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ghelgheli · 2 months

Note

i would actually like to hear more of your thoughts on whipping girl, whenever you feel ready enough to talk about it. i've only ever heard positive recommendations for it. i was thinking of reading it. i've read one or two introductory 101 texts on transmisogyny as well as some medium/substack posts, and always looking to read more as a tme person. ty!

thanks for asking! I'm gonna try to be concise because I'm stuck on my phone for the month, but here are my thoughts on whipping girl:

serano is at her strongest in the book in three areas: manifestations of transmisogyny in media (e.g. how trans caricatures pervade movies), the history of medical institutions developing a pathology of transsexuality (like the diagnostics of blanchard et al. or how trans people seeking healthcare were and continue to be forced into acting out prescribed expressions and manufacturing memories), and the construction of her own transition narrative (telling the reader what it was like for her to grow up desiring femininity in a way that confused her, the experience of crossdressing, the effects of hrt for her)

whenever she's just sticking to this, I think she effectively communicates a lot that the unaware reader could benefit from—even many trans women/transfems/tma people who are otherwise in tune with the history of medicalized transsexualism and our popular depictions could probably benefit from her own personal narrative, by nature of how variegated our experiences can be.

unfortunately I think the book fails at its primary—stated—goal, which is to theorize about transmisogyny. in the big picture this is a bifurcated failure:

on one branch of her argument, she remains committed to there being something biologically essential/innate about gender. this manifests thru multiple claims: that we have "innate inclinations" toward masculinity/femininity and "subconscious sex" rather than what I believe, which is that the latter are constructed categories imposed on different matrices of behaviour/expression/desire in different cultural contexts; that there is "definitely a biological component to gender" (close paraphrase) after a discussion of how she believes E and T tend to affect people (thus equivocating gender with dominant hormones!); that we have such a thing as "physical sex" which is the composition of our culturally decided "sex characteristics" (don't ask me how the dividing line is drawn) even as she says we should stop using "biological sex" as a term; that there is "no harm" in agreeing that "sex" is largely bimodal with some exceptions; that social constructionism is necessarily erasure of transsexual experiences in early childhood... altogether she is unwilling to relinquish arguments about the partial "innateness" of femininity/masculinity and gender. this is at tension with her admission on several occasions that these are neither culturally/geographically nor temporally stable concepts! but that doesn't seem to be a line she can follow thru on.

on another, intertwining branch, she engages in what I think is a deep and widespread mistake in the theorizing of transmisogyny: reducing it (mechanistically) to what she calls effemimania* or essentially anti-femininity. it is her stated thesis at the start that masculinity is universally preferred to femininity. she doesn't offer a definition of either term until one of the final chapters, where she defines them as the behaviours and expressions associated with a particular gender. but I think this reduction just misunderstands transmisogyny. it is even in tension with an observation she makes early on, that trans women are often punished for their perceived masculinity! but again, this is a thought she seems unable or unwilling to follow thru with.

my problem with the thesis is that masculinity and femininity do not float free of gender—it is not possible to speak of their valuation in the abstract. anyone who grew up as a masculine cis girl and never "grew out" of that "phase" can attest to the violence wrought upon expressions of masculinity from women. and this applies doubly so to the subjects of transmisogyny! not only are we punished for any perceived bleed-through of masculinity from our supposed "underlying male selves", those of us who are willingly masculine and thriving as mascs are punished for our failure to conform to the rules of the normative womanhood that is imposed on us (just as we are punished for any willing femininity as "false" and predatory upon cis womanhood—observe that transmisogyny is reactive degendering in every case!).

on both branches serano makes only perfunctory remarks about the intersections with race, class, and colonialism. "sex" as such was made to only be accessible to the "civilized", most of all the white european! for a racialized person and particularly a Black person navigating gender the waters are just not the same; the signifiers of sex neither available in the same way, nor granted the same medical legitimacy. what is the "physical sex" of someone who is de-sexed altogether? how can gender have a "biologically innate" component when its expressions between the bourgeoisie and the working class are at total odds with one another? this all goes for the masculine/feminine distinctions as well. what sense is there in the claim that we have innately masculine/feminine inclinations when globally (and transmisogyny has been made global!) what is feminine and masculine can be very nearly mirrored? nor is "masculinity is always considered superior to femininity" innocent of obviating race. transmisogynoir adds yet further degendering thru the coercive masculinization of someone as a Black woman—masculinization as punishment, again!

and as a final point, the account fails to be materialist. there is no attempt to place transmisogyny in its role as an instrument of political economy or, as jules gill-peterson might say, as a tool of statecraft. it is just a psychological response to the way the world is, as far as serano has anything to say about it. but how did the world become that way, and why?? serano's solution, the abolition of what she calls gender entitlement, is naive to the fact that gender entitlement is necessary to the maintenance of the capitalist state, which is structured thru patriarchy and built on colonialism. it is not possible to reskin this into something innocuous!

this is why I cannot recommend whipping girl as a work about transmisogyny except at the most shallow level. it could be a helpful critical read, but imo, it is just wrong about transmisogyny.

#ask answer #whipping girl #text

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monstersflashlight · 8 days

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"Honey, I'm home!"

minotaur x fem!reader || breeding, knotting

You heard the door closing and his hooves stumping as he looked for you. He knew where you were. In the same place as every night when he got home. Dinners were on you as long as he made breakfast. Early days of marriage were all about compromise. Or that’s what everyone told you when you married. Listening intently, hyper-aware of his presence someplace behind you.

“Smells good.” He called out as you heard the bag hitting the ground someplace in the hallway.

“Stir fry.”

You let out a startled cry as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Not the food.” He whispered against your ear, grabbing your waist and pressing his whole body against you, sniffing your neck.

“What are you doing?” You asked, cutting vegetables, his body pressed against your back. Before you could even blink, he was pressing you against the counter, his erection poking at your back. “I need to make dinner.” You tried to break free of his hold, but he just pressed you harder.

“I missed you, that’s all.” He whispered next to your ear, his soft lips grazing your skin in the softest caress, making your whole body shiver.

“Missed me? You saw me this morning.” You giggled at his antics, trying to push him away. You knew full well that there was no way you could out-power him.

His solid frame against you was too heavy, too big, too imposing… He could do whatever he wanted to you and you couldn’t do anything to stop him. You should be scared, but you weren’t. Nope. You couldn’t be scared. That’s the first thing that drew you to him, his fucking size. How big he was, how his body towered over you, how his biceps were bigger than your head. Maybe you liked that. Maybe you enjoyed feeling so tiny against him. Maybe you enjoyed the feel of him picking you up and using you as he pleased. Maybe...

Lost in your horny thoughts you didn’t realize his hand was inside your panties until his fingers were playing with your clit. “I missed this pussy. My pussy.” His big fingers felt rough against your soft skin.

“Wha-?” Your voice broke with a groan when he pinches a bit too harsh, a bit too forceful. You know he did it on purpose, he could be gentle, he usually was. But him being rough to you meant one thing: your fertile days arrived, you just signed yourself for a fuck-athon. Oh dang. So you did what you could: you whimpered.

He laughed at your whine, a spark of cruelness shining through. “Don’t play coy now, pet. I can feel you dripping down my fingers.” Said fingers were probing your entrance, hovering over it until you moaned his name And then hell broke loose. He didn’t give you a heads up, he didn’t play games like that. One second you were standing pressing against the counter and the next one your clothes were ripped off you and his dick was pushing into you. Too fast, too harsh, not letting you adapt to his size. He was in for one thing and one thing only: breed you.

His dick was so deep and so hard that you could feel every ridge, every vein. It felt like the most amazing torture, the sweetest death. In seconds, you were not a person anymore, just a toy for him to play as he wished. He grabbed your hips, bouncing you on his cock as you grabbed the counter for dear life.

“Are you gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” You whined. The combination of his shaft inside you and his fingers playing with your clit made your climax hit you like a tide wave, gasping for air as you trembled on his dick.

But that didn’t stop him, you were his to play and his to fuck.

“That’s it. Good girl. Again.” His fingers were still playing with your oversensitive clit, in the good side of too painful. Your pleasure felt raw, your throat spent, not a single sound coming out of you. “One more, pet. Give me one more.” You complied. But that wasn’t enough.

Your bull of a husband kept fucking you, not stopping for a second. His labored breaths making you hotter. His moans making you wetter (if that was even possible). His pace was brutal, and you didn’t know what was up and what was down. Your body was completely spent as he used you as his own personal fleshlight. You kept coming, and coming, and coming… It was too much, too good.

Your brain was foggy, your body felt like jelly as he moved you up and down, your legs gave out long before he stopped. And then you felt it, the telltale sign that he was close, the bulbous knot at the base of his dick twitching against your entrance at every thrust. With a long groan, he pushed it inside of you as you screamed. Your vision went black, you went limp as he pumped you full of cum, your lower tummy bulging. His big body was pressing you down onto the counter like the biggest weighted blanket, his dick still pulsing inside of you.

“Bed.” He mumbled as he lifted you off the counter, still impaled on his dick, his knot preventing any cum from escaping.

“But dinner...” You whispered in a choked breath.

“Later.”

It was gonna be a long night.

#monster x human #monster kink #monster imagine #monster boyfriend #minotaur #minotaur x human #minotaur x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #teratophillia #minotaur husband

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scootvideo · 9 months

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THE 4D DIARY

What is it?

It’s a journal to rolplay as if your manifestations have already been fulfilled, and write about them like a diary.

Manifestation is supposed to be instant HOWEVER,

many of us have a very difficult situation with our self concept. The objective of the book it’s to help us with the self concept and normalice the desires that we are manifesting in our life.

How does it work?

It’s a small notebook book, (at least once a week) write on it as if your manifestation was already there:

- Describe yourself, not only physically but mentally. Describe your ideal body, thoughts, clothes…

- Describe specific scenarios. Receiving your A+ grades, working at that exciting job, talking with those cool new people…

- Describe how it FEELS to be around your SP. Describe their smell, the way they look at you, the way they treat you…

What’s the purpose?

- HELPING YOU VISUALISE: Imagine yourself as if you were already there will help you change your mindset and habituate yourself of FEELING this way.

- HELP WITH SELF CONCEPT: Every time you doubt about yourself, read the diary, this will remind you that you are ALREADY LIVING YOUR 4D

- HELP TO STOP GLORYING OUR DESIRES: We usually unconsciously glorify our desires making them look as if they where imposible, the objective it’s mainly training our brain to go through this experiences so we stop glorifying them and they actually start showing up in our 3D reality

Recommendations

- Write after a visualisation meditation

- Be “realistic” (What I mean by this is that you should describe your experiences with your own words and personality, you can be truly free with your use of words, don’t try to sound elegant or out of your personality, this has to look like a page of your ACTUAL diary)

- DONT PUT AFFIRMATIONS HERE: This journal it’s not with the main objective of manifest BUT to help you get into the MIND STATE as if you have ALREADY manifested what you want. By adding a list of affirmations you will loose that special personal touch, it won’t look like a diary to talk about your experiences but more like a manifestation journal, for me personally it makes it feel more forced and less personal.

THATS ALL!!

Im the OG CREATOR of this idea so if you actually do it, post it in the hashtag #4Ddiary and tag me in your post!!

bye bye byyyye <3

#4d diary #4ddiary #manifestation #manifesting #law of assumption #law of manifestation #manifesting sp #manifesting celebrity #loassumption #self improvement #self concept #4d reality

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narcissistshandler · 2 months

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You don't have to take this if you don't want to but can I please ask for a yandere sae x brother reader

Where sae gets jealous and shows his brother who he belongs to

If you're uncomfortable with incest feel free to ignore

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘'𝗦 𝗔 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗬 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗠𝗘

pairing. itoshi sae x male reader

warnings. yandere sae, step-incest, dubious consent, possessive and aggressive behavior, slight threat, younger brother!reader, amab!reader, dry humping, semi-public

a/n. you definitely can, thanks for the request ♡

You brought the glass to your mouth once more, the cold in contrast to the liquid that ran down your throat, burning all the way. You had already lost track of how many shots you had had, something you normally wouldn't do, but when you recognized the reddish-brown hair under the multicolored lights and the familiar green eyes scanning around stopped on you, you immediately knew you needed alcohol to deal with what was to come.

"What are you doing here?" It was the first thing Sae asked you, his tone rigid as if it were you who had walked into the bar and found him there and not the other way around.

You simply raised the glass in response, muscle in your jaw clicking in a attempt to contain your anger.

Sae had been impossible the last few days. Acting so strangely that he had even managed to shake up your relationship with Rin, who wasn't happy with how Sae seemed to think that since you were now once again single from a relationship that ended very quickly, too quickly, you should now be 'taken care'. Sae's care of course included you not leaving the house and spending every possible moment with him, which wasn't even viable.

"I thought I told you to stay home," he said, looking tall and imposing as he stood next to the bench you sat on. He reached out a hand and covered the glass to stop you from continuing to drink. "If you wanted to drink just tell me, we could do it. Alone. At home."

"Sae, I'm not your little dog to keep on a leash. If I want to go out I'll go out, if I want to drink I'll go and if I want to go on dates, guess what? I don't need your permission." The last words left your mouth just in time for a person to approach you from the other side.

"You-" Sae began, but stopped when he saw the new presence preparing to sit on the free bench next to you.

"Sorry it took so long, there was a huge line at the bathroom," they said, the bright smile on the lips that didn't fade even in the face of the hardness on Sae's pretty face. "And you are?"

Even with the alcohol coursing through your system and slowly rising to your head, you would be able to notice the change in the air under any situation. Sae's green eyes were poisonous, seeming to pierce through the soul of your mysterious encounter. He leaned in close, chest pressing against your shoulder in a movement that you initially thought was to assert superiority in that strange mania your older brother possessed, soon however, you noticed that he seemed to be trying to get a clear view of their faces under the neon lights of the bar.

A warning light triggered in your brain.

"Sae," you tried, not even sure what you were trying to avoid.

"Get out," Sae growled, teeth clenched.

"What?" They looked confused, the smile becoming weak and uncertain as they looked from you to Sae. "Who is this, [name]?"

"It’s none of your business who I am, get lost or or I'll make you do it myself," Sae spat out each word and you watched his knuckles turn white where he pressed them onto the glass cup in your hand.

"Sae," you repeated, your own voice hovering in that harsh tone of reprimand. Your free hand grabbed Sae's arm, trying to keep him under control in a purely instinctive action. You knew that anger shining in Sae's eyes well, you knew it was an anticipation of disaster.

Your night date however didn't know Sae and despite seeming pushed back by his words, they didn't seem as scared as you. "Why don't we go somewhere else, [name]?" they asked, standing up and reaching towards you. "Somewhere quieter-"

As everything always seemed to happen when Sae was involved, the situation quickly turned ugly and messy.

Even so close to your brother, feeling his chest rise and fall against your arm, you didn't react quickly enough to prevent him from pulling the glass from between your fingers and practically bending over your lap, slamming the object against the side of the head of your encounter. The glass shattered, alcohol and blood running down their pale faces.

A single blow was enough to make them stagger. The music pulsed, swallowing the chaos in its darkness and multicolored acid lights. Your reaction wasn't agile enough, arms grabbing Sae's waist and pulling him back and against you. He ended up sitting uncomfortably on your lap, one knee on your leg and the other foot resting on the floor. The bench under the combined weight creaked and shook, threatening to knock you both to the floor.

A commotion ensued, people slowly taking notice of the scene, screams and voices rising in the air. Soon the bar's bouncers approached to guide you and Sae out among the shaking, dancing bodies, but not before you saw your older brother's lips curled proudly as he saw the blood diluted with alcohol forming a puddle on the floor and the look of pure shock on their face.

"What the fuck, Sae?!" you exploded, pushing him against the dirty wall on the side of the bar you thought you could never go back to. "Are you crazy?!"

"This was all your fault," he said, calmly as he rubbed the red stain that melted into the pure white of his shirt. His eyes looked black, clouded with a darkness that made you tense. "And since I saved us from a problem, why don't you be more grateful and thank me?"

“You’re really crazy,” you stated.

"Maybe. But that's your fault too. I told you to stay home, where I could keep an eye on you, take care of you, keep filthy people like that from getting their hands on you. And what did you do, [name], uhm?"

You shook your head.

"Wait until Rin hears about this."

The choice of words seemed to be a trigger and Sae stepped towards you, graceful as a feline. "Rin, Rin, Rin, that's all you know how to say," he said, stopping so close to you that you could feel his uneven breathing. "What is it between you two? Are you fucking him? Or is he fucking you?"

You looked at Sae in disbelief and when all that confronted you back was sharp steel, anger bubbled in your chest. "What the fuck are you talking about? Don't be gross, he is our brother. Rin-"

Before the words could leave your mouth, Sae's body slammed against yours, so violently that it forced you to step back. Your back hit the wall. Confused, shocked and angry, you looked at your older brother, expecting a punch or anything else that rivaled the anger on Sae's face. Instead, his mouth crashes against yours, teeth meeting and pain immediately piercing through your jaw.

With alcohol clouding your senses and anger heating your veins, it takes you a few full seconds to process the contact. Sae's hands grab your face, fingers digging painfully into your cheeks as he moves his lips against yours in a way that could only be described as angry.

That was his brother. And he was kissing you like he hated you.

"I hate the sound of his name in your mouth," Sae mouths each word against your mouth, forcing you to swallow the sound of them. "I hate everything about him and I hate everything about you even more."

"What? Sae-" you're genuinely confused by the sudden change of scenery, trying to move away, but with Sae against your front and the wall at your back, there's nowhere to run.

"Shut up," he orders in a growl, wet tongue licking from your lower lip to your upper lip. "Shut up and let me kiss you, that's the least you owe me, the least."

And you, against all rationality, against all the tangle of questions and doubts and confusion in your mind, surrender to the order.

Sae immediately picks up on the submission in your body language and with a little sound of laughter that haunts the dark alley, he sticks his tongue inside your hot mouth, about to ravage you.

You're tense, arms lying at your sides not knowing what to do and your mouth hard under Sae's violating ministrations. He doesn't care though. Sae seems to be having the time of his life, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth, slapping against yours, body pressed against yours from chest to crotch.

The heart was beating fast in the ribcage, sighs and heavy breathing filled the air, then a moan resounded — these coming from you or Sae, your mind couldn't distinguish. You two were so close, Sae seemed to desperately want to merge into you, that later, when you were sober, it could scare you, but not now, so drunk that you thought maybe you were staggering.

You closed your eyes, trying to pretend that it was someone else kissing you. The smell that filled your nostrils however was the characteristic perfume of your older brother, the voice echoing against your mouth could not belong to anyone else and the fingers, stuck in your face, nails digging into your skin, was very purposeful, very familiar and possessive to belong to anyone else. Everything screamed Sae.

"Who are you thinking about?" he asked, separating his mouth from yours, as if he could read your thoughts.

Your chest rose and fell, panting after the aggressive kiss, still feeling the ghost of his tongue against yours. "No one. You."

Apparently happy with the answer, Sae kissed you again.

There was an insistent bulge pressing against your thigh and when Sae slammed into you and the harsh friction of jeans against jeans scratched your skin, in the blur haze, reality hit you. Oh, no.

You pulled your mouth away from his, trying to move away from the firm fingers on your face that tried to pull you back. "Sae, this is going too far," you warned, tongue running over the words.

It was one thing to kiss, here in the dark and so drunk that you already had a perfect excuse to pretend not to remember anything tomorrow. But this, this was a lot, it was crossing all the lines and you didn't want to go to whatever was on the other side once you crossed them.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Sae repeated, sounding ecstatic, but you knew it wasn't from alcohol. His fingers moved, hand grabbing both sides of your face and his index and middle fingers digging into your mouth to shut you up. You felt his other hand reaching between your bodies and then, his hot, bare member released to press against your leg.

The alcohol had become an oily pool swirling in your stomach, leaving you dizzy and sick. Part of your mind didn't even know if all this was real or maybe you were passed out at the bar after drinking too much. Your hands squeezed Sae's hips, the waist of his loose pants allowing you to feel the warm bare skin. Why did he seem so real then?

No, don't go there. Don't think, don't question.

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back, the thud of the crash passed right through you. All you could feel was Sae's body against you, hot like a living fire, the little sounds he made as he rocked against your leg. Like a damn stray dog, you thought, wry and sharp. His fingers were sprawled against your tongue, the taste of salt heavy on your taste buds. Sae, Sae, Sae. He was everywhere.

"I hate you so much, you're so carefree and clueless-" His voice echoed through your ears, breathless. A groan interrupted him and his hips tensed as the dripping tip of his member rubbed against your groin. "And you are hard when you should hate it and the next time you disobey me I'm going to rip your dick off... oh- I-I swear I will, [name]."

You paid no attention to the threat, to his dark tone, trying to ignore that your body was reacting to all this rubbing with your older brother and that your cock felt damn sore trapped in its tight confines. You could feel every movement of Sae's hips beneath your fingers, the muscles working in slow, hard thrusts, his dick dripping against the entire front of your pants.

Sae was lost in his ramblings, seeming delirious with pleasure between confessions of love and hate and desire. I knew you were mine since the day my parents brought you home. The words hit you somewhere deep, or maybe, it was just the shock of the contact of Sae's bare shaft rubbing against yours, giving you a pleasure so deep that you wanted to refuse.

This wasn't right, you knew, even as the involuntary sounds left your mouth and were muffled by Sae's digits, feeling the slippery mess growing between your legs. Even with the need making you roll your hips back against his, meeting him halfway with each thrust, so that you were soon shamelessly grinding against each other in the dark alley, the pain of the raw scratch becoming mild and discarded.

You knew you had to stop this madness, but you couldn't muster enough strength, you didn't even know if you wanted to.

"More." One of you two asked, already on the edge of that precipice. Maybe you, maybe Sae. Maybe both. In any case, you both obeyed, hitting against each other with more urgency and need.

Sae sunk his teeth into the side of your neck, rocking erratically as his cock exploded, spilling all over your leg. "Oh, [name]," he groaned against your skin. Shame gnawed at your insides, chest rising and falling rapidly and your member throbbing, envious of Sae's release, feeling him ride out his orgasm with little sharp gasps. You stay completely still, mortified and with your brother's cum cooling on your jeans, where a noticeable stain was sure to be.

Your mouth was open around Sae's fingers, gasping for air and saliva running down your chin. You fought the voice in your ear that told you to bring Sae's hand to your hardness and beg him to touch you. Even under alcohol intoxication, you thought it was a good enough punishment to walk home with your cock hard, denied release and with evidence of your weakness stinging and burning from head to toe.

#x male reader #blue lock x male reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae smut #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x male reader #sae itoshi x male reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #sub reader #dom character #x reader #tw yandere #male yandere

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igotanidea · 11 days

Text

Just right: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

part 4: Stuck

A/N: I am NOT sorry for all the possible spellings and punctuation mistakes there. It's been almost 2 months since "Stuck" and I am FREAKING OUT posting this while crying because it's over. Enjoy and thank you <3

Warnings: end of series, 4082 words (!!)

***

He felt like a fool.

Reverting to his old ways instead of showing all the emotions coursing through his veins.

Turning around and walking away, leaving her alone, when all he wanted was to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.

But how would the viscount Bridgerton look, while doing so, observed by all the ton, including the two biggest gossipers in the person of lady Featherington and lady Danburry?

Seemed like whatever he would choose to do, he would end up being a dolt.

��Anthony!”

He didn’t even flinch hearing someone calling him, nor recognize the voice. Too stubborn to stop he only continued his marching pace, hoping for the love of god that whoever dared to try and approach him in this furibund mood would get discouraged.

Not very gentlemanly of him.

“Anthony!”

He quickened his pace.

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“What?” he almost spat spinning around on his heel, leaving a dent in the ground, taking on his most stern expression. If his obvious ignorance of the caller was not a deterrent perhaps the frown and fiery eyes would.

Supposedly it might have worked on anyone else, but soon enough Anthony transformed from the head of a family and the viscount into a little child, upon noticing that it was his mother, exhorting him to the halt.

“Mother…” he muttered looking at the ground, having only confirmed his previous theory of his role in this entire disarray.

“Let us take a walk.” Violet smiled brightly taking her eldest’s arm and imposing a walking rather than soldierly pace. “What did you Anthony?” the gentle expression never left her face even when she was scoffing her unmanageable child.

“Why would you think it was me that--?” the viscount took the last resort to protect his own pride, but the tightening grip on his forearm betrayed the fact that Violet knew the entire backstory, behind the marital disagreement.

“I raised you. I daresay it gives me enough knowledge to not answer your question. “

“If you let me –"

“Don’t, Anthony. Y/N has been nothing less but charming since the beginning.. "

"That's the way to describe her--" the man muttered

"Strong-willed and persuasive, surely, you wouldn’t take anything but, but charming nonetheless. So do tell me so we could remedy the damage before it arises further.”

“Shall you mistake me for Daphne and ask about my feelings—”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“I am a man, mother. A head of the family.”

“Clearly said head has been missing guidance in the right direction.”

“Mother!”

“Do not raise your voice on me son.”

“Apologies…”

“Good.” Violet beamed serenely “Do you think me so little knowledgeable to ask your emotions? I do not. I’m merely asking for facts, which you clearly have such a strong inclination to.”

Anthony mumbled something once more.

“do you wish you lose your wife, viscount?”

“What?” such possibility never crossed his mind. Y/N’s anger, her hurt, pain and merciless avoidance – yes. Abandonment and lack of her presence nearby? No. She would never… She could never. Lord above, who was she thinking she was? A woman married into a noble family wanting to cause a scandal by resenting her husband?

And once again, while his heart should have been shattered and humble enough to clarify the turmoil, the sudden blood rush turned into clenched fists and ire. All because he could not bare the thought of losing her for good, however hiding behind all the negativity was easier. It was something he was used to for years.

Nevertheless it was impossible to deny the facts further. It was her influence that caused the improbable openness in his soul was the exact same reason of his spirit bleeding.

And he needed her back.

Each minute without her was a minute lost. A minute less in the so very limited time they were given as a miracle on earth.

“What do I do?” he raised gaze at his mother, now truly looking like a lost man. Man in love, who was probably not the most romantic and gentle one with words, but still deeply infatuated with the woman who gave her whole life to him.

“Do not fret my dear. We shall alleviate the situation immediately.”

***

Y/N’s feelings were beyond anything possible to describe with words.

There she was, with her feet rooted to the ground, wishing for – and willing to accept – apologies but met with the harsh reality of the stone wall of Anthony’s behavior.

Accompanied by Eloise, smirking like the know-it-all she was, and Benedict with the compassion written all over his face.

Presumably, shall they not be there, the young lady viscountess Bridgerton would abandon all the pretenses of a woman of her position and begun blubbering in the middle of the promenade. However, the most mischievous of Bridgerton siblings acted with wit and sense, involving their dear sister-in-law in a challenging conversation, capably hauling her away from prying eyes and gossipmongers, preventing any possible rumors about incongruousness.

***

For unmistakable reasons she was not in the mood to see their ludicrous older brother and with the sudden disappearance of Violet, Benedict and Eloise took the privilege to invite Y/N back to the Bridgerton’s family house and extend the invitation for indefinite period of time. After all, Anthony might have been the head of the family as he proudly announced to anyone who was willing to disobey his wished and/or not listen, but Benedict was the oldest bachelor of the house and was more than willing to make a few decisions of his own to finally be seen as something more than merely second son and waiting for his time.

***

Violet returned home few hours later and accepted the presence of her daughter-in-law with a mysterious smile and not a single word of objection. As amazing and uplifting as such approach might have been, it was also highly surprising. Viscountess Bridgerton was well known for her mitigating skills and tendency to scotch conflicts almost immediately, especially in her own family.

And it raised a lot of questions and secrets that Y/N and Eloise tried to uncover spending the night in the former’s bedchambers, talking for hours, creating conspiracy theories and preparing for whatever may have been coming.

Cause the fact that Violet was going to help her oldest son in winning back his wife’s attention was more than conspicuous.

Only that Y/N, who was forgiving and accepting at the begging was slowly turning cold at the fact that her husband could not simply apologize but rather resorted to some intricate ways of regaining her favor.

After a year of marriage, should he not know her enough for independent ideas and not seek his mother's avail?

***

First thing happening in the very early morning, was Y/N’s most trusted servant humbly asking for her lady’s time, which was bizarre and – as any other family may have deemed – inadequate and even shaming.

Moreover, any other house would quickly discard the commoner showing at the mighty's doorstep but Bridgertons were prone to discarding rules in private and with those who earned their trust. Be it servants or nobles. And Y/N was no exception to the rule, welcoming her maid with a smile upon seeing the person from her own household.

“My lady.” The girl bowed so low, she almost touched the floor with her nose.

“My dear Laura, please stand up, there is really no need for that-“ Y/N grabbed her hands and forced the girl up. “I assure you that-“

“But Lady Violet and Miss Bridgerton –“

“I assure you that they do not expect you to kiss the ground they walk on.” Y/n almost laughed at Laura’s discombobulation. Poor one was doing everything in her power to not make her lady embarrassed and act like a good and obedient servant, almost expecting Violet or Eloise to be cruel and judgmental.

“Dear Y/N, did you give your helpers the idea that we are some sort of tyrants?” Violet send her daughter-in-law a honest smile, which immediately got Laura’s reaction in the form of blushing.

“Lady Bridgerton I apologies if my appearance is the dishonor on-”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, met with Y/N, Violet’s and Eloise’s laugh and a polite look from more balanced Francesca sitting on the chaise longue.

“Do not fret, my girl, we are more than happy to welcome you in our household.”

“Tha-thank you my lady…”

‘Now I assume you came to talk to your lady, so we shall give you some privacy. Come girls, make haste for the matter to cover is of utmost delicacy.”

“And how shall you know it mamma?” Hyacinth almost twitched her ears, not really understanding much of why Y/N was with them rather than with Antony, but curious as a young girl could be.

“Precisely mamma, how shall you know?” Eloise, immediately picked up her sister’s question, only not so susceptible to extenuations.

“Eloise Bridgerton, I shall expect you to practice the bowing before your incoming debut in front of the queen. Daphne made quite an impression and –“

“Daphne was deemed diamond of the season and such title is below my ambition.”

“Regardless, you do not want to trip or slip do you?”

Eloise (and everyone else) obviously remembered what happened to Featherington’s sisters and the embarrassment so with a heavy, exaggerated sigh and one quick, sharp, bright look at Y/N Eloise left the room, followed by her mother and sisters.

And once the lady and her trusted eyes and ears of the house were alone, who could stop the two of turning a lot more unmindful of societal norms?

“My lady, the lord has been quite annoyed since the quarrel you lordships have had. He even refused to eat his favorite meal.” Laura confessed with blushing cheeks

“Are you to tell me that Prescott prepared the roasted pork for Anthony after he was so unjust towards the lady of the house? I shall have a word about a loyalty with him upon my return.” Y/N satirized wholeheartedly.

“When shall you return my lady? Seeing as that viscount is not the one to have a change of heart and admit his wrongdoing easily?”

“He will Laura. One way or another I am fairly convinced my husband may take a long way to do so and take the aid of his mother whilst deciding. It’s just I am not fully convinced if the apology made with cheating are worth accepting.”

“Oh! You took the lower route here my lady forgive the audacity.”

“Just the route of a woman who expect honesty from her man.”

“Fair enough I suppose. But shall you be agitated my lady I take it you do not wish to accept the viscount bestowment?”

“Bestowment?” Y/N frowned a little in confusion “and what shall that be?”

“I do not know, my lady. I am merely a messenger—”

“I believed you to be on my side Laura.”

“And I am, my lady! But one do not object the command of the lord, that is clearly ready to vent his anger on the first soul that happen to be unfortunate enough to be around.”

“My god, you are a prattler!” Y/N laughed “where is that gift in question? Cause since it is mine either way we might as well get a little curious, shall we? Would be such a shame to put it to waste.”

Laura stood up from her chair and started heading to the corridor, but Hyacynth was first to barge into the room carrying some parcel that was almost bigger than her.

“Y/N! Is this that gift from Anthony!?” clearly she was eavesdropping “Can we take a look, please? It’s so big I wonder what it is? Come on, open it up! Open it up!”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Eloise muttered but there was no denying she was equally curious as her sister.

Y/N only rolled her eyes, inviting all the girls over and opening the box. Fishing out the most beautiful and definitely expensive new dress. The color was perfectly matching Y/N’s complexion and the material delicate yet durable – Anthony knew his wife and her adventurous tendencies.

“It’s so beautiful and elegant” Francesca whispered touching the dress with delight.

“So what, he think he can just buy her the garment and she will forgive him?” Eloise scoffed “Men are so simple minded and belittling of women!”

“Try it on, Y/N!” Hyacinth encouraged, almost jumping from excitement

“Do not try it on! This would be relenting!” Eloise objected.

“He made a gesture!”

“It’s not a gesture! It’s an attempt of buying her forgiveness!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?!”

“Quiet!” Y/N finally managed to break through the noise of two sisters. ““No offence girls, but this is my marriage and my decision. One I have to make by myself. So thank you “ she smiled brightly but with a hint of annoyance “for your positions on things, but I am perfectly capable of weighting the significance of the gift, on my conviction to forgive or not forgive him.”

“Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!” “Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!”

***

Anthony was waiting for her in the garden outside some estate she had no idea existed. After all, Y/N has spent her entire life in London, rarely being invited to the cottage. And in this case it could have been used a leverage, not that he was aiming for measuring forces and cold calculation.

No.

He was walking back and forth, almost trampling a path in the ground in a place where it should never be. Nervous enough to anxiously fiddle with his fingers like a lady before her debut entering the society. Hoping she would come. Wishing for any entity in heaven might want to listen that she would take this dress he send her as an expression of humility rather than boosting like a rooster. Praying that Eloise wasn’t there with her sharp tongue and unrestrained thoughts to discourage his beloved from accepting both the gift and the invitation.

The minutes turned to hours and even his father’s pocket watch refused to work with Anthony in this important moment. Having no regard to the poor flowers any other plants standing no chances against his heavy riding boots, the time seemed to stand still.

For whatever it was worth it, Anthony Bridgerton swore to himself that he would rather turn into a sack of boned waiting in this desolate place than walk away while there was still a glimmer of hope she might appear. He was done and fatigued with missed opportunities, poorly chosen and ill-spoken words.

It was never his intention to said all those atrocious words to her.

Too much.

Dear Lord.

Now that he was thinking about it, his heart was capering in a way that filled him with self-hatred. After all the pain he might have caused her during that little hurtful exchange while she did nothing more than be there for him. Even if he not exactly wished for it. Even if he himself didn’t know that her presence in his life was the best thing that happened since his father’s death. If not since forever.

Anthony wasn’t the one to believe in signs or any spiritual influence on earth, but the more he was dwelling on his own misery, the more deliberative of their first meeting he was becoming.

It was late lord Bridgerton’s death anniversary and as any other year – he separated himself from the rest of the family. To show how adamant his heart and mind was and to underline that this was nothing more than just another day in a line of any other similar ones. But the truth was, he wanted to visit his father’s grave alone without any possible disturbances or havoc that his younger siblings could have caused. None of them really knew Edmund Bridgerton the way Anothony did. The first born son, the heir to the title, deprived of his father’s guidance and presence and forced to take responsibility for the family in way too young age.

He needed to be by himself, cause god forbid anyone seeing him showing any signs of humanity and indulging in grief.

And his family knew and accepted it.

She didn’t.

Just a stranger, strolling by herself in the area, looking like a commoner, having no regards to the sanctity of the moment nor the place she found herself in.

And worse for her – spotting Anthony in the never-seen moment of vulnerability written all over his face.

“Lord Bridgerton” she bowed in a way that showed that the savage, Anthony took her for, actually had manners. And that he knew him, but this was not so unexpected.

He only grunted in response to annoyed by an unfortunate set of circumstances that worked against her. The viscount himself was not going to bow to a girl that was clearly a servant, with messy hair and in a dress that was far from anything a woman, even of lower position should be seen in.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, girl?” he muttered under his nose, throwing daggers with his eyes.

“I’m sorry my lord but-“

“You should be sorry. I am convinced your lady nor your lord will be pleased with the fact that their service wanders alone in an area that does not belong to them!”

“Service?” Y/N smirked looking at him with amusement and twinkling eyes. And Anthony with his youthful energy and virility could not miss the fact that she was actually pretty.

“Yes, service.” He hissed at her “now get out of here girl, before you get yourself in far more trouble from me and end up on the street!”

“I shall-“ she obviously was not going to let anyone maltreat her like that, but her acuity wore up that very moment. She noticed the weariness in viscount’s eyes, noticed the monument nearby, and realized what day of the month it was.

“Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed in respect “I shall be on my way. And I shall not mention this meeting to anyone, hopefully wishing for you to forget my impertinence.”

She was gone as fast as she appeared, and Anthony thought to never see her again.

Until the next rout Daphne was attending, where he actually did.

Immediately realizing the scope of his previous mistake, upon learning that the service girl was in fact Miss Y/L/N, the youngest daughter of Lord Y/L/N. And met with another look of those glistening eyes and amused face expression. Forced to accompany her for the evening, since apparently Lady Bridgerton and Lady Y/L/N has made some arrangements for the future.

He was thinking it was all just a coincidence back then, but now he came to conclusion that it must have been his father who send this girl into his life. Knowing better than him that she would turn his ways around, challenge him, test him patience mercilessly and yet – that she would be the one to love him unconditionally and whom he would love with all his broken and unperfect self.

And the burden of possibility of ruining it all for them was even more overwhelming.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walking shorter and shorter distances, turning back more and more often, stuck in his belief that he would stay here as long as she didn't show up, even if -

“Anthony.”

Viscount spun around so abruptly it almost caused him falling to the ground.

She came.

She truly came.

It was like meeting her all over again, back in time, back next to his father’s grave.

Only she wasn’t looking like a servant girl now.

She was wearing the dress he sent her, looking not only like a viscountess, but like a queen herself. His queen. His wife. His love. His everything.

Her skin was radiant due to the color of the material (just like Violet predicted), cheeks flushed, hair done in perfect curls surrounding her face, bright like a sun.

“Y/N….”

“It was so unwise on your part viscount to call upon me and invite me into a wild place a woman like me should never step foot on.” She said sternly, but the everlasting and never changing glistening of her eyes betrayed her true intention “and perilous, may I say? Far from the city? Lady travelling alone? So many hazards awaiting me on the way.”

“Benedict and Colin were following your post chaise.”

“Oh I knew I heard someone laughing on the way. But my coachman brushed my concerns off!”

“Did you really believed I would send my greatest treasure into the wild without proper security?” Anthony took a few steps forwards, reaching for her hands and placing gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Your brothers?” Y/N let him show the courtesy, but raised eyes in skepticism of the words.

“Believe me my lady, you should never underestimate the man of the Bridgerton house.”

“In what aspect my lord?”

“In every aspect, dear.” He looked deep into her eyes.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Y/N quickly averted her eyes, because Anthony’s gaze were so full of passion, love and genuine remorse and apology she found herself falling into his charms. And this couldn’t have been so easy for him. “You sister discounselled me on coming here.”

“And yet, you came my lady.” Anthony reached for her chin and slowly, gently and with tenderness turned her face towards him so that their eyes had to meet again.

“Anthony I –“

“My love, I am sorry.”

“this is not—”

“Let me speak” he hushed her, not breaking eye contact. “I asked you here, because this is the very place where my father asked for my mother’s hand. Where he pledged her his undying love, support and loyalty. And you, out of all people in the world, learned how much I cherish my father’s memory and his legacy.

“Anthony-“

“Therefore, here I am. Standing in front of you, expressing my deepest condolences-“

“Oh, dear lord, Tony!” she cried out in frustration “stop using the words you would say to me if Lady Whistledown were nearby! Tell me how you feel!”

How he felt was not with words.

How he felt was expressed by the way he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her lips in the searing but gentle kiss that conveyed more than any noble and dignified words of a lord could.

I love you.

By his strong arms encompassing her like a shelter from the storm.

I won’t ever let go of you.

By tender caress of her hair and back.

I will always cherish you.

By the way his lips were moving against her, whispering silent words understood only by two souls forevermore yearning for each other.

I am sorry.

She was the first one to pull back for air, reluctantly so.

“My love. My beloved.”

She smiled at him, connecting their foreheads, allowing his arms to tighten around her waist and waiting for what was coming next to assess the truth behind his words.

“Am I too much now?” she whispered

“You are always too much. To much for me to keep. To much for me to even wish and pray for. Too much of a blessing in my life. Too much in the best possible sense and—”

This time It was her who cut him off by a kiss, silencing anything else that might come from his lips. He was honest and sincere. And if he was trying to apologize by saying anything else and backing out on what he said back there she probably would not forgive him sensing manipulation. But this?

“I forgive you.” She whispered against his lips.

“Thank God.”

“Is this cottage inhabited or--?”

“No. It’s not. And I intend on taking advantage of it right this moment.” He grabbed her and carried inside bridal style, ready to not get back to London for at least a couple days.

(spoiler alert below)

I got a request for a fluff pregnancy fic.... <3

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#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton angst

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moon-rivr · 5 months

Note

idk if you know the water-tyla tiktok trend where the girl is bouncing their booty in front of the camera, but i imagine miguel’s girl doing that and he’s standing from behind watching her but soon when she about to twerk her booty to the beat he immediately rushes towards infront of her and goes ‘ain’t no fucking way yall seeing my girl’s ass’ HED BE SI POSSESSIVE UGHHH

water

(he looks so pretty pouting in this LMAOO)

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: cockwarming

author’s note: bit of a short one, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. i did change it up a bit but not too much

word count: 854

"Miguel, come onnn. Just take a break, at least for a little bit."

You practically whined as you begged your boyfriend for what to be the 50th time now to take a break after he spent most of the morning in front of his computer. "You know I'd take a break if I could but I have to get this ethics paper done," he spoke up, not bothering to look up as he continued typing away. You let out a small grumble in response, sitting down on the couch as you scrolled through tiktok in order to pass the time.

You'd tried to offer some under the desk assistance earlier, but your efforts were quickly dismissed when Miguel repeated that this was an important paper. You scrolled through, a new trend popping up on your page consistently. You figured that you'd give it a try, even if you wouldn't post it.

While you were pretty open about your relationship with Miguel on social media, that didn't stop the messages and comments that you received under your videos. Most of them were pretty supportive while some of them asked you to dump Miguel in hopes that you'd date them instead. You usually ended up deleting those comments before Miguel berated them for even suggesting that.

You propped up your phone on the nightstand as you checked your attire on the screen, satisfied by the way the top and leggings you had on fit. The leggings gave your butt a lift, the material accentuating every curve as you moved around. You set a timer, turning around to shake your ass once you heard it go off. You tried to keep up with the hand movements as you moved your butt, eventually giving up after you messed up.

You decided to try it out once more after being unsatisfied with your previous attempts, putting the timer on your phone as you waited for it to go off. "What do you think you're doing?" You heard from behind you, your eyes widening as you saw Miguel standing at the doorframe. "I thought you had an ethics paper to work on," you countered, starting off with the dance before getting lifted off the air. "I couldn't focus with the damn song playing over and over again," he said, his teeth gritting together as he stepped closer to you.

"No way in hell that these cabrones that follow you are gonna be staring at your ass," he grumbled, turning your phone off as he placed you on his shoulder. "I thought I didn't matter to you, with your paper and all," you spoke up, using a cheap manipulation tactic to get out of trouble though you were certain it wasn't gonna work. "So what? I don't pay you attention for four hours and you're already seeking validation from other men?" He asked, his tall frame imposing yours as he set you down.

You pouted as you looked up at him, batting your lashes innocently. "I'm sorry, Miguel. I just wanted some attention," you responded, trying to get him to sympathize for you a bit. He let out a small grumble, sitting down at the kitchen table as he spread his legs out. "And you should know that only I get to see you move your ass like that," he told you, his tone sounding agitated as he spoke. The sound of his belt clicking made your head tilt, seeing that Miguel had beckoned you to walk over.

You pushed your leggings down, wrapping your arms around Miguel’s neck as your cunt engulfed his cock. Your pussy clenched up around him and you were about to move when Miguel’s strong hands pinned you down. "No movement until I'm done with this essay. You wanted to be impatient so deal with it. No pouting either."

You buried your head into his neck, trying to entice him into postponing the essay he had to do. You slightly nipped at the skin, kissing down his collarbone as you marked him up. "Pinche puta impaciente. You're not pleased with anything, hm?" He spoke up after you clenched around him once more, your cunt practically leaking as his cock buried deep inside of you. (fucking impatient whore) "I just wanna spend some time with you, Miguel," you repeated, your hands coming to touch his abs under his shirt. “I don’t treat you good enough, that what this is?”

"If I get up from this kitchen table, you're not getting up without having shaky legs tomorrow," he warned you, but you moved your hips as you moved down his cock. You knew that you were testing your luck, but you just needed him so badly. He got up from the kitchen table, your legs wrapping around his waist as he led you to the bedroom. You were under the impression that he was finally taking a break from his essay when he took you inside, but the way that he looked down at you and the way that he tossed you into the bed quickly pushed those thoughts away.

You were definitely in for a long night.

(i couldn’t stop thinking ab this video as i was writing)

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wildestdreamsblog · 6 months

Text

Latibule: Season 2 Prologue

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: happy halloween! 🎃

Masterlist Epilogue

"You'll open your stitches, Yoongi-ah," Kim Seokjin noted with a monotonous tone, his eyes still trained on the tablet he was holding when he heard a rustling of the sheets, the first ever sign that the man was truly alive. The mafia prince that turned medical director was sitting comfortably, his long leg over the other as though he had gotten a good night's sleep since the mayhem that happened. It was the eighth day since Yoongi was in a coma, and similarly, it was the eighth day since you passed.

Since then, numerous things transpired- and they were all of violent nature. The five of them shed volume of blood, more so by the youngest of them. It was too bad for the traitors that Jeon Jungkook was frustrated because he almost found his wife. She was almost within his grasp when he was urgently needed back in Korea because unshockingly, one of their brothers was trying to kill the other. And well, the organization needed cleansing of traitors.

Additionally, it was worse for the traitors because the moment he returned was the moment he found his sunshine gone.

Yoongi was physically healing, as evidenced by his vitals that Seokjin was diligently monitoring. It was expected. Yoongi was not likened to a cat for nothing. They all physically saw him fall from the third floor, stood up, and brushed his hands as though it was nothing when they were younger. There was not even an ounce of doubt in their minds that he would wake up one of these days.

That was the thing, Yoongi was healing. But now, Seokjin wondered what would happen once he knew what happened to you.

He didn't have to wait long.

"W-where is she?" Yoongi asked with apparent effort, his hand clutching his shoulder with a barely restrained pain flashing on his face. "I need to go to her. She must be so scared," He sat up and waited for Seokjin to say something, anything.

And he waited, and waited- yet, Kim Seokjin didn't answer him. He merely regarded him with a somber expression on him, a foreign look on his usual jovial face. Jin's jaw was clenched, and he hated to be the bearer of bad news.

Yoongi blinked, looking at the older man's eyes with quick realization. He couldn't have gotten any paler even if he wanted to, his eyes widened at what he already knew.

"No. Hyung, no. Fucking no," he shook his head, his movements quick as he pulled the dextrose harshly from his skin, blood now dripping on his hand. He stood up as he aimed for the door, every step he took was shaky, yet his determination to see you was strong. "Take me to her! Where is she!"

Jin tried as best as he could to contain the man, and that was how Kim Namjoon found them. He should have known, he was no match to a man who just lost the only person he ever loved. Namjoon immediately helped his hyung, securing Yoongi's other arm on his side. But the mafia leader was like a wounded animal, thrashing around as it tried to find reprieve. In this case, it was you who was his peace.

"Hyung, stop it! You're going to hurt yourself," Namjoon ordered as gently as he could, but it fell on deaf ears. Yoongi looked at Namjoon, his dark eyes filled with panic and unshed tears. He thought that maybe Namjoon would take him to you.

You were just hurt, right? You were just resting that was why his hyung couldn’t take him to you…right? You were somewhere here. He just needed to ask more, to impose more, and if needed, he just had to scream louder for you and you would come to him…right?

You were alive, right?!

"Namjoon-ah, where is my angel, hmm? Take me to her!" his voice were shaking as he fisted his hands on Namjoon’s shirt, trying to get the taller man to look at him, to listen to him. He was close to pleading, and he wasn’t above it.

Why were they quiet?

Why were they looking at him as though they pity him?

He wasn’t pitiful, he thought. He had you.

The two men shared a downcasted look. Both men didn't know how to tell him that you didn't survive, that not even your remains survived. But they had to.

"She didn't...survive."

Yoongi blinked, and the two of them were quiet as they waited with bated breath for his reaction. Yet, Yoongi just straightened up while chuckling. “Stop lying, Namjoon.”

“He’s not lying,” Jin stated before showing you the necklace he kept in his pocket…your necklace. “This was the only thing left in the scene. You’re the Chief of Police. You know what this means, Yoongi-ah.”

Yoongi smirked before marching to the door. “T-that’s not hers.”

“Hyung, where are you going?”

“To find her. She’s not dead. She’s not gone. S-She promised me she would never leave me. She never breaks her p-promise,” he struggled to say each word as his body had not yet fully recovered. His determination was commendable, but seeing him reduced to denying your death broke what was left of the brothers’ hearts. “Angel needs m-me. I cannot fail her. N-not this time.”

Yoongi’s body swayed to the side, yet he remained steadfast, walking to where he thought you were. And if he needed to crawl, then he would. If he needed to kneel just to see you, then he would be down on his fucking knees, begging for your forgiveness.

His body failed him the moment he opened the door, his barely-recovered form crashing on the ground that Jin had no choice but to contain the thrashing man the best way he could. With a small prick on his neck, Min Yoongi lost consciousness.

The last thing he called for was you.

Even in his dreams, you never came.

Chapter I

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #yandere min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi yandere #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #suga x you #mafia bts

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alotofpockets · 3 months

Text

Out of reach | Mary Earps

Pairing: Mary Earps x Reader

Request: Mary x taller R where they have to keep helping her reach for things

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

You were browsing your local supermarket for dinner inspiration after a long work day. The day had been filled with important meetings, and you were still dressed for the part. You ended up in the pasta aisle where you saw a woman trying to reach for a jar that was slightly pushed back on the top shelf. Without a second thought you walked towards here, “Let me get that for you.” You say and reach for it.

The moment you hand the woman the can, is the first time you see her face. You were mesmerised by her beauty. “Thank you, it was just out of my reach.” The woman said with a beaming smile. Her words snapped you out of staring, “Of course, no problem.” The woman in front of you looks between the two of you and starts laughing. “Look at us, full suit versus full tracksuit.” You hadn’t realised the stark contrast in your outfits until she pointed it out but laughed with her once she explained. “Your outfit seems a lot more comfortable, and I definitely switch to something similar when I get home once I figure out what to eat tonight.”

You weren’t usually one to talk to strangers in a supermarket but something about the woman in front of you made it feel like you weren’t strangers at all. She was easy to talk to, and you felt yourself not wanting the conversation to end. “Well, I was going to make some spaghetti bolognese, would you like to join me?” You were intrigued by her offer but also didn’t want to impose. She seemed to notice your hesitation in answering, “Please, let me thank you for helping me.” She managed to get you to set your doubts aside. “Okay, let’s do it then. I’m y/n by the way.” The woman holds out her hand for you to shake it. “It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Mary.”

“Great, I just need to get something for dessert.” She hadn’t let go of your hand, so she used it to guide you towards the dessert section. “Since I chose dinner, you can choose dessert.” You head to the front of the store once you’ve picked out desserts, and after Mary made sure you didn’t need to get anything else at the store. With a bag full of groceries, you walk out of the store together. “I live like two blocks away from here, my friend dropped me off at the store, so I was planning on walking home. Are you okay with walking there?” You nod over to your car a few parking spots over, “Or we can take my car?” Mary smiles, “Perfect.”

You get into your car and look down at your outfit, “Do you mind if we stop by my house? I would love to get out of this suit.” Mary buckles up, “Or I can lend you some trackies and we have a cosy date.” Her eyes widened, “Wait, sorry, I never clarified it as such.” You shake your head and laugh, “A cosy date sounds lovely.”

After setting down the groceries in Mary’s kitchen, she leads you upstairs to get you a comfy outfit. She opens her closet, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen that many sports clothes together outside of a store. You notice the Manchester United, and the England crest on many of them. “You’re a big football fan then?” You let your eyes go over the many jerseys.

Mary smiled at your comment, it was a nice feeling that the stranger at the grocery store liked her for her and not because she was a fan. “You can say that.” She says with a laugh. You turn to face her with a furrowed brow. “They’re my jerseys. Mine as in I wear them when I play for United and for England.” She pulls out one of the jerseys showing the back. “Earps, that’s me.” She says proudly. “Wow, I had no idea. That’s really cool. So you get to wear comfy stuff for work every day then, maybe I should consider a career switch.” You both laugh.

Your first date with Mary was a big success, she was easy to talk to, and while your careers differed immensely, you had a lot in common with her. She walked you back to your car, where you shared your first kiss. Mary was standing on her tippy toes, with her arms around your shoulders. The kiss was short and sweet, with a promise to more since you had already planned your second date.

After a few dates, Mary had asked you to be her girlfriend, which you had happily said yes too.

One month into your relationship you found yourself amongst the crowd at Leigh Sports Village, where you watched Mary play for the first time. She had explained the basic rules of football to you while watching a match on the tv together one night. Now that she wasn’t by your side to explain what was happening, it was harder for you to follow but that was okay. Whenever you didn’t understand what was going on, your eyes went to her in the goal.

Mary met you in the family and friends lounge when she was done, she introduced you to a couple of her teammates before taking you back to your place. Since your first date was an at home dinner that you prepared together, you wanted to create the tradition to do the same for your anniversaries. So, starting off with your first month anniversary today, you went to the store you had met each other in to pick out the ingredients.

Ever since you started dating, you would get everything from the top shelves for Mary, but now you turn around from the pans on the stove to find Mary climbing on top of the counter. “Baby, what are you doing?” You laugh. “I’m just getting some wine glasses.” She said innocently. You take the glasses from her, before you help her down from the counter, and spin her around a couple of times. “You know I couldn’t easily grab those, right?” She pecks your lips. “Yeah, just a habit I still need to break.”

-----

1maryearps just posted

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1maryearps: Creating traditions.

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fan1: Omg mearps is dating someone??

ellatoone: Cuties

fan2: they are so cute!

fan3: who is she with?

alessiarusso: Finally someone else that can cook a proper meal

-----

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#mary earps #mary earps x reader #mary earps imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #manchester united women #man united #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #england lionesses #muwfc x reader #muwfc imagine #mearps

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thegoldencontracts · 16 days

Text

(Not) A Love Triangle

Summary: The rumors say you and Azul are in a love triangle with Jamil. Little do they know, that's not the case.

This idea is not mine, it's by @quartztwst - what if you and azul think the other likes jamil but you're both actually jealous of him and he hates his life?

“Oh, Jamil-san!”

“Hey, Jamil!”

“Dearest Jamil-san, you really ought to join Octavinelle someday.”

“Come on, Jamil, old buddy old pal, don’t give that guy the time of day. You should look at my epic ideas instead!”

This was the life of Jamil Viper, and he absolutely hated it. You and Azul Ashengrotto were both constantly pursuing him.

“Hey Jamil, why don’t you come over to my room sometime?”

“Dearest Jamil-san, do refrain from giving that cretin the time of day. Octavinelle’s lounge is far better than that musky old place.”

People had spread rumors, rumors about you two both liking him because, well, of course they did. The universe just couldn’t let Jamil Viper have nice things.

It was a love triangle, or so they said. Azul and you were both fighting over them, bickering, and the student body was enamored. One particularly enthusiastic student even made a small manga one-off that was quickly hailed as the hold grail of Night Raven drama.

But there was one thing that those fools didn’t realize.

Neither of you liked him. You both thought the other liked him, and so you attempted to get him away from the other so they’d stop liking him. You two didn’t react like most jealous individuals did, because the universe simply had to throw another inconvenience the way of Jamil Viper. What had he done to deserve all this?

Even when you two weren’t near him, he still couldn’t get a single break.

“Look!” Ace said to you, pointing at Azul with an impish grin. “It’s your crush. Aren’t you going over there and shoot your shot?”

“S-Shut up!” You said. “He’ll overhear, and- besides, he doesn’t like me. Everyone knows he likes Jamil.”

You seemed to deflate at the mention of Azul liking him, and if it weren’t for how wrong you were, perhaps a teensy part of Jamil would’ve actually felt bad.

No. He didn’t have time to feel bad. The only person here to feel sorry for was himself.

But this was getting annoying, so he tried to avoid looking at you — he didn’t want to hear anything else about your little romance.

That didn’t work out.

“Hey, Azul,” Floyd drawled, slipping an arm over Azul’s shoulder. “You gonna confess to your little grouper fish anytime soon?”

Floyd had even changed your nickname to that of a creature symbiotic with octopi! It was so clear you two liked each other and not him. And yet, no one but him - and maybe the twins - seemed to realize it.

“S-Shut it!” His response was so similar to yours it was driving Jamil crazy. “I don’t like- well, er-“

Realizing there was no defense for himself, he buried his face in his hands, cheeks red.

If he wasn’t such a pain, Jamil would almost find it cute. But Azul was a snivelling nincompoop,

“It doesn’t matter,“ he said, voice muffled. “My love couldn’t possibly be requited, not when Jamil’s right there!“

Azul’s ego was like a balloon, truly — appearing large and imposing, but small in volume and easily burst. Jamil had never seen someone more insecure.

Pathetic.

He didn’t have the time for this.

“Let’s go, Kalim,” he said, and almost instantly, the two of you perked up.

“May I assist you, Jamil-san?”

“Don’t look at him, I’m a way better pick! At least I’m not trying to scam you and kill your grandma!”

“I resent that accusation. In fact, I’ve never killed a grandmother in my life! I am a very respectful and law-abiding-“

“Yap yap. Now, go. Jamil deserves better.”

“Than you, yes.”

Any pity in his heart was immediately stamped out. Of course, the two of you couldn’t allow him a moment of peace.

Of course.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #gn reader #azul #azul ashengrotto x you #twst azul

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changetyre · 11 months

Text

Experimenting || CL16 & MV33

SUMMARY: You’ve always thought Charles wasn’t fully straight, you could tell by the way he looked at certain men and maybe some things he liked in bed but he always seemed too shy to say anything. You decide to call for a helping hand. Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

WARNINGS: 18+ Terribly written Smut, Male oral, Fingering, Fruity behavior, A*s play, mentions of pinning Frotting, and some more stuff probably.

A/N: in honor of Pride month ig 😪 also want to make it super clear that this is not me imposing a sexuality on anyone, this is obviously a work of FICTION and nothing should be taken as real!

________________

“Fuck yeah right there” Charles whimpered as you stuck a finger in his whole while blowing him.

Ever since you first suggested trying ass play on his part to him a few weeks ago he quickly grew obsessed and you swore you’d never seen Charles cum so har before or emit the noises he did until now.

You knew having a man comfortable enough in bed to try anything didn’t have to mean anything other then them being comfortable in their own sexuality.

Except for you in your years of relationship with Charles you’d grown to notice more and more the way he behaved towards certain men, attractive in both your eyes. The way he got flustered or shy around them and how sometimes you noticed him get turned on by some.

Your suspicious only grew stronger when Charles asked you to try pinning. You could tell he was both exited and nervous watching you put on a strap on starting at a moderate size for him.

He was nervous you could tell but he fell in love with the feeling of having a cock inside of him and as much as he tried to convince himself it was simply the fact that you were doing this to him he couldn’t help but imagine what a real one would feel like.

No, he wasn’t growing bored of you or loosing attraction to you in the slightest it was only that as he grew more comfortable in your relationship, in bed, he had allowed himself to explore himself more in ways he hadn’t found the space too.

Little did he know how much you noticed this and how much it turned you on to see Charles become nothing but mush with all these things you were trying and how much you wished to continue and increase his pleasures as much as you could.

Which is why a few days ago you’d taken the liberty to invite a friend on an adventure with you hoping to get Charles to open up (quite literally).

“Fuck cherie don’t stop! Don’t stop! I’m gonna cum” Charles breath grew erratic as he came into your mouth, your fingers slowing down their pace in his whole.

“Did you enjoy that baby.” You swallowed before you left small kisses on Charles dick making him twitch and gasp from the sensitivity.

“Beaucoup trop” he chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your neck pulling you up to his lips for a kiss. It was hot, he could still partially taste himself on your tongue making his cock twitch slightly.

“I love you.” You whispered after pulling away from the kiss, both your lips swollen and sore from the hours you’d been going at it previous to Charles final release.

“Je t’aime amour.” Charles whispered placing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Charles I need to ask you something.” You propped yourself up on your elbows looking at Charles directly. Your tone was soft trying not to make him nervous.

“What’s up bebe?” Charles smiled, it comforted you.

“I want to try bringing someone else to bed…and I invited Max to come tomorrow.” You revealed.

Out of everything you could’ve said this was the last thing Charles could’ve imagined to come out of your mouth. His mouth opened in surprise trying to wrap his head around what you said also half expecting you to reveal it was a joke.

He felt like he should get angry or at least annoyed for you taking on such a big decision on your own but he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel that way because as much as it scared him to admit it the thought excited him, it aroused him more than he’d liked to admit.

You sensed his hesitation. “I can always cancel baby I don’t want you to feel pressured or do anything you’re -“

“No!” Charles sounded a little more desperate than he intended and you had to fight back the smirk that wanted to appear on your lips. “No…it’s fine I’m okay with it…let’s try it.”

This time you allowed yourself to smile. You also took note of the fact that Charles had no protests on Max being your invitee and instead you could see the twinkle in his eye at the mention of his name.

Maybe the lestappen fan base aren’t as delusional as they seem, you thought to yourself.

______________

“Are you sure you wanna do this baby?” You asked Charles one last time. Max should be arriving at any minute but you wanted to make sure Charles was 100% sure and comfortable with what was about to happen.

“Yes amour I’m sure. I promise.” Charles answered just as there was a knock at the door. His stomach fluttered but he couldn’t tell if it was nerves, excitement or both.

You rushed to answer the door, Charles taking a deep breath before following after you. It wasn’t until you opened the door and his eyes connected with Max’s did he realize he had no idea what you told Max.

Did Max know you wanted to have a threesome with him? Or were you both going to try to seduce him? Was Charles meant to play with Max or would that only be you?

He began to get caught up in his thoughts until he felt your hand on his arm. Your touch easing him significantly.

“Charles is a little nervous but I’m sure we can help with that right?” Your eyes remained on Charles even though you directed your question at Max.

“Of course, you know what Dani says this isn’t my first rodeo we can get him to loosen up in no time.” Max patted Charles's chest before letting his hand drop to Charles's waist as he walked past the doorway into your home.

Charles couldn’t ignore the way Max’s words and touch made blood travel right down to his center.

_________

Charles stood in awe watching Max's hand tightly around your bare waist as he made out with you passionately in front of him. He watched as Max's hand traveled down to your ass which was covered by nothing but your red lace before he gave it a squeeze making you let out a soft moan.

Charles wasn't jealous of Max, he was seriously turned on by the sight in front of him. In fact, he was slightly jealous of the fact that your hands were all over Max's abs and the way your hand rubbed up and down his bulge over his underwear.

He started doing the same to himself. Except his heart skipped a beat when he saw Max make eye contact with him while he kept making out with you.

He pulled away from you. "Come here, Charlie," Max called out to him nonchalantly as he carefully pushed you back towards the bed making you sit on it.

"Why don't you help him relax," Max spoke to you this time as he brought Charles in front of you, you got on your knees smirking at Max's proposition before you released Charles from his boxers.

Charles's head fell back as your mouth covered him and you bobbed your head up and down his shaft. His feelings intensified by the fact that Max was rubbing his shoulders, and chest and even letting his fingers flicker his nipples.

"Ah, I won't last long like this." Charles sighed as he grabbed your head softly pulling you off him.

"What do you want us to do then?" You asked as Charles helped you off your knees and you placed a short but deep kiss on Charles's lips.

Max walked around him joining your side as you both faced Charles. It was only then Charles realized Max had stripped completely and now all three of you stood in your full naked glory.

Max was big there was no denying it but he wasn't bigger than Charles which is something he took notice of, although Charles couldn't deny the girth Max carried which made him nervous.

"I don't think I'm ready for..." Charles stumbled on his words as his gaze remained on Max's length.

"That's okay...we can do something else for now," Max reassured him unable to contain the proud smirk on his lips at the way Charles admired him.

"I have just the thing." You couldn't hide your excitement and what you had planned, something you really had been wanting to try, and just the thought got you wet. "Baby lay down on your back for us." you instructed Charles.

He did as you told, trusted you enough not to question it.

"Max can you straddle his thighs please" you then asked Max as you climbed onto the bed kneeling beside Charles.

Max smiled quickly figuring out what you had in mind.

Charles felt tingling in his entire body as he watched Max climb on top of him and jumped slightly when he felt Max's length graze against his skin.

"Relax baby, you'll enjoy this." you leaned down whispering in his ear before leaving kisses down his neck, and chest.

"What now?" Charles breathed getting slightly impatient and frustrated at the urgent need for something to happen.

"Ready baby?" you asked as you kept trailing kisses down his body reaching his dick.

"Yes, please do something." Charles's dick twitched involuntarily as your lips neared it.

He let out a long sigh as you licked a stripe down his length before doing the same to Max. You repeated the step, blowing them a couple of times getting them slick enough for the next step.

Once you felt they were slick enough you finally did it. You had to use both your hands as you joined their dicks together rubbing them against each other slowly while you moved your hands up and down.

Charles let out a guttural moan at the new feeling, his head immediately falling back and pressing into the pillow behind him. His eyes shut tightly, he didn't have to see what you were doing the feeling was overwhelmingly pleasurable enough and he also thought that if he looked he would cum immediately.

It was embarrassing how wet you were from the pleasure you were causing both these men, watching Charles trying to hold back his release and Max's ragged breath as he watched and thrust into your hand.

You jumped when you felt two fingers inside of you not realizing Charles had reached around, of course, he was worried about your pleasure too. He moved his fingers in and out at a rapid pace curling them exactly where he knew.

You almost orgasmed when Charles pulled his fingers out of you and used your juices to coat over his and Max's dick making sure everything remained slick enough, repeating the process of wriggling his fingers inside of you and collecting your wetness multiple times.

"I'm gonna cum." Max announced after a few minutes.

"Me too." Charles and you sighed in unison.

You released first around Charles's fingers and only a fraction of a second later did Charles cum quickly followed by Max whose cum mixed with Charles on his stomach.

Charles finally allowed himself to see the mess he and Max created on him although the scene didn't last long before he watched you lick his stomach clean swallowing all the contents.

"Fuck that was so hot." Max chuckled.

As usual, Charles grabbed your neck pulling you into him and kissing you deeply tasting now not only himself but also Max in your mouth.

"That was...incredible." Charles sighed after you pulled away, he watched Max climb off him and begin to put his boxers on.

"Call me anytime, and whenever you're ready we can try more." Max winked getting dressed in such a relaxed manner like he hadn't just aided in giving Charles the most incredible orgasm of his life.

"Thank you." You sat up thanking Max, he leaned over pecking your lips quickly before doing the same to Charles and walking out the door.

You looked down at Charles watching the confusion on his face at Max's action before a small smile appeared on his lips.

Maybe next time would come sooner than you thought and you couldn't be more excited.

Part 2

#f1 #lestappen #xreader #f1xreader #f1smut #lestappensmut #f1threesome #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #y/n #f1 imagine #smut

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takami-takami · 7 months

Text

Like Idiots.

includes— hawks x reader. fluff. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. pining like idiots. keigo is a pain in the ass. the reader is worse. i had fun with this. <3

There is zero need for Keigo to make a confession when it comes to his crush. It would be entirely redundant to confess.

Your sigh at the thought is palpable. It really is quite a shame.

Part of you yearns for that passionate drama of an ending, where in some novela-inspired twist of fate, your adoring knight is forced to spill his love at your feet. In your daydreams— the ones dreadfully reminiscent of some lovelorn teenager's— a faceless villain from fuck-all-nowhere nearly ends the life of his beloved hero partner.

And the words spill from his throat like his lovesick sobs, clutching you close to his chest while you do your best to pretend you're not biting back a smile at the attention.

"I love you! I've always loved you," he'd cry.

Or something like that.

And you'd kiss, and sparks would fly, or whatever.

End scene.

You're not getting that confession, though.

It figures your love life would turn out to be a comedy. Par for the course of your life, you suppose.

Instead of a scrawled letter sealed with wax or a poem whispered under the imposing moonlight, your confession is written all over Keigo's face— well, not all over, exactly. Every centimeter of his face conceals his emotions meticulously, flawlessly.

Every portion of his face is perfectly practiced and impeccably controlled; except for two measly little points.

You prod at your food again with your fork in hand, all frowns as you sit across from your work partner in a booth at the diner he likes to drag you to on your lunch breaks.

And you stare uncomfortably into the most cartoonishly blown pupils you've ever seen.

"Um. Hawks?"

"Yeah? What's up, chickadee," he asks sincerely before chomping down messily on a battered chicken drum, moaning and letting his eyes fall shut as he does with every meal— typically an obstacle for your focus, this accidentally whorish display is actually a welcome reprieve from your racing thoughts.

When his eyes flutter open once more, you're faced once again with black saucers and the sound of reckless chewing. His pupils are still dilated like a cat tripping balls on the dealer's finest catnip.

"Hawks, I really think I should tell you that—"

Your intervention is rudely interrupted by a waitress in a 50's style apron and folded paper hat combo, likely rushing over notepad in hand to get first dibs on serving a celebrity.

You would prefer to be unfair. It'd be easier to displace your frustration for your lot in life onto this poor woman, to tell her that her hat looks stupid and pink isn't her color, that she should really just stop trying.

You decide to be an adult.

Keigo, on the other hand, does not. Like a child given free reign to order for himself at a restaurant for the first time, he explains that she should really heap on the sugar for his coffee.

"No, no, no. More than that. Like syrup. I want it to taste like it's gonna put me in an early grave and— wait, where are you going?"

The debacle brings to attention another phenomenon that you've grown accustomed to seeing:

The second his gaze meets her's, Keigo's pupils shrink to points once more, constricting to tight dots before bouncing back to their natural size. And predictably, once again, they expand like blown glass when you catch his attention.

"Hawks!"

"Yeah, what?"

His chewing ceases obnoxiously, chicken drum in his right hand and half-chewed remains in his left cheek.

You might as well rip it off like a bandaid. You let out a puff of air.

"Your eyes," you attempt to gently point out.

"Mm?" Keigo's head tilts to the side, pondering your observation for a moment.

"My eyes? Ohh," he drags his words as if in realization, treating himself to another chomp into the drumstick. "You gettin' lost in them, huh? Happens, dove. You can stare, I don't mind."

"No!" You squeak out your denial before smoothing down your shirt and tipping your chin high.

You have the upper hand here. Remember that.

"I mean," you correct your course, staring down and poking at your plate while a smile creeps up your lips. "It's kinda hard not to when your pupils look like they're gonna swallow your goddamn irises."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Kei'?" You flick your gaze up toward him, worried now.

Under normal circumstances, it's an established habit for Keigo to slot one palm over his mouth when called out.

But this time, that hand bypasses his lips, crawling upward to reach his visor and wordlessly drag it down over the source of his shame.

A stronger person than you would hold back their laughter. They would take pity on the flush rising over his cheeks and neck like sunsets. Perhaps they would coo praises to soothe him, or even take it all back to ease the shame and discomfort that makes him feel utterly naked.

They would take pity on the man who, under the fluorescent high beams bolted to the diner's ceiling, looks just like a clown tripping on stage with the spotlight shined on his face.

You are not a strong person.

In your hysterics, you reach over to pry the barrier off his eyes, climbing into his lap and over him like tussling teenagers.

"Keigo, I didn't say it was a bad thing—"

"You're laughing," he laments like a kicked puppy, prying your face an arm's length from his with a single palm.

It's over. This is it for him. His life is over, he's going to have to change his identity.

He can start fresh with a new hero name, one not centered around red-tailed hawks— he'll need to rebrand as another bird, most likely. Preferably one with the same signature red feathers so as not to make a fuss for the merch department.

Maybe a parrot.

Winged-Hero Parrots.

"You're laughing at me!"

"I'm not laughing at—" another uncontrollable wheeze. His wings flap in indignance once, slamming against the cushions of the pink diner seat before drooping down like a dog's tail between its legs. You pluck the visor and raise it above your head out of arm's reach, one hand planted against his chest for stability.

"Not laughing at you! Baby, I promise—"

"Baby?" He repeats.

The silence is worse the second time around— but luckily for you, Keigo is a stronger person than you are. No laughter erupts from his chest, no smirk settles on his face.

If anything, your slip up seems to elevate his heart rate more than yours.

"We really should—"

"I think we need to—"

Both sentences collide in the small space between you, his lips completely still and mere inches away from yours.

You're reminded of the feeling of your fingertips about to touch metal after being charged with static, the skin crackling with the air's tension as you contemplate whether to just get it over with and touch.

And slowly, as if suddenly cognizant of your bodies and environment, you both crawl off each other and scoot toward the furthest edges of the booth seat.

Your knees make their way toward your chest for comfort, while Keigo's wings drape over his shoulders like a cocoon.

"We should talk."

#🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader

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welldonebeca · 8 months

Text

One Wife for Two Brothers

Summary: The infamous Winchesters brothers are in your village, and the old ladies in town won't stop gossiping about how they are looking for an Omega. You are happy to offer yourself to the role. Warnings: Vaginal fingering. Smut. Teasing. Seduction. A/B/O dynamics.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

You swept the floor of the church clean in a silent trance, humming a hymn to yourself while other women whispered to themselves in a corner.

"Hey," you called. "If you are not going to clean, just go talk outside. It will make my job easier."

Mrs Harvelle threw a look in your direction, pressing her lips in a worried look.

"Come here, kid," she called. "Come listen to us."

"Ellen," Mrs Mills hissed.

"You know she needs to know, Jody," she nearly barked back.

Mrs Mills didn't look pleased and you sighed, not wanting to get another scolding from your father for ignoring your chores to listen to gossip, but the trio of women practically pulled you to stand with them.

"She is too young to even know of any of this, Ellen!" she protested.

"She is nineteen," Mrs Harvelle argued, keeping a tight grip around your elbow. "My girl is younger and I already taught her what she needs to know about them."

Them?

"Who is them?" you frowned.

"Those Winchester boys," Mrs Harvelle told you.

The name rang a bell, and you just frowned more. They were Alphas from a clan that lived a day away from your town. They would often come to represent their group in legal situations and to buy things they couldn't produce.

You hadn't heard much from them, honestly, only what your father always said. He called them heretics who followed the old ways, prayed under the moon and were rumoured to still be able to shift into wolves - something that had been lost for centuries now.

Rogue Alphas who followed no human laws.

Aside from the rumours, though, they never seemed to cause any trouble. You had never heard of them disrespecting anyone, or doing anything to earn such a reputation.

And yet, people still feared them.

"Some people said they are looking for a mate," Mrs Mills told you.

"Well, they can forget it," Mrs Harvelle growled. "No Omega in this town will sign themselves away to be their breeding bitch."

You swallowed down and she scowled.

"My Jo said she isn't leaving the house until they are gone," she shot you a look. "You should do the same thing. It's safer."

Jo had just turned 15, you doubted she would even want to think of that.

You didn't know what to think of it. So far, you hadn't even thought about marriage, much less mating.

"Be careful," Miss Hanscum told you.

And then, just as soon as they had pulled you closer, they pushed you back into work, leaving you alone to finish cleaning the church.

You were just two benches away from the door and the sun was almost down when you heard it opening loudly, and heavy steps - that you didn't recognise - walked inside.

"My father is gone," you warned them. "He won't be back until..."

You stopped midway as you looked at who it was, stunned to see the tall and large figure at the door, an imposing man with eyes that caught the light and bigger than any other you had ever seen in your life.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, face soft. "I just came here to pray."

His scent hit your nose, and you weren't surprised. He was an Alpha - and a very good smelling one.

"It's... fine," you mumbled.

He nodded, and stepped on the carpet, cleaning his boots before taking the furthest seat from you and sitting right in the front, on the other side of the church, maybe hoping it wouldn't disturb your cleaning.

You waited a bit and pretended to have to clean a different spot, trying to take a better look at him as he prayed with his eyes closed.

His clothes weren't too well stitched and looked like they were redone several times to fit his size, as if he had grown faster than he was supposed to. He was just so muscular.

You had never seen an Alpha looking so... traditional.

Whoever this man was, he looked like he had come straight out of history books. You were shocked that his fingers didn't have claws or his ears didn't have fur.

Though it wasn't like you could see his ears with his long, luscious hair.

You froze, a little embarrassed when you realised you were staring. Why were you so fixated on him, why did you even care about his hair?

Alpha opened his eyes and stared right at yours, and you had to will your knees not to buckle.

"Are you from the Winchester clan?" you asked.

His lips curled in a teasing smile.

"Yes," he confirmed.

His big hand moved to his side, and he patted the seating spot by his side.

Any warnings to stay away just flew away from your head.

You rubbed your thighs together as you followed his silent instructions, sitting at the bench right by his side, eloped by his delicious scent, and tried not to let yourself be tempted.

You were a smart Omega and weren't going to fall into the lap of the first alpha with soft-looking hair and kind eyes and big hands that looked like they could dwarf both of yours...

"So… you pray?” you asked. “I thought you believed in your moon god."

He chuckled.

"We do, as a clan," Alpha explained. "But I like to believe all gods have a reason to be respected. Maybe this one will be nice and help my brother find us an inn that will let us stay the night."

You laughed a bit.

"Maybe we can pray together?" you offered. "It can't hurt to try."

He smiled and took your hands, moving so that he could face you, and you did the same.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

You obeyed, but you couldn't quite do anything as close to praying.

Instead, you could only think of his scent, of how it was all around you. Could he scent you?

Maybe he could scent how you were getting wet by just breathing his scent in alone.

"What is your name?" he asked, breath so close to your neck you could almost feel his lips on your skin. "And why are you trying to tempt me in such a holy place?"

. . .

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pbees · 1 year

Text

Marechi!

[𝙐𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙨! 𝙓 [𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧!]

Part 1 ☆ Part 2!

WARNINGS!; future parts will contain Nsfw content!!

This part contains

Face eating //kinda//

Mention of Gore

Kidnapping by default

Need

/nēd/

require (something) because it is essential or very important

⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝

強くて美しい

..."

You're still alive..

YOU’RE STILL ALIVE?!

Quickly sitting up you surveyed the scene. You were covered in blankets that seemed to be soiled, but you couldn't complain. There was a fire going in a chimney a little ways away from you- confirming it was a house.

This place smelled horrible.

Surveying your surroundings check! now body check.

Alright for the most part. Your lips were still sore from earlier and your throat stung. For the most part, however, you were fine, all your fingers still intact.

Then suddenly

" Eat"

Bellowed a horrible English accent from the far corner of the room making you jump out of your skin.

There sat a man with-

Six eyes and wine red hair ? I mean besides the eyes he was rather attractive and his clothes didn't do much to hide the muscles underneath. His scary appearance didn't stop you from blurting out a-

" Oh hell what am I looking at?- did

Did I actually die?"

You whined ' Of course it was too good to be true. The creature in the corner didn't enjoy what you said about what he assumed was his appearance he grunted all his eyes narrowed at you.

You gulped quickly shutting up- what did he say do 'Eat? - Where's the food? Looking around again on the floor you spotted the very uncooked meat that had been thrown on a broken plate.

"Yeah I don't think I can eat that- uhm anything else in here you....?" you swallowed your pride and gave the creature a nervous smile. He grunted again before saying what you assumed to be his name.

" It's Kokushibo" he pointed to his chest, he realized you were filling in for his name after. In your defense your Japanese wasn't the best the group translator was previously slaughtered, plus and the same could be said for Kok-ushibo.

Well, not his Japanese, but English.

That begs the question, how does he know you speak English? The group spoke French the whole time- also assuming he's the one that slaughtered them.

Okay, you had to stop too- many questions were approaching your head. Might as well try talking to the Creature again.

" Kokushibo- hmmm- do you Hafe cookied phood?" you motioned to the bleeding plate of pale meat.

Another question- what was he trying to serve you???

He replied back in English even though you were trying your best to speak in Japanese " I Do not"

"Okay, are we gonna speak English or Japanese?" You let out a nervous sigh He gave you a look before replying " English"

"Okay okay- Kokushibo was it? Uhmmm where are we?" Oh gosh the questions are back.

He pointed to the quote on quote ' Food.'

" His House"

He does murder people good good, you're so safe.

" Why am I here Kok-ush-iboo?"

"Kokushibo"

"Kokushibu"

" Gud enough"

You sighed finally deciding to get up. You haven't properly used your feet since you froze a day ago, and your clothes were soiled much like the blanket making you uncomfortable. Clearing his throat he piped up again.

" Come here-

You visibly sweat as you approached the demon. The closer you got the more imposing he looked. Those are skull-crushing hands. Better yet why we're you here talking to him you should be running away right now, but much like before you were frozen as soon as you were arm's distance from him.

Your arm distance.

Reaching his hand out he grabbed your face making you yelp. He inspected your face, not with the intent to crush it luckily- more for studying it. He was a bit taken aback by your even when he first rescued you out of the snow. He only really saved you because your appearance intrigued him. He totally thought you were a demon at first glance but a demon wouldn't beg like you had their limbs would've grown back with no trouble.

There was also the interesting case of your blood. Before you wheezed out a "please" to him he drew his finger across the small drop of blood you left on the snow it's the smell was pungent. Which made him turn your face over by then you had passed out but the blood littering your lips was still there.

Demons didn't have blood that pleased other demons. His original idea was to ask the master about it, but if He didn't know you existed Kokushibo greedily wanted to keep you to himself.

Though much didn't hide from that man.

After checking if you were still breathing he picked you up by the collar of your clothes you were

basically a freeze pop in his hands.

He has to find some way to warm you up the circulation to most of your limbs was disappearing and your heart was on its last beat. Why you were so far out in the woods puzzled him- better yet why you were still alive with such heavy traces of a demon on you.

Seeing a house horribly covered in wisteria flowers, that would do a good job at keeping lesser demons away. They must be been a demon slayer of some kind 'Oh well'.

Making quick work of the Humans inside he sat you down close to the fire they had previously burned. He ate most of the slaughter but left pieces for you on the ground.

" Are we done yet..?" you squeaked out the position was making your back hurt from being bent to suh and angel. He let go of your face and huffed.

" You must eat" He pointed to the raw human. You just gave him a distributed look " I can't eat that ma-youu" you quickly corrected yourself not sure he would enjoy being called anything but his name.

"I don't know how out of date your human book is, but we can't eat Raw food and Especialy Humans at that?" you could not stress that fact enough.

" Then we must get you food so you can stay- healthy "

"Are you trying to fatten me up?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing-"

He gave you the nasties glare before standing up- AND HOLY SHIT HES TALL. Maybe your death which your pretty sure actually happened opened up the part of your brain that was a pure idiot because Why aren't you running the fuck away right now?

" if you try to run away I would and could kill you" he adjusted his clothes glaring at you.

"Noted!" Now he can read my thoughts give me a damn break. Walking past you he motioned you to follow him as he made his way through who's ever house this was.

" When I walk you follow - understood?"

"I guess ?" you sighed your confusion was going to make your head explode.

He nodded, the two of you must be fast the sun would be coming up soon.

You tried picking up his sword twice with him scowling at you in distaste every time you fell on your ass. He wasn't sure why he's kept you alive, you're no different than any other human wel that's not entirely true actually. There was the topic of your blood, demons survived off of it but flesh also fed the hunger they always have. Your blood seemed to be gleaming when looking at you it's the first thing he smells.

He wants to taste it, but he doesn't want to scare you away- any more than he has at least. He will bring it up later after you've eaten.

It would probably taste even better than it smelled. Thinking about drinking from you made him excited.

“ I’VE GOT IT!” you finally got it off the ground by and inch before you slipped on the snow hitting your face up against the weird eyeball sword. This caused you to bust your lip with a cry. You gave up you weren't gonna attempt to pick it up again.

Sighing you finally looked at Kokushibo- expecting to see the upset scowl from before your soul left your body when you saw him drooling.

His teeth were clenched showing off his canines as he looked down at your frame. You were too afraid to move just like before hyperventilating as he approached you.

“ Ko- before you could finish he grabbed your chin, it was far bigger than your face. Pulling you closer to him you started to tear up.

He's gonna eat me oh gosh he's gonna eat me i knew it- DAMN IT I KNEW-

‘Slurp’

Huh-

He was sucking your lip.

This definitely wasn't eating you- I mean it is but not what you were expecting. He was so engrossed in the act he was ignoring the confusion radiating off you. Your hands grabbed at his Haroi pulling him closer, his teeth scraping the bottom of your lip. Finally pulling away a string of saliva still connecting him to you.

Your hands still held his haori as his hand still caged your face. All six of his eyes gave your face a once over like he didn't suck the life out of you.

“I'll get the animal myself stay here” He started walking off.

“Man, what the fuck just happened?”

____

Not to plot driven this chapter unless you conclude the fact Kokushibo thought reader was a demon☠️

Next part will be a little more spicy, in truth after a certain point I forgot what the hell I was typing a desperately tried to remember.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!!

I'll typo check later :3

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eksvaized · 3 months

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[ Previous ┃ Next ] [ All In One ] part 2, MDNI

Your back presses against the worn-out fabric of the couch as you sit on the floor. Your legs are pulled in, knees drawn up close to your chest in a protective pose. Your fingers tug at the loose threads of your pants. The tiny movements of your hands betray the tension you feel. With a cautious gaze, you stare at the man in front of you as he sifts through your backpack. You want to say something. The words are poised on the tip of your tongue. But you stay silent, your lips pressed together in a tight line. The stranger tosses your belongings back at you, your backpack landing at your feet, when he doesn't find what he's been searching for.

The moment of tenuous silence shatters like glass. Questions start pouring out, all directed at you. He asks for your name, then he demands to know where you come from and what you are doing here. He also wants to know whether you are alone or with someone. Lastly, as his voice hardens and his eyes narrow, he asks why you attacked him.

At first, you refuse to utter a single word. In your stubborn mind, you convince yourself that you don't owe this stranger any explanations. You think that if he wants to know something, first, he should try to be more amiable rather than acting like some creepy investigator. But as he steps closer to you, his imposing frame casting a looming shadow over your curled body, his dark eyes piercing the very core of your being, you realise you have no choice but to play by his rules.

So, first, you answer the last question he asked.

"I thought you were a biter," you mumble, gathering up the courage to meet his gaze.

A puzzled look washes over his face, his head tilting to the side, as if he's not sure what you mean.

"A biter?"

"A dead man, you know, like the ones who roam around the streets, wanting to eat anyone they cross their paths with," you say, rolling your eyes in slight annoyance. You sigh, realising that if you have to explain every answer to him, this conversation is going to drag on longer than you expected.

You continue to speak. After you are done, apparently, he is satisfied with your responses because he gives you back your knife. You hadn't even noticed that he'd been holding it in his hand all this time.

The stranger is still wearing the skull mask. You wish he would take it off because it makes you feel uneasy, as if he's hiding some secret underneath it. But even if you can't see his face, you can tell he is anxious about something by the way he is pacing around the room, circling the couch you are sitting next to, and fiddling with his gloves as his eyes move from one window to another.

After some time, when he turns around and stops paying attention to you, you stand up. Your legs feel numb, but you grab your backpack, throw it over your shoulders and decide it's your cue to leave. The man doesn't seem to have vile intentions, but you don't know what might be going on inside his mind. As soon as you take the first step, trying not to make much noise, the floors creak and he turns around on his heel. His hand seizes your arm, and he sinks his fingers into your flesh, forcing you to halt.

"I'm coming with you," he says, and you think it's a question. But the stern and unyielding tone of his voice tells you otherwise.

You glance over your shoulder. When your eyes meet with his chest, you lift your chin to look at his covered face. You don't want him to follow you. You don't know this man. From what you can tell, your gut feeling whispers to you that he isn't someone you wish to have in your company.

"N-no," you reply, but your voice stutters as you speak. You try to pull your arm out of his grip, but his hold only tightens, refusing to let you go. His nails are still digging into your flesh, causing sharp jolts of pain to travel up your arm.

"I saved your life," he reminds you, as if that should be enough to change your mind.

You are adamant about sticking to your decision, not wanting to bring any strays back home. Maybe if you had met in a different way, in a situation where his and your first instincts weren't to kill each other, you would allow him to follow you. But now, you promise yourself you won't let him go with you.

"After trying to kill me!" You spit back, trying to shake his fingers off again.

He rolls his dark eyes and scoffs, muttering something under his breath that you can't quite understand. When you take a step back, to your surprise, he lets you go, letting his arm fall back to his side.

"You have no choice. I'm coming with you whether you like it or not," he says, a tired sigh eluding him as he exhales. "I need a place to crash for a day or two, and you need someone to help you get back home, wherever that is."

You realise that arguing with him is pointless. Although you still want to stick to your decision, you think he has a point. It would be good to have someone like him by your side, killing any biters who dare to step in front of you. Of course, he could be a serial killer who you are bringing back to your house. Yet you decide to take your chances and bet that he's not. After all, he had one chance to drive your own knife into your skull and he didn't do it.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, twirling the blade in your hands. He watches you, waiting for your answer, but something tells you that no matter what it is, no matter if you don't agree to take him with you, he will go with you, regardless.

"I don't even know your name."

"Simon."

The journey back to your home consumes the entire daylight hours. Not as a result of the extensive distance that you need to cover, but because of your insatiable curiosity and determination to painstakingly explore each and every quaint little shop that you come across. You rummage through the dusty shelves and the forgotten corners. You even dare to venture into the backrooms of these shops. Your heart pounds like a drum against your ribs as you search for any remaining scraps of food that could have been left behind.

This part of town is uncharted territory for you, a place you've never visited before. Despite the risks that come with exploring new areas, you feel safe with Simon by your side. He's always alert and ready to take down any biters that block the way. He seldom speaks. When he does open his mouth, it's usually to give a command, instructing you to move, hide, and stay out of his way as he fights. While you're still curious about this mysterious stranger, you no longer feel the need for conversation. If he handles all the threats that come your way, you are content with his silence.

A couple of times, you even persuade him to extend your scavenging efforts beyond the confines of the shops and into the eerie silence of abandoned homes. The potential to find extra supplies within these desolate dwellings is too appealing to ignore. But after the deafening noise of forcibly prying open a third door echoes through the empty streets, attracting the unwanted attention of lurking biters, Simon puts his foot down. He insists that you both stop your little explorations and start prioritising your safety.

Like you, he has a distinct preference for the knife as his primary weapon of choice. The conversations between you two are few and far between. Yet, during one of those rare exchanges, he reveals to you the reason behind his reluctance to use a firearm.

"It's quieter… and doesn't attract the attention of peop—the dead," he stammers, his voice trailing off into an uneasy whisper. With a practiced motion, he wipes the blade against his rough, worn-out pants, cleaning off the dark, sticky blood. For a fleeting moment, you think he was about to say 'people'. A part of you aches to ask why he wouldn't want to encounter them. After all, you've always believed that finding other survivors in this desolate world would be a ray of hope, a good thing.

If only you could have found a community, a group of survivors, when all your family was still together, you would have preferred to live among them. The idea of a community with shared responsibility and mutual support was comforting. But you weren't able to find any such sanctuary. And as the days turned into weeks and then months, it became too dangerous to go searching. The risk was too great and the home, as desolate as it was, offered a modicum of safety.

You can't shake off the feeling that Simon is holding something back, biting his tongue. You reckon it would be fair if you asked questions now. After all, it is your turn. Yet, for reasons you can't explain, you swallow all your words and keep your mouth shut.

Caught in a whirlwind of your thoughts, you loiter down the worn-out pavement. Your gaze is fixated on the ground beneath you. You move in a rhythm almost akin to a trance, attempting to sidestep the countless fissures and cracks that blemish the otherwise smooth concrete. Suddenly, an urgent grip on your hand shatters your solitary reverie. Startled, you turn to find Simon pulling you to the side. You shoot him a glare, irritation brewing within you. Upon turning your head to face him, your annoyance quickly dissipates as you notice his attention is directed not at you, but somewhere else. Following the path of his intense gaze, your eyes widen in horror.

Before you can even react, Simon steps in front of you. His protective stance forms a barrier between you and the approaching danger. With measured steps, he edges towards the side of the road where a thick cluster of bushes lies. Clutched in his hand is a knife, its blade glimmers ominously. Despite the palpable tension in the air, his demeanour remains unnervingly calm.

An overwhelming wave of confusion washes over you. It's as if the world has tilted on its axis. But then an all-too-familiar sound reaches your ears. It's a low, guttural growl, accompanied by the soft rustling of leaves. As it echoes through the street, your breath hitches in your throat. The chilling realisation hits you like a freight train barrelling down the tracks at full speed. If you had continued your absent-minded stroll, unaware of the danger lurking just a few steps away, a biter would have sprung from the underbrush. With a snarl, he would have lunged at you, sinking his teeth into the first part of your body he could get his grimy hands on.

Without a moment's hesitation, Simon drives his knife deep into the biter's skull. You realise this is the second time he has saved your life. Your mouth is dry. Your throat feels constricted like a tightly coiled snake, so you remain silent. Gratitude overrides your initial irritation at his insistence on tagging along. You're relieved he came with you—his presence has proven to be more than just comforting.

As Simon withdraws his knife, the immediate danger is diffused. The body falls to the ground at your feet, the biter's lifeless eyes staring at you. You take a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline slowly receding. Simon turns to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sternness and concern. Neither of you speaks, yet you're able to understand each other without words.

I'm thinking of creating a tag list for this story. If you'd like to be tagged in the next part, please let me know!

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andypantsx3 · 1 year

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Deceiving the Duke | 9 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 4.1k of 30k words | 9th of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

You couldn’t think of a thing to say during the carriage ride, pretending to look out over streets glowing in the newly-risen sun. But you kept sneaking glances back at Lord Shouto, only to find him watching you contemplatively, his handsome face unreadable to you.

You wondered what he truly thought of you. If he had known this entire time you were only pretending to be Camie–why had he let you go through with it? Why had he kissed you last night, even?

You could almost think he had been trying to entrap you in turn, except that you knew him to be too good for that.

So why had he let you go on?

You stiffened as the palace came into view, a huge, imposing structure with immaculately whitewashed walls, rising several stories above the ground. An enormous wrought iron gate let into the grounds, down a short drive fringed pink-blossomed trees, which finally led onto a cobblestoned concourse which looked like it had never seen a speck of dirt.

Guards in the Yaoyorozu livery were stationed all along the palace’s face, their sabers resting conspicuously at their sides.

You felt your fingers tighten in the fabric of your dress.

Lord Shouto jumped down from the carriage as soon as it stopped, and reached out a hand for you again. You considered whether you should avoid it–you were not a lady, and you were now in the presence of hundreds of people who would see him do so. Before you could brace yourself to jump down on your own, however, Lord Shouto’s hands found your waist. Your stomach swooped as he lifted you out of the carriage entirely, placing you on the ground as though you were no heavier than a child.

Your knees felt suddenly weak, and you focused on getting your feet properly back under you. You did not dare grip his sleeve for support.

“Come with me,” Lord Shouto said, his low voice gentle in the morning air.

He offered his arm—as though you were a lady again!–and looked at you expectantly.

“My lord, I do not think you should treat me as such,” you said quietly, as a footman scurried out the entrance of the palace towards you.

Lord Shouto’s eyes picked over you, his head tilting. “There should be no object. You’ve already embroiled me in scandal enough, do you not think?” he said.

Your stomach turned over, but the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth told you he meant it in jest. Still–

“Your Grace, the princess will receive you in her sitting room,” the footman said, puffing as he approached.

“Thank you,” Lord Shouto said. Then he reached out and quite determinedly took your hand, pulling your arm carefully through his. He ignored the footman’s wide-eyed look, and gently tugged you along after him.

You were too stunned to say anything, your tongue feeling as though it had tied itself in a knot. The feeling only worsened as you were led deeper into the palace, down a long hall and through a series of intricately brocaded and muraled rooms with echoing marble floors. Eventually you emerged into a room painted a cheery yellow, with sunny rows of windows and several ornately patterned sitting benches.

Your heart stopped.

On the nearest sofa sat a gorgeous woman, with fair skin and raven-black hair, upon which rested a small silvery tiara. The Princess Momo Yaoyorozu herself.

Quickly abandoning Shouto, you dropped into the lowest curtsy you could manage, feeling your knees wobble underneath you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Shouto swept the most absolutely cursory bow you’d ever seen in your life. You started, appalled by the slight.

What was he doing?

But the princess looked deeply unruffled, smiling as she rose from the sofa.

“Shouto,” she said, happily.

And then she rounded the table and embraced him.

“Momo,” Lord Shouto said in return. “It is good to see you in good health.”

You stared, aware that your mouth had dropped open, but completely unable to close it. So they–were a couple? But then you noticed the slight woman at the princess’s shoulder, who also reached out and embraced Lord Shouto.

“Jirou,” he said.

Jirou colored pink and cuffed the back of his head lightly. “Next time I’d ask you to consider causing a scene like this later in the day.”

Lord Shouto’s face went carefully blank, the very picture of innocence. “I know not what you mean.”

Jirou looked unfazed. “I’m sure.”

Just then, the princess’s gaze wandered to you, her eyes dark and fathomless and intimidatingly pretty. You froze under her sudden attention. “This must be your Miss Not-Quite-Utsushimi,” she said.

Your stomach lurched. She knew. The princess already knew what you had done.

Was this it, then? The moment of reckoning? What Shouto had brought you here for, to see that royal justice was done unto you?

But the princess just smiled, and gestured to a bench opposite the sofa. “Please, sit.”

You almost sat down reflexively right on the floor. Thankfully, Lord Shouto took your elbow and gently guided you to the chair, taking the place next to you. You tried very hard not to notice the way his strong thigh pressed against your skirts.

“Now then, Shouto tells me you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble. I’d like to hear it from you, if you don’t mind,” Princess Momo said as she settled back into her seat.

You could barely think straight. It was like every thought you’d ever had suddenly gathered in your mouth, all clamoring to burst forth. You tripped over your own words, barely managing coherence.

“Your Highness–it’s not. I mean, it’s not my trouble, it’s Lord Shouto’s. I’ve gone and involved him in a way I did not mean, and he desperately needs to call off the marriage. It’s entrapment! He was caught with me, and I’m not Camie–his reputation—my fault, I mean–”

Lord Shouto’s gloved hand found your thigh, and you jumped.

His mouth drew close to your ear. “Breathe, Y/N.”

It was the first time you’d ever heard him use your name, and the sound went through you like a lance. You only just managed to clamp down on what might have been a horrible little whimper, your fingers clenching in your skirts for something to ground you.

“It’s as I described in my letters, Momo,” Lord Shouto said, turning back to the princess.

She ignored him, her gaze picking over you. “You mean you meant to entrap His Grace?” she asked.

“No!” you yelped, leaning forwards desperately. “No, please. You must ask him to call it off!”

She tilted her head and waited, as if for more of an explanation.

You blew out a nervous breath, trying to find the words to explain. “I am a–I was a maid, Your Highness. I have worked for the Utsushimi family for years. Just days before the season, Camie Utsushimi eloped with Lord Inasa Yoarashi, leaving her elder sister Caroline the consequences of the scandal. Mrs. Utsushimi–that is, it was decided that I should pretend to be Camie long enough for Miss Caroline to make a match.”

The princess’s eyebrows raised.

“I did not expect that I should–-that I should find someone as good and kind as Lord Shouto. I have no excuses for participating in and continuing the charade.”

You did not know how to continue. You let the words sit there in heavy silence.

“And what would you want now?” The princess finally asked. “Now that you’re to be revealed as a servant?”

You ducked your head. “I want only that Lord Shouto distance himself quickly.”

“And you?” Princess Momo asked.

You did not dare ask that she let you flee into the countryside as you so desperately hoped. It was the height of folly to think that you would be let off with no punishment. God, however had you thought you could have pulled this scheme off? What absolute madness had possessed you to go along with it?

“Whatever Your Highness thinks is suitable penalty,” you said, unable to look into her face.

“Why did you do it?” The princess asked, as Lord Shouto had.

You answered as you had then. “For money, Your Highness.”

Lord Shouto leaned forward. “For her family, Momo. She sends a wage.”

Your skin prickled, hoping that this admission would not make targets out of your parents too.

“And your parents know of this scheme?” she asked.

You panicked, getting to your feet. “No! Your Highness, please, I have not told them–”

“Momo, I’ll thank you not to scare my intended,” Lord Shouto intoned from your side. You realized he’d also risen. He took your arm, tugging you gently back down. “Nothing will happen to your family, Y/N,” he said.

Your pulse pounded under his grip. You tried to focus on how gentle and warm his touch was, as little as you deserved it.

Fuck. Fuck, just what had you gotten yourself into?

“You are lucky,” Princess Momo said finally, “That Shouto thinks this is all very funny.”

You froze, glancing up at her. He–he thought this was–what?

“He’s been writing me these past months, telling me of you. I did not like the idea of it, but Shouto tells me you are…good. That you did not mean to draw anyone’s notice, and that you have very consistently resisted his advances,” the princess said.

Your memory flashed to the feeling of his mouth on you last night. You had not really resisted his advances consistently enough. If only she knew how inappropriately you had reveled in them.

“I see that you are much like what he says,” the princess said, and you heard a kind of unexpected softening of her tone.

You did not know what to say.

“I brought you here to see for myself. And I am…satisfied,” she said. “Though, I will always watch out for him as he has watched out for me since the War for All.”

The knot of tension in your chest uncoiled a little. But surely, she could not mean that she meant to let an infringement of this nature go unpunished?

“Your Highness, I am afraid I do not understand,” you said.

Lord Shouto’s hand found the side of your thigh again, and he pressed those long fingers against you. “She means that she will insist on keeping an eye on you, once we are married,” he said.

Your head snapped towards him, and you gaped. He watched you back, those mismatched eyes glittering in a way that you found so very horribly familiar.

“Married?” you echoed incredulously. “My lord–I am not–you cannot–what?”

Shouto ducked his head to look into your face more closely. “Then you will not have me?”

You sputtered. “Have you? Me, have you? My lord, really, are you unwell? We’ve just established, I am not Camie Utsushimi!”

“I’m well aware…Y/N.” Lord Shouto said, his tone dropping terribly low. A little shiver went up your spine.

“And as you are now well aware, I have known for some time,” he continued. “I knew from the beginning. And I certainly knew when I kissed you last night.”

The shiver became a full body shudder. “Lord Shouto–it doesn’t make sense…”

“He never does,” Jirou piped up helpfully from the princess’s side. “He’s been strange since birth, according to Momo.”

Shouto’s features went intentionally deadpan again, as though he could not countenance such a claim. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your mouth.

“He liked when you threw the apricot cake at him,” the princess supplied. “Wrote about it in great detail in his first letter about you. He also waxed poetic about your inability to speak any Greek, as though that were a great accomplishment of yours.”

Your ears went hot. “You did not,” you said.

Shouto had the grace to look the tiniest bit abashed. “Thank you, Momo,” he said, with absolutely no inflection to his tone whatsoever.

You were overcome by a wave of helpless affection for him. “Lord Shouto, I’m still afraid it isn’t done…much as I should–much as your affections are more than reciprocated. I–I’m afraid the scandal–”

“Will not bother me,” Shouto said.

You waved your arm helplessly. “My lord–”

“If it helps,” Princess Momo said. “At Shouto’s behest, I’ve found a little barren plot of land and a just-barely noble title that might be granted to you, in order to facilitate a proper marriage. I…owed him a favor, for services rendered in the War for All. That is, if you will agree to have him.”

Shouto looked back at you, looking a little bit smug for managing to have pulled all this together.

“I’ve procured a special license weeks ago. And I have also written Lord Inasa, and your Camie,” he said. “As it happens, I know Lord Inasa well enough. They will attest to having known of your status, and to having attended the wedding. Your friends Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui have also agreed, provided that you apologize to them in person.”

“As will Jirou and I,” Princess Momo said. “Which should be enough to get half the ton pretending that they were there.”

“Miss Caroline and Mr. Awase, should they care to continue their engagement, should also be told. There should be no impropriety in the match, then,” Shouto said. “Although there will still be talk of your impersonating Camie.”

You could not believe it.

It all sounded so unreal–that you, simply by agreeing now, could become Shouto’s wife.

Horrible, hot little tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Shouto pointed out, though his tone was gentle. “Let those be the last secrets we keep from one another.”

A wave of emotion crashed over you, and it was only the princess’s presence that kept you from throwing yourself at Shouto.

It was real. He was really real, and he truly wanted you.

“Yes,” you said, watching him closely. “If you will really have me, then yes. It would be improper of me, I think, to admit how much I…how much I love you. But I have been driven mad with it, Shouto. I love you.”

A blindingly handsome smile lit up Shouto’s face, and he’d pulled you to him before you realized he’d even moved. He had you up and out of the seat in the blink of an eye, and he swept another barely-courteous bow in Princess Momo’s direction–one that you realized was born of years of friendship, rather than any disrespect.

“You understand we must take our leave of you,” Shouto said.

Princess Momo bit her pretty lip as though fighting down a laugh. “Indeed. Though I will expect you both back for tea the week after next. I still have questions.”

“I'm afraid I have a honeymoon planned,” Shouto said. He leaned down to you and said in conspiratorial tones. “I think perhaps some Greek ruins might be in order.”

You groaned out a laugh. “Shouto…”

Princess Momo waved you off, disinterested. “Then write, please. I am pleased to see you finally happy, Shouto.”

“I am,” Shouto said seriously. He pulled you towards the door in a bout of sudden impatience. “Thank you, Momo.”

She waved again, and then you were through the door, a footman collecting you and leading you back out of the palace.

Your head was spinning with a rush of emotion, and your heart beat a staccato of disbelief in your chest. Shouto helped you back into the carriage, a fond little grin on the corner of his mouth.

“You really mean it, Y/N?” he asked as he followed you in, taking up the seat next to you rather than opposite. You soaked in the delicious warmth of him alongside you, something you had been sure just fifteen minutes ago that you might never feel again. “Be honest with me.”

You nodded, looking up into his handsome face. “I promise to always be honest with you from this point on.”

Another smile twitched at the corner of Shouto’s mouth, a wry, mischievous little thing. “Good,” he said, his voice dropping low. “As I plan to make an honest wife out of you now, love.”

You shivered again, and Shouto drank it in with far too much satisfaction.

But then he leaned in, smiling, and kissed you.

Over the carriage ride, you spoke very little–far too occupied with one another to manage much conversation–but Shouto did convey that your wedding would be a secret affair, first thing in the morning, under the eye of the Archbishop who was closely aligned with the Yaoyorozu family, and excellent at keeping secrets.

Which left you with the entire afternoon—an afternoon you planned to spend wisely.

When you arrived back at his lodgings, an attempt was made to feed you and offer you a room of your own–so that things might be proper. But you hadn’t done any of this properly in the slightest, and you didn’t plan to start now.

In only a matter of minutes, you had both stumbled into Shouto’s bedroom, an elegantly-appointed suite that you would have to inspect more closely later, when you weren’t so preoccupied with what his mouth was doing just above the neckline of your dress.

“Shouto, you’ll tear it,” you said, as he tugged at the higher, more conservative collar of your servant’s garb.

“Good,” Shouto intoned in his low voice, his mouth still pressed to the line of your neck in a way that reminded you of the masquerade last night. “You’ll never need it again.”

His fingers tugged harder, and he murmured quietly, “Once I have this off you, you’ll never dress as a maid again.”

The thought made you dizzy, and you grasped his shoulder for stability, which only gave him better purchase to tug your dress down the other arm. Soon he’d gotten you down to your stays and stockings, and the appreciative groan he made as he looked you over sent little shivers over your skin.

He walked you back to his bed, layering kisses everywhere–over your face, your chest, your arms, any part of you he could reach.

“You’ll stop me, if you want to?” he asked, mismatched eyes flicking up to yours.

“I don’t want to,” you told him, reaching out to grasp his coat, pulling him down to the bed with you. His warm, hard body against you dredged up the memory of last night–all those straining feet of him pressing you against the wall, that feeling that had built up within you as he touched you through your skirts. “I could have screamed when they found us last night.”

Shouto’s face dropped into the crook of your neck, and he left a stinging bite on your shoulder. “I almost challenged Mr. Awase to a duel there and then. All good sense had left me.”

You knew the feeling–all good sense had left you quite presently, replaced with the burning desire to have him over you, pressing all along you, weighing you down into the mattress and finishing what you’d started on the assembly room balcony.

“Shouto, please. I want–I need–”

Shouto didn’t let you finish, sealing his mouth over yours. His fingers busied themselves with the laces of your stays, and it was only a matter of minutes until he had you bare to him entirely.

“Perfect,” he said, in a tone so low you could feel it in your bones. His fingers pressed between your thighs, and your gasp echoed in the early morning quiet. “You are perfect.”

You rather thought he was perfect, as you finally managed to push his coat off of him and tore at the buttons of his shirt. Underneath he was all hard muscle and smooth skin, and you found yourself struck dumb by the way his abs flexed, the way his waist tapered into the line of his breeches.

He was even more perfectly carved than those blasted Greek sculptures, and you surged up to kiss him again. His fingers found their way back between your thighs, and you threw your arms over his shoulders, clinging to him as he worked you up to the peak he’d brought you to last night.

It felt like you had no control over yourself as you writhed against his hand, your mouth desperately seeking his to quiet the noises you wanted to make.

Shouto’s touch was maddening, every twist of his fingers smooth and deft, and his thumb worked your clit so gently you wanted to scream. It was too much, and yet not enough, and yet everything you’d ever wanted—

“Please, Shouto,” you begged. “Please, please.”

“Please what, love?” he asked, smiling down at you. But you could tell he knew what you wanted, and that he wanted it too, if the hard press of him against your thigh was any measure.

“Shouto, if you don't take me in the next few moments, I swear there will be an entire hailstorm of apricot cakes with your name on them–!” you threatened, but Shouto was laughing and pressing into you before you could finish, and you cut off on another gasp, clutching him for dear life.

The stretch of him inside you was sharp, and unfamiliar, and a little uncomfortable at first. But he seemed to know what he was doing, teasing your clit and layering hot, biting kisses all over you, until you didn’t know what to focus on–until he was fully inside you.

He kissed you utterly stupid while he let you adjust, his hands everywhere, distracting you. He murmured sweet things, how beautiful you were, how lovely, how perfect for him. By the time he finally moved you were a shivery puddle of praise and feeling, and the slide of him was so suddenly good you couldn’t even think straight.

“I knew you were my match the minute you first spoke to me,” he bit at out as his hips worked against you. “I knew I would love you.”

You bit back an embarrassing noise as Shouto’s pace grew faster and unmeasured. “I–Shouto–love you–” you managed. Shouto’s hips jerked in response, and he grasped your thighs, pulling you even harder into him. You couldn’t hold back a moan as he hit deeper within you and the new angle had you shuddering uncontrollably. He huffed a harsh breath against your throat, similarly affected, his fingers digging into you thigh.

After that, it was only a matter of minutes. Everything about him seemed calculated to drive you over the edge–the feeling of him hot and hard inside you, the sight of his abs tightening and flexing between your thighs, his fingers and his mouth all over you. The flush of effort on his cheekbones looked so good on him that you could barely believe he was real.

Everything–absolutely everything about him drove you right to the edge of madness, and then another hard thrust from him sent you right over it.

You cried out his name, trapped underneath him as you rode out your pleasure. And it seemed to hit Shouto too–his eyes widened as he watched you, and he bit out a curse you’d never heard from him before. His hips stuttered, frantically bucking into you as if he had no control, and a warmth flooded inside you.

Shouto breathed out a shaky breath and relaxed over you, the sticky, hot weight of him pinning you underneath him.

“I love you,” was all you could think to tell him, your mind still fuzzy with pleasure. “I love you.”

Shouto’s mouth curved into another wry little grin, and he smiled down at you, those mismatched eyes glinting.

“I see I did make an honest woman of you, then,” he said, sounding a little too pleased with himself.

You kissed him to shut him up, and pulled him closer–unable to deny that he had. You couldn’t think of anything you wanted than to give him your whole heart, bare and honest and real, for the rest of your lifetime together.

There would be no deceiving the duke–-not anymore.

Especially if, after you’d caught your breath, you could convince him to make an honest woman of you yet again.

And hopefully, again and again and again.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #IT'S DONE!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉#Thank you guys for reading I literally have had sooo much fun!!#love u!!!!!!!!

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