#how can you 'not gaze' into the steel blue eyes that let you know where home is
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The Sun Eats the Moon
Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader
Word count: 9.1k
Part two: Earth Kills the Moon
Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.
(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)
You wanted to quit the second you read the name.
You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.
It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.
You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?
It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.
"Is everything alright?"
You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.
Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."
The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.
He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.
Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.
It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.
You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.
He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.
"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."
His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.
Nothing.
Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.
"I look forward to working with all of you."
𖤓
If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.
He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.
But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.
Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.
"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.
Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.
"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"
"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."
You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.
𖤓
The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.
You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.
He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.
You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.
It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.
Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.
𖤓
You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.
Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.
He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.
You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.
It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.
"What?" Because you must have misheard him.
"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."
You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.
You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.
"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.
He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.
Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.
𖤓
It was something minuscule.
Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.
"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey.
The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.
"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."
He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."
When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.
Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.
Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.
Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.
Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.
He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.
You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.
"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-
"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"
Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.
The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.
When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.
𖤓
You don't have proof it was him.
It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.
But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.
In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.
At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.
There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.
Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.
You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.
Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.
Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.
“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.
You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.
“That's good,” he says anyway.
You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.
You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.
“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”
He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.
“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”
Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.
You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.
Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.
Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.
Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.
You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.
It's worse than anything you could think of.
Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?
This wasn't bullying.
This was abuse.
Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.
You were so tired.
Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.
"Why?"
Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.
"Get lost."
They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.
"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.
"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"
It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.
"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"
You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.
"Anything, right?"
You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.
"Get on your knees."
You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.
"I-I-Gojo you-"
"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"
He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.
To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.
You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.
"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.
"Gojo I-"
"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."
You look down at the grass. Green, soft.
"Satoru."
His eyes flash in satisfaction.
"Open up, pretty girl."
The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.
"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.
"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"
If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.
"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.
You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.
"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."
But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.
"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"
If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.
He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.
He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.
So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.
"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."
His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.
(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)
"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."
You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.
"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.
"My laptop...it's broken."
You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.
Satoru only scoffs.
“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.
(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)
“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”
He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.
The sunset is pretty today.
𖤓
It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.
You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.
"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"
You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.
"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."
She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.
"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.
Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.
"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."
Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.
Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.
You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-
"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.
The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.
It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.
𖤓
By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.
You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.
Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.
He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.
"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.
"Thank-"
"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."
He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.
There are theories that the Moon once had color.
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.
When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.
Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.
You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.
Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.
"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"
You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.
You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.
"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."
On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.
Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.
"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.
You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.
He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.
Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.
"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."
He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-
Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.
He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.
You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.
Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.
"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"
He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.
"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.
You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.
"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl."
He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.
You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.
"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.
"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him."
His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.
"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.
"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.
You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.
You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.
"I love you."
You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.
"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.
Fuck three weeks.
You needed to get out, now.
𖤓
The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.
His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.
Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.
Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.
And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.
His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.
"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"
His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.
The door shuts with a click.
"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.
You take one back. He puts his hands up.
"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"
He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.
"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.
He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.
When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.
"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."
"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.
"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.
He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.
"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."
His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.
You go to move.
Satoru's faster.
Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.
"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.
It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.
"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"
"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.
You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.
Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.
When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.
You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.
"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."
He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.
"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.
Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.
"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."
"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.
"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.
"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.
"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"
His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.
He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.
Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.
"That's-"
"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.
He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.
"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.
It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.
"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.
Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.
Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.
He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.
"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"
You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.
"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."
You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.
Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.
It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.
"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.
"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."
"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"
"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."
"No-I-I-can't-"
He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.
"I'll make sure it takes this time too."
Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.
He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.
You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.
He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.
"I love you."
You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.
Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.
"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."
"Not ever again."
There are theories that the Moon once had color.
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.
If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.
How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.
#yandere jjk#yandere#yandere gojo satoru#dark content#dark jjk#dark gojo satoru#x reader#gojo satoru#reader insert#afab reader#bullying#harassment#forced relationship#tw: dubcon#tw:noncon
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Bucky x Reader - Nosebleed
Content Warnings/Kinks: slut-shaming, violence (not during sex), dominance, hickeys, nipple play, finger sucking, cum swallowing, light edging, sub/dom dynamic (collaring), daddy kink, praise kink, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex
Nosebleed
"Man, you're dumb letting your girl out of the house in that outfit" a man slurred from the alleyway beside the club they were on their way to.
Bucky stilled, his hand tensing where it was placed on the small of Y/n's back.
"Bucky don't-" Y/n started.
"Move" he growled, his words harsh, a no-nonsense command.
She hesitated, on one hand, the guy was being rude but on the other, he was just a stupid asshole...did he really deserve to be beaten up by a super soldier just because of one comment? No, Y/n decided at that moment, she didn't deserve to be slut-shamed and if Bucky wanted to make sure that man never said something vile to another woman then so be it. She pulled herself up and moved aside, nodding at Bucky as she did, indicating that he could get violent.
Y/n turned, looking away as she heard Bucky's first blow landing and the man's groan of pain in response.
"Please" the man begged, "I didn't do anything"
"You didn't do anything?" She heard Bucky chuckle darkly, "You don't count slut-shaming women as doing something asshole?"
"Fuck man" he groaned, "I didn't mean it I swear"
Bucky punched him again. Hard.
"Yeah fucking right"
Y/n turned just in time to see Bucky lift the man up off of the ground and slam him against the wall.
"Owwww" the man howled.
"Bucky," Y/n said quietly.
His gaze flicked toward her, steel blue eyes turned almost grey with anger. Her eyes widened at the sight of his bleeding nose, the other man must have gotten a good punch in.
"Let's go home" she added, "He's not worth it"
"Yea man listen to your girl" the man choked out.
Bucky dropped him, letting go of his collar and turning toward Y/n, taking her hand.
"Fucking crazy" the man mumbled under his breath.
Bucky snapped, turning back around and punching the guy so hard he fell onto the ground, knocked out.
"Now we can go" Bucky growled.
~
Y/n and Bucky walked into Zemo's apartment. It was late so the two other men were already in bed. Bucky gripped Y/n's hand, squeezing it, before asking:
"Can you help me get cleaned up?"
"Sure" she smiled before leading him to the en-suite bathroom in her room.
Bucky balanced himself against the edge of the sink, leaning back, squinting down at Y/n. She wet a towel and started to mop up the wound on his face that would surely leave a bruise the next morning.
"You know I didn't need you to defend me tonight" Y/n sighed as she blotted the blood away.
"I know Y/n but I can't just let people say that kind of thing about you" he sighed.
"My knight in shining armour" she chuckled dryly.
"I'm no knight Y/n" he grumbled as she dabbed under his nose.
"Bucky" she whispered.
She hadn't realized how close their faces were until then.
"Yeah?" he whispered back.
She reached a hand up, tangling it with the hair at the nape of his neck, just above his blood-stained shirt collar.
"You're a good guy you know?" she stated, a small smile on her lips "I don't want you forgetting it"
He closed the gap between them, drawing his lips to hers. His were warm and soft, softer than she'd expected. Y/n kissed him back hungrily, gripping his hair, and pulling him closer.
He pressed up against her, moving her backward into her room, their kisses becoming deeper by the second. Y/n yelped as the back of her knees hit the edge of her bed. Bucky threw her down forcefully before climbing over top of her. His face was inches from hers but not a single part of him touched her shivering body.
"Can I touch you?" He begged gruffly, a growl forming deep in his throat.
She nodded, her nose brushing his as she did, the small touch sending a fire through both their desperate bodies.
Bucky slid his metal hand under her back, unzipping her short dress before pulling it entirely off of her, groaning when he saw the lingerie she was wearing underneath. She smirked up at him, pleased that the simple black lace set turned him on.
"Can you take it off for me doll?" He growled as he balanced above her, taking in her body hungrily.
Y/n nodded before obeying, not breaking eye contact with him as she undid her bra, throwing it onto the floor. Bucky leant down planting kisses from her jaw down to her neck to her chest, sucking on her sensitive skin.
"So beautiful" he breathed onto her skin, "So fucking beautiful"
He continued, slinking lower and lower until he was settled between her thighs. He kissed the bare skin next to her panty line, his warm, red lips making her cold skin shiver. With one swift motion, he ripped her panties off of her. He kissed her inner thighs, again and again, leaving purple marks behind. When he finally reached her pussy she was already aroused, completely ready for him and the pleasure he was about to bring her.
"Please..." she whined desperately.
Bucky began by tracing lazy circles around her clit, making her hips buck upwards to meet his expert tongue.
"Mmm," she moaned, tilting her head back in pleasure as her thighs spread open even further, giving Bucky full access to her aching pussy.
Her whimpers and little breathy moans did nothing but turn Bucky on even more. He felt his cock tighten in his pants as Y/n whispered his name and looked down at him with her doe eyes.
The longer he continued the more she clenched inside, her body begging for an orgasm.
As if he knew exactly what she needed next, he ran his finger up and down her slit, letting it get soaked by her building juices before slipping it inside her. The initial feeling of Bucky's curling fingers hitting her g-spot made her breathe hitch and a loud whimper escape her mouth.
"You're so fucking good for me doll" he groaned, the feeling of her clenching around his fingers making his cock harder by the second.
As he continued lapping circles around her clit and curling his fingers inside her pussy her body reacted to every movement, back arching off of the bed, toes curling. A warmth then spread across her chest as her lower body quivered in anticipation.
"Fuck" she breathed, every single curse word she uttered making him even more aroused. He wanted to get inside her so badly but he knew she needed this, to be warmed up first.
"Mm hm," she mumbled before another louder moan escaped her lips.
Her hips jerked up and down as she came but Bucky held her in place, gripping her thighs tightly, pleasing her through the waves of her release.
Y/n was wet now, her pussy sticky with cum as she lay breathing heavily on the bed. When she calmed down she slunk her hand down Bucky's chest, unbuttoning his tight white button-up shirt as she did. She threw the blood-stained item to the side, letting herself admire Bucky's taut abs.
She then gripped the edge of his belt, looking deeply into his eyes before asking:
"Daddy?"
She could practically see Bucky's cock jump in his pants.
"Yes?" He questioned back, his neck visibly strained.
"Can you fuck me please?"
Bucky complied without another word, sliding a thick finger up her wet slit before shoving it in her mouth, forcing her to taste her own juices. She sucked on it as he unbuckled his belt, sliding it out of the loops and then holding it between his hands.
"Will you wear this for me doll?" He asked.
Y/n's eyes widened slightly, she knew wearing a collar was important to any sub/dom couple. She nodded, ready for whatever was to come.
He slid the leather through the buckle, tightening the belt around her neck causing her to gasp, it was tight but not uncomfortably so. He ran a vibranium finger from the clasp of the belt up to her chin until his cool hand rested on her cheek.
"Ready?"
She nodded and Bucky slid into her wet pussy, grunting as he felt her tighten around his cock. It curved perfectly within her, immediately hitting the right spot. When he began to speed up his thrusts her pussy clenched, sucking him deeper inside her, causing him to groan.
She looked up and made eye contact with him as he continued slamming into her making his cock tighten. He leaned forward without looking away, resting his forehead on hers and staring deep into her eyes. Their breaths intermingled, moans practically in sync. Bucky reached his hand down, as he pressed small kisses on her cheeks and temple and then began rubbing her clit, bringing her all the pleasure she needed.
Y/n sighed, tilting her head back into her pillow as she relaxed into the feeling of his movements on her clit and his rough thrusts. How was it possible that he was so rough and so gentle at the same time?
"Fuck me you feel so good" she groaned, her nose scrunching.
"My pretty girl's got a dirty mouth huh?" he chuckled before beginning to suck on the crook of her neck.
"Mmm," she replied, at a loss for words.
She moved her hips, matching the pace of his hard thrusts, every movement bringing her more and more pleasure. Bucky slid a hand down her body, gripping her outer thigh, likely leaving bruises, pushing her leg up toward her head while the other rubbed fiercely around and around her clit. Every once in a while he'd remove his fingers to spit on them again, edging her, and every time he'd make her beg:
"You want me to rub that pretty little clit doll?" He cooed the question.
"Yes, Daddy please" she whined.
He continued pleasing her as her body ached for the feeling she knew only he could provide. Soon, her body was overwhelmed. Between him fucking her roughly with his perfect cock and him rubbing her clit she was overcome.
"Fuck I'm close" she breathed before she came.
"Good girl" he praised as she tensed around his cock, "such a good girl cumming for me"
She came hard as he thrust, her insides squeezing before loosening, going slack on the plush mattress. Waves of pleasure rolled through her body and he fucked her through every one, coaxing her orgasm out of her body with his hard pumping, soft whispers of her name, and sloppy kisses on her sensitive neck. Bucky groaned loudly and the vein in his neck throbbed, she could tell he was close to cumming as well.
"Ahh," she moaned, looking up at him with grateful eyes as she felt his cum splash within her.
They both panted as he pulled out, the mixture of their cum dripping down onto the mattress.
"You were such a good girl for me doll" he stated warmly, taking her in his arms and kissing her on the forehead.
"Thanks" she smiled, her breathing calming down as she lay comfortably on his firm chest.
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Steel Blue
bucky barnes x reader
"Without giving you a chance to fight, Bucky left. For your own good. But almost a year later, as it turns out, neither of you can handle being apart, and Bucky missed you too much to play it nice when you're moaning out his name like that."
[4.3k] exes to lovers, angst to smut to fluff hehe, alcohol consumption, smoking, unprotected sex, making out, cunningulus, spit kink, marking, choking, bucky's such a gentleman i love him
reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated. not proofread.
Soft chatter blended into the background as you kept your eyes blandly on the football match playing, small screen not doing the players any justice with the bird's-eye-view. Your fingers trailed the brim of your glass, favorite drink prepared the second you entered the pub, as you were probably the only regular there. That bartender had been a silent secret-keeper of yours for years now, and judging by how quiet and mellow you've been for the past year, he probably knew.
"Hey," he approached you with a smile after serving his last customers, the group carrying their glasses over to their designated table. He had a warm personality, a bit mysterious perhaps, but the unknown didn't scare you one bit. He was the type of person to make others feel safe. "Everything's gonna be alright. Just wanted to remind you of that."
"Thanks, Colin." you sighed, a thankful smile playing on your lips as you took the last sip of your drink, reaching for your wallet since it was late already.
Immediately, he reached over the bar to stop you, shaking his head to both sides with a frown. "It's literally impossible to convince you when something's on the house, isn't it?" he joked, earning a scoff from you. "Join me for a smoke break, clear your head a little. You drank a bit more than usual today."
"Nothing out of the ordinary." you heaved a sigh, letting your wallet find its space back in your pocket as you got up, following his lead through the bar to the front entrance. You saw him fish for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket in the dark, and you reached for your lighter, igniting the flame and holding it against the tip of his tab when he placed it in between his lips, as he took in a long drag, locking the fire in.
You leaned on the wall and watched him as he took another cigarette out and replaced the other, using the already lit one to light that up before handing the one he had in between his fingers to you. You took it, swirled the thin roll between your fingers to get a read of the label, before taking a long, long drag.
It was a bit quiet after that.
"I saw Bucky last week," he admitted, tone soft, almost apologetic. "Asked me 'bout you. How you're doing, and all that."
"Should've told him to piss off."
"He's not a bad guy, Y/N. You know that better than I do." Colin's sigh pulled an eye roll out of you. "It's been, what, ten months? A year? Forgive and move on, sweetheart, it's the only way your heart could find peace."
"I forgave him the second he left, forgiving is not the issue." you shook your head, a bitter chuckle leaving your lips as you watched smoke leave Colin's, urging you to take yet another drag. Letting it burn through your lungs, you exhaled, closing your eyes momentarily. "Can't forget. The only peace my heart ever knew was him."
And how funny fate was, that a second before Colin started speaking again, your eyes met someone else's in a slight distance.
Those steel blue eyes that used to let you know where home was. Your safe place.
Colin followed your gaze through, offering a tight smile to the man, current subject of your conversation. He didn't see it though, too focused on the cigarette between your lips and the hurt in your eyes. Breaking away from the trance rather quickly, he looked ahead again, steps rushing but not towards you. And with that, he left. Not even sparing a hello.
It's been a year since you last saw him. And it hurt like hell.
It wasn't uncommon for you to wake up to an empty bed, the warmth of your boyfriend which you fell asleep with long gone, instead replaced by a ruthless cold that took over your entire body, the longer your gaze lingered on his side.
It wasn't uncommon for him to be apathetic at times. You knew what he went through and what his mind was still putting him through, but you always made sure to let him know that it was okay for him to approach you, seek refuge in your arms and close his eyes, only to think about absolutely nothing. No worries, no demons chasing him through; just you. Just the moment.
But that morning a year ago, the dread you felt buried deep within your chest let you know that there was more to him just getting up earlier than you when you woke up to his side being cold again. You could still feel the kiss he left by your hairline before he left in the morning, semi-asleep state not allowing you to pull him back to bed when your dreams sounded sweeter to go back to.
You could feel your heart beating by your fingertips when you blindly reached for the folded paper you noticed by the bedside drawer, unfolding carefully only to be met with Bucky's handwriting, hard to read for everyone but you.
You wished that you never ever learned how to read then.
You could tell by the crookedness of the lines and rounds that his hands were shaky as he wrote away, starting off his note with your name, lettering almost apologetic.
Thank you for making my life a lot more bearable, it read, as you ruffled through the lines with your eyes, unable to concentrate on one sentence at a time. I've always been a firm believer that love and respect are earned, and unfortunately, I never earned your love no matter how keen you were to give it to me. I loved you more than I could ever begin to comprehend, yet you deserved more than I could give.
You felt hot tears pushing through, creating a pathway through your cold cheeks, salt lines leading the way down to your neck as you blinked once, twice, trying to get rid of them as much as you could just so you could keep reading.
No matter how much I want to be selfish, I couldn't possibly do that to you. There's a lot of things in this world that you need to experience. You don't deserve to be staying up all night and ruining your tomorrow just so you can hold me through a nightmare. You deserve to be happy, unconditionally. And I know this isn't a good way of ensuring that, but at least this way I'll be sure that I'm not the one holding you back. The guilt of it is unbearable.
Bucky. A fair man. Yet he never gave you a chance to fight.
So, as petty as it is, you didn't try to get him back. As your fingers clutched the collar of the hoodie, borrowed from him; you set the paper down next to you, a heavy sob breaking through before you laid down again, knees to your chest.
I'm going to love you 'till the end of time.
Your legs worked faster than your brain could, as they led the way to the pub a week later. It was routine at that point, you never liked to drink all that much but not like you had anyone left to talk to. Most of your friends were busy with life, understandably, as you lingered over the same sore spot for god knows how long.
Colin's smile invited you in, he already had his jacket on as sometimes he left a bit earlier, leaving the bar to his cousin. The latter was still a student, thankful for every moment that Colin let him work there, as money was tight for everyone and it was hard to find a place for yourself in the job market. "Hey, love." pulling you into a hug, Colin patted your shoulder, head signaling towards the bar. "Someone's waiting for you."
Taken aback, you frowned. Not a lot of people knew about your little routine, and probably nobody in your life would show up at a random pub with hopes of you hopping by, without even a heads-up. "Who?"
"Go see for yourself. I need to go, though, please don't hate me when I'm back."
That sounded like you were about to have a real good reason to hate him once he was back.
Nonetheless, you waved him goodbye, before making your way over to the bar and scanning the people that sat by it. Spotting an empty stool, the figure next to it felt awfully familiar, quickening the beating of your heart and the intake of your breaths as you swallowed down a lump on your throat, slowly making your way over to it.
His eyes met yours again. Almost lit up, even.
"Baby."
You were bitter, Bucky was guilty.
Understandably.
As you sipped through the pint of Guinness he ordered for you, he kept playing with his fingers, gloves left on the bar long ago as if he was trying to show you that he was better.
And indeed, he was.
He pushed through.
And you couldn't help but feel like maybe that's because of the lack of you in his life, although it seemed to be far from the actual case. He was actually happy to see you, ecstatic even, as your sight was the only thing he wished for in the past year. Every night was spent ruffling through memories of you, snippets of how warm your embrace would feel, how your kisses would ignite a thousand fires on his soul and how you'd smile up at him as if he hung the stars.
He missed you enough to go crazy.
And you missed him too, but you were as stubborn as a mule. God, you were so bullet-headed that he could barely bring himself to look at you, guilt eating him alive from the inside, fear of never being understood laid deep within his chest.
But you understood him. Forgave him. Knew why he left, knew why he felt like he had to.
You were just so angry at him that he took your only source of happiness away from you.
"Sounds eventful." you muttered after he gave you a short recap of how his year went, chuckling to yourself a bit. Barely anything had changed for you except that you hated going home now, knowing that Bucky, your Bucky wouldn't be there to pull you into his embrace and keep you away from whatever was plaguing you all day. You used to love going back home to him back then.
Bucky kept the silence going for a little while, before reaching from under the bar to brush his fingers against yours. Even the slightest touch like that burned his eyes with tears threatening to escape, he was desperate, so desperate that he could get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, for you to give him something, anything, perhaps a hug or at the very least, a shove.
"I can't do this anymore." he admitted, tone sheepish. "I came here a couple of weeks ago, asked Colin about you- and fuck, I hoped that you'd be happy, I prayed every night for you to already have forgotten about me-" a sigh left his lips. "But hearing that you were… It broke me. It broke my heart again and I- I'm sorry. I don't- there's no excuse, but I miss you. And I love you, so much."
His voice was breaking.
You couldn't help but sniffle, and grab his hand. Your hold was firm, determined, almost filled with passion, even.
"I forgave you long ago, Buck." you whispered, the nickname washing out quite a bit of his worries as he leaned in a bit, just to hear you better. To hear you closer. "But I don't think you understand what exactly you ripped apart from me when you left. How- How could you even begin to think that I'd be happier without you?" a single tear traveled down your cheek. "As if I'm as pure as the driven snow. As if I gave you anything remotely close to what you actually deserve."
"You gave me more than-"
"No, shut up," you snapped, shaking your head. "Seriously, drop that bullshit. We were perfect for each other and you- you were just-"
You couldn't bring yourself to say it. Because you knew that it wasn't what you actually felt, it wasn't what you actually wanted to say.
With a sigh, his gaze dropped to the floor. Thinking over everything the two of you had been through. Countless nights spent with you nursing him back to the present with quiet shushes, whispers of 'I'm here, you're with me, safe'. Countless hours of your gentle fingers working shampoo through his hair, massaging his scalp, patching up his bruises. You never mentioned it, never used it against him, instead talked him through the process by telling him about your day; about the flock of birds you saw by the port, about a cute snail you found stranded in the middle of the pavement and carried to safety.
About life.
You kept reminding him that there was a world around him, detached from his own bubble.
When he looked back up at you, his gaze held a thousand words that he didn't have the power to speak out loud at that moment, and a thousand stars. Which, again, you were sure that he hung, himself.
And a silent agreement surged through the both of you then.
Bucky could still walk the way to your bedroom with his eyes closed, or rather, occupied. You giggled at the realization, legs wrapping up around his waist a bit tighter but you knew that even if you let go, he'd hold you.
He was keeping you tight against him as if you'd disappear right before his eyes.
His lips didn't leave an inch untouched, shirt long gone by the living room, straps of your bra pushed down as he bit down on the thin skin near your collarbones. He imagined this moment at least a million times when he was alone, guilt seeping through his veins but even the thought of you kept him going, tight around his length as he fucked his fist, imagining, wishing, praying that it was you instead.
And although he promised himself that he'd take it slow and savor it if he ever got the chance again, that promise was long forgotten the second you pressed your lips against his.
He wasn't rushing, he had all night anyway but god, he was unhinged; uncontrollable with the way a low growl left his lips when he finally laid you down on the bed, a broken moan leaving your own lips when his clothed length pressed against your core. Your hips jumped up to meet his halfway through as you tugged on the end of his shirt to pull it up, and he allowed you to do that, discarding the piece of fabric somewhere on the floor before he reached in for a kiss.
It was wet, messy, sloppy even- but it had been way too long for any of you to care. You missed feeling his lips against yours, spit leaving a trail in between whenever the two of you parted to catch your breath. Your lower lip got caught between his teeth as he tugged slightly, not even bothering to play nice when his tongue grazed yours, hands all over your body as you squirmed under his weight. His lips traveled all the way down to your neck again, ruthless with the way he was abusing your skin, making sure that the reminders of that moment would stay for at least a day or two.
You were his, and he wasn't going to let his insecurities take you away from him this time.
Your fingers tangled through his hair, keeping him tight against your skin with a whisper of his name, body practically on fire with the way you were just so desperate to feel him against you, impossibly closer. It wasn't enough, and it felt like it'd never be.
"Baby, please," you breathed out, hardly able to even speak with how dried up your throat felt already. He only hummed against your skin, hands making their way in between the bed and your back to unclasp your bra, pulling it through your arms before throwing it elsewhere.
"Please what?" the look in his eyes made you feel like he'd give you the world at that moment if you asked, lips pink, swollen & wet. You couldn't find an answer- you were so ready to take just whatever he saw fit, mind buzzy with the way he kept grinding on you mindlessly. All those fabrics must've felt like a crowd to him too, as he pulled away a little to peel your jeans off, his own following suit. "Tell me what you want."
"You know exactly what I want, stop teasing," your tone was meant to be threatening but it came out more of a whine than anything else, as your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when he landed a harsh spank on your inner thigh. "Fuck- sorry, 'm sorry," you slurred, already drunk with everything about him. "Just- please, anything."
"Been too long that you're not as vulgar as you used to be," he snickered, specifically slow as he tugged his boxers off, crawling right back to you just to trail soft & wet kisses across your abdomen, tickling you a bit but you didn't have it in you to complain. "You'd lay there for hours just begging for my cock, wouldn't you, baby?"
Your mindless nod pulled a chuckle from him as he reached further south, one kiss right above where your underwear ended before hooking a finger through the cloth, pulling it across your legs. "Kept thinking of you. Kept thinking about how wet you always got for me." he whispered, fingertips slowly leading the way to your core, now bare and drenched with expectation as you squirmed, nodding rapidly as if to confirm that.
A dragged out mewl finally left you when he ran his flesh fingers through your soaked folds, hissing out a curse before gripping your thigh and pulling you closer, face already level with your entrance. "Bucky, Bucky, baby," you mumbled, fingers treading through his hair when his tongue made contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves, wet fingers teasing your entrance as he savored the taste.
He wasn't as patient for much longer though, as he pulled away for a bit to let a ball of his spit fall and soak through your already damp core. Using that leverage to push two of his fingers in, he curled them slightly in the way he knew would affect you the best. The slight graze against your walls pulled a sob through you, as you threw your head back against the mattress, back arching when he trapped your clit in between his lips again, sucking and licking until you were reduced to a whimpering mess beneath his hold. Your cries weren't as silent anymore as you moaned out his name, louder than you meant to, the time spent apart definitely showing its effects as you could already feel a familiar coil forming.
The only thing that could be heard throughout your rather quiet apartment was the slurping sounds of his lips against your core, groans that left him when he grazed his clothed length against the mattress and your loud pleas, screams of his name with a few tears escaping. It was too much, it was too less, it was perfect and everything in between as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, abusing your clit in a way that you'd only let him.
That coil didn't take too long to snap, vision blurry until white, his stubble glistening under the dim light with your essence. He felt every single bit of his body taken over with primal urge, wanting to taste you and use you until you couldn't even form a thought, but good lord, he tried too hard to push that back and show you just how much he missed you. Your body was still shaky as he helped you ride through the high, sensitive to the touch, flinching and squirming without much effort.
The harmony between the two of you was impossible to miss when he pushed himself up and forward just to find you awaiting him there, lips parted and tongue out to be given what you deserve. Bucky let a mix of his spit and your wetness fall on your tongue then, as you swallowed it all down with gratitude, body melting against his when he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a moment to recover. "Tell me you love me."
You couldn't reply properly then, only a soft whine leaving your lips before his metal fingers suddenly wrapped around your neck, squeezing from both sides slightly to pull that answer out of you. "Love you so much," you dragged out, a bit woozy. "More than anythin'."
His smile was animalistic as he lined his length up with your entrance, running the tip along your folds to spread your wetness around, your shaky intake of breath indicating just how sensitive you got from only one orgasm.
He wanted more.
"Love you more, baby." he whispered before pushing the tip in, the stretch causing you both to groan in unison as he slowly bottomed out, pulling out a bit just to thrust right back in. "Fuck, still so tight for me. You were made for me, weren't you?"
You could only nod, unable to form any coherent sentences at that moment as your lips parted, gasps leaving through with every single thrust until he got a little meaner. Your gasps left their place for broken moans and sobs then, the force of him on top of you pushing you deeper into the mattress, the guttural groans leaving his lips jerking you further towards the edge of completely losing your self-control.
This is not where you expected to end up tonight, but you were so ready to thank every single supreme being you could think of.
His grip on your neck got tighter, free arm used to keep his body up on top of you as you held onto him for your life, nails definitely leaving marks through his back and shoulders when you dug in. He didn't mind, if anything, the pain only made him want to ruin you harder, keep you sore for days just to return to you whenever he saw fit. His hot breath rhythmically hit your neck as he gasped against the skin, hips drilling into you with so much force that the intensity got you shaking again.
Metal fingers trailed down in between your bodies to circle your clit, harsh material forcing a louder moan out of you as you spread your legs a bit wider for him, the stretch burning through your joints. You were dangerously close already, clenching around his length uncontrollably, intense enough to elicit dragged out and loud moans from him.
"Good fucking girl," he growled against your ear, soft pants leaving his lips as he took a deep breath. "Come for me, c'mon. Give me what I want." his words barely made any sense to you, as you were way too preoccupied with the loud sounds you let out, mind busy trying to fight off the fog that took over.
And that fog didn't dissipate until it was finally too much to take in, a heavenly sense of relief surging through your body with heavy tremors, breath held behind a gasp and eyes rolled close. He wasn't too far behind, pace already faltering when his moans got even more broken, unable to keep it together with the tight grip you had on his length as he pushed deep and filled you up- right to the brim.
With your neck free from his hold, and his weight no longer on you but next to you- you could open your eyes again. Both of you were still panting, trying to recover from what just happened- and speaking of that, Bucky's eyes were on your blissed face, looking for any sort of regret but all he could see when you finally looked up at him was pure happiness in your eyes.
You were still capable of looking at him like he hung the stars for you.
A smile broke out on his lips before he pulled you close, sticky bodies wrapping around one another but you were too high to care, especially when he ran his fingers all over your body and pressed his lips against yours. "How are you feeling?"
"Good," you chuckled wearily. "Really good."
"I'm glad." with his soft whisper, you closed your eyes again. "You can go to sleep if you want, I'll clean you right up and cuddle you."
You wanted to go back to sleep. Hell, you could sleep all day if left unsupervised but seeing Bucky under the morning light, fast asleep with soft snores leaving him was a sight to behold.
You couldn't take your eyes off of him.
Your fingers went up to caress his face, tracing his features as a sigh left your lips. He was so beautiful, looked so peaceful and you were really torn between wanting him to wake up and wanting him to get some rest. But the latter didn't seem to be happening anytime soon as he smiled, eyes still closed, just a sleepy hum leaving him. "Morning," he spoke, voice a little raspy from all that sleep.
"I love you." you whispered, smiling along when he opened his eyes and nodded. He knew, he never for once doubted your love- not because you were a master at reminding him that every day but because he always felt it in his bones when you were around.
"I love you too, so much," he whispered back. "And I'm never ever leaving the love of my life again."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
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sulfur and granite
Din Djarin/Reader | 2.7k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, Jealous Din Djarin, smut, piv sex, semi-intense consensual sex, aftercare.
On a short detour to Tattooine, you are introduced to the Marshal. Mando is definitely not jealous.
–
Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.
a/n: I imagine Mando would not know how to comfortably express feelings of jealousy/possessiveness right away, but ultimately would be respectful towards his partner's desires.
read on ao3
You weren’t sure what planet you’d choose if you had to pick your favorite, but you were fairly certain that Tattooine wouldn’t even make your top ten. You had only been there a few times, and each time you had left with an uncomfortable amount of sand in an uncomfortable amount of places. The only redeeming quality in your eyes were the brilliant binary sunsets the arid rock offered, but even then there were hundreds of other places in the galaxy where you could see those.
When Mando charted course for Tattooine, you bit your tongue. He said he needed to talk to an ‘old friend’ in some tiny, middle-of-nowhere town, and seeing as you were along for the ride, you steeled yourself for another day of brushing sand out of all of your clothing.
Mando had not given you much information, which you didn’t particularly mind. This was mainly a detour on your journey through the galaxy – some kind of favor he needed to repay or something, you surmised. His ‘old friend’ was only described as ‘The Marshal’, and you wondered what kind of law enforcement a syndicated crime planet like Tattooine could even harbor.
Mando landed the Crest on the outskirts of the city one late afternoon. You, Grogu, and your armored patron walked the short distance into the town to where a man dressed in red was waiting for you.
“Good to see you,” the man called out, moving forward to grasp Mando’s arm in greeting. You hung back slightly, feeling a little out of your element when the man happened to glance past the bounty hunter and catch your gaze.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” The Marshal sauntered forward, an easy grin matching his easy gait. He was quite handsome, you decided. Nice peppery-gray hair, eyes lined with laughter. He reached out for your hand, which you gave with a quiet giggle as he brought it to his lips.
“Don’t tell me she’s one of your bounties, Mando.” The Marshal directed at the Mandalorian as he kissed the back of your hand flirtatiously. “Cause I might be tempted to play the hero and rescue her from your clutches-“
“She’s helping me on my journey,” Mando interrupted flatly. There was a wink of humor in the Marshal’s gaze as he released your hand, only to wrap one arm around your shoulder.
“Well, then, welcome,” he exclaimed. “Any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine, er…?”
You shared your name, and the man began to walk you toward what you assumed was the local cantina. It was past midday, and it looked like the building was the gathering place for most of the locals as they ended the day. Several people greeted the Marshal as he pointed out different landmarks to you, indicating that he was just as popular among his people as you would have assumed based on his appearance and looks alone.
Mando trailed along just slightly behind the two of you, Grogu tucked in his sack at his side.
“Can I buy you a drink?” The Marshal asked, motioning to the bartender. Two glasses of blue liquor were poured, and the charming man held one out to you.
“Sure,” you smiled. It had been a while since you had let yourself indulge. Even on the rare occasions you and Mando stopped someplace with alcohol, it was mainly for information or to pick up supplies to take on the go. Not to mention the fact that Mando never took off his helmet.
The Marshal – who you later found out was named Cobb Vanth – clinked his glass against yours and the two of you took healthy swigs of the slightly sour drink. Wincing, you matched the handsome man’s grin as he leaned casually against the bar.
“So tell me,” he drawled, swirling his drink In his glass. “What’s a girl like you doing hanging around a Mandalorian bounty hunter?”
You vaguely registered Mando hovering off to the side. He did not ask for a drink, nor did you think he would accept if one was even offered. You glanced over at him, wondering if you should defer to him – he had wanted to come to Freetown to speak with the Marshal, who was currently more fixated on you. On the other hand…it had been a while since you had a chance to talk to someone who wasn’t a literal child.
Turning to focus your attention on Cobb, you explained your background and talked generally about what you were doing for Mando. You left out most of the details in the interest of protecting both his and Grogu’s safety but were secretly delighted that the man did not pry for answers. Instead, he asked questions about you – where you were from, your research, your favorite parts of the galaxy you had seen thus far. He had a charming way of speaking, and a quick wit, and you found yourself losing track of time as the conversation flowed steadily into the evening.
At some point, Cobb had procured a small table for the two of you, and you perched on the edge of your seat as he explained how he had come to meet the Mandalorian. He laughed at how your jaw dropped during the tale of how Mando had flown into the mouth of a krayt dragon to blow it up from the inside. You spared another glace towards the bounty hunter, who hadn’t moved since you had entered the cantina. His helmet was fixed on you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes something told you his gaze was fixed on you. The feeling sent a slight shiver up your spine.
Seeming to notice, Cobb reached out and placed a calloused hand over your own. “It has truly been a pleasure,” he smiled. “But I better go speak to Mando before he burns a hole through both our heads.” You returned his smile and stood – albeit a little wobbly from the several drinks you had consumed over the past hour or so.
The Marshal beckoned for someone to come over, and explained that they would show you to a room you could stay in for the night. As he did so, Mando walked over, his bulk just millimeters from your back. You opened your mouth to greet him, but he just handed you Grogu in his sack and asked that you take the now-sleeping baby with you.
“Of course,” you said, gently taking the child into your arms. “See you later?”
Mando did not answer you and instead took your seat across from Cobb. The Marshal wished you a good night, and you followed the young woman he had procured to show you to your room.
--
An hour later, you were freshly bathed and had changed into a clean set of clothes. The room was decently sized, if not a bit dusty from lack of use. It held one large bed along with several chairs and a small table and was attached to a small side room that had a smaller bed. You had tucked Grogu into the smaller bed in the side room, closing the door gently so that you could prepare for sleep without waking him up.
You laid against the pillows and were browsing your datapad when the sound of the door sliding open signaled the arrival of Mando. You watched him clunk into the room over the top of your datapad. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, a tension in the atmosphere having followed him in.
“Where’s the kid?” He asked, and you pointed to the side room. He walked over to the door and opened it slightly to peer inside. Satisfied, he gently closed it and continued to stand there in the middle of the room.
“Have a good chat?” You asked, breaking the frigid silence after it became clear he was not going to. Mando settled into a chair heavily, spreading his legs and resting his arms on those of the chair.
“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” he rasped in response, and you raised a brow in question.
“What do you mean?” You asked, tapping a nail against the side of your datapad. Mando raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.
“You two seemed to hit it off.”
“Who? Me and Cobb?” You set down your datapad and crossed your arms. “He was nice.”
You could hardly believe the scoff you heard from the man. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”
“Are you jealous?”
“…No.”
“You are,” you expanded, uncrossing your arms and swinging your legs over to hang over the side of the bed. “You’re upset that he was flirting with me, aren’t you?”
Mando was silent, and you wondered if his jaw was clenched under that helmet. You looked at him expectantly, and he sighed.
“I’m not upset,” you tried to clarify. “I think that’s just how he is. It’s ok to be jealous, Mando.”
“I am not jealous,” he grit out, and you tried to hide a smirk. Standing, you swayed over to stand in front of him. You were wearing an old oversized tunic that came just above your knees, and not much else. You stepped in between his spread thighs, your bare legs bumping against his armor. Even sitting, his head was nearly level with your own. Were you pushing it, standing naked from the waist down in between the legs of a dangerous and definitely jealous man? Perhaps.
“Then why were you staring at us the whole time?” You teased. “Mad that your friend was talking to me and not you?”
“I was waiting for him to make a move,” Mando interrupted. “To touch you.”
“Yeah?” You queried, and in a burst of bravery, you sat lightly on one of his broad thighs. You felt him tense underneath you, even through the armor, and resettle his weight back In the chair to support you more firmly. “What was your plan if he had made a move?”
One of his gloved hands came to rest on your bare thigh, and he slowly pulled it towards him, forcing your legs to spread slightly. His hand rubbed soft circles into your flesh, and you shifted so that your back was supported against the side of the chair.
“Hauling you over my shoulder and back into my ship,” Mando husked, hand venturing further up your thigh, under the hem of the long tunic. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed lightly over your bare cunt. “And reminding you.”
One of his fingers ran up and down your slit, and you shifted again, trying to get him to put more pressure where you wanted it. “Remind me of what?” You asked breathlessly. Mando’s other hand crept up your back to grip your neck, forcing you to arch in his lap. He stood, hauling you up against him with ease. He half-dragged you over to the bed, sitting down so that he could pull you up against his back into his lap.
“This,” he said simply, spreading your thighs wider and grinding his hips up into your backside. You could feel him, hot and hard under his flight suit, and you let out a low moan at the sensation. One hand roamed over your shaking thighs, playing with the slick gathering between your legs, while the other came up to cross against your chest, holding you tightly against him.
“I was thinking,” Mando continued, sounding almost casual in his tone and timbre, “Of how to show you what you’d be missing. How to show other men that you spend your nights in my bed.”
You licked your lips, feeling air-light as he rasped through the modulator into your ear. His fingers between your legs alternated from pinching your swollen clit to probing your entrance.
“That’s what I was thinking,” he said lowly. “What were you thinking, wicked girl?”
“I’m thinking you should just fuck me already,” you gasped out, and Mando laughed. It echoed through your blank mind like smoke, and your eyes fluttered closed as two of his thick fingers slid tightly inside of you, thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensation, only to be held tight in his iron grip.
“Can you be quiet?” Mando asked throatily, and you could feel the rumble of it from his chest. “The kid is sleeping…and who knows who else might be listening?”
“I thought you wanted them to know,” you whimpered, and his grip on you loosened for a millisecond before he stood and flipped you face-first onto the bed. The back of your tunic was pushed up as he pushed your shoulders down to the mattress, and dragged your hips up toward where he stood behind you.
“Keep quiet,” he gruffed out, and you heard the familiar sound of his belt coming undone and felt his bare hips warm against your ass. “You only cry for me, understand?”
“Y-ye-“ you barely had a chance to respond before he shoved his throbbing cock into you, punching the air out of your lungs in one solid thrust. Keening, you let your head fall against your arms as Mando gripped your hips firmly and began a steady, brutal pace.
He spread your thighs as wide as they would go so that you could take all of him in with every thrust. Something about his hands on your hips and the way he moved you felt necessary – deep, intense thrusts that would resist anything except acceptance from him. The bed creaked from his weight against your body, along with the rich sound of his hips slapping against yours.
The superiority of this angle made you focus on the place where he filled you like it was the center of your universe. You bit into the flesh of your arm in an attempt to silence the keening cries that wanted to escape from your throat. Mando groaned above you, and his pace quickened.
“This what you wanted?” he husked lowly. “To come on my cock? Come on, wicked girl, come on-“
You choked out a wordless plea as his weight came down across your thighs, and his cock rammed as far as it could go. You knew you would feel the ache of him inside of you for days.
“M-mando-“ you keened again, and you felt his grip on your hips clench harder.
“Gotta be quiet,” he rasped. “Want them to hear how you’re spread open for my cock?” You could feel your orgasm approaching like a ship preparing to exit hyperspace. You were sure nothing in your life would ever feel as good, as full, as right as the heavy weight of his cock inside of you.
The frantic clutch of your cunt wrung from Mando his own release. He all but collapsed onto you, wrapping you up so that you disappeared into his embrace. You came with a muffled scream, your leg going numb from the release of tension and the weight of the man fucking his semen into you.
Not allowing you reprieve, Mando groaned and collapsed onto his side, rolling you so that you were pressed up against him. His iron-hard cock was still inside of you, throbbing its release, and his hand came down between your legs to tweak at your clit. “Again,” he demanded, and you threw your head back and hit it against his helmet. He shoved the fingers of his other hand into your mouth to silence your cries as you came again, obediently, at the clumsy push of his fingers against your sore cunt.
Your body jerked against him, twitching from the edge of overstimulation. His cock, still streaming cum, slid out of you, pulsing the last of his release over your flushed entrance.
For a while, all that could be heard was the sound of your breaths easing back from near hyperventilation. Mando’s grip on you was still possessive, but he shushed you gently and murmured praise into the back of your neck, hands circling your skin to ground your consciousness back down to him.
After that, Mando gently slid from behind you and lifted you into his arms. Your legs still shook from the onslaught, and he carried you quietly to the refresher where he helped you wipe yourself clean.
“All right?” He murmured as he brought a soft cloth to your inner thighs. You smiled sleepily and leaned your head forward to lay against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the cold metal.
“If that wasn’t you being jealous,” you whispered, “Maybe next time I should flirt back.”
#din djarin x reader#mando x reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin smut#the mandalorian smut#din djarin#cobb vanth
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Pino kisses headcanons...
~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~
~ Kisses are a foreign concept to Pino. Despite his fascination with your lips whenever you talk or when you pout, he doesn't quite know where to place these feelings. These urges flicker warmly within his chest as his eyes wander to your lips, you'll never quite notice because his gaze will flicker back to your eyes quickly before you catch on. (Or so he thinks)
~ He probably sees something akin to an illustration in a book, or a chapter describing a kiss and he's suddenly just 'oh'.
~ The thought of placing his lips against your own, rather than against your hand like usual has him a little flustered, yet yearning.
~ Your first one happens when he joins you at the grand piano. You're sitting there solemnly, and admittedly a little bored. Playing with the piano keys as Pino seats himself beside you on the seat, and he's greeted by your welcoming smile.
You'll lean your head against his shoulder as his hands join besides yours on the keys, the cold steel fingers of his legion arm brushing against your pinkie finger and it makes you smile warmly and snuggle further into his side. Pino's expression softens, his head tilting a little to look at you.
Just softly talking and pondering, lost in the moment, before looking up and met with pino's face very close to yours. With your head rested on his shoulder, all you can do is fall silent and gaze into his eyes, admiring how doe and blue they are.
His fingers gently edge across your chin, wandering very slowly up your lips where he thumbs at the corner of your lips. Your heart is thundering inside your chest and your limbs feel like jelly, and pino's gaze watches carefully and inquisitively upon your expression. Your faces are so close and he's cupping your face now, and his eyes have this look as if he's saying 'is this alright?'
"What are you doing?" You ask, voice small and barely above a whisper. Pino's expression is unreadable, but the way his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, and how he tilts his head down till his forehead presses to yours- and suddenly you've forgotten to breathe. Your cheek is hot against his palm, he can feel the heat press against him.
~ The kiss would be so so soft and light, like his lips would just ever so lightly brush against yours and his eyes would flutter closed and lean in closer after bated breath. With his legion hand cradling your cheek, the chill of it seeping into your hot skin and his lips brushing against yours, the whole experience would be so dizzying but sweet. He's so Incredibly careful with you, his actions a little unsure but eager, and he pulls away a little just in case you wanted it to stop. Imagine his surprise when you purposely lean into him again and interlock your lips, his fingertips grazing your cheekbone and your own hands resting on his shoulders.
Resting your foreheads together afterwards and pino just smooths his hand down your hair in soft repetitive motions, his eyes a little dazed and twinkly.
Now that he knows what a kiss feels like, he's addicted to them. It made him feel alive... you make him feel alive.
Just before he parts the hotel to go on a mission in Krat? He's cradling your cheek to peck a soft kiss to your lips, it lingering a little longer just in case he never gets to see you again. He is a strong, and very capable, but he does this so much as a precaution.
The moment is shared between the two of you- his nose brushing against your cheek, not quite ready to let go quite yet. Your breath is warm against his face, and he yearns to confide in it just a little more before he has to part with you.
He also does it as a nighttime routine. Once you're comfortable in bed and he can join you, he'll give you a few soft pecks before cuddling Into you below the warm blankets. (With his longer hair it drapes over your cheeks and nose a little as he hovers above you, and it always tickles )
Morning kisses are an absolute for him as well. The moment your eyes flutter open, he's happy. The hours you sleep are hours of him deprived of your voice and smile and laugh, so he'll settle with your calm expressions and heartbeat, but he likes you awake consideribly more. He'll gaze at you as you card your fingers through his hair, still half asleep, before pressing a few welcoming kisses to your face, and eagerly lean into your lips when you laugh and kiss him back. He is just so sweet :( <3
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babydoll
Bucky Barnes x f!Reader
word count: 800 ▪︎ masterlist
The reader and Bucky have a 4am encounter.
You scramble out of bed, groggy from sleep. Having woken up half an hour ago, you've just been lying there, staring at the ceiling, thinking of what Natasha said to you earlier.
"I have it on good authority that one Sergeant Barnes has his eye on you."
"Oh? And whose authority is that?"
"Mine, of course," she winked, "The only authority you can trust in this compound, mind you."
Your footsteps make no sound as you quietly walk to the shared kitchen on your floor. Everyone's sound asleep, or potentially out at some bar, if they were coaxed into it by Sam. Potentially world-ending events, terrorist threats, homicidal purple aliens. Whatever might come, Sam's enthusiasm to grab a drink and lay back will never wane. Everyone's best friend.
The panel to the kitchen slides open, F.R.I.D.A.Y. scanning and recognizing you. You blink through the haze of sleep, and proceed to rummage through the fridge. Tony's cheeseburgers, Wanda's borscht, Nat's carefully planned meals. And an obscene amount of beer. Taking one, you shuffle around for the bottle opener.
"Need some help with that?" A deep voice asks, startling the shit out of you. The bottle slips from your fingers, but a metal arm catches it just before it empties out on the floor.
"Fuck!" Your eyes meet Bucky's in the faint light, "you really do move like a ghost, don't you?"
"Actually, the name's Buck," he hands the bottle to you, with a cheeky smirk, "and yes, I've been told that before."
"Funny," your heartbeat still races, but no longer due to the almost-accident.
"Here," he reaches forward and deftly twists the bottle cap off with one hand, and clinks his bottle to yours, "Cheers, babydoll."
You take a huge gulp of beer to stifle your awkwardness. Damn him and his hulking form and his sensual musk and his steel blue gaze.
"What was that you called me?" you leaned back against the counter to steady yourself, "Don't think you've said it before. Not to me anyway."
"Hmm, what? Babydoll?" There's a playfulness in his eyes, as if he's aware of how he's making you feel.
"Yeah, it sounds... nice."
He takes another swig of his drink, "Glad you think so. It suits you. Anyway, I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I was just sitting over there," he points to the couch in the dim corner of the room, "and you didn't seem to notice me."
"Couldn't sleep either?" You peer up at him, and let your eyes run over the faint lines around his. You make a mental note of how beautiful it is when he smiles and they appear like sunburst. It took a long time for Bucky to come back to himself, but he truly has let go of the Winter Soldier.
"Mmm," he leans against the counter beside you, and you're even closer than before, "sleep doesn't come easy to me. But at least I bumped into you now, eh?"
"Were you looking for me, Barnes?" You don't know where you've found the courage to flirt, but you're not dwelling on it.
"I just," he hesitates, pausing between his words, "haven't seen you around so much. And... I wanted to. See you more, that is."
Was Bucky getting flustered around you? Perhaps Natasha was not kidding, after all. You already hoped, but it's different to see it now, unfolding in front of you.
You smile, and his lips slowly curve upward while looking at you. "Why is that?"
"Y'know, the last person I called babydoll was this dame called Dot. I took her on a couple dates, back in the 40s. I liked her quite a lot then, so I suppose I saw fit to call her by that little name."
"Oh?" You mull over his words, confused as to why he's telling you about another girl. And then...
"Oh." You whisper once more, "So you..?"
He sets his beer on the counter, and stands in front of you. Bracing his hands on your waist, he lowers his lips close to your ear, "I like you quite a lot now, babydoll."
Blood rushes to your face, and you feel lightheaded. Definitely not due to the alcohol.
"And, I actually have it on good authority that you like me too," he adds.
Realization hits you, and you can't help but fondly roll your eyes, "Tell me, Buck, does this 'good authority' happen to be a certain redheaded former assassin?"
"Yeah, how did you..." His eyes widen slightly, "Oh, of course. She told you, didn't she?"
"That's our Nat," you smile, and testing the waters, you interlace your fingers behind his neck.
Sunburst lines erupt around his magnetic blue eyes, "So I take it she was telling the truth?"
"Oh, just kiss me already."
🖤
First ever Bucky blurb. I've always loved his character, but why did I feel like I was cheating on Aemond or Daemon? 😭 wow, I need therapy..
Not me thinking, 'Aemond would be so jealous right now.' Hahahaha it's a problem.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes#bucky barnes one shot#mcu fic#sebastian stan#sebastian stan imagine
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since i just woke up from one and came here to seek comfort and get it out of my head,i had the idea of "why not ask them if they'd like to write such a thing?" So here i am.
The main thing is reader having a really grotesque, explicit and horrific nightmare (that's how most of mine are) could be getting tortured,put in a meat grinder,you get it,work your magic and write as you wish haha.And after they wake up with a heavy and tight chest, horrified naturally,it being out of their control,could you have the 141 members comfort us? Perhaps one way of getting most of their reactions would be setting up a scenario where they had to camp and sleep in the same place, something of the sorts,so yeah.
Honestly still not over the nightmare yet that shit was horrific haha,but yeah,hope this'll be a nice writing for you,if you wish to do so.Take great care of yourself dear,and take as many breaks as you need<3
how the sausage gets made — python333
— — — —
synopsis you have a very graphic nightmare, the 141 comforts you!!!
relationships platonic! 141 & gn! reader.
characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.
word count 3.2k
warnings nightmare about getting put through a meat grinder (not too graphic, but the imagery is still there), usage of [c/n] (code name/call sign), 2nd person pov (you/yours/youself)
note hi!! this is actually right up my alley, i really enjoyed writing this!! :D hopefully this somewhat comforts you/helps you get over the nightmare, and hopefully this was horrific enough for you!! ALSO i have a discord server now!! enjoy :3
You’re in some sort of freezer, it seems.
Your vision is a bit blurred at the edges, and your head feels awfully heavy, making it hard to keep upright on your neck. Your shoulders feel tight and tense, as though the muscles in them were physically bundled and tied into tight knots. Though, they aren’t tense in the way they typically are. Somewhere in the back of your mind—as your gaze wanders around the blue-tinted room you lay in—you can recall times after sparring sessions with a few of your teammates when your shoulders felt tight, and it was nothing like this. Those times, you could feel the knots as though they grew roots from your shoulders to your wrists. Unlike now, your shoulders feel lighter than those times.
Those times. You aren’t sure what “those times” refers to. All you can see and think about is the light blue tiling of the ceiling above you. It’s strange; you’ve only seen tiling like that on dingy bathroom floors in the public gym you used to go to. It’s never been on the ceiling like that. Huh.
You can’t really feel your hands, which is even stranger. You know where they are—they’re right at your sides, laying on the stingingly cold concrete floor of whatever room you’re in—and can hear the echoing taps they give whenever you lift and hit them lightly against the floor, but yet they feel numb. You move one of them, not nearly as off-put by the numbness as you should be, and lift it up and over your face. It looks normal. No, yeah, that’s my hand alright. Don’t know what I expected.
You put the hand back on the ground and using both hands you push yourself up from the floor, letting out a small grunt as you do. It takes an uncanny amount of force to push yourself upwards, but you manage to do so anyway, and you finally have a look at the room around you. You look ahead of you. Blue tarp. It’s shiny and almost looks woven, and if you squint your eyes enough, it looks grainy. You look to your left. More blue tarp. It’s of the same quality, the same quantity, and is in all aspects the exact same as the other blue tarp. You make a quick prediction before looking to your right, and, lo and behold, another blue tarp. How shocking.
It looks the same as the other two. Frowning, you look behind you, and surprisingly you are not met with yet another blue tarp. This time, there’s a large, shiny, stainless steel machine behind you. It’s a good ten feet away, about the same distance away as the tarps, and for some reason it beckons to you. Like Princess Aurora to her spinning wheel, you find the strength to push yourself up to your feet completely, and immediately you begin walking towards the metal machine without much resistance.
It doesn’t really hit you that you have no idea what this machine is or what it does. You don’t think you’ve seen anything like it. As you get closer, you can see a few items strung from the ceiling past the machine; weird plastic-clear looking tubes that are linked together in the same way clowns at parties twist balloons, and there’s iron-cast skillets hung on the ceiling from invisible hooks. Huh. Weird. Despite the oddities of the items strung from the ceiling, you keep walking towards the machine.
When you get even closer, the machine becomes less blurred and comes more into focus. It looks completely untouched. There’s a large funnel at the top, one that requires a ladder to get to—conveniently, there’s a ladder set up on and welded to the machine itself—and beneath that is a horizontal tube that tapers off into a smaller, funnel-like shape at the end with a much smaller opening. You tilt your head curiously at the machine. It’s so shiny. Though, the longer you stare at it, the grainier it gets.
Suddenly, cutting through your thoughts, you feel a harsh push at your back that almost has you knocking into the machine. Before you can even turn around to see who felt that they had the audacity to push you so harshly, that same entity that pushed you quickly lifted you into the air. Whatever they’re using to hold you up feels like absolutely nothing—as if they were just gathering enough air molecules to swoop you up.
“H—” You try to protest, but your throat doesn’t work. Before you can say anything, it just gives out, and leaves you wheezing for a moment before trying again only to discover that, to your horror, you cannot talk.
Your throat seems to close up every time you try to say anything. All that comes out are breathy wheezes and coughs that leave a strangely bad pain in your chest. As you try to stop your coughing, whatever is picking you up quickly dumps you into the large funnel on top of the machine. It’s cold and bites at your skin unforgivingly, making you hiss in discomfort. You don’t even clock how the cold is irritating your skin, despite you being fully clothed and none of your bare skin being exposed to the metal of the machine.
You try to move your hands to the sides of the funnel to push yourself up, but you move at a painfully slow speed, and can’t do anything but stand still. Like a mannequin, you’re forced into a standing position and can’t do anything but stand in the funnel. You look down, and you’re standing on what seems to be some sort of cylinder. The bottom of the funnel ends around your mid-calf.
Oddly, this reminds you of those nightmares you used to have when you were younger, where you were running from something or someone but moved too slow to get away.
Suddenly, the cylinder begins to move.
It spirals in place, making you quickly lose your balance and soon you’ve fallen in a lying position on the cylinder as it turns. It starts at a slow pace but starts to speed up, in time with your panic. You try to scramble to your feet but your limbs don’t allow it, keeping you stuck in place, the cylinder starting to turn even faster.
You’re uncomfortably folded and pushed through the small ending of the funnel as the cylinder keeps moving, and once you’re through, you start to hear a strange whirring.
It’s loud and sounds like some sort of shitty metal fan. It clangs against the sides of whatever tube you’re in and occasionally makes a horrible screeching noise that, if you could, you would cover your ears to escape. You turn your head to the side ever-so-slightly and see the “metal fan” itself—four sharp blades that spin clockwise, with a weird hole-filled circle behind them. You furrow—or, well, try to at least—your eyebrows at the sight.
The fuck is that? You don’t realize you’re getting closer to it.
The cylinder is now turning at an exceptionally fast pace, and only when you’re a few feet from the blades do you realize just how close you are to them.
“Wait—” You finally find your voice, though it sounds far away and is muddy in your ears, “Stop, stop—”
You’re not sure what else to say. You can’t tell if you’re begging, commanding, demanding, or anything of the sort. All you know is that the cylinder is going faster and faster, at an almost punishing pace that leaves you wondering what you could’ve done to deserve whatever the hell is happening to you. The blades emit an ungodly screech each time they get caught on a bump on the insides of the tube, and as you get even closer you can spot bright orange rust on the blades.
The texture is enough to make you gag. You’re getting closer, and closer, and soon you’re barely a foot away from it. The screeching and the whirring is so loud. You can’t hear anything else—or, wouldn’t be able to hear anything else, if there was anything else to be heard.
You can barely continue your train of thought before you feel a sharp, cold rush through your ankle.
You hadn’t been paying enough attention. You didn’t realize how close your feet had gotten to the blades.
The sound it had made when it was cut off was sickening. A loud pop, the same kind of pop that sounds when you break open the tab of a can. You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out, and suddenly the rest of your leg is getting shredded by those same blades, and dear God, it’s so cold. It feels like dry ice cutting right through your calves, making its way up to your knees, soon to your thighs, much faster than you can process.
Your thoughts come in small fleets that go as soon as they come and you’re never able to continue or dwell on a single one, always getting interrupted by the white-cold pain that literally cuts through your upper thighs. You can’t feel anything from the waist down. You can’t feel your legs, your feet, and you’re losing feeling in your hips—
Your hands desperately grasp at the cylinder, and you’re not sure what you’re doing but you’re trying to do something, anything, as long as it delays the inevitable shredding of your torso and head. But it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. Whatever you had intended to do doesn’t work, and soon there’s a sharp cold pain that cuts into your ribcage, and suddenly you can’t even feel your stomach.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you can recognize the small sobs that escape you.
Your chest is the next to go, and soon it’s your shoulders, and even though they’re not gone yet your hands have already gone numb, and you’re bracing yourself for the sharp-cold pain to reach your neck when suddenly—
You wake up, body immediately getting into an upright sitting position and your chest heaving as sweat drips down your forehead. The sweat is cold and your breathing is loud in your ears, your ears which are filled with ringing, the sound of just anything enough to make your breath hitch and a sob crawl into your throat. With open-mouthed pants, you blink rapidly at the space in front of you, before quickly raising your hands to your face and letting out a loud, shaky sigh when you can actually feel the air moving through your fingers.
They aren’t numb. You plant them on the ground and just feel around, the rough fabric of your tent gliding under your hands. You shake your head vigorously, letting out another relieved sigh when you find that it’s still attached to your neck and hasn’t been sliced through. You move your legs and they’re still attached to your body. Everything is still on you. You’re in the same clothes you went to sleep in. You have all of your body parts. You are in one piece. Nothing is missing. You’re fine.
Despite repeating to yourself that everything’s okay—you’re physically together, you’re in a tent in the middle of the fucking woods and the worst thing that could happen to you is getting jumped by a bear in your sleep—nothing feels okay. There’s still the phantom feeling of getting put through a meat grinder that keeps a perpetual tremble in your bones, that keeps you unknowing of how to act like you’re in one piece. Not act. You are in one piece. But you aren’t. You swear, even though it was just some stupid dream, that it felt real enough to have actually happened.
“[c/n]?” Soap’s tired voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Right. We’re sharing a tent. You quickly whip your head to look at him, chest still rising up and down rapidly as your unstable breathing continues. You don’t say anything, simply staring at him with wide eyes.
“Are ye alright?” He frowns, quickly growing more awake the more concerned he gets, “Whit’s wrong?”
Maybe you’re in some form of shock, but you find yourself staying silent out of the fear of something happening. You’re not sure what that ‘something’ is, but it’s there, and it’s holding you back from even attempting to speak. Your breath hitches and your throat stings.
“Hey, uh,” Soap pushes himself up with a grunt and walks over a short few steps to you, kneeling down once he’s beside you, “Jist breathe, everything’s gonnae be alright.”
You know he’s not exactly the best at comforting people. He’s always been better with more technical things, and would much rather help you with math homework or something over trying to comfort you after something traumatic. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—of course he does, and he wishes he was much better than he is now at it—but he can never manage to find the right words.
He puts a tentative hand on your shoulder and you stare at it as it reaches you, flinching back immediately when you can actually feel his hand over your shirt. He pulls his hand back instantly, expression growing even more concerned.
“Do ye wannae tell me whit happened?” Soap whisper-asks. When you quickly shake your head ‘no’, Soap thinks for a moment before offering, “Do ye want me tae get onyone else?”
You think about his words for a moment before nodding. He sighs.
“Who?”
Your gaze flickers from the exit of the tent before going back to Soap.
“… Cap’n Price,” You quietly decide. Soap nods and reluctantly gets up, making his way out of the tent.
A few minutes later, you hear Soap walk back into the tent as well as another set of feet that trail right behind him. You look up and over at the entrance of the tent and see your Captain. His eyes are immediately on you, and as soon as he sees the mystified look in your eyes, he’s quick to make his way to you and kneel down beside you.
He doesn’t know what to say for a moment, you can tell. He instinctively brings a hand up to put on your shoulder like he typically would in situations like these, but something causes him to bring his hand back down and away from you. Maybe Soap told him how you reacted earlier? You brush off the thought for now, more focused on whatever Price is trying to do.
The reason you wanted him here instead of the others was mainly because you felt the least embarrassed around him. Which was weird, considering that he’s of the highest rank compared to you and the others, but still—you can’t imagine him judging you, not even for the most outrageous things. Maybe he’d have a small fit over you saying “soccer” instead of “football”, but otherwise, you can’t think of a world where he judges you for something like having a nightmare.
And sure, the others have them too and probably wouldn’t judge you either, but still. Price will probably always be your first option for situations like these.
“Soap hadn’t told me what happened, yet,” Price says softly, “D’you mind filling me in?”
If this were anyone else, you’d be fighting the urge to jump off a cliff, but because it’s not, you simply answer, “Nightmare.”
Your voice is a little clearer now, much to your relief, but it still carries that rasp from earlier. It doesn’t pain you to talk, but it does shock you that you even can, considering that you could barely form a whisper in your nightmare. And yes, that’s a silly thought, knowing that all of that was a nightmare, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.
“A nightmare, alright,” Price hums, before suggesting, “My tent’s bigger than yours, y’know. You wanna bring your sleeping bag over there, so we’re all together? Power in numbers, yeah?”
You nod mindlessly, agreeing with anything Price says. He smiles at you and hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder, doing it slowly enough that you have plenty of time to let him know if it’s not okay, but you allow it. Price shoots a look at Soap and the latter nods, confirming whatever Price’s silent look asked him.
“Alright,” Price gives your shoulder one last squeeze before standing up, waiting for you to stand up as well. Once you do, he starts to walk out of the tent, expecting you to walk after him. Surprisingly, Soap gets up as well, sleeping bag and pillow in hand. Huh. Maybe that’s what he was confirming. You quickly pick up your sleeping bag and pillow, movements a little more stilted than usual as you didn’t expect to actually be able to move as quickly as you can now, and follow Price out of your tent.
You shiver as you walk out into the cold outside of the woods, and are quick to walk to the much bigger tent across from yours.
When you enter the tent, Gaz remains asleep while Ghost almost immediately wakes up. It’s uncanny, the speed at which his eyes open and dart to your figure—as if he was never asleep in the first place. You push those thoughts aside and wait for Price to walk in.
“Wh’t’s goin’ on?” Ghost asks sleepily, his British accent making his slurred words nearly impossible to decipher.
“They’re stayin’ in here for the rest of the night,” Price answers for you, nodding over to you as he refers to you.
Ghost looks over at you and you can sense his raised eyebrow despite not being able to see it. You look to Price to explain your situation for you again, and once he sees you look at him, he explains, “Nightmare.”
Ghost blinks before nodding understandably. Almost immediately, he conks out and goes right back to sleeping like the dead, making Price snort. Price turns to you, and gestures towards the empty spot next to Gaz, the spot conveniently empty and just perfectly sized for your sleeping bag. You walk over there as quietly as you can, shuffling around Ghost’s and Price’s sleeping bags, and gently lay your sleeping bag down next to Gaz’s.
You set down your pillow inside of the sleeping bag and kneel down as quietly as you can, a soft rustling sounding from your sleeping bag as you settle in. You turn on your side and let out a quiet sigh, eyelids already drooping with exhaustion. You’ve turned towards Gaz, and he’s turned towards you, and you look over his sleeping face for a moment before deciding to catch up on your own rest.
Just as you’re about to close your eyes, you watch his open.
“...” He stares at you for a moment, before he sleepily whispers, “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“… Y’good?” He asks, looking at your still-glassy eyes and very-clearly-worn-out expression.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You answer, trying to offer a tiny bit of reassurance.
“Alright,” Gaz hums, accepting your answer easily, and closing his eyes once again.
A small smile graces your lips. You’re all used to going to sleep easily, of course, on missions like these—you kind of need to be, given that you’re all military. It took you a bit, but you eventually got used to it, and gained that skill just a few months after joining the task force.
Speaking of which, you find yourself drifting off to sleep not long after Gaz closes his eyes again, and soon enough, you’ve already fallen asleep—this time, without nightmares or dreams.
#cod#cod hcs#hcs#task force 141#simon ghost riley#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#john price#ghost#gaz#soap#price#tf141#platonic task force 141#guys#not too many creative tags 2day :(#its 3:36 am as im writing this#its taken me so long to post#i apologize#my goodness#i also have like#3 ds#i used to be a straight a student#i hate biotech#i hate build your own business#love english tho#and psych#geometry is nice too#anyway#python333
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Accident: part 2 Happy
Request: JJ got hurt when he crashed his motorcycle and he woke up to see the reader sleeping, head resting on her arms, on the edge of the bed. She’s had a crush on him for years, but never told him cause he liked Kiara since kindergarten.
Read Part One First
Y/N
Y/N wake up
The deep voice stirs me from the memories of the night. Pressure between my hand pulsates every few seconds as I feel another sensation filtering through my hair. My eyes slowly open expecting to find the harsh sun but the night sky greets the window still. How long have I been asleep? Is JJ awake? JJ!
Peering to my left I am greeted by ocean blue eyes and a soft smirk. Trailing my gaze down his body I find one of his hands still safely secured in my own while his other stops short of another stroke through my hair. Still neither of us speaks and not an inch of air moves around the room as if anticipating what will happen next.
“Are-“ JJ clears his throat. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? He was the one chased down by the cops, crashed his motorcycle and has been in a coma for who knows how long. JJ’s eyes filter down my face to the rest of my body, meticulously searching for any type of injury. A warmth and icy sensation fight for dominance in my chest as sob builds up in my throat and tears threaten my eyes. I am suffocating from within and I have forgotten how to breathe.
In an instant JJ’s arms are around me and I feel a groan fighting against his chest from the sudden swift movement. His voice pleads for me to tell him where I am injured, promising to make it all better, apologizing. Still unable to speak I shake my head back-and-forth and pry my head from the crook of his neck but I’m not quite ready to leave the safety of his arms. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest and all I can think is that this is so much better than simply seeing his breaths, to actually feel them with mine is something I will never take for granted.
“No, JJ I am okay.” My voice sounding more like a squeak than anything else. Buying a few more seconds before speaking, and having the desire to find more ways to touch him, my hand cups the side of his face. Butterflies surface in my stomach as he lightly presses his head into my touch. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m tough as steel Y/N.” JJ tries to joke, I don’t return his smile and he quickly drops his own.
“Don’t you dare do something like that again.” My voice throaty and tears kiss my skin as they escape. It is now or never. “I couldn’t handle it if… JJ I’ve been so-“
“I will always come back to you, Y/N.” JJ interrupts me and his hand not holding mine buries itself in my hair before cupping the back of my neck. His thumb rubs circles into my skin. “You are the most important person to me.”
“P4L right?” He means the group, not me individually.
“No,” his voice lowers as his eyes bore into my soul. Heat rises on my cheeks. I want to look away but JJ has me stuck in a trance. If I am a snake then he is a snake charmer.
His eyes flicker momentarily to my lips before searing into mine once more. Like gravity we begin to move closer, slowly as if JJ thinks I’ll startle easy any other way. Slowly but all too fast and all-consuming micro explosions flow down my nerves originating where his lips meet mine. As fast as they started it stopped, but the aftertaste lingers.
“You are the most important person to me.” He repeats, the intensity of his gaze not wavering a few moments more before melting back into his familiar soft and playful gaze. “Now, come here. I want cuddles.”
“But the others...” I’m torn between letting the others know JJ is okay and spending a few more uninterrupted moments with him.
“Y/N as you so kindly pointed out, I could have died tonight.” His easy going and joking tone laces his words. My boy is back and trying to be his old self. “So as the person who almost died, who could still be dying! I feel like I should get whatever I want for at least 24 hrs. Should be a whole week, a month even! But I am a generous guy and will settle for a few more hours if the fates allow. And all I want is to feel you curled up into my side.”
My eyes bounce between each of his, the trademark smirk reappearing on his face and I can’t help but smile back at him. Without words I do as request and curl my body beside his, avoiding my weight on his torso in case he has any broken ribs. JJ’s arms easily fold around my frame and lightly squeezes in appreciation.
“Who am I to deny a dying man his wish.” I feel a soft chuckle vibrate through him before we both dose off back into sleep. Thankfully leaving the horrors of the night are behind us.
Click here to read the angsty part
#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank imagines#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank obx#obx fanfiction#obx fanfic
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Allies of Circumstance (Loki x GN!Reader) - SHORT
Summary: He was the God of Mischief, they were a child of Thanos. They were allies of circumstance, that was all… Or was it?
A/N: No use of Y/N, they/them pronouns used with no descriptors. From Loki’s POV.
Was this what it felt like to have someone who understood?
To know how it felt to be a pawn, used in another’s game? To never feel quite good enough, that you have to prove yourself constantly, and still it was never quite enough?
Was this what it felt like to… care for another… with no ulterior motive… except simply wishing to see them succeed? To be more than fate had seemingly decided…
Loki’s sea-blue eyes scanned their profile, taking in the lines of resilience, determination… survival. They were softer than they appeared. The hardened edges of their gaze fading ever so slightly, ever so slowly… Tentatively, they were lowering their guard - a dangerous thing. For two beings who always believed sentiment and vulnerability was a weakness, they had somehow allowed their walls to lower around one another. Curious.
Their eyes flickered to Loki who was sat beside them, seeing him quickly avert his gaze to look at the fire before them, watching as he let out a slow, quiet breath. Interesting.
“What?” Their voice broke the silence, brows furrowing. “Why were you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Loki’s voice murmured, daring to glance their way once more.
“Like…” They trailed off, unsure what the words were. “I don’t know.” They narrowed their eyes, lips pursed, a contemplating look on their face.
“Neither do I.” Loki smirked faintly, tilting his head as he regarded them. Their own lips tugged upwards, before they shook their head, turning their eyes back to the fire. The sound of the flames dancing filled the air. It was soothing. Loki pursed his own lips, brows twitching. “You know… it’s been a while since you’ve threatened to stab me.” He commented, a hint of amusement colouring his tone. “I would go so far as to say that’s progress.” They scoffed, raising a brow, gaze once again finding his.
“People like me and you always manage to take one step forwards and two steps back.” They replied lowly. “So don’t hold your breath. You may still do something that makes a threat fall from my lips.” Loki chuckled softly at that.
“I look forward to it.” He replied smoothly, lips tugging upwards, eyes glinting with his signature mirth. It seemed to pull a small smile from their lips also, before it quickly disappeared. But for that brief second, it was the most wonderful thing Loki had ever seen. And he had seen a lot in his long life.
Was this… what love… felt like?
Loki again averted his gaze, almost worried that they could suddenly read his mind, or could see the thought in his blue eyes. This wasn’t what he expected. Not at all - not with the hostility they both first expressed towards each other. And yet, there he was… Considering the ridiculous notion that he…
“You’re acting weird.” Their voice broke his thoughts, an almost undetectable breath leaving his lips. “Well, weirder than normal.” They smirked. “And that’s saying something.” Expect, Loki didn’t smile, didn’t smirk… Strange. They furrowed their brows, eyes studying him closely. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts-“
“No-“ Loki quickly cut them off, shaking his head briefly. “No… it’s not that-“
“Then what is it? Because you’re starting to put me on edge.” They sighed, shifting to angle themselves slightly more towards him. Loki took a deep breath, steeling himself, eyes flickering to the starry sky above them momentarily.
“I…” He began, voice breathless. “We… We are… not so different.” Finally, his eyes met theirs. They could see the faint traces of awkwardness in his frame, on his sharp features. “And that can be good. As well as bad.” They raised a brow, struggling to follow along with where he was headed with his words. “What I’m trying to say is…” Another sharp inhale. “Well, actually, I don’t quite know what I’m trying to say.” He sighed, shaking his head.
Norns, why was this so difficult?
“Neither do I.” They echoed his earlier words, lips quirking into a smirk. “I get it.” They said lowly. “This… alliance… Allies of circumstance thing-“ They paused, biting their lower lip, shrugging casually. “It’s temporary.” Loki’s brows furrowed. “Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to stick around once-“
“No, that’s not it, no-“ Loki quickly shook his head, shifting now so he was angled to face them. “No.” He murmured, voice softening.
“Then what?” They asked, a hint of frustration colouring their tone. A beat of silence fell between them. And then another. And another… They let out an irritated breath, before moving to stand, missing the way Loki’s eyes followed every movement.
“Wait-“ Loki rushed out, pushing himself to his feet. “What if…” He trailed off, watching as they slowly turned to face him. “I mean, what if it… wasn’t temporary?” He asked tentatively, uncertainty in his voice. They blinked, tilting their head. “I, uh-“ Loki cleared his throat, hands moving to rest at his hips. “I don’t find your company… completely awful.” He tried to say casually, making them fold their arms over their chest. Their silence told him enough.
I’m messing this up.
“In fact, it’s quite the opposite.” Loki admitted quietly, eyes darting to the ground. “And I- Well, it would be a shame… if once this is all over… We never saw each other again.”
There. I said it. In my usual, indirect way, but still.
The silence stretched, Loki feeling a strange sense of nervousness settle in his chest. “Say something.” He urged. “Anything.”
And finally…
“Okay.”
Loki blinked.
“Okay?”
They furrowed their brows.
“Are you deaf?”
“Not last time I checked-“
They nodded.
“Good.”
Loki nodded.
“Good.”
The pair stared at each other, postures still slightly tense, but with an easy tenseness… If that was possible. Well, it was. For them.
“Shall we…” Loki gestured back to where they had been seated on the grass, fire still crackling before them. They gave a small nod, moving to retake their spot as Loki did the same. After a few moments, Loki allowed himself a small pleased smile, a warm feeling in his chest.
Yes. I think this is what love feels like.
#loki#loki x reader#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson#loki laufeyson x reader#loki imagine#marvel x reader#mcu x reader#loki marvel#mcu loki#Spotify
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Hiiii there!!! Can I request for a Levi × y/n, where the reader is a figure skater while currently dating Levi and Levi would go support her in every practice but in one of her performance she used Red Swan from AOT and he's just mesmerised by the reader🥰🥹
Thankyouu!!!
Red Swan
Levi x fem!reader
Modern AU, fluff, romance, established couple, supportive Levi.
After lots of practice, you finally enter an important competition. You give your full heart to your performance and dedicate it to the love of your life, Levi.
@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird
Anxiety was rolling off you as you sat next to Levi. No matter how much you tried to calm yourself, it wouldn't work. However, a sweet and delicate touch from Levi made your heart slow down a little. The soft gaze of his steel blue eyes made you so deeply happy and loved. Everything you worked for was building up to this moment.
You smiled sweetly at Levi. "I'm glad you are here with me. I don't think I could have made it without you." You leaned over and kissed him. "I love you."
Levi's cheeks burned. "I love you too."
You rose to your feet and let out a long sigh. "Okay, it's time." You glanced back to Levi. "This is dedicated to you, Levi."
"I...I'm honoured."
Levi took your jacket and gripped it tightly as you walked to the rink. He held his breath as you moved to the middle. Every inch of Levi hoped everything went perfectly and you weren't hurt. Music was important in this moment. Even though you looked gorgeous, the music needed to play perfectly so you could perform.
As the music played there was a sense of relief from Levi and your coach. Silence came over people watching because you were so graceful and beautiful. Levi could not stop watching you as you twirled and danced.
There was something about the music and the way you danced that just moved Levi. He was lost for words as his heart fluttered in his chest. He had watched you countless times on the ice, but this dance and music was a surprise. You had practiced this without him knowing and you both knew everything about each other.
Tears filled Levi's eyes as he felt so moved. The love you had for him was rolling off you and flowing into him. A blush covered his kissable cheeks when you skated by and smiled so lovingly at him. He held his breath when you picked up speed, he knew you were going for a big jump and spin.
He gripped your jacket tightly and saw you throw yourself for a dangerous move. He rose to his feet as everything seemed to slow down around him. His eyes widened when you landed it and posed causing and eruption of cheers for you. Levi was so proud of you.
The song slowly came to an end and you gave it one last pose. Levi felt like he could just cry, you were a dream. He hurried to the edge of the rink and gripped the edge tightly. A smile spread on his lips as you skated over to him with a shy smile.
You climbed off the rink and panted. "How was it?"
Levi yanked you against him and kissed you with all the love and passion in his heart. He didn't care that people were watching you both, or that cameras were on you. The only think that mattered was you and his love for you.
He pulled back and panted. "You were like a goddess."
You hugged Levi tightly. "I'm glad you liked it."
He lifted you up making you squeal with laughter. "I am so proud of you."
"Thank you, Levi. I don't care if I get an award. All I want is for you to be happy and proud of me."
"I am incredibly proud." He kissed you again before leading you to a seat."You want something to eat and drink?"
You gazed at him with loving doe eyes. "Please."
#levi ackerman#levi#aot levi#snk levi#aot fanfiction#levi x you#levi x y/n#fanfic#levi fanfiction#levi x reader#levi x yn#levi ackerman x female reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x y/n#jelly fanfics#levi attack on titan
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Spoilers for the CC3 bonus chapters:
But Ember seethed at Rhysand, “Don’t bother obliterating my daughter.” Fury blazed through her. “When I get back to Midgard, I’m going to do it myself."
“Right,” Ember bit out. “We’re just pathetic, weak, stupid humans. Little more than chattel to you.”
Rhysand snarled something that Nesta’s shoulders tensing; her head bowing.
And Ember found herself pushing out of her chair, stalking for the doors. Randall tried to grab her, but he was too late. And Azriel didn’t stop her as Ember flung open the glass doors and asked Rhysand, “Isn’t it a little early to be biting people’s heads off?”
The trio froze. Rhysand slowly turned toward Ember. His eyes were black pits. “I don’t recall asking you to join our conversation.”
Ember kept her chin high. “You interrupted my breakfast. If you wanted privacy, you should have gone somewhere else.”
Was that amusement shining in Cassian’s eyes? Ember didn’t dare take her attention off Rhysand to confirm. Randall appeared at her side, a hand on her back in warning as he said, “We’ll leave you to it.”
But Ember refused to move, even as a part of her quailed in terror, and said, “Nesta made a choice to harbor us—she made a choice to give Midgard a shot at freedom. To give my world hope. What kind of person are you to rip her to shreds for it?”
“Em,” Randall cautioned.
Rhysand crossed his muscular arms. “Are you calling me a monster, Ember Quinlan?”
“I’m saying give it a fucking rest,” Ember snapped. Behind her, she could have sworn Azriel choked. But she jerked her chin toward Nesta. “Lay off her.”
Rhysand held her stare.
For a moment, an eternity. Stars seemed to flicker into existence in his eyes. Like the vastness of night lay within, sweet and terrible, beautiful and harrowing.
But Ember withstood it. She’d seen and faced true evil. Bore a mark on her cheek forever because of it.
Something seemed to soften in Rhysand’s stare—like he saw that. His gaze slid over to Randall. “With a wife and a daughter like yours, I don’t know how you’re still standing.”
Ember didn’t smile, though. Her gazed landed on Nesta. The Fae female wasn’t laughing, either. Her blue-gray eyes remained fixed on Ember. Swimming with emotion.
Surprise. Gratitude. Longing.
And it was that same mother’s instinct that had guided her last night that had Ember extending a hand toward Nesta and saying, “Come. Eat breakfast with me.”
Nesta took her hand, her fingers surprisingly cold. Like the flight up here hand chilled them. Ember gave them a squeeze. “Don’t let him push you around,” Ember advised the female.
“Don’t worry,” Nesta said, even if that bruised look lingered in her eyes. “My sister—Rhy’s mate—gave him that exact same lecture twenty minutes ago.”
Ember hissed, “So he brought you back up here to lecture you away from her?”
Nesta snorted. “No. Feyre put an end to the argument. I'm not going to be executed. Not today, at least.”
At Ember’s horrified expression, Nesta amended, “They wouldn’t kill me. I don’t think. But . . . it’s complicated. I doubt anyone will be forgiving me anytime soon.”
Ember nodded toward Cassian. “What about your mate?”
The pain in her eyes—the guilt—seemed to deepen. “Cassian’s the most furious with me of anyone.” A muscle ticked in her jaw. Like she was holding back a giant wave of raw emotion. Only a wall of steel kept it at bay.
Ember squeezed Nesta’s hand again. “If there’s anything I can do to help, anything you need me to say to take some of the blame away from you . . .”
Nesta gave her a half smile. “Handing Rhys his ass just now was good enough for me.” She steered Ember toward the breakfast laid out for them.
Ember glanced over a shoulder, to where Randall stood with Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. All the males were now smiling, thank the gods. “Seems like Randall’s doing a good job of winning them over. Probably by telling them how difficult I make his life.”
Nesta snorted again. “Complaining about mates: it’s practically a competitive sport for them.”
Ember chuckled. “Seems like Midgard and this place have some things in common, then.” She angled her head, taking in the beautiful, ancient-looking city far below, the river wending through it, and what seemed to be the distant sparkle of the sea. “What is this place, anyway? And why are all of you so attractive?”
Nesta smirked, looping her arm through Ember’s before she said, warmth finally entering her tone, “Welcome to the Night Court, Ember. You’ll fit right in here.”
I AM IN TEARS!!! EMBER SUPPORTING NESTA AS SHE SHOULD!!!!! RHYSAND AND CASSIAN BEING DICKS AS USUAL BUT EMBER QUINLAN IS OUR QUEEN! THE MOTHER NESTA DESERVES!!! HELL YEAH BABY FUCK THE INNER CIRCLE!!
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Can you do a oneshot where Maya Bishop and Reader have a big fight and Carina walks in on them having the fight and she just listens to the last few sentences before you storm off and she is pissed at Maya for bringing up your past?
Warning:
Slight mention of past eating disorder & some swearing
---
"Damn it, Y/n. Just eat it already!" shouted the blonde and you flinched at her loud voice for a brief moment. Eyes opening again, the tears had immediately welled up and threatened to tumble down the waterline of your eye.
You didn´t know exactly how this argument, which was slowly escalating, came about. You just wanted to take a quick shower and wash the day off before eating, but apparently Maya was having a much worse day than yours and was taking it all out on you.
"Maya I-" she didn´t even let you finish your sentence, interrupting you while her jaw started to clench in pure frustration. Her steel blue eyes turned up from the floor to you and you could feel how much coldness the look carried in itself when a shiver run down your spine and goosebumps started to form on your delicate skin. "That shit you did in your past is over, grow the fuck up and finally eat like a normal human. What´s so hard about that?"
Frustration was eaten up by an irrepressible kind of anger and left you digging your fingernails into your palms while biting down onto your lip - tasting the bitterness of iron distinctly as the thin skin of your lip was torn.
She was your wife and she was allowed to air her annoyances, but she had no right to unpack your past, with which you made peace with and threw it in the back drawer of your memory.
"You know what?" wrapped up in your emotions, you didn´t notice how the heavy wooden door of the shared apartment opened and the Italian woman stood behind you with her feet firmly on the floor; her mouth wide open, unable to grasp the words that came out of the older blonde. "Fuck you."
With that, your body turned towards the exit, but your head still stayed firmly in place, staring into the blonde´s perplexed face. You had never talked to her like this before.
Lost in thought, you ran into the Italian woman behind you and broke eye contact with Maya, your gaze now wandering up to the taller one, vision blurred by the many tears you kept from falling. Your legs were carrying you away from this situation, but you were stopped by a strong hand that crept in front of your body and stood still at the height of your navel.
"Hold on, bella." the brunette remarked; pulling your gaze from the floor to her with two fingers she had draped under your chin. Shortly after seeing the tears reflecting in your eyes, she bit her lip. "What´s going on here?"
Reluctantly, you pulled your face out of her gentle grip - actually craving her touch. But no matter how much your head wanted to fall on her, you knew that your heart couldn´t stand being in this apartment today; sleeping in a bed with the woman who dug your past out of the grave to inexplicably hurt you. "Ask your girlfriend. I am out of this shit."
"Wait, bella. Wait!"
Dissolved, you walked past the still outstretched hand and aggressively pulled on your coat before casting one last look at your blonde girlfriend, hoping for an apology from her. But when nothing more came than a loud sigh and a hand with which she grabbed her forehead, you just scoffed and slammed the door behind you shut with a mighty jerk.
Once you were out of the apartment, the awkward silence began to settle between the two other woman as realization hit Maya full force.
With her lower back propped up against the table, she buried her face fully in the hand that had been on her forehead a moment ago and let out a loud groan. "Care to explain yourself, Maya?"
She let out a low whistle before smiling to hide her anger at herself. Her chin rested on her closed fist and she looked at the door where she had last seen your figure, wishing the evening had gone differently.
"Tell me, what happened?" called Carina out and meanwhile fished in her purse for her phone to call you back and to clarify the matter; she couldn´t stand a quarrel between her two beloved wives and especially not worrying about where you will spent the night.
"I can´t tell you, okay? All I know is that I messed up and took my whims out on her. I snapped at her for no reason and I couldn´t stop. The words just came gushing out and now she is gone."
"Screwed up? You pulled her past by the hair without her probably doing anything!" stated Carina dryly as she grunted at the blonde in front of her. "How do you think she feels now, huh? Maya, you KNOW exactly how long her recovery took and how much she had suffered!"
Her phone finally in her hand, she threw the bag on the couch and supported herself with one of her hands on the armrest after dialing your number on the speed dial. But when, instead of the supposed ringing, the favorite song from the Italian woman, that you had left for her as the caller tone started to play in the kitchen, she jumped up slightly startled and Maya raised her head; her eyes wide.
There was no way of reaching you or knowing where you were.
With quick steps, the fire woman walked to the kitchen counter where she suspected the song playing out and froze as her fingers traced your apartment keys. Her index finger slipped through the lanyards´s hole and her fingers pressed the keys into her palm with full force - leaving small imprints from the edges. "She left her keys and phone here."
Guilt began to gnaw at the young blonde and an uneasy feeling spread in her chest that made her feel like she couldn´t breathe properly.
Immediately, Maya pulled out her own cell phone in a panic and called your best friend, Andy, to make sure that she would call as soon as you got there or if she heard a word from you.
She knew very well that sooner or later you would walk to her and that you were safe.
"I hope she´s strong enough to ignore your words and just ran off to get some air, otherwise I don´t know, Maya."
#station 19 fanfiction#station19 imagine#station 19 imagines#station19#station 19#maya bishop x reader#maya bishop x y/n#maya bishop imagine#mayabishop#maya bishop#maya bishop x you#carina deluca x reader#carina deluca imagines#carinadeluca#carina deluca imagine#carina deluca#carina deluca x you#x reader#oneshot#imagine#imagines#fanfic#fanfiction#fanfics#fanfic writing
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You didn’t need that, did you?
Steve Kemp: You meet a man at the bar who loves your thighs.
An entry for Day 3 of the exciting @sintember challenge!
Prompt: You didn’t need that, did you?, ft Steve Kemp, Fresh (2022).
Warnings: Complete filth; very subtle cannibalistic tendencies; implied surgical mutilation. 18+!
An hour you had been sitting on an uncomfortable barstool, slowly sipping on drinks. You don’t even know why you came, maybe you thought it would be fun, maybe you thought you’d meet someone; neither of those was the case.
You drop your head on your shoulder, face to the right at the stool that had been empty seconds ago, you could have sworn. You startle slightly at the sight, though you’re not unpleasantly surprised; a man with odd cerulean eyes, a sharp jawline and a debonair smirk has his head tilted your way.
“Did I scare you?”
He asks. It seems lighthearted, you know it is, but really deep in your stomach you feel a twist of some kind, barely, though, your senses hyper focused on how he’s making you feel with his hungry gaze. Hungry.
“A little,” you admit with a small smile, taking the last sip of your drink.
He lets out a breathy laugh and offers, “Can I buy you another?”
Steve, is his name, and for the rest of the night, he’s absolutely magnetic as he speaks, but you can barely comprehend what he’s saying, trying desperately to keep the conversation going when there’s just this burning between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, trying to get some form of friction, subtly. He had to have noticed.
You hadn’t even noticed how close he was until he brushes his fingers over your knee, just under the hem of your dress, and your sentence is cut off with a choked gasp; you can tell by the amused smirk on his face he’s having fun with this, but you can’t even find it in you to spew a witty remark when all you can think about is how good he would feel.
You shift once more a little closer to him, trying to get his hands to budge up a little further. He smooths his palms over the sides of your knees and up your thighs; hooking his fingers under your flesh, he rubs soothing circles with his thumbs.
“You’re burning up,” he notes, maybe more to himself than to you, yet steel blue eyes holding you hostage with that heated gaze; you swear his pupils have dilated.
You can’t respond, afraid if you open your mouth it’ll only be a pathetic whimper that comes out, but you don’t need to.
He changes his circular movements to the opposite direction. He leans in so close it scares you how little self control you’re working on right now.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. Maybe that fact it didn’t even sound like a question should have you hearing faint alarm bells, but all you can hear is your own heartbeat and his low voice.
You’re nodding in earnest before he’s even finished his sentence, and soon you’re both rushing out the bar. You slide into the passenger seat of an expensive looking car you can’t care to name as you wonder how on earth you’re gonna control yourself on the drive.
You give him your address and soon he’s got you up against your bedroom wall, harsh breaths being exchanged between heated kisses as his hands roam your body.
He practically throws you onto the bed and you giggle, bouncing once before he’s pulled you by your ankles, legs hanging over the edge of the bed as he rests his head between your thighs.
He runs his palms over your thighs, admiring them like they’re perfectly sculpted.
“Fuck, you’re so soft…” he drawls as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, rubbing his cheeks across your supple flesh. He bites you and you jerk, hands flying to his hair and tugging, just trying to get his mouth to where it needs to be, you’re fucking soaked.
He runs his hands up and then down your sides and grips your hips harsh enough to leave half moon dents in your skin you’re sure you’ll see the marks of tomorrow, as he pulls your heat closer to him.
“I know you taste good…”
…
The next morning you wake up sore; an ache between your legs was to be expected, but this was a dull throbbing from the top of your right leg. You reach a hand down to feel it, but running your hand down you stop short, your fingers falling to a mattress—a mattress that had to have been thinner than yours—your leg ending much sooner than you expected, much soon that it should.
You gasp and sit up with much effort, throwing a thin white sheet off of you to get a look at your right thigh.
At the sound of a shifting chair your head snaps up; Steve is seated by a door, leaning forward towards you.
“You didn’t need that, did you?”
♯
#sintember 2023#steve kemp x reader#dark steve kemp x reader#dark steve kemp x you#dark!steve kemp#dark steve kemp#steve kemp x y/n#dark!steve kemp x reader#steve kemp smut
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First Time (smut)
Nesta x f!Reader
A/n: I love writing for Nesta especially her softer side
Warnings: Smut (18+ only please minors dni)
You straddle Nesta, sitting on her bed as you passionately make out. Your hands we tangled in her long, light brown hair while hers were roaming the skin beneath your shirt. This wasn’t the first time you and Nesta were in this position, but it was the first time you wanted more with her.
Nesta pulls at the hem of your shirt tugging it up, “Is this ok?” You meet her lust filled gaze and nod, “Yeah,” raising your arms she gently pulls your shirt off, tossing it to the side. Your hands go to her hips, snaking under her shirt, feeling her soft skin, “will you take yours off too?” You ask shyly.
She laughs lightly at your timidness, “yeah, you wanna take it off for me?” She kisses you softly and you nod. After taking her shirt off you throw it to join yours on the floor. Her body was absolutely gorgeous. You could see the muscles shift in her toned arms as she flipped you to lay flat on the bed.
Nesta straddles you, running her fingers lightly up and down your sides and across your chest. Then over the edges of where your bra covers your breasts. Your breath catches in your throat from how good her soft touches feel.
You take Nestas hands in yours, threading your fingers together. “Nes,” you say quietly, she looks down at you with love in her steel blue eyes, “I’m ready. I want to…I want to have sex, with you.” A soft smile breaks out on her face as she lets go of one of your hands, caressing your face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you-“ you cut her off with a kiss.
“I’m sure Nesta. I love you and I want this with you.” “I love you too y/n.” Before you took this next step together you had to tell her what’s been holding you back from this. You’re a virgin. You didn’t think it was a big deal or anything, but it can be awkward for some people. You know Nesta is young but she’s experienced in bed. You’re young by fae standards and you don’t have a lot of experience with intimacy.
Nesta leans in to kiss you, you stop her, “But, I have to tell you something first.” She gives you a worried look and nods, “I’m…not as experienced. I-I haven’t been with anyone before.” You see excitement sparkle in her eyes as you try to avoid her gaze, your cheeks turning crimson. She takes your chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Hey that’s ok baby. We can take it slow, we do whatever you're comfortable with, yeah?” “Yeah.”
“I’m happy that you trust me enough to be your first. I love the thought of being the first female between your legs, because I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.” She kisses your neck, sucking at the spot between your neck and shoulder making you moan. “I’m gonna take good care of you baby, promise.”
She pulls away sitting up, taking off the rest of her clothes. Before she can unclasp her bra you stop her. “Let me,” you plead. She smiles and turns her back to you. Unclasping the garment, you slide the straps down her arms. Your fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. You leave kisses from her neck to the top of her shoulder.
Nesta turns, her breasts on display. Another stunning part of her. They’re full and perky and you just want to wrap your mouth around those perfect pink nipples. She pushes you back down, tutting as she straddles you again. “Tonight’s all about you baby.”
“But I wanna make you feel good too.” You whine out. “Knowing I’m making you feel good is enough for me.” Nesta reaches under your back, removing your bra. She inhales through her nose. “So beautiful.” She whispers, running a thumb over your nipple causing it to pebble. You let out a tiny moan.
She kisses between the valley of your breasts down to your stomach. Nesta climbs off you, pushing your legs open to kneel between your spread thighs. The scent of your arousal hitting her as she runs her fingers up your inner thighs. “Fuck, y/n. I can’t wait to taste you.”
“Can I take these off baby?” She asks, pulling at the band of your panties. “Yes,” you breathe out. You were soaked, and desperate for Nesta to touch you. She leaves a kiss on your clothed cunt, licking at the wet spot that was growing. She pulls your panties down slowly.
As soon as she discards them her fingers explore your wet folds. Spreading your juices from your entrance to your clit. “So wet baby, so perfect. This all for me?” “Yes, f-fuck Nesta.” “And so sensitive too.”
Nesta lays down between your legs, throwing one of your legs over her shoulder. “I’m going to taste you now baby, if it gets too much just tell me ok.” Your hips buck, in need of her mouth on you immediately. “Words baby.” “Ok. P-please Nes. I need you.”
Holding on to your things Nesta dives in, exploring your entrance, licking up to you clit. You fist the sheets, watching as she explores you. You moan when she starts teasing your clit with long, slow licks. “Gods Nesta! Feels so good.” She hums against you and starts sucking.
It feels strange at first but quickly melts into pleasure. “Aahhh - fuck. Nesta.” You chant her name like it’s the only word you know. Your senses are fuzzy as Nesta alternates between sucking and licking your cunt, occasionally slipping her tongue in your entrance.
You feel a strange tightening sensation in your stomach as your walls flutter around Nestas tongue. “Nesta I-I’m gonna ��� ahhh,” You moan, throwing your head back, eyelids fluttering. “I know baby, I can feel you. Let go, I got you.”
After a few more licks your orgasm hits you hard. Your thighs shake as you squeeze her head. Your back arches off the bed. As you ride out your high you grind against Nestas face. She doesn’t let up, lapping at your release. When you relax against the bed she pulls back. Her lips and chin glistening with your juices. Her features turned up into a wild smile as she sees your fucked out expression.
You make grabby hands at her, your arms feeling heavy from your orgasm. She leans down and you grab the back of her head crashing your lips into hers. You moan as you taste yourself on her lips.
Nesta breaks the kiss resting her forehead on yours, your heavy pants mixing. “Nesta, that felt fucking amazing.” “Good baby. Do you think you have another round in you or are you too tired?” Your eyes widen, “No, I want more please Nes please!”
She kisses you again. “Ok. Do you think you can take my fingers sweet girl?” She asks softly, caressing your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut, “mmhhmm, please Nes.” Nesta traces your bottom lip. “Open,” she commands quietly. You open your mouth and suck on her pointer and middle finger. Humming around her fingers, you reach up and hold her wrist, looking up at her through your lashes.
“Fuck, your such a good girl for me.” She coos at you. Her other hand kneads at your breast, pinching and twisting your nipple. You groan around her fingers, your pussy getting wetter. Nesta pulls her finger from your mouth and moves back down between your legs.
Nesta rubs your saliva and arousal through your folds and up to your clit. Her two fingers stay on your clit, rubbing in circles. You hum in pleasure, relaxing against the sheets. “Feel good baby?” “Uh huh.”
“I’ll start with one finger ok.” “Ok.” She kisses your clit and slips her forefinger in your hole. Her long, slender digit felt perfect. She started moving in and out, curling her finger against that spot that makes you see stars. “More, please Nesta, please I need more.”
“Good girl, saying please. Ok baby, one more.” She adds her middle finger in the next thrust, bringing you towards the edge of another orgasm. You were still sensitive from your fist so this one was approaching quickly. You clench around her fingers and begin to moan wildly.
She starts rubbing at your clit with her thumb as her fingers continue to thrust into you. “I know your close baby, let go. I’ve got you sweet girl, always.”
Your second orgasm hits you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. Nestas fingers slow down, she pulls out of you and brings them up to her lips. She sucks moaning at the taste of you. “Cauldron, you taste so fucking good baby. I’d not think I’ll ever get enough of you.” Once she’s licked her fingers clean she climbs off the bed, “I’ll be right back.”
She walks into the bathroom and returns with a cloth. She gently wipes between your legs, kissing your hips when she’s done and tosses the cloth in a laundry basket.
Nesta climbs back into bed, pulling the covers back for you to snuggle under. You share a pillow, faces nose to nose as your legs tangle beneath the sheets. “That was perfect Nesta.” You peck her nose, moving to snuggle closer to her, “thank you.”
“Good. I’m happy.” She kisses your forehead and strokes your hair. “Get some rest, you’re probably tired.” You hum in agreement, too exhausted for words.
tags: @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane
#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader imagine#acotar reader fic#acotar#acotar imagine#nesta acosf#nesta x reader#nesta archeron#Nesta x you#Nesta smut#Nesta archer on smut#acotar smut
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SETTLE IN
Clara Diaz has been a thorn in the Bloodline’ssode for the majority of 2022 so when a fresh face arrives on the main roster, joining his family she decides to give him a very special welcome.
In the ring, after introducing their newest member the Bloodline void of Roman Reigns is stood behind the youngest Fatu brother when an all too familiar theme song rings out in the arena.
“Before the truth will set you free, it'll piss you off
Before you find a place to be, you're gonna lose the plot
Too late to tell you now, one ear and right out the other one
'Cause all you ever do is chant the same old mantra.”
The men stiffen, their bodies filling with annoyance. Squaring their shoulders and bawling their fists but one stands vacant of any aggressive emotion, curiosity swirling behind the street fighters eyes.
“Woah hey calm down, what’s with the long faces? I mean it’s your baby brothers memorable day, his first day on the main roster, and his first smackdown but here you are being all big macho tough guys. Solo is it? I’ve just come out here to give you a very special warm welcome to the blue brand.”
Stalking her way down to the ring, Clara fixes her gaze upon the enforcer, raking up and down his frame evaluating the way his eyes are betraying the mask he wears.
“You see Solo, I can help you settle in, show you the ropes, how to make a name on your own because trust me with these clowns by your side you will always be held back, dragged down and hidden behind their shadow. Don’t get me started on the tribal chief, that man has no intention in elevating your career he simply wants more lackey’s to do his dirty work.”
Having slid under the bottom rope Clara and Solo stand face to face, a considerable tension between the two superstars. Slightly tilting her head to she side, lifting the microphone to her lips, a small smile appears having watched Sikoa’s stare flicker down momentarily.
She’s got him now.
“Let me know what you want big guy, i’m not a hard women to find especially not for you”
Backstage
Clara is making the slow walk from catering back to her locker room, being the current smackdown women’s champion she has a private space.
Two large hands grip her waist and pull her into a nearby cupboard, where a certain samoan stood chest to chest with her due to lack of available standing room.
“Baby, are you trying to get me into shit with Roman? What was that?” Solo questions with a low voice, keen to keep this meeting a secret.
Looking up through her lashes at the man in front of her, Clara decides to test the waters and have some fun. Just because she had problems with Roman doesn’t mean that those problems reflect onto Solo.
“Awh Solo, mi querido, i was just offering the welcome you deserve. I mean surely you can see you’d have a lot more fun with me than your brothers and that scumbag Reigns.”
Carefully she drags the back of her nail up the right arm of Sikoa, when reaching his neck she interlocks her hands behind his head playing with the short blonde curls.
The newcomer’s breaths shallow as his pupils dilate, his grip on her waist tightens as he seemingly accepts her offer with a subtle nod.
Leaning up, the spaniard pauses to stare into the dark brown eyes that stare back, waiting for her next move but the follow up never happens and she sets her heels back on the floor to let her gaze flow up and down the physique of the street champion, admiring the delicate details of his cultural tattoos that line his upper body.
Every move that Diaz made was gentle and excruciatingly slow, like a cat pursuing its prey.
The young man could take no more of the teasing. Progressing forward he grasps her chin between his fingers, tilting her lips up to meet his in a deep kiss. Emotions spill out between the pair: Frustration, Passion, Excitement.
Their body’s pressed up again the steel shelf behind Clara, any feeling of pain submerged under the welcomed feeling of desire. Their soft almost silken like lips connect, a shared breath lingers in the air as their heartbeats pound in sync. One kiss. One movement. One love?
————
Who knew an introduction would lead to the development of something beautiful, like finding the perfect paintbrush to create the most stunning image of a new beginning.
Who knew the simple offer to help settle in would blossom into a love story destined for the world to see.
One introduction, one offer, one women and one fresh face.
One, Solo Sikoa.
Love is a fragile feeling, one that can give someone meaning, a new hope. Whilst Clara might be battling his family, Solo is slowly shedding light onto something that has been locked away, forgotten behind reinforced walls.
Her Heart.
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Drew Mcintyre x Reader where drew is trying to win reader back after a bad break up?
What's different now? || Drew McIntyre x Reader
Summary: He hurt you, and he knows he did, but now he's willing to fight for you.
A/N: I am such a sucker for these angsty stories I love this so much.
Walking down the quiet street, you feel a mix of emotions churning inside you. It's been weeks since the breakup with Drew, and the wounds are still fresh. The memories of what used to be linger in the corners of your mind, both painful and bittersweet.
As you reach your front door, your heart skips a beat when you spot a familiar figure standing there. Drew. He's leaning against the railing, his gaze fixed on the ground. It's clear he's been waiting for you.
You take a deep breath and steel yourself for what's to come. As you approach, he looks up, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There's a mixture of regret and longing in his gaze, and it tugs at something deep within you.
"Hey," he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.
"Hey," you reply, your own voice guarded.
Drew takes a step closer, and you find yourself involuntarily taking a step back. He stops, understanding the unspoken message.
"I know you're upset," he starts, his words careful and measured. "And I don't blame you. I messed up, big time."
You cross your arms, the bitterness still present in your tone. "Yeah, you did."
He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "I can't change what happened, but I can change how I move forward. I've been doing some serious self-reflection, and I realize now that I let something great slip through my fingers."
You raise an eyebrow, your skepticism evident. "And what's different now?"
Drew's gaze doesn't waver as he speaks, his sincerity evident. "I'm willing to fight for us. I'm willing to work on myself, to prove to you that I can be the partner you deserve."
You study him for a moment, searching for any signs of deception. He seems genuine, and it makes your heart ache with conflicting emotions. You remember the good times, the laughter, the shared dreams.
"Drew, you hurt me," you say, your voice cracking slightly.
"I know," he replies, his voice heavy with remorse. "And I hate myself for it."
Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you blink them back. You're not ready to forgive, not yet. But a small part of you wants to believe that people can change.
"I'm not saying I'm ready to just forget everything," you admit, your voice softer now. "But I'm willing to listen."
Drew nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's all I can ask for. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."
You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision ahead of you. "Okay, Drew. We can talk."
A glimmer of hope lights up in his eyes, and he steps forward cautiously. "Thank you, for giving me a chance."
As you open the door and let him in, you can't help but wonder if second chances are worth the risk. But deep down, you know that love is messy and imperfect, and sometimes, it's worth taking a leap of faith to find out if something beautiful can emerge from the ruins of a broken heart.
#wwe fanfiction#wwe x reader#pro wrestling#wrestling#wwe#drew mcintyre x reader#drew mcintyre#the scottish warrior
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