#//i need a moment...this is just too good!

[nezuscribe]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

summary: once childhood friends with the crown prince, you find yourself in a troubled situation when he calls for you to help him around with his daily duties as the king to be. he seems to have forgotten everything, forgotten who you even were. but as the palace's most loyal servant there's only so many things that you can tolerate, including the prince.

warnings: 18+ mdni, slight angst misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, minor panic attack/overall anxiety (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo is a certified munch

word count: 14.1k (sorry)

note: i can only write gojo in a royal setting now so that’s that. i really liked writing this fic so comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

jjk masterlist

it all started with that night.

when the air was biting, cold and harsh. the moon offered so little of her light as you ran across the open foyer, feeling your tear stained cheeks more than you had back in the ballroom as you could barely feel your heartbeat, not stopping until you were out of the grand double doors, running as fast as you could through the gardens until you were sure everything and everybody was far behind you. 

you continued for a little more, finding yourself at the foot of the rose gardens, your chest heaving up and down, sweat dotting your forehead. you were sure the rouge that you had so carefully dotted onto yourself was ruined now, but that was the least of your worries. 

you place a hand on your chest, catching your breath, looking behind you to make sure that nobody had followed you outside. most nights, such as ones like this, you enjoyed the freckles of stars above you, but now, all that filled your mind were the events of moments ago. 

the staring, the judgment. 

“is everything all right?” 

your head snaps around, your eyes wide in shock as you find a man standing behind you, a careful feet away so as to not startle you even more than he already had. you couldn't make out his face in the darkness, but with your blurry vision, you doubt you could make out your own reflection.

you nod feverishly, trying for a smile that was shaking and quivering as you turn away for a second, patting your cheeks dry as you try out for a weak laugh. 

“yes, t-thank you,” your voice cracks, your lips trembling and your breathing heavy. your uniform and apron was sticking tightly to your skin and everything seemed as if it was tilted on an axis. you felt like the world was spinning in the opposite direction, and had it not been for the strong  hands behind you that steadied you upwards, you were sure you would’ve fallen down. 

“miss, are you sure everythings alright? surely i can call for a-” the man stops when you shake your head quickly, just realizing how much trouble you were going to be in if your superior ever saw you missing from your post. 

“no, thank you, i, i have to go,” you try to stand up again but stumble, grateful that he still had a steady hand on your elbow, “i apologize, i don’t know why i’m so dizzy.” you say, holding your head in your hands, trying to ease your temple with the thumping it was doing. 

“would it perhaps be because you ran through the entire courtyard in a matter of seconds?” his voice is low yet teasing, and you should be embarrassed and mortified that somebody saw you, but you feel beside yourself tonight and laugh, nodding along.

“perhaps,” there’s a small smile on your face, but the gentleman chuckles along, helping you stand comfortably, making sure you didn’t need him until he was absolutely sure you wouldn’t topple over. 

“are you not enjoying the festivities?” he remains a good distance away from you, though you’re glad he’s given you some space. 

you swallow thickly, rubbing at your eyes and cheeks to rid them of the tears but they just seem to be non-stop. 

“the festivities aren’t the problem,” you sniffle, hiccuping as you laugh wetly, “i just seem to be too sensitive for the likes of them.” you say the last word with some weight.

you thought that after all these years, after all the times you proved you’re more than your lineage, somebody always manages to bring it up. 

he doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, the only sound that you can hear is your shuddered breathing. 

“take in a deep breath,” his words are soft, but your head snaps up, confused. 

“it’s a breathing exercise,” he explains further, gently, “one in, one out,” he places a sturdy hand on your back, one that was too close for if a chaperon were to ever see you in such a compromising position you would be ruined, “we’ll do it together, i’ll count.”

your eyes are squeezed shut, but you mimic your breathing to his rhythmic breathes, your mouth open as small puffs of air fill your collapsing lungs. it takes a while for this sort of breathing pattern to take effect, but it helps you to calm down a bit. your nerves are still erratic, but it’s better than before. 

“there you go,” his voice is soothing, calming, something you’ve never heard before, something you’ve never known you’ve needed.

there’s a few beats of silence, your eyes squeezed shut until you finally open them again to get a good look of who this stranger was. 

“i have to thank you…” you trail off, your breath catching harshly in your throat when you're met with those familiar eyes, the same ones you see in the paintings you are set to clean each and every day, the same ones that look at yo with childish joy when he used to chase you around the courtyard when you were children. the infamous white hair, a tale telling of his lineage, and the countless medallions on his suit.

you don’t know what to do, and you take a tentative step back. all the feelings of fear, of embarrassment, of dread coming rushing back, but ten times worse. 

“sato…y-your highness, i,” you stagger backwards, “i…” you’re at a loss for words, your breaths coming out erratic again. 

he reaches his hand out for you to take again, his brows furrowed in confusion with you sudden change of emotions, growing into even more confusion when he gets a better look at you, memories rushing back at the strange familiarity of your face, but you don’t know as you scrunch your uniform between your fingers, muttering some unintelligible words under your breath as you bow hurriedly, brushing past him as you speedily make your way back to the palace, breaking about every protocol you have been taught since your first day there,

blissfully unaware of just how much your life was about to change.

—

the life of a palace maid is a bustling one, full of daily duties that fill your time from the moment you wake up to the moment you put your head down to rest. dusting the staircases, making sure the royal portraits are in tip-top shape, and, of course, tending to any of the needs the royals themselves need. 

you were lucky in your position, not too close to the top where any slight mess up could be your undoing, but far up where you could enjoy the more tedious and rewarding of tasks that others, such as the kitchen workers or the stables servants, may not have the luxury of having. you count your lucky stars every day that you’re not stuck cleaning fru-fru’s (the king's prized horse) droppings. 

“there really are no breaks,” lydia muttered under her breath, folding the freshly cleaned linen sheets as you gave her a look from under your lashes, warning her to be careful with her words, never too sure of how alone you two could be, “what? it’s just the truth.” 

you snort, not disagreeing with her because it was the truth. there had been royal balls upon endless balls, countless gala’s and feasts for the past couple of months. the prince was finally rumored ready to take on a wife, and all the eligible bachelors and their mamas have flocked to the scene, ready to become part of the gojo family. 

the last one had been all but two weeks ago, the same one where…you couldn’t think of it too much, glad that nobody else was there to witness your trivial breakdown. all except the prince, of course, but you hadn’t been beheaded yet so you never mentioned it to anybody. 

but, despite the last social gathering being so recent, another one was about to take place in a week. everybody could feel their hands splitting raw at the thought of cleaning the palace once again, but it was all in a day's work. 

“though i must say, you always seem to find a way to entertain yourself through all these surely grueling events,” you tease, a knowing look in your eyes as an unmistakable blush takes over her cheeks. 

“well!” she exclaimed, laughing under her breath as she fanned herself with her gloved hand, picking up another sheet to fold, “if a young man displayed his notable affections towards me, i would only be mad not to entertain them.” 

“you’re such a flirt,” you giggle, careful to keep your voices quiet so that nobody would come and break the two of you up. you were fortunate enough to spend most of your time with your closest friend, but if anybody ever got a whiff of just how much the two of you enjoyed folding bed sheets or tidying up the king's study. 

“there have been countless events, and yet, there is no wife,” she says this more as a statement rather than anything, “do you think it’s because the prince is cruel?” 

she was right about this, too. it was more often than not when lydia was wrong.

it had been a couple months of trying to set the prince up with his rightful match. women from corners of the earth, places you’ve never heard of, have found their ways to these balls and galas. of course, the palace did all they could to quell the rumors on why it was taking their beloved prince so long to find a wife, and yet, they could do so much. the rumors were beginning to grow, and none in his favor.

you laugh uncomfortably, hoping that nobody could hear the two of you in this closet. 

“the prince? cruel?” you shrug, feigning indifference. 

he wasn't cruel when you met him. 

and he never was crue all those years agol, or at least from what you could recall. 

because before there was lydia, there was satoru. 

so many years ago, you and the prince were childhood friends. he somehow introduced himself one of the days you were cleaning the castle, your uniform still so large seeing how it was made for a teenager and you were yet to reach six, so you were swallowed by it. but he didn't seem to care much about who you were, rather the fact that he was able to find somebody around his age, happy to have a friend that didn’t have to practice fencing with. 

the two of you were close, as close as a prince and a young maid can get. 

you never had a semblance of a normal childhood, but for those few years that you had known him, he offered you some normality that you would've never expected from the crown prince. at nights, when the two of you would meet up in a spare closet, he’d unravel a satchel full of bread and sweets, things he had stolen from his dinner table, knowing that your meals were often far smaller than his. 

he didn’t seem to forget you, even as he grew in his adolescence. he’d still find you wherever you were, a bright smile on his face as you gave yourself a quick break, running around the gardens with him as you squealed, trying not to get caught by him as he tried to push you down into the river nearby. 

but, you tended to be more level-headed than him, and easily foresaw the day that came when his advisors found out he had been befriending the servant girl, more specifically the daughter of the town courtesan, and before you knew it, you had been swept away, promised to never mingle with him again. they couldn’t strip you bare of your position at the palace, knowing that you worked for far less than others asked for and longer than most did, but they changed your place, your rooms, and you barely saw him again. he soon forgot, and you counted yourself lucky that you were still able to have a memory to latch on to. 

“or perhaps he’s unlikely to even take a wife. he may prefer his time spent with multiple women, if you get what i mean,” she continues, your thought coming back into focus as you suddenly realize what she just said, swatting her with one of the towels while saying such an unbecoming thing about her prince. 

“or maybe he’s taking his time,” you give her a pointed look for being so crass, “he might be holding out for a love match.” you say, your gaze focused on your nimble fingers as you fold the sheets as if it were second nature, your body moving faster than your mind was. 

she snorts, rolling her eyes at your romantics. 

“you can’t-” she goes to say something but is crudely cut off by the doors behind the two of you swinging open. 

your necks snap around as you are instant to stand, bowing deeply to whoever it is that walks in, looking up only after a brief pause. 

a part of you tenses upon seeing the housekeeper, miss lottie, entering in. her graying hairs were pulled back in a tight bun, the uniform that all the maids wore ironed to perfection. though she may not be as in her youth as she once was, her face was void of wrinkles, a feat, considering her position. 

two men who you had never seen before walking in behind her, standing on either side as she motions for the both of you to introduce yourselves. lydia bows once again, saying her name, and you do the same. 

“these are the last of my girls, gentlemen,” she starts with a sigh, massaging her temple, missing the confused look you and lydia shared as she offered no explanation for what was happening, “these are the only other maids in my department that wear this uniform.” 

the two guards look at you and lydia top and down, their eyes racking over your features, your postures, your faces. you felt sweat prickling at the back of your neck, your hands growing clammy as your mouth dried. 

surely, it can’t be.

“her,” one of the guards raised his gloved hand to you. 

“her?” lydia cries out loud, earning a disapproving look from miss lottie, but the old woman seems to be just as confused as you and lydia. 

“come with us,” the other one says, opening the door further, not seeming to care about your stupified state as you grip onto lydia’s wrist as tightly as you could.

you couldn’t speak, couldn't breath. you felt like you did that night, the same dreadful feeling that filled your veins and your lungs, keeping you from taking in the air you so desperately needed. 

“gentlemen,” lydia takes a step forward, trying to shield you with her body, “i’m sure whatever it is you’re after, she,” she points her head over to you, “is certainly not it.”

this is it, you tell yourself, they’ve finally tracked you down. 

the two guards don’t pay her any mind, don’t even address nor speak to her as they push her aside, wrenching your hands away from her as they try to move you forward, trying to move you away. 

“miss lydia, please,” miss lottie almost seems to beg, has her brows furrowed in puzzlement as to what was happening, her mouth agape as she watches them take you away. 

you feel your mind go hazy, your vision turning blurry as you dumbly follow the guards out of the room, the muted shouts of your friends growing softer and softer behind you as you walk through the halls you[‘ve been walking through for nearly your entire life, 

not knowing if it would be your last. 

—

the three of you walk for a while, and it doesn't help that nauseous and sinking feeling that you have growing in the pit of your stomach. your eyes darted around, your cheeks heating up in an uncomfortable flush when you caught the glances the others servants and maids gave, the way they began instantly whispering behind their gloved hands or one another as to what could be happening. 

you quickly looked down, watching your steps. if you weren't ruined after whatever this was, the gossip that was to circulate about you surely would.

they lead you up a spiral staircase, through the east wing, and after some time, the walls and the floors begin to grow unfamiliar to you. these are the places that even you weren’t authorized to clean, places that only the most trusted and known people were allowed to be. 

you peek around through the corners of your eyes, trying to take it all in one last time. there is more gold encrusted into the painting, the wall decorum, the ceiling. it’s more grand than you even thought the palace could be, and had it not been for your doomed fate, you would’ve tried to savor it more. 

the guards in front of you suddenly stop in front of a door, and you almost bump into one of them had you not stopped yourself milliseconds before. 

one of the guards raised his fist, knocking once, letting his hands fall behind his back. 

you wait with baited breath until you hear a muffled, “come in,” from behind the door, and the other guard turns the knob, the door swinging wide open. 

the two men come in before you do, their bodies hiding the view. you stay outside, your hands shaking, waiting until further instruction. 

the guards are speaking to the person inside, their voice mixing with each other in your muddled head, and you feel your eyes begin to wet. all of your hard work, all the sacrifices you’ve made along the way, every sleepless night devoted to securing your rank and your future were now going up in flames. 

“why didn’t you tell her to come in?” the first voice grows a little louder, “come in, miss,” he calls out, and you take in a deep, shaky breath. 

you take a slow, tentative step inside, and then another one. your feet pad in quietly, your head ducked down in respect but also because you couldn't have these people seeing you like this, it was mortifying as it was. 

you bow, knowing that you were in the presence of royalty from just the atmosphere of the room alone. you go down as low as you can, almost kissing the floor with your nose. 

“you men can go now,” the voice, an all too familiar one, says. 

you hear their heavy footsteps behind you, the door shutting with a thud. 

“you can stand,” the prince says, his voice less loud and commanding. 

you slowly rise, still keeping your head down, your eyes meeting a desk, some papers, and when you finally look up, the prince. 

his smile quickly drops when he sees your face, quickly moving away from his seat as he rounds the table, making his way over to you as you quickly wipe away at your tears. it was breaking your etiquette protocol for how you were to act if you were to ever come face to face with royalty, but you don’t see any point in acting in such a way when this is somehow quite similar to your first encounter. 

“are you hurt?” he quickly asks, standing a foot away from you, his eyes darting around your body as you quickly shake your head, sniffing as you stand as perfectly still as you could. 

“were my guards rough with you?” he looks behind himself at the door, “i will have a word with them immediately-” 

but you shake your head again, swallowing thickly as you dip your head down once, going to speak. 

“it was not the guards, your highness,” you feel like time is stopping as he stares intently at you, “i just have an apathy for being too emotional at times.” you try to joke, but with the way your heart was beating so loudly and erratically, it drowned out any humor you may have been trying for. 

“is it perhaps because you’ve been called to the prince's study with no reason or explanation?” he jokes, his eyes look at you from beneath his long lashes and you laugh wetly.

“perhaps,” you accept the handkerchief he gives you with a small thank you.

you wipe at your tears, quickly composing yourself with taking a couple of more steady breaths, and you were glad that the prince was at least giving you this time to look a little more presentable until he sentenced you to your punishment. 

“right, well,” he claps his hands together, a small smile on his face as he inches backwards until he’s able to sit on his desk, not caring for the slue of papers underneath, “i’m glad i was finally able to find you.”

find you?

you don’t say anything, your eyes taking him in for the first time, and for the first time, the rumors were correct. 

he was positively gorgeous. 

the veil of night hid a lot of his features, leaving only the more pronounced things for you to see. not only that, but you had been sworn to keep away from him, the last time you were really able to see him was years ago. 

but now, illuminated under the light from the large windows to the side of him, you can see him as clearly as you possibly could. his eyes were striking and stark, a blue that you could only get if you looked at the sea and saw all the colors mixing around together. his lips were plump and pink. his jaw was sturdy, but that could’ve been said along with the rest of his body, no longer looking like the lanky little boy that you were used to envisioning. though he donned a simple white button up, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing just how strong he was. everything about him exuded radiance, the spectacularity that only comes with being the crown prince. 

you try to focus yourself again, and try not to melt under the way he noticed you staring too hard, his smile turning into something far more teasing.

he wets his lips, sitting up a little bit straight, pushing himself off the table just a bit so that he could be closer to you. 

“my name is satoru,” he extends his hand outward, and you stare at it. 

oh, a part of you sinks, he doesn't remember you.

“shake, please” he says as if reading your mind, “my hand isn’t infected with a fungal disease if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

you quickly nod, feeling sheepish as your hands slowly raise from where they were resting on your crumpled apron, fingers gently and barely there as they glide against his palm until your hand is enclosed in his, fingers curling around his as you shake. 

his palm is soft, unlike yours which had grown rough and riddles with scratches and cuts from over the years. he shakes firmly yet gently, not too harsh unlike the other men whose hands you’ve shaken before, making it somewhat a point to not only bruise your skin but to show off their strength as you look at them with a sneer. 

you don’t let go until he does, not wanting to seem rude or improper, and your hands quickly fall back down to your sides. you’re aware of the stains of food and dirt on your white apron, the way it is held together through stitches and intricate sewing. it’s a stark difference to what he’s wearing, even if simple, but the quiet opulence is what differentiates the two of you so easily. 

he waits patiently and you suddenly realize that he’s waiting for your name. you said it quickly, your eyes darting to him as you bow your head again.

“as i said,” he continued, his head turning as he looked out the window, taking in the scenery, “i have been trying my best to find you ever since, well, i’m sure you remember.”

“i was told by…miss marla scott, is it?” he asks, and you nod, miss lottie, “that you are one of, if not, her best girls.”

you nod again, not knowing what to do. he was going on about this as if all those years ago were a figment of your imagination, as if your childhoods weren’t linked together the way you recall them being. that could be for the best though, seeing how you could be in trouble if anyone were to remember. 

“i’ve recently had to do away with some of my valets, they didn’t meet my expectations.” he scratches his jaw, looking back at you, his eyes simmering as you look at him from beneath your lashes. 

“i would like for you to be my maid.” he finally said, his fingers playing with the ring on his middle finger, twisting it back and forth as it caught and reflected the sunlight. 

there’s a beat of silence, a moment in which the two of you just look at each other. 

you almost laughed in shock, your brows shooting upwards in surprise, hands interlinking themselves as they rested on your queasy stomach. 

“p-pardon,” you swallow dryly, “pardon me?” 

he waves it off, his eyes playful, obviously understanding that you weren’t expecting this and he runs a hand through his arctic hair. you intently watch his every movement, waiting for him to burst out into laughter and to say that this was all one big joke, one meant to set you up into a trap. 

“you’d have to make my bed every day, make sure my room is clean. my office,” he motions to the room around the two of you, “as well. anywhere i am, you are. i’m not a particularly messy person, but i like the assurance a maid provides.”

“your highness,” you breathe deeply through your nose, a puff of air coming out as you smile shortly, “i am more than honored, but i’m not sure i’ve been trained the way a personal maid has been trained. i would hate to disappoint you,” you chose your words carefully, but he waves it all off with his gloved hand.

“you will be taught. after all, you are the best, are you not?” his eyes crease around the edges, waiting for you to simply nod once again, and you do, slowly. 

“but, your highness, i…” you trail off, failing silent and running out of words as you find yourself sputtering under his gaze. you’re usually one who’s easily composed, your back straight and shoulders pressed backwards, but you feel it all slipping away. 

“why me? i surely couldn’t have made a favorable impression the first time we met, your highness.”

he looks at you for a moment, brief, fleeting. 

“you’re human, it happens,” he simply says, his eyes flickering a different shade, “my mother always tells me that we forget to exhaust the capabilities that connect us together,” he rubs in between his brows, soothing the crease, not going any further into his explanation when he looks up at you, his smile debonair, “now, do you accept?”

you suck in a breath. 

one nod. 

yes. 

—-

you were quickly swept away from your normal routine of things to become the princes maid, something that you could barely even get out once lydia was able to ask you about what had happened. you can remember the looks you received after walking to your new quarters, a private room for the first time in your life, by the people who judged you the first time around, feeling a little victorious with your single back packed with the three changes of clothes you owned. 

you spent days going over what was to be expected of you, and it all felt like it was a joke. 

it was too simple, too easy of a job with an even simpler explanation from the prince as to why you were even here. 

“his highness wakes up early, so you will need to be up before he is,” one of the ladies who was briskly walking around the princes caves explained rapidly, “and his nighttime schedule is, well, hectic, which means you will have to be with him until he goes to sleep.”

you blink, trying to get that all in as you take mental notes of everything you are being taught. 

“and during the day? where should i be?”

she looked up at you as if you were an idiot, as if that was the most obvious question you could’ve asked. 

“by his side, of course, you are to ensure his highness is always comfortable. your role is beyond making his bed or simply cleaning up after him. it’s making sure that our prince is at ease when he is to one day become our king.”

you never thought you would be standing behind the door of the prince's chambers, waiting for him to wake up, but your life always seemed to have a different plan waiting for you than what you’d expect. 

it’s better than you’d expect it to have been, too. at first, it was difficult getting used to the prince and his way of doing things. he would act rash sometimes, acting without thinking of the consequences. he was playful, he loved laughing. there were times when you’d be standing a good distance away from him when he’d be having dinner with families of women who were there to marry him, diplomats that talked just to bore it would seem, and you’d catch his wandering eye, suppressing a smile that seemed to quirk up on his face as well. 

it wasn’t long before you found yourself speaking more freely around him, keeping some of the pleasantries, but regarding him more as a friend, just as you would with lydia. 

he would often spend hours away in his study just talking, telling you about his daily outings and the struggles he was having with finding a wife. whenever you offered your thoughts or opinions he listened thoughtfully, his gaze heavy and caring.

though he may not have remembered your ancient friendship, you did, and an old part of you feels like it’s coming back after all those years. the naive part that was just happy to have a person to talk to, somebody that wouldn’t look at you in disgust or pity. 

but you bring your focus back to now, listening intently, waiting to hear the bed sheets ruffle and the floorboards to creak as he makes his way out of his bed. 

after a couple of weeks of doing this you’ve become somewhat familiar with the prince's way of doing things, and just as you thought he was going to sleep in, you hear the bedsheets ruffle with movement. 

“your highness?” you call quietly, “may i come in?”

there’s a loud yawn, something unintelligible, and then you hear the go ahead for you to go. 

you slowly open the door, making sure not to be loud as you bow politely, closing the door before you as you set the tray of cold water and fruits down on the nightstand near his bed. 

the prince prefers to eat something before he breaks his fast in front of his family and the watchful eyes of the palace, enjoying these small moments he has with himself. 

“good morning your highness,” you greet, lighting the candle as you look behind your shoulder to see the prince groggily running at his eyes, yawning once again as he waves tiredly to you. 

why he chooses to wake up before the sun is even in the sky is beyond you, but you would be mad to question the choices of the prince. unfortunately, he seems to be waking up even earlier than the times you were told, so every morning you find yourself getting up at the crack of dawn to make sure you’re up before he is. 

“did you sleep well?” you walk around the bed, setting down some fresh sheets and clothes for him to pick out, opening the curtains as you watch the sun just barely peek out from the horizon. 

“well enough,” his voice is deep, filled with sleep, and you're glad your back is momentarily turned so that he couldn’t see the way a smile threatened to poke its way on your face. 

“i’m glad to hear,” you turn around, catching him briefly taking a swing of water, savoring its coolness, and you try not to look too long at the droplets that roll down his chin, splattering on his thigh, “would you like me to go through your events set for the day?” 

he glances at you from over his cup, blinking as he wordlessly tells you to continue. 

“today, you are to meet with the king's advisors after you break your fast, but i doubt they should take too long. at noon, you have a lunch meeting set with the lady dower and her daughter,” you quote from memory, “and afterwards we are to swiftly get you ready for tonight's ball.” 

he groans loudly, opposing this, and you smirk, your eyes trained on him as he sets his water down, sniffing as he stands up, stretching his arms above his head. you feel like a fiend, with the way you quickly avert your gaze from his toned stomach, the happy trail of hair that leads…

your eyes shoot up at him, glad that his were still screwed shut, another yawn escaping his lips as he leans his head side to side, cracking his neck.

“i’ve already met with the lady dower,” he almost whines, his nose wrinkling at the thought, “what do they want this time?” 

“a ring, probably,” you mutter under your breath, but he hears, a chuckle falling past his lips as he nods along, tsking as he shrugs. he obviously doesn’t want the dower girl to be his wife, and you could only feel sorry for how tense the meetings going to be. 

he picks up a cube of melon, popping it in his mouth, humming at the sweet taste. he offers the bowl to you, just as he’s always done, but you politely decline, just as you’ve always done. you may have become friendly with the prince, but there is still some semblance of protocol that you’ll force yourself to follow. 

“is this chocolate?” he pipes up, looking at the tray a bit more closely, holding up the little sweet to the light. 

“you’ve mentioned how much you like them, and the kitchen has been making a plethora of them for the ball, so i thought i should snag you some before they're all gone.” you explain, and he turns it around, shooting you a thankful, genuine smile. he sets it down, most likely saving it until the very last moment.

“will you be there? tonight?” he asks, filling up his glass with water once again. 

“not down there with you, your highness-” 

“how many times have i told you to drop the titles?” he chides playfully, cutting you off as you sigh deeply through your nose. you’re terrified of calling him by his name too many times in private, and slipping up in public, knowing just how bad it would turn out for you if that were to happen. 

“not down there with you, gojo,” you say his last name with extra weight, just a little bit of sass, and he rolls his eyes, “i am to help out elsewhere.” 

he nods in understanding. 

“could you be down there?” he picks up a piece of watermelon, fashioned into a sphere, eating it as you sputter, brows furrowing in slight confusion as you open your mouth, shut it, and then open it again to speak. 

“unless i am serving, i would not be allowed,” you explain, following behind him as he moves away from the bed, quickly making the messed up sheets as he makes room for you. you’re supposed to wait until he’s out of the room, but in your growing friendship with the prince, you find it amusing the way he flutters away. 

he makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and you look behind your shoulder to see him deep in thought. 

“i’ll find a way.” 

“what-” 

“i’ll see you later,” he exits his room, shutting himself in his bathroom as the other servants are their, waiting with his bath drawn, leaving you there to gape in silence. 

—-

gojo somehow stuck to his word, finding a way for you to be near him by the time the ball arrived. 

you felt overwhelmed, your senses were going hardwire at the sheer size of everything. it was one thing to be part of setting up the decorations, or to view it from afar behind a pillar, but to be part of it was something totally different. 

there had been a couple balls since you first started your new position, but this happened to be the first one that you had gotten clearance for. of course, you weren’t a part of the crowd, hidden somewhere in the midst of servants and servers, but you were nearer than you’ve ever been. 

they even dress you up in more fashionable servant clothes, knowing that if you were to wear your tattered uniform it would easily give it away that you weren’t one of them. you didn’t have a job for the evening other than to make sure that the prince was comfortable, so you tried everything you could not to let him out of your sight. 

you found yourself searching for lydia in the crowd, but she had told you that she’d be in the kitchens, having to help out with the food they’d be sending out, and so you doubted you would be able to catch a glimpse of her amongst all the chaos that is hidden to their eyes. 

the prince, despite your best efforts, kept getting drowned in by the sea of people and ball gowns. every time he twirled a girl around for a dance he was hidden by a wave of colorful fabrics, and you’d have to squint to see his white hair peeking out.

you tapped your fingers on the railing you were leaning against, trying to soak it all in while you had the chance. you had heard of the royal balls and just how extravagant they truly could be, but you never thought you’d have the chance to see one in its entirety. 

“i don’t believe we’ve met,” 

your head snaps to your left, eyes widening in surprise at the stranger that had somehow slithered their way next to you without noticing.

“i apologize, i didn't mean to scare you,” the man says with an apologetic laugh. you huff out a small sound, shaking your head as you bow your body a little bit, watching as he bows his head in turn.

“no apology necessary, uh, mister…?” you pause, realizing that you actually haven’t even seen his face before, let alone heard of his name.

“fushiguro,” he finishes for you, the scar on his lip quirking upwards as he settles himself on teh railing, looking down at the scene below you as he shoots you a small look, “but i’d prefer it if you’d call me toji.”

you duck your head down, smiling as you repeat your name, feeling heat pricks at the back of your neck. he’s certainly handsome, and most likely higher ranked in title with the expensive material he fills out well. 

you’ve seen him around, most likely from afar. his face is familiar, and you’re sure that he’s had to have at least another one of these balls considering the fact that he’s given up mixing with the ton. 

he surely has to note that what you’re wearing is on par with what the other servants and maids are, but he doesn't choose to comment.

“i’ve started a little bet with myself,” he says, his voice deep and gruff. you take a second to look him over thoroughly, noting the way his hair is messy and looks undone, black as the night. his eyes shimmer green, but turn more olive toned in the light, and he has a smile exudes an air of confidence, “would you like you partake in it?”

you smile, looking at him from the side. 

“i thought they taught you better manners than to introduce yourself with a bet when you first meet a lady.” 

he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders as his eyes glint. 

“thought i already told you my name?” he’s smooth with it, and you’re not used to this. 

you don’t say anything for a second, your chest moving as you take in a necessary gulp of air. you normally try not to think too much in gojo’s flirtatious personality, because he seems to be like that with everybody he’s ever met. but this is new. 

“see,” he leans in, your arms touching as you both lean a bit over the railing, and he’s lower this voice to a whisper so that nobody else can hear, “i bet that our little prince is setting his eyes on the young lady in the red dress, but i also bet that he may be mulling over the one in the green shawl.” his fingers slyly point to the two of them, and you crane your neck a bit, standing on your toes as you try to get a better look. the man, toji, isn’t incorrect in his observations. gojo has danced with miss corden almost three times at this point, and another two with miss ahura, but you remember that he only favored these two more because they tended not to step on his shoes when dancing. you suppress your smile, choosing to indulge him in his little bet.  

“i say miss ahura has a better chance,” you say and he watches as gojo twirls her around on the dance floor, “her family is far more affluent and i hear that she has riches beyond comprehension in persia.” 

“are you saying our prince is covetous? the sacrilege,” his voice is full of mirth and you hide your little giggle behind a gloved hand, your elbows lightly hitting his as you keep your eyes trained down below. 

the waltz comes to an end, the violinists lifting their instrument off from their shoulders as they prepare for the next piece, the ladies and gentlemens who had just danced bowing to each other as they separate. 

you watch for gojo, watch as he moves to the end of the floor, accepting the drink one of his companions had waiting for him as he delves into conversation. he takes a sip, nodding along to whatever it is that is being muttered in his ear. 

he looks up for a second, his eyes scanning around for something. he’s careful not to attract attention to this fact, but you see him scan the entire room, the different floors, his eyes squinting as he tries to narrow his vision. he looks around for a couple more seconds, looking and looking until he finds you. 

a brief and quick smile takes over his face when he finally sees your face, your own lips tugging upwards as you give him a small wave. his eyes fall to the man besides you, his smile falling as well, and toji grunts. 

“are you familiar with the prince?” he asks, obviously catching this, and you gnaw on your lips in apprehension, confusion. 

“barely,” you mutter, not giving him too many details, watching as gojo looks away just as quickly, as if he had never seen you and you swallow thickly, wondering what brought on his sudden change in emotions. 

or why he even looked for you in the first place. 

“barely doesn’t warrant the prince looking for you,” toji whispers in your ear, “‘think you know him a little better than you give yourself credit for.” 

—

after the ball, gojo didn’t speak much to you when the two of you were back in his chambers.

he tended to get tired out by the end of balls, but you found yourself lonely without the endless stories he came to you with, the way he’d relive some of the events just as he was going to bed so that he wouldn’t forget them in the morning. 

but he was strangely quiet right now, didn’t say anything as you helped him shrug off his coat, hanging it up in his closet as you bite your cheek, feeling some odd tension radiate off of him, something you’ve never felt before. 

“did you enjoy the ball?” you asked, standing near his bed as he shuffles around, kicking off his boots as he scrunches his nose in distaste. 

“it was like any other,” he says plainly, yanking his tie off as you grab it from his wordlessly, folding it up so that it wouldn’t crease.

“did you like dancing with miss ahura?” you don’t know what’s going on, why he seems so rigid, “she looked beautiful, did she not?” 

he shrugs passively, not answering as he rummages around his drawers, dropping down his cufflinks in a pile with the rest of his gold ones, not knowing that a single pair of them would most likely feed you for a year.

“would you like a midnight snack? i saved some truffles for you,” you dig into your pockets, bringing some out that you had snagged from the desserts table and had wrapped in a napkin, something akin to what he used to bring you all those years ago, waiting eagerly all night to show him, “these even have some gold on them, i’ve never seen-” 

“i have chefs at my disposal,” he mutters as he unbuttons his shirt, “i don’t need truffles covered in lint.” 

your smile fell at the bite in his voice, the way it seemed to grip it’s claws around your lungs, squeezing the air out of them. you silently pocket the napkin.

“of course…i apologize,” there's a bitter taste in the back of your throat, catching his eyes momentarily. you see the way they shift, how his mouth parts open, and then he shuts them again. 

you can feel his stare as you shove your other hand back into your other dress pocket, this one with a miniature tart that you had so carefully tried to preserve throughout the evening from breaking, and feel a heavy weight settle on your chest. 

“i have your bath ready,” you point to the bathroom, ducking your head down as you bow, “i will see you in the morning, your highness.” 

you left  quickly, feeling foolish as you trekked down the stairs to your own room, feeling your heart slow down as you shut your door, shedding off the wretched costume that had you feeling as if you were something worthwhile for once. 

—-

for a while after that night, the two of you share brief conversations, sentences kept to a minimum as you bring back the cordiality that you had begun to shed off for a while. if he noticed it, he didn’t comment on it. after some days passed, and days turned into a week and a half, he barely even looked at you, and you took it as a sign that he had tired out of the small friendship and was looking elsewhere for momentary entertainment.  

tonight, you found yourself standing in the corner of his office, eyes darting around as you waited in heavy silence as his quill scratched on the parchment beneath him, dipping it in ink every now and then as he mumbled unintelligible words under his breath. 

his head rests in his hands, throwing his head back in frustration at whatever it is the document is telling him. 

his head falls down, his eyes slowly opening as he looks up at you. 

your brow raised slightly in questioning. 

“i need you,” he says, eyes widening slightly at his slip up, “i-i need your help.” he clears his throat harshly.  

he ushers to the papers in front of him, and you inhale deeply, making your way from the corner that you’ve hidden yourself in as you cross the room, your steps careful as you round to his table, standing at the edge as you stay quiet. 

“here,” he bites out, “come here.” he needs you next to him, and you have to control the urge to roll your eyes as you move, shuffling so that you were standing near his chair, looking down at the piece of paper that he’s been mulling over for the better half of an hour. 

you look at it, mouth parting open as your brows scrunch up as you focus, trying to ignore the way his eyes were burning into the side of your face. 

“i don’t understand, your highness,” you finally say, leaning away from him, “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

he pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling as he sets the paper down, leaning back in the chair. 

“it’s a letter of inheritance, who gets what after the father dies,” he explains, “but the signatures don’t match up. does it seem forged to you?” 

you look again, looking at the two signatures laid next to each other, the way the letters curved, which ones swooped, tilting your head, trying to see it from a different angle. the more you looked at it, the more disingenuous the signatures seemed. 

“they might be,” you briefly look at him, his stare burning if you look too long, “but i’m not sure, your highness.”

his face hardens for a second, and you move away, going back to the end of the table as you bow, taking your leave to the back of the room until he speaks again. you pause, looking over your shoulder to him. 

“care to look again? i have a feeling that you have a knack for schemes.” his lips are pulled back in a smile that doesn't meet his eyes, miles away from the usual smile you see from him, and if not for the benign expression, his words surely made you stumble. 

“excuse me?” you bite back quickly, your nose flaring as he scoffs, shaking his head as if he expected this reaction. 

“you’re shameless with it, aren’t you?” he’s alluding to something, and it’s driving you crazy. all the stares you’ve shared this past week, the silent exchange of aggravated words that grow only in size the more the two of you simmer. even when you were young, your arguments were resolved quickly.

“with what?” you snap, the accusations he’s throwing at you with no reasoning swarming your mind, clouding your judgment, your way of carrying yourself as you throw all etiquette out the window. 

“i can only wonder what ploys fushiguro played out for you, but i wonder even more which ones tempted you the most?” 

your tongue is heavy in your mouth, and you make a sound in the back of your throat, one of shock, one of clear surprise. was all of his unspoken anger because of…him? the man you met during the ball? surely it can’t be. 

you gape, the candle flickering away in the same beats your heart was going at, illuminating his stone cold face as he stands up from his chair, moving slowly to where you were. you try to stand tall, but you can’t match up to his height.

“you,” your jaw clenches, eyes searching his to see if he was joking, “you’ve been treating me like i’m, i’m,” you stutter, your chest constricting, “the shit you wipe off your shoe because you think i’m scheming with s-some man i met for the first time?” 

his expression flickers for a second, as if suddenly realizing what he was saying.

“as if you don’t know who he is,” he collects himself, a sneer making its way on his face, “as if you don’t know what they’ve done to us-” 

“i don’t!” you cut him off, a shocked laugh escaping your lips, “i don’t know who he is! i just thought he was being friendly!” 

gojo pauses, his eyes searching yours for any traces of lies

“come on,” he scoffs, “you know how the zenin family-”

“who, who’s the zenin family?” you exclaim, watching in real time as the facade and things he’s been convincing himself of aren’t true. 

“the,” he stutters, his face scrunching up in confusion, “the zenin…? how do you not know…?”

“because i’m a maid!” you shout, not caring if others behind the door could hear you yelling at their prince, “because i’ve spent my entire life working here! i keep my head down and i do what i’m told, a-and i keep to myself. forgive me for not knowing about your royal affairs, your highness!” 

he’s rendered silent, lips pulled into a thin line. 

“but you only care about yourself, right? the sacred prince who had everything given to him his entire life,” you continue, feeling your own pent up frustrations spewing out. you know that you’re going to lose everything after this anyways, so you don’t care about the repercussions now. you can’t bring it in yourself to care.

“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with some unidentifiable emotion as you roll your eyes. 

“i don’t? tell me, do you even remember me?” you hate that you’re losing touch of sensibility and making it personal, personal about your own feelings and how your mind can’t wrap around the fact that he simply forgot who you were or how much he affected you, “or are your cares about the people who work for you so fleeting that you barely know our names? is my replacement coming in a week, two weeks?”

“stop,” he bites out, his eyes dark, a storming brewing on the endless sea they offer, “you don’t know-” 

“what i’m taking about…right?” you finish for him, “because i’m just the simple maid who you took in as your toy because you wanted to poke and prod around at her and see if she cries again? see if you could fix something for once-” 

“stop,” his voice is different, and your hairs stand up because it’s not his. it’s lower in pitch, deep, commanding. you shut your mouth, fingers flying upwards, but it’s too late, you’ve said too much, and there’s no going back. this is it, you’ve finally sealed your fate. 

his head falls down for a second, licking his lips as he looks at you with a look that freezes your blood. it’s not like him, and you know that this was it. 

“get out,” he mutters. 

“i…” you take a step back.

“get out,” his voice is thick, nostrils flaring, cheeks red with underlying emotions that are threatening to leave, “get out and never come back.” 

your eyes shine with tears, tears that you refuse to shed, tears that you don’t know are for what, but you nod once, your lips trembling as you bow down to him, your last shred of respect, and turn for the door, shutting it as you run down the corridor, run for the only thing you think can save you in the moment, and don’t look back. 

—

the wind is biting and unforgiving on your skin as you ride through the night. 

you lean forward on the horse, hoping it can go faster as it sprints through the open field, your eyes watering as you shout for it to go. 

you packed what you could, wrote your note to lydia and escaped through the stables, glad  to know that louis was guarding the horses tonight, glad to know that he often drank himself to sleep. 

you knew you were in too deep. you had crossed the crown prince, your ending surely wasn’t going to be good. and so call it what you will, cowardice, fear, survival, or just something you seem to have down to your roots, but you fled. you took a horse and went as far as you could, looking over your shoulder every other minute to see if anybody was running after you. 

they would at some time realize that one of their horses was missing, as well as the prince's personal maid, and easily connect the dots. 

it was late, and you were glad that the night was offering you the darkness and protection you needed. you could hear thunder rumbling a distance away, the clouds looking even more irate than they usually do. rain, you noted, even more protection that you desperately needed.

“please,” you plead, with what you don’t know, “please, hurry.” 

the horse, as if understanding you, seems to pick up its pace, going even faster than before. your cheeks are freezing, your hands going numb from both the cold but from holding onto the reins with all your might, and the sad excuse of a cloak you have on for both warmth and concealing your face, does nothing for its intended purposes. it’s flimsy and the hood is swept by the wind, and you sniffle, tears wetting your chin as you try to compose yourself for just a bit more. 

you feel an ounce of joy when you see the yellow twinge of lights from the valley below, the small town that you once used to live in coming more into focus, and feel some sense of happiness. you would camp there for the night and leave at dawn, going east, north, anywhere away from here. 

or at least that was your plan until you hear the thump of hooves from behind you. 

your heart drops, head whipping around as you see another horse coming in from behind you. you can’t see the rider, but you suspect more are behind them. they’re shouting something, but with the wind roaring in your ears you can’t hear anything. you turn around, whipping the reins again, leaning even more forward as let out a sound of desperation. 

it’s a race to survive now, something that you won't do if you lose it, and you feel your body turning into ice, everything is going too fast. 

the rider behind you is gaining speed, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they finally catch up to you. in a split moment you try to evade them, twisting the reins of your horse in one direction, not seeing the bush that was in front of you. 

in another moment you’re up in the air, losing all of your feelings as you're thrown down with a harsh thud. 

in the next moment, things going to black, your lids flickering as you try to stay awake, one of the last things you see being the blurry face of the rider,

and those eyes that you think about every night. 

—

the next time you open your eyes it’s to a bright light. 

you ground, rubbing at your face as your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, your head ringing as you attempt to sit up, only to feel strong hands gently pushing you down. 

there’s a voice, somebody speaking, but it’s all mushy in your brain, words melting together as you shake your head, trying to get the blinding light away from you. the voice grows a little bit closer, a little more clearer, and after a couple of seconds you’re able to make out what the person is saying.

“please rest, i’ll get the doctor,” the voice is familiar, and you reach out with slow fingers, trying to grab onto something, anything.

“n-no,” you murmur, your voice slurring, “no doctor.” 

“you need a doctor,” the voice says firmly, “wait here.”

“no,” you say again, a little stronger, and the person stops moving, “s-stay…please,”

your fingers reach out, trying to latch onto a piece of their clothing, and instead find their hand. it’s warm, soft, and it quickly closes around your cold one, trying to warm it up. 

you know this hand, know this voice. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and wonder if your voice is even something that can be heard by the human ear with the way it sounds foreign even to you, “i’m, i’m sorry about everything. about what i said.”

his hold on your hand grows tighter, his thumb moving up and down on the back of it in a soothing back as his other hands run across your forehead. 

“no,” he simply says, “you don’t-”

“but i said-” 

“everything that should’ve been said,” gojo finishes quickly, “but i need to go get you a doctor, check if you don’t have a concussion or worse. he checked for…other things,” he swallows thickly, not able to say what terrible words the town physician told him when they brought you into the small inn, the words that turned his skin transparent and nearly ripped the heart right out his chest, “see if you’re doing okay.”

“i don’t have a concussion,” you tell him him, finally able to blink without shooting lights and on your final squint you finally see him, sitting right next to you, his hair disheveled and face clammy, “i’ve had concussions and this isn’t a concussion.” 

his brows furrow but you wave it off, sitting up so that you could rest on the head board behind you, not letting go of his hands. you’re not even sure he would let you if you wanted to, with the way he was grasping on as if his life depended on it. 

you groggily rub at your face, glad that the thumping in your head is dying down, gracefully accepting the glass of water he offers you. you chug it down, feeling the droplets wet the chemise you’re wearing, but can’t find it in you to care.

you look around the room, wondering if you might actually have a concussion because you’ve never been here before, and it certainly doesn’t look like it’s part of the palace. 

“we’re at an inn,” he explains as if reading your mind, “it’s the closest place i could find.” 

you nod wordlessly, looking away from him because it feels raw, the emotions, the events from before, everything. 

he senses your disposition and his hold on your hand loosens for a brief, flickering second. you hate the feeling. 

“i shouldn’t have assumed,” he whispers, your eyes still focused on the patterns on the bed sheet, not knowing what would happen if you looked at him, “i shouldn’t have thought any of it. i just saw you and saw him and…it got in my head. it got a hold of me and for that, i’m sorry.” 

your fingers curl into his hand. 

“but, i, um,” he stammered, stuttering the way he used to when he was a little boy, something they surely worked on seeing how it rarely came out anymore, “i wanted you to know that i do remember.” 

your head snaps up, the bed creaking at your sudden movement, your mouth slightly open in surprise. 

“what?” your question is breathless, akin to the boyish, nervous, and small smile on his face. just like he used to smile when you chased him up a tree, telling him to get down or else you’d be in big trouble as if he were your responsibility.

“you used to wear a uniform that was so huge, you’d trip whenever you’d walk. you loved the fruit pies i’d bring, but you hated the ones with the pine nuts. you’d always call me ‘toru because you couldn’t say your s’s properly and you made me a doll with some fabric you found around the rooms.” 

his thumb rubs on your pulse point, a melancholy smile on his face. 

“you named him fru-fru,” your voice is barely above a murmur, “and you kept him on your-” 

“nightstand,” he nods, “but i had to move him to my study because he was getting too fragile, i couldn’t move him too much.”

you wipe at your cheeks, sniffing as you feel a strange warmth fill your chest, filling an emptiness you didn’t know was there. his eyes shimmer, wet with tears threatening to spill, and for the first time since you met him that night, you feel like you’ve never been closer to somebody than you are now, souls interlinked together, twisting and turned as they grew with time. 

all the emotions you’ve been latching onto or forcing down are coming up at once and you feel overwhelmed, not knowing how to handle them together. 

“why…why did you act like you didn't know me?” you finally ask, wiping at your chin with the palm of your hand as you sniffle, “why are you telling me all this now?” 

“because all this time i thought you had grown to hate me,” he mutters, “you just stopped speaking to me one day and no matter what i tried to do you never responded. i sent you letters and i visited your quarters and i even went to that scary lady,” you laugh wetly, knowing that he was referring to your old head-maid, the one that terrified him as a kid, “but they all acted as if you had forgotten about me. at some point i convinced myself that you left but when i saw you running across that field i just knew, i knew it was you.” 

you shake your head, the tears coming on even harder. all those years when you had to act passive, act as if you didn't know him just so that you wouldn’t lose or jeopardize your position or life, pretending that the one friend that made your days that much brighter was a passing thought to you. 

he leans in a bit, wiping at your cheeks gently with his thumb as you lean into his hand, watching as you quickly wipes at his own reddened cheeks, brows scrunching up together as you whimper.

“they f-found out,” you choke, “about us. and they knew who i w-was and who my mom was and they told me to never speak to you again,” your words come out broken, “and i left little piece of my clothes outside your door at night, ones with drawings or things i thought you’d know but every morning they would be gone. i,” you cry, your voice sputtering as you crawl closer to him, into his open arms, “i could never forget you,” your voice cracks, muffled by his chest, “you were the only f-friend i had,” he pulls you in tighter, his arms around you encaging you in a warmth that you so desperately needed. his chin rests atop your head, and you can see the way he struggles to get his own breaths out, the tears that he struggles to hide. 

“don’t cry,” he pleads, begs, holding onto the last scrap of composure he had left, hating hearing your cries or seeing your tears, “please, please don’t cry,” he pulls himself away from you slightly to look at your face, to dry your cheeks as you hiccup, “you’re killing me tonight, you know that right?” 

you try to laugh though it comes off as a snort, savoring the way his fingers trace your face, your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, the corners of your eyes, trying to savor every bit of you as if they’ve been starved for an eternity. 

“tried to run after you after what i said…” he can’t find it in himself to repeat his wretched words, “only to find you gone. you have no idea how much of a mad man i was, ordering everybody to turn each stone inside out until they found you. then that stupid stable boy kept yelling out that a horse was gone and i thought surely you wouldn’t be foolish enough to run away, ‘specially not when a storm was coming but…”

“i ran away when a storm was coming,” you finish for him with a quiet chuckle, feeling your body heating up at the way he broke into an instant smile when he heard the sound. if only you knew the things he’d do to hear it again, to see you happy would be his three wishes if he was ever asked.

“and you were going fast,” he traces your cheekbone, his words filling the large and empty room, “so, so fast. and when you fell?” he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his chest, setting it on his heart as you feel it thumping quickly underneath your palm, “was about to take you to the doctor and tell him to give you this,” his fingers curl above yours, his forehead resting on yours, your noses breaths away from each other, “it didn’t matter to me anymore, it doesn’t work right without you.”

you feel lightheaded like you need him more than you need oxygen, your eyes falling onto his lips, not knowing that he was mirroring your exact same motions, the two of you working in tandem like a machine and its little bolts, not working without the other. 

“would it perhaps be because you can’t live without the chocolates i sneak in for you?” you try to joke but it falls flat in your head, but he still huffs out a laugh, nose nudging yours as you lean in impossibly closer.

“perhaps,” he answers, his face lit by the single candle behind the two of you, “but it could also perhaps be because i love you so fucking much.” 

and you whine, tired of waiting, moving the single bit you needed to connect your lips together and fall forward on his lap, your hands shooting up to his shoulders to use as much needed stability. 

he groans, a sound from the back of his throat, from deep within him, his hands moving up to hold onto your waist as you move into him, kissing him with such fervor that you felt like you were going to die without feeling his lips on you.

it was so messy, the way your teeth clash against and noses bumped against each other, but it was what you so desperately needed. he was moving fast, his lips kissing against the corners of your mouth, down you chin as they found your neck, his smile growing as you throw your head back, fingering digging into his white strands as you tried to pull him in even closer. 

you let out breathless sounds, sounds that you never knew you could make, but it seems to spur him on, planting wet and sloppy kisses on the column of your neck as she sucked, marking you up so that later people would know that you were his and his alone. 

“gojo, i,” your eyes screw shut at the feeling of him, “feels so good,” you say breathlessly, moving closer up on his lap, feeling his hands tug at the flimsy chemise you have on, fingers slowly tugging it down, giving you time to push him off if you wanted to. 

he looks up at you, his eyes needy, desperate, just as yours, and you nod, needing him to not stop. 

he continues, pulling it down so that you're bare before him, nipples pebbling in the cold air as you go to cover up, suddenly realizing just what is happening, feeling shy, never like this in front of anyone before. 

“we can stop,” he muttered against your lips, pressing a small peck to them, “we don’t have to do this now, we have all the time in the world,” he teases as he tugs your chemise up but you grab his wrist, stopping him as you shake your head. 

“no,” you tug it down a little bit, “i’ve just,” you take in a deep breath, “just never done this before.”

he chuckles, eyes flashing darkly for just a quick second as he kisses along your jaw, leaving your skin shining in the limited light.

“good,” he murmurs, “‘cause i think i’d have to exercise my grandfather's way of handling people if somebody else saw you like this.” you laugh shortly, tugging sharply on some of his hairs as he looks up at you, eyes full of devotion that you’ve only dreamed about. 

“beheading people for just seeing my tits?” you’re more crass than he is in some places, a sign of the different language you’ve heard growing up in the circumstances you’ve had, but he doesn’t care, likes it in fact. 

“i’d burn down villages if anyone saw these,” he cups them in his hands, thumb flickering over your nipples as you suddenly arch into him, head falling back, “you’re so perfect,” he whispers into your skin, his lips hovering on the slope of your breasts as he takes time to admire your chest, “so beautiful,” you would’ve smacked him if not for the way he took one in his mouth, leaving you no time to think of anything else as a moan escapes your lips, the first of its kind.

“damn you gojo,” you moan, hearing his chuckle vibrate through your tits as his sucks on your nipple, tugging it with your teeth as you feel your stomach heat up, growing more and more wet as you buck up on his thigh, “you t-talk too much,” you shudder, eyes rolling back when he presses his flat tongue on your areola, his other hand massaging your other tit until he switches, leaving it glistening his his spit.

“yeah? then where do you want this mouth, hm?” he looks up at you with his eager eyes, just wanting to please you, and you feel like you’re becoming an addict, your cunt growing more and more wet as riding his thigh proves to not satiate the hunger. 

“d-down,” you can’t think clearly, “please, need you so bad.” 

“where?” he plays with you, pressing his hand against your stomach, “here?” 

you shake your head, feeling needy and not in the mood to play around, not knowing where your sudden surge in confidence was coming from as you grab his wrist, leading it down to your cunt as you hide your face in his neck, whining. 

“h-here, ‘toru, need you here,” he throws his head back, a sound coming from somewhere in his chest as his name falls from your glossy with spit lips, tugging the ends of your chemise up to your stomach as he stares at your bare pussy. 

he pushes you back gently to lie on the bed, nestling between your legs as he savors the sight.

you cover your face with your hands, hearing him laugh at your expense, keeping your thighs spread wide open with his hands as he presses tantalizing kisses on the insides of them, each one closer and closer to the unbearable heat. 

“wait,” you mutter, confused as to what he was doing, watching the way he snapped up, worried eyes finding your confused ones, following your stare down to his growing bulge. 

“i thought…?” all the stories lydia would tell you didn’t start this way, usually beginning his the man pulling his dick out and being done in a couple of minutes, “do you not…?” 

satoru breathes easy, laughing as he shakes his head, resting on his haunches as his palm rubs against your soft thighs. he looks so pretty like this, with his hair going haywire, some of it in his face, some of it messily pushed back. there’s a pink flush to hit face, his lips plump and shinning with spit. 

“trust me, you have no idea how bad i want to feel you,” his eyes are so dark that you wonder if they’re even blue, “but i’m not going to do it in your condition. i don’t want to hurt you any more-” 

“but,” you whine but he shakes his head, pinching your soft skin as you wince, hitting him with your knee as he rolls his eyes. 

“i promise you’re going to like this,” he rubs softly against where he pinched you, smoothing the skin over, “do you trust me?”

“yes,” you mutter, watching as he breaks into a smile, “better not disappoint me though.”

“fuck, you’re such a minx,” he groans, spreading your lips open with his pointer finger, his dick aching at the sight of the string of arousal that connects them together, at the clear shine and wetness from just how much you needed him, “you’re actually going to be the death of me.”

“then hurry u-up ‘toru,” you say, “don’t die on me now,” your fingers were cutely curling in his hair, and he’d be an insane lunatic if he made you beg any more than you have, diving in as if you were actually his last meal before he died. 

your mouth falls open in a silent scream, the feeling unlike anything. he sucked on your clit, moving up and down from your cunt, wanting to taste your saccharine wetness on his tongue to back up. he was so messy, so loud, and you felt like you were going to overheat, felt like everything was fogging your vision. 

it felt so good. too good. his tongue dived in and out of you in a way that had you gripping his hand and the sheets under you, your leg around around his shoulders as you bucked into his open mouth, your wetness smearing all of his lips and chin as he ate you like a man starved for years. 

“o-oh my god,” you mewl out, eyes rolling back as you felt one of his long, swift fingers slowly pushing into you, his lips still sucking on your clit as you felt like you were actually entering heaven. 

“not god,” his voice is muffled, “just ‘toru.” you would have laughed if you could, your smile instantly dropping when his finger pumps in and out.

your toes curl, leg around his shoulder pulling him in closer if that was even possible. if he were to die right now he’d had the giddiest smile on his face, happy to have you dancing around on his tongue. 

everything about this was shameless and you wondered if all your good deeds were finally catching up to you. 

you don’t even care if the people sleeping next to you, above you, under you, or even at this inn could hear you, because when he put in his middle finger you screamed, back arching off the bed. 

“so good, fuck, ‘toru, i,” you could even form a complete sentence, “feel so good,”

“yeah?” you nod feverishly, “fuck, you taste amazing, love this so much, love you so much,” he’s babbling with his words too, his nose sometimes accidentally rubbing against your clit, bringing you all the much more pleasure.

sometimes when you look down to see him you moan helplessly, your chest heaving at the way he’d rut mindlessly into the bed, his dick hard and swollen and achy from eating you out, about the burst from just your scent alone. 

your stomach tightens and you feel an unfamiliar thing deep in the pit of your body, growing taut with each swipe, each like, each kiss he would give you. it made your moans more breathy, your words less understandable, and you felt like you were slowly going to go insane, losing all sense of reality. 

“‘toru, i, i don’t know,” you’re sputtering, nails raking into his hair, your free hand grabbing onto your tits, the bed sheet, his shoulders, anything to help you ground you back down to earth, “i feel, f-fuck, oh my god, i,” 

“you got this sweetheart,” he encouraged you, his words honeyed, “come on, let go for me, you can do it,” his thumb which had found its way to your clit was speeding up, his tongue and fingers taking turns as they pounded into you. 

you felt that rope getting together and tiger, about to snap at any moment as you whined, tears escaping from the corners of your eyes as your lips huffed out puffs of air. 

“i, f-fuck, i’m ‘gonna, oh…” you whine out loud, the line snapping, your orgasm crashing through you as your mouth falls slack. 

it was mind numbing, the way everything went white, the way you tightened around his fingers which were slowing down. you creamed around him, leaving his skin shiny with your release, your pussy still pulsing seconds after as you try to catch your breath, still seeing white behind your lids as your tits move up and down with each haggard breath. 

he presses on last kiss to your fluttering clit, hands massaging your quivering thighs as you slowly yet surely come back down to reality, each second passing bringing you back down with him. 

“good?” he teases, his smile coy as you cover your eyes with one arm, lightly pushing him with the other. 

“fine,” you mutter, peeking over to see him positively glowing, a stupidly large smile on his face when he sees you finally looking at him, pressing the fattest kiss to your lips as you squeal, eyes fluttering for a second as you taste yourself on him, parting your lips mindlessly to let his tongue slither in.

you whined against his lips, fingers curling around the collar of his open tunic, pulling him closer to your naked body, feeling your tits press up against his chest, everything so perfect that you wondered if you were dreaming. 

“wait,” he muttered, pulling away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips together as you sit uop a little, you brows scrunched in confusion as you watch him sit up from the bed, walking over to the vanity as he rumages around the drawers for something. 

he pulls out a small cloth, holding it up in victory as he grins, walking over to your nightstand as he wets it with soem water, crawling back into bed as he settles back in the middle of your thighs, gently pulling them apart as he starts cleaning you. 

it’s all so intimate and so loving. you feel like melting watching his focused gaze, careful to be soft and slow, knowing that you’re a little stretched out, and pat it as best he could, cleaning around your thighs as well, throwing the cloth to the side as he climbs back up to you, pressing a loving kiss to your temple. 

you shrug the rest of the chemise off, riddled with your essence and sweat, and pull the covers up, feeling the sudden chill now that satoru’s no longer eating you out like both your lives depended on it, and a silence falls over the room. 

“is this a bad time to tell you about my horse laundering scheme with fushiguro?” you ask, your eyes shining mischievously as satoru whines, hiding his face in your chest as he pulls you closer to his body. 

“you’re so evil,” he says against your skin. 

you laugh, the sound going straight to his heart, his smile hidden. 

but you fall silent and when you don’t speak he looks up, his eyes searching yours. 

“what now?” you whisper, your fingers carding through his hair, feeling its softness, “i don’t…” you trail off, biting your lip as every other emotion that you had tucked away comes crawling back. 

his finger finds its way to the middle of your browning, easing the crease that was forming. 

“now you become my wife…if you would like to, of course…” 

you search his eyes to see if he’s joking, but you only see honest sincerity in that sea of blue, his cheeks pink as he blushed. 

“really?” you can barely say it without a giddy smile making its way on your face, one that he glows brightly at. if only he could bottle it, save it for when the universe collapsed and was in need of light. 

“really,” he promises, holding you tightly to him, not wanting to ever let you go again, needing you next to him so that he could make sure his heart was working, to make sure that he was actually alive and that this wasn’t all a dream. 

“i’ve loved you since the moment i saw you, ‘toru,” you whisper, nodding off to sleep as a yawn escapes your mouth. 

“is that because i used to try to swoon you with food?” he whispers, his drowsy eyes finding yours as you sleepily giggle, kissing the tip of his nose as you curl into his heat, a smile on your face when you say the last words before you finally head off into sleep. 

“perhaps.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #gojo smut #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader angst #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x reader fluff

[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

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

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

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

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

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[lxnarphase]

As a society we need to appreciate Suguru fingerfucking fem!reader as if it was nothing but an everyday task.

yes i have an indifference kink.

━━ ❝ INCOMING CALL : S. GOJO!!! ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : suguru isn't going to let a phone call interrupt his wrist work out, especially when he realizes who's calling

☾₊‧⁺...cw : suguru geto x fem!reader ft. satoru gojo, smut, fingerfucking, pre-established relationship, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dirty talk, begging, suguru and satoru being perverts, suguru is a bad influence

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : mmm iM A FREAK !!! sorry i couldnt help but throw gojo in there too for a lil extraness so i hope u like it, suguru is just a big meanie but i love it

"oh, satoru's calling."

beep.

"hey, satoru, what's up?"

he was annoying. so, so, SO annoying.

only suguru would have the fucking nerve to whine and beg for you to leave the comfort of your soft sheets on the bed on your rest day to sit on the couch next to him while he watches some game show.

only suguru would pat your thighs, muttering a little 'open up, baby' without taking his eyes off the screen, acting as if he's more into it than you.

only suguru would smirk as he slips his fingers inside your soft pussy, humming as he slowly feels you begin to soak his fingers, teasing you on how quickly you get wet for him.

and only suguru would answer his fucking phone to gojo satoru of all people while he plays with your pussy.

"ehhh? you want to come over? but you were just here this morning," suguru hums into the phone, acting as if his fingers aren't swirling circles into your clit. it's so unfair, he's so good with his hands that you aren't sure how you're gonna be able to stay quiet. satoru never knew when to shut up, especially on the phone.

"aww, but i didn't get to see pipsqueak today!"

that makes you huff, annoyance crossing your features. you were not that small! satoru and suguru were just! abnormally tall!

before you can even mutter a snide comment, suguru slips his fingers back into you, smirking when you gasp so sweetly. your gushing all over his slender fingers and he's relishing the tight heat that envelops him.

"aww, satoru," suguru fucking purrs into the phone, not missing the way satoru's teasing comments pause for a moment nor the way you shook him a look. you know that tone, you know it better than anyone.

suguru is up to no fucking good.

"you're right, you did miss her. poor thing was so tired from last night, she needed to sleep in." suguru's focus is back on the TV, voice mischievous as he picks up pace with his finger, wanting to see if he could get you to crack.

"s-sugu," you whimper, a hand coming to cover your mouth. you didn't want to get too loud, the embarrassment of satoru possibly hearing you sounding worse than death. suguru nearly groaned into the phone, feeling how you squeezed on him.

"awww, baby, thinkin' about satoru hearing you is getting you this wet? hm?"

suguru's grip on your thigh to keep you spread for him is firm, his fingers digging into your soft skin as he holds you in place. it's so unfair how he continues to multitask so effortlessly, his phone in his other hand away from his face so he can say such filthy things to you.

it's unfair because it's just making you wetter.

"it's so cute how you get so wet for me, soaking my hand just from two fingers...now shh, baby, i gotta talk to satoru," he coos at you, leaning over to press a sweet kiss to your cheek, like he's not fucking your cunt open with those slender digits of his.

without hesitation, he maneuvers his fingers deeper into the plush, wet heat of your pussy, curling them in a way that made your body arch instinctively as he brings his phone back to his ear, talking to satoru like nothing is happening.

while satoru continues to talk suguru's ear off, you are struggling so bad. it's hard to stay quiet with the way he's touching you. you don't get it, why is he still on the phone? each stroke of his stupid fingers keeps you wound up, unable to think properly, which lets to a sweet whimper leaving you before you can stop it.

"shhh, keep it down, baby," suguru whispers, leaning closer to you, his breath hot against your cheek. "we don't want satoru to hear what a naughty little slut you're being for me, would we?" he's so cruel, his words only making you shiver at the thrill of the situation. feeling you clench on his fingers, he hums curouisly. "oh..? maybe you do. you wanna have satoru hear you get your pussy played with?"

you shake your head, not wanting to deal with the endless teasing from suguru and satoru from being in this situation. but while you was keeping your mouth shut, your pussy betrays you. you're so wet, the sounds of your cunt gushing and sloshing around his fingers start to get picked up by the phone, and satoru noticed.

he could fucking hear the wet slick noises of suguru's fingers messing up your soft slit, and the sound stuns him into silence. he glups, something suguru hears and can't help but smirk about.

he's got the both of you exactly where he wants you.

after a few moments of silence, satoru clears his throat.

"i-is, uh...is she there?"

he's...he's curious, so curious to see if suguru will keep playing this game, keep pretending like he's not fucking you open with his fingers so good that he can hear it through the phone. shit, he's getting so hard from this, he feels like a fucking perv.

suguru's eyes flash with something dangerous at satoru's shaky words, his smirk turning almost evil. you want to glare at him, do something for putting you in such an embarrassing situation, but you just can't. not with how good he's making you feel and how the thought of satoru hearing you makes your walls clamp on his fingers.

suguru maintains his composure, fingers never faltering their movements in and out of your dripping cunt. "mm, i dunno, satoru, what do you think," he asks coolly, his voice a seductive blend of mockery and affection.

"suguruuu, h-he's gonna hear me," you whimper as your arm reaches out to grip his wrist, trying to stop his fingers from moving anymore. it was so messy sounding, your face was on fire. god, why did you have to get so wet from suguru being so mean?!

your breaths come in ragged gasps, hips moving instinctively against suguru's hand, unconsciously seeking more. you just can't help it, he's playing with your pussy so good, it's making your brain mushy.

the squelching sound of your slick wetness is unmistakable to satoru. on the other side of the phone, he's got his phone squished against his ear as much as possible, desperate to hear all of your noises. he's...he's hard, but he can't touch, not yet, he doesn't want any distractions from this.

"fuck, i-i can hear her, suguru...i-is she really wet?"

"mhm. she's dripping, 'toru, all over the couch."

without missing a beat, suguru moves the phone closer to you, continuing work his fingers inside your dripping slit. if you say anything, he'd just smirk at you and say he's just repositioning so his hand doesn't hurt.

but you know he's moving it closer to give satoru a better chance of hearing all your noises. and it just makes you squeeze on his fingers, your juices dripping down his wrist.

"here, angel. talk to satoru for me, yeah?"

...oh, what the hell?

your brain is already fucking melting out of your ears, you don't even think about what would happen if you take the phone. your hand trembles as you take the phone, the other hand clutching at the couch cushions for support.

the moment you bring the phone to you, you can hear satoru's excited breathing, the anticipation practically radiating through the speaker.

"h-hi, satoru..." you manage to greet him, voice breaking as suguru finds another sensitive spot within you, his free hand now pressing down on your tummy as he really starts to fuck you with his fingers.

"h-hey, sweet thing," satoru tries to purr, but it just comes out like a desperate sigh, a mix of curiosity and arousal clear in his tone. "you...you sound so pretty..."

suguru doesn't relent for a moment, his pretty fingers plunging and twisting inside you. sure, he wants you to be able to talk to satoru, but that doesn't mean you have to be incoherent. no, he wants you to be unable to hold back those moans from him.

who cares if his best friend is on the other line?

"c'mon, princess, tell him how you're feelin'," suguru whispers into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "let him know how good 'm makin' your pretty pussy feel right now."

his voice sounds so good in your ear, your grip on the phone tightening as you try to hold onto the last shred of your composure.

"s-sugu, don't talk t' me like that, fuck, 's so embarrassing..."

he knows you don't mean it, not when he feels your gummy walls clench on him like that. you like it, you like when he's mean, when he makes you talk to him and tell him how good he's making you feel. but it feels even better because you know satoru is gonna hear how good suguru, his best friend, makes you feel with just his fingers.

the sensation of suguru's fingers, slick and sticky with your arousal, moving relentlessly inside your soft pussy and pressing against that fucking spot that makes you gush all over his hands, is making having any coherent thought nearly impossible.

"s-suguruuu, i-i can't, 'm gonna—!"

on the other end, satoru bites his lip to muffle his groan, the mental image of the scene flashing in his mind. his mind is going blank as the wet sounds of his best friend's fingers and your labored breaths and broken little moans fills his ears.

but then, they stop.

you let out the prettiest little moan and satoru feel his cock throb in his sweats, the feeling of precum leaking out making him shiver.

god, he wants to hear you like that all the time...

"s-suguru, why'd you—?"

"are you coming over or not, satoru? wouldn't you rather see her than hear her? if you come over, i'll teach you how t' make her squirt."

that seems to be all it takes to get him to keen, a high pitched and pathetic whimper coming from satoru's end of the call. who knew suguru could get the strongest to make such a sound just from a simple set of words?

"i'm on my way right now, please, don't let her cum without me there."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

#geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #𖤐 ── lxnarworks. #💎 ── satoru. #🔮 ── suguru.

[k-hotchoisan]

save a horse, ride a cowboy

<san x fem!reader>

Choi San. Half naked. Cowboy hat. Useless ass crop vest.

Your dreams are wetter than the sweat on his chest.

a/n: no words just horny thoughts the moment choi san appeared like that in the mv and I needed to get it off my chest. 🤗

wc: 1.8K

warnings: smut. pwp, party!au, deepthroating, blowjobs, slight hair pulling, one time spanking (LMAO), orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, it's just choi san brain rot, kinda dacryphilia?, yo it's just straight up filth that's all you need to know

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan  @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf  @jeon-ify @itza-meee @Miss-Fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @owlbeforesunset @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @Haleyjoye @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @ewok7attack @yunhogrippers @kibs-and-bits @Liyahbug  @mikrausch @sophiemueller05 @lissiesykes  @yeo-arriba @luvt0kki @vic0921 @httpseungmxn

You stare down at the man a couple of feet away, his figure too prominent to miss. He’s in a useless black cropped vest, bronze studs lined up the hems of the clothing accompanied with long fringe details that hung lower than the fucking vest itself. You barely take notice of the leather pants he wore, mostly because his arms were just there—thick and so perfectly muscled. But the star of the fucking show? His bare fucking tits. The vest barely covered jack shit, his tits just basking under the dim lights, thick and perky. Your eyes shift to his face before you start flooding the vicinity with your drool. Hell no. 

San still hasn’t noticed you. Maybe it’s because of the obnoxious black cowboy hat he has on looking like it’s blocking his view or something. And he tops the look off with a simple black bandana decorated with fringes that he wraps around his neck. 

You want to wrap yourself around his neck too. 

Your hunky little crush still doesn’t seem to notice you blatantly ogling him since it looks like he’s engrossed in a conversation with Mingi. 

The sound of a desert-themed party sounded interesting to you when your friend brought it up to you but it didn’t hook you in enough to actually garner your interest to go, that was, until your friend had offhandedly mentioned that San would be there.

You didn’t put your hopes up of course, because in your peripherals, it seemed like you weren’t the only pair of eyes just eye fucking San, and so you were satisfied letting your fantasies just stay within the confines of your brain, now just full Choi San brain rot. 

And when your brain starts ringing alarms on San looking like he was looking your direction, your eyes immediately shifting to your drink. But it seems like you caught his attention. 

From your peripherals, you watch him push past people, approaching you much quicker than you had liked. 

“Hey, y/n, caught you staring”, he smiles cheekily. 

“You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you Choi San?” 

He shrugs. 

Then he mouths something, but you can’t seem to catch what, and that sentiment seems to have been written all over your face, because the smell of spicy citrus hits you, accompanied by the low rumble of San’s voice right at your ear, freezing you at your spot.

“I was saying that you’re a pretty cowgirl today.”

Shit. Fuck. 

You stare up at San, tears gradually pooling at the corner of your eyes at how fucking thick this man’s cock is. But gods did it feel so fucking good to have San’s fat fucking cock shoved down your throat like that. You watch the way his abs contract when his groans are pulled out from him, the way his nipples are so fucking hard from how horny he is making you suck him off like that. Your panties are pretty much useless at this point trying to keep your slick from trickling down your thighs. 

“Fuck. You’re such a good fucking girl for me aren’t you?” San groans, his fingers tugging harder against your scalp, forcing you to take his cock deeper. You manage to hum in agreement almost too quickly, and San only scoffs at your desperation, well not that he’s holding up any better. His eyes shut again, and he throws his head back, rutting his hips against your face, his moans going up in pitch, and when he happens to steal a glance at your face fucking his cock, you feel the space in your mouth fill up even more. 

Only curses and moans leave San’s mouth, and there’s only so much force you can use to squeeze your thighs from holding your cunt off from leaking all over the fucking floor. 

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, dollface. I can’t fucking—fuck!—can’t fucking wait to fuck your other tight little hole next”, San huffs breathlessly, his sanity dangerously dropping in levels. 

With a broken, deep moan, he suddenly pulls out of your mouth, fucking his cock with his hand instead, letting his cum spill over your mouth and chest, slightly shaking from the pleasure especially when he can’t keep his eyes off you licking his cum off his cock and the corner of your lips. 

You watch him catch his breath, and he’s so fucking attractive when he furrows his brows like that, but you decide to pull away to get some towels to clean yourself up. 

The moment you stand and turn around, San’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest, and you realise his fingers are loosening the knot on your top, and San doesn’t waste time to yank it off your shoulders. You barely have the time to process but you realise it doesn’t fucking matter the moment his deep voice bleeds right into the crevices of your brain. 

“Now where do you think you’re going babe? I said I was gonna fuck your other hole next, wasn’t I?” 

No more butterflies in your stomach anymore, it’s probably a whole ecosystem at this point. 

San’s fingers intertwine with yours, unfortunately, he doesn’t let it stay a second more fluffy when he has you on the bed, his thick fingers tugging off every single useless piece of clothing off you. San licks his lips when he’s greeted with the sight of your pussy just so fucking wet and leaking for him. His eyes meet yours, and he looks like he’s about to eat you up any second.

“How much do you like walking straight?” He asks, his fingers trailing a fucking blaze down your thighs, and you watch the way his cock hardens—the way precum from his silt is mixing with the thick cum from before when his thumb tugs against your wet folds. 

He looms over you, fingers keeping your legs spread wide open for him, his pants pulled lower, his half-hard cock resting on your inner thigh. 

“Not much of a fan”, you reply, realising that trying to snap your legs shut with Choi San’s fingers in between them was a stupid idea. 

“Good”, is all San replies before he pushes his thick cock right into your pussy, and you swear he’s knocked out all the wind from you at the way his thick cock slid in, filling your whole fucking pussy up. You gasp, fingernails digging into his arms, but he doesn’t even seem to take notice. But what he does take notice of is the way you’re fluttering around him, so fucking dazed at the way his cock feels in you. 

“So fucking good, San”, it leaves your lips as a whine. 

He exchanges a smile, “Your tight pretty pussy, and it’s all for me.”

Your eyes roll back when he pulls out slightly and thrusts into you again, and again, until the sounds grow wetter, louder, and San fucks you harder, making you wonder if you were gonna lose your legs or mind first. The sensations are completely melting off the neurons of your brain, and your hands are pressing against his chest, feeling his heart beating wildly. You feel your face flush slightly, wondering if he feels the same way as you do. 

Your thoughts are completely cut short when you feel his fingers curl around your neck, forcing you to look up at him when he lets his lips melt against yours. Your tongues meet, and you taste very light hints of alcohol underneath the sweetness. Soft moans pour out of San, and he’s only getting thicker inside of you as he lets your hands rake through his short locks.

“You’re like fucking heaven, you know that?” San whispers as he pulls back. The sweetness lasts for a second until he adds on, “And I wanna drag you down with me, baby.”

His arms are around you and he lifts you, in one swift motion, he has you straddling his hips, and you do him a favour by getting his pants off him. San pretty much kicks the remainder of his pants off, his arms pull you by your thighs to his once more, and you’re hoping you don’t drool because something about San being fully naked beneath you, only his vest barely covering his fat tits, just ready for you to fucking ride him was sending you into a fucking orbit. 

And even when you’re dripping and stretched open for San, the feeling of his cock splitting you open from below only threatened your remaining sanity. You watch San bite his lip, holding himself back from just bursting into you, also evident from the way his fingers are pressing hard against your thighs. 

But when you start grinding against him, he realises he probably isn’t gonna last much longer. 

And when his cock hits your spots for the nth time from below, your cunt flutters without warning, and the knot snaps before you could even say anything, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking tidal wave.

And San isn’t slowing down. 

His face is in complete bliss—muttering curses and releasing moans,

“Ah, fuck. That’s a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like that”, he hisses, feeling you pulsate around him helplessly as he continues to fuck into you, forcing you to continue bouncing off his cock. 

Tears bubble at the corner of your eyes once more from the sheer pleasure the moment you feel San hold your ass down, your arms wrapped tightly around him, feeling his cock twitch and spurt warm cum right into your poor hole. Wait. Something feels funny. You swallow hard, hoping, praying he doesn’t do anything because you swear something might just break in you if he does.

“S-San, wait it’s too much-“

You’re barely holding it together, and it all falls apart when his palm lands an impact right on your ass, forcing another wave of orgasm to hit you even harder this time, a strained cry leaving your throat, your pussy completely pushing San’s cock out, your hips lifting off him as you squirt all over his thighs, San’s cum spurting out alongside the clear liquid. San watches the way your eyes are screwed shut, your tears trickling down your cheeks, the way your body violently shakes while he soothes you with his palm up and down your back, and he thinks he’s in love. 

As you descend from your high, San captures your lips with his, humming soft praises of taking him so well once he pulls away, letting you lie on his chest. 

“I guess you're my pretty cowgirl tonight ”, he teases, letting you hit his chest playfully. 

San’s arm snakes around your waist as the both of you slowly make your way to the front door, catching the gaze of the partygoers, and he leans in as the both of you walk, low enough to reach your ears,

“I’ll make good use of the bandana next time too, so tell me doll face, how close do you like your wrists to be?”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #choi san smut #choi san #choi san ateez #ateez choi san #choi san x reader

[propertyofwicked]

ROOKIE - LN

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open for requests (or if u just want a chat!) ✧

warnings - none! just fluff (not proofread), oblivious reader and lando

feel like i could do a pt2 for this? - lemme know what you think!

masterlist the playlist

the sun was shining brightly over the racetrack, casting on the 4 karts, lined up behind the group. max stood behind the camera, making sure everyone was in frame before running round to join Lando. at his other side stood y/n - long term friend of the two, and unofficial quadrant member.

lando flashed a wide grin at the camera.

“hey, everyone!” he announced, clapping his hands together, “welcome back to the quadrant channel. today, we have something special for you. me and max are going to teach our karting rookie here how to drive on a track like a pro,” he add, hands moving to gesture in y/n direction.

she smiled, waving awkwardly at the camera. it wasn’t her first time featuring on the channel, but she usually made small appearances when the whole team filmed. at the start, viewers had assumed she was lando’s girlfriend, noticing the way the two interacted with each other. but she wasn’t - not to say there wasn’t anything between the two of them, but they were just too stubborn to talk about it.

“you nervous?” lando asked her, smiling lightly.

“no different to driving a car right?” she replied, smiling back at him.

“not the way you drive, i guess,” he retorted, earning a light slap to his arm.

“so!” max started, clapping too as he faced the camera, “we’re starting y/n off in the lowest powered kart, and working our way up. when she’s comfortable, we’re going to have a small competition,” he added, his tone holding emphasised mystery.

it was y/n turn to speak to the camera.

“do i also need to clap when i start my sentence?” she asked max, grinning as she did. y/n could see niran burst into laughter behind the camera, all too familiar with the “who claps the most” argument.

“sorry, sorry,” she jokingly defended, holding up her hands when she caught max and lando both giving her a look filled with distaste. she turned back to the camera, “we will be seeing if the student really becomes the master, as i take on lando in a time-trialled race.”

the group moved closer to the first kart, y/n zipping up the rest of her protective clothing as they moved, balancing her helmet in the crevice of her arm.

“right, helmet on!” lando told her, though he moved to tuck loose hairs, that had fallen from her ponytail, behind her ears before grabbing the helmet from her, pushing it over her head. his hands rested on the side for a moment, wobbling her head slightly before moving to pop the visor up and look her in the eyes.

“comfortable?” he asked her, watching as she nodded, “ready?”

she hesitated for a moment, before nodding again. y/n wasn’t worried about injuring herself, no, she feared that she would do a bad job and the video wouldn’t be a good watch.

“you’ll be fine, angel, i promise,” he reassured her, his fingers moving to pull the zip of her suit up further, “if not, we blame max,” he joked. the two of them looked at the man stood on the other side of the kart, who quickly turned his head as though he hadn’t been watching the two interact, wondering when they’d figure whatever this was out. though he didn’t supposed it mattered, if this footage was left in the viewers would be quick to point it out, as they always did.

“it’s ok - if something bad happens, you’re the one that has to tell my mum,” y/n replied with a shrug, trying to grin despite her face being squashed.

“bagsy not me this time!” max called out.

“not fair! i did it last time!” lando shouted back childishly.

“in max’s defence, last time was your fault, lan,” y/n chimed in, patting his shoulder, “and all you did was leave a voicemail!”

“hiya, it’s lando - just letting you know y/n is in the hospital, but she’s fine. probably,” max mimicked, recalling the way lando left quite possibly the worst voicemail anyone had ever.

“not my finest moment, i’ll admit,” lando replied quietly before trying to manoeuvre the woman in front of him towards the kart.

y/n moved to climb into the first kart, her hand gripping tightly at lando’s arm to use as support before she sat down fully. he squatted down next to her, max following suit on the other side, before explaining the basics to her - when to brake, when to speed up, when to take a corner wide.

“last thing - the steering wheel,” he continued, making sure the mic could pick up his voice. his hands reached out to grab hers, placing them in the correct position on the wheel.

“what about the pedals?” she asked him.

“the same as normal? accelerator….brake?” he added, smiling as he pointed to each pedal as though it was obvious.

y/n nodded up at him, before grabbing the steering wheel and pretending to drive, making a ‘neeyowwwm’ noise as she did.

“she’s fine,” max laughed out, “strap her in and we’ll get started. oh, y/n don’t forget you have a the mic and the headset so we can communicate as you go round the track.”

“you’re doing great!” lando’s voice sounded through her earpiece, full of encouragement, “brake a little earlier for this next turn.”

y/n grinned, confidence growing with each lap. she was now onto the last kart, one lap left before she was supposed to race lando.

“how’s that?”

“perfect! you’re a natural,” he praised, his pride evident.

“i’m gonna kick your ass,” she threatened as she neared the finish line.

“looking forward to it,” lando remarked, this time in person as he stepped towards the side of her kart, “10 minute break before we race?”

“please,” she replied, nodding up and moving her hands to undo the straps before pushing herself up to step out from the kart. her balance faltered slightly as she did, though lando’s arms had shot out, his hands gripping her waist to steady her as she stepped out from the kart. even when y/n was fine to walk alone, lando’s hands never left, his hand firmly positioned on her lower back as they walked towards max.

“how was that,” max asked her, his eyes darting from lando to the woman who was struggling to pull her helmet off.

“really good,” she replied with an enthusiastic nod once lando had helped to pull the helmet from her head, “not sure on that last corner but we’ll see how it goes.”

“seemed alright on that last lap,” max reassured her, though he couldn’t help but notice the way lando looked at her face, smiling fondly as she explained how she might approach the race.

“right, it is finally time!” max called out, facing the camera as y/n took a seat in the kart behind him, “the moment we have all been waiting for. lando norris, formula one racer versus karting rookie y/n.”

“karting rooki- max i have so many better attributes to describe me?” y/n called out jokingly.

“sorry - lando norris, formula one racer versus ‘nine points on her license’ y/n!” he joked, “is that better?”

“NINE? i do not have nine points on my license?” she retorted, “it’s like 3?”

“it’s nine,” lando interrupted with a snort as he crouched down next to her to check her straps were tight enough, “two counts of speeding, and that one time you ran a red light - am i wrong?” he added with a grin.

y/n shook her head at him, though her silence confirmed his claim. the three moved on quickly, y/n finding herself breathing in sharply as lando pulled on the straps too hard, tightening them around her ribs.

“sorry,” he mumbled, loosening them slightly, “breathe out f’me,” he added, checking that she had room, before muttering a quick perfect as she did.

anyone who believed lando would go easy on y/n was a fool. she’d managed a good few overtakes, took corners well and maintained her speed, but as they approached the last lap lando seemed to slip further away. even with her foot to the floor, her kart was slowing more and more until the engine fully gave up, spluttering a few times before dying.

“well this is embarrassing,” she announced, looking into the gopro attached to the kart as she did.

“hold still for a moment, y/n,” max said through her headset, “need lando to stop before you can get out.”

so y/n sat, waiting for lando to stop so that she could climb out from the kart and do her walk of shame back to base. but she didn’t have to wait long before she saw lando jogging towards her.

“you good?” he asked her on approach, his helmet long abandoned with his kart.

“the engine just died on me,” she told him, annoyed.

“i told max i thought i could hear it struggling when i passed you,” he told her, holding out his hand for her to climb out, “however, can’t have you not finish your first ever karting race.”

“what?”

“climb on,” lando told her, crouching slightly and tapping his back for her to climb on.

y/n didn’t argue, she knew she’d lose. so she stood behind him, bouncing slightly before jumping onto his back, his hands moving to grab her legs and her arms wrapping around his neck loosely. he started running towards the finish line, y/n clinging tightly onto him whilst mimicking car noises, lando laughing loudly as she did.

“you two look like you’ve been doing this for years,” max called out, breathing through his laughter at the sight in front of him.

“we have,” they said in unison as they approached him. max knew this - he himself had fallen victim to giving y/n a piggyback a fair few times over the years - however it didn’t make the situation less funny to him.

lando placed y/n down with a soft thud, before realising something, his eyes widening.

“wait who won?”

“what do you mean ‘who won’?” she asked confused, “my engine died, lando.”

“i didn’t cross the line,” he whined, “i went to get you before i crossed it.”

“funny you should ask,” max interrupted, using the opportunity to turn to the camera set up, “we ran the VAR and…”

“are you waiting for a drumroll or…?” lando asked impatiently.

“don’t be mean,” y/n told him, slapping his arm lightly, “god forbid you not be so competitive for once.”

“so!” max started again, knowing their bickering could last hours if he didn’t interrupt, “we ran the VAR and you’ll be glad to know that….y/n - your foot was the first to cross the line!”

“yes!” she cheered, pumping her fist dramatically.

“how is that right? i was carrying her?” lando whined again.

“her foot was in front of you mate,” max laughed, “should’ve tucked it behind you if you wanted to win so bad,” he added, shrugging.

“that is the last time i do anything nice for you,” lando seethed jokingly, turning to face y/n before ruffling his hand through her hair to mess it up.

she dodged his hand quickly, head jerking sideways as she shouted at him.

“you’re such a sore loser.”

“i am not.”

“rematch?”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked

[hoshifighting]

hey since requests are open could you do a Seventeen reaction to s/o crying while having sex, something where they haven’t figured out the reason for her cry and are confused?

(spoiler alert, her being deliciously split in half is the reason 😫?)

Seventeen reacting to you crying during sex (bc you're being deliciously split in a half)

Seungcheol: hates seeing people cry, especially you. he immediately stops, his face full of concern. "hey, babe! babe! what's wrong?" when you finally manage to tell him that it's because he’s making you feel so good, a cocky grin spreads across his face. "Is that so?" he says, resuming his movements with newfound confidence.

Jeonghan: his eyes widen, and he stops everything, his worry evident and kind of adorable. "shit, are you okay? darling did I do something?" You find his concern cute, and when you finally explain, he relaxes, a sly smile forming on his lips. "oh, really?" he says with a newfound vigor. "let’s see if I can make you cry even harder." he resumes with more intensity, determined to see u cumming with tear streaming your face.

Joshua: his reaction is tender. he immediately caresses your cheeks, his voice soft and soothing. "babe, it’s okay. what’s wrong? tell me.." even after you assure him it’s because of the pleasure, he tries to distract you, his fingers playing with your clit to heighten your experience. "let’s make you feel even better, yeah?"

Junhui: goes completely still, his eyes wide with concern. you manage to choke out that it feels so good, and a slow smile spreads across his face. "oh, I see," he murmurs, resuming his motions. "I’ll keep going, then."

Hoshi: is immediately worried and slides off you, his face a picture of concern. "Y/N-nie did I do something wrong?" when you beg him to be inside you again, his worry turns into amusement. "alright, but you asked for it," he says, thrusting deep and sharp, finding your pleasured tears a fucking tease.

Wonwoo: goes still too, "what did I do wrong babe?" he needs a few moments to process when you explain it’s because of the pleasure. "oh," he says softly, starting to move again. "I didn’t realize you felt that good."

Woozi: holds your hands, his eyes wide with confusion. "why are you crying?" he never thought seeing you cry in this moment would turn him on so much. when you tell him it’s because it feels amazing, he bites his lip, clearly affected.

Minghao: immediately soothes you, his voice calm and gentle. "darling, hey, look at me, what happened?" when you explain, he lets out a relieved breath, resuming his hips, cock stretching your wet pussy. "good to know, baby" he says with a smirk.

Mingyu: looks like a worried puppy, thinking he hurt you. "oh my god, baby, we should stop–" when you grind on him, urging him to continue, he relaxes a bit. "okay, if you say so," he murmurs, resuming his movements still a little concerned.

Seokmin: is surprised at how pretty you look while crying. he never knew he’d find it so arousing. "hm, babe? are you crying? why?" when you tell him it’s because of the pleasure, he grins. "the more you cry, the harder I’ll go," he says, and you cry enen harder, just to feel his cock splitting you open.

Seungkwan: almost panics at first, thinking he’s hurting you. "oh my God, are you okay?" "babe don't stop! please!" you beg and he coos at you, his worry melting away. "hm? it's that good baby? huh?," he whispers, resuming his movements as you roll your eyes at the back of your skull.

Vernon: is the most confused from all of them. "why are you crying?" even though you tell him it’s because it feels good, he resumes with uncertainty. "babe? are you sure? it's not hurting you... it is?" he says, watching you closely until he gets used to seeing your pleasured tears.

Chan: stops immediately, his concern evident. "what’s wrong? should I...stop?" when you squirm and tell him to continue, he resumes, determined to make you cum around his sore cock. "I’ll keep going," he says, his voice soft. "but I’m going to make sure you’re okay." He dries your tears during it, his movements precise and caring.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt smut #seventeen #svt imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x oc #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seungcheol smut #jeonghan smut #joshua hong smut #junhui smut #hoshi smut #soonyoung smut #scoups smut #wonwoo smut #minghao smut #the8 smut #mingyu smut #seokmin smut #dk smut #seungkwan smut #vernon smut #hansol smut #dino smut

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 14)

first chapter >> last chapter

-

It’s you for once crawling over him in the dead of night and stroking your hand down the side of his face.

Any other night, you would be able to brush off the urge to curl yourself around him and press your lips into the bristly corner of his jaw, but after a long day of waiting and worrying, and a week’s worth of pent up stress and guilt, you have no choice but to succumb to your urges. It’s burrowed so deep inside of you that it’s almost a base need now. You need to be as close to him as possible.

John coaxes you to bed once you finish bandaging his hands. It’s not meant presumptively; you can tell from the deep bags under his eyes that he needs sleep more than anything. 

For a spell, you sleep with the comfort of your husband by your side. After a week of keeping to your side of the bed, body stiff to keep from turning over in your sleep and curling up into his—committed, in your ire, to punishing both him and yourself—you relish the opportunity to snuggle up under his arm. 

The ache between your legs only becomes unmanageable somewhere around the middle of the night. You wake in a daze, sweating profusely, cheek pressed to a hard chest that rises and falls with his breaths. It takes a moment for the fog to clear, but once it does you realize that you’ve rolled on top of him, legs spread on either side of a thick thigh and your sex pressed tight to the muscle, your hips undulating. 

Your lips part enough for your tongue to slip out and wet them. Another wave of need washes over you, making your breath come out ragged. Your vision is still spotty, sleep half-crusted into the folds of you, and with the room still ensconced in darkness, no amount of blinking ever clears it out. 

The air around you feels hot and humid; your skin sticks to his when you lift your head up, your face damp with sweat. John’s hand is loose at your bottom, curved under a cheek to hold you to him. The other is nestled against the small of your back. Your shift is drawn up around your waist, likely riding up when you crawled over your husband in the middle of the night, but it means that only the thin fabric of your underwear is pressed against John’s thigh. Every roll of your hips rubs your clit in just the right way. 

You pant against his chest when you roll your hips again. You’d be humiliated if he woke up to see you humping his leg like a puppy, but you can hardly control yourself. In the month since marrying him, you’ve grown accustomed to a certain amount of relief at your husband’s hands, and to suddenly lose that in one fell swoop has left you, for lack of a better word, frustrated. 

“Hmm…darlin’…” John suddenly groans, hand gripping into the flesh of your backside and grinding your sex down against his leg. 

You still at the sound of his voice, biting back your moan when he shifts his thigh and presses it up into you. He wakes gradually, blinking down at you when you peer up at him. The blood rushes under your cheeks, growing hot when he blinks at you again slowly, realization unfurling behind his eyes like a lotus flower blooming under moonlight. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” you whisper, choking back a moan again when his hand slides down your bottom and in between your legs, fingers rubbing against the wet seam of your cunt.

John chuckles, the sound raspy with sleep. “Christ, honey, you’re wet…should’ve told me you needed a good fucking.”

“You n-needed to sleep,” you say, gasping into his chest when John strokes his fingers up and down between your thighs. The sensation is mildly dulled by the fabric covering your center, but his prodding fingers make you jolt anyway. 

“Darlin’, If I’d known, I never would’ve let you go to bed wanting.”

He maneuvers you onto your side for long enough to let him draw your underwear down your legs before rolling over onto his back again and balancing you over his lap. With your knees on either side of his hips, your cunt is spread wide open for his gaze, the soft, dewy folds parting to expose your slick center. 

Words are silken in your head and they slide from side to side as you watch John lift his hips and reach down to pull himself out. He moves with a practiced ease, but the flush high on his cheeks betrays his eagerness. You run your hands through the pelt on his chest as you stare at the glistening tip of his member poking out the top of his grip. 

“We’ve never done this,” you remark, almost a casual observation. Despite your heart beating rabbit-quick, the words aren’t caught behind your tongue. Instead, John's presence acts like a balm, nervousness bleeding away to anticipation. 

“First time for everything, isn’t there?”

“I suppose,” you murmur, eyes locked on the turgid length that he notches against your entrance, impaling you on it so slowly that it almost doesn’t register at first. 

You feel the stretch when he bottoms out though. The last inch comes all at once, winding you. It is a frightening, soaring sensation; a blunt intrusion that takes you to another place. No pleasantries this time because you’re an old hat at this now, you suspect, but still you gasp when his girth stretches you beyond what you recalled. 

“Fuck…there it is,” John grunts, transferring his hands to your waist. “Christ, tightened right up since we last made love, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

His words, while crass, hold true. You can feel every throbbing inch of him.

“It’s not like—” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, sweat beading around your hairline. “I wasn’t about to, ah… fool around with anybody else.”

“‘Course you wouldn’t, darlin’,” he croons, stroking his hand up your side. “We just had a little spat, is all. I know you’re my good girl.”

His words make you clench up tight, drawing a rumbling groan out of him. 

“N-no, I’m not a good…—I’m just…it just wouldn’t be right. We’re married. I’d—I’d never…” The words come out shaky, punched out because he takes that moment to help guide you up, nearly pulling out of you completely before bringing you back down.

“Knew you were my good girl soon as I saw you,” John muses, his voice low and husky, hands gripped tight at your waist. “Couldn’t wait to make you mine. Wasn’t even supposed to marry you right away—thought we’d get to know each other a bit, but then—”

“You—oh, unf—you dragged me to the courthouse.”

He smiles roguishly. “I couldn’t let you go after I saw you. Had to make you mine, darlin’.”

You ride him carefully at first, unsure of yourself. 

It’s strenuous work taking his cock this way, doing all the heavy lifting yourself. You almost think you’d fight him if you weren’t lost in pleasure, eyes defocusing as you stare down at him. Each time you impale yourself on his length, your breath hitches out of you. A sharp oh, oh, oh; chasing something elusive that wants you after it. 

When your thighs feel strained to the point of burning, you beg him to hurry up. Enough, you blubber, the word almost subsumed into a guttural moan. That makes him grit his teeth, a dark look coming over his face. You hiccup when he plants his feet against the bed and his hips buck up into you, the squelch of your own cunt making your fingers dig into his chest hair. 

All you can do is take it, your hands planted on his chest and jaw dropping open on a moan that you can’t hold back. 

Tears clumping your eyelashes together, a single drop landing in the middle of John’s chest when he forces you all the way down on his cock and holds you there, jiggling the pearl at the apex of your sex with his thumb until you almost struggle to pull away. He always has to fight you through an orgasm, the stubborn thing trapped behind your teeth, begging him to use you how he wants. 

When it hits you though, it’s sharp and hot. It makes you reel backwards, your control slipping out of your grasp so suddenly that the sharp buck of his hips nearly knocks you clean off. He holds you down tight though, keeping you impaled on his shaft. 

“There we go,” John rasps. “That wasn’t so hard, huh?”

After making you come, he rolls you over until your back is pressed against the bed and he hovers over you, nestled between your thighs. He drops down until his face is buried in your neck, a big arm wedging under your back and hooking over your shoulder, the other sliding under your low back and clutching your waist. When he thrusts into you, you realize with a start that he has you locked to his chest. You aren’t going anywhere. 

“Christ, keep squirming like that,” John growls into your neck, sucking at the sweaty patch of skin between your neck and shoulder. 

Each thrust knocks the air out of you. Where your skin isn’t slick with sweat, you itch. Overwhelmed by touch and taste. Teeth clacking when his hips speed up, driven into a frenzy by his own urge to come. And again, there’s nowhere for you to run, not with his arms wound tight around you, all of his strength concentrated on holding you to his chest. You don’t think anyone could pry him off you. 

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna—” you gasp, feeling it brewing under your skin again. The feeling makes you panicky this time though. He’s made you come plenty of times, but never in such quick succession. 

The pitch of your moans goes breathy and high, rising to nearly a caterwaul. 

He licks into the shell of your ear. “Got a little tighter there, sweetheart. Gonna give me another?”  

You can’t answer him. Only intelligible babbling, a high, reedy plea whistled through your teeth. Your hands rake down his back, scoring red lines into the skin, and clutching helplessly, trying to both pull him closer and push him away. It’s almost too much, too soon.  

“Almost there, almost there,” he pants, the sweat on his brow dripping down onto your face. It nearly drips into your eye. You wish he’d pull back and kiss you, sooth the panicked staccato of your heart, but he’s lost in his own need, bucking into you like a beast. “C’mon, give me it, sweetheart. Be a good girl.” 

You’re on the precipice of it, hanging on with clawed hands dug into the muscle of his back. In danger of tipping over, a gale at your back. The intensity frightens you though. You cling to him like digging your hands into the earth to root you in place. 

John’s arms tighten around you as he nears his end. You feel compressed, choked, only a warm slippery thing for him to plant his seed in. 

His breath is hot in your ear when he rasps, “Where the fuck are your manners, darlin’? I said, give me it.”

Then he arches into it, spine going stiff when he empties himself into your cunt. His arms squeeze all the air out of your lungs. You must come more than once, a record, because by the time he pulls out of you, you practically sink into the bed, sapped of energy. Not enough strength to even twitch a finger. 

John collapses onto the bed beside you, tugging you into his chest. It feels so intimate, lying on your side with a leg draped over John’s hip. You shiver when the sweat begins to cool. 

He drags a finger through your puffy, raw sex from the back, scooping up his essence with two fingers. You go cross-eyed when he pushes it back into you, hissing and pushing against his shoulders, trying to dislodge him from between your legs. John doesn’t budge; his eyes barely even flick down to meet yours as he pushes more of his spend back into your hole. 

Your chest goes tight at that. 

After, he sits you upright with your back to his chest and holds a glass of water up to your lips, making you drink until it dribbles down your chest. A big hand rests on your belly. 

“Why do you like touching there?” you ask, taking another sip.

“This is where my babe will sit,” he says, and you choke on your water, coughing until your lungs are clear and your eyes water. “Soon, with any luck.”

“You sure know what you want,” you wheeze, eyes still watering from your coughing fit.

He presses a kiss into your hair. “That I do.”

Two days later, John wakes you up with the news that an incident on a farm a few towns over will take him from you for the next few days.

You frown into your oatmeal. “Why so long?”

He sits at the table across from you with his chair pushed out, scraping off the mud caked on his boots with a dry brush. He sucks his cheek when you ask that question. 

“Bit unpleasant to bother you with the specifics, darlin’, but, uh…suffice it to say that it’s not something we can wrap up in just one day.”

“Did someone die?” you ask bluntly. 

John looks over at you from the corner of his eye, unimpressed. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Was it violent?”

“Jesus Christ, woman, you don’t need to go poking your nose into all of that.”

You roll your eyes at that. If he knew even a fraction of the things you’ve seen, he wouldn’t be nearly so askance at the thought of upsetting your delicate constitution. “But it’ll keep you there for some time?”

He nods. “At least a couple days. Maybe more. There’s matters to be dealt with, arrests to be made…won’t be easy work.”

“Is Simon accompanying you?”

“Both him and Kyle. I’m leaving Soap behind to keep the peace.”

“So you’re expecting to come back to the town in complete disarray then?”

John laughs at that, a big bellowing sound that makes you flinch and then warms your belly with delight. 

Summer is well on its way to being flush with itself now. Katydids in the bushes outside whistle and burr, a raspy, percussive sound. Long strands of high cirrus clouds stretch across the clear blue sky. Spiders weave thick webs into the corners of the windows on the outside of the house, thin, filamentous strands of silk woven over each other until it’s a dense, compact web. Even the sound of the bees buzzing through the air sets you at ease. 

The sound of your husband’s laughter seems to carry all of that in it, all of the fat, flushed joy of summertime. 

“I might need a list of what to take care of around the house while you’re gone. I’ve never…I’ve never managed a house on my own before,” you say into your oatmeal, taking another bite.  

You don’t know why it embarrasses you to admit that. John may not know about your previous circumstances just yet—you’ve never divulged stories of your time working at the estate or the years you spent living with your aunt and uncle—but he must certainly have guessed by now that you didn’t own property back east. 

“The boys and I aren’t heading out from here; gotta meet them in town to settle a couple of things first, but that wouldn’t take too long.” He takes a long sip of coffee before continuing. “Planned on asking Soap to check on you a couple times while I’m gone. He could help with the chores.”

Your irritation flares up at that. You put down your spoon sharply, the metal clanging against the porcelain bowl. “Do you still think I’m going to run away?”

He cocks an eyebrow at that, but doesn’t respond.

“So nothing’s changed then, even after I’ve already apologized. You still don’t trust me,” you sigh, your appetite suddenly gone. You push the bowl away from you, taking a sip of coffee instead. 

John sighs. You glance down at his hands instead of looking up into his eyes. His hands are still lightly ink-stained from reading the paper. The ink imprints onto your hand when he pulls his chair in and reaches across the table to lace your fingers together. 

“You might just see my concern for what it is, instead of fighting me at every turn,” he drawls. 

“Suppose I should say thank you then. I really appreciate being kept under lock and key,” you deadpan.

“Oh, and I suppose you’ve done so much to prove that you’re the staying type?” he teases.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“By my count, you’ve tried to run off twice. You sayin’ you won’t go for three?”

You stay mulishly silent, again going cold instead of deigning to have a conversation with the man. Your hand pulls from his grasp when you go to clean the table, taking the plates with you to the sink to wash. The brisk scrub and rinse betrays your mood, your shoulders tense with displeasure. You feel his gaze heavy on you from where he still sits at the table. 

John catches you before you have a chance to skitter off, hooking an arm around your waist to reel you in. 

“I never get off easy with you, do I?” he murmurs. 

You harrumph, scrunching your nose when he nuzzles into the side of your head. Squawking when he plants a wet kiss there too. 

John sees you off at the door with a kiss to your lips and then one to your forehead. His farewell kiss always seems to linger, as though he were reluctant for it to ever end. A disconcerting ache in your belly follows his departure. More than anything, you wish he’d turn back around and come home. Instead, you’re forced to bite your tongue and watch him leave because there are things more important than your desperate, cloying need for attention from a man that you once swore you’d run away from if given half a chance.

Now, as you stare at the shadow of him disappearing beyond the horizon, you can barely force your feet to take you back into the house.

The ache is a perturbing reminder of the seeds of trust and affection you’ve planted here. Now, they’ve begun to sprout, the buds opening up to tender, fragrant flowers. Those are the thoughts that occupy your mind when you go into the garden to harvest the lettuce heads and tomatoes. You think about all of this while staring down into the garden that John started so very long ago and now you tend. The earth here yields in abundance, but it requires a sure hand, and it rewards your joint efforts with a harvest that’ll last you through the winter if properly cultivated. 

Part of you anticipates company, waiting for Kate or Soap to come down the path on horseback, but when hours pass and neither show up, you have to admit to yourself that perhaps John hasn’t left a guardian to watch over you this time. Your heart trips over itself at the thought.

Trust is a precious, easily spoiled gift. You know it is not given lightly, and you’ve not put in the effort to engender it in recent weeks. You wonder if John wrestled with the decision to leave you alone, weighing your hurt feelings against the assurance of keeping you at home and found the latter wanting for once. 

You spend the better part of the morning gardening and cleaning. It muffles the longing. It’s entirely antithetical to the way you waited for John during the train robbery, but the different circumstances have you less on edge. The situation doesn’t seem as precarious. Never free of trouble, of course, but John hadn’t seemed too worried at breakfast, so you tell yourself that you shouldn’t worry either.

In fact, finding some way to occupy yourself proves the greater challenge. You hadn’t realized how much you’d grown to expect the company of others. The silence swells to a bubble that you itch to burst. 

It takes a great deal of courage to talk yourself into riding Buttercup into town. You hold the reins so tight that your knuckles ache when you finally let go. Still, when the sun-bleached town comes into view and you no longer need to swat repeatedly at the horseflies pestering you, you celebrate the little victory. 

You find Kate in the saloon enjoying a little brandy with lunch. Her eyes crinkle at the sight of you. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” she says when you take a seat across from her. 

“I couldn’t clean the house for a third time,” you shrug. 

It’s not an exaggeration. You spent the better part of the morning yesterday scrubbing the floors and sweeping the leaves and mud from the foyer, paying special attention to the caked mud on the sill, where John has a habit of wiping off his boots. You’ll have to remember to pick up a mat for the porch on the way back home. 

“You just missed my company so?” Kate teases.

You roll your eyes. “Who else do I have to talk to?”

“Well, don’t flatter me too much.”

“Anyway—no one, well…no one understands me…quite the same.” You speak evasively because you’re still too much of a coward to just say it outright. Nevertheless, Kate understands, and nods with a gleam in her eye that says as much. 

“Probably best to keep it that way.”

You don’t know why her words make your chest ache. For a beat, you keep silent, ordering a drink and a small meal for yourself from a passing waiter. 

“I’ve considered…telling John,” you start, a hesitant thread in your voice begging to be unraveled. 

Kate glances up at that. “Why would you do something like that?”

“I thought that maybe…well, maybe he might understand…if I explained the circumstances to him.” 

Her hand stills over her glass, face screwed up like she’s tasted something particularly unpleasant. “Seems like a dangerous game to play—risking your freedom on a maybe. It’s better to keep private matters just that. Private.”

Worry makes you wring your hands under the table. “You think he’d turn me in if he knew?”

Kate shrugs. “John’s a good man. He’s a good sheriff too. It’s a risky gambit. I can’t imagine what the trade off would be—I happened to find out by chance, but if you have the option to let buried dogs lie, I would take it.”

“Isn’t it ‘let sleeping dogs lie’?”

Her smile is not cruel, but it cuts. “Not in this case, hun. ‘Fraid we both know that.”

“Oh,” you murmur. 

Her lack of faith leaves you at a loss. It takes you so long to come to terms with it that by the time you open your mouth again, you’re halfway back to the shop, following her step for step. Dark clouds loom ominously off in the distance, just far enough away that you don’t expect for them to reach town for another hour or so, but the sight of them compounds the somber mood you’ve fallen into since Kate’s words. 

You don’t bring up the subject again until the rain begins to fall outside, slate grey like a gauzy veil. From the window, you peer down the street towards where Buttercup stands under the roof of the sheriff’s office, shielded from the rain. You stare morosely at the dirt ground; the rain will make walking anywhere after a hassle.

Kate must notice the general air of malcontent hovering around you because she apologizes to you when the ensuing silence from the morning’s conversation becomes unbearable. “Now, I don’t want you to think I hold John in poor esteem, hun. He’s a good man; I have no reason to think he’d ever turn you in for putting down the man that tried to…well, the man that tried to do you harm. I just don’t want you to regret your decision if I’m wrong.”

You shrug, bad mood not in the least assuaged. “It’s fine. It was a foolish idea. Why invite trouble when I’ve escaped it thus far?”

She doesn’t seem reassured at that. If anything, her scowl deepens. Instead of addressing it, you offer to help clean the shop, sweeping the back room and dusting the shelves. There are items on the shelves that look like they haven’t been touched in years, and you wonder whether Kate holds onto things after they’ve outlived their usefulness out of habit or an unwillingness to part with them. Then you shake your head of the thought. It shouldn’t matter to you. 

Around midafternoon, a few trappers come in to stock up on supplies and spend the better part of an hour talking to Kate. You flatten your lips together to keep from cursing them out for tracking in mud and rain with them, but they studiously avoid looking at you. 

“Morning, Mrs. Price,” one of them says, still keeping their gaze politely trained on the floor. 

You roll your eyes internally. Not surprising that news would spread eventually of John’s new wife. 

The conversation is of little interest to you, but you eavesdrop anyway because the rain hasn’t relented yet and there’s little else to do. Most of their conversation goes over your head, but some parts stick out. They tell her about a mutual acquaintance waylaid by a mountain slide up north forcing them to take another route home, and another who’d recently perished of consumption. Kate seems particularly upset by that, the lines around her mouth more pronounced than ever when she offers her condolences. 

They stay until the rain lets up and then say their goodbyes before heading out. 

“G’day, Mrs. Price,” the same one says to you before departing. 

You smile bemusedly at the door. “I don’t suppose I’ve met either of them before and don’t remember it?”

Kate shakes her head. “Unlikely. Alex and Frank spend most of their time up north hunting and fur trapping. One of them has a cousin in town, but they visit only seldomly. It’s been a year or so since I last saw either of them.”

“Then how’d they know who I am?”

“Well, I imagine they probably read about it.”

“Read about it?” you repeat confusedly. 

“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”

That unnerves you. Somehow, you thought you might fold into history like you’d always been there, but a marriage announcement in a newspaper punctuates the present. Your only reassurance is that the story ran over a month ago and therefore of little interest to anyone these days, at least from what Kate tells you; overshadowed by subsequent issues and stories. Old news, she tells you.

“What’s new news then?”

She ponders that for a bit. “Aside from what Frank mentioned? Hm…Farmer Shepherd’s ewe had a lamb the other night.” 

“Who’s that?”

“A farmer, I reckon.”

You deadpan. “Funny.”

She laughs at that, a husky, amber sound. “Shepherd’s got a farm in the next town over. Kyle and I always stop to buy mutton whenever we’re in town.”

“Oh, that’s right, you were just there recently. Do you visit that often?”

“From time to time,” she says, vague enough to pique your interest.

“Must be good mutton.”

She snorts. “He’s not as good a butcher as Simon, but he’s alright. It’s worth stopping by. I wouldn’t call it a reason to make the journey though.”  

“Then why do you go?”

She smiles a bit wistfully. “I have…a friend in town. It’s worth the trek.”

“Oh. A… male friend?” 

You say the word tentatively, gauging her reaction in case you’ve overstepped. Usually you wouldn’t be so inquisitive. In fact, you’ve made it a habit to know as little about the people you keep company with as possible. But Kate is different. This place is different. Time in this town moves at a slower pace, and it swells in the moments where it seems endless. It makes you talk slower, chew the fat. You spend so much time around these people that it almost feels like a lifetime has passed in their presence. You feel close enough these days that asking doesn’t feel as forbidden as it used to.

“No. Not a man.” 

It could mean nothing at all, but her words have just enough inflection in them that you can't help but meet her gaze. 

“A woman?” you ask, caught between embarrassment at having to ask and curiosity. 

She nods, her smile strained. 

“Oh,” you say dumbly. 

You can’t really think of what else to say in response to that revelation, but leaving it like that also feels wrong. It’s nothing you haven’t heard whisperings of before. Boston marriages. Sentimental friends. Spinsters cohabitating in virtuous friendship. It’s perhaps only shocking to finally put a face to the rumors. 

“Well, that’s nice,” you say after another awkward pause. Kate rolls her eyes and her nonchalance vexes you. “What? It is!”

“You don’t need to get all twisted up. It is what it is. There’s no need to go making a fuss about it.”

You frown at that. “I would never.” Then something dawns on you. “Have other people made a fuss before?”

“…A few,” she answers, looking troubled when old memories flicker behind her eyelids. “A long time ago, in another place, but when I…well, I trusted more. There’s no one that could make a fuss about it these days.”

“But surely Kyle knows? He accompanied you to town last time.”

“Kyle does not know.”

“Then why tell me?” you ask, dumbfounded. 

She holds you in her gaze for a few moments at that question, then comes out from behind the counter where her notebook still lies open, a thin strip of fabric acting as a bookmark. 

“You have your secrets and I have mine,” Kate says, leaning back against the counter and clasping her hands loosely in front of her. “The same reason I won’t tell John what you’re running from. The less people that know the things that could hurt you, the safer you are.” 

“You think John would do what—run you out of town if he knew?” you ask, hardly able to convey your disbelief.

“The point is that neither of us know until the very moment when it matters most.”

“But that’s not John,” you stress. 

“It’s the same John that you won’t trust with your secrets either.” And that strikes true. It dumbs you into silence, mouth opening uselessly for words that don’t come. The battering behind your lips like an inch of give, opening then to silence across the open plain.

You want desperately to say something that just won’t come. But how can you say anything at all these days? How does your voice not give out at the slightest quiver of emotion? You speak with a voice plump like fig skin, easy give, and violet bruised. It is always tender when you bite it through.

When Kate notices the way you struggle for words, she takes pity on you, her smile more sympathetic than you’ve ever seen it. “Enough about that though. What say we get you something to eat before you head home?”

When the path of least resistance beckons you forth, you run towards it. 

Your troubled conscience persists however, speaking into your ear even as the first shaft of sunlight pierces through the slate clouds and illuminates the town in a soft glow. It troubles you so fiercely that all you can think about is retreating home and burying yourself under the warm quilt draped over your bed. It has you hastening to say your goodbyes, excusing yourself on the basis of taking Buttercup home. 

Bidding Kate farewell, you step out of the shop to see that the rain has cleared. Everything after that dispels into the thinly perfumed air.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #price x you #price/reader #john price/reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader

[the-other-art-blog]

Violet to Colin: "You're one of my most sensitive children."

The fandom: "How can she say that! Anthony, Benedict bla, bla bla..."

Colin is ONE of her most sensitive children. ONE, just ONE of them. And she's right.

ONE OF HER MOST SENSITIVE CHILDREN

He was the only one who indulged Violet and let her introduce him to debutantes in s1, while Anthony fucked his mistress and Ben went to orgies.

He was a complete gentleman with Marina. AND defended her when Anthony implied something about her.

And when he learned the truth, he confessed that he would have married her if she had told him the truth. 🥹

He danced with Pen after Cressida bullied her.

He wrote dozens of letters that his family of 8 could not care to respond to often. There are 8 of them!

He worried about Ben in s2 and supported him on his application to the Academy.

He learned the truth of Jack Featherington and instead of simply leaving, he did something about it. Not only did he help the Featherington family, but he saved other lords from being scammed.

He apologized to Will, explained why he acted rudely AND made amends to repair the damage by bringing men to Will's club.

He returned with gifts for everyone, but he seemed particularly thoughtful to his sisters and mother. A perfume for Hyacinth, music for Francesca, and a book for Eloise 🥹. Violet was so moved by his gift and here we have a lovely headcanon on the watch:

Then with Pen...

He runs after Pen, despite other men wanting to know about his adventures.

He acknowledges his mistake and immediately tries to apologize to Pen in the Four Seasons Ball.

The next day, he comes back with a heartfelt apology.

Then, he offers her help, despite the risk of scandal and embarrassment for him. He knows Pen has no one else.

He goes to see Pen at night to make sure she's ok. And when she asks him for a kiss, he does it so sweetly.

He is brave enough to leave the men who just want to know about his sexual life.

HE WAS BRAVE ENOUGH TO ASK, as soon as he put himself together and understood his feelings. He didn't play jealousy games like others, he went and put his heart on the table. He didn't even know about Pen's feelings and he risked it!

Some extracts from Colin's journals show that his family is always in his thoughts.

You can see why Violet, as the good mother that she is, can tell how sensitive he is.

Colin travels during the summer and comes back during the season to be with his family. It angers me that people think he's selfish for this when Benedict also abandons the family to fuck.

And yet, both Colin and Ben are sensitive. BOTH OF THEM, Francesca too. I wouldn't call Hyacinth or Gregory sensitive right now, and before s3, I wouldn't include Eloise either.

Anyway, I needed to get this out because I am so fucking tired of Kanthonies and Benophies making tantrums about this line.

I'm sure when s4 comes, we are going to see a moment between Violet and Ben where she acknowledges how amazing he is and everything he has done for the family. But not now, because this is COLIN'S SEASON.

(NOTE: If you are thinking of reblogging this post with the tag #Colin is the most sensitive, kindly fuck off. I made this post to fight the Kanthonies and Benophie that are attacking Colin, not to validate your own need to make Colin superior to other characters. HE IS ONE OF THE MOST SENSITIVE CHILDREN, ONE)

#colin bridgerton #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #polin #violet bridgerton #bridgerton season 3

[winterarmyy]

He Hates Me, Doesn't He?

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: You hurt Bucky's girl, and now he hates you.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 6.7k++

Warnings: angstyyyyyyyyy, but with happy ending because I cannot live in agony. miscommunication galore. 'I want to strangle bucky's girlfriend.' soft reader, cold/mean bucky. bucky should've grovel more. horrible attempt of writing verbal arguments. nothing much but pain.

Inspiration: I remember reading a bucky fic years ago and I like the pain that it caused me to feel. Idk why the pain suddenly came back to me lately. So, this is my take on the same idea. I haven't able to find it. But when I do, I'll reblog it in my another acc!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

y/n had always been a steady presence in the Avengers, known for her gentle demeanour and unwavering support. Her relationship with Bucky Barnes had blossomed from a quiet friendship into something deeper. When they first met, Bucky was reserved and hesitant, still grappling with his past as the Winter Soldier. y/n, with her gentle nature and patient understanding, slowly helped him come out of his shell.

She remembered the sleepless nights they spent together when they were on the run with Steve and Sam. They'd share stories, and sometimes just sit in silence, her quiet company offering solace to Bucky's restless mind. The unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing day. Bucky looked up to her, finding comfort in her presence, and in turn, he became fiercely protective of her. They'd watch each other's backs during missions, their synergy on the battlefield a testament to their deep connection. 

And somewhere along the line, she fell for him. She had fallen for Bucky's resilience and vulnerability, though she never expected more, knowing that a relationship was not what he needed right now. At least, that's what she thought. Little did she know, Bucky had always loved her; ever since the day she offered him tea the first night they were on the run to Wakanda. Maybe she was just simply aloof, or maybe Bucky’s flirting skills weren’t translated the way he wanted, but they never crossed the line between friendship and ‘something more’.

Then when Jen came into the picture, it felt like things started to change. Jen was bold and confident, and it wasn't long before she caught Bucky's eye. Their relationship seemed to spring up overnight, and y/n, though hurt, tried to be happy for Bucky. Jen was supportive and caring, or so it seemed, and Bucky deserved happiness.

Now, as planned the team was instructed to moved into the Avenger compound for a few months to train new recruits. It had only been the first month but surely it was jam packed with endless of rigorous training sessions. The original team—y/n, Sam, Bucky, Jen, Clint, and his mentee Kate Bishop—were all assigned to train the new recruits, with additional of few agents from different branches coming in to help out.

y/n was heading to the training room; she knew it was way too early but she thought that if she didn’t get out of bed now, she might not even get up at all. To her surprise, she was not the first one. She saw a few new trainees were already on the way to the training room; some of them greeted her a good morning. She simply smiled at their enthusiasm. 

The moment she entered the area, she overheard voices coming from the corner of the room. She paused, recognizing Jen's voice, which was raised and laced with contempt. Curiosity piqued, y/n stepped closer, staying just out of sight behind the white board. In hindsight, it might seem weird that she was sneaking around to eavesdrop on Jen, but she couldn't help it.

Initially, y/n liked Jen. She tried to welcome her into their tight-knit group and even supported her relationship with Bucky. However, as time went on, Jen began acting strange. The things she said about Bucky sometimes sounded condescending. She would make comments like, "It's amazing how well he's adjusted, considering his past," or, "It's great that he's trying so hard to be normal." The way she acted often differed from her words, with Jen giving Bucky disapproving glances or sighing heavily whenever he mentioned something from his troubled past.

She had noticed these discrepancies and started to feel uneasy around Jen. She couldn't shake the feeling that Jen’s support was just a facade. Now, standing behind the whiteboard, she strained to hear the conversation.

"…and honestly, I don’t understand how anyone can trust him," Jen was saying. "I mean, sure, he's got that whole 'reformed hero' thing going on now, but let’s be real. He was Hydra’s pet assassin for decades. The things he’s done? It’s unforgivable."

Her friend, another agent from a different branch, nodded hesitantly. "But you’re dating him, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you trust him?"

Jen laughed, a cold, humourless sound. "Dating him? Please. I’m in it for the fame and the perks. Have you seen the way people look at us? Besides, he’s hot, I’ll give him that. But trust him? Never. People like him don’t change. They’re broken. He's a monster, and he always will be. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps again."

y/n felt a surge of anger rise within her. How dare Jen talk about Bucky like that? 

Memories flooded her mind, flashing back to Bucky’s nightmare-plagued nights. She remembered the prominent dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look that never quite left his face. The silent pain he endured, adjusting to a modern world where he felt like an outsider, magnified when Steve left. She could still see the wary, suspicious glances people cast in his direction, the whispers behind his back when they first ventured out. Before the fame he acquired as he regained his reputation after the Flag-Smasher incident.

She had witnessed his hardships firsthand—the nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat, the moments of crippling doubt and self-loathing. But she had also seen his triumphs, the small victories that slowly built his confidence. The first time he laughed freely in her presence, the genuine smile that lit up his face when he finally allowed himself to relax. She cherished those moments, the sunshine that broke through the clouds of his tortured past.

All of this came rushing back, breaking the chains on the Pandora's box inside of her. The fury she felt wasn't just for the disrespect to Bucky; it was for every ounce of pain he had suffered, every moment of joy he had fought so hard to reclaim. Her eyes hardened with resolve as she stepped forward, her voice steady but cold. "Take that back," she demanded, her presence startling both Jen and her friend.

Jen turned slowly, a smirk spreading across her face as she saw y/n. She knew from the beginning about the cute little crush y/n had on Bucky. To be frank, everybody sort of knew about it, except for Bucky somehow. 

"Or else what, y/n?" she replied with a mocking tone. "You’re quite pathetic aren’t you? You think that I can’t see how you’ve been eye-fucking my boyfriend all this time? Come on, now. Backing him up would not give you a leeway into his pants, y/n."

y/n’s face went through a range of emotions—shock, embarrassment, and then seething anger. Jen’s words were like poison, each one landing like a punch to the gut.

Jen continued, confidence oozing out of her cocky demeanor, "Besides, we all know that I can easily beat you in a fight, doll" 

The use of doll—a nickname Bucky had given y/n from day one, when Steve had quite literally kidnapped Bucky from the government—made y/n blood boil. Hearing it from Jen felt like a personal attack, a deliberate attempt to undermine everything she shared with Bucky.

And it was true that Jen had graduated top of her batch from the Avengers program and had countless successful missions under her belt, but y/n knew this wasn't about accolades or abilities. This was about something deeper, something more personal.

y/n clenched her fists, taking a step closer. "You think this is about who can fight better?" she said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "This is about respect. You don’t get to talk about Bucky like that."

Jen scoffed, a cruel smile on her lips. "Respect? For that monster? You’re delusional. He’s a ticking time bomb, a liability to the team. And deep down, everyone knows it."

y/n’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, she slapped Jen hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room. Jen stumbled and fell to the ground, shock and anger flashing across her features.

She stalks forward like a predator cornering its prey, "I’m just done with your lies and your insults. Bucky deserves better than you." Jen instinctively crawled backwards towards the centre of the room. Seeing that she got the attention of the few new recruits she regained her composure, smirked again, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "You’re pathetic, y/n," she taunted. "Defending a lost cause." her voice was loud enough for y/n to hear but quiet enough that the others might not be able to decipher her words.

At that moment, Bucky and Sam burst into the room, followed closely behind by a new recruit who alerted them of the incident. Bucky’s eyes widened as he took in the scene—Jen on the ground, y/n standing over her, shaking with rage. "What’s going on here?" His demand was completely ignored as y/n’s mind was hyper-focused on the wrath bubbling within her. 

"Get up," y/n demanded, her voice shaking with wrath. Bucky’s momentarily froze as he watched the confrontation escalate before him. y/n, usually so composed, was now a whirlwind of rage, her eyes blazing as she stood over a trembling Jen. Bucky had always known her to be fierce in battle, but this was different—this was raw, unbridled anger. "I'm going to make you regret every word you said. So get on your fucking feet before I rip it off you.." 

Jen, still on the ground, looked up at y/n with wide, teary eyes, playing the role of the victim to perfection. "Please, I didn't– I don’t know what you're…," she whimpered, casting a fearful glance at Bucky and Sam, who had just arrived on the scene.

Bucky's mind raced. Why was she doing this? He stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "y/n, hey!" he shouted, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. "What are you doing?"

Completely ignoring him, "Get up," y/n snarled, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Get up and fight me. I’ll show you who the real monster is." Jen looked up, her hand on her cheek, disbelief mingling with her fury. "You’re crazy," she spat, scrambling to her feet.

Her response was only a furious shout. "I said, get up!"

"y/n, are you crazy?!" Bucky yelled, moving quickly to intervene. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unforgiving.

She turned her fierce gaze towards Bucky; her expression momentarily faltering at the hurt in his eyes. "Bucky, you don’t understand, she--" she began, but the words caught in her throat as she saw Jen's smirk flicker for just a second.

"There's nothing to understand," Bucky snapped. "You’re acting insane."

y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt and frustration. "Bucky, you have to listen—"

But he cut her off, his expression hard. "I don’t care! You hurt her, y/n. You think I don’t see that bruise on her cheek?!" Bucky shouted, his face contorted with anger. His eyes, usually filled with a gentle warmth when he looked at y/n, were now blazing with fury. "This isn’t like you, y/n. I’ve noticed that you’ve never liked Jen, and I don’t know why. But this? This is just immature and reckless." His metal grip on y/n's wrist was tighter than he intended. She winced, her eyes watering not just from the pain but from the sting of his words. 

y/n had never seen Bucky like this. His anger was palpable, radiating off him in waves. It was like being hit with a physical force, and she felt her heart breaking under the weight of it. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her anger flaring even hotter. "Bucky, you don’t understand," she tried to explain, but the words caught in her throat.

Bucky’s expression remained hard, the force on her wrist tightening painfully. "You need to grow up, y/n," he seethed, his disappointment evident in his tone. "You're always causing drama lately, and it needs to stop. Jen’s been there for me in ways you haven’t, and I won’t tolerate you attacking her like this."

The words cut through her like a knife. Her heart shattered at his harshness, at the realization that Bucky thought so little of her. She yanked her wrist free, feeling the sting of his grip lingering. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Believe what you want."

Without another word, she turned and stormed out, leaving Bucky standing there, torn between confusion and guilt.

A gnawing sense of remorse tugging at him, but he couldn't shake the confusion and anger clouding his mind. "Jen, are you okay?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

Jen, tucking herself to his side, managed to summon a few tears, looking up at Bucky with a feigned innocence. "I don’t know why she hates me so much," she murmured, playing her part perfectly.

Bucky fingers softly traces on her wounded cheek before his gaze switched to y/n’s retreating form, a knot tightening in his chest. He wasn’t sure why those mean words had spouted out of his lips. Was it because he saw Jen injured on the ground and his protective instincts kicked in? Or was it because Jen had been whispering doubts in his ear about y/n’s loyalty, making him question his longtime friend? 

The truth was, Bucky had always relied on y/n’s unwavering support. She had been his rock through the toughest times, and seeing her so furious, so hurt, shook him to his core. Yet, in the heat of the moment, he had lashed out, unable to reconcile the image of Jen crying with the fierce anger that radiated from y/n.

As Bucky comforted Jen, his mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the image of hurt on her face, nor could he ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

On the side, Sam was only able to watch the scene play out silently, a frown creasing his brow. He had a feeling there was more to this story, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

As weeks passed, the rift between Bucky and y/n deepened, fueled by Jen's cunning manipulation. In a private conversation, Jen planted seeds of doubt in Bucky's mind, suggesting that y/n harboured hidden resentments and intentions.

"I hate to say it, Bucky, but maybe she's not who we thought she was," Jen insinuated, her voice dripping with false concern. "Maybe she's been hiding her true feelings all along, waiting for the right moment to strike." 

Bucky, already vulnerable and confused after the incident in the training room, absorbed Jen's words like poison, allowing them to fester and take root in his mind. He began to view y/n through a new lens, one tainted by suspicion and distrust. This single conversation, filled with subtle manipulations and insidious suggestions, was all it took to fracture the bond between Bucky and y/n, leaving Bucky cold and distant towards the one person who had always stood by his side.

Most days he would avoid eye contact with her during team meetings, barely acknowledging her presence when they were forced to interact. In training sessions, his instructions to her were curt and clipped, lacking the warmth and camaraderie they once shared. y/n felt each of these interactions like a stab to the heart.

She couldn't understand how quickly Bucky had turned against her, how easily he had accepted Jen's version of events without even giving her a chance to explain. The hurt festered inside her, eating away at her sense of self-worth.

Then one night, as y/n sat alone on the rooftop, staring out into the darkness, Sam found her there. He knew this was where she retreated when she needed space to think, to process her emotions. He approached her cautiously, sitting down beside her without a word.

"Why aren't you at dinner, y/n?" Sam finally asked, breaking the silence. He could see the emptiness in her eyes, the weight of her sorrow pressing down on her.

She shook her head, her voice hollow. "Lost my appetite," she muttered, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

Sam gently prodded, knowing there was more to her withdrawal than just a lack of hunger. "Is it because of what happened the other day at the training room?" he asked softly.

Instantly, her demeanor shifted. Anger flared in her eyes, directed not just at Jen and Bucky, but at the entire situation. "I don't want to talk about it, Sam," she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. But Sam wasn't one to give up easily, especially when he knew how much y/n was hurting. "Come on, y/n," he urged, his voice gentle but insistent. "You can't keep bottling this up. Talk to me."

Her expression softened slightly at Sam's persistence, but the pain still lingered in her eyes. "Seriously, Sam, please just drop it," she pleaded, her voice wavering with emotion.

Sam could see the cracks forming in her facade, the vulnerability seeping through the tough exterior she usually projected. Without a word, he pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her bury her face against his shoulder.

As she clung to him, her facade finally crumbled. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He hates me, doesn't he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbreak. "Bucky hates me."

Sam held her tighter, offering silent comfort as she grappled with the weight of her sorrow. He knew there were no easy answers, no quick fixes to mend the shattered pieces of y/n's heart. But in that moment, all he could do was be there for her, a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.

The dim glow of the kitchen's overhead light provided a faint sense of solace in the otherwise silent darkness of the compound. Bucky sat at the wooden table, his tired eyes staring blankly at the cup of untouched tea before him. It was a nightly ritual lately, this dance with sleeplessness and the haunting memories that lurked in the shadows of his mind yet again.

Footsteps broke the stillness, and Bucky's gaze shifted to the entrance of the kitchen. y/n stood hesitantly in the doorway, her presence casting a tentative aura over the room. There was a palpable tension between them, an unspoken weight that hung heavy in the air.

She cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She was expecting Bucky to ignore her completely but he didn’t; Bucky simply shrugged nonchalantly, his guard seemed to flatter. "Suit yourself," he muttered.

As she quietly took a seat opposite him, a heavy silence settled between them. Bucky's thoughts churned with a whirlwind of emotions, each one vying for dominance over the others. His guard seemed to falter in the presence of her tentative yet comforting aura. The weight of his own vulnerability loomed large in his mind, drowning out the anger he had harboured towards her.

As the silence stretched between them, she felt a surge of compassion wash over her. She knew why he was awake at this time. She knew that the tea he brewed was to help him sleep. She was the one who planted that habit to him after all.

And despite everything that had transpired between them, she couldn't bear to see Bucky suffer alone. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she decided to reach out to him, to offer what little comfort she could.

Without a word, y/n rose from her seat and moved to stand behind Bucky's chair. He stiffened at her touch, his muscles tense with apprehension. But as her gentle hands began to massage the tension from his neck, a wave of unexpected relief washed over him.

Her touch was soft and comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness he had grown accustomed to due to Jen’s unwillingness to acknowledge this side of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, coaxing him to relax, to let go of the burdens that weighed heavily on his shoulders. For a brief moment, Bucky allowed himself to forget the walls he had built around his heart. In her presence, her voice, and her touch; he felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of warmth that he had long since forgotten.

But then, like a sudden gust of wind extinguishing a fragile flame, the weight of Jen's words came crashing back down upon him. Anger flared within him, hot and fierce, directed not only at y/n but at himself for allowing his heart to yearn for her.

He pushed himself away from the table, his movements sharp and abrupt. "I don't need your pity, y/n," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "Just leave me alone."

With that, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving y/n alone in the suffocating silence.The disbelief that clouded her thoughts gave way to a searing agony that twisted in her chest. How could he say such things? How could he push her away so callously, after everything they had shared?

y/n buried her face in her hands, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. The weight of her shattered dreams pressed down on her, crushing her spirit beneath its merciless grip. She had never felt so alone, so utterly abandoned by the one person she had trusted above all others.

The pain of losing Bucky, of losing the love that had sustained her through the darkest of times, threatened to consume her whole. Each breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the emptiness that now filled her soul.

In that moment of crushing despair, she couldn't help but believe that Bucky truly hated her. The thought tore through her like a knife, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that no amount of time or distance could ever hope to heal.

As she sat alone in the suffocating silence of the kitchen, y/n felt the full weight of her heartbreak descend upon her like a tidal wave. She was lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, drowning in the agony of losing someone she had loved so deeply, so completely. And in that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find her way back to the surface again.

Unbeknownst to her, Bucky lingered just out of sight, his heart heavy with guilt. He wanted to go back, to take back his harsh words and hold her close, to chase away the tears that stained her cheeks. But the poison in his mind was too strong, clouding his judgement and trapping him in a cycle of self-destructive despair. And so, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, leaving y/n to cry alone in the darkness.

The mission had already been tense enough, but as y/n found herself face to face with Jen in a location she wasn't supposed to be, the atmosphere crackled with an added layer of hostility. It was as if fate had conspired to place them in this confrontation, and her jaw clenched involuntarily as she braced herself for what was to come.

Jen's presence in that spot was no coincidence, and she knew it. Her suspicions were confirmed as Jen turned to face her, a smirk playing on her lips, a gleam of malice in her eyes. y/n's grip tightened on her weapon, her pulse quickening as she prepared for the verbal assault she knew was coming.

"How does it feel, knowing that Bucky hates you now?" Jen's words sliced through the air like a knife, each syllable carrying the weight of y/n’s deepest fears. It was a direct hit, striking at the core of her insecurities, and for a moment, she felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her feet.

But she refused to let Jen see her falter. With a steely resolve, she squared her shoulders and met Jen's gaze head-on, her expression a mask of defiance. She may have been shaken by Jen's words, but she refused to let them break her.

Ignoring the taunts, she focused on the mission at hand, determined to prove her worth despite Jen's attempts to undermine her. But with each passing moment, the weight of Jen's words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over y/n’s every move.

It was a battle on two fronts – against the enemy they faced together, and against the doubts that threatened to consume her from within. But she refused to back down, drawing strength from the knowledge that she fought not just for herself, but for the team she believed in with all her heart.

But Jen's relentless barrage of insults made it difficult to concentrate, her words like daggers slicing through y/n’s defenses.

"Aww come on y/n, bet you’re reeling in the loss right now, aren’t you." Jen continued, her voice ice cold. "The Asset’s little lapdog, clinging to him like a lost puppy."

y/n’s temper flared at the insult, her grip tightening on her weapon as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But Jen's mocking laughter only fueled the fire burning within her, pushing her to the brink of her patience. "Shut your mouth, Jen," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Or I swear to God, I'll make sure that the team finds your body disassembled in one of these rooms."

Jen simply rolled her eyes, unfazed by her threat. "You love him that much, huh?" y/n had no intention to deny that fact; she does love him, "More than you ever could." her voice was firm and true. Jen’s smirk fell as she scoffed. "Ain't that cute, the Winter Soldier and his little psycho sweetheart."

Before y/n could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a knife, freezing her in place. It was Bucky, his expression dark and stormy as he stepped into view. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took in the scene before him.

y/n’s heart sank as she realized that Bucky might have heard everything. She turned around to meet his eyes and his face confirmed her suspicion; he heard it.  Bucky had heard everything – every taunt, every insult, every word exchanged between her and Jen; even the confession of her true feelings. She met his gaze; searching for some sign of understanding of his emotions and the little that she saw was: disappointment, betrayal and guilt, mirrored back at her in the depths of his stormy blue eyes. 

In that moment, all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms, to pull him away from all the painful memories and hurtful words; so far away that he would forget he had ever been taunted, betrayed, or made to feel less than he was.

Before she could utter a word, let alone take a step towards him, Jen's voice broke through, but it lacked the usual confidence. "Bucky, it's not what you think," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between Bucky and y/n. "I-I was just..."

y/n’s clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin as Jen stumbled over her words, unable to come up with a coherent explanation. She could see the confusion and hurt in Bucky's eyes, a reflection of the turmoil raging within her own heart.

"I-I mean," Jen continued, her voice faltering. "I was...um...just trying to...uh..."

But her feeble attempts to justify her actions only served to further incense Bucky. His brow furrowed in anger, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

"Enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to hear any more lies."

y/n’s heart ached as she watched Bucky's expression darken with anger and disappointment. She wanted to explain, to tell him the truth about Jen's betrayal and her own misguided attempt to defend him. But the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of her guilt and regret.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky turned away, his shoulders slumped with defeat. "Let's just finish the mission," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We'll deal with this later."

As he was about to walk away, y/n noticed a red dot on his chest, the unmistakable mark of a sniper's laser sight. Without thinking twice, she leaped towards him, her body acting as a human shield. Time seemed to slow down as she collided with Bucky, pushing him out of the way.

"y/n, no!" Bucky shouted, his voice filled with panic as her body slumped against his chest.

In the chaos, Jen was nowhere to be seen. She had slipped away, taking shelter and ultimately fleeing the area as she heard multiple footsteps approaching.

Bucky tried to pull up his gun, but it was too late. An array of bullets rained down on them. He felt the searing pain of a few shots piercing his own flesh, but it was nothing compared to the sight of y/n’s body being riddled with bullets. She was hit in the shoulder, wrist, thighs, and other places Bucky couldn't even register.

Rage surged through Bucky like an inferno, obliterating any semblance of restraint. He moved with a deadly precision, his eyes blazing with fury as he unleashed a storm of bullets on the enemy. His movements were swift and unforgiving, every shot finding its mark with brutal accuracy. The enemy fell one by one, their bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps. The air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder, but Bucky's focus was unyielding.

Within moments, the room was cleared, the enemies wiped out in a flurry of rage-fueled vengeance.

The adrenaline ebbed away, leaving Bucky standing amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. He turned, and his eyes fell on y/n's crumpled form. The sight of her lying in a pool of her own blood shattered his rage, replacing it with a crushing wave of worry and panic.

"Hang in there. Please," Bucky hastily spoke, his voice trembling. He activated his com line, desperation seeping into his tone. "Guys, we need help. y/n... she's... she's been shot. We need to get out of here right now!" Panic coursed through him as he turned his attention back to y/n, frantically trying to stop the bleeding on her stomach. "y/n, doll…please" he pleaded, watching her hazy gaze. "Don't you dare give up on me now. Come on."

"babydoll, stay with me!" Bucky cried, his voice breaking as he cradled her in his arms. Blood soaked through her clothes, staining his hands. "Please, hang on, you can’t leave yet. I haven't told you... I haven't—" 

Her eyes fluttered open, her breathing shallow and ragged. "It's okay, Bucky," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. "It's okay. Don't cry." Her shaking hands struggled to move, and with great effort, she managed to cup Bucky's cheek. The gesture was weak but filled with tenderness. "It's okay," she repeated, her fingers trembling against his skin.

"Don't talk like that," Bucky choked out, his own tears mingling with the blood on his face. "You can't.. I haven't told you...please doll..." His voice wavered with the weight of unspoken words and unconfessed feelings. He hadn't told her how much he truly cared for her, how every moment spent away from her felt like an eternity. He hadn't begged for forgiveness for his coldness, his mistakes, and for letting Jen's poison taint his actions. The guilt gnawed at him, each heartbeat a reminder of the words he hadn't said, the emotions he hadn't expressed. 

He pressed her hand harder against his cheek, feeling the warmth of her touch anchoring him in the moment.Her hand weakly brushing against his cheek. "I know, sweetheart," she murmured. "I know."

Bucky's heart shattered as he clung to her, feeling her life slipping away. "No, no, no," he muttered desperately. "You can't leave me. Please, y/n. Please."

She smiled faintly, her eyes closing. "I'm here, Bucky. I'm right here."

With a final, shuddering breath, y/n’s consciousness slipped away. Bucky felt a surge of panic, but he knew he had to move. He lifted her limp body, cradling her against his chest as he ran towards the quinjet. Each step was agony, his own injuries slowing him down, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting y/n to safety.

"Hang on, y/n," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Hang on. I won't let you go."

In the sterile environment of the medical bay, y/n lay unconscious, her body hooked up to various machines that monitored her vital signs. Bucky sat by her bedside, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Every beep of the monitor seemed to echo through the silence, a haunting reminder of her fragile state. He held her hand, his thumb gently caressing her bandaged wrist.

Memories of their time together flooded Bucky's mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the connection they shared. He remembered the laughter they had shared, the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. He remembered the gentle touch of her hand, the warmth of her smile that never failed to chase away the darkness.

But amidst the memories, there was also pain – the pain of their last conversation, the words left unsaid and the choices left unmade. Bucky's throat tightened as he recalled the day he had walked away from Jen, the air thick with tension and unspoken truths.

His voice was cold and final. "You almost got her killed, Jen," he had said, his eyes blazing with anger. "Stay away from us. Stay away from me."

Jen's eyes had flashed with anger, her words cutting like knives as she lashed out in frustration. "And what, you think you'll find someone better than me?" she had spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Good luck with that, Bucky. You'll never find anyone who would put up with your baggage."

But Bucky had remained resolute, his decision fueled by a sense of longing and regret that threatened to consume him whole. "Maybe not," he had admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'd rather be alone than with someone who doesn't truly care about me."

Now, as Bucky sat by y/n’s bedside, the weight of his decision bore down on him like a crushing weight. Tears welled in his eyes as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers trembling with emotion.

"I'm so sorry, babydoll," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I never meant for any of this to happen. So, please, wake up. I need you."

But y/n remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and weak as she lay before him. And as Bucky watched over her, his heart heavy with worry and regret, he vowed to do whatever it took to bring her back to him, to keep her safe from harm for all eternity.

For in that moment, Bucky realized that he couldn't bear to lose her – not now, not ever. She was his rock, his anchor in a world of uncertainty and pain. And as he held her hand tightly in his own, he prayed with all his heart that she would find her way back to him, to the love and light that had always guided them through the darkness.

The soft hum of machines filled the air as y/n stirred awake, her senses slowly coming back to her. She blinked, disoriented at first, until her gaze fell upon Bucky, who was sleeping soundly in the chair beside her bed. His hands were clasped tightly around hers, his face peaceful in slumber, but she couldn't help but notice the tear stains on his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines etched into his forehead.

"How long has it been since?" she wondered to herself, her heart aching at the sight of Bucky's exhausted form. She carefully sat up, trying not to disturb him as she lovingly examined his sleeping face. She couldn't help but smile as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingertips.

Bucky groaned as his sleep was interrupted, muttering something about Sam needs to leave him be; before he abruptly sat up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Hi there," y/n greeted softly, her eyes sparkling with affection as she watched Bucky's reaction.

For a moment, Bucky seemed unable to comprehend that she was finally awake. His eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. But then the realization hit him, and he threw himself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace as if she were the most precious thing in the world .Despite the pain that shot through her body, she managed to let out a soft chuckle, returning his embrace with equal fervor. The warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering chill of unconsciousness, and for a moment, everything felt right.

"y/n..." Bucky breathed into her neck, his voice trembling with emotion. She hummed in response, her heart swelling for him. "Hmmm?"

Not wanting to let go of her, Bucky called her name once again, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "y/n-..." She paused, her lips curving into a tender smile as she whispered in his ear, "Yes, Bucky?"

Bucky tightened his grip, his breath hitching in his throat as he buried his face in her shoulder. y/n gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "I'm here, sweetheart." The scent of her hair, the feel of her warmth against him—it all felt overwhelming. Emotions churned inside him like a tempest. Relief, guilt, love, and fear battled for dominance, leaving him raw and exposed.

She gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "Bucky, I'm not going anywhere.

Bucky's mind raced, images of the past few weeks flashing before his eyes. He remembered the coldness with which he'd treated her, the cruel words that had slipped from his lips, fueled by Jen's poison. He thought of the sleepless nights, the nightmares that had gripped him, and the aching void he'd felt every time he saw y/n’s hurt expression.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "For everything. For not believing you. For pushing you away."

Reluctantly, she pulled away, but not before wiping the tears from Bucky's cheeks and fighting the urge to place a tender kiss on his forehead. As she looked into his eyes, she could see the depth of his love and the pain he had endured for her sake. And in that moment, she knew that she had found her home in his arms. Bucky took her hands in his own, his eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to her wounded wrists. "This will never happen again. Ever," he vowed, his voice filled with determination.

Moved by his words, y/n felt her heart flutter with emotion. She realized in that moment that she could never stay angry at him, no matter what had transpired between them. She understood now that they were both at fault, both victims of circumstance and misunderstanding.

With a surge of courage, she reached out and pulled Bucky into a kiss. Her lips met his in a slow, passionate embrace, pouring all of her love and forgiveness into the tender gesture. It was a moment of connection, of healing, of reaffirming their bond despite the trials they had faced.

The taste of Bucky's lips was like a soothing salve to her soul; it was intoxicating. It felt as if the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's arms. When they finally broke apart, Bucky whispered those three words that y/n had longed to hear, "I love you."

Her heart soared with joy, and she couldn't help but tease him, "Took you long enough." her teasing words met with a cheeky grin from Bucky.  "I love you too, Bucky" she blinked slowly. As he whispered softly under his breath, "Come here," he pulled her back into the kiss, their lips meeting in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of their unspoken love. And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, knowing that together, they could weather any storm.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I just needed to let this out lmao. It's been stuck in my head for several weeks. Thank you for spending your time reading this crap... honestly. Love you so much 🤍

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #tfatws!bucky #bucky angst #bucky fluff

[ozzgin]

Its been 6 months😭😭 pleaasseeee make a part 2 of the android x human story im beggingggg😭

-H❤️

Yandere! Android x Reader (II)

Featuring your assigned android partner who is not as devoid of humanity as you originally thought.

Content: female reader, AI yandere, mildly NSFW, based on Caves of Steel

[Part 1] | [More original works]

The case had been solved.

Not only that, but you'd managed to prove that human officers were just as efficient as their robot counterparts. The Commissioner was beyond ecstatic, pacing back and forth in his office and finding new ways to praise your detective skills.

"That'll show those Spacers. They think some glorified tin box can match our skill?"

You frowned at his words and glanced to your side, where the android was sitting. He observed the Commissioner with the same polite smile, no hint of disagreement on his features. Was he not insulted? You questioned him once the formal meeting had finished.

"I have no reason to be offended, (Y/N). It is a personal opinion, and thus I have no control over it."

"So you don't mind people disliking robots to such an extent?"

He pondered your statement.

"I would certainly be upset if it was you who harbored the disdain. The beliefs of other humans hold no meaning to me otherwise."

You couldn't tell if he said it out of politeness, or if he actually meant it. Most likely the former, in order to part on good terms. After all, your partnership has reached its completion. He'd return to the Spacer Colony with his report on human customs, and you'd go back to your regular job.

Except he never left. Days later, he was still sipping on his morning coffee, lounging at your table. You fiddled with your cup in contemplation. Was there anything else left to do?

"When are you leaving, actually?"

The pale man raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Is my presence here of such significant disturbance?"

"What? No!" you swiftly exclaimed, stumbling on your words. His lips widened in yet another cheeky grin. He was teasing you again.

"My assignment on Earth is done, thus I should have returned to the Colony already. That's what you're wondering about, yes? I am awaiting a response from my superiors."

"Whether you can go back?"

"No, whether my transfer has been accepted. I have applied to be your permanent partner."

You could feel your cheeks burning with heat. Was it that obvious to the synthetic that you enjoyed his company? Then again, he wouldn't have gone through such motions just for your sake.

"Why did you..." you probed sheepishly. There was no logical reason for him to keep working in a poorer, less advanced environment.

"Because I want to continue spending time with you."

Nonsense. An artificial being wouldn't make its decision based on such mundane, emotional reasons.

"I don't believe you."

"I understand. It is a faulty answer to come out of a machine. Though unlike common AI assistants, we have been invested with the capacity to develop likes and dislikes. Interests. Wants. It helps with variety and individualization."

"And you want to stay here? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a crush on me or something", you attempted to joke.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence. Had you gone too far with your humor? Was it too cliché of a sentence? You turned away, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear. You just had to be witty, huh?

"I'm afraid I do not know what to tell you, (Y/N)."

"You don't need to say anything, it was a poor choice of-"

"Many social aspects have been implemented into my behavioral network. Workplace rapport, friendships, intimate relationships. What seems to be lacking is the transition from one to another. I know how to act as a romantic partner, but how does one achieve such a title in the first place?"

You gazed at him, incredulous. What was he trying to say?

"I am trying to convey that I am indeed infatuated with you. Which, then, makes my initial explanation dishonest: while I do appreciate our fruitful work cooperation, it is not a main reason for my decision. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings."

You'd never been a romantic. You sometimes flipped through sample pages of contemporary romance books at stores and community centers, but they always felt forcefully cheesy. Predictable. Consequently, you never had any grand dreams of passionate confessions under the rain.

On the other hand, you also didn't expect to be asked out in such a mechanical, calculated manner. Or that a machine would be the suitor. Yet there was something charming about his approach. For the first time since meeting him at the border, you saw him struggle. There was something human-like in his uncertainty.

You stood up from the table, and walked towards the android. Then, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, expressing the mutual feeling and understanding.

His eyes bore an eerie glint to them. It was most kind of you to offer a common ground, but he knew better. The affections you held for him were, with utmost certainty, a mere fraction of whatever overwhelmed him from the moment he encountered you. Limerence, obsession, compulsion, there were many definitions that aptly described his otherwise unexplainable desires towards you. Even more unexplainable was the fact they'd evolved from a blank slate, a programmed agent with no previous knowledge on feelings or humans.

You noticed his hesitation.

"Is there anything else troubling you presently?" you nudged.

Nothing of immediate urgency. Well, not for you, at least. The android remained thoughtful. What were the variables which needed to be met in order to initiate a sexual encounter? Would it have been inappropriate for him to suggest intercourse straight after this conversation? To him, it was a natural escalation he'd considered many times in the past. To you, it could've come as a sudden, crass, and hurried proposal.

He reached for your wrist and discreetly pressed a thumb against your skin. Judging from your resting heart rate, facial expression, and localized temperature, there was a fair chance you wouldn't reject his advances. Once the statistical risk had been assessed, he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Would it be possible to continue this in your bedroom?" he inquired, standing up.

"Alright, just don't...ask for approval for every single step" you retorted. You'd rather not become a narrator of your own pounding.

You open your eyes with a squint, greeted by unexpected natural light flooding your bedroom. Someone must’ve lifted the hologram blinds.

“My apologies, I hadn’t considered the discomfort it would cause you. My Spacer colony uses artificial lightning, though I am becoming rather fond of the natural sun rays here.”

Your android partner is meticulously preparing his outfit for the day. Judging by the stark nakedness and the glistening skin, you suppose he’s had a shower while you were still sleeping. You involuntarily furrow your brows and blush at the sight. He notices your embarrassment. 

“A most surprising reaction. You have seen the very same genital organ…”, he says as he quickly checks his wristwatch, “...precisely eight hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

“It’s just…most people get dressed once they start doing other things. I also wear a towel for coverage when I come out of the shower.”

He processes your words.

“Hmmm. Illogical, but it explains your reaction.”

You stand up and stretch with a prolonged yawn. Suddenly, a revelation hits you: your mind flashes with images of the android fondling your body, your ears ring with the shameless moans you’ve let out throughout the night. Your face turns pale.

“Listen, when is your next functional inspection?” you ask, without waiting for the synthetic to answer. “Will they, uh…will they have access to all of your memories?”

You know that the android permanently records all data and saves it into a memory unit. It’s a pointless fear, of course. The Spacers couldn’t care less about irrelevant details. If the intended tasks are fulfilled, what happens on the side is out of their concern. Yet you don’t exactly appreciate the possibility of your personal deeds airing like this, before the eyes of multiple engineers. 

“You may rest assured, whatever involves your privacy will not be included in the examination.”

“Do you get to decide what is checked and what isn’t?”

“No, most data is sampled randomly.”

You stare at him, confused.

“Then how-”

“It is not common practice, nor encouraged by our code of ethics. I can, however, choose which information is available to begin with.”

“What? I thought you’re fully controlled by whoever created you. If they so desired, couldn’t they open you up and take whatever they require?”

The robot smiles at your assumption and takes a few steps towards you.

“Once an android model is finished, one can no longer modify the processor. Not without compromising everything else with it. It is not a device to be deconstructed, (Y/N).” He taps his temple, then continues: “I am a biocomputer. While most of my parts are mechanical, my processor is a cortical organoid developed in a laboratory. A human brain, if you will.”

Somehow, the discovery fills you with dread. A living organ, encapsulated within a machine. What does that say about consciousness? About self-awareness? The Spacers didn't just tinker with metal scraps and smart computers. They artificially birthed life.

You were always under the impression that your robot companion is closer to the computer you have on your desk. Billions of lines of code within a black box, which then lead to spontaneous, novel interactions with the outside world. To think that at the very core of his functions lies a clump of living cells...

Perhaps you weren't so different, after all. The line between machines and humans is suddenly blurred.

#yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere robot #yandere android #robot x human #android x reader #robot x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere imagine #yandere fic

[spencerreidenjoyer]

love bites | spencer reid x reader

word count: 2k, rating: 18+/explicit

tags: established relationship, hickeys, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, overstimulation

a/n: hello again... i'm back with another pwp fic... idk where this came from ngl, but i sort of ran away with this idea of spencer leaving hickeys and this happened lol. also i've been having chip taylor (mgg's character in 68 kill, a guy who has the biggest, wettest eyes and fucks like a madman) on the brain lately so this is definitely inspired by him too ❤️

(p.s: you can also find this fic on ao3!)

Spencer always wants to give you everything you want. He’s eager to please, with those wide puppy-dog eyes that stare up at you, that gaze that makes your insides warm, the tension between you two that makes you want to spread your legs. Not like you would put up a fight anyway.

He was already such a sweetheart on the date you just came home from, a nice dinner at a nice restaurant. Spencer was a proper gentleman, who was playing footsie with you under the table. You’d wanted to jump his bones the moment you’d left the restaurant. You hoped Spencer would get the hint, from the way you were tracing circles with your fingers onto his thighs on the drive back to his place.

“Baby,” you hum, while Spencer kisses down your neck. He always treats you like a princess, makes you feel so revered.

Sometimes, he loses himself in making you feel good. You have to call his name again – “Spencer–!” you say, in a whimper, before he responds.

“Hmm?”

“Are you leaving marks?” You ask. You feel a little conscious about it, because having to wear a turtleneck to work in the summer heat is definitely funny, but kind of embarrassing.

Spencer’s lips pause against your neck. He murmurs, “Do you want me to?” and you feel his warm breath on your skin as he says it. Your hair stands on end, your body reacting to how close Spencer is to you.

Spencer pulls away, and you mourn the loss of his warmth for a moment. He looks at you, the hazel of his eyes so deep and sweet that you feel like you could lose yourself in them. “Then I can leave them in places that you don’t have to worry about.”

“What? Where?” You ask, but your mind starts running already. His lips on your body. His gaze, scorching as he stares up at you.

He doesn’t give a verbal response, rather lets his hands fall to your waist and slips his thumbs under the waist-cutouts of your dress. Where the tips of his fingers touch your skin, you feel like you’re burning with desire already. Spencer asks, “Can I?”

“Please.” Your voice comes out breathier than you’d like.

Spencer pushes your dress up, revealing your thighs, your stomach. His fingers skirt over your skin softly, the touch almost ticklish. The dress goes up, up, up, until Spencer helps you tug it over your head. Even with the sweet gesture, him getting you undressed is making you flush, the attention he gives you and the lust in his gaze making your stomach flip.

Spencer’s lips find their way back to your neck. You hold your breath as he kisses his way down the column of your neck, taking his time. He kisses your collarbone, then the top of your breast. He nips the skin between his teeth.

“Someone’s bitey,” you gasp, trying to joke.

“Did you know that while the Brits call hickeys ‘love bites’ , you don’t actually need to bite to break the superficial blood vessels under the skin’s surface? Suction is often sufficient to cause bruising.” Spencer murmurs, as if the fun fact is absolutely necessary to him giving you a hickey on your breast. It’s cute to you, though. It kind of turns you on.

“‘Love bites’ are a cute name for hickeys, though.” You laugh. “And sucking… Isn’t that kind of gross?”

Spencer’s eyes flit up to meet yours. “I think it’s hot… I mean, being so desperate to mark you up, that I can’t control myself. Being willing to do anything to make it known that you’re mine.”

Arousal washes over you. “Jesus Christ, Spencer.”

He surges forward to kiss you, slow and languid and kind of sloppy. Still, you can feel the desperation behind his movements, his eagerness as he basically eats your face off. Spencer pulls back panting, eyes studying your face, your shirtless figure, your breasts in your bra. He stares greedily. You’re wet between your legs already.

Spencer dips his head down to press his lips to where your breast spills out of the cup of your bra, flicking his tongue over a spot he’s chosen. His front teeth graze over your skin gently. Spencer nips the skin between his teeth, sucking softly. It makes your hair stand on end – the wet sounds coming from his mouth, the heat of his breath on your skin, the slow but pleasurable twinge of pain that sinks in when he sucks a mark into your breast.

It’s erotic, the way your hand is tangled in Spencer’s hair, holding him close to you as he continues to mark up your chest with his mouth. Spencer’s hair is so soft between your fingers, slightly messy and curling at the ends. He’d moved on to mark up your other breast, his large hand cupping you perfectly, like you were made for him.

Spencer litters hickeys all over you, on your tits, your stomach, and he kisses along the waistband of your panties when he gets to them. You only have to whimper to get him to slide them off as well. He kisses your hip bone, while his hand on your other side feels you up. You feel Spencer slide his hand from the swell of your ass, to feeling the meat of your thigh, before his hand comes around and pushes your leg out to spread your legs.

“Babe,” you moan, as Spencer bites down gently on your plushy inner thigh. His tongue laps over where he had bitten, acting to soothe you from any pain, and he sucks a mark into your thigh. You see the marks of his teeth and the redness of the spot, the beginnings of a bruise. He moves over to your other thigh to give you another mark, then his lips trace their way closer to the heat between your legs, giving you more marks on the way up.

You gasp when he presses a kiss to your clit, your wetness extremely obvious to you now as he blows cool air to tease you. You shiver. Spencer laughs, “Needy. You’re so wet.”

“Because of you, baby,” you sigh, running your hand through his hair to push it back, letting you admire his gorgeous bone structure and those wide eyes of his. “Need you.”

Spencer hums, smiling to himself, as he settles himself between your spread legs. His hand comes up to your heat, two fingers spreading your lips before he leans in, licking a fat stripe up across your hole, to your clit. You moan shakily as he flicks at your clit, playing with you, the tip of his sharp tongue making pleasure jolt through your body.

You let out a sigh when he presses his face deeper because you didn’t think he could get any closer, and you feel his mouth on your cunt– slurping, licking, breathing heavily as he eats you out fervently. He gives you head like he was born to do it. The way he pleasures you makes your head spin, amidst all the slick, wet noises, and Spencer’s own eagerness to make you feel good.

You lock eyes with Spencer, his piercing gaze meeting yours from between your tits. It’s almost funny, but you’re too turned on to even joke about it. You tighten your grasp in his hair. He whimpers, a sound you never get tired of hearing, and the vibrations to your cunt make you shiver.

You want him in you, now. You tell him that. Spencer pulls away, his wide eyes seeming dark and serious.

He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, shiny with your slick and fluids. You watch the pink of his tongue dart out as he licks his lips. You whimper a little as he gets onto his knees between your spread legs, his nice button-up, slacks and boxers off and on the floor. You admire the smooth lines of his body, the softness of his stomach, his happy trail leading down to where he’s hard and leaking into his hand.

There are no words exchanged, just a knowing glance that tells Spencer to hurry and do it. Spencer’s always been good at following instructions, and he knows you and your likes like the back of his hand. You know he always wants to please.

One hand on your hip, Spencer’s other hand guides his cock to your hole. He teases the head of his cock over your clit, circling over your entrance. You can only imagine how wet and sticky you are down there, with Spencer’s cock making you even more of a mess.

He puts the head in, watches intently as he slides in, and you look up at Spencer, breathing hard. He stops for a moment and begins to pull out, only the tip inside of you. He’s such an ass. You glare at him. Spencer grins cheekily.

“Spencer–” His name leaves your lips brokenly as he suddenly presses himself deeper, in, in, in, until his cock is bottoming out and you feel so incredibly full. “Fuck me.”

Spencer grunts, eyebrows furrowed as he starts fucking into you. He goes hard and fast, knowing that’s how you like it: his skin slapping against yours, the slick sounds of his cock pounding into your hole downright obscene. Even while you shake from the force he’s putting into fucking you, Spencer’s face reads like he’s trying hard to keep it together, trying to concentrate on making you feel as good as he feels.

His mouth falls open as he grips the headboard, fucking you relentlessly. You hold onto his biceps for dear life, close to screaming as he rails you. Spencer moans, as your fingernails dig into his arms in your desperate need, “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight, angel. All wet for me.”

“Spencer, fuck, oh my God–!” You cry out, helpless, horny, feeling like you’re in heaven as Spencer fucks you just how you want, just how you need. His cock hits all the right places, deep inside of you, fucking you open like you’re made for him.

And then, your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body jolting with the pleasure that overtakes you. It’s so good, Spencer ramming into you till the overstimulation starts to sting, pleasure tinged with pain around the edges, and your clenching and writhing has Spencer pushed over the edge as well, his head dropping between his shoulders as he comes with a groan, loud and whiny, his load spilling inside of you.

You’re both breathing hard, but your eyes meet his, and you share a small smile. Spencer has paused, cock softening inside of you, and he kisses you softly. You taste yourself on his lips. You don’t care, and kiss him back. Both of you giggle when you pull away.

One of Spencer’s hands falls from the headboard to your body, his fingers gentle as they skirt over your curves, a sharp contrast to the way he was fucking you just moments ago. His hand slides over your breast, your stomach, your thighs – thumbing over the marks he’d left behind. Spencer presses down on one on your inner thigh. You moan as he grabs the meat of your thigh eagerly. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee.

“I love you,” you giggle softly, feeling like you got your brains fucked out. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be sweet to you, darling?” Spencer answers softly as he leans in, kissing your jaw gently. Your cheeks feel warm. “I love you too. Let me clean you up.”

You hum softly, laying back while Spencer gets up. You watch as Spencer, even more gorgeous in his post-orgasmic glow, grabs a small towel and slips onto the bathroom. He emerges quickly enough, the towel now damp, and slides back into bed next to you.

Spencer glances down at where you’re wet and messy. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, mind clearly busy, and asks, “Wanna let me finger you before we really go and get clean?”

You let out a laugh, and after a moment’s pause: “Yeah, okay."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencerreidenjoyer writes #criminal minds fanfiction

[leahwllmsn]

loss of my life

alexia putellas x reader

Alexia never brings you up during her weekly lunches with Mapi. Today is different.

; angst

It’s a harmless question that Alexia knows the answer to. She doesn’t even know what prompts her mouth to ask that question, but she feels like dying inside with every thought of you, so she doesn’t see the harm in doing so.

“y/n?” Mapi asks back. “Well, you know… She’s good, I guess.”

Alexia rolls her eyes at Mapi’s attempt to be vague. “I’m not going to break.”

Mapi looks up at her, her eyes softening. “I know,” she stays quiet for a moment. “Do you really want to know?”

Alexia looks hesitant, but she nods.

“She’s happy,” Mapi states, looking anywhere but her best friend. “She’s seeing someone. Leah. Lucy introduced them.”

Alexia averts her gaze down to her food. She knows this, she sees Leah’s face every time she opens your Instagram–a habit that she should stop doing if she wants to stop the aching in her heart.

“Ale…” Mapi sighs, placing her hand on top of Alexia’s. 

“I’m fine, Mapi,” Alexia tries to act flippant about it, but she has never been good at hiding her emotions. “I’m glad that she’s happy again.”

Mapi purses her lips, looking like she’s about to say something. After a few seconds she does, “She asked about you too, you know.”

“Really?” Alexia hates how her tone sounds, as if she’s been waiting for that to happen.

“In passing once, when we were having dinner at her place,” Mapi takes a deep breath. “Just, how you were and stuff.”

Alexia nods. That’s better than nothing. That means you still remember her somehow.

As if Mapi can read her mind, she says, “She’s not going to forget you, Ale.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“But I know you.” Mapi places her utensils down, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “By the way, this food is so good. We should come here more often. I know Ingrid would love it.”

“I miss her,” when Mapi gives her a look, she corrects herself. “Ingrid. I was talking about Ingrid.”

Mapi looks at Alexia like she doesn’t believe her, but she says nothing. “She misses you too. She’s sorry she couldn’t make it to lunch, she’s been really busy these days.”

“You two are okay… right?” Alexia knows the answer to this too, but she just needs the confirmation.

“We are,” Mapi says, her eyes instantly lighting up. “We’re set to move to the new place next month. You’re coming to the house-warming party right?”

Alexia knows that if she does, she’ll see you. She doesn’t know if she’s ready to see you again, especially now that you have someone new. Seeing her ex-fiancé with her new girlfriend on a phone screen is one thing, seeing it in front of her own eyes is another. Alexia knows Leah is visiting. It was all Keira had been talking about.

Mapi, sensing Alexia’s reluctance, gives her a small smile. “You don’t have to... How about, Ingrid and I will text you when they leave, and you can come then?”

With the amount of gatherings Alexia has missed, she starts to feel bad. She knows her situation with you is placing their mutual friends in an uncomfortable position. So she swallows her heartbreak once more and smiles at her best friend. “Don’t be silly, of course I’ll be there.”

“If you’re sure. We can always have our own after-party.”

Alexia shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I think I need to see the rest, they’ve been bugging to meet me.”

Mapi laughs. “Jana won’t shut up about how you only accept to go for lunch with Ingrid and I.”

“Yeah,” Alexia grimaces. “It’s hard when all of my friends are her friends too. Every time I see them, I just get reminded of her. I need the break. Besides, I’ll see you all when training starts again, so…”

“Do Ingrid and I not remind you of her?” Mapi looks genuinely curious.

“That’s different,” Alexia shrugs. “I’ve known you since forever, you’re my best friend. And Ingrid is Ingrid. I can’t just not see you. Even if you do remind me of her, I just have to suck it up.”

“Fair point.”

“What did you mean earlier, by the way?”

Mapi looks at her questioningly, “What about?”

Alexia stays silent, staring intently at her food. When Mapi is about to ask her one more time, she speaks up, “About her not forgetting me.”

“Oh, you know,” Mapi takes a sip of her drink. “When you two were together, you were always worried that she would forget you, which I still don’t know where that came from. She was crazy about you.”

“I don’t know either.”

That’s a lie. Alexia knows perfectly why she acted the way she did, but she’s never going to tell anyone about it. She knows that you deserve better than her, that she can never give the love that you wanted, and even though she still loves you, she wasn’t going to let you stay unhappy with her. Alexia knows that she wasn’t meant for you, she just needs to start accepting it so she can move on.

When Mapi doesn’t reply, Alexia speaks again, “It’s pathetic isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Me.”

Mapi stares at Alexia in disbelief. “Don’t say that.” “It’s true,” Alexia shrugs. “It’s been a year. She moved on, while I’m still stuck here.”

“People heal at their own time.”

Alexia takes a deep breath. “Maybe I’m not meant to heal. I only gave her pain when we were together, maybe this is my punishment.”

“Stop beating yourself down, Alexia.” Mapi looks sad, and Alexia curses herself for always putting the mood down.

“I can’t help it, I’m sorry.” Alexia tries her best to give Mapi a genuine smile. “I’ll get better. For all of you.”

Mapi leans forward, taking Alexia’s hand in hers. “I want you to get better for yourself.”

Alexia knows that, but she still can’t help but feel that she doesn’t deserve to get better.

“I kissed someone else,” Alexia reminds Mapi. “When my fiancé was waiting for me at home.”

Mapi squeezes her hand even further. “I know you have your reasons. Not that I condone cheating,” Mapi grimaces. “It’s just… You loved y/n so much, you wouldn’t do anything to ruin your relationship. Something must’ve happened.”

“I don’t know, I can’t seem to remember my excuse anymore.”

Mapi shrugs. “Well, that’s in the past. Like you said, y/n has moved on. It’s fine if you start doing the same, Ale.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Mapi grins at her. “That’s better than nothing.”

Alexia smiles back at her. “Let’s go. You told Ingrid you’re on your way thirty minutes ago, she’s going to wonder where you are.”

And when Mapi laughs, Alexia can’t help but laugh back. “She can wait. I only get to see you once a week, I see her everyday.”

“You’re lucky,” Alexia gives a wistful smile. “Spending the rest of your days with the one you love.”

“You’ll find someone again, Ale.”

Alexia knows her answer, “probably not,” and she’s about to say that when she sees the hopeful look on Mapi’s face. So she puts on her best happy face and answers, “Sure.” 

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

[sturnioz]

‘BAD BOY’ — CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

pairing. christopher sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut

word count. 1.8k

❝made just for me, aren't you?❞

content warnings. explicit content, porn without plot, mean!chris, lip ring!chris, fingering, unprotected sex, big dick!chris, dirty talk, creampie

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Chris’s voice growls, warning you to quieten down your pathetic sounds of desperation, his lip ring grazing against the shell of your ear. You shiver at the sudden contact, the coldness that nips at your skin.

You firmly press your lips together to conceal the noises that threaten to escape, all thanks to Chris’s hand that’s shoved beneath the waistband of your already ruined panties, his fingers rubbing vigorously at your clit while the other hand presses down on your stomach, holding you still against his chest.

Your legs are spread wide open, locked by his own. Your muscles ache, needing to be released from his hold but with the way the heel of his shoe digs into your calves to push them open even further, you know there’s no way you’ll be let out of this position any time soon.

Honestly, it amazes you how you ended up in this position, with Chris of all people.

Chris, so you thought, was one of the bad boy quiet types—bad in a way that his blunt personality got him into a lot of trouble, and that he didn’t give a fuck about other people and his surroundings as he mostly kept to himself, refusing to get involved with others unless it was necessary.

Chris didn’t like talking to people, and he never made the effort to make conversation with people he barely knew, always the type to hang his head low and sharply glare at whoever tried getting too close to him.

You walking over to him was a dare, all thanks to your friends, wanting to see if you could be the one to get a somewhat decent conversation out of him before he did his usual intimidation technique of glaring and ignoring.

But one moment you were both sitting on the couch together—surprisingly having small talk about something so silly and bland—and the next you were back at his place, spread open on his unmade bed on the verge of cumming.

“How are you so wet from me playing with your clit?” Chris ridicules you with a scoff, his movements refusing to slow down as you wiggle against his hold. “Are you really that easy? Are you that much of a needy slut that you get turned on from a simple touch?” Chris clicks his tongue against his teeth, “That’s fucking pathetic.”

“Chris—”

“Did I say you could speak?” 

You immediately shut up, and you throw your head back on Chris’s shoulder, staring up at the postered covered ceiling with a silent gasp as he presses the heel of his palm down on your swollen clit, rubbing in sloppy circles which has your head spinning.

His chin digs uncomfortably in your collarbone to peer down at his hand inside your underwear, scoffing at the sight of the lace dampening as his fingers stroke your puffy folds, teasing your cunt before plunging two fingers inside.

You’re in shock at how easy he’s pumping his fingers in and out of your sloppy cunt, reaching further than yours or anyone else's fingers have ever reached before. Your toes curl in pleasure, your own hands grasping at his wrist to keep yourself grounded, unable to keep your noises at a minimum.

“Louder,” Chris mutters his order. “Let me know how good my fingers fill you up.”

When he adds a third, the stretch is uncomfortable at first and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle it, but it soon dissolves into pleasure once you find yourself enjoying the feeling of being full, and your back arches against his chest, a mixture of broken moans and whines spilling from your lips. 

“Pl—ah! please, keep going… don’t—fuck—don’t stop!” You babble incoherently, no longer being able to keep quiet as he continues fucking you with his fingers, the heel of his palm rubbing over your clit for extra stimulation.

“Can you hear how wet you are?” Chris hums in your ear, pressing his lips to your lobe in a seemingly gentle kiss. “Listen to the way you sound.”

It makes you dizzy hearing how wet you are, the squelching noise of his fingers plunging into your cunt fills the room, blending in with your own cries. It’s tipping you closer and closer to the edge, that band in your stomach tightening, and with one simple curl of his fingers, you cum hard.

You’re shaking through your orgasm, and your hand grips tighter around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to stop him from overstimulating you as your legs tremble with each movement he makes. 

He removes his other hand from your stomach to rip your grip away, forcing you to stop pinching him with your nails as he continues to finger you through your orgasm, watching as your release soaks his hand and your already ruined panties. 

“There we go…” The chuckle that rumbles in his chest vibrates on your back as you slump against him, trying to catch your breath. Although, you don’t have time to get comfortable as Chris is already shoving you off of him, your body falling slack on the bed sheets as he climbs above you, shoving himself between your legs.

The panties that stick uncomfortably to your pussy are ripped off in seconds, thrown carelessly across Chris’s bedroom floor and you watch through blurred vision as his fingers quickly make work of the belt buckle on his jeans. 

Once he shoves them down his legs, kicking them off his feet with his boxers, that’s when you suck in a deep breath at the sheer size of his cock. You wonder how he was going to fit inside your cunt, and your legs instinctively close around his hips, causing his head to sharply lift up to look at you with a darkened glare.

“It’s not—it’s not going to fit…” You explain with a panicked expression, shaking your head quickly. “You’re too big. It’s not—you’re not going to fit, I—”

“Why do you think I fingered you in the first place?” Chris asks you, and his hand comes up to touch your cheek more gently than you expected, his thumb pulling down your bottom lip. “I was getting your pussy prepared, sweetheart… open and ready for me.”

His words are enough to send a shiver down your spine and your cunt desperate to be filled. You unlock your legs from around his hips, relaxing down on the bed but Chris has other plans as his hands drip the backs of your thighs to push upwards, the strain painful but you shove it to the side as he rests each of your legs on his shoulders and leans over you, leaning you squished and folded in half.

Your fingernails dig into his biceps, your face twisted into a wince as you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and you suck in a deep breath as Chris slides into you with ease, his balls form against your asscheeks as he buries himself in your wet heat.

The stretch is almost unbearable and the cramp in your thighs makes you want to shove him off and tell him you can’t take it, but the subtle roll of his hips has his cock brushing against your walls and you shiver, nails digging further into his skin with your jaw slacked. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight…” Chris hisses through his teeth, his breath fanning across your face as it hovers just above yours.

You want to kiss him badly. You haven’t kissed since the night first started, and you would be lying if you said you haven’t yearned for his lips. Even when you’ve tried to kiss him, he always pulls away, opting to bite down on his lip ring instead.

You’re slightly annoyed, baffled on why he seems so fine on fingering you and fucking you but not giving you a simple kiss. Yet the annoyance slips away when his hips draw back, only to thrust forward deeply, his skin slapping against yours.

“You’re too big,” You whimper, pressing your lips together tightly as the tears brim in the corner of your eyes. “How are you so big?”

Chris just smirks, and he turns his head to nip the skin of your leg as he fucks into you, picking up the pace with each thrust. He’s grunting loudly, and he’s swearing under his breath every time he feels your cunt squeeze around his cock.

“You’re so good, so fucking tight,” Chris mumbles, his gaze meeting yours. “Your pussy is the perfect fit… made just for me, aren’t you?” His eyes seem to darken for a moment, his grip tight on your legs. “Tell me. Tell me you’re made for me.”

“I… I’m—”

”I can’t hear you,” Chris growls with one hard thrust.

You wail loudly, throwing your head back against the pillows as the tears stream down your cheeks. “I’m made just for you!!”

“God…” Chris groans. “You’re such a good girl.”

Much to your surprise, Chris finally leans down to mould his lips with yours, the cold metal lip ring sending a shock to your core and you immediately erupt, your legs shaking on his shoulders as you cum once again.

You’re moaning against his lips, your hands sliding up his shoulders to grip the curly tufts of hair on the nape of his neck, allowing his thrusts to drive you into overstimulation as he chases his own high.

The headboard of the bed knocks against the wall with each powerful thrust of his hips, and you could honestly care less if you’re waking up his neighbours or his roommates, too focused on the way his lips feel on yours, his tongue dipping into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” Chris tells you with a whisper, sadly breaking the kiss to look you in the eyes. “Are you gonna let me cum in your pussy?”

“Yes,” You nod hastily, wanting him to fill you up. “Cum in me. Please.”

Chris grins, leaning down to press his lips to yours once more before he gives you last deep thrust and stills, groaning into your mouth as his cock pumps, filling you with his cum. You gasp, holding his hips tightly as he emptied himself inside of you, filling you to the brim just like you wanted.

Chris grunts heavily before pulling away from your lips, sitting up on his knees and letting your legs slip off of his shoulders, dropping numbly to the bed. 

You’re exhausted—you’re aching—but you watch him as Chris gazes down to where his cock is still buried deep inside your cunt, a grin spreading across his lips as his hand presses down on your lower stomach, feeling himself in your guts.

“See?” Chris hums, raising his head to meet your eyes. “Made just for me.”

© sturnioz

#©sturnioz #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets smut

[perfectlyoongi]

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who appears at your doorstep at two in the morning, eager to take you on a walk around the city under the starry sky. Jungkook would always say that he just wanted to eat, using convenience stores as an excuse to justify his need to be by your side at the most vulnerable time of the day. “come on! the night is too beautiful to be locked up at home. just an hour, please.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who finds peace in your arms, not having any shame in asking you for a hug. between smiles and winks, Jungkook used his sweet voice to persuade you to wrap him in a strong hug, a quick hug, a playful hug — it didn't matter what kind, it just had to be yours. "it is written in the stars. if you don't give me a hug, your arms will fall off. i’m just looking out for your well-being.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who never tires of saying that he adores you whenever he sees you, until he realizes that the emotion he felt was much more than adoration. Jungkook didn't stop telling you how much he liked you, he just said it less often, most of it with a pink tint on his cheeks. “you know, i know you must be tired of hearing it, but… i really like you, yea? never forget that, please.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who admires you from a distance, puppy eyes full of passion and devotion. a smile was always drawn on Jungkook's face every time he looked at you, his heart beating a little faster every time you looked at him and returned the smile. “i can swear you were created by gods and stars. it is impossible for a person like you, a soul like you, to be fully human.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who invites you to all his performances and is genuinely sad when you can't go see him. he knows you have commitments to attend to, he knows you have a life beyond your friendship, but he just wanted to have the person he liked most rooting for him. “don’t feel obligated to go, please! but i can't lie. knowing that you are there for me gives me strength to do my best.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who is filled with pride every time he sees you happy with life. Jungkook knows how cruel life can be, and he knows perfectly well that not every day will be good, but when he sees you so smiling, so playful, as if there was no evil in the world, he could only feel pride that you were so strong. “i like to see how happiness makes you more beautiful. it’s as if you were kissed by the sun itself.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who kisses you for the first time under the stars on one of your night walks. a little nervous, with his heart racing, Jungkook didn't hesitate to estabilize your relationship when his hand gently caressed your face and your lips came together in a tender, slow, passionate kiss. “let’s forget what we are just for a moment, and try to imagine what we could be together.”

#ship of bts 𐙚₊‧₊˚ #jeonjungkook #bts #jungkook #btsarmy #bangtansonyeondan #army #bangtanboys #bangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #bts jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook scnearios #bts fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fic recs #jungkook imagines #bts fic #bts rec #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk fluff

[23victoria]

Pink + White ❀

lewis hamilton x fem!reader

wc: 1.2k+

warnings: none just fluff!

authors note: oneshot!! this is literally just fluff!!! inspired by pink + white by frank ocean!! don’t know how i feel about this one either 😭 any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

f1 masterlist

"It's always something with you, isn't it? It's always an emergency," you say cheekily, a playful smile spreading across your face as you stand at the doorway of Lewis’s driver room. The paddock is a hive of activity, the anticipation for the race buzzing in the air, but here, in this moment, it feels like just the two of you.

Lewis grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he sits on the edge of the small sofa. "What can I say? I needed to see you. Forgot my headphones, can you believe that?" He pats his thighs, inviting you over.

You roll your eyes, knowing full well that the 'emergency' was just an excuse to steal a moment with you. “I knew it! You didn’t forget your headphones. You just wanted to see me.”

He laughs, a warm, rich sound that makes your heart flutter. "Guilty as charged. Come here," he says, his hands reaching out for you.

You step closer, and he gently pulls you between his legs, his hands settling comfortably on your waist. The familiar warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine. You lean into him, your foreheads touching, sharing a quiet moment amid the pre-race chaos.

"I missed you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "I’ve been so busy today with meetings and interviews, I barely had a second to myself."

You smile, your hands resting on his shoulders. "I missed you too. It’s been a hectic day."

He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I couldn’t wait until after the race to see you. I needed a little bit of you to get through the day."

You feel a warmth spread through you, your heart swelling with affection. "Well, here I am," you say softly. "Consider this your pre-race good luck charm."

Lewis’s grin widens, and he leans in to kiss you. It’s a gentle, lingering kiss that makes your heart race. When he pulls back, he starts peppering kisses all over your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead—making you giggle.

“Lewis!” you laugh, trying to squirm away from his playful assault. “You’re going to smudge my makeup!”

He chuckles, his hands firm on your waist. "I don’t care. I want my kisses!"

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so clingy and cute, it’s adorable.”

For a few minutes, you just stay like that, wrapped up in each other, sharing soft kisses and whispered words. It’s a precious respite from the frenzy of the race day, a moment to recharge and reconnect.

As the minutes tick by, you continue to chat, the conversation flowing easily between you. You talk about everything and nothing—his meetings, your plans for the rest of the day, little inside jokes that only the two of you share. It’s these moments, the simple, everyday interactions, that make your relationship so special.

Lewis’s fingers trace idle patterns on your back as he talks, his touch sending pleasant shivers down your spine. "You know," he says, a thoughtful look crossing his face, "I’ve been thinking about taking some time off after the season ends. Just you and me, somewhere quiet. What do you think?"

Your eyes light up at the idea. "I think that sounds perfect. Where were you thinking?"

"Maybe a beach somewhere. Just us, the ocean, and no distractions."

You smile, imagining the two of you lounging on a sunny beach, the sound of the waves in the background. "That sounds amazing. I’d love that."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. "Then it’s a plan."

You kiss him softly, your heart swelling with love. "I can’t wait."

The sound of a knock on the door breaks the spell, and you both look up, slightly startled. Lewis sighs, his hands slipping from your waist. “Time to go.” he says reluctantly.

You nod, stepping back to give him space. "I know. Go do what you do best. I’ll be cheering for you."

He stands, pulling you into a final, tight hug. "Thank you for coming baby, even if it was just for a few minutes. I needed this."

You squeeze him back, your head resting against his chest. "Anytime, baby. I’m always here for you."

He kisses the top of your head, then reluctantly lets you go. "I’ll see you after the race."

You smile, giving him one last kiss on the lips before heading for the door. "Good luck. I love you."

"I love you too," he replies, watching you leave, a soft smile on his face.

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

A few days later, you’re at home, the quiet peace a stark contrast to the wild energy of the race track. You’re in the kitchen, baking some of Lewis’s favorite cookies, when you hear the door open.

“Baby, I’m home!” Lewis calls out, his voice filling you with warmth.

“In the kitchen!” you reply, smiling as you wipe your hands on a towel.

Lewis walks in, his face lighting up when he sees you. “Something smells amazing,” he says, coming over to wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Just a little treat for my hardworking husband,” you say, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

He smiles, a contented sigh escaping him. “You always know how to make everything better.”

You lean back into him, savoring the warmth of his embrace. “I try.”

The two of you spend the rest of the evening together, enjoying the simple pleasures of home. After dinner, you settle on the couch, Lewis’s head resting in your lap as you run your fingers through his hair.

“I’ve been thinking about that beach trip we talked about,” he says, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“Oh? Have you made any plans?” you ask, intrigued.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve booked us a place in the Maldives. Just you, me, and the ocean.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and delight. “Lew, that sounds amazing honey! When do we leave?”

“Next week,” he replies, grinning at your reaction.

You lean down to kiss him, your heart overflowing with love. “I can’t wait.”

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

The moment you step off the plane, you’re enveloped by the warm, salty breeze and the sound of waves gently crashing against the shore. It’s paradise, and you can’t wait to explore it with Lewis.

Your villa is a stunning overwater bungalow, complete with a private deck and direct access to the crystal-clear ocean. As you step inside, you’re greeted by the sight of a beautifully decorated space, the perfect blend of luxury and comfort.

“This place is beautiful,” you say, turning to Lewis with a wide smile.

He pulls you into his arms, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “I wanted this to be special. Just for us.”

“It’s perfect. I love you.,” you reply smiling, feeling a surge of gratitude and love.

“I love you” he says as his lips meet yours.

Bonus:

y/n_ig

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, beyoncè, oscarpiastri and 5,968,987 others

life with you ❤️

comments have been limited 

lewishamilton

liked by y/n_ig, charlesleclerc, almave, gerogerussell, oscarpiastri and 5,998,937 others

is perfect ❤️

comments have been limited

© 23victoria 2024 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate, or claim my work as your own.

#ꨄ࿎victoria’s writings!࿎ꨄ #lewis hamilton #f1 lewis #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one #formula 1 smau #lh44 #fluff #lewis hamilton fluff

[talaok]

Your hands around my neck

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You choke Joel for the first time in bed, and he likes it... maybe even a bit too much.

Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, choking, premature ejaculation, kind of sub!Joel, dirty talk.

a/n: how ironic that lately ive been the most creative that ive been in months. right when writing should be the last thing on my mind.

You were on top of him, and his gaze was glued to you.

To your tits bouncing with your movements, to your parted mouth emanating desperate sounds, to your eyes shutting as you threw your head back, to your nails clawing at his chest, and to where your bodies became one.

He was mesmerized by you like he always was,

and while he lost himself in the pleasure you brought, in how fucking good you were making him feel, and how fuking perfect you looked doing it... he didn't catch the switch in your expression, the mischievous grin pulling at your lips, or the way your hands were suddenly traveling up his chest, until finally-

His eyes widened the moment your hands wrapped around his neck, putting just enough pressure for him to lose his mind.

A groan loud enough for the entire town to hear erupted from his chest, as pleasure so fucking deep into his core took over his body.

"You like that?" you taunted, biting down a grin as you kept bouncing on his cock

"fuck-goddamn-" he could only grunt, his head tilting backward, his eyes just about rolling to the back of his head as his chest rose and fell like he'd just come back to life.

He didn't know what any of this was. What this feeling, this ecstasy, this pleasure came from.

But god it felt good.

"You like having my hands around your neck baby?" you hummed, tightening your hold just enough to watch a needy cry flee his lips "you look so pretty like this" You smiled,

and fuck him, but Joel was gone. he was in another universe, he was in heaven, and he was-

he was about to come

"darlin-'" he tried to warn you

"shh" you stopped him "There's no need to talk now" you shook your head, lowering yourself until your mouth could ghost his "just take what I give you" you said, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and biting "you're doing so good for me baby"

Good Christ and heaven

His pride went flying out the window. Any shame, any embarrassment that he ever could have felt, dissipated into nothing as he heard himself whimper- as he moaned your name like a prayer... as his cock twitched into your cunt, painting your walls with his come.

"fuck-I'm sorry sweetheart-" he started apologizing immediately once he came back down from cloud nine and realized what had happened.

Only of course you were smiling like a kid as you freed his neck from your hold.

"you're sorry?"

"Yeah" he breathed, watching you closely as you moved some sweaty hair out of his forehead "I don't know what happened- I- I've never-"

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen Joel" You cut him off "Did you like it?"

And at that, Joel couldn't help but chuckle

If it had been anybody else, he would have been mortified, he realized, but with you... there was no such thing

"I think the proof of how much I liked it is leakin' out of you as we speak, darlin'"

You giggled, your eyes trailing to where your bodies still joined, noticing exactly what he was talking about.

"Oh I'm gonna have so much fun with this" you murmured, both of you smiling like idiots as your mouth crushed with one another.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller blurb #joel miller angst #fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader