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fanwarriorfictions · 2 days

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Not Again - Part Eleven

Summary: The morning after leaves Y/n and Azriel wanting more, but that will have to wait.

Warnings: a little spicy, no smut but it’s close, and she is Angstyyyyy

Series Masterlist

-Part Eleven-

She woke, surrounded by a familiar warmth and scent, home, she was home. The sun was shining behind her eyelids, she was hesitant to open them, to completely wake from the deepest and most peaceful slumber she had ever had in her life. When she finally forced her eyes open, it had taken a moment for her to register exactly where she was, not her bedroom in the palace of Orynth, but her room in the house of wind, and the scent of a male beside her, one that smelled of the libraries she’d spent most of her life in.

Azriel’s arms were around her, holding her close to his chest, Y/n still completely bare against him, Azriel still only half dressed, his wings splayed out across the bed on either side of him, one wrapping around them like a blanket.

He was awake, scarred hand lazily tracing shapes across her back. He halted when she lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were so beautiful in the morning sunlight, so beautiful she wondered why he spent so much time in the dark, when he could look like this. His hair a mess from sleep, from her hands pulling on the strands. His skin washed in the golden light, displaying each of those slightly red lines across his chest and shoulders that matched the shape of her nails.

“Have you been staring at me all morning?”

His answering smile turns the pit of her stomach molten, “Good morning, Princess.”

“Morning, shadowsinger.” She raises a hand to his face, thumb lightly ghosting over the small split on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel nips lightly at her thumb, “Don’t be. You’re a vicious little thing but I can handle it.”

She grins, “You love it, don’t lie.”

His head tilts in that predator like motion, something in her likes the feeling of being his prey. Azriel’s hand continues to draw those small shapes across her back, his fingers trailing across her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It reminds her that she’s completely naked, half laying on top of him. And she had a score to settle from the night before, a glorious score at that. She had never felt that in her life, the intensity of it, the passion, she had felt completely boneless afterwards, like her body was trying to process the sheer amount of pleasure it felt.

Her hand drifts lazily down his chest, over those raised scratches, over the dark black tattoos, down the hard muscles of his stomach. Only for her wrist to be caught between his large fingers.

She glares up at him, “Don’t ruin my fun.”

“Later, Princess.” There’s a dark haze to his eyes like he wanted nothing more than to say, now, now, now. “I promise you can have your fun, later. When did you last eat?”

She bristles at the concern in his voice, “I-“

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he interrupts, “Your stomach was growling in your sleep.”

She rips her hand free and smacks his chest, glaring at the way he laughs at her, “No it wasn’t.”

“You were drooling to,” he grins, “Dreaming of a roast dinner I’m sure.”

“You-“

He catches her hand before she can hit him again, lifting her wrist to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside, right abover her pulse. It flutters beneath his smirking lips and she wishes he’d press them to her own instead.

“Breakfast,” Azriel says, placing her hand directly above his beating heart, “You can tell me all about your little adventures from the past few days. And then you can have your fun, and I can have mine.”

The way his voice drops, that gravely sound that makes her clench around nothing. By the way he smirks, Y/n is sure he can scent the arousal pooling between her legs, she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of trying to hide it, despite how she desperately wants to press her thighs together.

“Fine,” she says, pushing off of his chest to sit up, “Breakfast and a story, and then I have my way with you, shadowsinger.”

She doesn’t miss the way his eyes fall to her breasts, to the purple marks littering all over her chest, she’d repay him for those too. His hand slides down her back, resting just above her ass, fingers pressing firmly into her skin to hold her in place.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, like a prayer only meant for her to hear.

“Still thinking about breakfast,” she taunts.

He answers without hesitation, “Yes.”

By the way his gaze travels down her body, whiskey eyes turning to the deepest amber she’d ever seen, Y/n is sure he’s thinking about another feast. Gods she wanted him to devour her again, to feel that tongue between her legs, those fingers stretching her, preparing her for the impressive size of him that she’d felt beneath his leathers.

“Breakfast first,” he groans, throwing his head back on the pillows, “Breakfast first.”

Y/n laughs at the image, “You ruin your own fun, shadowsinger.”

“It’s what I’m good at,” he says darkly, not looking at her, “Get dressed, Princess.”

Y/n rolls her eyes at the command, “What? You don’t enjoy the view?”

The hand on her back slides down, gripping the soft flesh of her ass almost painfully. Y/n nearly moans at the sensation, sitting back into his palm.

“Get dressed,” he orders again, squeezing her even harder, “You’re distracting.”

“Poor, shadowsinger,” she coos, pushing his hand off so she can climb off the bed, “Sees a pair of tits and loses all functionality.”

Azriel chuckles darkly, eyeing her chest, “Must you make everything more difficult than necessary?”

She turns towards her dresser, feeling the weight of his gaze drift down to her backside. There’s a set of night court style clothes, in her colors, green and silver laying out on the dresser for her. Y/n takes her time, bending over to step into the tiny little scrap of lace the house deemed as undergarments, slowly pulling it up her legs, over her ass. Azriel’s eyes burn into her, watching each deliberate motion as she dresses.

“Are you planning to eat breakfast half dressed,” she throws a raised brow over her shoulder, catching the hungry look in his eye, “I won’t complain.”

A plain black shirt appears in his lap, one he looks keen on ignoring, “It would seem the house would.”

“Insufferable busybody.” She lifts her own shirt above her head, making sure to turn just enough to let him see all of her, “Put your shirt on, shadowsinger. I’m hungry.”

“I can hear that from here.” He laughs at her glare, throwing his shirt over his head, deft fingers quickly buttoning the backs beneath his wings. “Lead the way, Princess.”

Azriel marked it as a testament of his will, to walk behind her, to have her lingering arousal in his nose, to watch those hips sway, to see that beautiful bruise on her neck and not press her against the closest wall and take her from behind. He’d spent enough time the night before admiring her front, he’d neglected the view from this angle, and what a view it was. He had many plans to rectify that.

She sends him a wicked smile over her shoulder, like she knew exactly where his thoughts had drifted off to, like he’d shouted them down the bond between them.

He hadn’t, the moment he’d woken this morning he’d taken that shadow that connected them and smothered it in his chest, locking away his raging need to scream that she was his mate, to beg her to stay with him, to accept him for all his faults and scars. He shoved it all in a box in the corner of his mind, locked behind chains and walls. When she’d woken, and she’d looked up at him with those eyes full of wonder, it almost broke him. That was a testament to his strength, to hold back the words, my mate, you’re my mate.

There was a feast prepared in the dining room. Pastries and fruits and meats and cheeses, several kinds of juices and teas and coffees to choose from. The house was a busybody indeed, he could hear Y/n grumbling under her breath at it. He wasn’t the only one that knew she was hungry, had she even eaten when she’d been gone? Had she even stopped to rest? The need to know where she’d been, what she’d done, overrode his need to fuck her against the table, barely, but it did.

Azriel carefully watches her fill her plate, noting the way she piles it high with the sweet pastries, little bits of fruit scattered throughout, like it would balance out the sheer amount of sugar. Once she sat, making a cup of black tea, the only thing not filled with enough sugar to send him into a coma, Azriel fills his own plate, balanced and protein filled like he always took his breakfast. He could almost hear Cassian chiding him for the single raspberry tart he adds to the mix.

Y/n bites into one of her own tarts, blueberry by the smell of it, and lets out a deliberate little moan. Every instinct in him zeroes in on the sound, but he forces it away, she wanted a reaction out him, she wouldn’t get one.

“Are you ready to tell me where you went?”

The sigh she lets out shows just how disappointed she is about her little preformance not working on him. He almost smiles, almost concedes that inch.

“I flew north,” she says, sipping on her tea, “I didn’t know where I was going, I just-“

She cuts herself off, and any lust fades from them both as she looks down at the table. Working through whatever it was she was thinking, whatever she was feeling. It was his fault, the things he’d said to her that night, lashing out at her because he was so scared of himself, of his own problems.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “About what I said, you’re not-“

“I am,” she interrupts, looking up at him with hazy eyes, “I am a coward, you were right.”

The resignation almost breaks him. Behind the thick walls of his mind he could feel her breaking on the other side, he hated it, hated himself for causing it.

“No I wasn’t-“

“Yes, yes you were.” She looks past him, out the windows beyond, “I flew north, as far as I could into the snow capped mountains, hoping if I flew far enough I would find Terrasen, that I could go home, go back to my perfect life, where I was safe and loved and had never felt the hardships that so many have been through before me.”

She laughs without any humor, “My mother was raised by an abusive monster after seeing her parents dead in their bed. She was a slave, she was tortured, beaten, forced to give everything she was to save the world. My father found the woman he thought was his mate, was to have a child with her, only to have her die while he was fighting for the queen who’d fucked with his mind. And then there’s me, the spoiled little princess who falls apart because she’s lost.”

Those silent tears fall down her cheeks, her breathing is steady, no sobs, just this quiet breaking. It shatters his heart.

“And I’m such a coward, that instead of facing my own bullshit, of pulling myself together,” she continues, “I try to force myself on you, try to force you to fix the broken parts of me. I don’t blame you for not wanting that, for calling me out on it. I ran away because you were right, and I couldn’t handle it. I ran because I couldn’t face the truth that, that I am nothing, my family is filled with hero’s, of stories, and I am nothing but a coward who failed her own.”

“No-“

“Yes,” she takes a deep breath, “I failed so spectacularly that I almost got myself and you-“

Her voice breaks for the first time and Azriel wants to hold her in his arms, to hold the shattering pieces of her together, but there’s the cursed table between them, holding him back yet again from her. He rests his hand on the table, scarred palm up in offering, for her to take it, for him to hold them both together, she takes it.

“I almost got us killed,” she breathes, voice so soft and broken, “and that scared me so much, and that scared me even more, the fear of losing you, of being the reason of it-“

“You’re not going to lose me, Princess.” He squeezes her hand tightly in his own, “We will figure this out, we will get you home, I promise.”

He hates himself for the selfish though that crosses his mind, the hope, that they wouldn’t figure it out, and if they did, maybe she would chose to stay with him. He knew she wouldn’t.

“Together,” she says, “No more fighting, we’ll do this together, shadowsinger.”

And he nods, ignoring the cracks in his heart, “Together, Princess.”

Y/n felt so tired, so raw after that conversation, after baring her heart and soul to Azriel. Any lingering heat in her from the night before, from that morning, had disappeared with every broken word that came from her lips. Azriel seemed to understand that without her having to tell him, like he always did. If she didn’t have that protection engraved into her brow, she’d assume he was a daemati, as Rhys had called his power, able to reach into her mind and read her thoughts and emotions.

Instead of dragging him back to her room, like she had originally planned during their walk to the dining room, she asked him to fly with her. And he said yes without hesitation.

The wind felt marvelous on her wings, the early morning spring chill still lingering. Velaris was beautiful in the morning light, though she knew it truly shone at night beneath the stars. There were fae roaming through the streets, some brave enough to look up and wave at the shadowsinger as he passed. Y/n almost laughed when he awkwardly waved back.

She dove down towards a bustling market, the palace of salt and bone if the delicious scents of fresh bread and spices drifting through her nose were any indication. With a flash she was in her fae form again, walking through a crowd of fae who starred at her and her winged companion who lands directly behind her.

“Trying to give someone a heart attack?” He asks, rolling his eyes at the grin she sends over her shoulder.

Azriel falls in step beside her and she notes the lack of his usual shadows. It reminds her of their first encounter, when she hadn’t been able to understand him, scared and hurt. He’d sent them away to not frighten her anymore than she already was. The people of Velaris were well aware of who and what he was, and by the gleam in most eyes they passed, she was sure none of them would be truly scared of the shadowsinger.

“The markets in Orynth are a lot like this,” Y/n says, admiring a baker’s stand, “My mother and I go once a month to buy as many sweets as our hands can carry.”

“I assume you inherited your sweet tooth from her?” Azriel picks up a decorated cookie and pulls a few coins from his pocket for the high fae female behind the stand. “Here.”

Y/n grins and takes the cookie from his outstretched hand, “My father swears he doesn’t have one but I’ve seen him sneaking through our hauls. And he always has a chocolate cake for his birthday. My mother once made him one, he told me it was the worst thing he’d ever eaten but he ate every single bite.”

Azriel chuckles, “If she’s anything like you I’d say he’s a smart male.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” she glares, fighting back a grin.

Azriel smirks, “nothing, Princess.”

“Careful, shadowsinger.” She lets a small ice cold breeze push through his hair, over his wings, noting the shiver that runs down his spine, “Oh? Are those sensitive?”

And something she never thought she would see happens. A flush covers the shadowsinger’s cheeks, faint and barely visible on his deep tanned skin. But she sees it and her smile turns feline.

“I can see the idea forming in your head,” Azriel says, forcing that calm mask over his features to hide the blush, “don’t start something you don’t want to finish.”

“Oh I definitely want to finish,” Y/n says, letting another breeze cross directly over the sharp talon at the tip of his wing, “I have a score to settle, remember?”

Azriel takes a step closer to her, looking down at her with delightful intensity, “Careful, Princess.”

“Or what?” She lifts her hand, lightly dragging a finger over his forearm, “Big sensitive male, can’t handle a little teasing?”

“Careful,” Azriel says lowly, so no one passing can hear, only for her, “Or I take you into the shadows, and we’ll see who’s more sensitive.”

Her toes curl, the pit of her stomach turning molten, “Scandalous, shadowsinger.”

The hand on his arm gently reaches back, dragging over the soft membrane of a single wing. Azriel doesn’t let her dig her claws into him, he wraps those scarred fingers around her forearm and she’s engulfed in shadows. The familiar feeling of transporting falls over her, like stepping through a door into another part of the world. Her uncle had the ability, one of the rare few in her world, he’d taken her on many adventures using the ability, she was used to the disorienting feeling.

She doesn’t have the chance to see where they are, the world still covered in shadow, before her back is pressed to a wall, her hands held firmly above her head. Azriel’s mouth collides with her’s in a burning kiss. No gentleness, only fiery passion. Each stroke of his tongue sends a shock of need through her, all the way down to her core.

“You test my patience,” he grounds out against her mouth, nipping at her already swollen bottom lip, “Is this what you want, to be fucked against a back alley wall?”

He doesn’t let her respond, only takes her mouth again in that claiming kiss. She wants to touch him, to run her hands over those wings and see just how sensitive they really are, but he keeps her hands trapped against the wall above them, both wrists held in just one of his scarred palms. His other hand trails down her body, ghosting over the places she really wants him to stop and take his time.

She tries and fails to arch into his touch, his body pining her to the wall, one of his legs shoved between her own, thigh pressed to her aching center. Her hips writhe, seeking the friction she desperately needs.

Azriel laughs against her lips, “What? Can’t handle a little teasing?”

He mocks her words from the street and she’s almost to lost in the intensity of everything to be annoyed by it, almost. Y/n nips at his lip like he’d done to her, catching that already spilt bottom lip with her canine.

Azriel winces, just enough for her to be satisfied, “Vicous little creature.”

His hand grips her hip, almost painfully, coaxing her to move against his thigh. The motion makes her dizzy, her head falling back against the wall. Azriel takes the opportunity to attack her neck, almost instantly finding that spot that makes her see stars, giving her a matching bruise on the other side of her neck.

“Az,” she gasps, “Gods please.”

She can feel him smirk against her neck, and she almost sobs when he backs away.

Her hands fall to her sides as she gapes up at the smirking male, “What are you-“

“The first time I take you,” he says wickedly, that insufferable smirk growing wider, “will not be a quick fix in an alleyway, where anyone could walk by and catch us. I plan to take my time with you, Princess, to make you scream without a potential audience.”

She glares up at him, “You bast-“

“You can curse at me all you want,” Azriel says, “when we get back home, Princess.”

Home, for the first time since she’d been here, the word didn’t send a shock of pain through her. Azriel gives her a look, like he knew what she was thinking, like he was asking her if she was alright. Surprisingly, she was.

“Lead the way, shadowsinger.”

Azriel holds out a hand to her, pulling her close to his chest when she grabs it. Shadows wrap around them and they step through that invisible doorway. It’s bright when they emerge, and they’re falling, towards the house of wind far far below them. Azriel’s arms wrapped tightly around her, wings flaring to catch the wind, it feels strange to fly not in her hawk form, to rely solely on another’s wings to keep her from plummeting to the ground below them. But Azriel hold firm, and they gently drift to the balcony. Y/n is itching to get on the ground, to drag him to her room.

They land, Azriel gently setting her feet on the floor, arms still wrapped around her, pressing her close to his body, shadows dancing around them. She can feel them whispering against her skin, she can’t understand them, but Azriel’s eyes shine with an emotion she can’t read.

“What are they-“

Footsteps, thundering down the hall beyond the open archway behind her. Her head snaps towards the sound, Azriel holding her tighter to him. His shadows press closely to her like they would shield her from whoever was running towards them, whatever danger they’d bring with them.

“Wrap it up lovebirds,” Cassian’s booming voice, he rounds the corner, wings flared wide in a fighting stance, “Something’s wrong with the gate.”

Y/n’s heart stops dead in her chest, she barely feels the way Azriel’s arms loosen in shock around her. She could feel it suddenly, that ancient and wicked presence, distant but growing stronger, pay the price.

She rips away from Azriel, wincing at that voice growing stronger, louder in her mind, it felt like claws tearing into her brain, gods killer, pay the price, pay her price.

“Rhys and Feyre are containing it as best they can, neither of them could reach you,” Cassian says, the voice of a general, “Nes is on standby with the trove.”

Y/n barely registers the words, what the trove was she didn’t care, just prayed that whatever it was could help them. She’s running for the hallway, only to be stopped by a strong hand wrapped around her bicep.

“You’re not just going to run in there,” Azriel says, voice as hard as the hand on her arm, “That thing wants you, I can feel it chanting your name. It’ll kill you.”

She could too, could hear it in her head, Y/n, Y/n, pay the price of the gods killer, pay it Y/n, pay it.

“I’m not going to sit here and let it kill all of you instead,” Y/n snaps, tugging at his iron grip. “Let me go, Azriel.”

His harden gaze breaks just enough, showing the fear behind the rage, “Y/n, don’t do this, we’ll figure this out together, I can’t, I-“

“Let me go, Az,” she repeats, more gently than before, yet still demanding, “Let me go.”

Cassian steps forward, a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “We’ve got to go, Az. They can’t hold it back forever.”

His whole face shutters, and Y/n feels the echo of his pain, it hurts her heart, her soul. She stands tall on her toes, tilting her head to capture his lips on her own, this kiss is the opposite of any they’d shared before, no heat, no passion, just the soft broken promise of whatever ties them together, whatever could have been between them.

“Let me go,” she whispers against him, and this time when she pulls her arm away, he lets her.

Come to me, Y/n, pay your mother’s price.

She’s running towards that voice, to that promise of death, she had no idea what she would face, no idea if her death would be painful, if there would be anything left of her soul or if she would be left with nothing.

Cassian and Azriel run after her, their footfalls like the ticking hands of a clock, marking the dwindling seconds left of her life. She’s half tempted to shift, to fly through the halls as fast as she can, to leave Azriel far enough behind so he wouldn’t have to witness the carnage.

They round the final corner, the green light of the gate flooding the hallway through the open door. Y/n charges inside, ignoring the shouts of warning from the males behind her.

Rhys is holding Feyre close to his side, both High Lady and Lord intensely focused on the shield they forged around the open gate. The black depths in the center reveal nothing of the world it resides in or creature beyond, but she can feel its presence, it’s anger.

“It’s waiting,” Nesta calls from the other side of Feyre, a glowing steel sword poised to strike in her hands, another is strapped to her back, the hilt as black as night, “It hasn’t moved since we got here.”

Cassian runs to his mate’s side, “Where’s the trove?”

“Ready,” Nesta replies, “In case this all goes to shit.”

Shadows wrap around Y/n’s wrists, gently caressing the skin and winding up her arms. Azriel stands by her side, the mask of deathly calm firmly in place, the only mark of his fear, his hand that firmly grips her own. She holds him just as tightly, he has to feel the way her hands shake.

There she is, finally. The voice shifts, female, ancient but somehow young. Your mother’s pride and joy, her precious Mala’s fire burning in your veins.

Y/n’s fire stirs in response, that deep well of it in the pit of her stomach waking up like the goddess had called for it, like it recognized the name of the other goddess it had come from. She has to dampen it with her own ice kissed wind. Keep it contained.

“Should I talk to a void,” Y/n says, using that bravado, hiding her fear, “Or are you to vicious sight to behold.”

The black hole ripples and a glowing pale hand reaches through. They all shift, drawing weapons, raising them towards the creature that crawls through the portal, the shield that Feyre and Rhys hold is reinforced by Y/n’s wind, and a red light from the siphons on Cassian’s armor. A blue light surrounds Y/n, and she doesn’t have to look to know it’s from Azriel’s own siphons.

The female that emerges from the inky black is beautiful, glowing skin, dark black hair that flows over her turned down face and across her body, a simple white gown covering her, long slits at the sides revealing sleek long legs, feet clad in golden sandals. Beautiful. Yet when she looks up, when her hair parts, Y/n feels like she’s going to be sick.

Turquoise eyes, ringed with silver, stare at her from a face so scarred that the rest of her features are barely discernible. Her mouth moves in what Y/n assumes is a grin.

“Beautiful,” the goddess says, “am I not?”

She’d survived the creatures her mother had subjected the gods to, somehow she’d managed to live, barely, but she’d survived.

“Who are you,” Nesta says, that blade pointed directly at the goddess’s throat.

Those eyes narrow at Nesta, and pass right through her towards the High Lady behind her. The attention draws a warning growl from her mate’s throat, one from Nesta as well, the goddess ignores them both.

“A huntress,” she coos at Feyre, “I’d recognize one of my own anywhere.”

Huntress. Y/n’s body locks up, and Azriel at her side takes a casual step in front of her, like he could sense exactly what dots she was connecting. The shadows wrap around her, that blue shield settling over her like armor.

The motion draws the goddess’s attention to them, her head tilting in a predator like motion, “Well this is interesting.”

“Deanna,” Y/n breathes, “You’re Deanna.”

The goddess chuckles, “So she didn’t erase us completely. Do the mortals in your realm still worship us faithfully? Or do they worship Aelin Galathynius, their glorious savior?”

Deanna practically spits her mother’s name, and that well of power inside of Y/n rumbles. Azriel, squeezes her hand once, twice, calm down, he seems to tell her, like he could feel the fire beneath her skin, warming their joined hands. He doesn’t flinch from the heat, doesn’t shy away from her, only holds her tighter, not afraid.

“Did she raise her precious daughter to hide behind pretty males?” Deanna laughs, “She didn’t want to share the spotlight I’m sure.”

“What do you want?” Azriel says, cutting straight to the point, “Why are you here?”

Deanna tuts at him, “You males have no manners. Someone aught to train you.”

To fast, she moved to fast. Y/n didn’t see her arm raise, didn’t see that bow materialize in her hands, didn’t see her draw back that string, all she saw was that golden arrow, flying through the air faster than it possibly could, propelled by that ancient magic of Deanna’s. It splits through every shield, through the wall of shadows, directly into Azriel’s chest.

She felt it in her own, that sharp searing pain, his and her own. The scream tears through her, ripping her throat to shreds, bleeding through her lips. Azriel falls, the grip on her hand falling with him, his shadows disappear, scattering into the corners of the room, leaving their master below her, bleeding, dying.

Dead, dead, she killed him, gone, dead. There’s this string tied to her heart, twisting and pulling, reaching for him, a tether between that she yanks on, begging him to stay. She’s screaming and screaming and lunging through those shields, Azriel’s own dagger in her hands, she doesn’t remember grabbing it.

Deanna is smiling beneath those scars, laughing, “Finally.”

Fire, burning through her, Mala’s fire, so hot it burns blue. It imbues into the dagger, the black blade spitting those blue flames as Y/n takes it to the goddess’ throat. Deanna doesn’t move, doesn’t fire an arrow, doesn’t burn her with that moon fire.

She simply sighs, “Pay the price, Y/n, finish what your mother started, let me finally rest with my kin.”

Y/n gives her exactly what she wants, what she gave Azriel, death. His dagger finds home in her throat, fire burning through the goddess, turning her to ash from the inside out. Time seems to completely stop, seconds turning to hours, to days, to years, Deanna burns and burns for a millennium, till there’s nothing left but that ancient bow and the golden arrow in Azriel’s chest.

Time shifts, moves faster and faster. The inner court is screaming around her, screaming for a healer, for Azriel, for her. She doesn’t hear them, doesn’t even know who or where she is, she simply collapses, throwing up a shield of hard air around her and Azriel. And she lays her head on her mate’s chest and screams.

Tag list

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#I am actually screaming over this one #i love them your honor #they finally are able to talk like normal people #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin #not again #a court of thorns and roses

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mrswarnerxo · 3 days

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❪ ✦ ❫ grayson’s morning routine.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: grayson hawthorne x fem!reader.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: grayson hawthorne has a long routine for the morning; but his half-asleep-willing-girlfriend will make it all better.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, pet names, sleepy, female reader, forehead kisses, waking up early, swimming (are those even warnings?), use of Y/N, softie grayson (?)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 1073

𝐀/𝐍: bro reader is me. also idk i saw this on a fanfic or like a headcanon with grayson but i forgot who made it?? TRLL ME WHO IT IS SO I COULD KNOW AND TAG THEM GRAHGG??

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃: ✓

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @evaswarner @sc11vb @sophiesonlinediary @starrynightsxo @f4iry-bell @his-littlefox @viivdle

grayson hawthorne has a strict morning routine. wake up at 5 to swim, swim until the others wake up, take a shower, get dressed, get coffee, and do whatever grayson does.

now, having a girlfriend who hates mornings, though, makes his routine have some… holes in it. though, whenever she said she wanted to do it with him, he couldn’t lie that he was happy with it.

“are you sure you want to wake up with me tomorrow, love?” he asks, looking at you nervously. you grin at him. “yeah, i’m sure. plus, i’m tired of not waking up with you in bed, so…” you trail off.

grayson lifts an eyebrow before sighing. “okay, but if you’re too tired to, just tell me and you could go back to bed, okay?”

“i know, don’t worry!”

now, you know that he wakes up early. but you never knew how early.

“love,” grayson says as he lightly shakes your shoulders. you groan tiredly, turning on your side. “Y/N, you said you wanted to wake up with me.”

“yeah, but i never knew how early…” you mumble, your eyes still closed. he chuckles lightly. “you said you wanted to, right?”

“mhm.”

“then come on.”

sighing, you blink your eyes open before rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you look up at the blond above you and hum.

you wrap your arms around his neck and close your eyes again. “‘cmon, pick me up,” you mumble, digging your face in his neck. grayson tries to hide his smile as he puts a hand behind the small of your back and picks you up with him.

you wrap your legs around him as he walks to the walk-in closet and sets you down again.

you yawn, rubbing your eyes as grayson gets out his swimming trunks and your bathing suit. “do you want to swim with me?” he asks, looking up at you from his crouching position.

you shrug and say i don’t know with your mouth closed. he rolls his eyes at you, amused as he takes the swimming clothes.

you watch him as he takes his swimming trunks and walks into the restroom with them. you frown. you’ve already seen everything, why does he need to change in the bathroom?

but, you suppose that him sleeping without a shirt is a reward itself already. even though the reason why, was a whole nother conversation that you two already had.

soon, he comes back out with his swimming trunks on and you grab your swimming suit and walk into the restroom.

you tiredly—slowly—change into your swimming suit, the feeling of the fabric against your dry skin making you feel weird. of course, it’ll feel better once you're wet, but still.

you toss your dirty clothes on the wall, where a piece of it opens and takes the clothes before closing again.

you snort and roll your eyes. rich people. walking back out, you see grayson making his bed with two towels on his shoulder and if you were any other person, you’d find this weird, cleaning while he’s in his swimming trunks.

if you were any other person.

he spots you walking out and straightens his back, offering his hand to you. smiling—still tired, surprisingly—you take his hand.

he smiles back and takes you out of his room and to the swimming pool. he swims until everyone else wakes up, he told you. you wonder how long that exactly takes.

all of the rooms are still dark as he makes it to the swimming pool, sliding open the see-through door.

still holding your hand, he steps outside and to one of the pool chairs, putting down the towels on top of it.

you hum and sit on the chair, bringing your legs to your chest.

“do you want to stay here?” grayson asks, lifting an eyebrow at you. you nod at him. “i’ll go in later,” you say, making him form a little smile at you.

he was never one to smile, but he always does when he’s with you. it brings toy joy; especially when it’s a full-blown smile, one of those rare ones.

you watch as he gets into the pool and begins to swim, going from the end of the pool to the other end of the pool, swimming in laps.

you watch how his back muscles move as he moves his arms, his biceps flexing. you blink and look away from him before he can see you staring.

even though you two are official now, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed whenever he caught you staring at him.

especially in situations like this one.

it was a little while later when you got up from your chair and stepped to the edge of the pool. grayson glanced at you sitting down, before making his way to you.

he’s over there before you even got your feet in the water, putting his hands on either side of your thighs. you put your hands on top of his own and lean down, kissing his wet forehead.

he wraps his arms around your hips and puts his head on top of your chest, making you wrap your arms around his wet neck.

“do you want to come in now?” he asks, his words slightly muffled from your chest. “yeah,” you hum, moving your legs back and forth in the water, both beside his hips.

he nods and trails his hands down to your bottom, pulling you towards him before he backs away from the ledge, bringing you with him.

you squeal as you wrap your legs and arms around him, the cold water making you freeze. “it’s freezing!” you exclaim, squeezing your eyes shut. “jesus—how are you not cold, gray?”

he chuckles and kisses your forehead. “i’ve gotten used to it, flower.”

a few moments later after swimming, kissing, and hugging, avery walks out with jameson by his side.

“stop flirting and come eat. breakfast is ready,” jameson says, smirking at his brother. grayson glares at him and slowly brings you down from where you were.

you had tried to see how long he could not breathe from underwater, but of course, he had to try to impress you and was under there longer than he should have.

of course, he didn’t tell you that, though. after all, he needs to beat you in the pool games tomorrow—which, of course, he’ll never admit to liking.

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iloveyoumorethansoup · 2 years

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My body is making dangerous moves to become a morning person. Dangerous moves in general but a morning person????

#i firmly am a person who can easily go to sleep at 4am and wake up at like 2pm and have a fantastic time #so tell me why I woke up at 10:30am this morning ready to go and wanted to go to bed at like 10pm #like bestie I’m trying to get a job as like a banquet server and that job goes way into the night don’t do this to me #i can forgive my body for many things. but oh man this one’s a lot #must’ve hit my head a little too hard last week #speaking of that I am doing fine and I think some of my oh god did I actually get a concussion?? symptoms were actually from some other #stuff too. i think I did get a very minor concussion. i suppose there isn’t much else to expect when u start google searching symptoms #so my head is fine now. back to my regular headaches now which are all too frequent still but much less severe #however?? my back hurts :(#also I definitely blacked out in the shower this morning which was super fun and exciting and I would like that to not happen again #my body has so many blinking warning lights and I simply am putting things over it so I do not see #i swear they gotta just do a full body scan on me and just. go from there #I don’t know what’s up with my back I wonder if I lifted something bad #hmmm. anyways it’s 1am I’m fighting morning me as much as I can #I’d like to be a morning person in college but certainly not here #if I ever wanna be alone here. well. i should just move out honestly #12am-1am and 4am-7am is sometimes my time #alternatively 9am-12pm I don’t think anyone would be home if both my parents were working which is who knows when.#i still have sooooo much unpacking to do #that’s a later problem #soup talks

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tender-rosiey · 5 months

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hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤

strain — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)

you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.

however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.

but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.

you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.

the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!

so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.

after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.

a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.

not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.

your husband has an abundance of energy.

but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.

his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.

he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.

but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.

he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.

he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.

he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”

you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”

while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”

you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.

then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”

he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.

you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.

but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.

he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.

instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”

you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”

perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.

you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.

reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.

he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.

you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.

satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.

you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.

he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”

“I know…”

“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”

you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“

“you could’ve died.”

you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.

your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”

your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”

a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”

“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.

“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”

his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.

a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”

“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.

“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”

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iwaasfairy · 1 month

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┌─ “ ! „ FEARLESS, STUPID

tw. a/b/o, military au, dystopian au, noncon, threesome, heat, dumbification, double penetration, patronization/ degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, dom/sub themes, choking, anal play, a lot of spit and cum, size kink, tummy bulging, mentions of human captives, kinda forced prostitution wordcount. 9.8k

a/n. I had a lot of fun writing this one bc it’s just extremely fairycore and indulgent. heavily inspired by rhi and her incredible brain for writing the hand that feeds!!! I love that fic and have always wanted to write smt set in vaguely the same world. thank you to everyone who beta read as well I appreciate it soooo much ♡♡

geto suguru, kong shiu, fushiguro toji x fem!reader

The air is dry and cold, enough to hurt on the way in. It’s cold enough for your warm air to come back out and form droplets on your nose that drip into the snow.

Your head down, crouched in the smallest shape you can make yourself, is how you find yourself drifting in and out of focus. Not only are you cold and hungry, but it’s been long enough for the scent of smoke and ash and foul, sour fear to have started losing it’s smell. You can’t even expend the energy to move your head to the side and look, without getting tired. The crunching of the heavy boots in the snow is the only thing that’s pulling you back into it. That and the occasional clang of the line of cuffs shaking around someone’s wrists.

It’s gone quiet now.

You wonder if others have fallen asleep. You’re not far off yourself. When some commotion happens over by the gates, some of the uniformed figures rush to go look, feet kicking up snow as they go — It’s a blur of shouts and orders, before the loud hum of an armored vehicle stops not too far away. That’s all it takes to wake you up again, and despite yourself, your arms start shaking in their place behind your back. The cold of the metal radiates all through your bones.

You realize you’re scared. That’s the thumping between your ears.

“Lieutenant. Good evening, Sir.”

A soft, almost warm voice stands in stark contrast against the cold of the surroundings when the feet stop a few steps short of the kneeling row of people. “At ease, soldier.” He sounds older than some of the youthful faces you’ve seen here, dragging people around by their ankles to stuff them into loaded trucks. But not old. Not nearly old enough to carry the weight he does. “What’s all this?” the voice pivots, aimed now towards your group. A few of the women beside you uneasily shuffle in their places.

“Captives from a raid by the fifth division this morning. They interfered with the commission’s supply line when they tried to escape.”

You smell smoke with each breath. The man makes a soft humming noise, before he scans the row of kneeling people again. “So why are they still here? We have plenty of mouths to feed already.” You have seen what they do with prisoners here. Just this one, long day has shown you all you need to know. Your life will be short and unnoticed, and if you’re lucky, you won’t go through hell before you’re shot between your eyes. The cold air makes clouds in front of your face, as the steam rises above the snow into the black night. “Beta's?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You strain your neck to tilt your head up. You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the wrongful association of that voice, smooth and lithe and easy- with the pain you’ve witnessed. You don’t have much hope of making it out, and though you could beg, you’re not even sure if they see you as human enough to consider a plea a plea. Your eyes glide up the perfectly fitted suits, dark gray and gold until you find the face of the leader— and startle. Long, black hair is tied into a sloppy bun in his neck, and long bangs almost hide one eye from view.

But the eyes are striking and sharp and long lashes frame them against pale skin, and you can’t look away when his lips form the words. “So, kill them.” His cigarette burns bright orange when he takes another pull.

The younger of the two only lets out the briefest breath. “...Yes, Sir.”

The fear makes the pitched whimper get stuck in your throat, and more puffy clouds drift out of your lips when you start to shuffle in a panic. Not fight, you don’t ever fight. The man turns on his heel. And you’re not the only one, as soon cries and sniffles and the petrified glances only set you off more. Your eyes drop to the muddied, dirty patches of snow that the cars drove through, the people around the camp; as your stomach turns and your bottom lip starts to wobble. You knew this is how you’d turn out.

As soon as they put the cuffs on and tossed you onto the ground to wait… your own whimpering just melts into that of the others, but peaks when a hand grabs you by the hair and yanks you up, then lifts you by your arm. “No, no, stop!” The girls around you start screaming too, one grabbing at your arms to pull you back down. But the soldier doesn’t hesitate to kick her in the nose, as you cry, trembling like a kitten picked up by her neck.

Everyone’s scared for themselves, but they’re scared for you too, and you for them. “Stop, please! Please!” They cry. The blood thumping between your ears makes it hard to focus on anything but the painful grip on you, and the disgusted face of the man before you. When you don’t make any effort to fight, he drops you back down into the cold snow, and instead aims the long barrel of his gun straight at you.

You can’t even look away, as your heart rate slows. As you watch the small snowflakes come from the sky to meet you.

“Wait.” The voice returns when he stops halfway to the car, and makes your eyes shoot up to find his face, as shivers roll down your back. You know you’re stinking up the place, as the placating hands of the girls around you reach to brush fingers. It’s not much, but allows you to take a sniveling breath. “This one’s an Omega… Settle down, soldier. We’re not trying to hurt, are we?” The buzzcut’s eyes widen slightly, maybe as he takes a first good look at you and notices the smaller frame, big doe-like eyes, the softer set of your face and demeanor. Just as quickly as he gives you another up and down, he steps aside and lowers his heavy-duty gun back to the ground.

The older one takes a step back towards you. Your face must be windbitten, lips cracked and cold and stained with tears where you sit, but the noiret doesn’t falter as he drops into a squat before you. His face breaks out into a soft smile, and his hand rises to brush along your cheek, avoiding the black eye as he goes. “You’re a rare find. You on blockers?” Not enough recent ones to keep out all of the scent, clearly.

It’s not a question that needs answering, but as his thumb brushes over your lip, you find yourself giving the smallest nod. Gently, careful not to make any harsh movements. He does the same when he helps you right yourself back onto your knees, and then gives you a slow, calculated trace with his ocean-dark, silvery eyes. “Smart. We almost missed out on you with all the Beta stench.” A small furrow worms between his brows. “Are there others?” He asks, and then gives a swift continuation. “Don’t lie. If you lie I’ll know.”

Your voice cracks when you start. “I- If I tell you- what will happen to them?”

With only the slightest bit of hesitation, he seems to mull it over. Sharp, angular features soften just a bit as he draws his hand back from your face to run it under his nose instead. And whatever he smells must soothe the urge to get angry at being questioned, because his cheeks push up genially until his eyes are practically just moons. “How’s this? I’ll be fair, after hearing whatever information you have.” The anxiety ebbs and flows as you look to the faces at your side, then swallow.

Your heart hammers wildly in your chest. You have no reason to lie. There’s no one left that didn’t get shot as they ran… You clear your strained voice with a tight cough. “I- this is all that’s left. There’s no one else. We had people who escaped before you even closed in. B-but there weren’t any Omega’s left, the last raid already took them all. That’s all I know.” You try to keep your bottom lip from wobbling as you talk, ignoring the cold of the tears that are now freezing on your lashes.

Those dark, unrelenting eyes don’t waver as you speak, and you can’t help but wonder what it is he sees. Surely he knows, you wouldn’t need to lie. Just as you start getting anxious at the silence, he gets up from the floor, before dusting impatient hands over his pristine jacket— and a saccharine smile slips back onto his lips as he waves a hand. “Bring the Omega.” You jump when the soldier from earlier immediately starts yanking at your chains, but that’s it. It’s not in your nature to fight back. Then the Lieutenant walks back to the car as another opens it for him, and casts a final glance your way.

The smile doesn’t fall when he shifts that gaze to the side, and sucks his teeth. “Kill the monkeys.”

There’s nothing more embarrassing than having to fight your nature at every turn. You’re confronted with it more than you’ve ever been before, when they drag you across the cold tiles with your legs kicking, tears rolling in thick beads down your face and neck. You’re not a fighter. You’re not made for it. At every chance, your body chooses the easiest way out, oblige now, suffer later. Even when your mind screams at you to run, bite and kick and escape — you stay down. Cold metal slices into the tender and sore skin of your wrists when they yank you up another few feet, before dropping you onto the floor next to the makeshift desk.

You’re sniveling like a child. The man behind the desk looks at the several soldiers who stay put, before lifting an eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Geto says you’re to clean her up for processing.” One of the men sighs, before glaring down at you with a tight-lipped frown. It sets the hairs on your neck on end to feel such blatant displeasure from an Alpha.

The lighter haired young man stands from the chair at that, and gives you a quick once over. “For the barracks or to be sent to the commission?” He smiles when you look up at him, gentler, then places a warm hand on the top of your head to start soothing you. It’s enough to make your lip wobbly. The little bit of warmth isn’t enough… but it feels so nice. So good, to have a caring touch.

One of the other soldiers takes the heavy strap off his shoulder to put the gun down, and grunts. “Neither.” His top lip lifts into a scowl as he glares at the corner of the room, before turning to look down at you too. “Personal pick, I heard.”

The other soldier remains at the door, but clicks his tongue. “And we’re supposed to keep our mouths shut about it.”

“You ever had an Omega?” The one asks the other, nervously grinding his gun in circles. “I haven’t. Yet we’re going to war for ‘em… Only for pompous pricks to get first pick of the litter because they’re bold enough not to report to the commission.” The soldier grins without any amusement from across you, and you can’t help but hide more into the leg of the man who’s still touching you kindly. “Goin’ to war for pussies like yours… must make you something real special, right? But you’re unreported. What’s keeping me from just… taking you for myself?” Then he looks between the two other men. “I’m even willing to share between the three of us if you’d help out. Keep some things quiet.”

“You said the Lieutenant picked her out because he liked her, right?” The lighter haired man runs his free hand through his undercut, then leans down to lift you under your arms and get you onto tired legs against him. “Means you got something in return for keeping a secret already.” He’s all wired muscle under the uniform he wears, and wraps his arm around the small of your back before picking you up entirely. “Don’t do something stupid. There’s no place to keep her where some officer wouldn’t smell her anyway. Can’t keep her under your mattress like a pack of cards, can you?” He starts walking you towards the doors of a presumed bathroom without complaining, even though the other guy clicks his tongue.

“Itadori. You think you’re helping out just being another dog for the commission?”

“Instead of a thief?” He pushes the door open with one hand, already walking through. “Go get your free drinks or cigarettes or whatever he promised you, and do your job. I’m doing mine.”

The door falls shut with a loud noise behind you both, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Your arms wrap a little tighter around his neck. “T-Thank you.”

His grey eyes find yours, before he smiles again. Softer. He’s an Alpha too, but must come into contact with your kind more frequently. He feels gentler to the touch when he speaks. “Don’t thank me yet.” Then he deposits you in a stained, old bathtub, and sighs before grabbing the showerhead. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. Ranking officers like their girls extra clean.” When you don’t move, he goes to take off your dirty shirt, and you only shiver in place as it happens.

After a few seconds of silence where he brushes fingers over the unmarked stretch of your neck, you swallow tightly. “You can’t let me go, can you?”

Itadori turns up the water until it’s warm, and his brows flatten. “…No. I’m here to do a job. I’m sorry.” You believe him. Doesn’t make you feel any better, though.

The cot is barely big enough for you, and the cold from the floor radiates up through the ratty, old mattress into you. But it’s still better than sleeping in the bed where Geto sleeps, where he can get his hands all over you, hold you, cling to you. You’re glad that the Lieutenant doesn’t particularly care whether or not you shy back away from him for the night, as long as you don’t act up when he wants you close. It’s an unwritten contract he likes to pretend you have. As if you weren’t forced into it. As if you had any choice.

The starchy sheets are cold too, they leave you shivering more than sleeping. When you walk through the halls you’re cold and barefoot and uncomfortable, but when you’re here you’re colder, naked and more uncomfortable.

You don’t know that much about the army. You don’t know that much about other things either, but you know that Omega’s are few and far in between. You know they go for lots of money, money that even Geto doesn’t have. You know that he’s using you to your full potential before his higher-ups find out, and that too much commotion would draw attention of the commission. Attention you don’t want. When your teeth start chattering, the man in the large bed, with the soft pillows and body heat calls.

Says your name like he means it. Like he likes to whisper to get under your skin- holding your life between slim fingers. He sighs. “Come. Get into bed. I can’t sleep when you’re not sleeping. And you’re not going to sleep when you’re shivering to death.”

“I’ll sleep,” you softly assure, pull your thin blanket closer. Your feet are cold and the room isn’t dark enough for it to actually happen. But you can pretend.

“I’m not asking.” You know he’s not. Maybe it’s because the alarm clock is showing an ungodly hour— and he’s tired. It wouldn’t be the first time his boot meets your cheek when you whine too much, displease him in ways Geto doesn’t like. “Come.”

He yawns when opening the blankets, waves you closer. An Alpha demands, and your lungs ache to follow the order. It physically hurts to resist. Your thin layer of tears sit on your waterline for a while before you shift. Slip across the room naked, and crawl into the bed under his arm. “That’s a good pet…” The panes of his chest are warm enough to have you melting like ice into his shape and mold yourself to him. It’s in the weight of his arm over your waist as he pulls you in close. Tethers you. You want to be and stay mad. Frightened.

It’s just… Geto’s scent’s become one you can bury yourself into. Your hands ball against his chest, and the fingers he presses into your hips stray down.

Your breathing hitches at the touch, and your stomach seems to want to crawl up into your mouth when he spreads your legs apart. “I’m hardly the worst one here. Get used to it already. People here are frustrated. Many of them haven’t had an Omega in years.” His rough fingertips slide between your legs and trace over the raw, achy mess he made of you not hours before. It’s sticky and uncomfortable, and you jerk when he rather impatiently starts thumbing your clit. It hurts- enough to make your face scrunch as you hide it into his pecks. “You don’t even know how lucky you are that I’ve kept you to myself.”

You do know that, though. You’ve passed by some of the barracks further away from the officer buildings. You’ve smelled the Omega fear, the blood and sweat and ruts; or what it’s like for a person to beg for a moment of reprieve. You have not a scratch on you, and you should be more grateful than you are. That you’re not taking a whole division’s sexual frustration to keep them from killing each other. When his fingers slide the wetness, remnants of slick and cum back into you and force your pussy to stretch again- you start sniffling against him. “I know I am,” you whimper, biting your lip. It’s not enough to just be this. You can’t just lay and wish for it all to go away. You have to be a participant, or Geto might switch you out.

As you whimper, swallowing back the tears- he presses his lips against your forehead. “Can’t help but cry? Poor baby.” He grinds the fleshy part of his palm against your pussy, breathing against you. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“I- Feels- b-big,” you choke out, twitching when his fingers curl into you and fuck deeper until they stroke much deeper than your own. The coldness fades a little when he rolls you over onto your back and gets on top, pinning you with his thigh. “Geto-sama- Please stop, I’m still- sore. It- it hurts really bad.”

With a slight frown, he pulls his fingers out of you and wipes them on your thigh, before sighing. Your eyes crack open at the lack of touch. His long black hair falls down over his shoulders, as he holds himself above you— and stares at you for a moment too long. One where he seems to consider your feelings at least a little, for once, brushing his clean thumb along your neck and shoulder. “I’m going back to the front soon. Do you know what that means?”

You’re not sure if it’s meant to be patronizing… but you don’t know. The wet, cold numbness that returns to your cunt is an unexpected unease. You wanted to stop. You did. But when he sits back on his heels and looks at you for a few seconds in abject silence, the distance feels too far. Geto comes back to you with a furrowed brow, before a line of kisses is pressed along your jaw and neck, where he takes a deep breath and makes your entire body purr. “Means you’ll be passed on to some other scum.” He almost growls when he says it, urges your one leg over his thigh to make room.

“I put in a good word that if I come back you’ll come back to me- but…” His sharp eyes find yours blown out and dark, as he pulls you closer to his hips and rolls himself against you. His hard cock- he’s always hard when you’re in his bed, bops as he grabs himself and pumps a few achingly slow strokes. A translucent drop of precum drops to your pussy, and he spits on his hand and your pussy for good measure. “I’ll be two months without this soft Omega cunt squeezing me to sleep.” As he groans and slides the flushed head of his cock against you, he presses his weight into you again. “Let me use you. Or see what fucking happens.”

The hearth burns at the far end of the pristine, wooden room. Enough to make your hands clammy, shifting yourself back and forth between both legs- before glancing up to Geto once more. He looks more pampered today. Standing straight with only his fingers looped loosely around your arm. For a split second you wonder if you’d be able to make it down the marble set of stairs and across the courtyard into the shallow bushes— but it’s only a moment. Not more than a brief hope that instantly gets snuffed out when the heavy doors slide open, and a deep grunt passes by you both.

Geto salutes, the man does not. He only clears his voice with a mix of impatience and -tobacco, probably, before motioning his head towards the desk. “Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” His voice is frighteningly low, more rumble and bass than anything else, and sets the hairs on your arms on end.

His half-lidded eyes flick from the man beside you, ever so swiftly to you, then back. Face blank, uncaring. You stumble when Geto takes a few steps forward, basically dragging you behind him towards the chairs. When he lets you go, he gives you a look, and so you sit. Hands folding in your lap to keep them from picking at the edges of your clothing.

Or lack thereof. There’s a clean gold plate with the name Shiu Kong engraved at the very front of the desk, staring back at you. Your Alpha doesn’t hesitate to sit down too. “Major General Kong, Sir. A pleasure as always. You’ve lost some weight?”

“Hardly,” the man shoots right back, unfazed. “You can lay off the flattering.”

Geto and the stranger seem to converse with their eyes for a moment, before your owner gets comfortable in the velvet chair beside you, and hangs his arms over the back with a slight smile. The other man doesn’t bother to sit in his own chair across from you, instead just bending to get out one of the no-doubt expensive cigarettes, and lighting it. The smoke travels in slow, winding circles up to the ceiling as he hums. “So, the Omega. Y’ want to buy her?”

“I’d like her returned to my possession with the least amount of scratches when I get back, Sir.”

“We’re in a war, Suguru.” The man takes a short puff of his cigarette again, before putting his foot onto the chair and leaning in just barely. Dark, grayish eyes narrow. “You can’t pick out playthings at your whim. We have rules about these sorts of things.” The ash goes into the overfull ashtray, before those irises find you where you’re still slumped in the too-big chair. Almost amused, he lets out a bit of air through his nose, before punctuating his words with another drag. “Higher ranks get first picks, but if you’re gone, you’ll have to share. She looks healthy, young. Girls like that go for a lot of money these days.”

“I understand, Sir.” Geto’s smile doesn’t slip though, not even when he takes one of your hands and pulls until you get up. With his prompting, you instead sit back down on his lap instead, and the noiret hooks his chin over your shoulder when he strokes your thigh. You duck your head in shame. “It’s just that- she’s more of an indoor pet. I’d like to keep it that way, if possible.” His other hand winds under your chin to nudge it back up into view, as you shiver. Watch the attention of the superior officer linger just a second on the way your shirt falls around your hips.

Geto’s. “You have a mansion not too far from the front, as I understand it? And due to surely unfortunate consequences, your last Omega… broke.” His voice gleams as he says the words, and they seem to wind like a coiled spring around your neck. “I’m more than willing to part with mine for a while, if I could have a guarantee she’d be close by. Used sparingly.” You don’t know enough about the army to know if Shiu Kong has the kind of strings that Geto’s presuming he has— but you don’t really dare complain. The silence drags; before it crumbles into pieces when a slight relaxation pulls at the older man’s lips, cocking his head.

“Have her stand.”

You do, spurred on by the quick pat to your thigh and a winning smile, eyes fluttering as you trace the patterns on the floor. As the presence of the older Alpha fills your senses and he circles around you too close, he smells of smoke and a deep, woody musk that could bring you to your knees if you weren’t so used to it by now. After a round where his finger patiently brushes past your most valued features, he takes your face into his palm and forces your eyes up. Until you can no longer ignore the handsome face ducking down to meet your gaze.

You whimper. Let your face get turned here and there before he takes the end of the cig from between his lips, and addresses you directly. “You got a name?”

“Y-yes.” You stumble out, basically whispering it when he stares like that. He doesn’t have a kind face like Geto does, you notice, more angular, stubbled, at least a decade older too. You find yourself reaching for Geto’s hand despite knowing better, if only to have something to cling to as you blink away nervous jitters, and excess tears that are always ready to spill. Your bare feet shuffle against the carpet below.

Whatever he sees staring back at him is enough for his fingers to drop to your collar, dragging it either side with a grunt. “It’s some skill to find an unmated, pretty, little Omega hidden from the commission, Lieutenant… One would almost call it suspicious.” There’s a hint of amusement, one he pushes out alongside the butt of the cig. As if he knows he’s in, Suguru stands from the chair to put a comforting hand on your back and rubs circles through the flimsy fabric of his oversized shirt, tucking his thumb into the loose boxers you’re wearing below.

“I just get lucky, Sir. Omega’s delivered to the commission lose their charm too quickly, s’all.”

Shiu’s eyes give you another slow up and down, then he clicks his tongue. “So, what do you want in return for this present?”

“Nothing at all, really.” The hand pulls you into his side to nuzzle along your neck for some extra show, where he nibbles at the sensitive spot— makes you whimper like a bitch in heat. It’s loud enough for the other man to eat you up whole with his eyes, puffing out his chest a little to push off the desk. The swift hand wrapped around you gives you an adoring squeeze, before Suguru pouts into your temple like he’s parting with a prized possession. “Just that I get her back once I’m done with my service at the front in a few months.”

“Done.” Shiu busies himself with the bottle of expensive looking liquor, before casting you another glance. “Dress her in some actual clothes though, will ya? She already attracts enough attention as is.”

You stare at the fogged-up window with your duvet tucked to your chest, and breathe a few shallow breaths. There’s soldiers running up and down the camp, tucking their caps low against the biting wind. You only bother to follow one of them with your eyes, light hair peeking out from under the hat as he runs his laps. Instead of lingering on the thought, you shiver when a heavy, muscular arm pulls you around your waist and down into the bed. Shiu’s quick to let out a grunt, before opening his eyes and hooking his chin over your shoulder to nose at your neck. “You’re goin’ into heat soon?”

You barely dare shift when his stubble tickles your throat, and a few rough kisses get placed right over your pulse. “Probably. I-I’ll- ah-” His hand wraps around the base of your neck as he starts sucking on the sore skin, where bruises still sit from yesterday. You’re not sure if it’s his hands wrapped around your neck that caused it, or the way he bullied his cock way too deep into your throat— but you’re so sore. “I’ll need heat blockers for a while.”

“Mh,” he smells like tobacco. And a heavy, manly musk that’s so overwhelmingly Alpha. It’s distracting. It melts your tongue to the bottom of your teeth. “No need. We’re far enough away here that they won’t smell you. Or if they do, they can’t do anything about it anyway.” You blank, only to mewl and curl away when his lips and tongue rakes over a particularly sore spot, making your toes curl.

“But- b-but I,” you stutter, and one hand comes up to protect your scent gland from him as he gets up onto one arm to get on top of you. You haven’t gone through a proper heat in forever. It wasn’t ever safe even with just Beta’s around— you barely even remember what it feels like. Only that it hurts so bad it could make you sick. “But I don’t want to go into heat. It hurts.”

Shiu stops his barrage on your neck to frown at you, as he nudges your legs aside for his own thick thighs. One eyebrow raises at you like you’re dumb. “It doesn’t hurt when I’m here to breed you full, little girl.” He scans your face as he keeps pushing your one knee to your chest, before his mouth flattens out. “You don’t know that? You’ve never had an Alpha cock in here during heat?” It’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing— the way he eyes you like you’re some sort of idiot. It’s not like you had the privilege of trying it out before all this, hiding like a mouse. “Aw, baby girl. You’re so sweet.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“Daddy’ll have to teach you.” His large hand forces it’s way between your legs to squeeze your cunt and make you squirm under him, before he finally sits back and pushes the covers off, revealing the battle-worn body. “But not right now. Get up and go wash. We’re having company over.”

Your mouth’s dry, so you swallow tightly. “Who?” Your legs still tingle even when he gets out of bed, a little numb, a little achy.

“A… friend, I guess.” He picks out one of the cigarettes on the side table after putting on a shirt, and plops it between his lips. “You won’t like him.”

With sweat rolling down your neck, you stumble across the steam-coated tiles and grab onto the sink. Shaking like you’re ill. You definitely feel that way. It makes your entire skin feel statically charged, and sore, and so painfully needy. As soon as you take another step, you almost immediately topple over, legs trembling despite yourself. There’s no better sign than the dry feeling in your throat, and the way a whimper threatens to escape you with every move.

So you do all you can, and start tearing up as you wrap a towel around yourself. Even your own innocent touch feels too much, and you hurry through the process to barely manage pulling on a top and some panties, before your body refuses to oblige. You want to cry. Why did this have to happen now? Why here? Shiu hasn’t been bad to you, but he also isn’t particularly gentle. You didn’t want to go through heat at all. “Mh-mn, need- agh.” You whine thoughtlessly, as you wobble to the door.

There’s a swell of voices from down the hall— talking that doesn’t last long before falling quiet as you make your way to the bed. You’re so hot that it’s hard to keep your eyes open, your thighs rubbing uncomfortably as you walk. Thick, almost sticky tears wobble on your waterline, and the heat in your stomach sinks right into your center the more of the room you take in. It’s not your fault - everywhere you look it stinks of Alpha musk. Thick and overpowering to your flighty brain, it makes you want to keel over onto fours. You really are just a bitch in heat, and that is embarrassing too.

Makes you want to curl up onto a solid chest and let yourself get bounced onto his cock like a ragdoll.

It takes so much of your effort to drag yourself to the pillowed surface that you fail to hear the steps coming closer, let alone control that you’re scenting up the entire top floor when you crawl in and your pussy starts clenching around nothing. You’re mewling faint nothings as you stuff your face into the blankets— and smell only him. Heavy on your wet tongue.

“Agh, I- Al-pha, I need- it hurts. It hurts, I want you~” With your chest to the bed and your legs raised up, you just feel like you need to— to get filled up to the brim to make this aching stop. “Mhmm-ugh, please, pleas- need you, Shiu~” Slick’s already coating your pussy enough to slip right in, wet like the spit in your mouth that gathers under your tongue. Your head’s so light. It’s spinning.

Then, a heavy palm strokes over your crown, and your noises explode.

“Ah, ah, agh, daddy, daddy.” The weight of the touch travels down your neck to grip you, and your body curls to raise your ass even further up in need of friction. “Daddy, please. I don’t want to~ T-told you I- need-ed blockers. Ah, ahh.” The low chuckle you get isn’t the one you expect, but you can’t open your eyes enough to see what’s going on.

“Bit friendly for a hello, isn’t it?” There’s a huge body that surrounds you when leaning over you, as lips travel down behind your ear. “S’cute though. That’s a pretty girl. Daddy’s here.” Rough hands push your hips down with one swift move, slipping two fingers under your panties to pull the fabric taut. The slick grinds the fabric uncomfortably to your cunt, but you can’t be still. “Already drenched through your clothes, pet.” You don’t mean to. You don’t, you’re so sorry. “Whining like a little baby, need to get filled up?”

“Only thinking with this pussy, right? This is why Omega’s don’t run anything…” The lips ghost over your scent glands, making you squirm with dripping anticipation, when he lets his tongue run over his teeth and then along your throat. The juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, untouched and open and soft. He groans. “Ugh, fuckin’ hell, you’re so sweet. Your scent is almost making me sick.” One hand digs sharp nails into the meat of your ass, as the other reaches around to start pulling your camisole down over your sensitive tits. “Want some love from daddy, baby?”

A slightly raspier voice comes from somewhere behind you and drowns out your own whining and mewling. “I thought I told you to wait, Fushiguro.”

“Your pet was crying, Kong.” He rakes his teeth over that one spot again until you can’t stand it anymore, and your tears start dripping into the blankets. You push your chest out until his warm palm reaches around and squeezes, rubbing a thumb over your nipples. “Plus, just smell her. She’s scenting up the whole house. I wanted to come help.” After a long pause where you’re fighting the need to rub yourself on anything cock shaped like an animal— you’re turned over by a sturdy yank on your shoulder, and long fingers slide into your messy, drool filled mouth to press on your tongue.

Its Shiu, whose normally stern brow now is arched in amusement. The man on the bed with you moves away just enough to let you take a look, and take in the messy dark hair and almost metallic blue eyes, scarred face and dog tags hanging from his neck as he rolls onto his side. Shiu pinches your tongue to make you squeak, then leans in. “See you’ve already made introductions.” You mumble a pathetic ‘daddy’ under his sharp gaze, before he takes a deep breath.

“Poor girl, already going into heat? You didn’t last long. Needy, little pussy’s throbbing, isn’t it?” He pulls the top fully down until it’s hooked under your tits, then hums. “Look so cute when you’re begging to get fucked.”

“Gonna let me have a turn too?” Fushiguro rights himself onto one forearm, then pushes a finger down on your forehead until it's tilted all the way back and you’re looking up at him again. He’s got a mean sort of look in his eyes, right before his lips twitch when you groan softly at the touch. You literally can’t help yourself. It hurts so good— good enough to make you want to wrap your legs around either of their hips and stay there. Aches.

Shiu’s voice resonates through your body when he moves to kneel down to your body and starts kissing from your belly up, making you twitch. His gravelly hum reverberates in your clit, as your legs get spread over each shoulder when he comes up. “She’s not mine to give away Toji, so- ugh- restrain yourself a little.” His big hands smooth over your tits instead of squeezing you like you want, until you really start worming around under their touches.

“Mh~ hurry up!”

It’s out before you know it, and the backlash rushes straight to your cheeks in heat, burning up on your face. Fushiguro groans though, long and deep- before he pushes off the bed to get onto his knees, and grabs himself through the awfully casual clothing. His hand wraps around the large, large cock pressing against the fabric— and when you open your mouth and basically salivate at the sight- he lets out a lightly pinched chuckle. “Oh, you don’t wanna be doing all that, pet. You’ve got days of heat ahead of you— and you’re getting me hard as a motherfucker.”

All it’s doing is making you so horny you can barely see straight, and each inch of your body surges with electricity. You need something inside you. Now. Now, now, now. He runs a distracted hand through his messy fringe, and rolls his hips into his hand with a groan. “What’s it gonna be, Kong? If you take her underwear off I’m not leaving. Sweet, little thing like that…” Your legs are up by his ears when the familiar giant sits up onto the bed too, and your hand reaches for his to pull him closer by his thumb. “Haven’t had a greedy, fertile little Omega pussy in a while- the Commission always bitches I have too much fun.”

A hesitant furrow worms itself between Shiu’s brows for a bit, before he sighs. “Can’t bite ‘er, she’s not mine. I’m just keeping her.” His eyes are more blown out than normal, dark ring of black taking over the longer he touches you. You’re sure you’re similarly spent when you moan his name and he groans. “Fuck, baby. Want this Alpha cock in here?” His large hand smoothed over the supple skin of your lower belly, when you wiggle yourself against him, basically grinding onto his leg. “Needy, huh.” He licks his lips. “Fine, join. Can count us even after that.”

At that the other noiret grins, and pulls his shirt over his head in one swift move of agreement. Shiu’s hands already roam back over every bit of exposed skin. “And I get first turns.” The large fingers mindlessly playing with your nipple pinches you, when grayish eyes find you beneath him. “Get up.” With just a quick motion, you force your sluggish body up and onto fours— and fight the urge to force your head down yet again. That’s what would feel right.

“That-” Shiu’s hard too, you notice quite happily, when you grind back against him to find another thick, heavy bulge in his pants that heats your cunt. “That’s it.” You mewl, have no choice to. As you look back over your shoulder, he takes a moment to study you where you’re so much smaller beneath him. Omega’s always are, but these two are big even among other Alpha’s— more slick sticks your panties to the shape of your cunny. Your body’s entirely sticky with sweat, neck and throat aching and radiating heat all over you.

Your tongue melts in your mouth, when you look back and Fushiguro’s stripped down entirely— shredded body towering over you as well. He squeezes a rough ring around the flushed, pulsing head of his cock. “Uh, ugh-ah, daddy, daddy, daddy- Please? Please.”

“Who are you calling daddy?” The general asks sternly, but there’s no malice there. He’s amused as he peels the panties over the curve of your ass and down ever so slowly, letting your wet folds drip all over his fingers as he plays around in them. The touch makes you stagger forward, arms almost giving in— and you whine something unintelligible into the covers. “Fu~ck, you smell so sweet. Little Omega bitch in heat- ugh.”

A heavy hand lands on the swell of your ass, and stings so bad. With another spank your pussy clenches around nothing, and by the third you’re basically begging and your cunny’s sucking his fingers in. “A-daddy, please. Hurts. Uh-pu-lease. Need Alpha inside. Quickly, please. I-it hurts.” Another hand pets your crown for a few seconds, before he grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head up. Your mouth hangs open, and your tongue drops out at the sight of the hard, veiny cock before you.

It’s flushed a sweet sort of pink, nothing like you can already tell Fushiguro is— but drool still gathers in globs, looking at the precum glistening on him. “Gonna open your pretty, little mouth wide for me, pet?” As he strokes himself, the man behind you starts toying his fingers around your holes, and smears your slick all over until you’re entirely sloppy. Then chuckles, throwing his head back with a grunt.

“Fuck, forgot how hard I get- with Omega’s.” The slick sounds of your pussy, and both men's hands stroking their swollen cocks makes everything so loud. Wet and needy and animalistic— your own whining drowning out your thoughts. You just want more. More touch, please. Shiu spits onto your holes without hesitation and slaps his thick, hot cockhead against you a few times, before placing one hand on the middle of your back to force you in place. “Don’t run away from me- jus-t take it.”

“O-oh-fu-ugh.” He pushes inside with more of his weight, thick thighs pressing up against the inside of yours when you spread wider, and almost get pushed over. If not for Toji holding you up and rubbing himself along your cheek and lips too, impatiently stroking himself.

The head’s already big, stings on the way in. Enough to hurt, enough to make you tear up. He’s just so thick and glowing hot to the touch— basically pulsing inside you. You can feel his heartbeat through the skin as the head pops in with a lot of pressure. Your throat starts making noises despite you. “A-agh, ugh agh, da-I- ca— um-hnggg.”

“My turn,” Toji grunts after a bit, hooking a finger in your cheek to open your mouth more and coach your tongue out. “That’s- a good cockslut— open wide.” You do, letting spit drip as you relax your jaw and wrap your lips around him, filling up your mouth too much. You’ve never been so needy. The choking and the taste only make your eyes want to roll back in your skull, giving yourself over to them. You don’t want to do anything except give yourself over, struggling to make enough space between your legs to allow Shiu closer.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby, uhh-fuck.”

He’s still going slow, necessity, as each inch of his fat cock gets stuffed inside you, using his fingers to push more into your comparatively tiny cunt— and each bit deeper he goes, the more you feel like melting. It hurts, hurts and aches and bulges your stomach; and Fushiguro pushes deeper and bulges your throat- and it hurts- It does. But you can’t stop. You reach your arms out to wrap around the man’s glutes and pull him closer into your face, drool dripping down your chin. “Mh-mhm mhhuh.”

With his tongue trapped between his teeth, he grins. “Hah, you’re talking a lot for someone with their mouth stuffed— Does that feel good? You like choking on Alpha cock?” Your teary eyes try to focus on him, but you can’t, just cling on harder as the cock inside you kisses your cervix and he’s still not done. It aches so much, stretching you much wider than you’re meant to go. But it does, it does, it does. You don’t want to stop. “A little longer, that’s it, a little more~”

Instead you try to hollow your cheeks around him as he sits too deep in your throat, and fight the urge to squirm when your breath starts to pinch. Your body worms, you cry around them, and slick drips down your thighs like syrup. When Shiu bottoms out, it actually makes you gag, feeling so full and spent— and you squirm as Fushiguro keeps you. “Mh-hh- hck.” Your mouth aches as your lungs start to scream, and vision goes blurry.

Shiu pulls back before the other man does, groaning at the sight of sloppy, milky slick coating his cock, then slides back into your warmth just as fast, forcing your body to stretch again to make room. T-too big. “Let her- hh- up, she’s turning blue.” As you’re basically about to pass out, you get pulled off of him and gag violently, before taking sniveling, painful breaths again. You barely get the chance to breathe before your chin is lifted again, and he tilts your face left and right.

Your mouth drops open again, and tongue squirms around nothing. “More? You want more, greedy slut?” He smiles again, but more genuinely impressed this time— and hums. “Such a good, little Omega.” You can’t help it, you shiver and moan when he lets you back at his cock. And Shiu pulls back again only to fuck back into you, forcing you open as he builds a rhythm.

“She liked that one. She’s trying to clench my dick off.” He moans, and his unoccupied hand swipes some wetness dripping down your leg to circle it around your puckered hole instead. “You think she can take two?”

The cock gets stuffed back into your throat, but he pulls back faster now, instead using your head to fuck himself into you as he groans. “‘Nuh uh, she can’t. She’s too tiny— L-ook, you’re already -fuck- bulgin’ er.” He watches your lips struggle to wrap around him as he fucks your throat— only stopping for a moment to wipe some of the spit off your face. “She likes it so much though, look at that. You’re just a dumb, cocksleeve bitch, right? Want Alpha cocks to fill you?”

You can’t answer. Your brain’s all scrambled from the heat, a cloudy, pillowy feeling sitting over everything else. It feels so, so good. Being stretched to your limit, getting used. Your pussy clenches uselessly around the too-big invasion, getting bounced against Shiu’s thighs with a noisy ‘pap, pap, pap’. If you could think, you’d agree though. The pressure of his cock grinding into your sensitive insides, basically lifting you off your knees as he grabs your hips to jackhammer into you deeper, it’s all too much.

“Close?”

You’re drowning in your own arousal. After a few more seconds of getting used for all your worth, the expanding, pulsing pressure in your stomach grows too tight— and your toes curl uselessly as you cum without warning. It shatters inside you as you fail to clench around the thick length in you, instead dropping though your arms as you pull off of the cock in your throat to tremble through your orgasm. “Ah-hgh- ugh ah da-Alpha, Alpha, ahh ah agh! St-hngh~” You cry. Thick tears, spit and snot get wiped into the covers as you try to catch your breath, while still being fucked into.

You can’t stop shaking. Even then, Shiu’s cock keeps forcing the head against your cervix and making your eyes bulge. “Oh fuck, fuck- too tight— shit, I was this close, hah.” When he slips out for a second, you collapse entirely, aching immediately at the emptiness inside you. Your tits are sores, but everything else is burning so hot you feel like you might go up in flames.

It’s Fushiguro who picks you up by your arms and pulls you into his chest after a while, holding your pathetic, naked body like a ragdoll. “So cute now that you’re all flushed, cumming like that. But you’re not done, are you?” His fingers squeeze either side of your cheeks to bring your mouth to his, kissing on you until you respond and let his tongue melt against yours.

Your head’s still spinning, but a different kind of heat grows now in the base of your neck, desperate and needy. Your hand reaches to get more, more skin, pulling at the short hair at the back of his head- you moan into the kiss. Tongues and spit mixing as it slides down your throat and he towers over you, cock bouncing against your stomach. When he pulls back, long lashes brush yours, and you whimper when the touch goes.

Shiu’s staring. You can’t tell what expression he has, but it’s enough to make Fushiguro frown and lift his lip. “Fuck off. I get protective when they whine like that, s’all. She’s sweet when she’s cryin’ all baby like.” He instead focuses on pinching and toying with your puffy nipples, rubbing each side with rough fingertips, then hooks his chin over your head to look past you. “Wanna try the two of us at once?”

Instinct gets the better of you, and you’re already nodding against his pecs before you can think. “Two, two- w-want, please. Mhm, want Alphas.” It makes both men laugh, hands sliding all over you as you stick your ass out and Shiu spits on his hand. His cock’s still coated with wet, a white, creamy layer around the base of his cock as he strokes the head a few times. You’re seeing double, and your tongue feels like molten candy. But still you keep drooling and nodding. “Want, want you, wanna have- m-more, please.”

He then grabs your hips to yank you back against his hips, letting his cock push on your ass as his wet fingers curl inside your puckered hole, and stretch it out with two fingers. “She’s already fucked out of her mind, poor thing.”

“Mhm, agh- Alp- daddy, daddy— s’ sensitive- please, please, please~”

Fushiguro’s face blanks, before he takes a deep breath and groans low and gravelly, and grabs you by the neck. “Ugh, she’s- her scent is everywhere. Little bitch in heat moaning like it’s her job.” He buries his nose right where the most sensitive, burning part of your neck is, making you crumple, and kissing along the shell of his ear where you can reach. The fingers inside you, the pressure and heat of the two cocks against you— everything’s making you crazy. You’re losing your mind, trying to hang on to him as he licks over the glands. “Want daddy, baby?”

Your head bobs like it’s disconnected from your longing, arching body. And you almost cum again on the spot when sharp canines drag over that spot. You just might.

A low growling sound makes you open your eyes. Shiu’s hand is between the face and your neck, much to the other man’s dismay. “I told you not to bite ‘er. Don’t care how much she begs- she’s not ours to bite.” There’s a moment of silence between them, before Fushiguro sucks his teeth in annoyance, before grabbing his cock instead.

“She is mine.” His large hand wraps around your arm, and pulls— but your other shoulder is still clamped in Shiu’s palm. Almost painfully tight, as a muscle twitches in his jaw. And the tension between them is making you clam up, but your body’s still aching too hard.

“Share, please,” you sweeten your voice as you press your lips to Shiu’s knuckles, then present yourself a little more and shake your ass against him. “Please, daddy? Want to be full.” It doesn’t take long for that same flush to travel back up his chest and cheeks, and his irises to get wider and darker again. “Full of Alpha cum, t-take all of you.” It’s with that that he wraps an arm around you entirely and pulls you up against his chest, placing his cock between your legs as he lifts your knees. “Ack- agh.” You mewl, and Fushiguro leans in for another kiss.

Briefer, but no less messy.

Shiu’s quick to press his own kisses to your throat, letting his stubble rub over your scent glands— with your pussy clenching in response. He rolls his hips against you a few times, then lines up with your ass as he groans. “Hold her legs.” You take a deep breath, and close your eyes as the cock presses to your ass, slick enough to push in with minimal effort. “Uhuh, there’s a good Omega.” As he does though, the space in your body is so full, you’re struggling to breathe. It aches enough to make you wilt and bloom all at once.

And then Fushiguro takes over on your pussy, and you cry out. Your hot cheeks are coated with tears, and your clit thumps with all the blood. It’s too much. You can feel both of them slide into you with painful precision, wetness spilling all over as you break out in cold sweats. But it- it feels so good. Fushiguro slips in a few inches at once, making your legs shake— before you dig your nails into his shoulder and your vision goes black. “Oh- fuck-f-fuck, cu-mming~ Agh- uhh nghn, oh god.”

The two men slide you down until you’re so full it feels like your insides are moved aside to make room. Like you’re about to tear in two, squished between two hot, solid bodies. Before Shiu groans into your hair, and lifts you up to slide you back down. And again, and again. Bounced on the two of them while slick drips out of you, and you’re creaming around them both. “That’s a- ugh- pretty girl.” Your orgasm barely pitters out before you’re cumming again, and you’re getting kissed on as you’re crying.

Not a single thought makes it though you. You’re clinging on for dear life. Only the heat between the three of you as you melt into a puddle.

You’re fucked until you can’t even feel your legs, let alone hear how you’re mewling and crying— like you might dissolve. But you do feel it when a tongue laves over your neck, and the cock pulsing inside you starts jack-hammering into you harder than before. Everything feels so- good- that you’re probably drawing blood into his shoulders, and the tongue becomes teeth. One second you’re floating, and the next the pressure grows too much— teeth break skin, and your pleasure becomes mind-numbing.

Fushiguro’s teeth sink into your shoulder deeper as he breathes you in, fucks his cock into your guts with the intent to stay. And the other man grunts, squeezing you tighter. But without thinking, he follows suit to bite down on the other side of your neck, letting you shake through yet another orgasm when the hot blood runs down your collar. You’re entirely spent, so there’s not one part of you that still feels the way Shiu speeds up inside your ass, before groaning out your name as he licks along the wound.

“Fuck, gonna- knot my girl. Fuck- ugh, ughuh— my baby, mine. Mine.”

It feels like you’re stuffed further than you ever thought possible, face dropping into Fushiguro’s chest when they slow down, and ropes of hot cum drip out of you despite the knots. Wasting it in a way that you’d savor, if you had any energy left. Instead you can only barely breathe, and rub your nose into your Alpha’s chest. It feels good. You wanna go again.

“Uh— my bad. I got carried away.” One of them sighs after a while, the rumbling of his voice rocking you to sleep.

“Yea…” The other responds, only the slightest bit guilty. “…Guess Suguru will have to learn how to share.” His large hand smoothes over your cheek, before stubble and soft lips kiss over the mark he’s made.

“But I don’t think I wanna share.”

#geto x reader #toji x reader #shiu kong x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto smut #toji smut #shiu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.a/b/o #tw.noncon #tw.size kink #tw.double penetration #🍯honey.pot

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screampied · 4 months

Text

23 MISSED CALLS.

☆ summary. you had always nagged to your boyfriend satoru to answer his damn phone. it’d always go straight to voicemail—you told him in your own words, ‘toru, what if something ever happened to you?’ but this time, it was far too late.

wc. 1.7k

tags. gn!reader, angst, nickname(s) 'baby, angel.'

an. idk how to write angst much but i was sad so came up w this. merry christmas :)

“hey heyy, it’s satoru. uh, you’ve reached the—eheh what does that lady say again…? you’ve reached the voicemail box of.. gojo satoru. leave a message after the beep, beeeeep. heh, bye.”

such a dork.

you lost count of how many times you listened to that automatic message over and over again. the playful cheekiness in his voice, you could just see his smile. the dumb dimples that poke out against both of his cheeks whenever he grinned.

a cute dork. your dork.

besides that though, it’s been at least twenty three times of you ringing him, but to no avail. each time it went straight to voicemail—sucking your teeth in confusion, you started pacing around your bedroom. it was christmas morning, and gojo promised he’d be here before you wake up.

he couldn’t be…

no, he’s gojo satoru. he always wins, right?

right..?

the more you waited, the more impatient you became. the room grew colder and colder, despite the heat being turned on. you sat on gojo’s side of the bed, inhaling his scent, as if he was here right now.

he’d always fill up the room with his loud cologne scents—you’re always telling him how it’s too strong and he always kisses your cheek, muttering, “eh really? i don’t smell it that much, baby..”

the scent was always sweet, a mixture of cinnamon and multiple other spices—you glanced at the roségold alarm clock that rested against your nightstand, the time reading six thirty am.

he still wasn’t here.

it was hard to not overthink, think the worst, gojo was always so good at calming your nerves. you’d be one to constantly overthink. his trick to stop that was to simply hold you in his arms, stroke your hair and tell you in a soft cheery voice, “hey angel, everything’s gonna be okay. i’m okay, we’re okay.”

but again, he still wasn’t here.

gojo mentioned to you before he left last night around midnight he had to ‘take care of something’ — his code word of he’s about to go into battle or fight, but he didn’t want you to worry about him.

that’s the very last thing he wanted. and if anything, he always assured you he’d be okay. even if he was beaten to a pulp by his enemies, he’d always return back home to you with that stupid lovable grin on his face.

so what made christmas day any different?

you swallowed the thick, nonexistent lump in your throat, trying to snap out of your deep melancholy thoughts. dragging your feet,

you rubbed your eyes from the sun just barely shinning through the curtains scattered throughout the house.

with a soft sigh, you made your way towards the christmas tree — the pretty lengthy tree the both of you decorated together last minute, a tiny smile went on your face at remembering how gojo kept accidentally breaking all of the ornaments, so he had to constantly keep buying new ones.

lights, glimmery multicolored lights, a plethora of ornaments and a pretty sheeny star sits at the very top. you sat on your knees, before glancing down at the various presents — one caught your eye, it was a tiny box. a velvet heart shaped box, and gojo told you it was the biggest surprise yet.

you paused, glancing down at your phone that was about it to die soon, wondering why gojo still hasn’t returned any of your calls.

he’s been gone for hours, and the knot in your stomach continued to tighten—it felt like something inside of you was squeezing, tugging you from the inside.

was this what a gut feeling feels like? something was telling you, screaming at you that something wasn’t right.

with shaky hands, you went to his contact for what seems like the millionth time, staring at the image that was his picture, him and you.

the both of you were being goofy, it was a old polaroid picture a few years ago of the both of you during your birthday.

he spoiled you so much that day, but as always he never forgot to repeat how much he loved you.

the phone rang three times and your mind pretty much knew mentally he wasn’t gonna answer, it was a bit foolish for you to continuously keep trying. but something in you told yourself, it’s satoru. he’s gonna answer. anything to reassure yourself, this happens a lot — gojo’s the type of person who always has his phone on silent, or he says he’ll call you back but ends up forgetting.

after a few rings, the same automatic voicemail plays, and just hearing his voice again, no matter how many times — it never fails to make your heart swoon.

you intake a sharp breath, closing your eyes before bringing the warm phone up to your ear, pressing it against your cheek before speaking in a voice.

a voice you hardly recognized, “…toru?” and you were on the brink of tears, it was easy to hear and you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you but at this point..

was it really worth holding on to?

fifteen long seconds passed and you forgot the phone was still in your hand.

you sniffled, gathering yourself briefly before continuing in a soft drowsy voice, “h-hey, um. i don’t mean to blow your phone up but, you aren’t responding and i’m getting kind of scared. are you okay?”

you pause again, feeling the sting of tears nearly escape through your eyelids before you squeeze your eyes shut, lightly squeezing your left thigh to prevent any more emotions from revealing themselves.

“i um, just wanna say i love you, and i hope you’re okay. i didn’t wanna open my gifts until you got here but you’re taking forever..”

and you manage to crack a tiny smile that purses against your lips—yet after a while, it fades and your heart feels like it’s just walking on egg shells. “but anyway, yeah. i love you satoru, text or call me back so i know you’re alright, please? and just get home safe okay? bye.”

you hung up the phone and a single tear ran down your cheek.

so much time had passed, and he still wasn’t here. it was nearly seven in the morning now, and your dumb curiosity got the best of you—you wondered what gojo’s big surprise gift was.

he wanted you to wait to see your reaction, but you were just so curious, so enthused.

you started to peel the pretty striped velvet wrapping paper off, one at a time, it was neatly wrapped with a perfect red and blank bow tied on the top.

once you opened it, it had a tiny black box, and your eyebrows raised, a note sticking out the side. grabbing it, you revealed it and it read in neat handwriting:

“hi baby!! merry merry christmas, i’m kinda tearing up while writing this, and i know i know you probably just wanna see the gift but first read this ‘kay? just wanna say i love love you so much, and i’m so glad we’ve been together for almost four years now. you mean everything to me, you’re so sweet and kind, always there whenever i need to talk my feelings out, or even if i just need to lay on you and fall asleep. but anywho, you know who loves you? this guy! hopefully i made you smile as you read this, im probably not at home yet but ill be back soon. don’t worry your pretty little head, alright? i love you baby, merry christmas from your honored one, xoxo.”

tears were in your eyes—and it was like you could hear him, he was right, you did manage to smile. sniffling, you placed the note aside before opening the small black box.

once you pulled the top back, your eyes widened, seeing a small coruscating ring. your heart sang, blinking twice to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

gojo was planning to propose..?

the ring was so pretty.

various scattered crushed up like pearls around the top, and once the tears started, they kept streaming down your face. you quickly pulled it out, sliding it on your ring finger and it was a perfect fit — in a frail sob, you mumble, “y-yes, i’ll marry you satoru.”

yet — that’s when you wake up, finally snapping back to reality. confused with tears still streaming down your face, burning.

“satoru?”

no answer.

you get up from the bed, your eyes widen before you look at your right hand — and the engagement ring was still there. a sigh of relief exits your mouth, and that’s when you make your way towards the kitchen.

nothing to worry about, maybe you just fell asleep while opening the gift. yeah, that had to be it.

although, the atmosphere of your house felt different. taking a quick glance in the living room, the christmas tree wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t snowing, and it was almost as if you lived by yourself.

“satoru?” you called out again, before pulling out your phone — scrolling towards your messages and your heart suddenly sank. the last message you sent him was two years ago, a subtle ‘satoru, it’s christmas and you’re still not here? are you okay?’

christmas…?

you pulled a tab down on your phone — and the date read march 17th. approximately two years later from when you last sent that message, and you were so confused.

but the further you scrolled down, you saw messages from others, sending you their regards and condolences for your loss….loss?

the recent message was from geto — and your last reply was, ‘thank you, i’m doing okay. i just still can’t believe he’s gone.”

. . .

you felt sick — tear after tear racing down both sides of your face before coming to the sudden unfathomable realization.

gojo never came back home for one reason and one reason only. he died a painful death those long two years ago, even though he swore he’d come back to you on christmas.

perhaps everything was all a lie.

sometimes people don’t win all the time, not even the honored one, the love of your life, gojo satoru.

#★vegasbaby.#gege made me do it 😔#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk angst #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #satoru gojo x reader #jjk fic #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk spoilers #gojo x y/n #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles

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pucksandpower · 10 days

Text

Fashionably Challenged

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: you and Max may not exactly be the paddock’s most stylish couple, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

You wake up to the sound of Max rummaging through the closet of your shared hotel suite. Rolling over, you see him laying out two matching outfits — the Red Bull Racing team polos, skinny jeans, and sneakers you’ve grown accustomed to over the years.

One set for him, one set for you.

“Morning, liefje,” he says, catching your gaze. “I have our outfits for the day ready to go.”

You smile sleepily. “Thanks, babe. You know me too well.”

Max grins as he walks over and climbs back into bed, throwing an arm around you. “Of course I do. Can’t have my girlfriend showing up to races looking anything less than perfect.”

You laugh and playfully shove him. “Oh shut up. You know I’d show up in a potato sack if I could.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he says with mock seriousness. “I would never let you embarrass me like that.”

“Embarrass you?” You scoff. “Please, like you even notice what I’m wearing half the time. You’re just as bad as me when it comes to fashion.”

Max opens his mouth to protest but then shuts it, shrugging in admission. “Okay, fair point. But that’s why I always get you the same thing I’m wearing. So there’s no way we can mess it up.”

You consider this for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We make a pretty fashionably challenged couple.”

“The most fashionably challenged,” he agrees with a laugh. He pauses, gaze growing serious. “But I like it that way. I like that we match.”

Warmth blooms in your chest. “Me too.”

The morning passes quickly as you get ready for the race. True to form, you both pull on the matching outfits without a second thought. As you’re walking out to the car, Max stops you.

“Wait,” he says, taking your hand and turning you to face him. He looks you up and down appraisingly. “You look perfect, just like always.”

You can’t help but beam at the compliment. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

He grins. “Not nearly enough.”

“Well I do,” you say, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, schatje,” Max murmurs against your lips. “Now let’s go kick some ass today.”

The race goes well, Max taking the checkered flag to the roar of the crowds. As you’re waiting to congratulate him, a podcaster approaches you with a microphone.

“Hi there,” she says brightly. “I’m Lottie from The Racing Line. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple quick questions?”

“Oh, um, sure,” you’re a bit caught off guard.

“Great! So first off, you and Max always seem to be wearing matching outfits to the races. Is that something you two purposely coordinate as a cute couple thing?”

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. “Oh no, not at all actually. The truth is neither of us have much fashion sense at all. So Max just gets me the female version of whatever he’s wearing to make it easy.”

The podcaster looks disappointed. “Oh, I see. So it’s not some adorable couple tradition then?”

“Well, I mean, I guess in a way it kind of is?” You say quickly, feeling guilty. “Neither of us are really into fashion, so we end up matching by default anyway. I think it’s sweet that we always end up coordinating without even trying because we’re just so in sync.”

She perks up at that. “Aww, okay, I can see that! So even though it’s not on purpose, you’ve made your own cute little tradition out of it just by being so aligned. That’s really romantic.”

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Well thank you so much for your time,” she shakes your hand. “And congratulations to Max on another win!”

“Thank you,” you reply as she walks away.

A few minutes later Max emerges, helmet under his arm and face lit up in that way you love. You throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Congratulations baby, you were amazing out there as always.”

“Thank you, schatje,” he says, squeezing you close. He pauses, smile turning teasing. “Did you enjoy chatting with that podcaster earlier?”

You pull back, eyes narrowing. “You saw that, did you?”

He chuckles. “Of course I did. I always notice you.”

“Well then you also saw me have to completely backtrack and come up with some sappy story for why we match when she thought it was a cutesy couple thing,” you say dryly.

Max shrugs. “It kind of is though, isn’t it? Maybe not on purpose, but it’s become our thing.”

“I guess you’re right,” you admit. “I told her it was romantic how in sync we are, always coordinating outfits without even trying.”

“Hmm, I like that,” he says, grinning. “We really are pretty in sync, aren’t we? Two fashionably hopeless peas in a pod.”

You laugh. “That we are.” You look at him fondly. “But I love our way better than being one of those obnoxiously coordinated couples.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “Though I will admit ...” His gaze grows more serious. “Part of the reason I like matching is because it makes me happy to walk around wearing the same thing as you. Like we’re a unit, you know?”

Your heart skips a beat at the soft vulnerability in his voice. “Max Verstappen, you big old romantic,” you tease gently.

He shrugs but you can see the pleased look in his eyes. Sudden understanding washes over you.

“Wait a minute … is that why you got me the same outfit the first time? Not just because you thought it would be easier, but because you wanted us to match?”

Max stays silent for a moment before breaking into a sheepish grin. “You caught me.”

“Oh my god!” You shove his shoulder playfully. “You big sap!”

“What can I say? I like having my girl on my arm looking like the power couple we are,” Max says, pulling you close again. “Fashionably challenged or not.”

“If only everyone out there making you out to be the villain could see the cuddly teddy bear you really are. I absolutely love it,” you murmur, stretching up to kiss him. You can feel him smile against your lips.

As you break apart, Max squeezes your hand. “Come on, let’s go celebrate. In new matching outfits, of course.”

You pretend to roll your eyes exaggeratingly but allow him to lead you towards the exit, your hands intertwined. You truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

You and Max are curled up on the couch in your hotel room, his arm draped around you as you lean into his side. It’s a rare quiet moment between races and you’re savoring the feeling of Max’s fingers gently carding through your hair.

“Hey Max?” You say after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” He hums in response, not looking away from the football match on the TV.

“I got an interesting offer today.”

That piques his interest and he turns his head to look at you. “Oh yeah? What kind of offer?”

You take a deep breath before answering. “A sponsorship deal, actually. From Oscar de la Renta.”

Max raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, that’s … really great, liefje. I’m so happy for you.”

But something in his tone makes you frown slightly. “Are you though? You don’t sound that excited.”

He gives you a half smile. “No, no, I am! That’s a huge opportunity for your career and image. Having that kind of sponsorship deal is amazing.”

“But?” You prod knowingly.

Max lets out a breath, smile fading. “But I guess part of me is a little disappointed and maybe … worried?”

“About what?”

“Well,” he shifts uncomfortably. “I like being the one who picks out your outfits for the races. Our little unintentional matching tradition has kind of become my thing, you know? I’m worried if you get sponsored by some big designer brand you won’t wear the outfits I pick out anymore. That we won’t match.”

His tone is carefully casual but you can hear the undercurrent of vulnerability. Your heart clenches in your chest.

“Oh Max ...” you murmur, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You really like our matching outfits that much?”

He averts his eyes but nods. “Yeah. I know it sounds silly, but I just … I like how in sync we are. How happy it makes me feel when we show up to the races looking like a real team. Like we’re truly partners in everything. I don’t want to lose that.”

The softness in his voice breaks your heart a little. You take his hand and give it a squeeze.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” you tell him gently. “Because I never would have accepted that offer anyway.”

Max blinks in surprise. “You wouldn’t?”

You shake your head. “Not a chance. First of all, they were pressuring me to only wear very high-end stuff, none of which really feels like my personal style. But more importantly ...” You lean in closer, maintaining eye contact. “They don’t have a men’s collection. So they couldn’t sponsor you too.”

Realization lights up his gaze. “Oh ...” he says softly.

You nod. “Exactly. I told them thanks but no thanks. Because no designer wardrobe is worth giving up what we have.”

Max looks stunned. “You … you turned them down? Just to keep matching with me?”

“Of course I did,” you say affectionately, poking his chest. “I would never give that up. How could I say yes to some fancy sponsorship that meant not having my fashionably challenged other half by my side, both looking like total goofballs in the one outfit the world thinks makes up the entirety of our closet?”

A slow smile spreads across his face and he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “God, I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “So much.”

You relax into his embrace, overwhelmed by the rush of affection. “I love you too,” you whisper. You pull back slightly to look at him. “Did you really think I’d give up matching with you over that?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, looking a little sheepish. “I guess a small part of me was worried maybe you’d be tempted by the glamor and exposure of being a designer brand ambassador.”

“You know me better than that,” you affirm. “Our matching looks are too special to me. I adore everything about our little tradition — the fact that it started because neither of us cares about fashion, to you always picking out my outfits, and how happy it makes both of us to show up to races coordinating with each other.”

You take Max’s hand, intertwining your fingers. “Don’t you see, my love? It’s not really about the clothes at all, it’s about us. About how perfectly aligned we are in this little part of our lives. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Max’s eyes have gone suspiciously bright, his free hand reaching up to cradle your face. “But liefje … you could have had any designer clothing you wanted.” His voice is thick with emotion. “You turned that down … for me?”

Unable to find the words, you just nod, blinking back your own tears.

“I can’t believe it,” Max breathes out shakily. “You never cease to amaze me.”

You offer him a watery smile. “Well believe it, my love. Because there’s nothing in the world more precious to me than you and our bond. I wouldn’t sacrifice that for anything.”

A single tear escapes to trail down Max’s cheek and you quickly brush it away with your thumb. Seeming at a loss for words, he pulls you into a fierce hug, tucking your head under his chin as you settle into his embrace.

“I love you,” he finally whispers into your hair. “So damn much.”

“I love you too.” You pepper kisses along his neck and jaw until you reach his lips, capturing them in a deep, slow kiss that tries to convey every unspoken word of devotion and adoration.

When you finally break apart, Max gazes at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“God, you really are perfect,” he murmurs, running a hand reverently through your hair. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“No,” you shake your head with a soft smile. “I’m the lucky one. To have someone who loves me so fiercely, someone I love just as much in return.”

Max lets out a watery chuckle. “I think we’re both the lucky ones then.”

You settle back against his chest as he wraps his arms securely around you. For a while neither of you speaks, lost in your own thoughts as you simply bask in each other’s presence. You let your eyes drift shut as Max’s fingers resume their gentle motions through your hair.

Eventually you break the silence.

“You know we’re going to have to get even cuter matching outfits now to make up for it,” you murmur teasingly.

Max’s chest rumbles with laughter against your cheek. “Deal. Anything you want, schatje. I’ll make sure we’re the most adorable fashionably challenged couple at every single race from now on.”

You smile at the warmth and conviction in his voice. “No one could ever call us uncoordinated.”

“Never,” Max affirms, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head. “We’re perfectly matched in every way that matters.”

You sigh contentedly as you snuggle further into his embrace. In that moment, you know he’s absolutely right. You couldn’t imagine a better match than your Max.

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alanaaii · 3 months

Text

I miss you.☆

!plugeren misses his girl-a lot.

nsfw towards the end.

Wiping the drool off of your the corner of your puffy lips, you get woken up from your dream by the sound of your phone. Perfectly placed next to you for your alarm—but this wasn’t your alarm going off. Before your eyes can see the screen clearly, you were only able to make out the letter R with the color red. It could only be one person. The only person who would EVER call you on a random wednesday night. Your man eren. Calling you at 2 in the morning and disturbing your beauty sleep. After 3 rings, you finally answered the phone.“hello?” You mumble-still trying to wake up fully. Wondering why was he calling you at this time of the night.

It took a minute, but you could recognize the sound of music in his background along with wind blowing. Was he in a car? “You sleep?”

You exhale into the phone unknowingly. “It is 2am, what the fuck do you think i’m doing?”

Clearly annoyed that he snatched you from your peaceful sleep. “watch your mouth. i’m on my way ‘n put something on”. Snapping completely from your sleepy state, you register the words that you hear and grab your phone. “No the he-“ bleep.

Eren hung up the phone. Sitting up, looking at your phone you shaking your head and start getting ready.

Taking your bonnet off, you let your hair down and put on some grey tights along with a random white shirt you had in the corner of your room, you threw the random fit on but it was still cute. You only realized you were taking your sweet time when you heard your phone ringing again but this time it was a facetime call. Instantly picking up you were greeted with his pearly white smile along with his tattoo that went from his neck to his arm was partially exposed from the black t-shirt he had on as he whipped the steering wheel. Your insides were burning.

“I’m outside ”

“okay”

The call was quick but it left your heart pounding. Why did he want to see you? All of your questions were answered when you got to his car. Hopping into the passenger seat, your favorite tatted arm grabbed your neck. The warmth of his hand could’ve made you bust right there. He pressed his lips onto your glossed ones. To deepen the kiss, his slick warm tongue passed through your lips and into your mouth.

The kiss was long and nasty. The slippery tongues tackling each other for dominance. As you pulled away, the only thing connecting the two of you was his arm wrapped around your neck. which you didn’t mind at all.

“i missed you mama, why don’t you call me no more?”

The eye contact was intense. It was as if he was hungry and you were his next meal. You could feel the heat between your legs rise. oh the things he do to you without even trying.

“i’ve been busy with school and work, it’s hard juggling both”

Eren let out an annoyed huff. Openly annoyed with your response he releases his hand from his grasp around your neck.

“i told you i got your bills n shit, i just want you with me” The corners of your lips rise up as you take in his offer. “ren i don’t want you to spend all ya money on me”

“but i want to” His hand makes its way to your thighs, squeezing them. He knew that was your weak spot. “rennn” You practically whined. begging him to stop teasing you.

“c'mere” With his free hand he pat his lap, hinting for you to sit in the driver side.

Your brain was no longer in control. You were thinking with your coochie.

Putting your bag to the side you got up and sat on him. Your thighs squished on either sides of him. As you rest your butt on him, you feel a bulge between your legs. You take a glimpse at his pants and back up at him. He took this as his chance to move his face to your neck. Gently, he began to litter your neck with his plush soft lips getting you all flustered. Your mouth fell open with a light moan escaping from your lips.

Without even thinking, your body began to move on its own. Grinding your hips onto him to ease the aching heat between your legs.

“take these off..” Eren said as his attention trailed to your waist band tugging on it and letting it snap back onto you. Wincing at the pain, it didn’t stop you from basically jumping out of your pants. He unzipped his pants just enough for his dick to spring out and flop onto your entrance. Your heart was beating out of your chest and eren could feel it. “calm down mama, you know ima take care of you” His voice was low and raspy but like music to your ears. Pressing your lips onto his, you could feel his hand snake its way to your exposed waist. His fingers dug into your skin as he pushed you down onto him. Gripping onto his arm for support as you adjusted to his length. Noticing the tat he got for you. “y/n” with different swirling designs. He really loved you.

When you were finally adjusted, you pull away from the kiss and started to buck your hips onto him. Moans and grunts from you and eren filled his car. The tints made it extremely dark but that was the least of your worries your mind was turning into mush and was slowly losing your grip on him. Eren picked up where you left off and thrusted into you. “Eren wait!” The way his dick disappeared into was like magic. “shut up and take this dick”. Hearing him be mean to you made you bite your lip.

Your slick completely coating his dick and wetting his pants but he paid no attention to that. With one of his hands, he moved his thumb to your clit and did circles with the pace he knew drove you crazy. The feeling of pure bliss filling you up but a familiar feeling in your gut made you snap back to reality. Beginning to ride him to catch your own high. The build up was intense but not more intense than your release. Whining out “ren”’s over and over again as you came. “let it alll out mhm” he grunted. Talking you through your orgasm but that didn’t stop him from catching his own. Still fucking into you, he clutched his jaw and held onto your waist. All you could do was look at him and sob. Your eyes filling with tears that are threatening to fall.

You suddenly feel warmth shoot inside of you followed by a low “fuck”. Erens lips magnetically found their way to yours as he groaned into your mouth. Filling you like a twinkie.

Once both of you came down, he left himself inside of you as you laid your tired head onto him. The few minutes of silence was abruptly interrupted. “you gon’ quit that job fa me?” You lift your head and rubbed your eyes. “mhm"

Likes, reblogs and follows are always appreciated! ♡

#plug eren #eren smut #eren x black reader #eren jaeger #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x black fem!reader #eren x y/n #lanaworks

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steddieas-shegoes · 20 days

Text

Steve arriving at a hotel for a work conference for his dad’s company. He hates it there, he’s miserable, he’s constantly trying to figure out what he actually wants to do with his life.

It’s late when he gets there and the hotel is fully booked because of a concert happening.

He gets his key card after waiting for 30 minutes to check in.

He opens the hotel room door to find it is already occupied by a guy with a whole lot of tattoos all over his very naked and still dripping from a shower body.

Obviously he panics a bit and wonders how the hell this could’ve happened and Eddie panics a little because of safety (turns out he’s the singer of the band performing the following night!)

They try to call the front desk but the line is busy and Steve already dreads having to go back and wait in the line downstairs.

Eddie offers to let him just stay and they’ll fix it in the morning.

“Plenty of room in a king for both of us.”

Which may be true, but Steve is an octopus when he shares a bed and he knows he will end up in Eddie’s space. Should he warn him? Probably. Does he? Absolutely not.

Steve rushes through a shower and hops into bed, making small talk with Eddie about his life in a band, ignores questions about what he does as much as he can because he doesn’t feel like explaining he’s just a puppet for his dad’s never ending business career.

He falls asleep listening to Eddie’s soft, deep tone.

And of course when he wakes up, he’s got his legs and arms wrapped around Eddie anywhere he can reach. His drool is drying on Eddie’s chest and he’s coming to terms with the fact that his dick was definitely pressed against Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie’s kind enough not to say anything about it, just squeezes Steve’s arm and continues petting his hair.

It’s nice, too nice.

Steve has to get up. He’s got things to do today and if he’s late, his dad will hear about it and berate him for hours.

Shit, even if he’s on time he’ll probably find some other reason to berate him for hours.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked.

“Hm? Oh. Just don’t really wanna get up.”

“Then don’t. I don’t have anywhere to be until soundcheck after lunch.”

And now Steve has no choice but to explain his job and why he’s here, how his dad is relying on him to network and find potential mergers. How he hates putting on the Harrington face to please everyone.

It’s easy to admit it to Eddie, especially with Eddie’s arms wrapped around him, holding him like he could actually protect him from anything his father tries to say to hurt him.

“You don’t like your job.”

It’s not a question.

“Does anyone really like their job?”

“I do.”

“Well, you’re a rockstar. Of course you do. But I can’t be a rockstar.”

“Maybe not. But what is your rockstar?”

Steve had never been asked that, not even by guidance counselors in high school. They all knew he’d work for his father. He got a business degree for his father. He owned more suits than sweatpants for his father.

“I…don’t know.”

“Maybe you could try figuring it out.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“No, it’s not. But you could still try.”

So Steve sent a message to his dad’s partner, let him know he was fighting food poisoning from the in-flight meal and couldn’t make it to the conference today. He watched as Eddie threw on some clothes, mussed up his hair instead of brushed it, and quickly shoved his things into his bag.

“I should get out of your hair, try to get the room thing fixed.”

Eddie looked at him, looked at the alarm clock by the bed, down at Steve’s bag.

“How many days are you packed for?”

“Uh, four, technically. Trip was supposed to be three, but I always have an extra in case there’s flight delays or-“

“Come with me.”

“To…soundcheck?”

“On tour.”

Steve was an idiot, his father made sure he knew it as often as possible. But he couldn’t just go on tour with a stranger.

Could he?

What was he really doing here?

He hated his job, hated his dad, hated not having a clear path in front of him.

And this certainly wasn’t a clear path; He barely knew this guy, and hadn’t even heard his band. But it was a trail, the start of a path that could lead him somewhere he’d actually like to be.

Maybe he could take this chance.

Robin would tell him to do it, if she weren’t in Antarctica studying penguins for three months, only able to call once a week to check in.

What would she say if she called him and he was backstage at a heavy metal concert?

She’d probably say he’s lost his damn mind, but she’d be glad he did.

“Well, I am a rockstar. I could afford to have you around.”

“I’m not sure I could really afford to when my dad fires me,” Steve sighed, reality hitting him a little too quickly.

“I’m not really willing to be, like, your kept boy or anything,” Steve felt himself flush.

“I’m not really willing to have a kept boy,” Eddie smirked, joining him on the bed again, legs crossed in front of him. “But I’d definitely be happy to have someone who can help our tour manager out. You’d be working, though the jobs kind of boring.”

“More boring than sitting in an office five days a week and meeting with old white dudes who haven’t done anything but work their lives away for 40+ years?”

“Nah, way better than that. Sometimes you’ll have to deal with Gareth’s moods, but I promise to make it worth your while.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” Eddie very obviously checked him, eyes trailing over Steve’s bare chest. “I’m open to negotiating.”

“And if I want a kiss?”

“Then a kiss you’ll have.”

“And if I want you to fuck me?”

“Then you’ll have to sign some paperwork,” Eddie laughed. “But that can be arranged too.”

So Steve left with Eddie, four days of clothes in his bag, no idea what he’d even tell his dad or anyone else, and no clue exactly what his new job would entail.

All he knew was Eddie seemed to be made just for him, chaos and hyperactivity included, and Steve wasn’t gonna give that up now. Even if it made no sense, even if it was ridiculous to gain a new job and new rockstar boyfriend in less than 24 hours, even if his next call with Robin was a combination of her yelling about his impulsive behaviors and congratulations for finally doing something for him.

Even if he was more of a VIP groupie for the band than an employee of the tour manager.

Steve finally found something he wanted.

If he sent his dad’s calls to voicemail, that was because he was too busy walking his new path.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #drabble #modern au #rockstar eddie munson #meet cute #unrealistic timeline of falling in love #and I’m not sorry for it

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starkwlkr · 3 months

Note

Love your baby Leclerc series! ❤️ If you're into the idea, maybe you'd like to write about Charles' little girl being sick and him being all worried and taking care of her? 🥺

my baby | charles leclerc

note: i am not taking requests, i am just posting my drafts

It started in the middle of the night when Ruby woke up Charles. She had her favorite blanket wrapped around her with her bunny slippers on her cold feet. She stood beside Charles, who was snoring. She called his name several times, but he didn’t wake up so she tried poking his arm until he woke up. When that didn’t work, she remembered the story that she overheard the other day about something that Charles had shouted.

“Box! Box!” She raised her voice slightly.

It was like a trigger word for Charles that instantly brought bad memories and anxiety. The driver woke up immediately and saw that his daughter was standing in front of him.

“What time is it?” He wondered as he rubbed his tired eyes.

“I don’t know, but I’m hurting, papa.” Ruby whined.

“What’s wrong, my Ruby Jules?” Charles asked.

“My head is hurting and I’m cold.” She whispered.

Charles pressed his hand against Ruby’s forehead and felt it warm. She was getting a fever and you weren’t home. You were on a trip with Mathéo to your home country to visit your parents. Ruby had school so Charles stayed behind since he had a break from racing.

“You wanna sleep beside papa? I’ll get some medicine so you can feel better.” Charles uncovered himself and stood up from his bed . He took Ruby into his arms and laid her onto his bed then covered her with the blanket.

“Papa, Floppy is alone in my room! He doesn’t like being alone!” Ruby gasped.

“I’ll go get Floppy, just stay here.” Charles said then kissed Ruby’s warm forehead. His first stop was to get medicine from the cabinet in kitchen. He read the directions on the bottle then grabbed a spoon. His next stop was Ruby’s bedroom where he retrieved his daughter’s favorite stuffed bunny named Floppy.

“Floppy!” Ruby called out as Charles made his way back into his room. He carefully set the bunny on the bed for her to grab.

“Time for your medicine, mon amour,” he sat on the edge of the bed as he started to open the bottle of medicine.

“I don’t want that.” Ruby used Floppy to hide her face.

“Ruby Jules, if you want to get better, you have to drink your medicine.” Charles said. Ruby hesitated, but sat up so she could drink from the spoon filled with medicine that her papa had poured.

“Does it taste like candy?” She asked.

“I don’t know, how about you taste it and then tell me.”

So she did, but instantly realized that it did not taste like candy.

“Yuck!” She made a face at her papa wondering why he even bought that disgusting liquid into the house.

“Okay, you did good. Scoot, your papa wants some cuddles.” Charles got under the covers then brought Ruby closer to him.

Morning came and Ruby was still sick. She had a stuffy nose and her fever had gotten worse. She didn’t even feel like getting out of Charles’ bed so when it was breakfast time, he brought a plate of pancakes and fruit to her.

“Papa, it hurts.” Ruby groaned as she hugged Floppy. Charles was starting to question if he should take her to the emergency room. He had texted you early in the morning about Ruby’s condition. You replied that you would get on the next flight to Monaco, but he assured you that he could handle it.

At least he thought he could.

“I know, Ruby, I know,” Charles placed a kiss on her cheek. “You know, grand-mére told me that taking a bath makes you feel better. I’m going to fill the bath, okay?”

“Can you put bubbles and the toys?” She mumbled weakly.

“Anything for you.”

After getting the bath ready with bubbles and toys, Ruby got in. The water made her feel slightly better, but blowing bubbles and playing with rubber ducks with her papa made her smile ten times more.

“Hello mister duck, you look nice today!” Charles tried doing different voices for each duck. “Thank you, little duck!”

“The ducks should have names, papa.” Ruby said.

“You’re right, what should the ducks be called?” Charles asked.

“This one is called Arthur and this one Lorenzo.” Ruby laughed as she pointed to the two ducks that Charles had in his hands.

“I guess that just leaves Charles the duck.” The Ferrari driver grabbed the third duck that was floating in the bubbly water.

“No, papa! His name is Floppy two.” Ruby grabbed the duck from Charles’ hands and played with it.

“Floppy two . . . I guess he can be called that.”

When bath time came to an end, Charles let Ruby get dressed by herself, something she always wanted to do. As Ruby got dressed in her room, Charles prepared dinner for them. Before he could finish the mac and cheese for his daughter, the doorbell rang.

He walked to the front door and opened it revealing his brothers Lorenzo and Arthur, along with Lorenzo’s girlfriend, Charlotte. “Where is my favorite niece?” Arthur asked.

“Hello, Arthur, it’s so nice to see you. I’m doing good, thanks for asking.” Charles rolled his eyes as he let his family in.

“How is Ruby?” Lorenzo asked.

“She’s better. She just took a bath, that definitely helped a lot.” Charles explained.

“Papa! I can’t put my shoe on!” The Leclerc heard Ruby shout. She walked down the stairs with a pink tutu, purple leggings, a Barbie shirt and one shoe on while she held the other in her left hand.

“Interesting choice of clothing, Ruby.” Arthur laughed.

“It’s called fashion and Ruby is a pro at it, Arthur!” Charlotte playfully hit Arthur’s arm. “I’ll help you, Ruby, come on.” Charlotte led the little girl to the living room.

“Yeah, Arthur, it’s called fashion!” Ruby sassed.

Arthur cringed. “She just called me Arthur.”

“That’s your name.” Lorenzo replied.

“Yeah, but she’s my niece. It’s weird hearing it from her.”

#inbox <3 #anon #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula one #baby leclerc series

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satoruhour · 10 months

Text

UNDERCUT

a/n: based off a tweet that said gojo would purr if u touched his undercut. listened to peace piece while writing ✶

there is something about lying on sheets that match gojo satoru’s hair, while the gentle breeze of the autumn morning filters through your blinds. there are both birds singing in the trees and butterflies in your stomach from merely having your lover close to you; it’s second nature to wake up and crave his warmth.

undercut’s getting long. we’d have to trim it soon.

and when your silence and thoughts are interrupted by someone’s morning groans and hums from the glare of the tokyo sky, a smile naturally graces your lips. even now, your hand hasn’t stopped brushing through his locks.

“good morning, my love,” the expression he gives matches yours exactly: his chest immediately feels tight when he sees you, morning breath and all, he gets giddy and tingly and wants to kiss you all over. you’re wondering why he hasn’t done it yet.

slow like the morning, slow like these words, satoru props himself up with his elbows, easily reaching for your face before you both sink into a gentle, slow kiss. it’s so sweet that you’re sure it could turn (faux) insult into ardour and you don’t even notice you need air until the both of you break away and giggle softly at your flushed faces.

“your undercut is growing fast, y’know. we’d have to cut it soon,” the tips of your fingers run over the short strands of hair subconsciously, mouth gaping open a little when satoru closes his eyes and hums at the feeling.

“do it again.”

you laugh, “okay,” and you do, softly guiding your hands over the fuzzy hairs and gaining content sighs and soft moans from the man. gojo has to hide in your stomach, needing to be closer to you as you continue your hypnotising gesture.

“like it when your hair’s touched, huh?” the other hums yet again.

“only when my baby’s doing it.” there’s a ghost of a smile in your stomach, possibly from hearing the flutters of the butterflies in your tummy.

his embrace tightens around you when he sits up, towering over you now as the sky turns dark for a morning shower. fickle-minded weather, satoru would say, click his tongue and shake his head and you grin harder imagining it; your lovers asks why.

“nothing, just thinking.”

“of me? you better be, darling,” gojo thumbs your waist under the shirt you’re wearing, sleep still evident in his voice in the way he slurs his words — it could also be that he’s terribly, deeply in love with you and is simply high off of your presence.

and if that wasn’t the case before, it is now when he leans in again for a rougher kiss, moaning into your mouth as you continue to stroke his undercut. he can taste the sun on your mouth and the imminent rain to come all on you.

“i love you like how poets write,” satoru whispers against your lips in between kisses, and he runs hot, the back of his neck heating up from how much he adores you; it almost burns like flames licking at paper. “how the rain chases the sun.”

gojo tears a little because how the fuck would he have gotten this much love under the home of one of the most powerful clans? essentially nothing — and now he has the closest resemblance of a deity in his arms who knows exactly how many spoons of sugar he likes in his tea and how kikufuku is made from one of his rambles.

“you’re okay, i got you.” you mumble, fingers prepared at his eyes (you heard him sniffle). “i love you too.”

gojo’s heart is full when you reply to his confession, kissing you again (favourite thing in the world) and stifling smiles as the rain makes its first fall in the serenity of your room. he thinks of declaring his love, but is certain his love would overflow later at breakfast, at reading hour, at movie night.

satoru merely settles for calling you his sweet, sweet girl in between saccharine pecks and making sure he loves you louder than that morning downfall and every other downpour that’s sure to come.

if you know me i think you’ll know i have a problem with this gojo obsession

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bleedingoptimism · 10 months

Text

The night of the events of Starcourt, Steve lies about his parents being home because he doesn't want to impose on anyone else. So he says his parents are waiting for him back home and Joyce drops him off to get some rest.

Steve gets home and immediately realizes it's a horrible idea, he's concussed, confused, alone, scared, and in pain.

He panics and ends up walking through the woods alone where Wayne finds him when he's getting home from work.

Wayne freaks out over the injured sailor boy that looks like he hasn't slept in days and who is confused about how he got there.

He convinces Steve to come in for coffee, but when they get inside Steve starts looking around fascinated by every little trinket. he ends up in Eddie's room,

"Where am I?" he wonders and even through the questions and fears it makes Wayne chuckle,

"This is my nephew's room" He answers looking at Steve walk around with stars in his eyes at the mess.

"He must be really cool," he tells Wayne.

Wayne nods and smirks but then Steve catches his own reflection in the mirror,

"is that me? Jesus no wonder you look so worried, I look like shit"

And he says something that breaks Wayne's heart a little, "I'm sorry," and he looks so sad too, and so honest like he really thinks him not looking okay is a problem for Wayne. Like Wayne would get mad at him for not being 'presentable'.

"I should leave," Steve says.

Wayne raises his arms in mock surrender,

"Woah, no kid, it's fine, you don't look that bad, I was only worried because you look tired. When was the last time you slept?"

Steve thinks for a while and frowns, "I don't remember..."

"Why don't you rest here in this cool room," Wayne asks him with a kind smile, "and then will get that coffee, ok?"

Steve agrees and falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

Wayne sighs and leaves the room, he sits on the couch and sees on the tv the news about the fire.

It's an explanation, not the whole truth but it's something. Clearly, Steve was there but that doesn't explain the bruises, the confusion, the fear. He feels like something else might be going on.

And why on gods earth was that kid all alone?

Eventually, he falls asleep too.

So when Eddie gets home from spending the night at Jeff's after a gig, he finds his uncle sleeping on the couch and doesn't find it weird at all, he tiptoes to his room for a change of clothes and there he finds the fucking former king of hawkings wearing the skimpiest sailor uniform sleeping on his bed, and for a second he thinks 'is it my birthday?' but then Steve turns in his sleep and Eddie sees his face and thinks 'shit'

He is instantly worried, no matter how much he dislikes jocks, no one deserves to be brutalized like that.

And to ruin that beautiful face? A crime.

Once more he tiptoes into the hallway and goes where his uncle is slowly waking up. He gets close, real close so when Wayne opens his eyes the first thing he sees is Eddie blinking at him.

Wayne jumps a little and bites back a curse, "Jesus kid!"

Eddie chuckles, "Sorry, Wayne. Might telling me about the little sailor in my bed?"

Wayne sighs and tells him.

When Steve wakes up a bit later is to the sound of Eddie's acoustic. He's sitting in his desk chair, plucking a sweet and soft melody,

"Morning goldilocks," he tells him with a smile.

Steve, who had a bunch of excuses and apologies lined up already frowns, and inclines his head, "Goldilocks?"

"I found you sleeping in my bed, didn't I?" Eddie answers sweetly.

Steve blushes, he can't help it, and once more instead of getting up and leaving he gets distracted by Eddie's whole deal.

"I'm not even blond" he argues.

Eddie bows his head at him, as if to say he got him there, but then says,

"You have locks of hair that look golden in the sun, goldilocks"

Steve really hopes the bruises cover his blush, he really, really hopes. But judging from Eddie's smile, he can't tell it's not the case.

"I should leave," he says moving slowly to the edge of the bed.

Eddie places his guitar on the desk and turns to fully look at him, "You don't have to. If you don't want to," he points to something on the bottom of the bed, "Look, clean clothes and my fluffiest towel, why don't you take a shower and then we drink that coffee my uncle promised?"

And Steve’s heart hurts with how much he wants that. He doesn't want to be alone, he wants to stay here with the kind wonderful man he met last night and Eddie, who played guitar for him while he slept and thinks his hair is golden, but still...

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose"

Eddie snorts and mouthes 'impose' to himself before leaning closer and looking Steve in the eyes,

"I'm sure, Goldie. Go, shower. I'll go put the kettle on"

And steve can't do much more than nod and smile shyly at him.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #i wrote something

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bucks-babe · 15 days

Text

Slip Up

Pairing: Notsovirgin!Bucky x f!reader

Summary: While having fun with your boyfriend, an accident occurs, leading to another first for Bucky

Warnings: Wrong hole, Bucky cums so much, squirting, Bucky is a sweet boy, unprotected p in v, anal, anal fingering, dirty talk, small mention of prostate cancer (Like one line), Bucky is an innocent baby, anal to vaginal fingering (DON’T DO THAT), Bucky calls reader a whore once, but it’s sexy, overstimulation?, daddy kink (I can’t help myself), Bucky is becoming a dom??, no crying during sex (I know, shocker)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Part of the Virgin!Bucky series. It can be read as a stand alone as well. But you shouldn't read it alone because it's filthy! And it's worth it to see Bucky becoming more and more a lover of Sex! Beta read and idea from the incredible @buckys-wintersoldier Blame her for the filth you are about to read. She’s the one who put this idea in my head. I can’t be held responsible for the feelings you experience. However, any and all mistakes are my own. But you wrote that!!!! A lot of filthy ideas which dropped my jaw and let my pasta almost fall out of my mouth!

You and Bucky have been fucking like rabbits ever since the day he lost his virginity to you. He was addicted to the feel of your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, never lasting more than a few minutes, but able to keep going thanks to the serum coursing through his body. He wonders if he will ever be able to last longer. You say you don’t mind that he can’t control how fast he cums, but it doesn’t make him feel any better that he can’t.

Even with that thought nagging at him all the time, the moment he enters you his mind goes blank, only able to think about how wet and tight you are. Never experiencing anything like it before. Almost every night you have to change the sheets, the sheer volume of his cum too much for your body to handle; however, that doesn’t stop you from fucking him every damn day, waking him up with blowjobs when he has morning wood, or the way you beg for him to cum in you just one more time.

Bucky understands now. He understands why people go so crazy over sex. The pleasure you give him makes him weak in the knees, not a single thought in his head, only the urge to fill you up over and over again.

That’s how he ends up in bed, railing you. Legs thrown over his shoulders taking his brutal assault. He’s gotten more confident each time he fucks you. He may not last long, but he makes up for it with how many times he can cum and keep going. The both of you writhing in pleasure, him drawing seven orgasms from you already, eating your pussy for over an hour.

He wasn’t too far behind, cumming inside of you three times and once down your throat. The sounds of your fucking is louder than ever, your squirt mixed with his excessive loads making you wetter than ever. “Fuck, doll, this pussy is so fucking wet, filled up with my cum. So fucking dirty, letting me use you like this, fucking you like a damn toy. God, my cock is so fucking sensitive, gonna blow again. Yeah, you want that? I bet you do, you dirty whore.”

One thing that Bucky has found out he really loves is dirty talk and degradation. He loves when you do it to him just as much as doing it to you. It makes his cock somehow even harder. Each push of his hips is met with a harsh slap of his thighs meeting your ass and the vulgar sound of the excessive wetness of your pussy.

“Shit, doll, gonna cum. Gonna cum so goddamn much, make this pussy overflow. Shitshitshit, fuck, m’cumming.” His balls pull up, forcing so much cum out of his cock that he swears he’s about to pass out. His eyes roll to the back of his head when he feels you squirt all over him, another wave of cum bursting from him. The force of your orgasm pushes his cock out, but Bucky was brainless now, having cum so much he was losing control of his body.

His hips never stopped moving, almost not noticing that he wasn’t in your pussy anymore, too lost in his own pleasure, cum still flowing from him. He tried to put his cock back in, needing to keep you full of his cum, but the amount of cum and wetness made a slippery mess. At the next thrust of his hips, his cock slides down, not entering your welcoming pussy, rather trying, and failing to enter your ass.

Your hole tight and unwilling to stretch on such short notice takes your breath away. The pain is instant, shooting from your hole all the way up your spine. “FUCK!” You push Bucky off of you with so much force he almost falls off the bed. Curling on your side, you try to gasp for air, the pain knocking the wind out of you.

Bucky is knocked out of his stupor, cock immediately softening when he sees how much pain you’re in. “Doll, what happened? Are you okay?” Ice drenches his spine. He barely started having sex and he’s already hurt you. Everything was fine seconds ago and now you’re curled up in the fetal position gasping for air.

“I’m okay, Bucky, I’m okay.” It comes out breathy but you try to compose yourself for your boyfriend’s sake, needing to comfort him, letting him know he didn’t do anything wrong. You roll over looking at Bucky who looks like a kicked puppy.

“What did I do?” His voice is thick with unshed tears. You’re the last person he ever wants to hurt. You motion for him to come closer to you. At first he hesitates, not wanting to accidentally hurt you again, but you insist so he follows.

“You tried to go in the wrong hole, sweetheart. That one doesn’t open up as easy.” He whines. Bucky can’t deny that the thought of his cock in your ass hadn’t crossed his mind more than once. But he couldn’t ever find the confidence to ask you. Of course he knows that you would never judge him, but he didn’t know that he wasn’t the only one who was interested.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, doll.” You cut off the rest of his apology, not wanting to hear him talk badly about himself.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. A lot of people do that, they just have to prep for it.” That gains Bucky’s attention. Other people want to do the same thing as him?

“I-well-they do?” Bucky can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He was terrible at having any conversations about what he wants to do in the bedroom, too afraid to ask.

“Yes, they do. If you want we can try it too. We just need to have some prep beforehand, so you’ll fit inside of me and it won’t hurt.”

“It hurts you?” There was no way that Bucky would do anything if it would hurt you. He gets off on your pleasure just as much as his own. Why would anyone want to do something that hurts their partner?

“Not when I’m prepared. You have to work that hole open because it’s not usually meant for that kind of stuff. It’s supposed to feel good for the both of us.” That makes his cock twitch. The feeling of your pussy is so different from the feel of your mouth. They both drive him crazy, but the thought of what your ass would feel like has his cock rock hard in a matter of seconds.

“Can we, uh, can we do that?” His cheeks were on fire, never having been so embarrassed to ask for something in his life. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, not wanting you to see his face. The sound of your giggle makes him curl further into you, feeling the vibrations through his chest.

“Of course we can, sweetheart. I’ll show you what to do, talk you through it.” It soothes Bucky, knowing that you’re there to guide him. To show him how to please you. He has no clue what he would do without you.

“Have you done this before?” Bucky knows he has no right to be jealous of any of your exes when he is the one who gets to be with you, but the image of someone else taking that hole annoys him.

“Only by myself, but I’ll show you how to start.” Gently, you push Bucky off of you, making him sit up on the bed. He stares down at you with so much love you almost just beckon him back to you, wanting to keep him in your arms forever. Nonetheless, you spread your legs, showing him your swollen, cum filled cunt.

You see Bucky’s cock bop with a pulse of arousal at the sight. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Bucky watches as you flip over, ass up in the air causing him to moan. You glance back at him with a smirk, but continue on your mission. Opening the drawer to your bedside table, you pull out a bottle of lube, tossing it to Bucky who easily catches it.

“What is this? What’s lube?” You move back into your original position, drawing Bucky’s attention away from the bottle.

“Well, you gotta get in there somehow. It makes everything slicker, less painful. Open the bottle, sweetheart and put it on one of your fingers. Then I want you to circle my hole with it.”

Bucky whispers a quiet, “oh fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” underneath his breath before popping the cap to the bottle open and putting a generous amount on his finger before bringing it to your rim, circling it just like you said.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. Always listen so well to me.” Bucky’s hips jerk involuntarily at your praise, wanting more.

“Can I put one in now, please?” Oh, your baby was desperate. You look right into his eyes and nod, letting him know he can. “Shit, you’re so tight.” You only gasp, the feeling of his finger inside of you is so much different than your own. He slowly pumps his finger in and out, curling it to find your spot. His brows pull together in concentration, not being able to find it. He has to put his ego aside and ask for help, he knows it. “Doll, can you show me where it is?”

“There’s no g-spot in my ass, sweets.” This stops his finger, his head immediately falling, not wanting to look into your eyes. He knows men have a prostate, it was a whole deal back in the day with men getting cancer. So why didn’t you have one?

“But, what about your prostate?” The poor thing. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He doesn’t know any better and he just wants to make you feel good. The last thing you want to do is make him feel bad for something he didn’t know.

“Oh, sweets, women don’t have them, only men do.” This was a very awkward conversation to have when Bucky’s finger is still in your ass, just sitting there unmoving. Bucky bites his bottom lip, avoiding eye contact with you. Why can’t he do anything right? First he tries to spear you with his cock in your ass and now he is trying to find a damn prostate that you don’t even have.

“M’sorry, doll. I didn’t know, I just thought everyone had one.” Bucky feels the blood slowly leaving his cock from the mortification. You felt your face heat up too, the pressure of his finger a constant reminder that he was inside of you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just move your finger like you would your cock. All you have to do is be gentle and you’ll get the hang of it.” When he finally looks up at you he has the sweetest pout on his lips. Keeping eye contact with him, you trail your hand down your body, meeting his hand where it resides inside of you. Wrapping your hand around his, you guide his movement, slowly trusting his hand until he starts to move it on his own.

“It feels so tight. How am I going to fit in there?” Just the thought of his cock in the hole that is struggling to accommodate one finger has the blood rushing right back into his dick.

You let out a small moan, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s finger, much better than your own. “You can add another finger, sweets, just be gentle.” Bucky’s breath hitches, cock desperate to be inside you, but he knows he has to wait. He brings his middle finger to your hole, rubbing it the way he did the first; his first finger still inside you. After a few seconds he gingerly pushes his second finger in, extremely aware of the stretch around his digits.

“Oh fuck, want to feel you around my cock so bad.” Bucky knows that as soon as he puts his cock in you he’s going to cum. It took so long for him to not cum immediately when he’s in your pussy. Even so, he still can’t last more than a few minutes. It’s still a shock to him that he didn’t bust as soon as you took him in your mouth for the first time.

Bucky keeps up the pace with his fingers, ignoring the ache in his cock. When you tell him to add another he eagerly does so, wanting to stretch you out as fast as possible while keeping you comfortable. You see his hips jerking, trying to find relief from the pressure building up in his balls.

“Spread your fingers for me, sweets, stretch me out for your fat cock.” The whine that leaves Bucky’s lips has your cunt throbbing and your ass clenching around his fingers. He does what you say, like he always does, and the moan that leaves the both of you is salacious. “You like that, huh? You like the thought of your fat cock in my ass, sweets?” Bucky can only groan, frantically nodding his head, his dick somehow getting harder.

“Please tell me you’re ready. Need my cock in you so bad, doll.” He looks like he could cum just from the sight of his fingers in your hole. You take pity on him, not being able to stand the thought of him not being inside you any longer.

“Yeah, sweets, just need more lube.” As quickly as he can while still being tender, he removes his fingers and desperately searches for the bottle, squirting more than enough on his cock. Skooching closer to you, he spreads your legs, lifting you up so he can stare at your stretched hole. He places your legs on top of his thighs, looking at you for confirmation before grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

Slowly pushing in, he can feel the resistance of your ass, yet it was still so welcoming. Bucky’s eyes roll back, his metal hand wrapping around the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm. “Doll, I can’t, fuck, it feels too good, I- oh fuck, m’cumming.” Bucky only had the tip of his cock in your ass. He was vaguely aware that he shouldn’t push the rest of his cock into you so the hand holding the base of his cock moves up his length, jerking his cock to help ride his orgasm out.

“Fuck, sweets, I can feel you filling up my ass. You’re going to make me leak all over the bed.” This only makes Bucky whine more, hips jerking slightly, still trying to stop himself from slamming the rest of his cock inside, but the feeling of his cum shooting in your ass it too hot so you move your hips, trying to take more of his cock, while he’s still cumming inside of you.

“Ohhhh fuuuucck, that’s so good, so fucking good, want to stay inside you forever, keep this tight ass wrapped around my cock all the damn time.” More cum shot out of his cock with renewed vigor. Bucky thought he was about to pass out, fighting off the feeling because there was no way he could miss a second of being inside you.

His head was thrown back, not able to control his head. You felt your pussy throb, slick leaking down to where his cock rests in your hole, clit pulsing, hard and begging to be touched. You couldn’t help yourself, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his cock that was still hard but not shooting his load anymore. “You’re so fucking big, sweets, stretching me out so much, never felt anything like it before.” It wasn’t a lie, it never felt like this with any of your toys, the fact that Bucky’s load was supersized doing nothing to quell your arousal.

“Bet I could feel myself if I stuck my fingers in your pussy. Massage my cock through your walls. Bet you would like that, wouldn’t you? Yeah, I think you would.” Bucky had no room to talk about how needy you were when he busted as soon as his tip was inside of you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when you’re already cock drunk just from the few shallow thrusts of your hips.

All you could do was moan and nod your head, wanting to feel him everywhere. Bucky had to use his flesh fingers, needing to feel his cock through your pussy. Without preamble, he pushes two fingers into your pussy, immediately curling them to feel his cock through your thin walls. “Fuck, doll, you’re so fucking perfect, taking my cock so well.”

He couldn’t hold out any longer, pulling his hips back just to slam them back in, the sound of your leaking slick mixed with all the lube around your ass made a sinful sound. Just that one thrust knocks the wind out of the both of you, only to catch your breath to wantonly moan. “How does it feel, doll? How does my fat cock feel up your tight ass?” The slapping noises only got louder with each thrust, each harder than the last.

“So good, daddy, so fucking good!” Bucky’s hips stutter, cock aching to cum, but he can’t, not yet.

Your moans mixed so sweetly with Bucky’s whines and groans. His fingers rubbing his dick every time he pushes back in. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Need to feel you milk my cock. Need you to milk daddy’s cock for him.” You shake your head, not able to process the pleasure he’s giving you, having already had seven orgasms. “Yes, you can, doll. I need it, need it so fucking bad.”

With his fingers still thrusting in your pussy, his metal hand comes down to rub your clit. Your hips jerk, trying to get away from the cool metal but you have nowhere to run. He fucks you even harder, urging the cum from his balls. You don’t even feel the coil tighten in your belly, overwhelming pleasure sneaking up on you.

You can’t even scream, eyes rolling back, somehow mustering up the strength to push his hand away from your clit. With your ass clenching so hard around his dick, he can’t hold out any longer, cumming in your ass. He feels the wetness of your squirt push his fingers out, wetting his stomach and making his thrusts just that much easier.

His orgasm is just as silent, knocking the words right out of him. He can’t even breath, veins in his forehead bulging, face turning red. This one doesn’t last as long, his balls being drained from all the cum he’s shot out in the past hour. Right before Bucky passes out, he sucks in huge gulps of air, trying to come back down to earth. You both lay there, eyes dazed, looking at nothing, covered in cum, lube, and squirt. Neither of you care, you couldn’t even if you tried. You’re the first to speak, voice hoarse from all the screaming you’ve done.

“We’re going to do that again.”

Bucky can only get out one word, “yeah.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #virgin!bucky barnes #virgin!bucky #virginbucky x reader

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marcsburnerphone · 3 months

Text

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (minimal), john being slightly troubled, alcohol, reader being slightly embarrassing.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5!! -part 6

—————-

You wake up to the sun softly beaming in your room. Limbs stretching beyond the covers. You look around a little confused as to when you got back in your bedroom. Then it all came together. John, John leaves today.

You get out of the covers leaving your bedroom hoping he’s still there but of course to your disappointment he’s gone. You head to the kitchen knowing at least there will be a note.

Good morning doll, I thought of waking you but decided against it, though I might regret it. The movie was good, you seemed to really be enjoying it also:) Here's the phone number of a friend in case any problems arise. Next time I’m back I hope to see another painting - John

(xxx-xxx-xxxx) - nick

You stare at it trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. So you fold it and put it in the kitchen drawer. Although John was an awfully quiet roommate you could feel the weight of his absence. The cold floor beneath your feet has grown warm for how long you’ve stood there. You make your way towards the front door deciding that an iced coffee and a long drive with music will rid you of this feeling you can’t decipher it feels like want but in a way it’s also need but what is it you want and need? Not even you could answer that question.

Long story short you think it made the feeling intensify.

————-

1 month in

You’ve booked your schedule full leaving not an ounce of time for yourself. From the morning till night you had clients which were good for money but really it was a distraction for your mind. That same feeling felt like it was running into new veins every day seemingly consuming you.

You tried to start a new painting but something was off about the color scheme and it was a waste not only of time but material and energy. You wonder how John is.

————-

2 months in

No problems have arisen since he’s been gone. It's like the house knows you’ll call the expensive plumber instead of John’s friend.

However you have started a painting you are beginning to like. It’s a mix of hues you’ve never used before blues and oranges, a flame. You don’t know where or why the idea came to you but it’s what you wanted so you started it. A single candle is the outline, and the surrounding of it is the orange yellowish aura of a flame. You tried making ratatouille the other day and although it was good you wished it was made out of pepperonis like your childhood mind had imagined. You forgot there was no longer anyone to finish left overs so you ate it for three days straight.

Also you bought a new rug.

————-

3 months in

You’ve begun putting the final laminate on the painting. It’s taken you far longer than it would’ve if you hadn’t accepted 15 new clients. Not that you mind anyways.

You’re also a little ambivalent to the idea of John paying for 6 months of rent when he doesn’t even live here during it.

Besides that life seems stagnant and you’ve begun to lock your bedroom door at night again.

————

4 months in

The painting now hangs a foot away from where the other one in front of John’s door does. It’s a beautiful contrast and really you were overjoyed at the outcome. You also randomly decided it’d be a good idea one night after too much wine to order new furniture for the outside deck. When it arrived you were one in disbelief of all the building pieces and and two excited to have something more to do.

You should've stayed up the night John left.

————

5 months in

Redecorating the deck wasn’t enough change. You needed a makeover physically but couldn’t decide how. Maybe a tattoo? No. New makeup? No. How about a haircut? Fuck it, yes.

So you did just that, you got a few almost unnoticeable highlights and chopped a good amount off. After the fact you were obsessed. Was it impulsive and could it have gone so horribly wrong, yes. But did it? No.

———

6 months in

John’s still not back and it’s all you could think about. What if something happened to him? What if he wasn’t coming back? You worried yourself sick so much so you physically became sick.

You waited week by week for anything, maybe he’s back on base but just hasn’t come back home yet. But something was telling you it was more than that.

———-

7 months in

At this point worrying wasn’t going to make him appear. Your hobbies have now turned into distractions. So tonight you sit in the living room with a glass of wine and watch another rom com. You’re as comfy as can be in this cold brutal weather. It stays below 30 degrees Fahrenheit during this time of year and the snow bites at any unclothed skin.

You fall asleep to the small hum of the heater while on the couch. Thick blanket thrown across you and tv playing as background chatter.

You don’t know when you wake but it’s still dark outside when you hear someone that sounds distressed. Your groggy mind isn’t processing that the sound is coming from inside the house. But when it does you're up in a second looking around as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness.

“Fuck!” You hear from down the hall. John’s room.

You walk quietly towards it as he continues to chant that word. Suddenly it falls silent and you just hear what sounds to be deep breaths. You don’t know what wills you to knock, but you do.

“John, are you okay?” You ask softly from behind the closed door. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s in there from the quiet but quick breathing.

“No.” He says with that familiar deep drawl.

You open the door slowly to see him sitting on the floor near the corner of his bed clearly distressed. You take notice of the mess wondering how you slept through the making of it. There’s glass from somewhere on the floor and clothes strewn but when you look at him your heart breaks. He’s in full uniform, vest on, belt with equipment on, as if he didn’t stop anywhere. Just came straight here. His hair has grown out to an odd length and his beard has grown longer.

“I can’t get this fucking vest off.” He interrupts your thoughts looking at you with a sense of sorrow. You kneel to where he is careful to avoid glass. His eyes don’t glance up to meet yours; they stay fixated on his hands that are covered in dirt.

“May I?” You gesture towards the plastic buckles on the vest. He nods and you start with the two at his shoulders. Then you reach down his chest to undo the two near his belt buckle. You realize it must be connected somewhere in the back when it doesn’t come off. He leans forwards as you look trying to avoid the bloodstains that taint the once green vest and sure enough the tiniest but mightiest buckle is on the center of his lower back. He shrugs it off with a sigh.

“Better?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, Thankyou.” He slowly tilts his head back to lean on the comforter and you don’t move an inch.

“What can I do?” Truthfully you’ve never been in a situation so unbearably awkward but so unwilling to just leave.

“Just sit here with me.” So you do. You scoot right next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t admit it but the nights he slept in cold frost biting weather the thought of returning to your warm presence got him through.

“He almost died.” His voice gives out at the end of that sentence.

“Who?”

“Johnny, it would’ve been my fault. One second later and they would’ve put a bullet through his skull.”

“But he’s okay?” You know John loves his team even though he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“He’s perfectly fine.”

“Worrying about what could’ve been will kill you.”

“Sometimes I feel like that’s what I deserve for some of the things I’ve done.”

“If not you it would be someone else making the world a better place.”

“I know.”

You sit there with him for a while in silence. He can barely believe he made it back alive but right now the battle feels worth it. He hears soft snores not too long later and realizes you’ve fallen back to sleep. His head leans to rest above yours as he closes his eyes. He knows sleep won’t come to him but he’s never had you this close and for now he’ll cherish it.

————-

When you woke up again the sun had risen and a golden glow lit John’s room.

“John.” You whisper trying not to move your head in case he’s sleeping.

“Yeah doll.” He lifts his head to look at you.

“I’m so sorry.” You feel slightly embarrassed and bad that you just fell asleep on him.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He sighs before standing on his feet with a groan then offering you hand to help you up.

“I’m going to shower.” He says as you dust yourself off.

“After can I give you a haircut?” He laughs a little at your not so subtle realization of his long hair..

“If you’d like.”

“I’d love.” You say before leaving, assuring him you’d be back when he's done.

You pick up your mess from the previous night. Folding your blanket and putting it back in the basket near the couch. Taking your wine glass to the sink and rinsing it out. You go to your room and change into an outfit for the day and do your morning routine. After you grab your shears, clippers and cape. By the time you're done doing all of this you no longer hear the water running meaning John’s done with his shower. You knock on his door lightly.

“Come in.” You walk in to see him sweeping up his mess with the small house broom and can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Come on, let's cut your hair in the bathroom, better lighting and you can see what I’m doing.” You say heading straight there. You sit him on the little bathroom bar stool that’s been in there since your ex moved out. Once he’s sitting the only cape you have is pink so you throw it on him begging yourself to not laugh which you fail causing him to smirk.

“Okay so I’m just gonna clean it up, fade the sides a very little, cut the top with shears and what not.” You let him know.

“You cut your hair?” He replies, staring at you through the mirror.

“Yeah so?” You smile.

“I like it, it looks good.” You feel that feeling only johns been able to provoke.

“Thankyou.” You begin the cut, slowly combing out sections making sure to be precise. He seems far more relaxed than you’d imagined as you just freely cut at the top. After the matter once you're satisfied you shave the sides a little just enough to where it looks cleaner.

“Can I do your beard and mustache?”

“You're the hairstylist, not me?” Is all he says.

So you do, very carefully, mere inches away from his face your hands hold one side of his jaw softly to trim the other side. He watches your expression intently. The way when you’re focused there’s a crease that forms between your eyebrows and your pupils blow a little wide.

“All done.” You say pulling him from his trance. You move his face with your hands really checking to make sure all is well.

“Very handsome.” You compliment before turning around to rinse your shears and put them away.

“Thank You doll.” He says examining it himself in the mirror thoroughly pleased with how well you did even though he knows you don’t cut men’s hair. He doesn’t notice you grab his beard oil from the cabinet till you're smoothing it between your hands and asking him to face you so you can rub it through the coarse brown hair. Ever the nurturer.

It feels like time apart only made you two feel closer somehow. Or maybe it’s because you wanted to be close and those feelings were equally reciprocated.

The rest of that day John had loads of paperwork to file, sign and report. So he did that, he sat in his office for long hours going through the process. The only thing that slightly lightened this burden was your voice humming in the kitchen as you cooked something. You’d stopped by and offered him some which he gladly accepted from your giving hands. Hours later you bid him a goodnight and went to bed and even then he had so much more left.

—————

The next day you catch John in the kitchen and tell him there’s something you must show him.

“So you built it all yourself?” He says as you show him your little project you did outside. There’s a thick coat wrapped around you as you don’t fully step outside to avoid slipping on the icy ground. Him though, he stands on it with no problem in what looks like military issued boots.

“Yes I did.” You say proudly despite his clear disdain.

“I missed you, even your stubbornness.” After the months John’s been through there was no point in hiding the way he was feeling.

“I missed you too.” You smile while clearly avoiding his gaze.

How had he missed this all along?

“Would you like to go out for drinks?”

“What?” You turn around to meet his eyes.

“Can I take you out for drinks?” What being mere inches away from death does to a man.

“Yeah.”

You both silently walk away trying to break the bounds of the tense pull that makes you want to gravitate towards each other. You put on something cute but also warm and slip on some brown doc martens as your choice of shoe. You do light makeup as you give yourself a pep talk.

“Only two drinks, only two drinks.” You have to tell yourself cause after two your too you.

You hear John putting his shoes on by the hallway and take in the sight of him, brown leather jacket and beanie. You’re not sure how he’s going to stay warm in that but something tells you he will.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod nervously.

“Okay, hold on, I have to do this really slow or I’ll fall.” You say stepping slowly out onto the ground below the porch stairs.

“Well come here I’ll help you.” He offers his hand. You grab it softly, swooning at the way it encompasses your own. There’s something inside of him that doesn’t even want you to risk walking on this floor but of course he also doesn’t want to push.

“Okay nice and slow.” You’re not even taking full steps, just small slides. You clutch his hand for dear life and he loves it.

“Good girl.” He says once you reach the door of his truck which he opens for you. He doesn’t let go till you sit inside then only does he slip his hand from your warm one and closes the door.

“Which pub?” You ask as he turns on the heater only for your sake.

“The one downtown near the little Italian grocer.” You know exactly which one he’s talking about. Its dim light atmosphere is cozy but fun but usually full of mainly couples.

“Mkay.” You say looking out the window at the gloomy sky realizing it just might rain.

He glances your way during the small drive, your scent of your floral perfume mixed with his of cardamom and musk is quite perfect.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, just comfy, you?” He grins at your response.

“Never been better.”

He pulls into one of the street parking spots and despite the weather the streets are full, he gets out to put coins inside the slot for time before heading to your side of the car.

“Wait, I'm scared.” You say realizing that the distance to the bar doesn’t seem to be a survivable one.

“Come on, I'll hold your hand.”

“I’ll fall regardless.”

“Want me to carry you?” He genuinely offers.

“What?” You laugh.

“Doll I’m very serious I will carry you, just get on my back.”

“What if we both fall?”

“I’m not falling, trust me.” He says turning around motions for you to get on his back.

“Okay then.” You hook your legs around his upper waist and his arms reach to tuck themselves firmly beneath your knees.

“Comfortable?” He asks. He’s sure you can hear his heart racing from the proximity you’re in.

“Very.” All your dreams of climbing this man have come true.

You shut the door as he steps onto the sidewalk. You tuck your chin in by his neck for warmth. He smells woodsy with a hint of musk, it makes your head spin.

“How are you not slipping?” You say very suspicious.

“Doll I could run on this floor with these boots on.” He answers looking slightly over his shoulder at you.

“Well don’t.” You say seriously and he laughs as he approaches the bar, opening the door and setting you softly on the floor.

He finds you both a booth in the corner and sits on the side where he can see the entire bar, very John of John.

“What do you drink?” He asks, trying to make conversation. Suddenly the air feels very intimate, almost too intimate for what he considers his old man heart.

“When I’m out, martinis.”

“Espresso?”

“Mhmm.” You’re trying your hardest to hold the eye contact he’s giving you but something about the blue in his eyes and creases on the side of them has you breaking it quicker than it started.

“I’ll be back then.” He says sliding out of the booth feeling slightly accomplished.

You sit there looking at the lively pub, how many romances are at their peak here, how many friends are having the best night of their lives, how you amongst them are finally feeling like you again.

“Here we are.” He says returning with two glasses, his is a classic bourbon with a square ice cube in the glass.

“Thankyou.” You say as he slides it over to you.

“So what’d you do while I was gone, other than be reckless and build furniture.” He asks as you sip from your glass.

“I did lots of hair, painted a bit, found new color schemes for decor and that’s kinda it, I’d ask you the same question but I fear you can’t answer.”

“Your fears are true.”

“That Kate woman, she's very pretty.” Are you a little jealous?

“Yeah she’s also very married.” He says it like he doesn’t know what you're on about.

“And also not into men.” You nearly choke on your drink and swallow hard to get it down.

“Well I was just saying.” Sure you were.

You two have small chatter as you go through drinks. You tried to offer the second round but John said no for you to just stay in your seat. He came back with thirds and you definitely were starting to feel the effects of the previous two, him though not at all.

“So you’re telling me John you as very um good looking as you are haven’t had a girlfriend in how long?”

“Eight years.” He says while being very amused with your light hearted, open attitude.

“That’s just not right.”

“No?”

“No, personally, well never mind.” You’re not drunk enough to say what you were about too.

“What about you, why no boyfriends?”

“I’m very, I would say needy I guess clingy even, I’m a double texter, someone who worries and loves too much and I think that can be overwhelming for a lot of people.” You admit.

“Don’t believe that.” He says, sounding a little annoyed.

“For the right person you could never be overwhelming.” He says looking at you intensely and this time you can’t seem to look away.

Once your third drink is finished it’s raining outside and you’re words away from trouble.

“John?”

“Yeah doll.”

“You make me feel alive again.” You admit, the alcohol has casted a pretty shade of pink on your cheeks as you lean your head on your hand and John doesn’t think he’s ever been more entranced.

“You and me both, here drink some water.” He slides it to you. You’re sweet, too sweet. He feels like if he touches you physically or emotionally he’d be tainting art.

“Has anyone told you you're very climbable?”

“It’s time for us to get going, you're quite the light weight.” He laughs offering you a hand as you slide off the booth.

He leaves a tip on the table before walking with you to the door. He has to bend far more than he normally would for you to secure yourself on his back before he’s walking outside. This time he’s walking faster because of the rain droplets that are falling hard. He seats you in the car and reaches across you to buckle you in before heading to his side.

The drive home is pretty quiet, he drives extra slowly because of the precious cargo he carries. Once he pulls back into the gravelly drive way you unbuckle and open the door as he puts the car in park.

“You don’t want to wait for me.” He asks, a little concerned.

“I got this.” You hop out of the elevated truck immediately slipping and having to grab onto the door. He walks quickly to your side laughing at the expression on your face.

“You sure do.” He says as he grabs your arm

“Oh stop it.” You say accepting the help, sliding your feet on the ice again till you get to the door. Once you get inside you groan into the toasty air.

“Thankyou for tonight John.” You say facing him once you kick your boots off. You hadn’t realized how close you were till you turned around and could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the bourbon on his breath.

“No, thank you.” He says feeling awfully captivated, hanging onto your every move. You cup his face and stand on your tippy toes, boldly yet slowly placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

He’s starstruck. Absolutely dazed at the look of mischief in your eyes, something that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Goodnight John.” You say patting his chest and walking down towards your room.

—————

I couldn't wait till tommorrow i'm sorry.

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