#the fact that we even have birthdays on the same month- and we both are aries as well 😀👍🏻

[bittersweet-folder]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY MAN, THE BIG CLUMSY BABY OF SEVENTEEN. I LOVE YOUUU YOU ARE AMAZING, TALENTED, SPECTACULAR, HANDSOME, PRETTY, BEAUTIFUL, MESMERIZING, HOT AND SEXY , SHOWSTOPPING, MAJESTIC, CUTIE, ETHERAL AND WHAT NOT- (I'm running outta adjectives😭) I hope he enjoys this day the fullest and stays happy and healthy♡♡

(All pics are taken from Pinterest)

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Magic Lessons p.2 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Things escalate with your boss, Bill Weasley, at the twins birthday party when you plot to make him jealous. But he gets his revenge back at the office.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, jealous!Bill, reader gets a lil toxic, oral (f receiving), age gap, bill is a pleasure dom I don't make the rules, mentions of alcohol and smoking, strong language

part one | part three

Things shifted between you and Bill after that night. You were more than just coworkers, mentor and apprentice, you developed a mutual understanding.

And what started as a little crush has grown into a beast with teeth, eating you alive, consuming every spare moment of your life. You had never felt so connected to someone before, so attuned to their feelings and desires, like your souls were tied together.

You couldn't be sure how he felt about you, but he seemed to read your mind as well as you did his. He somehow could anticipate your needs, no matter how trivial, and would go well out of his way to ensure those needs were met.

He was also fiercely protective, a trait of his that claimed several more victims than Waylan as the weeks progressed. But for you, Bill seemed to have a never ending well of patience. You couldn't ignore the amount of times you caught his gaze lingering on you, or the frequency he went out of his way to touch you, to help you, to serve you.

But you just couldn't believe that Bill Weasley would be even remotely interested in someone like you. Not to mention, the professional boundaries of your relationship were still intact.

It had been three months since the incident with the cursed axe, and it was the twins birthday. You hadn't spoken about the fact that you would both be attending the same party outside of work, but the thought made your nerves tingle with adrenaline.

You and Bill had only seen each other at work or during work-related functions. But this, attending a family party, felt like uncharted territory.

Would he be willing to cross the lines of professionalism? You weren't sure. Would you be willing to risk a career at Gringotts? Again, you weren't sure. But every day, it became harder and harder to ignore the burgeoning heat between you, that soul tie winding tighter and tighter.

You were at a standstill, paralyzed by indecision, and it was driving you mad.

The two of you were the last in the office, and you slipped away to get ready in the bathroom while he finished things up. You changed into your outfit, a maxi dress in your favorite color with a pair of heeled boots, and refreshed your makeup.

You did a small turn in the mirror, a wave of insecurity making you doubt your selection. Was it too tight for a birthday party? Too formal? Not formal enough?

Well, it was the only one you brought, so it would have to do. You collected your things a returned to Bill's office.

When you pushed open the door, you found him mid-change, wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and fastening a black belt around his waist, his shirt folded neatly on the desk.

You knew he was strong from years of hard travel, but this. He was lean and toned, broad shoulders with a narrow waist, and even littered with scars from Fenrir’s attack, he was gorgeous.

“Oh! Bill, sorry. I didn't—” You managed to tear your gaze from his body up to his face, finding his eyes glued to you, jaw a little slack, and the apology died in your throat.

He lowered his hands to his sides, belt still undone. The simmering heat between you bloomed to an inferno at your open perusal of one another, and you found yourself taking a step towards him, brainless as a moth.

His hands flexed, then balled into fists, and you paused, a flicker of reality passing through the haze of desire.

“We need to go,” he said, clearing his throat and grabbing his shirt.

You nodded, disappointment setting like a stone in your stomach.

You took the Floo System to the Burrow, managing to arrive only five minutes late.

“Bill!” His family cried, swarming him. But the twins went straight for you.

“Y/n! Look at you!” George gushed, pulling you in for a hug.

“Happy birthday to us,” Fred smirked, and you swatted his arm before pulling him in for a hug. Over Fred's shoulder, you caught Bill glaring daggers at his younger brother, but he quickly schooled his expression and turned his attention back to his father.

The twins introduced you to the few family members you hadn't met, and you answered the dozens of questions they threw your way while dinner was served. Bill was ignoring you almost entirely, caught up in conversation with his father and Percy. You knew you shouldn't take it personally, you were just colleagues after all, but it still rankled, and you could feel an attitude brewing.

Then, a wicked idea wormed it's way into your mind.

You laughed loudly at one of George's jokes, leaning into his side while he gestured in the air. He draped his arm over you, the type of platonic physical contact the two of you did all the time, but Bill didn't know that.

You saw Bill’s sharp eye snag on the movement, and bit your lips to keep from smiling at your small victory.

A few moments later, you reached over to take a sip of Fred's beer, making a show of wrapping your lips around the mouth of the bottle, your fingers delicate on the glass. You set the bottle down, then shifted to whisper something in Fred’s ear, your hand resting on his. You didn't say anything of real interest, just a little inside joke between the two of you. Fred chuckled, turning to whisper something back to you, and you grinned, winking at him.

You risked a glance at Bill and saw him white knuckling his empty whiskey glass, eyes trained on the birthday cake at the center of the table, and your confidence swelled.

“Mrs. Weasley, would you like some help clearing up for dessert?” You asked, batting your lashes.

“Oh, thank you, dearie!” She chirped, grinning at you.

You jumped up and started to collect the plates, using your wand to clear away the food. Moving around the table, you reached Bill, who was chatting with Ron about Ministry things. You leaned over Bill's shoulder, brushing against his arm to retrieve his plate, but he didn't react. Didn't even look up at you.

You huffed internally and brought the dishes to the kitchen, casing a spell so they'd wash themselves. You went to the fridge, retrieving a fresh beer for Fred and grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey from the counter.

You returned to the dining room and set the beer in front of Fred, who accepted with a smile.

“Thanks, love,” he cooed, taking a sip.

Then, you filled George's whiskey, careful to pour the correct amount. You could feel Bill’s eyes burning into you, his jaw clenched, and a giddy excitement flared in your lower belly. You capped the whiskey, licking a stray drop from your thumb, and returned it to the kitchen, leaving Bill’s glass dry.

Cake was served, and you let George feed you a few forkfuls while you and Fred told a few of your favorite stories from your time together at Hogwarts.

You knew you'd done it when Bill excused himself to smoke, a habit he never indulged in at work.

You knew it was wrong to push him, to strain whatever tenuous balance the two of you held, but you just couldn't help yourself. He was driving you insane.

After dessert, everyone ventured back into the living room for games and more drinks, and you slipped outside to find Bill.

He found you first.

An arm snaked out of the shadows and tugged you into the dark, directly into a hard chest.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Bill growled against your ear, the smell of smoke and whiskey clouding the air around him.

“I don't know what you mean,” you replied, tilting your head.

His took a drag off of his cigarette, glaring at you through the smoke. “You know better than to lie to me,” he warned.

“I didn't peg you for the jealous type, Mr. Weasley,” you teased, desire spilling through your body and making your thighs clench.

His free hand lifted, skimming your throat before moving around the nape of your neck. “It already kills me that they met you first, that they know you so well.” His grip tightened, scruffing you, and you gasped. “Is this what you wanted?” He rasped, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Yes, Bill,” you whimpered, pressing your body against his. “Please.”

He smiled, a wolfish, sharp thing, and dragged you the last few inches to his mouth. It was a rough kiss, a culmination of weeks of longing, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, prying your mouth open so he could taste you. His tongue tangled with yours and you moaned, getting drunk off of his lust, his dominance.

It was so different than his usual professional, collected demeanor. You knew he had an edge to him, an undercurrent of darkness that made him so adept at handling curses, but you never expected this. Having him be so rough, so needy, it made you want to climb him like a tree.

He flipped the two of you around, pressing you into the wall, his free hand splaying across your lower back to keep your hips anchored to his as he leaned into you. He felt so different than the other boys you'd been with, so confident and commanding, knowing exactly how to handle you and your desperation.

“Bill,” you gasped, head falling back as he kissed and licked down your throat, his teeth grazing your fluttering pulse. It felt like he was devouring you, biting off chunks of your rationality, your resolve, until you were nothing but a writhing, moaning mess in his arms.

His hand released your neck, sliding down to grab your waist. “But now I know you better, and I. Don't. Share.” Each snarled word was like shot of adrenaline to your heart, forcing your already dizzy self to clutch his shoulders to stay upright.

You nodded, desperate to be closer to him, to have him touch you. His possessiveness drove you crazy, had you practically foaming at the mouth for him, but he wasn't having it.

He grabbed your hands and removed them from his body, and you whined in protest. “Behave, and go back inside before you smell like smoke,” he ordered, though his voice was decidedly softer than before, almost breathless. He nudged you away from him and took another draw of his cigarette, the sharp planes of his face illuminated by the glowing tip.

Reluctantly, you ventured back inside, your thighs sticky with slick and knees weak. You were so focused on what you could do to drive him mad, you forgot entirely about what he could do to you.

So, you were in your best behavior the rest of the night. Charming the parents, befriending the other siblings, being as fun and social as you could manage. By the end of the night, you were buzzed, socially drained, and unbelievably horny, ready to pounce on Bill every time you caught his eye.

“Alright, we have to get to the bank early tomorrow. Y/n, I'll take you home.” He gave you a pointed look and you nodded. “Goodnight, family!” Bill called, hugging his siblings before ushering you towards the Floo Station.

“Happy birthday!” You hugged Fred and George on your way past, and half-stumbled into the Floo Station from exhaustion.

Bill caught you with a strong arm around your waist and held you up, casting the spell before his family could see how close your bodies were.

The next moment, you were back in the office, head spinning from the booze and the magic.

“Alright, love?” He asked, tightening his grip on you when you swayed on your feet.

You nodded and he released you, leaving you cold and unsteady. You walked in silence back to his office to get your things.

When you arrived, you stopped in the doorway. “M’sorry about earlier,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“So am I,” he replied, walking towards his desk and loosening his tie. Your stomach dropped.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, bracing yourself for rejection. “I was the one that acted like an idiot.”

He looked up at you, a sharpness in his eyes. “Don't speak about yourself like that,” he snapped, and you nodded, looking at the floor.

You heard the tread of footsteps, then his hand reached out to hold your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. They were stormier than you'd ever seen them, the sky before a shipwreck.

“I'm sorry for being so rough with you, I can be—” his eyes flicked away, brow pinching in consternation. “After the attack, and the war, and the divorce…I can be cruel, angry. It's a part of me I don't like to show,” he admitted. “So I'm sorry if I frightened you, or overstepped.”

“You didn't frighten me,” you said, placing a tentative hand on his sternum, wanting to comfort him. “Far from it.”

He searched your face as you gazed up at him, starry eyed, and the silence stretched for a few moments.

“This is what I saw,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” You asked, practically trembling with anticipation.

“When you wore the Chameleon necklace,” he replied, his eyes tracing the hollow of your throat before lifting back up to your face. “I saw you like this.”

“You wanted to see me like…this?” You asked, looking down at your dress, confused.

He shook his head, his hand moving up to caress your cheek. “No, not the dress,” he said, so close you could smell the whiskey on his breath. “That right there,” he hummed with a soft, satisfied smile, his thumb smoothing just underneath your lower lashline. “The desire in your eyes.”

Heat scorched your skin and your tried to pull away out of embarrassment, but he held you firm.

“No, darling. You're done hiding from me,” he said, the petname making your pussy thrum, slick collecting on the inside of your thighs. “I've been waiting to see that look in your eye. To see you need me as badly as I've needed you.”

Your heart stalled, your thoughts turning to static.

Needed me?

“I had to be sure this was what you really wanted, that I wasn't just seeing what I wanted to see…” he trailed off, expression softening as he continued to look into your eyes.

“I didn't think you wanted me,” you whispered, in complete disbelief. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“Perhaps we both have.” He bumped his nose against yours, warm breath fanning against your skin. “You've ruined me. My entire life I've been the epitome of restraint. But with you—” His thumb tugged at your lower lip, sending a tendril of arousal curling down your spine. “I can't seem to help myself.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his hair. “I want you to ruin me too.”

“Sweet girl,” he cooed, feeding his thumb into your mouth. You flicked your tongue over it, tasting the salt of his skin before sucking lightly. “I intend to.”

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a breathtaking, soul-deep kiss that you felt through every nerve ending. You kissed him back eagerly, tugging his hair as he hauled you closer, lifting you into the air so you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Without breaking the kiss, he carried you across the office and set you down onto one of the overstuffed leather armchairs, the same one he conducted your interview in. He kissed you a moment longer, his tongue delving in to taste you before he withdrew and lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“I'm going eat my fill of you, and you’re going to take it all,” he ordered, his voice rough and breathy, chest rising and falling quickly. “Okay?”

“More than okay,” you answered, nodding like an overeager bobble-head.

He chuckled, his eyes holding yours as he gathered up the fabric of your dress and pushed it up your legs, kissing your knees, and up your inner thighs, his long hair tickling the sensitive skin until he reached your clothed cunt, your white panties betraying how aroused you were.

“Look how pretty you are,” he exhaled, breath warm against your skin. “All this for me, baby?”

You nodded, combing your fingers through his red hair so you could see the lovesick look on his handsome face, his eyes soft and mouth upturned at the corners. It was all in such stark contrast to the brutal scars on his face, silvery in the waning candlelight.

You couldn't imagine someone being more beautiful than Bill was in this moment.

He hummed low in his throat, his tongue licking a stripe over your sodden panties and making you whine, desperate for him to touch you.

“How many times have you orgasmed in a row?” He asked, pulling your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“Oh, uh—” your cheeks warmed, caught off guard by the question. “Only once with a partner. Twice on my own. Why?”

You felt him smirk as he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your swollen clit. “Three, then.”

“Three—oh god,” you moaned, grip tightening on his hair as he laved his tongue through your slit, flicking against your bud before repeating the motion, two, three, five times.

He nursed your clit between his teeth, lashing it with his tongue and making you buck your hips up, the pleasure too intense to hold still. He dropped a forearm over your lower stomach to keep you from moving away, your nails dragging across his skin as you cried out.

He moved down to your entrance, lapping at the pool of slick there before thrusting his tongue inside. With his other hand, he began to massage your clit with his thumb, the rough pad creating delicious friction over your sensitive skin.

Fuck, you could feel your orgasm building already, a coil of heat making your whole body tense and shake, unable to escape his pleasurable assault with his heavy arm holding you down.

“Taste so sweet,” he murmured against you, kitten licking your clit to make you twitch and gasp. He pulled back and spit on your pussy, gliding two fingers through your lips before easing one inside your drooling entrance. “Good girl, can you take another? I know you can—thaaaat’s it, love. Little pussy sucking me right in, so perfect for me.” He was speaking directly against your clit, the movement of his lips and flick of his tongue making your mind go fuzzy, your body ratcheting closer to release by the second.

He curled his fingers inside you, his lips finally sealing to your clit again, and you keened. Sensing you were close, he increased his pace, ruthlessly dragging you to the very edge.

“God, Bill—shit, I'm gonna come!” You cried, your fingers threading through his in an attempt to hang on while he sent you to orbit.

With a final flutter of his fingers against that spongy spot inside of you, you broke, a burst of dizzying pleasure making your eyes roll back, your body convulse in his hold as your orgasm tore through you.

“That's one,” he purred, only slowing for a moment so you could take a full breath before he ramped up his movements again, adding a third finger to your sloppy channel.

“Fuck, I can't—” you whined, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as your body was wound tight once again, helpless as a ballerina in a music box.

“You can. You will,” he ordered, his tone making your pussy clench around his fingers. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? You've got me now, darling."

“Bill, I—” you screamed as he bit down on your clit, sending you directly back over the edge again, your first orgasm not even fully dissipated before the second one slammed into you, faster and stronger, white hot. Like he'd forced it out of you with his expert touch and tongue.

“That's two. Well done, my love,” he cooed, soothing the bite with his tongue and gently removing his fingers.

You were in a daze, trembling and liquified, practically boneless in the chair. You'd never come so hard on your life.

“Ah-ah,” he chastised, reaching up to pat your cheek with his wet fingers before feeding them into your open mouth. “Not done with you yet.”

You sucked your release off his digits, mindless and happy to do whatever he wanted, so long as he keeps touching you like that.

He withdrew his fingers and lowered his head between your legs again, dragging his tongue through your sensitive folds, smiling when you shivered. With slow, unhurried strokes, he cleaned up the mess he'd made of you, making wide circles around your clit to apply less direct pressure and avoid overstimulating you.

“I could stay here forever,” he groaned, the vibration making you gasp. “Give me one more, yeah? Please? Let me be the one that takes you there.”

It was surreal, being completely at his mercy, yet he's the one begging you to let him make you come again. He'd rendered you completely brainless, and still wanted to give you more.

And you still had barely gotten to touch him.

It was the most delicious torture, the most exquisite suffering, and you knew you were so royally fucked.

There was no going back from this.

“Wanna touch you,” you whimpered, too far gone to do anything but squirm.

“Not yet, I told you how this was going to go. One more, then you’re getting some rest.” He hiked your leg over his shoulder, nuzzling against your pussy. “You don't want to be exhausted at work tomorrow, do you?”

You shook your head, having forgotten completely about anything that wasn't Bill Weasley and his magic fucking tongue.

“Good girl. Now relax and let me work.” He lifted you up slightly, angling you directly towards his mouth, and he resumed feasting, taking big, messy licks and sucks of your cunt, the sounds lewd and unabashed, and you fucking loved it.

You did as your were told and relaxed your muscles, sinking deeper into the chair with your legs in the air. You'd submitted to him already, but this was a a true surrender, passing your entire self, body and soul into his hands. Trusting that he would take care of every part of you.

“That's it, just like that,” he praised, kissing your sticky thighs before returning to suckle your clit, making your body hum back to life, pleasure beginning to mount once more.

You moaned his name, nails biting into the leather as he brought you higher and higher, his languid, self-indulgent movements making your head spin.

Feeling your body start to tremble, he flicked his tongue out, just the tip tickling against your hyper-sensitive bud, and you rolled over the edge, simmering, honeyed pleasure spilling through you as you came a third time. It wasn't a harsh, debilitating orgasm, but a blissful release of endorphins that brought tears to your eyes, your muscles and bones unraveling down to the cellular level.

“And there's three,” he said, placing a final, tender kiss to your clit before righting your panties and pulling your dress down.

You were completely blissed out, in your own world as he tugged you off of the chair and into his lap, pressing feather-light kisses up your neck and jaw.

“Come back to me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes so I know you're alright,” he murmured against your cheek, his hands absently massaging your thighs and hips to guide you back into your body.

You blinked your eyes open, turning to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, your chest warm with affection.

“There she is.” He smiled, catching your lips in a soft, sipping kiss. “Okay, love?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “That was—I’ve never—”

“You were amazing. And if you didn’t look ready to pass out, I would be taking number four and five.” He helped you sit up, fixing your hair and wiping away a streak of mascara with his thumb.

“Not possible,” you giggled, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes, your hand moving down to cup his scarred cheek. “As talented as you are, there's no way I could come again.”

He smirked, leaning into your palm. “I guess we'll have to find out. C’mon, let’s get you home.” He helped you to your feet, your knees a little wobbly, collected your things, and led you back out to the Floo Station.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You asked, taking your things from his arms.

“For a bit, but I leave tomorrow afternoon for Cairo, remember?” He looked genuinely apologetic for having to leave, and your heart deflated a bit, disappointed that you wouldn’t see him for a week, maybe more.

“Right, Cairo,” you said, trying to hide how you felt.

“Hey.” He reached out to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. “If it wasn’t so dangerous, I’d take you with me. But I can’t risk something happening to you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Plus I need a capable curse-breaker to manage things here.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, nosing into his neck and breathing him in.

He held you quietly for another moment, his hand trailing up and down your spine before you finally pulled back, yawning.

“Go on, I’ll see you in the morning.” He caught your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Goodnight, love.”

You stepped into the station and grabbed a handful of the floo powder. “G’night,” you said with a sleepy smile, and cast the spell to transport you home.

Though, you realized with a nervous pang, it felt like you were doing the opposite.

Thank you so much for reading!

Comment if you'd like to be included in the taglist for the next part <3

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger

[soov]

RUMOUR HAS iT。 park sunghoon

princess fem reader & prince sunghoon ᗢ 1OOO words ━━ fluff ꕀ royal!au, arranged marriage, repost ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing.

“I suppose you know about the rumours by now?”

The prince’s deep voice tugged you back to reality, making his presence known by leaning onto the same balustrade as you.

“Why do you think I would’ve called you here if I didn’t?” You asked back, to which he responded with a smile, looking at the scenery in front of him.

Sunghoon appeared somewhat unkempt. His hair dismissed the usual slicked-back style, soft black bangs falling on his eyes. He had a white linen puffed-sleeve shirt on, with the first three buttons undone. Once, he had admitted that he owned twelve of the shirts, them being his favorite piece of clothing.

As your stare lowered, his high-waisted black pants and boots piqued your curiosity, “What is the reason behind the informal clothes?”

“Why the question?” He turned his head in your direction. “You also have an informal attire on, my love.” Sunghoon still had a cheeky beam plastered across his face, attentive eyes observing the way you toyed with his sleeves.

“My maids said that this color and dress would look good on me.” You reasoned and pushed one of the puffy sleeves slightly up his arm, tracing the delicate veins enmeshed beneath his flesh. “I asked because I only see you wearing this outfit when it’s your birthday or a commemoration.”

“They were right; you do look good.” He seemed to be enjoying how you were caressing his arm. His muscles flexed and relaxed every time you touched him, making him feel like you were painting a masterpiece across his bare, pale skin. “And well, it is a happy day for me.”

“Even with the rumours?”

Right. The rumours. The gossip that spread around the castle like wildfire about the soon-to-be King and Queen that didn’t truly love each other, only keeping up their looks because of diplomatic problems. That, and the supposed cheating accusations, claiming that you were seeing a close friend behind the prince’s back.

In part, it would’ve been true if the false talk started a few months ago — though only the comment about real love being absent in your relationship. You used to think that the boy was a spoiled little brat who leeched off his parents’ high status. Yet, you fell right into his trap when your arranged marriage was announced.

With his eyebrows tied together and the smallest pout, Sunghoon gave you his trademark confused face. “Why would they matter? We love each other and will get married soon, isn’t it? Let them say whatever.”

The raw and honest responses from Sunghoon were one of the many factors that brought him to the center of your heart. His unfiltered remarks, reminding you of your infinite worth (his words, not yours), slowly guided you to the path without return that is loving him.

You huffed out a breath. There were a bunch of servants whispering and stroddling through the garden close to the bandstand where the both of you were. If Sunghoon wasn’t right next to you, you would have cussed them out, even knowing that you couldn’t. They were your fiancé’s people, and briefly, they would be yours too.

“I don’t appreciate how they talk so lowly about us…” You mumbled, chin on your palm. Neither of you were big on PDA, that was a fact, but you wondered if it was that bad to make the word even more convincing. “I just wanted to shut their mouths and show them that we long for each other.”

“Do you, now?” Sunghoon grinned, embracing you from behind as his pointy nose went to your neck. “We could give them a little sample of our love.” He muttered, the low timbre of his voice being more than enough proof of your effect on him.

You nearly choked on your own breath, a lump closing your throat. “I thought you were uncomfortable with showing affection in public?” The words left your mouth in a nervous whisper when he gently turned you in his hold to face you.

“Princess,” he began, the pet name almost sounding sardonic due to your title, “that was seven months ago. I hated you at the time, you know it. But I only want to kiss you right now.”

There was something in his eyes, blended with the dark brown hues and the sparkly melted stars that captivated and hypnotized you. Sunghoon was so intense that you could never bring yourself to break eye contact, or reply coherently, when you were drowning in his gaze. A nod was all that came out of you.

The prince chuckled, the act so genuine and lovesick that your knees threatened to falter, “You’re so annoyingly beautiful.” He voiced, and leaning in, his lips parted to taste the sweetness of your mouth.

With a gasp, you carded your fingers through his raven hair. It had gotten so long in such a short time. The only place that your hands went to during your kisses was in between his locks.

A soft rumble escaped his chest, body beginning to relax when you played with his hair. In a second, Sunghoon cupped a side of your face in his palm, still being smug enough to slide the other to the small of your back, gripping that part. A smirk curled his lips up as he felt the low cut back of the dress, tracing your skin like you did to his arm earlier.

His actions induced a shiver to run down your spine, and you couldn’t do much except feel yourself covered in goosebumps. Softly, gently, slowly — that was how your fiancé enjoyed kissing you.

“Sunghoon…” Tugging at the loose collar of his shirt, you tried to regain your composure after the scandalous scene. “Did they go yet?”

Your breathy voice calling out his name only fueled the pure adoration the man felt. “Not yet.” He hummed, glancing at the flustered maids that giggled amongst themselves. “Seems like they’re slow walkers.”

“At least that will make them stop talking.” You grumbled.

He squeezed you tighter in his arms, almost trying to express the extent of his feelings in the way he held you. “It surely will.”

And it didn’t, since, now, rumour has it that the prince is too greedy to go for only a single kiss.

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ i wish prince sunghoon was real (work inspired by mr. queen!)

2024 © SOOV

[fanaticsnail]

Gloves: Sabo

Birthday Celebration Masterllst

Word Count: 3,200+

Themes: Sabo x f!reader, gendered terms used, glove play, roleplay, workplace rivals, oral, creampie, mdni, smut, 18+, NSFW, porn with plot, minor degradation, angst, fluff, Sabo is unhinged, kinks.

Notes: This fic was inspired for @writingmysanity's birthday earlier in the month. Happy birthday, you absolute beautiful person. Lots of imput by @frillsinadress who loves her Sabo a little more unhinged and aided in the plot. Thank you for celebrating with me, and lots of love to the both of you.

Lock latching within the wooden door behind him, Sabo closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly shut. Immediately, his forehead found the cool surface and he gently butt his face against the door in a bid to reprimand himself before you had the chance to do so. 

Taking in your surroundings, you were in a similar state of displeasure. Inhaling deeply through your nose, and exhaling out your fury through your mouth, you were simply too mad to articulate your true feelings. 

Sabo had one task to handle. 

This mission served together with the revolutionary army was simple enough, and you had prepared for it remarkably well. Infiltrate the marine gala, Sabo dressed in service attire and masquerading as your footman and valet, you in an elaborate gown imitating a nepotism invitation by association, gather the intel by distracting the guests while Sabo rummaged through the desks, retrieve the desired information, and leave without a scratch. 

The only hindrance that occurred was truly the fact that you and Sabo, the flame emperor himself, did not get along. Despite working together for years, you and the blonde man could barely stand being in the same room together, let alone share the single bed in the middle of the room. 

Sabo was in charge of ensuring adequate accommodation to house you once you returned from your mission before you made it back to home base. Twin rooms, a room with a divider in the center, two different inns, anything would've been better than the single room with a small, double bed at the center. 

On the mission itself, he was to behave as your servant and wait on your every whim, just as his role indicated. He was your handler, and you were to be his bratty and snooty boss. These roles were played into with absolute perfection, just as you planned. Sabo was able to keep up with you, and you pushed him to the absolute brink of insanity. 

Driving him mad came easy to you, so he learned. Having no choice but to respond with ‘yes, my lady,’ or ‘as you wish, my lady’ in this public setting with his head bowed low made his skin crawl with displeasure. Having you be in charge, not being able to speak up when another man laid his hands on you while asking you to dance, watching the way they undressed you with their eyes and fucked you in their minds was repulsive in his opinion. Not you, yourself, but those who intended to lay claim on you. 

Marines. Marines laying their hands on you. You, a revolutionary. You, the bane of his existence. You, the night mistress that called to him in his dreams and mocked him with your body performing for him as a marionette beneath his ventriloquism. As he made you cry for him in ecstasy in his dreams of late, always waking with a sticky reminder of his budding infatuation for the thorn in his side seemed to make him all the more pent up in rage.

“Wonderful, Sabo!” Your voice echoed within the singular room, sarcasm dripping from every word as you snarl at him, “This is just perfect. Can't you do anything right? Just a single thing for you to handle, and you can’t even do that.” 

“Watch it,” he growled back at you, continuing to hold his head against the wood, “Be grateful we have a room at all. This was the last on the Den-Den list available.” He was so pent up with rage at being your little ‘errand-boy’ for the night that he so desperately wanted to teach you a lesson in humility. 

“Be grateful? Be grateful?” you mock him, beginning to remove your great outer skirt and throw it to the ground, changing out of your costume and leaving you in your frilled under-draws, bodice and jewelry. “It's only the last room because you left it so late. If you just listened to me when we first got this mission from Dragon, we wouldn't be in this situation.”

“Listen to you?” Sabo quirked, his jaw switching and a sinister smirk up-ticking at the corners. Turning in place, he faced you and bore his piercing blue eyes into your skull, “Listen to you?”

“You never listen to me-,” you began, halting as Sabo took a calculated step forward. His gloved hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, still in the uniform from the earlier assignment. 

“-I have done nothing but listen to you for the entire night,” Sabo laughed humorlessly, drawing up a gloved hand to card through his sunshine locks, “I have waited on you hand and foot, I have followed one step behind you and behaved like a leashed pup. I have fed you food, I have poured your drinks, I have danced with you, I have-.”

“-Done the job I planned for you to do so, yes,” you spat in response, stepping closer to him and gnashing your teeth in a sarcastic smile, “The only time you ever take my needs into consideration is when it’s all an act for you, Sabo. I pity the partner you find yourself coupling with.” This did not halt you in your removal of jewelry adorning your neck, now flung carelessly to the vanity with your shoes kicked off beneath the bed. 

Sabo’s eyes grew wider, his lip curling up in displeasure at your display. 

“You should watch your tone with me, brat,” he snapped, stepping closer still and brushing his booted toes against your own clad in thigh-high stockings beneath your frills. 

“Or what, asshole?” you quip in return, tilting your head and mirroring his expression. Standing on your toes, your noses almost brushed with the proximity your flared tempers drew you to. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Sabo’s right hand flung to your hip and clenched firmly against the bone, the other flying up to cup your cheek and tilted his head down between you. His lips almost descended on your own, and your very breath was stolen from you. Anger immediately subseased, and in its wake swelled a banner of anxiousness at his motions. 

Just before your lips touched, he clenched his jaw and growled into your surprised features. 

“Just take the damn bed,” Sabo uttered darkly, his eyes puncturing you with their rage, “I'd rather sleep outside on the gravel floor than hear you whine about it any longer.”

His hands released from your features, hanging limply at his sides while you remained stunned at the rush of blood flooding your chest and expanding your heart. Sabo clicked his tongue down at you, turning on his heel and began to briskly walk to the door while releasing a shuddered breath. 

Your body moved almost against your will, immediately pulled magnetically behind him by the emotional display in proximity. Before he could unlatch the door from the hinges, your hand found his gloved fingers and tugged him back to face you. 

“Want me to stop whining about the room so bad,” you taunted him, darting your eyes between his with a challenge twinkling behind your anger, “Make me.”

“I'm done taking orders from you,” he shook his head, snatching his hand away from yours and drawing once again to the door. 

Although his hand was on the lock, his mind screaming at his fingers to turn the knob and leave, and not give in to your taunt, the call to put you in your place and bend you to his will was far too tempting to ignore. For what felt like an eternity, Sabo stationary at the door while you remained firmly in place in the middle of the room, he made his snap decision. 

“Screw this,” he whispered exasperatedly, turning to face you and hastily closing the distance between you. 

His hands flung up to your cheeks, lips colliding in a messy oscillation of teeth and tongue while he ravished your mouth with his own. He made his pact internally, crafting a covenant the moment his lips clashed with yours: you will learn your lesson, and your pleasure will be your teacher invoked by his hands. 

Hardly waiting for you to react or understand what was occuring, Sabo's gloved hands immediately found their way beneath the waistband of your frilly, knee-length under-draws. His shrouded fingers carded through your folds, the material adding friction to your quivering clit and causing you to whine into his lips. 

Pulling away both his hands and his lips from you entirely, he raised his index and middle finger to your gaze and demonstrated the amount of slick you had already coated him with. Rolling your arousal through his hands, he chuckled down at you while you panted for him in need. 

“Tsk, tsk, made my gloves all messy,” he reprimanded you with a click in his tongue. “Clean them.” 

As you parted your lips in shock at his statement, he immediately thrust his covered fingers into your lips and pushed down on your tongue. You tasted your honeyed essence on his material, the lewd act only causing more slick to pool in your panties beneath your under-drawers. 

Sabo took his unoccupied hand and undid the waist ribbon, watching as the frills pooled at your feet. His blue eyes eclipsed with black at the sight of the girdle and thigh clips suspending your thigh-high stockings. As he languidly fucked your mouth with his fingers, his other hand flicked one of the elastic suspenders holding up the sheer stockings. 

“This was under there the whole time?” he scoffed, gripping a fistful of your thigh, “All those frigid fucking layers, and this what was lurking beneath? Fuck.” 

He removed his hand from your lips, the material from his gloves leaving a coarse and furry feeling on your palate as he retracted them. Before you had a chance to answer him regarding your attire, Sabo dropped to his knees and threw your legs over his shoulders, and rose back up to full height. 

Slamming your back into the wooden door, he mouthed at your soaked panties, drawing lazy circles against your clothed clit before dipping down to your shrouded entrance. His motions caused your breath to hitch and your hands to fly down to cling onto his golden locks. 

“Sabo-!” You choked out your whimpers, truly not understanding how you had only just verbally lashing at one another to now having Sabo ushering you close to climax by burying his scarred face into your core. 

“Quiet,” he muffled his orders, moving his hand up to wedge your soaked panties between your folds while covering your clit with his parted lips. 

The amount of friction pulling at your body was too much: the heat from his breath, the feel of his gloved fingers now traveling up to your slit and coaxing out more of your creamy slick to dampen the material with its viscosity, and the way his tongue abused your clit had you close to the edge. Tempers flaring moments prior, your belly squeezed in tight knots before you abruptly released over his tongue. 

Your cunt contracted around the material, his fingers feeling the rhythmic thumps of your pussy riding through a hasty high brought on by his hands. He couldn't help but chuckle into your core, feeling the way your slick managed to seep through your lingerie and dampen his gloves with it once more.

“Already?” Sabo teased you, urging you with his arms to slump against his head while he shepherded you towards the double bed in the center of the room. Throwing you down onto the bed, you bounced once atop the springs while he threw his jacket and shirt from his shoulders. 

“Sabo, I-,” you attempted, your body still reeling from the pleasure he quickly drew from your body. 

“-I said ‘quiet’, didn’t I?” he reprimanded you, removing his belt and beginning to unbutton his pants. Your eyes greedily drank him in, noticing the large amount of scarring that marred his skin with the similar marks donning his right hand side. Removing his hat, he was left in naught but those two gloves he had been enjoying torturing you with. 

You didn’t say a word while you gazed up at him with uncertainty in your eyes. Never once picturing this moment between you both, your lip quivered in anticipation for his next actions. Immediately, his unhinged expression dropped to match your own, cocking his head to the side while examining you. 

“I’m only going to ask you this once,” he offered you, peering down his nose at you while you peered up at him in awe, “Do you want this. A simple ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ will do.” 

Ignoring the prior rage you felt after the mission with your workplace rival, the way your pussy clenched while he took charge spurred you on to answer with a single word. 

“Yes.”

Sabo smirked before slotting himself between your legs, tugging at your panties still partially wedged in your labia as he did so. Leaning down, he took your bottom lip within his clenched teeth and pulled on the plush flesh. 

“I think,” he uttered against your lips, releasing it with a smack of his mouth against yours, “I am,” he hastily scooped his arms beneath your shoulders and flung you face-down against the mattress, “Going to,” he pressed down on the mid of your back, arching your ass up while pawing his gloved hands at your panties and hooking them to the side, “Keep your panties on while I ruin you. They’re too fucking good to take off.”

You whelped while he tugged your panties to the side, immediately lining his cockhead up with your glistening slit. Carding the tip through your folds, he let out a shaken shudder while he enjoyed the feeling of your slick coating his cock. 

Although truly desiring to take his time with you, as soon as he heard your shuddered whimper, a switch clicked in his mind and propelled him onward. Bottoming out immediately, he started a brutal pace of slapping his hips against yours and bucking wildly into you. There was no more time for teasing, no more time for subtlety, no more time for drawing out your bliss with languid thrusts to burn his name onto your tongue. 

It was all raw emotion driving him. Your mewls and cries for him was gasoline to the flames of his desires, propelling him to spur on with each cruel piston within you. You could barely get a word out to tell him to slow down, immediately too drunk on the feeling of his mushroomed tip kissing your g spot and bruising your cervix. 

Sabo slot his four fingers beneath the ass of your panties and rolled them in his grip using them as reins to control your motions while his thumb brushed with your puckered hole. You immediately tensed up as he began tapping on your unexplored entrance while brutally stapling you against the mattress. He chuckled darkly, noting he may want to explore a little bit more of ass play another time with you, but for now, he was so lost in the way your pussy fluttered around him with every in-thrust that he physically could no longer hold himself back. 

“Oh, fuck,” he barked out, a small whine picking up in the back of his throat as he continued railing his cock into your core, “So fucking good. Why the fuck haven’t we done this earlier?”

“Be- hnnnghm-... Because I hate you, and you hate me,” you retort in response. He chuckled into your neck, surging forward and placing a harsh nip to your neck from behind you. You cried out in response, 

“I don’t hate you,” he uttered, reaching forward and cupping your chin to mute your cries of bliss by slotting his unoccupied middle and unity finger into your mouth, “I fucking admire you.” He forced you to suck on his fingers while forcing your body to respond to his harsh momentum with every crude slap and gyration.  

You could barely respond to his confession, your body spasming while your cunt began contracting around his shaft. You knew you were close, and you could feel how close the man behind you was by the harsh pummeling of his hips on yours. Sabo’s own mewls of bliss began becoming higher in intensity.

No cohesive words fled from his lips while the primal urge took over. Focussing solely on your joint needs, he held you down while he forced pleasure upon your body. His abdomen coiled and tightened within his stomach, his balls slinking into his guts while he felt the imminent release begin to spurt from his slit. 

“I-I-I’m cumming-!” he whined in your ear, forcing your body down on the mattress while he continued huffing and panting. The viscous splashback of his cum painted your walls with passion as he moaned through his high. Gripping at your spine and arching your back further, he held you in place while you felt your coil shatter and join him in oblivion.

Walls begin to milk him on his release by pistoning him with rhythmic contractions, your muffled scream of his name was muted by his gloved fingers while you felt your high crest in your chest.Your pussy drank in his orgasm while forcing your own upon you. Lightning fizzed at the corners of your eyes while your high was married to the mans’ behind you.

Slumping down onto your shoulder, his lips moved lazily against your skin, mirroring the motions he made in his dreams while thrusting lazily into your pussy. He withdrew his fingers from your mouth while turning your chin to meet his face. Meeting briefly with your eyes, he hastily drew his lips upon yours while muffling his groans into your mouth with every spurt of his release fleeing from his slit.

Hearts beating as one, he buried himself one final time to the hilt while his lips joined with yours. You had little choice but to take the passion he crafted against your features. Closing your eyes and puckering your lips, you merged your soul with his while he continued to passionately forge his body against yours. 

After taking a moment, both of you gulping back your exertion while recovering from your highs, Sabo met his expression with your own and sheepishly chuckled openly.

“Hi,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss once more to your lips while you caught your breath. 

“Hi,” you expressed in return, feeling exceptionally full by his cock within your pussy after expelling his sticky release deep within your walls. 

Sabo chuckled, pressing his lips to your temple while retracting his cock from your pussy. Rolling gently away from your body, he took in your form and basked in the afterglow forged by his hands. You reached forward, cupping his scarred cheek and caressed it with your thumb while you came to. 

“Share the stupid bed with me,” you commanded, stated more like a request than an explicit order. “I'd hate it if you slept outside on the cool cobblestone without me. My final order for the night, valtet.” 

Sabo chuckled, nestling in close to you while brushing his nose with yours. Although the time for roleplaying amongst the marines and upperclassmen was complete, he could barely control himself as he uttered four words to coincide with your orders. 

“Of course, my lady.” 

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel

🎶Happy Birthday to Me🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[fayes-fics]

Ingénu

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: On his eighteenth birthday, Benedict loses his virginity with you on a warm summer's night...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Loss of male and female virginity. Sex education (sort of, mostly innocent leading innocent), vaginal sex, alfresco sex, withdrawal method, orgasms (them lucky kids). Childhood friends to lovers.

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: A fic I started more than two years ago, from THIS anon suggestion. Please note, the age of sexual consent in the UK is currently 16, so everyone is legal, although, in Regency, it was 10 (yikes). Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Err, enjoy! <3

Benedict Bridgerton.

If you were to give yourself to anyone before marriage, you know it would only ever be him. 

You grew up as neighbours, your family estate bordering his family’s in Kent. Born five months apart, it’s like destiny that you would be close. You shared your first chaste kiss when you were both twelve and then a French kiss at sixteen. And now, well, perhaps a lot more.

It’s his eighteenth birthday party when, while Colin draws attention to himself, Benedict grabs your hand and whisks you away without anyone noticing. Perhaps the brotherly distraction was by design. 

Wordlessly, he leads you far from the house into a small clearing in the woods around Aubrey Hall. There is a blanket, some pillows, and even some candle lanterns that he now lights. It appears he has something planned, and it causes a flutter in your stomach.

“Benedict, what is this?” you enquire sotto voce, his hand so large wrapped around yours. So safe.

“A quiet spot just for us,” he smiles back.

“To do what?”.

“To celebrate my birthday privately. In a manner that I know we are both so keen to,” he proclaims at first enigmatic, before clarifying: “You said you wanted to know a man before you are married, and I wish to know a woman.”

“But….” 

Beyond that, words fail.

You had indeed said as such just the other day. It was an idle, throwaway comment as you lay together in the long grass by the lake, squinting at the sun and enjoying the summer heat on your face. A languidness in your being had made you carefree with your words.

“It may be fine for you, Benedict, but I must be a maiden when I marry,” you point out.

“Well, what if you were to marry me someday?” he contends matter of fact.

“Is that a proposal?” you splutter. “Because I find it to be severely lacking.”

He chuckles at your affront. “No, you shall receive a ring when I propose,” he affirms.

“So, it is a when now, is it? “ you volley back, a smile tweaking your lips, unable to be anything but playful with him, as you have been for many a year now.

“Of that, you can be certain.”

There is a seductive edge to his voice, which seems so much older than his eighteen years; it’s quite captivating.

“But how can you be certain my answer will be yes?”

“I cannot,” he admits, seeming bemused by your quirked brow. “But I hope it will be after tonight.”

“And how can you be sure of my answer about tonight?” So much fun to toy with him.

“Again, I cannot,” he replies with a slight shrug but a soft, crooked smile. “I can only hope you deem me worthy,” he adds, gesturing around you.

“It is rather romantic,” you allow, watching in the lantern glow as he breaks into a much bigger grin that reaches his eyes. Candle reflections dance in his enlarged pupils. 

“I am so pleased you think so,” he beams. “I rather suspect Anthony plans to take me to a brothel this weekend. He did as such for his eighteenth and is of the firm opinion that I should follow suit. But in truth, I, well… “ he hesitates and takes a step forward, grabbing both of your hands in his. “...I want my first experience to be with you.”

The heartfelt, almost bashful admission has you squeezing his hands reassuringly, hoping it silently telegraphs how much you want the same, despite your reservations about preserving your honour.

“May I kiss you?” His tone is so sweet you don't want to say no.

Instead of answering with words, you push up onto tiptoes and land your lips on his. It’s familiar and exciting all at once. You’ve kissed secretly a few times now, and on each occasion, it has been incredible—like a live wire sparking between you. You push into his tall frame as your mouths open and your tongues gently touch. He tastes of peaty scotch and the smoky tinge of cigars, both likely birthday indulgences. 

His hold around your waist tightens as your kisses get more insistent and probing, tongues parrying. This time feels different—portending something more profound. Only breaking apart to take a breath, then, after a fleeting exchange of shy smiles, your lips smashing back together urgently, exploring anew.

As you cling to his waistcoat, his hands slide down your dress to grab your bottom, making you squeak into his mouth. You've never been grasped there before, and his fingers seem to span the whole of your cheeks. You stutter his name as your lips part, his aromatic breath gusting over your face as he flexes his fingers. He observes your face closely, the material of your dress bunching between his knuckles. 

“I like the feel of your bottom,” he declares with tender honesty.

You beam up at him and trace your hand down his back, running over the crisscross pattern of laces on his waistcoat before landing on his behind. His eyebrows raise as you splay your fingers over rounded, taut muscle.

“I like yours too,” you respond in kind, emboldened by how his pupils dilate and his mouth falls open at your pluckiness.

One of his hands moves to cup your jaw, diving in for another kiss, more demanding than before, your boldness catalysing a new urgency in him. His fingers trail down your neck, skating over your pulse point that you know is hammering hard, then sweeping lower over your shoulder.

“Is… is this alright for you?” His voice is full of awe as those fingers slip inside your dress, the heel of his palm resting lightly on your collarbone.

“Y… yes, it’s… wonderful, actually.”

It seems like he is mapping your skin, the contours of bone and muscle across your chest, sinking lower until his hand is resting on the swell of your breast. He worms inside your neckline, and two fingertips catch against your nipple. It pebbles hard at the slightest brush, your breath catching. You meet his blistering stare as he slowly swipes a finger over the puckered skin again. Heat prickles through you, a heavy tingle between your legs.

“Does that feel good?” 

His timbre is a beguiling mix of tease and hope as his fingertips gently swirl a circle around your areola. You nod, your lower lip snagging under your top tooth as a new tide of sensation washes through you.

“Where did you learn such things?” You marvel, your hands still on his bottom, flexing slightly, a mirror of his movements.

“My brother has told me some things,” he elucidates with a slight smirk, “including that if I touch your breasts, you will be excited for more.”

“I am,” you confess as intrigue steals your tongue: “What did he tell you to do next?” 

“That I should remove your dress and kiss your naked body, especially here.” he counsels, sliding over your nipple again.

“What else?” you pant, the thought of it making you lightheaded.

“I should feel between your legs for wetness that shows you are ready for me,” he intones as if recalling a verbatim conversation, even as his fingers spider across to your other nipple. You gasp again, a shiver running down your spine.

“Ready for you?” You echo, mildly embarrassed that you do not know any detail of what happens between a man and a woman. You have only a vague notion from the overheard gossip of people in your family’s employ. 

He grabs your right hand from his bottom and guides it to the front of his trousers. There is a hardness straining the material that you swear wasn't there before.

“What is that?” Your breath catches as its warmth seeps through the material into your palm.

“That is my cock, and if you wish to know a man, it is an essential part of the process,” he smiles winningly.

You squeeze gently on instinct, the resulting low growl in the back of his throat enthralling you.

“I think we should take off our clothes now,” he proposes, and you nod your acceptance.

His hand slips from inside your neckline and lands on the buttons between your shoulder blades as yours slide up from his trousers to his waistcoat, popping its buttons as those on your dress also relent.

“Is it alright to undress each other, or should we undress ourselves?”

“Either is acceptable, but I am rather enjoying this,” he divulges as you push his waistcoat off his shoulders.

“So am I…” 

He pulls off your dress, the silk pooling around your feet, a yen to crowd into him as the cool night air seeps through your gauzy chemise.

“You do not wear stays?” he seems taken aback, his gaze now intent upon your nipples, jutting out against the thin cotton.

“No, not yet. Mama says I am but young, and my bosom is still perky,” you explain, aroused by how his breath becomes a little laboured as you voice it.

“I like it when you say such words,” he rags, pulling you into him with a firm grip, his hands so hot through the thin cotton of your chemise. You have a sudden tart need to be naked with him, a tingle between your legs that can only be excitement.

“Take off my chemise, Benedict,” you encourage, guiding him to the ties at your neckline. You pull the bow loose, the material bunching in his hands as you both tug either side down, exposing your breasts. 

He groans as your nipples instantly pebble in the cool air. He tilts you backwards in his arms, his face descending. You rasp his name, your hand flying into his hair, twisting his chestnut waves between your fingers as the contrasting heat, suction and wetness of his lips enclose your nub. It's exquisite, and you never want this loop of pleasure coursing through you to end, pushing your breast further into his mouth.

While he lathes with his tongue, you slacken the neckline further and shimmy out of the chemise, keen for more, already addicted to this wondrous feeling coursing in your bloodstream. 

He takes a step back to look at you as the last scrap of fabric flutters to the ground.

You see the quiver in his hands and the tented outline in his trousers as his eyes drink in your naked form, lingering on your nipples, wet with his saliva, and the patch of hair between your legs that is also damp now, a slickness between your thighs that has you wanting to squirm. 

His pupils are blown wide, his lips glisten, his cheeks are rosy, and his hair is wild from your tussling as he suddenly whips off his shirt. It sails through the air in a puffed arc. The captivating sight of his pale skin glowing like sculpted marble in the moonlight ties your tongue.

But your admiration is short-lived as he is on you again, propelling you into his arms. Your mind buffers as his broad, smooth chest collides with your dampened breasts, his kiss plundering your mouth. 

It feels like you are both drunk on a fascinating cocktail of urgency and nerves, navigating new territory with a bumbling, innocent, but innate excitement. 

“Lay down,” he whispers delicately into your mouth as you emerge for air.

You do as bidden, holding his hand as he assists you onto the blanket and laying back to stare up at him, towering over you now. His hands fall to the buttons on his britches, and you can't help but bite your lip, a shiver of anticipation to see how he looks naked.

He seems almost nervous as he pops the buttons and then shuffles the woollen material downwards over his thighs. But you only have eyes for what lies between his legs. Like yourself, there is a patch of hair there, but also something entirely other that makes your thighs clench together reflexively. This must be his cock. It is a rigid mass, reddened at the flared tip, jutting out from his body at least half a foot and beneath are adjoined sacs that droop a little.

“Do not be afraid,” he murmurs, perhaps misinterpreting your curiosity for fear.

“I know you will not hurt me, Benedict,” you placate, your eyes flitting up to his face and reaching for his hands to bring him to lay down with you on the blanket.

He sighs as he kneels beside you, his hand cradling your cheek. “That is the thing, my sweet; my brother says it might hurt for a lady on her first time.”

Your breath catches at the term of endearment he employs, placing your hand over his. “I know you will do everything to mitigate such.”

His eyes go soft, and he rolls on top of you; so much warm skin. An all-consuming sensation as you lay together naked, that cock branding your inner thigh as he settles atop you.

“Indeed ‘tis true…” he confirms, then hesitates before continuing in an ardent intonation: “I meant what I said. I wish for you to be my wife one day. I do believe I love you, y/n.”

Your heart soars at his tender confession. “And I believe I love you too, Benedict.”

His responding smile lights up his whole face. 

You may only be seventeen, but you know the contents of your heart. There is no man you have met whom you trust as much as this wondrous boy, now man, you have grown up alongside. You sincerely hope to have the privilege to grow up and, indeed, old with him.

“Are you certain?” he checks sweetly, and you can only nod as his touch trails down over the ticklish skin of your belly, leaving little lines of fire that sear in his wake.

There is a jolt to your entire being as his fingers slide into your most intimate area, somewhere only you have touched before. You keen and press up into him, quite certain nothing has ever felt like this before. 

“Oh, you are very wet,” he stutters, almost stunned. “But that is good,” he quickly appends before you can become self-conscious. “It means you desire me as much as I desire you.”

“I do desire you, Benedict,” you are at pains to express, a restlessness fizzling under your skin and a clawing need for him in your bones, knowing this can only be of his doing and wanting to burn so much more. “What happens now?”

He guides your hand gently between his legs. He moans as your hand instinctively curls around it, the skin so silky even over a mass so rigid. “I put my cock inside you,” he stumbles. “Into the place you are leaking from…”

“Will it fit?” You frown, unsure you have a place within yourself to accommodate it.

“Yes.. well, at least, that is what I have been told.” 

His slightly vulnerable admission makes you release his cock and grab his face, tilting his gaze to meet yours.

“We shall find out together,” you assure, smiling when he nods gently.

This is just another adventure you will embark on together, much as you have since you were children. 

He kisses your knuckles and guides you to hold onto his shoulders as he shifts above you. Butterflies behind your ribs as he looks down at what he is doing, a slightly anxious expression as he grabs his cock and manoeuvres it between your legs. 

You spread your feet wider to the edges of the blanket, its threads scrunching between your toes as you feel blunt pressure between your damp folds. You can't help the noise you make from the intensity of it. 

Benedict’s head shoots up to scrutinise your face, concern flooding his handsome features.

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I think so, just nothing I have experienced before…”

Then his eyes go as wide as yours as just his tip slips into your leaking channel.

“You are so hot and tight,” he stumbles, floored by what he is experiencing as much as you are.

“You are so hot and large,” you answer in kind, gripping his bicep as he presses deeper and an odd pinch of pain flares; it makes you hiss and bite your lip. 

He mumbles an apology, pausing. “I assume that is what they were referring to. Sh-should I continue?”

“Yes, I am alright now,” you reassure him, briefly touching his cheek, curiosity outweighing the fading, dull ache. 

You are slack-jawed in astonishment as your channel stretches wider to accommodate his push forward. He is panting, and his eyes are almost like saucers as he stares down upon you, neither of you blinking.

“Oh my goodness,” he mutters enraptured. “Please tell me this feels as good for you…”

“It’s wonderful, Benedict,” you promise breathily, a warmth unfurling behind your ribs that he would care as such. “Intense, yet wonderful.”

“Same,” he exhales shakily, a vein throbbing rhythmically on his neck as he sinks deeper.

Each fractional inch has you surprised anew, a captivating gradual invasion. Just as you think you could not be any fuller, he stops.

“I am entirely within you now.”

You try to catalogue all the feelings at once, to savour them, but it's impossible. The sense of him inside and surrounding you, flesh entwined, is all-consuming; defies words or descriptions.

“I shall move when you are ready,” he whispers into your cheek before kissing you softly. 

With your nodded consent, he withdraws and then surges back in, your channel clinging to him—a sensation unlike anything you have ever experienced before, so intimate and powerful. Your fingernails claw into him, hugging him down onto you, wanting his skin upon yours.

“Oh Benedict….”

It’s all you can voice. 

A tremble all over as you share this moment, tentatively moving with him in a complementary rhythm, almost a dance like that in a ballroom. Give and take, push and pull. And there is no one you would rather be dancing with. Your bodies meld together perfectly as if designed to be joined as such. You certainly don’t understand why some women dislike relations with a man—you would happily do this anytime.

Benedict's motions speed up, your folds swelling around his plunging cock, your heart hammering against your ribs, watching the ripples of ecstasy wash over his expression, a dew gathering in his hairline.

“It’s.. it’s overwhelming,” Benedict shudders. 

Indeed, there is a quake in his being, like he is a simmering pot about to boil over, even as his face appears anxious, like he does not yet want that to happen but is powerless to stop it. You quell his movement, clutching the belt of muscle above his hips.

“Rest within me a while,” you suggest, and he stills, a staccato exhale into your hair as his cock twitches inside you.

It is wonderful to be pinned under his weight. You run a soothing touch over his skin, the soft cotton of the blanket rubbing your shoulder blades as you shift under him, wrapping your ankles around the back of his knees. Your toes tease his fuzzy calves in soothing strokes as his breathing returns closer to normal. You know, somehow you should not kiss him, an incitement he does not need.

“I do not wish this to be over too soon,” he laments quietly into your hair—a swell of emotion within you at his honest admission.

“Neither do I, but it is our first time. We cannot expect to know or be good at everything, Benedict,” you rationalise, pausing for him to meet your gaze. A sheepish mien that makes him look so adorable. “We can learn to get better together.” 

The knit on his brow loosens a fraction as he hums in agreement.

“I have heard that should I finish before I want to, there are other ways I may ensure your satisfaction,” he offers humbly.

“What does that entail?” Enchanted by the idea he would be concerned for your pleasure as much as his.

“I may touch a nub between your legs that is like a freshwater pearl nestled within folds of dewy flesh,” he states, a poetic description you are sure must be from some book.

When he pulls up to glance at where you are joined, it makes his cock prod a new spot inside you. An incredible bloom of novel sensation that has you gasping and grabbing his arms. Your channel ripples around him, and he groans heavily, collapsing back upon you inelegantly.

“Holy fuck,” he curses, sounding winded.

And you know the time for talking is over. You are impatient for him to move again, for his cock to graze that spot once more.

“Bring your legs up higher,” he tutors, intuiting your needs. 

Just as your heels curl around the shapely curve of his bottom, he moves again, making you cry out in pleasure as he hits that exact target, your nails digging into his back.

“Don’t stop Benedict,” you appeal over a ragged gasp as he grazes it again, your eyes rolling, clinging to him.

His motions are jerkier now but rougher in just the way you need. He holds nothing back, both of you fumbling towards the ecstasy growing inside. Hands grabbing, moaning into dewy cheeks, wetness matting into the downy hair below, the most debauched of sounds from where your bodies meet as he pushes into you over and over.

All your muscles start to tense, a delirium washing over you that makes you impulsive. One of your hands worming between you to strum an engorged nub just above where he fucks you, knowing on some instinctual level it is key to your pleasure. You cry out, and your pussy clamps hard onto him. Benedict groans his approval as he takes a final harsh snap, you falling over an edge, fluttering hard around his now rippling cock.

He growls and wrenches himself out of your channel rapidly. But you are barely cognizant of a milky liquid spurting over your belly as you writhe under him, body febrile mind a thousand miles above amongst the summer stars

When you return to yourself, you feel him collapse onto the blanket next to you, pulling you into his arms as if there is a compulsion to always have your naked skin on his.

“No one warned me your body would do that,” he pants, astounded. “It took all of my strength to withdraw…”

“Why did you?” You crane your neck to pout at him, believing it would feel so much better to reach that peak wrapped around his cock.

“I thought it unwise to leave you with child…” he frowns as if his reasoning were obvious.

You buffer for a few seconds, then sit up and twist to look down at him, shock flooding your already overloaded senses.

“This?!” You splutter, “This is how babies are made?”

He chuckles at first, then tempers his face when he realises you are serious. 

“I… I thought you knew…”

”No! I have not been told a thing!” you bemoan, only now realising how much of adulthood you have yet to navigate.

He delicately pulls you down to rest on top of him, nuzzling your cheek. 

“I am sorry that is the case. One day, we shall have children, I am certain. But perhaps tis not a good idea just yet. We are still young, not even yet engaged.” 

You vehemently nod in agreement, flooded with gratitude that, even as he was in the throes of his first sex, too, he had the respect and forethought to care for the consequences for you both. 

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, burrowing into his embrace as a gentle waft of breeze cools your flushed skin.

“‘Tis me who should be thanking you.” he insists, caressing your shoulder. “That was amazing. I am so glad we did this together.”

“As am I,” you return, as you lay entwined together, knowing already this will be the first of many.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @hanji-emo-blog @sya-skies @urfavnoirette

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ here’s to hoping (cause i can’t stop calling) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.1k

summary: gojo calls, and you spend it half-wishing you weren’t broken up. 

contains: gn!reader, exes to ???, alcohol, mentions of going to the club, gojo is bad at being an ex, complicated feelings, ambiguous ending, kind of hurt/comfort. 

a/n: writing this as my copium, i haven’t written gojo outside of col in so long so this was challenging, but equally as exciting! some songs that inspired this are: better than this - lauv & oh, gemini - role model.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: calling your ex drunk at two a.m. with feelings still stuck in your throat

“Well, well, well… miss me already?”

The clock on your kitchen wall reads some time between 2:05 and 2:10. Even when you squint, the little lines remain a drunken blur. 

You blame it on the alcohol. 

“Don’t be shy now.” the voice on your phone continues, shaking you out of focus. 

Had you been any more sober, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. 

Had you been any more sober, the throbbing in your head wouldn’t have persisted from the sound of—

“Gojo–” you sigh. 

“Satoru.” he interrupts, a full pause before he continues, softer, “It’s Satoru, remember?” 

Had you been any more sober, you wouldn’t have even answered his call. 

You haul your bag up sluggishly, the chains of the strap clacking against your countertop. Patience is a ticking time bomb when you’re this inebriated, the heavy bass from earlier tonight still thumping its way within your brain. 

You can’t think straight. 

“Satoru,” a name now foreign but still so close to home; it burns on your tongue, trickles bittersweet down your throat, “you called. What do you need?” 

It’s stupid of you to ask, you know, because Gojo’s been calling you like this since the day you broke up months ago. You’d picked up the first few times, but quickly realized that it wasn’t good for the both of you—you’d never move on, and Gojo would never let you go. 

Except—

“You picked up.” 

—liquor makes for poor company when it only serves to soften the anger you’ve built up as protection. It really is all the alcohol’s fault. 

Your eyes burn as you squeeze them shut, sighing, a twisted exhale, “You have to stop, Satoru.” 

“Stop what?” he feigns, the lilt at the end a sure sign of the most insufferable smirk. 

The thought of it makes you sick, makes you ache with memories of pinching his nose at the sight of it. He used to giggle then; now, he chuckles on the other end. 

That’s the question, isn’t it? Stop what?

Since the break-up, Gojo’s been acting like nothing’s changed. He still calls you just as much, still texts you with undertones that tread the fine line between flirty and ‘just Gojo’. Your toiletries are still at his apartment, and his clothes are still in your closet. 

You’d find humor in it if not for the fact that all of it has been so goddamn confusing.

He started it; he broke up with you. 

Shouldn’t he be pushing you away? 

To this day, you have no full closure, no other reason other than an ‘it’s better this way’ followed by a continuous stream of mixed signals because how he treats you is still the same. 

“Stop calling,” a lump forms in your throat, an admission you’ve had to remind yourself again and again, “we’re not together anymore.”

“I can’t call a friend?” 

You snort, fiddling with the metal links of your bag strap, “Is that what we are?” 

A pause. Slippers shifting on floorboards. They sound just like the sleepless nights he’d shuffle out of bed. 

You can picture him on the other end, head tilted and leant back on the plush leather of his couch. He hums but doesn’t answer you—he never does when it can mean something. 

“You still sound the same.” 

And you don’t expect it at this moment, to get so choked up over how he sounds over radio waves, but he says the words a little too fondly for you not to notice. Gojo’s always teased that he can pinpoint your voice from the moment you speak the first word.

You don’t mean to give him any more authority over your feelings than he already has, but the words slip out before you can catch yourself, “You’re being unfair.”  

Another hum. His tone shifts to something lighter, more teasing, “Like you aren’t. Always typing, never sending…”

The huff that punctuates his sentences paints itself vividly with a small pout. 

“Stop staring at my chat box then.” is all you can muster, the ache spreading throughout your chest. 

“Afraid I can’t.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“You’re impossible.” your eyes begin to feel wet, your sniffle concealing itself as you clear your throat. 

The silence that follows is uncharacteristic of your relationship with Gojo, even more of the man you know, but you find it filled to the brim with all the possibilities of what went wrong—of things you know he’ll never say out loud.

You know Gojo has issues; they presented themselves well enough in the year you were together. Being with him is accepting that you’ll be reading between the lines your entire life. 

He is simultaneously touchy but distant, vocal but elusive in his affections; he drapes himself over you every chance he gets, but when you touch him in places no one else has, you think a storm swirls cyan in his irises. Gojo gives compliments like candies on Halloween, but he keeps his feelings close to his chest, locked away like presents tightly wrapped under a Christmas tree. 

This is why you never saw it coming. 

This is why there was no hint, no sign of him ever wanting to break things off when he did.

‘Let’s stop dating’ with no warning. 

“Had fun tonight?” he asks so casually, like it doesn’t tell you a million things—how he still has your location on his phone, how he’s still checking on you, Six Eyes or not. 

Tonight was okay, all things considered. You don’t go to clubs often, but your friends kept you company; the music boomed just a tad bit louder than you’re used to, and the drinks were good, but—

“You would have hated it.” 

If Gojo were there, you would have stayed 10 minutes tops. He’d whine about being bored but you’d be able to tell, from the slight furrow of his brows and the clenching of his jaw that it’s because one of his migraines is forming. 

“Good thing I’d have you, then.” 

There are half-truths in jokes like this, a dangerous thing to say when you both know he could still have you if he wanted.

“Stop flirting, it’s annoying.” you try to steel your voice, pushing down the false hope rising in your chest. 

“You love it, though.”

The pain sears you, hurts when he says the word so lightly, as if he isn’t aware that you know love is the reason he had to break things off prematurely. As if he doesn’t know that you’re still in love with him, that you’re still putting faith in a tragedy. 

“Do you even know what loving something feels like?” 

The line remains silent, save for the softest sound of his breath hitching. 

You must have hit a nerve. 

He hums, an expected answer, but then he mumbles, words spoken so faintly, so quietly, you’re surprised they even came through. 

“Yeah, I do.”

a/n: wanted to use this as dialogue practice because i think gojo’s dialogue is one of the trickiest to nail! i also found it so fun exploring this kind of dynamic with him!! i subtly hint on some of gojo’s personal issues but don’t explicitly state it to leave room for interpretation! the ending is ambiguous for that same reason.

thank you notes: @stellamancer for helping me out so much with this 🥺 practically beta-ing it, really 🥺 ily niku 🥺 in my head, gojo does not exist without you 🥺 & @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @scarabrat @soumies for being my lil cheerleaders always 🥺 ily all 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[rizzanon]

childhood friend! Shinichiro Sano

part 1 | part 2 (here)

childhood friend! Shinichiro who matures quite significantly by the end of highschool, no longer asking out girls at school anymore much to your surprise

"Woah, look at you."

"Hm??"

"It's been months since you last asked out some random girl. What happened to the women obsessed Shinichiro I know?"

"Shut up, it was just a phase. Besides, you made me open my eyes in a way."

"How so?"

"I guess... I'm just waiting to ask the right person out now."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who invites you to witness the disbandment of the first generation of Black Dragons, despite you not being associated with his gang at all

"Why do you even want me to go? The people I know are only just going to be Takeomi, Waka and Benkei."

"Because I want you to be there. Is there any better reason other than that?"

"I suppose not..."

"And maybe it's also the fact that I need someone to watch over Manjiro haha..."

"I knew it."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who gets upset frustrated when you chose to ride with Takeomi instead of him on the day of the final gathering (he couldn't complain about it to you though, you made a fair point)

"Hey come on! Why are you going to ride with him? Takeomi's a worse rider than me y'know."

T- "Fuck off Shin. You don't worry about me stealing your girl from ya'."

"But you are a reckless rider-"

"Come on Shin, you can't expect me, you and Manjiro to be able to sit in one bike, can you? One of us is surely gonna fall off. I'll be fine with Take-chan, okay?"

"Fine..." (He was not fine with it)

childhood friend! Shinichiro who you make fun of when he comes over to you after the disbandment of the first generation of Black Dragons bawling his eyes out (you were prepared for this outcome)

"Glad to know you're still the same crybaby Shin I know."

M- "Haha! I'm gonna tell Emma you're such a crybaby."

"Cut it out you two! This—sniffs—is a special moment...!"

"You're lucky I brought tissues to wipe your tears away."

"I can't believe you know me that well."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who gets used to you coming over to the Sano household unnanounced whenever you pleased, not that anyone minded, since they all loved your presence

"Emma, be a dear and wake up Shin? Smack him if you have to."

E- "Okay!!"

"Woah, woah, there's no need to smack any—yawn—one. And why are you here?"

"Emma wanted me to teach her a new recipe to make for breakfast. So here I am!"

"And you decided to come over this early??"

"It's 7am Shin. Besides, don't act like you don't like seeing my pretty face the first thing in the morning~"

"Shut up." (Spoiler, he does)

childhood friend! Shinichiro whom you never grow apart from even after highschool, and you both started going on different paths, him opening up a motor bike shop while you started going to college and applied for a part time job as a cashier near the vicinity

"Wait, the shop you're working at is the one down the street, right? Just a few blocks away from my shop?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Great, looks like I can go say hi to you whenever I want."

"Don't you dare do something stupid to get me fired, Shin."

"No promises, ma'am."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who after miserably failing 5 times asks you for your help to bake a cake for Emma's birthday

"And what is this supposed to be?"

"Clearly, it's supposed to be Ariel, y'know, the princess mermaid??"

"That's your best attempt at making an ariel themed cake?? Now I know why you were begging for me to come over when you called me."

"I blame it on Manjiro for ruining the frosting."

M- "Hey! It was you who ruined it."

"So not true."

"I think the both of you should just shut up and help clean up this mess first."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who's gotten used to his siblings asking him where you were whenever you weren't seen with him and getting teased about it

E- "Neh, Shin-nii, where's [name]?"

"Probably stuck in another class, why do you ask?"

E- "I miss her."

M- "Idiot, we already saw her this morning."

E- "Hey! Don't act like you don't want her to come and play with us too!"

"Seriously you two, sometimes I wonder if I'm your older sibling at this point, with how much you ask for her."

M- "Shinchiro, we all know you love her as much as we do, maybe even more~"

"Shut your mouth Manjiro 💢"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who always shows up to your workplace when your shift is almost going to be over, always claiming that he was hungry and wanted to buy something, when in reality, he's there to send you home

"So..."

"And what the hell could you possibly want from this humble store, Shin?"

"Woah, woah! Can't a customer walk around the store to see what they want to get?"

"The last time you were here you knocked down a stack of cans on display, the manager almost reduced my paycheck because of that."

"In my defence, I didn't see the stack of cans."

"Suree you didn't."

"Hey, come on now! You know I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize your job.. on purpose at least...."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Now, would you be so kind to get me a pack of cigarettes, y'know, for a very dear friend of yours?"

"The only think you'll be getting from me is a pack of gum, rotten breath."

"Rude... now come on, when does this shift of yours end anyways? Let's get dinner on the way back."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who becomes your gossip and vent buddy whenever he sends you home after your shift, with him hanging onto every word you say, and hating on whoever you hate even if he doesn't know who the hell they are

"Argh, goddamnit, won't she just give me a break already?"

"Who? Wait—no, let me guess. Is it that girl from your econs class? What's her name again? Ka—Ka something..."

"Kazumi. Wow, didn't think you'd actually remember, well somewhat remember at least."

"With how much you complain about her, who wouldn't? But let me guess what she did to aggravate you this time."

"Go on. No guarantee that there'll be a prize for that though."

"She ditched a group project discussion again? Or she claims she's too busy to complete her part of the project when in reality she's going on parties and all that?"

"Mix of both actually, so congrats! No prize for you though."

"Aww. And here I thought you'll reward me for being a good friend."

"Argh, I should ask Takeomi or Benkei to intimidate her into actually taking this group project seriously or something..."

"Why ask them when you have your number one ride or die partner next to you to do so?"

"What'll you do? Intimidate her with the 20 rejections you've gotten? Pfft, she might even make that 20 become 21 before you intimidate her."

"I thought we swore to never talk about that ever again 💢"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who's grateful to you for bringing him his lunch to his shop whenever he leaves it at home and enjoys groans whenever you nag to him about the importance of not skipping any meals

"Guess some things will never change, huh?"

"Huh? Oh, is that my lunch?"

"No, no, it's my supper."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny [name]."

"I deserve more credit for making sure you don't skip your meals."

"Is that so? Would you like me to get on my knees and thank you? I can certainly do that."

"You and your cheesy lines... when will you learn to remember to bring your own lunch to work? You're pulling off the same shit you did back when we were in highschool."

"Maybe I just like your meals better than mine..."

"...??!... That... That still isn't an excuse for you to not bring along something to eat, dumbass. What would you do if I decide not to check in on you, hm?"

"Probably starve to dea-"

-smacks his head-

"Oww??? Alright, alright, sorry I guess, 'mom'. I won't purposely skip my meals ever again..."

"Good... next time, just... ask if you want me to cook extra for you."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who notes how you start to stand one arm's length away from him whenever you're with him, and when he asks you about it, becomes visibly distraught to hear you say he reeks of cigarette smoke

"Hey... why're you standing so far away from me? Don't tell me you came over to my shop just to see me work from a distance now.."

"You just stink, that's all."

"What??!? I definitely don't stink. I took a shower this morning, and I'm not covered in grease or anything..!!"

"It's that smokey smell that's always lingering around you. Y'know, because you like to smoke every now and then.."

"Huhh?!? What're you saying!!"

"Don't tell me you don't reek of cigarettes Shin. It's blatantly obvious, I can probably even smell you from a mile away like this."

"WHAT?!? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THIS EARLIER???"

"Because I didn't want you to make you self-conscious, stupid! Besides, it's not like I can force you to stop smoking or anything.."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who slowly stops smoking as much as he used to, especially around you so that you wouldn't be disturbed by his smell and stay close to him

"Huh?"

"What is it?"

"Eh... it's nothing important."

"Oh come on, you clearly have something to say. Cat got your tongue or something? Taken aback by my good looks?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say. You just... smell different, that's all."

"Is smell all you care about? What are you, a dog?"

"Fuck you."

"Yes please."

"Wha-?!?!"

"I'm joking." (He wasn't really)

"And I probably smell good because I put on this new cologne I got."

"Pfft, to mask off the fact that you're a smoke addict?"

"Hey! Might I inform you that I haven't picked up a cigarette for the past two weeks now."

"Really? Wow, I'm surprised. What made you stop?"

"You. Well, more precisely, you avoiding to get close to me because I stink."

"...?!?" (You were speechless and flustered)

childhood friend! Shinichiro who gets jealous upset when his friends flirt with you right in front of his face, not knowing that they're doing this to get him riled up enough and grow balls to finally confess to you

T: "Say, [name], you got a boyfriend or anything?"

"..?!?! Wha- Why're you asking her that-"

T: "What? Can't a man be curious? Besides, no boyfriend would be pleased if their girlfriend is hanging out with her 'guy' friend and his siblings 24/7."

"Very funny Take-chan. If that's your logic, then I believe you already have your answer."

B: "That's suprising. I was sure a pretty girl like you would have many guys chasing for you."

"...! I'm flattered, Keizo-kun. But I doubt that's the case, haha."

"Oi, you guys, stop bugging her like this..."

T: "Ya'know, I'm pretty sure most girls like strong guys, right? Shin's pretty weak to stay by your side."

"Oi-"

T: "But, he makes it up with his charm and caring side, so I guess you have it good [name]."

W: "Well, that's Shin-chan for ya, so you don't have to worry about him not treating you right, [name]. But if he doesn't, you cant count on us to beat him up for you."

"I.... wow, okay...?"

"?!? Oi, you guys!!? Now you're scaring me!!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who confronts you one day, telling you all about how his friends and family keep on teasing him about how you and him should date and how he also really liked the idea of that

"Hahaha! Really? Manjiro did that?? I can't believe I missed that!"

"It's painful y'know! Can't believe he's only 12 years old and pulling off roundhouse kicks like that. And to my face too!"

"Well, what'd you do this time?"

"Wha-?!? I can't believe you're so quick to take his side. Both you and Emma."

"What can I say? Both him and Emma are my favourite Sanos after all."

"Gasp After all these years, you're choosing them over me?!? I'm disappointed, [name]. I thought you knew better 😔"

"Cry about it then."

"Mean..."

"But he must have a reason for doing that to you though, right?"

"I mean... it's kind of stupid, really."

"Oh? Do tell whatever the reason for the 'invincible Mikey' to roundhouse kick you. And for Emma to take his side on the matter."

"Ah... they're just mad that I apparently haven't made you my girlfriend yet."

"Huh??"

"I know, stupid, isn't it? They both have been bugging me about this for years now, claiming that they 'want you to be their actual sister'. What's worse is that gramps has the same sentiment as them too."

"Seriously? Sano-sensei as well?"

"Yup. He says he doesn't mind having you as his "granddaughter-in-law" and that you're the only person I ever truly listen to. Bullshit by the way."

"Is it it really though?"

"That's not the point. Hell, even the guys are teasing me for not making it official with you yet. Bugging me about it whenever we hangout, saying that if I don't act soon, they'll steal you away from me."

"I-.... wow... I guess that explains what happened the last time we hung out."

"Yeah, sorry if their words bothered you."

"No, no it's fine. But I'm just wondering... what do you think about all this?"

"Huh?"

"Like.... with everyone bugging you, and well me about this, what are your thoughts on us dating?"

"...?!?... I guess.... I don't mind that..."

"Really? I'm glad then."

"Huh? What do you mean."

"I guess I don't mind us dating as well."

".....Wait..., so are you saying I can be your boyfriend?!?! Really?!?"

"Yes! I'm saying you can be my boyfriend, and I can be your girlfriend, idiot."

"I'm actually so happy right now I could literally kiss you."

"Then do it, Shin. Who's gonna stop you?"

a/n: i love him so much oml, thinking about writing longer fics about some of these scenarios

m.list

[freckliedan]

i'm sorry but if you've only been a phannie since the reniassance you really have no right to be criticizing dan gender posters.

i don't think anyone who got here post revival understands the distinction between "fans crossing the line" vs "fans listening to what dan and phil tell us even before announcing things explicitly and celebrating that". and the way people act like they need to defend dan from people who think he could be trans makes that abundantly clear.

dan especially has been so open about how this community's support is what made it possible for him to accept himself and come out, and that wasn't support that magically appeared the second BIG dropped. it didn't exist only after we got told officially.

the community support of dan and phil's queerness was the way people noticed and celebrated and understood the way they increasingly chose to be vulnerable with us over the years, and the way we shared how they made us feel safe in our identities.

they came out a million little ways before they said the words, but dan did especially: wearing nail polish, going curly, an earring in the gay ear, liking tweets that said he was gay, making increasing gay jokes. the winter before they both came out they tweeted about the bbc calling them a couple and didn't correct it. dan TOLD us in march of 2018 that he had a video planned for june that was relevant to the month but not because of his birthday.

they do the telling us with their actions before announcing it in so many other contexts too: moving, announcing tours, etc.

if you trust in and pay attention to their consistant patterns of behavior it's hard to be surprised by dan and phil.

so why is it that this one fucking thing—dan's gender—is not allowed to be posted about in the same way as everything else? those of us who do take so much care in what we say, too, if we ever do anything other than post jokingly. both for dan's sake (nobody forgets this is a public forum) and because the transphobic backlash is constant.

dan has been saying he sometimes wishes he was a girl since manchester. talking about gender since 2009. the gender conversation has been constant as long as dan's been online and we know it's been a constant since early childhood too.

dan said after BIG dropped in 2019 that he considered coming out in 2014 but then started thinking about gender and needed more time to figure it out. and you know how that ended? he did NOT say "i came out because i figured it out". it ended with dan saying that thinking about gender culminated in realizing it's okay to come out and change your mind. that you can be a formless blob. (quote)

and then sister daniel happened, and dan has been increasingly openly talking about questioning gender ever since. and hey: dan and phil commented on the possibility of a gender video from dan during dan's bday livestream. doesn't that sound familiar.

this isn't different from when dan and phil claimed heterosexuality and then were openly not in the lead up to coming out. this pattern of behavior is the same, and the way people are posting is the same, and i've never fucking once seen a dan gender poster cross the line the way people used to.

it's just a different subject.

would the people who get pissed at dan gender posters have been doing the same thing to people who thought dnp were queer before they came out? did you not realize what an rpf community is like because you got here after the fact, or are you being transphobic hypocrites?

why is the possibility of transness something dan needs to be defended from, anyways? it's a compliment and we know dan takes it that way.

figure your shit out. i'm sick of it, especially coming from other trans people. i've had so fucking many trans mutuals bullied off this website and out of this space for openly talking about the possibility that dan might not be cis over the years, and when the same transphobic talking points come from a trans sibling's mouth? it disgusts me.

you don't have to like it or agree with it or engage with it. but can you PLEASE stop acting like you have a moral high ground and are doing something beneficial to dan that he'd thank you for? just fucking block and blacklist and move on.

and know that if dan someday turns out not to be cis, you're gonna have to live with the knowledge that you made things harder for him.

us dan gender posters? we all know we might be wrong and we've had to think about whether we're happy with our actions if that's the case. and i know damn well we'll all be celebrating dan's gender nonconformity just as much for the rest of time if dan remains cis.

we're under constant scruitiny so we've had to self reflect. but i really don't think any of you have. think about your underlying biases. consider the impact a vehement defense of cisness would have on dan if he isn't. and please, for the love of god, let that impact your actions.

[itsvenera]

Hi! I feel so blessed to have found your blog, your fluff is top tier 🫶🏻 Can I please request fluff for Kakashi x fem!reader where they take their son (who looks exactly like Kakashi) to meet Team 7 and they're all enamoured by baby Kakashi and how happy he is with wife reader? I feel like it'd be so cute~ I hope that's an alright request. Thank you so much! 😘

author's note: this is such a cute request and it has been sitting in my drafts for a while, since I have been waiting to be in the right mood for it! It was such a pleasure to write it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Thank you for requesting! <3

If there was anything Konoha did best, it was celebrating.

Compared to many of the other villages, the Leaf had some form of a festival almost every month. The first Sakura trees have blossomed? Celebration. The war is won? Celebration. The Hokage has a birthday? Celebration. 6 months without any outside threats? Celebration.

For the outsiders these constant festivities were both bizzare and a bit foolish. They could only imagine how much money were spend from the yearly budget, yet somehow the village blossomed economically. The other Kages tried to ask Lady Tsunade more than once in the past how exactly do they manage to do that, but they could never get anything more than a smug smile from her.

You, unlike your husband, loved a good party. During events like this everything felt different - the people were happier, the streets were busier, even the air felt more fresh! You have been waiting for the Spring festival for a while now - not only because you loved trying all the delicious street food, but also because this year you were taking your baby with you.

Being only a few months old, your son was an exact copy of Kakashi. His hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips, even the way he pouted was absolutely the same as your partner. There were times when you sat next to his crib, looking at him for hours, trying to find at least one thing in his appearance that he may took after you. While there were none, you found solace in the fact that he showed at least some traits of your personality - the main one being obsessed with Kakashi, of course.

As you watched your husband gently rocking your child in his arms and whispering sweet words to him, you couldn't stop the smile from spreading wide on your lips. Kakashi hasn't noticed your presence by the door yet, too busy booping your baby's nose and listening to his happy laughter.

He was definitely the favourite parent.

"I can't believe I carried him for nine months and I am still the second best in his eyes", you finally said, making Kakashi whip his head in the direction of your voice. He smiled sheepishly at you, his one free arm extending for you to take.

"You know that is not true, my dove", he tried to reassure you, his attention moving back to the bundle of joy who kept twitching in his grip, "No one can replace mommy! Isn’t that right, little man?"

Almost if understanding his words, the baby turned toward you, reaching one of his small hands toward your face. You immediately melted at the gesture, before carefully grabbing it in yours and lying numerous small kisses on his little fingers.

“Do we really have to go?”, your husband groaned, looking at you pleadingly. If it was up to him the three of you would stay in your house, enjoying a cosy evening just playing and goofing around the living room. With his new role as a Hokage, your time together was limited anyway and he liked to grab any chance he got to spend a few hours with you at home.

“You were the one that promised Naruto you would finally let him see the baby”, you cocked one of your eyebrows and Kakashi immediately shut his mouth, knowing he cannot argue further.

Even since you told Team 7 that you are pregnant, Naruto has shown an enormous enthusiasm about welcoming the baby. He self proclaimed himself “the best uncle to ever exist” and has bought dozen of plush toys and clothes before you even found what the gender is. Both you and Kakashi found this amusing, yet cute, promising him that he would be one of the first people to see your son once he is born.

However, things didn't go as planned and since he was on a mission outside Konoha for the last three months and a half, Naruto was now one of the last people to meet your child. Sakura has asked you countless of times during this period to let her and Sasuke come to your house, but feeling it was unfair to Naruto, you refused every single time.

Now that the blonde was back, however, all three were eagerly waiting to meet the young Hatake.

Kakashi gently passed you the baby, while he went to the corridor to grab the baby carrier wrap he liked to use. One thing about your husband was that he absolutely refused to use a pram.

"It is safer for them to be close to me", he often said, not even hiding his overprotectiveness. Despite your baby already being the village's favourite, he only allowed people to watch him, but never touch him or hold him. It was almost like your son was some kind of a rare jewel, which was so delicate, it had to be admired from a far. And while you found Kakashi's behaviour funny, he was being very serious about it, going as far as to glare and hiss a warning at Guy and Genma every time they tried to pinch your baby's chubby cheeks.

Once the little one was safely wrapped against your partner, you both made your way toward the village centre, where you could already hear music sounding. The streets were flooded with both adults and children, who were all eager to try some foreign food and watch special performances. Every year there were entertainers coming from different lands, performing traditional songs and dances from their cultures. While you knew you couldn't stay for all of them, since you had to put your child to bed quite early, you were excited to see at least some.

You felt one of Kakashi's arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him, while he shielded your son's body with the other one. While there were none real threats or risk for any of you, the amount of people made the man anxious. You were just about to grab his hand and try to make him relax, when Naruto's loud voice sounded from somewhere in front of you.

"Kakashi-sensei! Y/N! Over here!", he waved his hands energetically in the air, while both Sasuke and Sakura looked away embarrassed from his behaviour. Your smiled at the blonde, waving back, while your husband couldn't do anything else than let out a sigh.

Once you were a few meters away, the Uzumaki ran toward you, his whole face lighting up once his eyes met those of your son. He pushed past you, without even paying any attention to you, before leaning his head close to the baby's.

" Kakashi! That's your twin, dattebayo!", he shouted and moved his finger between his sensei and your son. Kakashi flicked his hand away, glaring harshly at his student. You sniffled a laugh, before you felt Sakura's hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you offered a smile to both her and Sasuke.

"Don't touch, step back and only watch from a distance", Kakashi instructed, his eyes narrowing at Naruto. The blonde, however, didn't acknowledge his words in any way, instead turning toward you.

"Can I hold him?", he asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

"No!", Kakashi immediately answered for you and you rolled your eyes at your husband, before moving toward the males.

"Of course you can!", before your husband can protest, you gave him a stare and he reluctantly picked up your son from the carrier wrap. He held him in his hands for a few more seconds, eyeing Naruto with suspicion.

"Be very, very, VERY careful!", he said, while passing the wriggling baby to the boy's stretched out arms, "And make sure to support his head! No, not like that... Naruto, I swear to Kami-"

You cut off the white haired male's rambling by wrapping your arm around his waist and placing your head against his shoulder. The Uzumaki was doing just fine, but Kakashi being Kakashi started to panic just at sight of someone else holding your little treasure.

The baby seemed to like the blonde, as he giggled, stretching his small hand toward his face. Sakura, who has been patiently waiting for her sensei to relax a bit, immediately rushed to her teammate's side, uncapable of controlling herself longer. She wriggled her forefinger in front of the child's face, her heart melting once he caught it.

"Hello, little one! I am auntie Sakura!", the baby grinned at her with its toothless smile and she let out an "aww" sound, before turning to you and your husband, "Kakashi-sensei, he really is your exact copy! Y/N, are you sure that's your child?"

You laughed at her joke, before shrugging your shoulders and pressing yourself closer to Kakashi.

"Trust me, I ask myself that every single day!"

Finally tearing your gaze away from Naruto and Sakura, you looked over to Sasuke, who remained frozen in his place. His eyes were focused on the little baby and there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but unlike his teammates he maintained a safe distance. Feeling someone was watching him, he turned his head in your direction, his cheeks going bright red once he realized you caught him staring.

"Sasuke", you smiled at him and everyone's attention went to the Uchiha, "Do you want to hold him too?"

The dark haired male gulped, his eyes widening. He nervously scratched his shoulder, his gaze going down to his feet.

"I...", he became silent, stealing one more glance at the baby. You found it almost amusing how he was a fearsome ninja that could take dozen of enemies at the same time, yet he felt scared to hold a tiny human.

Looking over at Naruto, you nodded your head, signalling him to pass your son to Sasuke. The blonde let out a huff, dragging his feet toward his teammate.

"Be careful! And hold the head!", he warned the Uchiha, who rolled his eyes in response.

"I know how to hold a baby, dobe! I am not stupid!"

"Language!", Kakashi warned next to you and you looked up at him, only for him to shake his head. It must've been hard dealing with these two for so many years, yet you knew your husband wouldn't had it any other way.

At this moment, surrounded by so much love and happiness, you felt like you finally had everything you wanted in life - an amazing husband, a healthy child and enormous support by anyone around you. If you could choose to re-live only one moment of your life, it would be this.

"You okay, my dove?", Kakashi whispered and you nodded your head, laying a small kiss on his covered chin.

"Never been better."

Unbeknown to you, all of Team 7 smiled at both of you, admiring how happy their sensei was. After decades of suffering and loss, Kakashi took the leap of faith and opened his heart to you. While he was unsure in the beginning if he was ready to be with someone and have a family, looking back he was glad he did.

Pulling down his mask, he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, before nuzzling his nose against it.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

cc artwork: Pietro Smurra

[cloveroctobers]

HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL — RIO [Summer Prompts]

A/N: I was debating between making this Rio or Manny based and usually I like to alternate but for this prompt it felt more Rio like 😂 so hopefully for my October prompts if I write for Mayans again I’ll probably write for Manny. Anyways! Hope you guys get a kick out of this as much as I did writing it.

WARNINGS: language & things actually got a little 🌶️ towards the end which isn’t normally my thing but I guess I got inspired 😈 Enjoy!

SYNOPSIS: Rio’s so productive he hardly gets a day where he can get enough rest in…what happens when you disrupt that over something so irrational? He swears he loves you but he’s also not putting up with your shit.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: "what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-"

<- check out my previous summer anthology writings here.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

Rio preferred it cold.

It just made sense for the weather to be cold or cool rather than as hot as Diablo’s breath. He wasn’t made for hot weather and he couldn’t get away with his dark attire in the hotter months either. That’s where you two deferred, you loved the heat over the cold any day so as soon as the first day of summer hit…you seemed to glow more even when it wasn't golden hour.

You were outside way before the official day of summer hit because the warm weather was actually sticking around in Detroit and usually Rio was down for whatever, in fact he already booked a trip to Grenada in August (which his skin would probably regret as soon as y’all touched down in the West Indies), but for this particular outing felt like a waste of a time. A older Australian couple that the two of you became acquainted with when the two of you picked up the sport of pickleball—Rio still liked tennis better—invited you two to celebrate their furbaby’s (a Chinese Crested) birthday.

Thats right a whole ass birthday party for a dog who was now widowed, you two attended the wedding just last year and the Chinese Crested, Harlowe was still dealing with the loss of their loved one so the couple thought a party would uplift his spirits. It was ridiculous what rich people got up to but you liked to entertain it sometimes.

For Rio? It was all about networking considering that the wife of the pair was a retired attorney and her husband owned a billionaire company. You knew it wasn’t really a genuine friendship (more so out of convenience) they were the couple you mainly chatted with just to past the time when you all appeared at the same events. So the both of you didn’t appear that disappointed when the husband called Rio up just fifteen minutes before the both of you were getting ready to leave telling you that they, “regretfully want to inform that their beloved Harlowe was not up for a party and rather a intimate gathering with just his parents.”

“Do you think they’re still having something but much smaller and we got uninvited?” You asked, already stepping out of your heels when Rio came back into the bedroom to tell you the news.

Rio lifted his shoulders, “we’ll find out if they did but I didn’t want to go no way.”

“I know you didn’t,” you laugh as you spin around motioning for Rio to help you out of your dress, thanks to a old shoulder injury that had you attending PT from time to time.

He pauses with his fingertips brushing against the nape of your neck, “whatchu getting undressed for? You don’t want to find other plans for tonight?”

This wasn’t shocking, usually when plans got dropped the both of you always found something else to get into. It was rare for either of you to just take cancelled plans for what they were since the both of you stayed busy as a couple and separately.

“Nope…we can stay in. We’re hitting the gym in the morning anyway right?”

“I did say that didn’t I?” Rio sighed while you laughed to yourself, knowing he would prefer doing his own workout at the park or even in the backyard of your contemporary colonial—when you were with him—rather than at the gym.

He already had to put a few people in check for looking at you too long or even turning a friendly conversation into flirtations. Of course you loved Rio letting his protectiveness come out but you drew the line at him causing a few to lose their jobs when it was never that serious (to you). In this economy?! He even tried to persuade you into another gym—which was about an hour AND thirty minutes away from home but you liked the set up of your current gym and already made a few friends there as well.

Which is why he was putting in that work to get ownership over the building these past few months (which went from professional to lethal) but that was a need to know basis for you.

“Uh huh,” you nodded holding the front of the now slumped cowl silk aqua dress, “I know you can’t hang with me, so I’ll let it slide and you can enjoy your PTO.”

“Thank you for your permission, mama.” Rio rolled his eyes playfully, which then proceeded to follow you as you disappeared into the closet by the bedroom door.

Rio leans against the doorway just watching you as you shoved into some loungewear.

“I think I washed these on the wrong setting, ain’t no way these shrunk after only having them for a month.” You stated, pulling at the ends of your plaid boxer shorts with a huff.

Rio hummed, tugging his bottom lip into his mouth while he viewed the length of your legs in those shorts, “nah…that ass is growing and it’s giving me and those shorts something more to eat.”

Throwing your head back with a shake of your head you sharply exhale through your nostrils in warning, “behave.”

“It’s kinda hard to when you look like that.” He licked his lips, tempted to pounce.

“Please, I’ll put you to sleep as soon as you get up in it.” You tease as you step to cradle your husband’s face, “get some rest first honey and then we’ll talk.”

Patting his cheek, you went to squeeze by him but Rio caught your wrist to gain your attention once more. Peering up at him, Rio let his eyelashes flutter as he took his time analyzing the shape of you which was part of the many reasons he loved you, “you’re lucky I could use a few hours.”

You just smile at the heaviness in his raspy tone, leaning forward to press a kiss right to his plump and always moisturized lips. “I’ll be downstairs deciding on bourbon chicken or honey pineapple salmon for dinner.”

Rio kept a straight face as he fought back a yawn but still nodded his head at your retreating form. It felt like as soon as you told him to take his rest, his body was underneath your spell and normally he liked having that effect on you more so but he’ll fight you on it later.

What he hoped you didnt fight him on was taking a spot right on the couch to get these much needed hours in. He couldn’t exactly hide it as the kitchen and living room were basically side by side in an open floor plan but once you got on the phone with your girlfriends…that Kiking was unstoppable and lengthy. Moments later it only took you placing the fillets into the oven, sides done and covered to keep warm, with you getting off the phone and finally glancing to your right to notice the lanky frame of your husband snoring on the sofa. His limbs were always too long for the couch in the living room, which is why majority of the time he spent time on the 2-piece sectional downstairs.

Thankfully Rio wasn’t much of a snorer but sometimes when that sleep really hit? It came out and you knew he needed it. Rio was always sitting on ready regardless of his laidback but cardinial personality but you knew his profession as a, “businessman,” was anything but sweet—unless it came to counting the bag that is. You didn’t get much into his business, always being the one to turn the other cheek until necessary.

The both of you shared words a few times at the start of your relationship when you became serious and found out that Rio had people (before Mick) following you. You were an artist with a successful art gallery, which contained half of your artwork along with other local artists, new and young, and you even had some imported from all over the world. Rio tried it with the import portion of your gallery once before but you shut that shit down and the both of you didn’t speak for at least a week—almost two until the gym became his second focus—after making things right with you. Take that how you will. At the beginning you didn’t appreciate being followed and figuring out that Christopher had something to do with it after pulling out your own piece—something you hated to do but you knew how to handle your own business—Rio tried to persuade you later on that it gave him comfort knowing that his men can keep a eye on you when he can’t.

Some may have felt like that was a red flag (half of your girlfriend’s being the “some,” but one of them always had something negative to say about anything you had going on…which is why you weren’t friends at this point in time) but with a love so immense? And a career like Rio’s? You grew to accept it as a source of another security blanket since you didn’t like to get your hands dirty. Having that kind of power where someone could do that for you? Was indescribable. Sure Rio’s methods of getting to the money may require things you didn’t really agree with, you kept your own business clean just how you wanted but the way you felt about Rio was not something that could just vanish. You knew what his business entailed but you didn’t need to see the grit of it.

So maybe you did get off just a little at your man having that kind of pull on these streets.

Somebody should sue oh wait…they tried that and were part of a missing person’s report but that case was closed back in January.

You leaned against the white marble countertops, another small smile playing on your lips as it was your turn to watch your lightly snoring of a husband on the couch. He didn’t even get the chance to turn the tv on to fall asleep to, another opposite of your relationship, he needed some noise while you preferred it quiet and no light. His ankles hung off the sofa, one hand crossed over his chest as he held onto his shoulder in slumber. It wasn’t until you noticed the bright colored fiesta floral blanket pulled up and slanted underneath his chin that had you entering the living space.

You almost stopped your actions as you stared down at him in peace. You hated him watching you sleep and here you were doing the same but that didn’t last long as you shifted the spatula in your hand.

SLAP!

The stinging Rio felt against his forehead jolted him awake. His lengthy lashes popped open, making him sit up some as he tried to figure out what and who just assaulted him. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus his vision before he shifted his view to you and that teal silicone spatula.

A furrow appeared seconds later, hand going from his shoulder to rub at the spot in between his thick brows. “What’s goin’ on?”

His voice is groggy and you almost felt bad for slapping the mess out of him. Yet he should be thankful that you didn’t slap the eagle tattoo right off the skin of his throat. The blood rushed to that spot on the center of his forehead but him rubbing at it only made it worse.

“I can ask you the same thing, why are you cuddled up with that blanket?” You motioned to the item with the cooking utensil.

Rio licked his lips, glancing down at the peach, orange, yellow, green, and navy blue blanket. He clears his throat, “Whatchu mean? I’m sleeping and the air’s on.”

Not Mr. Cool needing a blanket when he’s the one who loved having the house set on: icebox where his heart used to be, Omarion needs to slide glide and collect his boy real talk.

“Whose fault is that? I told you it didn’t need to be lower than seventy.”

Rio side eyed you a bit and proceeded to close his eyes again, ready to check out but you kicked at the cushion he laid against. Which made him sit up on his elbows, pinching the space in between his brows, “what’s good wit you? You think that makes sense to have the thermostat set on seventy when it’s damn near ninety out that front door?”

“Yes. It’s all about comfort.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do with this blanket, thank you.” He went to plop back down, ready to pull the fallen object back over his shoulders.

You snatch it right off his body, “this blanket isn’t for you to get your drool on.”

“I don’t drool and wait a minute…did you hit me with that? A used spatula? You’re about to mess up my skincare and that’s feelin’ a little disrespectful to me.”

You scoff as you proceed to fold the blanket how you previously had it tossed along the couch, “No it wasn’t used! You know me better than that and I know you take pride in self care. I wouldn’t do you like that but it’s clear you’re disrespecting me by using this blanket that abuela gave to me.”

Rio felt his eye twitch as he exhaled his rising nerves, “…what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?”

“It’s for show!” You exasperated as you finished brushing over the fur of the oversized blanket.

Rio snorted, “oh for the love of almighty!”

You huffed with your hands on your hips, pulling your attention away from the blanket that was back to the way it was, “What?”

“Be real with me.” Rio jabbed a thumb at the direction of the blanket, “you want me to believe that you’re being this extra over a blanket my abuela got you from fucking Marshall’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “oh no you didn’t, not you being uppity Mr. Serena & Lily.”

“I didn’t even mean it like that.”

“Now you’re disrespecting Abuela!” You pointed at him accusing, “Just wait until she hears about this!”

“Nah you’re not telling her nothing!” Rio latched onto the waistband of your shorts, yanking you right on the couch as you squealed feeling the air hit your lower back.

You elbowed him as you collapsed right on his lap, “are you trying to get me to moon you? What’s wrong with you?!”

He shushed you with a smirk, “Thanks for confirming just what I needed to hear…” his hands slip down your sides and towards your bare hips beneath the fabric, squeezing the sides of your ass.

“No, we have beef now you pervert.” Your attempt to get off his lap was not working for you, at all.

His lips are at the space beneath your earlobe and the way he’s sucking on the skin is definitely leaving some tingles all over your body. Rio chuckles as he feels you shudder in his lap, “what beef? I think we should talk it out, don’t you?”

He moves one hand from the side of your ass to travel up the valley in between your breasts, grabbing a hand full of the one on the left and his right. Your breathing is picking up now as Rio settles you both back against the couch and it isn’t until you feel the plush of the blanket against your shoulder that you come back to your senses.

You pull yourself from Rio’s hold, snatching the spatula back to aim right at him in defense, “that wasn’t talking.”

“Well I disagree and thought it was until you rudely interrupted me.” Rio briefly rests his elbows against his knees as he sizes you up while you cautiously step back towards the kitchen, “you clearly don’t want me getting in that overtime of sleep anymore so I guess I’m well rested enough to spend quality time with my wife.”

Rio has his eyes set only on you and he can visibly see you gulp at the distance you put between you. That feeds his ego enough, he sniffs as he pushes himself to his feet, stalking over you to pluck the spatula out of your hand and to slide it against the counters towards the deep sink. Rio towers over you, using his fingertips to grip your jaw firm enough to get your sight back on him. Quickly he latches onto your thighs, lifting you against the counter and making space for himself right in between.

His forehead is pressed against yours breathing you in as he yanks you right to the edge of the counter, his hands caressing the warmth of your upper thighs, “you care about that damn blanket so much, I want your eyes to stay only on it while I sample my appetizer, you got that?”

A finger ran over your clothed center and you pushed your moan back down your vocal cords. The both of you were famous for your poker faces but eventually one of you would take it off of the other.

Your heart was pounding against your chest along with the adrenaline also running wild at the way Rio was looking at you, seeking to devour you while biting down on his bottom lip as he fought to keep his eyes on you and not on the increased rise and fall of your chest.

His hand snakes up to your throat, squeezing just enough to let you know what time it was, “I said, do you got that?”

You sucked your teeth, “I heard you—

You started just for Rio to push you by the throat with the swiftness against the counter, other hand flying behind your head just in time to protect the back of it while your thighs instantly latched around his hips in alert.

He laughs a bit, “yeah I knew you’d like that shit,” as he lets go of your throat after turning your head to face the living room, right where your blanket sat then using both of his hands to nudge your thighs apart so he can leave you bare from your shorts.

Curiosity got the best of you as you tried to take a peek to see what your husband was up to. Usually he was the light sleeper but you didn’t miss the sound of the pop of his lips, making you turn your head to see two damp digits.

“What did I say?”

Quickly shutting your eyes, you shielded them with a free hand trying to fight back a smile and still holding your “innocence,” as you waited to open your eyes again.

“Wait!” You called out, just knowing what was to come, “…check the timer for the salmon.”

Rio barely let the annoyance hit as he gazed over his shoulder to the clock on the stove, “ten minutes left. That’s all I need for right now…desserts a different story.”

And with that being said you let his touch be felt in the most pleasing of ways, folding at the way Rio knew just what to do to set you right.

Sitting in the dining room, since you refused to sit at the island—which Rio found humorous and promised he would clean—you can’t be eating at everybody’s house y’all—the both of you sat face to face with you on the bench and Rio in the navy chair across from you.

He chewed on his last piece of fillet, hand underneath his chin as he stared at you slouched over a bit. His long limbs tapped against you underneath the table, watching you flinch as you pushed your shoulders back, which added to more of Rio’s amusement.

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his dark eyes can’t help but to falter down to your white tank top, “you look cold and might need a blanket? There’s one not far from us actually.”

You scowled while he laughed grinning at you, “you’re such a dick!”

“And you took it so well.”

A gasp fell from your lips while you tossed a folding napkin right towards Rio’s smug face, who snatched it before it could touch him. Leaving him to mockingly kiss his lips at you, “it’s all love.”

“We’ll see.” You chewed back a smirk but Rio can read you just by looking into your eyes.

Rio raised his brows, “That a challenge? I can guarantee you we can make it happen.”

Rio loves leaving you a crying mess and talking you down from your high. His drive was hardly ever low but he thought it was respectable for the both of you to get some nutrients in before the full rounds started.

You held up a finger, grabbing your glass to chug the rest of the water, making Rio rest his cheek into the knuckles of his hand with a glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you exhale, “but it’s my time to set it off.”

Rio nodded his head ready for whatever you had in mind although he’s envisioning reverse cowgirl, “cool, no complaints on my end.”

“I bet,” you raise a foot to caress his lap, “Can help you back to sleep in some blankets that are actually meant for sleeping with.”

Rio groaned for two separate reasons of course, reaching one hand down to grip your ankle, “lead the way, mama.”

“Not until you do the dishes and clean the counter. I know how much you hate going to bed with a dirty kitchen and we ain’t got shit to do so…get to it. I’ll be waiting.” It was your turn for some small payback as you hopped up from the bench, a glare crossing Rio’s features.

You laughed as you gripped his shoulders, leaning down to press your lips against his. The both of you tilted your heads just right as your lips battled against each other soon before you slipped your tongue against Rio’s. It was getting nasty again and he was ready to pull you right in his lap and let you do your thing right there but you pulled back with a bit of saliva between your lips.

“Hurry up, I’ll be ready to take my own nap myself soon.” You wink at him before you quickly pulled yourself from his grasp.

Rio swallowed his own breathing down, hands rubbing at his wet lips first and then the tension in his jaw all while feeling the twitch below again. Looking at the dishes and feeling the pull towards you was another battle within itself. Usually he wasn’t the clean up crew, he had people for that professionally and personally and as he started cleaning one dish he checked his own pocket to book a cleaning service for the morning. However he did take his time cleaning down the island, he wasn’t that cruel.

And who needed the gym anyway when you had his heart pumping enough?

He didn’t have to cancel that too.

Rio always ran shit.

The gym was just as much as his now as you are.

Just how he liked it.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

Continue with my summer anthology prompts & writings here.

[brenwritesss]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

⋆˚࿔Paige Bueckers x reader❀˖°

Summary: Paige and reader have been in a situationship for the past few months but reader is nervous to take it to the next step. A night out at the club forces reader to tell her how she really feels.

“Damnit, Paige,” you said, sighing as you shifted seating positions, trying to play your video game. You and Paige had known each other since freshman year at UConn, both being enrolled in the same English course. You both had hit it off instantly since you were working on a group project together. You had always thought she was gorgeous, complimenting her whenever you could. 

And you weren’t oblivious; you knew Paige would flirt with you too even though you just shrugged it off, believing that’s how she is. Paige and you became really close throughout the years, and being best friends had become harder for you when you had to watch her flirt with other girls the same way she did with you. Then things were different. And you noticed that your eye contact became longer, her touches lingered longer on your skin, and her flirting with other girls stopped. Everyone on her team knew you both liked each other, so with some help from Nika, Paige finally made a move on your 21st birthday, resulting in you two hooking up in her bedroom. 

Since then, things have been going well between the two of you. Paige had confessed feelings for you and you did the same. It had been a couple months since then and you weren’t dating, but Paige had made it clear that’s what she wanted.

“What?” Paige chuckled, her hand gripping tighter around your thigh.

You placed your game controller down next to you, turning to look at her. “I can’t focus when your hand is on my leg.”

“Not my problem.”

“Paige.”

“Fine,” she said, taking her hand away but her eyes were still on you. You picked up the controller and continued playing, still feeling her stare. You knew what was going to happen. She was gonna ask you about what this was between you and then you had to try your best to find a new answer. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to date her, of course you did. But being friends with Paige for so long, you had seen how she was with other girls, how she was with her past situationships. Not to mention the fact that just months before hooking up with her, you broke up with your ex girlfriend who had cheated on you. You didn’t want to go through pain like that again, even though Paige wouldn’t cheat on you, it was something you were scared of.

“Hey,” Paige whispered and gently took the controller out of your hands. You didn’t do anything other than look at your hands. She used one of her own to move head so that you were now looking at her. “Y/n, what the fuck are we doing?”

You took her in, her blue eyes making you feel like a goddess. Her blonde hair perfectly draped in soft curls past her shoulders. She was wearing a black shirt and gray sweatpants and even in such comfortable clothing, she was one of the prettiest girls you’d ever met. You smiled softly, “you’re watching me play fortnite.”

Paige wasn’t amused. “Very funny. I’m being serious.”

You shrugged. “Look, I know what you want. I told you I need time to get there and I’m sorry it’s taking me a while, but you know how I feel about you.”

“Do I?” Paige’s response caught you off guard, making you raise your eyebrows. “You tell me how much you like me and how much you want me yet you don’t want to be my girlfriend.”

“No, that’s not it at all.”

Paige stood up from the couch. Anger clearly written on her face. “You only tell me how much you want me when you want me to fuck you. I mean, we already do things that people who are actually dating do, so I don’t know what the hell the big deal is.”

“So what, you think I’m using you for sex?” you ask her, shaking your head. Of course you didn’t use her like that. You didn’t realize that’s how she felt at all.

Paige responded, “well, can you blame me for thinking that?”

You stood up and walked towards her, taking her hands in yours. “I never want you to feel that way, Paige. I’m sorry I made it seem like that.”

“I know,” she said and took her hands out of your grasp, “but I can’t keep doing this. You either want me or you don’t. I’ve told you a million times I want to make you mine and I never get a clear answer.”

“Paige.”

Paige grabbed her phone from the couch and walked towards the door. “Text me when you figure out whatever the hell it is that you want.”

You rushed to her to get her to stay but she had already shut the door by the time you got there. You didn’t just lose her right? Did you just fuck everything up? You tried your best to control your breathing in order to stop yourself from crying. You should have gone after her but you didn’t know if it would make things worse. 

Instead, you walked into your bedroom, waiting until your roommate returned home. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It had been a few days since Paige walked out and you haven’t spoken to or seen her since. You had told your roommate about what happened and she told you to tell Paige how you really felt. You never really liked talking about your feelings since you were young and it scared you. However, your roommate assured you that if you wanted Paige to understand you, you had to be an adult and act like one. Thank god for her.

And she could tell that you needed a night where you could let loose and take your mind off of Paige. So she took you along with some other friends to a club, hoping it would help. “Okay Y/n, take a shot,” she ordered, holding shot glass in front of your face. You looked up at her and shoved her hand away.

“I don’t feel like drinking.”

She sat down next to you, her arm draping around your bare shoulders. “You’ve been in a slump for the past few days. Please take a shot. We’re here to have fun, remember?”

“I remember.” You took the shot glass, looking around the club. “Fine.”

The liquid burned the back of your throat while all of your friends cheered you on. You rubbed your hands on your small black dress and then grabbed your best friend’s hand. “Let’s go dance.”

Your friend followed you and for what seemed like hours, but had only been fifteen minutes, the two of you danced together and laughed. She was always your go-to dancing partner but right now, your heart ached, wishing it was someone else. A blonde basketball player.

If you had just told her how you really felt, this could have all been avoided and you two could have been here together, dancing. You wanted her to look you in the eyes and hold you like no one else ever had before. God, you missed her. 

Suddenly, you backed into someone by accident. Muttering ‘sorries’, you both turned to look at each other. “Y/n?”

“Oh shit, Madison?” You were facing your ex-girlfriend. The one who had cheated on you months before you started seeing Paige.

“You look good,” she said, smiling at you while the music blared in the background.

“Thanks.” You moved a strand of your hair away from your face. “It’s good to see you. Sorry for bumping into you.”

You turned to move away from her and to find your friend but she had stopped you. “Hey, you wanna catch up? I’ll order you a drink.”

You looked at her confused. “Thanks, but I’m here with friends so I should really get back to them.”

She laughed, “c’mon, it’s just one drink. If I remember correctly, you can never turn down a dirty shirley.”

One drink couldn’t hurt. Right?

“Sure.”

She led you to the bar, ordering you a drink and pulling out one of the stools for you to sit on. You thanked her and she stayed looking at you, making you feel weird, as if you shouldn’t be with her.

“So, how have you been?”

“Pretty good, actually. I just moved into a new apartment with my best friend so life is pretty chill right now,” you explained and she nodded, taking a sip of her drink.

“That’s awesome. Yeah, my girlfriend and I talked about moving in together. Won’t be for a long while, though.”

“Girlfriend?” You asked her, grabbing hold of your dirty shirley. You were unaware that she was dating someone new.

She looked down at the floor, clearing her throat. “Yeah, uhm Emily and I started dating three months ago.” 

You took a deep breath. Emily was the girl Madison had cheated on you with. “Wow, I’m uh happy for you.” You forced a smile.

“Thank you,” she said. She put her drink down and moved closer towards you. “Hey, I want to apologize for what I did to you. I know it was shitty and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

This was the first time she had ever apologized. Even when you find out, she never took accountability which was another reason why you were so pissed and hurt. So this meant a lot to you. “Thanks for apologizing. I know I wasn’t the greatest girlfriend but damn, that was really fucked.”

Madison let out a laugh, “no fucking shit.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Madison sighed, “because we weren’t working and I was scared of saying something. And I didn’t want to lose you so I thought that if I did what I did, I could still have you. I know I should have told you how I felt but I didn’t want to own up to my own feelings.”

You nodded, trying to process what she was saying. “It really fucked me up, you know.”

“I know and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if I need to. And I hope you can forgive me. If I could go back, you know I’d never do it.”

“I know.”

“So, friends?” she asked, nudging you with her fist. 

“Friends.” You fist bumped her, resulting in the two of you laughing. You finally got the closure you needed with Madison and it made you feel really good. As if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders.

“Hey Y/n,” she whispered, causing you to look at her. “Why is Paige Bueckers staring me down like she wants to kill me?”

“What?” You whipped your head towards your right and stood across the club was Paige, a drink in her hand and Aubrey standing next to her. Aubrey was saying something to Paige when you both made eye contact. You realized then what it had looked like. That you were there at the club with your ex-girlfriend. The same ex-girlfriend that Paige grew to hate after she had spent days comforting you when she cheated on you.

Paige set down her drink and walked away. You wasted no time in following after her, trying to get her to stop walking. “Paige, wait.” You were both now outside the building when she continued walking. “Paige, I promise it was not what it looked like.”

Paige stopped, turning around. Your breath hitched. You hadn’t been this close to her in days. You took in the sight of her, wanting to run into her arms. “So you want me to believe you weren’t here with her?”

You walked slowly towards her. “I wasn’t. I was here with my friends and we bumped into each other. What you saw at the bar was just her apologizing for what she did. Nothing else.”

“And what you forgave her? Do you remember what she fucking did to you? I had to watch you cry over her for days and I held you to try to go to sleep because you couldn’t sleep on your own because of her. And everything’s fine now?” Her voice raised.

You took in all of her words. “I can’t hate her anymore, Paige. Anyway, that’s not the point,” you said and she looked at you confused. “I should have gone after you when you left my place but I was scared. I do want to be your girlfriend, you have no idea. I’m scared that I won’t be a good one. That’s why I keep pushing you away.”

Paige’s expression softened. “You could have told me.”

“I should have, I know. But I’m doing it now.” You were now close to her and she watched your every move. “I do want to be with you. And when I’m not around you, I miss you like crazy. These past few months haven’t meant nothing to me. They’ve been everything to me. Please give me another chance.”

Paige stayed silent and you worried yourself for what you thought her response would be. “You’re all I can think about, Y/n. I want you to be my girlfriend but I don’t want to force you into it if that’s not what you want.”

“No,” you said, “I really want that. I’m yours in every way you want.”

“Fuck,” she muttered before crashing her lips onto yours, her hands wrapped around your waist. “I’m yours too.”

[k8martins]

*✸ naked in manhattan

summary: reader is kate martin’s first love and wants to reconnect after she comes to new york for the draft, based on naked in manhattan by chappell roan

request: no / yes

warnings: some suggestive stuff towards the end

a/n: i lovvvved this rec i really hope i did it justice… got carried away again and i’m lowkey drunk rn so

“hey kate, it’s me… congrats on the draft! i know we haven’t talked in forever and you’re busy but um… i don’t know, maybe we could meet up sometime? if you want? just let me know. bye.”

the fact kate didn’t answer the call at all made you rethink your choices of not just calling her, but buying a ticket to the draft. your stomach churned after leaving the voicemail, cringing at all of the awkward pauses. you spoke cautiously out of fear of misspeaking somehow, even though you rehearsed the message a thousand times beforehand. it’s like you knew she wouldn’t answer, but still anxious that she didn’t. did she choose not to pick up? is she even thinking of me? all of the torturous scenarios ran through your thoughts, but you ultimately chalked it up to her being obviously busy.

either way, kate had to have at least acknowledged being in the same state as you again; new york. there’s no way she could’ve simply forgotten all the years of dating through high school, and eventually the painful breakup early into freshman year of college. the relationship between you and kate was near perfect; you complimented each other physically and emotionally, and everyone considered you and her as a power couple. there was no doubt that you wouldn’t stop loving kate even after breaking up for the sake of long distance. you had tried to make it work, but kate’s busy schedule and being in different states made for a rough patch in the relationship. the break up inevitably left both of you on good terms, but the constant busyness in both your lives ended up drifting you away from each other. you still exchanged small texts here and there for birthdays or holidays but both of you simply let it happen, since there was pretty much no time to work things out. days without talking turned into weeks, then months, then years without a full and genuine conversation. it broke your heart, but you knew kate was pursuing her dreams out in iowa, and you were doing the same in new york.

you stared at tomorrow’s wnba draft ticket sitting on your desk in your small apartment. it was a sign of a girl that you once knew inside and out; a girl you still tended to imagine roaming through your apartment as if you lived together, as if things were still the way they were before. your mind analyzed the times both of you would talk about eventually living together, and experiencing future years together. the way kate’s eyes would light up at the possibilities of doing anything with you; the mundane or the magical. the more you thought about your old relationship with kate, the more it validated you in wanting to meet up with her. it didn’t have to be anything more than a friendly hang out, but deep down you wanted her back more than anything. realizing these thoughts took your breath away, you forced yourself to breathe deeply and shake kate away from your mind. at least for a little bit.

——————————————————————————

your playlist wasn’t exactly helping you stay calm while getting ready for the draft. listening to music was always a way you tried to get your mind off things, but as chappell roan sang her song it was like she knew about your situation with kate.

“in new york, you can try things,

an inch away from more than just friends”

you skipped the song and continued applying mascara. still, your heart pounded at the thought of seeing kate at the draft. even before you bought a ticket, you envisioned the night in your head; tall and beautiful kate walking up to the stage, her enchanting blue eyes meeting yours from the crowd. kate wasn’t even sure of getting drafted for certain, but you had high hopes for her.

getting up from your desk, you walked over to the full mirror. you kept it casual, wearing a long black dress and minimalistic jewelry. would kate even notice me in the crowd? did she even listen to the voicemail? the thoughts were never ending, but you had to move forward. you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

as you stepped into the draft building, you wouldn’t be surprised if you fell over right there. an endless sea of guests filled the room with dim overhead lights and a large sprawling stage up front. you found your seat in the way back and waited. recognizing all of the accomplished athletes was nothing compared to who you were really looking for. you craned your neck looking for kate, eventually landing on a girl with long blonde hair down her back, assuming it’s her. you stared at the back of her head as if it held a secret message, replaying your past memories with her in your head over and over. the girl you considered an extension of yourself was now in the same room as you for the first time in years, but far away, and on a completely different track in life. still, you thought of your voicemail, glad you at least reached out.

your eyes were glued to kate when all of a sudden she turned her head and looked behind her. immediately looking away, you were too late as she picked you out in the crowd, noticing your stare. out of the corner of your eye, you saw her do a double take on you. it was like the eye contact alone knocked the wind out of you, and your body rushed with emotion. kate now knows you’re here.

the draft was a long process, but something you were willing to sit through, because you knew kate had great things coming. at one point, a woman was announcing the 18th overall pick for the las vegas aces, and you monitored the movement around kate. people had moved near her with cameras, and all eyes were on her. your heart raced as you realized you were watching your ex girlfriend’s dreams come true right in front of your eyes, except you weren’t necessarily apart of it. you ached as you wished so deeply to be sitting next to her, still as her established lover, and supporting her through and through. you had told her during the breakup that you support her no matter what, but it was never the same since the split.

“with the 18th overall pick, the las vegas aces select, kate martin.”

you knew it. your mouth hung open as you watched kate get up and walk towards the stage, just as you imagined so many times before. the people who hugged her on her way up were watched with envy. yet you still joined in on the roaring applause, your eyes growing teary. it was all hitting you at once; how you regretted ever drifting from her, and how badly you desired to be with her every step of the way. why did i ever let that happen?

kate stood on stage holding up her new vegas jersey for a picture. her gorgeous appearance hadn’t changed much since you last saw her, except for the perfectly straightened hair and minimal makeup, which you remembered she never knew how to do complex makeup looks anyway. you then began to daydream about doing it for her, but snapped out of it when she began to step off stage. you didn’t want to make eye contact with her again, but couldn’t take your gaze away from her. and sure enough, you locked eyes again as she walked back to her seat. basically flinching, you looked away and felt irritated at yourself. you sat through the rest of the draft until it came to a close.

——————————————————————————

the stone wall was cold on your back as you stood outside for fresh air. you weren’t going to leave just yet in hopes for the traffic and commotion to die down a bit. you were checking your phone repeatedly, growing tired and doubtful, uncertain if you even cared about meeting up with kate anymore. it was late, and the night was cool. everyone you watched had someone, and somewhere to go home to. hand in hand with their other half, walking away into the night. again, your mind replaced every couple you saw with you and kate. you checked your phone once more for any updates, and felt nothing when there was none. the blank home screen kickstarted your brisk walk to the car, trying not to get too upset. you threw yourself down in the drivers seat when you felt your phone buzz.

“where you at?”

damn you kate. as your heart dropped to your stomach, you nearly teleported out of the car. forgetting to even reply to her, you aimlessly started down the crowded streets. numerous people gave you looks as you quickly shoved against the flow of people. one person in particular had muttered criticism as he moved past you. you stopped in your tracks to turn around and yell an apology, and kept walking with your head still turned behind you. suddenly, your whole body grew tense as you felt a stern grip on your shoulders. whipping your head around, you were face to face with kate martin. unable to stifle your reaction, you slightly yelped with wide eyes. kate laughed at both your reaction and the unreal feeling of seeing you again.

“kate!” you exclaimed, throwing up your hands in disbelief while looking her up and down.

she simply hugged you in response. it was a swift motion of being swept into her arms, a tight hold as if you were going to disappear. you could’ve stayed like that forever and wouldn’t mind. your body nearly went numb with the overwhelming feeling.

“congratulations, kate. i’m so proud of you,” you managed to say within her iron grip.

kate pulled away and thanked you. “you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this moment,” she admitted. and now that you saw it, you noticed the emotion in her face as well.

before you could say anything, she moved her hands back to your shoulders saying, “we have to go, there’s still a ton of people trying to see me but i only wanted to see you.” she rushed the second half of the sentence but you could tell she was being genuine.

you grabbed her hand and led her to your car in order to escape from the media. hand in hand, the two of you were practically jogging. despite the fast getaway, kate was trying to tell you how she was happy to see you at the draft. giggling like an idiot, you both got in your car and caught your breath.

“i cannot believe you’re in my car right now,” you said, looking over at her with your best ‘i want you so bad’ look.

“i can’t believe i ever let you go,” kate said, casually looking away after saying the most un-casual thing ever.

your heart skipped a beat. the way you looked at each other was like you never left high school, and you never broke up. all the feelings were still right were you kept them, and kate reciprocated.

“so… where are we gonna go?” you asked sheepishly. the question was obviously meant to address the present moment, but you also hoped she would read between the lines and answer it in the context of your relationship. either way, you didn’t care what happened that night. you just wanted to be with her and nothing else.

“hm… the bars are gonna be packed so…” kate trailed off, looking back at you.

“are you saying you wanna go back to my place? wowww kate moving a bit fast,” you joked, making her laugh and blush.

“we’re not strangers babe. you know me so well,” she said with her addicting smile. it’s like she was purposefully trying to stop your heart. anything and everything she said or did made you crazy.

“fine we can chill at my place.”

as soon as you pulled out of your parking space, the years between you and kate not speaking were erased and forgotten. the conversation started up immediately and didn’t die down until you got to your apartment. hearing kate’s lovely laugh was something you missed so dearly while talking to her, along with the stupid jokes she would make. it was all the same old kate you knew before.

you keyed into your apartment and let your hands fall at your sides.

“well, this is where i’ve been livin’. it’s not much but it’s cute i guess.”

kate seemed weirdly impressed with your apartment. “you guess? this is actually so cute! the decorations…” she mumbled as she ran her fingers along the counter tops and looked all around.

here she was once again re-enacting the exact scenarios you imagined in your head. slowly walking through your apartment, taking everything in. it was as if the stars aligned, but you had to keep your cool. for what, you weren’t sure.

“so… i have a few drinks if you still feel like drinking,” you gestured towards the fridge as she closely walked past you. she smelled faintly of a nice perfume which made your head swim. all you wanted to do was climb on her and kiss the way you used to, but still weren’t certain she wanted to do the same just yet.

the night descended into many shared drinks sitting on the couch watching dumb shows. the two of you finished cup after cup, with almost no end in sight. kate’s draft gave an actual good excuse to drink, and both of you took it up without fail. your vision was growing hazy and you had trouble even speaking, but kate still looked stunning sitting in front of you. neither of you cared how late it was getting, although you were still concerned of kate’s plans.

“don’t you have to like… go to vegas or something?” you slurred your words, smiling dumbly at kate.

“no, not yet. i’m staying here for a few days.”

you could hear the intoxication in her voice.

“are you sure?” you questioned, laughing at nothing.

kate gave you a look and it became apparent that she had places to be, but simply didn’t care to leave your side. the way she looked at you made you proud of your self control. you didn’t want to move too fast after not seeing her for years, but the chances of taking it slow were becoming more and more slim. either way, she still made you nervous with her devious looks.

“i’ll be… right back, i just wanna… change out of this dress real quick. it’s so annoying,” you blubbered to kate and stumbled towards your room.

“woah wait you’re gonna fall,” kate laughed at you and got up, following close behind you.

“no i’m notttt!” you made it to your room and began doing everything but taking your dress off. your drunken state made it hard to actually change out of your clothes. you stood there merely tugging at your dress and pulling at the straps. both of you burst out laughing at your stupid mannerisms, another moment you missed.

“here lemme help you,” kate muttered.

you were still giggling a bit as kate gently took the hem of your dress and pulled it up above your head.

“i’m not looking by the way,” she said.

“girl look all you want,” you practically begged.

so there you stood in your bra and undies, in front of a fully clothed kate. she looked you up and down with a knowing smile. she stepped even closer to you and placed her hands on your waist. you looked up at her and you looked in each others eyes with the same desires in mind. your mind swam desperately, trying to find the perfect words to say, but too drunk to succeed.

“kate… i’ve been wanting.. missing…” you started off.

“i know, baby…”

she was still able to read you. although you were too drunk to acceptably articulate words, she gently cupped your face and pulled into a deep kiss. it was like a part of you was unlocked again, a part that was hidden away for so long. you ran your hands through her highlighted hair and grasped it, making her groan into the kiss. her hands were unable to stop roaming your body, a place she hadn’t explored in quite some time.

she broke the kiss to sit down on the bed, and gesturing for you to get in her lap. you laughed in excitement and also relief that she wanted to do the exact things you did. you essentially straddled her lap as she immediately reconnected the kiss. your mind was in disbelief that you were finally making out with kate martin again. the kiss was meaningful and hungry, it was a wordless way to tell you everything you needed to know. it told you about everything you had missed. you pulled away to breathe and she instantly connected her lips to your neck. remembering how she is, you realized you were in for several hickeys.

“kate baby… go easy on the… the hickeys…”

“yeah right,” she said breathlessly.

you bit your lip and succumbed to the melting feeling of her lips on your neck and collarbones, which was its own form of intoxication. you were willing to let kate do whatever she wanted to you. your trust was still there.

the effect of the drinks had still not worn off as each movement began to blend into the next, smudging together in your thoughts like a romantic impressionist painting. kate had less clothes on, and both of you were ending up in different positions than remembered. but things were objectively slowing down, as the both of you grew tired. kate had moved you onto your back, lazily and slowly kissing down your body.

you felt yourself beginning to drift off as kate simply rested her head on your chest. her blonde hair was now very messy, her beautiful face now exasperated and lips puffy from extensive kissing. you began stroking her hair and almost let yourself doze off before kate began to mumble.

“i love you.”

the phrase alone almost woke you up entirely.

“i love you more kate.”

it was then you could finally fall asleep, with the world in your arms.

[multifandomimagin3s]

They have a crush on you (HC's) - Team 141 + König

Requested by Anon

Simon "Ghost" Riley

*Honestly I could write an essay on this complicated man, he's such an interesting character - but I've summed up some HC's below*

This guy is so hard to read, but at the same time he's not.

At first glance, he's a hardened man who keeps his cards close to his chest and never lets his guard down around anyone. And that's true.

Given everything he's been through in life, that amount of trauma is bound to have a long-term effect on every aspect of his life - not to mention the fact that he's probably learned to repress all of that shit for most of his life.

So I reckon that even if he did have romantic feelings towards you, it would take him a long, long time for him to even process what he's feeling - he's not stupid by any manner of means, more so he doesn't know what to do with this newfound information.

He would probably try and be mean to you - not that he was ever truly sweet on you in the first place, he couldn't let people know he had a soft spot; a weakness.

If you were part of 141, he would probably try to completely ignore you - unless he physically had to speak to you, like if you were on a mission together ((ngl I think Price probably would put the pieces together and would try to push you both together by sending you off on the same mission - fulfilling his Dad Captainly duties)).

You'd probably have known Ghost for a while before he starts to open up to you - it's superficial stuff, like maybe when his birthday is or his favourite food, little details that didn't really give any crucial information away, but you knew better than to pry as it would probably just make him shut himself away more.

He'd probably be protective of you - like if the team were out at a pub after a mission gone well, and there was a creepy guy bothering you, he would loom over you to scare the guy shitless with piercing, cold eyes.

We all know that as soon as Soap figures out that Ghost has a crush, he's going to absolutely want to take the piss out of him for it...he just needs to pick his words carefully, since he chooses life :))

It's hard to tell when or if he would actually confess his feelings to you - I can see it happening in one of two ways:

1 - You almost died on a mission, and he deeply regretted not telling you before when he thought you weren't going to make it back to base in time; he visited you every day while you were in hospital, and ended up bluntly just coming right out with how he felt because he needed you to know.

2 - Soap tells you before he can. With this scenario, I don't see Ghost blowing up in a fit of rage - it would be the silent death stare with the promise of an arse-kicking in the training room, maybe even making the Sergeant clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush for a few months for good measure. Ghost probably wouldn't even deny it, and would wait for you to come to him... and whatever happens next is a mystery ;))

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

*Ahh my fellow Scot - just to preface, Scottish slang and dialects vary across the country and I'm not 100% sure where Soap is originally from, so I'm just going to improvise and use local slang from where I'm from ~*

My guy wears his heart on his sleeve - he's naturally very flirty with you from the get-go, so it wasn't hard to figure out that he fancied you.

"Hello, Darlin', if yer wantin' a tour of the base, don't be feert* to gie me a shout ;D" [feert = afraid] [gie me a shout = ask me; gie = give].

With his flirty nature, it was difficult to discern if he was actually being serious about liking you, or if he was just flirty with everyone.

He'd probably realise that he was going about things completely wrong, and would make normal, friendly conversation to get to know you - he just wants to prove that he's a good guy and not a raging hornball :(

The longer time goes on, he starts to tell you more about his life outside of the SAS - he comes from a big family, he's the youngest sibling, his favourite colour, etc.

I can absolutely see his chest puff up a bit with pride when you compliment his skills - he disposes bombs and risks his life all the time, its his job and he doesn't expect praise other than a curt "good work" from his superiors; but from you, the tips of his ears are turning red, and a smile is practically splitting his face ~

Definitely doesn't use the excuse of training to get some time alone with you - not in a creepy way, he just likes spending one-on-one time with you.

If he really trusts you, he asks you to help trim his hair - he did do his mohawk mostly by himself but trying to do the back of his head on his own was an actual nightmare.

Likes watching the look of concentration on your face as you make sure that his hair is even - winks at you when you catch him staring~

(Y/N): There we go - a job well-done, if I do say so myself.

Johnny: *just admiring your smiling face, smitten*

Would probably ask you out then and there, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Certified Best Boy™.

Captain John Price

This guy doesn't fuck around - he's older, mature, and knows what he feels, and straight up tells you.

He'd call you into his office for a "chat" - queue you absolutely shitting yourself, being called for a chat with your superior in any circumstance automatically has you going through everything you've ever done prior to this moment to see what he could be mad about...

If you were a Private or any rank beneath him, he probably might hesitate to tell you a bit; HR really wouldn't like it but then again they wouldn't need to know... ;))

If you were a medic, nurse, doctor or civilian, he wouldn't hesitate to tell you.

The Team wouldn't know he even had a crush on you - even if you were on base, as a soldier or medic, they wouldn't have a clue.

The only time they grew suspicious was after they had all been to the pub and after a few too many drinks, one of the new recruits started talking about you and how he thought you were fit; Price's eye twitched slightly, eyeing the recruit with a poker face but with a slightly flash of anger in his eyes, cigar between his teeth.

"Bit inappropriate to speak of a comrade like that, Private, don't you think?" The Private sheepishly let out an apology.

Gaz and Soap gave each other a knowing side-eye; Soap looked to Ghost, who stared back blankly - he'd figured out that the Captain liked you ages ago, he was just waiting on everyone else catching up.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

I see him as another guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, so to speak.

I think he's the silent type though - while Johnny will flirt with you openly, regardless of where he is or who he's around, I think Kyle would be more discrete about it.

At first, it would be the little things like making you your favourite tea when he's making his own cup - sometimes he'll just make you your own, delivering it to you with a little smile.

He even offers to spar with you during training - he wouldn't go easy on you but he would be missing the usual fire that he has when training with other members of the team, he doesn't want to hurt you :((

As he gets more comfortable with you, and you with him, he absolutely loves to wind you up.

I think he'd be a genuinely funny guy, so be prepared to laugh until your sides hurt.

He'd probably express his feelings for you in a cheesy but still down-right cute way; probably shows up at your door with flowers and asks you out on a date.

((Proud Dad™ Price is just around the corner))

König

Another certified Best Boy™.

Honestly, he probably didn't speak to you at all for the longest time - not because he was intentionally trying to be rude but because if he feels like he has nothing good to say, then he just won't speak at all.

His social anxiety probably fluctuates day-to-day; one day he feels alright, can make small talk with others on base and do whatever he needs to do. But then the next day, he won't leave his room unless he has to, and when he does he's just this hulking mass of poorly concealed anxiety.

I think his anxiety would probably accidentally be projected outwards and would make him appear more intimidating, especially when all people can see are his eyes underneath his hood. Poor baby :(

He definitely knew that he had a crush on you - he's anxious in social settings, crowds, and he knows what that feels like - but with you? He gets full-on butterflies and he's scared to speak in case he says something embarrassing.

You'd most likely have to make conversation first, keeping it casual as to not scare him off - ironic, since the man is over 6ft and is built like a brick shithouse.

It would take time but he'd slowly open up bit by bit.

The first time you saw him out in the field - completely different ballgame entirely.

Who is this guy and what has he done with Konig??

He probably confesses his feelings on the way back from a mission, still high on adrenaline and confidence.

Oh he absolutely full-on panics when the adrenaline wears off and the penny finally drops...but he meant what he said. He really likes you, Maus.

[brucewaynehater101]

Just a warning, this au strays a bit close to NSFW territory in that it does talk about Sex Workers, but it does not mention or describe anything specific, mostly just discussing how they operate and some dangers they may face working in Gothem.

So, we all know that Tim would do a lot for the mission right? More than most people would. I mean, just look at Brucequest or the fact he came back after his 16th birthday or his first few months as Robin when he was basically Bruce's nanny. He also has many false life's he can slip into at the drop of a hat such as Alvin Draper or Caroline Hill. So why not add one more to those personas? A woman named Jane Doe, a sex worker who works just outside Crime Alley who everyone knows and knows everyone, but no one truly knows her nor have they ever seen her face, if she even is a woman as she uses all pronouns to get just a little more mystery added to them. Their outfit is constantly changing but also very specific, a short and highly attractive dress that doesn't look cheap and a full face mask in the style of Venetian Carnival Masks, Volto design specifically so that it covers his full face but shows striking blue eyes. Those he has colored contacts that he switches around constantly.

The reason that Tim does this is simple. Information. While Jason may be able to ask the sex workers under his protection questions, they wouldn't be as open with him as they would another sex worker. Tim can get information from them, the clients, the shop owners of the area, the homeless, anyone and everyone who is often on the street or connected to it that none of the other Bats would ever be able to get. And through his... services he gets a lot of information about up coming things thanks to a special discount everyone knows about. If you tell Jane a secret they don't already know, you get 10% off his services. Tell him 2 and you get 20%. So on and so forth, but it has to be things that Tim didn't already know and he's more than happy to hear about which rouges are hiring at the moment and when they stop hiring, after all, what easier way to predict when they are gunna do stuff than by when they get new henchmen?

A lot is known about Jane Doe, yet also nothing is known. Jane doesn't keep any of the money he makes, giving it to the other girls and often extra as well. No one knows where she keeps getting 100s of dollars to just *give* them but she does. Jane has three brothers, a sister, and a father but no mother. They don't know their names, simply knowing them as N, H, C, R, and B. Whoever they are, they're a well off family but they aren't good to Jane, bad enough that Jane feels safer on the corners of Gothem than the comfort of her home. They know from "funny" stories he tells about his family or via them asking about scars he forgets misses when he covers himself in makeup (there are so many, what have they done to you child?) And him always telling something close to the truth.

They know that N is his oldest brother and the only one who cared about him for a long time, who helped him and was the first person who ever made him feel truly happy. They also know that N took something very precious from Jane Doe without Jane's permission and shattered their trust in N. Tim never told them what was taken or that it was Robin, but in a profession like the one he shares with them, they all come to the same conclusion about what was taken and why Jane might seek comfort in this line of work.

They know that H is also his older brother and has hurt Jane often. They know that the slight scar on his neck he covers with a choker or makeup was made by H, as was the bullet scar in his leg. He laughed about that one, telling his friends how H had set down one of his guns after cleaning it, R picked it up and accidentally fired it, and it bounced twice before going clean through Tim's leg. He laughs about how mad H was at both of them and how he yelled at them to not tell B or else, using a mocking tone and laughter that only causes the others to glance at eachother in worry over their friend. Tim makes sure to reassure them that he got to the blood before it dried so it wasn't to hard to clean up. Tim may have read it as anger in Jason's voice when he said to not tell, but actually it was panic and worry about Tim's wound and how Bruce would react.

They don't know much about C, only that she managed to escape the hell hole known as Gothem and lives in another country. Sometimes she comes back for visits and Jane is always very excited when she does.

The other Sex Workers don't like R. They know that R has either threatened Jane with sharp objects or actually harmed her with them many times but has never gotten in trouble for it. Any time Tim has some left over injuries from patrol, he plays it off as either R or H getting agressive with him again and tries to calm them by saying, "oh come on. Both of them have only tried to *actually* kill me twice! It's fine guys, they won't seriously injure me." While having 5 stitches in his arm.

Jane doesn't talk about their Dad much, always getting quiet and looking away when he's brought up. They ask if B has ever hit him and Jane says, "he doesn't hit me anymore." And all of them want to kill him. They want to kill all of them (except maybe C) and bury their bodies where they'll never be found.

Of course, none of the Bats know about Tim's other nightly activities and where he gets his info from, simply shrugging and moving along. Tim is terrified of any of them accidentally finding out. But unfortunately that day could be coming soon as one of the workers goes to The Red Hood and grabs him by the jacket saying, "you're supposed to protect us right? That's what you promised us, isn't it? Saftey? Well one of the others, Jane, is in deep trouble. Their family is gunna *kill* them. Do whatever you need to do to keep Jane safe from those monsters, we'll tell you what we know, but stop them before she's just another dead body in Gothem Harbor. Do we need to pay you? We'll pay you however much it takes for you to make them pay."

This does remind me of a few fics that go over Tim's "Caroline" identity combined with the idea that Bruce was worse to Tim during his Robin years. Some fics do go into Tim having to go so far as actually having sex with people while some don't.

There are also a few fics of Tim going undercover in Crime Alley as a stripper, cocktail server, sex worker, or other when Red Hood finds out and loses his shit.

The idea of Tim using a fake identity to vent about his family issues is a really cool concept! It would allow him to see how the actions done against him were shit and not okay. He may have the mindset that his trauma is fine because it happened to him, but the separation of identities may help start that realization process. I'm also all here for the identity shenanigans of someone trying to save Jane from her family and accidentally going to one of the people who's hurt them. Lovely amounts of mixed emotions there.

This fic/AU would need to be careful to address both the trauma of Tim selling himself at such a young age as well as still treat sex workers with respect, individuality, and care. It would also be cool to see how the inner workings of the sex industry may be affected by Gotham (such as rogues, toxins, corruption, wealth disparity/poverty, etc).

But yeah! Lots to explore in this AU. I wonder if Tim, in this one, cares about pronouns or gender identity. Does he enjoy crossdressing, does he experiment with his gender identity, and does he make distinctions? I think it would be cool to indicate he's closer agender but is fine with whatever. I like to imagine, in this AU, that he simply doesn't care what gender identity he's perceived as unless that identity needs a specific gender.

Anyways, I am curious about how Red Hood reacts to his characterization by Jane. I wonder if she seems to be wary or distant from him before he finds out that's Tim. Hopefully, Jason tries not to take Jane's hesitance personally. Just because Red Hood is established as a protector doesn't mean that Jane would trust him. They may have their own reasons/experiences not to that has nothing to do with the anti-hero.

[shadowtriovibes]

the train ain't even left the station

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"

in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

September 1, 1910

Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.

As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.

Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.

Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”

But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.

Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.

He glances up at the clock and grins.

“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”

Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.

“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”

Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.

“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”

“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”

“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.

“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”

You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.

However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.

“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”

“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”

“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”

That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.

“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.

He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”

You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”

He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.

“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”

With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.

“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.

“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”

Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.

(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)

You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.

“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”

“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.”

Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.

“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.

You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.

As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”

“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.

A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”

“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”

“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).

They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”

With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.

You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.

“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”

You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.

Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.

“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.

“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.

Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”

(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)

[goldsainz]

❝ IN MY HEAD, WE BELONG ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . art donaldson x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . smut (riding, protected sex), cheating, reader’s kinda delusional, toxic behaviour, not proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . all it takes is a text and a lonely hotel room.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . first art fic i am beyond excited 🤭 many more to come and my requests are open so if you have any ideas feel free to leave them in my inbox!!!!!! forgot how fun writing smut was, kinda crazy to have my first art fic be smut but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless 💙

[ word count: 1,7k ]

You know it is wrong to long for Art Donaldson. To not have moved on, but your life is incomplete without him. You tried to find someone else, someone who can compare to him, yet there is no one like him.

He’s not yours, no, in fact he’s married now. He has managed to move on from you, he has created a life for himself and he doesn't need you. Not like you need him, anyway.

You tune in for his matches, watch him beat his opponents and then run to his beautiful wife to celebrate. They actually looked good together, seemed like a proper couple and were the perfect faces of tennis. You could not be that for Art, you're too much of a mess to even dare to be as idyllic as Tashi Duncan.

Maybe that's why it feels so good that he’s currently under you, that it's your name he's moaning and your kisses he’s searching for. Maybe that’s the reason why you feel so unbothered by wrecking a home, because if he cheats, is there even much of a home to begin with? You don't think so. 

He’s like a vice you cannot seem to quit. Even when you first broke up, it took less than two days for him to hit you up and for you to be outside his house. Nobody knows you like Art, and nobody knows Art like you. You wonder if his wife is aware of how much he dreams of you, that when he’s with her, he’s thinking about you.

All it takes is for one of you to reach out, and you both throw all dignity out the window. The measly barriers you both created collapse in a second, no words need to be said to know what the other wants. It is quite simple between you two, perhaps in a way that is too carnal and not emotional enough. 

That is why, for some reason you don’t care enough to think about, he’s in your hotel room. 

You’re in New York City, alone in a hotel room that feels too big for just one person. You tried to go to a bar, tried to mingle with people in hopes of making your life less lonely. For just one night, at least.

It is not intentional that Art is also in New York, in fact, you’ve tried to steer clear of him and his overbearing presence in your life. It has been months since your last conversation, which consisted of him saying “Happy birthday” and you answering “Thanks”. 

You go back to your hotel room after your attempts at not being alone fail miserably. It is partly your fault, because you always end up in the same vicious cycle of comparing the men you meet to Art. No one can compare to him, and you damn your heart for taking over and not letting you have some enjoyment. 

You’re sprawled out on the bed, wearing your pajamas and scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You consider going to sleep, but something inside you tells you to stay awake and you receive your answer in the form of an imessage notification.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Hey, I heard you’re in NYC.

You

Yeah.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Wanna meet up?

You

Why?

Art (Do NOT contact)

Don’t know. 

Just missed you.

You

You can’t just say that.

Art (Do NOT contact)

I know. 

Are you free right now?

You

It’s 11pm, Art.

Art (Do NOT contact)

So? 

Send me your location.

You

[Location] 

Room 904.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Be there in 20. 

You’re thrust back into reality when he moves beneath you, hitting a spot that makes you arch your back and has you mewling. Guilt doesn’t even make its way through your mind, if anything, the scandalous nature of what you’re doing makes you wetter than you care to admit. 

Art looks up at you like you’re a goddess, a siren that he fell prey to, his eyes shine when he takes in the sight above him. Your tits are bouncing in front of his face, and he has to resist the urge to attach his mouth to one of them, but he’s too concentrated on the faces you make. 

You whine when he grabs your hips and moves you up and down quicker than before. Your hands are planted on his chest, grabbing onto whatever semblance of support you can get. You know how much he likes for you to be on top, loves it when you take control but today he’s antsier and needs to take some control back. So, he settles for tightly gripping your hips and deciding the pace of your movements.

You lean down and connect your lips with his. The kiss is sloppy, teeths clashing and your mouths open to let out a moan when the other does something that makes your toes curl. 

“Please,” he breathes out against your mouth, “Please, let me come.”

“Do you deserve it?” you ask, rearing back to look at him but you don't slow your movements either. 

“Yes, yes I do,” he pants, brows furrowing when he feels the heat in his core bubbling up.

“Only if I come first,” you say, taking one of his hands and placing it on your sensitive nub. 

Art moans at your response and his moves are hasty, rubbing you like his life depends on it. You let out short breaths at his touch, the heat inside you creeping up and ready to set off like fireworks.

He looks at your blissed out expression, how your bottom lip is between your teeth in an attempt to conceal the beautiful sounds you make. He’s tempted to use the other hand that’s on your hip to take your lip away from your teeth, but his thoughts are cut short when you clench tightly around him.

“I’m close, Art,” The blonde doesnt need to hear you say it, he knows your body like the back of his hand. 

It is no surprise when you come around him, a high-pitched moan escapes your mouth when your body shakes from pleasure. Like clockwork, Art spills inside his condom almost instantly after your release washes over you. 

He gives a few sloppy thrusts after he comes, feeling you collapse onto his chest, tired out from your orgasm. Art kisses the side of your head, heavily breathing and trying to form a coherent thought. Though it is quite hard when he is so fucked out. 

You separate yourself from his chest and press another kiss to his lips. Relishing on the closeness between you, he places his hand on the nape of your neck and keeps you in place.

After a few seconds he slips himself out of you. You whine at the loss of the fullness you felt, but he quickly shushes you with a simple kiss. It’s softer this time, sweeter than you deserve and more romantic than you’d like. 

You remove yourself from being on top of him, and lay down beside him. The pillow is soft and comforting, you keep your gaze trained on the ceiling and try to calm your harsh breathing down. You hear the rustle of the bed sheets and then feel yourself being covered by them, the soft touch of Art’s hand when he handles the sheets and brushes his knuckles against your chest makes you shiver

“This was fun,” he lets out, like he just got off an amusement park attraction. 

You can only hum in response, slightly turning your head to look at him. That is your mistake, because once you take in his beauty you cannot stop doing so. It makes you want to do things you shouldn’t, say things that would ruin whatever’s going on between you two.

“How long are you staying here for?” the question takes you aback, do you want him to know you schedule? A small part of you, the rational one, tells you to lie and put this little rendezvous behind you. But the part that makes most of the decision, the one that you damn each day, makes you tell him the truth.

“Until friday,” you respond, playing with the corner of the bedsheets between your fingers.

“Okay, cool,” he says back, it’s tuesday and that leaves you with just a couple days to see the other. How badly you wish that this wasn't what your relationship was now, but you have to make do with what you have. At least until you're pulled back into reality. 

You’re not sure why but the idea of him seeking you out once more, feels your tummy with a fuzzy feeling akin to butterflies.

“Yeah,”

Time seems to stand still for a few minutes, with his hands behind his head and yours resting just below your chest. It’s as if neither of you want to break the moment that’s happening, one that has a close expiration date.

After a moment of quiet, he finally breaks the silence, “I’m glad I’m here,”

You don't know how to respond so you settle for a simple, “Me too,”

For a moment, you both just look at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. It's a fleeting connection, intense yet fragile, and you know that despite it neither of you belong to the other.

“I should get going,” he tells you, sitting up from his laid down position in bed and searching for his sprawled around clothes.

“Sure,” you answer as you watch him clothe himself, intently keeping your eyes trained on his figure.

“I’ll text you,” he says when he’s done clothing himself, “We could hang out again,”

“Okay,”

He looks at you once more, and you swear you see him hesitate when he reaches for the door handle. Something inside you aches for him to kiss you goodbye, to give you that intimacy that youre no longer privy to.

But as quick as that thought crosses your mind, he’s out the door.

Art doesn't text you as he said he would. You want to be mad at him, but you know you’ll be waiting for the day he messages you, and you can tally another clandestine meeting to your board. After all, you belong eternally to him and he to you.