps from Hotch's office. Whether you were praised or reprimanded is anybody's guess —your face never gives anything away. Spencer doesn't necessarily agree with the way Morgan's categorised you, but he isn't wrong either. You're like Hotch in temperament, if Hotch were soft on only Spencer. 

That might have something to do with why Spencer won't call you cold. You're never cold with him. 

"What did boss man want?" Morgan asks. 

"If it were your business, Morgan, I'm sure you'd already know." You don't say it spitefully, but it's far from a warm answer.

Spencer honestly asks just to piss Morgan off, "Everything okay?" 

You visibly soften. Walking past Morgan without notice, you pause by Spencer's desk, your voice quieter, gentler. "Don't worry, Spence, everything's fine. You still reading that book about sex crimes in Arizona?" 

"I finished it. Doesn't take long." 

"No, you're fast," you agree. "What are you gonna read next?" 

It's amazing how swiftly you shift gears. Your body language totally changes, your shoulders slouching toward him, your hand open and resting on the back of his chair as if you might touch his hair. Morgan shoots Reid a look that says, What is happening right now?

"I was thinking about reading up on the Milk Killer, from 1954. He tried to give his victims blood transfusions high in lactose in an attempt to cure intolerance." 

Even Spencer admits that that sounds boring, but your face lights up with genuine interest. "That could be good. You'll have to tell me how it goes." 

"Sure." Spencer squints at you. "You have something on your face." 

"Yeah?" you ask, and Morgan goes wild behind you, dipping back in his chair in disbelief at your breathless tone. "What is it? Can you get it for me?" 

You bend a little and Spencer wipes the lint from your face sweetly. He wonders if he should be blushing, your affection for him as clear as it is, but for once, Spencer Reid feels smug. He can melt someone that Morgan can't. "All gone," he says. Smugness aside, you're a friend (and maybe a little more than that).

"Thanks, Spence," you say, popping a kiss against his cheek. "You saved me from embarrassing myself." 

Morgan clears his throat. You barely move, your hands twisting behind your back. "Hey, lovergirl," he says, making himself heard. 

"What, Morgan?" you ask, finally looking away from Spencer's pinking cheeks. 

"You have something," he says, pointing at the corner of his mouth. 

"So?" you ask indifferently. You turn back to Spencer as though nothing occurred. "Do you want to go to the movies again this weekend? They're playing a silent film. I think you'll like it." 

Spencer smiles genuinely. It's not his main concern, but it's definitely an added bonus to hear Morgan's sighed, "Are you kidding?" as he nods vehemently. 

"I'd love to," Spencer says. 

"Okay. It's a date," you say, smiling at him so nicely it feels like he can't breathe. 

"What's a date?" Emily asks as she returns from the kitchenette, eyebrows jumping. 

"It's a marker used to denote the day or month within a year," you say primly. "I have to go make copies for Hotch." 

You don't say goodbye. Morgan likes you, really, in the same way you like Morgan, so he gives Spencer a dazed look followed by a small smile. "Good luck with that." 

Spencer looks over his shoulder to follow your figure as you carry a box of reports to the photocopier. "I don't think I need luck," he murmurs. You glare at the copier, clicking one of its buttons aggressively. "She's nicer than you guys think." 

"Sure."

[bullet-prooflove]

A Cold Day In Hell - Dennis Whitaker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @sargeant-sad-eyes @caffeinatedwoman @hooks-martin

Companion piece to:

Peppermint - The taste of peppermint will always have a special place in Dennis’s heart.

The Morgue Thing - A miscommunication between you and Dennis almost ends things before they begin.

Written In The Stars - Your first date with Dennis takes place underneath the stars.

In The Park - Dennis reveals a secret after the two of you spend the night together in the park.

Virgin - There's a rumour going around about Dennis.

Debauched (NSFW) - Karaoke night ends a lot differently than it did the first time around.

Symphony (NSFW) - Dennis has never eaten pussy before…

Pretty Boy (NSFW) - You and Dennis take the next step in your relationship.

Permanent Marker - You find out about the betting pool.

The Porn Boom (NSFW) - Dennis isn't like the other man you've been with.

Wild Flowers - A crown of wildflowers leads you and Dennis to discuss the issues he has with his family.

A Friend of Denny's - Your relationship with Dennis takes a turn when his parents come to town.

It’s been a week since the run in with Dennis’s parents and you’ve still not spoken to him. You won’t take his calls or return his texts, you don’t even look at him when your paths cross in the E.D. It’s like he doesn’t even exist to you.

It’s a shitty feeling, one he absolutely deserves.

“Feels like a cold day in hell Pussycat.” Myrna remarks, wheeling her chair up alongside of him as he watches you and Donnie steer the specialist gurney you use for the deceased towards the elevator. “Whatever you did to Queenie you’d better find a way to fix it.”

Queenie short for Queen of the Damned because of all the dead folks you work with. Myrna has a nickname for almost everyone in the E.D with the exception of Dana who she respects far too much.

Despite being a psych patient she’s right, it’s clear the giving you space approach isn’t working so he’s going to have to tackle the problem head on.

It’s at the end of his shift he takes the elevator down to the subbasement. The air is different down here, chiller. He feels the bite through his jacket as he strides towards the Viewing Room where he knows you’ll be. It’s the last thing you do before you leave, you like to make sure it’s in order for any families that may need to identify their loved ones when the nightshift take over.

Despite the lack of resources they have to contend with in The Pitt, money has been poured into the Viewing Room from the hospital’s charity fund. One of the board members had suffered a death in the family a couple of years ago and was shocked by the dourness of the original facility.

Now it looks like something you’d get in a high end funeral home with a false skylight that portrays a soft white clouds across a crisp blue sky, and warm spotlights that emit a soothing glow throughout the space. The walls are painted a light seafoam grey, instilling a sense of calmness as you sit in one of the plush grey chairs ticking off your checklist.  

“Get out.” You scold him, raising to your feet. “You’re gonna get yourself written up, you know you’re not allowed to be in here.”

The morgue is strictly off limits to any personnel who aren’t assigned to the area, that includes doctors. Part of that is to avoid any cross contamination when it comes to working with the deceased, and the other part is to give the families of the departed a safe space to breathe away from the rest of the hospital.

“I know, I just… it seems like the only place I could actually talk to you.” He says contritely, his hands clasped in front of him as his gaze flickers to the vacant viewing table in the centre of the room.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.” You tell him, hugging the tablet to your chest. “We never put a label on what we were doing and you certainly didn’t make me any promises so I guess that means you’re free and clear.”

“Lola…” He begins, his lips pursing together. “I don’t want to be free and clear, I want to be held accountable for my actions because I know how much they hurt you.”

“That sounds like you want me to assuage your guilt.” You point out, your hand coming to rest on your hip. “And I am certainly not going to make you feel less shitty over something that made me feel really fucking shitty.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” He implores, stepping forward into your proximity. “I did a horrible thing to you, I made you feel like less than what you are and that is unforgiveable. You’ve never been just ‘a friend’.” – He does the bunny ears for emphasis – “You’ve always been more, I just couldn’t tell that to my mom because then she’d know…”

He trails off, his gaze lowering to the white sneakers on his feet as he struggles to find the words to give context to the rest of his story.

“Before I came out here I made a plan with my mom, something to help her come to terms with the fact I was moving over a thousand miles away. I was meant to do my time in Med School, get through my clinical rotations and then come home and do my Residency in Internal Medicine where I would live out the rest of my days serving my community, the same way I would have done if I’d become a pastor.” He tells you before he tilts his head up to meet the eyes he’s spent every night wishing he was looking into. “But coming here to PTMC, it changed everything. I found my calling in Emergency Medicine and I found you, this compassionate, wonderful woman who didn’t see me as a farm boy from bumfuck nowhere, who made me laugh on the shittiest fucking days, who stole my heart from right out underneath me before I even realised it was happening...”

He tucks his hands into the back pockets of his pants because the urge to reach out and touch you is becoming unbearable. You're unreadable at the moment, a statue made of the purest marble with an expression that gives away absolutely nothing.

“If I had told my mom what you were to me, she would know that I wasn’t coming home to Nebraska. I wasn’t ready to break her heart but I ended up breaking yours instead and I am deeply sorry for that. I just floundered in that moment because the two women I love most in the world were standing in front of me and I felt like I was at this crossroads caught my past and my future.”

“You made me feel like I was nothing.” You whisper.

It’s the way your voice cracks that breaks his heart, his resolve snaps and he finds himself standing in front of you. His hand raises to cup your face, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek as he looks down at you.

“You are not nothing.” He says, his eyes blazing with sincerity. “You are everything to me and I should have told you that. I should have told you that I was staying here in Pittsburgh, that I wanted to make a life with you, a home with you-”

“What does your mom think about all of this?” You interrupt and he deflates then, a sad smile crossing his features as his hand slips away.

“She told me not to let my head get spun by the first pretty young thing that sat in my lap.” He says quietly, his palm rubbing over the nape of his neck. The words had stung because it showed that she still didn’t trust him to know his own mind, to make his own decisions even after all this time. “That I should remain focused on our community, on giving back to the people who raised me, who invested in me. She thought I was being selfish and maybe I am but I’ve earned that right to choose how I live my life and who I want to spend it with. She walked out after that. My dad says she just needs some time to adjust but I don’t know, it felt final.”

He's surprised when your hand grasps his. Your palm fits perfectly in his own, your thumb tracing soothing circles along the scar on the back of it. Even now your compassion astounds him, he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve you but here you are, reaching across the void, connecting with him.

“I think before this goes any further that we should talk about what we both want, make sure we’re on the same page before you make a decision about the residency. You have to do it for you, not for me and not for your mom." You say quietly, squeezing his hand gently. "We need to be clear and honest with each other about the future, no matter how much that may hurt.”

Dennis, he already knows what he wants his future to look like, a white picket fence, two rings, first steps. He has no idea where you stand on those things, if that’s something you’d even want but that’s the point you’re making, it’s time to figure it out.

“I think that’s a good idea.” He says, looking down at your joined hands, hope blossoming in his chest. “Let’s do it, let’s talk about our future.”

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[meadowfics]

splash

kang dae-ho x cho hyun ju x f!reader

two is better than one

warnings: established polyamorous relationship! smut! 18+ so minors DNI. aquaphilia. threesome. praise praise praise!! oral (daeho receiving). sub!daeho. post-bottom surgery hyunju. p in v unprotected. orgasm denial. overstimulation.

imagine this layout here throughout the fic

your massive pool glimmers under the late afternoon sun. imagine a big backyard, your pool's surface is a mix of light and shadow that dances with every splash.

you glide through the water, your strokes fluid and graceful. each movement sending waves moving across the surface. the private pool is your sanctuary, nestled in the backyard of the home you share with daeho and hyunju, surrounded by tall hedges that shield you from the world.

the black swimsuit of yours, a triangle top with matching bottoms, clings to you. its similar to a sleek second skin, and you feel weightless as you cut through the water.

on the pool’s edge, daeho sits, his legs dangling in the water, his broad frame relaxed but his eyes fixed on you.

daeho's dark hair is damp from an earlier dip, and his black swim trunks cling to his thighs, the water lapping at his calves.

hyunju lounges beside him on a cushioned chair, wearing a bluehalter bikini top and jean shorts. the taller woman's silky black hair cascades over one shoulder, catching the sunlight.

she’s still dry since she just came outside after a long nap. however, her gaze on the lounge chair tracks your every move with a mix of admiration and hunger.

“god, she’s stunning,” hyunju murmurs at daeho, her voice low. of course her voice was meant for daeho but loud enough for you to hear as you surface near the edge.

hyunju's lips curve into a smile, sharp and knowing.

“look at her move, daeho.”

daeho nods, his cheeks flushed, his eyes never leaving you.

“she’s always been so beautiful like this,” he says, his voice soft, almost reverent.

you smile, treading water, your hands skimming the surface as you look up at them. the warmth in their gazes makes your skin tingle, a heat that has nothing to do with the sun.

“you two just gonna sit there and stare?” you tease, your voice playful but laced with an invitation.

hyunju chuckles, setting her pink alcoholic beverage drink down and sliding off the chair. the woman's movements are graceful, yet careful, as she steps toward the pool’s edge making sure that she doesn't get her jean shorts wet.

“oh, we’re doing more than just staring, love,” she says, her tone dripping with promise. she crouches beside daeho, her hand resting on his shoulder, fingers brushing his skin.

“what do you think, daeho? should we join her?”

daeho’s breath hitches, his eyes flicking to hyunju before returning to you.

“i… yeah,” he manages, his voice catching, already slipping into that softer space you and hyunju know so well. he’s always been the one to yield, to let you both guide him. the dynamic feels natural, and exciting.

you swim closer, your hands finding the pool’s edge, your body half-submerged as you look up at daeho from in-between his legs while inside of the pool.

your man's legs are still in the water right beside your figure, and you rest your arms on either side of them, your fingers brushing his thighs.

“you look good up there,” you murmur.

your is voice low and teasing, “all relaxed, waiting for us.”

daeho's flush deepens, and he shifts, the water rippling around his legs.

“y/n,” he breathes, your name a plea, “you’re gonna kill me.”

hyunju laughs softly, settling beside him, her hand sliding down his back in a slow, possessive caress.

“she’s good at that, isn’t she?” she says, her eyes locked on you, “driving you wild without even trying.”

you grin, pulling yourself closer, your lips brushing the inside of daeho’s knee, just above the waterline. he shudders, his free hand twitching toward you, but hyunju catches it, lacing her fingers with his.

“not yet,” she says, her voice firm but warm, “let her take care of you first.”

you take the cue, your hands sliding up daeho’s thighs, your touch light but deliberate. the water laps at your shoulders as you position yourself between his legs, your body buoyant, the pool’s embrace amplifys every sensation in each other's bodies.

you look up at him, meeting his wide, needy eyes, and press a soft kiss to his skin, just above the hem of his trunks.

“you’re so good for us,” you murmur, your voice carrying over the gentle slosh of the water.

“so patient, daeho.”

he groans softly, his free hand gripping the edge of the pool, his knuckles paling.

“fuck, y/n,” he whispers, “you’re too much.”

hyunju leans closer, her lips brushing daeho’s ear as she watches you.

“she’s perfect, isn’t she?” she says, her voice a low purr, “look at how she moves for you. all for you.”

you keep your eyes on daeho, your touches slow, teasing, drawing out his reactions. the water makes every movement smoother, more deliberate, and you can feel the tension building in him, the way his breath comes faster, the way his body responds to your closeness.

hyunju’s hand stays on his, guiding him, keeping him grounded as you pull his swim trunks down slowly. when his cock jumps out, you bit your lip, your mouth watering looking similar to the pool around you.

the man whimpered when you completely took his shorts off, leaving him completely naked in front of you.

you laid his heavy and hard penis on your face from below, leaving open kisses on a vein thats below his tip. he groans as you move your kiss up then took one kitten lick at his pink tip.

you kept eye contact with daeho, looking at him with a smirk.

you only sucked and licked at his tip while you took his length in your hands… slowly pumping the shaft up and down.

hyunju gives pepper kisses around daeho's upper jaw, the feeling of pleasure is overwhelming to him as you start pushing your head down and taking his fat length whole.

your hand wrapped around the parts of dae-ho’s cock that your throat didn't meet.

“you’re doing so well,” hyunju whispered, her voice soft but laced with authority, “just let go, daeho. let her take care of you.”

you hum in agreement, sending vibrations up daeho's dick that would've made him cum right then and there if it wasn't for his control.

hyunju pulls her lips away from daeho's ear and her free hand slides into the water, brushing your shoulder as she joins you. the taller woman disregards the fact that she still had her jean shorts on.

“he’s so good when he listens,” hyunju says, her tone both praising and commanding as she watches you suck daeho off.

she slips into the pool, the water parting around her as she moves to your side. she helps pul your wet hair up into a ponytail as you pull your mouth away from daeho and let him smack your face a few times with his cock.

“aren’t you, daeho?”

“yes,” he breathes, his voice trembling with want, “anything for you two.”

hyunju’s hands find your waist, her fingers firm as she pulls you closer, her lips brushing your shoulder as your butt meets her pelvic area.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” she murmurs, her voice a warm caress against your skin, “swimming so gracefully, and now… look at you, taking our big boy apart.”

you smile while putting daeho back into your mouth, causing a groan to come out of daeho's lower throat.

your heart races as you feel hyunju start to dry hump from behind you. your hands still on daeho's legs.

hyunju wraps her arms around your hips and starts to untie your swim trunks that hold your bikini bottoms on your body. you let her, feeling the material fall away into the water while your core is fully exposed under the water.

you feel daeho's cock twitch and you deny him release by pulling away with a 'pop'. you kiss down his inner thigh just long enough to make him whimper, his submission a gift you and hyunju cherish.

“please,” he gasps, his voice breaking, his eyes pleading as he looks between you and hyunju.

“i need—”

“shh,” hyunju cuts him off, her voice soft but firm. she starts to play with your folds from underneath the water, causing you to let out a small moan against daeho's leg.

“we decide when, love. you know that.”

you nod, your own control mingling with hyunju’s. all you can focus on is daeho's dick in from of your face, and hyunju's fingers that dj on your clit so slowly.

the pool water swirls around you, cool against the heat of your bodies, and you feel hyunju’s hands pull away. she urges you to shift, to move with her.

you follow her lead, climbing out of the pool with only your bikini top on.

the water streaming off you as you stand on the warm grass, hyunju at your side.

daeho follows, his movements slower, his body trembling as he steps out, the water dripping from his legs. you and hyunju guide him to a cushioned lounge chair, the air warm against your damp skin.

hyunju takes the lead now, her hands firm as she positions daeho, her touch both commanding and tender.

“lie back,” she says, her voice leaving no room for argument, “we’re not done with you.”

he obeys, his eyes locked on you both, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

you kneel beside him, your hands trailing over his chest, his stomach, while hyunju straddles his hips, with her covered pussy just sitting above his naked cock. hyunju's movements are controlled.

“you’re so good for us,” you moaned, your lips brushing his ear.

“so perfect, daeho.”

hyunju leans down, her hair falling like a curtain around her face as she kisses him, her lips firm, claiming.

“you take it so well,” she says against his mouth, her voice dripping with praise.

“our good boy.”

on the lounge chair, you move your legs on both sides of daeho's head. your pussy meeting right on his mouth.

the first touch of his tongue is a slow, deliberate swipe that makes your hips almost lift up if it weren't for hyunju holding them down against daeho's tongue.

daeho groans softly against your core while hyunju takes off herein shorts and bikini bottoms... letting daeho's thick length open her apart slowly.

the vibration of his moan sends a jolt through you, and he holds your thighs while hyunju balances herself by holding your hips. which keeps you in place as daeho works for you.

daeho’s tongue moves in languid circles, teasing and exploring. at oe point, he enters his tongue into your hold, tongue fucking you as you moan out into the world (don't worry, nobody can hear you despite you being super loud).

you try to bite your lip to keep quiet, but the pleasure builds quickly with a tight coil in your core.

you look at hyunju, which is difficult since the pleasure from daeho's tongue sends your eyes rolling. your girlfriend leans in, her soft lips connecting to your swollen ones.

hyunju's and your hands and lips exploring each other, the poolside air thick with the scent of chlorine and desire.

the woman's physical praise a constant thread. she moves back ad forth between massaging your hips and your breast through your bikini top as daeho's tongue works from under you.

you guide daeho while hyunju rides him and keeps him on the edge. she is drawing out his pleasure until he’s trembling, overwhelmed.

“you’re so strong,” you tell him from above, your hands moving down his body. you feel his cock that isn't inside of hyunju before playing with her sensitive clit.

hyunju moans softly, and you smirk, “does that feel so good, hyun?" mhmmm.. ah-- I love hearing yo-your voice, you deserve to feel-- fuck-- good too mama."

hyunju nods, her fingers trailing over your arm as she looks at daeho.

“y-yes,” she mumbles, her voice warm, “fuck!”

the three of you are a tangle of moans, groans, and whimpers. the pool is behind hyunju, its ripples making a nice background noise of the sex happening with you three.

when it’s over, after much overstimulation and sensitivity, you collapse together on the lounge chair, the green grass beneath you, the pool only seven feet away.

daeho’s head rests on your shoulder, his breath slowing. while hyunju’s hand rests on your thigh, her touch grounding you.

“you both were perfect,” she murmurs, her voice soft.

“so were you,” you say, your fingers brushing daeho’s damp hair, then hyunju’s.

“both of you.”

daeho smiles, his eyes half-closed, his voice a sleepy murmur.

“I love you both.”

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