#sorry for replying all late! I was at work 🥹

[physics-of-one-piece]

Merlot & Primroses (Doflamingo x Reader)

Chapter 2

(read on AO3)

Summary: Your husband’s brother finds you. Life with him and his sham of a family is as cold as the snow your husband was found buried in. You're going to wilt slowly living with Doflamingo, you’re sure. No flower can survive in such snow.

Chapter Navigation: 1 , 2 (you're here)

Tags: Doflamingo x Reader, Rosinante's Wife!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Female!Reader, Rosinante x Reader (mentioned through flashbacks), Canon-Typical Violence, Attempted Murder, Gun Violence, Threats, Blackmailing, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Attempted Gaslighting, Mentions of Murder, Body Control (Doflamingo's Devil Fruit), Forced Proximity, Mentions of Fratricide, Grief, Angst, Hurt, Post-Minion Island, North Blue Doflamingo, Red Suit Doflamingo, Touch-Starved Doflamingo, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Protective Donquixote Doflamingo, Donquixote Brothers, Adult Themes, Oda Made Us Cry Over a Ship I Will Attempt To Make Us Cry Over a Couch

Word Count: 9.6k

A/N: Y'all were so supportive on Ch1 I was blown away like Doffy after Luffy hit him with Leo Bazooka, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH ❤️❤️🫶🏻🫶🏻😭😭. Thank you all so much for the comments, I'm sorry I was late replying to some, but work and life and all that boring stuff. Thank you for all the reblogs and likes and the tags in your reblogs+comments in your reblogs, I loved them all 🥹💕 There is a dangerous lack of Red Suit Doffy GIFs, and I will single-handedly change that. I absolutely adore every single comment you guys left, thank you all so much for the support. Enjoy Red Suit Doffy kidnapping you 😉❤️ P.S. get your "punch Doflamingo in the dick cus you can reach there" here 🦩🍆💥🤛🏻

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26 @daydreamer-in-training @queenmimi2817 @dummyduck44 @pinejayy @tellynojelly @capycapy-bara @dilf-destroyer-04 @yataidiot @orioncipher @isabeauwolf @r-amenegg @skullfacedlady @wrennyx @yan-love-reader @caldrien @rujellyroll @bonzaibaby @emilyfeetumbrella @ghostiequill @pipsterz @graceland321 @panthorastormheart @thesmolestsage @thesaltycrisp @hurricanebrownie @heroinicyfingers @t-sarah @aganhim @smol-flower-kiddo @vaniiiavengeance @sagyunaro @froggiewrites (I think you might be interested 👉🏻👈🏻🥺) @saracrossing02 (if it's your vibe)

Also... DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED EPISODE 706 OF ONE PIECE. THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 706 IN THIS CHAPTER IE MENTIONS OF HOW ROSINANTE DIED.

Chapter 2

A month after moving into your house in North Blue for Rosinante’s mission, the only thing you two didn’t have was a couch. So, your first outing off the island you moved onto was a trip to Mall Island, an island full of shopping malls. It was only a three hour sail away, and with the marine ship transporting you and Rosinante, you and him found yourselves standing in front of a massive building of the most popular furniture store in North Blue an hour later.

“Rosinante… I don’t think this is the shop for us… are you sure you want to go shopping for our couch here?”

“Of course I do!” Rosinante said. “This is the best furniture shop in North Blue!” 

‘It’s a good thing I pulled out the money from my paycheck slip as Corazón this morning from the bank.’ thought Rosinante. ‘I’d go broke if I shopped here with my paycheck as a commander.’

“This is one of the places where royalty shops, isn’t it?” you asked as the two of you entered the massive building. From inside, it looked like a palace, with marble staircases and pillars on the walkway supporting the other four floors. The people passing through the lobby and walking to the moving staircases were dressed in expensive clothes. Feeling incredibly self-conscious — normal people like you and Rosinante didn’t belong here — you leaned into his leg. You would have dressed into something nicer than a sweater, blouse and trousers, but Rosinante had done the same.

Then again, Rosinante was rather lax about dressing. His formal outfit for formal events was his commander outfit. You were lax about clothing too, most times. This time, though, you certainly felt underdressed.

“Yeah,” said Rosinante cheerily, picking up a guide flier to locate the living room section quicker. He noticed the way you leaned into him; he wrapped his long arm around your waist, his large hand settling on your hip, bringing you a sense of safety and comfort.

“Don’t worry,” He pulled out thick stacks of money he brought in his pockets, smiling at you. “I’ve got extra money if we need it!”

You frowned. It didn’t take a genius to know where he got the money from, from who he got it from, and for what he got it as payment.

“Your pirate older brother’s money,” you said.

You didn’t very much like Rosinante using his paycheck as Corazón for you. You wanted him to keep it for his undercover mission. Doflamingo would get suspicious if Rosinante suddenly asked him for more money and told him he’d spent it fast.

Rosinante started to sweat. “W-We can look at it as his present for our wedding!”

“Rosinante,” you said sternly. “Do you want to have sex on that couch or not? Because the mere thought of our couch being bought by Doflamingo’s blood money makes me as dry as the desert of Alabasta.”

Rosinante flushed red. “We’re in public!”

“At least we’ve got a new safe word,” you said.

“Doffy cannot be our safe word!” cried Rosinante.

“Flamingo, then.” you decided, fighting back from smiling; your husband's gawping, handsome, shocked, blushing face was adorable.

“Y/N!” your husband cried.

You giggled. “Speaking of Alabasta and deserts... Doesn’t Crocodile have this drying power with his Sand-Sand Fruit? Isn’t that a bit... You know... Unfunctional when...”

“He’s a Logia, he can deactivate his powers at will, including his drying power.”

“Devil Fruits are weird...” you mumbled. “Well, if I ever see your brother, I’ll just run.”

Rosinante looked at you with a severe, serious expression. “You can’t.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You can’t run away from Doffy.” said Rosinante; it was his Navy commander tone, no longer relaxed, but calm and steely. “It’s not about speed, or height, or how long your legs are. You can’t run away.”

“The strings can cut flesh, but they can’t reach that far...” you said.

“I thought so, too.” said Rosinante. “Then I saw Doffy decapitate a man fleeing from him because the guy got a lucky cut on my arm. The poor bastard was thirty meters away.”

“But they’re strings!” you argued. “Strings! Strings shouldn’t be that long!”

“The limit of Devil Fruits is your imagination. As long as you imagine it, possibility is, you can do it.” Rosinante frowned. “And Doffy’s got a big, wild, dark imagination.”

“Don’t worry. You two will never meet.” Rosinante gives you a smile; it looks rigid, and forced, uncertain in a way you’ve never seen before. “So don’t worry about it.”

You and Rosinante went to the first floor where the living room section was and headed to the section of four meter couches.

Rosinante fell to his knees when he saw the price of a sectional couch he liked, tested out and loved the feel of; it cost four million berries. His soul appeared to leave his body as he muttered, “F-Four... M-million?”

In the end, the furniture was too luxurious and too tacky for both your tastes. It was comfortable, yes, but it didn’t validate the massive price tag.

You could see Rosinante started thinking the same thing; it was all in his face, growing more sullen and depressed the more you two browsed through the big four meter long L-shaped and sectional couches. You wondered if the furniture reminded him too much of the furniture in Mariejois, or of his home in that island before people burned it down.

You were feeling quite discouraged yourself. You wanted Rosinante to be happy with the couch. After all, he would be the one mostly napping on the couch while you cooked lunch or dinner, and it needed to be of good quality, including the soft cushions for your husband’s bones.

“Maybe we can transport our couch from our apartment in Marineford to here?” you suggested as you two sat in the cafeteria of the marine ship transporting you back to your island.

“No! I want to buy one!” yelled Rosinante fiercely.“You’re going to be spending more time in that house than I will! I want you to be comfortable, and I want you to be happy with how the house looks!”

Your eyes widened, your chest warming up. “Rosi...”

“We’re gonna find the perfect couch for us, no matter what!” yelled Rosinante, clenching his fist in the air determinedly.

“Y-Yeah…” you said, not sure how to react at the surge of inspiration your husband showed over a couch except to stare at him, awed and in disbelief that such a wonderful man was your husband.

Oh. you think, staring at your husband’s older brother. I get it now, Rosi.

I really can’t run away.

Wulf lit his cigarette and took an inhale. He puffed out smoke through his lips. He and Rosinante stared at the white, sectional, four meter long couch in front of the porch wrapped in plastic wrap.

“So, of all people, why call me?” asked Wulf. Rosinante stood beside him, in his Corazón disguise, black coat, make-up, pink shirt and all, smoking alongside him.

“Well,” replied Rosinante, smoke coming from his cigarette, “it was either you, or actually calling my brother and explaining to him why I have a house and a wife and then if he doesn’t try to move in to bother us and cockblock me for the rest of my life and flirt with my wife every second, asking him to lift this with his strings because no way would Doffy bother with carrying furniture, saints forbid he does something as plebeian as that -”

“Okay, I get it!” yelled Wulf. “Your blame card has been successful, heart boy! Just let me finish smoking and then we’ll move it in!”

Rosinante smirked victoriously.

“I can’t believe you listened to my advice and took a white one...” said Wulf.

“Our kitchen’s blue, and right next to the living room, and white goes with blue.” said Rosinante.

“It’s quite a big one,” said Wulf, walking around the couch. “Is it modular?”

“Yeah. The sections can be separated, so it can be two couches. I think I’ll just put the ottoman as a footrest.”

“Make sure to put a blanket over it,” said Wulf. “If you get your muddy boots on it, your wife will kill you.”

Rosinante chuckled.

After they were done smoking, cigarettes discarded on the ashtray on the coffee table on the porch, Rosinante unlocked the doors of the house and he and Wulf decided to lift the left sectional first.

“Where’s the missus?” asked Wulf as he lifted the couch sectional under its base, hoping to seas Rosinante wouldn’t trip over a stair.

“Out in the market buying groceries for lunch,” said Rosinante, lifting the couch at a higher angle to get it up the wooden stairs. “I only came back thirty minutes ago, and the couch was delivered fifteen minutes ago.”

“Talk about nice timing,” said Wulf, chuckling. “It’ll be a nice surprise.”

Rosinante beamed brightly. “Yeah.”

“Where’d you find this one?” Wulf asked.

“In one of the furniture magazines Doffy gave me,” chirped Rosinante. “I went to the island where the store is and tried it out and it was the perfect one.”

“Furniture magazine?” asked Wulf, confused, blinking repeatedly. “Doflamingo gave you a furniture magazine?”

“Ah, um,” said Rosinante, blushing. “I stacked up on them to find the perfect couch, and Doffy caught me reading them. I told him I like reading furniture magazines. He’s started buying loads for me. I’ll have to read furniture magazines until I’m done with this entire undercover now, though...”

Wulf let out a “pf” before he burst out laughing.

Rosinante frowned at him. “It’s not funny, Wulf.”

“Oh, it is!” said Wulf, cackling, his chest shaking with his laughter. “It’s hilarious! Your evil older brother buying you all furniture magazines just so he can get his little brother his most fun stuff to read! Oh saints, I’ll die laughing!”

Rosinante, however, was growing more serious by the second.

“Don’t laugh at him.” said Rosinante, turning serious. “He might be evil, but he’s still my brother. Don’t laugh at him. Not over that. He’s buying the magazines because he thinks I like reading them. He has no reason to buy them. He buys them because he wants to make me happy, in his own way. Don’t laugh at him over that.”

Wulf sighed. “All right. Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“I know,” said Rosinante. They made it into the living room. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Let’s put it here. Three, two, one…”

The two marines put down the sectional. They both let out huffs, and sat down on the sectional, panting for a few moments, catching their breath.

“It really is good… ah, like a cloud…” Wulf smiled happily.

“Told ya,” said Rosinante, smiling happily as well. “It’s so comfy.”

The two marines sighed in bliss.

“Let’s get the other one,” said Wulf.

Rosinante groaned.

“Come on, big guy,” said Wulf, grabbing Rosinante by the arm, pulling him up as Rosinante groaned some more.

Five minutes later, you walked through the fence gate and closed it behind yourself, entering the large front garden, carrying bags of groceries.

When you climbed the porch, you heard Rosinante’s and Wulf’s voices.

“We did it! Screw you, Doflamingo, I’m Rosi’s number one guy to call for moving furniture! High five, Rosi!”

Your heart leapt in joy. Rosinante was back. You fumbled with the keys in your excitement — you had far too many keys on your keychain — and after unlocking the doors, you heard the two marines squawk.

“Shit! Your wife’s back! Act natural!”

“There’s a four meter long, white sectional couch of eight hundred thousand berries in my living room, how am I supposed to act natural?!” asked Rosinante.

“I don’t know, light yourself on fire?” Then, “Not on the couch, Rosi!”

“Saints, she’s gonna kill me.” said Rosinante. “Maybe I shouldn’t have bought this...”

“No, no, she’s gonna love it.” Wulf assured. “All this space for the fun times you two can have. She’ll love it, and so will you. This is the best use of money. For sex.”

“Is that why you said it should be four meters?!” shrieked Rosinante.

“Duh!” said Wulf. “Why do you think you took a white one?!”

“Gah!”

Your heart racing in your breast, you stepped into the living room, and felt your breath hitch.

Rosinante was sitting on the large white couch.

The black feathers of Rosinante’s coat flattered the white couch, like a black-and-white checkerboard. For a moment, you were too mesmerized by Rosinante’s beauty, sitting there on the couch in the setting sunlight casting a heavenly glow on his frame, that you forgot to speak.

Rosinante lit up like the sun the moment he saw you, his brown eyes glowing with joy.

“Heya!” Rosinante says cheerily, showing you a peace sign, giving you his big, goofy grin. “Surprise!”

You dropped the grocery bag and leapt on him, hugging him. Rosinante doesn’t fall, catching you in his arms with ease, slightly shocked and wide-eyed.

You hold him tight, so tight your knuckles turn white, holding onto the black feathers tight, basking in their softness in your hand.

“Welcome home, Rosi.”

Rosinante’s entire body softens. All the makeup he masks himself with melts away, and he puts away the mantle of Corazon within a moment, returning to you in full, all soft and gentle, his strong arms lifting, wrapping around you, and all he is now is your husband.

“I’m home,” he whispers lovingly, smiling into your shoulder. The two of you bask in each other, in your heartbeats, your bodies, your touch, in comfortable, loving silence.

“And with a new couch!” said Wulf, breaking the silence.

“And look!” said Wulf, hopping over the backrest and onto the couch beside Rosinante, grabbing your husband in a headlock.“It can take a full ton!”

Rosinante tapped furiously on Wulf’s forearm for his best friend to release him from the chokehold, which Wulf did.

“What, did you two suddenly go from hundred-ninety kilograms to five hundred kilograms each?” you teased, smiling at them.

The two men gasped.

“(Y/N)-chan, how could you call me — and sweet, sweet Rosi here — fat?”

Rosinante nodded furiously, tears in his soft brown eyes.

“You’re the one who said a ton,” you said, lifting your eyebrows at Wulf.

“It’s a manner of speech from South Blue! Darn!”

You could feel Rosinante’s gaze on you.

“Wulf,” you said, staring at Rosinante; he was staring at you longingly, but was too polite to tell Wulf to leave. “We’ll hold a barbeque tomorrow if you leave in the next ten seconds.”

It didn’t take Wulf a single second to realise the meaning.

“Oh, I’m out the door, Mrs. Donquixote!” sang Wulf cheerily, giving you and Rosinante a wolfish grin, getting up from the couch, heading straight to the doors. “You know me and barbeque and my best friend! Can’t betray either of them!”

Rosinante blushed. “Thanks, Wulf. I’m getting you beer with that barbeque.”

“Don’t mention it, Rosi.” said Wulf. “Bye! Have fun, lovebirds!”

You and Rosinante waved Wulf away. The moment the doors shut, you and Rosinante broke the distance with a desparate, long kiss, your lips meeting. His large hands settled on your back, hugging you tight, and your own arms settled around his neck before burying into his soft, fluffy hair.

When you parted after numerous kisses, needing air, you whispered into his collarbone, “I hate your brother.”

“Why?” asked Rosinante, laughing. You leaned away from his chest, and looked up at him; Rosinante froze. He could see it. He could see how much you missed him, how much you worried for him; it was written all over your face.

“Because he’s keeping you from me,” you whispered, full of ache and longing.

Rosinante went quiet. Carefully, he grabbed your hips and settled you atop of him; it was your turn to gasp, to blush, to clutch him tight.

“I’m right here, mi amor,” he said, deep, warm brown eyes staring into yours. His fingers caressed your cheek, took your hand, brought it to his mouth, and placed a firm kiss on it, leaving a lipstick shape on your knuckle. He looked at you again, offering you a small, soft smile. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours for the next two days.”

You smiled, staring lovingly at him. You ran your fingers gently through his hair.

“Do you... like the couch?” Rosinante asked nervously.

“Yes, Rosinante,” you said softly, smiling at your husband. “I love the couch.”

Gently, Rosinante leaned down and kissed you again, uncaring for his lipstick; you found you rather loved getting lipstick marks from him, and ever since you’d told him such, he wasn’t as hesitant to kiss you with his make-up on.

You pulled your arms tighter around his head, pulling him down, the black feathers of his coat tickling your arms and face. You wanted him closer, until there was no space between you two. Gravity and weight did the rest, and you ended up laying on the softest couch you’d ever laid on. Rosinante fell atop you, bending his legs beside your thighs to support himself well enough to keep his weight from pressing into you, kissing you deeply. You sighed happily into his passionate lips, holding him tight, relieved he was back.

Rosinante’s lipstick tasted of roses.

It’s wrong, you think, staring wide-eyed at a man that doesn’t belong here, that shouldn’t be near you, that isn’t your husband. It’s all wrong.

Doflamingo’s slicked up, spiked up blond hair is the same colour as the bouquet of primroses sitting on his thigh. The blond spikes reminded you of a golden crown worn by a king.

His face was completely different from Rosinante’s; where Rosinante had round cheeks, Doflamingo had lean, sharp ones. Doflamingo also had a more narrow facial structure and chin than Rosinante. Some things were similar, so similar the resemblance deeply unsettled you. They both had the sharp, refined, thin nose, the strong jawline and beautiful lips. Their facial shape was different, giving entirely different impressions. Where Rosinante’s face was angelic and gentle — even boyish from some angles — in shape, fitting the picture of a kind, sweet prince charming, Doflamingo’s face was tough-looking, masculine and extremely aristocratic, painting the picture of a devilishly handsome mob boss or a cruel, cunning, ruthless king. Doflamingo’s forehead was bare, tanned, with furrow lines above his sunglasses.

Doflamingo’s entire appearance looked incredibly threatening and unfriendly. If you met him on the street, you would have kept away from him and shivered after he finally passed because of the air of danger surrounding him.

Draped over his broad shoulders, fluffy and humongous, covered with thousands of flamingo feathers, was his extravagant pink feather coat, spread along the white surface of your husband’s couch. You were used to the black feathers on the whiteness, not pink ones.

The change of colours startled you. Doflamingo was a malignant juxtaposition of colours that didn’t have a place in your home. Red and black instead of blue and white, pink feathers instead of black ones.

Doflamingo spoke.

“Don’t try to run, or call for help.”

Doflamingo’s voice was deep like thunder, commanding like a god’s, unsettling you deep to your core, your limbs freezing up with instinctual, animalistic fear.

Despite it, you bared your teeth at him, full of hatred and anger, because he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be sitting on Rosi’s couch, it was supposed to be Rosi sitting there, not…

Him!

“Otherwise, I’ll turn this entire island bloody.”

You don’t move. You don’t move a single inch, but your lungs lift and fall rapidly in absolute fear as you stare at the tall demon in terror.

Are you breathing?

You don’t know.

You can’t think about breathing, too busy frozen by terror.

“By that look, I suppose you know who I am,” he said conversationally, his dark, deep voice resounding all across the safe haven of your house which Rosinante’s soft laugh used to fill with warmth and comfort.

Doflamingo turned his head fully toward you, flashing you a sharp, malicious smile full of teeth.

You felt cold under the massive, powerful weight of his gaze. And small. So very, incredibly small.

How? How did he find out about you so quickly, how did he find out where you live?

The spy.

The damned spy.

If you ever meet that spy, you’ll strangle them.

Doflamingo was the kind of terrifying that would send you running, but you knew you wouldn’t make it far.

“You’re Donquixote Doflamingo.” you said shakily. Maybe you’re already dead, and this is hell, with your husband’s older brother as your assigned tormentor. “Captain of the Donquixote Pirates.”

“Yes. And you’re Donquixote (Y/N).” He said this with the nastiest, most evil smile, speaking the name Donquixote arrogantly and smugly, like the royal title of godhood he must see it as, and most likely didn’t consider someone like you worthy of. “My dead brother’s wife, and my sister-in-law. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Dead brother’s wife.

The words stung at your heart.

“Yes. Very nice.” you said with an impressive amount of politeness considering how much you loathed him. “I’d like you to leave now.”

Doflamingo burst out laughing; you jumped at the sound. He howled with laughter. He cackled, throwing his head back with a wheeze, bursting out into a full on raucous demonic laughter, loud and uproarious, the sound crescendoing into unnatural territory. The sound of his laugh made the hairs on your nape stand on end; it truly sounded like the laugh of an evil demon from the darkest, deepest pits of hell.

You didn’t know someone’s laughter could freeze you in terror, but here you were, proven wrong. You wished to never hear such a thing again. The sound of Doflamingo’s laughter would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Mmm…fufufufufu! Fufufufufufufufufu!”

You put down your grocery bag — slowly, because you weren’t a fool. Even if he was holding his stomach and trying to stifle his laughter with his hand over his grinning, stretched out mouth, you knew he was keeping you in his sights.

“You’re hilarious!” he chortled, gasping. “I haven’t… hahahahaha… laughed this hard since… I forgot!”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to be done laughing.

“It breaks my heart, you know.” he said conversationally, moving his tanned, long, large fingers around the air, crooking them like a puppeteer. You froze on instinct, all your limbs going stiff; your body’s misguided attempt not to be caught in the strings that could come out any time, like the concealed claws of a tiger.

You didn’t know where to look; at his face or his hands. Doflamingo was so big that if he weren’t five meters away from you, sitting on your couch, your eyes wouldn’t be able to see all of him within your range of eyesight.

Doflamingo knew you were watching. He used his fingers like a lure he knew people would fall for all too well, and he’d managed to hypnotize you with their movements, too, forcing your attention onto them without you realising.

“I wasn’t invited to the wedding,” he said, smile completely gone, and somehow, his downturned lips were worse.

What?

“He didn’t...” you started.

Speak, dammit.

Unfortunately, it’s hard when your lungs are barely grabbing in enough air. The pressure of his presence suffocated you.

“...want you there.”

Doflamingo’s chuckle is as dark and deep as his voice.

“Fufufu, I bet.” Doflamingo said. “Must’ve been paranoid I’d steal you away. In the end, I found you, anyway.”

He smiled again. It wasn’t a nice smile, nothing like Rosinante’s smile. It was the sort of evil, triumphant smile the devil smiled knowing he’d won.

“What do you want, Doflamingo?” you asked coldly, tone icy and full of restrained anger you fought to bury.

“What do I want?” he asked, and laughed again. He lounged back on the couch, the picture of arrogance. His entire body language told you the truth Rosinante’s been telling you since you met him — his older brother was an arrogant, overconfident asshole who thought he deserved the world because of what he was born as.

“For starters, I’d like you to come live with me,” said Doflamingo.

What?

Nevermind, you thought. He’s actually insane. He’s mentally unstable.

“I refuse,” you said firmly.

Doflamingo laughed again, startling you once more.

“That’s not how it works, though.” said Doflamingo through his chuckles, placing a hand on his bared forehead, continuing to giggle; he sounded like he needed to be admitted into a psych ward. His entire body shook with his amusement; his chest, his shoulders, the feathers of his coat swaying. “That’s not how it works at all, Mrs. Donquixote.”

What do you do? He’s not going to kill you? He wants you to come live with him? That sounds worse, so much worse.

Do you run? There’s no way. You can’t run. You’re barely forcing yourself to stand as it is, full of terror from being in Doflamingo’s mere presence, in the same room as him. If you try to run, you won’t get far. He’ll stop you with his strings, or just catch up to you in no time with his long legs that are longer than your entire body. Who knows what he’ll do to you if you try to run.

You still have the revolver in your back pocket. You need to get it. It’s the only chance you have.

You cast your eyes around the room in an attempt to find something to help you. What you noticed on the side table near the seat where Doflamingo sat, however, grabbed all your attention.

An empty plate with only chocolate syrup.

You knew what the plate had held.

Somehow… somehow, that little thing was the last straw. First he kills your husband, then he breaks into your house, and then, like he hadn’t already done enough, eats the pancakes you made like he’s got any right to them.

“Where are my pancakes?” you asked. You hated how weak your voice sounded.

“Ah,” said Doflamingo. “I ate them.”

“You...” Your brain was scrambling to make sense of it. “Ate my pancakes?”

Those pancakes were supposed to be your last meal, and the pink-feathered fucker couldn’t even leave that alone?

Doflamingo shoots you a grin, big and remorseless. “They were delicious.”

For a moment, you were flabbergasted by him. First, he killed your husband, broke into your house, and as a cherry on top, he decided to make himself at home and eat what was supposed to be your last meal. Had he not done enough to you? Did he enjoy twisting the knife? You were already dead inside. Now Doflamingo was just kicking your corpse for fun.

If you didn’t shoot him, you were going to smash his skull in to wipe that big, cocksure smile off his face.

But how... How to draw the gun without Doflamingo stopping you?

“Move his eyes,” said a calm voice, and you froze. It was Rosinante. Rosinante’s voice. You felt gosebumps on your spine; it felt like he was standing right beside you; your eyes filled with tears. “He needs to move his entire head away from you. His entire field of sight needs to be away from you. Distract him with something he wants, something he’ll immediately go to investigate. A sound, an object he’s looking for, a threat.”

Something he wants...

“There’s more in the fridge,” you said calmly, with the resignation of someone who could do nothing to stop someone like Doflamingo from doing whatever he wanted.

You didn’t even offer it. However, it was like how pirates were with treasure. Apparently, Doflamingo considered your pancakes delicious enough to treat them as such — like treasure — because he turned his head completely away from you, over his back, pivoting his body to the left to be able to fully look where the light blue kitchen was.

With immense speed, you pulled out the revolver hidden beneath your shirt, aimed it at him, and pulled down the safety hammer.

The moment the safety lock clicked, Doflamingo turned his head to you.

“Woah, woah!” he called, laughing again. “You’re that angry about the pancakes?”

He’s laughing. You’re aiming a gun at him, and the bastard is laughing. He killed his little brother, his little brother, he killed your husband, and he’s laughing.

He really is insane.

“Rosi was right,” you growled, fury and anger spitting past your lips, a snarl on your lips. “You are crazy.”

“Fufufufu! You’re the one aiming a gun at me, woman!” he said between his bouts of manic laughter.

“You’re the one with a devil fruit that can control and cut people, and the one who killed his brother, pirate.” you hissed.

Doflamingo smiled, sharp and wide, yet despite the smile, you couldn’t tell what was going through his head at all.

What now, Rosi?

“Start stepping back. Get out of there. Keep your pistol pointed at him. Do NOT look away from him.”

You could do none of those things. You knew you should, but you couldn’t. If you did those things, if you ran away, you wouldn’t be able to look at Rosinante in heaven. It felt like it would be the greatest dishonor to him.

“How about you lower the gun?” asked Doflamingo.

The way he said that pissed you off. Like he was talking to a pet that decided to try to bite him when he went to pick it up.

“How about you burn in hell, you piece of shit?” you growled, baring your teeth like a wild, wounded animal at the predator circling you.

You didn’t know how to fight. You didn’t have a Devil Fruit. All you had was this gun in your hands, the grief welling in your eyes, stinging in the shape of tears, and your angrily beating, shattered heart in your chest.

“(Y/N), run! Run, run, run!”

Doflamingo gritted his teeth. “It’s not my fault he’s dead.”

You feel a vein on your forehead snap.

“Huh?” you growled, baring your teeth.

“It’s not my fault he’s dead,” he said firmly, angrily, as though he didn’t do it, as though he didn’t shoot him. As though he was innocent.

“Rosinante died because he was weak.” Doflamingo sneered in disgust. “Because he had that same dumb worldview like our father, believing he was human. He let his stupid emotions and misguided, worthless sense of justice interfere, and betrayed me.”

You saw red. Red like blood stains on clothes, leaking on white snow. Red like flames enveloping a city, eating away at every building and life they touch. Red like the lipstick Rosinante wore.

All the fear vanished from your blood.

“You. You bastard. Shut it.” Your voice was different. Cold. Enraged. Deadly. Full of hatred. Your eyes were full of icy fury, your face cold and expressionless. You were ready to kill him, and you wouldn’t feel a thing when you did. “Don’t talk about my husband.”

“Why are you angry?” asked Doflamingo. “I’m only telling you what happened.”

“You're not,” you said, your heart shaking in your ribcage. “That’s not what happened. You’re badmouthing him. I know what happened.”

“Do you?” he asked, frowning. “My brother betrayed me. He betrayed me. He stabbed me in the back, he nearly destroyed my entire life. What part of that isn’t getting through to your head?”

“Lower that gun,” he ordered, sneering, the command making you momentarily freeze. Your muscles nearly obeyed him before you got a grip on them. “I’ve had enough of my family pointing guns at me.”

Your hackles raised. Doflamingo was not your family.

Doflamingo stared you down with such a cold-hearted, apathetic expression you felt your stomach drop, as though trying to escape from that heartless gaze. You could see yourself in the crimson lenses of his sunglasses.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” Doflamingo said, frowning at you, frightening and intimidating all at once; he looked angry with you, offended by the perceived weakness he thought you held, which infuriated you further. “You’re just like your husband.”

Rage brewed inside you. You never knew such a storm was possible for a person to feel. You hated hearing his voice. You hated hearing him badmouth Rosinante.

To you, Rosinante was the very very strongest. To you, Rosinante was the most kindest, bravest, fiercest man in the entire world. Doflamingo didn’t hold a candle to Rosinante.

“He’s baiting you.” Rosinante sounded panicked; he sounded scared. “He wants you inside here. Don’t let him. Get out. Get out and run!”

You put your other trembling hand on the grip of the revolver, glaring at him, your grip steady around the gun, staring at the man who killed your husband.

“Do you want to stake your life on it?” you asked in a deadly calm, cold voice; it didn’t sound like your own. It sounded heartless.

“Before you shoot me…” said Doflamingo slowly. “Do you want to know how he died?”

Your breath hitched.

“Your husband died alone,” said Doflamingo calmly, the red-orange lenses of his sunglasses reflecting you. He was not smiling, his frown deeper and deeper, angrier and angrier. “He died cold and alone, buried in his own blood, lying in the snow.”

Your eyes blurred with tears holding the memories of Rosinante, your lips quivering from the lack of his lips’ warmth on yours, your teeth gritted in a vicious snarl, your knuckles turning white how tightly you clenched the grip of the gun.

Rosinante’s voice came back to you, the last words he said to you, and you remembered all of him, of his smiling face and warm, loving eyes as he said...

“I love you!”

Rosinante couldn’t press the trigger because he loved Doflamingo. In the end, no matter what Doflamingo did, to Rosinante, he was still his older brother.

That’s why Rosinante couldn’t press the trigger.

But you can.

You will.

It frightens you how easily you can pull the trigger with Doflamingo on the other side of the barrel.

You have nothing but pure hatred for Doflamingo. To you, Doflamingo is nothing but your husband’s murderer.

That’s why you didn’t hesitate, didn’t linger, or felt any guilt at all.

You pulled the trigger.

The bang of the gunshot filled your ears, but you didn’t care. You didn’t stop with one press of the trigger, ignoring the whiplash in your arm given by the gunshot. You pressed the trigger five more times, in quick succession, filling the house with five more deafening, explosive bangs rending through the air, aiming the barrel at Rosinante’s older brother.

You hear Doflamingo click his tongue. A glimpse of strings shimmering under the light catch your gaze, a sound of wires, Doflamingo moving his hand —

The bullets, which were the size of a peanut, clattered to the ground together with your gun, both in pieces.

Doflamingo lowered his hand. You had only seen him swing his fingers in a slashing motion, barely able to follow the swift movement of the red sleeve and glove with your eyes, but you were sure he cut the bullets into numerous tiny fragments.

Doflamingo’s cold look never wavered, his face never twitched to show a single sign of panic. There was no hesitation or fear in him before or after cutting the bullets into tiny shreds. He just sat there with his usual calm presence.

“Did Corazón teach you how to shoot?” A dark smile split across his face, more a sneer than a smile. “Too bad it won’t work on me.”

You stared at him, and he stared right back.

“Are you done now?” he asked, rough tone both deceptively curious and mocking in its amusement, the scythe-shaped grin pasted on his strong face.

“What do you want?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I told you what I want.”

“And I told you,” you hissed, breathing hard. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Are you hiding anything else from me?” Doflamingo asked you.

“I don’t have anything else,” you said, knowing you were lying.

“Is that what we’re going to do?” Doflamingo asked. His tone wasn’t mocking, but sharp and direct, unforgiving in a rough, terrible way, his smile gone, the sight of his frown turning your blood to ice; you feel like you’re going to throw up from fear. “You’re going to lie to me, just like your stupid husband did?”

You opened your mouth to reply, to tell him to go throw himself into the sea…

“Purupurupurupuru.”

You froze, your eyes widening.

Doflamingo’s frown fell into a deeper one. He stared at you in dead, terrible, lethal silence. You never knew someone could look so mad without saying a single word.

Damn it.

“Purupurupuru… purupururupurupuru…”

Damn it!

Wulf must be calling. He must have gotten a ship.

“Unbelievable,” said Doflamingo with a sigh, his merlot suit deflating with his chest, his voice full of disappointment as the snail continued to ring.

“Pull it out, then.” said Doflamingo, sounding resigned in his dissapointment.

You didn’t want to test your luck anymore. You pulled out the snail. Your breath hitched when a string latched onto it and it came flying into the space between Doflamingo’s fingers.

“Look at that,” said Doflamingo, holding the tiny white-blue snail, his tone oozing with patronizing superiority. He spoke to you with such thick condescension, it pissed you off more and more. “A transponder snail. A marine one at that.”

It looked like a chocolate bar between Doflamingo’s long fingers. The transponder snail was still ringing.

Another sound of wires — no, they sounded like the pulled taut strings moving across the surface — and you watched, helpless, wide-eyed, as the snail was cut to pieces.

Doflamingo let it go, discarding its slimy remains on the floor.

A small gasp left your lips, your eyes stinging with tears for the small snail that had done no harm. It was the snail Rosinante had given you before he went on his mission. The snail was a life, a living creature, and Doflamingo killed it. He could have shut it off and put it on the table, but he killed it.

All to teach you some sort of lesson about not lying to him.

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him with hatred which grew more fiercer by the second.

“You want to test me again?” he asked dangerously, his smile gone, veins throbbing on his forehead. “Maybe the next thing I cut to pieces is this house.”

Your heart stopped.

“Me telling you what I came here for, that I’d like you to come live with me...” said Doflamingo, staring at you. “That was me asking. That was me being chivalrous. Showing manners. Showing you respect, which you keep failing to show me.”

“You don’t deserve my respect,” you spat hatefully. “And I don’t want your false chivalry.”

Doflamingo’s brows furrowed.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I won’t ask this time. Do you know how it looks like when I don’t ask, darling?”

His voice was still so terribly condescending, but now it was darker, turning more malicious, more cold.

“Let’s see…” said Doflamingo coldly. “You can come with me quietly, or you can try to fight me.”

Fuck you.

“If you resist… I’ll kill every single person on this island.”

Obey or people will die.

“The choice is yours.”

The choice was not yours. All you could choose was whether he would hurt everyone or not. It was a choice, but it was a shit one, and you knew it.

The smile Doflamingo smiled was dark and giddy, almost delighted by the prospect of you saying no, of you giving him a reason to use his powers. Like he wanted to carnage another island, as casual as going for a walk and buying groceries.

This wasn’t what you signed up for. You signed up for death, not life.

But you couldn’t let people die. You had friends here. There were families here. And what would saying no do? Doflamingo would grab you and take you either way. It would be better to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone.

“I’ll come,” you forced through your trembling voice. “Don’t... Kill anyone.”

If you could protect the island from Doflamingo’s murderous whims and tendencies by obeying and not fighting, you’d do it.

“Fufufu… What a reasonable little sister-in-law I have. Cute, too.”

Your skin crawled uncomfortably.

Doflamingo took the primroses off his lap and offered them to you.

“For you. To cheer you up.”

You didn't want to accept them.

Just do it. Just take them.

You clenched your teeth. You just had to do it. You reached forward and took the bouquet from him.

“Thank you,” you said.

That caught Doflamingo off guard. His frown fell away, his browline and forehead relaxing, his downturned lips parting slightly.

A small smile quirked on Doflamingo’s lips; it unnervingly reminded you of Rosinante's small smiles, the kinds he smiled in secret with you, when you told him something that made him happy, or the first time he’d given you the same flowers and you were overjoyed to get them, as they were your favourite.

How did Doflamingo know these were your favourite? Did he pick them randomly? You didn’t know, and you decided you didn’t want to know.

“Can I bring my —” His deep voice cuts you off, “No.”

“Why?”

“Your clothes aren’t good enough,” Doflamingo said.

You were too tired to try to make sense of that.

“No, that’s... why don’t you kill me?”

“You have nothing to do with the marines, or my brother’s failed mission,” said Doflamingo. “I checked.”

“I work for the Navy,” you said.

Doflamingo waved it off. “Civilian servants work for everyone, that doesn’t make them loyal to the institution they happen to be employed in.”

You frowned.

“Do you want me to kill you?” asked Doflamingo.

“Honestly?” you ask, feeling like there are a thousand worlds of weight on your shoulders, the emptiness in your chest spreading more and more. “Yes.”

The demon in red chuckled. “I see. I’m not going to kill you. And nobody else is, either.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Fufufu... I’m sure, little one.”

Doflamingo stood up from the couch, standing at his full height, and you felt your gut drop.

Doflamingo was huge, standing above three meters of height. You were used to huge men — Rosinante was huge himself after all, and both brothers had the exact same lanky build — but the way Doflamingo held himself upright, with class and confidence, gave him an air of intimidation you never experienced with your husband, whose legs were taller than your entire body. The same went for your brother-in-law; you were quite below his waistline. And he was taller than Rosinante; you noticed it just by looking at him. With Doflamingo, you were left staring eye-to-eye with vivid merlot suit pants, above his knees. As you did with Rosinante when he stood close to you, you tilted your head upward to look at his brother. Fear struck you.

You stepped back from him.

(You never stepped back from Rosinante in all the years you’ve known him.)

Idiot. Don’t step away.

It was too late for that now. The damage was done.

The pink feathers of his coat brushed the couch as he approached you. His face looked heartless and cold, looking down at you with a condescending arrogance, like you were a pebble that got in his way.

“Well? Won’t you greet your brother-in-law properly?”

What?

“Tch,” he said, annoyed. “You’re a translator, but you don’t know the Dressrosan greeting custom?”

“I know the custom,” you said, glaring up at him. The Dressrosan greeting custom for women when greeting men and men greeting women in family interactions were cheek kisses, one on the right cheek and one on the left cheek. “I just don’t want to do it with you.”

Doflamingo chuckled, putting his gloves back on, slipping his fingers into them. “Too bad.”

He bent down to be at your height, and his hand grasped your face. His fingers could easily wrap around your head and crush it; his palm was bigger than your face.

His face got close to yours.

You stopped breathing. You froze. You could see your own face reflected in the sunglasses now. Doflamingo’s face got closer, and you clenched your eyes shut, your entire body tensing up.

Doflamingo kissed your right cheek, then your left cheek; his lips were soft and warm. The smell of his cologne enveloped you; a fresh, clean scent of coconuts and salt.

“Now you,” he said, tapping his right cheek, grinning at you devilishly, the painting of arrogance. “Right here. And then the other one.”

He even turned his head to the side, offering you his right cheek to make it easier for you.

Oh, you never wanted to slap a man as much as you wanted to slap Doflamingo in that moment.

You inhaled, gathering your guts, and kissed him on his right cheek, then on his left. It was neither quick or slow, but the usual tempo of the greeting, the same speed he’d done it with — though his had been slower, most likely to freak you out.

His cheeks were warm, his skin smooth and soft under your lips, and you could feel the way his cheeks stretched with his smile.

You leaned back, fighting back from wiping your lips on your arm.

“Give me a hug.”

What the hell?!

Before you could react in any way, Doflamingo hugged you under the arms, crossed his long arms over each other on your back, his large hands covering half of your upper back, and hugged you tight, cradling you to him until your face was smushed against his red tie. The fabric of his black dress shirt was soft and smooth as your breasts pressed to his broad, strong chest. He settled his head on your left shoulder, and that was that.

It was a nightmare. You were absolutely horrified. You didn’t move; you couldn’t. You were too numbed by shock.

You felt his right pinky finger lift from your back, and before you knew it, your frozen arms started lifting, going under Doflamingo’s arms.

My arms...

No. you thought, realising what was happening. You hadn’t even felt the string, how...

No no no no —

The next instinct that came to you was to break free. You could feel your arms, and you tried to tug them, move them, but it wasn’t working. They were moving on their own. It made no sense. Your brain was telling your arms to move away, you even attempted to jerk the muscles but it was like your bones themselves were under the control of Doflamingo's string.

You couldn’t control your arms. You couldn’t control your arms!

They slid around Doflamingo’s back, gliding across his suit before wrapping completely around him — you could feel how strong he was, could feel the thick muscles on his back — and squeezing him to you. You felt the feathers on the inside of his coat brush against your palm and fingers. Your fingers, which Doflamingo controlled to clench around the fabric of his suit, holding him tight.

Doflamingo hummed; it sounded like the sound a person made when they were having a nice dream.

You were on the verge of a panic attack. He was close, intimately close, far too close, so close you could feel his chest rise and fall as he breathed, so close you felt the thump of his heartbeat against your breast. You were small and tiny against him; he completely enveloped you.

Breathe. Breathe. Calm down. It’ll only get worse if you panic. Breathe. Just breathe.

You tried to move other parts of your body. You blinked, you breathed through your nose, you cast your eyes around the room, you parted and closed your lips. There were no weird thoughts going on in your head, and your heartbeat seemed... as fine as a heartbeat could be when the most dangerous pirate in North Blue was hugging you.

Doflamingo couldn’t control your facial expressions, or anything on your face. He couldn’t control your eyes. He couldn’t control your heart, your mind, or your soul.

All he could control was your body. But that was already terrible enough.

Doflamingo sighed through his nose, the flutter of his breath caressing against your neck, tickling your skin. “See? This is what you do when you see your brother-in-law.”

“A nice -”

This was not nice. It did not feel nice. It felt like a cage more than an embrace. Doflamingo was squeezing you to him like you were his new favourite, human-sized teddy bear.

“— warm —”

This was not warm! You felt cold, like you were surrounded by a thick, impenetrable wall of ice which would make you bleed if you tried to move out of the embrace. You were shaking so much you forgot to breathe.

“— hug.”

Help! you prayed to whatever god existed, begging for salvation, tears stinging at your eyes, your heart thudding fearfully in your chest. All the anger you managed to gather was gone, replaced by the cold, massive sense of fear.

Doflamingo was going to crush your bones, your organs, your muscles. You didn’t think it was possible to squeeze someone to death, but you were starting to believe a man of his size could do it without trouble.

The Demon of North Blue leaned to your ear. His hand slid up your body, cradling the back of your head; your head was like a small ball in his grasp.

“I’m going to pick you up,” his voice was deep and warm against your ear; you fought back from whimpering at the closeness of his mouth to your skin. “And you’re going to be a good little sister-in-law and stay quiet. We’re going to head out, and you won’t squirm. You won’t make a single sound. And if you do that, I won’t touch this house, or this island, or its people.”

“Yes, sir.” you said before you realised what words you were saying, the instinct from work kicking in all because of Doflamingo’s commanding, authoritative tone. The moment you realised what you said, you were horrified. Your face burned with shame.

It wasn’t your fault. Doflamingo’s was the sort of voice and tone people naturally obeyed to.

Doflamingo huffed disapprovingly. “Not ‘sir’. Doffy.”

Your stomach sunk. No. No, you couldn’t call him that. That was how Rosinante called him, because they were brothers. You couldn’t just call him that.

Rosinante had asked you to call him Rosi a month after you started dating.

“It’s how…” Rosinante’s thumb drew more circles on your palm; he was stumbling over his words slightly, a pink blush rising to his cheeks. “The people dear to me call me… so… if you want to… you can call me Rosi.”

At his request, you’d called him Rosi — it sounded so cute to you, and you loved how it felt to say it — and after that, he blushed, fell to the ground, and started rolling on the grass of Marineford Park while giggling and kicking his long feet.

“Aaaa! I can’t! It’s so cute!” he opened his palms, revealing his reddened, smiling face; he was smiling from ear to ear, gazing at you with those big brown eyes of his. “Call me Rosi again, please!”

You giggled. Rosinante was so wonderful; he looked so happy, his smile was so infectious you started smiling too.

“Rosi,” you whispered lovingly.

Rosinante let out a squeaky sound in his throat. He went back to rolling on the ground to try to cool off his heated body.

Then, suddenly, Rosinante stopped moving. When you turned to check on him, he was bleeding out of his nose. A lot. So much it was getting on his collar.

“Help!” you called, and as the park was filled with people who worked in the Navy, medics and marines in civilian clothing came running to help you. “My boyfriend’s gonna die!”

You could move your hands and arms normally again. You didn't even feel the strings let you go.

Dressing like a gentleman does not mean being one. Doflamingo, in no polite terms, manhandled you like a brute. He picked you up by wrapping his immense hand around your wrist, his long fingers completely encircling your arm, the width of his hand so large it covered your forearm. Without giving you a warning, he lifted you off the ground - you yelped when the solid ground vanished beneath your feet.

Doflamingo settled his gloved hand beneath your curled knees, his arm wrapped around your body like a wing, the back of your head resting in the crook of his elbow. You felt like a puppy being carried like this.

Doflamingo exited through the doors, climbed down the staircase of the porch, and then looked up at the sky. Now that he was in the sunlight, his hair really was the exact same colour as the bouquet of yellow primroses you held.

Doflamingo didn’t warn you before he launched into the sky, his left arm firmly keeping you in place beneath his chest.

You let out a shriek as you ascended up into the sky, the ground getting further and further away until it looked like a terrain on a map in books. Your left arm flailed for purchase out of panic, on instinct, grabbing onto the closest support; his red suit jacket.

Before you knew it, before you could process it, you were high up in the sky, the sea passing by in a blue blur beneath you, the wind gathered by Doflamingo’s flying movements pushing into your face and waving your hair around.

Understandably, you screeched again.

Doflamingo laughed.

“You screech like a canary, fufufu!” he said, his chest shaking with his laughter.

Your entire body clenched up and froze, your eyes closing shut. You thought you weren’t afraid of heights. You were definitely afraid of flying, it seemed, because that was height and moving quickly over a large height.

You wondered how quickly the marines would figure out you got kidnapped.

It wasn’t anything new. Pirates always targeted a marine’s family and spouses, especially if they were civilians. A team would be sent out to find you. Unfortunately, you didn’t leave any signs of struggle, but the next rule of action would be to call your personal transponder snail, which you were to keep at your side at all times. The transponder snail Doflamingo sliced into bits. At least that would alert the marines something happened to you.

Wulf would know. Your plan worked. Wulf had free reign to find Law while Doflamingo had wasted his time travelling to get you.

You let out the breath you’d been holding.

The chuckle reached your ears, his chest rumbling with the sound. “Look who’s breathing.”

You flick your eyes open.

“You could’ve… warned me,” you said, wondering whether he heard you over the wind his movements created. Your mouth felt dry.

“Now where would the fun in that be, little canary?” he asked with a sly smile, the wind ruffling at his blond slicked up hair, pushing at the pink feathers of his coat; they looked like the flapping wings of a flamingo.

Something stirs in the void of your chest. It feels like anger. Or something close to it.

“The fun in that would be that I wouldn’t hold my breath for an hour, cuñado.” you say in full Dressrosan.

Doflamingo makes a slight, barely audible sound of surprise. He tilts his chin down at you, surprise on his face as you frown up at him. Then, he grins, and you think you may have made a grave mistake.

“My cute little sister-in-law knows Dressrosan.”

“Translator, remember?” you said.

Doflamingo was too busy grinning down at you like you gifted him the best birthday present he could ask for, offering a simple hum instead. You wondered how his cheeks didn’t ache from smiling so wide.

“Fufufu! Guess we have our secret language, then.” he says, switching effortlessly back to Common, just like you did seconds prior.

Getting kidnapped by a pirate wearing a full formal red suit like a wealthy businessman is one thing. Being carried in the aforementioned pirate’s arm as he flies through the sky over the sea is completely another. That pirate being your brother-in-law who your husband died to protect you and Law from was just the cherry on top.

“While we’re here, I’ll tell you about the family,” said Doflamingo. “You need to know about them.”

Family? What a joke. Doflamingo killed his real family.

“I know you have three top executives, Trebol, Diamante, and Pica. I know you have officers, and I know you have apprentices. There’s the underlings, too, but they’re not part of the family.”

“Corazón’s been running his mouth, huh?” asked Doflamingo. You felt your face grow pale. Doflamingo chuckled. “Well, that’s fine. It’s nice to know he actually talked about me in some way to you.”

“You might know about them, but you don’t know them. You should make your own judgement, not depend on my little brother’s subjective view.”

Doflamingo flashed you another of his wide smiles. You had to admit, with it on, he lost that rough, ruthless look. He looked handsome in a devilish, charming way, like a ruffian.

Instead of the smile soothing you or making you drop your guard, it made you feel deeply uneasy; there was something wrong about his smile. It didn’t feel like a smile. More like an evil grin.

You glared at him. Why on earth would you want to know about criminals who kill people, plunder and destroy cities without any sense of remorse or thought to how many lives they ruin?

“Let’s see,” said Doflamingo thoughtfully. “I’ll start with Lao G. He’s the oldest among us. He likes to make puns with words containing the letter g, and is a martial arts master…”

“Please drop me,” you begged hoarsely.

Doflamingo guffawed, the wind pushing at his blond hair, his raucous laughter carrying across the sky.

“Then there’s Giolla. You’ll love Giolla. Everyone loves Giolla. She loves art, and she’s great at making clothes.”

You braced yourself for a long, tiring flight of Doflamingo talking about his crew.

Rosinante… you thought, fighting not to cry. You didn’t say your brother loves to talk!

***

A/N: Just fyi, Doflamingo was being condescending because man was jealous, seething with jealousy, and you know, bcs he's an asshole and likes to play with his prey. This is the only time he will speak like this to Reader. North Blue Doffy is quite calm in speech but also commanding - you know he means business. It's just how he talks, which makes it harder for anyone to tell how he actually feels which is the fun part about North Blue Doffy. He can look at you like he's bored by you but is actually deep in thought planning your wedding. The moment Reader walked in, Doflamingo's heart skipped a beat. Love at first sight. He is also quite angry with Rosinante for not fucking telling him he has a wife, and not fucking asking him to be his best man - Rosinante might as well have shot him instead, it would have hurt Doflamingo less! In short, this is the only time Doffy will speak THIS patronizingly to Reader. I mean, he'll taunt, he'll act like the "man of the house" but it won't be so rough considering how this first time got. Guy's going through his emotions in his own way. Current emotion - seething with jealousy cus goddamn Corazón is a lucky bastard and how could he leave such a sweet thing like you while also absolutely adoring Reader cus the woman actually took the shot, and not just one but ALL THE SHOTS. That did it for him. Doflamingo adores you now. Good luck.

Some fun Japanese words for my fellow Sub fans:

義兄 (gikei) - brother-in-law (especially older brother of your spouse) -> word Doflamingo uses for himself when referring to himself to Reader, if he says "your brother-in-law" it is "omae no gikei"

otouto no tsuma - "(younger) brother’s wife"

義妹 (gimai) - younger sister-in-law, a more archaic formal word in Japanese, how Doflamingo refers to Reader when talking to her/about her, "my sister-in-law" would be "ore no gimai"

Japanese section, done! 👍🏻

[amarantoestrella]

I never play tag games but here’s my attempt at the WIPS tag! Thank you @dyeher for taking interest in my cabinet of curiosities 🫶🏻

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have wips!

Disclaimer: I am insane and just write out random ideas in my drafts. So nothing is filed/named but I will give a general description without giving too much away.

Fratboy! Crossover AU 1-3

Part 1: Based off of this. I just truly and wholeholedy believe this man is able to cum obscene amounts of semen.

Part 2: Vrgin killer! Rindou Haitani is also in the same frat as three loads Gojo!

Part 3: Choso’s pledge story in which he has to lose his virginity during rush week in order to join the frat!

Farmer! Draken

My beloved. I just want to write him so madly in love with you that it drives him mad! He pines, he builds you a home, he keeps you there forever.. at all costs. Sigh. What a man.

Single father! Rindou meets single mother! Reader:

Rindou has a lot of one night stands, resulting in a baby on his doorstep and Ran tearing him another ass. He does his best to raise his daughter Ryoko… but growing up is tough to navigate and when reader notices her own daughter’s lunches are being “shared” with a classmate leaving her starving by the time she gets home from school.. well let’s say Rindou learns all about how mothers don’t take anything light when it comes to her children.

Sex with Inui on a mechanic creeper

That’s it that’s the tweet. I just want to be his little wife who takes him lunch and can’t resist riding him when he rolls out from under which ever one of Kokonoi’s expensive toys he’s working on.

Alpha! Gojo

I shouldn’t write this but I would burn cities to the ground if that meant his knot could get stuffed inside of me.

Organ broker! Shuji Hanma

Nothing just Hanma being Hanma.. until you and your pretty brown eyes come round and make him start feeling like he cares about ethics.

Up next: @xythlia @souyaszn 🫶🏻

[norrisainz33]

friend of a friend || MV33

☆ summary: max meets his dream girl through his friends good friend, pato o’ward

☆ pairing: max verstappen x mexican!reader

☆ fc & warnings: gala montes & poorly translated spanish and slightly suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for requesting and apologies for the delay 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynuser, redbullracing, schecoperez, charlesleclerc and 547,936 others

maxverstappen1: enjoying some much needed sun and relaxation before we head to vegas 😴

view all 999 comments

user1: max i’ll meow if you need another cat

user2: i’m sorry who in the heck is in the last slide

user4: is he soft launching rn??? at a time like this???

user6: so this is why he still looks happy despite rbr woes

user7: is that his girlfriend?!

user8: max please give us the tea

user9: f1gossip im begging you to figure out who this is

redbullracing: happy you’re getting some r&r max 🤍

ynuser: mi novio es tan bonito [my boyfriend is so pretty]

[liked by maxverstappen1]

user9: now hold up ….. who is this and why did max like

f1gossip: taking note of this interaction

user12: ugh she’s private so we can’t even snoop but she’s followed by pato and elba oward, carlos, rebecca, rbr and checo

user13: this is pato and elba’s childhood friend!!! she’s good friends with them

user12: everyone say thank you user13

user3: the shirtless photos?? the soft launch??? how am i supposed to be normal

charlesleclerc: 👀

user4: i’m gonna miss ur fine ass when i scroll

user5: sometimes you just gotta say damn and move on

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

[staying here forever]

view all story replies

yourbff: in monaco???? no gracias. you can’t leave me like that 😭

ynuser: yes monaco!! it is so beautiful 🥹

yourbff: you’re not just saying that because of a certain man?

ynuser: oh no i am saying that bc of a certain man 😮‍💨 he is a dream come true bestie

yourbff: ugh do elba and pato have any other hot millionaire friends they could set me up with???

ynuser: i’ll ask them im sure they do

yourbff: preferably one who’s name rhymes with pranko dolapinto

ynuser: HAHAHA mi amiga

carlossainz55: te gusta monaco? [you like monaco?]

ynuser: yes!! i love it. you, me, rebecca and max should grab dinner one night while im here!!

carlossainz55: i’d love that

maxverstappen1: you can always move 🤷🏻‍♂️

ynuser: maybe one day 🤔

elbaoward: my work here is done 🥹

ynuser: you are a magician. how’d you know we were perfect for each other?

elbaoward: bc i know my best friend 🤍

ynuser: te amo elba 🫶🏻

redbullracing: can’t wait to see you in vegas!

patriciooward has made a post

liked by ynuser, elbaoward, yourbff, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 321,345 others

patriciooward: gentle mornings with my hermanas

view all 223 comments

user12: oh max is in the likes 👀

ynuser: why do you insist on picking the worst photos

patriciooward: it’s my brand

elbaoward: 💁🏻‍♀️

maxverstappen1: send me the last pic

patriciooward: done!

ynuser: PATO wtf

user12: user13 you were right

user1: oh to have gentle mornings with pato 😭

user3: i love that he calls y/n his sister too

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, carlossainz55, iamrebeccad, patriciooward, and 313 others

ynuser: la vida últimamente [life lately]

view all 22 comments

yourbff: ugh the red hair suits you

ynuser: i agree 🥹

maxverstappen1: prettiest girl in the whole world

ynuser: mi amor 🥹 i love you 🤍

maxverstappen1: te amo

elbaoward: the spanish 😭🥹🩷

maxverstappen1: i’m working on it!

iamrebeccad: dinner last night was so fun. let’s do it again 🤍

ynuser: i’d love that!! see you in vegas darling

patriciooward: oh so you’ll post but not answer my texts

ynuser: yes exactly

friend1: hermosa chica [beautiful girl]

maxverstappen1 has posted to his story

view all story replies

user2: max emilian the man that you are

user4: screaming crying throwing up. i can’t believe he’s off the market

ynuser: my man my man my man 😍

maxverstappen1: that’s me baby

ynuser: thanks for inviting me to vegas with you

maxverstappen1: schjate you’re invited everywhere with me. i never want to be without you

ynuser: omg you big softie

charlesleclerc: oh she’s got you dressing up now too?

maxverstappen1: i want to look nice for my girl what can i say

charlesleclerc: oh he’s in love

maxverstappen1: 🤭 maybe

user5: i ! can’t believe you’re not wearing skinny jeans. the power she must have

schecoperez: i like this girl 😉

maxverstappen1: me too

user6: the emoji???????? max i’m speechless who are you

ynuser has added multiple stories 🔒

view all story replies

yourbff: god you’re gorgeous. have so much fun at the race baby

ynuser: thank you bebe. vegas is amazing - i am having the best time

yourbff: living vicariously through you 🥹

maxverstappen1: you have no business looking this good especially when there’s nothing i can do about it 😫

ynuser: win me the race and you can have me as a prize later 😉

maxverstappen1: you got it baby

elbaoward: are you in red bull hospitality??? come to mclaren i want to see youuuuu

ynuser: yes i’m in red bull but will cross enemy lines for you gorgeous

patriciooward: hermana donde estas? [sister where are you?]

ynuser: omw patito

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 7,234 others

f1gossip: in an interview earlier today max confirmed his relationship with, y/n y/l/n. y/n is childhood friends with elba and pato o’ward and it turns out that the siblings introduced max and y/n in miami earlier this season. the pair hit it off immediately according to max and “it was the closest thing to love at first sight he’d ever experienced.” she’s in attendance today at the grand prix! let us know if you get the chance to meet her and if there’s any further intel you get

view all 271 comments

user1: ohhhhh max 🥹

user2: this interview melted my heart. he looked so genuinely happy to be talking about her

user7: i love seeing him happy

user3: i’m obsessed with them already. perhaps my new favorite wag

user4: love at first sight???? i’m not crying! you are!!

user6: the way max also talked about trying to learn spanish for her because she’s mexican and how he’s also trying to teach her some of his language too 🥹😭

user8: this is the sweetest thing. that is true love idc what any of yall say

user5: i hope a love like this finds me one day

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynuser, yourbff, schecoperez, alex_albon, patriciooward, and 645,123 others

maxverstappen1: vegas you were a fun one - thanks for having me and y/n/n!

view all 546 comments

user2: y/n/n 😭

user4: crying my eyes out

user6: yayyy maxie!!! glad to see you on the podium again

ynuser: te amo mucho vegas 🤍

maxverstappen1: and you te amo mucho me too right?

ynuser: omg yes maxie. i love you endlessly

user14: SIMP

user15: max asking for validation has done something to me.

charlesleclerc: great drive max!

patriciooward: take care of my girl ok?

maxverstappen1: you got it pato! no need to worry

redbullracing: our champion 💪🏻

user8: jealousy isn’t cute on me but here we are

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!! reblogs, feedback and likes are very appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[satoruhour]

Just thought of something FREAKY in class… Single father Satoru looking for a babysitter and you’re looking for a side income during semester break and the tension goes crazy!!!! “We should’t be doing this my son will wake up” I’M GONNA SCREAMMMM

BLISS, PURE BLISS

a/n: happy new year LMFAOOO. thank you for all the asks btw i promise ill answer them asap 🥹 / @shotorus @osaemu @shidouryusm @mysugu @hyomagiri ♱

wc: 6.4k

warnings: ‘onee-san’ used but more of just addressing reader as an older figure because saying babysitter is kinda weird lol (kind of like how chinese people use 姐姐 even if they are not related), fem!reader, dilf!gojo, age gap (gojo in his late 30s, reader in mid-20s), angst if u squint, bit of slow burn n tension, making out, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, praise, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, multiple rounds, consensual filming, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“no fucking way . .” you mumble mostly to yourself, standing in front of the largest house of the gated community in roppongi, and while you knew the people here were excessively and obnoxiously rich, you’re never quite prepared until you’re getting a key card specifically mailed to your name just so you could enter.

you’re not even shameful when you take a video to send to your best friends, locking your screen almost immediately because you knew you’d never get to the job on time if you replied to them. with calculated steps, you’re walking up the house that’s designed with a modern structure, yet still retaining characteristics of a traditional japanese home. it’s less prominent at the front of the house, though.

“(y/n)-san, was it?” a voice startles you out of your ogling sessions. if the garden was already this nice, what would be in store for you when you went in? you’ll be finding out soon when your employer himself opens the door to you, a man with striking white hair and equally striking blue eyes that seem to look right into you. he’s dressed in a suit, probably no doubt ready to get to work while you’re out here taking your time. you cringe, immediately walking up to the door.

“y-yes! yes, i’m sorry sir, i was just uhm—”

he holds that intimidating stare just for a moment but then he breaks into a smile that mirrors the bright sun that shines down on the porch.

“it’s alright . . it’s not everyday you’re working at some rich guy’s house, right?” he jokes but that strikes a little ick into you — he’s already ticking the boxes of obnoxious and excessively rich, but you hate the effect he’s having on you.

“yeah . . no, i guess,” he hums in reply before sticking a hand out.

“gojo satoru,” he introduces himself, “call me anything but that sir shit, alright, doll?”

you nod obediently, trying not to let the little pet name get to your head because he probably does this to any babysitter who comes through the house, but either way, he’s welcoming you in and it’s like you step into a world unreal. it’s spotless, the floors shining under the sunlight, a large television in the living room, a spacious open concept dining-kitchen area, and this is just the first floor.

gojo takes his time to show you the house — where his kid’s toys were, where the food was, where the bathrooms and bedrooms were, it was never-ending. every step you took made you feel like you were walking the length of the nile, each turn only revealing more rooms and corridors.

and then, finally, his baby boy.

“he’s a cheeky one, takes after his dad,” even with all the cockiness he’s shown to you, you can tell he has a soft spot for his kid. the boy stirs from his father’s voice, gleaming in happiness as he puts out his smaller hands to be picked up. as he settles into his arms, it’s just sinking in how tall your employer is. he makes a toddler look like a baby with how small his son looks wrapped snugly.

“satoshi, hi,” he whispers, bouncing the kid in his arms, “want to say hi to your onee-san?”

you manage a small wave but all he does is turn to hide in his father’s arms, definitely scared from a random stranger suddenly talking to him.

“she’s going to be taking care of you for the next month or so, you know?” he mumbles, brushing a hand through the matching white hair, “be nice to the babysitter, okay?”

all satoshi does is hum into his dad’s neck before he’s giving you a sheepish smile. “he’s like that, don’t worry about him.” and you return the smile, thinking that he wasn’t that obnoxious that you thought and that maybe he’s really a dad trying his hardest for his one kid. you realise he’s taking too much time, though, and so you sought out to remind him.

“oh, uh sir— gojo-san, don’t you have to go to work?”

although he’s mentioned satoshi to be taking after him, the boy goes right back to sleeping when he’s put back into his bed so you follow gojo as he adjusts his cuffs and smoothes out his collar just outside the room and you make the mistake of glancing upon the mirror on the far end of the corridor — it was undeniable that you looked like a high-end couple who’s newly married and raising a kid. you try to shake off the thoughts of adjusting his tie for him.

“it’s not being late if you’re on top.” he smirks and you resist the urge to roll your eyes; at least you weren’t alone in purging the delusional thoughts from your head, he was basically helping you at this point and you struggle between characterising him as conceited and admirable. “but, yeah, i should get going.”

but he stands at the door with backpack slung onto one shoulder while he continues to explain satoshi’s routines to you, his habits and also had to sneak in a few cute photos of the kid while squealing repeatedly and you’re left wondering how this guy could be the CEO of a company.

it’s been like that for as long as you can remember — bidding goodbye to your parents as you tell them that you’re off to your part-time job over the winter break. they’re happy you’re even leaving the house, shoving your lunch into your hands with big smiles that you’re at least doing anything other than sitting in your room. the train ride to the gated residential was nice, too, apart from the very crowded subways for people going to work in roppongi.

gojo greets you every morning when you arrive, reminding you of satoshi’s feeding times and his favourite shows and everything a father should know but don’t have the luxury to experience with aforementioned kid. it’s a little bittersweet, every time you see him kiss satoshi goodbye that turns into remaining in his room, to holding your hand and saying goodbye to daddy from the second floor, to getting carried by you at the front door.

it’s slow but sure progress day after day, from watching his cartoons, feeding him at the kitchen island, playing with his toys, that satoshi feels more and more comfortable with you, learning that while he was a well-behaved boy, he definitely had hints of your employer in him. mannerisms, words, voice, you wonder whether he even got any part of his mother in his genes.

you’d never ask, though, but it was told. unexpectedly.

“i’m home—” the last parts of his word die down into a whisper when he opens the door to see satoshi cuddled up to you, the last bits of home alone playing softly. by now you already know what happens in the movie so you’re texting your friends and laughing softly to yourself, jumping when your boss steps past the doorway. gojo winces when he checks his watch (“fuck. it’s already ten.”), toeing his shoes off and apologising simultaneously.

“oh— man, i’m so sorry, i had a late meeting with the CEO of our neighbouring franchise, i totally forgot about the time—” gojo’s quick to make his way down to the small pit of the house (he likes to call it the conversation pit), settling down on the side where satoshi had his head in your lap as his eyes linger on the movie. instinctively, his hands reach to pat his leg.

“oh, it’s okay, gojo-san, it’s the holidays anyway.”

“yeah?” he turns to you, one arm propped on the back of the sofa, “and why don’t a pretty girl like you have any plans?”

that catches you off-guard, among the many other times he’s called you pretty or sweets like no care in the world. you’re never quite used to it, too, seeking to fluster you. “you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me, gojo-san . .”

“why not?” he’s turned back to the television, now, and you take his place, staring at his side profile as the scenes of the movie move along his face. “i’m a single dad, aren’t i?”

“yeah but . . you could have anyone.”

“what if,” he turns and you chicken out, head snapping back to the front while he watches you and the both of you cannot deny the tiring dance you perform around each other all the time. the clench in his heart when he sees you carry his baby boy at the porch and the small smile he gives you every morning before he leaves for his job. he doesn’t want to go through with it and sighs.

it’s become hard to breathe around you. it’s become hard to hold himself back around you.

“i worked too much.” he suddenly says, facing the TV again. “i was too engrossed and . .”

confusion seeps in at first. yeah, it was no secret he worked his ass off despite being at the very top. your gaze falls to satoshi, curling more into your side like he’s cold and you adjust the blanket. you nod in recognition.

“we fought a lot. i tried— i tried to alter my schedule as much as i could, driving to and fro whenever she needed me, bringing satoshi to work as a baby when we couldn’t come to a compromise, but it was a lot. for her, for satoshi. he could sense whenever we were about to fight, on edge voices, items clattering to the floor . .”

by now, he’s leaned back, back of his hand resting on his forehead, “and he’d cry like he was interrupting us. cheeky, i told you,” and his eyes close, “we hardly reached middle ground. it was either this or that, hire a nanny or we take care of him, my endless job or the joy of life. i’m ashamed that i’ve prioritised my job more, and still do it now.”

“if you didn’t, i wouldn’t be here, would i?”

that draws a chuckle out of him, “correct.”

“she couldn’t take it, not when she was a businesswoman on top of that. she was out doing herself at every aspect in her job, going to greater heights, and while she accused me of putting work first, she isn’t entirely innocent, either. but that’s . .”

“you don’t have to say anything, gojo-san,” you mumble as you watch the reunion of the characters in the movie before the screen cuts the black, no doubt affecting him in some way at the warmth displayed by the movie that contrasts heavily with his situation, “the fact that you even told me is . .”

the heavy atmosphere is disrupted by satoshi gasping, “papa! you’re home.”

you exchange awkward smiles as you watch the boy fight his way out of the blanket to hug gojo, the latter huffing when the boy drops his body weight on him and you take it as a sign to give them a bit of privacy, standing up to clean up the popcorn and cups. laughter and your employer’s voice resonate throughout the place even as they go up the stairs, a rare occasion where gojo is able to get his son ready for bed.

it’s only maybe an hour later when the house falls into silence. mouth burning from the mouthwash, the heater in satoshi’s room turned to a high setting, one bedtime story was read (which, he fell asleep halfway), the boy was out like a light. you felt it inappropriate to leave without at least saying goodbye, but you also didn’t want to cut into their time together; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

so you waited with your things on the kitchen island, getting a risky text just as gojo comes down, still in his suit from work.

[11:02pm, nobara -> you] BITCH GET THAT DICKKKKK!!!!!!! 

and you yelp softly, slamming your phone down onto his marble counter. thankfully, he doesn’t notice, eyes close to shutting from fatigue. 

“oh, shit, you’re still here?”

“i thought it would be, weird, if i didn’t say goodbye,” you get ready to leave, slinging your tote bag on, “but i also didn’t want to intrude on your time with satoshi, limited as it is.” well, you did also wish something would happen, but you had too much pride to admit it to yourself.

“you got a ride home?” he yawns and you feel guilty for extending your stay already. you didn’t even need to worry about the front door, he lived in a gated community for christ’s sake!

“um, not really, but i can always book an uber home.”

“i’ll drive you home, it’s unsafe,” is all he says like he’s trying to convince himself, “let me just get changed and we can go.”

gojo doesn’t leave you any room to protest before he’s up the stairs again and you’re left with a pounding heart and dizzy head, not sure what might ensue. you know him to be honourable; you’ve seen him with his child, you’ve seen him interact with his neighbours, but a late ride with your boss sounds sketchy as it is.

but it doesn’t feel like it when you feel the tokyo wind blowing through your hair, a slight gap in the window bringing you the chills of the night as he silently drives you back home. sitting in your employer’s car most of all felt weird, but even more so when he’s reaching your home faster than the gps system had predicted. his knuckles are white.

“you—”

your head snaps to him, “yes?”

his car headlights are the brightest in the parking lot where every car is silent, quiet, much like his clammy hands and red cheeks. gojo satoru turns to you, feeling that familiar tug in his heart and lump in his throat for the first time in a while, and he can’t speak.

but you lean forward like your life depends on it and you leap inwardly when you see that he does the same. eyes trained forward, your stares boring into the other, waiting to see who’d close their eyes first. you just stop short of an inch, met with the hypnotising swirls of raging oceans in gojo’s eyes and you swallow when his eyes flit down to your lips and back up like he wouldn’t get caught.

with shaking hands, your fingers trace over his lips and you sigh when you feel just how soft they are, just like his skin, just like his eyes when they look at satoshi. your heart skips a beat when he just lightly kisses the pads of your fingers, and that encourages you to cradle his cheek, up his jaw, up his undercut.

“let’s just kiss, yeah?” he was afraid that if he spoke too loud, he’d shatter the glass, snap the string of tension, voice cracking until you swallow it, you stomach his nervousness with a lively, strong kiss from your lips to his, and he just melts.

gojo hums into the kiss, leaning forward over the stick shift and into the passenger seat before you counter it with your own movements: hand on his shoulders and pushing until you’re on his space of the driver’s seat and playing the game of tug that’s been going on for the past few weeks. you win.

“god, you’re so . .” gojo whines out when you climb onto him, whispering into your mouth while you get comfortable in your straddling position, cutting him off with a second, rougher kiss and you both moan softly, passion taking over in the evident way your arms scramble to wrap around him while he pulls you flush against his front.

the car is filled with sounds of your kissing, something that definitely shouldn’t be done in his home and yet you risk it all in your home’s parking lot. you break the kiss and hide in his neck, already starting the makings of a hickey there while your pelvis selfishly grinds into his front and he kneads your ass. in the mingling of breaths and moans, he’s left to stop the two of you when there’s a muffled ringtone coming from your bag and you swallow at the insanity of the situation.

“i’ll see you, monday, right?” gojo breathlessly says later, bulge still showing through his sweats while you hang outside the driver’s side, not wanting to leave. he takes your hand, planting a peck on it and then brings you in for another harmless kiss.

“yeah, gojo-san . . monday.”

you lose count of how many times you’ve swallowed throughout the night, but he says something to lift the mood just a bit.

“we just made out and you’re still calling me by my last name?”

you laugh lightly, “monday, satoru. i’ll be there, same time, on monday.”

gojo leaves a farewell kiss to the inside of your wrist, “attagirl.”

 but if you’re not careful, it might just happen in satoru’s house.

the remainder of your employment at his house is tiring. it’s so hard not to kiss him before he leaves for work, so difficult not to long for him while you take care of satoshi, so entirely harrowing not to claim him as yours as you watch him play after his work. at this point, you’re hoping school will just start soon and the rush of assignments and readings will take your mind off of it, but you cannot deny the excitement every time you leave your house.

“you’ll bring food and cook every monday, wednesday, friday, and i’ll order food for the both of you every tuesday and thursday, how’s that?” gojo thinks it’s time to introduce him to larger pieces of food, but it’s gone past that by now and to your meal arrangements.

“i’m okay with cooking, though!” you assure him, and plus, you loved your parents’ home cooked bentos that they give you everyday, “do we gotta?”

“sorting out meals is tiring, (y/n),” gojo takes the place beside you, leaning against the counter just like you before drinking out of his cup, “i want to at least help at little.”

“you already are.” you smile, “i can see you making the effort.”

“it’s not enough, though, i could be doing better.”

gojo hates how this scene sets up — like two parents just figuring out the best for their kid — it’s a callback to the memory in the same exact kitchen. at least all you do is kiss and make out, because he wouldn’t know what to do if you moan out his name in that same intimate way that threatens his walls to come down again. he loved sex, he loved the bedroom, but he’s riding a thin line the way he’s doing with you.

“you are,” is everything that you say, and you leap forward to kiss him. you do it so hard that he has to put down the glass to fully embrace you, walking you backwards to the conversation pit and he carries you so effortlessly because he doesn’t want you walking backwards down some stairs.

he hates how you bring him into your lips, he hates how gently he lays you down, and he hates how you accept the kisses down your neck and body. you, on the other hand, aren’t doing so well, either — it’s either a hit or miss with a broken man like gojo satoru, and you’re stepping on glass shards hoping you don’t say anything wrong with him because he’s trying his best but he just can’t see it.

“are you okay with this?” he asks halfway down your torso and he gets lightheaded from how well his hands cover your waist. “tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.”

“n-no . . keep going, satoru.”

he exhales shakily at that, fingers tugging your top up and his hands are so cold you resist shivering, but you do anyway from the sheer fucking craziness that gojo drives you into. one pop of your button, and you’re already lifting your hips off the couch for him to remove your pants but movement on the stairs make you halt.

“papa?” satoshi calls out sleepily, rubbing his eyes and pouting. you can see it, almost, with how much time you’ve spent with the kid, and you hope he can’t see you. “i . . i had a nightmare and i just— i wanna sleep with you.”

he’s started sniffling and you feel your heart break that he knows his papa well enough to know he would never sleep in his room. his job always has him sleeping out in the living room.

go. you mouth, kissing your fingers and pressing it to his lips before he puts on a show — yawning, stretching his arms, already making satoshi feel at ease with his theatrics before he’s stopping at the foot of the stairs to look back at you. you already know gojo satoru has redeemed himself a hundred times over. i’ll see you tomorrow. 

funnily, satoshi somehow does have some intervention powers, because each time the both of you attempt to go down on each other, he’s either saying he threw up, or he needs to use the toilet, or that he’s hungry. while you both love him to death, it’s also becoming difficult to hold back each time you see each other. his car in your parking lot is all he has and you dare not to go to his workplace where rumours would spark.

so after a tiring night of getting a hyper satoshi to sleep, you’d at least try. at this point, you know not to expect too much out of it, starting always with some talking. it was easy to talk to your boss, and when you phrase it like that, it did come off a little strange, but it was far from that when your boss in his late 30s looked just like he did ten years ago and that he had crazy blue eyes and insane white hair and was hot.

“thank you for taking care of him for the past month and a half,” gojo thanked you, leaning over to give you a peck to the temple, “it means a lot.”

“he’s a sweet boy, plus, i do need the money,” you giggle, nudging him, “and it did let me get to know you . .”

“certainly,” he mumbles. drunk off your scent, he leans in again, kissing you fully on the lips now. you hum softly, going on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulder. swiftly, he props you on the kitchen counter and you yelp in surprise, unable to help the throb of your pussy when he slots himself in between your legs.

jokingly, he puts his hand to his ear. “no satoshi interruption tonight?”

you smack his shoulder, “don’t jinx it.”

he laughs, a proper laugh before he sighs shakily, fingers thumbing your sides gently. “you know . . we shouldn’t be doing this,” you feel your heart sink a little, but he quells it with hovering lips over yours, “he could hear and wake up.”

“then why have you been accepting all my kisses, gojo satoru?” your eyes challenge him, but you know one touch from him would have you submitting to him. his breath fans over your lips, and you can feel his pulse speed up when your fingers go over his neck, to his nape, to his undercut. you run your fingertips through it.

“you have too much power over me, simple.” that sentence has your eyes fluttering close. it’s too much for you and yet you welcome it with open arms, “it’s become so bad that you’re all i think about.”

“is that so?” you pull lightly on his hair.

he nods, foreheads touching now and he’s trying to hold himself back, but, “i’ve been holding back, entirely too much, baby, and i don’t think i can, anymore.”

“yeah?” you whisper, bringing him in with your legs, “show me, then.”

gojo satoru decides that maybe taking the leap isn’t so bad, so he fully gives himself to you, tugging your lips to his in a clashing kiss that has you groaning in pain just a bit. he giggles and apologises and tries again, and this time, it’s got your hips moving against him, whimpering into his mouth. gojo’s hard just from kissing, something that he’s desperate to relieve himself off so — he’s whispering for you to hang on while he slots his hands under your ass and lifts you.

satoru knows his house well, walking up with you in tow and lips still on yours, right into his room. you giggle when he plops you down and he’s already looking forward to ravishing you, but —

“let me check on satoshi for a sec.”

you laugh silently, “of course, satoru, go.”

and once your boss’ made sure his son is out cold in slumber, he’s all over you again and definitely showing you how much he’s been holding himself back. you’re the pure focus of the night, making you chase for more when he pulls away and kissing down your body. he worships it, tongue circling a nipple while his hand plays with the other, eyes staring holes into yours from how intense the blue was.

“s-satoru . .”

“yes, sweets, what is it?”

“feels good—” you whine, back arching into his hold once he leaves your tits and continues down your body. each kiss is like hellfire against your cold skin, and he pops a button and listens out again, both of you sighing in relief and giggling to each other when you don’t hear a knock on the door.

“does it? good.” it’s tantalisingly slow, the pace at which gojo peels your clothes off, but when your pants are finally off, he marvels at your beauty as he brings your legs apart. you’re shy, hiding yourself behind your arms and resisting his hands.

“aht, no, c’mon, show yourself, baby.” he only moans when he sees the dark patch at the centre of your underwear, pressing a finger into your clit and you’re ashamed at how intensely you react to it. gojo continues his torture, thumbing your bud just to watch your face contort into pleasure, “so, so pretty.”

you preen at the praise, even more so when he pulls your panties to the side and sucks slowly on your clit. it’s slow, again, and you’re clutching the sheets so tight when he lays his tongue flat against your pussy. satoru takes his time, savouring each bit of your cunt to make up for lost time, filling the room with the lewdest noises of your sopping cunt on his tongue.

“taste so fuckin’ sweet, pussy’s s’good,” he practically moans into your core, arms wrapping around your thighs to bring you closer while you try to keep your noises down to a minimum. little pants and mewls leave your lips, eyes never leaving the head of hair.

but he’s unpredictable, as gojo always is, so when he’s hovering over you just to give you a little innocent kiss, you think nothing of it, until he’s back in front of your pussy and starts eating you out like a starved man. you let out a loud moan, dragging it out until you’re gulping down your next sounds. it doesn’t help much, though, cause gojo’s slurping at your pussy like it’s the end of the world.

“s-satoru—! too much—” you moan but your hips grind into his mouth, your hands now finding purchase in his hair, “t-too loud.”

“mmf— don’t care,” he mumbles into your cunt, making sure he gets every drop of your arousal on his tongue while he abuses your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking hard and you think it’s the best head you’ve ever gotten.

“not when your cunt’s so perfect,” you only press his head deeper into you like it would stop his muffled sentences, but that only spurs him to suck harder before he just shifts down a little to plunge his tongue into your hole. you choke out a moan as his nose nudges your clit, clenching around his muscle.

“relax— mmhh, you gotta relax, baby,” he’s massaging your thighs but if anything it does the exact opposite, closing your thighs around his head in sensitivity.

“it’s— h-hard to,” you moan out, already feeling the coil in your tummy that’s approaching oh, so quickly when gojo eats you out like this. he shifts his attention back to your puffy clit, eyes flicking up to make contact with yours and you shrivel under his intense stare, “w-when you’re making me feel s’good—!”

you feel him smile into your cunt but he says nothing, taking note of the drop of your jaw, the scrunch of your eyes, the contractions of your stomach. your legs like to straighten out and shake when you’re close, he memorises. when you start to tighten your grip on his hair, he ingrains it in his mind.

“cumming— i’m c-close,” but it’s like satoru doesn’t even need it when his eyes digest the way he sends you over the edge with just his tongue.

“g— god! satoru!” your mouth falls into a silent scream after, head dipping so much into the pillow while you grind your cunt into his face, gushing all over his face with a renewed spirit and regret for all those times that men have rubbed your left lip thinking it was your clit.

“let it go, yeess . . that’s it,” satoru doesn’t hesitate to get sloppy, sucking up all your cum, gasping for air once he’s done with his meal, “pretty girl just came all over my face.”

you struggle to your elbows despite the words he utters, propped up just to catch a glimpse of him and the soaked bottom of his face that stretches into a smile.

“was that better than all the uni boys who’ve never felt the touch of a woman?” you laugh at that, making quick work of grabbing his chin and bringing him back to your lips.

“much, much better.” and you take the opportunity to flip the tables, trembling, shaking legs trying their best to wrap around his torso to straddle him —  but once you’re over, you’re not quite sure what to do apart from letting your hands roam all over the expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“and can she do it again all over my cock?” the obscene words sound almost taboo falling from his mouth that your mouth drops open in initial shock, but it subsides into anticipation soon enough.

wordlessly, you take matters into your own hands, fingers making quick work of his trousers while he removes his top impatiently. the scowl on your face is prominent when you struggle to work his belt out and he chuckles with helping hands, the burn on your face deepening.

“there,” gojo giggles and he pulls you in with a peck-filled apology, “don’t worry, we have all the time in the world.”

you hum, “not when your son could knock any time soon.”

that prompts a giggle that fades off into a loud moan once your warm hand wraps around him, something that he’d never tell you how many times he’s fantasised about. slowly, you stroke his cock, excruciatingly slow just like how he’s done to your cunt earlier.

you’re hovering over him, now, dragging his tip along your pussy and whining softly at the pre-cum that mixes together with your juices. you need him into you as soon as possible, and apart from your soon burning thighs, you’ve been wanting this for as long as you’ve stepped foot into his house from the very first day.

inch by inch, you sink down onto gojo’s weeping cock, getting the luxury of feeling his sensitive twitches with the plunge into your cunt. you’re glad at least he had offered to stretch you out just a tad bit earlier, the intrusion of his fingers already having you panting for his dick; and now, when you have the real thing, it drives your mind insane.

“��t-toru— haah . .” your body curls up from the painful stretch, lips muttering the nickname unknowingly as you grasp onto his shoulders for support, and while he helps you on, he never stops saying the most filthy things, grinning each time you clench around him.

“never thought i’d be here, fuckin’ the babysitter, but here we are,” your oh my god is whispered only for the other to hear, body burning up from the words before he grinds his pelvis into yours and you slump forward in pleasure. your words are a bunch of nothingness, a string of incoherence, “and her pussy’s just so fucking— tight!”

giving you one or two breaths of rest, satoru coos in your face, cradling it and littering kisses all over it before he’s moving his hips and you’re breaking the kiss to whine out, moving your hips to meet his as well. you move sooner or later, bouncing on his cock once you’re more used to him in you and the position only hits all your spots just right.

“f-fuck— you’re so big—!” you roll your hips into him, eyes stuck on how there’s just a small bump in your tummy each time you bottom out. your boss from across you is equally ruined, eyes struggling to keep open with wet hair stuck to his forehead. “feel so so g-good . .”

“yeah?” he breathlessly mumbles, hand squeezing and kneading your ass and trying to help you, but the warmth of your cunt around his length just feels too good. “bounce on that dick, baby.”

and you do, planting your feet into the bed and fingers creating bruises along his shoulders as you impale yourself on his fat cock, switching to relaxing in his embrace and letting your hips do the work when your legs start hurting. there, you indulge in gojo’s lips as you hump him, the delicious friction of your clit against his pubes sending you reeling.

“you’re going to be soaking my sheets from how much you’re leaking,” gojo jests, letting your moans take over his mind while his lips trace down your neck, eyes just peeking over to see your ass ripple from the force. “not that i mind. how’s she doin’?”

“she’s getting,” a choked whine interrupts you, “a little tired.”

and that draws a laugh out of gojo who does nothing but tease you, something he likes to do even in makeout sessions, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach over to his bedsie table to grab his phone, leaning back to bask in your glory. here, your body just looks heavenly as you try your best to move on his lap.

“hang on a little more for me, princess,” with one hand, his larger hand leave chills all over your body and the other points his phone at you, not before making sure you were okay with it, “and smile for the camera.”

you try your best even when his hand make his way to your mouth, pulling it open with his fingers to slot it in. you’re sure you look like a whore right now, but the camera pointed your way only turn you on more, like it’s beckoning you to put on a show. and you loved the attention, so you close your lips around his fingers and start sucking, grinding even harsher on his cock that has gojo stuttering.

“y—yeah, attagirl . .” he grins at the video he takes, “show the camera how much of a cockslut you are.”

you whine, bringing the hand to your clit while you shove two hands onto his torso to really work your thighs out, feeling that familiar curl in your stomach once he starts rubbing his saliva-filed fingers along you bundle of nerves. 

“r-right there, satoru—!” you swear under your breath, giving hooded eyes to the camera while you chase your high drunkenly, all sort of coherent thought banished from your head. “love your cock, love it, love it—!”

satoru swears he wants to cum from just watching you use him, and even holding himself back is proving difficult when you clamp and tighten around him until his fingers press particularly deep into your clit and you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name, body convulsing all over the video.

“tha’s a good girl . . cream my cock, yeeaaahh . .” gojo watches, hypnotised, as you lose control over your body, but the pleasure-filled whimper that you merge his name with is just too good, that he spills unexpectedly in you. the video is far from stable, so he only slaps the phone down to relish in his orgasm. gojo pushes his hips up and you gasp at the feeling, back arching when you feel his cum seep into you.

you’ve never even given much thought to pregnancy, but the feeling of his cum dribbling into you fogs your mind that you only want more after a mental note to buy the morning after pill tomorrow.

“n-need more,” you beg, fondling at his cheeks and undercut, “w-want more cum in me, satoru . .”

and it’s like a flip switches in him, because he’s flipping you over right after — he has to see his cum leave your pussy first though, taking the still ongoing video and putting it right up to your pussy, using his tip to smear your mixed juices all around.

“who knew i’d hired such a dirty girl?” he addresses the camera more than you, but he catches your flustered glance with a wink and after poorly setting up the camera on his bedside table (he just was too intoxicated on your cunt), he’s pushing back into you with a loud groan, not even caring for the consequences any more. his cum is just so much, too, spilling out the sides.

“only f’r you,” you mumble, grabbing at his forearms needily. your eyes flutter close as he bottoms out, your legs pushed right up to your chest as he folds you whichever way he wants to. at this point, if he wanted to own you, you wouldn’t object one bit, not when gojo satoru’s cock stretches your pretty pussy so nicely. “a cumslut only for you.”

“yeah?” he starts moving his hips and your arch into his hold, “i wonder how i got so — fuck — lucky.” everything is sloppy and wet and disgusting and you love every moment of it, even after he’s cummed in you the second, third, fourth time, you’re happy to be pumped full of his cum, giving him a tired, glistening grin that he returns.

“think i should be transferring over my life savings for a cunt this sweet,” you giggle at the compliment, but don’t protest when he’s pulling up the app to gift you with a hefty amount; both your salary and bonus, all from making gojo satoru fall helplessly just from your touch — something to brag about indeed.

[hhughes]

hi. i’m thinking about late night drives with the quinn or jack. whether it be bc one of you can’t sleep, to clear your head, or just to get away from it all. i just think it would be very dreamy don’t you think? 🥹

hi luv. kissing you on the forehead for this thought. I absolutely adore this idea. was in a quinny mood cause when am I not and discussed this thought about him. hope that’s okay <3

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ going to bed after a long day , ready to just close your eyes and get some rest but quinn’s tossing and turning keeps you from slipping into that blissful state.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ your heart clenches in worry when you hear your boyfriend sigh in frustration and move to get up.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ where you going? ” you ask , and quinn makes his way around to your side of the bed, bending down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ can’t sleep. gonna go read a bit in the living room so I don’t keep you awake. get some rest sweetheart. love you, ” he mumbles, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead before making his way out of the room and closing the door softly.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ you lay there for a few minutes, contemplating closing your eyes and just getting some sleep but the empty space next to you is like a flickering red light, not allowing the luxury of calming your mind enough to mange to fall asleep.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ you get up quickly and go to quinn’s section of the walk-in-closet you share, grabbing two pairs of his sweats and two hoodies.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ his head shoots up the minute you step into the living room, a cute furrow forming between his brows when you hand him his pair of sweats and a hoodie

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ let’s go for a drive , ” you say and the fact that he doesn’t try to coax you back into bed tells you how much he needs this.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ you want music? ” you ask as quinn makes himself comfortable in your passenger seat.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ no. can we just drive in silence for a bit? ” he asks , an adoring smile forming on his face he spots the blue and green ribbon tied to your mirror.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ whatever you want baby, ” you reply and go to start the engine but quinn stops you before you can

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ seatbelt ” he remind firmly, reaching over and grabbing the black belt, pulling it over your body and fastening it

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ sorry ” you say sheepishly and he just shakes his head, adjusting the heater slightly and resting his palm on your leg, drawing little patterns on the material of the sweats you’re wearing

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ it would just be so soothing for both of you. exchanging little thoughts about your days or whatever is coming up in the week. a few tender “ i love you’s ” working their way into the conversation as well.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ thanks for doing this with me, ” quinn says by the time you get back home and his mind has calmed down a little

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ any time. I can’t even begin to fathom the kind of pressure you feel quinn. I wish I could do more, ” you say and he kisses the palm of your hands that was intertwined with his

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ “ you’re already doing so much. I don’t know what I would do without you, ” quinn replies, connecting your lips in a soft kiss and the two of you make your way into the apartment, ready to head to bed <33

[urno1luv]

Pls do a puppy gf yunjin one more🥹🙏

this is actually fluffy, i'll post the NSFW version after!!!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you first noticed something... unusual. Yunjin had always been affectionate—playfully bumping into you, nuzzling her head against your shoulder when she was sleepy, and wagging her tail every time you came home—but today, her usual attachment felt amplified to a whole new level.

You woke up to find her curled around you like a protective barrier, her arms draped over your torso, her tail lightly thumping against the mattress. The moment you tried to wiggle free, she stirred and groaned, her ears twitching.

“Where are you going?” she mumbled, her voice muffled against your chest.

“To get up?” you replied hesitantly.

“No,” she said, tightening her grip. “Stay.”

You let out a small laugh, brushing your fingers through her messy hair. “Yunjin, it’s already ten. I need to make breakfast.”

“Nooo,” she whined, now fully awake, her tail wagging despite her pout. “I don’t need breakfast. I need you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to pry her arms off gently. “You’re being dramatic. Come on, I’ll make pancakes. Don’t you want pancakes?”

She sat up at that, her big, expressive puppy eyes locking onto yours. “Only if you promise to stay close.”

“Fine,” you chuckled. “You can sit on the counter while I cook.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

In the kitchen, Yunjin was practically glued to you. Every time you moved, she followed, sometimes leaning her chin on your shoulder or wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. When you tried to mix the batter, she rested her head on top of yours, her soft ears tickling your cheek.

“Yunjin, I can’t concentrate if you’re this close,” you said, though your tone held no real annoyance.

“You smell nice,” she murmured, as if that justified her clinginess.

Once the pancakes were ready, she insisted on feeding you bites, her tail wagging enthusiastically every time you accepted. You couldn’t help but smile at how happy such a small gesture made her.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The rest of the day was no different. When you sat on the couch to read, Yunjin flopped onto your lap, curling up like an oversized puppy. When you tried to stretch, she groaned dramatically, clinging tighter.

“Yunjin, I can’t even breathe properly like this,” you teased, ruffling her hair.

“Good,” she said with a grin. “Then you won’t leave me.”

You’d been busy with work lately, and it hadn’t occurred to you how much it affected her. You ran your fingers gently over her ears, watching her melt into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be,” she replied, her voice muffled as she buried her face into your shirt. “You’re here now. That’s all I need.”

The day ended with her falling asleep in your arms, her soft snores filling the quiet room. And though you hadn’t accomplished much that day, you didn’t mind. If being her favorite person meant being her safe place, you’d gladly take on the role—even if it meant dealing with her overwhelming clinginess.

[i-cant-sing]

I’m letting him smooch my forehead for the nth time if it means I get affection and smooches 🥹🥲 I’m desperate ok?! 🫠 mf I’ve been single for way too long… I need some dopamine…. Also Forehead smooches just hit different

Ugh Baldwin is just so- imagine being mad at him for whatever reason (maybe he was a bit late to come when you called for him because he was busy with court affairs and now he has to deal with a pissed princess who's huffing and puffing because she cant get her time machine to work and out of frustration, she misplaces her anger and takes it out on Baldwin).

He has you trapped against the wall, arms on caging you as you refuse to look at him. Baldwin is trying so hard to supress his smile, because you look even more adorable when youre mad.

"Princess-" he smooches your forehead. "No." You puff your cheeks, brows furrowed as you look to the side, eyes full of anger and distress. Another smooch to you kiss. "Princess, Im sorry-"

"No." You cut him off and he automatically lands another kiss, this time right under your left eye, if only to make you look at him momentarily.

"I'm sorry I was late-"

"You said- no! No more kisses!" You evaded his lips as you glared at him, making him pout. "You said nothing is more important than me. That you'd come anytime I'd call you. I waited for 2 hours! TWO HOURS!"

"I know, my love and Im sorry. The council had some affairs that needed to be dealt with immediately, and time just slipped out of my hand. I promise, it wont happen again." He jutted out his bottom lip (and although anyone else wouldve looked ugly like this, this is Baldwin we're talking about. he's never ugly.) "Forgive me?" His blue eyes held remorse for his mistake, and it didnt help when he brought them even closer when he rested his forehead on yours, making your breath hitch.

"I- uh- fine! Fine! I forgive you!" You finally breathed as your face turned pink, moving it away from him, only for the king to chuckle as he sweetly kissed the apple of your cheeks. "Thank you, princess!"

Ugh. Pretty privelege.

You shot him a glare. "What was so important that the council wouldnt let you leave anyways?"

"Hm? Oh, they wanted to discuss who should be allowed to attend our wedding night."

You stared at him. "What?"

"Well, as per tradition, they wanted to discuss who would be allowed to see us consumate-" he burst into laughter as you threw a book at him. Your face was all red as you began pulling at his blonde hair and was about to beat him when Baldwin suddenly lifted you up and slammed you on your bed, knocking the air out of you as he caught your wrists in one hand while the other tapped your nose.

"As if I would let any see my pretty little prude." He grinned, leaning down to kiss your nose. "You're all mine, princess. All mine."

For the rest of the day, you were too flustered to say a word to him, or even look at him. And so, it never occurred to you to ask him how he convinced the council to make an exemption of this tradition for you.

If you'd asked, Baldwin would've told you that the council wanted confirmation that their monarchs did the deed... to which lover boy replied-

"When you see the queen having to be carried around after our wedding night, you'll know."

[peachsukii]

Hiii omg I love your writings so much!!

May i request texting katsuki while reader is drunk in a bar (maybe bc reader just broke up with her previous boyfriend or sth. It’s up to you but please make it spicy 🔥) (also 18+ please 🥹)

ohhhh the things swirling in my head about this!!! thank you for the request nonnie & hope it delivers! 💜

on the rocks

『 ♡ 』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ pro-hero au | age 24 | friends to fwb ꒱ ⇢ your week couldn’t get any worse. between a screw up at work and getting dumped out of the blue, you needed to desperately let off some steam. thank goodness the girls were more than happy to take you out for the night in the city and spoil you with a good time. everything’s fine until you receive a text that spirals into an unpredicted hookup.

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ 18+ MDNI mentions of alcohol, mild/implied smut, suggestive texting, friends to friends with benefits, heavy flirting, sexually comfortable reader, reader went through a break-up, soft bakugo, fluffy ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~2.6k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

The bartender hands you the drink you ordered, nodding a thanks when you smile at her. You’re not drunk, per se, but you’re definitely buzzed - that warm and fuzzy feeling dancing through your veins, letting you relax for the first time all week. Tonight's goal was to think about absolutely nothing, to let go of all the shit weighing on your shoulders. Even if it's just for one night, anything to shake away the pain you've been carrying.

But the alcohol seems to be betraying you, forcibly shoving those thoughts to the forefront of your mind instead of burying them.

Memories of your ex begin to haunt you as your mind wanders aimlessly, the dam bursting that was keeping it all at bay. You try and shake your head to rid yourself of the feelings, but they just wouldn’t go away.

God, fuck him and every false promise he made to you.

Some people would consider three months a short amount of time, but to you, it felt like an eternity. He seemed so sweet, caring and kind when you first met, but once he forcibly ripped off your rose-colored glasses? He was nothing but a walking pile of shit.

Suddenly, your phone dings on the bar, lighting up to show a text message notification.

'Who the fuck is texting me so late?'

You blink a few times, re-reading the contact name before it registers: Katsuki Bakugo.

That's rather...odd. He's notorious for going to bed by 9pm - it’s almost midnight. You two were friends, sure, but never the 'text you in the middle of the night' type of friends. Curious to know what he wanted, you open the text to reveal nothing but a picture. When you squint through your hazy vision, you realize just what you're looking at.

It's a picture of Bakugo from the neck down, laying on his bed in nothing but grey sweats that are tugged down and nestled at the bottom of his hip bones. The pose accentuates the delicious deep V below his abs and shows the blonde trail disappearing underneath the hem of his sweatpants. The shadows trace each well-earned muscle, perfectly outlining them in the dim light of his bedroom.

Was this meant for you? Did he send it to you by accident? Your mind goes blank, stopping your previous train of thought about your stupid ex.

…did he send it to you on purpose? Your core pulses at the thought, causing you to cross your legs defensively.

Right on queue, another text pops up, your phone vibrating in your hands.

[katsuki] fuck, sorry. that was an accident

That was a bold face fucking lie, and you knew it. Bakugo's not that stupid to send the wrong text by mistake, especially a selfie. There's no way in hell he would even take a picture like that for someone unless he wanted it to be seen.

Liquid courage does you a favor when you reply, loosely teasing him about it.

[you] damn, katsuki. who's the lucky girl?

You don't notice Mina approaching you with how intently you're staring at your phone screen, startling you when she taps your shoulder.

"What are ya doing over here?! Come dance with us!" she pleads, pulling on your arm. She notices how you're clutching your phone like a lifeline and the coral tint on your cheeks. She quirks an eyebrow at you. "Who are you texting?"

Oh god, find a lie - fast! She'll see right through your facade if you don't.

"No one, just a spam text."

Mina stares at you - shit, she knows you're lying.

"You're a shit liar, babe. Who is it?"

"I got a random text from Katsuki," you admit, the flush in your cheeks deepening at his name. Are you into him, or is it the alcohol in your system? It's no secret that he's attractive, he's always been effortlessly handsome. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't checked him out a few times, but never acted on it. The two of you were friends and you’d assumed he didn't think much else of you.

Mina grabs the phone from your hands, entering in your passcode (how did she know it?!) and reading the texts. Her eyes blow open, pinching the screen to zoom in on the photo. You scramble to grab the phone back to quit her oogling as she's squealing with glee.

"Holy shit!" she yells. "Accident my ass, Blasty. Damn, that's hot."

"Mina! Keep your voice down," you beg, locking the screen to prevent anyone else from seeing.

"No one is listening over this music," she squawks, punching you lightly in the arm. "Come back to us soon you minx!"

And with that, she leaves you at the bar, returning to the dance circle with the rest of your girlfriends. Your phone vibrates a few more times in your hand and recaptures your attention.

[katsuki] thought you'd like a distraction [katsuki] shit, if this is weird, just tell me and i'll fuck off [katsuki] i should've just asked instead

So it was on purpose. You swallow hard as you shakily type out your reply, trying to keep your cool.

[you] it's not weird, what made you think of me? [katsuki] mina wouldn't shut the fuck up about you earlier. sent me pictures of you in the dress you have on, couldn't get it outta my head

When the fuck did Mina do that?! You had thought she was taking pictures of herself earlier at your apartment. That sneaky bitch!

[you] goddammit mina, i'm sorry about her. why would she send them to you?

You see the typing indicator pop up and disappear a few times before his response arrives.

[katsuki] you know how she is, playing matchmaker and shit with everybody [katsuki] honestly? i'm not mad about it [you] oh? [you] so that's why you sent it to me. hell of a pickup line kats [katsuki] fuck off [katsuki] i can't deny that you're gorgeous [you] yeah? feelings mutual

Your face is burning hot, sitting at the bar in disbelief that Bakugo's flirting with you. And it was all because he was infatuated with what you're wearing? He couldn't get it out of his head?

You're still debating on whether you want to yell at or thank Mina for igniting this fire. [katsuki] where are you right now? [you] sitting at the bar, some club in the city

Another picture is delivered to you on screen and has your jaw dropping to the floor.

The picture is closer to his face this time, cut off at his cheekbones and barely illuminated as Bakugo's fingers are parted over his mouth. His tongue is lazily hanging above his bottom lip with a string of salvia attached to one of his fingers.

Your legs twitch as you bite your lip, imagining his face slotted between your thighs.

[you] holy shit, katsuki...fuck [katsuki] find a bathroom or some dark corner [katsuki] there's more where that came from. just say the word, princess

The pet name is doing things to you that you didn't think was possible. Your overloaded with a sudden rush of arousal, heat twisting in your belly at his promise. Grabbing your bag from the chair, you bolt to the nearest bathroom and lock the door behind you. Luckily, this club's on the nicer side, the bathroom not being as scummy as you thought it would be. You set your things on the counter and grab your phone, turning the camera on and pointing it in the mirror.

If that's how he wanted to play? You could play right back.

[you] that deserves a reward

The photo attached shows your breast pushed closed together, daring to spill out of the top of your dress and wearing the poutiest lip you could muster.

Bakugo’s response is immediate.

[katsuki] goddamn, your tits look amazing in that dress [you] would you believe me if i said they look better out of it?

You turn the camera back on and click the record button, sensually slipping the top of your dress down and letting your breasts loosely lay over the bust. Your nipples are pebbled from the rousing desire flowing through you, making them standing perfectly at attention. You give the camera a wink and squeeze one of your breasts playfully. Once you're happy with the video, you send it with no hesitation and readjust your dress. [katsuki] holy fuck [katsuki] you alone? That's not the response you expected, but you roll with it. [you] yeah, one person bathroom

- Incoming Call: Katsuki Bakugo -

You stare at the contact screen for a few seconds before picking up.

"Hey Kat," you greet, nervousness wracking your body, the thrill of the situation making your heart flutter.

"I wanted 'ta hear your voice instead," Bakugo groans, heavy breaths following his words. "I never thought you'd...want to do this with me."

You can't help but laugh under your breath. "Never thought you wanted to, either."

You're thankful that your not drunk off your ass after all - you want to remember this. You're tipsy, but coherent.

And turned on to high heaven.

Bakugo breaks the silence before you cut him off. "I know you're fresh outta-"

"Katsuki, he's not worth mentioning. I'm focused on you right now."

"Yeah? Tell me more."

"I'd love to see what you're hiding under those sweats, Dynamight. I'm practically a puddle just thinking about it. How do you think my lips would look wrapped around you?"

You can hear Bakugo exhale into the phone and groan. He tries to hide it, but fails miserably.

"Cat got your tongue, huh? Too forward?"

"N-no. It's fuckin' hot. Shit," he whispers with baited breath. "God, what club are you at again?"

"The one near Shibuya station. Crystal Crown, I think. Why?"

There's a pause before you hear various clicks and a beep or two from his side before he answers.

"Changed my mind, this ain't happenin' over the phone the first time. You're 15 minutes from my place, I'm comin' to get ya."

You can feel your panties soak from your excitement, clenching at the thought of him just ravaging you in his car and not being able to make it back to his apartment before touching you like a man starved.

"Coming to sweep me off my feet or to fuck my brains out?" The words spill from your lips before you can stop them, but you don’t regret it when you hear Bakugo moan in response - loudly.

"Fuckin’ - have you been stockpilin’ this shit ‘ta say to me?" He laughs. “You’re gonna kill me before I leave the damn apartment.”

“Didn’t think you’d be so easy to play with,” you joke playfully, twirling a piece of your hair in your fingers. “Better get here before I change my mind, find some other rebound in this stupid club.”

“I’ll be your fuckin’ rebound any day of the week, sweetheart. Ain’t no guy in that building better than me.”

His confidence makes it difficult to bite back the moan in your throat.

“Guess you need to prove it. Get your ass over here, I’ll be out front. You better be wearing those sweats.”

You’re about to hang up when you hear Bakugo say something quietly, too muted for you to make out right away.

“Kats?”

He clears his throat before repeating himself, his voice soft and low. “You sure y’want this? I don’t wanna fuck anythin’ up or whatever.”

“You won’t fuck anything up, nothing wrong with friends fucking with no strings attached. I already flashed my tits at you, no turning back now.”

You subtly hear him let go of the breath he was holding and a hollow chuckle, sounding relieved at your answer.

“Good. See ya soon.”

The line ends with a click, leaving you with your thoughts while staring in the bathroom mirror. You didn’t realize how badly you’ve been shaking until you attempt to walk, unexpectedly stumbling like a baby deer on your heels. Once you gather yourself, you exit the bathroom and hurry over to the dance floor. Mina spots you, rolling her eyes and placing her hands on her hips when you approach the group.

“Where the hell have you been?!” She shouts over the music. “I was starting to think you died in there.”

“I’m heading home,” you say while waving your hand, brushing away her worries.

“Oh…oh my god. Is Bakugo coming to get you?!”

“Mina!”

Jiro and Uraraka turn in your direction, yelling in unison. “Bakugo?!?!”

You palm your face, desperately attempting to hide your flared cheeks as the girls squeal and cheer for you.

“Stop it! We’re still just friends!”

Mina clicks her tongue. “Uh-huh. That’s what I said about Kiri a year ago, and now look at us!”

“You gotta let us know how it goes,” Uraraka winks, elbowing you in the rib. "Rumor has it he lives up to his hero name in bed."

Before the interrogation continues, you back away from the group with a smile and turn for the entrance. You slide through the doors and slip out onto the sidewalk and see Bakugo parked out front, smiling as his eyes spot you on the busy street.

Has he ever smiled at you like that before?

He gets out of the car and walks around to greet you.

“Hey Katsu-”

Before you can process what’s happening, Bakugo’s got one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck. He gently leans you against the car as he swoops down to place a featherlight kiss to your lips. You squeak before melting into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Sparks are flying through your whole body - a sensation you haven’t felt for a long time. When the two of you part, his eyes are half-lidded, cheeks flushed and lips parted with shallow breaths.

“Ready to go?” He asks, removing the hand from your neck and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your heart is in your throat, strangling any words you try to say, so instead, you just nod ‘yes.’ Bakugo walks you to the passenger side and opens the door for you, just like any other time you’ve hung out. When he shuts the door and goes to walk to the drivers side, you finally notice he’s wearing the damn grey sweatpants.

The entire drive back to his place, Bakugo’s hand doesn’t leave your thigh. His fingers danced over your skin, playing with the hem of your dress and gingerly squeezing the plush surface every so often. You return the favor, walking your fingers up the inside of his thigh a few times, stopping short of the growing tent in his sweats. Pulling up to his apartment complex seems to take the breath out of both of you. He turns the car off and you sit idly in silence, it's only a minute or two, but feels like a lifetime.

Bakugo gets out first, jogging over to your side to open your door. He takes your hand as you stand, closing the door behind you and swiftly sweeping you off your feet into his arms, bridal style.

"Wow, do all the girls you bring home get this treatment?" you tease, planting a kiss on his warm cheek.

"Never had the pleasure of bringin' a princess home, so no."

That shuts you up and makes you quiver in his hold.

"I'm honored, sir Dynamight. Take me to your castle!" You swoon, dramatically leaning back with a hand over your head.

Bakugo shakes his head and grins, starting to jog through the parking lot and up the stairs with you. You hold onto his shoulders while giggling uncontrollably, ecstatic to see where the night takes you.

One things for certain - you haven't thought about your ex once. And you look forward to keeping it that way.

tags; @slayfics @maddietries

[nadvs]

I love love love this new au🥹 coming from a severely stressed Uni student could you write how rafe would take care of her when she’s studying too much barely eating or drinking and just really anxious for exams and stressed out.

aaa thank you angel 🥺 yes of course!! i hope you feel better soon!!

based on this fic

“…practice until five,” she hears.

“sorry, what?” she mumbles to rafe, her stare focused ahead.

her boyfriend gazes at her profile as they sit in his bedroom, watching a show on his flatscreen.

“my schedule next week,” he says. “you asked about it.”

“right,” she says. she meets his concerned blue eyes. “sorry. i was out of it again.”

she can feel herself retreating from reality all the time. finals are only a month away and she keeps catching herself zoning out out of lectures and conversations, spiralling into nerve-racking hypotheticals.

“did you eat today?” he asks.

“um… i think so?” she says.

“you’d remember if you did.”

rafe grabs his phone out from beneath the covers to order takeout. she looks at his screen, his wallpaper the photo of herself in his jersey that she’s seen so many times, and realizes it’s minutes away from eight p.m.

“fuck, it’s eight?” she says, scrambling out of bed. “i was supposed to go home to study like an hour ago.”

she grabs her things, staring at him with wide eyes, confused why he isn’t rushing to leave.

“you can drive me, right?” she asks.

“chill for a second,” he sighs. “what if you skipped it tonight? sleep here.”

“i can’t. i can barely sleep in my own bed,” she says. “i can barely sleep at all. if it’s a hassle to drive me, i can order a-”

“no.” rafe stands, relenting. he knows she’ll just argue if he pushes. “let’s go.”

“are you mad?” she asks.

“no,” he says.

“we don’t bullshit-”

“bullshit each other, i know,” he finishes her sentence. “i’m not mad.”

she trails him out of the room. even though he said he’s not mad, he’s acting like it.

rafe’s hands are tight on the steering wheel as he drives to her college campus through dark, busy streets. his girl’s been in her own world lately. every day, it gets worse.

he knows fighting will just stress her out more. he tries to encourage her to take breaks, but it seems to just make her spiral more.

he gets it. his mind gets tangled up, too. pressure can be a bitch. so, he bites his tongue for her sake. she’s the only person he cares enough to reign in his temper for.

“you’re really not mad?” she asks softly.

“i’m worried,” he admits.

she’s silent, staring out the window.

“it’s just finals,” she says. “i’ll be okay.”

rafe’s not entirely convinced. but he gives her the space she needs and drops her off.

about half an hour later, she gets a text from him that there’s takeout waiting for her downstairs. she can’t manage to eat everything because he sent enough food to feed a whole group of people.

then, he texts her close to midnight to see if she went to bed yet.

she replies: can’t fall asleep.

he texts: i’ll be there soon.

when rafe arrives, he calls her to come downstairs. she tries to climb in the passenger seat, but he tells her to go the back. when she opens the door, she sees that he laid out blankets and a pillow across the backseat.

“what is this?” she asks.

“you said you can’t sleep in your bed. or mine,” he says. “what if i drove around? could you sleep then?”

“are you serious?” she says.

“i’ll park in front of my place when you fall asleep. i’ll stay in the car. just get comfortable, alright?”

she settles in the back, leaning across the seat, following his instructions to still buckle herself in.

“thank you,” she says as he starts to drive. her eyelids are already getting heavy, the steady motion of the car genuinely helping. “sorry i’ve been so stressed out.”

“just sleep, baby,” he says.

“okay,” she whispers.

it works. she dozes off within minutes. he drives around for a while to make sure she’s deep asleep.

after he parks in his driveway, he sprawls out in his seat. this is uncomfortable. he’ll be sore tomorrow. and maybe the next day, which is a game day.

but as he listens to her deep breaths, he doesn’t doubt that she’s worth it. she hasn’t been taking care of herself lately. if he has to do it for her, he will. every time.

[moonstruckme]

Hello love, I just found your blog and I must say that I adore your writing!! I’ve been looking for some new marauder content and couldn’t be happier with what I have come across here! 🫶🏼🩷

Can I request a counterpart to Dizzy? Where the reader comes home super tipsy and roommate James has to deal with their affection and sloppy behavior :)) I think that might be a fun change of perspective for those two.

If not, no worries! Thank you for your amazing work 🥹 take care 🫶🏼

Hi gorgeous, thanks so much! Apologies for the wait, this got a bit long haha. Hope you like it <3

cw: drunkenness

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

James hears the front door open and close, a painful sounding series of thumps, and not much after that. 

He sets down his late-night snack of melon he’s been sneakily eating from the bowl you’d cut it up in earlier, leaving his fork sticking out of a piece. “Hello?” 

Your reply is quiet, barely echoing down the hallway to reach him. “James?” 

He gets up and goes toward the door. You’re slumped against it, cast half in shadow from the lamplight that filters through the window to fall upon one side of your face, brows bunched as you toy clumsily with your shoelace. You look up at his approach, and your expression clears. 

“James!”

James smiles; he can’t help it.

“Hi,” he says, with nearly as much enthusiasm. “Did you have fun tonight, sweetheart?” 

You nod happily. “I brought you something.” 

He feels his eyebrows raise. “Something for me?” 

“Mhm.” You twist onto your side, mouth screwing up concentratedly as you lift your bum to fish around in your back pocket. “Here!” You pull out a squished mars bar, looking rather pleased with yourself. “Those are your favorite, right?” 

“They are,” he agrees, taking it from you, “thanks. Where’d you get this?” 

“A man was giving them out on the street.”

James blinks. “Just giving them away?” 

“I know, very suspicious.” You nod sagely. “But I already had mine, and it wasn’t laced with cocaine or anything, so I figure it’s fine.” 

Right, then. James will just have to check on you in the morning to make sure you’re still breathing. 

“Well, thank you for the gift,” he says, and is rewarded with your gargantuan grin. 

“I’m glad you like it,” you reply, eyes full of an earnestness so sweet it makes James’ chest hurt. “I never get to do anything for you, and you’re so nice to me.” 

“You do tons of stuff for me,” he scoffs, but you look prepared to argue, and he doesn’t want that. He gives your shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Hey, wanna get some water?” 

You go quiet, considering this. “Can I have it on the floor?” 

James laughs. “You want to drink your water sitting on the floor?” 

You smile like you don’t quite understand what’s so funny but are happy to go along with it anyway. “The floor is good,” you say, as though it’s a simple fact of life. 

“Alright.” James weaves his arm under yours, hoisting you up. “Sure, sweetheart, you can have it on the floor.” 

He all but carries you into the kitchen, your feet barely touching the floor as they stumble inelegantly over each other and your one undone shoelace. You make a small sound as he eases you down on the floor next to the fridge, looking decidedly worse than you had over by the door. 

“Do you feel okay?” he asks, keeping a wary eye on you as he fills a cup from the tap. 

You hum noncommittally, waving him off. “Don’t worry about me.” 

“Sorry, you can’t stop me,” he replies teasingly, crouching in front of you to pass you the water. He can’t stop himself. “Do you think you’re going to be sick?” 

You make a face, mouth twisting in disgust. “God, I hope not.” 

A nervous laugh escapes him. “Okay well, uh—here.” James grabs a nearly empty bread bag from the counter, taking the last two slices out and setting them on top of the toaster. He passes it to you. “Just in case you do.” 

You give him a soft look, as if he hasn’t just handed you a vomit bag. “Thanks, Jamie.” 

His heart sputters. You never call him that, and certainly never while looking at him the way you are now. He has the sudden urge to squish your face between his hands. 

“Course,” he says quickly, looking down and getting to work on the shoelaces that were giving you trouble earlier. You’d double-knotted them and evidently forgotten. The action of prying the knot apart feels good, giving his body something productive to do. 

For a while, you only drink your water quietly. James disentangles the laces and slips your shoes off, setting them next to each other on the floor. You put your feet in his lap, and he lets you. When you gasp, he looks up, alarmed. 

“What?” 

“James.” Your eyes are wide and glossy. “James, I just remembered the most wonderful thing.” 

His heart calms slightly. “What’s that, love?” 

“I cut up cantaloupe earlier. We should eat it!”

James grins, taking your ankles to move them out of his lap. “Great idea. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He stands, ignoring your confused puppy sound at his leaving. 

Your eyes light up when he returns a moment later, bowl of melon in hand. 

“Oh my god, you’re the best,” you gush, reaching for the fork he passes you from the drawer. “Where were you hiding this?” 

“In my room,” he admits, sitting beside you. “I know you don’t like it when I eat right out of the bowl, sorry.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind so much anymore,” you wave him off, forking a chunk of melon and taking a bite out of it. “That was a new-roommate thing. I didn’t want your spit in my food, you could’ve had herpes.” 

A laugh startles out of him. “Did you think I had herpes?” 

“I didn’t know!” you defend yourself, and it’s ridiculous how endearing he finds it that you’re comfortable enough to talk with your mouth full around him. “You’re a very pretty man, James Potter. For all I knew, you had a steady rotation coming in and out of your room whenever I wasn’t home.” 

James guffaws, bumping your shoulder with his reprimandingly. “Wow, thanks for that. At least you think I’m pretty.” 

“Just the truth,” you say into your cup, voice somewhat quieter than before. 

He looks over, and you’ve gone a bit bashful, shoulders pulling up towards your ears as you down the last of your water. James thinks that he’s lucky you aren’t like this often. It’d be very hard to keep things platonic between you if you were this sweet and open with him as a habit. 

“I wasn’t sure about you when you first moved in either,” he says to lighten things. “The first time I opened the cottage cheese and saw peaches inside, I almost moved out.” 

You turn to him with your mouth agape, hand coming up to grip his bicep in offense. (He presumes he’s supposed to be intimidated, but all he can think about is how you never touch him like this, usually. It’s nice.) “You said it was good when I made you try it!” you accuse. “You liked it!” 

“It was okay,” he allows laughingly, letting himself cover your hand with his under the pretense of loosening your grip. “It was just off-putting at first. That was a lot of weird right out the gate, sweetheart. Sirius wanted me to call the police.” 

His plan backfires, and you drop your hand. Your chin, too, giving James a deadpan look through your lashes. “It’s not that weird. Tons of people do it.” 

“Sure, sure,” James says, patting your shoulder placatingly when you seem like you could argue more. “Feeling like you might be ready for bed?” You seem to have eaten your fill of melon. Your fork lies discarded in the bowl, swimming in juice. 

You deliberate for a moment before humming in affirmation. He stands first, taking both of your hands to help you up and marveling at the fact that you let him. When he turns to walk towards your room and you link your arm through his, he begins to worry he’s dreaming this whole thing. 

“James,” you whisper up towards his ear. “Jamie-Jame. I have a secret to tell you.” 

Definitely dreaming, then. A secret? He wonders what you could have thought of to tell him at this hour, in the state you’re in. Surely a good friend wouldn’t let you spill your guts when you’re this out of sorts. It could be something serious. Anything you’re not willing to share sober, he shouldn’t want to hear.

“What is it?” he asks, hating himself. 

“I’m not going to take off my makeup before bed.” 

A giggle bubbles out of him, so ridiculous he’s glad you’re not in your right mind to hear it. “Wow. Dire measures, huh?” 

You nod somberly. “I’m gonna be so upset with myself tomorrow. I’m gonna wake up with crusty-eye and a million new zits, but I just want to go to sleep so bad, you know?” 

“Mm, I think I see where you’re coming from.” James tries to sound like he’s giving it due consideration while he sets you down on your bed. You scoot back to the side, making room for him to sit beside you. He does. (Who is he to refuse an invitation like that?) “Yeah, you’ve just gotta prioritize comfort sometimes. You’ll make it up to yourself, I’m sure.” 

You level him with what seems to be your best approximation of a stern look. It makes you look extremely cuddly. “You can’t hold it against me when you see my skin tomorrow, James. It’s going to be atrocious.” 

He has to bite his lip to match your seriousness. “I guarantee I will not mind. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never not looked lovely.” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t get it.” You flop back onto your pillow, disconsolate. “You’ve probably never had a zit in your life.” 

“Actually, I went through a fairly bad stint in year eight—”

“That’s not fair,” you groan. 

He smiles at you patiently. “What’s not fair, sweetheart?” 

“You’re not fair.” You gesture vaguely in his direction as if to make your point. “You haven’t gotten zits since eighth year, first of all. Then on top of that, you smell nice. And you have really long eyelashes, which no boy should ever have. There’s no way you appreciate them as much as they deserve. And you call me sweetheart—what’s up with that?” James blinks, but you’re not done. “And you’re way too nice to me! It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Right,” James says, considering. “So all I have to do is start getting zits, stop showering, and…trim my eyelashes, and then you’ll be satisfied? Justice will be restored?” 

Your lips curve, and you nod magnanimously. “Yes, please. Straightaway.” 

“Cruel.” He sets a hand on your knee, giving your leg a teasing little shake. “Should I stop calling you sweetheart as well, then?” 

You go shy again, looking just to the side of his face as a faint blush colors your cheeks. “No, that’s okay.” 

James has to bite the inside of his cheek to tamp down the full force of his smile. “Okay. Alright if I continue being nice to you as well? I’d feel like a bit of a prick if I stopped.” 

You give it a few moment’s consideration. “Fine,” you say, as if this is a large allowance and he really is on thin ice. James lets loose his smile. You copy him, your own grin lopsided and goofy. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Can I have a hug?” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” The word tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it, warm fondness oozing from every syllable. “Of course, come here.” 

Despite his own words, he goes to you, crushing you to his chest with perhaps a touch too much eagerness. You don’t seem to notice, drooping against him with your arms banded around his middle. He thinks he hears you breathe in. 

“Still feeling okay?” he asks gently, rubbing your back. You hum. “Ready to go to sleep?” 

“Not if you’re going to leave.” Your voice is muffled against the fabric of his pajama shirt. The skin beneath grows warm from your breath. “I like you so much, Jamie. You’re so nice to me, you know?” 

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.” He smiles to himself, palm sweeping over the bare skin of your upper back and the material of your dress. He wonders if you’ll regret having slept in it in the morning. He can’t stand the thought of wearing outside clothes in bed. Oddly, he doesn’t know if you’re the same. “I can stay for a bit, if you want.” 

“I like you, like, so much it’s a problem,” you go on as if he hasn’t spoken. You sound mildly upset. “You have no idea.”

Something tense and tentatively happy twists in James’ gut. It takes more effort than it should to keep breathing, keep rubbing your back. “I can stay, but you have to go to sleep, okay?” 

You ease out of his embrace to look up at him. Your eyes are somewhat focussed, but watery. “James, I like you so much.” 

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” he says softly, heart a hard-to-ignore, thundering thing in his chest. “Let’s just sleep for now, okay?” 

“Okay.” You look reluctant but nod, laying back against your pillow. “Thanks.” 

James doesn’t know what you’re thanking him for. He’s not sure he deserves it. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” 

“I’m going, I’m going,” you grumble, but reach up for his hand. He gives it to you, and you haul it to your chest with surprising strength, sending James slumping forward until he’s nearly lying down beside you. “Sorry,” you say drowsily. Then, after some thought, “Actually, no I’m not.” 

James laughs. He’s happy to know you, he thinks. You’re kind and funny and thoughtful, and apparently very talkative when you’re drunk. He likes you too. Loves you, maybe. He’ll think about it tomorrow.

[weird-is-life]

I saw you’re taking Aaron requests… I would love if you write where Aaron and reader were in love in college but obviously life happened and they split apart and they meet up again all these years later and how you think their reuinion would go 🥹 ty

Hii, lovely🥰 ty for this cute request....hope you like it!! Warnings: fluff, mom!reader, use of y/n, mentions of school, (1.1k)

Aaron is running late. Nothing unusual with how busy he gets with the work, but it still bothers him. It's the parent-teacher conference, and he really didn't want to be late. Especially when he knows that Jack's teacher put him as the last parent of the day (knowing how long he works from previous experiences).

There is only one car in the school parking lot when Aaron finally arrives.

He basically sprints from his car to Jack's classroom, even though he called the teacher he would be late. Aaron knocks on the door, and comes in.

"Good evening," Aaron greets the teacher warmly, extending his right hand to her. " I'm sorry for being late. Thank you for waiting for me."

"It's no problem, Mr. Hotchner, " she says, "you aren't the only one late today." She adds with an amused smile.

"Oh, really? " Aaron's always the last one here, so he is a bit surprised to hear that.

"Yes, she should be here soon, too...-" the teacher replies, just as there's another knock on the door.

"Would it be a problem for you, Mr. Hotchner if I combined you two last parents of the day together?" the teacher asks. She, as expected, wants to go home already, too.

Aaron understands that more than anybody, " of course not. I don't mind at all." And why should he mind? Jack's always more than good in school, great grades and well-behaved. So he's not afraid for the other parent to hear that. He wouldn't be afraid even if Jack wasn't doing the best in school either.

"Thank you so much," the teacher says before she gets up, and opens the door.

The wind gets knocked out of Aaron.

It's you.

Fuck, it's really you.

And gosh. You look even more beautiful then he could remember.

You were just two young fools in college the last time he saw you. And now....And now Aaron can't believe his eyes. He should have known you would never grow out of your beauty.

"Aaron? Aaron Hotchner? Oh my god, is it really you?" You can't seem to believe the sight in front of you either.

Your eyes are wide open in shock, amd a small smile appears on your lips. He looks exactly as you thought he would.

Still so handsome, and the few streaks of white hair making him look it even more. And don't even get me started on the suit he wears.

"Yeah, it's me," he chuckles. Aaron stands up, and out of the routine he extends his hand out to you.

You completely ignore it (along with the etiquette of what's an appropriate greeting after seeing somebody after a long, long time), and embrace Aaron.

Aaron heart skips a beat, but he embraces you back. Maybe just a tiny bit less tightly than you.

The teacher watches this whole commotion in pure shock as she goes to sit down in her chair.

The click of her heels against the floor is the thing that brings you out of your delighted shock, and you pull away with a light blush on your face.

"I take it you two know each other?" the teacher jokes, and you and Aaron take the seats opposite her.

"Yes," you both say at the same time.

"Uh, college..." you also add. The teacher just politely nods, and starts talking about Jack and your son.

Oh god. You have a son, too! Aaron haven't even realised that you were there for the same reason as him since he's laid his eyes on you. It's all like a fever dream.

The counseling finally comes to an end, and Aaron is more than eager to get out of the class just to catch up with you for a bit.

As soon as you two exit the school, and head into the parking lot you are looking at each other.

"Oh my gosh, how long has it been, Aaron?" you question with a smile, and you look him over a few more times.

"More then 20 years," Aaron tells you with a same smile as yours. His eyes all over you, too.

"Oh, wow. We are getting old huh?" You chuckle. Aaron laughs a belly deep laugh.

Surprisingly, it's so good to hear that you both have the same laughs as you did in college. It stirs something in both of your chests.

"I am," Aaron says, "but you are definitely not." His compliment catches you off guard, yours cheeks heating up for whatever reason like some school girl's.

You smile sheepishly at him," you don't look too bad yourself."

Aaron only chuckles at your words. "So what are you doing here?" He asks, suddenly more serious and so much more curious. "I thought you lived across the world as a big lawyer...?"

You nod with an amused but a bit sad smile, " yes, but you know, life happened, and I got a pretty great offer for a position here so I just took it, and moved here a few weeks after that...."

"And I was actually wondering if you still lived here-" you get interrupted mid sentence by your phone ringing.

"I'm sorry," you say, and pick up the phone. It's clear that it's the nanny calling you, and Aaron knows you have to hurry home before you even hang up the phone.

With your phone in your pocket you tell Aaron with a regretful expression," I'm sorry, Aaron. I have to run home, the nanny can't stay much longer."

"No, it's totally okay. I should hurry home to Jack, too."

"I wish we could talk longer, Aaron, and catch up on things. Would you- Would you like to go for a coffee someday soon?" You hesitantly ask, and Aaron just thinks how there's no reason for you to be unsure of his answer, when he would always say yes.

"It's like you're reading my mind," Aaron smiles sincerely at you," I wanted to ask you the same thing. Here," he swiftly scribbles his personal number on his business card, and hands it to you.

"Call me?"

"Or you call me," you basically do the same thing with your personal number on your business card, and you hand it to him.

"I will," he promises, and you know he's honest with his intentions to do just that. You could always count on is words, his promises.

"Great, I'll see you soon then. Goodbye Aaron Hotchner." You say your goodbye. You want to get in your car as quickly as you can just to calm your racing heart.

"Goodbye, y/n." Aaron says softly, his eyes following your figure until you get in your car.

He even waits for you to drive off first just to make sure he didn't just imagine this whole thing.

And he is more than relieved to know he didn't.

And lets just say that Jack wonders why his dad keeps smiling so weirdly once Aaron finally gets home.

[formulawolff]

✧˖° a day in the life ✧˖°

pairing: female!driver x toto wolff

summary: as the season progresses, you decide to share some of your favorite snapshots to your instagram. however, as you post more and more photos, the fans are beginning to really starting to wonder who that mystery man may be.

a/n: these posts are set between chapters vii, viii, and ix of alkaline! they aren’t really super time specific. they’re just around the time golden girl was in brackley, her travels through england, and of course, the races!

liked by williamsracing, alex_albon, lilymhe, and 800,004 others!

goldengirl: a day in the life :p

view 2,082 comments

lilymhe: oh my gosh!!! it’s me!!! ilysm!! 🥹

goldengirl: ofc!!! my bestie <3 ily more!!

goldengirlforever: these are so cute! 🤍

kikiayy: mother is mothering with the photo dumps lately

f1fanboy: i can feel her aura through the screen

alex_albon: who’s that cutie in the second photo? i need her number ASAP‼️

goldengirl: sorry but she doesn’t date nerds 🤓

alex_albon: if you keep bullying me, i’m going to go straight to james! i am not NOT messing around‼️👹😤

williamsracing: what’s 4 + 4? cause you ATE that! 💅🏻

f1fangirly: PLS WILLIAMS WHAT IS THIS!!?

goldengirlforever: i’m literally crying rn 😭 wtf

goldengirlstan: they really slayed with that comment though

view more replies

lewishamilton: why does it look like you’re in twilight in the first pic lol

mercedesgirly0420: ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

hastalavistababy: WHAT ON—

justaninchident: this is the weirdest crossover episode ever

view more replies

landonorris: can u send me the editing app u use you ur pics

goldengirl: idk can you use proper grammar first?

landonorris: can YOU send me the editing app that YOU use for YOUR photos? please and thank you mommy 🥺

landonorrisfan8383: MOMMY⁉️ 😳 HELLO⁉️

f1ismylife: WAIT WHAT IF LANDO IS THE MYSTERY MAN SHE HAS BEEN POSTING—

mclarengirly: OH MY GOD YOU COULD BE RIGHT!

goldengirl: ahahaha no. that’s not my man. it’s just an inside joke. nothing more, i promise :p

view more replies

liked by lilymhe, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, and 736,283 others

goldengirl: recent travels ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

view 4,763 comments

lilymhe: you’re so cute i’m gonna throw up

goldengirl: i WISH a certain someone would flirt with me the way you do 😫

alex_albon: i’m still waiting on meeting the day you bring this mystery man to the paddock. 🤨

goldengirl: i will one day!

mercedesamgf1: hey! that looks familiar! 😎

goldengirl: thank you for showing me around! i had a great time! :)

hastalavistababy: THIS IS GETTING WEIRD.

goldengirlforever: PLEASE DON’T TELL US YOU’RE SIGNING WITH MERCEDES NEXT SEASON.

view more replies

lewishamilton: why didn’t you tell me you were in brackley? 🧐

goldengirl: because it was for business and not hanging out 🙄🤚🏻

mercedesfan737: BUSINESS?

ilovef1: this is getting insane. where is drive to survive when you need them? 😩 i hope they’re covering this for the upcoming season

formulaonefan4life: wdym business? this is fishy af.

view more replies

goldengirl: guys…. i literally had a meeting with some sponsors in london & then i decided to take a trip to brackley to see the mercedes hq & campus. just because i drive for williams doesn’t mean that i can’t just go look at the place 😭

totosgirl73738: it’s just a bit sketch because toto was in brackley the same time you were.

justaninchident: @totosgirl73728 girl… that man owns 33% of the company.. i think he works there.

totoswife1988: she’s just not making herself look good rn with all the affair rumors going around. that’s all. going out of her way to brackley to just “see” the mercedes is weird.

justaninchident: speculating about someone’s personal life is weird. 🥱

view more replies

landonorris: was the mercedes campus cool at least? sorry ppl are being nosy af

goldengirl: yeah! i got to meet a ton of their staff & saw a lot of behind the scenes stuff! come with me next time. we can try fish and chips!

landonorris: omg!! the boys and golden girl take a field trip!! we can visit george and eat beans on toast!

view more replies

alexandrasaintmleux: where can i fill out the application to be you? is there like a tutorial or something i can follow?

goldengirl: brb i’ll post one to tik tok right now! 🤭

[dark-night-hero]

i love the imagine u wrote where zhongli would give us up for the world 🥹🥹 and it got me thinking:

what if the reader gets incarnated to the current timeline we have and meets zhongli again? they don’t have the past memories but somehow zhongli feels familiar for them. Z thinks this era is the right time for him to take back the past and do things right so he spends time w them but he somehow finds out that reader has a lover (maybe another playable character). Z begins to asks questions abt their lover and idk how their convo would play out but I just imagine where reader gets a question where they answer with “i would give up the world for them (their lover)” and zhong is just hit with past memories and regrets wishing how he could have done things differently idk i j imagine it rly angsty 😭😭

Sorry to disturb but this has been on my mind i cant stop thinking abt it and i wanted to share 😭😭 Anyways, i look forward to more of ur works!! keep up the good work ur doing great 🥺🫶

: following zhongli (world > you)

Imagine how had Mor- Zhongli tried to get close to you, you who obviously was rather uncomfortable with his presence. And the only key to it was the traveller, the same old traveller that had help Liyue and Monstand and is now away on their venture in Inazuma. That being said, nowadays he had been keeping you company.

"You've been off since the departure of the Traveller." Zhongli spoke as he stand right beside you in the harbor.

"Really? I didn't notice." You have him a small smile.

"But I guess you're right, I've been missing the traveller so bad nowadays." You chuckle.

Imagine, at that very moment, Zhongli hoped he didn't not see you. Not when you're looking like that. Not when you're looking so soft, so lovely, obviously longing for someone, someone who definitely wasn't him.

Imagine the way his heart dropped to his stomach. The way his hand clenched around nothing before realising it. And after a few moments of silence.

"Do you.. Perhaps have feelings for the traveller?"

Imagine the way his voice shaken, obviously did go unnoticed by you. The way his amber iris were shaking, hoping and trying to deny reality as best as he can. He had hope for a chance. He knew this time, nothing can go wrong with the two of you. So he approached you, he tried to get close to you, he really did. But perhaps it was already too late, or was it? Did he even had a chance in this new persona he now possess?

"Honestly, I'm not sure myself." You chuckle.

"Or so I thought before the traveller left. Did you know? The traveller confessed to me, but Traveller also told me that they had so many things going on at the moment so.." As you look beyond the sea, you smile genuinely.

"I was wondering that in the world was the Traveller even thinking confessing and leaving me just like that, but now that I think about it. Its wasn't so bad."

Imagine the way you smile, the way your brush back your hair, trying to fix it upon the harsh breeze that have been messing with your hair earlier.

"If the world wants me dead, if the world see me as a threat, what would you do?"

"Huh?"

"What was the question that suddenly came into mind as soon as te Traveller confessed."

"What was the Traveller reply?"

Imagine the way you laugh, the way you smile genuinely as you recall the answer of that silly, adventurous, kind Traveller reply.

Imagine the way Zhongli kept staring at you, you who looked all refesh and happy, bright as you were before. Oh how much it hurts him he was no longer the reason why.

"How about a new world?"

"What?"

"I'll just have to take you to a new world. As you are already aware I wasn't from this world. All we have to do is to escape and find a new world where no one can take you away from me. Although my twin always somes first, I cannot afford to loose you, you know?"

"..." "(First name)? Are you o-?" "Pfff.."

"Did I say something funny?" "No.. hehe, I'm just.. I don't know." Was it relief that you felt?

Imagine the way you let out a sigh. Thinking about the Traveller only makes you miss them more. Perhaps you should have given the Traveller a reply back then but both of you agreed to put more thought into it and give them a reply upon coming back.

"Escape." It was just one word.

"I see." Zhongli replied, this time he looked away from you.

"If you don't mind me asking." "What is it?"

"If it's for the sake of the world, would you be willing to kill them?"

Imagine the way you once again let out a sigh, as you went quite only for a few moments, you face him and tug his sleeve.

"If that person meant the world for you, isn't that enough reason to be selfish?" You chuckle.

"Isn't a world without your beloved would only felt like a living hell?" You added as you never once look away from him.

"It goes on without saying that it's them over the world. That's how much they matter to me, that's how much I love them."

Imagine the way Zhongli chuckle and the way his lips form a bitter smile afterwards nevertheless, he agreed to you and eventually excuse himself. Leaving you all alone in the harbor, all waiting for the Traveller and not him. But it's alright, one way or another, he deserves this.

Imagine as Zhongli walks away from you, you stare at him and as you do so. He looks so lonely. But then you blink as a harsh breeze passes by, turning your look into the horizon, the sun was peacefully setting. How beautiful yet it left a bitter taste in your mouth in which you soon ignore.

"Escape huh."

Imagine, it's not like he did not think about it. But back then, the best choice was to kill you. But after hearing what you said, he starts to doubt if he did perhaps made a mistake, leaving regrets behind. After all, you were right. A world were he couldn't embrace you when you were right in front of him was like a living hell.

Imagine the way it was making him wonder if he was only a little bit selfish, if only he did not listen to the pleads of his people, his friends. If only he tried to find another way. If only he choses the other way. Would the two of you be happy and still together like you were back then?

He doesn't know, after all, those were the choices he didn't take. And this was the consequence he had to face.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

: I think I strayed away from what was asked. Crap, did I do this right?

[ikkyfics]

Ahhh you write for Dave Lizewski🥹.. I wanted to request maybe something angsty? Like Reader is helping him with all the saving stuff and some criminal sees her and targets her and she gets hurt? The rest is up to you (if you want it to end good or not)!

I also wanted to say I LOVE LOVE LOVE your works :D

Recklessness

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: “So we’re both crazy, Dave,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder as you walked out of the alley. “I think that’s what makes us work.”

Warnings: violence, mild distress

A/N: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw, thank you so much, you're so sweet, seriously. I think it's kind of impossible to make a tragic ending for Dave - like, I've been in love with him for about 9 years. I'm sorry if I deviated a little from the request, but I hope you like it

Masterlist

You were on your way home when the sound of a fight caught your attention. The narrow, dimly lit alley looked like the scene of a confrontation you would recognize anywhere. Even from a distance, the awkward figure in green and yellow uniform was unmistakable: Dave. Or rather, Kick-Ass. Your heart raced, a mix of fear and adrenaline taking over as you tried to analyze the scene. Dave was facing someone much bigger, a muscular man holding a piece of metal pipe, advancing with a fury that seemed uncontrollable. Dave, with his typical fearless (and somewhat reckless) style, was doing his best to dodge the blows, but he was clearly at a disadvantage.

Without thinking, you ran toward the alley. “Dave!” you called - without even realizing that he had used his real name -, your voice coming out louder than you intended. He turned his face toward you for a second, just enough for the criminal to notice your presence. The man stopped and gave a cruel grin, his yellow teeth shining in the darkness. “Who’s this? Brought backup, huh?” he mocked, his eyes assessing you like a predator who had just found easier prey.

“Get out of here, now!” Dave shouted at you, his voice alarmed, almost desperate. But it was too late. The man moved with surprising speed, completely ignoring Dave and advancing toward you. You instinctively backed up, but the alley was too narrow, and your steps found the cold, damp wall. “Stay away from her!” Dave shouted again, running to intercept him.

The criminal turned at the last second, dodging Dave with a blow that made him stumble to the side. It was enough for you to make a decision you knew Dave would never approve of. Before the man could attack him again, you shouted, “Hey! I’m right here!” Your voice trembled a little, but it was loud enough to get his attention. The criminal laughed, satisfied with the distraction, and turned to you.

Everything happened too quickly. You tried to run, but the man was faster, grabbing your arm with force. The pain was immediate, radiating from the point of contact, but before you could react, he slammed you to the ground. Dave screamed your name, and within seconds, he was on top of the man, punching him with all the strength he could muster. The criminal tried to retaliate, but Dave seemed driven by something stronger than pain or fear: anger. Anger at seeing you hurt, for involving you in this world.

When the man finally fell unconscious, Dave rushed to you, kneeling at your side. “Are you okay? Please, talk to me!” His voice was shaky, his eyes wide with panic as he checked your injured arm. You tried to smile, despite the throbbing pain. “I… I just wanted to help.”

“Not like this!” he said, his voice nearly breaking as he held your face in his hands. “You can’t do this, you can’t put yourself in danger like this. I… I wouldn’t be able to lose you.”

Dave was still breathing heavily, his fists clenched as he watched the unconscious man in front of him. He seemed frozen, as if he couldn’t take his eyes off the body lying on the ground, fearing it would rise again. “Dave,” you called, your voice weak, but enough to break his trance. He immediately turned his gaze toward you, and the guilt reflected in his eyes was overwhelming.

“I told you to go,” he began, kneeling beside you once again. The concern in his movements was palpable, his hands trembling slightly as he helped you sit up slowly. “You’re hurt. Let me see.” He seemed to be trying to stay calm, but his tone betrayed the growing panic.

“I’m fine, it’s just… the shock,” you tried to downplay, though the pain in your arm and the dizziness were hard to ignore. You saw his gaze fall on the mark the criminal had left on your arm, his fingers brushing the area with almost reverent care.

“This isn’t just a shock,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, before shaking his head and letting out a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t have let you get involved in this. I should have protected you.”

“I knew the risk, Dave,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “You need to understand that… I can’t just stand by while you’re in danger. I can’t.” Your gaze met his, and you saw how he was struggling to hold back tears. “You’d do the same for me.”

“Of course I would!” he exclaimed, the intensity of his voice echoing in the alley. “But it’s not the same. You… you shouldn’t be here, not like this.” He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more. “I… I’m not the hero everyone thinks I am, okay? I mess up, and… if something had happened to you, I…” His voice faltered, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “I would never forgive myself.”

Your heart tightened at his words, but you knew he needed to hear the truth. “You are a hero, Dave. Even if you’re not perfect, even if things go wrong sometimes. That’s why I didn’t hesitate to come. Because you matter to me, more than anything.” Your voice was steady, but your eyes glistened with tears you were trying to hold back. “If you think you can keep me safe by keeping me away, then you don’t understand how I feel.”

He fell silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on you as if trying to absorb every word. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, lowering his head. “I get it. I just… don’t know what to do with it. I love you, and that scares the hell out of me, you know? Because every time you step into this world, it feels like I’m gambling with the most important person in my life.” His voice broke, and he closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “But I get it. Just… promise me we’ll be more careful, okay? That you won’t throw yourself in front of another big guy to save me.”

You laughed softly, despite the pain, and nodded. “I promise. But only if you promise the same. No more unnecessary risks.”

“Deal,” he replied, a small smile appearing on his face. He helped you up carefully, draping his arm around your waist to support you. “Now, let’s get home. I need to take care of you. And maybe… rethink the way I do all this.” He paused, looking at the fallen criminal before turning his gaze back to you. “But first of all… thank you for coming. Even though I still think you’re kind of crazy for it.”

“So we’re both crazy, Dave,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder as you walked out of the alley. “I think that’s what makes us work.”

[naomijoestar]

Aaaah I’m really in love with your works on the passione members 🥹 (especially Bruno heheh) could you make headcanons on Bruno finding out his shy!crush was a former member of the mafia, as an assassin with a hidden identity and a really strong stand? She gets all flustered whenever he’s near sooo…

Please make it as fluffy as you can pretty pleaaaase 🫶

Masterlist here <3

Hey strawburry! I’m so sorry for the late reply <\3 I am sooo glad you are loving my work for passione!! I seriously love writing for them so much🥹 Here’s your request and, again, I’m sory for the extremely late reply ;(

Bruno finds out his shy crush is actually a former mafia assassin headcanons

- When Bruno first finds out, he’s stunned. His sweet, shy crush who blushes every time he’s around used to be in the mafia? And an assassin? It’s a lot for him to process, but instead of being scared, he’s deeply impressed

- Bruno’s admiration for his crush skyrockets. He always knew she was special, but finding out she could handle herself with such a powerful Stand only makes him respect her more. He looks at her with even more fondness than before

- His crush gets even more flustered around him now, knowing he’s learned her big secret. Anytime he gives her that warm smile or brushes his fingers against hers, she turns bright red and stumbles over her words. It makes Bruno’s heart skip every time. He finds her shyness adorable, especially in contrast to her deadly past

- Bruno becomes fascinated by her Stand. They start training together so he can see it in action. Watching her skillfully wield it only deepens his admiration. Even though she’s an expert fighter, she still gets flustered whenever Bruno compliments her on her strength or praises her strategy

- Even though he knows she’s more than capable of protecting herself, Bruno’s protective instincts still kick in whenever they’re together. He can’t help it—he wants to be her shield even though she could easily handle any threat that comes her way. She finds his protectiveness sweet, though it makes her blush even harder

- Bruno gets curious about what she was like back when she was an assassin. When he gently asks about her old missions, she becomes incredibly shy, avoiding eye contact and mumbling answers. He loves watching her squirm, but never pushes her too hard, letting her open up at her own pace

- Every now and then, Bruno lightly teases her about being a “dangerous woman,” calling her things like “deadly but sweet.” He’ll wink or grin at her, which only makes her blush more

- Bruno loves to catch her off guard with little acts of affection, like brushing her hair out of her face or resting his hand on her shoulder. She stiffens up and turns crimson every time, her heart racing, but she secretly loves the way he treats her so gently

- As Bruno gets closer to her, she starts to open up about how hard it was to leave her old life behind. She was afraid of being judged for her past, but Bruno always reassures her that she’s safe now, wrapping her in warm, protective hugs

- Whenever they’re sitting close, Bruno will “accidentally” brush his hand against hers, just to see her flustered reaction. She’ll freeze, her face turning a deep red, and quickly pull her hand back, but not before he gently takes it and holds it for a moment longer. His fingers are always so warm, and she feels her heart race every time

- Bruno starts giving her soft, affectionate nicknames that make her melt. He’ll call her “cara mia” or “bella” in the softest voice, his lips barely brushing her ear as he says it. She gets so shy, her words come out as stammers, but she can’t help but smile

- One evening, they’re alone, and there’s soft music playing in the background. Bruno, being the gentleman he is, offers her his hand with a charming smile. She’s too flustered to refuse, and soon they’re slow dancing, her hands barely resting on his shoulders while his hands gently hold her waist. Her heartbeat is erratic, but Bruno just keeps whispering how beautiful she is under his breath, making her even more nervous (in the best way)

- On quiet nights, Bruno and his crush stay up late talking. She’s still shy about opening up, but Bruno has a way of making her feel safe. He’ll ask about her dreams, her favorite things, and the moments that make her happiest. His voice is soft, low, and comforting, making her feel like she could listen to him forever. Sometimes she’s so wrapped up in his voice, she almost forgets to respond, making him chuckle

- Even though it’s usually his crush getting flustered, Bruno’s heart races sometimes too. It’s just something about her being so gentle and caring even tho she was an assassin that makes him so weak for her

Ugh I’m so sorry if this isn’t that good :,) I know it’s not my best work and I apologize, but I hope you like it and if you’d like anything changed don’t be shy to tell me <3

If you liked this make sure to check out my other work! And if you’d like me to write anything specific for any character/squad from parts 1-7 you can request it!

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

I was wondering how would the Professor Grant roleplay go between Steven and the reader

Maybe some spanking because the reader failing in his class 😈

I love your writings btw ❤

Anony, my heart is melting!❤️🥹

Your wish is my command!

Note: I'm so goddamn sorry for the (far too) late post, work was getting in the way :(

A+ is the way it's supposed to be

Steven Grant x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, soft dom!Steven, p in v, spanking, riding. (Lmk if I forgot some)

You and Steven decided to do a little 'Professor Grant' roleplay at your place.

Your Professor, Mr. Grant scheduled a personal tutoring to boost your grades up. It's already afternoon, Mr. Grant would be there soon, so you cleaned up and got your stuff for the tutoring ready. Mr. Grant had given you 'homework' to get ready. Of course you were studying a little bit. But right after that you got a little lazy and decided to get the rest, or atleast some of it from replaying Assassin's Creed Origins. After all, aquiring information from playing games is far more interesting than doing it by studying, right? So you thought...

20 minutes later your doorbell rang. You straightened your clothes and headed for the door before opening, revealing ideed Mr. Grant, wearing his typical blueish jacket and vintage shirt.

"Hello. Are you prepared for our tutoring?" He greeted with a sweet smile.

You stepped aside to let him enter, "Yes, I...I did." You nodded with a slight nervousness in your tone.

Steven went to your living room, sitting down on the couch and got his bag ready. Meanwhile you got him a glass of water before joining him, sitting down next to him on the couch.

"So? Are you ready? I will ask you some questions first." He informed.

He waited for you to agree before continuing. "First question, who was the first Egyptian god?"

You paused, brows furrowing a bit as you thought about the answer. A moment after, you looked up at Steven, "A-Anubis?" you tried your luck.

Steven shook his head and gave a weak smile, "Wrong. It was Atum. Next question: Who built the Pyramids?"

Please don't say aliens, please don't say aliens...

"Humans- I mean the Egyptians." You stuttered slightly.

Steven smiled, clapping his hands together, "See? I knew you could do it! But that was an easy one."

Steven opened his bag, pulling out some exams he made, handing them to you. "I give you thirty minutes to finish. And since you must have done your homework, you'll answer atleast most of them correctly, yeah?"

The exams were kind of hard for you mostly, given how you didn't study and prepared yourself. What was the name of the bird like god again? Horus?

Which god punishes people before they even get the chance to do something bad? Must have been Osiris, right? Right?!

What animal is Ammit again??

The amount of blackouts you had was high, you were playing around with the pen in your hand, biting your lip nervously.

Soon enough your time was up and Steven collected it for a look over. You stood infront of him, nervously playing with your hands knowing you did miserably. Steven, who sat on your couch looked up at you, gently taking off his glasses, setting it down.

"Did you do your homework?" He asked calmy with the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice.

"I was trying to help myself..." You gulped.

"Help yourself? Ohh, did you play that stupid video game where you run around in Egypt as an Assassin?" Came his reply.

"Yes." You nodded embarrassed.

Steven sighed, "Y'see, as your Professor it is my job to ensure you do well. I gave you all the necessary information you needed." Steven placed a hand on your shoulder, "But if you refuse to do what you're told, I am allowed to punish you. Normally I'd give you a second chance but..." he sighed dramatically, "seeing your latest results, I'm afraid I have no other option as to punish you." Steven gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, before his hand travelled down your back, stopping just above your butt.

"How 'bout a little spanking?" He asked softly, his hand going to your butt now to give it a squeeze. "Bend over my knee, please."

You obeyed, planting yourself on your stomach on his knees as Steven pulled your pants down just enough to reveal your panties.

"But please be gentle." You asked.

"The punishment will be reflected on your lazieness." Steven answered, smacking your ass gently. Then after a moment of silence, another spank came, this time harder, making you moan in surprise.

Steven noticed and smiled down at you, "Did you just moan?" Steven squeezed your ass again, causing you to squirm slightly.

Steven leaned down closer to you, "Don't tell me you actually like getting your ass spanked by your Professor."

Another spank, another moan-like gasp from you.

"Oh-ho, you're quite naughty, ain't ya' darling? A lazy student likes getting her naughty butt spanked by her Professor." Steven gave your buttcheek a soft pinch, making you squirm again.

Then his hand came down again, already causing his red handprint to show. This time the spank caused you to accidentally grind your hips against his thigh. In response, Steven rubbed his hand aginst the red handprint on your skin to soothe it.

"Aww, darlin' did you like that?" Steven teased, his hand suddenly going down to rub your core through your panties, already finding them wet.

"Mr. Gr--" You gasped.

"Gotta admit, seeing how you respond to this is quite arousing to say the least." Steven kept rubbing, feeling how you got wetter by every second. Steven then proceeded to slide your pants down your legs and tossing them away.

"God, you're such a naughty girl." Steven pulled your panties down, exposing your lower half to him. But then he removed his hand, making you mewl at the loss.

"I'm sorry Mr. Grant." You pouted, turning your head to look up at him.

Steven sneered, "You're sorry? Alright fine, if you promise to take your time to study from now on I will continue, you hear me?"

You nodded eagerly, "Yes sir."

"Good. Now get up and on my lap." He beckoned with his finger.

You wasted no time, getting up and straddling him.

"There's my good girl." He leaned in and kissed your forehead. Then Steven undid his pants, pulling his hard cock out. "And now ride me, show me you're not lazy."

You raised, planting your wet hole on his thick cock before slowly lowering, letting out soft moans along the way until he was sheathed inside you.

"Yeah that's it." Steven sighed in pleasure.

Steven moved his hands on your ass, squeezing them firmly as you started riding him. Your moans making his hips move.

"I thought you wanted me to do all the work." You teased.

Steven chuckled, his hips stopping "Watch it before I will make you really do all the work." He scolded teasingly.

His hips started moving upwards again, meeting yours. You threw your head back as the pace increased. Steven's grunts were easily overtoned by your needy moans. Steven felt you being so slippery down there.

"I'm starting to think you love your Professor's cock, hm?" He panted, his pace never decreasing.

"Yes." You whined, feeling your orgasm built up.

Steven felt you tightening around him, his thrusts becoming harder.

A few moments after, you couldn't handle it any longer, clamping down on him, squeezing his cock for all it's worth with a loud moan following. Steven came seconds after you, filling you up with his warm cum.

You both just sat there for a moment to catch your breaths, your head resting on his shoulder.

"That was quite intense, love." Steven broke the silence.

You giggled, "Hell yeah." You then lifted yourself off his lap to sit beside him on the couch while Steven put his now soft cock back inside his pants.

"But you should really consider becoming a Professor." You nudged him playfully.

Steven gave you a dirty look, "Don't give me ideas." He teased.

"Okay forget it, Jake and Marc would probably burn down the place after they get a headache from all the study stuff." You laughed.

Steven laughed too, "You're not wrong."

Steven spent the rest of the evening at your place, giving you tips on how to improve and tricks for best study techniques.