#they invited me to do stuff with them and even read and responded to my posts

[wild-jackalope]

First time having sex is awkward!

pairing :: Virgin!Megumi x Virgin!Reader

warning :: college/university AU, awkward sex, safe sex (finally), lingerie stuff, fingering, slight overstim, very soft, would you hate me if I said this wasn’t rly proof read, need this out of my drafts asap

note :: very inspired by @sonotpattismith fic Hold Me And Explore Me, here’s the link!

For the years you’ve been friends with Megumi you’ve never ever known him to discuss a single intimate topic. For the five months you’ve been in a relationship with him, that fact never changed.

Megumi was a prude, basically.

It wasn’t as though you were one to spill secrets about your personal moments either. Occasionally you’d let the odd story slip when drunk (mainly letting loose some poor experiences being felt up during your younger years of dating), but other than that, you kept your mouth shut.

So when Maki asked you a completely out of pocket question, both you and your boyfriend turned to ice.

“Have the two of you even fucked yet?”

No. Of course you haven’t. You hadn’t even come close! Despite the air being thickened by everyone’s collective drunkenness, you felt a small part of you would resent Maki for the rest of your life after putting you in this situation.

Your jaw slacked open and you took in a breath. The truth lilting on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t ask personal questions like that.” Megumi cut, to everyone’s collective disappointment, they groaned. Somewhat tipsy himself, Megumi still had the clarity to get the others off your scent and thankfully his harsh words had sent them on another chatting spree devoid of your sex life.

Maki, keen gaze still locked on both you and Megumi, muttered a swift. “Guess you haven’t put that set to use, huh.” Before taking a sip of her vodka mix.

You flushed immediately, embarrassment mixing with the warm alcohol in your bloodstream, coating your cheeks a deep plum colour. Mortification filling your wide eyes, you glanced at Megumi who held an unbothered expression, one of boredom and calm.

But for a split second, his dark blues swiped over you and you caught the slightest hint of curiosity in his narrow gaze. What set?

You snapped your head forward, neck aching from the whiplash.

The ‘set’ Maki was referring to, was bought during a shopping trip Nobara invited both of you to. She needed a refill on her skincare items, Maki needed a new set of sports bras and you needed an excuse to leave your dorm room.

Maki’s chosen store was the closest, so the three of you headed there first. Inside, your eyes caught on the walls covered with expensive underwear made of lace and silk hanging on thin mannequins.

“I should get a new bra, too, my favourites are getting worn out.” Nobara mumbled, looking at the odd racks assembled by colour and size.

A particularly captivating bodysuit grabbed your attention; a smooth ivory piece decorated with straps and shining gemstones, having tuffs of silk peak out of the sides like a skirt and wings. The shiny fabric called to rest comfortably against your skin. It was the most expensive, being shown off at the front of the store to lure young women who wanted to wrap their pretty bodies and show off to their boyfriends. Just like you.

“That one’s too cutesy.” Nobara uttered, following your tranced gaze. “Lingerie is a scam anyway, truth is men don’t even care. They just take it off.���

That was right, Nobara had had sex. Unlike you.

“Would you… help me pick something nice out?” You asked, a gentle and shy invitation.

Despite her previous slander of lingerie, her cheeks glowed in excitement. “Sure. For you and Fushiguro, right?”

“I guess so.” You kindly but nervously replied. Nobara lead you deeper into the store, coming to a back wall with more designs, all notably darker with plenty more lace.

She gazed over the options. “What do you usually like to wear?” She asked.

“I don’t know— nothing?” You responded, awkward hand lifting to fiddle with a purple bralet.

Nobara side eyed you, giving a suspicious look before she asked— much too casually. “First time?”

“Yes.” You nodded, the fabric of the bralet suddenly becoming very interesting!

“First time with Fushiguro, or?” Her trail lilted delicately, hopefully displaying herself as a safe person to spill your secrets to.

“First, first time.” You uttered quietly.

In a quick swish, Nobara grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to her. “Seriously?” She asked.

“Yes, seriously. Is it hard to believe?” You frowned, too mortified for her questioning.

She nodded. “Yes! You’re a total catch.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve never done anything.” You added, hands defensively rising to your chest. “I’ve been in relationships before, I’ve—” you lowered your voice. “I’ve fooled around.”

“Oh I bet you have.” She added, grin replacing her surprised gape.

“Stop it, you’re so embarrassing.” You pushed against her shoulder, freeing yourself from her death grip.

“Okay, first set, first set.” Mind now back to the mission, she returned to the racks of bras and thongs. “You should have something simple, but sexy. Black, too.”

“Why black?” Plenty of other colours filled the store.

“Fushiguro likes dark things, so he’ll like black on you.” The sensible explanation left her with a shrug.

Would that really be the case? Would Megumi look at your body being cupped by expensive black fabric and yearn for you? You could hardly imagine it. Megumi was never eager for anything, he was the type of guy to react to things with tame calmness. Would he blush? Reach to touch you? Kiss you?

Nobara handed you a neat, black matching bra and thong. “Go try this on.” She instructed, offering you an encouraging smile.

Face to face with your lewdly dressed body and flushed expression in the dressing room only made your anxiousness grow. Nobara had picked a beautiful set, a nicely patterned lace bra broken up by thick black straps pushed up your boobs, coined by a gemstone hanging off the middle. Small ripples of black sheer peaked from the supportive boning, similarly decorating the thin black straps curving around your hips holding up the lacy thong which too, had a gemstone hanging off the centre.

Fuck, Nobara had good taste.

But despite the fact you bought the matching underwear a month ago, nothing came of it. You’d worn it every single time you saw Megumi; a casual date at the park, an afternoon out at the movies, a night in lounging around. Just in case, you had thought, just in case something happens.

And because you wore them everytime you saw Megumi, they clung to your body now, at the very party Maki judged you for not having shown them off yet.

You sipped at your bitter alcohol mix, avoiding both the stares of your boyfriend and your friend. Nobara’s chanting became a welcome distraction, telling Yuji to ‘drink drink drink!’ Down his can of rum. Everyone cheered at his final gulp, including you.

Megumi, however, remained silent.

When the night came to a tired end (at about two in the morning), Megumi and yourself walked to your dorm in a sobering stumbled.

Arms around his neck, you brought Megumi into the plush bed with you, planting messy kisses along his hairline and laughing about the mischief of the night. “Itadori is going to be so hungover.” You muttered.

“Hm.” He thoughtlessly replied, craning his head so your lips made contact with his instead. He leaned over you, slowly letting his body sink into yours and sandwiching you between the bed and him.

In these moments of privacy you felt closest to Megumi. He’d unabashedly pull you in, kiss you and hold you tight.

You hummed against his lips, bringing your hands up to rake your nails through his hair, a trick you knew would immediately cause him to go soft against you, and he did, waist falling between your legs and hands twitching against your sides. He groaned softly and you wished you could record the sound and add it to a private playlist.

Chasing the mild heat in your abdomen, you furthered the kisses shared, moving into making out instead of peppery pecks. He followed you, daring to nip at your bottom lip (a habit he’d picked up from the one time you did it to him).

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling his warmth in closer. That shift was what made both your clothed sexes connect. Jolted by the feeling, Megumi slipped from your lips to your ear, whispering a breathy command.

“Show me your set.”

He wasn’t even quite sure what he was asking, but he had an idea, a lewd idea. He knew he needed to know what Maki was talking about, what she knew about his girlfriend that he didn’t.

You gulped, an audible squeak catching in your throat. “You really want to see?” You asked.

He nodded silently, watching your every move as you hesitantly lifted your shirt up and over your head. His narrow eyes grew wide at the sight of your tits cupped by the stunning black garment. You hid in the pillow behind you, digging half your face into the plush at his bewildered expression.

Megumi’s hand had already began moving without him thinking. In what seemed like slow motion, his large palm came to fit around your boob. His thumb rubbed over the soft lace and because of its thin fabric, you gasped as it tickled your sensitive middle.

The noise sobered Megumi from his drunk, tranced state and he pulled his hand away like it had acted on its own free will. He sat up, eyes concentrated on your flushed, messy figure. Fuck, he was so in love with you it hurt.

“I should go.” He uttered softly, pressing a curt kiss to your head.

“What? But—” You babbled something, voice cracking.

“This isn’t a good time, it’s late, you’re drunk.” He reassured your rejection with another kiss.

“You won’t stay?” You asked, leaving you as more of a plea.

“Not tonight.” He finished. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You were then left empty and cold, and despite wrapping yourself in layers of blankets, you felt as naked as ever. The question what was wrong with you? Pulling you into a drunkenly tear filled sleep.

The next morning, the barking of your third alarm pulled you from your slumber. You smacked at the screen of your phone, lifting your now throbbing head from the sweet embrace of your pillow.

Almost immediately Megumi’s rejection of you last night reminded you why your eyes were so crusty with dried tears. However, you didn’t have much time to linger on it, already being late for your morning lecture.

Lunch was when you saw Megumi next. You were reading over your papers in the yard with a furrowed brow, your phone to your ear.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” You asked.

“I mean I don’t know! You’ve know Fushiguro pretty much the same amount of time I have, why don’t you know if he’s had sex?” Nobara snapped back, voice slightly fuzzy through your phone. “Oh, let’s not forget the fact you’re also his girlfriend!”

“I know, I just— ugh. Why is this so complicated?” You huffed.

“It really isn’t, girl. You’re just making it complicated.” She added back, unfiltered judgment in her tone.

“I know, I know.” You were weak before her unwavering moral superiority.

“Talk to him. Neither of you did anything wrong, he was probably still drunk and didn’t want to show you he had whisky dick or maybe he is a virgin and was just too nervous to fuck you.” You wondered for a brief moment who Nobara was around that could hear her talk about your (lack of) sex life.

“I doubt it.” You murmured. Finally your eyes caught the tall shadow that was Megumi and you fiddle to catch your phone as it dropped from your hand. “I gotta go, he’s here. Bye!”

One hand deep in his pocket and the other carrying a bag bloated with book, Megumi walked to you, standing tall over your sitting self.

“Nobara?” He asked, head jutting towards your phone.

“Yup, she uh— just won’t stop calling me.” You breathily laughed, stupidly covering the fact you had been the one calling her nonstop.

His careful eyes surveyed you, immediately grabbing something was amiss. “Hungover?”

Lord knew you weren’t going to bring up last night if he didn’t. You’d rather let it die in the past. “I was this morning, but I’m alright now.” You offered a kind, but forced smile. “You okay?” You returned, gazing up at him.

With the baggy top you’d hurriedly put on this morning, Megumi could see past the collar, eyes catching the familiar black bra. You were so rushed this morning, you didn’t have time to change it. His heart squeezed painfully, hand twitching as it recalled the feeling of the fabric. The same hand that fucked his dick until he came thinking of you once he was alone. Fuck, he was pathetic. “I’m fine.” He gritted. Even through the drunk haze of the prior night, that memory of you below him was as clear as day in his mind.

“You’ve got baseball this afternoon, right? Do you want to come over afterwards?” You asked.

“I can, why?” So you could show him more of your gorgeous body?

“Just to hangout, n’ chat.” You added, as casually as possible. Technically you weren’t lying.

“I’ll come.” He assured. His hands lifted to touch you, but Megumi decided better, shoving it back into his pocket. “Will I see you at practice?”

“I’ll be there.” You smiled.

You’d watched Megumi play baseball since he was young, having been one of his biggest supporters (besides Gojo, of course) since you two became friends. You’d love to watch him play, sitting on a nearby bench with a book to read or your computer to finish an assignment.

Megumi had never admitted it out loud, but before each swing of his bat, he’d gaze out into the empty audience chairs to catch a glimpse of you. You were always there, always looking at him.

It never failed to make his heart swell, even after the two of you began dating, seeing you sit there just for him was the kind of loyalty that made Megumi obsessed with you.

Today, though, it seemed Megumi had more on his mind than he usually did. It was so obvious in the way he played. He was distracted.

On the walk back to your dorm, you could tell he was clearly unimpressed by himself.

Once inside, you excused yourself to the bathroom just to freshen up.

Reflecting from your mirror like a ghost haunting you, hung your cleanly washed thong. Now dry and ready to be worn. Maybe, just maybe, finally ready to be seen. The old habit still clawed you, just in case, you thought, just in case something happens.

You slipped out of the bathroom, a sudden nervousness taking you. “Hey, can we talk?” You asked, finding a seat next to Megumi on your bed.

His furrowed expression disappeared the moment he heard your tone and his eyes lifted to you expectantly. You inhaled.

“I’ve got to tell you something.” You stated, voice wavering despite your desire to sound sure.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a virgin.” You finally uttered.

“Oh, okay.” You could hear in his voice, the slightest hint of bewilderment. Mostly at the suddenness.

“I’ve never had a dick in me, okay? So I’m nervous.” You let the words out like Megumi had you tied up, forcing a confession out of you. A tight pause filled the air as you let the weight of your secret fill the room.

“Why are you so embarrassed? It’s not like I’ve had sex, either.” Megumi’s narrow eyes squinted at his furrowed brow. His cheeks tinted pink, clearly out of his comfort zone to admit this.

“You haven’t?” You felt free of an imaginary weight that lifted from your chest.

“Yes? You’ve been my only girlfriend, I assumed you would’ve just guessed.”

“So nothing? No hookups or anything?”

“Not my thing.”

Your chest bubbled with a freeing excitement. You’d have to thank Nobara later and let her know she’s the goddess of advice. “Thank God, I was so worried.” You exhaled.

“Worried?” His hand came to grasp your arm. Had he seriously done something to make you worry?

“When you left last night, I thought I did something wrong or—”

Fuck. Of course. “No, you didn’t.” He squeezed your arm. He was just an idiot, a drunk, horny idiot. “It was the alcohol, I didn’t think it was a good idea. You didn’t do anything. You were perfect.” His eyes avoided you, cheeks growing darker.

Was he embarrassed? You kissed his jaw, eagerly planting a peck free of doubt.

The kiss seemed to break him from his mumbling as he adjusted your aim, pulling your chin up and kissing your lips. He kissed you again, and you could feel it in his affection too, an excitement to explore you, be the first to learn your body.

To reach his lips better, you moved to straddle Megumi, planting yourself on his lap and letting yourself be enveloped by his affection.

He pulled you down with him as his back fell into the mattress and as you rocked on his lap, you felt the line of his dick through his pants.

Then reality hit you. You two were going to do it. You sat up, blinking at the boy beneath you.

“…Hey.” You peeped, a stupid joking tone wrapping your words.

“Hey.” Megumi replied, his own words threaded with dull awkwardness.

“Do you.. come here often?” You continued, hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

He exhaled sharply, amused. “I do.”

“Same.” You nodded slowly. Another flustered moment of silence passed over you.

Megumi’s mind seemed clouded and unbothered by the pause, eyes becoming focused on your shirt. You could guess what he was thinking about.

“I’m wearing it again.” You muttered. His eyes flickered to you, holding an intense gaze you’d only seen him have in serious situations of concentration. “Do you want to see?”

His jaw clenched, and he nodded once. “Yes.”

You offered your shirt to him, prompting him to be the one to take it off you. His thick hands took the fabric, slowly pulling it up and over your head. His eyes caught on the black set again. Now, his gaze weakened, still tense but clouded by a soft desire.

Finally letting in to what he really wanted to do to you the previous night, Megumi sat up, cradling your abdomen to keep you stilled on top of him as he pressed a kiss to the skin that spilled out of your bra. He lightly sucked, no doubt hoping to leave a red mark.

“Megumi.” You softly murmured. The sound pricked his ears like a melody. He continued, more driven kissing and sucking up until he reached your collar bone and cheek.

Face just below your own, Megumi gazed up at you with his usually bored eyes, but currently they were anything but, holding a softness for you that could only be explained away by love. Riddle in the blue of his irises held the deep specks of lust. You wanted more, wanted to see his eyes flutter from pleasure.

Megumi’s thoughts similarly danced along the same trail as your own but despite his somewhat tame expression they were nasty compared to your own. Mostly, they lingered south. His fingers hooked the sides of your pants.

“I want to see the bottom pair.” He murmured, fierce eyes pinning you to his command.

“O-Okay.” You shyly huffed, moving back so Megumi could undress you with more ease. His eyes lingered on your own as he slid off your bottoms, like a boy closing his eyes as he opened his birthday gift so he could be more surprised by the reveal of it fully unwrapped in front of him. As much as you wanted to shy from his gaze, you couldn’t.

Finally your pants were off, tossed off the bed with your shirt. You watched his gaze flicker to your thong, and you shivered at the exposure. He leaned in, hands resting on your knees in an attempt to let you know he wanted them open, you didn’t comply, far too embarrassed. “Pretty.” He muttered. The swarm of butterflies in your stomach fluttered uncontrollably.

One of his hands snaked down your thigh, coming to grasp the gemstone hanging from the front strap. He twisted it between his thumb and index finger, and you badly wished it he’d play with your clit like that.

Then, his hand dragged over the lace fabric, so dangerously close to your bundle of nerves that your legs creaked opened on pure instinct. Megumi huffed at your bodies desire to be touched, taking the moment of weakness to slip himself between your legs.

Lower now, his fingers dared to slide over your clit. You gasped and his hand stunted.

“Feel okay?” He breathed, lust kissed eyes glowering at you. Don’t make him stop, not yet. Not when he was finally able to feel you.

“Feels good.” You murmured. Megumi’s jaw slacked and he panted a suppressed grunt at your pathetic words. Almost immediately he continued the motion, familiarising himself with what spots of your cunt would made you hiccup and your tummy twitch. “M-Megumi.” You whined with no real purpose behind your plea.

Hot, it was becoming too hot. He left your pussy for a second, pulling off his shirt and tossing it like he had your pants. Your cheeks blazed at his thin but muscled body. You’d only ever caught sight of his abs on a windy day, never had you seen his bare chest before. His skin was so smooth and light, your fingers begged to memories each curve and bump.

He closed the space between you, coming to press messy pecks on your lips whilst his hand returned to your cunt. Your hands rested against his thudding chest, letting yourself fall into the bedding.

“I can feel your heart beat.” You huffed, somewhat excited by the rapid pace. “Nervous?” You asked, a teasing prod.

“Eager.” He corrected, collecting your lips in another kiss.

His ring and index calmly slid up and down, the tips of his fingers daring over the patch of wet forming around your sex. You wanted to do the same, wanted so desperately to feel more of his body, but your nails stilled, dug into his chest waiting for some kind of permission you couldn’t even ask for.

And Megumi, the utter mind reader, took your wrist with his free hand and led you on a trail down his abdomen. He must’ve felt your hesitancy and made the move for you, that, or he was desperate to feel your hands wander over his body.

And your featherlight fingers curved over the dips of his abs. In reaction to your sweet touch, you felt his rubbing become messy and he pressed hard against your clit. You gasped into his mouth, nails scraping against his tight stomach and his jaw clenched tight, swallowing a grunt.

“More, Megs, please.” You blurted, hole dripping and utterly prepped for whatever Megumi wanted to stuff inside you.

He remained somewhat levelheaded, thinking that if he fucked you now, he’d cum too quick and this would be all over. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you unsatisfied. So despite his aching cock, his fingers dipped under your thong and circled your weeping cunt. He was going to savour every single second.

Slowly, he pushed past the rings of your wet chasm. And fuck. His fingers and dick must’ve been connected, because he could’ve sworn he felt the ghost of your inside around him just like they were around his fingers.

His cock twitched, leaking a fat blob of precum. “Shit.” The way your pussy jumped at his curse didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh God— Megumi, hng.” Your legs weakened, turning to jelly at the feeling of his warm fingers pressing against your tight, sensitive walls. Megumi’s two digits were thicker and rugged from gripping a bat all his life, the perfect size and texture against your trembling insides and otherworldly compared to your own.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yea— mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut, hands hesitating over Megumi’s torso until they gripped his tensed arms.

His mouth hung open, too distracted by massaging your insides to dedicate his lips to you. Hot pants filled your mouth as you desperately kissed him, each breath of his slowly filling with grunts to the symphony of your whines. Each moan from you battered his dick, making it pulse painfully for you.

His fingers chased your twitching hips, pushing in deeper each time you squirmed from the sensation. Until the tips of his fingers slid against the spongey sweet spot inside of you that was hidden in the curve of your chasm.

“Right there!” You squealed, the hight of your voice surprising both of you. “Curl your fingers— Mh! just like that.”

He did so, pushing his digits against the sweet spot, lightly pressing and smoothing over the area. You trembled beneath him, clinging to his body like he was your life support.

Megumi loved every second of it, watching your body contort from just his fingers. He just wanted to watch you like this, utterly drunk on pleasure, for forever.

He wanted to make cum so badly it was driving him mad.

“Ohh, please don’t stop.” How could he? Your pussy had just begun clenching around him so gorgeously, tightening like the building orgasm inside you.

Megumi had only realised you’d cum after you yelped his name and your walls sucked on his fingers, trying to milk them of cum. He wanted so badly to feel the sensation around his cock.

“Hng— thank you, thank you.” You babbled embarrassingly, kissing along Megumi’s throat.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, the lack of you around his dick, uncomfortably he palmed his boxers, trying to adjusted his blood filled cock.

The trance of afterglow seemed to subside as you gazed over Megumi’s frustration. Although you were undone, you still craved more of him inside your fuzzy chasm. “More?” You asked, an invitation.

Megumi nodded, thanking the heavens you weren’t done with him. His hand dug into the wallet in his pant pocket, digging out a condom. He pulled it out, half pruned fingers covered in your slick attempting to tear it open.

It was like you’d been slapped in the face with the curt realisation that he had prepared for this. Just as you went to buy lingerie, Megumi had gone and bought condoms. He must’ve thought it could’ve happened at any moment to keep one in his wallet.

He brought the wrapper to his teeth, being frustrated with his inability to open it and tore it open with his clenched teeth. You sucked in a breath at his flimsy eagerness.

The bashfulness that came with revealing himself seemed to skip Megumi’s mind, as he pulled down his baggy pants to let his leaking cock free of the fabric.

Your eyes shot up to the ceiling, needing to look elsewhere as you heard him slide on the plastic birth control. From the glimpse you did catch you could tell he was thin and long. Your attention dived back down once you left a gentle hand rest on your hip, his thumb rubbing over the bone.

His eyes, once you met them, held a simple question; are you ready?

You nodded, closing your eyelids and bracing for his length. However the feeling never came, only his lips as they trailed from your tummy, over your bra and up to your lips.

Your hands cradled his head, nails dragging across his scalp and he grunted. This felt familiar, the feeling of his body softening against yours as you pressed simple kisses onto one another’s lips. Through the intimacy, you felt Megumi readjust, pulling your underwear to the side and lining his tip against your sopping sex.

Closer now, you hugged him through the stress. He slowly sunk into you, the plastic of the condom feeling cool against your hot insides. “Fuck.” He hissed, nipping at your bottom lip.

You sobbed, letting the sensation of being filled by your boyfriend feed your mouth with curses.

He entered slowly, just as much for you as it was for him. His face, flushed red and eyes fluttering in pleasure. You not far from the same, mouth agape with lewd noises spewing out.

He bottomed out when your hips met, taking a brief minute to calm your collective gasps. You gazed down, drowsily taking in the enrapturing sight of you two being connected. Megumi moaned weakly at your smitten stare, feeling himself fall apart from inside you.

“S’okay?” He asked.

“Y-Yes, you can move.” You permitted desperately.

He drawled his hips out carefully, rolling inwards again. Your insides still buzzed from his fingers, raw and sensitive to his filling cock. He could feel you spasm around him, forcing friction when he desperately needed you to be still so he didn’t cum prematurely.

Another breathless curse left him as his length dived back into you. “Oh fuck— I love you.” You gaped at the words, wondering suddenly was that the first time he’s ever said that?

He rolled his hips again, breaking up your quick declaration. “Love— mh— you.”

He cradled you, pulling your body in with his unlikely strength as he fucked you gently. You’d never felt so close to another person before, having him so deep within you, filling your body with pleasure.

Megumi had lost most of his composure, becoming a vocal mess as he humped into your heavenly insides.

“So tight.” He uttered into your skin. “S’perfect.” He kissed your skin, sucking hard hickies into your chest and neck.

“Mnh— love you, hng.” You repeated, too cock drunk to babble anything else.

Messier now, his hip rolls became somewhat frantic, chasing the building mountain of his orgasm. “S-Shit— I’m gonna cum.” The statement rolled off his tongue in a pathetic whine, another crack from his usual composure.

“Don’t s-stop! Please, Gumi ahh.” You were already being worked to your second orgasm, you couldn’t bare to be emptied of him before you reached your high. Your legs wrapped around him, keeping Megumi in.

“Ngh— fffuck.” He plowed harder now, his cock tip perfectly fucking against your sweet spot. Suddenly his tame thrusts became a stuttering mess as he muffled your name into your shoulder.

You could feel him orgasm, feel his cock jerk, feel his cum bloat the tip of the condom inside you.

Noticing him slow, you rolled your hips, desperately fucking yourself onto his mid-orgasm dick.

His hands smack at your sides, attempting you to pull you off his overstimulated dick.

“Almost almost almost—” You pleaded.

With what he had left in him, Megumi took your hips and helped you grind yourself on his cock. He bit your shoulder, muffling the pained moans leaving him.

“Fuck!” You squeaked, his dick slid over your g-spot again, finally bringing you to your spine tingling orgasm. Your insides spasmed around Megumi’s dick, and he whined at the feeling, growing painfully hard again.

Your body went limp, as did the tight hold you had on Megumi. Both your bodies sat panting, utterly fucked out and glistening with sweat.

Raising from you, Megumi looked over your flushed, messy state, his cock still warm fitted inside you. He savoured the sight, thinking that if he could take a photo of this, he’d keep it in his wallet.

“We should shower.” He murmured, painting kisses along your shoulder.

“Mhm, okay.” You nodded.

Fuzzy insides retracting as Megumi slipped from you, you sighed longingly, whilst he grunted, disappointed he couldn’t live inside you.

You groggily sat up, kissing him before attempting to move off the bed but Megumi kept you back, hooking a finger around the strap of your bra.

“How much was the set?” He asked.

“Uhm, not much, Nobara helped me pay for it so—”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

The heat that had just left your cheeks suddenly returned.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I really, really like the Devil May Cry stuff you're writing ^-^

And I was curious- if you're okay with it of course.

Romantic headcanons for Dante x fem!Reader where she spends the night for the first time at his place? Like they're already in a relationship, but his girl isn't ready for s*x

you had been in the best relationship of your life with Dante, it was goofy, silly, stupid but deep at the same time where you could comfortably admit to anything with Dante and he would respond in kind with comfort and reassurance.

so when he invited you over for the night, your mind went elswhere and had stayed there even as you stepped through the door, stiff and worried when night quickly approached faster then you liked.

was he going to expect sex in your first time staying over?

was it the priamary reason you were invited over? for sexy times?

if so would he be dissapointed if you were to admit that you weren't ready, if you were ever going to be ready for it, would he be ashamed? after all it seemed as though society deemed sex a pivitol part in keeping a relationship happy, demanding of it even if one was nowhere near ready for that vital step.

even if you may disagree with that mindset.

no this was your Dante you were talking about, the man who alsot tripped over his own two feet when asking you out, the very man who insits on sharing his sundaes with you whenever you were sad, cuddled up on his lap, embraced in his warmth.

the very same man who wore the silliest pyjama pants to bed all the time, ones covered in pizza slices, or ones covered in little cartoon strawberry icecreams with cute little faces that displayed a variety of emotions.

the very man who kisses your forhead whenever your worries got the best of you, claiming that his kisses could wash them away, and they did as did everything often did with Dante to be your comfort, your safe haven and friend as well as your handsome partner.

however the fear still remained, making you unable to relax at all, muscles tense asn your sense on high alert from any indication from Dante.

only to sense nothing as he smiles at you that sweet smile that shows off his sharp looking canines. Nothing out of the ordinary, not yet at least as you felt your tongue loosen the moment you step into his bedroom.

‘We’re not having sex are we?’

Dante’s brows are raised as a frown replaces his smile from moments prior and your mind became worse then it was before, filling your head with poison and venom that you almost didn’t hear him or feel him in your state of numbness.

Not until you felt his warm hands grace your shoulders, grounding you as you managed to urge your eyes to look into his own, seeing the concern within them as his calloused thumbs caressed. ‘What ever gave you that impression sweetheart?’ He asks softly as he guides you to sit at the edge of his bed as he knelt in front of you.

‘Isn’t that how it always leads to? Sex.’ You replied as you toyed with your hands, eyes once again averting his gaze as you found interest in picking at your fingers almost in a violent manner. ‘Something I am in no way ready for and am scared that will run you away because of it.’ You added.

Dante was quick to put a stop to your violent finger picking/scratching by intertwining his fingers with yours, kissing them as he tucks your hands close to his chest. ‘Not always, and that’s not why I brought you here because I realise that I can’t sleep at all without you,’ he laughs to himself, ‘kinda like how a kid can’t sleep without a stuffed toy for comfort, you are that comfort to me and I want you nowhere else but by my side.’ He continues as he reads the emotions upon your face, seeing that you were starting to relax and let your guard down to rest.

‘Really? Nothing else.’ You said barely above a whisper.

‘It’s the furthest thing from my mind sweetheart.’ Dante reassures. ‘We won’t do anything like that unless you’re ready and willing, to do so without taking in your own feelings is just a dick move. A relationship is between two people who love each other, some have a sex while others might not, it’s still a relationship regardless sweetness.’ He kisses your finger interlocked with his, smiling.

‘So if we never have sex, that’s fine by me becuase I’m not going anywhere without you, you’re my person and I’d rather keep what we have then ever throw it away over something stupid as sex.’ He then moves from kneeling to sit next to you, letting go of your hands for a moment before reconnecting them, and letting you rest your head upon his shoulder as he gingerly placed his atop of yours, though not before kissing it.

‘We’re just going to share a bed and cuddle and fall asleep together and wake up together too just to be lazy about wanting to leave bed.’ He whispers and you couldn’t help but laugh at how true that might be, before feeling a little silly in being overly cautious about the reasoning for Dante wanting you here

yet you were also glad that he had cleared any and all misconceptions within you as now all you wanted to do was cuddle up to him, sleep and be very begrudging in getting up the next day, just like he promised.

[thatbadadvice]

Help! I Just Got Identified As An Absolute Creepo Rip-Off Artist!

The Bad Advisor deals with a lot of Wrong Shit; it's pretty much what I do here! Bad Advice trades in People being Wrong, and doing Wrong Stuff. But the most consistently Wrong-est thing that the Bad Advisor has dealt with on this blog lo these 11 (!) years of Bad Advice is the wholly incorrect perception that Neil Gaiman is its author.

I used to find this flattering, even charming, because Neil's fans (among which I counted myself since I started reading the Sandman series in the late 90s) incorrectly perceived his reposts as evidence that this blog was his work, not mine.

This blog is not now, and has never been, the work of Neil Gaiman.

It feels weird to spell it out, but also necessary. Occasionally I have responded to some posters who thought I was Gaiman (there truly have been too many over the years to respond to all of them). But Neil never did so, even in comments on his reposts that praised him for being the Bad Advisor, which he surely knew he was not.

Backstory: the Bad Advisor posted her first Bad Advice almost exactly 11 years ago today. In ensuing years, Bad Advice Nation has been a space of camaraderie and education and mutual support. The Bad Advisor herself (me, Andrea, the person writing this post) has generally shied away from affirmative self-identification; it was more interesting, I thought, to let the Bad Advisor exist as an idea rather than as an individual, even as Bad Advice existed elsewhere (RIP The Establishment) and was in some places attributed to my government name.

One of the first champions of Bad Advice, and arguably the reason Bad Advice originally went viral and garnered the audience it has, is because the sci-fi/fantasy author Neil Gaiman often reposted the blog. I was, initially and at length, flattered and enthused by Neil Gaiman's attention, because I was a near life-long fan of his creations, and thought that his affinity for my writing signaled something important about my talent and creative capacity.

Years ago, because Gaiman knew I was the Bad Advisor, Gaiman even invited me to meet him -- and then failed to deliver on that invite. I wrote it off at the time as a bummer but inevitable experience with fame.

I now suspect I dodged a bullet, knowing what we know about Neil Gaiman's predatory behavior toward women younger than him.

I posted a Bluesky Thread about this whole shebang, and the tl;dr is that it now seems obvious to me that Gaiman would never have even thought to correct posters who attributed my work to him, or credit me my for Bad Advice work, even when he knew people wrongly perceived him as being the Bad Advisor.

Neil Gaiman does not appreciate, celebrate, or lift up women's writing and intellectual work, despite his ill-earned reputation as a feminist man. If you love Sandman, as I once did, the Bad Advisor implores you to avail yourself of the work of Tanith Lee, who Gaiman never credited as inspiration for the story.

It's hard to have heroes. Some of them will fail us, inevitably. We are all broken, fallible people who will fuck up now and again. Some harms are beyond repair, while some harms bring us closer to each other as we persevere through them, together.

But we do not need to entertain fuckery.

Do not entertain fuckery.

Signed, The Bad Advisor (Andrea Grimes, not Neil Gaiman)

[randombush3]

the winner takes it all

alexia putellas x reader

summary: an unexpected invitation throws your world off-kilter

words: 6276

content warnings: it's a bit unfaithful

notes: in this universe real madrid is a proper opponent and rival to barcelona, in the sense that funding and history is relatively equal (so it's basically more like the men's rivalry)

idk where this came from tbh

Amb gran alegria, 

Alexia i Olga

T’invitem a celebrar la nostra unió matrimonial. 

10 d’agost de 2025

Gran Hotel Mas d’en Bruno

You haven’t read Catalan in years. You squint at the details. 

You wish you had forgotten it. 

Only Alexia would do this to you, twisting the knife as though it’s a favour, a compliment. Make it seem psychotic for not wanting to go, make it seem like it’s not a big deal. 

The invitation isn’t personalised. You are not special in her eyes. You have been allowed onto the guest list, you have no mark in her life. Surely Olga would have objected if she’d known, if she’d been told. Maybe Alexia doesn’t talk about it. Maybe she has heard your name on match reports and team sheets, announcements for captaincy, interviews with Las 16 who called you traidora then and call you traidora now. 

As if she knew it was coming, your phone begins to light up with messages from Alba. Apologies, perhaps, in her own Alba way. Stuff like ‘are you coming’ and ‘you don’t have to’ and then more buzzing, vibrating the shitstorm into a phone call. 

You don’t speak often. Why would you? But you answer it, listless, really, and unsure what the correct approach to this even is. 

“Hola, traidorita,” she says with a nervous giggle, reclaiming your nickname in Barcelona but reminding you of how you are perceived nevertheless. “I don’t know why you are on the guest list.” 

Alba is like this: straight to the point, unafraid of her sister and unafraid to tell you what she thinks. They are very different, which is why she is the only one who has your current number in her contacts. 

“You told her where I live,” you respond. Your shock makes no room for manners. “Because no one there has my Madrid address, Albi.” 

“No one here has it, yeah. But she asked around. Well, Olga did.” She laughs again. Her nervousness is high-pitched and easily detected. “Told Ale that she has to have her childhood best friend at her wedding.” 

“Childhood best friend?” 

“Estranged childhood best friend?” she tries, and you can hear the smile and the teasing fucking smugness in it. You wonder if anyone else knows you have been invited. Alba because your address was squeezed out of her, sure, but… “And my mother thought it was a good idea too, before you try to murder a woman you have never met.” 

“I’ve met Olga before,” you say without thinking, because that’s far easier to focus on than the idea of Eli getting involved in this completely undesired reunion that is about two centuries too early. “When I was going out with, eh, I don’t remember her name. A model. You know what they’re like. Olga’s the one who works for… thingie.” 

There’s a sigh from the other end. “So many models yet not one name has been retained. Do you even ask them?” 

“We’re not usually doing much talking.” 

“Zorra.”

“Coming from you…” You smirk at the thought of all the little secrets Alba’s had you keep, a tradition that started young and became increasingly frequent when you removed yourself from everyone else’s lives. It’s like a journal, only you judge her. “You’re doing a good job of distracting me until I agree to go.” 

She hesitates, then. You’re not an idiot and you know why she called. Alba is supportive but she has her own agenda most of the time, and no one else knows the exact time you get back from training aside from your fellow teammates. Even then, most are too intimidated to contact you in general, let alone to ask about being invited to Alexia Putellas’ fucking wedding. 

Alba is also very manipulative, a professional puppeteer. And she knows exactly what to say. “It’s been fifteen years. Are you going to let her win?” It’s an infuriating provocation but it hits its target with ease. 

…

The first step of preparing for this wedding takes place in the form of the Euros: you’re going to win it and be happy enough to ignore the impending doom hanging over your off-season plans. Going into the competition with heavy medals round your necks makes cockiness the slippiest of slopes, and it is safe to say that most of your teammates are prepared to cruise through at least the group stages. 

An unexpected injury rips Jenni’s opportunity to play from her grasp (an echo of her ex-girlfriend, you briefly think), and she is flying back to Mexico before the tournament begins. Montse is a captain down – of course only this kind of disaster could happen to her – and before Patri can even open her mouth to volunteer for the role, you are dragged into a leadership meeting.

You’ve worn the armband before, though it seared and burned and blistered until you threw it in Jorge’s face and demanded someone else absorb the hatred it brought. He went ballistic as you’d said it, you remember, his face going red in the soft glow of your hotel room the night before the World Cup final. He’d leaned forwards, fist clenched, knuckles white and wanting to choke the life out of you.

“You have no respect!” he’d roared, voice splitting like thunder against the thin walls of your hotel room. “Not for me, not for your country, not for anything!” His breath was coming out in sharp ragged gasps. He spat. You’d wiped it off your body. “I thought you had scraped all the Catalan out of you, but here it is!” he’d screamed, loud enough to be heard but so comfortable in his power that it did not seem to frighten him. “Selfish and arrogant. You should have made it Seventeen.” 

He’d left in his rage, slamming his door. 

You regretted smiling in pictures with him, shaking his hand, kissing his cheek. You regretted the press conferences and interviews, the shaky defence you had constructed, the words of faith and trust you had professed and tried to believe. It had changed you, just a little bit, that incident. Made you think about who you are, where you come from. Made you remember someone you’d tried to forget. 

But Irene and Alexia, staring at you with both contempt and confusion as you take a seat at the conference table, don’t know any of this. Why would they? To them, this is the traidora. 

“Y/n is going to take Jenni’s place as third captain,” says Montse firmly, if she even knows how to do that. Irene and Alexia share a glance. Their roles have been restored for this competition and they are not prepared for an intruder to take that from them, although Irene will later remind Alexia that it is not your fault Jenni got injured. “I trust you three will come up with a suitable management plan. If you need me, you know where to find me.” 

None of you really do know where she lurks, but she is walking off before you can clarify. 

“We already have a strategy.” And she says it in Catalan, looking falsely apologetic when she is kicked underneath the table. 

“Good job, Alexia,” you tell her, so nauseatingly saccharine that you almost think of the nearest route to a toilet. She’s surprised you’ve granted her a reply though, which is satisfying enough. About to spit out another remark to divide yourselves further, you shift in your chair, stretching out your legs underneath the table. 

It is then that her ring catches your eye.

It’s delicate, shiny. A neatly cut diamond set in platinum with slight details that tell you someone thought about Alexia when they had this made and got it all wrong. Or maybe this is what she likes now. It’s not what you’d have given her.

She sees your eyes fall to her fingers, watching carefully as your gaze heats the metal and makes it almost too hot for her to keep on. You don’t really want her to know that you’ve seen it but you’ve made it bleeding obvious and so the predicament spirals and Irene wants, desperately, to leave you two alone – she knows shouldn’t, she’s aware of the health and safety risk. 

There is something about the way Alexia clenches her jaw, posture stiffening as she allows herself one flicker from your face to the ring, that tells you she is bracing herself for a bullet. She always did have an uncanny ability to read you, however unwanted it was. 

You lean back in your chair, aware of how the bystander is holding her breath, and decide to swallow the words burning on your tongue. You’ve accepted her invitation, and bitter manners are still manners. “Congratulations,” you say, words clipped and brittle, each syllable more venomous than the last. 

The chair makes a screeching sound as you stand. Irene flinches but Alexia does not move. She refuses to watch as you walk out of the room. 

…

Three hours later, Alexia is off the phone with Olga and knocking on Irene’s door with an embarrassed suppression of urgency. Shoulders hunched and lips downturned, the sight is enough for her to be ushered inside with only the quiet flap of Irene’s arms to beckon her forwards. With this part of the training camp being not quite tunnel-vision yet, Irene’s room is littered with toys and toddler stuff. Usually Alexia would be looking at them in quiet excitement. Right now, she is not so sure. 

“Second thoughts?” Irene asks, and Alexia half-jumps backwards in shock, about to furiously shake her head and profess her love for Olga– “I think the plan is good. I don’t think we need to worry about Y/n in the centre, seeing how she’s been playing there this season.” 

It slowly dawns on Alexia that Irene has assumed this is pre-tournament nerves, and that she is being shown such a vulnerable side of her co-captain because, well, who else can be? No one wants to see their commander gulp at the sight of the battlefield. 

“She still favours her left,” Alexia gets out. “She might drift, leaving a big gap for you to cover.” 

“She’s got offers from PSG, Chelsea, and Washington Spirit. It’s in her interest not to drift.” 

“She’s good at drifting.” 

Irene doesn’t respond to that. 

“Since when did you wear your ring to training?” is what she chooses to say instead, asking the question with a healthy fear of getting her head bitten off, taking a small step backwards to put her at a safer distance. 

Alexia doesn’t reply immediately, her fingers grazing the ring as she thinks. The weight of it seems heavier now, almost suffocating in the sterile air of the hotel room, as though this is everything she’s been trying to avoid. Her heart thuds against her ribcage. It feels like everyone is starting to notice. 

“I didn’t think it was an issue.” Her voice is tight, defensive, but with a subtle, betraying crack. She pulls her hand back from the air, letting it fall to her side. “We hardly did much more than pass the ball today so I kept it on.” 

It’s a poor excuse. It comes off for the cameras, not the contact of the game. Irene knows that. But, to her credit, she doesn’t push. She just watches Alexia, eyes narrowed slightly in an unreadable expression. “I just thought you guys were keeping it a bit more… private.” 

Alexia turns her gaze to the floor, staring at the scattered toys and items around the room. The simplicity of it all, the domestic innocence, makes her feel even more tangled. She feels an urge to lie, to say that Olga asked her to, worried that you’d misinterpret its absence, but Olga doesn’t even know she has reason to lose sleep. She hasn’t found the courage to explain. She hasn’t felt the need to. 

And, really, the truth is right here, echoing between them. Irene would have pieced together the story, as many of Alexia’s teammates have, hearing drunken retellings on nights out from whoever has known the two of you the longest that time. Maybe Alba has spoken to her, revealing everything after a round of tequila shots, as she tends to do. There are a few suggestions the older woman could make to her teammate, wounds she could open and then nurse, but she doesn’t and so she waits. 

Until, finally, Alexia admits, “it’s complicated. She has caught me off-guard.” It could mean many things, but it is either your captaincy or the acceptance of her wedding invitation that has done Alexia in. She wonders whether this feeling of dread and uncertainty is the game – or the life waiting for her after she comes back from Switzerland. “Look,” she says abruptly, “I’m not here for advice, Irene.”

“Then why are you in my room?” She doesn’t have an answer for that. Irene sweeps her outside, gently but firmly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” she treads lightly, “but when was the last time you had a conversation with her?” 

…

The training pitch in Switzerland is unseasonably hot, the kind of heat that clings to the air and makes tempers run shorter than usual. It’s almost a cure to homesickness but then the team look at each other and are back to hating every minute of this. There’s an undeniable divide. Montse either does not care or has not caught on. 

It’s about your twentieth rondo this session, the ball zipping across the wilting grass as it touches Barça foot to Barça foot, the girls obviously enjoying this. You’re only holding back because too much investment will lead to another injury, and you are getting somewhat tired of being called a traitor. The players surround you with a ruthless efficiency that is starting to fray your nerves, and you make a note to talk to your coach about training, knowing that it will be easy to manipulate her into following something akin to what the girls at Madrid are more accustomed to. 

Alexia is one of your taunters. Of course she is. 

“Just three more interceptions,” she calls out, false strain, false support, false encouragement. 

You bite back a retort, instead standing still as Aitana rolls a ball right past you. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feigning exhaustion, but the pretense is only that in name. Everyone knows you are one of the best defenders, the Barça girls especially, with their insane pride for La Masia. 

“Lazy,” Alexia mutters. 

You don’t respond, focusing instead on the fire in your chest as you forcibly break the circle and march towards Montse. She looks up from her clipboard as you approach. 

“We should split training.” She pauses and then nods. “Attack and defence, at least. And don’t let the press hear this, but, my god, Montse, I do not like how they’re all back.” 

“We’re a stronger team,” she says, but she’s smiling and you are definitely her favourite. Another deep breath and she is calling a water break. 

The girls retreat to the sidelines for ice and hydration, and you reunite with the people you like. Your club teammates prefer you at national camp, because there is something less reclusive about you. It’s as though you’re trying to prove that you get on. 

Olga hands you a water bottle, the contents of which you guzzle down in one go. She begins to comment on the absurdity of Alexia’s mandated rondos (“why do they have to keep reminding themselves how to pass a ball?”) and while you agree, your attention is diverted. Alexia is standing a few meters away with Mariona Caldentey. She’s listening to something the forward is telling her, face focused, finger twisting her ring around in circles. 

That fucking ring. 

You look away before you are caught in such a compromising position, wiping your forehead with your damp training shirt. 

“Oye,” Misa’s voice pulls you back, “are you paying attention?” You’re not even sure when she joined the conversation. Your relationship with the goalkeeper has always been overly complicated. You work very closely, what with you commanding the backline and her… also commanding the backline. But she’s friends with people who must have at least once wished you dead, so it’s hard to tell where you stand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you lie, screwing the cap back onto the water bottle and placing it in Olga’s held-out palm. 

“You’re never this spacey. You’ve been off since the meeting,” she presses, her voice gentle but insistent. “If this is about the captaincy–” 

“It’s not,” you snap, harsher than what was meant. Her eyes widen slightly and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. It’s not about that. I’m fine.” 

Misa doesn’t look convinced but she nods, letting it drop. Gratitude relaxes your shoulders but the uneasy silence that follows is punishing enough for you to be eager for training to resume. 

Now that the rondos have been left behind until tomorrow, you divide into teams for a scrimmage. The squad is split into four and you throw yourself into the exercise. Every touch, every pass, every run is perfect, and you are unrecognisable from your lackadaisical lull only ten minutes ago. You’re pushing your body and it flicks onto autopilot, driven by muscle memory and determination. 

Your head’s not in it. You can’t outrun her shadow. You can’t think when your teams are against each other. 

The ring must have come off now, and she is getting stuck in. She’s relentless and irritating, evading your teammates’ tackles and drawing you into her. It’s almost transportative: back you go to gardens after school or being barefoot on the beach, forced out of your relaxation and into an endless game of ‘tackle me like you mean it’. She has that same glint in her eye, that same goading gleam. You consider it, but crutches at a wedding is a low blow. 

And so you lay off. Just on her, and only just enough so that she knows you are not trying. You do not care for petty squabbles. You are not willing to go back to those memories, to that time. 

Or at least, that’s the message you hope she gets. 

The games slowly wind down, prompted by Montse’s whistle to signal the end of the session. You stay on the pitch longer than anyone else, taking you time to collect the stray balls scattered across the grass. It’s partly an excuse to delay walking into the locker room, where the tension will be thick (you were not the right choice for third captain in the eyes of your teammates), and partly because you need a moment to breathe. 

The others slowly disperse, peeling off to the showers or collapsing onto benches. Alexia lingers longer than most, wiping away her sweat with her shirt, abs exposed and tensed. She watches you as you move across the pitch, and though her gaze is subtle, you can feel it blazing hotter than the sun lashing down on you. But, despite her staring, she too is eventually coaxed away. You’re unsure whether she is thankful for the interruption. 

When you finally make your way to the changing rooms, most of your teammates are in the showers, and the sound of running water mingled with laughter echoes. You take a seat at the locker you were assigned and let out a slow breath, peeling off sweat-soaked socks with mild disgust. You turn to fling them into your laundry bag, but their flight path is blocked by a blonde who has clearly delayed her own shower to talk to you. 

She’s looking oddly pensive. You don’t like it. 

“We need to talk.” It’s uncomfortable for Alexia to say and it’s worse for you to hear. You’re not sure you’re okay with her decision to become reasonable and mature. It’s quite the compliment to always be the cause for stoic, rational Alexia Putellas going absolutely batshit crazy. 

Driving her up the wall is fun. 

“I’ll send you an invitation. No need to tell me which room is yours.” You give her a smile. And, like you always do, you walk away. 

…

There’s a charge to the air that is choking you by dinner time. The upgrade to captain allowed for your own room, and it is easy to blow off teammates who want to have plans with you with the simple excuse of needing to talk to your agent. You technically do, since you are going to leave Madrid during the transfer window, but you have no intention of dialling his number until he confirms the best and furthest team wants you. 

You’ve spent the evening avoiding the majority of the players, which Montse took advantage of, encouraging you to spend dinner discussing tactics with her and her staff. You feel like the teacher’s pet. You know how angry it is making Alexia.

Collapsing on the bed when you back into your room, you let out a loud groan, sinking into the mattress. Your phone buzzes on the bedside table and for a moment, you think it might be Alba, allowing you no peace and quiet despite her distance. Instead, it’s a message on the team group chat from the strength and conditioning coach about tomorrow’s gym session. A wave of relief washes over you; anything but her. 

Still, as you scroll, you catch yourself lingering on the names in the group chat, your thumb hovering near Alexia’s. Your stomach tightens and the memory of her tone, her expression, pulls at you like a tether. 

She’s not going to drop this. 

It’s no longer a matter of avoidance in the camp. You’ve said you will be present. She must want to ensure you will not make a scene. 

A knock at the door, so quiet you are almost convinced it was imagined, breaks you out of your brooding. Your eyes watch the wood as though it will be splintered in a moment, but when you make no move to get up, a more insistent knock sounds. You sigh as you pull yourself off your bed, dragging your feet towards the door. Opening it, you find Alexia standing there, arms crossed and wearing an expression you can’t quite decipher. It lacks her usual burning hatred. She looks exhausted. 

You struggle to feel any sympathy. 

“What?” you snap. It’s a bit harsher than intended but you don’t let on that that’s the case. 

“Can I come in?” You guess that she didn’t pick up the hint when you gave her no invitation. You do not want to talk. You don’t do that to people much anymore. 

She expects the door to slam in her face – and you consider it – but it’s your hesitation that tells her she can, and so she slowly moves inside, shoulder brushing yours because you refuse to move out of the way. And then she raises a deliberate hand towards the door, pushing it shut. You ignore the ring. 

You lean against the door once it’s shut, arms folded as she wanders further into your room. She looks out of place somewhere so personal to you, standing awkwardly in the centre and trying not to look at the explosion of clothes and books that has been detonated on the floor. 

She reads the titles of a few – classics that look dense and boring. Something hungry inside her dulls a bit, because you have not changed in this respect. 

“You’re quiet for someone who wants to talk,” you prompt, mostly because the silence is unbearable. 

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her arms drop to her sides, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves. She tries to meet your eyes, but falters when she sees the cold indifference staring back. You’re looking at her like she’s a stranger. It stings more than it should.

“I didn’t invite you to the wedding,” she says finally. “Olga doesn’t know about us.” 

“There’s no ‘us’,” you snap, sharper this time.

Her jaw tightens and for a second, she looks as though she’s been struck. “Don’t lie.” 

“There is no ‘us’,” you repeat, your tone icy now. “That disappeared the minute I–” 

“Left,” comes her interruption, her voice trembling just enough for you to notice. She steps closer, her shadow crossing yours, and her eyes narrow. “Which was your decision, not mine.”

You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a say in it.” 

“I didn’t!” she fires back, her voice rising. There is something raw beneath it – something fractured. “You didn’t give me one. You walked out, and you shut me out like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.” 

Her words hang in the air and for a moment, you don’t know whether to shoot or turn away. But her gaze pins you in place, fierce and unrelenting, as though daring you to deny it. 

You hold her stare, your throat tightening. “And you didn’t try to stop me.” 

The silence that follows feels deafening. Neither of you moves. Neither of you blinks. You’re both standing on landmines and have nowhere to go. 

Her jaw clenches, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Her voice, though low, crackles with the heat of restrained anger. 

“You didn’t give me a chance to stop you.” And she steps closer, ready to bite. The door presses against your back as you instinctively move away. “You made up your mind before I even knew what was happening.” 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see it coming.” You shake your head. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to leave, Alexia.”

Her expression darkens, something in her eyes flickering dangerously. “That’s not the point. You didn’t just leave the club. You didn’t just leave me. You left everything. Our family. Our life. Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you walk away as if none of it mattered?” 

Your chest tightens but you refuse to let her words land. “You don’t get to make me the villain here.” 

“I don’t have to,” she snaps, her voice rising now, accent thickening with her anger. “You were part of my family, part of me. You were at every Christmas, every birthday. My mother adored you. Alba still loves you like you are her own sister! And you just disappeared like none of it meant anything. Like we didn’t mean anything.”

You flinch at the weight of her words but force yourself into steadiness. “I didn’t belong there. It wasn’t mine, it was yours.” 

Her face twists in disbelief, voice trembling as it rises again. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You were my family. My first everything. My first kiss. My first…” She pauses, her voice cracking. You swallow hard – you don’t want the fucking itemised list. “My first time. You think I just gave that to anyone? You think that it was just fun and games?” 

Your stomach churns as she stokes a fire you’ve tried to smother for years. “It wasn’t nothing,” you agree, although it sounds like you are contradicting her in a way that causes her to falter on her drive forwards. “It was everything. That’s why I left. Because I couldn’t be what was needed anymore. Because I knew if I stayed, I’d only–” 

“Only what?” 

You gulp. 

She’s back in your face, voice laced with venom. “Hurt me? Ruin me? Let us all done? Guess what, you did that anyway. Leaving made it easier? Made it hurt less?” 

“I didn’t know what else to do!” you shout, voice splitting. 

“You stay!” It echoes and it bruises your skin. Her eyes are blazing now, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “You stay, because that is what you do when you love someone. When you love a family. You don’t just walk away from them. You fight.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between guilt and pride. She sees it and it only seems to enrage her further. 

Her voice drops, anger so torrid she has to purposely cool her tone. “You know, I thought that my world was ending then. I thought you’d done your worst. But I was wrong. Because your betrayal wasn’t just personal, it was… political. To not see someone you love except for when they are sitting at the feet of this. Corruption’s pet. Pandering to an organisation you hated, while the rest of us fought for scraps.” 

Heat rises in your chest. How dare she– “I don’t pander to anyone.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” she spits. She’s too close. She’s too inescapable. And her anger is no longer fiery but icy, piercing through your skin. “I’ve seen the way you act around them, bowing your head and playing the loyal soldier while they tear us apart. You think I didn’t notice how he favoured you? Or how Montse magically replaces an irreplaceable member of–” 

“It’s not like that,” you counter, but the words feel hollow even to you.

“Then what is it?” she demands. “What is it that makes you stand there and let them walk all over us? Let them divide us? And don’t you dare say it is for the good of the team. The team hates you for it. We all do. You’ve earned every bit of it, traidora.” 

The word hits you like a whip, lacerating and making you bleed. Your hands curl into fists so tightly your nails dig into your palms, the sting barely enough to contain the fury surging through you. “Don’t you dare call me that!” The sentence tears out of your throat, rough and jagged. You take a step forwards, the air between you crackling with tension, your voice breaking as you spit, “you don’t get to say that to me. Not you.”

“Why not?” she challenges. “It’s what you are. You left, you betrayed everything we stood for, and then you came back just to make things worse. You made your choices.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her, the anger and heartbreak in her eyes, eviscerating and leaving you hollow. But then, something shifts in the air between you, and you find your voice again, souring from before.

“Is that why you’re here, Alexia? To throw all of this in my face? To let out fifteen years of harboured emotion? Or is it something else?” 

Her brow furrows in confusion. Surprise. And then her expression twists into anger. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You take a step forward now, and she is forced to retreat. “Do you not want to marry Olga, Alexia? Is that it? Is that why you’re here? Because you think you can come into my room, dredge all of this up, and make me the reason you’re unhappy?” 

Her face pales as she takes a deep breath, hands trembling at her sides. “Don’t,” she warns, firmly enough to signal you need to push.

So you do. 

“You came here because you’re scared.” She shakes her head but it’s rigid and forced. “Because you’re not sure you can go through with it and you want me to give you a reason to back out. Well, I’m not going to do that for you. This isn’t my mess. It’s yours.”

She says nothing and you feel sick. Her chest rises and falls with each gasping breath. She opens her mouth but again, you are left with silence, and the expression in her eyes flickers between defiance, confusion, and vulnerability. For a long moment, it feels like everything that could be said has been. 

The air between you is charged, but neither of you know which way it will go. 

You stare at her watching her waver. And it hits you: she doesn’t know what to do. 

All of this, all the anger and the pain, all the accusations and betrayals, has led her here, to this moment. She thought she had an answer, she thought she would be able to end this, but now? Now, Alexia is lost. There is too much here, too much to lose. And for the first time in a long while, you are feeling the same thing. You are both no longer sure if you want to fight. 

She takes a hesitant step closer and you freeze. But then, just as quickly, her hand moves – not to strike, not to harm, but to touch you. Her fingers brush lightly over the fabric of your sleeve, almost tenderly, before they fall away, and you don’t know if the motion was meant for comfort or something else.

Her breath is ragged, coming in slow, uneven gasps. Her eyes never leave yours. You don’t want them to. 

“I don’t know what to do with all of this,” she murmurs, the rawness in her tone shattering any remaining wall between you. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

How do you respond to that? You want her to leave but the thought is unbearable. You want space but she is not close enough. Something inside you stirs, something you can’t fight; a need to understand her and make her understand you. To make her see how tangled this, how impossible it has always been. 

Before you can form the word, before you can even think, she moves in closer, and there is no longer distance. She doesn’t ask for permission. She doesn’t hesitate. And then, without warning, her lips are on yours. 

It’s soft, tentative at first, as though testing the waters of something neither of you is sure of anymore. But then it shifts. Her body leans into yours, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as if this is everything that has not been said and has been at the same time. Your heart races, a million conflicting emotions crashing through you. Anger, betrayal, love – it is all here, you can taste it on her lips. It’s fierce, desperate, and it feels like an endless cycle of need and regret, pulling you both back to something raw, something irretrievable. 

Her hands find your waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring herself to something that could pull her under. You instinctively respond, pulling her closer, drawing in the heat of her touch, the scent of her skin, the pressure of her body against yours. For a fleeting second, everything else fades away. There’s no past, no future, only here and now. 

And then the fog clears. 

You pull back, breathless and worse off. You’ve fucked up again. Alexia is crying. 

“I’m not the person you think I am anymore,” you say, but it’s hard to meet her gaze. “I can’t be that person for you.”

Her eyes search yours desperately for lies, for deceit. She wants it to be wrong. She doesn’t know why. And she replies, “I don’t care what you think you’ve become,” because she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to her.

You stare at her, heart pounding, and you want to feel like this will be worth it, but nothing comes except cold emptiness. You force yourself to stay upright. “I think the wedding will be good.” She swallows. “You’ll be happy with Olga. I’m sure of it.” 

It’s a death sentence. 

This time, it is Alexia who leaves. 

…

The wedding is beautiful. Blissful sunlight makes the venue seem to glow and it is hard not to be impressed with how they have set this up. 

The model at your side is also beautiful, but you remind yourself it is not a competition. You focus on the whispers of anticipation from the guests, the rustle of the dresses as people pass in merry groups, clinking their glasses and finishing their champagne as they take their seats. Everything looks perfect, plucked from magazines and tasteful brochures. This must be what Alexia wanted. 

Your date is occupying herself in conversation with the man seated next to you, who might be hitting on her, though you don’t care. She slides a hand over your thigh anyway. 

The ceremony begins, although you’re not really concentrating on it. You try to focus, listening as the officiant speaks, but the words have become a dull hum. It’s all so rehearsed, so expected, and it’s boring. You won’t be getting married anytime soon, that’s for sure. 

You know the flow of these things: the vows, the promises, the kiss, and the crowd’s applause. It’s a performance, though it’s not quite a farce. 

And then, it comes. The moment. The one that feels like a trap. 

The officiant pauses, glancing out over the gathering. “Si algú s'hi oposa, que parli ara o calli per sempre.”

For a heartbeat, time slows. The air thickens. Every muscle in your body tenses and the world around you goes still. You catch yourself holding your breath, gaze instinctively shifting to the woman standing at the front of the altar. 

Alexia. 

Her eyes flicker briefly in your direction – just a flicker, but it’s there, unmistakable. It’s her moment of hesitation, well masked but clear as day to you. But before you can make sense of it, she’s looking away, eyes fixed back onto Olga. Her expression hardens, more composed now, and you know that you are not going to break this silence. 

The officiant, oblivious to the storm passing between you both, waits for a beat longer before continuing, his voice echoing in the silence. 

And she’s married. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s over now. You’ve let her win. 

[royalarchivist]

YD: Ahh, so adorable. I recorded some stuff, like them trying yukke. [Reading chat] Right? I was flabbergasted when I heard his age! I didn’t know that he was… 20 years old??? He was also shocked when I told him my age. I don’t really ask their ages when I’m talking to foreigners, we’re just friends, ‘cause they don’t have distinct honorific and informal languages like we do. And he guessed I was like, 23? [Laughs] I laughed my ass off.

YD: These kids are polite. They seem very polite, don’t they? Especially after hearing how old I am. It feels like they’re saying, “Yes ma’am, it’s very delightful.” So cute, and they seemed like they really enjoyed their meal.

YD talked about meeting up with Tubbo while he was in Korea and shares two videos of them eating food at a Korean BBQ place!

MASSIVE thank you to @Forgetmelotz on Twitter, who translated and subtitled this video and gave me permission to share it on Tumblr! Please make sure to give the original video a like.

[Full Video and Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

—

⚠️ This transcript is VERY LONG! ⚠️

—

YD: So I was planning to have a dinner with Kei [a Kpop Idol / Singer], but unexpectedly, there's a foreigner friend I met on QSMP named Tubbo, he's from the UK, and apparently he's visiting Korea. And he posted an Instagram story about it. I saw it and was like "Wait, are you coming to Korea?" and it [Tubbo's post] even says Korea blah blah within the date two days after my birthday. So I sent him a DM and he responded with "Haven't you seen my Twitter DM?"

YD: I recently distanced myself a little from Instagram and Twitter for a while, yeah I didn't check my phone that often, and it turns out he messaged me about 3 - 4 days ago saying "YD, I'm flying to Korea! Blah blah–" so I was like "Oh, oh... I'm sorry I didn't see that!" and I checked the DM the day before he arrived here... I told him that I am so sorry and asked if I can meet him in person.

* [Translation note: this can also mean the other way around, ie: he may have asked her if they could meet in person]

YD: So we ended up seeing [each other] on the 21st. I was supposed to have dinner with Kei, so I told her "but my friend from abroad... is in Korea now... what should I do..." and we rescheduled the dinner to inviting her to come over next week. So um, the, right– Tubbo, Tubbo's friend [Eryn], Seoneng [one of YD's crew members] and Kang-si [YD's husband] the 5 of us had dinner together.

YD: We went to a Korean BBQ place. I was searching through restaurants thinking “Uh… which Korean restaurant should I take these foreigners to so that they would be super impressed?” [YD thanks a dono] Yeah, I was searching hard and so I asked Ryeori. You know the Kwak tori & Ryeori couple? Ryeori the hair designer, I asked him, “Reyori, I’m trying to buy a dinner for my foreigner friend, do you have any recommendations for where I should bring him?” and he started listing up like Michelin star-rated pork gukbap restaurants and stuff. Then he also tells me that it’s really difficult to find an actual Korean restaurant in Hongdae, like it’s difficult to find a decent place. There are mostly fusion Korean food [places]. But then he goes, “Oh, hey, this place looks fine” and recommends me this Korean BBQ restaurant. I decided to bring them there and fed them.

YD: The reason I liked that place was that they sell doenjang-jjigabe, galbi-tang, jeyuk bokkeum, and other dishes as well as their main menu, the beef KBBQ. The banchans [side dishes] were also served neatly, they even had japchae, they sold yukke. Obviously there are better Korean restaurants outside of Hongdae, but their hotel was located there. It wasn’t like he had a car here, so I was trying to meet them somewhere they can just walk to. So Hongdae it was. On top of that, YD 4-cuts is also located in Hongdae.** So I thought it would be the best to just eat out here. And while we were eating, I’ve recorded some videos.

** [Note: This is a photo booth event with custom YD frames, as show in the background of this video]

YD: [Scrolls through to find the videos and laughs] Ahh, so adorable. I recorded some stuff, like them trying yukke. [Reading chat] Right? I was flabbergasted when I heard his age! I didn’t know that he was… 20 years old??? He was also shocked when I told him my age. I don’t really ask their ages when I’m talking to foreigners, we’re just friends, ‘cause they don’t have distinct honorific and informal languages like we do. [She thanks another dono] And he guessed I was like, 23? [Laughs] I laughed my ass off.

[YD plays a video she took of Tubbo and Eryn at the restaurant]

Tubbo: Oh, ok. [?]: You should tell them how to eat it together.  Tubbo: You’re overestimating my chopstick skill.  [?]: Here. [Passes Tubbo some of the meat]  Tubbo: Oh, thank you. [?]: And here, together. Tubbo: Ok. [Takes a bite] Waitress: With this vegetable. Tubbo: Mm, it’s really sweet! [?]: Foreigners quite like it. Eryn: [Reaches over and tries some food too, struggling a bit with his chopsticks] [?]: Unexpected, right? [?]: Oh, they like yukke? [?]: They just need to get used to it. Waitress: I will grill and hand it over to you, so please help yourselves. [?]: Ok, thank you. Eryn: [Tries more food and gives it a thumbs-up] [?]: Hm, good?! Tubbo and Eryn: Yeah! Tubbo: So far 10/10.

[The video ends]

YD: These kids are polite. They seem very polite, don’t they? Especially after hearing how old I am. It feels like they’re saying, “Yes ma’am, it’s very delightful.” So cute, and they seemed like they really enjoyed their meal. They were eating it up. They drank soju, they ate some noodles, and even doenjang-jjigae. I’ve heard foreigners don’t really like the taste of doenjang-jjigae, but they ate pretty much [all] of it. The restaurant also had pot rice, so I made them try that too. They ate that well too.

[YD plays the second video she recorded of them at the restaurant]

Tubbo: Go crazy ok, yeah! Alright.

YD: We ordered naengmyeon for a palate cleanser too. We ordered a lot.

Tubbo: [Struggles to cut the noodles with the scissors that were handed to him]

YD: He’s asking why we cut the noodles.

Tubbo: [Manages to cut the noodles] Kang-si [?]: Ok, and- and– [does chopstick motion] Tubbo: [Laughs] What am I gonna need?  Eryn: Chopsticks? Kang-si [?]: Yeah. YD [?]: Chopsticks, mm. Eryn: [To Tubbo] You go first. Tubbo: [Inaudible] Why is it cold? YD [?]: Oh, because the noodle is cold.

YD: Yeah, he found it interesting that the noodle is cold.

Tubbo: [He struggles with his chopsticks] Oh no, oh no… [Everyone laughs] Kang-si [?]: Very difficult. Ok! Tubbo: [Manages to fish some noodles out and holds his hand under them so they don’t splash everywhere as he transports them to his bowl] Seoneng [?]: Oh, uh, oh! It might be difficult for them to eat that. YD [?]: Hm? Kang-si [?]: Do you want some, Seoneng? Gimme the chopsticks, I’ll share you some. Eryn: [To Tubbo] Slippery. How did you get it?  Kang-si [?]: I’ll give you some, hand me the chopsticks. Seoneng [?]: Can I hand you mine? Just a small amount, please.

YD: They mimicked how Kangseok [Kang-si, YD’s husband] handles the noodles. Like, picking up the noodles like this and moving it to your dish.

Tubbo: That’s why you’re better than me (?).

YD: That’s Seoneng.

Kang-si [?]: Here’s your chopsticks, Seoneng. Eryn: I think this is enough. YD [?]: Oh, he’s taking some to his dish. Seoneng [?]: He learned. Tubbo: Do you like, spin 'em? Seoneng [?]: Scissors? Kang-si [?]: Like– [He holds up his chopsticks and shows them how to do it. Ok. OK! Eryn: [Picks up only a few noodles, which dangle] Seoneng [?]: Good! Tubbo: Maybe I did- I did a sht job of cutting, I'm sorry. Eryn: That's ok. Doing good.

YD: It had a nice atmosphere.

Eryn: Bravo. Tubbo: Oh, thank you. YD [?]: The noodles might be a bit slippery for them to...

YD: They really struggled to pick the noodles up. They asked why we cut the noodles then proceeds to eat like that 'cuz it's too long.

YD [?]: Shall we cut it? Kang-si [?]: Eryn? [He leans forward and cuts Eryn's noodles with scissors]

YD: –So we had to cut it for him like he's a baby.

[Everyone laughs] Eryn: It kept on moving!

[The video ends]

YD: [Laughs] Ah, so cute. It was fun. So we tried various dishes together. And uh, UK– UK– both of them are from the UK, but they didn't know there is a viral series of British students trying Korean food,*** so I told them "Seeing how you react to unfamiliar foods, like... How do I put this? You were very polite trying these out, not making any weird disgusted noises (so you can go viral too)." They didn't refuse anything. Well, they also said that this was the best Korean food they had so far. They might've been just being polite, but still, you know, they were... Hmm, very neat? Yeah. I get why he's so popular.

*** [Note: YT: Korean Englishman]

YD: Anyways, it was a lot of fun. After the meal, I asked them if they wanted to go take a YD 4-cut with us, explaining this is a trending form of birthday event amongst fans of younger generations in Korea where they rent and run a photobooth for their YouTuber / CCs / Influencers. I asked "It's close from here, you wanna go?" and he said yes. That's how we ended up taking a group photo. It wasn't planned beforehand.

YD: We arrived there– [Laughs] I tried, I knew it closes at 10pm, so I tried to visit there around then (to avoid people). So we got there around 9:30? And my fans were sitting there waiting for me. As soon as they spot me they go, "Wooooooo!!! It's so good to see you in person!!!" ...then they started crying, which made Tubbo and Eryn panic a bit. They were like "Wow YD, u a superstar! Whoa." [Laughs]

YD: No, 'cuz I told them that there might be a few fans because it's my birthday event, and they were OK with it. Well, he's also a Youtuber, so he wouldn't be too unfamiliar with this kinda situation I figure. But even though I warned [him] about it, they seemed a bit surprised as people started SOBBING, so Kangseok evacuated them all. He told them, "Let's get out and try some salted butter rolls while she..." The boys leave and get bread, and I go have a short conversation with my fans, take photos, give autographs... [Laughs]

YD: It was a LOT of fun. It was a memorable day.

The original VOD can be found here (please note that the video is only available to VIP members of YD's channel).

Timestamp for this conversation: ~12:30 - 23:00

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

hello!! I’m a bit new to reading your stuff and I already LOVE it!!! And I was just wondering that because you did one with Ghost’s wife and baby meeting the team that maybe perhaps possibly you could do one for Gaz? If you don’t, I understand, and if you already have then I’m sorry for asking. ok, bye-bye!!!

—Lunar🐱

You Brought Who?

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, light domestic themes, found family vibes, established relationship, soft smut/spice (MDNI), affectionate teasing, Kyle being a very good husband and dad

Author's Note: This was such a joy to put together—team bonding, tiny chaos, soft!Kyle, and just the right sprinkle of heat. Hope you love it as much as I loved writing it!

Summary: When Kyle invites the team over for a casual hangout, he finally reveals the part of his life he's kept private—his wife and daughter. The surprise is mutual, the warmth is real, and the night takes a turn for the intimate once the house quiets down.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Kyle had always kept his personal life close to the chest.

So when he casually dropped a, "You lot free Friday? Come round mine," into the squad chat, the silence that followed was deafening.

Price was the first to respond, gruff but curious.

Did hell freeze over?

Soap followed with something less tactful.

Since when do you host things? You live in a flat or a secret underground base?

Ghost, as usual, offered just:

Fine. I’ll bring something.

The truth was… no one really knew much about Kyle Garrick’s life outside work. They knew he liked his coffee sweet, was terrifyingly efficient in combat, and had a mouth that could cut a man to ribbons if pushed. But he never really shared things—not like Johnny with his endless stories, or Price with his well-worn wisdom, or even Ghost with his rare but grounding insights.

So when they showed up at the address Kyle had dropped—nice part of town, neat little front garden, cozy semi-detached—they were already off-balance.

Then the door opened.

And everything tilted.

You greeted them with a soft smile and wide eyes, dressed in a cozy knit set that looked far too soft for someone associated with a man like Kyle. You didn’t look shocked to see them. Just… mildly amused. Like you were used to this energy, and maybe even fond of it.

"Hi," you said. "Come in. Kyle’s just finishing up in the kitchen."

Price blinked. "You must be…"

"His wife," you supplied, stepping aside to let them in.

Soap nearly tripped over the welcome mat.

"Wife?"

You laughed, nodding. "Three years this fall."

"Bloody hell," Johnny muttered, glancing toward Ghost like he’d just learned Kyle had a second identity.

You led them into the warm, softly lit living room, where a little girl—tiny, curly-haired, with big brown eyes and a tiara perched on her head—was arranging plastic cups and stuffed animals around a tea table.

She looked up and beamed.

"Hi! I’m Talia. I’m four and a half. You wanna come to my tea party?"

Ghost, who had been about to sit down, froze mid-motion.

Kyle appeared then, casual in joggers and a hoodie, a tea towel over his shoulder, and absolutely unbothered by the stunned silence.

"Everyone," he said calmly, like it wasn’t earth-shattering, "meet my girls."

It took a moment for the team to catch up.

Price recovered first, moving forward to shake your hand with a chuckle. "He’s kept you hidden well."

"We weren’t hiding," you said, smiling up at Kyle. "Just… keeping it ours."

Soap crouched to meet Talia’s eye level, eyes wide with disbelief and delight. "You’re telling me this guy is your dad?"

She nodded proudly. "He’s the best one."

Ghost, standing stiff as ever near the wall, gave her a nod. "You run the place, then?"

Talia grinned. "I’m the boss of tea parties and bedtime songs."

Soap burst out laughing. "She’s a proper legend already."

And just like that—she had them.

Ghost ended up wearing a plastic crown and holding a stuffed bear named Sir Grumbles.

Soap was dramatically “poisoned” twice and made a scene both times.

Price, ever the steady one, sipped imaginary tea like it was the finest Earl Grey in Britain.

You watched from the kitchen, hands wrapped around your mug as Kyle leaned next to you, one arm slung around your shoulders.

"They’re not what I expected," you admitted.

He kissed your hair. "They’re not what anyone expects. But they’re good men."

"They love her already," you said, voice soft.

"Course they do." He smiled. "She’s perfect."

——

Later that night, with Talia fast asleep in bed and the team lounging in the living room—Soap and Ghost bickering over whose stuffed animal was knighted first, and Price quietly watching it all with a bemused smile—Kyle pulled you aside into your shared bedroom.

He shut the door gently behind you, voice low. "You okay, love?"

You nodded, letting him press close, hands warm on your waist. "More than okay."

He kissed you—slow and sweet, like he had nowhere else to be. The noise faded behind the door, the world shrinking down to just his breath on your skin, his fingers grazing under your shirt.

"You sure?" he murmured, lips brushing your jaw. "We’ve got a full house."

You smiled, curling your fingers into his hoodie. "Then you better be quiet, Sergeant."

He laughed softly, voice thick with affection. "Not a chance."

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly, but it quickly melted into a gasp when he dipped his head to your neck, kissing slowly, lazily, like he had all night to savor you. His hands slid under your top, calloused palms skimming your skin as he laid you back against the sheets.

"You looked so damn good today," he murmured, voice low and warm. "Watching you with them. With her. Had me counting the minutes."

"Kyle—" you whispered, breath catching as he pushed your shirt up and pressed kisses down your stomach. "They’re just in the other room."

He grinned against your skin. "Then I’ll go slow."

And he did—painfully, blissfully so. He made love to you like it was a language only you two understood, soft gasps and whispered praise tangled in the dark. When you finally came undone beneath him, his name slipping past your lips like a prayer, he followed close behind, burying his face in your neck and holding you close.

——

Afterward, tangled together under the covers, you let yourself melt into him, chest still rising and falling as he brushed his fingers down your spine.

"Still glad you brought them?" you mumbled sleepily.

"Best decision I ever made," he said, kissing your temple. "Besides marrying you."

The next morning was chaos—but the sweet kind.

You found Talia sprawled on top of Ghost on the couch, a tiny hand gripping his vest while he slept rigidly beneath her, clearly unsure of what to do.

Soap was face-down in a pile of stuffed animals.

Price was already drinking tea.

Kyle slung an arm around your waist and kissed your temple.

"You see it now?" he whispered. "Why I wanted them to know?"

You leaned into him, smiling at the quiet sight of your daughter curled up against one of the world’s most intimidating men.

"Yeah," you murmured. "I see it."

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[takes1]

final part asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

skip the intro if you want again, (i marked the beginning of actual smut for ease of navigating) couldn't resist adding some kuroo stuff bc i love writing him even if its not sexual/thirst. this has turned a bit more into porn with plot forgive me i'm simple

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

info. nsfw / soft+rough kissy missionary sex / mentions of personal restraint / multiple orgasms / mentions of masturbation / gentle giant!asahi / asahi keeping your mouth shut / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / dacryphilia if you squint / sex toys (vibrator) / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 3.6k words / thanks for reading this asahi series!! it's been a delight!

haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part two here. part three here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

You chose some giant clothes to cover the fact that you weren't wearing anything underneath.

Then, with your security chair out of the way, you quietly slipped into the hall.

The familiar sound of Helldivers 2 on the entertainment speakers assaulted your ears. Of course, he got to invite friends over for the weekend.

You padded downstairs, the ache between your legs nearly unmanageable. You clenched your fists at the sight of his lazy ass as you walked behind the couch to get to the front door.

It was funny how quickly he zapped all desire from your body. You did not enjoy sobering up so quickly.

"I thought you said you were staying home!" Tetsurou called as soon as you grabbed the leash off of the rack.

You nearly pulled a muscle rolling your eyes so far back. You shook the thing violently from the doorway so he'd get it through his thick skull that you were literally doing what he texted you to do.

A couple voices muttered something, but your brother spoke volumes above it--

"Wait two seconds, shit-head!"

You clipped the hook into your dog's collar. To Hell with whatever he wanted. You unlocked the door and slipped on a pair of giant, black crocs.

That garbage pile gave you enough grief about your no-plans-plan in the past 12 hours to deserve being stranded on a barrel in the middle of the ocean. He could handle playing games with his friends while you went to walk the dog.

"C'mon, baby," You cooed and closed the door behind you.

It was, thankfully, nice and cold outside. You were glad you opted for some warm clothes.

"Where are my shoes?!" He yelled through the crack in the door. Almost to the end of the driveway, you didn't figure he had the gumption to follow you without them.

You pushed your hood up and pulled the strings.

A stop at the other side of the gate, and you waited for Maru to finish pissing in order to continue the walk. The big, empty street looked a little creepy in the dark.

flip!-flip!-flip!-flip!-flip!

You were glad to not be alone, but still threw your head back when he rounded the corner. His hands were shoved into his basketball shorts and he was shivering.

You both looked down to each other's feet at the same time. He had to put on your flip-flops, so his heels were hanging out the back and his grippers were on the pavement.

A silent exchange went down, one shoe at a time.

Now walking again, you returned to your baseline agitation.

"I don't need a bodyguard to walk the dog."

"Try being a little less stupid, and I'll trust you to not run off with the first guy you see."

You stopped dead in your tracks. "You think this is me sneaking out?"

He didn't respond quickly enough.

You kept walking, glad he was so cold that his teeth were chattering, "You're an idiot--."

He pushed you, unable or unwilling to argue.

"Why would I sneak out with the dog?" You muttered.

Another stop for Maru. It was silent, again, and you were wishing he would just go back by himself already.

"What's that smell?" He sounded ridiculously close to your head.

You looked up and realized that was because he was sniffing your hood. A sudden insecurity of smelling like sex flashed through you.

Pushing hard on his chest, you declared, "Fuck off."

It didn't send him flying the way you wanted it to. It only pissed him off, especially because he knew that smell from somewhere. He just couldn't recall exactly how right now.

You expected him to push or slap you back, so you tensed, but no such move was made.

"One day you'll thank me," He muttered with a grumpy chuckle.

A glance didn't do you any good. It was too dark to see his face.

"For what?" You rolled your eyes again.

It was quiet for so long that you were certain he had just been joking. As if he did anything to help you out, anyway. All he did was piss you off and get in your way.

"For making sure you don't get hurt."

Frustration on the tip of your tongue, you began to retort, "I--," but fell short of the will to say anything back for a minute.

Your glancing around in the dark didn't help you form any thoughts.

Maybe Asahi being so kind was just luck. Not the wise intuition you claimed to be guided by. There were already many times tonight that could've made a turn for the worse, and you hadn't realized until after the fact.

That didn't change how you felt, though, other than some newfound patience for Tetsurou's difficult, demanding nature.

Maru didn't want to go much further than the fifth lamp post, so your small party turned around before you could cross the street.

It was quiet on the way back. Just the jingle of your dog's collar and the flip-flip of these shoes you hated.

You rounded the corner and closed the gate behind you, Tetsurou opting to walk ahead since it was evident to him that there was no danger anymore.

It was just getting to be a comfortable silence when he had to speak up one last time.

"Has this tree always been sideways?"

You genuinely thought it was a joke, so you didn't spare a look when you crossed behind him to get inside. He caught you shoulder the way you hated so much and you swiped your hand to hit him, but saw what he was talking about and froze.

The both of you took a moment, dumbfounded, to stare at your lawn tree. It looked nearly snapped, like a hurricane had come through, but it hadn't rained in weeks. Nothing else was wrecked. Just the tree.

You felt guilty about it for just a second, but rationalized that it had nothing to do with you. You weren't sure what that was from.

"Maybe it was rotted from the inside?" You thought out loud.

He glanced around, suspicion at its full peak, and guided you inside swiftly by your upper back.

Tetsurou locked the door behind you and stayed stock-still, staring through the peephole for so long you didn't bother saying anything to him before heading back upstairs.

At your door, you heard him call to Kenma and Bokuto.

"Did one of you kick that tree in the yard?"

You collapsed against the door with a soft shut and an even softer sigh.

There was no time to deconstruct everything that was discussed, because your eyes followed a sound that nearly made you jump out of your skin.

The man took up so much of your bed. He was on his back, scarred knuckles brushed slowly up and down, a casual pump to quell his impatient cock.

His hand fit much better around it than yours. In his other hand, held closer to his face, he was clicking a small device- the familiar buzz of which inspired a complete takeover of tension between your legs.

Your embarrassment was no secret, and neither was his curiosity.

"I'd love to use this," He grinned and looked you up and down, undressing you with his eyes.

It took some effort to find the lock on the door and make your shaky way over to the bed. Like last time, he met you at the side.

However, you noticed that before you left, he didn't have the same edge in his brow, or the eagerness that defined the way he pulled you into him.

When you stumbled, he caught you and tilted your head for a restless kiss. He was shoving his hands under the waistband of your pants and humming a sort of approval against your cool lips. It sent your stomach back into those fluttery waves of excitement all over again.

"You should take your clothes off," He muttered, fully immersed in his desire since he never had to sober off of it.

"Yeah- I should," You breathed against his rough, needy lips.

You were slipping back in quickly, though, when he took your lips in a chaste, passionate kiss all over again. His hands were slipping over your skin, discarding your hoodie before you could do it yourself.

His whole body was warm, it felt like he was burning through you when you stepped out of your pants and fell against his front. Like a melting ice cube.

When he picked you up this time and set you down, it was less premeditated, more animalistic. You gave a giggling smile when he parted your legs for him.

Any shyness he had before was long-gone after 10 minutes of imagining what he was going to do to you- you squirmed at his spit-slick fingers slipping over your soaking cunt.

"Still so wet for me," He muttered, pleased, into your hair, while his massive body settled over you.

That intense, near-evolutionary drive kicked in again where you believed you could take whatever he wanted to give you all night. It may have been the smell of his sweat, it may have been his grumbly voice.

"Obviously," You smirked. He grinned at your confidence.

"We can take this slow," He rolled a condom on without wasting any extra time, "I don't wanna hurt you."

The statement floored you for a moment. He didn't notice as he lined himself up with your tightness.

It echoed in your brain during the most contradictory part possible.

He sank into you- it wasn't easy, but after hours of build-up -more if you counted the self-pleasure you couldn't resist before he arrived- it was beyond rewarding to watch all of the stress and worry on his brow melt away in one smooth, slow stroke.

"Fuck- fuck, fuck," You whined, his grasp on your hip reassuring, but still a pen in which you couldn't wriggle from or adjust against, "God-!"

Your thighs twitched on either side of him, forcibly relaxed- you tried to catch your breath, but felt like your lungs were too constricted to do so.

His thumb brushed your cheek.

Patience and gentleness in the midst of it all allowed you to breathe a little easier.

Only kindness, with a hint of pity, remained in his expression as you gasped and struggled to ease up around his cock.

He looked away for a moment, his hand leaving the side of your face, and you heard a saving grace.

Asahi did you the liberty of placing it against your clit. His face lit up at the sight and sound of your newfound gratification.

"I bet that feels better, huh?" He smiled against your parted lips, stealing a few of your moans with an excited kiss.

There was a hard-to-pin inquisitiveness about his attitude surrounding your vibrator. Like he was dying to use it on you, feel you writhe around his still cock.

"Ohh my god-! Ah-Mn!" You cried against his lips.

It was met with chuckle and the slow pump of his hips sinking deeper into you.

It dulled the discomfort of his size, leaving only a feeling of fullness between your legs, a satisfied craving, and the intense waves of pleasure from your clit.

His pretty face and perfect body over you- how could you not just announce your paradise to everyone in the city?

One hand laced in yours, and you took control of your vibrator to swirl it the way you preferred while he picked up his leisurely pace.

He barely caught your high-pitched tone at the combination with an alarmed kiss.

Stalling, he warned, "You gotta be quiet," and leaned to press further kisses against your neck.

He quickly learned that you weren't going to stay that way for him, even if his balls were allegedly on the line.

The feeling of him going deeper, your thighs bouncing from his weight that shifted your entire body, and the building waves over your clit.

"Asahi," Came out in a needy moan.

"Shhh," He cooed, gripping the bottom half of your face to get your focus on him.

The beat of his thighs against the back of yours stole your attention instead- you squeezed against his palm with furrowed brows.

Another noisy cry at his size splitting through you, and he instinctively covered your mouth to shut you up.

He thrust hard into you and stayed there, earning a pitiful whimper, and leaned in close to catch your avoidant eyes.

A mutter against your heated skin, "Do I need to keep you quiet?"

His cock was stretching you beyond your limits- that steely look in his pretty brown eyes was so layered.

You clenched around him, butterflies attacking you now, of all times, at his stern tone, but genuine concern.

A gorgeous smile spread across his features when you nodded, helpless, but honest.

He felt too good- he filled you up better than you had imagined. You were stunned to feel that you were already close. There was just no possible way.

This wasn't how you wanted it to go.

It was too soon- you didn't want it to be over so quickly. But now, of course, you realized you didn't have the physical capacity to take him all night.

You tried moving the overwhelming buzz away from your needy clit, but met the resistance of his hand instead.

He pressed just enough to guide you right to an edge you couldn't pull back from. You whimpered against his palm.

You couldn't tell him you were about to cum. You couldn't move away, or speak, nor did you possess the will to push against him. All you did was claw, weak, across his back.

The look in his eyes responded to your subtle panic-pleasure without a word. A gentle fondness that he shouldn't have been capable of while he gave you his rougher strokes.

He removed his hand from your mouth just to swallow your sounds with a starved kiss, an avid grumble at the back of his throat when you took his tongue so well.

"Mm-!" You squeaked, nails digging deep red trenches into his shoulder.

It was an ultimate submission you never had the insurance to safely experience before.

You got the chance for a gasp before getting cut off -half a second before you could alert the entire house- by his huge palm again.

Asahi groaned as you tightened around him. He quickly shut himself up by flexing away the pleasure and leaning down to pant, warm breath spilling against your ear.

"Shh- I got you," His kindhearted whisper strung you along, crushing you underneath his weight, while he repeated that sweet promise, "I got you, baby."

All your worry of it being too soon dissipated as your orgasm wracked through your entire body and filled you with pure bliss. He fucked you hard and steady through it and didn't even grant you the dignity of looking away from him.

Your chest was tight at the end of it, eyes stinging, and you would've sobbed if he wasn't still keeping you quiet.

He watched your journey the whole time through your eyes, wholly captivated by your big, glossy fixation on him. When you blinked away the burn, he took no time to kiss them away.

Your body naturally relaxed, a twitchy and overstimulating process.

He slowed for you after he sucked the rest of your complicated tears up.

He was so heavy, so adamant on keeping your noise down that you couldn't tell him to stop. You weren't sure that you would try, even if he wasn't hindering your communication. The fact that you trusted him so much right now wasn't necessarily wise, but it felt right.

His growing intensity didn't hurt, but it didn't start to feel good until a raspy voice told you:

"Feels so good," He swallowed the spit gathered in his mouth and seethed, a light chuckle breezing past his lips, "You got no fuckin' clue."

That was just kind of sinful confession that gave you nervous chills even though he was already fucking you senseless.

He studied how your eyes clouded over at his words. A restrained, toothy smile nudged your jaw in a sugary kiss.

"I'm not gonna be able to get enough of you," He finally took his hand off of your lips and you were able to gasp at the impact of his words.

When he readjusted, he swept your legs up to his shoulders and dipped back down.

"A-Ah!" You barely choked out before he moved his hand back to its diligent place over your loud mouth.

He was so deep- you felt like he'd split right through you. Yet, you welcomed the possibility with the blessing of another steady-growing climax.

Yet, only one of you was so careless. He was so tender, so considerate because he could feel it, too. How fragile you really were in this position in regards to his size.

"God," He sighed at your loving stare.

"Gonna- ah, make me cum, lookin' at me like that," He groaned, a bit strained.

He finally dipped his head with closed eyes at the sweet, slick heat he just wanted to bury himself in. He couldn't get too carried away, now that it was starting to get difficult.

Your shitty stamina stroked his ego so much that he forgot he wouldn't be too far behind for a while. He got a bit ahead of himself and was paying for it with the climbing pressure in his stomach.

Your pussy was reason enough to fuck you harder, but that face was what really tested him.

His hand twitched at the compelling desire to hear you scream for him, but again, had to keep his sanity for the two of you. Next time he would make sure that brother of yours wouldn't be in the way.

He tried to keep an edge going, but found it laughably difficult to settle down.

If it wasn't your Fuck-me-harder eyes building up the needing to cum, it was your cute tits squished against your soft, scratched-up thighs, right under his chest.

It was impossible to keep himself from riding that high in the end.

As if to spite him, to completely spend all of his restraint, your watery eyes rolled back again. Your muffled whines filled his ears as you tightened once more around him, weaker this time but still more than enough to send him over the edge.

"G-od,fu-ck," He groaned, hitting just the right spot to fuck out both of your orgasms.

You felt him swell inside of you, his grip on your hand crushed yours back to the point that you couldn't claw him, his hips stuttered to a slow stop, deep inside of you.

A sense of satisfaction beyond the physical softened your face, your resistance between his fingers, and all your aching muscles. You weren't quite sure what it was, but didn't feel rushed to figure it out.

He was trembling when he released the lower half of your face, a beautiful sweaty and out of breath mess on top of you.

Once again, you gasped at the opportunity to breathe better.

He tensed up immediately and you flinched at the twitch of his cock inside of you.

"Shit- was I choking you?" He managed to stay worried right after he came.

You grinned, carefree on the backend of your own, and shook your head, "Mm-mm."

The look of unmatched relief that washed over him was supremely attractive.

He pulled himself out, slowly, and made a face at how much he came before turning to discard the tied-up thing into the trash with a solid toss.

You welcomed his cuddly shuffle up to your side by burrowing into his slippery chest, and sighed at last, "Cute butt."

That, of all things, made him uncomfortable. He cringed when you spared a glance up to his face from his chin. You rolled your eyes at his overthinking.

"You must be an athlete, or something--," You rubbed your face harder into his chest and felt his laugh resonate throughout your body.

It all felt natural. The joking, the cuddling, the winding down. You both forgot that you weren't together, let alone that you had only known each other for less than a week.

It was already warm with him next to you, but you were happy to be under the soft throw he found and pulled over.

"I can't believe you came twice," His soft laugh invited an embarrassed, but sharp look from you.

He clarified, "It's really hot, don't get me wrong--,"

"I'm not usually so easy," You half-joked.

A big, handsome guy that knew how to use his dick, went down on you, listened to you, and didn't shy away from a vibrator? It'd be a challenge to find a girl who wouldn't cum that quick.

You blushed under the cover of darkness at his gentle, comforting hold on your breast and reassuring kiss to the side of your neck.

The ache in your belly was evident when you were flipped over to be little spoon. It burned pretty bad and you couldn't exactly hide it.

"Did I hurt you--?"

"No," You muttered, clearing your throat, "No, I wouldn't say that."

He placed a big hand on your tummy, feather-light, and you looked over your shoulder to meet his perceptive gaze.

You sure as hell couldn't lie to this guy. He saw right through you.

You pouted and gripped your pillow. Of course you couldn't handle his dick the way you wanted to, the way you bragged about or even genuinely thought you could.

"You were so good," You admitted, a little sad in tone.

A warm kiss to the back of your head. He took the weight of his arm off of your sore body, sighing into your hair.

"You were, too."

He decided to drop the subject, since you both had strong opinions that seemed to clash.

You smiled.

You talked about a range of topics for the rest of the night. General information, first, then personal interests that turned into a long conversation about volleyball, then family history, then academics, then personality, goals, and attraction.

Soon it was 4 in the morning. You were eating popsicles from your freezer and discussing the adventure he had to get up to your window.

You both watched, trying your best to stay quiet, a minutes-long video one of his friends sent in the Karasuno volleyball group chat of him falling out of the tree outside.

A hand flew up to your mouth to silence your intense giggle-fit. You had no idea how you were going to keep something like this a secret from Tetsurou.

Before too long, the pain in your tummy was just an ache and the stranger in your bed turned into a lover overnight.

taglist:

ty for all the replies and reblogs and likes!! it means so much. it's really nice seeing all the other asahi appreciators out here!!

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere

@kreishin

@ruu-https @kasai-https

@40unung @deluluforcarlos55 @lili-harg @beyond-your-stars @noyaskneepad

@rinheartshyunlix @vintagevict0ria @am-3-thyst

<3 u are literally asahi mvp @screamin-abt-haikyuu

masterlist.

requests open!

[moonstruckme]

i recently started following you and i absolutely love your writing! you have such great talent!

no pressure at all and feel free to scream at me if this is out of your boundaries (i read ur guidelines so it shouldn’t be but you never know). I’m curious if you could write reader with literally anyone, just in denial that they like them. like she used to go out with really shifty guys and is just appalled that this person actually likes them

(this definitely isn’t self-indulgent at all….)

Thanks for requesting baby! (I would never scream at you lmao) I did this with dealer Eddie, hope that's alright :)

cw: weed, mention of transactional sex

dealer!Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Eddie’s grinning big when he opens the door to his trailer. He takes off his headphones, hanging them around his neck. You can hear Black Sabbath still playing from the speakers. 

“Hey.” His voice has a slightly raspy quality to it, and you wonder if he’s been singing or smoking. “You lookin’ for a fix, pretty?” 

You grasp the strap of your bag self-consciously, forcing a bouncy “yep” past your lips. Eddie’s got a way of saying things that makes you feel awkward and flighty, like your heart might lurch right out of your ribcage at any moment. It should be routine by now, but you’ll probably never get over it. 

Eddie only nods and opens the door further, inviting you in. He sets a hand on your back as you go by, and you try not to look as shy as the touch makes you feel. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You lean against the counter while he crosses the room to the drawer where he keeps his stash. 

You’ve been coming to Eddie for years now. You weren’t exactly friends in high school but you were always friendly, and every time you leave his place you’re freshly shocked by the realization that you actually really like him. You appreciate that he keeps it business. Well, as business as anything can be with Eddie. Flirting is just part of the package, but he doesn’t try to smoke your stuff after he sells it to you and doesn’t seem to expect anything other than money in return. Shitty as it sounds, a dealer like that can be hard to come by in your experience.

“I’ve been missing you, sweet thing,” he says, taking out a big zip lock bag of bud and a smaller one to portion yours into. “Thought you might’ve found someone else to keep you happy.” 

You don’t respond for a second, and Eddie’s head tilts up from where he’s picking through the bag, eyebrows going up in intrigue.

“I was seeing this guy for awhile,” you say, looking sideways out the window. “He got pre-rolls from someone else, and he’d let me have them sometimes.” 

“Well shit, I can roll for you if it’ll keep you coming over.” 

You look at Eddie in surprise. He grins at you, jutting his chin towards the couch. 

“Sit down, I’ll get you set up.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you say. 

“Gotta keep my favorite customer happy, don’t I?” You don’t move, and his smile softens into something more genuine. “It’s no problem, just sit down. Tell me about this guy. Does he treat you right?” 

You follow directions, going to sit on the less saggy and dingy-looking of the couch cushions while Eddie bends over the counter across from you. “Not really,” you say indifferently. As if thinking about it doesn’t send a dull ache blooming through your middle. “We aren’t together anymore.” 

Eddie glances up at you, something odd flitting across his expression. “That sucks,” he says bluntly. “I’m sorry. I mean, it sounds like he sucked, so I guess I’m not sorry that it’s over even if I’m sorry that you’re sad. Are you sad?” 

A little laugh startles out of you. “Not really,” you say, and it’s halfway to honest. You’d been sad to break up with him, but Eddie is right; he sucked. You’re not really sad it’s over either. 

“Good.” He nods, appeased. “Thought I’d have to go beat someone up or something.” 

You snort, and Eddie’s mouth drops open in offense. He looks back down at the roll, sticking his tongue in his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Feels like you’re not taking my threat of vengeance super seriously.” 

“No, I am,” you laugh. “I am, it’s just—you don’t seem like someone who wins a ton of fights.” 

“Ah!” He clutches a fist over his heart, looking at you in absolute betrayal. “So little faith! I’ve fought worse monsters than your jilted beaux, okay?” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m guessing it’s a little different in real life than in your game.” 

Eddie pauses for a half a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far in your teasing, but then he bends back over the table, bringing the paper to his mouth. “Right.” He runs his tongue quickly across the roll. “Well, anyway, I have a spear in my garage if you want me to give it a try.” 

You smile at the thought of Eddie jabbing his (in your imagination, plastic and nerdy) spear at your most recent ex. 

“Thanks, but I think I’m good,” you say. 

He shrugs. “Your loss. I’d have taken off my shirt for the battle, but I guess you’ll have to get that show another time.” 

You laugh, crossing your legs as he starts on another roll. “Hey, you don’t actually have to roll all this,” you say. “I won’t stop coming to you.” 

“I don’t mind it,” he replies, packing the next with easy, practiced movements. “Unless you’re in a rush or something. Do you have to go?” 

“No, I’m…I’m good.” You’ve never spent this long at Eddie’s place before. It’s usually that you show up, he gives you a bag, you pay, and you leave. You’ve never taken much time to survey the trailer, the way Eddie moves around the cramped furniture with such ease or the way the windows let in just enough light to make his skin look softer and his eyes browner. “You can leave half of it, though, if that’s okay. I’ve still got a bowl at home.” 

“Whatever you want.” He keeps his focus downward, ringed fingers moving carefully. “You know, I’ve actually kind of missed having you come around.” 

“You said that already.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, smiling even though he’s not looking. “I told you I’ll keep coming back, Eddie, you don’t have to butter me up.” 

His gaze flicks to you, eyebrows rising on his forehead. “I’m not,” he says.

Something about his tone has the hairs raising on the back of your neck. You keep intentionally still as a slight chill goes through you. 

“I like hanging out with you.” He shrugs, looking back at his roll. “Would you want to hang out again soon?” 

You hesitate. “I…don’t think I’ll be needing any more for a bit.” 

“Well, ideally you wouldn’t be here to buy.” 

For a second, you’re confused, and then realization and dread collide in your gut with enough force to make you nauseous. The disappointment is more potent than either of them. 

“Oh.” Maybe Eddie isn’t so different from the other dealers you’ve had after all. “Um, I just feel like I’ve always paid in cash…” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and then his entire face contorts. “Christ—no.” He drops the finished roll, holding up his palms as if to ward you off. “Not that! Ew—I mean—” His hands go to his head. “—not ew, like you’re not ew, I just—gah.” He drops his head back, and his fingers disappear into his hair, making fists. He looks almost pained. “I like you. Like, I’m not trying to have sex with you right now. Not that sex wouldn’t be cool—we could if you wanted to—but that’s not what I’m getting at.” 

He blows out a big breath, hands dropping to his knees, and looks you in the eye. 

“Can we just forget about the weed for a second?” he asks, sounding nearly desperate. “I’m trying to ask you on a date. Not to get you to fuck me for drugs.” Your mouth drops open, but Eddie keeps going. “And if you don’t want to go out, that’s totally cool. Very respectable, honestly. It doesn’t have to affect anything.” He presses his lips together. “I didn’t mean to say you were ew. I’m sorry.” 

You’re too shell-shocked to even laugh. You have whiplash. But now he’s looking at you with his big eyes all expectant, and you feel like you have to say something. 

“A date?” you ask. 

“Uh, yeah.” He leans against the counter, looking a bit awkward but somehow all the more endearing for it. “Like, to the arcade or maybe dairy queen or something—I don’t know, you can pick.” 

“And you…don’t want to have sex.” 

“I don’t not want to have sex,” he clarifies. “But, uh, we don’t have to at all. Like, only if you want to, and definitely not if you think it’s some sort of…” Eddie winces “...transaction.” 

You nod slowly, and now there’s a smile tugging persistently at your lips. “That sounds good,” you say. “The date part.” 

“Yeah?” His head picks up. “Really?”

You smile. “Yeah. Are you sure?” 

“Am I sure?” Eddie guffaws. “Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure. I’m getting a much better deal here. But no take-backs,” he says quickly, and his grin widens when you laugh. “Are you free tomorrow?” 

“Um, yeah.” You think for a second, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing tomorrow.” 

“Great.” Eddie presses his lips together like he’s trying to contain the full scope of his smile. He pushes his fingers into the countertop. “Okay, forget everything from today. I’m gonna be such a fucking gentleman when I pick you up tomorrow, you probably won’t even recognize me.”

[i-like-forcefem]

Minors look away!!! This is a somewhat horny blog!!!

The name tells ya all that you need to know!

But more details under the cut

But if you insist:

I’m an 18 year old Aro/Ace gal who wants to make some casual posts and maybe have some kinky fun

Go to our alt @i-like-extreme-forcefem if you want more horny stuff! This blog is generally about trans positivity

asks are lovely but I won’t get to all of them! AND please stay on topic! I'd love to help crack some eggs! I'd to hear some fun forcefem or transition stories! Light hearted kink and gender advice! BUT I won't be a crutch for your mental health! I'm still 18! I got my own life to worry about! (My friend made me copy paste this in here, sorry cuties! There's other places if you need help! I suggest the "The Orchard" discord! It's filled with nice folks who not only want to help, but can help well!) (oh and I won't respond to all asks! I'll read them! But I sometimes I feel bad about spamming my dear followers dash board with responses, so if I don't think I can play of your ask it might be deleted! Sorry! Do still send it! Each one has made me smile even if I didn’t have a post)

Dms are open! But um generally don't respond to them unless I invited someone... It's a shame really, gosh, just have a lot on my plate most of the time, it's fine to give a shot but please don't ever put it on yourself if I don't respond!!!

Know at least that I never find any DMs annoying! Same as asks they put a smile on my face even if I’m sadly too busy to answer (I’m down for everything from: talking about what you love about forcefem, to talking about gender, to giving you board game recommendations! (Assuming I read your dm when I’ve got time to respond!) (also nothing wronged with shooting multiple shots!!!)

Tags: I tag everything! they should be mostly self explanatory and pop up as you start searching in the blog, though I'll explain some just to be sure it's clear:

Gentle: if you want someone to take you by the hand, tell you it's all going to be okay, and feed you some estrogen, that's the vibes I tag this with!

i-like-talking: Original posts

ilf-teasings: it's asks that try to tease me personally! I very very very much enjoy them but you might be better off blocking it if you'd like!

Force: If you want someone to lock you in the basement, deprive you of food until you put on a maid dress and explain how you're a little maid, always have been and want nothing more then to serve your new master, this tag is for you

(These are normally tagged like #Force #Gentle #Forcefem, oh and there are posts that have both Force and Gentle! They're quite fun!)

Oh and I always remain the right to block people! I never really use it, but ye, if you dislike me you should block me too!!! It's what makes this site useable (and I also block folks that make content I dislike, no morality attached if I find someone annoying they're gone from the blog!)

Alright that’s all cuties! Have fun exploring the blog!

(Banner by: @not3catsinatrenchcoat, check her out!)

[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b) - prologue

soundtrack: mastermind - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: Bradley shoots his shot in public, but will he fumble when he meets you in person? warnings: language, drinking, meet cute notes: my first series in a while! this is shamelessly based on the epic Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce saga currently happening rn, and combine that with my innate love of football (the kicking kind, not the NFL kind) and... voila! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks. Happy reading! <3 ✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

Soccer Sensation Bradley Bradshaw Fails To Shoot His Shoot With Y/N At Her Concert?

Arsenal captain Bradley Bradshaw may be among his club’s top scorers this season, but even he misses a chance in romance like the rest of us.

The 29-year-old athlete spoke about his missed opportunity with the multi-platinum songstress Y/N while speaking to his former teammate Héctor Bellerín on the latter’s podcast, “More Than A Footballer”, earlier this week.

When asked about any fun stuff he did last weekend, Bradshaw replied,

“I went to the Y/N concert at Wembley [Stadium]... it was awesome. It was pouring rain, but it was amazing. I don’t remember Wembley ever being that electric aside from, like, cup finals. She was sensational.”

Bellerín nods in agreement, having heard great things about the famed singer-songwriter’s live concerts.

Unprompted, the American midfielder then continued,

“If you’ve heard about the tour, there’s this tradition of trading friendship bracelets. And I actually made one with my number on it, hoping I could give it to her after the show…”

The Cockney-raised Spaniard cackled in surprise and teased him, “But she didn’t wanna see you, bruv? [That is] legend!”

“No hard feelings!” Bradshaw raised his hands in defense over the Zoom call. “She needed to dry off and get warm. Gotta make sure she stays healthy, protect those vocal cords. But yeah, I was a bit bummed out about it.”

Bellerín laughed and jokingly addressed the camera, “Y/N, if you’re watching, give my boy a chance, will you?”

Mononymous pop sensation Y/N is hot off of her Kaleidoscope North American Tour, which wrapped in September. Her six-show run at Wembley Stadium this November officially kicks off the European leg of her sold-out tour. 

Will they be the next pop royalty and conquer the stadiums with their own crafts, or will this fizzle out as this week’s viral anecdote? The ball is in your court, Y/N.

Y/N’s representatives have not responded for comment.

***

Your Miu Miu heels click and clack against the ground. The pavement gleams after the rain and glistens under the streetlights. Everywhere you look, your eyes hurt. Down, and you worry about slipping into a puddle and falling on your ass. Forward, and a million camera flashes are ready to give you an aneurysm.

All in the name of reporting your night off of work, performing live in front of 90,000 people in a stadium.

In other words, all in a day’s work.

There’s a moment of reprieve, when the silvery white blitzes disappear into the dim tangerine lighting of the lobby. The flight down the stairs is so dark, you’re seeing green. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but as soon as they do, the thumping bass line of some dance music hits your ears. Clashing perfumes doused on the dancing, dressed-up bodies that you have to weave through.

You are seriously regretting your girl friends’ invite to a night out. You could’ve just had them over to your hotel, open a bunch of red wine, and you would’ve still had a blast. But no. You had to say yes to going to the Cuckoo Club with Lacey, Amara, and Jo.

And this evening is making you feel quite cuckoo.

There’s champagne at your booth and you’re much too eager to take a glass and start a toast. “Cheers, bitches!” you yell over the music, clinking your glass against theirs before downing the whole thing in one go.

It’s nowhere near enough.

There’s not enough buzz to dull the assault to your senses—not even after the three glasses of wine at dinner earlier. Everything is still too loud, too bright, too crowded, too… much.

“Hey!” you nudge Amara, who is sitting right next to you. “Let’s do shots!”

She turns to you, eyes widening at the slightest. “I thought you wanted to take it easy tonight!” 

“Changed my mind,” you shrug, as you get up to the bar.

While you make your way through the crowd on the dance floor, Bradley Bradshaw looks up from his booth and does a double-take at the girl who just walked by. Even in a high-end club full of the well-dressed and well-heeled, people still get starstruck. And why wouldn’t they? You’re about as famous as an iPhone. 

His eyes widen and immediately whips out his phone to shoot a text to his oldest and most trusted friend Natasha Trace.

‘Dude, I’m in the club and Y/N just walked in. What do I do??’

Natasha thankfully texts back almost immediately. Then again, maybe being a Communications Director for a major company requires her to be a good texter. ‘Wdym what do you do? Just go talk to her.’

‘You were supposed to introduce us!’ Bradley replies, eyes darting between his phone and you at the bar, conflicted.

Natasha is a mutual friend of yours, too, and when the Bracelet-gate clip went viral, she laughed in his face for a full 5 minutes before deciding to set the two of you up. But the schedule never really aligned, so he hasn’t got a chance to see you. Not even after he went to your concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream.

And now, seeing you here in the same room at the same time as him…

‘What do you want me to do, get down there and do it for you?’

‘...Can you?’

He senses the judgment even as the three dots appear on his screen. 

‘Stop being a pussy, Bradshaw. Let me Netflix and chill with my gf in peace.’

Bradley scoffs, half-annoyed and half-fond. ‘Asshole. Have fun.’

The dance floor clears up, just enough to see that you’re right there. Leaning against the bar in your dress like a dirty daydream, talking to the bartender, and he couldn’t just let you go without a word. He thought about it, and he simply couldn’t.

“Oi, where are you off to?” His teammate Martin hollers, while the others watch him make his way to the bar in determined strides.

He squeezes past patrons across this jungle of a club, hoping to God that somebody hasn’t beaten him to talk to you yet, or you haven’t ducked out completely. Oh fuck. You’re still there, though. Good. You’re still at the bar, still glimmering under the mirrorball. Just a tap on the shoulder away. You can do it, Bradshaw…

“Excuse me, I—”

You feel the hand on your shoulder just as you turn and stand up, and in a flurry of miscoordination, looks up just as the other person moves in.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Bradley feels the top of your head slamming up against his nose and he groans in pain. “Ohh!”

“Shit! Oh my God…” you gasp, reaching out to the man in front of you. He’s tall, very tall, and you can’t quite see his face with his massive hand clutching his nose. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. My bad…” It really doesn’t seem like it, so he lets go of his nose and smiles sheepishly. Gosh, he must’ve looked stupid right now.

But you see it differently. What you see is a dashing man in a sleek tieless navy suit and a well-groomed mustache, straight out of a Cinemascope flick, ever so handsome despite his reddened nose from the way you just accidentally headbutted him. “No, that was totally mine. Are you okay?”

Your eyes are crystal clear even in the dim light, the concern is palpable in your gaze—and rightly so. It’s just that he’d take the headbutt any day, if it means he can look at your beautiful face. “I’m… I’m swell. Y/N, right?”

There’s a shift in your gaze. First, alert—you’re assessing how much of a potential threat this person is, whether they’re gonna be weird about you— and then it relaxes. Not a threat. Then a slightest hint of mischief, like she wants to know what kind of dynamics they would have. “Have we met?”

And boy, can he.

“We haven’t, actually. But I went to your show at Wembley earlier this week. You were amazing.” He offers a handshake. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You didn’t quite catch his name over the blaring music, although you shake his hand anyway. “Sorry?” 

He leans into your ear, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

You don’t know which one makes your heart skip, the sudden close proximity, the warmth of his timbre, or the whiff of his perfume.

“Right. Nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You accept his handshake, hoping he doesn’t see how flustered you are in the strobing purple light.

“Likewise.” He nods with a smile. “And may I just say… you look stunning.”

“What, this old thing?” You brush down the art nouveau-inspired Balmain dress on your body. You’re just being modest, of course; you know you’re dressed to the nines. You have never been much into facial hair, but somehow that mustache suits him very well. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You remind me of a… young Robert Mitchum. Or Paul Newman— or one of those Golden Age leading men.”

His face lights up. It’s hardly the first time he received that kind of compliment, but when it came from you, it feels… different. It feels special. It makes him just a little bolder. “Yeah? Maybe after a few drinks, I’ll be quoting lines from Butch Cassidy. Or would you prefer Cat On A Hot Tin Roof?”

This piques your interest. A man of culture, it seems. But of course, you can’t be too sure. “I’m more of a Paris Blues kinda gal, I’m afraid.”

Gosh, you don’t swoon so easily and he likes you so much for that. “Makes sense.”

“How so?”

“It’s a good underrated musical movie, for the musically gifted… And Sidney Poitier was just fantastic in that.”

“Huh.” You raise your eyebrows. You honestly thought he was just spouting the famous titles. But the fact that he has likely seen this hidden gem might just mean he’s really into it. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

He leans in to speak in your ear yet again. “If you stick with me for a bit, I might show you another surprise or two.”

The music drowns out your racing heart just barely, and the bartender places a whole set of tequila shots on the bar top, and it snaps you out of your reverie for a moment. 

“Wanna get some air?”

He seems surprised, but of course he wasn’t gonna throw away this shot. “Sure. Why not?”

You instruct the bartender to send the shots to your booth, not even spending ten seconds to ponder staying in this deafening hell hole. Not when this man looks like peace. Perhaps an undercurrent of mystery underneath, but his whole demeanor is as calm and comforting as those old-school movies you put on to fall asleep. At the same time, something about this person pulls you in, it’s almost magnetic, and you can’t help wanting to see this through.

[megalomaniacz]

NONSENSE

🍦 lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense 🍓

pairing: ellie williams x reader

synopsis: celebrating your 2 year anniversary with ellie!

warnings: fingering + strap on sex (r!recieving), ellie’s strap is referred to as her cock (thought it was silly, imagine it purple)

author’s note: i refuse to read this more than once I COULD BARELY EDIT IT IDK also thank u all so much for the recent love u don’t know how much it means to me <3 check out my other stuff on @abbysvictim

tags: @lonelyfooryouonly <3 my wife!

you could only dream of a love as sweet as the one ellie had provided you with these past two years. her heart, a never ending well of love, was placed into your hands the moment she laid eyes on you. she’ll tell the story until it traps her tongue.

dina had invited you to a popup show of hers. your sweet smile was contagious and forever genuine. curved lines in the creases of your mouth after every joke she told. ellie wanted to live in the ridges of those lines. she wanted to breathe your scent in forever. hear you praise her playing until she became proud of it herself.

she was hooked. could barely spit out the words while asking dina for your number.

now it was your anniversary. you and ellie were in the kitchen enjoying strawberries and whipped cream (one of her absolute favorites). she takes some of the cream and places it on your neck, the sticky solid causing you to cringe. you have no time to respond when her lips latch onto the area, sucking softly.

a very low and very desperate moan escapes your lips. she pushes you up against the counter grinding, her crotch into your ass. the motion causes your mouth to fall open and she stuffs two fingers in, pushing them against your tongue.

“you’re so beautiful baby.” she whispers, a hand slipping into the front of your pants from behind. she buries it into your panties, not surprised to find you already wet for her.

she grinds against you once more causing your cunt to collide with her hand. your moan is muffled by her fingers in your mouth and you start to trail drool down her arms.

she loves fucking you, and loves fucking with you even more. lips placing aggressive kisses on your neck while she watches you come undone against her fingers. your vision runs hazy with her pace. she’s curled them so perfectly to hit the spot that makes your soul leave your body. you felt like you might squirt and make a mess of yourself and the kitchen floor.

she’s not done with you when you finish. she never is. quick to lead you and your wobbly legs to the couch, fingers never leaving your mouth. she’s always prepared, cock already latched up and ready to go.

she carefully places you over it, smiling as your eyes travel to the back of your head when you lower yourself. she could almost laugh at how easily she slipped in.

and now she didn’t want you moving a single muscle. it was time for you to just enjoy yourself. her hips bucked up into you at an erratic pace. slow and deep, then she’d speed up, then slow and deep again. she repeated this until she had you screaming, a ring of your slick covering the base of her cock and your cunt leaving a pool of wetness on her boxers.

this was heaven. your precious moans in her ear as the sound of her slamming in and out of your cunt echoed in the room. the sound was giving the both of your butterflies. yeah, you could definitely do two more years of this.

[lolitastories]

Soldier

Bucky Barnes

“There you are!” I raise my head to a certain redhead. She had a bright smile as she rushed over to sit beside me. “Look!” My eyes widened as I looked at the picture on her screen. She has always been able to read my mind so when I tried to speak, she already knew what I was going to ask. “It was part of some article about Steve.”

“God,” I groan.  I pull the phone closer and zoom in on only Bucky. “He was such a precious baby. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.” I couldn’t help but feel giddy just by saying his name.

“Does the cigarette do anything for you?” I look at her with furrowed brows. “I know you say you hate men or people in general who smoke but don’t lie-” She wiggles her brows giving me a playful shove. “You think he looks more than cute,” I roll my eyes pushing myself out the couch before I confess something I shouldn’t. As I walk towards the kitchen to prepare a drink, she turns herself over to lean against the couch. “Your knees would be weakened by his sole presence. You would flutter your eyes as he would speak to you in that 1940’s Brooklyn accent.” I look at her through my lashes as I shake my head. “Then he would invite you to a date at the fair, holding hands, eating ice cream and like a gentleman he would walk you home,” I looked up seeing how her big grin grew even bigger. She takes a pause before spitting out her next words. “Then fuck you into oblivion” I gasped reaching over to grab a single grape and throw it at her.

“Shut up Nat!” Of course, she smoothly avoided my deadly grape and continued to laugh.

“You can’t tell a lie! I can see right through you.” I roll my eyes, ignoring her completely.  I grabbed the bowl of grapes and started washing them. “He hasn’t dated anyone yet.” I was focused on washing the grapes, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have an ear out to what she was saying. “There are girls who would love to date like in the 1940s. But do you think Bucky would adapt or stay the same?” I set the bowl on the counter and begin drying the grapes. My eyes still look down as I do the task as I begin to think about her question. “It would be hard to break a habit since for him it's only been a couple of years.”

“A major part of a relationship is compromising. I think when he chooses to date again the girl, he picks will be open to those kinds of dates.” Who wouldn’t? “Plus, you can never go wrong with a fair date.”

“Got a fair date?” I stupidly look up. My first thought was how easy it was for Nat to change her voice to a deeper tone but then I look over to find Bucky walking into the room. “Didn’t pick you for those kinds of things” It stung a little to hear those words from him. I gave him a little smile but that was the only thing my body allowed me to do.

“She might not seem like it, but she likes all that lovey Dovey stuff.” Thank God for Nat. “She loves too many rom-coms and that's the reason why she doesn’t have a favorite movie.” I looked up trying to give her a look that said, “Thank you for making it less awkward but you don’t need to continue!” “She hates big crowds, but you will see her smile at every person who passes by. She’s a sucker for romantic gestures and loves flowers!” She exaggerates as she opens her hands wide, because it was true, I do love flowers. “I know women nowadays say that flowers are just a waste of money, and she will agree,” I looked down at the fresh clean grapes as I felt both Bucky and eyes on me. “But I also know she’s a sucker for any bouquet. She romanticizes everything! The fair is her favorite ambiance which I was shocked to find out because the air is filled with the thing she hates most-”

“Cigarette smell.” I look up hearing Bucky instantly respond.

“Yeah!” Nat points out but at that moment as she continues to ramble on, Bucky and I are looking at each other. “She loves the lights, the adrenaline from the rides!”

“So, you got a date?” He whispers, raising one brow. I look over smiling at Nat who continues talking but simply shakes my head.

“She hates all that deep fried stuff, so she never eats there, which I tell her she is definitely missing out on.” I watch as Bucky opens his mouth but restrains himself when we notice Nat now standing on the other side of the island.

“Care for a drink?” Bucky nods. I grab a glass and place ice on it before pouring his choice of alcohol. “Nat.”

“Hmm?” She says a little distracted. “It's 2.” I turn to her with the finished drink in my hand and wait for her to catch on.

“Shit is it really?” She grabs Bucky's arm and pulls it closer to see the time in his watch. “Got to go!” She smiles before waving goodbye and running out of the room.

“You would think she would be always on time since she is an agent and everything” I laugh walking over to hand him his drink.

“In her defense the problems you guys deal with don’t have a certain schedule,” He nods agreeing while taking a drink. “Plus, she was stalling because she’s the one going on a date.” He looks over shocked. I smiled as I grabbed the bowl of grapes and started walking over to the couch. “Now you will be more surprised to know Bruce built up the nerve to ask her.”

“Bruce?” He asked. Which I turn my head from the couch and nod. “Good for him.” He took another drink before he started walking over to me. “So,” I untangle my legs and plant my feet on the ground to let him sit beside me.

“Yeah?” Bucky and I became friends over the years. Hanging out with Nat allowed me to enter the avengers inner circle. We got stuck together while watching a movie and spent the night whispering to each other. Since the end of that night we started getting closer and closer.

“I got you this.” I looked down as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little trinket. I place the bowl on the coffee table before grabbing it from his hand. “If I knew how much you liked rom-coms I would have chosen La Vie En Rose,” I bit my lip holding back a chuckle. One time Sam and Bucky came back from a mission, and he was bragging about a little trinket someone had given him, and I mentioned I liked it. Months later on the next mission and the ones following that, he always came back with something in hand.

“You can get it for me next time,” I joke. I opened up the small little music box and turned the handle. “This one is perfect, thank you.” I look up to find a smile on his face as well. We burst out laughing as the Pirate of the Caribbean song started playing. “Yeah, this one is perfect.” I look back over to him but then my eyes fall towards our hands. I didn’t notice when it happened, but he was holding my hand in between his own. I flinched to pull away but froze when he lifted my hand and pulled it closer to his chest.

“So, you don’t have a date?” I couldn’t tell you how fast I looked up to search his face, but his eyes were plastered to our hands. I felt his thumb gently trace over my palm.

“No,” I let out with a shaky breath.

“Would you like to go on a date?” He said it so unfazed I thought he was joking but when he finally looks up his eyes are full of wonder. His brows raised up just a bit waiting on my answer. “We can go to the fair.” His tone was low. “You-”

“Yes,” It was like a last breath of air I let out. I didn’t want him to change his mind. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Okay.” He nods nervously as he lets out a chuckle. “I will apologies in advance because I will come off as old school- like old old school-” I laugh, removing my hand and grabbing his face.

“Good for you then, I have a thing for old school romance,” He laughs as he places his hand over mine. “Even if it's old, old school.”

“Yeah?” He says a little teasingly.

“Yeah.” I fix my posture. “I think it's hot.” I felt my nervous calming down and we were back to joking with each other. “People call it daddy issues but, in your case, would it be grandfather issues?”

“Seems like either way you have a problem.” I opened my mouth, acting offended.

“Says the one going on a date with someone who is 82 years younger than them.” He raises his finger with a smile

“Technically 8 years.” I raise my finger challenging him

“Technically you are 106 years old. so do some math, grandpa.”

“Oh, wrong choice of word!” We make some distance between us when we hear Sam walking into the room. “Last time I called him that he threatened to disappear me,” I looked over to Bucky who was giving him a death glare. “And that is the nice way to put it because I don’t want to bore you with the details, it was graphic” I laugh not believing Bucky would do such a thing. “So, what are you going to tell her, huh?” He grinned leaning against the island. Bucky turns over slowly, giving me a wink and that blows my breath away.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He whispered low enough for only us to hear. I held back my urge to smile even bigger, but I didn’t know it was possible. He patted my hands before standing up.

“What?” Sams shrieks raising his hands in disbelief. “Wait.” Bucky stops in the middle of the room and places his hands in his front pockets. “You are just going to let her off the hook. No warning or threats? How is that fair?” Bucky takes long and short strides over towards Sam. I could see the life drain from Sam's body; I can imagine how intimidating Bucky must look.

“Because it's her.” He pointed out plain and simple.

“But I'm me?” He smiles, proud of himself.

“Not even close.” Sam slaps his chest playfully, taking offense to his words. “Plus, she’s pretty.” With a simple shrug he turns around and walks out of the room.

“Don’t you dare start blushing!” I looked up stunned knowing blushing was an understatement. I was totally red like a tomato.  “You don’t even know his favorite color!” He grabs his newly fixed drink and starts walking away. “Pretty? I am prettier, Bucky!” He walks out screaming behind Bucky. I don’t think I could laugh any longer. My mind was preoccupied with a certain person. Did he say tonight? Shit. I am going on a date with Bucky tonight.

“I got just the thing for you to wear.” Thank God I am not an agent because the many times I haven’t noticed someone walk in would be concerning.

“You're an angel” I rush over to Nat.

“I knew it would get Bucky’s mind running when he heard you might be going on a date. Now let's get you ready for your soldier!” Mine. Baby steps, but I can feel it deep down that this won’t be our last date.

"Wait," I stopped in my tracks turning over to her. "What happened to your date with Bruce?" She smiles towards the floor.

"I got to excite and thought it was today. When I walked into his lab, I felt stupid and ran away." Of course she did. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

"Okay well since you are helping me out tonight, I will help you out tomorrow, deal?"

"Deal."

[jeyusosqueen]

Southern Charm Chapter 2: Viva Las Vegas

(Jey Uso x OC)

Southern Charm 

Chapter 2: Viva Las Vegas

TW: Mentions of cheating (not Sara/Jey), flashbacks that could be triggering.

18+, mature themes

Warning: Sexual themes

Sara

5:30AM-Tuesday 4/15/25

Her dad was already up and getting ready to leave. She got their breakfast together as she loaded their stuff in the private car Josh had gotten for her. An 45 minute drive to the Norfolk Airport as they loaded their stuff on the jet as they took off for Las Vegas. “Our first time to Vegas huh? And by luck my own daughter is bringing us there. “ She chuckled looking over to her Dad as he spoke “Well let’s just say,Dad, it was a lucky invitation. Otherwise I dont know if we could have afforded it. “ She said honestly to him as he nodded.

10:15AM-Tuesday

They finally landed in Vegas. After getting their bags checked and everything going through TSA. A private car had met them there as they took it to the hotel Caesar’s Palace. “Damn boy, you fancy huh? “ She thought to herself about Joshua as she grinned. She unpacked their bags as she and her Dad then walked around taking a sightseeing tour. Josh had texted her that someone would pick them up for Fanfest, she got in the car as they went to the venue. She had on her pink “Yeet” shirt and jeans. She got another text of where to meet them as she had her Dad follow her along. She then saw Joshua standing there in his blue tank with a black coat and black jeans. His shirt also read “Yeet”. She then saw Jon walk over and go “Twins Uce! And I ain’t even matching with my twin over here. “ Making she and her dad laugh with Jon and Josh. “By the way, Jon, this is my Dad. “ She introduced the two as Jon shook his head “Big Jim you can call me! “ Making her Dad smile and laugh, feeling at ease. 

Jey

Seeing Sara and her Father there warmed his soul, seeing his family there warmed his soul even more. Knowing his whole family was there as he got a text from his Dad “Hey bring your girl and her Dad to our AirBNB, and dont worry, I wont have alcohol there. I know, Uce. “ Joshua had responded with “Sure thing, pop. We’ll be there. “ After doing some signings he met up with Sara and her Dad as they had been keeping company with Jon. He whispered to his brother “Pops invited us and them to his AirBNB. You think she wants to meet the parents? I mean..I’ve already met her Dad. “ Jimmy looked at him and smirked “I think it’s a good idea, our parents are gonna be suspicious. “ Jey looked over at him “You think Ma is gonna like her? You know how protective she is of us, boys. “ Jimmy laughed and smiled “Hell yeah. Everything is going to be fine, brotha. Trust me. “

Sara

Meeting the parents was tonight as she was a little nervous. She slipped on some black slacks and a hot pink shirt and wearing her rhinestone black jacket with pink gems over it and then her boots. She even slipped on her cowgirl hat “Alright, here we go. “ She said as she walked out and met Jey who smirked. She laughed when he joked “Alright cowgirl. We going to a rodeo afterwards? Kidding, you look sexy. “ She giggled as she linked her arm with his “And a sexy ass cowboy to go with it? Hell yeah, Uce. “ They took a car to the AirBNB as they walked in the house as everyone surprised him. His parents smiled welcoming her with open arms. Sara happened to be a big fan of Rikishi, at first she went to shake but instead he pulled her into his arms for a bear hug “Welcome my dear. Joshua has been telling us about you. “ Rikishi smiled as his wife added “You must be very special. We cant get him to shut up about you. “ Everyone laughed including Sara as she looked to his parents, to everyone then back at Joshua “I made an impact, huh? “ She smiled brightly “I’m glad I made a good impact. I fear all my life I’ve made a not so good impact. “ She added

Jey

Seeing his parents reaction to meeting this wonderful, beautiful girl he had just met warmed his heart. Their relationship wasn’t by any means heated just yet. But he wanted his parents and family to know that this beautiful girl made an impact not only on his life, but his heart. He smiled standing with his parents after grace was said and Sara went to make her plate “I’m glad you both like her, she’s just incredible. Met her at a house show by chance and just…I dont know something about her just pulled me her way. “ He said with a grin as his parents just smiled and patted his shoulder. He heard his mom speak up “She seems like a very gracious girl who’s grounded,who’s blossoming into a beauty. You’ve done good my son. “ It warmed Jey’s heart to hear his mother speak that and his Father agreed.  

Sara

She made her plate of bbq and sat down to eat with the family as everyone had introduced themselves. The food looked delicious reminding her of the Southern comfort and cuisine she missed so much. Though she was mindful of her diet as her mother died young from Type 2 diabetes. Sara took a bite of food as she thought the food was delicious, simmering in her mouth with every flavor. After chewing her food and being polite. She said “This is scrumptious. Who’s the cook? “ Rikshi waved his hand as everyone grinned and bursted into laughter when Jimmy added “And I helped, Uce! But Trin made the Mac n cheese. “ He said and winked at his wife. She happened to be sitting next to Trinity as she saw Trinity blush. “Awww come on now, Jon! I’m blushing over here! “ Everyone laughed more. As Trinity whispered to her “Us Southern girls are particular about our food aren’t we? “ Sara giggled and nodded “Hell yeah! You gotta give me some tips though. I fear I’m not as good as my mama was. Dump cake was her thing. I have to make that for our next family dinner. “ She said as she stopped herself “Our next family dinner? “ Hell, this could be the only family function she may be attending as far as she knew. 

Jey

After dinner he found a quiet boardwalk and decided to Sara with him. He enjoyed being around family but knew she wasn’t used to that as he wanted to make her comfortable. She seemed fine but he figured the two of them could get away for a bit. The night sky was lit and the moon shown so bright. The boardwalk was lit with some lights as he knew she was in for a surprise. Earlier he had gone to put rose petals and different flowers around as candles were lit. He hoped she wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t make her uncomfortable. He walked with her down to the end of the boardwalk where the roses and candles were lit as he turned around taking her hands in his as he kissed them softly. The feel of her hands being so ever soft. “I know we only just met, b-but….I-I’m falling hard for you, Sara. I always wanted myself a cowgirl and someone who’s just down to Earth and sweet. When I laid eyes on you, I felt that energy from you. You’re sexy and down to earth, just everything about you, I love. Is it too soon for me…to say I love you? “ He said gently as he didnt want to scare her and make her run away. He knew he probably had one shot at this. “I mean we could take it nice and slow, boyfriend and girlfriend? All I know is…I want you. After my divorce, I never thought I’d find anyone who could ever understand me but you do. “ He said touching her cheeks with his fingertips, his finger running over her lips. He wanted to kiss those lips so bad. 

Sara

“I mean we could take it nice and slow, boyfriend and girlfriend? All I know is I want you? “ Those words to her with that voice of his made her feel weak in the knees. She was thinking of what her Dad would say. Yeah, her dad needed her too. What if she moved him to California with them? “I would be the happiest girl in the world to be your girlfriend, Joshua. “ She said as there were tears in her eyes “Just promise me one thing, if I come out there to Cali, can my Dad come too? “  She said thinking of her father, family mattered to her. “ Before she said anything else Jey gripped her waist and gazed down at her “Of course he can and I’ll check out all the hospitals and doctors he needs. Get you a nice place set up with room for the both of you, he can have his own side of the house and you yours. “ He grinned and she smiled making her feel better “I want him to have his independence yet I also he needs me. Should anything happened. “ Jey smiled at that knowing she had a big heart and was family oriented. 

Jey

“Of course he can come with you, babe. I mean S-….” He looked down only to catch her blushing and smiling as he chuckled “Hey he’s gonna be alright? My family’s got yours, best believe that. “ Then like that that song came on again from a house across the water “I Cant Help Falling In Love With You” by Elvis. He took her in his arms for a slow dance as he gazed into her eyes as he took a chance this time and leaned his face closer into hers as his lips crushed into hers as his arms wrapped around her frame almost lifting her. Realizing their height difference as he smiled to himself. However their lips were still entangled as he teased her by adding a little tongue to the kiss. 

Sara

They were kissing, holy shit! Sara cupped his cheeks and crashed her lips into his letting him take over. She had never been kissed before. As clearly he knew what he was doing as she let out a soft moan in the kiss. “I can get used to this… “ She whispered seeing him smile as she felt him press his head against hers. Joshua said to her “Me too, baby. Me too. “ They both smiled and then shared a laugh when she said “Your family is going to wonder where we ventured off too. “ They both laughed again as Jey spoke “You’re probably right about that. But they’re cool though, they like you. This right here are the people who are most important to me. “ Joshua said with a smile “I’d like for you to meet my boys too. They’re coming here tomorrow. Don’t mind their mom, she’s…” Sara bit her lip as she nodded. The ex-wife, she knew all too well how that went on in her family. Her father’s secret affair with a married woman that alone scared her from relationships for as long as she knew. “It’s okay, Joshua. “ She said with a smile “I’m fearless, afraid of nothing. I’ll be nothing but kind to her as long as she’s kind to me. “ She didnt know Jey’s ex wife so she was probably speaking too soon for herself. She felt herself getting tired as she looked at him “I’m gonna go crash out and watch a movie. You in? “ She smiled at him

Jey

Her fearlessness is what made him smile. Her boldness and being unafraid. He couldn’t wait for her to meet his boys. He just hoped Kecia wouldn’t make a scene and start throwing accusations at him. Their marriage as far as he was concerned was over.  Hearing her ask if he wanted to crash out with her and watch a movie he grinned “Yeet. “ Everyone was already in bed as he came in the house. As he snuck upstairs to where his suite of rooms were as he put on his sweatpants and crop top hopping on the bed as he got them some sweet tea and a few snacks for the movie with some popcorn. “Excuse me popping out all these snacks, Uce. A man gets hungry but I will share with my beautiful lady. “ He said as he grinned watching her walk in. 

Sara

“Hell yeah, Uce. I’ll go change ninto something…more comfortable. “ She said as she went to go change as she slipped on her pajamas. Her SpongeBob shorts and her UsoCrazy tanktop. She came out seeing him laying there as she grinned to herself as she bit her lip thinking “Damn, I would let him take me right there and then. “ But she was mindful and respectful of others being in the home. She was a rather modest girl you can say. She slipped into bed with him as she smiled getting a handful of popcorn before popping some into her mouth as Josh put on Bad Boys 1. “Bad Boys, Bad boys, Whatchu gonna do when they come for you? “ They both sang as they laughed. Jey kept singing “Bad Boys” as she began to relax, feeling very comfortable now. Then, then it happened. 

Jey

Before getting into bed he remembered to lock the door, he looked into her eyes as he kissed her deeply again. Before he continued he said “If I make you uncomfortable or hurt you, tell me to stop. I mean it…” He said as he thought to himself “Shit hold on a sec, mama. “ He went to go grab a condom before he jumped back into bed pulling her close as he kissed her softly “Nice and slow, babygirl. Promise. It might hurt a bit…but let me make it feel better for you. “ He went down spreading her legs wide open flicking his tongue between her folds. Hearing her whimpers and gasps of pleasure. He groaned as her pussy tasted delicious, like the best cake he ever ate.  “Shit babygirl, already getting wet for daddy huh? “ He said smirking

Sara

Holy shit. Things went from 10 to a 100 in a minute. She wanted him bad as she felt his tongue deep inside her now dripping cunt. Careful not to wake anyone up as she whimpered in pleasure. Her body quivering from his tongue, his touch. “Shit, Josh…” Saying his name in a murmur as he sent electric vibes throughout her body. Eager for him as she opened her legs more. Her fingers playing with that beautiful head of hair of his. Admiring the tattoos on his body and his back, feeling his muscled arms. She gazed up at him “Sexy motherfucker.. “ She saw him smirk up at her as he came up kissing her hard. She returned the kiss just as deep as whispered “Now you tryna wake the whole house up you silly man. “ Joshua chuckled “Naw, we dont have to wake them up. There are other ways but tonight, I’m making you mine. “ He smirked as those damn gold grills flashed.

Jey

The taste of her pussy, it tasted like sweet berries to him as he savored the taste in his mouth wanting to remember it for a long time. He enjoyed toying with her and teasing her in his own way “Mm, you’re so perfect, babygirl. Everything about you. And you say I’m your first ever? “ He smirked now feeling more special than ever as he teased her again by flicking his tongue one last time against her soft clit. His hands massaging her thighs and legs, how soft they felt. “Damn girl, doing some things to me over here. Got me going crazy. “ He reached up and kissed her softly and gazed into her eyes “You sure you wanna do this? It’s okay to say no you know. I’m not pressuring you. “ His fingers tracing along her jawline

Sara

This new sensation she was feeling, his tongue against the most sensitive parts of her body was making her feel some type of way. Her legs wrapping around his waist as she gazed into his eyes listening to his words “There’s only one man I’ve dreamed of doing this with and thats you. You’re the only man to ever truly pay attention to me and not make me feel like a joke or a burden. “ She said as she played with his hair, her fingers brushing along his neck admiring his new neck ink and his tattoos “One day you’re going to have to explain to me what all these tattoos mean. I love them, think they are beautiful. “ She said sweetly with a smile.

Jey

“Hell yeah, babe. One day I will, I promise. “ He grinned as he reached up and kissed her softly gazing into her eyes as he cupped her cheeks “Might hurt a little at first but not for long, I promise. More we do it, the better it’ll feel. But I’mma take it nice and slow just for you. “ He then slowly slid inside of her pussy as he groaned as he felt her walls tightened, clenched against him as he closed his eyes grinning. He thrusted gently back and forth till she got used to him. Hearing her soft cries of both pain and pleasure made him more eager. Leaning down to kiss her softly as his tongue explored her mouth. Of course he didnt want to wake everyone else up. 

Sara

“Fuck! “ She murmured as she felt the hot stinging sensation within her body as she bit down on her lip. Holy fuck he was massive and she loved that. Scrawny men weren’t her thing. Burying her face in his neck as she let him take over as the more experienced one, this being her first time. She whispered in his ear “Don’t you dare stop, pretty please… “ Nibbling at his earlobe as she gasped at each movement he made, stifling her noises with kisses to his lips. Raking her nails down his back. She heard him whisper “Sorry mama if I hurt you, it wont hurt for long I promise. “ She felt him trail kisses along her neck. The feel of those cold ass grills along her body felt odd at first but she grew to love it.

Jey

Damn he hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Been with a woman like this in a long time. He knew he probably rushed fast on this one but he wanted to claim her for his own. He didnt want to lose her and was afraid of losing her. His thrusts began to grow more wild after a while as he closed his eyes hearing her soft cries as he smirked when she buried her face in the pillow to stifle the moans. He kissed along every inch of her body. Taking a nipple into his mouth and tasting her. “Damn…”  He thought to himself as he smirked. He teased her by taking a finger and gently sliding it towards her clit rubbing it, almost as if he was playing a piano as he teased her. He whispered in her ear “Feeling used to me a little more now, mama? “ He ran his hands over her body.

Sara

“Feeling used to me more now, mama? “ She heard him say in a whisper as her  S body shivered. “Yeah, and I don’t want it to stop…. “ She smirked against his lips as she kissed him softly as she moaned with each thrust he was giving her. She teased him by pushing her tongue into his mouth, feeling the cold sensation of his grills across her tongue. It felt so nice “Gonna make me cum here real soon, daddy…” She saw him smirk as she felt herself growing wetter as she came for him. He whispered in her ear “That’s my good girl…” They shared a kiss before he rolled off of her as he took her by the hand leading her to the shower as she heard him flip it on. She blu shed as he pinned her gently against the wall kissing her as he looked into her eyes.  Jey smirked as he murmured against her lips “Thought he was done? Nah nah…“ He then gently blifted her by her ass squeezing her ass cheeks firmly in his grasp. He growled as he began fucking her nice and slow.  She was falling hard for this man as she smirked to herself “Joshua, baby…” She said in his ear as his thrusts grew more wild. Her nails digging into his back.

Jey

“Hell yeah, Uce. She’s mine for sure now. Just gotta keep her close… “ He thought to himself as her moans sent shivers down both their bodies. He grunted as he felt himself cum and ran his hands all the way down her body. He pulled her close in for a kiss as he held her close there for just a few minutes catching his breath. Glad to have finally claimed his “Southern Cowgirl”. He brushed his lips against hers kissing her “Didnt hurt you too much did I, babygirl? “ He smirked when Sara replied “Naw. You couldnt hurt me, baby. “ She said as she kissed him lightly. “I’d do anything for you, you know that? “ He looked down at her and smiled and lit up seeing her smile. “I cant wait for you to meet my boys, you know? “ 

Sara

“Cant wait for you to meet my boys. “ He said to her as she thought for a moment “Oh shit. This is really getting serious. “ She thought to herself as she smiled “I would love to meet your boys. Hope their mom wont mind. “ She bit on her lip “Shit, now I did it. “ Thinking to herself as she saw his expression as she then saw him grin as Joshua said “I dont care what their Mom thinks. As far as I’m concerned her opinion no longer concerns me. I just want my boys to meet the woman I’m falling in love with. The woman who is most near and dear to my heart now. “ He said as Sara smiled “I would love that. What are they into? Like games and stuff? Maybe I can get them a gift or something? “ She said to him as Jey replied then “They like the usual stuff Batman, Harry Potter, you know boy stuff. “ They both laughed as Sara said “Theres a Lego store down the street. Maybe I’ll get them something there? “Joshua grinned as he nodded “Hell yeah. “ They went down to the Lego store as she picked out a few Batman and Harry Potter Legos along with the Millennium Falcon as Joshua paid for everything as they walked out. She and Joshua walked out with bags and hand in hand “Thank you for today. I needed that lift. “ She heard him say as he leaned down and kissed her “Let’s get a pizza, babe. It’s on me. “ They smiled walking to dinner. The newest happiest couple on Earth.

Tag-List: @uceyliyahh, @charmed-dreamssss, @levissslutt, @jstarr86, @nayys-world, @moxley99, @southerngirl41, @sharmelasworld, @bossbitch-25, @imsofinished, @mselenalovebug

PSA: If I missed anyone on the tag list just let me know!

[ranhaitanisgf]

Can I please request the love at first sight trope and seven minutes in heaven for Mikey :) (just an idea but maybe he sees her forms a crush and stuff then he invite her to a party hosted by toman) also I absolutely love your writing I've been binge reading!

— manjiro [mikey] sano // love at first sight // seven minutes in heaven

☆ ˎˊ˗ hi anon !! thank you for requesting for my event !! i'm ngl i did nawt kno what i was doin w this ... just kinda cranked this out lawl ... hopefully you all will enjoy anyways !! xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ fem!reader

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 1.1k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

you are so nervous right now. 

“hey, don’t worry about it! everyone’s going to love you!” 

“right…” you replied, still feeling nervous as you and mikey stood outside the door. 

you had been confused when mikey first talked to you on one of the rare days he came to school, and you were even more confused when he had invited you to hang out after school. you had only ever spoken to him in passing, so when he invited you to go eat out with him, you were sure that he was trying to play you. 

at first, you didn’t fall for his wily tricks, even when he ended up falling asleep on your shoulder when he was taking the train home with you, (yeah, you definitely didn’t think it was cute…nope…). you had been suspicious of him, wondering if perhaps he’d been dared to try and get you to fall for him, (unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time that happened). 

however, when he confessed to you, things changed. 

you hadn’t seen it coming at all, but he casually admitted to having feelings for you while the two of you were walking to get food one day, saying that he immediately had thought you were one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen. 

“i’m flattered mikey, but you can stop it now…”

“huh?” 

“you’re probably doing this on a dare, right?” you sighed, furrowing your brows. “you can stop pretending to like me now.” 

“(y/n)-chan, you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen in my life.” mikey responded, his face dead serious. 

“w-what?! stop! how could that even be true?!” 

“it is true. you can choose to not believe me, but i’ll keep telling you until you accept it.”

since that day, you’d been unsure of how to feel about him. you really wanted to believe him and accept that he liked you, but at the same time, you were too scared that he might be trying to prank you. he really did keep his promise of telling you every single day though, which was slowly starting to convince you. 

and so, here you were. 

he had been bugging you to come to a party with all his friends, saying that he wants everyone to meet the girl that stole his heart, (it was a cheesy line, but it made you feel all fuzzy inside). when you finally accepted the invitation, you knew you wouldn’t be able to back out of this when you saw the excited smile on his face. 

“you ready?” mikey asked, bringing you back to the present. he was looking at you with a soft smile, calming your nerves a bit. 

“yeah.” with a nod, mikey opened the door, leading the two of you inside to where everyone was. as soon as everyone caught sight of the two of you, they were immediately staring, making you fidget with a lock of your hair as you stood next to mikey. were you supposed to say something?

also, why were they all sitting in a circle. 

“mikey, good timing! we were gonna play seven minutes in heaven!” a boy with pink hair piped up, (why was he smiling so much?). 

“hah…? everyone here is dudes…” mikey stated, obviously confused. “i thought we were gonna play monopoly!” 

“well, you’re right, so you and your lady friend can go first!!” a boy with long black hair suggested, suddenly standing up and walking towards the two of you. “you don’t mind, right?” he asked you. 

“uh, i suppose not…” you responded, feeling a bit confused as to what was going on. when you looked at mikey, you could tell that he had something he wanted to say to everyone, but didn’t, instead just staring at them with a deadpan face. 

“well, since there’s no complaints, let’s get this started!” someone yelled out, making everyone cheer. without a moment to spare, the boy with black grabbed both of your arms with a gentle yet firm grip, dragging you and mikey towards a nearby closet.  

“oi, just whaddya think you’re-!” 

“shaddup, mikey, you’ll thank us later!”

before you could even think to question what you had just agreed to, the two of you were pushed into the closet, a click! sound coming from the doorknob, leaving you and mikey in darkness. 

“uh…what just happened?” you hesitantly asked. you could hear mikey sighing, beginning to knock on the door. it was to no avail though; they had turned the music back on, blocking out his voice to the outside world. 

“buncha idiots…” he muttered. “it’s okay, they’re just playing a prank, so let’s play along!” he said. through the darkness, you could see him sitting down, gesturing for you to sit down as well.

when you sat down next to him, you weren’t sure what to say. you had been really nervous to come inside and meet everyone, but now you were nervous because you were in this enclosed and dark space, very close to mikey, (you weren’t nervous he was going to do anything, you were just nervous that…actually, you’re going to be too flustered if you think about that). 

“by the way, (y/n)-chan, you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

“h-huh? why’re you saying that now?” 

“well, i haven’t said it today, right?” mikey asked, seeming to be thinking for a moment. “i don’t think so…” your heart was starting to beat faster; of course, he’d been saying that to you since he’d confessed, but being in such close proximity to him in this situation was making you feel more and more convinced of his feelings. 

“...mikey, you…” you started, your eyes dropping to stare at your fingers in your lap. “you’re the best person i’ve ever met. i really like you.” you finally let out, shutting your eyes in anticipation. 

maybe i shouldn’t have said that…

“woah, seriously…?” you heard him say. you slowly opened your eyes, glancing over at mikey beside you. 

he was looking at you with the most childish and excited expression; you could almost see the sparkles in his eyes as his lips were curled into the most boyish and cute smile you’ve ever seen. 

“are you serious right now? you’re not joking?!” he asked, his voice shaking with nervousness and excitement. 

“no, i wouldn’t joke about that…” you murmured, smiling shyly at him. 

he suddenly moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around your frame tightly as you pulled you close to himself, his face buried in your neck. 

“ahh, i’m so happy right now…” he said, his voice low and soft, (you were trying to not focus on the fact that you could feel his breaths against your skin). 

hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around him as well, relishing in the way that he held you a bit tighter, as if he was never going to let you go. it felt like there was nothing that could affect you while in his arms; all you knew was mikey. 

“thank you for trusting me, (y/n)-chan.”

[nikoniclove]

Hello. I imagine that in the beginning of the three of them officially dating, Ace would be very cautious of JJ’s and Emily’s things. She would treat them with the absolute most respect and gentleness, and since she grew up in such an abusive environment her whole life, something like accidentally dropping a glass would make her spiral.

I still feel that way after moving away from my past and it really affects me more than I realize sometimes and I just kinda need to read my feelings like you describe them.

Would that be possible to write? (You’re amazing btw <3)

For you 💜

Set right after “Out Sick Pt 2” in Different Kind of Firsts.

A Broken Glass

TW: PTSD, glass injuries, minor descriptions of blood

You’re still recovering from the pulled muscle in your back. Emily and JJ invited you over, presumably for a change of scenery since you’ve been confined to your couch for more than a few days. It promptly turned into JJ massaging out the aches in your lower back and then doing other things in the name of relaxation, which spiraled into a lot of sex and a very twitchy back muscle. Emily already helped you with a patch, and you dry-swallowed some ibuprofen. She gave you a pointed look with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, and you obediently went to the kitchen for water.

You’re at the sink filling your glass when a spasm rips through your back. You gasp in pain. The glass shatters on the floor, water spilling everywhere. Your hands grip the sink ledge, as you breathe through the intense discomfort. As soon as you can stand it even a little bit, you crouch to the floor to pick up the pieces of glass. You’re more concerned about their stuff than your muscles, which tense painfully with the position you hold yourself in to clean up.

JJ skids around the corner. She grabs shoes from the door when she sees the broken glass. When she reaches out for you, you can’t help but flinch. It’s a learned response. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumble quietly. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Baby, I don’t care about that. C’mon. You’ve gotta get off the floor. Your back must be killing you.” Again, JJ reaches out for you, stepping carefully into the mess. Again, you flinch, expecting a physical punishment for your clumsiness.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you repeat over and over again, collecting the glass pieces in your palms. “Is there a broom? If not, I can…” You try and scoop some of the smaller fragments, wincing as some of them bite into the sides of your palm.

“Baby, stop.” You freeze, your lip wedged between your teeth. “I don’t care about the broken glass. I care about you. Please, let me help you up.” Your body trembles, stuck in the crouch you’re in to clean up the mess you made. “Ace.”

——

There’s blood. The water on the floor is diluting it, but it’s coming from little cuts on her hands and feet. It’s dripping from her lip. The girl seems immobile, repeatedly apologizing and trying to clean it all up even at the cost of her own injuries and pain. JJ steels herself for the physical reaction; for some reason, it’s breaking her heart to see Ace flinch away from her. She loops her arms around the crouched form of the young woman and lifts her off the ground, momentarily grateful for her lean, slight form.

By the time Ace is sitting on the counter, Emily is in the kitchen too. The first thing she notices is the blood. The next is the near-disassociated state, complete with full body trembles; the third is the constant flow of apologies. “She flinches at physical touch,” JJ shares sadly.

“She did say she was a foster kid,” Emily comments. “PTSD is common in victims of child abuse.”

JJ clenches her jaw, hating everything in the young woman’s past that made her respond like this to a simple accident. “Baby,” JJ calls softly. “I’m going to look at your hands to get the glass pieces out, okay? It’s just me; it’s just JJ.”

Quickly Emily sweeps up the glass shards and mops up the water, eliminating any physical evidence that something broke. Hopefully it means when they can pull Ace back to reality, that she won’t sink immediately back into her head. “M’sorry. M’sorry. M’sorry.” Over and over again. It makes JJ want to cry. They’ve seen a disturbing amount of abuse cases. They’ve seen reactions like this. They know how ingrained something like this must be to cause this kind of response. “I’ll be better. I’m sorry. Don’t make me go,” Ace whimpers. That plea sends tears cascading down JJ’s cheeks, and she makes a promise to herself to protect Ace, no matter what.

“Love, come back to us,” Emily tries. “Out of your head. We’re not mad. You’re not in trouble. You don’t have to go anywhere.” As she tries to pull Ace back to the surface, Emily wonders how hard it would be to track down the ones who instilled this reaction in such a kind-hearted young woman. Emily only manages to temper her rage because she knows it won’t help her bring Ace back to herself. “Look at me. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re not in trouble.” It feels surreal telling that to a grown up, but Emily knows well enough that it’s Ace’s inner child reacting right now and not the grown up she’s become.

JJ picks pieces of glass out of Ace’s palms and feet little by little. She bandages what she can and uses liquid bandage for the rest. Every so often, she glances up to see how Emily is fairing, but Ace’s eyes are still squeezed tight, her lip caught between her teeth if she’s not apologizing repeatedly.

——

Another spasm clenches your back muscles, and you groan in pain, doubling forward. Emily braces your shoulders, whispering kindly in your ear. You blink slowly and try to understand how you ended up on the counter. Your recall is always splotchy when you disassociate. Your therapist says it’s your brain trying to protect yourself. Whatever the reason, you hate it because it feels so disorienting. Mostly you recognize the worry etched in JJ and Emily’s features, and you realize how much of your crazy they likely witnessed. “I should go,” you mumble, grimacing in pain when you put pressure on your palms to slip off the counter.

“Easy,” Emily soothes. “You don’t need to go anywhere. Just breathe.” Her stabilizing grip on your shoulders hasn’t left. “It’s okay. Are you back with us?”

You nod self consciously, licking your lips and tasting blood. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Sorry,” you apologize. You remember the trigger when JJ tries to hand you another glass of water. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to quell the rising panic. “No thank you.”

“Baby, it’s okay. Drink the water. Let us help.”

“No thank you. I… umm… I don’t want to risk breaking something else. I’ll replace the glass. I’m sorry.”

Emily’s fingers curl under your chin. “Look at me.” You fight your instincts and find her eyes. “We do not care about the glass. You are not in trouble. You don’t have to go anywhere. It’s okay. It was an accident. It’s okay.” Your vision blurs with tears, and you chew on your lip again. “Drink some water.” You shake your head, refusing to touch the glass. JJ turns away, coming back with a plastic cup. “Better?” Cautiously, you take it with two hands. “Slow sips. You’re okay.”

“That was your PTSD,” JJ wonders, rubbing your back comfortingly. You don’t understand the touch; you broke something and made a mess. You melted down in front of them. You don’t have a frame of reference for this, people who genuinely seem concerned about you.

“Some of it. I’m sorry. It’s a lot.”

“It’s okay,” JJ assures you, even if you don’t believe it. “We have our own demons rooting around in our heads too. We’re no strangers to PTSD. It’s okay, baby. We’ll learn how to help you in those moments. We’ll figure out the best ways to level you out.”

The question is off your lips before you can stop it. “Why? I mean… I can handle it on my own. I always have.”

For the second time in a week, Emily assures you that you don’t have to carry it alone. “We want to help.”

JJ cradles your cheek tenderly, and it feels soft and warm in a way you doubt one-night (two-night) stands are supposed to. You have nil for experience with sex, relationships, or people genuinely treating you with kindness, so you’re immensely confused. Your history tells you what to expect, but this gentleness is nowhere in that realm. “Remember when I asked you to loop us in the next time you got hurt or sick? Your brow furrowed then too. I can’t explain it now anymore than I could then. I promise you can trust us with this. We want to help.”

“Can you stand,” Emily asks. “We can get you in clean pajamas and into bed.”

“I really should leave you alone.”

Emily won’t let you look away, and the gentle look on her face makes your stomach flip flop in a way that certainly feels as close to butterflies as you’ve ever felt. “Does being along help? I can’t imagine it does, but everyone is different I suppose.” You have a choice. Lie to her, so you can lick your wounds in private. Or tell the truth and be uncomfortable with their concern and care. You find you have a hard time lying to her in a way that’s unusual for you. “We don’t want you to leave,” she says point-blank. “We don’t care about the broken glass. We’re not scared by the PTSD. None of that changes the arrangement we discussed or how much we want to explore that with you.”

“I can stand,” you mumble hesitantly. You ignore the pain in your feet from the glass cuts. You ignore the twinge in your back. If they’re going to care for you, you’re going to give them as little as humanely possible to be worried about, and your PTSD episode was more than enough for one day.

[ranebowstitches]

One Piece at a Time: Read on ao3 here

The antique two-way radio crackles to life on the charger Steve leaves it on in his bedroom.

“Steve, Steve, Steve!”

Sighing, Steve puts down the remote he’s fiddling with and rolls his chair across the room to pick up the walkie. “Henderson, Henderson, Henderson,” he replies, stretching his arms over his head and feeling his back crack.

“Oh, thank god you’re awake! Steve, I found something! I’m on my way to your house right now!”

“What? Found something?” Steve rubs his face and glances to his clock on his bedside table. “Were you out scavenging scrap at one in the morning?”

“That’s not important!” Steve begs to differ. “What’s important is that you get to your garage and open the damn door for me!”

“Language, Henderson,” he says even as he stands and starts heading downstairs.

“Not the time, mom! Just open the door for me!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going. Hold your horses. What did you find that’s so important you have to show me right now anyway?”

There’s a short pause filled with heavy breathing that Steve guesses is Dustin making it up the steep hill that leads to his home. He’s flicking the lights on in his garage by time Dustin responds.

“A body!”

“‘Body’ is being very generous,” Steve sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the mess of parts, limbs, on his floor. A torso with a head attached lays in the middle, torn pieces of the dark trash bag Dustin had found it in still clinging to the blank white chassis.

“Can you fix him?” Dustin asks, looking up at Steve from under the brim of his hat.

“Him?”

“I didn’t wanna call him an ‘it’, and he’s got a masculine face sculpt.”

“Yeah, well…” Steve crouches down and hums. “It’s not one I recognize. This isn’t a mass produced model. For all we know, this could just be some prototype that failed so they tossed it.”

“I don’t know… They way he’s damaged is weird. It looks deliberate.” Dustin shudders.

“Maybe he’s dangerous, huh?” Steve stands back up and puts his hands on his hips. “Maybe he’s like this for a good reason.”

Dustin shakes his head, picking up the disembodied right hand and running his thumb over the smooth chassis. “I don’t think there’s any good reason to do this. To a human or an android.” He looks up at Steve again, eyes big and imploring. “Please, can you fix him?”

Steve sighs. “Why me? Why not take him in to a real shop? I can help you pay, if that’s it.”

Dustin shakes his head and places the hand back down. “No, I just… I don’t trust anyone else. What if they find out he’s something special, or find out where I got him?”

“Where did you get him?”

“Uhh…” Dustin looks away, failing to come up with an excuse.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I told you that scrapyard is off limits, man! It’s dangerous!”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s got the best stuff! For example-!” He gestures to the broken droid.

“Jesus…” Tugging at his hair, Steve looks between the droid and Dustin and groans. “Look, I don’t even know what you want me to do, Dust. The only droid I’ve ever seen in the inside of is Jonathan, and that was just to replace a few wires. Sure, I can fix small things, but this…”

They stare at the mess of parts for a moment, Dustin’s shoulders visibly drooping. Steve sighs again and rubs at his temples. Fuck.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

"Thank you, Steve! Thank you." Dustin's arms are around him in a second, threatening to bring them both to the ground under the weight of his excitement. "I'll look up some manuals to send to you. We're going to do something good. I can feel it."

With that, he's biking back out of the garage leaving Steve alone with the cold pieces of a droid wrapped in a trash bag.

Flinging himself down into the rolling stool by his workbench, Steve hides his face in his hands with a groan. This is bad. This is really, really bad. Every inch of this screams MURDER and it makes Steve slightly sick. All he's done is invite trouble into his life, again. How the hell is he even supposed to start piecing these things back together? He should just take the droid back to the scrapyard and tell Dustin there's nothing he could do…

But, as he gets a closer look at the droid, all he can think of is if it was Jonathan laying on the concrete in front of him.

The Byers family would be devastated at the loss of their oldest son, and what if there was someone out there who loved this droid the way Jonathan was loved? Shouldn't he at least try? Shouldn't Steve at least give him the chance to get back to where he belongs? If that is anywhere...

With a heaving sigh, Steve clears off his work bench and starts sorting pieces, laying them out in the approximate shape of a person, figuring out what's missing, and feeling a little better when he finds a few that click together nicely.

It's a really, really small start, but he has to at least try.

One Piece at a Time: Read on ao3 here

Written by me and @myshinyworld