#so atmospheric and brooding

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Nicholas Van Ryn

Dragonwyck (1946) - dir. Joseph L. Mankiewitcz

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

ALEX TURNER, RIO DE JANEIRO, BR. by Zackery Michael

[tinkerbitch69]

So my fellow whovians, i have a theory…

I watched the snowmen again last night and the doctor’s sudden shift following the ponds death doesn’t really make sense to me. All of a sudden he’s changed his whole outlook on life, stopped travelling, refuses to help people and just generally becomes Scrooge more or less. Like I know the ponds death would have hit him hard but like THAT seems a bit much…

And everyone in the paternoster gang says he has been this way for a long time but they don’t seem to be that much older than they were when we saw them in a good man goes to war. So he can’t have been parked on that cloud and moping about for more than a few years which idk that doesn’t exactly qualify as a long time to me, especially with the doctor.

So, people have often asked why he couldn’t go back and get them, even if all of the 1930s was off limits to his TARDIS because of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff, couldn’t he have just popped to the 40s or 50s and retrieved them when they were a bit older? He does have a Time Machine after all …

Well what if he DID?

He picked up the ponds and essentially kept travelling with them on and off for the rest of their lives but ultimately he lost them again when they died of old age and he had to visit those graves again. No matter how many times he would travel back in time to find them at a point in their past where he could pick them up and take them on a new adventure, eventually he would have to drop them off again, knowing they are inevitably heading to their deaths, however slowly. No matter he does, he can’t save them.

No matter what he does, his time with them is always finite.

And it’s THIS realisation that hits him so hard that he gives up on travelling and decides to brood in Victorian London for the rest of his life (excellent locale for brooding btw). the paternoster gang know he’s been this obsessive about the ponds and it’s not healthy for him which is why they say he’s been like this for a long time. He shut everyone else out long before he ended up on that cloud. he stopped trying to move on and find a new companion because he can’t go through getting attached to them when he knows his time with them will eventually and inevitably run out…

[rafey-baby]

forbidden fruit

Once upon a time there was a princess and a hunter...

snow white!reader x hunter!rafe

c/w: mentions of violence (he holds a knife to her throat & threatens to kill her), her being a naive sheltered princess, him being slightly suggestive? also if it’s not obvious this is *loosely* based on the story of snow white, 18+ mdni!

wc: 3k

ahh the first part is here xx

part two & moodboard

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Do you have a favorite flower?”  

The quietness that follows makes her wonder if the brooding man alongside her had heard her question at all.   

She’s not entirely certain why the queen had been so adamant that this grumpy huntsman was to accompany her on this peculiar evening walk, when she’s never even uttered a word to him before— doesn’t even know his name.   

When she’d asked why they had to go so suddenly and after the sunset had already colored the skyline with its cherry tinge, he’d merely muttered something along the lines of ‘following Her Majesty’s orders’.   

She’s well aware of her stepmother’s disdain for her, never quite understanding why her father had married such a cold woman to begin with. However, it has never been in her wishes to upset her any further than she apparently does by simply existing, which is why she’d quietly agreed without much resistance— even if the request had seemed rather strange to her.       

“Uh…I dunno, they all sort of look the same to me, Your Highness,” the sudden rumble interrupts her thoughts.   

“Oh,” she’s slightly taken aback by the gravel in his tone, offering him her own answer nonetheless. “I love daisies.”

“Right,” he mumbles out; mind apparently lost somewhere else entirely as he keeps leading her deeper and deeper into the grim, bleak woods. With every step she takes, the leafy trees begin to turn into something impending, sinister— their slender branches beginning to resemble bony fingers, merely waiting for the right moment to latch onto her and claw at her arms.  

Therefore, she’d much rather hear his voice instead of this daunting lull in their conversation (if she could even call it that). Unfortunately, what she’s gathered from their brief interactions so far, is that the preferred topic of discussion for a man— a hunter like him, is silence. 

And that’s something the murky forest around them is already far too generously presenting her with; this late into the day not even the bluebirds chirp their delightful melodies to make the eerily serene atmosphere of this prolonged journey of theirs a little less dreadful.  

“What’s, um, what’s your name?” she attempts to have him speak some more.   

“Rafe,” he merely offers her a fleeting glance; as if it’s the most tedious thing in the world to even utter out his own name to her.  

Rafe. 

Upon further observation of the rugged lines of his face, she decides it suits him. What doesn’t suit him, however, is the ever-present scowl staining his (rather handsome) features. It’s almost as if something is tormenting him, acidic, putrid on his tongue.  

“Is something wrong?” she questions next, him being vague on purpose not exactly soothing her concerns regarding this entirely too ominous trip.  

They’ve been strolling along some path he apparently has in his mind for quite some time now, at this point nearly reaching the very core of the vast forest that surrounds the entirety of the kingdom.  

“Everything’s fine,” his tone is gruff— a heavy palm on the small of her back nudging her forward when she momentarily halts her movements.   

“Do we have to go so far? M’getting cold,” she complains because even if the palace hasn’t felt like home ever since her dear father’s passing, she wants nothing more now than to return to the thermal fireplace and silky sheets in her bedchamber.

All of a sudden, the snapping of a branch somewhere close causes her to flinch. 

In tandem, they both turn towards the noise as it transforms into foreboding rustling of leaves and something akin to footfall against the muddy ground; forcing a shiver to crawl under her skin.   

She’s beginning to prepare herself to face some gruesome monster when out of the blue, the smallest white-tailed deer she’s ever laid her eyes upon, pokes its head from behind a tree trunk.   

She gasps in adoration; tiptoeing closer to the trembling animal before crouching down.   

“Hello there. Why are you here all by yourself?” she asks with a tender coo— mindfully reaching a hand out to pet its ruffled head.  

Seemingly liking her, it takes a careful step towards her in a moment of bravery; teddy bear eyes curious.   

“Well, aren’t you adorable? I wish I had something for you to eat but I don’t,” she croons out as it nestles its slobbery nose into the hollow of her hand, when all at once, its button eyes dilate and its fleecy ears lift up in alarm.  

“Wha—” she doesn’t have the time to finish her sentence before it’s hurriedly scrambling away from her and disappearing into the viridescent foliage in the blink of an eye.   

She looks over her shoulder to locate the source of such horror, coming face-to-face with a gleaming blade and Rafe’s threatening eyes fixed on her suddenly immobile form.   

“What are you—” her words wither away on her frightened tongue when he abruptly brings the hunting knife to her throat—terror wrapping around her like yarn, tautening around her organs and making her helpless heart thump against her ribcage in a state of hysteria. 

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, alright? I promise I’ll make it quick,” he sounds determined, her unnerved eyes rounding out. 

“Rafe, you don’t— you don’t have to do this,” she manages out before she feels the harsh edge cut into her delicate skin just the slightest bit— a droplet of crimson trickling down her neck and towards her heaving chest.  

His gaze tracks the rivulet as it dribbles down all the way into her cleavage; leaving a scarlet trail to stain her skin in its wake as her pounding head begins to spin. 

She sits there on the forest floor, unmoving and unable to properly suck in air through her lungs as trepidation slithers itself into the crevices of her bones; merging into her marrow and turning her limbs into icebound liquid. 

“You think I want to?” he mutters out through his teeth.   

“I— I don’t understand...why are you doing this?” she squeaks out when he squeezes the handle in his fist— seemingly torn between two alternatives yanking him into separate directions, their claws scraping at both of his arms.  

“Cause the queen wants your heart on a platter n’ I’m supposed to be doin’ what Her Majesty tells me to, yeah?” he spits out the title as if it’s rotten; as if it’s tasted acrid in his mouth for a long while now.   

“My heart? Why would she want my heart?” she asks with something akin to hurt in her voice; not realizing her stepmother’s hatred towards her branched as far as wanting her dead.   

“Cause she’s lost her fuckin’ mind,” he huffs out; still tightly gripping onto the weapon. “...but then you look at me with those fuckin’ eyes and how am I— how am I supposed to…kill that?” he rambles more to himself than her, making her brows knit together even further.  

“You don’t— you don’t have to, you can let me go and I’ll— I’ll hide in the forest,” she suggests, voice wavering.  

“And freeze to death?” he scoffs.  

“I thought you wanted me dead?” she sounds disconcerted.  

“I don’t want you dead!” his volume is as clamorous as thunder, frustrated.   

“But you’re holding a knife to my throat?” her voice trembles; the frigid steel still imprinting her skin.  

“Yeah, cause I’m supposed to fuckin’ kill you, alright?”  

“I…I don’t understand,” her tone is a muted whisper and at last, he loosens his hold on the knife— a faint thud echoing in the space between them as it hits the soil covered in moss. 

Then, he’s shaking his head, seemingly exasperated with the girl before him. “Talkin’ to fuckin’ deers n’ shit. I mean, who the hell does that?”   

“I…I do? They’re my friends, why wouldn’t I talk to them?” she bats her lashes at him, seemingly confused out her innocent little mind. 

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he lets out bitter scoff. “Now tell me, what am I supposed to do with you, hm?”   

“You’re not going to…” she swallows the rest of the words— too vile, brutal for her to say out loud.   

“Since you’re makin’ it so fuckin’ hard, no,” he lets out a displeased breath before presenting his palm for her to hold onto.  

“Get up,” he orders, nearly glaring at her.  

“Oh, um, thank you,” she blinks up at his frowning countenance, gingerly grasping onto his much bigger hand and letting him lift her up with ease.  

“Right, uh, why don’t we get you somewhere warm, yeah? You must be freezin’ only wearin’ that dress,” he clears his throat when he notices a tremor rattling through her in tandem with a frosty breeze sweeping past them.  

Taken aback by his sudden concern over her well-being, she merely stands there with a blank expression before he flits his eyes over to hers; seemingly expecting a response. 

“Oh, um...I think— I think I saw a cottage on our way here,” hesitation tinges her suggestion.  

“You did? Where?”  

“It was, um…” she pads along the faint traces of their original route she had sidetracked from in order to greet the baby deer— his heavy footsteps following close behind.   

“There,” she points her index finger towards a small hut partly hidden away behind old, lush trees. 

When they step onto the threshold, she softly knocks on the mahogany door decorated with intricate swirls and designs embedded into the wood.   

“Hello? Would it be possible if we could come in to warm up a little bit? It’s terribly cold out here,” she politely asks.   

However, they’re not granted any sort of a reply.   

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Rafe notes as he peers through the windows into the unlit interior, before trying his luck and pushing down the handle.  

To both of their surprise, the door is unlocked.   

“Rafe! We can’t just break into someone’s home,” she scolds him with wide eyes.   

“S’not breakin’ in if the door’s open,” he merely shrugs before cautiously stepping inside— having to duck his head since the roof is hanging far too low for his tall figure.   

He looks around the compact space, as if to make sure they truly are alone, before glancing over his shoulder at her still tentative form shivering in the doorway. “What are you waitin’ for? Come in. Unless you wanna get sick standin’ out there?”   

She feels guilt eat away at her soul when she gingerly steps inside the cozy cabin, feeling far too much like an intruder, even if Rafe doesn’t seem all that bothered by entering a complete stranger’s place of residence without permission.  

“Shit, why are these chairs so small?” he complains when the wooden stool creaks under his weigh; threatening to crack as he lights up some candles he found— the walls soon bathing under the burnt-orange flames.    

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she suggests meekly.   

“S’not like we have options to choose from,” he points out; stretching his big arms over his head in an attempt to get comfortable.  

“You’re right...I’m sure whoever lives here will understand we needed a place to stay, right?” she tries to convince herself in hopes of brushing her worries under the rug.  

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Let’s see if they have anything to eat around here,” he dismisses her as he stands tall on his feet once more, before he’s opening and closing the cabinets and cupboards in a search for food.  

“Why do they have so many fuckin’ apples in here?” he mindlessly questions when he sees a pile of the red fruit hiding behind one door.  

“Oh, I could make you an apple pie?” 

He turns to look at her beaming with that sudden grand idea of hers.  

“Uh, m’not sure if that’s…”  

“Do you not like them?” she sounds nearly concerned, as if not liking apple pies should be considered a crime in the fairytale world inside her skull.   

“Nah, I do, I just— shouldn’t we be comin’ up with some plan to keep you safe n’ shit? And not bakin’ pies. We don’t really have all the time in the world before the queen finds out you’re alive,” he mutters out. 

“Well, I don’t know about you but I can’t think with an empty stomach. And, um, it would also be a thank you for you sparing my life,” she timidly looks up at him. 

He clears his throat at that, seemingly surprised by her sentimentality; feeling unworthy of the gratitude she’s so willingly offering him. “Right, yeah, uh, alright. Well, you do that and I’ll go get us some firewood or somethin’, yeah?”  

“That sounds perfect,” she smiles.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -   

Later, when he returns to the cottage, the saccharine smell of oven-baked apples instantaneously whirls around him— holding him in a cinnamon-scented embrace and dragging a grumble from his stomach.   

“Oh, you’re back just in time!” she exclaims as she sets down two porcelain plates for them.  

“I might’ve went a little overboard with the cinnamon but I hope you don’t mind?” she asks while cutting through the steaming pie that’s making him practically drool.   

“Uh, nah, I…love cinnamon,” he murmurs, not sure why he just said that since he doesn’t particularly even like cinnamon. However, he’s certain that nothing that smells like that could possibly taste bad.  

“Really? Me too!”  

He thinks this is the first time he’s seen her eyes glitter in that way; as if he’s just single-handedly hung the moon or professed his undying love for her. It makes something unfamiliar poke at his insides— scratching at his organs and begging to be let out. However, he decides not to pay it any mind as he sits down on the kitchen chair that’s still entirely too tiny for him.   

“Do you like it?” she asks with her gaze glued to his expression when he takes his first bite. She hasn’t even touched her own slice; opting to stare at him instead and momentarily, he wonders why she’s so eager to please him.   

“This might just be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he can’t help but groan out loud in response to the luscious flavors practically melting on his tongue.  

She swallows at that, mind seemingly stuck somewhere else entirely before she softly clears her throat. “You, um, you think so?”   

“Uh huh,” he hums out with delight before shoving another forkful of softened apple pieces and golden-brown crust into his mouth— a smirk soon blossoming on his face when he catches on to the double entendre of his mindless compliment that apparently turned her all shy.     

“Someone’s got a dirty mind,” he chuckles, mocking her.   

“I…” she opens and then closes her mouth like a goldfish. “I do not—”   

“Alright, you caught me. Second best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he decides to toy with this sweet little princess some more, for some reason wants to see her all flustered; in some crooked way enjoys having an effect on her.   

“Um, right…yeah,” she stumbles over her words; eyes flickering towards her plate as she finally digs into her own portion.   

He’s all too preoccupied grinning at the way she’s avoiding his gaze when out of the blue, the sight of a bed peeking through the slightly ajar bedroom door catches his attention.  

And it’s not so much the piece of furniture that halts his chewing and makes a crease form between his brows, but more so the size of it. It forces his feet to move on their own accord to the room where he’s met with six more beds— just as minuscule as the first one.  

At that, he wonders if he really was so caught up with the princess that his brain couldn’t fit the very clear pieces together any earlier.   

“Oh shit, I think I know these guys n’ I don’t think they’ll be too happy to see me here when they get back,” he mutters while padding back towards the kitchen. 

“What do you mean?” concern paints over her features.   

“Nah, nothin’ just…uh, they don’t like me very much, so we gotta leave. I mean, they probably won’t mind you bein’ here all that much. They’re probably real friendly if you don’t piss them off like I have,” he scratches at the back of his head.      “What did you do?”  

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Uh, I have this cabin for when I’m hunting, but s’not very close. Think we should be safe there for tonight though. Unless you wanna stay here?”   

“No, I wanna go with you. I— I don’t want to stay here alone,” she’s quick to answer. 

“You sure?” he raises his brows.  

She nods.   

“Yeah? S’probably gonna be a few hours on foot. Think you can walk for that long in the woods, princess?” he asks next, his cadence turning into something playful.   

“Of course I can. I have two healthy legs,” she sounds almost offended. 

“I can see that,” an entertained smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And you’re not scared of the dark either?” he adds, almost as if testing her.  

“Of course not,” she lies through her teeth— eliciting a humored chuckle from him.  

“Mm. Could’ve sworn you were getting a little jumpy on our way here, but must’ve imagined it, right?” he drawls out, eyes narrowing in a challenge. 

“Yeah…” she doesn’t give in, a smile beginning to pull at her lips to match his own; neither of them seeming to mind when something feather-light takes the place of the once leaden ambience between them. 

Momentarily, she wonders why she’d never talked to this strangely captivating hunter before— his blue velvet eyes nearly entrancing, compelling her into an incantation she seems to unconsciously gravitate towards.   

However, the spell is soon broken when he takes a step closer to her, leaning over towards the table to blow off the flickering blaze of the candles— a dusky obscurity dancing around them once more. 

[blkkizzat]

YAKUZA!TOJI X MILF!READER —aka toji on some joe goldberg bullshit

🎞️ 𝐒𝟏 𝐄𝟐:

⟢ rating: mdni 18+ stalking, yuji is yakuza!sukuna x reader child, toji is still delulu af, size-kink, milf kink, breeding kink, voyeurism, dilf!toji, dissociative sexual fantasies, sukuna is an asshole, masturbation, killing fantasies, obsessive tendencies, heavy manipulation, brooding, yandere fluff, cute kid megumi.

⟢ episode run time: 𝟖.𝟕𝐤 ⟢ episode list: m.list ⟢ subscriber access: please comment on m.list to be tagged, rather than individual episodes as its easier for me to track. ⟢ director's note: e2 is here!! sorry for the initial issues! i hope you guys enjoy as we go deeper into toji's delulu, it's so much fun writing from his perspective. i feel like with each epi he only gets worse, hfsvsdjkfhvbsdj. he's still daddy tho.

The sky has since fallen completely dark, but the city lights of Tokyo still twinkle brightly in the distance, drowning out any stars. The light pollution still appears beautiful though, as a comforting beacon of civilization in the surrounding darkness.

The atmosphere, which had previously been so violently vibrant, has now quieted to a muted calm as the world slows down, whipping cool night air around Toji’s tense frame on his balcony.

However, it does fuck all to soothe the seared edges of his temper. 

Nor does the serene scene do anything to calm the heated exchange still taking place inside your condo.

Your domestic dispute with Sukuna fiercely rages on.

Toji savors the last few puffs of his cigarette before discarding it and quickly lighting another. Chain smoking is his last salvation, lest the persistent urge to protect you completely overtakes him and causes him to act rashly.

The current state of the organization had suspicions at an all-time high. Toji couldn’t afford that considering who he was dealing with and what all could come in between the two of you should he err from the plan. 

Closing his eyes, Toji manages to regain control by doing the one thing that never failed to pacify him—thinking of you, of course. 

Both the sweet poison and the bitter antidote to Toji, you do nothing but constantly plague his psyche. 

But perhaps it’s that he knows you need him as much as he realizes he needs you. 

Over the course of time he had watched you, it didn’t take long for Toji to conclude that you only chose to remain with Sukuna for the security he provided. Preservation and the obligations of motherhood were the only logical motivations you could have.

It was glaringly apparent that Sukuna didn’t love you. 

Even a blind man could see the truth of it.

Sukuna only visited you on rare occasions, when yakuza business took him beyond the central city limits, as Toji’s own surveillance and connections had revealed. 

And whenever he did show up, it usually led to arguments between the two of you. If you had indeed loved Sukuna at one point you weren’t foolish enough to hold onto any of those illusions now. 

Moreover, the subject of illusions—Toji had been privy to having many fantasies of you.

Weathering away at the stone around his heart he strived his whole life to build—only to then rebuild once again after his late wife—addictingly sweet visions of you so swiftly demolish the walls he set in place.

Toji allowed himself many hopeful images of what life could be like with you. 

A life of ease. 

That said, it would never be too easy. 

Toji is still a yakuza himself and he knew the organization would never let him walk away entirely. 

Nevertheless, his role was somewhat unique—an executive assassin was almost unheard of. Toji took on as many kills as he did as a way to numb and distract himself, not because it was required of him or he couldn’t pass it off to another. And ever since he’d laid eyes on you he had no desire to busy himself with anything other than you.

Toji takes pleasure in knowing he wouldn’t ever have to be away from you for long too. 

As it happens, he already owns a spacious five-bedroom home just outside Tokyo in Chiba—the previous home he had hoped to share with his late wife. Toji had planned to surprise her with it once she left the hospital.

Yet instead of leaving the hospital with Megumi’s mother by his side, Toji had walked out alone—only an urn in hand. Numbed to the world, he tightly gripped the sleek black urn that mockingly held her remains—along with his shattered hopes.

And as a result, no one had even crossed the threshold since the purchase was made.

But that would change though now that there would be the four of you to breathe life into the home.

Who else could give you that kind of life but Toji? 

Certainly not Sukuna.

Toji would give you everything if you let him—but you weren’t an easy conquest, something he learned quickly as you prove it to him time and time again.

Toji recalls your second encounter with sharpened clarity.

⟡

It had taken Toji only two weeks to meticulously study your habits. The encounter had been carefully orchestrated, but despite his planning, the day hadn’t quite unfolded as Toji anticipated to say the least.

Parked down on the block of your typical walking path, Toji sat in his blacked-out Mercedes, keeping an eye on his rear-view mirror monitoring your approach. The mirror also showed Megumi, who was peacefully dozing in the backseat.

Heh, yeah he’d made damn sure to have the kid with him back then too.

Hardly older than 18 months and already a lady-killer, Megumi never failed to melt the heart of any woman who laid eyes upon his abundant chubby-cheeked cuteness. 

Not like Toji had ever really needed to expend the effort before now. He knew just a mere look from him could get panties leaking, but you’d be harder to conquer than that. 

Toji would enjoy taking his time, which if he thought about previously he would have deemed odd—he’d never been one to hold himself back or take his time with a woman.  

Not anymore. 

Not since her at least. 

But the agony that had accompanied thoughts of his late wife had dulled considerably since he’d first started observing you. 

A bonus of that being it no longer hurts as much to see Megumi—not when he would picture you rocking him in your arms.

Toji had even gone so far as to believe that she would have approved, that she would have liked you. He imagined she would have gladly chosen you to take care of both Megumi and him if she’d known you.

A familiar form appears in the rear-view mirror and Toji knows it’s game time.

Here you were, a reward for his diligence in tracking your habits, right on schedule.

Your features sparkled in the summer sun as you pushed Yuji along in his stroller, humming a tune while the child giggled along clapping. 

The kid’s bubbly deposition had to come from you, Toji decided—surely none of it could have come from, nor been influenced by, Sukuna. 

Toji wondered if you could even make a somber child like Megumi smile.

Biding in-wait until you passed, Toji snatched up Megumi and kept far enough distance so as to not alarm you of his presence. 

His original plan had been to exit the car as you passed by and walk into the store together. But that all changed when Toji got the first glimpse of what you were wearing. 

Toji would avoid being noticed by you, but your attire made it near impossible for him not to notice you.

The dress you wore was barely made modest enough to wear in public by the cardigan you draped over it. A less curvaceous woman could have likely pulled it off without turning a head.  

However on your body, the way the thin loose fabric hung off your shape as it clung onto the moist areas of perspiration like a second skin—was fucking obscene. 

Especially as despite your continued efforts, the crack of your ass kept gobbling up your sundress no matter how many times you subtly tried to yank it free.

Toji bet your ass could swallow his cock up just as well. 

Damn.

Toji wished the walkup to the store was longer. 

He’d never been one for prayer, but he would have started if whatever God deemed it fit right at that very moment to send an unanticipated gust of wind. 

Your lack of panty line had his mind racing as to whether you wore a thong or were just slutty enough to be outside bare-assed in a short sundress mid-afternoon.

The green of your sundress matched his eyes too and Toji took it as another sign from the universe, he was on the right path by pursuing you like this.

You were doing this intentionally just to tease him, weren't you? 

Hoping he’d see you like this and to tempt him into taking a peek, right?

Entering the grocery store, Megumi seated in-cart, Toji continued tailing you as you shopped.

True to the homemaker he previously confirmed you to be, you picked up mostly fresh produce, prime cuts of meat from the butcher, and some pantry baking items. 

You were capable of more than just the frozen dinners he’d be more accustomed to if not for his Nanny’s cooking. She was a decent enough cook too—but she wasn’t you. 

Nothing she cooked smelled a fraction as good as the mostly foreign, but appetizing, smells that wafted from under your door to fill the hall with warm spices.

The food you would make him, once Toji gets you settled in your new home, would definitely be much better. 

You were truly perfect, well nearly so.

After tailing you down a few aisles, Toji suspects the one minor flaw you may have is you appeared to be the absentminded type. 

How else could you be disregarding his overbearing presence as he continuously had put himself in your line of vision? Restlessness overtook Toji as he waited for you to look up and catch his eye, giving him a casual opening.

You had been too consumed with your phone to notice his attempts— which if he would guess, wouldn’t be successful anytime soon. 

Grumbling, Toji had to take matters into his own hands if he wanted to shop with you at all.

Easy enough too, you were already so carelessly distracted.

Momentarily taking his eyes off you, Toji calculated how long it would take you to reach the end of the aisle. So as you moved from one aisle to the next, he casually nudged his cart into your path, creating a T-bone collision that made it look like you were at fault for leaving the aisle.

The bang was jolting enough to finally draw your attention.

“OH MY GOD! I WASN’T WATCHING WHERE I WAS GOING! I’M SO SORRY– I-I …Fushiguro?!”

Heh, took ya long enough to notice. 

“Well, hey doll. Long time no see, ma.”

A flagrant lie. 

Toji had seen you nearly everyday—you just hadn’t seen him. 

He could tell you were flustered and embarrassed as multiple heads in the store had turned towards the two of you from the rattling collision. 

You couldn’t apologize enough to Toji who was on cloud nine from your attention focused on him.

And as Toji had predicted, your attention was soon stolen by the black spikey haired baby boy seated in his cart.

“Oh wow Fushiguro!!—” 

“—Toji, ma.”

A smirk bloomed across his features as you rolled your eyes at him, continuing your affections towards Megumi.

“—I remember you said you had a son but I didn’t know you had a little mini-me, he’s so adorable!”

Toji didn’t fail to notice the double—no triple, take you had given between himself and Megumi. 

He also couldn't help but see how your big ass tiddies looked—like they wanted to bounce right outta that sundress and into his mouth—as you bent down to get a closer look at Megumi. 

No bra too?

Oh, you’d surely be the death of him.

But Toji's cock wasn’t the only part of him swelling, his heart rate sped like crazy just from watching you fuss over Megumi so apologetically—much like a loving mom soothing her own child at the sight of him sniffling back tears. 

For a moment, Yuji’s giggling drew Toji’s attention as the boisterous kid seemed to think it was some sort of ride. Needing no comfort at all, Yuji merrily squealed with laughter at the impact, continuing to stuff rice puff snacks into his little face.

The distraction kept Toji from warning you not to pick up Megumi and before he Toji knew what was happening— you scooped Megumi up. Settling Megumi into your arms, Toji noted you cradled him with the same joy radiating from you as you did Yuji—and much to Toji’s shock—Megumi let you.

It went without saying that Megumi wasn't the friendliest kid. 

Toji suspected he had inherited that from him, along with his trademark scowl. The little terror was known to pitch a screaming fit if someone other than Toji or his nanny picked him up. 

However, in your hold, Megumi appeared calm—angel-like even—as far as Toji was concerned.

More curious than upset, Megumi's tears dried at the corners of his eyes as he reached out to gently bop your nose with his tiny fist.

“Aye! Manners, kiddo.”

Toji chides Megumi, but inside he is amazed by the interaction. 

Returning the gesture, you softly boop Megumi's nose with the pad of your finger, causing him to grab it in defiance, as you offered him softly whispered apologies for upsetting him.

This served to confirm in Toji’s mind the place you belonged in his life. 

He couldn’t be wrong about you. 

You were perfect.

Everything was aligning better than he could have hoped for.

“No harm done ma, Megumi can take a lick. Just like his daddy.” 

You shook your head at Toji and gently rubbed soothing circles on Megumi’s back, cooing at him.

“Oh? So you’re growing up strong like your daddy, huh, Megumi?”

Megumi tilted his head slightly, his thumb resting gently in his mouth.

“Just don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re smooth like he does.”

You shot Toji a teasing smirk, immediately resulting in a half chub pressed against his suit pants.

Now you were… teasing him? 

Oh, you had no fucking idea just how smooth Toji could be when he wanted. And Toji planned to put 3 more kids inside of you soon too, just as smoothly.

Those facts withstanding, Toji could tell his son hadn’t quite made up his mind about you yet. Megumi just blinked at you, but the fact that he wasn't screaming his head off was good enough for Toji.

“Don’t let the blank stare fool you, ma, he likes you. Trust, ya would know if he didn’t. Just takes him a while to warm up to most folks.”

You gave Toji another playful smile.

“Hmm, and wonder who he got that from?”

Primal urges surged in his veins as Toji wanted nothing more than to grab you in his arms at that moment, although Toji settled for countering with a smirk of his own.

“We’re not that bad ma—once you get to know us.”

Toji flashed a toothy grin at you, amused by the upward pull at the corners of your lips as you tried and failed, not to be entertained by him. 

You gently set Megumi back down in the cart, smoothing down his onesie and safely buckling him in before turning back to Toji.

“I’m sure Megumi is a perfectly sweet kid, who just needs to come into his own a bit.”

“Eh? And whadda ‘bout me, mamas?”

“The jury is still out on you—Fushiguro.”

“—Toji,” he corrected once again—and again you responded by rolling your pretty eyes under those long thick lashes of yours.

Oh, Toji had just the thing for that ass since you liked to roll your eyes back that much. 

Toji imagined how deeply they’d be lodged into your head once he stuffed you full of his fat cock—all in one go—effectively pushing your guts up into your chest. 

Yeah, he had it bad for you—real bad.

Unable to stop the many intrusive sexual thoughts that would spring in his mind just from being close enough to smell the scent of your sweet vanilla and jasmine perfume.

Yet Toji couldn’t let the chance pass to press his limits with you.

“So—How about ya give me y’er number so we can set up a playdate, eh? Since ya think Megumi’s such a sweet kid and all, mamas.” 

Caught off guard, you looked away from Toji in contemplation, chewing on your lip.

“Hm... I-I don't think that’s such a good idea, Fushiguro.”

You shift your stance a bit, taking on a defensive posture. 

Tch, fuck. You’d be harder to crack than Toji originally thought. 

Plus you seemed to still have some loyalty to Sukuna, even if you held no love for him.

But that was all fine, Toji calculates—a good thing even.

That just meant you would be all the more loyal to him once he did have you.  

Thinking on his feet, Toji subtly switches tactics, playing dumb as he lifts a brow.

“Toji, doll, but ya know what I do for work. Think I gots time to be babysitting brats? What, s’not a good idea for the nanny to bring Gumi by?”

“Oh! Of course the nanny! Yeah that’s fine, erm, that's… sorry. I thought—”

“—thought, what mamas? You tryna get a playdate with me too? ”

Toji couldn’t hold back his laughter as your eyes widened in shock. 

Embarrassment washed over you like a tsunami, intensified by Toji's teasing. You hid half your face with one hand while the other gripped the grocery cart handle so tightly that Toji half-expected it to snap off.

“Kiddin’ ma—lighten up a ‘lil eh? Ya left y’erself wide open for that one, doll.”

Sighing in defeat, you finally conceded to his charms, exchanging numbers with him solely so his nanny could coordinate the playdates.

“I see you think you got jokes, Fushiguro.”

Toji relished the win as your smile returned. 

“Ya know I do—and it's Toji, mama.”

With that shift, Toji was pleased to see you gradually lower your guard around him, the ice between you started to melt. You continued your shopping together, Toji casually picking up a few items, occasionally seeking your advice on what to feed Megumi.

Truth be told, he had no idea. The nanny always handled all the shopping.

Subtly taking the lead in the conversation, Toji casually provoked you into revealing more about yourself. Details he couldn’t piece together—like where you grew up, what your life was like before Japan and what brought you here—all which he cataloged meticulously in his mind. 

Toji wanted to ask how a smart girl planning to be a doctor with a full-ride exchange program scholarship to Tokyo University got knocked up by a dumb fuckhead like Ryomen Sukuna—but the very last thing he wanted you to think about when you were with him was Sukuna.  

However, each piece of information he learned of you convinced him more of how much he wanted you—

“Oh yeah, Fushiguro! Despite what you said, I actually managed to make a friend!”

–all to himself.

Tch, a fuckin’ friend?

Toji’s demeanor darkened, but you didn’t notice—too busy humming to yourself while checking apples for bruises in the produce section.

Not like this information came as a particular surprise to him, Toji's eyes narrowed as he could guess exactly who it was right away.

Toji had seen the tall raven-haired woman whose afternoon jogs in the park so-conveniently aligned with your walks with Yuji. You both would exchange pleasantries as she admired your son, and you her commitment to fitness, that you would say you never seemed to have the time for these days. 

Yet your interactions from what he had seen never ventured much beyond that. 

Although Toji would normally oblige you a few friends, having a friend here would complicate his plans.

The women of The Nursery up until now had done such a good job in isolating you all on their own without him having to lift a finger. Toji was relying on their catty caste system to ultimately drive you into his arms, as the only person you could rely on.

Toji couldn’t have one of them ruin that. 

He needed to know more about this ‘friend’ of yours. 

How well have you gotten to know each other? 

And in what ways?

The fact that this development happened right under his watchful eye, without him knowing the depth of it, had Toji cross to say the least.

Thankfully, your isolation had you starved for an attentive ear, so you were eager to spill your guts about your new friend to him. 

And as the good future husband he’d be to you, Toji was sure to listen now as he would in the future—or at least appear like he was most of the time.

“She’s new like me! Well, not new I suppose, but back for a stay here with her fiancé until things calm down due to all the commotion happening overseas now.”

So that woman did intend to leave. 

Good. 

The sooner the better so Toji’s own hand wouldn’t have to be forced and your little ‘friend’ could be spared. 

Toji couldn’t have anything nor anyone coming in between the two of you—no matter the consequences from who they were associated with.

“She doesn’t have any kids so I’ve been giving her tips and sharing how I dealt with Yuji this past year. She always seems to be busy though, so we haven’t really had the chance to really do anything—but she calls me often.”

Toji’s teeth clenched. 

They dared to make phone contact even?

And bad girl—you’d been so eager to give this stranger, who had no respect for boundaries, your number but you hesitated with him?

What did Toji need to do to show you he was the only one with your best interests in mind?

Toji was the only one you should have confided in and the only one you should trust.

“Heh, well isn’t that nice, ma.”

Toji would have to figure out how to deal with the problem of your new friend at a later time. He didn’t want to spend the fleeting moments he had remaining with you brooding, as it was sure to soon show on his face and sour the mood.

Pivoting the subject back to just the two of you, Toji inquired about the baked goods he’s still owed. He could tell you’d forgotten already, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity he had to taste your cooking. 

It would keep him sated long enough until he could actually taste you.

“Ya know, I usually don’t like sweets though.”

Toji told you when you asked his favorite dessert and you were genuinely determined you could bake him something he’d like.

“Hmm, you know I can make a mean fudge brownie! I make them with semi-sweet chocolate too. Plus, since I moved here I also cut some sugar and added matcha to the recipe, so they wouldn’t be too sweet. they are so gooey they melt in your mouth.”

“Heh, yeah—I bet you would too, ma.”

This time, you didn’t suppress your amused cackle as you shook your head and pushed your cart forward, still overall ignoring his persistent flirtations even if you were growing more comfortable with them.

Toji sensed the playful personality you’d kept tightly wrapped under all those layers from being with Sukuna, whose cruel sense of humor would only serve to crush yours. 

Toji couldn’t wait to be the one to fully draw it back out of you.

“Ugh—boy, you play too much, Fushiguro!”

Toji chuckled, pushing his cart along after yours—he could tell your cheeks were still burning though. 

“—Toji, ma.”

When you both finally reached the register, Toji checked out first, slyly sliding his card to cover your groceries as well.

You were completely unaware though, having left your cart with him in line while you rushed Yuji to the bathroom.

Yuji, being the growing boy that he was, had devoured his rice snacks too quickly and promptly spat them back up all over himself.

Feeling smug in his chivalry, Toji anticipated seeing an even sweeter smile when you returned to find your groceries already paid for.

Yet, he’d seemingly made another miscalculation with you. 

As when you returned to see your groceries bagged and paid for, you kept Yuji in your arms as you placed your bags of groceries in the stroller itself, storming out without a word leaving behind a dumbfounded Toji.

Toji was more than puzzled as you seemed furious at the fact Toji had done what he deemed to be ‘a-nice-thing-any-woman- would-want’. 

The fuck happened?!

Shifting Megumi and own bag in his arms, Toji swiftly pursued you. 

“Oy, mamas!”

You ignored him but Toji wouldn’t give up on you easily, or at all truthfully. 

You didn’t realize that yet but Toji figured you must have gathered he was bullheaded enough to keep following you until you acknowledged him once you abruptly stopped and whipped around to face him.

“What, no ‘thank you’ f’er me, ma?”

Toji watched your nostrils flare as you angrily snapped at him.

“Thank you?!” 

God, you were beautiful—even pissed off. 

Toji knows he should be more focused on what you were saying in the moment, as you heatedly gave him a piece of your mind. However, Toji zoned out momentarily, unable to quiet his internal thoughts that screamed to him how pretty you were with your brow furrowed and cheeks puffed in indignation. 

“... and furthermore you think you can just buy me, is that it?! That just because I have to rely on Sukuna and accept living in a building full of side hoes to give Yuji a comfortable life that I’ll just giggle and go along with anything like the rest of those bitches?!”

Shit. 

You were actually pissed. 

Ah fuck. 

Toji had greatly underestimated your self-worth. Once again, you proved him wrong—and once more, that pleased him. It further highlighted how you were in fact a pearl among The Nursery pigs.

“Uh, Fuck mamas, er–I-I…no–”

Yet you proved to be such a wildcard that you had Toji of all people stuttering as he scrambled to find the right words to appease you.

“—then what?! Say something!”

Toji had to think fast. 

He could see how it looked bad now, but in a rare form from his usual nature, Toji’s intentions had been honest. Toji really just wanted to show you he had the means and could take care of you—not to buy you. 

Nonetheless, Toji only had himself to blame as he’s sure you’ve heard of his far less than pious reputation. 

Ostracized or not, the bougie women of The Nursery were terrible gossips and he was sure you’d overheard plenty less than savory information about him. 

Of course, with all things considered, you’d assume the worst of him.  

But Toji had never even bothered to learn any of those bitches names, much less buy them anything—they would give him gifts.

In this situation though, to quell your anger and regain your favor, Toji devised a quick lie, hoping it would smooth things over.

“Tch,” he began, scratching the back of his head and awkwardly looking away from you.

He had to be sure to sell it. 

“No, it’s just ah, the guy—er, the teller. He assumed we were together.” 

Toji shifted his stance, adjusting a drowsy Megumi in his arms.

“So, you told him we were…?” 

You raised a brow, huffing but you didn’t seem as angry as before. Toji saw your eyes soften a bit, distracted by a cute lil' yawn from Megumi who sleepily burrowed his face deeper into his shoulder.

Good kid, lookin out for y’er old man, aye Gumi?

Seeing how Megumi was disarming you, Toji knew this was his chance at redemption. Like a gentle giant, Toji’s large hand dwarfed his son’s small head with affection pats—an action he had picked up from observing you.

“Not exactly—but I supposed it looked that way, ma. What with the kids n’ya leaving all y’er shit with me n’all. Easier to just pay then explain.”

Toji continued before you could say anything, seeing as you didn’t look quite convinced.

“Trust me, from all of what you told me today, I know ya can take care of y’erself mamas… even if you are with that asshole.”

You regarded Toji with a scrutinizing gaze for all of a minute, yet that minute felt like hours to him. 

He couldn’t remember feeling this uneasy ever—and being in the Yakuza put him in several situations in the past he thought he wouldn’t make it out of. 

“Fine,” you resigned with a sigh, “It’s whatever then.” 

Seeing that you had set aside the words you originally intended to scold him with, Toji felt that this was the best possible outcome he could have hoped for.

Well shit, bullet dodged.

“Uh yeah, well…I’ll see you around then Fushiguro—”

Toji couldn’t just let you leave like this, on uneasy terms with your frustration still evident.

“—Wait ma!”

And even more so as Toji stopped you once again.

“Look…I ain’t too big to admit I fucked up, mamas. Let me make it up to ya, yeah? Give ya a ride back so ya don’t hafta walk back in this heat?”

Toji knew you wanted to reject his offer out of pride, but he was serious now—there was no fuckin’ way he was gonna let you walk back. 

Your load of groceries was way more than your usual trips, and on top of carrying Yuji, a sizable boy for his age, your purse and pushing the stroller would turn a 15 minute walk into a 25 minute one easily. 

The scorching summer sun perched high at its peak at this time of day and the thick, near suffocating, humidity could easily turn to heat exhaustion—especially for a young toddler.

He knew you knew that too.

You’d have to accept, per Toji’s calculations.

And you did.

“Okay, why not...” 

Yet the reluctance was clear in your voice. 

The ride back began uneventfully, yet the calm atmosphere inside the car was tinged with awkwardness. 

Megumi was snoozing in his car seat, while Yuji sat on your lap in the passenger seat. 

Despite the lingering tension, Toji could see the relief on your face. The transition from the sweltering heat to the cool comfort of his air-conditioned Mercedes had clearly brought you much-needed respite.

The domesticality of it all was something Toji didn’t realize he would miss as much as he did, and it pissed him off that it was something Sukuna of all people had and took for granted. 

However, when Toji glanced over at you, he tightened his grip on the wheel with both hands.

Your actions were purely innocent as you entertained Yuji, bouncing him on your knees. However, the movement caused your sundress to lift and bunch damn near to your hips. 

Toji swore he could feel the steering wheel crack under his grip as he fought the urge to slide a hand onto your thigh, or at minimum over his soon-to-be-bricked-up cock. 

Fuck. Get it together. 

But there was nothing Toji could have done to stop his dissociative daydreams, which had grown increasingly vivid since laying eyes on you, from consuming him. 

The sleek hardness of the leather steering wheel morphed to be malleable like the inner flesh of your thighs. Toji gripped the wheel tighter, which only made the visualization of how soft your skin would be in contrast to the texture of his calloused hand more apparent. The same hand which would so graciously sink into the warm plush of your skin with reassuring squeezes. 

Finally, Toji would also get his answer as to whether or not you had been wearing panties. Toji’s wandering hand would only need to travel up the tiniest bit higher to press his knuckles right against your core.

And when it came down to it, whether you had them on or not mattered little to Toji—regardless of the result, he still intended to bully his thick middle knuckle directly into your clit. 

Toji would take satisfaction in keeping his main attention on the road as he engaged you in casual conversation—all the while drawing slow absent minded circles around your bud. He would only pause if he felt the lil’ thing swell up enough—to the point where the soft clicking sounds from your slick could be heard if there wasn’t music playing. 

He’d edge you with subtle, yet incessant, pleasure all the way home. Seeing just how much of his teasing your messy cunt could handle.

Toji's mind was stuck so badly in-between your thighs that he’d actually been caught off guard when you finally broke the silence, eagerly asking about his playlist as “How Do U Want It” pumped through the car speakers. 

And that's how Toji managed to worm his way back into your good graces.

You seemed genuinely surprised to discover he was also a fan of ’90s hip-hop when he told you he was. 

Of course, being a fan of ’90s hip-hop wasn’t a lie—but he had heard this particular song playing from your apartment before, so he made sure to add it to a playlist for whenever he’d be able to get you into his car or apartment. 

Much to Toji’s enjoyment, before long you were laughing again as he attempted—very, very poorly—to rap along to some of the lyrics in English. 

Pleased to have won you back over, Toji purposely missed at least two turns just to keep you in his car a bit longer.

If the day had ended there, he would have considered it a win. 

But, of course, with his luck, things would prove to be anything but victorious.

Naturally, once you both returned, Toji carried your bags upstairs. However, that didn’t stop him from playfully teasing you.

Toji joked that—‘Miss Independent didn’t want him paying for her groceries, but she sure as hell didn’t mind him carrying them’—and was rewarded again with the soft snorts of your laughter.

It’s not like you didn’t have your hands full though, cradling both Megumi and Yuji, who were now fast asleep—one on each of your shoulders.

It was…cute.

Fuck, when even was the last time Toji even thought something was cute? 

You were cute though, especially with the kids. 

That he didn’t mind admitting. 

Toji regretted that he didn't snap a picture of the moment. He knew it would likely be over soon.

Heh, maybe it didn’t have to be though.

With both boys asleep in your arms, Toji considered the likelihood of coaxing you to invite him in. You’d surely need help carrying both Yuji and your bags inside—but he didn’t want to push his luck, especially after he had already majorly fucked things up with you once today.

Although, Toji realized you wouldn’t need any convincing when you looked at him with a kind smile that reached all the way into your bright eyes. That was all the encouragement he needed to step across the threshold, technically uninvited, as he held the door open for you.

Toji would have entered too, had the energy not immediately shifted. 

“—and just what the fuck is this?”

Motherfucker.

Down the hallway, Sukuna had since stepped out of the elevator with his right hand, Uraume, close behind. Sukuna appeared already agitated, barking rushed orders over the phone. 

But Sukuna abruptly ended the call the moment he saw Toji about to enter the condo with you. And as if he owned the entire building himself, Sukuna exuded obnoxious dominance in every stride as he approached. 

Toji may have outranked him but Sukuna rivaled Toji in both size and presence, sauntering over to loom behind you with an unmistakable air of possessiveness.

Tch, Sukuna shouldn’t even be here. 

Toji had miscalculated—a rare miscalculation, but a big one nonetheless—what he gets, he supposed, for trusting a less than thurough intel source. 

According to his, now incorrect intel, Sukuna was supposed to be in Shinjuku at headquarters. The fact that he was here, interfering with his time he had so meticulously planned with you, infuriated Toji. 

Shit—he hadn’t wanted Sukuna to see you two together just yet.

Despite Toji being unable to hide his disdain, he offered a respectful nod to Sukuna, as was customary between fellow upper-ranked yakuza. 

Sukuna returned the gesture in-kind, along with a smug grin that had plastered itself across his face.

Tension saturated the air and Toji noticed that your once-gentle smiles had faded, replaced by wary glances exchanged between him and Sukuna. 

Toji’s hand causally brushed yours as you carefully handed Megumi back to him before you faced Sukuna.

He noticed you running over the spot on your hand where your skin had touched.

Did you also feel the electricity between the two of you burn your skin?

Toji had.

“If I knew you were coming, you could have picked me up from the store, Ryo! Then I wouldn’t have had to be a bother to Fushiguro...”

You could never be a bother to Toji.

Looking you over, Toji scrutinized your every movement. He knew you were merely trying to shift focus and keep the peace—but to do it for him? 

After everything today, and how he unintentionally put his foot in his mouth with his actions?

Were—were you falling for him, already?

The slightly strained smile on your face still looked sweet enough, and Toji might have mistaken it for genuine—if not for the real warmth you’d shown him just moments before Sukuna’s arrival. 

You really had saved your smiles just for him, isn’t that right mama?

Toji’s heart beats wildly at the thought, however his good temperaments were greatly diminished as he noted how the light in your eyes dimmed.

Seeing you shrink yourself to answer to Sukuna, no matter how insignificant—pissed him off.

Well, at least thanks to him, you wouldn’t have to suffer Sukuna much longer.

As Toji had expected, Sukuna didn’t try to suppress his asshole-like nature, even towards you. Your attempted olive branch had been rebuffed by the heavy hand on your shoulder. It was evident Sukuna was unconcerned with your excuses as he focused solely on Toji.

“Ah Fushiguro, I see you’ve met my son and his mother.”

Even though Sukuna had failed to give you a title, the intent behind his words and demeanor was unmistakable: 

Sukuna owned you.

So that's how it is, eh? 

Toji couldn’t say he was surprised.

Although his possessive nature wasn't driven by affection for you, Sukuna simply never liked to share his toys. Sukuna must have thought you were just another plaything for Toji, well aware of what Toji got up to typically at The Nursery, 

Eh, and were you any other woman, Sukuna would have been right. 

But you were never toy to Toji, he wanted much more than just to fuck you, even before he realized it himself. 

Toji would be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to that too though. 

“Heh, we’ve already had our introductions before, isn’t that right…?” 

Toji was pleased by the flushed, wide-eyed expression on your face when he dared to address you by your first name—just as he was pleased that Sukuna’s smirk faltered into a scowl at Toji’s bold familiarity with you.

Toji mainly did it to piss Sukuna off. However seeing you flustered, knowing he could have an effect on you even in front of Sukuna, had been a much sweeter treat. 

“Oh? Then she must know not to pay heed to old roosters who are now forced to spend more time in the hen house than running the farm these days. Although, a rooster who cannot crow effectively is of little use anywhere else, I suppose.”

Toji’s expression held firm onto the casual smugness he wore, but inside he was boiling. 

Toji knew exactly what Sukuna was referring to.

Since his late wife passed, Toji had been only sent for specialized jobs that required his immense powerhouse abilities. Although he could easily air out a room of 20 men, Toji was considered to be more of a loose cannon than ever before.

Simply not caring—Toji took his anger out on more than just his targeted kills with no second thoughts given to the collateral damage of the environment he was in nor the civilian casualties around. Thus Toji made the damage control messier and harder on the organization in cases where more precision was needed. 

Some would have called that a liability and had him dealt with, yet the bigger liability still would be trying to ‘deal with’ Toji in the first place. Many had tried over the years for one reason or another—and it had been a guaranteed death sentence for each one of them. 

Regardless, Toji had remained dog loyal to the organization though, with little care for power or status, even though it came to him anyway. 

As long as he was paid, Toji had been content—and in turn, so had the organization. This resulted in Toji mostly being able to do as he pleased, even when he went a little rogue at times. 

“Rooster, eh—”

Toji knew Sukuna’s condescending smug attitude stemmed from the special privileges he’d been given to sit in on the executive meetings to solve the current unrest of having to do with whatever old fuck of an executive had gotten himself offed.

Regardless, it could still be seen as a loss of status not being in those meetings. More importantly—Toji’s rogue behaviors could easily be manipulated into a target on his back should Sukuna assert he’d been a part of the internal treason.

Toji knew he had to tread cautiously with Sukuna, but Toji still did not feel threatened in the least.

“—I’d like to think of myself here as more of a fox though, it suits me better don’t ya think?” 

Toji’s gaze had briefly met your own, and you quickly turned away, his grin growing even wider.

But then again, if Sukuna wanted to think Toji was down and out—Toji would let him. 

It would work to Toji’s advantage in the long run with securing you as his anyway. Toji wasn’t worried as he had nothing to do with that old geezer getting wacked and he was glad they’d left him out of it.

Besides, Sukuna being brought into the inner circle could have just as easily been a way to keep a closer watch on him. After all, Sukuna wasn’t an executive—and while Toji was, his role was to eliminate threats, not uncover them. It made more sense for Toji to stay away than for Sukuna to be involved at all.

All which was a net win for Toji, as he found himself with more opportunities to spend time with you, while the organization conveniently kept Sukuna occupied.

With a swift, smooth motion, Toji bent down to retrieve the stray apple that had rolled from your grocery bag. He polished it against his suit jacket before handing it back to you with a sly smile.

“Ya know, I am just next door lil’ hen. This ol’fox is still capable of being a good neighbor. I’ll always have plenty of sugar for you too, should you ever find yourself in need…”

Toji turns to Sukuna.

“...Especially since Sukuna has his hands full on the upper levels of the farm these days, eh? S’a wonder at all how ya manage to visit the hens on this floor too.”

Toji watched with amusement as your eyes widened at the blatant innuendos given right in front of Sukuna, who merely was left growling as his cell audibly and persistently vibrated.

Sukuna deemed the call more important than the coded banter with Toji, as he all but dragged you and Yuji into the condo—leaving the groceries for Uraume to bring in.

Although he had won the battle of the day, Toji regretted his actions later that evening when he inevitably lost the war.

Sukuna made sure to let it be known Toji lost too, as Sukuna had fucked you against the adjoining wall of the master bedroom so hard the entire wall shook.

Your pained yet pleasure-filled moans seeped through the thick insulation of the walls.

Using you like you were just one of his toys, Sukuna was quite literally pounding the point home that you belonged to him with every forceful quake.

Point taken, but what angered Toji more was Sukuna was being too rough with you.

Toji could have sworn he heard you plead for Sukuna to slow down and the irony of his concern was not lost on Toji. 

Toji was never known for being a particularly gentle lover himself, but your body had been through enough—you’re a mother now. You deserved better than the careless treatment of some cheap plastic fuck doll. 

Nevertheless, despite the roughness, it was clear from the diluted moans through the insulation—you had liked it.

Sukuna was still making you cum. 

And oh god, did Toji ever want to prove to your precious pussy that his thick inches would fuck her even harder if that’s what she asked of him.

Toji had to repress a frustrated groan when he realized he was painfully hard. 

Your damped cries had Toji palming himself for relief before he even knew what he was doing.

Yet for all the perverse arousal he felt, Toji did feel some semblance of guilt. 

His taunting of Sukuna ensured that this punishment was a lesson for the both of you.

But—Fuck. 

Toji couldn’t deny his sadistic side.

He was a killer after all. 

Even the distressed tremor of your euphoric moans sounded absolutely heavenly to him, and it wasn’t long before Toji fumbled with his own belt to drag out his heavily leaking cock. 

Thick humid breaths left Toji as he hissed from having thumbed off the viscous pre-gathering on his redden tip. 

Toji slowly spread it down his pulsing length, shuddering. 

His frustrations at not being the one touching you—not being the one making you shiver and moan, are only rivaled by his frustration of this being the first time he’s had any real fire in his loins since he’s met you.

The fierce desire to cum was overtaking his more rational brain or self-control as he’d hadn’t been this hard in weeks, even when he’d rub one out from watching old security footage of you.

Wanting any semblance of contact, Toji placed his free hand on the wall—on the exact spot he imagined Sukuna had your cheek pressed against. 

With closed eyes, Toji pictured himself cupping your face, thumb smoothing away any stray hairs or tears while he is the one thrusting into you, filling you.

His large hand encompassed his length while he thrusted into his rough palm, faster now that the speed of the thumping had increased—signaling Sukuna was close to finishing you.

Swallowing a frustrated roar, your muted cries for Sukuna through the wall brought Toji out of his fantasies and back to the harsh reality that Sukuna was the one balls deep in your tight milf pussy—while he was only in his own hand.

Nevertheless, Toji was determined to cum and even more so, determined to soon be the one making you scream in pleasure. 

If you were this loud now—you’d be much louder on his cock. 

Toji leaned in even closer, resting his head on his forearm against the wall, the wall that still shuddered with the force of Sukuna ruthlessly rearranging your guts. 

Forcing himself to dissociate once more, so he could finish—Toji squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he bit his lip to the point of drawing blood. In the daydream, in Toji’s mind, it wasn’t the coarse skin of his palm that stroked his cock but the silky, wet heat of your cozy lil’ cunt. 

Toji convinced himself that the sloshing noises that rang throughout his bedroom were from him stretching your pussy to his shape as his fat tip slammed against your cervix— and not from the embarrassing amount of pearlescent fluid spilling over his hand. 

He hadn’t even cum yet—a testament to how backed up he truly was. 

Toji should have been ashamed at the way his girth had pulsed in his palm, but he was so close, and so determined to finish with you, there was no room for ego.

Picking up speed to nearly the point of chafing, Toji jerked his cock feverishly. Toji came when he heard the loudest moan yet vibrate through the wall, and the banging had ceased with a final jarring shake. 

Rolling back his eyes, Toji released his load all over the wall of his master bedroom, finally sated. Toji had allowed himself a strangled groan of relief, once he believed you both were no longer near the wall.

Panting and half-delirious with euphoric release, Toji’s eyes followed the trail of his thick cum splatter slowly trickling down the wall as his once engorged cock deflated in his hand. 

With a curled lip and narrowed eyes, the white fluid turns red in his mind’s eye. 

A dark chuckle escaped his lips and Toji fantasized what it would be like to put a slug right between Sukuna’s eyes. Toji’s large load pooled onto the floor in a similar fashion to how Sukuna’s brains would leak, spilling out as it also formed a similarly morbid pool of fluids.

Yet even despite his more ruthless inclinations, upon inhaling a deep breath, Toji felt an unfamiliar zen wash over him.

Killing was just business to Toji, and he couldn’t recall the last time the thought of offing someone had brought him this much pleasure or any semblance of peace.

Yet the fact revealed itself to him then, in that moment—the truth that he’d kill everyone in this goddamn organization for you if that's what it took.

Toji knew Sukuna wasn’t one of those cowardly fucks who would just roll over while someone moved in on his woman either, so Toji would likely be forced to kill him should Sukuna ever find out his true plans for you. 

Toji sighs reluctantly—it was just a mere fantasy.

Not that he gave two fucks what would happen to Sukuna, but killing him would only fan the flames and might even cause an all-out internal war within the organization. 

A war that as the top assassin, he’d be expected to quell with force—for god knows how long.

Ultimately, that would mean a loss for Toji too.

The more involved with the organization he was, the less time he’d get with you.

Brute force was never the ideal way to deal with someone like Sukuna, and it would be better for everyone if you seemingly left him of your own accord. 

But what other choice did he have? 

He’d do what it took to get you at the end of the day.

And while these complications may have deterred a younger Toji, you, as well as the challenge itself, breathed new life into his aging bones.

That life extended into all areas of his current one. Even the usually reserved Megumi had become less quiet and more responsive to Toji with his changed demeanor and increased presence around The Nursery.

You didn’t even know how much you were fixing his life even if you were only on the outskirts of it now. 

You had made him better—so in turn, he would give you better.

Toji had no real interests, hobbies, nor friends. 

Your moving-in had been the most exciting thing that had happened to him since she had been alive and Toji had lived the last year of his life on autopilot—but no more. 

Now that he had something, well, someone that made him feel energized once again. 

⟡

The familiar trill of a cell phone—one of the many burners he used for his yakuza dealings—pulls Toji out of his thoughts once again.

His lip curls in annoyance at the person on the line.

This is why Toji likes working alone. 

Others were not only liabilities, but they were rarely ever self-sufficient. 

Always wanting to ‘check-in’ and ‘confirm the plan’, rather than just taking the damn action themselves like they were supposed to. 

But alas, the task of getting rid of Sukuna was something Toji knew he couldn’t do alone, he needed the intel source, even if they were unreliable at best. 

Toji answers the call, but keeps it brief with his clipped replies.

By the time it ended, he was already scoffing, indifferent to the voice still speaking on the other end as he cut the call short and hung up as soon as he got the info he needed. 

Shoving the phone into his back pocket, Toji sparks another cigarette.

His 'partner' had so kindly reminded him of the loose ends he still needed to tie up.

But that could wait. 

For now, Toji remained where he was, stationed on his balcony—ready to stay out here all night for the small chance you may need him.

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

⟢ end credits: please comment, like and reblog and lmk what you think! I'd really appreciate the feedback as this fic has been my baby working on it.

i will likely end up completing another work while i work on episode 3 as my adhd ass usually needs to break it up in order not to get writers block and unlike e2 i had only done the outline so far, so if i post something else in the meantime just know i'm still working on episode 3!

[r0ugesun]

just thinking about grumpy!aemond x sunshine niece!reader, that's all

Intimidating uncle who only smiles for his sweet niece?? How can I refuse? :> I hope u like it anon

Synopsis: Aemond’s icy demeanor softens as his playful niece, Y/n, brings joy and warmth into his life through her persistence and tender moments.

Aemond x Niece!Reader

The vast expanse of the Red Keep stretched before them, a labyrinthine structure of ancient stone and intricate tapestries of the Targaryens rich history. Within its cold, echoing halls, moved with his customary stoic grace, his singular eye perpetually narrowed, his demeanor perpetually grave. It was a disposition well-suited to his character, a shield against the tumultuous world he inhabited. Yet, like a glimmer of sunlight piercing through storm clouds, his niece, y/n, was a stark contrast to his brooding presence.

Y/n’s laughter echoed through the halls as she flitted about, a vision of radiance and mirth. Her wit was as sharp as Valyrian steel, and her spirit as unyielding as dragonfire. She was a beacon of joy in a court often shrouded in intrigue and gloom, and though many found solace in her presence, Aemond was not among them. Or so he would have others believe.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a sanctuary for y/n, a place where she could escape the stifling formality of court life. She found Aemond there one afternoon, standing by a marble fountain, his expression as inscrutable as ever. With a mischievous smile, she approached him.

“My dear uncle, why do you always seem to be plotting the downfall of the Seven Kingdoms?” she quipped, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Aemond’s eye flicked towards her, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I find little cause for humor, niece. Unlike you, I am not so easily distracted by frivolity.”

“Frivolity?” she repeated, her tone playful. “Surely, you do not think the pursuit of happiness to be frivolous, Uncle. It is the very essence of life!”

He huffed, turning his gaze back to the fountain. “Happiness is a fleeting illusion, y/n. It is duty and strength that endure.”

“Ah, but what is duty without joy? What is strength without laughter? A kingdom built on sorrow and scowling faces is a kingdom doomed to fall” she countered, her voice gentle yet firm.

Aemond’s expression softened ever so slightly, a fleeting hint of amusement in his eye. “You are relentless, aren’t you?”

“Relentless? Perhaps. Or simply persistent in my never ending quest to make you smile” she replied with a toothy grin. “I believe there is a smile hidden somewhere beneath that scowl.”

Aemond arched an eyebrow. “You overestimate your abilities, niece.”

“And you underestimate mine, uncle” she shot back, her tone light but her words carrying a subtle challenge.

Days turned into weeks, and y/n’s persistence in engaging Aemond in conversation did not wane. She would find him in the library, poring over ancient tomes, and offer her commentary on the latest court gossip. She would join him during his solitary walks along the battlements, teasing him about the weight of his thoughts.

One evening, as they dined with the royal family, y/n’s quick wit came to the fore once more. The courtiers were discussing a recent skirmish at the border, the atmosphere laden with a slight tension. Aemond’s expression was particularly dour, his mind clearly occupied with strategic considerations.

“Uncle Aemond” y/n began, her tone deceptively innocent, “do you believe the enemy quakes in fear of your legendary glare? Perhaps we should send a portrait of you to the battlefield. It might end the war without any bloodshed.

A ripple of laughter spread around the table, even King Viserys chuckling at her jest. Aemond’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile breaking through his stern facade.

“You have a dangerous tongue, y/n” he said quietly, though there was no malice in his voice.

“Only when it is necessary to cut through the gloom” she replied with a wink.

Despite himself, Aemond found his defenses weakening. There was something irresistible about y/n’s unwavering cheerfulness, her ability to find light in the darkest corners. She was not deterred by his gruffness, nor intimidated by his icy demeanor. Instead, she met him with a courage and joy that was both infuriating and captivating.

One evening, as the sun set over the Blackwater Bay, they found themselves alone on the roof. Y/n leaned against the balcony, her eyes reflecting the golden hues of the sunset.

“Do you ever tire of being so serious, Uncle?” she asked softly.

Aemond sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It is not a matter of choice, y/n. The burdens I bear are heavy, the responsibilities immense.”

“And yet, you bear them with such strength. But even the strongest warriors need respite” she said, turning to face him. “Allow yourself a moment of peace, Aemond. If not for your sake, then for mine.”

He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and saw the sincerity in her eyes. The walls he had built around his heart began to crack, ever so slightly. Perhaps there was wisdom in her words, a truth he had long ignored.

“Very well,” he conceded, a faint smile gracing his lips. “For your sake, I shall try.”

Y/n beamed, her joy infectious. “That is all I ask, dear Uncle.”

In that moment, he found a glimmer of happiness he had thought lost forever. As he leaned closer to her, their breaths mingling, he felt an unfamiliar but welcome warmth.

With a gentle tilt of his head, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them.

They drew back slightly, their foreheads touching, and Aemond could not suppress a soft chuckle.

“It appears you’ve managed to disarm me with a kiss” he said, his tone lighthearted.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she responded, “I had hoped that a kiss would be more effective than a sword. It seems I’ve found a more persuasive weapon.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow with a playful grin. “Am I to expect a steady stream of kisses to temper my seriousness?”

“Only if it ensures that you’re less somber” her smile teasing. “But fret not, I shall reserve my attacks for the most opportune moments.”

“Special occasions, then?” he inquired with mock seriousness. “I shall need to prepare for such events.”

Y/n’s laughter was light and musical. “Indeed, but for now, simply relish this one. It appears to be quite effective.”

Aemond shook his head, still smiling. “Your talent for lightening my mood is alarming. I may have to enlist you as my personal jester.”

“And here I thought I was merely your charming niece” she retorted in faux indignation, giving him a gentle nudge.

“Charming niece and occasional troublemaker” he corrected, “but I find I am quite content with both.”

Their shared laughter filled the space between them, making the day’s burdens seem lighter.

[elixirina]

based on this request! | batsis!reader headcanons

you’ve been bruce’s daughter since you were born (duh!), and honestly, it’s hard to imagine him not being your dad. despite his brooding nature, he’s incredibly soft when it comes to you.

you’re younger than jason but older than tim, perfectly wedged between the two in age—and in chaos. your siblings would probably describe you as their comedic relief. they love the energy you bring.

with bruce and his vigilante lifestyle, he made it a point to keep you safe while balancing being your father. he may be emotionally reserved, but he’s always been fiercely protective of you.

you’ve been trained in basic self-defense since you were young—bruce’s paranoia runs deep—but he’s always been adamant about you having a choice in how involved you are with the family’s activities.

even though you’ve chosen to stay off the streets, you’re part of the family’s mission in your own way. whether it’s gathering intel, coordinating from the batcomputer, or just keeping the atmosphere light during debriefs, you have a knack for making everyone feel grounded. due to that fact, you’ve grown particularly close to barbara.

your laugh is the kind of thing that can cut through tension like a knife. even bruce has cracked a smile on rare occasions, though he’ll deny it if anyone points it out.

as the sibling closest to you in age, tim naturally became your partner-in-crime. you both share a deep appreciation for dry humor, clever banter, and coffee-fueled chaos.

while tim can be a workaholic, you’re the one who drags him away from his screens when he’s pushing himself too far. your go-to tactic? threatening to unplug his computer while holding his coffee hostage.

while physical affection isn’t a strong suit in the family, you’ve always been the exception. you’ll hug damian just to annoy him, ruffle jason’s hair to mess with him, lean on bruce’s shoulder when you’re feeling particularly sappy, and always sandwich between steph and cass when watching a movie.

“not the hair!” jason grumbles when he feels your hand on his head.

you once convinced damian to dress up as a cat for halloween. it took bribery and a lot of persistence, but the photo evidence was so worth it.

“stop touching my sword,” he snapped one afternoon. “i’m just checking if it’s real,” you replied, twirling it like a baton.

while you’re not out on the streets like your siblings, your role in the family dynamic is just as important. you’re the emotional glue that holds everyone together when tensions run high.

after jason returned as red hood, you were one of the first people he felt comfortable opening up to. 

“you’re annoying,” jason muttered after you’d cracked another joke during a mission briefing. “yeah, but you’re smiling,” you shot back, earning a reluctant chuckle.

your bond with bruce is one of the most wholesome aspects of your life. while he struggles to express his emotions, he’s always shown his love through actions—like staying up late to check on you or surprising you with your favorite takeout after a rough day.

“thanks, dad,” you said once, catching him off guard with a hug. his response was quiet but heartfelt: 

“you don’t have to thank me. you’re my daughter.”

moral of the story, love your family. cause they sure as hell love you!!!

[eternalguk]

Pink Hearts & Black Clouds || jjk. — 01

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : 3.8K

↠ Warnings : swearing, making out, teasing, exhibitionism (sex in a lecture theatre), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, slight dumbification, dirty talk, begging, oral sex (m. receiving), ass smacking, scratching, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, use of pet names, sex on a desk (he hits it from the back at one point), a very moody but flirtatious Jungkook paired with bimbo!oc deserves its own warning :) - I think that’s about it?

↠ A/n : Hi there ; here it is! Chapter 01 of my first series, ‘pink hearts and black clouds’ which I am so excited to share. This story means a lot to me as it explores two completely different personalities finding their way together. With bimbo, sunshine!reader and grunge, grumpy!jk, I hope you enjoy exploring this world as much as I loved creating it. It’s messy, it’s fun, it’s emotional, it’s steamy (at times 👀) and it’s absolutely everything I could ask for! I’d love to hear what you think - your reactions, favourite part, or even anything you’d like to see from them in the future! Feedback / comments are always appreciated. Thank you for giving my story a chance & happy reading 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

❧ Chapter 01 : Lipgloss & Leather

prev. || next  || series masterlist || masterlist

A stream of light filters through the wooden, venetian blinds of the lecture theatre windows, slicing through the warm, cinnamon-scented air.

God bless Ms. Choi for her diffusers.

The ambience of the empty theatre is a sharp contrast to the wintry chill that is dancing around outside. The time of season where it bites at your cheeks and refuses to let go. Inside though, the warmth feels like a holiday cocoon, the kind that makes you shed layers and forget the frost clinging to the world beyond your surrounding.

Unfortunately, despite the serene atmosphere, you don’t feel any less distracted.

You are perched in a chair at the back of the theatre, mindlessly playing with your pink glitter gel pen while Jungkook sits on the desk in front of you, legs spread arrogantly, one boot perched on the seat beside yours. The light catches on the silver chain hanging from his neck, a stark contrast to his black t-shirt and ripped dry-denim jeans.

You should be focusing on taking notes for the upcoming midterm, like he told you to do, but instead, your eyes keep wandering back to the powerful man in front of you.

Powerful because he consumes your entire being.

You pout as you swirl a strand of your hair around your finger, oblivious to the smirk curling on Jungkook’s lips as he catches onto your little daydream.

“Not taking notes, princess?” he asks, tone dripping with mockery.

“Erm…” you blink at him, momentarily caught off guard. “I was… thinking?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Thinking. Right. About the syllabus or about how good I look right now?”

Your cheeks flame as he leans forward, chin propped lazily on his tattooed hand. His dark hair falls messily over his face, making him look even more impossibly cocky.

“Both?” you meekly offer, putting down the glitter pen and propping your chin onto your soft hands.

His grin stretches wider. “You’re cute when you lie.”

You smile at the compliment as Jungkook reaches out and grabs the gel pen from the desk, inspecting it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The sight of his tattooed fingers gripping the sparkly pink plastic makes your heart race.

“Why do you even need this?” he teases, holding the pen just out of reach when you try to grab it back. “It’s ugly, you definitely don’t use it to write anything down and it’s pink.”

Jungkook grimaces, observing the pen as though it’s a foreign object.

You huff and pout harder, crossing your arms. “You said you’d help me study, but all you’re doing is being mean!”

“Mean?” Jungkook cackles, the sound low and gravelly. “Doll, I’m just keeping it real. Someone has to be with you.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst!” you whine, trying again to snatch the pen, but Jungkook is faster. He swiftly moves it behind his back, staring you down with his usual, conceited smirk.

“And yet, here you are. With me.”

“Because you don’t let me leave,” you shoot back, a small huff escaping as you try your best to appear annoyed.

But you aren’t. Not even a little bit.

Especially when Jungkook leans in even closer, his dark eyes scanning your face like he is trying to memorise every detail.

“C’mere,” he says softly, contrasting his suddenly serious expression.

You blink up at him, your heart fluttering. “Why?”

“Just come here, doll. Trust me.”

You hesitate for half a second before leaning forward, and that is all the invitation Jungkook needs to grab your chair and yank you forward, placing you between his legs. Your breath hitches as he cups your face in his hands, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“You’re too fucking pretty, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice so low and intimate that it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Jungkook…” You trail off, feeling utterly flustered and ridiculously warm under his intense gaze.

“What?” he questions, cocking his head playfully. “You don’t like compliments? Want me to call you dumb instead? You like that, huh?”

“N-no!” you stutter, and the way he leans in closer makes your head spin.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, brushing his nose against yours. “My good girl likes being told she’s pretty.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as his lips find yours, the kiss starting soft but quickly turning hungrier. Jungkook kicks your chair back before tugging you impossibly closer, his hands sliding down to your waist.

“Fuck, you taste sweet,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Strawberry lip gloss,” you utter, still fairly dazed.

He hums appreciatively, a smile now evident on his face. “My favourite.”

Jungkook’s hands slides lower, squeezing your hips as he deepens the kiss. You moan softly when he nips at your bottom lip, his pierced tongue sweeping over it a second later.

The sound of the theatre door creaking open in the distance makes you freeze.

The wind.

“Jungkook!” you hiss, pulling back slightly. “What if someone comes in?”

Jungkook grins, completely unbothered. “Free show?”

“You’re impossible!”

“You love it,” he teases, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. His hands tug at the hem of your short pink skirt, hiking it up higher as his fingers toy with the edge of your lace underwear.

“Ahh, is this the pair I got you the other day?”

“Jungkook…” you mewl, voice barely above a whisper. You manage a quick nod, before falling to rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“My doll is always so needy,” he grumbles, his dark eyes locking with yours. “But I don’t mind.”

Jungkook continues to fiddle with your underwear, his hand slipping inside to cup your now soaked sex in his rough hands. “Nice and wet.”

You squirm in his grasp, your cheeks burning as he presses another kiss to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin until you gasp.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

And with that, you give in - like you always do with your lover boy.

“Get on the desk.”

Your heart races as you turn toward the heavy, wooden desk behind you. It feels cold beneath your palms as you hoist yourself up, the sound of your skirt rustling loud in the quiet space. Jungkook watches you intently, his eyes darkening as you settle onto the surface, your legs dangling over the edge.

He steps closer, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt higher.

“Look at you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice dripping with approval. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

You shiver, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as his fingers trace patterns on your skin. Jungkook’s touch feels electric, sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“J-Jungkook—” you stutter, your voice shaky.

“Shh,” he interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your boyfriend's words send a wave of warmth washing over you, and you let your body sink into the desk as he leans in, his breath hot against your neck. You feel the stubble on his jaw brushing against your skin, the faint scent of his woody cologne filling your senses.

“The way you give in,” he begins, his lips grazing your ear, “is fucking beautiful.”

A soft whimper escapes your glossy lips as his hands move higher, pushing your skirt up to your waist. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and you gasp as he tugs them down, leaving you exposed.

Jungkook is quick to toss them onto his discarded leather jacket draped over the chair beside him. The delicate blush of your pink panties against the rugged, worn leather is a stark contrast that sends your mind spiraling.

“Stunning,” he utters to himself, eyes roaming over your body with a hunger that quickens your pulse.

Why the fuck is this man so hot?

You squirm, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but Jungkook doesn’t give you time to think. Not that there was much going on up there anyway.

His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. He wraps your delicate legs around him, engulfing you in his embrace.

“As beautiful as you look like this,” Jungkook mutters, caressing your cheek, “I need you on your knees.”

You’re quick to comply, gently shoving Jungkook away. He cackles at your eagerness, but deep inside his brooding heart, he feels at awe.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, quick to change personas, voice rough with desire.

Again, you obey without hesitation, your lips parting as he unzips his jeans. His cock springs free, already hard and straining, and your eyes widen as he steps closer, the tip brushing against your lips.

“Suck,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate for only a second before leaning forward, taking him into your mouth. His taste is salty and masculine, making you moan softly as you begin to move your tongue, your lips wrapping tightly around his girthy member.

Jungkook groans, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides your head up and down. “That’s it, doll,” he encourages, his voice thick with pleasure. “Take all of me.”

You sink deeper, gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, determined to please him.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook effortlessly praises, his grip tightening in your hair. “You were fucking made for this.”

The words send a jolt of heat straight to your core, and you moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “I’ll be painting your face with cum if you keep that up.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t that what you like?”

Jungkook chuckles darkly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Not yet, baby. I have other plans for you first.”

Before you can even think of a response, Jungkook pulls you off the floor, spinning you around so your back is pressed against his chest. His hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts through your satin blouse as he nips at your earlobe.

“You’re turn, princess,” he whispers, voice sending shivers down your spine for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

You gasp as his cold fingers find their way between your legs, exploring your already soaked folds. He teases you mercilessly, touch light yet maddening enough that it has you writhing in his bulky arms.

“Please,” you beg, voice trembling with need.

You try to grind against him, but Jungkook’s firm grip stops you from doing so.

“Please what?” he taunts, feigning confusion, breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, the words spilling out effortlessly.

Jungkook grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “What my pretty doll wants, my pretty doll gets.”

In one swift motion, he lifts you onto the desk, positioning himself between your legs. Jungkook’s cock presses against your entrance, and you yelp as he thrusts into you in one smooth, powerful movement.

”God, why are you so tight?” Jungkook groans, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to move. “I fucked you this morning.”

The sensation, along with the reminder of your earlier shenanigans, is overwhelming and both the stretch and burn send waves of pleasure through you.

You wrap your legs around Jungkook’s slim waist, urging him deeper as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Harder,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “More.”

Jungkook obliges, slamming into you with a force that has the desk rocking against the floor. The sound echoes through the lecture theatre, mingling with your desperate moans and his guttural grunts.

“Could fuck this cunt all day,” Jungkook growls, his pace increasing as he mercilessly hammers his thick cock into you.

You cling to him, body trembling on the edge of release. But just as you’re about to let go, Jungkook pulls out, leaving you gasping and empty.

“No!” you cry, your eyes snapping open to meet his smug grin.

“Not yet,” he warns, voice firm. “You’re not cumming until I say so.”

You whimper, your body aching with need, but Jungkook isn’t done. He flips you over onto your stomach, hoisting your hips up so your ass is in the air.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice muffled by the desk.

“Giving you what you wanted,” he replies casually, his hands spreading your cheeks apart.

And then Jungkook is inside you again, filling you completely as he drives into you with a ferocity that leaves you utterly breathless.

Your sopping pussy lewdly squelches around Jungkook, completely soaking him. The sound turns the pair of you on further.

“Right there!” You mewl, pushing yourself back onto Jungkook, the pressure making you moan uncontrollably.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Tell me who fucks you this good.”

“Y-you,” you stutter, your voice breaking as he hits your g-spot deep inside you. “This drenched pussy is yours.”

“And who do you belong to?” Your boyfriend growls, his hand coming down on your plump ass with a sharp smack.

“I’m yours!” you cry, the pain mixing with pleasure in the most delicious way. “Love the way you fuck me.”

Jungkook smirks, his pace slowing as he leans over you, lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl. Now come for me.”

As soon as the words leave his filthy mouth, your body convulses, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you come undone. Jungkook isn’t far behind, his own release hitting him with a force that leaves him trembling.

The feeling of his cum oozing into you has you wanting to turn around and ride the fuck out of your lover boy.

Jungkook collapses on top of you, his breath hot against your skin as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“You okay, doll?” he asks, his voice softening as he turns you around and carefully seats you on the desk.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. I’m- wow.”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing.”

“And you, Bakugo,” you reply, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Your lover boy grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “Round two after lunch?”

The cafeteria hums with energy, alive with the noise of lively chatter and the sporadic clatter of trays hitting tables.

You’re perched on the bench beside Jungkook, a tray of half-eaten chips and an unopened can of Samjin Mango Soda sitting in front of you.

Across the table, Taehyung and Jimin are engaged in a heated debate about Haikyu, their hands waving dramatically as they try to outtalk each other about the anime the two of them are currently rewatching.

Well, truthfully speaking, all of you have been rewatching, but only the two of them are so deeply interested. Maybe Jungkook, but he’d never admit it.

Speaking of Jungkook, he is slouched against the table, one elbow propped up as his thumb scrolls lazily through your phone, staring at pictures you had taken of yourself today.

And he says he isn’t obsessed.

As usual, he hasn’t said much, just the occasional grunt when someone asks him a question. He looks effortlessly intimidating, his black hoodie (that you finally returned) pulled low over his forehead, his iconic silver chain around his neck catching the light and his usual scowl that is always imprinted on his beautiful face.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more of a contrast. You’re in your own world, a makeshift beauty station spread out in front of you, next to yours and Jungkook’s shared meal. Your compact mirror is propped against the soda can, brushes and glosses neatly scattered around it.

A soft pout forms on your lips as you reapply a coat of your signature lip gloss, the sticky sheen glistening in the light. You’re blissfully focused, tilting your head to inspect your work like an artist perfecting their masterpiece.

“You’re so wrong,” Jimin says, leaning forward with a look of betrayal. “There’s no way Seijoh vs. Karasuno is better than Shiratorizawa vs. Karasuno.”

“It’s about the emotional stakes, Jimin,” Taehyung replies, sipping his iced tea as though he is a certified anime critic. “Oikawa’s genius mind versus Kageyama’s raw talent? That’s art.”

“Art?” Jimin scoffs. “Bro, real art is Ushijima annihilating them with a spike.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Oikawa’s smugness had more impact than any spike ever could.”

“Who’s Kageyama again?” you pipe up, tilting your head.

Jungkook’s phone, well your phone, lowers an inch as he glances at you, his expression blank. “You can’t be serious. We literally watched an episode yesterday.”

You shrug, completely unbothered by the disbelief in his tone. “I don’t remember the boring ones.”

Jimin nearly chokes on his drink, eyes wide in horror. “Boring?! He’s literally the King of the Court!”

“Don’t,” Jungkook says flatly, cutting off Jimin’s impending rant. “She’ll just start listing the hot ones.”

You grin, batting your lashes at him. “Is that a problem, Koo?”

Taehyung leans back in his seat, smirking. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you, Koo?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Jungkook mutters, though his ears tinge pink. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

Taehyung catches it immediately, raising his brows. “Is that a blush I see, Jungkook? The same guy who nearly broke someone’s nose in basketball last week?”

“Fuck off,” Jungkook grumbles, sliding your phone over to you.

“Bro, you’re whipped,” Jimin adds, his laugh practically echoing across the room.

“No I’m not-”

“You are,” Taehyung interrupts, pointing a chip at him. “It’s so obvious. You’ve got that whole, ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ thing going on, but this one over here bats her fake lashes and you’re folding fast.”

“Hey! They’re real,” you protest, leaning forward and resting your chin in your palms.

You study Jungkook with a teasing smile. “Is that true? Am I your kryptonite?”

His eyes flick to yours, dark and unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something - amusement, maybe, or fond exasperation. Jungkook simply doesn’t answer, just grabbing a chip from the tray and popping it into his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say, your smile widening.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. He leans back in his seat, stretching his long legs out under the table, and you notice the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his knee. He looks relaxed, but you know him well enough to recognise the effort it takes to hold back a snarky comment.

“He doesn’t even deny it,” Jimin continues, grinning like he’s won something. “You know what? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’re good for him.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees, though his tone is far more mischievous. “You’re like the sunshine to his thundercloud.”

“Lipgloss to his cigarette,” Jimin chimes in.

“Or the idiot to his genius,” Jungkook finishes off, his voice dry as ever.

You gasp, smacking his muscular arm lightly. “I’ll have you know I’m very smart!”

“Name the capital of the United States,” he challenges, barely hiding the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Easy,” you say confidently, shrugging your shoulders. “Hollywood.”

Taehyung and Jimin dissolve into laughter, and even Jungkook can’t hold back the small shake of his shoulders.

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

You pout, confused why the boys are laughing. But, the sight of Jungkook joining in with them has you leaning into his side, grinning up at him. “You still like me, right?”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, but his hand moves to casually rest against the small of your back, his fingers caressing the exposed skin.

And that?

That’s the only answer you need.

You busy yourself with dabbing some extra Dior blush onto your cheeks, the sunlight streaming through the window catching the shimmer within it. Jimin plays with your Ilia mascara, shaking his head as he takes in the rest of your makeup that is scattered around.

Taehyung sees that you’re occupied and smirks, leaning closer to Jungkook. “You defo love it, you’re just too much of a moody shit to admit it.”

“Love what?” Jungkook asks, deadpan, though the tightening of his jaw gives him away.

“Having someone fuss over you,” his best friend teases, motioning his thumb towards you with a grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, looking down at the now empty takeaway container in front of him like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. “You have nothing better to talk about?”

Your eyes dart to him, catching the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck.

Smiling to yourself, you lean your chin on your palm. “It’s okay, Jungkookie,” you coo softly. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real bite to it. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” you ask, pouting in innocence. “You love it when I call you that.”

Taehyung and Jimin burst into laughter once again at your audacity.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at them before turning to you. For a split second, his fingers twitch on the table, like he’s about to pull you closer. His gaze softens as it lingers on you - like he’s on autopilot, already halfway to pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

But then he stops.

Clearing his throat, he leans back in his chair instead, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head like armour. “You’re insufferable and annoying.”

You blink, caught between surprise and amusement. “You almost- you almost did it!”

“What?” he grunts, refusing to look at you.

“You were going to kiss my head.” Your voice is laced with a playful lilt, but there’s a flicker of something tender beneath it. “Don’t worry, Kookie. Next time, you’ll follow through.”

His tongue pokes against his cheek, a telltale sign of his rising frustration - or embarrassment, you can’t quite tell. “Shut up and eat,” he mutters, tugging his hood lower before he shoves a packet of crisps your way.

Jimin and Taehyung howl in laughter, and you can’t help but join them, even as Jungkook mumbles curses under his breath.

Somewhere beneath the gruffness, there’s the faintest quirk of his lips - a fleeting smile that only you seem to notice.

And in small moments like this you conclude that while Jungkook doesn’t give you flowers or grace you with love letters, he gives you something that is endless - pieces of himself: his time, his trust, his unwavering presence, and a love so consuming it feels like forever.

And there we have it! Please do let me know your thoughts ; the support I receive means the world to me 🫶🏻

↠ Taglist : @bangchanwantsmesobad @rklvez @doulcha @starlight-1010 @mimi1097 @khadeeeeej @jkslvsnella @royalguk @gaebestie @iamstilljk @myjungkookthighs @jungshaking @kookiesgiggles @minimoninini @lovejkmilitarywife @pplongoing @pokolunolino @dontcallmeelle @taeisbae13 @ronyiboniyy @nerdycheol @onlyforyoukook @ukandtwme @morosisxx @smwhrinthehaze @thebluegoddess @ramyun-h @remgeolli @minniejim @cherricherryy @avawants2havefun @fr0ggieth1nk @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeeykey @ficluvr613 @deeznutkooks @kookienooki (names in italics could not be tagged).

[shotgunbunny]

─ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ─𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞─ ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─ ⋅ ─

WC:9K Dividers are by @f-loqweres

[70s!Dark!Corrupt!Cop!Leon x 70s!Innocent!Neighbour!Reader.}

[warnings!!! This fic is for 18+ only! Not proofread.]

[This can be applied with any version of Leon too!]

[Contains: Violence/Smut/degradation/praise/spiked condoms/baby trapping/ oral(f receiving)/manipulation/corrupt cop/yandere Leon/non con somno/panty sniffing/jerking off to you while you're asleep]

You lived at home with your parents and your older sister still, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Life was sweet and happy in this household, a happy family of sorts if you didn't look too closely at your mother's drinking and your father's health issues and PTSD. It was simple, it was sweet and you never felt like the world could harm you. And it definitely helped that your neighbour across the street was a hunk of a man. His constant brooding atmosphere would make you squeeze your plush thighs together.

But today was special, today was your first day on the job as a waitress at the nearby café down the road that you adorned. They served the best strawberry milkshakes there and would always give you extra cream and a stripy red straw, so applying for the job there was a no-brainer. You smile brightly as you wake up, the birds singing to you in the trees on the street. You push back your soft pink bedsheets and slip out of bed before walking down the stairs, dressed in your cream white pyjamas that consisted of shorts that had pink bows and a vest that had a bow in the middle.

You walk into a kitchen and pull a bowl out of the cupboard and then head to the pantry and pull out a box of cereal. You turn around and bump into your sister, you smile even brighter as you gaze at her. "Good morning!" you chirp, only to be met by her grunt. She was never a morning person, and you could only assume it was because she was up all night on the phone talking to her boyfriend. You giggle to yourself at the imaginary idea of her fingering and twirling the phone cord around her finger as she kicks her feet and babbles to her boyfriend.

You head to the counter and pour your cereal before manoeuvring past your sister and putting the box back in the pantry. You skip to the fridge and get the milk out and pour it, and then put the milk back. It seemed mundane as any other day, but you were buzzing with excitement of finally working and wearing your cute uniform that was provided. You were excited to serve friends and strangers and

give them the best milkshake and fries ever! Or at least serve it to them with a sweet smile. You dig into your cereal and beam brightly when your dad walks in, he ruffles your hair before sitting across you at the table. He sits down with a huff and pulls his newspaper put. "You excited, kiddo? First day of being an official adult." Your lips curve into a much bigger smile, and you nod excitedly at him

Before continuing to eat eagerly. You were in your 20s, but that never took away from your wonder and naivety of the world. ’S going to be awesome dad! Even the sun is shining, so that's proof it's going to be amazing!" You manage to squeak out with a mouth full of cereal. You slurp the milk and then quickly head to the sink to wash it up.

You skip up the stairs before kissing your mums cheek as you skip past her, you open your door and quickly shower. You dry your hair and sit at your vanity, You giggle and style your hair, bringing it into pigtails and tying two pink bows around it. You apply some mascara and lip gloss. Your eyes looking bigger and softer and your lips shining, adding even more to your charming smile. You pull your

white lace bra and panties on. Your good luck set, whenever you wore them something good would happen. You pull on your frilly ankle socks on, and jump up.

You make your bed up before you forget and open your closet and pull your uniform on before putting it on. It was a cute white flowy skirt with pink polka dot hearts on it, all matched with a pink gingham strap top. Your breasts were hugged nicely

By the top and the skirt only just went to your thighs. It was a little revealing, so you pulled on your pink shorts on underneath. You pull your cute white shoes on and complete the look with pink

heart shaped glasses. You grab your bag which had your purse and open your window and then skip down the stairs, waving your family goodbye before you go outside.

As you step outside, the door closing behind you, the sun shines down on you, making your glow as bright as your smile. You skip down to the café, not noticing the eyes on you from across the road. Leon was absolutely entranced by you, you were a vision to behold, something he wished to hold. He was dressed in his tight black top and his police pants. He lets out a soft laugh as he watches you go, the sun seeming to shine even brighter to him today. He hops into his police car and heads out to his job today, turning the radio as he drives, humming softly to a Led Zepplin song.

It was 4pm now, and your shift had been extraordinary. All your friends stopped by, and you even managed to sneak an extra cherry into each of their milkshakes and got to chat with them before continuing to serve other customers. They adored you, your look, your smile, and how sweet and talkative you were. It was magical the effect you had on others, how you drew them in with your every word like a cute pink magnet that they all couldn't help grin back just as wide. You had even made new friends, some of the girls were so sweet that you couldn't help but get along with them. Complimenting how breath-taking they looked, and they returned the compliment which led you to sparking up conversations with until they eventually had to leave.

You had two hours left on your shift, so now you were happily sweeping the baby blue chequered tiled floor, you moved your hips slowly to the music that was playing softly from the jukebox in the corner, it was a soft sway, and you couldn't help but indulge yourself in being swept away in the groove and the lull of your feet. You hum along happily, dazed in your own world of sweet treats and delights, when the doorbells chimes and snaps you out of your moment. You snap your gaze to the door and your eyes go as wide as a cherry pie. There stood in all his magnificent glory was your neighbour, the most loved cop in the town, Leon. You blink a few times before a smile pulls at your glossed lips, and you wave at him.

He chuckles, and the deep rumble sends shocks to between your thighs, "Well, well, well, if it isn't the sugar fairy that lives across from me." He says, pronouncing every syllable so easily that the sound nearly knocked you off your feet. You chuckle shyly in response, "Mr. Kennedy, I’m surprised you even knew who I was!" You say before you can hold yourself back. You blush at your idiocy, how could you ask such a dumb question. Of course, he knew who you were, you were his neighbour, and you would often share a wave or a nod when you saw each other in the morning when getting the mail. He chuckles again, "How could I ever forget my favourite sunflower. I heard from your father it's your first day, How's it goin' honey?" He coos to you, and your eyes go starstruck at the pet names before you snap out of your admiration, and you grin widely at him. "Oh, it's going wonderful, Mr, Kennedy!" You chirp excitedly at him.

You wave your small hand at him, ushering him closes. He takes a step towards you and bends down so he can hear, assuming you were going to gossip or tell him a secret. "Go on, honey. Tell me," He says expectantly. You lean up on your tiptoes and cover his ear with your hand, "I managed to give all your friends extra Cherries for their milkshakes! But don't tell Mr. Wesker, he might get mad!" You whisper sweetly, your charm oozing off you. Trapping Leon in a state of desire and affection at how adorable you were.

"Say doll, if I ordered one, would you manage to sneak an extra one in for me? I've had a hard day keeping the streets safe and you." He coos down at you again. You nod quickly, and he laughs at your eager actions. He stands up to his full height of 6'4 and smiles down softly at you as he towers over you. "Of course, Mr. Kennedy! Thank you for keeping everyone safe, including me!" Leon's heart swells at your compassion. "Doll, call me Leon." He says in a gentle command. "Okay, Leon!" You chirp his name out, loving how it sounded and tasted in your mouth. "What kind of Milkshake do you want?" You ask, tilting your head curiously at him. "Hmmmm, what do you suggest, Doll? What's as sweet as you?" He asks, keeping his blue eyes locked on your pretty face. "Well... I'd suggest maybe a chocolate sundae or even the caramel drizzle! But you can't go wrong with a strawberry milkshake!" You babble to him.

He absorbs every word, listening intently, but he can't help but wonder how you taste. Your kisses have to be sugary sweet and your pussy would definitely be as pretty as your glossed lips, so maybe it would taste of pure delight. He stopped his thoughts and coughed, he angled his body away and adjusting his half hard cock for a moment before grinning down at your innocent face.

"I'll take a strawberry milkshake. With an extra cherry." He says smugly as he winks down at you. He moves his large frame to sit in one of the booths, and a few seconds later your angelic form appears holding a milkshake. You place it on the table in front of him and reach into your cute little apron pocket and pull out a cherry. Leon gently takes it from your hand before he smirks at you. "Seems like I've just taken your cherry, doll." He says, his eyes darkening at the innuendo. You nod, clueless to the interaction. He laughs, "Doll, Just so you know. Your cherry is mine. And mine only. So don't give out any more, or I'll have to arrest them. Understand, doll?" you gaze at him, looking deep into his blue eyes. The usually bright and sweet baby blues were now dark like a vast ocean. Reckless, strong and unpredictable. You could tell he was serious, but you didn't understand why he was acting like this over...cherries.

You shake it off and smile confused at him but nod, "I mean it, doll. The cherry between your legs is mine." He says darkly. Giving you a serious look. A warning. You blush but nod, finally understanding his innuendo. "C-can I ask why?" You stutter out. He snickered, "Because doll, I have my eye on you. I'm gonna court you. I've seen you gazing at me from your window. Your curious little eyes eating me up. Bet I was a delicious little meal for you to rub to, huh?" You turn red and pull away whimpering in embarrassment at being found out, Leon's big hands wrap around your dainty wrist, and he pulls you back.

"Ah-ah-ah, no doll. Nothing to be embarrassed about. I did the same," He reassures, but still you remain distant from him and lets out a sigh. "'M sorry, doll, I didn't mean to tease. Please sit down, share my milkshake with me? I promise no more teasing, I'll go slow baby. Promise." You gaze at him shyly but sit across from him. He grins like the cat got the cream and offers you the straw, you happily accept. You pause for a moment and stare at him, only to find his eyes already trained on you.

You cough and wipe your lips, "So um- are you sure? That you want to court me? You're kind of a wanted bachelor, you're the cool rich cop that everyone wants. I mean, I've heard through the grapevine how everyone wants you. You're smart, strong, You have a car, a house, a good pay, and handsome. You're charismatic. So why?" You ask him, your eyes big and round, desperately searching his face for answers with desperate puppy dog eyes. "Because doll, you're perfect for me. I'm a broody guy, I need my sunshine. Need you to sweeten my bitter taste. Look at you, you're my sugar fairy and Goddamn, I want cavities." He asserts. He was firm on you. You giggle and bite your lip, "Okay." You say, submitting to his command unknowingly.

He smirks. "Good girl. I'll drive you home after your shift." You cough out some of your milkshake, your eyes wides. "But my shift ends in-" Leon cuts you off, "An hour and a half. I know you finish at 6, doll. I made it happen." You blink at him and gaze at him confused, "What?" You mutter, Leon scans your face before huffing, "Well, doll. You seemed bored with staying at home all the time, so I pulled some strings. Got this job opening, made sure you git it, But I didn't want you working 'til 8. Can't have that, honey. You come home at 6 to make dinner and wind down." Your brows furrow, but before you can speak, Leon interrupts you, "I want you, doll. I want you to be my wife. But I don't want to trap you, so I thought you'd like this job. Do you not like it?" You quickly shake your head, "No! I-I want it. I just- 'S a bit controlling?" You murmur. Leon chortles, "Don't you want someone in charge? Someone who helps guide you?" He coos and you gaze down thinking about it. It was nice, having someone guide you. But not like a parent, rather like someone trying to help you so you didn't have to think so hard about the things that confused you in life.

You nod at him, "I guess you're-" Leon cuts you off again, "No guessing, fairy." You nod, "You're right." You say firmly and Leon beams, his pearly whites being revealed like a predator who caught his prey. "Good. My little Bambi. Go on, go back to work, I'll be doing some police paperwork while I wait, okay?" You stand up and brush down your apron. "Okay." You nod. He pulls you to him as he's sat down. He taps his cheek with a cheeky look in his eyes, and you lean down and kiss his cheek. Leaving a lip glossed stain on his cheek. "Good Bambi." And with that praise, you bounce back to work even happier. Your good luck underwear really paid off.

You and Leon had now been dating for 3 months, and it was all magical, He'd pick you up every day after work, he kept some of your makeup and other small charms in the passenger seat storage area of his police car. It wasn't a typical police car, he had an undercover Red Chevy. You knew it made the girls crazy, but Leon was absolutely stuck on you. His eyes would always be on you in any room, and it boosted your ego beyond belief. You had shared stolen kisses and every single one took your breath away, but lately Leon had become more handsy, it was welcome, but you were shy, you were a virgin, and you knew Leon wasn't. You didn't want to disappoint him when he had so much experience. Regardless of this, he was still keen on you.

Nearly everyday he would cross the street and knock at your door, He'd greet your parents and give your mother flowers and would talk to your father about his arrests and everything. He fit perfectly into your family, He was pulling the strings perfectly after months of studying you and your family, he was finally starting to act. He had been in your room, staying over for a night. He teased you about the view you had of his house, and how you would probably hump pillows in thoughts of him soaking your pretty white frilly pillow cases over the mere thoughts of him. And when you fell asleep that night cuddled up in his arms in hour princess bed, he snuck away for a moment and pulled out your panties from the day from the hamper. He groans quietly as he helps the soft panties in his hand.

His cock stirred as he brought the panties to his face and took a deep breath in, smelling your underwear. He quietly unzipped his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock, it was aching with need over the idea of your virgin cunt squeezing his cock as he's deep inside your heat. His hand wrapped around his dick, pulling the foreskin back and rubbing the tip. He moves closer to the bed, where you were fast asleep. He begins to slowly move his hand with a tight grip, trying to resemble how tight you would be. He licks the panties against his face, his eyes rolling back at the musky taste, the scent invading his head, and his eyes darken. He begins to fist his cock eagerly before pausing and smirking. He moves and straddles your sleeping form on the bed.

There was no chance of you waking up, after all, he had drugged your drink before bed with sleeping pills he had swiped from someone he had arrested that day. He groans softly as he goes harder. Soft 'plaps' echo in your cute little bedroom as Leon's cock gets even harder at what he's doing. He gazes down at you, sniffing your panties intensely. "Just you wait- gonna fuck your tight little baby cunt so good. Gonna make you cry on my cock, show you how good a real man can make you instead of your stupid fuckin' pillows." He growls as he moves his hand even faster he hunches over you, a hand over your head while his other hand holds your cute frilly panties against his face.

"Fuck baby, gonna fuck you dumber than you are. Gonna make sure you get knocked up too. Then your parents will have to let you marry me. A shotgun wedding, but it's gonna be fuckin' perfect. God, just know your cunt is perfect, look at how pretty you are, Just know it's divine. Gonna ruin it too." He hisses his vile words down at your peaceful form. He could feel his climax mounting, and he can't help but lean down and let his cock graze your little pouty lips. His eyelids flutter and his ass and thighs tense as he cums hard. He paints your face. He pants and gazes down at your groaning at the beautiful sight.

He comes down and moves off the bed. He cleans his cock with your panties and throw them back into the hamper. He gets a towel and cleans your face. He returns into bed next to you and smirks. He kisses your forehead and falls asleep happy, and you were none the wiser.

Tonight, you were finally going to sleep at Leon's. You had showered, shaved and were now sat on your bed putting talcum powder on your legs to make them even smoother. It wasn't that you were insecure. It's just you wanted it to be perfect. You wanted to impress Leon, wanted your first time to be one from fairy tales. You brush your hair and stray some perfume that smelled of vanilla, strawberries and cherries. You look through your underwear and bite your lip, your brows furrow as you run your hands over the lacy garment before finally deciding on the classic white lace lingerie.

You gaze at yourself in the mirror and race your hands to your flushed cheeks. You were blushing so much, you needed to cool and calm down. You puff your cheeks out and pull on your frilly ankle socks and then your cute bloomer shorts, topped with an oversized pink sweater that Leon had bought when you went shopping uptown. You sigh at the memory, how the warm air ran through your hair, how big Leon's hand was compared to yours. You brush your hair one more time and then gaze at your reflection one last time. It was a cute and comfortable outfit, and most importantly easy to take off. You hear a knock at the door and your heart races.

You skip downstairs and open the door, Your big eyes gazing up at Leon through your lashes. Leon's heart swells at the sight of you, "Bambi, you look perfect." He breathes out. You giggle, some of your nerves calmed down. "I haven't got my shoes on, so you'll have to wai-" A squeal leaves your lips as Leon picks you up, holding you bridal style. Leon chuckles at the thought that crosses his mind at how he's carrying you. Soon you really would be his bride, and he'd carry you over the threshold just like this, except you were gonna be round with his child.

He steps into your house still holding you, he pops his head into the living room and beams his charming smile at your family. "I'll take care of her and bring her back tomorrow after work. Don't worry, her uniform is already packed and ready." Your dad nods his head proudly at Leon, and Leon returns the gesture. He then turns and walks to his house across the road, carrying you like a prized possession which you are. Leon opens his door and places your door. Your sock clad feet touching the hard dark would, you venture further, admiring the dark rustic aesthetic which Leon had around his house.

Leon kicks his shoes off and closes the door, you turn and tilt your head. Leon mirrors your actions, "What is it, Bambi?" you poke his chest, "You lied to my dad. I don't have work tomorrow." Leon throws his head back, snickering. "Bambi, baby, y'know I've lied to your dad more than you know. But I want as much time with you as possible." You smile at him, the rest of your mind drifting over his first words. You gaze up at him shyly, and he can sense your nerves, he took a step closer. His figure looms over you, but his hands are gentle as he rubs your arms. "There's no rush, baby. We can take this at our pace, okay?" He murmurs sweetly.

When he doesn't get a response, he tilts your chin up, gazing down at you, his blue eyes scanning your face. "Words, Bambi." He commands softly. You gulp down all your fears, "Okay," You whisper. A smile cracks on his lips, "How about...we cook dinner? Or I let you cook, show me how good of a wife in training you are?" Your eyes lighten up, and you skip to the kitchen. This was a test for you, but you didn't know. Leon wanted to see how good of a home-maker you were, you were eager to please and serve which already made Leon swoon, but you also had his heart and if you asked he would serve it to you on a silver platter sprinkled in sugar with a side of strawberry ice cream.

After cooking a lovely dinner and eating it with Leon, you were left full and happy. Leon had thrown so many compliments your way that had made you blush and squirm, you could no longer contain the blush on your cheeks. Every few moments when you were both eating, Leon would let out a groan of pure delight. His sharp eyes stuck to your faces, adoring the cute blush on your cheeks and the effect that he was having on you. You were going to be the perfect wife if this was only one of the dishes you could make, it was delightful and pure heaven for his taste buds.

But even if you weren't good at cooking, Leon would have still married you and still have eaten everything you made. How could he not, you served him his meal with the brightest smile and the most innocent eyes that craved his attention and his praise. He smiles softly at you after finishing his dinner, he watches as you stand up and collect the plates and bring them to the sink. His brows furrow, a small wrinkle of confusion settling between his brows. "Bambi baby, what are you doing?" He asks curiously as he approaches you from behind. He wraps his strong arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, his hulking figure draped on you like a blanket.

You hum softly at the domestic actions you're both sharing. You clean the dishes in the sink, "'M just washing up. 'S best to be on top of it all! Trust me! One time, I didn't wash up for like 6 days - and wow! When I finally did wash up, it was like I was in a restaurant back washing up! There were soooo many dishes!" Leon melts at your babbles, you had him in the palm of your hands. He may have planned everything, but he hadn't planned how much he would truly love you. Of course, he knew he'd love you, he just didn't expect it to be this strong. He was at your beck and call, and if you wished for him to cook instead he would, if you wanted anything it was certain that he would get it for you. Do it for you. How could he ever not love you when you were so perfect.

Leon tugs at your hips after you've finished washing up and drying your hands with a towel. You giggle, "Bambi baby, c'mere." He mutters in a deep rumble. You allow yourself to be pulled away y him, He turns your hips gently so you were facing him. His eyes peer down at you, affection and adoration gleaming in them. You feel your heart racing and his big, rough, calloused hand cups your soft cheek, and he leans down slowly, pausing just as his lips graze yours. His breath his your lips and you whine, he sniggers at your whine, "Oh what's wrong baby, you want a kiss?" He teases and your hands clutch at his top, your hands scrunching the fabric at his chest. "You want it, baby, you gotta ask." He asserts. Your big, doe like eyes stare up into his dangerous ocean eyes, "Please? Can I have a kiss? Want you, want tonight to be perfect." Leon turns to a puddle, his thumb rubbing your cheek.

"If you're here, Bambi, everything is already perfect." He mutters firmly before he presses his lips to yours. You sigh happily and begin to move your lips against his. Slowly, softly and sweetly. It felt perfect, Leon's strong frame holding you so gently as you kiss. Leon takes it a step further and pinches your hip, making you gasp, and he eagerly shoves his tongue into your mouth. His tongue licks against yours and the explores your mouth, you can't help but moan at his casual dominance in a kiss and Leon eagerly swallows your moans. He breaks away, a line of spit connects you, shining in the kitchen light. Leon wipes it away from your lips, and you mewl up at him. He smirks. "Do you want more Bambi? Do you want me to finally take your cherry, hmm?" You blush again and nod before you remember his command. "Y-yes." Your heart races as you watch Leon's lips tug up into a large grin.

"Good girl." He coos at you, remembering his command. He turns your hips in the direction of the stairs and pats your ass. "Go on, baby, I'll meet you upstairs." He mutters into your ear before kissing the shell of it. You eagerly skip up the stairs, and Leon takes a deep breath in the kitchen. He adjusts his half hard cock and pulls out his box of condoms in the kitchen drawer. He pulls one out and stabs a few tiny holes through it. His plan was going into motion, and he was going to knock you up. Tonight.

You gaze at his bedroom, admiring how sleek and moody it was. The bed was a king-sized with a dark wooden frame, with navy blue sheets on the bed with matching pillows. On the dark wooden floor were deep fluffy red carpets, a black dresser and wardrobe. It seemed so…empty but full at the same time. You take a shy step further into the bedroom and gaze around, you see the en suite bathroom joined to his bedroom and glance around the room looking for a scrap of a personal item rather than his police attire and life that was on the dresser table. Leon's footsteps are heard padding up the stairs before he appears behind you, His arms wrapped around your waist and cranes his head down to kiss and nip at your neck. You sigh and sink into him. You let out a squeak at the feeling of his teeth scraping against your pulse point, he presses a soft kiss against it before he sucks and sinks his teeth into it, leaving a hickey into his wake. He smirks as he sees you panting hard. He turns you again, your body weak and easily to move compared to his strength and determination.

His hands play with the hem of your pink sweater, "'S cute baby, always looks so damn cute. Now, I'm gonna see what's mine. Can't believe you've been hiding my little treat under pink fabric, teasing me all the time." He mutters as he pulls the sweater up, and you raise your arms obediently. He pulls the sweater fully off you and throws it on the floor. "Fuck." He hisses out as he gazes at your lingerie clad torso. "Sit on the bed. Now." He demands, and your pussy feels a wave of delight wash over it at his dominance. You sit down on the bed and watch as this mountain of a man fall to his knees in front of you. He pulls your cute little socks off before trailing his hands up your legs, his hands feeling the smoothness of them as he slides them up to your thighs. He tugs at your bloomer shorts, "Lift your hips up Bambi baby." He mutters and you do as he says. He quickly tugs the pants from your hips, and you can sit back on the bed as he pulls the bloomers fully off.

He gazes up at you with wonder, his eyes devouring you as you sit in your white lace lingerie. It clings to your body like a second skin, the thong sitting comfortably on your hips your breasts were cupped by the lace, making them seem even more beautiful and erotic to Leon's needy and lustful eyes. Leon kisses from your ankle and all the way up to your thighs. He spreads your legs, and you lay down on the bed, biting your lips as you blush. His hands slide under the sides of your thong, and he smirks. He knows you're expecting him to slide them off, but with how you look, it's like you're a gift waiting to be unravelled, and he knew exactly how to unravel you. A tearing noise is heard as Leon uses his brute strength to tear your thong off. You gasp, "Leon-" He cuts you off immediately, "I'll buy you a new one, let me see my gift." He mutters darkly. He spreads your knees, and gazes down at your silky, wet pussy. He groans, the deep rumble making your pussy drool more.

He leans down and nuzzles his nose against your clit, and you let out a stuttered gasp. Leon lets go of his control and licks a long stripe up your cunt. He lets out a shuddered moan of his own, like you do. "'S like fuckin' heaven. It's like the sweetest honey." He mutters to himself, his pupils fully dilated as he gazes at your heat, his eyes nearly black with lust. He burrows his head between your folds, licking eagerly like he was dehydrated, and you were the only water available. He moves his head up to lick at your clit, abusing it with his desperate tongue lashes. One of his hands slide up your thighs to your folds, he slides his fingers up and down your folds getting them soaked. He sucks your clit into his mouth as he eases two fingers into your cute little hole. Leon's eyelids flutter as he listens to your melody of moans and how tight you're gripping his fingers.

He begins to thrust them in time to his tongue lashings. He lets his other hand slide up your stomach and slide under your lingerie bra. He squeezes the fat of your breast, his finger flicks over your nipple before he circles it. You squirm and whine at the sheer pleasure coursing through your body. Leon continues his eager lapping at your pussy as he crooks his fingers against your g spot, and your eyes widen. Your hips shift up and your thighs shiver, you tense up as you cum hard. Leon groans in a deep growl. He pulls away from your throbbing cunt, and he spits on it, he pulls his fingers from you and smiles, "My cunt. Understand, Bambi?". He brings it them to his lips and licks them clean. "'S like the sweetest thing I've ever goddamn had. Wanna taste you on my tongue forever." Leon crawls on top of you, his large body hovering over you with an animalistic look in his eyes. He tears your bra off just as easily as he did your thong, and he lets out a growl as he gazes at your body. "Look at these beautiful tits. Can't believe you hid them from me. Stupid slut, I was always gonna see 'em. Was always gonna have them." He hisses down at you.

He pulls away and eagerly strips, revealing his muscular body. His cock is throbbing and standing tall. He leans down and pulls the condom for his pants. He tears it open with his teeth and smirks. "You wanna roll it down on me, Bambi? You wanna feel my cock before it ruins your little baby pussy?" You blush but nod. You sit up and shyly take the condom and slide it down his strong, veiny cock. You gasp at the feel of it, "'S so big, 's not gonna fit." You whimper out. Leon takes your small hand off his cock and pins you down on his bed. "I'll make it fit." He hisses dangerously. He slides the tip of his cock between your fold before he presses it against your entrance. He begins to slowly push in side before he quickly slams his hips against yours. He grabs your thighs, you lay with your jaw is slacked, and your eyes are closed tightly in shock at the sheer feeling of the stretch. He had taken your virginity.

You didn't have a hymen, having broken it when you were riding your bike when you were young. He wraps your thighs around his waist before he slowly begins to rock his hips, his pubes rubbing against your clit, making you moan. Leon begins to thrust more now, faster and harder now that you were feeling pleasure. He can't help the filth that rolls off his tongue as he fucks you, "Such a sweet cunt. 'S so good. Gripping me so good. Fuckin' knew it would. Your little cunt was made for me. Such a fuckin' whore that your cunt accepted me so eagerly. Fuckin' perfect little Bambi, saving your little pussy for me. Feel how tight you're gripping me? Can feel every vein of my cock?" He hisses down at you before he presses his lips against yours. He kisses you sloppily and desperately, the sounds of your soaking heat echoing through the room, as well as Leon's balls slapping against your ass. Leon growls as he pulls away ad looks down at your blissed out face. Leon grabs your knees and bends them to press against your chest, Leon fucking you even stronger, all his control out the window.

Your bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat and his eyes were closed as his groans joined into the song of your moans. He pants as he watches your thighs tremble beneath his grip, your eyes fly open and you arch your back. You let out an earth-shattering moan a which turns into a squeal as you cum hard, squeezing him impossibly tight. He lets out a whimper at how tight you're gripping him and his hips stutter as his muscle tenses and he cums too. He stays on top of you, keeping you folded in half. He pulls out of you slowly and smirks as he sees some of his cum dripping from your heat. He walks to his bathroom bin and throws the condom in, and grabs a wet towel. He returns and gently cleans between your thighs.

"Did so good, baby. You were perfect. Let me take care of you now, okay?" He coos down at you, and you nod lazily, wiped out. Leon pulls out a pair of his boxers and gently tugs them on you, and then one of his oversized T-shirts. He smiles as he sees you already fast asleep. Leon continues around the house, turning the lights off and double-checking that the doors locked. He walks back up and into his room. He picks you up and cradles you in his arms as he gets into bed and tucks you close to his chest, pulling his sheets over you. He kisses your forehead and drifts off to sleep beside you, keeping you close to him.

That night truly was perfect and the morning after was something born from fairy tales, Leon’s soft kisses lingering against your neck before travelling up to kiss you cheeks then your closed eyelids and then finally your forehead. You hum softly as you woke up, your lids fluttering open to see the beautiful man you called yours perched above you. His strong arms caging you in under him in a protective pin almost like he was tying to hide the world from seeing your beauty this early in the morning. “Mornin’ Bambi,” He coos down at you in a whisper, his voice sleepy and deep making him almost growl. You lean up and kiss him softly to which he eagerly returns the action, his lips pressed against yours, his body pinning your further down to the bed as he lowered his weight down onto you. He pushes your head down with his own as he kisses you, making you rest your head back against the plush pillows. He pulls away a deep rumble of satisfaction leaving his throat. He nuzzles his nose against yours and you finally speak in a small whisper, “mornin’ Leon.” A grin spreads across his face at that, loving hearing your sleepy voice as always. It was like a lull to him, a melody that was as beautiful as your moans. Any sound you make, Leon would rejoice in it. It was magical and enthralling to hear his beloved speak, something that would pull him from the grave and fight wars for.

“I gotta go to work, baby.” He mumbles down to you, an apologetic look on his face. Your pleading eyes meet his and he presses his lips to yours again in a sweet, little kiss. “Don’t leave the house though baby, want you well rested after our night. Understood?” You nod agreeing with his command. It was easy to obey him especially in the sleepy, love struck state you were in. Leon knew best, he was the talk of the town, a police officer and everyone loved him. Leon raises an eyebrow down at your relaxed face, one of his hands move to stroke your cheek, “Words, baby.” He mutters and you nod again, “Understood.” You murmur and Leon’s grin soon returns. He presses one finally kiss to your forehead, nose and the lips before pulling away and getting ready for work.

You watch him as he pulls his boxers on, admiring how well the fabric shapes his ass and how lean and muscular he is. Your eyes scan his back, admiring the long scratches down them which you had left on him. He pulls his black t shirt on and then his pants, he pulls his belt through the loops before tightening them. He turns to you, a smile painted on his lips. He gazes at you, admiring the way your hair is sprawled out on the pillows almost like a halo. Your sleep hazed eyes staring at him, he can’t help but move towards you. He leans down and kisses you again, “My Bambi baby, I promise to take care of you. Just stay home, get familiar with my house. It’ll be yours too one day, you know.” You can’t help the flutter in your chest at his words, all cation thrown to the wind about it being too early. You were in love. And he loved you back. What could be more delightful than that.

That blissful morning was now 5 weeks ago and something had changed, Leon had become a lot more protective and clingy. You now spent nearly all your time at Leon’s only ever returning home on a Sunday. You didn’t know that it was because Leon had gone to your family that blissful morning and offered to step up and be your provider, that and a generous wad of cash presented to them which they eagerly accepted. But Leon would never tell you that, not unless you found out and to which he would fixate on the fact your family had sold you off. That to your family, you had a price tag but to him, you were priceless. He would never give you up or trade you off. You were his.

Not only that, but Leon had also bribed your boss, making sure that he kept a close eye on you and that during your shifts, which had changed from 5 days a week to now 3 days a week, you were only ever to speak to men when necessary. If you were to try and start a conversation up with a man, regardless of who it was, Mr.Wesker would instantly shout your name and demand for your to go back to serving behind the counter even if no one was there. But that was just the tip of the ice berg. Leon had paid quite a few people to keep an eye on you, to ensure you wouldn’t speak to another man and to make sure you were safe.

Soon he had began taking things from your room and integrating them into his house, slowly at first. He didn’t want you frightened off. He took clothes, a few panties and tops and skirts and folded them nicely and tucked them into his dresser beside his clothes. He then began to convince you how much easier it was for you to have your stuff at his house. How accessible for it was for you and you had eagerly agreed with his observation. With that little push you had begun to move your clothes into his dressers. Then he pushed for you to start brining the thins you found comfort in, your books, plushies. And of course, you had done it again. Eagerly following his commands disguised as suggestions.

The main thing that Leon kept secret was when how dirty his job had become. He had started to abuse his duties ever more than ever. Of course he had abused them when he first started pursuing you, checking any and every file he could get his hand on. From school reports to resumes. He had been learning about you since the day he first saw you, and now that he had you he was doing a lot more. Now he had been hunting down any old boyfriends that you had and when it was dark he would either set them up with a life charge by smuggling drugs on to there person. However sometimes, if he had learned that they had kissed you he would adorn a mask and break their legs. No emotions on his face but joy in his heart for punishing those who had dared touched what was his.

He sometimes went even further, hunting down bullies or people who had done you wrong in a minor way and threatening them with ears in prison for ever hurting you or your feelings. If they even dared to stand up to him then he would go after their families, sending letter after letter about the laws that they had ‘broken’ and how they would have to pay or go to court. And every time they would back down. Leon had it all set out in motion.

After every time he had punished someone, he would head home and bury his face into you cunt, lapping happily at your sweet nectar until he would roll a spiked condom on and fuck you mercilessly until he came. He’d always take care of you after, cuddling and cooing happily at you making sure you knew how perfect you were in his eyes. How wonderful it was to even be in your presence.

Whilst Leon was keeping his dark desires a secret, you also held a secret. For the past 2 weeks you had thrown up every morning and your appetite had changed drastically. Leon never noticed the vomiting as he was always fast asleep in the morning, but he had noticed your appetite had changed and he was worried that you had changed your diet or that there was underlying health issues or body issues. He had encouraged you to go to the doctors and you did. Which was yesterday. Now you had the knowledge that you were pregnant. You were in shock, Leon had used protection every time after your first time, there was no way unless…unless the condom broke. You gulp down the anxiety coursing through your veins. How were you gonna bring this up to Leon? You wipe your sweaty palms on the apron that was tied around your waist. You shake your head and focus on the dinner you’re making for you and Leon. You pause and gaze down at the apron tied around your waist, pink and white with frills. Your brows furrow, Leon never owned this. Leon didn’t have anything pink in his house, you tilt your head up and gaze around and see the small things he’d added while you were on autopilot in the honeymoon phase.

You were so blissed out all the time that you didn’t see the golden cage that you were lured into until now and now it was too late. The cage was closed and locked and you had no means of escape. You gulp, how could you let this slip by? And now you had his child inside you, you were truly trapped. You continue to cook around at the pink oven mitts and tea towels, it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t like he was evil. But it felt sneaky to you, like he’d almost trapped you as a housewife. But what was the worst that could happen? He would never hurt you, he was a provider and your family was directly across the road. It wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t even close to bad. And the more you voiced these thoughts in your head the more you started to shake off his sneaky actions.

Soon enough, You hear Leon park his car I the drive before unlocking the door- wait when did he even lock it? You shake those thoughts away again and listen to him wiping his shoes on the matt. He closes the door before approaching the kitchen smelling your cooking. He leans against the doorway, a frown on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He mutters, his eyes piercing you, demanding an answer. “Tell you what?” You ask confused, you watch as he pushes off the door frame with his shoulder and strolls over to you. His frame towers over you, he reaches a strong hand out and rests it on your stomach. Your eyes go wide as you gaze up at him, “H-how did you know?” You mutter, but Leon’s gaze is firm and cruel. “No, Bambi. My question first. Why didn’t you tell me?” He nearly hisses at you. “I- I just didn’t know how to. I was scared and I’m still wrapping my head around it. We used protection every time and I don’t understand how!” You nearly sob to him.

His demeanour softens his large, rough hands cup your soft cheeks, “Baby, ‘s okay. Sometimes these things happen. I’ll be here, we’ll get through this. But we’re keeping this baby, I’ll provide and protect you.” You sniffle and nod, you couldn’t just get rid of the baby everyone would look down on you and disown you. Leon tilts your head up, “I know it’s a lot baby, that you might not be ready, but I promise we can do this. Okay?” His voice lowers softly until he’s whispering his reassurance to you. Your eye search his for comfort and when you find it in his ocean eyes, you open your mouth and whisper “Okay.”

And just like that, your fate was sealed, you didn’t go back and ask how he knew, but he would have given a well thought out lie that would have calmed your anxiety and worries. In reality he had gone to the doctors today after you didn’t answer him yesterday. He bribed that doctor and got his answer and his dream. The ruined condoms had worked, the very first one had worked. Leon had you under his thumb and now all he had to do was to chain you to him with a simple ring that would link you to him forever and he couldn’t be happier.

He pulls you into his arms, laughing happily, “We’re having a kid Bambi!” He sings down to you joy gleaming in his eyes. He was overjoyed and he couldn’t help but rain kisses down upon you. You giggle at the kisses, he tilts you head up and presses his lips to yours eagerly before pushing your body up onto the kitchen counter, he stands between your legs as he kisses you more desperately. His hands slide up under your dress, pushing the skirt up and pulling your panties down in one quick flash. Your lips stay glued to each other, you can feeling fiddling with the zip of his pants and belts between your legs.

Soon the sound of his pants hitting the ground echoes in the kitchen, and Leon rubs his cock between your folds. He growls at the feeling of your juices coating his cock, he leans forward and you wrap you legs around him. With a push of his hips you both moan, Him at the feeling of your tightness and you at the delicious stretch. He begins to hump into your cunt, his lips pressed against your ears. “Can finally fuck you bare. Nothing hiding your perfect little pussy from me any more. Can you feel my cock, yeah? ‘S fucking perfect baby.” You whine and he fucks you harder, the tip of his cock bullying your g spot. You nuzzle your head into his neck crying with pleasure. He smirks before he groans feeling you tighten, “Already gonna cum on my cock you slut? Just desperate for my cock ain’t ya?” You nod desperately to him before you cum. You thighs shake and you whimper biting at his neck. Leon humps pathetically into you before he lets out a whimper of his own and cums deep into you. “So good baby, so good,” He whispers.

This was the perfect life to him something which he had scraped tooth and claw for planning. Finding the perfect girl that would fit him, his need, his life, his soul. He’ll never forget the day he saw you across the road, dressed in your cute little shorts and vest and bunny slippers too early in the morning. And he knew, that he was going to have you. So he would slowly start his plan, mowing his garden shirtless, watching your window inconspicuously waiting for your eyes to peek out and see him. And when you finally did he set his plan into action. And now you were to have his child and marry him. What a perfect dream. The white picket fence and you would never have to worry about money or love, anything. All you had to do was be his good little wife and who were you to deny one of the most beloved men in town.

You were settled in now, this was your life. You were pregnant with his baby and his house was now fully redecorated to fit both your tastes. The spare bedroom filled with baby things and Leon was working hard in the nursery. A lovely ring was in your finger and life seemed easy, calm. You were finally happy in your golden cage even if you didn’t know the truth of the bars that trapped you in forever. And you would forever remain blissfully unaware. Leon made sure of it.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART SIXTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, depictions/mentions of violence, dark themes, surprise appearance!!, lots of feelings masterlist

Your world felt moments away from collapsing in on itself. The very man you had only seen for mere seconds, a brief glimpse, yet had undeniably began to torture you brainlessly was only waves apart from you.

His ship was hidden behind smokey clouds, but you could spot a faint red glow coming from one of the windows. It glimmered back at you in a taunting dance.

The ship was significantly larger. While Price’s ship was a dime, Graves harbored a war ship, one that you knew instantly housed more men than the four you’ve come to know. Its wood was stained black, nearly mirroring the dark sea as it roared its reins. The flag of a skull waved angrily in the wind.

There was no mistaking it. Graves had come, and you weren’t sure if it was for you, or for Ghost. You had a good idea of who.

“Dove!”

You spun around to see Gaz, struggling to hold the rope of the sail tightly bound. His face was pleading, eyes peering up at you in exasperation. Soap stood beside him, expression concentrated—eyebrows pulled together, shoulders straining against the heavy winds that threatened to pull his rope free.

“Get down from there! Are you fuckin’ crazy?” he shouted, his voice mixing in the wind and nearly getting lost.

You glanced back at Graves’ ship. It was small in the distance, not quite close enough to pose a heavy threat—yet. You had a choice to make, but you knew you had to be quick.

“Ghost! Get her down!” Soap yelled.

Ghost, hurrying to his return from stowing away the valuables on deck almost lost from the storm, snapped his head up to you. In such a distressing, grim atmosphere, he looked scarier than ever, all tall and brute, the mask mirroring the very flag that flapped among the sea.

His body grew tense, a flip switching. It was clear as day, the way his hands balled up, his shoulders stiffening, his legs moving on their own accord—he switched to serious and brooding, and he was just as spiteful with the fact you had ran from cover so stupidly.

By the time you were scrambling to place your feet on the rope ladder to scurry down, Ghost was waiting for you at the bottom, his arms held out in case you fell. The rope swayed uneasily, unable to keep itself steady with the roaring wind threatening to flip it.

“The fuck are you tryin’ to do?” Ghost growled, hands clasping around your waist to haul you down one you were close enough. “Kill yourself?”

Your breath caught in your lungs when he grabbed you, his grip firm and irritated, yet considerate enough not to hurt you. The air released once you were on your feet, the rocking of the boat making you unstable.

It was an absolute downpour on you, Ghost’s mask dripping with unhappy raindrops that slithered down to soak into his balaclava. Your clothes stuck to you uncomfortably, and you hated that your initial reaction was to be upset that one of the dresses Gaz purchased for you was going to be ruined.

“The Captain—” you gasped out, hands pressing against Ghost’s chest in attempts to release his hold on you. “I must go to him, I must tell him what is happening, he must know—”

Ghost paid no mind to you fighting in his grasp, his hands coming to take hold of your wrists. You squirmed against the restraint, eyes frantically searching for Price’s.

“Calm yourself,” Ghost hissed, not unkindly. “Tell me what’s burdenin’ you. Tell me.”

You hadn’t realized how sporadic your breathing became until you slowly began to stop your fight. Your chest heaved, lungs clashing against your rib cage painfully. A ringing shrouded your ears, combined with the heavy rain the pattered loudly against the deck.

Graves festered within the back of your mind. Always there, always mocking.

“It is Graves,” you quavered, your hands balling into fists. Ghost’s grip only tightened on your wrists. “He is here, I have seen it from up there. His ship is among the sea, waiting.”

Ghost stared at you with eyes heavily filled with an unspoken grief with guilt tinging the edges. He stood frozen in place, even as you began twisting and turning to unclasp your wrists.

“You must let me go, Ghost, please. I must inform the Captain, I do not wish to die—”

You stumbled off balance when the release was so sudden. His hands fell to his sides, dull fingernails digging into his palms as he furled them.

“Do what you must,” he rumbled low, his head turned to the sea. He looked out into the abyss as if searching for prey. “I will take care of it.”

“Ghost—”

“I said, I will take care of it,” he snipped, whirling his head back to you. “Go.”

With a light shove, he averted you in Price’s direction on the helm of the ship, where he fought against whipping rain and keeping the boat as steady as he could. You watched Ghost turn, stomping over to Gaz and Soap. A man on a mission.

You couldn’t hear the exchange between the three men. Ghost had gruffed something to them, switching places with Gaz.

He hauled the rope so it tightened, tying it around its pillar before shifting to Soap to articulate the same. While you watched Soap and Gaz struggle to keep the sails at bay, Ghost had gained a bitter strength to hanker down the fort and keep them tied down himself. The news of Graves’ approach had shifted him into something ravenous, as if he were out for blood and nothing would dare to stop him until he took a bite.

Ghost, as if sensing your stare, whirled around, glowering at you. “You must be really tryin’ to kill yourself, dove,” he jeered loudly to ensure you heard him.

“Ghost, calm yourself—” Soap tried, reaching out for him.

“What did I tell you? Go.” Ghost finished.

That notion alone was enough to have you refocus your alarm on the true worry at hand. You gathered yourself, stumbling along the soaking floors that continued to ingest the downpour.

Price, you must tell Price. He was clueless. You weren’t even sure Ghost had explained the situation to Gaz or Soap, you could only assume. He would tell them, right?

“Captain!” you shouted, sprinting to the helm. Your legs carried you quickly, running on autopilot. The blood pumped erratically through your veins, filled with nothing but determination.

Price’s hands were tightly wound with the wheel, spinning and turning with each and every wave that threatened to overtake his control. At the sight of you, he wavered, his initial anger replaced with concern.

“Dove,” he breathed. “The hell was that, huh? Climbin’ up there like a fuckin’ animal? Don’t you know how dangerous these waves are? You could’ve been flown overboard and I wouldn’t have the means to save you. You need to fuckin’ think!”

Your body shook with adrenaline, hands unable to remain by your sides. You nodded mindlessly along with his words, taking them half to heart. You knew you had bigger things to tell him, things he needed to know. Your safety in the crow’s nest was the least of your worries.

“Captain, it is Graves— he is coming,” you panted, watching his expression morph into one just as sinister as Ghost’s reaction. “His ship is just beyond the waves, he is coming. I owe you my apologies for disobeying your orders, but you must understand—”

“How do you know?” he asked, tone growing a dangerous bite.

“Up on the crow’s nest,” you paused, inhaling. “I spotted his ship. He has called me, I hear him speaking to me. He waves a flag of that of Ghost’s ring—the skull. I know, Captain—it is him. He has told me so.”

Price reared back from the wheel, muttering a string of nasty curses. You had never seen him so angry before, so bloodthirsty.

He was the epitome of rage, spewing out poison and oozing pure loathe. A dark cloud circled him, trapping him in its arms and luring him towards the pits of fire. The Captain was at his wits end, his last string of sanity snapping.

With nobody in control, the ship began to shift, leaning with the waves and forcing you to hold your ground with but the crevices of your shoes. Price held himself together enough to grab hold of the wheel once more, but in a deathly grip, white-knuckled.

“You will return to my quarters,” he muttered. “You will stay until I tell you to come out. Do as your told, and do not disobey my order again, or I will hand you off to Graves myself. Are we clear?”

You would be a madman to argue. The look in his eye was borderline murderous, a complete shift from the man you were beginning to know. What you saw was the reflection of Price the day you met him, when he held a gun up to the fear-stricken faces of your village and barked out commands just as he was doing to you now.

Even if you were crazy enough to argue, there would be no room for it. He’d make sure of that.

“I fear him, Captain,” you found yourself saying, voice quivering. Your eyes darted to the floor, unfocused. Your anxiety began to broil. “He is a siren among the seas, and I do not know how to swim. I cannot be a prisoner again, I will not—”

The touch of a rough hand grazed your cheek, guiding you to look up. Price kept one hand on the wheel while the other stroked a gentle thumb along your skin. Gone was the crimson red from his pupils and instead, that familiarity you’d come to enjoy. Soft around the edges, swarming with silent apology.

The rain dripped down your face and spread along his hand as he traced your features.

“I will not allow it,” he assured, certain. “I am sorry, I did not mean those—those words I have spoken. You must understand how dire of a situation this is for you—for us. I fear, too, dove.”

The awestruck look on your face didn’t go unnoticed from anybody except you. You were too caught up in his touch to will embarrassment.

He was touching you. So tenderly, as well. Even in a fit of erupting chaos and impending doom, you found yourself stuck in time, accompanied by the taste of comfort you’d longed for since the moment you learned what it was. You’d spent lifetimes searching for it, and it was there all along, right in front of you.

The Captain was expressing the same fear you’d been consumed by since the moment you entered the ship, since Graves had slinked into your life and taken control. He understood you on a new level, and it was a calm in the fierce storm.

“I do not want to hide away in your quarters, Captain,” you confessed. With a brief hesitation, you slowly raised your arm, flattening your palm over the back of his hand. He could only stare at the featherlike touch along his rugged skin. “I wish to be apart of this, like a real crew is. I wish to be one of you, fighting along your side, even if the cards are not dealt in our favor.”

“You do not know what you are askin’ for, dove.”

“I know. I do not hold regret.”

Price’s gaze flickered over your face, searching for any sign of deception. What he found was a bird willing to flap its wings until they grew tired, determined to fight for its flock even as the weight of life grew heavy.

He couldn’t will himself to deny you. Even if he desperately wanted to, you were theirs, and he’d rather slit his own throat before forbidding you to a man rotted from the inside out.

His hand slipped away from under yours, only to grasp it in his hold, holding your fingers tightly with his.

“You are a pirate,” he said, a hint of a smile in his tone. “You sure as hell fight like one, dove.”

Your heart felt like it could burst at any moment. This was the belonging you craved, this was what it felt like to hold it in the palm of your hand. While death was creeping in through the cracks in the old wood beneath your feet, the light was searching for a breakthrough, fighting to reveal its presence.

Standing in the swirling storm, pummeled by heavy rainfall with clothes soaked to the bone, Graves mere seas away, you found yourself smiling. You no longer had to reach for acceptance to claim it in your grasp—it had come to you all on its own, and for that, the world didn’t feel so scary anymore.

“There is not much to do besides ride out the storm and steer clear of Graves. I will do my best to make it happen, but for now,” Price paused, his hand gripping yours tighter. “Return to the quarters. I will have the others accompany you. When it is time, if is time, you will fight with us, and you will die with us. No man left behind.”

As much as you wanted to stay in this moment, glued to his side to face the roaring winds with him, he knew best. You trusted him, more than you ever had before, and nothing would waver that. Not Graves, not yourself.

“You will be okay out here?” you asked, concerned.

Price smiled, no longer as tense as before. And if he was, he was great at hiding it for you. “It is not my first storm, dove, nor will it be my last. I’m a captain. You think so little of me?”

“An absurd statement, that is,” you humored.

“Then all will be well,” he assured. He let go of your hand, his hold lingering, as if he feared missing out on your touch now that he had it.

You nodded, letting your hand fall to your side. You felt a faint tingle in your fingertips from where he’d just been. “I’ll return to your quarters, then,” you replied. “I will be here, were anything to happen—”

“I know,” he interrupted softly. You shared a look of understanding, and with one last nod, you trudged through the rain, slipping back into the comfort of the Captain’s quarters, saying a silent prayer for what was to come.

The dampness of your clothes did nothing to hold back your subtle shivers as you sat at the Captain’s desk. The dress you’d purchased, courtesy of Gaz, was plastered on to your skin, sticking to it like glue. It was entirely uncomfortable, yet the least of your worries as your mind wandered off to the men battling the blaze outside.

You feared for how the night would end. You trusted Price to do everything in his power to escape the grubby hands of Graves and hold off on his arrival for a bit longer. None of you were prepared for the storm, nor the evil hiding in its wake. A thousand possibilities coursed through your mind at light speed, none of them ending well—until you forced that light back in and held on to hope that all would be well, just as Price had told you.

It scared you, just how much you worried for them. What a dangerous thing, to find care in your heart for another in a world full of heartache. It was riddled with betrayal and selfishness, something you learned as a child and took with you as you transitioned into adulthood. It was the very reason you locked your heart up and set forth to a world of your own, burying yourself in studies and denying yourself the pleasure of another human.

Now, you wondered how much of life you had missed out on, just from a quick taste of adventure with the pirates. It was difficult and maddening, while gifting you joy and laughter; a true way of living, as you were learning that life was never meant to be the picture perfect image you had in your mind.

What would you do if you lost it all? How could you go on, knowing that the other side of life’s trail had nothing in store for you if it wasn’t with them?

The door opening was the only thing able to snap you out of such conflicting thoughts, trapped in your mind like you were encaged. You perked up, blossoming with relief when Ghost walked in, dripping from head to toe right on the floor. Though, the peace didn’t last.

He stared at you, silently shutting the door behind him. He held the same grueling bitterness, something you could feel radiating off in waves. It invaded your senses and left you defenseless.

“You and I are goin’ to have a little chat,” he snipped, stepping further into the quarters. His boots clunked loudly with every step, strengthening the blow.

You trembled from a mix of chill and sheer emotion. You weren’t sure what to make of the brute leering towards you. You knew Ghost, but you didn’t know his heart.

Ghost stood in front of you, peering down like a predator to a prey. You could do nothing but stare back, neck straining due to the stature he held over you from where you sat.

The mask he wore pierced your soul, dark eyes peeking out from the slivers. He was studying you, stare slinking down your frame and taking you in. For a moment, he did nothing. Then, he was turning away from you, sauntering off to the other side of the quarters.

Ghost opened a cupboard, rifling through it before pulling out… a dress?

You were bewildered. What on Earth was the captain doing with a dress in his cupboard?

Ghost shut the small cabinet, returning to you with the fabric in his hand. He hesitated, before offering the dress to you. It was plain in color, and the frame was much more flowy and billowy. It was made for comfort, not for style.

“You’re shiverin’,” he grumbled, darting his gaze somewhere else.

You took the dress graciously, smoothing a palm over the soft fabric. “Why does Price have a dress?” you asked, curious. From what he told you, he had never harbored a woman on ship before.

Ghost sniffed, uncomfortable. “Soap and him got it the last we were on shore. Somethin’ for you to have outside of the dresses Gaz paid for.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you traced along the seams with delicate fingers. “I wasn’t aware.”

“Well, sorry to ruin the surprise.”

You looked back up at Ghost. A frown pulled on your lips. Even you could detect the sarcasm.

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked.

Ghost met your eye once more. His eyes were cold, returning to that frigid daze. “There’s stuff you’re not tellin’ me,” he muttered. He leaned forward in a way meant to taunt you, leering over you. “You’re playin’ mind games.”

“I am not,” you defend, offended he would even assume such a thing. “That’s an absurd accusation.”

“Is it?” he mocked, cocking his head. “Then why am I only hearin’ about Graves talkin’ to you through Soap? Mind tellin’ me that?”

You gawked at him, feeling a rush of adrenaline from the sheer outrage. You knew energies were high right now and it was no time to bicker, but if he wanted to pick a fight, so would you.

“Perhaps if you didn’t lock yourself up from dawn until dusk, you would be in the loop,” you jeered back, balling the dress in your fists.

“You do not seem to have an issue findin’ your way to my quarters,” he snipped back. “Might you have simply found me to tell me these concerns, I may have been of help sooner.”

“You are not approachable in the slightest.”

“Oh, it is not the mask that scares you, dove,” he sneered. “It is honesty. It is truth. I’m not afraid to tell you the truth, dove, believe me.”

“Then please, the stage is yours.”

“Why must you be so insufferable when I am the only one who understands?”

“You do not understand me in the slightest, Ghost, so please do not pretend,” you leered.

“We are two sides of the same coin, for God’s sake!” he shouted, slamming a fist on the table. It shook under the impact, rattling the Captain’s minimal decor before they settled back in place. “We’re both bein’ dealt the hands of death, yet you seek solace in the ones who do not know what it’s like. To live in fear, to hear whispers in the walls that drive you mad, to feel a prickle on your neck as if you’re bein’ watched even though there’s no one around. That is somethin’ only I can understand, yet you parade around me as if I’m a monster.”

Your body froze, words dying in your mouth. You hated that every phrase he uttered was right and he truly was reading you like a book.

You avoided him, intentional or not. There was a taste of fear the felt like vile in your throat when he was near, and it overpowered the care you knew you held for him.

The distance was your fault as much as it was his. Though your souls were on the path to the same fate, you reared off in separate directions and found yourself lost. Now, a dam was breaking, flooding its roaring waters to trickle you back down to one another.

“You are not a monster,” you whispered, tone guilt-ridden. “I—I am so terribly sorry that I have made things that way. You are right, Ghost—I fear the reality, and I am beginning to understand my flaw.”

Ghost paused, taken by surprise that you didn’t continue to fight. It was as if nobody had taken the time to hear his truth and digest it in its entirety.

You felt horrible.

“I only wish to be there,” Ghost murmured, looking away. “But I don’t know how. I am not good with… with all of this.”

“I am not, either,” you confessed honestly. You unfurled your fists from the dress, putting it out of its misery. Your fingers felt stiff from how tightly wound they were woven in the fabric.

The room filled with a heavy silence as the two of you allowed yourselves to calm down. Not a glance was shared, a sudden awkwardness piling between you.

“I’m sorry for puttin’ you in this,” Ghost muttered, ashamed.

You perked up, throwing him a bewildered look. “What? This is not your fault. Nobody is to blame but Graves. He is the true enemy, not ourselves. I have never blamed you for any of it.”

Ghost shifted on his feet, the wood creaking beneath his weight. You could see the water that had dripped down seeping into the cracks. His hands were balled into fists, and you could faintly see a glimpse of pink.

“How are your hands?” you asked him.

Ghost grunted, uncurling his fists and spreading out his fingers. “What?”

“Your hands,” you repeated. “They are irritated.”

“They’re fine—”

“Ghost.”

He huffed, turning his head. He’d almost resemble an annoyed child if he weren’t so large. Reluctantly, he held out his hands for you to take. You held them with carefulness, inspecting the small indents on his palms from where he’d dug his dull fingernails into the skin.

“Fine,” you muttered with a shake of your head. You instructed him to keep his hands held out, turning to gather your bag that was left abandoned in Price’s quarters when the storm had hit and Soap barged in.

You knew you didn’t have much, but you sifted through the bag until your hands wrapped around a round jar. You tugged it out and made quick work opening it, collecting a dollop on your finger.

“What’s that?” he mumbled suspiciously.

You eyed him, opting not to answer while you took hold of his hands again and began lathering the soothing balm on the sore skin. He didn’t move a muscle, unfazed by the medicine, and he watched you with a keen eye the entire way through.

“I must confess something to you,” you said quietly, keeping your gaze on his hands as you worked.

Ghost hummed in reply.

“The mask—I have seen it off. I did not mean to, and it was an accident, but now that we have spoken, I feel I must get the guilt off my chest.”

He was silent for a moment, eyes unwavering from your fingers working into his palms. “When?”

“When I came to your quarters so I could talk things out with you. I did not mean to intrude, but the door was open and—I saw. It has been eating at me ever since,” you admitted woefully, fearing he’d grow angry.

To your surprise, his composure didn’t waver. You weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or worried.

“Stop stressin’ about it.”

Your head tilted up to peer up at him, confused by his reaction.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, feigning annoyance. “I’m not afraid to show my face; I’m afraid to show weakness. I wear it for me, not for anyone else. You seein’ it doesn’t matter, so stop worryin’ your head about it.”

Your hands paused their motion on his hands, simply holding them. You searched for any sign of a lie, but ultimately found honesty.

“I am glad then,” you sighed out in relief, smiling to yourself. “I did not want to invade your privacy.”

Ghost went quiet, peering down at your hands in his. Small in comparison, something that felt foreign to him. “Are you done?”

You sputtered when you realized your position and quickly removed your grasp, gearing your attention to shutting the jar and placing it back in your bag.

That awkward silence began to suffocate you once more, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, attempting to unstick the damp dress from your skin.

Ghost stepped away from you, instead turning his front towards the wall and occupying himself with the sight of Price’s neat cot. You tilted your head in confusion, wondering what he was doing.

“Change,” he mumbled, folding his arms over his chest. “If you get sick, I won’t hear the end of it.”

You smiled to yourself, standing to move to the other side of the room. Peeling off the wet fabric proved to be a challenge, but you managed, slipping into the dress Price and Soap had gifted you without your knowledge.

It truly was comfortable, and you found yourself much more at ease, the tension in the room fading.

“I am finished,” you told Ghost, who grunted and turned back forward. “Do you think the boys are alright?”

“They’ll be fine,” he assured, albeit it plainly. “Think they’re more worried about us. Why don’t you try and rest for now? Not much we can do but wait.”

You weren’t sure you could rest, knowing Soap, Gaz, and Price were still outside, wrestling the monstrous storm. But, you didn’t know how much longer it would be until Graves infected your mind again for his own personal pleasure, or worse, if he made it to the ship.

“You will stay?” you asked.

Ghost stiffened before giving you a nod. “I’ll stay.”

You nodded, forcing yourself into Price’s bed while Ghost thumped into his desk chair. The cot provided you with heat against your chilled skin and you sunk into it, letting it calm your nerves for the time being.

All was a waiting game, and you’d waited for longer things before. It was the pumping fear that was the worst part. As you lay, you allowed your worries to lay to rest, saying a silent prayer that all would be well by the time you woke—and if they weren’t, you’d hold up to your promise of fighting back, just as you told Price.

You were a pirate now; and pirates stuck together through death.

"Dove," a hushed voice woke you. You grumbled to yourself, face scrunching together as you shifted on to your side. "Oh, dove. Wake up."

That voice, you couldn't pinpoint it. The familiarity was on the tip of your tongue, floating somewhere in the back of your mind.

With a sluggishness, you rose from your sleep, peeling your tired eyes open. Perhaps it was Ghost waking you to tell you things were alright, or even that the storm had died down.

Instead, upon opening your eyes, a sinister smile blared back at you rather than the familiar skull you'd come to know. Your blood ran cold and the bumps on your skin rose harshly.

"Ah, there she is," Graves murmured in his own sickening amusement, as if he were watching a circus animal rise from a slumber. "Come to join the fun, finally?"

None of your crewmates were in sight, not a single strand of hair to indicate their whereabouts. You were alone with the Devil, and he was grinning with eyes full of hellish fire that he'd surely engulf you in if he pleased.

[scudslut]

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'. 

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”  

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.” 

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water. 

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily. 

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly. 

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy. 

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away. 

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong. 

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?” 

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank. 

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

[shybluebirdninja]

Feral Obssession

Summary: Logan's animal instincts go wild when Deadpool casually mentions how often you pass by his place—now Logan needs to see for himself.

Pairing            : Worst-Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Prostitute!Fem-reader

Note                : smut, cum play, very rough sex

WORD COUNT: 3k

Logan’s been living with Wade Wilson for a while now, something that would usually drive him to stab something—or someone—on a good day. Between Wade's non-stop mouth and Blind Al’s random pranks, Logan’s patience had worn thin. But lately, it’s not Wade's annoying chatter or Blind Al’s sarcastic remarks keeping him on edge. It’s you.

Wade had mentioned you in passing more than once. Apparently, you walked past their place all the time—coming home late at night, dressed to kill, a body that turned heads wherever you went. And yeah, Wade had made some dirty joke about what you did for a living. But Logan… he couldn’t shake the image from his head. He had to see for himself.

One night, it finally happened. You walked by just as Logan was outside, smoking a cigar on the fire escape. His eyes tracked your movements automatically, almost like a predator on the hunt, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You were in tight jeans that hugged every curve, your top clinging to your body like a second skin. Goddamn, you were something.

And the worst part? You glanced up at him, just for a second, a sly smile teasing your lips before you disappeared into your apartment across the hall. That smile. It stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time—something primal, something dangerous.

Days passed, and every time you passed by, Logan’s instincts got sharper. It was like he could smell you in the air, a heady mix of perfume and something uniquely you. He tried to ignore it, to push it aside. He’d been down this road before, and it never ended well. But damn it, he couldn’t.

One evening, as Logan sat brooding with a whiskey in hand, Wade strolled in, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.

“Hey, Peanut,” Wade started, flipping onto the couch with all the grace of a drunk cat. “You know that smokin’ hot neighbor of ours? The one with the legs for days? She asked about you today.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “The hell’re you talking about, Wade?”

“I’m serious, man! Said she’d noticed you staring like a lovesick puppy. Thought you might want to… you know… get to know her better.” Wade waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously. “You into that kinda thing? ‘Cause I might’ve, uh… mentioned you.”

Logan felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t say anything, just shot Wade a look that could’ve peeled paint. But inside, his mind was racing. You noticed him?

“Come on, man,” Wade continued. “She’s into you. And trust me, with a body like that, she could break you in half.”

Logan grunted, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t want to talk to Wade about this, but something stirred inside him, something he couldn’t shake. Maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

Later that night, Logan found himself standing outside your door, hesitating for the briefest moment. Then, with a deep breath, he knocked.

The door swung open, and there you were. That same teasing smile played on your lips as your eyes met his.

“Logan,” you greeted smoothly, leaning against the doorframe, your voice a sultry purr. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well… Wade’s a pain in the ass,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “But he wasn’t wrong about you.”

You chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “So, you’ve been watching me, huh? Thought I’d noticed those eyes of yours burning a hole through my clothes.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, he stepped closer, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. “Can’t help it, darlin’. You make it hard not to look.”

You bit your lip, the air thick with heat. “Wanna come in?”

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Inside, it was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls, but the atmosphere was anything but quiet. Logan could feel it in the air, thick with lust, desire coursing through his veins like a drug. He didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to talk. His instincts took over.

“Logan,” you whispered, stepping closer, your hands trailing up his chest. His muscles were solid beneath your touch, his breath catching just slightly. He was so controlled, so contained… but you could feel the raw power beneath the surface.

His hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, dangerous but full of need.

You smirked, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I’ve been sure since I first saw you on that fire escape.”

That was all it took. In a blur of motion, Logan’s lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies pressed together, every touch igniting something deeper, something feral.

His hands roamed over your body, rough but skilled, like he knew exactly how to touch you. You gasped as his fingers trailed down your back, pulling you even closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the restraint, like he was holding himself back from just tearing your clothes off.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

That was all he needed to hear. In one swift motion, he had you against the wall, his mouth hot against your neck, his breath heavy and ragged. His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, his lips trailing down your chest, leaving a burning path in their wake.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed and bit his way across your skin, his body pressing harder against yours. You could feel the hunger in him, the need, and it mirrored your own. It was like you were feeding off each other, every kiss, every touch building the tension higher and higher.

Before you knew it, you were on the bed, Logan above you, his eyes dark and wild with lust. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he needed you to breathe.

And then, with a growl, he gave in.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself inside you with one deep, slow thrust. The feeling was electric, your body arching against him as you gasped for air. He didn’t move at first, just stayed there, holding you close, his forehead resting against yours as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You couldn’t respond. You could barely think. All you could feel was him—inside you, around you, filling you completely.

Logan's body moved with precision, each thrust deep and slow, making your breath hitch with every movement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, grounding him as he pressed into you, his rough palms hot against your skin. You could feel the restrained power beneath his muscles, the tension winding tighter and tighter with every second. The air was thick with lust, and you could barely focus on anything except the feeling of him inside you, your body arching up to meet his, desperate for more.

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath heavy and ragged, filled with low growls that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, but it was clear he was losing control too. His restraint was unraveling fast, and you wanted to see him give in completely.

You gasped his name, nails digging into his back as his hips moved faster, the slow burn turning into something more desperate. The feeling was overwhelming, your mind fogging over as pleasure coursed through you, and you could barely form words. But then, he stopped—just for a moment, pulling back, his breath harsh in the silence of the room.

Before you could ask what he was doing, Logan gripped your hips tighter and flipped you over onto your stomach in one swift, effortless move. You gasped, bracing yourself on your hands and knees, and before you could fully adjust, you felt his hands slide down your back, rough fingertips tracing the curve of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. The heat of his body hovered over yours, close but not quite touching, teasing you with his proximity.

Without warning, he thrust back into you, deep and rough this time, making you moan out loud. Your hands gripped the sheets as he set a rhythm, pounding into you from behind, each movement powerful and deliberate. Logan's growls became more primal, echoing in the room as his hips slapped against yours. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back slightly so you could hear the rumble in his voice, feel his breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his words dripping with lust, each syllable punctuated by another hard thrust. The angle was deeper, rougher, and you could barely catch your breath as the pleasure intensified, building in waves that made your whole body tremble.

“Logan,” you moaned his name, unable to hold back the sounds escaping your lips. The sensation of his cock filling you over and over, the way he moved, every part of him screamed dominance, but there was something more behind it—something raw and hungry. It was like he needed you, couldn’t get enough of you, and you fed off that need.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your back. You barely had time to register the change before he was on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress as his lips found yours again in a heated, desperate kiss. His hands roamed your body, gripping your thighs, pulling your legs up around his waist as he positioned himself over you.

Logan’s eyes locked with yours, dark and wild, filled with a kind of intensity that made your heart race. “I want you to look at me when you come,” he growled, voice thick with lust. And then, with one powerful thrust, he was inside you again, filling you completely.

This time, it was missionary, and his movements were slower, more deliberate again, but every thrust hit deeper, the angle perfect. You could feel every inch of him, the heat between your bodies overwhelming as he moved inside you. His lips found your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there, making you gasp and arch into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You like that, don’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his voice a low rumble. “Tell me.”

“Yes, Logan… God, yes,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure built again, even more intense than before.

Logan grinned against your neck, his lips trailing down to your chest, his mouth hot against your skin as his pace quickened, his hips driving into you harder now. The angle was perfect, every thrust hitting just right, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His body moved like a machine, powerful and relentless, but there was something deeply intimate about the way he looked at you, the way his hands gripped your hips, holding you close as he took you over the edge.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he groaned, his eyes dark and locked on yours. “Come for me.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your nails digging into his back as the orgasm hit, waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you gasping for breath. Logan’s movements didn’t slow down, his hips still driving into you, prolonging your climax until you were trembling beneath him, completely spent.

Before you could catch your breath, he moved again, shifting you onto your side, your legs tangled together as he pressed against you from behind, his cock still buried deep inside you. His hand slid down your body, gripping your thigh and pulling it over his hip as he thrust into you again, this time slower, deeper, more intimate.

You moaned softly, the sensation overwhelming as he moved inside you from this new angle, his body pressed tightly against yours. His hand slid up your stomach, over your chest, fingers brushing your breasts as he held you close, his breath hot against your ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with need. “I could do this all night.”

Logan’s hand slid down your body again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles as he thrust into you, his pace picking up again. The sensation was too much, and before you knew it, the pressure was building again, another orgasm rising up inside you, ready to explode.

“Logan… I’m gonna…”

“I know,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again. I wanna feel you.”

And with one last thrust, you did.

Logan’s grip on your thigh tightened as you trembled beneath him, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. His pace hadn’t slowed at all, if anything, it was faster now, more primal, more needy. You could feel it in the way he grunted, the way his hands dug into your skin, like he was barely holding himself back.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me lose it,” Logan growled, his voice so rough it almost vibrated through your body. He thrust harder, deeper, as if he was trying to pull every ounce of pleasure from you, driving you into a state where you were too lost to even think.

His hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, almost possessive in the way he gripped you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his breath hot in your ear, and the sheer power radiating off him made you feel small in his arms—but in the best way.

“Goddamn it…,” he muttered, and you could feel the tension in his whole body. The muscles in his arms were flexed, veins popping out as he held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him from coming undone.

His lips brushed against your neck, biting down softly as he pushed into you one last time, deep and hard, holding himself there as a deep growl rumbled from his chest. You could feel the moment he finally gave in, the way his whole body shuddered against yours as he came, the heat of his release filling you, spilling out in hot waves.

Logan’s growl turned into a soft groan, his hips jerking slightly as the last of his control slipped away. For a moment, he didn’t move, just held you there, buried deep inside you, his breath heavy and rough in your ear. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, erratic and wild.

Slowly, his grip on you loosened, his body relaxing as the intensity of the moment began to fade. His lips found the back of your neck again, this time softer, more tender, as he let out a deep sigh, still holding you close.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “That was… fuckin' intense.”

You smiled, still trying to catch your breath, your body trembling with aftershocks. Logan finally pulled out of you, rolling onto his back beside you, his chest still rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. His hand reached over, resting on your hip, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin as the two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the room still thick with the heat of what just happened. You could feel Logan’s eyes on you, but when you glanced over, his gaze was softer, more thoughtful.

You turned to him, smiling lazily, still feeling the afterglow of everything. “Guess Wade was right, huh?” you teased, your voice playful, but Logan just grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Fuckin' Wade,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Bastard won’t shut up about this, will he?”

You laughed, the sound light in the quiet room, and Logan’s lips curved into a small smirk. There was a softness in his expression now, the rough edges smoothed out by the aftermath of it all, but even so, there was still that unmistakable Logan—fierce, untamed, and completely irresistible.

Logan shifted beside you, pulling you closer into his chest, wrapping his arm around you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. His warmth was comforting, and for once, you could feel the tension in him ease, as if, for now, he could just be in the moment with you.

You were still catching your breath, body limp against the sheets, when you felt Logan shift beside you.

And then, with a low, deep growl, Logan dipped his fingers into the wet heat where his cum was still dripping from you.

You shuddered, the sensation sending another jolt of pleasure through your overstimulated body. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, overwhelmed, but then you felt him lift his hand, slick with the evidence of what he’d left inside you.

He smirked, his fingers glistening with his release, and before you could say anything, he pressed them against your chest—right between your breasts. Slowly, deliberately, he smeared it across your skin, leaving a hot, wet trail in his wake. His touch was rough, teasing, and the way his eyes followed every movement made it even hotter.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice husky and low, almost like he was admiring his own handiwork. His hand slid higher, spreading the warmth across your chest, smearing his cum all over your skin, marking you with it. “Fuckin' perfect.”

Your breath hitched as he dragged his fingers down again, leaving no inch untouched. The way he moved was deliberate, slow, making sure you felt every second of it. The heat of his release mixed with the sweat already clinging to your skin, and the sight of Logan watching you, his gaze dark and possessive, only made you ache for more.

He leaned down, his mouth just barely brushing against your ear. “Mine,” he growled softly, his voice rough with need. “You’re mine.”

[crescenthistory]

e.9 w/ regulus pls, i'm on my knees 😭

this is technically a steamy prompt, but gosh this grew real sugary sweet really fast lmao. hope you enjoy the drabble, love<3

Prompt: E.9 "Use your words, sweetheart"

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: implied smut (mdni), not proofread, loads of cursing, talks of sex, background dorlene and rosekiller, established relationship, slight implied d/s dynamic where reader is d, regulus is a Quidditch Player™ but also easy to fluster, marlene is not a quidditch player in this (blasphemy, i know), gn!reader

Note: i could make a part 2 with actual smut, but this is what came to me rn

Perhaps your favourite part of your boyfriend is how multifaceted he is.

Because when you first met him, in all his moody brooding, repressed emotions, dry sarcasm and school-orientation, you never could have imagined how fervent Regulus Black could get about quidditch. The same Regulus who rolled his eyes painfully hard at his brother and friends's jock habits, as he referred to them as, the same Regulus who polished his Head Boy pin multiple times a day. Somehow, it was the same Regulus you saw run into a slam-hug with Barty on the field once they landed, with wild eyes and tousled hair after catching the snitch that just barely secured Slytherin’s victory against Gryffindor.

“Bloody fucking yes!” You could hear the boys’ exclamations clutter against each other in the air as they hollered their celebrations. 

A wide grin was glued onto your lips as you cheered and clapped with the crowds surrounding you in the stands. Marlene’s voice was bursting your eardrums as she cheered specifically only for Dorcas while grumbling over Gryffindor’s defeat – a complicated day for the blonde.

On the field, Regulus turned from his friends to scour through the stands before his eyes found yours and somehow he smiled wider. Your heart soared every time you saw his carefully crafted mask slip to reveal true enjoyment. His smile grew cheeky as he blew you a kiss with a flourish you knew he would never let fly so publicly had it not been for the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Breaking from Slytherin’s passionate celebrations, Regulus Black is taking the opportunity to show his wonderful partner some love.” Pandora’s soft voice booms through the amplification spell as she wraps up her commentary for the game. You grow bashful in your cheering, especially when Marlene elbows you with her wolfish grin, but you don’t cease your clapping – and you don’t break eye contact with Regulus as he walks backwards towards the locker rooms, only tearing away when he has to.

The team are some of the last people to enter the Slytherin common room for the rager that always follows matches with Gryffindor. This time, it was put together by a few fifth years who seemed to consider them their personal heroes – you had overseen some of the decorations just to ensure there were no pictures of Evan with hearts drawn around them, lest Barty get murderous in his partying. 

They were a sight as they walked in with their wet hair from showering and still that crackling atmosphere of sheer joy and perhaps a twinge of earned arrogance.

Dorcas is the one who announces their entrance. “We won, bitches!”

The room erupts into cheers as Marlene runs to lift her girl up, twirling her around as they giggle through kisses. You would have smiled at them in admiration for longer, had your own attention not been reserved for a certain set of black curls.

Regulus is at the very back of the group, just behind Evan who had Barty all but draped over his shoulders, a small smile seemingly etched onto his lips. You were torn between petrifying his face so it could never move from that beautiful expression, and hiding it from the world with an array of kisses. You had a feeling he was partial towards the latter. 

“Nice of you to finally show up at your own party, love,” you say cheekily, as he greets you with a murmured amour before pulling you into his arms for a tight hug.

He smells like his soap and cologne, having cleaned himself up as attentively as he always did. Maybe someday you could convince him to sit in the sweat for a bit, reeling in the victory.

“The hero who caught the snitch.” Your voice is low and teasing, only really intended for Regulus as your arms around his neck.

Barty is never one to miss something though, head picking up from his huddle with a maniacal grin. “Hells yeah,” he yells, cutting through the lively chatter of the room. “Reggie, our hero!”

Everyone erupts into cheers, hoots and whistles – definitely not for the last time of the evening – as Regulus bashfully hides his face in your neck, still not broken away from your embrace. You giggle into his ear, clearly pleased with the teasing attention he receives, to which he pinches your side. When you yelp and swat at him, he comes out of his hiding with a smile that he finally presses to yours.

His kiss receives some more hollers, but they are nothing but murmurs to you as his soft lips mould to your own. You deepen the kiss, trying to get impossibly closer as your blood warms. You’re sure he can feel it emanate through your clothes pressed to his or your palms in his hair.

“Hi,” he whispers when you pull back, foreheads pressed against each other.

“Hi there, seeker. Ready to go celebrate your acts of valour?”

His eyes remain trained on your lips as you speak, which only makes your smile more teasing. He doesn’t answer you right away, holding you close by the small of your back as the party picks up around you. 

“Or did you have something else in mind, player?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

He realises you have read him like the books you bond over, and gives you a few rapid pecks to make up for it. “You know me too well,” he laughs.

“I think I know you the perfect amount.”

“Then you know the only one I want to celebrate with right now is you.” Regulus’s eyes are a beautiful mix of dark and soft as he stare at you, adrenaline seemingly ebbing out of him as he just melts into you and his prescribed lovesickness.

“Silly boy,” you whisper against his lips before giving him a slow, open-mouthed kiss where you tug his bottom lips between your own. “You already have me.”

“You know what I mean,” he all but whines back between kisses as you move to his upper lip. 

“Hm, maybe.” He recognises the glint in your eyes as you pull back to look at him. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Almost all softness seep from his face as it takes on a hungry quality that his reserved for only when you use that tone.

“Minx,” is all he whispers before his hands slide to find yours, squeezing them as he begins to pull you through the crowd.

“Oi, Black!” Dorcas yells as she sees your figures sneak your way between people with apparent haste. “The fuck you think you’re goin’?” Just from her voice you know Dorcas has had a drink, as her accent has thickened. 

Before either of you can respond, Evan drags her down by the elbow to the sofa he’s sprawled across as he drawls, “They’re going to celebrate dearest Dorc.”

A spat ensues between the two at the use of her least favourite nickname. Regulus has the decency to grow slightly pinkish at that, but his hold on you remains close and you can all but feel his jitters through his touch.

Barty looks at you two upside down from where he lays balancing on top of the sofa. “You nasty fucking pigs,” he grins. “Enjoy yourselves heartily, but get your butts down here to have fun with us too when the adrenaline wears off.”

You snort as Regulus only grows more red. You give Barty a wink as you begin leading the way, dragging your boy dumbly behind you. “We will, Junior, don’t you worry.”

“Bye, Treasure!” Barty calls behind you as you run up the stairs towards the boys dormitory. Regulus’s hand is hot in yours and your stomach tingles in anticipation – but more importantly, your heart aches with pride and love for your hero seeker.

[pastryfication]

hungary ‘24 | landoscar

pairing: lando norris x gf!reader x oscar piastri

content warnings: me getting out my frustrations about the race 😝 also not proofread!! and maybe a bit weird bc i’ve never written poly before i’m sorry

you were pissed to say the least. this was supposed to be an amazing weekend; you had cleared your calendar, getting the whole weekend off to come support your boyfriends in hungary, and this was how it turned out?

the weekend had started amazing, a 1-2 start for your boys who were both beaming with happiness when you got home to the hotel later. laying between them in bed while they were practically buzzing with excitement for the race was incredible.

the race turning out how it did wasn’t incredible, though . . .

race day had dawned bright and clear. the paddock had buzzed with energy, the air filled with the scent of fuel and the sound of engines revving. you had been standing on the grid, watching the final preparations. lando, starting on pole, had been grinning beneath his helmet, his eyes sparkling with determination. oscar, right beside him in second, exuded a calm confidence that belied his nerves. you had exchanged encouraging words with both, wishing them good luck with the usual pre race kisses.

as the lights went out, the roar of the crowd was drowned out by the scream of twenty engines launching forward.

everything had gone downhill from there.

lando’s bad start, the teams terrible decisions, and finally the call to let oscar pass by lando.

“lando, let oscar through," came the message over the team radio. you watched the screens, holding your breath, waiting for lando to comply. but he didn't. he only pushed harder. lap after lap, he stayed ahead, ignoring the increasingly urgent requests from the pit wall and you felt a knot forming in your stomach.

the tension was almost palpable, and when lando finally relented, it was with visible reluctance.

oscar reclaimed the lead, driving flawlessly to the chequered flag, securing his first f1 victory and the garage exploded in celebration. you rushed to congratulate him, your heart bursting with joy for his achievement, almost forgetting the drama on the track in favour of the pure proudness you felt.

you could cry of happiness right then and there. your excitement certainly made up for your boyfriends lack thereof, but there was an undercurrent of unease. lando's face was a mask of forced smiles and tight-lipped politeness. he joined in the celebrations, but his enthusiasm was clearly strained. on the podium, he walked right past oscar, starting his spray on lewis in favour of his best friend. his teammate. his lover. you wanted to stay neutral. you always stayed neutral when it came to track drama, but the light flicker of hurt you saw in the australian’s eyes broke your heart.

later, in the motorhome, the atmosphere was tense. you sat between lando and oscar, trying to bridge the gap. lando was brooding, his silence heavy with unspoken words, while oscar was trying to remain gracious, though his patience was wearing thin. you were in a dilemma. keep the spirit high to celebrate oscar or comfort lando who so clearly needed it? in the end, you chose to address the elephant in the room.

"lando, what's going on?" you asked gently, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

he shrugged it off, avoiding your gaze as he pushed himself further into the couch. "nothing. just tired."

oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. "come on, lando. you know it was the right call. the team made the decision, and you should've respected it."

lando's eyes flashed with anger. "easy for you to say! you weren't the one ordered to give up a position. i was leading!"

"you were leading because of a mistake." oscar shot back, surprisingly aggressive. "it wasn't earned on track, and you know it."

"guys, please," you interjected, trying to calm the rising tempers. "this is supposed to be a happy moment. oscar won his first race. can't we just . . . celebrate that?"

lando's shoulders slumped, his expression softening slightly. "it just . . . it stings, you know?"

oscar nodded, his frustration easing. "i get it. but we're a team, lan. we need to support each other, especially in moments like this."

you turned to hug lando tightly, feeling his tension melt away. "i know it's hard, but you can’t be mad at oscar. be mad at the team. it was their fault. not yours. not oscar’s. the team’s. let's celebrate oscar's win properly without your brooding."

lando took a deep breath, then nodded. "you're right. i'm so sorry, osc. congrats. you really deserved it."

oscar quickly smiled, relief washing over him, joining the hug to hold both of you close to him. "thank you. we're both going to have more chances to win."

the three of you stood there for a moment, the weight of the day's events lifting. finally, lando broke into a genuine smile. "alright, let's go celebrate. oscar's buying the first round."

laughter filled the room, and the tension dissipated completely. lando leapt forward to envelope oscar in another hug that was enthusiastically returned and you smiled at the sight.

the rest of the evening was filled with joy, camaraderie, and the shared thrill of victory, as you clinked glasses and toasted to oscar's success’s. he deserved to celebrate, and celebrate you were gonna do.

[misswynters]

The Northern Chronicles

Cregan Stark x Arryn!wife!reader

[SYNOPSIS: This is just the beginning of the beautiful story of the Stark Dozen. The legendary family that ruled over the north and who’s children grew to influence all of Westeros.

[WARNING: none

[NOTE | short drabble of cregan and you with your 10 children at winterfell. (aged up to current time however some chapters will include when the children are younger as well) but will become a series! so if you would like to be tagged let me know in the comments.

NEXT: Northern Chronicles: Lady Arryn & Lord Stark

Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky as you and your husband stood in the courtyard of Winterfell, watching your beautiful ten children play in the crisp winter air. The sight of them, bundled in animal furs and laughing as they tumbled through the snow, filled your heart with warmth despite the cold atmosphere.

Edrick, the eldest twin, a tall and sturdy young man with Cregan’s brooding eyes, was engaged in a snowball fight with his younger siblings. His laughter rang out as he dodged a particularly well-aimed snowball from his twin sister, who had inherited your quick wit and fiery spirit.

Selyse, the younger twin, is your eldest daughter, with her wild curls and spirited energy, led a group of her younger siblings in building an elaborate snow fort. The scene was chaotic but joyful, each child contributing their own unique flair to the project.

Cregan, sitting beside you, wrapped his arm around your waist, his presence a solid and comforting anchor in the midst of the winter wonderland. “Look at them,” he said softly, his voice filled with pride. “They’re growing up so quickly.”

You leaned into him, your gaze fixed on the children. “They are. It feels like just yesterday they were learning to walk, and now they’re running through the snow, making memories of their own.”

The two of you shared a moment of quiet contentment, watching as your youngest, barely old enough to walk, took his first wobbly steps in the snow, his siblings cheering him on with enthusiastic shouts.

Your youngest son, Finnian stood in front of you both holding a dead in his tiny arms. “Papa look at me!” The boy said enthusiastically, waving the dead animal around by the tail. Cregans eyes widened at the scene.

“Boy!, put that animal down. Now!” He said in a commanding voice as he stood up to walk towards his son. As an instinct, finnian began to run away, cutting through his siblings snowball fight. The mischievous little boy had the widest smile in his face. You thought it was adorable seeing your husband chase him.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape, you and Cregan gathered the children for a cozy family dinner inside the great hall. The children’s laughter echoed through the halls as they recounted their adventures in the snow, their faces flushed with happiness.

The long wooden table was adorned with hearty fare—roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and rich, steaming stews. The hall was filled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food, and the warmth of the hearth crackled cheerfully against the cold outside.

With everyone settled at the table, you took a moment to admire the scene. Cregan’s broad shoulders were relaxed as he shared a joke with the older children, while you served the younger ones with a smile. The joyful chaos of a large family dinner enveloped you, a testament to the love and unity that bound you all together.

Amidst the lively conversation and clinking of mugs, a handmaiden named Kyra, who had been assigned to help with the evening’s preparations, entered the hall carrying a fresh platter of meat. Her expression was sour, and her demeanor dismissive. She set the platter down with a huff, casting an impatient glance at the children.

As she turned to leave, she made an offhand comment loud enough for several to hear. “I suppose the Stark children are too busy playing to remember their manners,” she sneered, her gaze landing on your eldest daughter, Selyse.

Your daughter, already sensitive to such slights, stiffened in her seat, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. The room fell silent for a moment, the insult hanging heavily in the air.

Cregan’s eyes narrowed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You could see the protective anger in his gaze, but before he could speak, you gently touched his arm, signaling him to let you handle it.

Rising from your seat, you approached Kyra with a calm but firm demeanor. “Kyra, it seems there’s been a misunderstanding,” you began, your voice steady. “Our children are the heart of Winterfell, and they deserve respect, as do all who live and work here.”

Kyra’s face flushed with a mix of shame and surprise. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut her off gently but firmly. “I understand. But please remember, everyone here is valued, and our children are no exception.”

Turning back to your daughter, you offered her a reassuring smile. “Come, sit with me,” you said softly, guiding her to a seat next to you. The warmth of your presence seemed to ease her tension, and she gave you a grateful, if slightly embarrassed, smile.

The dinner resumed with a renewed sense of camaraderie, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as the children continued to share their stories and laughter. Kyra, now noticeably more subdued, moved quietly through the hall, her previous rudeness replaced by a more respectful demeanor.

As the evening wore on and the stars began to twinkle outside the grand windows, you and Cregan watched as your children interacted with each other and the rest of the household staff. The hall was once again filled with the joyous sounds of family, and despite the brief moment of discord, the evening had restored its warm and loving atmosphere.

Cregan squeezed your hand under the table, his eyes filled with appreciation. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For handling that so gracefully.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “We’re a family, and their respect is very important, especially when it matters most.”

As the night drew to a close and the children’s laughter faded into sleepy murmurs, you and Cregan stood together, the echoes of the day’s joy lingering in the air. The love that filled Winterfell was a testament to the strength and unity of your family—a family that, despite its challenges, would always stand strong and united under the watchful gaze of the stars.

Next | Lady Arryn & Lord Stark

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[spurbleu]

oldman!price x reader angsty (?) drabble

‧︎✳︎༚︎‧︎⁎︎°︎

age leaves john price in tantrum.

he despises what it’s done to his body. the creak in his knees when he walks, the strain in his shoulder when he reaches across the table. steam engine, ironclad and coal hot, neglected the rust on the belly of its stirrups. adopted a sudden fragility he cannot stand.

takes a literal force of nature to get him to retire, and he grieves it like a father. it, in all honesty, was one. taught him how to shoot straight, how to hold his men, how to be without feeling like he’s an imposter in his own skin. forced him to grow up- which is ironically exactly what ended their alliance.

nursed whiskeys, fattened ice kissing the base. smoked like somehow- fossilized in ligero- he’d find his youth again. blistered under reluctant mortality, indulged in fatal vices because if anything is putting him in the grave it’s a gun or a cigar.

a pot never boils watched, yet you stay at your designated post by the doorway while he broods (he’s a dramatic at heart), storm clouds stamped on the collapse of his shoulders.

if you were one of his soldiers, you let him fester.

but you were his wife.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t aged yourself, silver linings sprouting from your scalp, sun spots and bleached knuckles. even so, you found time to pick up his medications, comb through amateur food blogs for gut health and bone pain, roll the aches out of his shoulder before bed. you were kind- and it was insulting.

spitfire catching on the burs of his muttonchops- unfamiliar with dependence. he was a captain for Christ’s sake- alloy lighthouse, built by cement and sheer fucking will. he didn’t need to be hand fed vitamin C and dragged to yoga class. he pitched barbed wire, dug his shallow trench and intended lay in it.

until, one evening, thunder strikes him out of dewy acrimony. he clambers up the stairs, musk of tobacco and spite plants a grimy boot in the oak. he glances over the railing, and stills.

bathroom door, cutting swaddled atmosphere with thin bisque, a pyramid down the center of the hall that created the illusion of darker corners. centered in the odd, domestic scaffolding was you- shower damp and concentrated.

it was like watching a bird preen feathers. tugging at the sags, yanking at the silvers, skin pitching at the nostril and eyes narrowing into thin keyways. and if he squinted, sniper accuracy rendered tears. sallow river bed on your flushed cheeks, clumped lashes, a frown that broke hearts.

“you’re never struggling alone, John,” you had said one evening, when he had been foolishly apathetic, “i’ll make sure of that.”

he hadn’t said anything.

guilt squirms at the base of his neck. the stranger named comfort that swelled within your embrace unnerved him so much he had forgotten to introduce himself. and now, milking moonlit lighting, with a wife who thought he was hiding from her, he called himself what he had never been as a soldier.

a coward.

you were making tea the next morning, windows surrendering a warmth when the day was still docile. it was while you were humming that your husband, sneaky bastard, folds you into the plush of his chest, drowsy lips dragging on the cusp of your shoulder.

“you always look so beautiful in the mornin, darlin.”

and it was true. you’ve never looked better to the old man.