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Hey!
I love your husband/dad version of the love and deepspace boys!
I was wondering if you could do like headcanons or something of them picking out outfits for the baby or babies?
Maybe add Caleb only if you want to or are comfortable with it, I don't see much with him and since he's a new love interest i wonder what it would be like for him?
Love your work!!!
Picking Out Baby Clothes With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men
parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader genre/ tags: fluff fluff a/n: hihi my lovely ! ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ MWAH thank you so much my angel for reading my works !! i love writing them as dads or soon to be dads so much so this was a rlly cute headcanon to write (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ hopefully i did this justice pls lmk but if not ill try to add more later ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ i hope you enjoy reading ! p.s i love ur banner (∩˃o˂∩)♡
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆
Xavier:
Xavier was in complete awe the moment he stepped into the store with you. Everything looked so small and the thought of your future baby would eventually fit into all these tiny clothes hit him hard. He couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest that his child was already growing so fast and he wanted to savor every moment of it.
Shopping for baby essentials was easy enough but shopping for clothes were a different story. Xavier stood beside you in the baby clothing aisle, looking at the tags with a confused expression. He was unsure if he should show you the 0-3 month size one or the 3-6 month one, so he’ll just grab both sizes and explain to you later that your little one would grow into them eventually. Plus it would look cute to look back on and compare from how much they've grown.
But what really got Xavier were the onesies. He kinda blacked out and picked out so many without even realizing it. Each one made him imagine how adorable your baby would look in it, tiny with their squishy little cheeks as if they were a little plushie.
Zayne:
Zayne would start off with a basket in his hand as you both strolled through the store so you can keep your arms linked together, just in case you started feeling tired, even if you were still in your early stages of pregnancy. But he’ll quickly swap it out with a cart after noticing how much energy and time you were putting into picking out baby clothes.
You’d catch the softest smile on his face whenever he picked up the smallest items. Tiny socks that were meant for a three month old that could barely stretch over his thumb or the little beanies that shrunk when he compared them to his hands. The clothes were tinier than he’d ever imagined and he couldn’t help but imagine how quickly your little one would soon arrive and would be growing into them soon.
Zayne would let you be in charge on picking out the ones that caught your eye whether it were bright colors or playful patterns, he’ll give you the space to choose whatever style you liked best for the baby. Every now and then, he’ll hold up a piece, showing you the ones he thought would be perfect for your future baby. His choices would always be thoughtful, carefully deciding the style and material that would keep them warm on chilly days or nights or light, breathable materials for warmer months.
Rafayel:
You two would spend HOURS in that store, completely immersed in picking out clothes for your little children that are due in a few more months. Each piece would vary on the color for the seasons. Every outfit and piece sparked a conversation, discussing why each piece would be cute on your babies and why they need it. It didn't take long to persuade him and it would immediately be in the cart
But before you knew it, wandering further into the store were toddler sized outfits and Rafayel was already imagining your babies growing up, they weren’t even born yet.
He’d get ahead of himself, picking out swimwear for your babies, picturing their first dip into the water with him and then later on, their first swim together. He’d also start choosing adorable outfits that would match or compliment each other's outfits for the perfect family photos you’d take together in the future.
Sylus:
You both already did your fair share of online shopping together with him, filling up the online cart with baby clothes you liked and loved. Sylus would make sure to select the express delivery even though your baby wasn’t due for a couple months, plus it's not like it'll hurt his card anyway. But if you ever felt like that wasn’t enough and you wanted to see more in person, he won't hesitate to take you out to shop.
This would already be your third cart in the store while Luke and Kieran wrap up the other two carts that were filled with baby supplies and toys you both might need. Now, the current cart was almost overflowing with baby clothes you thought would be perfect for your little one in a few months.
Sylus would let you roam around the aisles, admiring how focused you were while he pushed the cart around. He'd also throw in a few suggestions of matching outfits with your baby. Some could be for an event or just some casual wear that you could match with them at home. He would also have to remind you that the adorable little pieces you showed him were already ordered online, a little smirk tugging on his lips as he watched you fall in awe with the clothes all over again.
Caleb:
Shopping with Caleb would be filled with excitement and nostalgia. He’d pick out baby clothes that reminded him of what you wore when you were younger, he just wants his little baby to look just as cute as their mama. He’d also gravitate towards anything with adorable apple designs, which also means getting cute little baby bibs for them when they're ready for feeding
The entire time you two are shopping, he’ll frequently hold up a tiny outfit, his eyes lighting up as he explains to you how it reminded him of you when you were younger, no matter how embarrassing the story was, he'll manage to convince you to add it to the cart. He’d imagine how adorable it would be if a mini version of you wore it. He'll also add in a toddler apron so they can cook beside him in the kitchen in the future
He’s already planning ahead and imagining recreating those precious childhood photos of you and wanting to capture those same moments with your little one soon.
#xavier x reader#xavier x you#xavier x y/n#zayne x reader#zayne x you#zayne x y/n#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x y/n#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#caleb x reader#caleb x you#caleb x y/n#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#caleb love and deepspace#xavier lads#zayne lads#rafayel lads#sylus lads#caleb lads#xavier fluff#zayne fluff#rafayel fluff#sylus fluff#caleb fluff
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╰┈➤ ❝ Love and deepspace boys *:・゚✧*: Losing control ❞
PAIRING : Caleb x reader, Sylus x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader and Xavier x reader GENRE : Soft smut WORD COUNT : 2.6k TAGS : MDNI 18+ NSFW, kissing, making out, grinding, dry humping, allusions to sex, rafayel is implied to be in heat, back scratching (only is sylus') A/N : PHEWW, I know I said that the next piece of writing may take a while but I also have no self control lol. Though this time I promise its gonna take a hot minute cause final year med school exams are kicking my asssss. Also, I didn't expect my previous piece to do as well as it did. Thank you all so so much for reading it and I hope you enjoy this one :)
The lads boys can't help but lose control around you
╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Caleb
Caleb is addicted to your lips. It’s almost like he’s making up for the years he’s spent abstaining from you, littering fleeting pecks throughout the day.
Caleb just can’t seem to help himself. He’d always kiss you hello and goodbye. He’d kiss you good morning and good night.
He was always so gentle with it, tucking strands of your hair behind your ears before cupping your face in his palms, holding you like you’re made of glass. Afraid that with one wrong move, you’d break.
He’d take his time to admire your features. Features that he’s cherished and adored his whole life, that he can probably draw out from memory. Your expressive eyes gazing at him in anticipation, the plush of your inviting lips, the dusty pink hue that’s settled on your cheeks.
You were his entire world and he could only hope you’d be able to feel at least a fraction of what he felt for you and how much he treasured you in the way he kissed you. Soft and tender. Pouring all the passion he could as he moved his lips against yours.
But perhaps most infuriatingly (not really, you secretly loved it), he’d often kiss you mid conversation. A light peck to stop you in your tracks. It was his trump card, especially when you were scolding him for something. And it worked every time, it always seemed to melt you into a puddle
“You just look so adorable when you’re talking to me pip-squeak” he’d say, laughing at your display of annoyance. But the fact that you we’re fighting off a smile said you felt otherwise.
But when he had the time to indulge himself in you, it was an entirely different experience. An entirely different Caleb. The duality of your childhood friend always gave you a whiplash.
He’s pulling you close to him, savoring the feeling of your body against his. You’re caged against his imposing form and whatever surface he’s crowding you against this time. You’re pinned, completely at the mercy of the man that’s yearning for your touch.
Caleb kisses you with the hunger of a thousand men. His kisses are feverish, demanding, ravishing every corner of your mouth like it’s the first time. He bites down on the plush of your bottom lip, taking you by surprise.
“Sorry”, he breathes. But he isn’t really. Not when the sound of your wanton moans sends tingles down his spine. God, how did he get so fucking lucky. Having you here like this, so pliant and needy in his arms is his version of heaven.
The feeling of you carding your fingers through the strands of his hair, tugging at the roots makes a filthy groan escape from his lips. You’re going to be the death of him.
You’re impatiently pulling his lips towards you again, and it only spurs him on further, pressing one bruising kiss after another, leaving your lips swollen. All the while his hand is sneaking up your shirt to feel the intoxicating warmth of your body.
You rarely ever stop him when he gets like this. You know he needs it, needs you. And you want him too. Desperately. So you take a hold of his hand and guide it lower, Caleb’s eyes darkening in response. It’s safe to say that neither of you are going anywhere anytime soon.
╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Sylus
Sylus is subtle with his affections, it reflects in his gentle and otherwise discrete mannerisms.
The silver haired man has made a habit of kissing your hand in greeting.
“My lady”, he’s tease, smirking at the your cheeks tinged pink and your defiant pout.
Occasionally, he’d press a kiss on the top of your head and interlace his fingers with yours. Other times, he’d wrap your hands around your waist, guiding you through noisy crowds.
However, behind closed doors, your proximity was a drug to him.
He’d rarely, if ever, be apart from you and your lips. Once he had you against him on his bed, perched on his lap, you’d be better off clearing your schedule.
Sylus could spend hours savoring the touch of your lips against his. He’s a sensual kisser. Taking his time to draw out every moan, every whimper he can draw from you.
He’s slow, concentrating first on your upper, then your lower lip, your mouth moving against his in tandem with a rhythm that comes with practiced ease. He’s thoroughly infatuated with the way you move against him, seeking more of his touch.
He strokes your cheek with his thumb, before entangling his fingers in your hair, angling your face just right for him to kiss you deeper, while his other hand is wrapped against your waist leaning you against the headboard.
It’s intoxicating. You’re drowning in the presence of this man, and with each kiss, you only want to sink deeper and deeper.
His kisses are numbing. Your lips tingling with how much they’re being ravaged by his, but you don’t want it to stop. In fact, you want to break his resolve further.
So you pull out his shirt that’s tucked neatly in his pants, your hand snaking up his back, feeling the muscles flex underneath your fingertips.
You rake your nails across his back, the sting making the silver haired male shudder in response, satisfied at his break in composure.
“You sly minx” he chides, black tendrils of his Evol emerging to bind your wrists over your head, freeing him to continue his offense.
Each press of his lips steals your breath away, leaving you completely drunk with need, until the only thought consuming you was the man in front of you.
As the minutes tick by, Sylus is emboldened with a new sense of ferocity and intensity as you find yourself grinding against his thigh, desperate to ease the growing warmth in between your thighs.
And if you were willing to, he’d be very happy to indulge you, give you everything you want and more.
╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Zayne
Zayne is a sensible man. His logical reasoning and quick thinking, even in the most critical situations, is what makes him the most sought after Cardiothoracic Surgeon in Linkon.
He’s very rarely swayed by his emotions. But that also means he comes off as cold and unfeeling to the people around him.
Not to you though. Never to you. Zayne is the warmest presence in your life.
In the midst of all his responsibilities, you are his reprieve, a breath of fresh air. When he has you to himself, the doctor throws all sense and reason out the window. You are his ultimate weakness.
You are his to worship. The need he feels for you is indescribable. It consumes him, swallows him whole, until he starts to let lose any remaining restraint that holds him back from you.
The way Zayne kisses you can only be described as reverent. He takes his time with you. Worshipping you.
Kissing featherlight kisses up your jaw, his lips just barely brushing your skin, trailing them to just beneath your ear, before tugging at your earlobe with his teeth.
You shiver in response, angling yourself towards him, trying to press more of yourself to him in hopes that he will relent.
But Zayne is in no hurry. Not at all. He wants to watch you unravel under him. Bit my bit until you’re completely pliant.
He wants to be selfish with you. So he continues his ministrations, peppering kisses down your throat, feeling the vibrations of your hums and huffs with his lips.
You’re struggling to keep your eyes open now, Zayne’s gentle but lethal movements sending a flush of warmth down your body. You need his lips on yours, you need it like you need air.
“Please Zayne…kiss me”
How could he deny you when you begged him so sweetly?
The sight of you so debauched with just a few simple touches sends Zayne into a frenzy. It pleases him, knowing you want him as much as he wants you.
So he relents, giving you what you want and kissing your lips, while you sigh in relief. Finally.
Zayne kisses you with intent. His hands are at your hips, squeezing slightly as he devours the moans that leave your lips.
He moves his hand to touch your face, earning a surprised gasp from you, your eyes shooting open. His fingertips are icy cold. Only then do you notice, there’s frost creeping up his neck and hands. His Evol is responding to you.
But Zayne pays it no mind, he’d die before ever causing you harm. So he grazes your bottom lip with the tip of his thumb, gazing into your eyes while nodding reassuringly.
“I’m okay” he’d confirm before he captures your lips again, this time with renewed vigor, determined to finish what he started.
He’s everywhere all at once, and you find comfort in each other’s kisses, touches and presence. Allowing yourselves to get lost in each other further into the night.
╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Xavier
Xavier is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. His unsuspecting and otherwise modest appearance only serves as a facade, concealing his genuine desires.
While he comes off as quiet and unassuming, the truth is far from it.
He can’t help himself. You’re his. The hunter wants you next to him at all times, kissing him, touching him, loving him. He wants your undivided attention on him, selfishly so.
It always starts out so innocent. He’s pulling you into his embrace, kissing the tip of your nose in greeting.
“Hello my star” he says, as you giggle under his affection. And God his heart clenches at the sound. It’s music to his ears.
He repeats the action, then tenderly peppering kisses all over your face. Your forehead, the apple of your cheeks, the dip of your chin and the corner of your lips. Over and over again until you’re reduced into a fit of laughter.
“Xavier, it tickles” you whine, with no real complaint in your tone.
He ceases his playful gesture, only to wrap his hands around your waist, picking you up and placing you on the dining table with practiced ease.
You often find yourself in this position. Perched on a surface with Xavier spreading your thighs, finding his rightful place between them.
He’s burying his face in your neck, brushing his lips against your thrumming pulse. The sound of your breath hitching in response makes Xavier smile against your skin. He’s got you exactly where he wants you.
“My light, can I please?” He asks, pleading for your permission to spoil you.
You find it very hard to deny the hunter, especially when you know what usually comes next. And you want it so bad. Want him to come undone and take you for himself. You’ve never stopped him before and you’re most definitely not going to stop him now.
The breathy ‘please’ that leaves your lips is all the confirmation he needs as he dives to nip at the nape of your neck. Your skin is soft and warm as he swipes his tongue along the line of your pulse. You throw your head back in response, inviting him to take more of you.
Xavier worries the skin in between his teeth, sucking and tonguing at the spot until he’s satisfied with the dark splotch that blooms in its place.
He continues a similar onslaught across your collarbone and throat, leaving you hissing at the delicious sting.
The hunter trails his lips up your throat, finally connecting his lips with yours. He kisses you like a man starved, encouraged by the sight of the dark purple marks he’s left decorating your skin.
It satisfies a primal part of him, knowing in a way, he’s claimed you for himself.
He’s greedy for you, and isn’t ashamed to show it. Pressing chaste kisses one after the other, barely giving you a second to catch your breath, swallowing the lustful moans that threaten that leave your lips.
And as his hand squeezes the fat of your thighs, edging his fingertips higher to the warmth that sits between your legs, you know that you’re not leaving his apartment until you’re absolutely ruined.
╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Rafayel
There’s only two things that Rafayel needs to survive in this world. One is his art, the second is you. The merman is needy and he isn’t ashamed to show it.
Sometimes, it’s difficult to get anything done when the Lemurian is around. He’s practically glued to your side, sneaking kisses to your cheek, wrapping his hand around your waist and nuzzling into the nape of your neck.
You aren’t complaining though, you find it endearing when he’s all pouty and clingy.
And then there’s Rafayel when there’s an insatiable need growing under his skin that he just can’t seem to itch.
When he gets like this, you’ve learned to surrender to his mercy. That’s how you find yourself currently perched on his lap.
His gaze is intense, half lidded eyes staring you down like you’re his prey. He’s breathing heavier than usual, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.
“Raf, are you okay?” You question worryingly. He’s burning up, you can practically feel the heat emanating from his skin.
Wordlessly, Rafayel takes a hold of your hand, placing it on his cheek, nuzzling into your palm. It’s not enough though, he’s growing more restless. He needs more of you touching him.
On instinct, the merman turn his face to bite at the fat of your palm, laving his tongue over the skin. When he hears your breath hitch, he breaks.
With all semblance of reason now completely disregarded, Rafayel grasps at your neck, pressing your body into his eliminating any space between the two of you.
His lips are on yours in an instant, and your hands are in his hair, tugging at his waves as he nips and sucks at your lips, bruising them.
“Y/n…” he groans. His voice dripping with lust, brows knitted as he struggles to catch his breath.
You look up at the merman. He looks positively ruined. His shirt is in disarray, hair standing up in a hundred different directions, lips swollen. And his eyes, there’s a storm brewing behind them, having darkened considerably.
You’ve never seen him like this. Rafayel’s always been playful, using his humor as a front to his true feelings, always keeping you at arms length.
But right now, he feels so raw. Trusting you with his deepest desires as they erupt to the surface.
Seeing him like this, so open, so vulnerable makes heat pool between your legs. You want him, God no you need him. So you crash your lips onto his with fervor, matching his frenzy with new determination.
Rafayel is loud. He doesn’t hold back, reacting to every press of lips, every pull of hair, grinding himself against you to relieve at least some of the tension built up in his pants.
His tongue is swiping at your bottom lip, begging for permission which you grant without hesitation. It’s wet and messy, one hand kneading your thigh, the other playing with the button of your jeans.
It’s all a well choreographed dance then, motions you’ve been through many times. But somehow this moment feels different, a tangible electricity in the air. You have a feeling the Lemurian isn’t going to let you go until he’s had his fill of you.
© valyvinny. All right reserved. Do not steal, copy, translate, repost or reupload any of my works. Do not use my work for AI
#love and deepspace#l&ds#lads#caleb love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#xavier love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#lads caleb#lads zayne#lads xavier#lads rafayel#lads sylus#l&ds rafayel#l&ds zayne#l&ds caleb#l&ds sylus#l&ds xavier#caleb x reader#rafayel x reader#sylus x reader#zayne x reader#xavier x reader#lnds#lnds sylus#lnds zayne#lnds caleb#lnds rafayel#lnds xavier#love and deepspace fanfic
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✦ Envy and Raeya's reworks are here!
Hello folks! 💜
But first of all, we'd like to thank y'all for all the feedback in our Ara & Amon's reworks post. We are sorry for not replying to everyone, as we have to take into consideration a lot of feedback from a lot of places; but please know that we read you! We hope that was reflected in the final version of those sprites :^)
Now let's jump into it! Raquel has learned a lot from previous feedback, so this time around, our discord members and Kickstarter backers thought there wasn't a lot to correct—but the second iteration has already improved a lot for you Tumblr folks to see and judge!
Let's start with our dear Praefectus Raeya!
✦ Raeya
Remember you can open these in a new tab to zoom in!
For Raeya, Raquel wanted to give her outfit a redesign, and change her silhouette. The rest has been mantained!
For the second round of feedback, our backers thought her nose and eyes weren't still on point, so Raquel spent more time with them. Now, the red circle inside Raeya's pupil has been brought back, and her nose and lips have been modified to better represent her features.
Also, some backers thought the gold / bronze were too distracting, specially on her boots, so that has been toned down!
✦ Envy
Remember you can open these in a new tab to zoom in!
For our fan favorite edgelord, Raquel improved the silhouette of their hair to make it more spiky, gave him a better posture / stance, and redesigned their clothes to make them more goth.
Our backers pointed out that his left hand and the index on his right one were a bit wonky, so Raquel fixed those. I think they look much better now! There wasn't a lot of fixes needed compared to Raeya, so that's good!
On another note, some folks liked his new hair, while others thought it was too spiky. Ultimately, we've let Raquel choose, so the spikes are staying!
As always, feedback is welcome and really appreciated! We are nearing the end of our round of reworks, so we hope you all can grow to enjoy the full set and are excited to see them in game! 💜
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୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅one of the girls - j. woll⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧
pairing: j. woll x fem!reader summary: Y/N gets home from a long day of work to find her daughter not in bed, but playing with Joe on the floor of the living room. request: hi! could you write something where joey is a girl dad doing whatever girl dads do? like painting nails, dressing up, coloring, etc. 🥹 word count: 983 warning(s): tooth rotting fluff, family man joe, joe is aged up about 4-5 years, not proof read notes: this was such a cute idea !! need him to get me pregnant rn. who said that ??? anyway, i hope you enjoy !! xoxo <3
You had always wanted to be a mother. Like for real. Having younger siblings and being expected to parent them while you were a teenager was one thing, but getting to hold your daughter for the first time was an entirely different (and exciting) ball park.
Joe had always known he wanted to let you live out your maternal dreams. He just wasn't sure when it could happen because of his job. After you found out you were pregnant and told him (with a baby leafs jersey), all his worries flew out the window. It felt right and nothing was going to stop the two of you from having the family you had always wanted.
The pregnancy was difficult and there were a few complications towards the due date, but in the end it was truly a magical experience. You were taken care of well by the hospital and Joe was able to make it for the birth (which is not always true for pro athletes). You both could not be more happy to welcome your first baby girl, Nora Woll.
She was perfect. An angel of a daughter. Slept well, ate well, didn't cry much, cute as a button. Everything you could have wanted. And now she is turning 4 years old. How time flies.
The drive home from the office was tedious. It was 7 PM and all you wanted to do was miraculously appear at home with food made and your daughter in bed. It was Joe's turn to pick her up from daycare and make dinner tonight, seeing as there was no game. You pull into the driveway of your home in a Toronto suburb to the lights on the porch turned off. That was strange. Normally Joe would turn them on after he put Nora to bed. Maybe he just forgot.
You open the door and try to be quiet as you take your shoes off and hang up your coat in the closet. You don't want to wake Nora by letting Joe know you're home but you can hear the TV from the living room so you know where he is. As you tiptoe down the hallway, you can hear Joe talking, "Thank you, sweetheart, I look stunning. You did an amazing job". Your brow furrows in confusion at the statement before you hear a little giggle in response, "You're welcome, daddy".
She's awake. Of course, she is. Nora has had Joe wrapped around her tiny, chubby finger since she could form sentences but you thought he was getting better at it. You guess she broke him.
"What's going on in here?", you say as you round the corner into the living room. As soon as you see it, you know. Nail polish sitting on the hardwood floor beside where your husband and toddler sit cross legged. Joe has a few clips in his hair and his hands are covered in hot pink nail polish. Nora sits in front of him wearing her Aurora princess dress with a lopsided braid in her hair and a big smile on her face.
They both look up and see you. They share an identical smile and Nora gets up to run to you, screaming "Mama, you're home!!!". Joe gets up slower, letting your daughter get first dibs on a hug before leaning down and kissing your forehead, "Hey, baby". You pick Nora up and give her a kiss on the cheek.
"Hey, sweet girl," you say, grinning at her. Your fatigue from the day feels like it vanished into thin air. You pinch the braid in her hair and move it slightly, drawing attention to it, "Did daddy do your hair?". She nods excitedly. "He made me mac n' cheese and we watched Bluey and he let me do his nails and then we played hairdresser!". Joe gestures to his hands and hair while she talks. You smile, "Any dinner left for me?".
Joe's smile fades, "Oh, no, we ate everything". You look at him, bewildered. You're about to open your mouth but Nora beat you to it.
"We did! But... we ordered you pizza! Your favourite!"
Joe starts smiling again and leans down, placing a kiss on your cheek, "Gotcha". You fake laugh and put Nora down. It's sad that you can't hold her for as long as you used to. She's getting so big.
"Why don't you go put Nor to bed while I eat?", you say, forming the command as a question. He nods, "Come on, baby, time for bed. Say goodnight to Mama".
"Goodnight, Mama, I love you"
"Love you more, honey. I'll come up to say good night in a bit"
Nora waves are you before grabbing Joe's hand and walking up the stairs. You can hear her chatting with him the whole time, babbling on and on about how pretty she feels and how she doesn't want to go to bed. You turn to walk into the kitchen where there is a small pizza box sitting on the counter with a note on it.
For the most amazing mama in the world. We love you.
You smile. What a lucky girl you are. You quietly eat your pizza, put your plate in the dishwasher, lock the door and head upstairs to give Nora a kiss.
The door to her bedroom creaks as you open it to see Joe stuffed into Nora's tiny twin bed, his arms curled around her. They look so peaceful, both asleep and safe. You chuckle softly and lean down to kiss Nora's forehead before doing the same to Joe. He'll come to bed when he's ready. For now, you'll let him rest.
Before leaving you look over your shoulder. He truly is a sight. A 6 '4 hockey goalie smushed into a 4 year old's bed with his hair and nails done? He truly is just one of the girls.
#⋆. 𐙚 ˚ angel writes#⋆. 𐙚 ˚ angel writes; joey#nhl fanfic#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl players#nhl hockey#nhl imagine#hockey fanfic#joseph woll imagine#joseph woll fluff#joseph woll x reader#joseph woll#nhl x reader#nhl x y/n#nhl x you#jw60 imagine#jw60 x reader#jw60
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Wow honey I didn’t expect you to really read this ANS to be well acquainted with Shadow and Bone. I am SCREAMING rn. That first chapter is a bit “meh” but it had to lay the foundations for the story and the next one is already better! As you said, the goal was indeed to give the vibes of the characters. Thank you so so much, you’re an angel. Really. I hope you’ll enjoy the ride. 🖤
And yeah, the Darkling is 🫠🫠. Admittedly I’m not into cliché villain at all but when I watched the show I just melted. Blame Ben Barnes for it.
Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader
Summary: A great healer, a terrifying heartrender, you are both the disease and the cure. With such a reputation, living on the run quickly becomes necessary for survival. When General Kirigan, ruler of the Shadow Fold, sets his eyes on you, he doesn't see just a weapon, but the key to his dark ambitions. And, most importantly, the echo to his shadows.
Words: 2.5k
TW: Mention of prostitution, child SA and murder, reader is physically described.
Part I - Keep Moving, Little Girl
Masterlist || Next
The Little Palace was veiled in an eerie calm, which wasn’t very usual for a place that crowded by both young promising Grishas and renowned, experienced ones. The luxurious wall, bathed in the golden light of dying embers, gave an almost supernatural aesthetic to the place. General Aleksander Kirigan sat at his desk, his fingers steepled and his black eyes fixed on the fragile flicker of a single candle before him. The little flame danced, its body undulating as it struggled to keep the surrounding darkness away from the little bubble of warm light it created. The room was silent, save for the crackle of the hearth a bit further, and yet, despite this silence, the general’s mind was far from quiet.
He had heard the rumors countless times over the past few months – it had started with nothing more than vague accounts of a few people found dead in a mysterious and gruesome way, but the narrative slowly turned into a monstrous witch, her hair as white as frost, leaving death and blood in her wake. At first, he dismissed them. Ravka was rife with tales of rogue Grisha, exaggerated to feed the fears of peasants and nobles alike. A chimera created by children to tell scary stories, or skillfully crafted clichés to create a deep-ingrained fear of Grisha by politics. But the more he ignored them, the more the whispers persisted: they spread like wildfire and grew darker with each retelling. The most recent account had given him a pause though: a Heartrender, they claimed, whose power was unlike anything ever seen. From what has been reported, the creature could control men as if they were marionettes, forcing them to turn on each other in a grotesque display of violence. One so-called survivor claimed that, with only a few movements of her hands, he saw his colleague forced to turn the barrel of his gun to his temples and shoot himself a bullet right through his brain. Aleksander had raised a brow at the statement:
Such abilities should not exist. Not without the cursed used of Jurda Parem.
Aleksander’s jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair. If the rumors were true, this woman was no ordinary Grisha. She was a weapon – an unrefined, dangerous force that needed to be claimed before it destroyed itself or got destroyed. And if she truly possessed the kind of power described, that little white-haired heartrender could be either a great asset to his cause or an uncontrollable threat that needed to be neutralized. Or rather, a problem that needed to be resolved.
The shadows around him stirred, as if sensing his thoughts, their tendrils coiling in anticipation. He, who was often too absorbed by his own plans, surprised himself when he realized that his mind raced through the topic of that wild sorceress, weighing risks and rewards, battling between curiosity and schemes. However, one thing had become certain: he could no longer ignore the whispers. He had to find her. Kirigan rose from his seat, the folds of his pitch black kefta sweeping behind him as he crossed the room with hastened steps. He opened the door to find Ivan, who was waiting just outside, his stoic expression as adamant as ever.
“I need you to gather a small team,” The general said without preamble nor explanation. His voice was long and commanding, but Ivan could sense that he also seemed lost in his thoughts, “We’re leaving at first light.”
The tall Corporalki tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly – the only other expression he had in his palette. “May I ask for what purpose, General?”
“There’s a woman,” Kirigan replied, his tone laced with intrigue but also something darker Ivan couldn’t really pinpoint. “A Heartrender whose power surpasses anything we’ve encountered… At least if the stories told are true.” He paused, his lips curling into a faint and slightly calculating smile, “I must say that these latest accounts intrigued me. If she is what they say she is, she could change everything.”
“And if she’s not?” Ivan asked, his skepticism carefully measured. As much as he trusted General Kirigan, the tall Ravkan man with a stern face couldn’t help doubting. He was a man of facts – not of silly rumors.
Aleksander’s eyes darkened, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting in their dizzying depths. Eyes so black that no one could distinguish the pupil from the iris, “Then we’ll ensure the stories end with us.” He turned back toward his desk without additional explanations, his mind already plotting the route, the approach, and the questions he would ask her. Hair white as the purest snow, eyes as frozen as the deadliest ice desert…There was a part of him that wondered if she even existed, if this was nothing more than another ghost tale spun by frightened villagers. But another part – the darker, sicker and more desperate part – felt the faint pull of something undeniable. He wanted her to be real.
He needed her to be real.
In the back of his mind, General Aleksander Kirigan thought he could almost hear her, like a faint hum carried on the wind. The monster they spoke of wasn’t just some distant threat. She was out there waiting, somewhere in the Ravkan snow, all alone and vulnerable – and she didn’t even know she already belonged to him.
Your shrill scream resounded in the bedroom, bathed in the soft and muted light of Ravkan mornings. Confused, your chest heaved as though you had run for miles even though you had just woken up. Your body was damp, covered in a thin layer of sweat, some locks of hair sticking to your temples.
If there was one thing that plagued your dreams, turning them into terrific nightmares, it was that smell.
The Menagerie smelled of desperation, as Tante Heleen liked to call it. Or rather the awful combination of fun fair treats, sweat, and a dash of discreet, but still noticeable, fragrances of blood. It clung to the air just like the cheap perfume the girls were forced to wear, a sickly-sweet mask that tried hard to hide the rot that lay beneath. One full year had passed since you had escaped from this hellish place and yet, the impression this foul smell was still clinging to your skin and hair, no matter how roughly you washed or how scorching-hot the showers you took were, remained. You had known it your entire life, ever since you were left at its gate as a child. As much as you tried, you couldn’t forget the way your tiny and cold hands tightened their grip around Tante Heleen’s skirt as the woman had dragged you inside, her soft voice cooing false kindness. Like a butcher leading a cattle through the death-smelling corridors of a slaughterhouse.
“You’ll grow into something beautiful,” Heleen had said, glancing at your long white hair while your own eyes surveyed the golden bars at the windows, though you were too young to understand why they were there as well as the malice behind the brothel Madam’s words, “A perfect White Tiger, ma petite chérie.” But the cruel truth was that beauty didn’t save anyone in the Menagerie. It only made you more of a prize to be shown off, sold to the highest bidder and then both used and abused. Beauty was nothing but a poison, a weapon Heleen turned against its bearer in this place made of gilded cages and broken spirits.
By your pre-teens, you had made quite a reputation: despite growing up in this foul nightmare, Tante Heleen never managed to break you entirely. Mastering the art of silence and deadly stares, your unyielding demeanor made you a source of fascination. The bruises on your porcelain skin faded away as quickly as the tears you refused to shed, never succumbing to the horrors clients would make you go through. The same clients who were willing to pay obscene sums not just to touch you but to try and tame you. The men who came for you were often the ones who wanted to conquer that defiance. The ones who wanted to make you scream. Still, you never gave them satisfaction. Worse, they often left more bruised than you because you did fight like a tigress. Even if they ended up overcoming you, your ice-cold eyes would bore into them, frozen and sharp, making even the most depraved feel as though they were the ones who were soiled. No, it wasn’t your beauty alone that drew attention; it was the air around you, heavy with something dangerous.
If being honest with yourself, you had to admit that most of the other girls at the Menagerie didn’t like you. Sometimes, you would catch them whispering about you, sometimes in awe, sometimes in jealousy, but most of the time it was in fear. Why? Because you were eerie. Unsettling, the least. Because you were something else with your pale skin – paler than the Fjerda wolf girl – and long white hair. With the slim hourglass figure and small height, which contrasted far too much with the hatred that burned in your void-like pupils. Besides, you never did much to befriend them: you didn’t weep after being summoned, didn’t cling to anyone for comfort and almost never gave yours to soothe the other poor animals’ pain. The only one you tolerated was the Suli Lynx.
The unsease the others would feel around you only worsened when they discovered that you were a Heartrender. Frightening abilities that manifested themselves one night in an uncontrollable outburst, leading to someone’s brutal death.
The nightmare you had lingered, its remnants jagged and raw. The menagerie’s cages, the laughters, the sensation of hands that burned like brands – they had all dissolved into the room’s silence. “Memories. They are nothing but memories” you told yourself, yet the weight of your not-so-far-away past pressed against your chest like iron shackles.
“Miss, you shall leave the room by eight o’clock.” A voice spoke behind the thick wooden door of the bedroom you rented – a small barren room you had found shelter in for the night. It was no more than a shabby inn, with walls cracked and floorboards uneven. You took off the thin, tattered blanket from you and swung your legs over the side of the bed to sit on the mattress for a moment, your head in your hands. Your fingers trembled slightly, not from the cold but from the residues of the dream.
“Yeah, sure.” You mumbled, staring blankly at your boots sat by the door through your slim fingers, and the satchel rested on the old rocking chair, packed and ready to leave. Never unpacking, that was one of the rules you followed since you fled from the Menagerie. Through the frosted window the snow was falling steadily. Frosty flakes swirled like restless ghosts in the early morning gloom, covering the world outside with a white coat that muffled every little sound. All of them except the relentless thumping of your heart, which threatened to burst your ribcage open.
The floor groaned under your weight as you stood and moved towards the small basin by the windows. Almost mechanically, you splashed your face with icy water, hoping for the chill to chase away the remnants of sleep. When you raised your head to take a look at the cracked mirror, the reflection that stared back at you was a stranger’s — diaphanous, long straight hair as pale as the snow, and eyes frighteningly empty. A doll’s face, your clients said. But no doll could house the kind of fury that simmered in your cursed blood, right?
You turned away, hating what you saw. Minutes later, you were dressed, your boots were laced, and your long dark cloak pulled tightly around you. When you reached for the door, you caught yourself hesitating only briefly… Maybe you could stick around for a while this time… No.
Keep moving.
The cold hit you immediately as you stepped outside. The wind bit you through your cloak like a knife with such virulence that you couldn’t help clenching your jaw. And yet, you welcomed it, let it numb you. Snow crunched beneath the sole of your boots as you walked on a little road, endless and uncertain. With one quick movement, you pulled your hood up and buried your face against the wind, going forward with determined steps. You didn’t know where you were going but you knew one thing for sure: you couldn’t stop moving away from the Menagerie. Not yet. The world might feel vast and empty, but at least there was something usually peaceful in this isolation. Not this morning though.
Even in this desolation, you couldn’t share the unpleasant feeling that you were being watched. It was subtle – a whisper of unease that prickled at the back of your neck, making your hairs rise. As stupid as it sounded, you quickly glanced over your shoulder at the empty snowy forest behind you. Nothing stirred, no sound broke the quiet save for the howl of the wind… And still, the feeling lingered, like a cold thread winding through your thoughts. In a reflex you couldn’t quite control, your hand tightened around your cloak’s collar, not knowing if it was to hide from the cold or from these unseen pair of eyes by shrinking into your coat.
Keep moving.
Above the faraway howl of the wind, a faint whisper seemed to hum at the edges of your senses. It resonated, too soft to be real, but to real to be a hallucination. You frowned as you walked faster, all your senses in alert. It wasn’t words, only a presence, dark and vast, like shadows stretching beyond the horizon. Keep moving! You clenched your fists and tried your best to shove the thought away. It was certainly some kind of paranoia that had gotten into you, fed by lack of sleep, proper food and shelter. A part of you rationalized, telling itself that no one had ever found you yet, and no one would – despite the little… troubles you created on your way. Crystal eyes fixed on the road ahead, your steps quickened as if you could outrun the unease that was gnawing at your mind.
But far away, very far away in the distance, a man dressed in black was studying a map. His gloved finger, covered in the finest leather, hovered over a region marked in red by himself. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if doing so wasn’t common to him.
“She’s close”, he murmured to the shadows with a voice soft and filled with a quiet satisfaction.
“Are you sure?” They whispered back
“I can feel her,” He replied, black eyes riveted onto the horizon.
Soon, he thought,
Very soon.
Please reblog and/or comment if you liked it. 🖤
taglist: @augustwookie
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(🐍) ... minghao x reader
⭐ starring: minghao
💌 genre/wc: angst, light fluff / 1.2k
💬 preview: you stumble across old records from a damaged diary that seems to hold the conversations between a student and a boy living within the pages.
tw/cw: slytherin!minghao x hufflepuff!reader, diary format, spoliers for the chamber of secrets, needs previous knowledge of hp lore, abstract death, tom riddle appearance
🪽fic rating: pg
☁️ masterlist & a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and i'm putting it out in hopes of giving myself some time to work on other stuff hehe. this one's a bit experimental with the format but hope you all enjoy!
p.s thank you so much to @ylangelegy and @diamonddaze01 for beta reading !
hello. fifth year slytherin, here. i found this journal lying in one of the professor’s cupboards - long abandoned, it seems. it looks to contain the mad ramblings of two people, conversing through the pages. i cannot seem to figure out who this once belonged to, pages have been torn out and blurred by water - so i’m writing in hopes another student might.
read it, and let me know if anything comes to mind.
if i have to sit through another class with professor bins, i will avada myself.
finally, something worth replying to. your class notes are utterly boring.
WHAT THE FUCK THE BOOK SPEAKS
…yes, i speak.
go away. you’re speaking over my class notes.
they weren’t good notes anyways. barely competent. abysmally below average.
i cannot believe i’m being insulted by a book right now.
i cannot believe my pristine pages are being vandalized by an incompetent student, yet here we are.
mr. book,
what.
shut up.
mr. book,
what is it now, incompetent student?
can you write my notes for me. pls pls pls i will owe you for life.
that is a very dangerous game to play.
my hand hurts. and you keep saying you’re so smart. write my notes for me.
what house are you in?
hufflepuff. why?
no. i will not write your notes for you.
bro.
what is a bro ??
you know what, never mind. i’ll write them myself. i hope the ink drowns you.
incompetent student hufflepuff girl y/n?? respond to me now.
yes, book?
MY NAME IS NOT BOOK
you refused to tell me your name so i’m sticking with book. mr. book.
can you go to the dungeon bathroom and check one of the faucets for me.
uh. why?
because i said so.
i’m going to waterboard your pages.
you’re quite snappy for a hufflepuff. just go check.
say please.
no.
i’m holding a cup of water above you right now. hello? mr. book?
please. check the faucets.
see? wasn’t so difficult. i’ll go now.
minghao.
what?
my name. stop calling me mr. book
MINGHAOOO
what.
i’m bored.
silly girl. and what am i supposed to do about that?
tell me about yourself. when were you at hogwarts?
a long time ago.
psh. of course i know that.
professor bins was still alive when he taught me. just as boring, trust me.
ooo what else? who were your friends? anyone famous?
i wouldn’t know. i never graduated.
what?
the faucet. did you check?
i did. there’s like a snake or something, but it didn’t do anything.
oh. y/n?
yeah?
don’t go to that bathroom anymore.
why?
just don’t.
hao. people are saying there’s a snake in the walls.
what do you mean?
there was blood on the walls too. talking about the chamber of secrets.
fuck.
minghao? do you know something?
don’t go anywhere alone. promise me. stay with your friends.
i’m scared
you should be.
stop that.
what? hao?
grown fond of your little friend, xu minghao?
tom. stop. i’m sorry, my heart. ignore him.
who? hao, what is going on?
has he neglected to tell you? he isn’t the only inhabitant of this journal. and turns out, he isn’t strong enough to silence me. keep hiding, y/n. i’ll find you soon enough.
hao?
i’m sorry.
i think i’m starting to go a bit crazy.
is everything alright? are you safe?
i’m fine, hao. you worry too much.
i must admit that i’ve grown fond of you.
even if i’m a hufflepuff?
you’re the most tolerable hufflepuff i know.
:) is the uh. tom guy still with us?
my magic suppresses him in short periods of time. we’re alone at the moment.
i still don’t understand. both of you are…inside the book.
tom was here first. the journal was given to me my fifth year, and i spoke to him - much like you right now. from what i’ve gathered, this journal holds a piece of his soul. and a piece of mine as well.
how? why?
[redacted] [redacted]
you are beginning to care for the girl.
i admit she has grown on me.
no. you’ve grown to love her. our souls are intertwined whether you enjoy it or not. do not pretend i cannot feel your emotions.
have mercy. spare her.
are you finally regretting your choice, xu minghao? you once promised me a life in exchange for your life and access to your soulmate. so i spared you, and stored you here with me.
please.
this is what greed gets you, my dear friend. you promised me a life. and i choose hers.
please.
finally. you learn to beg.
she is innocent.
she is your soulmate. the strongest magic our world has. and for that, she is valuable.
my heart.
hao?
i need you to destroy this journal. now.
what? why?
tom must be stopped. i will not let him harm you. destroying the journal will destroy his soul too.
but you’re in the journal too.
yes. a small price to pay for your life.
i won’t do it.
you must.
no. i’m not killing you.
i’ve been dead for a long time, my heart.
i won’t. you cannot make me.
you’re wetting the pages with your tears. stop crying.
hao…
do it. just because the journal is gone doesn’t mean i won’t be with you. every step of the way.
how cute.
note:
> xu minghao: previous slytherin student, renowned potion student. his name is on one of the potion award plaques in the great hall. he died during the second opening of the chamber of secrets, an underground location rumoured to house the slytherin basilisk.
> y/n: referred to as ‘my heart,’ there is no real indication of who she is. while there is a professor portrait in the headmaster’s office who shares the same name, i cannot be certain they are the same person.
> tom: he can only be assumed as he-who-shall-not-be-named, a dark wizard who was killed by the-boy-who-lived years ago.
note:
> the pages are burnt at the edges, erasing most of the conversation that would allow this to make more sense. it is clear to me that someone destroyed this.
note:
> i found something when searching the bathroom mentioned in the first couple entries. i will clip it here.
is he gone?
for now. i cannot contain him for much longer. you must hurry.
you cannot expect me to do this.
from the short time i’ve come to know you, i know that despite being a hufflepuff, you hold the courage of a gryffindor, the brains of ravenclaw, the wit of a slytherin. do not be afraid.
are you not afraid? this could kill you.
i have to admit a part of me still fears death after all this time. but this is my price to pay. i love you, even in the short time we had.
i love you. even if this version of you is only a figment of what you were.
note:
> a point i must bring up: minghao refers to y/n as ‘my heart.’ at first i thought it was just a term of endearment, but upon further research: Soulmates are rare in the wizarding world, although not at all impossible. Soulmates share more than their magic, they share their hearts. One cannot die if the other is still alive -- making soulmates the most powerful form of magic to exist. It may be the only way to cheat death without the use of a horcrux.
#svthub#seventeen imagines#svt#svt imagines#seventeen#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#svt fluff#seventeen fic#seventeen minghao#minghao x reader#minghao x you#svt minghao#svt scenarios#svt fic#svt fanfic#svt angst#svt the8#the8 x reader#the8#seventeen the8#harry potter au
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not sure if you've received your first request yet so here i am. :3
recently, i've been going feral over Sargeant James Buchanan Barnes. he's all i've been thinking about. i've found little to no fics of him before he was sent off to war. and i'd really enjoy reading about handsome, heartbreaking Bucky in his early days.
go crazy, interpret this as you wish.
- 🥨
note. um... this was supposed to be a little drabble but i got a tiny bit carried away. i hope you enjoy it though !! my first request, yippeee <3 also sorry the lead up is cut so short... i realised i suck at writing flirting dialogue... thank u @dollfacefantasy for giving it a lil read in early stages :3 tags. nsfw, mdni. set in the early 40s (which idk a lot about so excuse that). showgirl!reader. sergeant!bucky. p in v. pullout method. pet names. pussyjob(?) briefly. no use of y/n. 1k words.
Being overseas for such long periods of time puts a different kind of strain on Bucky. He wouldn’t consider himself the sentimental type, but he’s glad to be back home.
Damn, he’s feeling especially patriotic right now. Got a whole group of pretty girls dancing onstage as he sips from his glass of whiskey, reclining casually in one of the shitty seats in the bar. Yeah, it’s real good being back home.
You’re a sweet looking thing, especially for someone wearing so little clothes. He ain’t used to seeing girls walk around in shit like that, but you are a performer. If this is the kind of thing that gets soldier morale up, Bucky’s all for it. Gotta be better than the shit he’s seen Rodgers doing when performing.
You’re the kind of girl his ma would’ve loved — god rest her soul. Too sweet for a place like this, and certainly too sweet for the thoughts running around in his head. It’s been a long time since he’s been back home, and it’s been even longer since he’s seen so much skin. Bucky knows how to treat a girl right, but he’s only a man.
He waits all patiently as you and the other girls finish up your performance before he’s pushing up off his chair, making his way across the room. Worst thing that happens is you walk away, which is fine. He’s handled rejections before (not that he often finds himself being rejected).
“‘Scuse me, miss. Want me to get that drink for you?” Bucky smiles, an easy, lazy little smile as he leans against the bar counter next to you as you go to order a drink, head tilted down as he takes in your features. He reaches up to flick one of the ridiculously oversized feathers hanging off your little headpiece. “You looked real good up there, doll. Couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
“Well, I won’t say no to a free drink. And thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed the show.” You reply, head lifting so you can meet his eyes. “Any chance I can get your name?”
Bucky’s smile widens at that, his hand reaching out to grab one of yours. He lifts it up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss against the back of your knuckles. “Sergeant Barnes — or Bucky, for a pretty girl like yourself.”
“A sergeant? I can’t believe I was lucky enough to get the attention of such an important man.” You tease lightly, drawing a soft little laugh from him.
“Ah, you flatter me, doll. I’m lucky to have such a beautiful girl givin’ me the time of day.”
His words have you smiling, giving a little shake of your head in response. “Are you going to buy me that drink, Sergeant?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Gotta say, doll,” Bucky pants into your open mouth, pushing your back up against his hotel room door. His hands quickly find their way under the long coat you wore, eager to expose that skimpy little costume you still wore underneath. “I’m real glad you ain’t a good Christian girl. Was startin’ to get worried I’d have to end our conversation with a cold shower.”
“Be quiet.” You huff in response, helping him work you out of your coat so you can feel his hands on you again.
“Ah-ah. Don’t think you can start bossin’ me around, sweetheart.” He teases, dipping his head to the crook of your neck to press kisses against the skin as he grips at your hips to guide you along to the bed.
Bucky lowers you onto the bed with practiced ease, hovering over you as he works deftly to peel the layers of fabric away from your body. He’s already sporting a semi under his damn trousers, cock twitching helplessly against his briefs as it slowly hardens at the sight of you.
It’s not long before his own clothes are gone and he’s pushing into you with a low groan. He’s throbbing against your walls as he stills inside of you to allow you to adjust, forearms resting either side of your head and boxing you in against the mattress.
“Feel good?” He asks with a breathless little laugh as he watches the way your face scrunches up in pleasure. Cute. He’s not faring much better with the way you’re fluttering around his cock. “Look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
When he finally starts to move, it’s with purpose. He shifts his hips into a few different angles, watching your expression closely. When he draws a gasp from you, a grin spreads across his features — dark and predatory.
As his tip starts to ram against your sweet spot with every thrust, you realise you’re fucked. Literally.
It only takes a few minutes before you’re whining and writhing beneath him. He’s nothing but smug as your legs begin to shake, squeezing around his waist as if that’d be enough to slow the speeds of his thrusts. Your cunt forms a milky ring around the base of his cock every time he pushes in to the hilt, and he’s starting to feel a little dizzy at the sight of it.
He feels like a bully with the meanness of each snap of his hips against your ass. You claw desperately at his back, chest, shoulders. Anything you can reach, really. All it seems to do is spur him on.
“Fuck. Shit. Christ, doll.” He hisses, balls drawing up tight. He pulls out quickly, shifting one of his arms from the side of your head so he can press his thumb against the head of his cock, bracing it against your clit.
He thrusts in slow, measured strokes, grinding against the sensitive bud until you’re tensing beneath him. His eyes flick between your pussy and your face as you cum underneath him, then he’s shooting a fat, creamy load all over your stomach with a ragged gasp.
Another huff of laughter leaves him as he flops down on the bed next to you, his hand running through his hair — almost in disbelief. He glances over at you with a lazy grin, head cocking to the side.
“Can you take me again, doll?”
#love letters .ᐟ#🥨anon#nyx drabbles .ᐟ#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#james barnes x reader#james barnes x you#marvel x reader#marvel smut#bucky smut
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When You're Ready - MM x fem!reader
Summary: After twenty years of friendship, they finally admit their feelings in a late night confession they should've made years ago.
Warnings: Fluff, some angst, all the pinning around because friends to lovers.
Words: 11.8k
A/N: God, I feel like I haven't written anything in centuries. I probably haven't written anything for centuries, so please be patient? Please? Especially since it's my first time writing for Mason? Anyway, it's good to be back after hundred years. Here's hoping it won't take another century for me to post something. And I really really hope you enjoy it. Love, Alex.♥️
P.S: To my sweet @a-distantdreamer, thank you for existing and reading literally anything I throw at you. Couldn’t have done this without you.♥️
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
They were almost four when they became classmates and neighbors. When her family moved right in front of his house, their parents thought it was wonderful that they had children the same age. Mason was the youngest in the family, and she had no siblings, so it was a perfect fit for them. Their parents also thought they would become good friends, but they never imagined they would be inseparable from the second they knew each other. There was an automatic connection between them, making it very hard to keep them apart without at least a cute pout on their faces.
Her parents found it hilarious that their daughter never cared about sport-related activities, but her playdates with Mason always included balls. The girl who always loved to be home drawing or baking with her mum, suddenly would spend hours playing around in the garden with her best friend. Football was his thing, but she would spend afternoons running and giggling until they were too tired, napping on the couch until it was time to go home.
Their eternal and almost impossible lifetime long romance began during one of those playdates. After having assisted Mason in scoring a goal against an invisible goalkeeper, they ran to each other to celebrate. They were four years old and they had no idea why they did it, but as part of the celebration they shared an innocent tiny little kiss, making them both giggle like crazy. It was their first kiss and it was just a silly thing two tiny kids did, so it meant absolutely nothing.
They started when they were four, but things didn't change when someone asked who their best friend was. As the years passed, they pointed at each other when the question was brought up, not caring if they had other friends. No matter how things changed or how old they were, they were always there for each other. She cheered on Mason with a proud smile at every game he played, her parents taking her knowing how much she loved to support him no matter what. Whenever her parents couldn't attend, she would insist they ask Mason's parents to take her with them. His parents always said yes, totally delighted to have her around.
They never thought it would happen, but the real beginning of their sad love story wasn’t when they were four, but ten years later. They repeated their first kiss after a morning match one sunny Saturday afternoon in the exact same garden where they had first kissed. They weren't playing football; instead, they were lying on the ground and watching the clouds on an unusually warm day while they waited to be called for dinner. They couldn’t even pinpoint who started the conversation, but they switched from discussing the shape of the clouds and what they looked like to talking about when they were small kids, unable to avoid the part of the story that included their kiss. There was no celebratory excuse for their actions the second time; it was just their hearts doing what they wanted to do for too long.
They never talked about what happened ten years prior, so she thought Mason didn't remember the kiss. She was absolutely shocked to find out he remembered it, his cheeks and nose turning red as they mentioned it. She was surprised to realize he wanted to keep talking about the subject. They were kids, but after so many hours at day together she knew Mason too well to know there was a reason why he decided to mention it. After reaching for Mason's hand over the grass and giving him an encouraging squeeze, he finally admitted it was all because of his teammates talking about girls. At fourteen and being too shy, they were each other's only kiss. At fourteen kids could be cruel and Mason didn't want to share with his mates how his best friend was his only kiss so far. He didn't want to say she was his only crush and the one responsible for the butterflies flying around his stomach, making an absolute mess out of him.
As they lay on the grass, they were so close to each other that there was no way they didn't know what was coming next. She knew it and wanted it, but first she made Mason promise her they would be best friends forever no matter what. They would keep showing up for each other no matter what happened because that's what best friends do. Mason knew pinky promises were always serious matters to her, that's why she understood he was not joking when he locked their small fingers together and assured her they were forever.
As she moved closer to him, she ignored the nerves that invaded her body and checked no one was watching. She made sure neither his parents nor siblings were around and then kissed his lips. It was short, sweet and delicate and she loved every second of it, but she moved away soon enough. Mason kissed her again as she tried to look at his face, letting her know she had made the right decision. There was something even sweeter about the second kiss, and thankfully it wasn't as brief as the first one. If one of his siblings saw them it would have been a nightmare, but even then they held their lips and hands together for a while longer as they enjoyed the feeling.
She had no idea how she found the courage to talk after that. She also had no idea how she managed to do such a thing as kissing him. She might have been his crush since they were babies, but she was crazy for Mason since she could remember. For years she wondered how it would be to kiss him again, but kept her feelings in secret, too scared to ruin their friendship. It was years of drawing hearts with their initials inside, keeping it hidden in the pages of her diary and closing it with a small lock, too scared that anyone would read it and find out.
"If it helps you can tell the boys you kissed three girls instead of just one" she whispered sweetly to him, trying to keep the words a secret, just like their kisses. A thousand years could have passed, but she would never forget his face turning redder than before. She would also never forget how he smiled at her words.
Mason knew she was saying it to make things easier for him, but he didn't want to lie. He didn't want to go around saying he kissed three different girls to look good in front of his mates. He wanted to say he kissed one wonderful girl and how he wanted to keep doing it as long as possible. Mason knew if he was lucky he would keep doing it, which only made him smile even more when he thought about it.
She would lie if she said their kiss in the garden was a one-time thing that ended then and there. Kissing became one of their favorite things to do together. "Practice makes perfection" was their excuse, insisting it was exactly like Mason training every day to be the most talented footballer out there. They knew they should have stopped the first time they were almost caught by her mum one afternoon, but they didn't. They were just teens having fun and experimenting, knowing there was no safer place to do it than their friendship.
Even with their make-out sessions and cuddles they never got to be something. After weeks of pinning around each other the only thing that came out of it was a long list of what ifs. It felt cruel to never get answers to their questions. It felt like an awful joke when Chelsea offered Mason a chance to move to London the day after he had the courage to hold her hand in public for the first time. It was cruel to have her heart broken like that, but she kissed his cheek and told him to go and live his dream. She did it even when all she wanted was to keep holding his hand forever because there was no better feeling that their fingers laced together.
Mason was her first real heartbreak, but that didn’t change things between them. They had already promised to be best friends forever, and he repeated that promise during their goodbyes in London as she traveled with his parents to take Mason to his new home. Distance and schedules made it complicated, but they were always texting, calling and seeing each other every time he was home or when she traveled with her family to visit him.
It was impossible for them to not make plans for the future, even when they weren't together. Though they loved their hometown, Mason insisted she belonged in a big city. There was nothing wrong with a small town girl's life, but she was not meant to live it. Mason didn't have to say much to convince her to move to London with him after she finished school. He was confident he would make it one day, so it wasn't going to be an issue for them to live there. If things worked out their way they could have a beautiful spacious flat and she wouldn’t have to worry about anything else except reading her books for uni while he played in Chelsea's first team.
No matter how much they planned everything and how badly they wanted it, it felt like the universe laughed in their faces. It all got ruined right in front of their eyes and they couldn't do anything about it. Since Mason moved to the Netherlands, their dream of living together never became a reality. Even when she moved to London for her course, it was not the same. They thought there might be a chance if he moved back to London, but instead he had to transfer to Derby, taking all the chances away from them.
It definitely felt like a nasty joke when she got her dream job offer in Manchester. She could not say no. Mason was the first to tell her to go for it and accept it because it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but she realized she had made a terrible decision when he moved back to Chelsea and became a first team player. Even though they were seeing their dreams come true, it was heartbreaking to see how the universe decided for them and kept them apart. During lonely nights, she cried too many tears, destined to watch him from afar and only attend some of his matches.
As much as she hated to admit it, Mason seemed like her own curse. He was her best friend but also the one thing she could never have. No really. Not entirely. In some strange way, it was as if she had always been fated to admire him from a distance, too far away for her to try. It's been that way for as long as they can remember, but that didn't mean she didn't hate it.
Despite leaving all romantic intentions back home when they were kids, she loved being by his side. She was always there for him through thick and thin. She was so proud of Mason for what he was archiving, feeling her heart grow ten times bigger when she saw him playing and scoring goals.
She loved being there as his friend, but sometimes she couldn’t help but think again about the what ifs. She tried to keep all those thoughts away from her mind because there was no point in wondering about things that never happened, but in the end, she couldn’t help it. She wondered what would happen if she had the courage to tell Mason her feelings. What if they finally found a way to make it work between them. What if she said yes to him every time Mason asked her to not return home and stay with him.
Whenever she travelled to visit Mason and he asked her to stay, she wished she could do it. There’s nothing she wanted more than to be in his arms and not move for the rest of her life. She wanted to say yes and being the lucky girl having Mason as her boyfriend. She wanted to be the one by his side every single day, but the fear was paralyzing and bigger than all her dreams, making her say she couldn’t stay no matter how much she wished to. She could not bear the thought of losing her best friend, so she let her fears win and stayed on the side, dreaming of what might have been.
While she hated walking away from him every time, she was happy to be his favorite girl no matter what. For those who knew them, seeing them all over each other and staying close whenever possible never felt strange. Traveling to different cities to see him was nothing out of the ordinary for her, even if it was only for a few hours or even minutes. Trains, cars, planes, and hours of traveling and she never cared if she spent hours alone at his place or wandering streets that ended up being familiar. She really didn’t care, only focusing on the time she was able to spend with Mason after his training sessions or matches. Every single time it was worth it when Mason greeted her at the door with a smile, or when he saw her in the crowd smiling, hoping to score a goal in her honor.
They were something else together. They were late night calls, after-hours texts, and early morning hellos. They were patience, love and understanding. They were their future plans and all the things they wanted to accomplish together. Hands holding hands in crowded places, arms encircling each other without an excuse, heads resting on each other's shoulders. They were long goodbyes and needy hugs. They were the rumors they ignored about their relationship, people seeing them together in a more than friendly way and not believing the story of nothing happening between them. They were their blind adoration for each other and their unspoken agreement not to leave clubs or parties with anyone else because they were supposed to be having fun together.
They both have their reasons for it. She always hoped Mason would somehow realize why she didn’t want to, and Mason insisted he didn’t want to leave with anyone else when she was there because of him. Those places weren’t her thing, but she wouldn’t say no to Mason when he invited her to join him and his friends. Knowing she was there to make him happy was enough for him to only pay attention to her, not really caring about any other girl that would attempt to get his attention. She couldn’t help but admit there was some pride in the situation, smiling proudly at herself because Mason could spend his time with any other woman but decided that he only wanted to stay there with her. He insisted he would never leave her alone in a place surrounded by vultures, but she didn’t care who was there as long as Mason kept his hands and arms protectively around her.
Physical touch might not have been her love language with people, but it was Mason’s and she had no problem with it. When it came to cuddles it was not unusual to see her sitting on his lap or find Mason sitting between her legs so she would hold him. No matter where they were on vacation with their families or friends, they constantly took naps holding each other. It didn't matter whether it was on a lounge chair or a boat deck, they always took a few minutes to themselves. Every night, Mason sneaked into her room to watch a movie with her before heading to bed because he wanted to spend time with her. After watching something with his family or probably some cartoons with Summer, he wanted to catch up on some TV show they were watching at the same time or some movie he was waiting to enjoy with her. Whatever was on TV was most likely the excuse, knowing Mason would just like to catch up with her after spending the whole day surrounded by people. They waited to talk later at night, even if they talked about unimportant topics, because adults' talks couldn't be had in front of small ears and Summer was always by her uncle's side.
One of the things that always confused her about them was exactly that. She would never complain about waking up in the same bed as Mason after swearing they were not planning to fall asleep while watching TV, but she had no idea if it meant anything else. She knew they were friends, she knew it was absolutely normal between them to hold each other just because, but the confusion was always there in the back of her head. One thing was their joined hands or his arm around her waist or shoulders to not lose each other in crowded places, but a different thing was his hand constantly on her leg or their fingers laced under tables where nobody could really see it and it wouldn’t keep anyone from trying to flirt with her. His thumb stroking her skin always left her wondering if there could be something else, just like when he decided to hide his face against her neck in their hugs or just without a reason.
The most terrible part was how her stomach flipped and her heart raced when Mason was near. She never made him move his hands away from her because she loved the feeling. Nothing felt like his breath hitting her neck, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin, or his scruff tickling her. She knew Mason couldn’t like her, not like that. There was obviously something platonic between them and that was the reason for all the hugging and touching, but there was no way Mason had feelings for her. There was nothing fancy or magnificent about her. She had an average body. Her weight and height were average, and her face was normal. She was smart but not brilliant. The only fancy and expensive things in her apartment and wardrobe were the ones Mason gifted her. She was just a girl with a regular life and a 9 to 5 Monday to Friday job. And yes, Mason knew that and couldn't care less about it because she was his friend and he loved her for her and not for her job, but she knew he could have someone better. She hated to think about it, but he deserved someone in the same city, not someone whose destiny didn't laugh in her face.
Even when she knew how things were when they were dating someone, the stupid crush she had had since forever would appear making her be all smiles as she looked at him. She couldn’t help it. She really wished the feeling would go away, but it was something she couldn’t control. She couldn’t do anything about it, especially when he smiled at her big enough to make his dimples and wrinkles show up, or when he hugged her and made her feel like she was home. What made it worse was when Mason called her Love. When they were kids, Debbie called her that, and Mason adopted it as his friend's second nickname for some reason. Even though it always put a smile on her face, it often brought her trouble.
That small word was one of the reasons her boyfriend broke up with her. She would lie if she said it was the only reason it happened, but in the end there was plenty. The discussion that ended all started with her phone lightning up and showing a text from Mason that said "You up, Cookie love?" which was normal for her. They always used the cheesiest nicknames, so Mason calling her that or her picking up the phone and calling him Baby was usual. That conversation brought up all the things her boyfriend couldn't understand about her relationship with her best friend. It all began with the drawer that had Mason's clothes in her closet that nobody could touch, the way he could only call her certain names, the way their plans were determined by his games, and ended with how many hours she could spend talking to him and smiling at the screen as if Mason was her boyfriend.
It became more difficult when he brought up how it looked like Mason lived there with her even when he was in London. Mason's presence was everywhere in her apartment and life. Their pictures as kids were on her bookshelf alongside the ones with her family, as were polaroids of them with Summer displayed on her refrigerator. His things were all over the apartment too; his favorite mug -that she didn't let anyone use or touch- was in the kitchen, his toothbrush was right next to hers, his things were in a corner of the bathroom except his shampoo because he always stole hers. He had a pair of trainers by the door with her shoes, and his favorite blanket was always on the couch perfectly folded for them to use when he visited. His signed England shirt was perfectly framed in the living room. Her favorite hoodie to wear home was a Chelsea one she stole from him, and she wouldn't admit that more than once she took clothes from his drawer to use as PJs when she was alone. She knew Mason was the same with her things in his home. Their places were simply copies of each other. His guest room was basically hers, but her clothes were in his closet. Her skincare routine was in a special place in the main bathroom, her hair products were in the shower and her toothbrush was beside his. Her favorite mug and glass was in his kitchen carefully saved and their photos were displayed all over the place. The things she had were everywhere and he wouldn't hide them. They would never hide each other and it didn't matter if someone didn't like it.
She didn't even argue with him. Yes, she had Mason's stuff there just like she had things her parents left over when they came to visit. She had photos of her family and friends too. But at the end of the day, Mason was Mason. She always spent time on the phone with her best friend, especially as they tried to arrange their schedules to see each other. When she wasn't working and he wasn't training, they talked to see when they could be home visiting family at the same time or when one of them could jump on a train to see each other. If they weren't on the phone, she was probably cancelling or rescheduling her whole life to attend to one of his matches.
After the fight, she told her boyfriend she wasn't planning to cancel her plans to join the Mounts to see Mason in London, so they ended up right there. There were no more arguments or conversations, just a clean cut. As she hugged Mason and told him how proud she was of him while he repeated how happy he was to see her, she forgot about the nasty fight, the terrible accusations, and the disastrous ending of the relationship.
She would have loved to say that was the only breakup Mason's ghost provoked. She never admitted it to anyone, especially not to her friend, but it happened twice. She cancelled a dinner to be on the phone with Mason the second he called to let her know the club’s plan to get rid of him. All the plans she had with the guy she was seeing were over instantly as she decided to grab her things, take a train and head to London to spend a couple of days with Mason. She knew it was wrong to cancel it last minute, but she didn't give it much thought knowing what was happening.
When she got there she didn't even knock, simply opening the door of his place with her spare key, running to Mason when she saw him on the sofa. Whenever she visited, Mason normally cooked for her. However, this time they didn't dare move, ordering food instead and staying in the living room catching up. As Mason told her what was happening with Chelsea, the new owners and his contract, one question burned in the back of her head. She didn't want to think about the worst case scenario, but she couldn't help it.
"What if you go to a club in another country?" she whispered, ignoring the movie in front of them.
She remembered the pain as she hugged him and waved him goodbye too many times, but especially the day he moved to the Netherlands to play in the Vitesse. She had no idea how she would do that again if that was the case. Regardless of where Mason was moving, she could not watch him leave without asking him to take her with him.
The all-consuming worry built up in her chest, making her mind full of doubts, but she also felt her stomach sink. With her fork in hand, she took only two bites of the pasta in her lap while the bowl grew cold as she stirred it. Her stomach was too knotted to eat anything, but she didn't want Mason to worry about her and remind her to eat, so she took small bites.
Mason moved closer to her, picking up her food and placing it on the coffee table with his plate so that he could wrap his arms around her. “I’ll try to avoid it. But if I can’t, then you’re always welcome to come with me. I’ll could use some company, y’know?"
In her speechlessness, all she could do was nod and snuggle close to her friend, saying "Okay" loudly enough for him to hear. Holding Mason as tightly as possible, she promised herself right there that if he moved, she would say yes. She couldn't care less where, but she wouldn't let him go again.
She couldn't lie and say she slept in the guest room when in reality, she spent the night on his bed. She promised to stay there until Mason was asleep, but while scratching his head she felt first. She woke up at 1 am, totally disoriented, forgetting she was at Mason's. She woke up because even when she was covered in a duvet, she was cold. She looked for her phone on the bedside table and when the screen lit up she could recognize where she was. The framed picture of his family was all she needed to realize she was still in his room. She knew on the other bedside table there was exactly the same frame, but instead it had a photo of the two of them with Summer while they kissed her cheeks.
Her momentary turning and tossing woke Mason up. Even in the dim light she could see his worried and confused sleepy face trying to figure out what was wrong. All she needed to say was a soft "I'm cold" for Mason to open his arms for her to get closer. Her hands, feet and nose were freezing, so in their sleepy state Mason did whatever he could to keep her warm. He didn't hesitate for a second to put her feet against his legs and her hands under his shirt so they could be against his skin. Before she could realize, her face was hiding against his neck, making the cold on her nose dissapear automatically.
She couldn’t admit how that was the closest they had been to kissing again since they were fourteen. She knew it was just a hug to keep her warm, but she could feel his stubble and breathing against her cheek, making it too difficult to drift off to sleep again. Her heart broke when Mason whispered a soft "I miss you" before she felt his breathing change, letting her know he was sleeping. She missed him all the time. She wanted to wake him up, kiss his face and admit how crazy she was about him. She wanted to move her head and place her lips against his, but he was too vulnerable. He was sad, confused, frustrated and still trying to figure out what would happen to his career. The last thing he needed was her confusing him when all he needed was a shoulder to cry on. She wanted to cover him in love, but instead she just stayed there, her hands against his waist and back, stroking his skin with her fingertips, dreaming of what could be.
She'd lie if she said she didn't wake up to Mason snuggling against her chest with his arms wrapped around her body to keep her close. She’d lie if she say she didn’t love the feeling of having him like that, resting peacefully against her as their bodies were tangled. Nobody could hurt him there and that was the most important thing in the world for her.
She didn't move for a while, enjoying those brief silent moments and her last couple hours there, while taking advantage of the extra snuggles from her favorite boy. She took half an hour to enjoy the privilege of being there with Mason, but also to daydream how it would be to spend every night of her life like that. She couldn’t help but smile imagining how wonderful it would be to wake up to exactly that every single day, kissing his forehead as their morning routine.
It was a big effort to sneak away from his arms to get up and make breakfast when she wished to stay in bed with him, surrounded by his warmth forever. She wanted to hold him and promise everything would be alright, even when leaving Chelsea felt like the hardest thing he would have to do.
After that weekend it was difficult to get back to reality, but it was more difficult to leave his side. It felt impossible to break that last hug while Mason promised to do all he could to stay close. It was more painful to leave Mason's side after fifty hours than it was to break up with the guy she had been seeing for three months. There was another unavoidable breakup when she was back in Manchester and she knew it. What she was not expecting was it happening half an hour after she arrived home. It was awful to face him when smelled like Mason. Her whole being and all her things smelled like Mason after running out of her shower gel and using his. She didn’t even have time to shower or change, still wearing one of Mason's hoodies that she took from his closet, promising to give it back next time they saw each other.
Once again, she didn't argue about it, not making excuses when she heard how her one real relationship was Mason and not the guy who shared the bed with her and took her on dates more than a couple times a week.
"You should stop lying to yourself and admit you're in love with him”. It felt like a punch in the gut to hear those words, but he was right.
Seeing the door close and her apartment take on complete silence, her heart sank a little more. She couldn't keep lying to herself. She couldn't keep distracting herself with men she wished were her best friend, always too scared of mistakenly calling them by his name. She had two options, but it was not a good time for either, at least not until Mason figured out his life first.
The realization came at the worst time, which didn't help. Decisions in sports normally take time and that's something she knew thanks to her friends, but even then she felt powerless. She felt like she should be able to do something. Saying that everything was going to be alright was not good enough. There was nothing she wanted more than to be with him, but it wasn't possible. She didn't have time to travel to London, and then she had days off when Mason wasn't home, making it impossible for them to see each other when she wanted to hug him. It was frustrating, but all she did was listen to her best friend's ramblings, promising to visit as soon as possible.
As she made promises to Mason, rumors about her transfer ate her alive. She never mentioned it to him, but she knew. She had some rules for herself and one of those was not to google Mason. He always said nobody knew him as much as she did, so there was nothing on the internet she needed to know. People and the press often invent ridiculous stories and rumours, and Mason was no exception. She knew better than to ignore it all. Even when some of the rumours and sneaky pictures included her and their alleged secret relationship she ignored them. She didn't even follow football-related Instagram accounts, but she found out anyway.
She didn't want to believe Manchester United was an option for him. He always called her right away when he had good news, and if Mason hadn't mentioned anything to her, it might be a lie. Even if it was rumours it was impossible to wrap her head about the idea. Her apartment was ten minutes away from Old Trafford, and she couldn't imagine Mason being so close.It was too good to be true, and it would crush her heart and soul if it turned out to be false.
The idea that it might happen made her happy but also terrified. For years she was able to put her feelings aside because they were kilometers away from each other. There was no worry about risking or ruining their friendship when they couldn't spend much time together. She could pretend she didn't have the biggest crush on him when they weren't living in the same city. She learned how to keep her feelings to the side when they spent hours or counted days together, reminding herself there must be a reason why life kept putting them apart and in different parts of the country.
Her decision to speak with Mason about her feelings after the Chelsea drama ended suddenly felt like a terrible idea. She was seriously considering doing it, but if Mason were there, it would be completely different. The chemistry between them was obvious and always existed, but she was terrified of Mason not feeling the same way. She could deal with it, but the idea of him having a relationship with a woman right in front of her made her feel sick. It made her cry her heart out until there were no tears left.
She had to act like nothing was happening and it was easy on the phone, but it was a nightmare when Mason asked her to be his plus one at some charity event he had to participate in. It was not unusual for him to ask, taking her or Lewis with him, but it felt like the most terrible moment for him to call. 'No' might have been the right answer, but it would have made Mason wonder if everything was alright between them, and he didn't need another worry. His life was already complicated enough, so rather than making it worse, she made it more complicated for herself.
Acting like nothing was happening was a nightmare while she stayed at his place for two days. She hadn't been there since the last time they snuggled in his bed the whole night. She had no idea what would happen those days around him and it made her wonder why she said yes at all. Her whole trip on the train to London was spent trying to keep calm, but it was difficult to forget how deep she was down the rabbit hole. Mason hugged her longer than usual when she finally arrived, whispering how happy he was to see her and how much he missed her. Five minutes there were enough to make her want to never leave his side again because it was home. He was home no matter what happened and that was never going to change.
She tried to keep herself calm, but it was almost impossible not to blush and smile all the time when Mason was by her side every second of the day. The most complicated part was how it looked like boundaries had disappeared between the two of them. Having spent days together in the sun, there wasn't much they hadn't seen of each other before. Vacations in sunny places and afternoons at beaches and pools included her in a bikini or swimsuit and Mason in his shorts. Mason walking around only wearing his underwear was not weird for her. She normally couldn't blink at it, too used to the sight after a lifetime together, but that afternoon it affected her like never before. Seeing Mason walk into the bathroom wearing nothing but a black, tight piece of clothing made her cheeks turn in a deep shade of red. She was doing her makeup while he walked in looking for his phone, so thankfully she covered it with the foundation she was applying to her face. Feeling his hands stroking her arm or his lips kissing her head as he passed by her side did not help either. His hand resting on her hips as he zipped her dress or when she checked his tie was straight didn't help her case either.
Maybe it was the closeness messing up her head, but she could feel how something had shifted between them. Mason was always close and touchy, but there was something else. She couldn’t help but smile at his words, Mason’s hands carefully placed on her hip as he mentioned how beautiful she looked while they took a couple of photos in from of a full length mirror, joking about having to remember the couple nights they actually got to dress up properly.
He didn't let her hand go as they walked to the car that picked them up and drove them to the event. The whole ride he held her hand tightly, fingers laced together, hands resting against the seat between them, thumb stroking her skin gently. They only acted like normal friends when they arrived at the event. He kept his arm protectively against her lower back or held her arm in his as they walked around the place. It was incredibly difficult to not fall even more for him when he was the perfect gentleman, making jokes to put a smile on her face and making sure she was as comfortable as possible in an environment that wasn't hers. Mason knew she normally felt out of place in those venues, but he didn't leave her side for a second. He was so attentive that it almost felt like they were dating, except for the fact they weren't.
His delightful appearence didn't made it easy for her. He looked like a dream in his suit and freshly trimmed hair. His beard was shorter than she preferred it to be, but she couldn't complain. After two glasses of wine she couldn't help but stare at him in total awe as he talked to someone. She knew it wasn't very polite to do it, but his smile was her favorite sight in the whole world and his laugh was like music to her ears. Mason was all she could think about. Him and how lucky she was to be by his side and how gorgeous he was and how badly she wanted to grab his face and cover his skin with red lipstick until there was nothing left on her lips.
“Do I have something on my face?” Mason whispered in her ear, after the two men talking to him finally left them alone.
“Not at all. I was just thinking you look alright all dressed up. It's nice to see you wearing something other than a hoodie and joggers. And it's crazy to see you have shoes that ain't made by Nike or made to play football." she shrugged, smiling up at her friend before drinking another sip of her champagne glass. She wasn’t a fan, but they weren’t even done half the night and she needed it.
“You’re not funny. What do you mean I look ‘Just alright’? And I thought you said I always looked handsome, even when I'm just waking up in my joggers. And I never hear you complain about my clothes when you're stealing them, Cookie."
“Maybe I was lying? And I take your clothes because you have too much. I'm just helping." She wasn’t lying. Mason with messy hair and comfy clothes was her favorite version of her friend. His sleepy face was without a doubt the prettiest thing she ever saw. The sound of his calm, soft voice was one of the reasons it took her extra time to move. It was those days when it was hard for her to leave, wishing she could just stay together cuddling him.
“Meanie.” He tried to act offended, but the way his eyes wrinkled said everything she needed to know. “You look beautiful, even if you say I just look alright. Blue suits you.”
The conversation was cut short before she could keep annoying her friend. Another man, identifying himself as a Chelsea fan, stopped Mason for a photo and a chat, leaving her on the side as if she hadn't been talking to her friend. It was the third time in a row that men would shake her hand exclusively because they thought she was Mason's armcandy, then completely ignore her like she knew nothing about football. Mason hated it. She was there because she was his best friend, but he was also convinced she knew more about football than most of the men in the room. Mason insisted she was beautiful, but also the smartest person in the room, making him furious when someone looked at her like she was just a pretty face.
Being the kind man he was, Mason took the time to take a couple of photos with both men, but after some exchange of words he cut off the conversation shortly after it began. While polite and educated as always, he excused himself with a smile, promising to continue chatting later. She knew Mason like the back of her hand, so she knew it was not happening. You could do or say anything about him, but not to her. Acting like she wasn't in the room was the biggest mistake those men could have made.
Taking a moment to escape the crowd, she squeezed his arm as they walked away. It was her silent way to say she was alright, but she could read Mason's face like an open book. "Sorry about that, love," he breathed, ordering one more round of drinks for them as soon as they reached the bar.
"Not your fault, sweetheart" she smiled sweetly, clinking her glass against his as soon as they got their order. "You know, I don't blame them. They're not lucky like me. They don't have Mason Mount available to talk to him and do photo sessions like I do."
"And nobody takes awful photos of me like you do, Cookie."
The smile on her face was interrupted by a yawn she could not control. After years of attending these kinds of events, she was used to them, but her body was exhausted. Her plan to take the train straight after work turned out to be a terrible idea. Since napping on the train was not an option, she stayed up for two hours until she arrived in London. After dinner at his place, she thought she would fall asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, but she couldn't. It was ridiculous how nervous she was to see Mason again. It was even harder knowing he was only a couple of steps away from her in his room. The awful part was that she spent the entire night tossing and turning before falling asleep and waking up before her alarm rang off. Trying to nap in the afternoon was impossible, feeling guilty about sleeping instead of enjoying time with Mason. By the time they got to the event, she had not slept as much as she should have. She was overcaffeinated and exhausted, ready to call it a night even when she couldn't do it. Although those kinds of parties were part of his job, she would rather be home sitting on the sofa with a slice of pizza in hand, wearing her pajamas and watching some silly comedy on TV. After the horrible week she had at work, she needed a drink, but after three hours she needed more to take her shoes and makeup off and switch from a fancy carriage to a pumpkin.
“Half an hour and we’re out" Mason promised, reaching for her free hand to squeeze it for a brief moment. Nobody would ever notice, but she could see how Mason was about to lace their fingers together, suddenly regretting and moving his hand away. The Internet had too many photos of them in doubtful situations creating too many speculations, so there was no need to add another one to the collection.
“You’re grand, Mase. We'll stay as long as you need to. I'll sleep when we get home."
"Heaven knows I'd rather be on the couch with you, baby. There's no point if I can't cuddle you. Half an hour. I promise."
She insisted there was no need to leave so soon, but with incredible timing Mason excused himself and they said their goodbyes exactly half an hour later, just like he promised. Not long later they were back in the same car that took them to the party in the first place. This time it wasn't just their hands together, but Mason's arm wrapped around her waist. Even with her jacket on she was cold, so he kept her warm until they were back home. It was the mix of his warmth, the car's movement and the dim light that made her fall asleep against his shoulder in no time, her body finally giving up to slumber.
Her nap caused the fifteen-minute ride between the venue and his place to feel like it lasted two minutes instead. Though she wouldn't admit it, she loved waking up to Mason kissing her forehead and stroking her cheek to let her know they were only a couple blocks away. She loved it even more when he kept his arm around her waist as they exited the car, making sure she didn't trip as they walked inside.
She knew it couldn't be the two glasses Mason had that made him unable to keep his arms away from her as if he was glued to her body. He did it even when they were inside and she couldn’t help but smile at it. They left their things at the door and the next moment Mason dragged her to the living room. After she sat down and Mason took off her shoes, she smiled even more when he laid down on the sofa and rested his head on her lap.
Her three drinks weren't to blame either. She wasn’t drunk and not even tipsy, but her brain was somewhere else as she looked down at him. She would normally scratch his head or hold her hand still in one place on a normal night, but not that night. Trying not to scare him, she reached out slowly to his face, her thumb tracing his cheekbones as carefully as possible. Mason could have done something to tell her to stop, but he didn't. She wasn't surprised when he smirked at her, telling her she could go on. Taking her chance to keep the smile on his handsome face, her fingers moved carefully around as she traced a small path without any particular destination. From his cheekbones to his under eyes, from there to the bridge of his nose to his jaw, and all the way to his eyebrows and forehead to end up again in his nose. It was never admitted to anyone, not even to Mason on a drunken night, but if she had to choose one thing about him, it would be his freckles. Her favorite part was the way they covered his nose and cheeks, making her want to kiss and count them endlessly until she eventually got lost and had to start over. She loved it when he blushed or tanned in the sunlight, making his skin turn the most gorgeous tone, enhancing his features and bringing out his freckles. Since they were children she has been crazy about it, and as she grew older she loved it even more.
“Keep doing that?” Mason asked in a soft voice, interrupting her thoughts. When he opened his eyes and looked at her for a moment everything else faded away.
Visual memory was always one of her strongest skills. The details she remembered from seeing something for a second were ridiculous. That quality enabled her to hold memories in her head like pictures, especially those involving Mason. There was no doubt in her mind that the image in front of her would be put straight into her collection. In that moment she wished she had her phone nearby so she could take a picture to keep forever.
It was impossible for her to forget the first moment she saw him. She couldn't forget little Mason wearing an England jersey that was too big for him. No matter what she did, she couldn't erase the memory of his smile as he waved hello to her right after their parents first met. Despite being twenty years older, Mason somehow still resembled that boy. She had no idea when it happened, but suddenly the cute kid grew up and became a handsome young man, but lately he looked different. Even though he looked like a man, the boy who taught her how to kick the ball was still there in his face. She still felt the same way about those sweet eyes and smile that melted her as a child.
Although she wanted to kiss him and tell him how much she loved him, everything was upside down, and she couldn't. As usual, she settled for the second best thing since she couldn't have what she really wanted. The only thing she did was touch his bottom lip with her thumb instead of her lips. Despite being the smallest of touches, it made Mason move, so she automatically put her hand away. Although she thought she had done something wrong, he kept her hand right there before she went too far.
There was nothing unusual about it. Mason kissed her hand for comfort whenever she was nervous and it wasn't strange to see him do it, but this time it wasn't just one kiss. He took the time to kiss every knuckle, the back of her hand, the palm, and finally her wrist tattoo, staying against the tinted skin for longer than usual. A small 19 written by him sat proudly on her wrist, a testament to the drunken promise she made one night. The tattoo made Mason smile every time he saw it, insisting she would never do it for anyone else but him.
Although the kisses in her hand weren't strange, when Mason placed their joined hands over his heart inside his shirt, the air completely changed. He undid a few buttons on his shirt and got rid of his tie as soon as he took off his jacket, leaving enough space for their hands under the white material. Feeling his skin and heartbeat like that was the last thing she needed. The fact that Mason wasn't talking to her or looking at her also didn't help her. Being unable to read his eyes was eating at her, but she was too afraid to disturb the calmness in the room by asking what was going on. All she could do was look at his beautiful face, feel the warmth of his skin and scratch his head with her free hand.
She knew what was happening shouldn't happen. She couldn't help it. The couple of glasses of champagne and wine caused her sanity to fly out the window. As the irrational part of her brain took over, she began to crave him. While she felt like her skin burned against his, there was a voice in her head telling her not to.
She didn’t want to lose him. She couldn’t lose him. Mason was not only her best friend but her favorite person in the world. He was her rock, her lifeline, her guiding light and her lighthouse - all in one cute boy with freckles. He was the person she trusted more than anyone in the world. He was the one person she couldn’t live without. Mason was her soulmate and the love of her life even when they weren't together. Apart from her parents, Mason was her only constant for twenty years. Losing him was never an option, even if it broke her heart and allowed her a front-row seat to witness him having a happy life with someone else.
In the midst of her internal fight, there was a third part of her thinking that everything they did had to mean something. The touches, the looks, the cuddles, the kisses years ago, the things Mason would say to her and about her. His sweet 'Oi, you’re my girl!' was always there, even if it was joking when a friend tried to take her away from him. Mason always said she was his favorite and number one girl and she truly believed in him, even when he dated someone else. She was the only one he called Love, and the way he hugged her practically melting into her couldn't be for nothing.
All she wanted was to be by his side while he slept peacefully. She wanted to keep holding him and scratching his head, even if just for cuddles. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, but she knew it wasn't a good night, so she decided to take a deep breath and ignore her heart beating and the way her feelings made it feel heavier.
“Don’t fall asleep on me, my Sleeping Beauty” she whispered, tapping gently on his forehead.
“I’m not. I’m just resting my eyes like you in the car. And if I’m the Sleepy Beauty aren’t you supposed to wake me up with a kiss?" By the little smirk on his face she knew he was teasing her. It seemed like another of his funny comments, but the way it affected her was impossible to describe. If she confessed to him that she wanted to kiss him to wake him up, things would be very different.
“So I’m the prince here? That’s crazy considering you’re the one with the wonderful prince hair” she smiled, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as she ran her fingers through his hair the way she knew he liked it. As much as she hated to admit it, after so many years together, she knew Mason well enough to have him purring in her hands in no time.
“For you I’ll be whatever you want, love.”
When Mason finally opened his eyes again, the air completely left her lungs. It was something else to hear his words and see the way he looked at her. Nothing really felt right to say, so it took her a while to organize her thoughts. Since she didn't feel like answering him the way she wanted, she just smiled down at him, pretending it didn't affect her like it really did. “Cmon Prince Charming, you need to go to bed, and I need to take my makeup off. You'll be much more comfortable in bed all tucked in” she reassured him, patting his chest lightly while keeping her hand underneath his shirt.
“But I’m comfy”. It was not the pout on her face that destroyed her, but the way he only let go of her hand to turn around and hug her waist. "And I don't wanna let you go."
"It's just ten minutes. I promise. Do you want me to stay with you till you fall asleep?"
It took them another five minutes to move after he nodded to answer her question. Mason took care of closing the house and turning the lights out promising to be upstairs in no time as she headed straight to the bathroom to take her makeup off as she said she would. She was sure Mason would at least have changed his clothes by the time she started wiping it all off her face, but to her surprise he came into the bathroom wearing exactly the same clothes as before. Rather than saying anything, he hugged her back while tightly wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck.
“What are you doing here, Masey?” she asked, unconsciously resting her back against his chest. He looked like a dream when they were at the party, but the sight behind her was something else entirely. In the mirror reflection, she observed his arm muscles flexing under the white material of his shirt. He was not the biggest or bulkiest man out there, but he looked perfectly carved like a statue. Even though she loved every single part of him, his body always had her in awe. Seeing him against her made her want to run her fingers down every single inch of his skin or melt against him. The way he smelled only made it more difficult, wanting to hide her face in his neck the way he was doing with her. If it was a way to prove her strength, it was an extremely difficult test, because she had no idea how she was doing it.
“Waiting for you," he shrugged. What took her by surprise wasn’t the way he answered, but the way he placed a tender kiss on her shoulder, too close to her neck. As the material of her dress didn't cover her skin in that area, he took advantage of it by leaving his face there. “You smell lovely" he murmured and another kiss followed, making her shiver and raising goosebumps everywhere.
“You got me this perfume, silly” she giggled, feeling him smiling against her neck before he placed a third kiss there. In that instant her plans of putting some night cream on her face flew out of the window, too focused on keeping it together and biting her tongue to not let a soft moan escape her lips.
“I got a good taste.”
“Sometimes. And depending on what.” She couldn’t help but smile again, but it had nothing to do with her cocky answer. His hands around her waist weren't moving. His fingers drawn lines and circles that tickled her even when there was a layer between his skin and hers. It was awful and wonderful how he knew how to play his cards with her and move her strings, putting a smile on her face so easily it was embarrassing. "Get into bed, darling. One minute and I’m done. There’s nothing to see here. I’m not dolled up anymore, just little old me. Its not charming so go ahead.”
“You’re always charming and beautiful. No need to put anything on your face to look stunning." Mason affirmed, her cheeks turning red in an instant.
She really thought Mason wasn’t tipsy, but suddenly she couldn’t help but think maybe he was. She didn't think she looked beautiful, especially not then. She threw her hair into a messy bun so that it would stay out of her face while she did her skin care. There was no longer a fancy hairstyle. Not perfectly makeup-ed, her face had gone back to its natural state. The only thing left of her dressed-up version was the dark blue dress she was wearing, but it was about to disappear to be replaced by one of his shirts. It was hard for her to believe that she was beautiful, but if he said otherwise, perhaps she would believe it. Like normal friends do, they always compliment each other, but this was different. She Mason kissing her neck and saying she was beautiful was something else and she couldn’t deny the effect it had on her body.
“Now he’s saying nonsense. C’mon, bed” she insisted, turning around in his arms. She tried to put a serious face so Mason would pay attention and do as she said, but it was useless. Looking down at her, he did not move, making her legs weaker.
“Can I get a kiss first?” Mason asked, leaving her speechless. She could feel the tension in the air of the small space, but he left her out of words. She never expected that question. He didn’t ask when they were kids, he didn't ask when they were teens, so it was new. It was different and she had no idea what to do. There was nothing she wanted more than to kiss him again, but the fear of ruining everything between them paralyzed her. They weren’t kids anymore. She couldn’t ruin their friendship with a kiss when there was so much at risk. The only option left to her was to place her hands on his jaw and chest, stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. She was dying to kiss his entire face, but she could only allow herself to do that. “I meant a real kiss, Cookie.”
“That was a real kiss. It wasn’t imaginary. It's not like I'm a unicorn or something like that".
She realized how serious everything was when the joke didn't work. She had the superpower of making Mason smile despite the tough times. He always laughed at her jokes even when they were terrible, but not this time. It made her tongue-tied to see Mason looking down at her as if she had hung the whole sky for him. It didn't help her nerves that he brushed his nose against hers. That was Mason, he was her Mason, but he still made her nervous. Even when she didn't think she had a chance with him, he always made her feel that way.
“You know what I mean, love. I know it hasn't been ten years since the last time, but I don't care."
“We shouldn't."
“Why not?”
“Cause we shouldn’t”. It was impossible for her to give a convincing answer to his question, or even a real reason for it. She didn't know what to say. Her mind was totally blank, fully focused on the sensation of his lips against her face, moving from her forehead to her temple, and then traveling to her cheek. While he kissed her cheek again, she moved her hands down to grab his waist, not wanting him to walk away from her.
“Want me to stop?” He asked right beside her ear, sending shivers down her back again. There was no way Mason wouldn't notice the goosebumps all over her skin. It was impossible for him not to notice how completely in his hands and at his mercy she was.
“No”. She shouldn’t have said those words because she knew where they would lead. She knew she shouldn’t, but she didn’t regret it, especially not when she could feel his smile against her skin. When his lips got back to work, he kissed her jaw again, then jumped onto her shoulder, slowly moving onto her neck. "You're making it very complicated for me when we know I need to leave tomorrow, darling.”
In one swift movement, Mason lifted her up and sat her down beside the sink, standing between her legs. One movement, no words, and he was back to kissing her, each kiss more delicate than the last, but all of them making her skin feel like she was on fire.
“Then don’t leave, angel. We can stay here together."
He made it seem so simple that she almost believed she could do it. It made her feel like she could put her life behind her, forget about everything else, and just stay in his arms forever. He said it in a way that almost made her say yes, but as grownups with lives and responsibilities, the bubble needed to be broken at some point.
“I have work, Masey. I have things to do. I have to get back.”
"That's not fair. I don’t want you to go.” It was like something in the air shifted again. He suddenly stopped moving around her neck and stayed still, his lips ghosting over her skin as he spoke. Her hands left his chest and moved around his body, pulling him into a hug that put all her pieces together. “I’m gonna miss you and I hate missing you. I hate not seeing you every day because you’re three hours away. I hate that we’re always seeing the wrong people when we should be like this all the time. It’s not fair when I know it should be me calling you Love cause you’re my love. It should be me, Cookie. I always wanted it to be you and me.”
When she heard Mason’s words she knew she had two options. She could pretend she didn’t understand what he was really saying to protect their friendship and stay in an eternal friend zone, or she could just face it. She could put all her fears and the panic of losing Mason in the back of her mind and try to comprehend that it was possible he had feelings for her too. Perhaps they were just two idiots who never got over their crush on each other. Maybe Mason was as scared as she was and all they really needed was to be there holding each other to stop overthinking and being honest. Maybe what they needed was to stop thinking with their heads and think with their hearts instead.
“It’s always you, my sweet boy with freckles,” she whispered softly, her fingers running through his hair. She could barely breathe from the nerves, but it was a now-or-never situation. She really needed to face it once and for all. “It’ll always be you. It should be us, but time is always a problem. Somehow we can never get it right and it sucks and I miss you all the time too.”
“What if we can make it right?” Mason asked, moving away from her neck to rest his forehead against hers. They were both too scared to open their eyes and look at each other, so they just stayed there, noses touching as they breathed the same air. “It’s us, so we can, right? I know we can, angel. I don’t care if the time is never right. We can make it work somehow. We’re not kids anymore, so we can find a way. Why can't we be together if we want each other?”
“Cause we’re best friends, Mase," she whispered, holding his cheeks in her hands. It sounded like the most obvious answer, but it also felt ridiculous. It felt silly when Mason was right. They weren't kids living in different countries anymore. They were adults and it would take time, effort, and patience, but it would be worth it. They could make it worth it. "We can make it work but I can’t lose you after twenty years together. I can lose anything or anyone, but not you, darling. Not you.”
“You can still be my best friend while also being my girlfriend. My girlfriend or my fiancé. Or my wife. Or my kids’ mum. Whatever you want."
She had to take a deep breath as she heard his words, biting her lips to not smile at them. The idea of having all that with Mason made her want to smile ear-to-ear. Thinking about it brought so much happiness to her heart, but she couldn’t let it all take over her heart. Not yet. Not when it could all crash and end in heartbreak.
“Don’t do that."
“Do what?”
“Give me hope, Mase. Don’t say all those things. Please don’t give me hope."
"Look at me, baby.” She couldn't say no to his words, but when she looked at him she wished she hadn't paid attention to them. She always had a terrible weakness for Mason, but nothing affected her as much as his eyes. It was the gorgeous brown color and the warmth they had that made her want to stare at them forever. The way they always lit up for her made her weak. Every time the wrinkles around his eyes appeared as he smiled, she wished she could kiss him. She wished she could do something to make him keep that happy expression on his face forever. It didn't help that he looked at her like she was the most amazing person in the world. She knew it was pure adoration like she felt for him. It was impossible for her to keep running away, not when Mason was telling her that he wanted her. "I can stop right now, we forget about it and pretend we don’t want each other since we were kids. Or we can kiss and talk in the morning so we can finally stop pretending there’s nothing here when we know we like each other. It’s up to you, love.”
“Promise that whatever happens tonight I am not losing you. Tell me that’s never going to happen no matter what" she begged him. In twenty years she never thought she would have to admit her biggest fear and say it out loud, but it was her time to do it.
While it wasn't her first kiss and it wasn't even her first kiss with Mason, the nerves made it seem like it was. The gap between them was not big, but Mason gave her a chance to change her mind and back up. Since she didn't move, he only needed one glance to answer the silent question hanging between them and place his lips on hers.
The butterflies were still there almost ten years later, making a mess of her and making it impossible for her to not smile. There was something familiar about it, but it was better than all those years ago back home. The biggest difference was the lack of innocence between them. Immediately, the tentative kiss turned into something hungrier as her tongue asked for permission and was granted without hesitation. Although she wasn't thinking straight when she licked his lower lip, she didn't complain as their tongues found each other and moved together. She knew it wouldn't be just one kiss. In silent plea, she moved her hands to his neck and hair, gently tugging and silently begging him not to move. Seeing his response to her melted her heart and encouraged her to keep going. Their kisses brought them closer together until there was no more space between them. His hands slowly moved from her waist to her legs, allowing him to rest them on her thighs as he slowly lifted her dress' hem, tracing his fingers over her soft skin. She kept her mouth shut instead of begging him to mess with her, letting her actions speak for themselves as she bit his lip, indicating how she wanted things to go forward.
"God, it took you long enough, Mount. It's bad manners to leave someone waiting for so long” she smiled, trying to get used to the feeling of her hands over his body in such an intimate way.
“Sorry, Cookie. Swear it won’t happen again" Mason grinned back at her, before getting back to her lips for another kiss.
There are certain things she could never forget even if she tried. Twenty years of friendship she would never take for granted or erase from her memory. Even though she enjoyed every minute of those days, as she unbuttoned Mason's shirt to remove it, and he stretched her legs out further, she couldn't wait to spend another twenty years beside him, only this time she got to be the lucky girl who got to hold his hand and call him Love.
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Thank you so much, lovely!! 🥹 I'm so grateful for all the excitement on this series already! If you do get a chance to read Part 1 when it comes out on Friday I really hope you enjoy it. 💜
Ahaha yeah that line is a big clue that we're not in 2000s Kansas anymore. 😂😂
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Between the City & the Stars
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.
👀 Sneak Peek of Part 1:
“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.
“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”
Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”
Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.
“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”
You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.
“Mr. Winchester," you began. "I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name."
Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.
“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers," you said. "The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”
Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse.
Read it on Patreon now!
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Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):
**Revised tag list! Going to prioritize those who interact with most of the fics and posts that they've requested to be tagged in (beyond "likes"). 💜
@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @thebiggerbear
@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78
@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester
@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl
@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx
@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter
@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad
@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67
@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @impala-dreamer @legalmente-loca @sanscas
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Make It Last
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob/Mafia AU)
Word Count: 2.7K
Summary: When the most powerful man in the city wants you, it's hard to say no. Obviously he's hard to resist but considering his significance in the city you can't help but wonder if you're just another piece of arm candy, so if he wants you, he'll just have to wait.
Author's Note: I've been thinking about Mob!Bucky a lot and what it would be like the first time with him. Lovely Sydney @buck-star had sent me a Mob!Bucky thot last week and he's just so yummy! Hope you enjoy, thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: lots of build up and tension to lots of smutty fun. Bucky is dominant but also soft and gives you everything you want. Oral (f rec), p in v (wrap it up but no need here bc it's Mob!Bucky and he's good and already checked you out haha), light praise and overstim, Bucky can't get enough and you don't want him to.
“It might last longer if he just takes a picture!”
You laugh but you don’t look at your friend even after she makes the joke.
“Why is he even here? Didn’t you tell him you’d be out with the me?” she adds.
At her question you turn to Nat and raise a brow.
“He owns the place. What am I gonna do? Have security remove him for staring too much?”
Nat laughs into her drink but shakes her head. “I guess that won’t work…but it doesn’t bother you at all?”
You give Bucky one more lingering glance then turn your full attention to Nat.
“Under different circumstances it might but it’s sort of my fault that he’s so…worked up.”
“What does that mean?” Nat asks as she leans in closer with a smirk.
You take another sip of your drink. “Well, speaking of pictures…I sent him some while I was getting ready…”
Nat pauses then says, “and? Hasn’t he seen you naked already. You’ve been dating almost a month.”
“We haven’t had sex yet.”
She nearly spits out her drink. “You haven’t fucked that man yet?” She peeks over your shoulder at Bucky, who still has his full attention on you.
“I know,” you sigh. “I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long. But honestly, he’s the most powerful man in the city. He probably has had every woman alive. Why me? I didn’t want to just sleep with him and then…that’s it.”
Nat nods in understanding. “So, you’re making him work for it.”
“Work for it, wait for it…I like him. A lot. And I’m hoping that this shows him I want more than just a good fuck.”
“I bet he’s the best fuck…ever!”
Nat’s words send you into a fit of giggles that dissolve as you feel him approach, the heat at your back followed but a shiver from his whispered words against your ear.
“Enjoying yourself doll face?”
You turn your head, your face so close to his you nearly bump noses.
“I am Bucky, thank you.”
“Good,” he says. “And this is your last drink.”
Your eyes widen at his statement, and you open your mouth to argue but he places a long finger against your lips to silence you.
“I want you completely coherent when I fuck you tonight. I want you to remember everything I do to you.”
With a hard swallow you whisper, “ok,” and your eyes drop to his lips. He kisses you, sweet and soft and way too quickly.
“My car will be outside at eleven.”
He says goodbye to Nat before walking off and disappearing behind one of the doors at the back of the club.
“What was that about?” Nat asks. “You look like you might pass out.”
“I’m going to sleep with him tonight,” you answer, nearly breathless.
Your eyes roam over his body, his black button-up shirt tucked into black pants. The first two buttons of his shirt are left undone, hinting at the expanse of skin beneath and highlighting the long and muscular line of his neck. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his corded forearms and prominent veins shift as he removes the lustrous watch on his wrist.
You stand and wait, watching him as he slowly stalks closer.
“Do you know how hard it’s been? How hard I’ve been…waiting?”
Your eyes drop to his pants and the clear outline of him pressing along the lush fabric. You reach out, your fingertips just brushing against him and his breath comes out in a sharp exhale.
He wraps his fingers around your wrist and drags you into his chest, pressing you against every inch of him. His lips find yours in a hungry kiss, his hands slowly tracing your curves until they cradle your face.
“Are you finally going to let me have you?” he murmurs against your lips.
Your palms flatten along his chest, and you kiss him softly.
“Yes,” you whisper.
“My favorite word,” he breathes before kissing you again.
His hands move to your back, finding the zipper of your dress and toying with the small piece of metal. You whimper with impatience, and you feel his smile against your mouth before he spins you around, so your back is to him.
Goosebumps break out across your skin as he smooths his fingertips over the curve of your shoulder then drops his hand back to the zipper, slowly pulling it down until the fabric pools at your feet.
He hums in approval, kissing the back of your neck and then the space between your shoulder.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the lace of your undergarments.
He turns you to face him again and then gently guides you toward the bed, pushing until you sit. He kneels, taking your foot in his hand and sliding off your heel. He repeats the action with your other foot and smooths his palm along your calf with a delicate caress.
“So soft,” he sighs then stands, gazing down at you. “So beautiful.”
He starts to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but you stand to stop him, taking the fabric between your fingers and teasingly undoing the buttons until you can push it off his shoulders.
Your fingertips lightly scrape down his chest, lingering over every scar you find before your lips press to the puckered skin.
His eyes close and he whispers your name.
When your fingers reach his pants, trembling slightly, you pull the zipper down. You reveal his boxers and the noticeable bulge beneath the tight material.
You lick your lips and brush your fingers through the soft hair just above the waistband then dip them inside, sliding your hand along every warm, silky inch of him.
He throbs in response, your thumb tracing the tip and smearing the wetness there. You kiss him all over, not taking him into your mouth yet but teasing with your lips.
“Doll,” he warns and unclenches a fist to stop you. “If you keep that up this will be finished before we even start.”
You let out a soft gasp as he helps you stand and pushes you back onto the bed. His hands skim your thighs, pulling your legs up and placing them on either side of his hips. He hovers over you, staring, the curling wisps of his dark hair falling across his forehead.
When he slides his hand between the mattress and your back, you lift yourself, giving him access to unhook your bra. He makes quick work of it but takes his time as he peels it from your body to reveal your breasts.
He stares again, his cheeks flushed and the muscles in his arms and chest straining. You reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss and pressing your bodies together. His lips trail down your neck, to your collarbone, soft nips at your skin before he continues his descent, lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
His tongue teases your nipple then sucks it into his mouth making your back arch in pleasure. He pays the same attention to your other breast, teasing, licking, nibbling, and soothing.
You feel his smile against your skin as he pulls away to kiss down your stomach, keeping one hand on your breast.
His name falls from your parted lips when he presses a kiss between your legs, the thin fabric of your panties doing little to dampen the heat of his breath.
He sits back, gazing down at you, fingers teasing the waistband of lace at your hips.
“Do you want my mouth doll?”
You nod, your hips squirming.
“I want to hear the word.”
“Yes!”
A satisfied look crosses his face as he hooks his thumbs into the soft material and pulls it off, purposefully dragging the tips of his fingers down your thighs and calves.
His kiss is a barely there whisper of his lips to your clit, yet it causes your entire body to quiver. He does it again and again until you’re begging for more.
Finally, his tongue flattens, and he tastes you in a long lick from top to bottom. You cry out, bucking and pushing your hips into his face. He closes his lips around your clit and sucks, applying the perfect amount of pressure to make you tremble.
His hands dig deeper into your thighs, the rings adorning his fingers leaving marks in your skin as your calves come to rest on his shoulders, opening you wider for him. His tongue circles your clit before sweeping lower and dipping inside you. Your fingers grasp his hair, another breathless moan leaving your lips.
After bringing you to the edge he pulls back and lets you catch your breath, but it’s short lived as his finger circles your clit before sliding lower to sink inside you.
“More Bucky,” you breathe.
He pulls his finger out and rubs along your entrance with two, teasing you, before only pushing one back inside.
You bring your hand down toward him, needing more, but he quickly intercepts it. He withdraws his fingers and gathers your wrists together with one hand, bringing both arms stretched out above your head.
“Keep them there,” he orders.
You start to nod but then quickly reply with a breathy, “yes.”
He bends down to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before sinking his teeth into it. He moves back down your body, his tongue working you over, no longer teasing, but with purpose.
It takes everything in you not to let your hands fall to his hair and when he suddenly pushes two fingers inside you, giving you what you asked for, you moan out in pleasure.
His long fingers reach deep inside you, and combined with his attention to your clit, you can feel your release building.
A warm, tingling sensation spreads through your body and your breathing turns ragged as your muscles tense.
He doesn’t stop, working you through your release and prolonging it until you’re a trembling mess beneath him.
You open your eyes to find him watching you with a heated gaze.
“Fuck doll face. I could watch you come undone for me like that every day for the rest of my life.”
His thumb sweeps over your sensitive and swollen clit and your eyes roll back.
“Again,” he murmurs, dipping between your legs before you can respond.
His lips replace his thumb, his fingers resuming their previous pace as he slides his free hand under your lower back to effortlessly lift you and bring you closer.
Everything feels ten times more sensitive now and you fight with the clashing sensations of pulsating pleasure and the soreness of overstimulation.
You feel your release approaching quickly and your eyes squeeze shut but his commanding voice pulls you from your haze.
“No,” he growls. “Open them. Look at me.”
You obey, opening your eyes again, and the sight of him between your spread thighs sends you over the edge.
“Bucky,” you choke out.
“Gorgeous,” he whispers. “But not nearly enough.”
You struggle to sit up, your eyes falling to his cock resting against his abdominals. He smirks and grips himself, pumping his hand slowly up and down his length.
“Do you need a break doll?”
“No,” you tell him, letting your legs fall open.
He settles between them, his lips kissing your neck and the sensitive spot below your ear. He slides his hand down between your bodies and rubs himself against you teasingly.
“What is it?” he asks, pausing at the slight tensing in your body.
“Nothing Bucky.”
“Tell me doll face,” he demands. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”
“No!” you say quickly. “No. It’s not that. You’re just…bigger than what I’m used to.”
He smirks, rolling his hips slowly, not pressing in yet.
“You can take it doll.”
His hand moves to your face, grasping your jaw, keeping you looking up at him.
“Keep your eyes on me.”
“Yes Bucky.”
His other hand grips your waist, holding you steady, and your breath catches in your throat as he begins to press into you, then came out in a low moan as he unhurriedly sinks in, making you feel every throbbing inch of him.
Your eyes flutter closed, but then his fingers dig into your jaw, a silent reminder to keep your eyes open. Your body stretches to accommodate him, the initial burn giving way to sweet friction as you relax.
He continues to move maddeningly slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, the intimacy of the moment making your pulse pick up in a way that has nothing to do with his languid movements.
He lets out a soft exhale as he finally stills, settled fully inside you. Your inner walls flutter around him as you adjust to his size, and he pulls back slightly, only to push back in with more force, drawing another moan out of you.
“See doll. You take me so well,” he praises. “Do you want more?”
“Yes,” you say, your hands wrapped around his biceps, feeling the power in his muscles as he holds himself over you.
He draws back until only the tip remains inside you and then slips back in slowly. You lift your hips with impatience but his hand pushes on your stomach to pin you back down to the bed.
He leans in to kiss you, softly and with sweet, whispered words. The slow roll of his hips builds tightness in your stomach, and he takes your hand in his, pressing it next to your head, entwining your fingers.
You slide your free hand through his hair, dragging your fingers through the soft strands and then down his neck. He closes his eyes, savoring the sensation, his hold on your hand tightening.
“I could come just from this,” he says huskily, lips dropping down to your ear. “Just from the sight of you completely ruined under me.”
His words make you squeeze around him, and he lets out a low, deep rumbling moan into your neck. You jerk your hips up toward him, your legs trying to draw him closer and deeper.
He lets go, pumping his hips faster, fingers digging into your thigh possessively as your body jolts with the force of it.
With a precise and purposeful rhythm, he keeps a relentless pace until your body explodes with every sensation and all you can do is hold onto him and listen to the rough sound that comes deep from his throat.
He pants against your neck, then trails soft kisses along your jaw to your lips, his kiss slow and deep, making you breathless all over again. Your heart beats frantically between you, his own a rapid thump, thump, thump, against his sweaty chest.
With gentleness he pulls out and lays down next to you, throwing his arm over your waist and curling you toward him. You quickly get lost in his cocoon of warmth, sighing, and closing your eyes, but he presses two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze to his.
“I want to clean you up,” he whispers. “And I want you to stay the night with me.”
Your quiet “yes,” makes him smile proudly and he carefully extracts himself, returning quickly with a warm cloth and delicate hands.
He slides up the bed and pulls you to him, closing the distance and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth and finally your lips. His hand cradles your face, his thumb swiping over your lips, applying enough pressure to part them.
Then his hand glides along your throat and his fingers close around the back of your neck to angle your head in a way that allows him a deeper kiss.
When he pulls away his nose gently bumps yours and he opens his eyes, ghosting his lips to yours as he whispers, “so perfect for me doll.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#sebastian stan#bucky barnes imagine#mob!bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x female reader#mob!bucky x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#mob au#sebastian stan x reader#bucky barnes fic
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HOLY CRAP YOUR DOMINATOR AU SHOULD ACTUALLY BE CANON, THE WAY ALL OF THE PLOT HOLES LEFT BY THE END OF THE WHOLE ARC HAVE ALL BEEN SO BEAUTIFULLY RESOLVED ACTUALLY MAKES ME SO HAPPY I WOULD DIE FOR YOU
If I can add on a bit, I think that a bit of tari’s past should be woven into your arc, because I’ve had a headcanon rotting in my brain where she was created by mr Puzzles as a highly advanced virus, but ended up learning too much and fled to smg4’s world in order to live a better life and was just curious if you’d like to add this to your amazing au :] no problem tho, and I hope you have a nice day!
🐦📺🐦📺🐦📺🐦📺
🐦📺🐦📺🐦📺🐦📺
AAAAAA THANK UU SO MUCH!!!! 💛🧡💖💛💖🧡💛💖🧡💛 I'm still so surprised and happy when I see people say they enjoy my writing!! Hope everyone reading this has a wonderful day as well!! 💛🧡💖
That's actually a pretty cool way to connect the two! But I should probably watch Meta Runner before I start thinking of her backstory. Still, the dynamic between her and Mr. Puzzles is a big part of the AU!
While she's not tied to him directly, both of them are technological geniuses. He is a hardware engineer while she is a software developer, and both have managed to create the same reality shifting technology in their own separate ways.
Thing is, she isn't aware of the extent of her powers just yet (made obvious by the fact she learned about Clench relatively recently) and so she doesn't show up on Mr. Puzzles' radar until she brought down the simulation in Western Spaghetti.
She is the only one who can beat him at his own game with his own weapons. She just doesn't know it yet. 🐦📺
#fanart#mr puzzles#smg4#smg4 mr puzzles#mr. puzzles#mr puzzles smg4#smg4 puzzlevision#smg4 fanart#puzzlevision#tari smg4#smg4 tari#tari#smg4 art#smg4 au#mr puzzles au#mr puzzles fanart#au#smg4 Dominator AU
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What are we ?
part 4 (final part)
fake dating Gojo X fem reader
ᯓ★
MASTERLIST of the series
part 3 part 4
Synopsis : You finally reunite with the man that you love, but among the chaos, being now a real couple is hard. The upcoming battle of Gojo against Sukuna means potential death, and the more the due date approaches, the more anxious you become. Yet, you try to make the most of it. And Satoru plans on making you a final surprise before he has to leave for his battle.
Words count : 6.4k.
Warnings : smut, p in v, fingering, face sitting, loving sex, emotional smut, spoilers of the manga, implied death, angst, and more warnings would be spoilers so I let it like that, xoxo.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : wow, here the final chapter. I really hope you guys will enjoy it, thank you for reading to the end !
。⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚。⋆♡⋆。⋆ ˚。⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆。⋆✧⋆˚。。⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚。⋆♡⋆。⋆ ˚。⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆。
Were you dreaming ? Was this in the end, all just a stupid dream ? Feeling the burning touch of the person you longed for since being fifteen, of the person you almost died for, many times, of the person you loved to the moon and back. His lips, needy and greedy, sucking on your nipples, treating them like lollipops as his large hand is busy inside your panties. Long fingers pumping in and out of your clenching walls, thumb teasing your clit with care and attention. His eyes, a deep blue, never leave your gaze, showing you all the love they holded and never wanting to tear them apart of your sweet pretty face moaning like a mess. God, you were like an angel, your legs holding Heaven, and he couldn’t wait to die inside of your thighs to ascend to paradise.
“I love you, so much,” he whispers, biting on your nipple, making you groan as you tilt your head back. He directly grabs the back of your head to force you to continue to look into his eyes. You couldn’t look away, he needed to keep your gaze on him, because he was afraid that if you didn’t, you would disappear and Satoru would realize that everything that was happening was just a dream.
He captures your lips when he feels you shaking, your wetness overflowing your hole, ready to reach your high. He moves his fingers faster, hitting your sweet spot. Some seconds later, you cum hard on his hand, his mouth drowning your pleas and your cries of pleasure. He rides your waves of bliss, before slowly withdrawing his hand and taking off your panties. He sucks on his fingers, and then starts pampering kisses on your neck.
“I always dreamed of this, dreamed of pleasing you, of being the one to touch you. Fuck, y/n, I’m going crazy for you,” he murmurs like a prayer against your throat and collarbones.
He parts your thighs, and you suddenly become self aware that Satoru, your best friend for more than a decade, now lover, will see for the first time your private parts. It was ridiculous, really. His fingers already touched you and made you cum. But it was under your panties, away from his prying eyes. You look nervous, and Satoru, hyper aware of every one of your tiny reactions, senses it.
“What is it ?” he whispers through half lidded eyes, slowly pushing more apart your thighs as he gets in between them. His eyes are still on you, but yours are down. You notice the tightness in his pants, and you bite your lower lip.
“I’m nervous,” you finally admit.
“I’m nervous too,” he whispers, one hand cradling the side of your face lovingly.
“You are ? Why ?” you ask surprised as his other hand is still on your thigh, thumb caressing your skin softly, like a soothing balm.
“Because I want to make it perfect for you. You’re the woman I love, it’s my first time with you. I’ve been holding myself back for damn years, y/n. I can’t mess it up,” he explains, and you slowly look back up to meet his burning and sincere gaze, full of raw vulnerability. You peck his lips, like a reassurance.
“You won’t mess it up,” you answer softly, and gasp when his thumb slides back down on your wet folds, and his eyes are looking at your dripping cunt. Fuck, he is looking. His cheeks have a dust of pink, and you realize that he is breathing heavily, biting his lower lip to the point of almost tearing it apart, and the muscles of his arms are contracting like he was holding himself back.
“I will if I listen to my inner thoughts and indulge in my own pleasure,” he replies, bending down and you open wider your eyes as he kneels on the floor, face right in front of your core. His arms swing around your waist and bring you closer, his breath fawning on your stickiness and you shudder at the feeling.
“Because… fuck- seeing you like that makes me want to take you right now. But I don’t want to hurt you. I want to make you feel loved,” Satoru adds, lending his lips on your throbbing clit, and you moan, lifting yourself on your elbows to look at him. Oh, he was beautiful like that, ready to eat you out, down on his knees just for you.
“You… already are making me feel loved,” you whisper, shivering and digging your nails in the sheets as he slowly gives a first lick, and his eyes roll back down his skull at the heavenly taste of your juices. You moan louder when his tongue reaches your bundle of nerves, and soon his whole mouth is on. Sucking, teeths slightly teasing, very gently, tongue lapping and lips making out with your cunt.
You tangle your hand in his snowy white hair, thighs squeezing around him. He doesn’t mind, at all. If you wanted, you could suffocate him to death, ride his face until he chokes, anything. Fuck, he exactly wants that. He suddenly lifts himself up and flips you over, letting you straddle him. You open your mouth wide, not expecting this, as his face is right under your throbbing hole.
“Satoru what are you-” you start to question, but soon, your voice gets strangled by a cry of pleasure when his hands grip your hips and his mouth is back eating you out.
You shake, legs struggling to stay still, slowly sinking lower and lower on his mouth. You felt all your strength leaving you, trying to hold yourself to not fall completely apart. He was right under you, devouring you like you were his last meal. But you were scared to crush him with your weight.
“Sit down on my face, y/n,” he suddenly says, and you look down at him, unsure, waves of warmth possessing your body.
“I’ll crush you,” you mutter.
“I’m not The Strongest for nothing, baby. So… sit,” he says cockily, and you can’t even protest that his grip is bringing you down in one go on his face. Sinking on him with your full weight, and the fear of breaking his head is soon far away as ecstasy takes back control when you feel his mouth being busy making you feel good. You moan louder, arching your back and the coil in your stomach becoming bigger.
It felt so good that your vision got blurry, and your mind became blank. All embarrassment and shame disappeared as your hips jerked and started to grind faster against his tongue and nose. Chasing down your own pleasure. At the same time, Satoru was creaming his pants, his aching boner just getting bigger and harder, only wanting to find solace inside your walls.
For the second time, you came hard, squirting all over his mouth, and the white haired male laps the remaining juices ‘till the last drop. He smiles like an idiot, making you fall back on the bed, straddling you and pecking your forehead. Your legs were a damn mess, sticky and bobbly. The face of Satoru was glistening, proud.
“You did so good for me,” he praises, letting you catch up your breath and try to take back control of your mind.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, helping him take off his t-shirt, revealing his torso. Soon, your lips find back his, like a magnet, and your legs roll around his hips to bring him against your still dripping cunt. His hard clothed cock presses against you, twitching of need. You hear him moan against your mouth, and he shifts slightly to get more comfortable. He unbuckles his belt, and then unbuttons his pants, zipping it down to reveal his boxer ruined by his precum. He pants heavily, wishing he could just fuck you at this instant. No- he had to be patient. But it was hard to be patient, actually.
“You said I’m making you feel loved, but it’s not enough. I want to catch up all these years before… it’s too late,” he whispers, looking into your eyes with a hint of sadness, and you directly understand what he means by ‘before it’s too late’. You swallow the lump in your throat, not wanting to imagine a world where Gojo would lose against Sukuna and never come back to you.
“Don’t talk about that,” you plead, shaking your head. He takes your face in his large hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks and cradling them with care.
“Shit, sorry. I won’t. It’s only you and me right now,” he apologizes, kissing your forehead. You look back into his eyes for some seconds, the two of you not moving, before you decide to let your hand trailing down his torso. He shivers, your touch igniting a fire inside his soul, and his muscles flex under the tip of your fingers. He gasps when your nails graze his dick through his boxer, and then your warm fingers slip inside it. The moment your hand wraps for the first time around his length, he had to pray God to forgive himself for the things he was about to do to you, because they were too sinful.
“Y/n, you- ahh… fuck,” he hisses, as you free his cock and slide it against your heat. He shudders, biting his lower lip and bucking his hips against yours, grinding his angry tip on your slit and your hole.
“I love you so damn bad, that it hurts. Ahh.. please, please. Can I put it in ? I’ll be gentle, I promise, fuck- please, y/n,” he begs, Gojo Satoru begs to you. Lips and warm breath covering your mouth and you bring his hips closer with your legs.
“Just take me, Satoru. I’ve been waiting for this for too long. I can’t wait anymore,” you silently answer in a cracked voice full of need.
He looks at you in the eyes, and then finally, while holding your gaze, he enters you. Inch by inch, filling you completely with his length. You breathe in to adjust, nails digging into his back, and his eyes are on yours the whole time, forehead against forehead.
“Yeah, take it all in- ah, you’re so tight y/n. Are you trying to squeeze me dry ?” he chuckles nervously, breathing heavily and then finally reaching as deep as he could. Oh, Lord, the sensation was so perfect he had to take a second to think or else he would have been cumming all over your walls.
“Shut up,” you start to answer, but then when his hips start to move, you arch your back and get cut in your own breathing pattern. You moan of pleasure, toes curling as he bends slightly to have his tip hitting your sweet spot every time he thrusts inside of you.
“You feel so good y/n, better than I have ever imagined. You’re so perfect,” he pants, his head falling inside the crook of your shoulder and biting it while moving slightly faster. His arms bring you closer, your breast pressing against his chest and supporting you in his embrace. He cradles you in love and affection, fucking you with care and gentleness, even if sometimes he liked to slam hard inside to surprise you and make you jolt and clench deliciously around his dick.
Your breathings were in sync, and the feeling of pleasure was so intense that the both of you soon got overwhelmed by it. You couldn’t believe you were having sex with Satoru. It was almost too good to be true. A living dream. Satoru was so happy to finally have you to himself among this chaos, to finally becoming one with the love of his life, to finally share all the intimacy he wanted to have with you, to be raw and vulnerable, that in the midst of pleasure, his eyes started to grow wet.
His pearly white lashes flutter, clenching you harder against him, hips meeting yours faster but in a slopier way. Salty water rolls down his eyes, and he swallows a breath as his tears wet your soft skin.
“I’ll never let you go- ah, I promise. Even If I die, I’ll always come back to you. Hell, if love is a curse, then I’ll, hmm, gladly let you… - curse me,” he says in between broken groans and moans of pleasure, his tears never stopping to roll down, like a river on his snowy skin.
“I love you, Satoru,” you whisper, emotions taking over, your heart hammering in your chest and grabbing his face to kiss the drops of salty water on his cheeks.
He closes his eyes, kissing your lips tenderly as he murmurs another ‘I love you’. You didn’t count how many times he said that tonight, but you weren’t complaining. Soon, his sloppy thrusts become steady again, chasing release and wanting to bring you to the end of ecstasy.
You dig harder your nails in his back when a wave of pleasure washes over you, and then, both at the same time, you cum. Hard. Your juices mix together, cum dripping off your walls as he shivers and moans your name in your ear like a dying prayer before opening the doors of Heaven.
You pant heavily, a whole minute passing by to let you both catch back your breath and realize what just happened. He wipes his tears and kisses your cheek tenderly. You swear, you hoped you could take a picture of his face right now, because of how angelic he looked after crying for you. It felt like an illusion.
“Now that I tasted what it feels like to have you, I fear I’m addicted,” he admits, kissing down your neck, licking the skin where his tears stained it.
“More than sweets ?” you joke softly, caressing his hair and putting his white locks away from his forehead.
“My sweet tooth is nothing compared to my addiction to you, y/n,” he mutters, teeth grazing your ear and then lips caressing your jaw.
“I should get worried,” you chuckled, shifting a bit as he was still inside of you. Clearly, he didn’t want to move away.
“Maybe. Surely, actually,” he hums, winking at you.
“I don’t mind if you consume me whole,” you admit, and that wakes something back inside of him. He raises his head to look at you, suddenly slamming his mouth to yours.
“Then don’t be surprised if I do,” he exclaims, and his cock twitches, fully getting hard again and filling you back completely. You moan of surprise.
“Hey- you just came ! How come you suddenly are getting back hard ?!”
“You said I could consume you. I will. I’m not done with you, y/n,” he answers, before flipping you over, ass up and face down in the pillows. He adjusts himself in front of the delicious view he had of your arched back.
The night was still young, and Satoru promised to make himself forgiven for all the time he spent away from you.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Days were flying by. Honestly, it was scary. Satoru was busy either training for the incoming fight against Sukuna, or spending his remaining time with you. You both tried to act like a normal couple, a real one this time, but it was hard. It was hard when chaos was surrounding you, and that death was surely awaiting your now boyfriend. Stress, nervosity, fear was eating you alive. Satoru saw it all, and aside from kissing you softly to ease your worries, hugging you close to his beating heart to show he was still here, or trying to crack his usual jokes to lighten the mood, he couldn’t do much to bring you peace.
You never expected, months ago, that after the tragedy of him leaving you, getting sealed and half of Japan getting destroyed, you will become the real girlfriend of Gojo Satoru, not his fake one. But now, for the sake of another incoming tragedy, your happiness will be short = his possible death.
You felt like throwing up when they proposed to Gojo that if he died, they would use his body like a weapon. Just in case, so that when Gojo loses, he still would be useful, his body getting used by his own student. They did a test when Yuta and your boyfriend possessed the body of one another.
“Satoru, don’t tell me you are accepting that- please. I can’t let you get treated like a weapon even in your death ! Hell, I can’t even let you die !” you cry, grabbing his hand in between yours, face getting paler at this horrible idea. You try to breathe, but it’s hard. He looks down at you, as if he was unfazed by this, but you see in his eyes the raw sadness they holded.
“I always have been a weapon, y/n. Since I was born,” he simply answered with a tired smile.
“Not to me ! Satoru, after everything we went through, never doubt what I think about you. You are a human, a human that I love, a human that I care for, a human that I cherish…” you start to say as his hand twitches in yours. He doesn’t move, looking down at you, biting his lower lip.
“I have love and dreams too. I told Yuji that one day everyone will grow up and leave me behind, right ? He said he wouldn’t forget me, but I still think he will,” he starts vaguely answering, looking away at the sun setting on the snowy park. It was oddly peaceful.
“And me, do you think I could ever forget you ?” you ask in a broken voice. His free arm suddenly wraps around you, bringing you closer so you couldn’t see his facial expression. He buries his head in your hair, clinging to you like a lifeline.
“No. I want to say I wish you did, but that would be lying. I don’t want you to forget about me,” he admits, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as he squeezes you tighter.
“I will never forget about you for two reasons. First, you are unforgettable. You are part of my soul. Forgetting about you would mean tearing apart a piece of myself. Second, I will not let you die. Meaning you will stay by my side. No matter what,” you explain, sure of yourself, gripping him harder to emphasize the truth of your sentences.
He chuckles slightly at your words, kissing the top of your head with love and genuine happiness to hear you say this.
“Y/n, I’m the happiest man on earth to have you as my girlfriend. I truly wish I had the nerves and threw away my fear years ago, to ask you out,” he ends up admitting, thumb caressing your lower back. As you breathe, mist is created because of the cold.
“I wish too, but, I still had a lot of fun just being your best friend for all these years,” you reply, letting out a small laugh as you lift your head to look into his eyes. He stares at them, silently, lost in thoughts, before smirking.
“You know, when I asked you to pretend to be my girlfriend months ago, for the gathering… Actually, I could have not gone to this event, like I did every other time. I just wanted an excuse to have you by my side as my lover, even if it was for one night. So I took the opportunity that the higher ups were pressuring me with marriage and all, to ask you this favor. I was happy even if it was fake,” he says, revealing to you what was actually happening inside the head of the white haired sorcerer. You open your eyes, wide, surprised that he kind of planned all this. You nudge him, scoffing.
“Oh you sneaky- so you knew that we would have to continue to pretend after the event because of all the gossip ?”
“Of course. It’s for that I made out with you in front of everyone. I wanted this little fake dating thing to continue as long as possible. Even if… it brought you pain in the end. I’m sorry,” he says more softly, sighing as he gazes at you with hurt and regret. You frown.
“Satoru, stop with that. It was the elders fault, not yours-”
“Yeah yeah. I killed them anyways,” he interrupts you, shrugging it off. You sigh, and make him step with you towards the exit of the park.
“Come on, let’s go back inside. You trained a lot today, you need to rest before tomorrow. And, I have a surprise for you,” you try to lighten the mood, wanting to only focus on the happiness of today, and nothing else. Because if you didn’t, it would be too painful.
“A surprise ? Ohhhh, is that you wrapped in sexy lingerie under the christmas tree just for me ?” he drawls, waving his eyebrows playfully, flashing you a charming smile.
“No, you pervert. But you spoiled the surprise, it is indeed a gift under the christmas tree. I know we are the twenty-three of December, and Christmas is tomorrow. But since you will have to go… you know. I wanted to make sure you had your present before leaving,” you end up answering more calmly, squeezing his warm hand in yours.
“We really read each other’s minds. I planned to do the same thing ! I have a surprise for you too, eheh,” he muses happily, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to bring you closer.
“Really ? Now I’m even more excited, let’s go !” you exclaim with excitement, stars in your eyes. Satoru can’t help but feel nervous, yet happy, smiling at your unaware face of what the surprise will be.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
In the intimacy of the moment, Satoru discovered his christmas gift. It was actually hard to find one, as… obviously, every store around was closed, people had to evacuate some weeks ago. But, you managed to go back to your place, and take what you needed. You already offered him something you bought some time ago, for his birthday, the seven of december. For Christmas, his gift was a warm scarf with a cd. The cd actually holded a compilation of videos you had taken for almost fifteen years, since you met Satoru. It retraced all your friendship through time, rediscovering memories that were long lost.
You already cried of nostalgia when secretly preparing it, but seeing it again, with an overjoyed Satoru at your side, it was hard to not have tears again. Even more when seeing all these shared moments, that will maybe come to an end tomorrow. Satoru thought the exact same. But he didn’t want to make you sadder, instead just wanting to show you his gratitude and his happiness for this amazing sentimental gift.
“My turn now,” he whispers in the crook of your neck as you were both sitting next to the christmas tree in front of the fireplace. Actually, it was the fireplace of the entry of the hotel you both stayed at. The tree was gigantic as well, and you had the place for only the two of you. It was, to say the least, magic, majestic, beautiful and dreamy.
“Ok, I’m excited,” you beam.
“And I’m nervoussss,” he mutters, taking something from his pocket, his eyebrows frowning.
“What ?”
“I said close your eyes,” he gives you a peck on the lips.
“You didn’t say that, but ok,” you chuckle, doing so. Some seconds pass, and then something shifts in the air, before you feel Satoru moving slightly.
“You can open them,” he whispers in such a soft voice that you can’t help but be surprised. As you slowly open them, your heart stops beating for a second when you see him having one knee on the ground, looking at you with so much love in his eyes, holding a tiny box with a diamond ring sitting elegantly inside of it.
“What-” you choke, not believing your eyes.
“Y/n, I know it’s very early in our relationship. I know it’s only been barely a month, since I got unsealed, that we are officially dating. But, God. I love you, so damn much. I have loved you since I’m fifteen, and I turned twenty-nine a few days ago. It’s been more than a decade since I know how infatuated and crazy I am for you. I’m convinced that the only person I want in my life is you, and nobody else. Hell, I was terrified about all these arranged marriages they tried to put me into since I’m of age. Yet, when I think about a future with you, I’m sure : being your husband is actually something I would be happy to be. So yes, it is rushed. But if I came to die tomorrow, I at least want to die being your fiance, knowing I had the courage to ask you this question : will you marry me ?”
“Oh my-,” you shake, hand covering your mouth as tears swell in your eyes. You didn’t expect it, at all. And knowing why it was so rushed, that it maybe will be the only occasion in his life to ask you this, before his death, before tomorrow, it breaks your heart. Years spent by his side, from teenager years to adulthood, flash before your eyes. The man that you always loved was asking for your hand, and that felt like a dream. Satoru smiles awkwardly, seriously stressed at your lack of answer as he swallows his saliva.
“Can I take that as a yes ?” he tries to make you answer, some hope glinting in his irises while he gets closer. You snap back of your thoughts, and nod firmly.
“Yes Satoru, yes,” and he gently takes your hand, sliding the ring on it. It fits perfectly, and you stare at it with awe before he takes your face and kisses you with so much care that you falter. You bring him closer, the ring shining under the lights of the christmas tree, like a promise made to the stars.
“Here I thought you would break my heart,” he whispers teasingly against your mouth, even if he wasn’t entirely joking when saying this.
“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter, fingers caressing his tender face, cradling it with care and affection.
“I love you,” Satoru murmurs for your ears only, even if nobody else was around, aside from the two of you. He wishes it could stay like this.
“I love you too,” you answer back, taking him in your arms. He smiles, wrapping his around your body and bringing you closer to his chest, molding against yours.
“How did you manage to have an engagement ring when everything around is closed ?” you ask after some minutes of silence, his hand softly caressing your back in a soothing way.
“Don’t worry about that, I got my ways,” he replies mysteriously, and you roll your eyes, while he only chuckles as a response.
“I can’t believe this is real,” you say in the crook of his neck, hugging him tighter, closer to your heart.
“Here, if you want to make it real, I have the other ring. You can put it on me,” he kisses the top of your head and grabs you by the shoulders. Intrigued, you look up at him, and he offers you the matching ring that would belong on his finger. You smile, amused, and excited as well. You take it gently, and then softly and slowly slide it around his digit.
“Yes, I want to marry you, y/n. Oh my god ! Such an amazing ring ! Kyaaaa,” he exclaims, acting all giddy and exaggerating, which makes you laugh heartily, pleased to share this moment of warmth and happiness with him.
“You’re such a dork,” you tease him, kissing his cheek, and the corner of his lips curls as his face becomes a soft pink.
“I know you love it,” he muses, making you rest again on his chest, nuzzling your shoulder to annoy you, but really, you enjoy it more than anything to have him so close. As if he wanted to crawl under your skin and nest inside. That wouldn’t be such a bad idea, he thought.
“Of course,” you answer, nudging him.
Again, minutes pass, staring at the fireplace, the dancing flames moving in singular harmonies, making you lost in thoughts.
“Satoru ?”
“Yes, sweetheart ?”
“Tomorrow, please, come back to me,” you whisper in a plea, clenching yourself harder against him. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what will have to come.
“I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.”
He looks into your eyes.
“One day, I hope to call you my wife.”
“And you, my husband.”
May this become true.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
January, 2025.
“And, this is how I met him. But hey, stop slacking off, there is still some training to do, hurry up !” you exclaim as you stop your train of thoughts and look at the three first years facing you, as they just started some weeks ago to study here at Jujutsu high. It was refreshing to see new generations enjoying their youth, as they should be.
“But professor, your ring is so pretty, we want to know more about him !” insists the smaller one, doing puppy eyes as she stares at the stone ornamenting your finger. You smile softly looking at it, nostalgia hitting you raw.
“Who are we talking about ?” asks a second year, coming closer, intrigued by the conversation happening in the warmth of the sun up your head in the training grounds.
“The love of my life,” you whisper softly, very very gently, as if only you could hear your own words.
“Oh- you mean the one that-” starts to say the second year, face distorting in pain.
“Shhhhh, don’t say it,” quickly cuts him off one of the three first years that was listening to you earlier.
“It’s alright, it’s not a bad word,” you shrug, chuckling softly as you give them a reassuring smile.
“But…” starts the teenager, yet you shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest.
“No more slacking, come on ! Your cursed energy will not get trained alone !” you say with authority, sighing as they grumble and go back to their training in the middle of the field as you keep a watchful eye over them.
“Miss Gojo,” suddenly interrupts a voice, and when you turn your head, you are met with black hair.
“Yuta, I told you to stop calling me that,” you huff, scolding him, and even shaking your head. But really, it actually didn’t bother you at all.
“I know, but he threatened me to do it every time I would see you,” answers the poor boy, now a man, embarrassed and feeling slightly guilty.
“Ah, what a bully…” you start to say, laughing to yourself at this core memory, one that was deep inside your heart. You take a deep breath and look back at him, “ did you need something ?”
“I got charged to tell you to go in an emergency at the red gates,” he admits, and you raise your eyebrows, surprised. You give a look to your students, making sure they would be ok by themselves. Well, they would surely slack off once you will be away, but it wasn’t the most important matter right now.
“What ? Alright, I’m going. Thanks !” you nod, and quickly run off towards the location. You slowly slow down when you arrive there, and your eyebrows raise when you see what is standing in front of the gates. You jog, before walking more calmly, surprised and your heart beating faster.
“Satoru ?”
“Come give a big hug to your amazing husband !” exclaims the white haired male, opening wide his arms. You grin,more like a big fat smile, wrinkles at the corners of your eyes as you laugh and jump in the embrace of your husband. His strong limbs wrap around you, catching you perfectly in time as he was long used to doing that. You inhale his familiar scent, pleased to see him after this long exhausting day.
“What are you doing here ?” you ask, raising your head as he pecks your lips tenderly.
“You took too long to come back home, I got bored,” he explains, shrugging. His large palm decorated by his wedding ring caresses the side of your face lovingly.
“Easy for you to say when you don’t work anymore, while I still have students to teach,” you answer, giving him a look, even if you were mostly joking around and not really accusing him of anything.
“Hey, I’m retired, it’s different. And I keep telling you that you can stop working as well, as I can provide the two of us for a lifetime,” he retorts, pouting like a manchild, squeezing you harder, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. You chuckle.
“I know, but a certain someone can’t seem to want to let go of his past as a teacher, and insisted that I would take care of the future generations. So, I’m doing my job,” you correct, tapping the tip of his nose, and he scrunches it like a bunny in reply, which makes you laugh.
“I know what I said, but I’m greedy. I didn’t think you would take it so seriously- I miss you at home,” he insists, whining harder, deeping his head in the crook of your head and breathing loudly to emphasize his distress.
“Poor house husband... And of course I took it seriously ! You asked me this when you lost your Six eyes and Infinity, it was an important promise I made !” you exclaim in a scoff, not believing your ears, hitting his shoulder, yet he doesn’t budge.
“I'll take it back, stay at home with me, pretty please,” he answers, doing his usual puppy eyes that make you weak on your knees.
“For you to pester me all day ? No,” you shake your head, rolling your eyes.
“And a lot of good sex,” he adds, smirking and tilting his head to the side to look at you with his charming gaze.
“That’s tempting… but no. Come on, let’s go grab something to eat, I’m starving,” you giggle, taking his hand in yours as he intertwines his fingers together, sharing his warmth. You’ll call Yuta to inform him to tell your students that class is dismissed. Not like they would be sad, as they clearly were grumpy at the idea of training more. Kids these days…
“And let’s go to the arcade after,” he proposes, walking next to you at the same pace, winking at you.
“Are we really a married couple or some teenagers ?” you laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
“I still feel like a teenager in love when I’m with you, honey,” he muses, nudging you, which makes you grin.
“Yet, we’re 34 and 35,” you insist. Saying it makes you realize how much older you are than what you think in your head.
“I can’t believe our marriage was already five years ago !” he exclaims, eyes wide open and mouth agape, shocked by his own words.
“And seven years ago we started “fake dating”, time does really fly,” you don’t forget to say, teasing him.
“As long as I’m by your side, I don’t mind,” he answers more calmly, kissing the finger holding your ring. You fluster at his gesture. Looking at your husband makes you realize how lucky you are to still have him by your side after everything that happened.
Years ago, he almost died against Sukuna. To the point that you couldn’t help but jump into the fight when Magohara almost sliced him in two, saving him at the last second. It almost cost your own life, but you would do it all over again, just for him. The sake of his winning ended in what jujutsu society and the rest of the world would call a tragedy, but to you and him, it brought peace to his life. Indeed, the cost was a binding vow, making him lose his Six eyes and Infinity abilities. It meant the end of The Strongest, of the great Gojo Satoru. For many, it was worse than death itself.
But he couldn’t be more than happy, leaving the future of jujutsu society to new fresh generations, and finally ending his years of labor and exhaustion. He was now a free man, being able to live a normal life, and actually having the joy to learn what a normal life is. Because he hardly had the chance to explore normality, never in its fullest.
“We really should get a baby,” he suddenly says, humming as the two of you walk in a quiet street.
“You keep talking about it,” you answer, giving him a smile, wondering how serious he was right now.
“Because I want a family with you,” he replies, looking at you in the eyes with sincerity. You stop walking one second, before starting again more calmly. You squeeze his hand lovingly.
“I want one too, my love,” you whisper, leaning towards him affectionately. At your words, he suddenly turns towards you and grabs you by the shoulders to make you stop and instead walk the opposite way. Startled, you look at him confused, but still follow him nonetheless.
“Ok, let’s go home now,” he announces, more like orders.
“And what about eating something and going to the arcade-” you start to say, but he quickly cuts you off.
“Forget about it, I’m going to make you pregnant tonight !” he exclaims determined, walking even faster, to the point the two of you are now running towards your shared house. You keep laughing with him all the way to your home, Satoru joining you in your never ending laughter, full of joy and hope.
After having the chance to marry you, he just couldn’t wait to fully start a family with the love of his life.
If years ago, when the two of you started fake dating, someone would tell him that you and him would be married trying for a kid, he would have thought that it was because of a scheme of the higher ups. Not because he had the chance to make it by choice and out of his love for you.
Gojo Satoru truly was the happiest man on earth. That’s what he thought every morning when waking up next to you.
And curses be damned, love is the greatest blessing of all.
THE END
————————
I'm so happy that we finally reached the end ! This was so fun to write, and exploring both the angst and the comedic fluff was very interesting. I hope I managed to get you on your toes untill the end, wondering if Gojo had an ending like in the manga, or something canonically divergent. Thank you all for reading, reactions would be appreciated. See you soon for other fics, xoxo ! Love y'all.
Tag list : @bnbaochauuu @bunniotomia
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jjk smut#jjk x reader#gojo smut#gojo angst#gojo fluff#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x you#x reader#jjk#jjk series#jjk angst
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Eloo!! I’ve read your se-mi nsfw hcs and ive been left thirstyy (lmfao). I was wondering if you could make some for S1 player 067, Sae-byeok. Thank you so muchh <33
omg hey!! i will happily write for 067. if it’s alright i also threw in player 240 because im in love with jiyeong and NOBODY writes for her im sick
NSFW Headcanons for Players 067 & 240 (Kang Sae-byeok & Ji-yeong)
warning: smut and all things of the like | not proofread | lowercase intended | winners that love winning (fem!reader) | these headcanons contain both submissive + dom reader instances | these are my headcanons for these characters, please be respectful even if my opinions on the characters differ from your own
characters: kang sae-byeok (player 067), ji-yeong (player 240)
A/N: this is my contribution to the sae-byeok AND jiyeong fans out there. i love these girls so much, and again i hope its alright that i added 240 in here as well :P enjoy!
MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised
Kang Sae-byeok (Player 067)
➤ her favourite position to have you in is any where you’re straddling her. she loves to look up at and admire you while you grind on her senselessly, plus this gives her ample opportunity to touch you in just about anyway she pleases
➤ tends to pull your hair while you eat her out
➤ she prefers more intimate, gentler sex. however, when you guys do go on the rougher side— she turns into a whiny, whimpering mess.
➤ it took sae-byeok a while to be able to tell you she loved you. in fact, when she said it for the first time, you were both shocked. you couldn’t tell if it was because of how fucked out she was, but you didn’t care; you loved to hear her say it
➤ if it wasn’t established from the previous hcs— i see sae-byeok as a sub leaning switch. but, when she tops she loves to use toys on you. trust if this woman gets her hands on a strap, she will be fucking you doggy style
➤ will compliment you throughout
“fuck, you’re so beautiful..”
“y’re so pretty when you do that”
“yeah, y’ like it when i fuck your pretty little pussy, don’t you..”
➤ just as much as she loves to compliment you, she’ll melt in your hands when you praise her, too. tell her how good she’s doing, how hot she looks, how good she’s making you feel and her mind will go blank from the pleasure
➤ double-sided dildo… that’s all i’ll say
─────────────
Ji-yeong (Player 240)
➤ really likes to be in control, and she takes full advantage of it too.
➤ she goes absolutely crazy when you wear lingerie, sometimes she’ll take it off you but more often than not she likes the view with it on
➤ tit squeezer. not to a painful degree— she just likes toying with your tits
➤ toys are a give or take thing with ji-yeong, she can be quite mean with them though. she loves to tease you with a vibrator while she eats your pussy
➤ craves eye contact. whether its you looking into her eyes while she’s between your thighs, or its the two of you exchanging glances while you ride her thigh— eye contact is a need for her
➤ to piggyback off the teasing, some of the stuff she’ll say may include
“aww don’t start whining now.. weren’t you just begging for my fingers a moment ago?”
“i mean, if you want me to stop by all means— it would be a shame seeing how close you are”
“shit, you should see your face— you’re totally fucked out..”
➤ i fear at this point it’s sort of a given, but of course she’s into orgasm control. she’ll carry on with it sometimes, but the moment you use your safeword she’ll let you release
➤ loves laying on your chest during aftercare. her favourite part is being able to hear your heartbeat, and feeling your chest rise and fall
─────────────
double post day? i think so! at least it is where i live, regardless i hope you guys liked this one! i miss my wives so much… they need to come home fr.
as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic day/night lovelies 💋
tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @holyshtimgay
#squid game#fanfiction#squid game smut#squid game x reader#x reader smut#wlw smut#imagines#player 240#player 067#sae byeok#ji yeong#x reader fanfiction
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The Sweepstakes: Javi Gutierrez Epilogue (Porn Star AU)
Series: The Sweepstakes
Pairing: Porn star Javi Gutierrez x Female Reader
Summary: You are getting dressed up a year after your night with Javi
Word count: 637
Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)
Content Warnings: Healing from negative body image, mentions of past sexual encounter, reader is a full figured gal, but has no other physical descriptions
A/N: If you haven’t read The Sweepstakes: Javi Gutierrez yet, go read it first! I always knew this would be their epilogue, I don’t know why it took me so long to write it! I hope you enjoy! Spanish translations are at the end, but everything should be able to be understood in line. Big thanks to @burntheedges for the beta!
Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!
Series Masterlist
Javi Gutierrez Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Taglist – in reblog, let me know if you would like to be added or fill out the taglist form linked in my bio!
“Are you getting dressed?”
Javi’s deep voice rumbles in your ear.
“Yeah.”
“What are you wearing?”
“The black one.”
Javi groans. “Your tits look amazing in that one. Muéstrame. Let me see.”
You add video to the call as you check yourself out in your full-length mirror. You have to agree with Javi, the woman looking back at you looks pretty amazing.
What a change from this time last year. Your mirror is much less of an enemy these days.
Your negative body image isn’t something you could change overnight. Even if the night in question was the most amazing one you’ve ever had. You think back on that night with Javi often. The way Javi looked at you with lust and desire in his eyes and the confidence it gave you to let go.
You’ve even watched it a few times. You didn’t want to be filmed initially, but Javi convinced you to try. He bent you into positions you didn’t know you were capable of and found realms of pleasure you hadn’t discovered on your own, and most definitely not with a partner. You lost count of how many times he made you come.
The video was difficult to watch at first. You squinted through your fingers and could only let it play for a minute or two. But gradually, it got easier.
You practiced looking at yourself in the mirror. Javi would whisper in your ear while you looked at your naked body. He helped you see the beauty in your roundness and rolls until you started to see it yourself.
Now you run your hands over your curves with affection and don’t need a gorgeous man to tell you what to appreciate… but you still like it sometimes.
Javi fills your phone screen with his golden skin, warm brown eyes, and sunshine smile.
“Hola, bonita. Show me this dress.”
You angle the camera down to show the deep V at the front of your dress, your cleavage on full display, and the high slit up your thigh.
“Deliciosa,” he murmurs. “Do you think it is tonight?”
You nod and bite your lip as your cheeks heat. You’ve been dating Joel for a little while now. Your connection was immediate. There was just something about his soulful brown eyes that drew you in.
“Is he good enough for you?”
“You know he is, Javi.”
Javi’s protectiveness of you warms your heart. You’ve told Javi about all your dates over the last year. He has become your best friend and confidant.
You haven’t had sex with anyone since him, focusing instead on how you feel about yourself, so you’d be ready when the right man came along. You wanted to be able to fully embrace that side of yourself when the time came.
Then you met Joel.
Charming, gentlemanly, competent Joel… you shiver with anticipation.
You know he is the right man. Tonight may just be the right night.
“You’re glowing, bonita.” Javi interrupts your reverie. “I am so happy for you!”
Javi’s smile lights up the screen and you smile back. “Thank you, Javi. For everything.”
“De nada, but it was you all along. I just get to enjoy. I hope that this will not end, but I will understand if it does.”
Javi’s puppy dog eyes fill the screen. Thankfully, you can console him. “Joel knows about you. I think you’ll be great friends.”
“Bueno! I am so glad! I know this is maybe unusual.”
“Maybe, but I don’t care.”
Just then, your doorbell chimes. “Oh! He’s here!”
“Ve! Go!”
“Bye, Javi! I love you!”
“Te quiero tambien! Call me tomorrow.” Javi smooches the camera and hangs up.
You check your dress and make-up one last time in the mirror, grab your bag, and open the door to the man of your dreams.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: Did Joel surprise you???? He surprised me!!! Am I even capable of writing something without a cameo? Lololol
Spanish translations: Muéstrame - show me Hola, bonita - hello, beautiful Deliciosa - delicious De nada - you're welcome Ve! - Go! Te quiero también - I love you too
Series Masterlist
Javi Gutierrez Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Taglist - in reblog
#the sweepstakes#javi gutierrez#javi g#javi gutierrez x reader#javi g x reader#Pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal
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Forbidden Match || George Russel
The roaring engines, the scent of burning rubber, and the flashing lights of the paddock were all part of your world. Being the daughter of one of the most influential team principals in Formula 1 meant you had grown up surrounded by the sport. But it also meant you had to follow the rules, and one rule had been made clear: never get involved with a driver—especially one from a rival team.
Yet, here you were, pressed against a dimly lit corridor behind the hospitality units, George Russell's piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. His fingers traced along your wrist, sending shivers up your spine.
"We can’t keep doing this," you whispered, even as you leaned into his touch.
George smirked, tilting his head slightly. "You say that every time, yet here we are."
You let out a shaky breath. He was right. No matter how much you tried to stay away, the magnetic pull between you two was impossible to ignore. It started as stolen glances across the pit lane, then brief touches when no one was looking, and now… now it was something far deeper, far more dangerous.
"If my father finds out…" You swallowed hard, your heart pounding louder than an F1 car at full throttle.
George cupped your face gently. "Then I’ll deal with it. I’m not afraid of him."
"You should be," you said with a nervous chuckle. "He's made it clear—drivers are off-limits. And you? You’re the worst possible choice."
His smile softened. "Because I drive for Mercedes? Because we’re competing against each other? Or because you actually feel something for me?"
Your silence was his answer.
The sound of footsteps echoing through the paddock snapped you both out of the moment. George quickly pulled away, adjusting the collar of his team polo. You took a deep breath, straightening your own posture as if nothing had happened. The last thing you needed was for someone to see you together.
"We’ll figure this out," George whispered, his voice barely audible before he turned and disappeared down the corridor.
You watched him leave, your heart tangled in a web of emotions. Forbidden or not, this wasn't just some fleeting romance—it was real. And you had no idea how long you could keep it hidden.
Hey, readers, this is my first time writing here to you! 💙 Thank you so much for reading and supporting through likes and reposts. I hope you enjoyed this little taste of drama, passion, and the thrill of a secret romance in the F1 world. Would you like a Part 2? Let me know your thoughts in the comments! I’d love to hear what you think and want to see next. 🏎️✨
#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1#f1 one shot#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#george russel x reader#george russell#george russel imagine#george russel x you#russel x y/n#george russel x y/n#george russel x female reader#racing#mercedes#george russel one shot#mercedes racing#mercedes amg f1#mercedes amg petronas#motorsport
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i’m not yours - part 8
summary: Daryl and you are (were?) friends. He dated Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart. Will it ever go back to normal?
words: 2.3k
warnings: mentions of abuse, injuries
A/N: Good day, everyone! I've been literally working on this for a couple of days, editing and adding shit all the time. My partner has helped me with it, he's such a gem <3 I hope you enjoy it!
I would also like to thank everyone who has followed me and liked my shit, it is much appreciated! With your help, I somehow got to 68 followers and over 600 likes which is incredible! Thank you, muffins! <3
Read the previous part here!
A few days later
Ribs hurting, body throbbing. Every single muscle screams for help with each move you make. Getting up from bed was a challenge enough, but taking a shower was even worse. You could barely move your limbs around, not to mention bending down or even sitting. The mirror image you see in the morning is somewhat depressing. Standing in front of it, in your black underwear, you assessed the damage with a pained gaze. The cuts and bruises were almost too much to look at. Their shades of purples, pinks, and reds were sticking out like a sore thumb in the morning light sifting through the window. They weren't only covering your body, but also stretching from ear to cheek on one side, with a big fat lip as a cherry on top. You feel a sharp pain in your side when you breathe in —a telltale sign of a few broken ribs.
That evening walk last night wasn't a good idea after all, you thought to yourself.
Moving at a snail's pace, you put on trousers and a grey hoodie, wincing in pain every now and then. Drawing a hood up, you cover most of your face. You weren’t trying to get any attention drawn to you, oh no. Leaving the house, you head towards the mess hall to eat your breakfast. Your hands were in your pockets. All the way down the street, you looked at your slow feet moving on the ground. You could hear people whispering about you. It was clear that somehow they already knew about your injuries. Maybe someone caught a glimpse when you were coming home last night, stumbling through the street. Or maybe you just weren't as good at hiding it as you thought you were.
Out of the blue, you feel a strong hand on your shoulder. You turn around with your fists up, almost hitting the person in the face before you realise that it was Gabriel - the community priest. You swallow hard, and you quickly put your fists down, packing them back into your pockets.
"Y/N, what happened?" He asks, a worried look on his face as he steps a bit closer to look at your face. As a respectful person that he is, he doesn’t touch you or move too close. He just points at your face, his eyes darting to the bruising and cut lip.
"Nothing," you mumble.
"That nothing sure looks like something," he retorted, examining you.
"I am fine, father," you say, stepping away from him and clearing your throat. "But may I suggest praying for all the wicked tonight."
"If we confess our sins, He is faithful, and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness," Gabriel quotes a Bible to you and smiles a little.
"It's not my sins we have to worry about, father."
You say, turning around and leaving him standing there, visibly confused. You walk all the way down the street, turning onto a gravel path that winds a little to the left, and you get to the mess hall. By mess hall, you meant the biggest building in Alexandria where some tables and chairs were put down, alongside a modest buffet so people could get their food before work. There usually wasn't a lot to choose from, but no one complained - food was a blessing these days, no matter how bad or good it tasted.
Getting a clean, but worn-out white plate, you put some scrambled eggs on it, a rare sight in the zombie world. You guess someone found some powdered eggs somewhere during the supply run. You don't complain and take some onto your plate, heading to sit at one of the empty tables.
Your jaw hurts as you slowly eat your modest, bland breakfast. The only thing you could eat, really. Soft enough so there's not much chewing involved. You dart your eyes up carefully to look around, and you spot Daryl’s crossbow, poking above the bustling crowd. He barely glances at you across the dining hall, and you know he probably is here to grab his food pack quickly before heading out on a supply run. It was busy anyway, so you weren't surprised he would not see you. You were just another face in the crowd. You didn’t expect him to pay much attention to you. Especially after your past arguments. And his own relationship explosion a few days ago. You resort to going back to your own plate.
All the hope of people not noticing you or your injuries dwindles when you overhear some hushed voices from the table next to the open buffet counter.
"You see her face?"
"Yeah, looks awful."
"Wonder who fucked that up."
"I’d hate to see the other guy."
You try not to react to the whispers and cover up more with your hoodie. You keep on eating, blocking out the noise as much as you can. You usually didn't care about people talking about you. You learned that it didn't matter. But somehow, having been beaten up and having clearly visible injuries made you uncomfortable and anxious when people stared and talked about it.
Lost in your thoughts, you get brought back to reality with a can of soda clash and hiss against the floor from next to the buffet counter. Startled by the noise, your eyes shoot up to look in the direction.
Your eyes meet Daryl's in the crowd. He is looking at you; his eyebrows fly up before he scowls. Horror and concern quickly flash across his face. You look back down to the plate, hoping he doesn’t react, pulling your hood instinctively to hide more. You can hear Daryl's loud grumble even from the place you were sitting, and as you peep around your hood, he's already moving quickly, slipping past everyone. You start to dissociate, and that built-up anxiety starts to blister and pop inside you.
Please don’t...
Please, don’t make a scene...
Maybe he isn’t coming over.
You are broken out of your mind by his hand slamming on the table next to your tray. Daryl’s eyes flashed across your face. Anger, no… rage, completely enveloped his eyes.
“Who did this to you?!” His growl resounded through the mess hall, and you almost flinched at how aggressive that sounded.
„Daryl, please…”
„Do not ‚Daryl, please’ me!” You were sure that if eyes could kill, his would leave you on the floor with two X's instead of eyes.
„I don’t know. It was dark. I didn’t see,” you try to explain. „Please, stop making a scene. I really don’t need any more eyes on me.”
Daryl looks around cautiously. A lot of people were paying attention to you both now, and it made you uncomfortable. He saw that. He knew that. He pursed his lips a little and then gave out a loud exasperated sigh. Before you know it, you’re dragged by your arm towards the doors. His grip was strong and relentless—it almost made you wince in pain. Your head swung down to cover your embarrassment and redness in your cheeks.
Once you are outside and out of the view of all the people, Daryl pulls on your hood, taking it off fully. He stands there, looking at your bruise and your cut lip, as if he were assessing the damage, taking in the sight before him. He steps closer, taking your chin into his fingers, and tilts your head to the side.
„Who the fuck did you piss off lately?” He asks, his gaze falling onto your eyes. When he doesn’t get a response, he scoffs and lets go of your chin. „I need to know who did this.”
„I told you already. I don’t-,” you say, rolling your eyes.
„How bad is it?”
The question falls from his mouth before you even get to finish the sentence. You think about it for a minute, trying to figure out if you should tell him about your broken bones or if you should just leave it alone. Why would you tell him? What’s that going to do? It will just piss him off even more.
„It’s just my face,” you say, and you hear an immediate dry laugh rolling out of his lips.
„Liar,” he says.
You stare at each other for a minute or two. Your throat goes dry, and you bite your lip, making yourself curse and wince in pain. His icy blue eyes were way too much to handle for you. It felt like he could just blow up at any second if you kept being silent, so you muster up some courage. Taking a short breath, you get ready to speak, but Daryl stops you by putting his hand up in front of you.
„Your face just told me everything I needed to know,” he grumbles.
„What?” your voice sounds squeaky, and your eyes widen in surprise.
„You can’t breathe deeply. Your face grimaced when you tried to. You have broken ribs,” he says confidently, and you're stunned at how he reads you like a book without even trying hard. „You shouldn’t even be on your feet if this happened just last night.”
„How did you—?” you ask, but you already know the answer. Of course he’d know. He probably suffered it himself at the hand of his father. Maybe even worse than this.
„It looks fresh; the cut on your lip is not healed yet and still red, which means that it can’t be more than a day or two old.”
„You a doctor or summin’?” You mumble, and you pull your hood up again. You look at him, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie. His expression is almost unreadable, but you can see concern and worry on his face.
He rubs his temple before sighing.
„Let’s get you home.”
He takes your arm in his hand, more gently than when he pulled you up from the table but still hard enough that it made you silently wince at his touch. Though painful, his touch soothed you. Somehow, his concern made you feel like there was still a bit of compassion left in his heart for you. As he guided you towards your house, you didn’t protest. Truth be told, you are tired; you want to lie down or at least find a comfortable position to be in.
All the way down the street, Daryl stayed quiet. Didn’t ask questions, just walked beside you, his hand on your arm loosened a bit, so it didn’t hurt you. Once your house comes into view, your eyes dart around to see if any people are watching. They were. From everywhere. Of course… This wouldn’t go unnoticed—you and Daryl suddenly beside each other after months with no real contact. Plus, the hood on your head probably didn’t help.
Daryl walks into your house, drags you inside, and slams the doors behind him. You jump a little at the sound, but you keep your eyes glued to the ground.
„Look at me,” he says, his commanding tone making you bring your eyes up almost immediately.
He steps closer to you and once again pulls your hood off of your head with one swift motion. Daryl’s eyes glance all over your face, as if trying to read through the wounds about the people who did this to you. He takes a deep breath and huffs quietly before stepping away and motioning to the living room and the couch. You take a few steps and then lower yourself on the couch carefully, trying not to get any pain.
„Here,” Daryl says and puts one hand on your shoulder and the other wraps around your waist carefully to help you move down the couch into a half-seated, almost laid-down position on one of your sides. Your legs get put on the coffee table. „The best position to make sure you’re not hurting.”
„Thanks,” you mumble quietly.
„What do you need?” he asks. „Water? Pillows? Books?”
„All of the above.”
He huffs a half laugh and stands up, disappearing from view. You wondered why he’s helping you. He’s been absent from your life for months, and now he’s back, and at first glance, you’d say nothing had happened between you two. But you knew it wasn’t the truth. You argued. Badly. You couldn’t just go back to normal that easily, could you? Your mind also itched to ask about the fight he had with Leah. You wanted to ask if it was about you or if you just dreamt the entire thing, but you bit your tongue.
Daryl shows up with pillows from your bed, a book from the bedside table, and then goes to the kitchen to get some water. He brings you a glass and puts it on the armrest of the sofa.
„You should sleep in an upright position; it will be more comfortable,” he says, propping you with pillows on each side.
„You mean I sleep here?”
„Yeah,” he nods. „When my pops used to beat me up, breaking some ribs, I spent a lot of time in a position in which you are right now. It helped to ease the pain a bit.”
„Right,” you say and nod affirmatively. "How long?"
"As long as it takes for your ribs to feel better."
He stands there for a bit in complete silence, scanning your body like he had x-rays in his vision and could see the broken bones through your clothes. When he looks into your eyes, you could've sworn you saw some emotions that reminded you of the old times.
Care.
He quickly averts his gaze after less than a second and he nods once again, heading towards the front doors. He reaches for the door handle, but before he leaves, he speaks again.
„I am going to find out who did this. I promise they will get what they deserve.”
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon imagine#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x female reader#the walking dead#twd daryl#daryl fanfiction#twd daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction
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