#i took some liberty with this and i hope you like how it turned out!

[tokyo-debunkers-headcanons]

ahh since ur requests are open may I pls request the frostheim ghouls (and possibly leo? LOL) and how you think they would make it up to mc after making them upset? Preferably some hurt/comfort if possible but whatever is easiest for you!

Ahhhh my first request! Thank you for sending it in! Also I'm so sorry for any typos in these headcanons, I'm just dumb (so sorry to the Jin Kamurai fans) and this is assuming you guys are at least good friends (if not more) at this point in time.

JIN KAMURAI

Okay, real talk. I think Jin is terrible with emotions. Even worse when he's done something wrong. I don't think he'd ever SAY that he's wrong or that he's sorry. But we all know he's got that cash money, so I think he'd order MC to go somewhere with/for him and treat them as a unspoken apology. Like he's ordering them to pick something up for him, somewhere in the academy, and gives them some 'pocket change' to buy their lunch. (STOP! DRABBLE TIME!)

MC was considering telling Jin to shove it, but they knew it would end up biting them in the ass, so they walked through Frostheim, dragging their feet. They were less than thrilled to be going back to the Frostheim captain's room. Sooner than they'd like, they were standing outside of his door. Before they could knock like they usually did, the door swung open, revealing Jin, his eyes narrowed, he held out a small stack of documents to them, dropping them in their hands. He turned his back to them curtly saying,

"Get these to Professor Dante. Now."

MC wanted to say something. To snap back at him but they paused when they felt something at the bottom of the stack of documents. Upon further inspection, it was a wad of big bills. At a glance it was at least 100,000 yen (about 1,000 USD). MC's eyes went wide at the stack of bills, they looked back up at Jin's retreating figure. They were about to question why, when all he said was,

"Get something to eat once your done. Thats an order"

With that, he closed the door and ended the discussion.

TOHMA ISHIBASHI

Okay, Tohma on the other hand I think is better with emotions than Jin. But he's still not the best. He at least knows how to apologize...he's just bad at saying it. I feel like Tohma is more of an acts of service person (duh) than a verbal person if that makes sense. If he's upset MC its easier for him to do small things to apologize than to actually say the words. (here is your order of drabble, freshly written)

Tohma watched MC carefully behind his monocle, he knew they were upset and why. But he hadn't expected them to stay upset for this long. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he waited until they would return the next day to finalize some documents with the second year ghouls. When the time came, Tohma took their jacket and prepared the a special blend of tea and biscuits for them while they worked on the papers. The practiced smile always on his face. After some time he returned with a tray, presenting it in front of them, his expression softer than before. When he set it down, all he said was,

"I've taken the liberty of bringing you something to eat. You've been working diligently as of late, among...other reasons. I hope you enjoy your meal"

With that, he swiftly left them to their work and their thoughts, giving them space.

KAITO FUJI

Kaito here is on the entire opposite side of that spectrum. He has absolutely no problem saying the words, but even if he was forgiven the first time, he still doesn't think its enough. So if anything, he does too much. He'll buy them flowers and chocolates to gain their forgiveness. It almost seems insincere how much he apologizes but he really does mean. Its more that his insecurities get the better of him and he doubts himself, so they might need to knock some sense into him for it to actually get through to him that he's been forgiven. Please be patient with him, he just really likes MC and he gets most of his advice from crappy magazines. (TO THE DRABBLE!)

Kaito held the bouquet of flowers in his arms tightly and held out the box of chocolates to MC. They had already told him that it was okay, but it didn't *feel* okay to him. There was a small voice in his head telling him that they were still upset with him. He had sent them a text, asking to meet in the library of DA academy. When MC arrived however, they sighed deeply, walking directly up to Kaito with a scowl on their face, saying,

"Kaito. I told you that its okay, you don't need to keep doing these kinds of gestures. If I was still upset with you, I wouldn't have shown up here to begin with"

Kaito's face went pale. He should have known they were smart enough to see right through him and his plan. He sighed, saying.

"I know you did i just-...I just wanted to be sure we were still cool....I'm sorry"

MC shook their head, their expression getting softer, they pulled out a chair from one of the tables in the library and sat down, saying,

"I'll forgive you, if you promise not to do anymore of these gestures....and you split those chocolates with me"

Kaito softly smiled and sat beside them, setting the flowers aside and the chocolates between them, he was so glad to know someone as sweet as MC.

LUCAS ERRANT

Lucas I think is closer to the middle of the spectrum. He's pretty literal and like I said before, he's not the best with social cues. From what I gather, he's more used to people saying what they mean. So if MC told them they were fine, he might worry at first, but he'd let it go, trusting MC enough to think they'd always tell him what was on their mind. If they do however tell him that they're still upset, that's different. If they were still upset I think he'd give them another apology and some bisuits. If that wasn't enough, then I think he's the type of guy to tell them stories about himself. Either about him and or his twin brother when they were little. Like really be vulnerable with them. (YOU'VE ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD! DRABBLE! YOU TAKE 420 LIFE POINTS WORTH OF DAMAGE!)

Lucas had been worried about MC ever since they last saw eachother. Something about them had seemed off in a way. He was even more worried when he got a text from them asking to meet him in Frostheim's main entrance. He quickly grabbed his things and raced off to Frostheim. When he arrived MC was standing inside, their face somber. He reached them, immediately asking,

"MC! Are you alright? Did something happen?"

He gave them a quick once over, even gently grabbing their wrist to look it over, making sure they weren't injured. When MC snapped their arm out of his grasp, he looked up at them surprised. When they explained that they were still upset with him, he understood. He asked them to follow him to one of the secluded balconies at Frostheim. When they arrived, it was silent for the first few moments. Luca pressing his hands against the balcony railing and looking up at the sky. Before MC could break the silence, Luca softly spoke,

"I've never been the best at putting myself in the shoes of others...at least not without guidance....Jin has told me so, and even my brother....when we were little I would always have trouble whenever he would get upset with me. He told me he was fine, but he never was. I suppose I still have quite a bit to learn about others around me...I'm truly sorry MC. I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me"

LEO KUROSAGI

Leo won't apologize. Let's be honest. If you think Jin is bad, Leo is WORSE. I think because of his fame and looks, that he's used to getting his way, even if he's a dick about it. I feel like he learned early on that the world is a cold cruel place and that saying you're sorry is admitting that you were wrong about something. Leo is 100% the kind of guy to expect them to get over whatever it is he did, even if it was something really bad. Man has like no moral compass, anything is on the table, even if it's deeply personal. I he'd get bored and keep sending you dumb tiktoks or meme's to get you to talk to him and hang out again. At MOST I think he'd trap you into going out somewhere with him and he'd treat you. Like get you a Starbucks drink or something, but thats it. And if MC won't go out with him, he'll come to them with two new trendy Starbucks drinks and his tablet ready to watch some shitty reality TV and make fun of the cast.

Leo glared down at his phone with a huff, MC hadn't reacted to any of his tiktoks or memes, not even the sad cat ones! It had been a few days since they'd went out. Sho was busy with his own thing so Leo had no one else to bet with. He dramatically sighed and immediately started to look through MC'S social media on his phone. He noticed that they'd like a post on the new drinks at Starbucks and started to formulate a plan. He dragged Sho away from him project and got to work.

MC sat on their bed, relaxing after a long day of classes, waiting to hear from professor Hyde which house they were going to be assigned to next. A knock at the front door echoed throughout the old cathedral, startling them. When MC got up and answered the door, Leo stood there with a cup holder and his signature impish smile,

"Hey MC! You didn't show up so I came here!"

Leo pushed past them and looked around, visible disgust on his face before turning to MC, his smile slapping back onto his face, saying,

"I can't believe you live like this! But whatever! Come one i brought my tablet with the new housewives season and the new spicy dragon fruit drink from Starbucks. Where has the best lighting in this shithole? I need to post about it before we start watching"

Leo handed them the drink, looking around before he found their bedroom, making himself comfortable and moving some of their things around to make a mini photo shoot for the drink. Once he was done, MC had finally found him, sitting on her bed and drinking what he brought. He saw them and gently pat beside him on the bed, saying,

"C'mon! How can you stay mad at a handsome devil like me? Now come here, I NEED to know what happens to Bethenny Frankel!"

#tokyo debunker #frostheim #headcanons #jin kamurai #tohma ishibashi #kaito fuji #lucas errant #luca #leo kurosagi #my personal headcanons #cant you tell i dont really like leo? #Vagastrom #requests are still open!

[violetrainbow412-blog]

A fair payment [W. W.]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

People who might be interested: @strugglingwriterwattpad @cattail5 [Timothée masterlist]

some minor Wonka spoilers I guess! If you like it, tell me in the comments, that will make me happy :)

“Can you mend it?” Willy asked, carefully holding his emerald green jacket that had the sleeve seam torn.

The boy had arrived a couple of weeks ago to turn the world of everyone present in the laundry upside down and, honestly, you were already beginning to enjoy his presence. You looked in the background at the blackboard that Noodle used at night to give him lessons in the hope that he would learn to read because, according to the girl's words, because of that he was almost eaten by a tiger. But in the man's words, what was important was the almost part. 

However, tonight he had asked you especially to go to his room, because he had a problem that he thought only you could solve.

“I think so, I just have to pass the needle a couple of times” you smiled.

Since your arrival Mrs. Scrubbit had used your sewing skills for her own benefit, because after all you had ended up in that mess trying to save a little to be able to buy the necessary materials to make a pretty dress that would be worth enough to advance in the business. Although, obviously, that had not been possible.

"Thank you! I'm afraid that's my only jacket."

“It will be ready in no time. I’ll just go to my room and come back, okay?” you said kindly, placing the garment in the boy's lap and earning a sweet smile from the aforementioned.

Just as Willy had his little briefcase for his chocolates, you had your own, full of threads, needles, and buttons, which you just had to grab from the floor to get everything you needed. When you arrived back you settled at the little table and he remained attentive to your every movement, pulling out a chair so he could observe what you were about to do.

“There was a boy on the ship who helped me with these things,” he began to tell you, keeping his curious nose on your shoulder “But I never thought about learning. You know, for when I had to be alone”

“Well, it's lucky you ended up here. We are a curious collection of workers,” you murmured ironically, referring to all the people gathered there against their will by the work of fate "What did you do on the ship?"

"Cook. Mostly sweet things, but I also know a couple of useful non-chocolate-related recipes. I was the chef,” he said, and you laughed at the exaggerated way he pronounced the last bit.

Willy began to tell you about some of the adventures he had had on the high seas and you listened attentively as the tip of the needle went in and out to join the fabric. It only took a few minutes to get his clothes looking like new, taking the liberty of repairing other places that also needed it.

“Put it on,” you asked, trying not to look at him too much when he did so or pay attention to the way the jacket fit him perfectly.

"It is perfect! You can't even tell it was torn, huh?” he said with emotion, feeling with his hands as much as he could. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“I insist,” the man murmured. His curly hair bounced across his cheeks as he sat next to you and he lifted his small briefcase off the floor, opening it to reveal all the little bottles of ingredients. “Your talent for mine. It's a fair exchange."

You had to admit that the chocolates you had eaten were a complete delicacy, but a part of you didn't want to get used to that luxury or you knew that when Willy was gone you would miss his sweetness. In the literal and figurative sense.

Locked in that laundry it was impossible to meet many people your age and Noodle was your greatest company, as if he were a little sister to you. But now that he was there, there was a certain happiness in chatting with him, much more now that his ingenious mind had devised a way to get you out of there even if it was just for a few hours to see the light of day and get coins from the sale of the chocolates to free you of the enormous debt to Mrs. Scrubbit.

“What flavor do you want to try today? Do you want me to add some unicorn skin glitter? Rays of sunlight from a twilight on the seashore? Tears of an African crocodile?”

“Just give me something you think I need,” you replied softly.

Willy thought about it for a moment, because it wasn't the kind of answer he would have expected. What was he supposed to give you that night? A little hope? Happiness? Nostalgia? It was difficult to decide.

Through his bright eyes you watched him reflect and just a second later his hands began to work. You noticed there was a hint of mischief in his smile as he poured milk, chocolate, and the contents of a couple of jars into the processor, glancing at you from the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here?” he asked suddenly, not neglecting the tasks.

“Working in a sewing workshop, I guess.”

“Why don't you open your own fashion house?” Willy suggested carefreely, as if it were a very easy thing to do, “You are a great dressmaker.”

“And you are a great dreamer”

“It's my best quality,” he exclaimed, almost offended. You waited a moment before answering.

“I just don't think it's that simple. It requires effort, time, and a lot of money…”

“We will have everything,” he interrupted you, with that optimism that characterized him. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and one of his hands traveled to take yours. “When I open my factory, we will all be able to fulfill our dreams. And you are going to have a fashion house, I promise you.”

“You make a lot of promises,” you responded, blushing.

“And he planned to fulfill them all. I always do it"

Maybe there was something about the softness of his grip on your hand or perhaps the sparkle in his eyes that made you look away out of sheer nervousness. He seemed to be good and innocent, to the point that he probably didn't even realize how close he was to you or how inappropriate the position would be if Noodle ever walked in.

A tap interrupted your moment and then he abruptly pulled away, excited to show you the product he had just made. It was a pretty circular candy that was bright pink and seemed to be emanating smoke from the inside.

"What's that?"

“You'll have to try it to find out,” he murmured, as he extended the treat in your direction.

You had to admit that you were somewhat curious to discover what the man was offering you, so you took it between your fingers carefully, and even under his watchful gaze you took a bite.

At first it tasted like ordinary chocolate, but then it took on a strange tone, which made you feel a certain warmth in your chest that spread to your cheeks. It was a most pleasant feeling, like bubbly joy combined with the embarrassment of a hug.

You thought for a moment about what flavor that could be, without any success, until after a few seconds you realized that it wasn’t a flavor in itself, but a feeling, an experience... Was it love that Willy had given you?

“How does it taste?”

“Yummy,” you responded, covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see the wet chocolate on your tongue, but also to hide your smile “Delicious, actually. What does it contain?”

“A special and secret ingredient”

"Oh, come on! Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“I just want to know if I got it right,” he murmured and you frowned slightly, not understanding him “About what you asked for. Did I give you something you needed?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling again, your cheeks feeling hot from the simple fact that he was looking at you. You thought that this could even be a love potion that you had consumed without thinking about it, just because he was the one who was offering it to you.

“We could say yes”

“We're even, then,” he exclaimed as he waved the sleeve of his jacket and you nodded in amusement, eating the rest of the chocolate he had made for you.

A yawn leaving your lips made you aware of how exhausted you were and although you didn't love the idea, you knew it was time to leave.

“It's late, I should go to sleep before we wake anyone up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Willy said quickly, getting up from his seat to accompany you to the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Rest,” you said kindly, and, gathering courage, you leaned forward a little to say goodbye with a hug that he gladly returned.

As you walked down the hall to your shabby, damp room, you thought that it probably wouldn't have even taken a love potion to fall for the charms of the pleasant chocolatier. You just needed one of his smiles.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #wonka x fem reader

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

--

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her. 

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet. 

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue. 

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes. 

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

-

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation. 

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you. 

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents. 

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold. 

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

-

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act. 

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger. 

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name. 

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

-

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters. 

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening. 

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes. 

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #fic request

[amaranthineghost]

can u do a charles leclerc x reader but the reader is like alexandra’s older sister pls pls pls i love my girl alex so much

HIS HEART THAT LIES WITH THE OTHER GIRL ( charles leclerc. )

charles leclerc x mleux!reader

charles and alexandra are good friends and feelings are starting to develop, but her older sister happened to be the one to catch his eye instead.

warnings: google translate french (please feel free to correct anything that's wrong)

authors note: the request was a little vague so I took some creative liberty, which honestly I enjoyed very much so THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST <333 I love alexandra so much too, she's so gorgeous!!! also taking a break after this because of my thumb (I do have a verstappen imagine already written so that's going to be out soon enough)

BEING AN OLDER SISTER MEANS MAKING SACRIFICES for your younger siblings. she had felt throughout her life that maybe she had been a little too selfish. it felt at times like she was the baby of the two because she didn't act as her role model. moments growing up that she should've taken the fall for alex because that's what it means to be an older sister, but she didn't. she hadn't thought of her younger sister as much as she should've. not a day went by that she hadn't felt guilty for developing feelings for the guy alexandra liked, the guy her sister fell for first.

alexandra had known him for longer than she had, yet she would realize his attention was elsewhere. his frequent trips to the house they both thought were originally because he really liked alex and wanted their parents to like him.

but alexandra was oblivious to where his heart really lied.

stolen glances from across the room, eyes lingering longer than they ever should've to begin with because maybe that's why it started in the first place. his damn, green eyes half-lidded and fluttering lashes every time he blinked, and leaning his head on his hand just staring at her from the other side of the room. a glance over her shoulder told her all she needed to know as she saw the monegasque driver eyeing her up and down. all she could do was turn away and hope alexandra wouldn't notice.

and she wouldn't, for the moment. waving her hand in front of the brunette’s face, he blamed it as being lost in thoughts about strategies for the next race. they laughed, simply joking it off and talking about how he should take a rest from thinking about his career.

but his attention kept slipping back to her. though he tried not to get lost in her appearance, he would fail greatly every time he was even near her. he didn't even have to be in the same room for him to be dazing off, thinking about how she would look better by his side. but he also felt the guilt she had, maybe not the same because he wasn't alexandra's older sibling developing feelings for the guy she liked.

but he had felt guilty. he would be lying if he said that he didn't like the girl at first. she was pretty, for starters, her magnetic smile and radiant personality was what had originally drawn him in. he felt bad to say that wasn't the reason he decided to stay.

it was no doubt alex was a nice girl, in fact the nicest he had ever met in his life and the most welcoming family was right behind her. and that's when he first saw her. after hanging out various times around monaco, occasionally sneaking back to his place, they decided it was time they met her side of the family. only then did alex not realize the mistake she was about to make.

when the door opened, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head, alexandra had no clue at the time, but her sister did. she nervously laughed it off as she stepped aside so alex could pull charles inside with her. the day they met was the closest they ever were in proximity as he walked past her holding the door. the addicting perfume he wore wafted by as he was pulled along into the living room where their parents were.

throughout the whole evening, he struggled to keep his gaze away from her. alexandra wouldn't notice for a long time, and by a long time, she meant it was months.

months of stolen glances, slipping into the kitchen alone with her just to help with dishes because he was ‘such a gentleman,’ but really all he was doing was just an attempt and excuse to get close to her. grazing arms as they stood next to each other despite her assuring him it was fine. every time it occured, which was more often than it should've been, he would somehow get closer.

she didn't mind because over the course of those few months, she had grown quite fond of his gaze on her, or exchanging slight touches whenever they would pass dishes between one another. when he would've acted oblivious to how to clean them when he had first offered to help, sharing laughs that only grew louder every interaction. it had evolved from awkward explanations and silence, to small talk and then casual conversations in their native languages.

but one day, everything changed. a normal conversation turned into something different when he grabbed her wrist with his cold hands covered in water and suds from the dish soap.

his face was serious and she almost didn't hear him when he uttered the words, “je t’aime bien.” (I like you).

“charles.” she only managed his name as she froze with his words, her heart dropping in her chest. this couldn't, shouldn't, be happening. he should like alexandra, not her.

“je sais,” he started as he watched her mouth part, but no words fell from her lips, “mais je t’aime beaucoup.” (I know, but I like you a lot).

“mais ma sœur,” her other hand covered his that held her to him, pursing her lips before continuing, “Elle t’aime bien.” (but my sister, she likes you.)

he nods, muttering in french under his breath stuff that she couldn't hear. she shook her head, slipping her hands from his grasp, going back to the dishes in silence, as did he.

from the door frame, unknown to them, alexandra watched with her arms crossed. when she first saw them together, she was happy they were getting along because she didn't want animosity between the pair, and her older sister never liked the guys she dated before. but she realized far too late the way charles looked at her. the way he looked at her sister was different from the way he looked at her. a spark in his eyes and more creases when he smiled. it was genuine interest as he multitasked the dishes and listened to her talk like he could do it forever. she understood, her sister was like a magnet of different energy, one that alexandra possessed, but not on her sister’s level.

the sight, and hearing his words, in front of her confirmed what she had been suspicious of for weeks. she had finally followed his gaze to her, whether she was sat across the couch from the two, or if she had sauntered off to another room. whenever she would fold laundry with them in the room, how charles would always offer to help. she didn't notice a lot the first time, how her sister gazed between her and charles like she was going to notice his behavior. how bad his folding was, so much so that she had to take the clothes from his hands and show him how to properly do it, and how gentle he handled every item.

it wasn't like he wasn't sweet with alex, but she began to notice how much care he put into his actions that involved her. while it hurt at first because she was so deeply involved with him, she realized that maybe, just maybe, that her sister deserved him more than she did.

because from her view, her older sister gave up everything for her baby sister. even if she didn't recognize it herself, alexandra knew that over the years, she had done more for her and she didn't know how to return the favor at the time. she didn't know what could match the level she set herself.

but seeing the way they genuinely clicked, she knew that this one time, she would be the one to have to make a sacrifice. it didn't mean that her older sister was no longer mature, it just meant that she had a way to pay her back for all she had done. if that meant giving up the guy she had begun to love, she would do it. she would do it to see her sister happy for once because this was the first time in a while that she was. she wanted it to stay that way.

so when early morning came the next day, when charles had long walked out the door the previous night and sent a small smile they thought alex didn't notice, she sat down at the island. arms crossed on the cold granite counters as she sat on the cushioned barstool, watching her sister dance about the kitchen making breakfast.

she knew if she didn't speak up now, she would never, and their love story would've never had the potential to bloom.

“je sais.” (I know).

“que veux-tu dire?” (what do you mean?) her sister chuckled as she poured a glass of orange juice, looking at her with her brow raised as she turned back to the fridge.

“je sais que charles t’aime bien.” (I know charles likes you). she froze, the cold air leaking from the fridge as she stood with the orange juice jug in her hands before regaining composure and continuing on with her actions.

“je lui ai dit non, je sais que tu l'aimes bien,” (I told him no, I know you like him). she stood in front of alexandra, fearing that her sister had grown angry with her, but she knew she couldn't control charles’ feelings, and neither could her sister.

“tu aurais dû dire que tu l'aimais en retour,” (you should have said you liked him back). alexandra leaned closer, her hand raising in a gesture to her that she made a mistake by shying away, “j'irai bien.” (i will be fine).

she shook her head, the glass of orange juice on the counter clutched in her hand, “ce n'est pas juste pour toi.” (it's not fair to you).

“mais il te rend heureux,” (he makes you happy though). she sighed with a small smile, leaning back in the barstool, “dit lui.” (tell him).

“okay,” she threw her hands up in exasperation, reaching for her phone across the counter to text charles and tell him to come over, “il est en route.” (he's on his way).

“bien.” she smiled, standing up and leaving her in the kitchen.

her heart was racing. was she really going to do this? she had turned him down less than a day ago and now she was going to simply accept his abrupt confession. she rubbed her fingers to her temple and sighed, leaning down against the counter as she ate.

she didn't have to wait long to hear a familiar knock pattern he did to alert anyone that it was him.

she walked to the door slowly, like she could lose her balance if she went any quicker. cracking her knuckles with anxiety, she hesitantly opened the door to see his smiling face as if she didn't reject him.

say it. say it.

it repeated in her head as she took a deep breath while he stood confused. her face began to flush and he was wondering when he was going to be let in.

one last deep breath did the trick.

“je vous aime aussi,” (I like you too). she blurted out so quickly, he looked at her with a confused smile and a tilted head.

“qu'est-ce que c'était, chérie?” (what was that, darling?) his voice was teasing and she knew he knew what she said because now he was just messing with her.

“je vous aime aussi.”

“bien,” his hand wrapped around the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hand while their lips collided. her eyes widening in shock as her hands met the sides of his face, teetering on the edge of his hair.

when they finally parted, deep breaths being the only thing heard as they simply smiled giddily at each other like teenagers. he twirled her hair on his finger as he looked at her with such deep admiration, more than she would've ever thought. the sacrifice her younger sister made paid her back ten times over, and the only things she could do was either just hug her in appreciation, or set her up with one of charles’ friends.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs @thearchieves

proofread by @foreveralbon <3

#formula 1 #formula 1 drivers #formula one #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 edit #cl16 one shot #cl16 x y/n #cl16 fluff #cl16 x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 fic #cl16 #cl16 fanfic

[plutoswritingplanet]

could you do a request of Buggy (opla) falling for Luffy’s older sister? (Adopted or blood relation, doesn’t matter) like he takes her hostage but she doesn’t seem to mind. She know she can escape at any time, but keep annoying buggy to a point where… he doesn’t see her as a hostage anymore, more like treasure? And she starts to maybe feel something for the clown?

You Started It (Buggy The Clown x Reader)

a/n: how did i know the first request will be about the clown lmao. i took some liberties when writing this but i hope you still like it <3

Warnings: Buggy Being Kind Of An Asshole, Captivity, Some Suggestive Themes

Summary: Poking the bear isn't the wisest things you could be doing in your particular situation.

Part 2.

You've memorized every nook and cranny of your shoes. The time you've spent in containment has really opened your eyes, when it comes to how little you actually knew about the clothes you were wearing. For example, your right shoe was slightly bigger, molded by your foot. You must be putting more weight onto your right leg, when standing. The hem of your shorts is made with a very close cross stitch, making them slightly sturdier and thicker. Right where the material folds, just above your knee, you've managed to pick out a small hole, the strings of abused material hung sadly and tickled your skin.

There wasn't really much to do, while being kept in a cage, in the backstage of a circus which belonged to the infamous Buggy the Clown. Well, except studying the stains on your shoes and waiting for the Captain to visit you, which he did quite frequently.

"Entertainment purposes" is the reason he declared, when you've asked him why on earth is he keeping you locked up in a hanging cage. But you weren't so easily fooled. You knew from the start, that the role he has envisioned for you to play, was that of a Hostage and Bait. So, inevitably, when your younger brother and his merry band of misfits come to save you, he'd be able to even out the score. Which was a shitty plan, in your opinion.

They've kicked his ass before, they can do it once again.

So, that's why you're here, feet dangling above the floor, as you hum to yourself. Anything to pass the time. That is, until you hear the door to the backstage open, and a familiar tone of voice calls out.

"Hostage!"

Really, how did he even expect you to stay in the dark about his plan, while calling you like this? The man was clearly insane.

Buggy the Clown stands before you, makeup disheveled as always, with his Captain's hat abandoned in favor of a striped bandana. He's excited, which is evident, by the way he can't seem to stop moving, jumping from one leg to the other, hands fidgeting at his sides.

"How are you feeling, my dear Hostage?" he asks with fake concern, and just as your mouth opens to answer, he interrupts "Ah, never mind that, I don't care."

You don't even try to hide the annoyed expression on your face.

"You can sing" he states matter-of-factly, pointing a finger right at you.

"Barely."

"Can you dance though?"

"Barely as well."

He hums in thought, pacing the floor in front of your cage. Finally, he stops, looking at you with his head tilted to the side. His eyes rake over your body, and it brings a sudden wave of discomfort to your bones.

"You'll be performing in our next act."

Again, his tone leaves no space for an argument. Still, you were never an agreeable person, smiles were more of your brother's thing. So, you straighten out as much as the cage allows you and cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Do whatever you like, my brother will get me out of here before you can say Welcome to my big show".

"Welcome to my big show" he says immediately, then, raises his finger, as if he's waiting for the entire crew of Strawhats to fall from the sky.

They don't, obviously, and he gives you a pointed look, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.

"Besides" he turns around and opens one of the chests laid out on the table "Aren't you a bit old to dote on your younger brother so much?"

The question genuinely offends you, and as he pulls out another bandana, this one red, covered entirely with big white polka dots, your eyes glimmer with venom.

"Aren't you a bit old to play dress up?"

He turns in a blink of an eye, and with terror mixed with disgust you watch his hands detach from his body, slamming into the cage. The force of impact sends it flying right into the nearby wall, the back of your head smacks against the metal bars. The swinging of the cage coupled with the stars erupting before your eyelids from the impact make you feel dizzy.

Then, Buggy takes a step towards the cage, connecting his hands with the rest of his body, and your prison stops swinging in an instant.

"I should kill you for that" he says lowly, his blue eyes bearing into your face.

"You started it" you choke out an accusation, trying very hard not to vomit.

He stays completely quiet, just watching you for a long while, his hands slowly loose tension. Then, as if his rage has entirely dissolved, he smiles, teeth completely exposed, as his cheeks crease. God, you'd do such a better job at his make-up, given the chance.

"You're funny, Hostage" he shakes his head, and suddenly, for some unknown reason, it downs upon you, just how close to you, he's standing.

"Sing for me some more" he says.

And then, his hands push back with sufficient force to send your cage flying again. You groan at the movement, another wave of nausea almost making you loose your breakfast. When you finally have the perfect, biting comeback, he's already gone, the door slamming after him. You're alone again.

A sigh escapes your lips, as you press your forehead to the cold metal of the cage. You've already memorized all the details of your own clothes, and the room was too dark to see anything more. So, you start observing the cage. The way the light shifts up and down on the bars, the way the brown paint seems to peel away under your thighs. Then, you look up, towards the place where all the bars have been stuck together.

And then your eyebrows furrow. Because just above the ceiling of the cage, you can see something poking out. Something roughly the size of a fist and colored a pale, fleshy color. You raise yourself slightly in your seat, to get a better look, and immediately regret doing so.

It's an ear. His ear. Detached and placed right on top of the cage. That's how he knows about your singing, the bastard.

An idea brews in your brain, mischief spilling out of your growing smirk. You pull yourself up, until you can reach the top of the cage. Your arm is just slender enough to slip past the bars, and your fingers brush against the cold flesh of the ear. Before Buggy, wherever he is, can react, you snatch the ear from the top of the cage, keeping a tight grip, as it starts to jump in your hand.

Then, you take a deep breath, place the ear close to your lips… And give the most blood-curling, shrill scream you could muster.

Immediately, you hear a string of curses coming your way, and a second later Buggy bursts into the room, a murderous expression on his face. You open your hand, and the ear nearly bursts out of your fingers, flying back to it's owner like some sort of deformed beetle. The sight, for some reason, is so incredibly funny, you can't help but choke out a little giggle. Which soon becomes a quite big giggle, which in turn morphs into a full blown laughter.

You can't see the Captain through the tears of laughter forming in your eyes, so when he knocks on the metal bars of your cage, you nearly choke from surprise. He's looking at you strangely. Not quite as angry as before, but there is something else lurking behind his eyes. As if he's enveloped deeply in his thoughts, but at the same time completely present and focused on you. Your laughter dies down in an instantly, and you reach up to wipe your tears, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"I've captured myself a comedian, huh?" the man leans closer to the bars of the cage, placing his forehead against them and looking at you from below "You trying to take my place as the funniest person in the circus? Hm, Hostage?"

You risk a smirk, leaning down towards him. He watches your movements with a curious expression, eyes darting all over your face.

"Yeah" you whisper "So, you better watch your back."

At that, he smiles one of his brilliantly wide smiles. This one however, seems the most honest out of every one you've seen up to this point. You try not to linger too much at the way his eyes seem to shine in the dimly lit room. Or how the stubble on his face makes his features sharper. Or even on the way his arms flex as he leans against the cage. And definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, you're not focusing on the fact, that he's standing nestled right between your dangling legs.

So, before your brain conjures up any unwanted ideas, you clear your throat again and straighten up. Buggy notices the shift in your posture, but doesn't move, instead it seems as if a lightbulb has literally appeared beside his head. Desperate to change the subject, which hasn't been even brought up yet, you wave your hand in the general direction of his ear.

"Your ability is pretty useful" you try to sound as neutral, as humanly possible.

"Oh?" he tilts his head back and gives you a suspicious look.

"Yeah, that eavesdropping thing was really cool… And slightly disgusting" your nose scrunches "But mostly cool."

He hums low in his throat, his hands slowly letting go of your cage. Still, he remains standing between your legs, your knee brushing against his prominent hip bones.

"Are there" you swallow "Any limits to this ability?"

Now, his eyebrows jump straight under his bandana, and you definitely do not like the slow smirk filling his features.

"I mean, like, can you detach your nose? Or um… I don't know, your fingernails?"

Finally he steps back, stretching his arms to the side, as if he's giving you a show, and in a way, he does. There are muscles, hidden under those circus clothes. His exposed forearms are nicely shaped, with thick veins running the length of them. You really don't mean to ogle the man, but fuck, he is handsome. In an "insane-sadistic-clown-who-is-also-a-pirate-for-some-reason" way.

"I can detach every single part of my body with no effort" he says, his smile growing.

Before you could really think about your actions, your gaze falls downward, right to his belt keeping his trousers up. Mortified, that your brain would even go there, you tear your eyes up, and with a horrified expression, look upon a face full of excitement.

Then, Buggy raises his hands to his heart, feigning a scandalized expression, which would've been funny, if you weren't currently blushing in the lovely shade of a ripe beetroot.

"I'm sorry… that's not… I didn't" your words come out a jumbled mess, and Buggy wheezes out a laugh.

"Oh would you look at that" he puts his hands behind his back, as he slowly starts to stalk towards your confinement "You know, with how sheltered your little brother is, I didn't expect you to be such a dirty pervert."

You choke on air, arms flailing inside the cage, as you genuinely are at a loss for words, You can feel your face grow impossibly hot, the heat spreading all the way to the tops of your ears. The Clown still advances, until his face is pushed right between the bars of the cage, a smile on his lips and a glint in his eye. You don't know what to do with yourself, as the man continues to laugh at your outrage.

Finally, his right hand flies from behind his back and stops right above his head. Then, as if making a show specially for you out of his unusual abilities, he lets his pointer finger remove itself from the hand. Involuntarily, you make a face, and try to push yourself as far into the cage, as humanly possible. Which, given the size of your prison, does practically nothing. The finger aims straight at your nose and presses it with slightly more force, than a friendly "boop" would.

"You started it" he throws your own words back at you, and watches your dumbfounded expression with a smile and a giggle.

Finally, he steps back, all his body parts in place, and you can breathe again at last. Then, with a flourish, he bows down before the cage, before giving you a slightly unbalanced twirl. At that, you can't help but smile, almost fondly. He's not so bad, when he isn't actively trying to murder you and your friends.

"Anyways, get ready, your grand performance is in a week" he concludes, and you sigh deeply.

So he hasn't let this one go.

No matter. A week from now, you'll be out of this place. The thought fills you with joy, and strangely, with some sort of melancholy, which you have to jot down as nausea, just to protect your own mental health.

"Hostage" the man says, as a goodbye, bowing once again, this time with fewer theatrics, and begins to walk back towards the door. "Captain" you respond in kind, inclining your head slightly.

He stops in his tracks, back turned to you, before slowly, twisting his body, to look you in the face. He wants to say something, his mouth opens and closes, and anticipation floods your stomach. But then, his lips pull back into one more smile, more reserved, more private. Now, in this rare moment of tranquility, he looks truly handsome, and your heart jumps to your throat at the realization. He gives you one last look, shakes his head at the floor, and exits with a soft click of the door.

You're, once again, left alone with your mismatched shoes and the hole in your shorts. This time, however, your head is filled with tender thoughts, one that could keep you company, until another visit befalls you.

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #one piece x reader #one piece live action #my writing #answered #requested #thank you for leaving a request <3 <3

[joonipertree]

Sano Manjiro, the most frustrating man to have a crush on

You learnt that Mikey punched a guy who asked you out. Mikey refuses to explain why. Both of you are dumbasses.

Tags: fluff, stupid shit, getting together, friends to lovers, fem bodied reader, smut at the end, it's him just eating you out sjsns, slight Dom/sub undertones because I can't help myself

  Mikey was a dumbass. 

In every sense of the word, he was a short fucking dumbass with a deep melodic voice and great hair. The biggest dumbass in the world. You wanted to punch him in the face and kiss him at the same time. Genuinely, you couldn’t stand that man. In no way could you imagine him ever being a good boyfriend. He’d suck at it-----

“Oi, Sano Manjiro.” 

The man in question turned, face dead and eyebrow twitching. 

“What?”

“Did you beat up the guy? 

“I beat up a lot of guys.”

“The guy who asked me out.”

Mikey sat back with his palms on the ground and Toman jacket secured on his back. His hair had gotten long, a bit too long for his liking and he still hadn’t decided how to cut it. You’d already taken the liberty over the last few weeks to tie them in pigtails and braid them to your heart’s content. He’d just walk around like that without batting an eye. 

“Yeah, he went out with one hit. You could do better.”

“Do you know who you are? The fuck. That could have killed him.”

“He isn’t in the hospital or anything.”

You turned around, not being able to take a look at your friend anymore than you needed to. Everyone around you stared with either pity or annoyance. Sanzu, Emma and Ken-chin were utterly done with Mikey’s dumbassery and Chifuyu was done with yours. Baji and Kazutora were done with both of you. They just always choose the stupid people as friends. 

“You weren’t gonna say ‘yes’ were you?”

And you weren’t. The boy had very bravely confessed his feelings for you (unlike some people) and before you could even tell him your answer, he’d told you to think about it at least. You’d appreciated it and left at that, already planning on saying no. 

“Maybe I was, what’s it to you?”

“Oh my god,” Emma muttered out in agony. 

"Maybe you should nurse him back to health then." 

"Yeah I was already planning on it." 

No you were not.

You left with an emphasis on your steps, back straight and eyes hard because you were stubborn. You didn't care if Mikey won at being the most stubborn person in the block, you would beat him at his own game.

♡

"You know he likes you. He has for years. He knows you like him. Just fuck already." Chifuyu moaned out, having gotten over the shoujo vibes very quickly after seeing the slow burn drag out. 

"I dunno what you're talking about." 

You wanted to deny it. Not deny that you were in love with Mikey but deny he was in love with you. Because admitting it meant hoping for something to happen and false hope got you hurt. People got close, they saw you in your humanity and ran away. The only people you trusted not to leave were your friends, Mikey included. 

"Oh come on. I have given you a powerpoint presentation and a whole binder worth of evidence that Mikey likes you. I nearly got wiped out by Draken for taking one too many pictures." 

You snorted. Chifuyu being a romantic buffoon with an overeager imagination made it harder for you to accept it. But you did acknowledge, not with the binder full of pictures and 'receipts', that Mikey had a soft spot for you. 

You got close at 17, Mikey being an extroverted loud mouth and you being a shy but curious introvert. He took you on bike rides, talked to you while making eye contact, held your hand and pulled you next to him and you fed him bites of your food and let him sleep on your lap. 

But you wanted to argue that….Mikey was just friendly like that. 

It had been a few years before you noticed that Mikey rarely made eye contact with people while talking but always asked for your attention. You both were hopeless and were just waiting for the other one to confess. It was getting painful. 

Chifuyu's eyes shifting to the side made you alert because he wasn't good at acting. And when he got up and ran, you knew who came inside. 

"Hi, Captain! Bye, Captain!" 

Mikey sat in front of you, dark bottomless eyes staring into your soul. You looked back at him, still pissed that he punched a perfectly nice guy. He then eyed your sundae and you immediately pulled it closer to you. He needed to learn that actions had consequences and that you weren't weak for him.

  With a pout, Mikey placed his chin on his arms, splayed out on the table. It made you aware how broad he was, fingers nimble and boney and angular.

 Pretty. Always so pretty. 

"How's your boyfriend doing?" 

Your teeth clicked and with a roll of your eyes, you established that Mikey needed to get pushed off a cliff somewhere. 

"So you aren't gonna tell me?" 

"Tell you what?" Mikey drawled out, looking up at you through his eyelashes. 

"Why you punched an innocent dude."

"He pissed me off." 

"Why?" 

"Did you say yes?" 

"Answer me first." 

"I did." 

You glared, taking a petty bite of your ice cream in retaliation. Mikey glared back harder, only changing when he looked out the corner of his eyes. You were about to turn your head before he spoke up again. 

"It was an accident." 

Your snort was loud and unattractive, hiding your face to try and compose yourself. When you looked up,Mikey's face had softened. 

"I don't believe you." 

"It's the truth. Answer my question." 

You debated your options. Because maybe saying that 'yeah I want to date him' would be going too far considering it would be a lie. But admitting that you didn't meant even more probing questions. Like why you were annoyed at Mikey for punching someone you didn't wanna date.

"Why do you care?" You retaliated like a dumbass.

"You're pissing me off." 

"Good." 

There was another pause. Mikey's hand moving to steal your bowl. You swerve it away from him with no chance of winning with his reflexes and the limited space. So your hand went to grab his wrist. 

Your heart raced at immediate contact. You became all too aware of him. Aware of his delicate wrist, the muscle, the bone that jutted out, the blue veins against pale skin. You became aware of his reddened and bruised knuckles, his calluses and ripped cuticles. They were hands of a delinquent, that liked to grip things too tight and didn't mind rough surfaces and reveled in strenuous activity. They were big too, too big against your own hand and too rough for your soft skin. 

And they were warm, soaking into you to leave a lasting impression. 

Mikey let go of the bowl in favor of holding your arm, gentle and all encompassing. His thumb rubbed against your skin, causing goosebumps to form and a shiver to run down your spine. 

"I was fighting with Takemitchy. The dude got caught in the crossfire. My hand landed on his face by accident. I can show you Mitchy as proof. He still looks run down. Even I took a few hits." 

You saw. Saw the scratches on his face and the redness of his jaw. It made you want to chide him for not bandaging himself. But he always liked it when you did it. Your eyes couldn't meet his, staring at your fingers wrapped around his wrist and his thumb rubbing your skin. 

"You need to stop fighting in public settings." 

"It wasn't that bad. A tire or two got thrown around but that's about it." 

"Where did you--- not gonna ask." 

Mikey giggled, soft and gravelly. You were reminded that the years changed his voice in a way that was still his. There was a pause and you realised the question eating away at you wouldn't go away until you asked it. The secret you kept wouldn't help being hidden away. You were tired and just wanted him. 

"You know……I talked to the guy today. Went to meet him." 

Mikey's eyes instantly hardened, looking away with a click of his tongue. 

"Ah, did he tell you I knocked his brains out? You shouldn't date a liar." 

"No," you tried to keep your voice casual, "he told me that it hurt but you weren't even looking at him when it happened. He just got too close." 

"Then why did you ask---" 

"He apologised though, said he didn't know I had a boyfriend." 

Mikey’s lips tugged upwards, turning his head to the side so he could catch his composure. And you were ready to slap the shit out of him. 

“Huh, I don’t know what gave him that impression. We must look good together.”

“I feel like you saying ‘that’s for asking my girl out’ after you hit him might’ve done the trick.”

Mikey held his hands up in surrender, knees knocking against yours almost to tease. 

"I didn't hit him, I just repurposed the accident. Didn't want it to go to waste." 

"Manjiro." 

"What?"

"I'm not yours." 

"Since when?" 

"Since always!!" 

His eyebrows furrowed, leaning back with a huge frown like you'd just told him his house burnt down. 

"What the fuck?"

"You can't just make me yours without asking me first, asshat." 

"Everyone knows you're mine."

"I dont." 

Mikey took your hand, lips on the back of it as if it was a normal part of his day. But your breath hitched and you froze. Because oh---

"I found you first." 

Your palms slammed against the table.

"If you wanna kiss me so bad then do it on my mouth, you coward---"

And within the next second, Manjiro’s mouth crashed into yours. It nearly knocked you back, if it wasn’t for his hand at the back of your head, curling into your hair. You whimpered against him, his lips tugging into a satisfied smirk. 

Chifuyu had yelled out, “Fucking finally!!”

The sound of your lips parting away from each other was enough to make you want to lean back in. Your lips weren’t willing to move even an inch away from him. He tasted good. Like vanilla. And he had trouble keeping himself away from you as well, leaving chaste kisses on the corners of your mouth, fingers keeping your chin lifted up. 

A throat was cleared, your cheeks instantly burned with the realisation of where you were. Mikey glared at the waiter who just let him know that it was time to leave. And with fingers interlocked, Mikey pulled you away from the diner, sticking out his tongue to Ken-chin who sighed in relief and leaned against Emma.

You got on his bike without question, heart racing because oh god--

The door to his room slammed open and he barely paid attention to anything with his arm around you. You giggled as he lifted you up and swirled you inside with a flourish. Once the door was shut, his laughter was loud and warm as his lips crashed into you, hungry for more. And you let him lead you, combing your hand through his hair causing him to shiver. 

Mikey hugged you close, gentle in his touch and you let him swallow you whole and envelop you. When his tongue prodded against your lip, you parted them easily as if he didn’t even have to ask. And oh, he felt good.

 But Mikey will spend the rest of your lives telling you that you were the best feeling in the world. 

“Mine.” Manjiro murmured out, sucking on your lower lip so harshly that your whole body did a visceral shudder. 

You were breathing hard when you parted, eyes hazy but daring as you looked your best friend in the eye. 

“You still haven’t asked me, asshat.”

Manjiro growled, eyes narrowed and twitching. Your head and body threw itself back as you burst out laughing, feeling free because you knew Mikey’s arm would never let you fall. That led your neck to be exposed to the littering kisses Manjiro gave out of vengeance.

 You squealed as it tickled and felt your knees give out against the bed beneath you. He’d backed you up, without you noticing, like a predator cornering its prey for a meal well earned. 

You felt yourself sink into the soft mattress, hand reached out to tug his shirt down towards you. Manjiro just stared at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you didn’t understand and a grin so wide you could see all his teeth. 

“Mine, in every timeline.” Mikey whispered. 

And your breath hitched, speaking out without a second thought. 

“Yours, in every universe.” 

Manjiro’s eyes watered and he finally enveloped you, body a welcomed weight as he kissed you in slow languid bliss. 

“Good baby,” he whispered and you whined out. 

You pawed at him, liking the praise a little too much. Manjiro’s kisses left a wet hot trail as he went from your chin to your cheek. A wet sound heard every time his lips disconnected from you. You let him have his way, feeling his hand pat the side of your head. 

You wanted to kiss him back but every time you tried, he clicked his tongue in disapproval and you just laid there as he poured his love into you. You had begun to tear up because Manjiro's love was overwhelming and it was for you.

Your eyes closed as his lips met your eyelids, tasting the salty tears and pulling back to inspect your face. You mewled at the lost contact, opening your eyes and pouting.

Oh, how dare he 

He hushed you, hand patting your head again, lips continuing their venture on your face. 

 Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. And both of you became aware of the effect the intimacy had on you.

 Manjiro pressed into you, hips solid and confident. And you felt his bulge against your pussy, only his pants and your underwear in the way. it was enough to drive you insane. 

You yearned and yearned and begged with pretty fluttery eyes that had him breathless. 

“Yeah? You wan’ me, honey?”

And despite the embarrassment, you nodded with the biggest pout you could muster. And Manjiro melted just at that, ready to burn the world for you if you asked him to. In another timeline, he probably had. 

“Haven’t even been dating for a minute and you're already so needy.”

He didn’t even let you blubber out a complaint before your underwear was exposed to him. And you craved him so badly that your legs made space for only Manjiro. He appreciated it, boney fingers squeezing your hips before imprinting the memory of the wet patch into his mind. 

Oh you were so sweet. A type of pliable that was only given to those you trusted. 

“Not allowed to hide anything, okay?”

And with that, his nose traced the outline of your pussy, tongue peaking out for a taste that just wasn’t enough for you. Your thighs squished against his cheeks and he groaned, pressing his full mouth onto you. Your hips jutted upwards, a cry weak and wobbly escaping your lips. And with effort, you spoke.

“Stop teasing, jerk.”

The warmth was too much, you could feel him right there but the cotton was in the way. Despite your protest, he lapped you up out of greed. And your hands clutched onto his hair. 

“If there’s nothing between us, I won’t be sane.” You heard him say and it just made you needier. 

“Don’ want you to be. Please.”

And with that, his hand ripped your panties out of the way. Manjiro took a second to stare in awe at your pretty pussy. It was so wet, begging him to eat it out, practically drooling. Many thoughts went through his head.

How it would feel to be inside you, how warm it would be, if he could last long in the tightness? If he'd ever be able to survive without the taste of your pussy after this moment? If he gave your cunt a smack, would you like it?

Manjiro decided that keeping you waiting was the worst thing he could possibly do. 

Mikey was a lot more hungry than he thought he was. Your pussy was engulfed in his mouth.

 The direct contact was enough to make him moan. Your own got stuck in your throat, not realising how overwhelming it would be. When his tongue prodded inside, you let him guide your legs against your chest so that he could have more access. And then it plunged inside and you let out a warbled moan that felt too loud in your own ears. With a hand covering your mouth, you tried to suppress the little sounds tumbling out of you.

Manjiro’s middle finger tapped against the plush of your thigh and he pulled away with effort to say:

“No hiding. Be good.”

You cried out, flexing your fingers in his hair as he went back to the task at hand. And you let yourself voice out the feeling, soft “ah, ah, ah”s filling the air and causing you to tear up in embarrassment. 

“Wan’ to be-be good for you.”

“Mhmmm,” He answered with the vibration of his hum shooting through your pussy and into your back that arched almost painfully. 

The orgasm came out of nowhere, crashing into you the second Manjiro’s mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked. 

You didn’t even care how loud you were being, brain wiping out everything it had as your body arched and twitched. Manjiro only stopped lapping your cum when you flinched away, kissing your inner thigh before moving to you for a kiss. 

You let him inside your mouth easily, whimpering and pawing at his shoulder as you held him close. You shook in his embrace, muttering out weak and tiny ‘thank you’s that had him chuckling at you. 

“Did your Manjiro make you feel good, bubba?” 

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, kissing the corner of his lips in appreciation. 

#mikey x reader #tokyorev headcanons #mikey headcanon #mikey x you #tokyo manji gang #tokyo rev fluff #mikey imagines #tokyo rev x you #mikey sano x reader #mikey x reader smut #mikey smut #mikey fluff #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #tokrev smut #tokrev x reader

[vamossainz55]

let's just drive (charles leclerc x reader)

inspired by a request from an anon: would you like to write one for Charles where he can't drive his normal car (for whatever reason), so he asks the reader for help, but she's kind of nervous and thinks there will be some judging? a/n: i took the liberty of making her scared she'll crash, i hope that's okay. i just feel like it fit the prompt better (+ there's something that I don't like about this but idky- so my sincere apologies if you also feel it)

“Here you go,” Charles says, casually dropping the keys in your hand before giving your cheek a kiss. You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice the way all your blood has drained out of your face, or if he’s choosing to ignore it because he doesn’t mention it. Instead he circles around the car to go into the passenger seat.

He fumbles a bit with the door before closing it, having to awkwardly reach over with his left arm to pull the seat belt from the right. He struggles over the cast that’s wrapped around his arm, and for a second you feel sorry for him, but all of this goes away the moment he looks over at you expectantly. 

“Come on,” He says. You notice the smile he attempts to fight back, the way he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks away. So he did notice I look nervous, you think to yourself. Dickhead. 

Passenger princess. That is what all your friends had decided to call you once you had started dating your boyfriend. It had been an off-handed joke at first, one that was pegged because of your boyfriend’s career, but here you were almost two years into your relationship and the nickname had stuck.

Over the last two years you found yourself behind the wheel less and less, whilst finding more and more comfort in riding shotgun. It’s not that you hated driving, far from that, but he just loved it, offering to take you wherever you needed to go. 

That is exactly why the sight of his 488 Pista is making you feel sick, extremely sick. 

Regardless of your nerves, you somehow find yourself in the driver’s seat, pulling the seat forward to adjust for your own height. Somehow the car feels even scarier from the inside and you wonder whether calling an uber could be a choice.

“Did you really have to break your arm this week?” You ask as you turn the key. Of course you’re joking, well kind of. You just didn’t understand why you were the one who had to drive. The car roars as soon as the engine is on, and you try not to think how much power it actually has. You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you, amused by your whole ordeal. 

Your hands are clammy as you hold the steering wheel, looking into the wing mirror. You’re about to change gears, eyes shifting back to the rearview mirror. Reverse, I can do it, you think. There’s a small second of silence right when you’re about to step on the clutch and you can practically feel Charles’ eyes burning into you. 

The car reverses, only for a moment before it rocks back forward. You instantly wince, raising your shoulders to your face to wait for the impact that never comes. You hear a snicker from next to you and you exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

“You cannot be staring at me like that!” You say, cheeks flushed red, looking at him. Charles only continues to look at you, a smile playing on his lips as he shakes his head. He reaches over to hold your arm, thumb slowly rubbing at your skin. The touch sends a shiver down your spine. 

“You’re acting like you don’t drive when I’m off racing.” Charles laughs in between his words, letting out a soft wheeze. 

“Yeah- I drive my car. Not a ferrari.” You murmur, trying your best to let the heat leave your cheeks.

“You’re not going to crash it you know?” 

“But what if I do?” Your question comes out high pitched and whiny, a stark contrast to how relaxed and laid back Charles seemed. He sucks a sharp breath between his teeth before letting it out with a shake of his head and a smile on his lips. 

“First off all- you won’t,” He says as he reaches to turn off the car before reaching for your hand. “And second of all, so what if you do?” Charles asks, snorting at the shocked expression you give him. 

“I’m sorry- are we forgetting how much your car costs?” You try to pull your hand away, wanting to prove your point about how stressed you actually are. He doesn’t let you though, only giving your clammy hand a squeeze.

“Actually, I don’t know how much it costs,” Charles says matter-of-factly. You can only groan, because of course Charles Leclerc does not know how much his Ferrari costs. 

“Over two hundred thousand euros Charles.” His brow raises slightly, showing slight surprise and you’re a bit relieved by it, hoping that it would be enough for the idea of you driving to stray away. It doesn’t seem to work in your favor though. 

“Wait- did you google how much my car costs before this?” 

“How could I not?” Charles is back to laughing again, shaking his head in amusement. =

“Amour, it is going to be okay,” Charles promises. “I trust you.” His words are enough to get your shoulders to relax a bit, and for you to take a deep breath. 

“But you love your car so much- what if anything happens?” You watch the way he brings your hand to his face, leaning down to pepper kisses into your knuckles. It helps in relaxing you, allowing you to let out a soft breath. 

“Come on now, I love my car, but- I love you more.” He smiles at you as he gently puts your hand back down, but you don’t give in, only continuing to look at him with your lips pulled down into a pout. “If you crash it- which I am not saying you will, I won’t be mad. I’m the one that asked you to drive it,” Your silence fills the car and he squeezes your hand again to catch your attention. “Hm?” 

“Are you sure?” You ask and Charles only laughs, rolling his eyes before pecking your lips. 

“I,” he says before giving you another kiss, “promise that,” and another, “I love you” and another, “more than my stupid car” he finishes, sealing the promise with one last kiss. He takes his time with this one, enjoying the way your lips had curved up into a small smile. Bingo.

“Now will you drive?” He claims victory when you nod in response, pulling away to lean back onto his seat. There’s a moment of silence as your fingers shadow to start the car, but another thought enters your mind. 

“Can I have one more kiss?” He knows you’re stalling, and at this point you’ll both be more than twenty minutes late, but he smiles anyways. 

“Of course,” He answers, coming closer again. Who’s to blame him though, he did love you most.  

#charles leclerc #charles x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #drabble #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

[xythlia]

⎙ 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄, 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐓 !

› mammon x f!reader

› request for my mootie wif the best ideas <3 @aestrayla I hope u don't mind I took some creative liberties but u know something like that would make him SNAP ajdhsks

warnings : squirting, talking about making reader a mommy (not sorry), creampie, mating press, semi rough sex, aggressive mammon, possessiveness, hickies/biting, dacriphilia, breeding

"Uh, hey- wait what is that?"

Your eyes rolled back in your head, breath coming in short bursts in between drawn out moans of his name.

The tinny voice coming from somewhere by your head barely registers in your brain, your field of vision dominated by Mammon as he laid over you between your legs.

"I dunno if you're busy or something but I was calling to talk..."

The way Mammons teeth flash as his lips pull back in a possessive snarl makes something ignite deep inside your tummy. One hand finds your face, gripping your jaw while he forces you to look in his eyes, full of something primal that makes your heart beat erratically, not get distracted by your phone.

You hadn't seen it, but he definitely did catch the way your ex's name flashed across the screen right as he'd slid inside you, pushed your legs up to make sure you felt every inch of his cock as it pushed inside your soaked cunt. You'd been messing around in his bed after a movie marathon, your phone had been the one thing not tossed onto the floor as you both got caught up in each other.

Seeing it turned his mind into a flood of red. How dare some scum sucking human guy call you up? Doesn't he know you belong to him? And what the hell were you doing keeping an ex saved in your phone? Don't you know who you belong to? Without thinking he'd slid his finger to answer the call.

Mammons lips brush against yours, shushing your cries and his hips stop moving, keeping his throbbing cock inside you as you squirm.

"Answer him, baby." A whisper of a growl.

Your eyes gape, full of confusion as he lets go of your jaw, pulling away ever so slightly.

He can see the panic dancing across your previously pleasure drunk face.

"Yeah, sorry I'm- I'm really busy-" you struggle through the words.

"Okay," he pauses briefly. "I mean we can talk more later but I was thinking about you, us, you know? I miss you. I was wondering if you'd wanna give it another try?"

The question sits like a loaded gun in the room.

Your eyes are wild, hands scrabbling above your head fumbling for your phone but Mammon beats you to it. Snatching it up as you whine.

Mammon pulls nearly all the way out of you, feeling the way you clench around him in a desperate attempt to get him to stay. The swollen tip of his cock is all that stays nestled inside you. Gently he sets back on his heels, his other hand finding your pussy as he feigns absentmindedness while slowly circling your clit.

In a tone that makes you shiver and squeeze your eyes shut he starts speaking.

"Don't think so, man. She's too busy about to become a mom."

At that, coupled with a hard press of his index on your aching clit, a particularly hoarse groan is pulled from deep inside your chest.

"What the fuck, hey who is this dickhead?" Your ex's voice takes on a hard edge but it doesn't even register to you, not with your head pressed back against the pillows and your hips rolling upwards to chase Mammons touch.

"Ya heard me, but why don't I let her tell you herself?" He mocks, setting the phone right above your head as his hands dig into your hips in a bruising grip before he slams his hips back against you. The force of it makes you gasp and almost choke on your own spit.

But he can't stop himself now, forearms planting themselves firmly on either side of your face, lips devouring yours. It's sloppy, almost animalistic the way he pounds you into the mattress.

Your head is spinning and you've all but forgotten that there's someone else listening to you right now. There's no space in your mind for that, not when Mammons pace is so brutal and the only thing you can do is claw at his back in a weak effort to anchor yourself.

"Fuck," he pants, "Ya wanna be a mommy?" A smirk paints his face as he nuzzles his nose against the side of your neck, licking and sucking against the thin skin like his life depended on it.

You whine, burying your fingers in his snowy hair. The question makes your mind short out, like an electrical wire snapping and spraying sparks in its wake. You open your mouth but all that comes out is an incoherent mess, cries of his name as you frantically reach down and grip the backs of your thighs to pull them up, your moans reaching a fever pitch as you feel his cock prod even deeper.

Letting go of your neck with a soft pop he finds your lips again, biting on your bottom lip and drinking down your cries like they're the finest wine in any realm.

After a hard nip to the swollen flesh he breaths out against your mouth, "Wanna hear you say it."

Tears slip down the sides of your face, you feel the odd wetness of them pooling against your ears as you sob eagerly. "I wanna be a mommy- please-!"

Your voice gets cut off in a squeal as he takes control of your legs, pushing them so far against your chest it makes you wheeze. He grunts against the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him, your slick walls throbbing and just begging to milk him. With your mouth dropped open in a silent wail Mammon feels something warm spray against his abdomen.

But still his hips keep thrusting against you, balls twitching every time they slap against your ass. He can feel the way he's clenching his jaw so hard his teeth might break. Seeing your slack jawed tear stained face and feeling the way you cling on to his shoulders so pathetically finally slows him down.

With a few long, deep thrusts he stills inside you, relishing in the way your pussy is practically sucking in the warm thick cum spurting inside you. It's confirmation, in his mind, that now he's gotta commit to this.

In a fleeting second of awareness his eyes slide from your cockdrunk face to your phone. The screen is dark.

With a grin that oozes smug satisfaction he captures your lips again in a slow, burning kiss, tongue sliding against yours languidly.

Dragging his spit covered lips to kiss along your jaw his hips gingerly start moving again, prompting a low whine from you as your eyes flutter open.

His hands reach under you, cupping your ass and holding you open for him. "Gotta make sure it takes, right?"

#obey me x reader #obey me smut #obey me imagine #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #om! mammon #mammon x reader #mammon smut #om smut #mammon x you #obey me x female reader #꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ kita writes

[honestsycrets]

Amor y Respeto I: Mi Alma || [Miguel O’Hara x Latina!Reader]

Chapter II: Corazón

❛ pairing | Miguel O’Hara x FB!Reader, platonic Hobie x Reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | the moment you want a sign of love from Miguel is the moment that your relationship is fucked. 

❛ tags | fuckbuddies, a very latinx piece, jealousy, jealous Miguel O’Hara, a sparse hobie appearance, spidey!reader, latina!reader, no translations of the spanish included, gif credit to the original owner, nsfw, female reader, some mention of blood and wounds, some creative liberties, slight spoilers.

❛ sy’s notes | not my usual fanfare and i’m a little rusty but miguel hit me straight in my heart. i consciously omitted spanish translations in this work. consistent pet names include mi alma (my soul) & muñeca (doll). this is not my usual fandom and i may have missed some fandom nuances, so i apologize in advance for creative liberties. lastly, emotions impact the reader’s healing capabilities, hope that's clear enough. thank you @lisinfleur​ and @ivarsrideordie​ for your help. i’ll be dropping an ivar fic soon, see you then!

In your cultura, disrespect was unacceptable. 

You knew it. Your lover knew you knew it: but for you, there was something greater than respect. Amor. If he knew that you knew about her little escapade, oh, it would be unforgivable. It undercut the very foundation of what he did at HQ. But even between lovers, where the time you spent was fleeting and unstable, there were things you could not share. Besides... how would he know? 

The day had been long. Your body ached with the dizzying speed of patrols past the vine-covered high-rise apartments of your beautiful city. Your room was stuffy with the tropical air struggling against humidity. With dried blood on your skin, the perfect remedy was a shower. Its warmth soothed your aching muscles after a long day. You found your mind wandering to problems that didn’t immediately demand a solution. How you’d avoid cotton mouth the next time you saw him. Sooner than you thought.

The shower door whizzed aside, plumes of steam fading into the cool air. “Shit!” you shouted, reaching to cover your body. Miguel bent his head as he stepped into your cramped shower and cupped the frame. He shut the shower door. Did he already know? You nipped your lower lip raw and the taste of blood turned your tastebuds. Somehow, you knew that he hadn’t slipped off from HQ just to have you. Not tonight. He had that glazed-over look in his sharp eyes, considering you the same way he might consider anyone else. 

 “Miguel?” you fluttered your lashes at him which winked off plump droplets of water. “Mi alma, que paso?” 

“Did you know?” 

You reached out to turn the knob of the water off. It creaked to a stop. Despite tracing the droplets that coasted down your curves, he watched you with otherwise uninterested eyes. When you failed to respond, he stomped closer, kicking up the water that swirled under your bare feet.

“Did you know?” His fist pounded the side of the shower wall. Your heart leapt into your chest where it fluttered painfully, encased in your chest. Miguel bared his angular teeth at you. Teeth that usually marred your neck with possessive bites, loving kisses, and teasing scrapes. He never bared them at you like this. It was always a possibility, never the reality.

You met his eyes. The certainty you had moments earlier that oh, he wouldn’t find out, was gone. Of course, he found out. Your Miguel always found out. With that dead, blank expression, you knew the gravity of your situation. 

“Of course, I knew.” His chest swelled with forceful inhalation of air as you spoke. “But Gwen… I, they’re only kids. Kids who--” 

“Kids? They are not just kids. Coño, I’d expect this of them,” he prompted your name and took a step forward. You took one back. Then another, knocking your back into the shower walls. You were like a small bird in an even smaller cage. Nowhere to run and still, he wasn’t about to give you the luxury of personal space. You were pinned between his firm chest and the two stony walls against your back. His voice lowered dangerously low, barely a murmur against the shell of your ear. “But you? You know what’s at risk.” 

“They love--” 

“Y que?” he snapped your name out again. “Tell me, when those kids destroy thousands of lives, what does that change? Have you ever stopped to think of that? Of the lives this will ruin?” 

“I just... wanted them happy. If even for an instant.” You hung your head. He set his clawed hand to the side of your head, combing through the stringy strands of your hair down with a false care that you wanted to believe in. But it was entangled in the strings of his manipulation. “Of course, you have, muñequita.” 

“Then can’t they--” His hand balled up into a fist and careened with the wall behind you. Your head snapped away as his claws unfurled and released crumbling bits of the wall by your naked toes. You’d have to clean that up-- later. You took a deep breath and exhaled the frustration that packed away in your belly. “Sabes qué? I am sorry that love isn’t enough for you, I am sorry that I have never been enough for you.” 

“No. No puedo con esto,” he looked down at you. As he leaned in, his forearm above your head supported his body weight. “Muñeca, por favor. This isn’t about us.” 

“Why can’t it be?” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I just want to be with you, but you won’t let me in,” you reached out. The soft pads of your fingertips hovered by his sharp jawline eased past his ear and into his ruffled hair. For a second, brief as it were, his eyes softened. He leaned into the touch. You had your window. “Why won’t you let me in?”

Whether or not he was past the anger, the disrespect, his thick arms wound around the small of your waist. In some bid to bring you back to your senses-- to him, he set his forehead against your own, dwelling in the soft scent of your floral soap that filled his nose. You tilted your head, capturing his lips in a kiss. His body became as sturdy: unmoving and guarded. 

“I can’t give you what you need.” He reached back to remove your hands from his hair and with care settled them back on your moist chest. As he made his way out of your bathroom, his warning echoed through your mind. “Stay out of my way.”

Miguel’s love was unstable. Affection, not love. If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that you always knew it was bound to fail. You were lucky for what time you had with him. It made subsequent missions all the harder, wrapped up in this innate desire to be loved by a man who allowed himself to be loved by none. Without his affection, HQ felt barren. Its many corridors held no life, no love, and no prospect of a better future. Yet, for Miguel, there you were. Your ballet flats tapped furiously alongside the ringing stomps of your partner’s steel-toed boots.

“Ay bendito, this isn’t healing,” you dabbed your fingers in the blood at your shoulder, storming past a sea of red and blue that parted for the pair of you. Your neck was oozing-- well, not oozing so much as soaking your outfit. The mission could have gone better. Sometimes your mind wandered at the worst of times. It didn’t matter, not now. It was done, he would be happy, and it would be enough for today. All that you did you did for him-- and he knew it.

“Your man won’t be happy about that,” Hobie cut through the crowd while walking backward. He made it look so easy. Conviction, you guessed, made life much easier. 

“No,” you took the end of your silky rebozo and held it to your shoulder. “He only cares about results. We have good results. What does he have to be angry about? He has everything he wants.” 

“Hm.” Hobie hummed, span around, and leaned over your shoulder. He was on your tail with his aggravatingly long legs no matter how quickly you walked.

“Hobie, por dios.” 

“He broke up with you, didn’e?” 

You didn’t have to answer him. You didn’t even need to talk to him. You could just keep walking and leave it to his imagination. Yet, your face faltered. The perceptive man he was, Hobie twisted in front of your path. He leaned his hips back and sank his face inches apart from yours. Hobie quirked a smile in his lazy eyes and an adorable lip pout. Your eye centered on his piercing to avert your focus from his words. 

“Yeah,” he answered his own question. “Bet he did.” 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” you swerved around him.

“Maybe.” Hobie shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and sped after you. “But I’m with you.” 

“How sweet.” 

You knew your Miguel would be there: on that stupid platform, staring at multiple screens, at a lost life, departed from his reality in any other capacity but maintaining the happiness of others. Well, others that weren’t like you. You found him in that very same position when you pressed into his lab. 

“What is it now?” 

“We’ve taken care of it-- Hobie and I.”  

“Good,” came his dry response. “Is that all?”

“Not in the mood to talk to your girl, eh?” Hobie clicked, throwing his arm over your shoulder: not out of care, or friendship, but spite. No matter the institution, Hobie always seemed to harbor harsh feelings for those in charge. If it meant pissing him off a little, rattling up the flow of HQ, Hobie was always an eager volunteer. Hobie turned his lips to your ear and prompted your name, “C’mon, leave him. Let's go get a drinky drink.” 

You bit out a cry at the pressure on your neck, the damn thing wasn’t healing nearly as fast as it needed to be. You blamed the bundles of anxiety that rattled up emotions low in your belly. It was still open, soaking Hobie too. He didn’t mind a little blood on his shorn uniform. Good for the image, and all that.

“That hurt, Hobie!” 

Miguel threw a glance over his shoulder. Just a moment, but enough to spot something else that agitated him. Your normally white outfit, fluttery and light, splattered with the blood that painted your red rebozo a little redder. Or maybe it was Hobie’s lips on your ear, making remarks about beer-- or whiskey-- or-- Molotov--

“Get off,” Miguel pounced down from his kingly stoop and flicked Hobie’s wrist. He snaked his wrist away, shoving his palms back into his pants. You threw him a look knowing that it was not because Miguel told him to but because he felt like it. The devil’s advocate that he was. Miguel unraveled the rebozo from your neck. His hand grasped your chin and angled it one way, then the other, rumbling in clear agitation “You’re wounded.” 

“Déjame quieta. Don’t touch me.” 

“And you?” Miguel rocked back on his heels, setting his well-corded arms on his hips. Then, he angled his body toward Hobie. “Where were you?” 

Hobie lifted his pierced eyebrow. “He serious?” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“Can you? And you-- why are you still here?” Though Miguel asked the question, it was a statement. Hobie held his palms up, fluttering his fingers in mockery. You watched Miguel run his fingers down the bloody rebozo, counting its bloodied inches.  

“Vente conmigo.” He leaned into your ear. The trill of his voice danced down your spine, low and husky. Your mind wandered to the many nights he whispered just the same in your ear. You suppressed the shiver, your heartbeat trembling so violently you were sure you could hear its pathetic thumping, nearly a cry. It hadn’t been long but... you missed this.

“You told me to stay out of your way. I am staying out of your way. Give me--”

“I won’t ask again. Either you come or I’ll make you.” That was it then. A flash of disbelief snapped across your face. The gall of this man. Even though he told you to stay out of the way, he demanded that you leave the lab with him? You caught Hobie perking up to look your way with shiny curious eyes. He pointed to his chest and then yours, suggesting… something you’d ignore. Hobie slipped out a smug hum.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Hobie.”

There were no good alternatives. You knew he would make good on his threat. Not that you particularly would want to fight him anyway. Whether it was respect or obligation, you ran after your Miguel, who already walked away. You snatched the rebozo from his waiting hand, suspended in the air.

Yes, your life was a delicate balance between love and respect. You weren’t sure which of those guided you back to Miguel’s dimly lit room. Only that as you sat on his bed, your once-was lover was behind you. His fingers worked swiftly on your neck, furiously tugging at your sore neck with what felt like a needle. No point complaining. It would eventually end. You could go find the boys. They could rail you about your dating choices as they always did. 

“Lyla will find you another backup partner,” he broke the silence. You rathered he didn’t operate in this limbo of false intimacy. Your lips parted into a sigh rife with agitation. The drawback of fucking your boss was this, you supposed. He controlled your life.

“No, she won’t. I like working with Hobie. I want him.” 

Miguel paused short of dipping the needle back into your skin. “What do you mean-- you want him?” 

“What does it sound like? I like working with Hobie. I trust Hobie. So I want Hobie by my side.” You slapped your lacey thighs and turned to gaze into those familiar eyes. “Así que, no, I do not need another backup. I don’t need you controlling every inch of my work life. I need you to hurry up.” 

“Muñeca. If you’re emotional, you’ll heal slower.” 

“Do not call me that,” you jumped from his lush bed. Your neck squealed for you to stop and let him fix what was clearly broken with the slack thread that connected your body to his. Oh, and what a metaphor it felt like. Your life was sewn together by a man who held all the strings in his hands. “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore. You made it clear how little you feel about me-- and my feelings.” 

He lifted his eyes to yours. A long, slow look. The sort of look that made you question it all. As if the things you said weren’t really from your lips, no matter how sure you were of them.  You broke the exchange first and grasped the long strand embedded deep in your neck. 

“Your feelings,” he held out his hand and tugged the line, “tend to get in the way of what needs to be done.” 

Startled, you looked down at his open palm. You slipped your smaller fingers into the middle of his palm and sat back on the bed. He slid behind you, pressing his core against your backside-- because that was completely necessary. With soft care, he shifted your hair over the opposing shoulder and continued his work. 

“Apart from that, you shouldn’t have gone on that mission. You were distracted. If you weren’t so emotional,” Miguel murmured. “We wouldn’t be here.”

If you weren’t emotional? You screwed your eyebrows together in a pathetic attempt to ignore what he just said. To ignore the way that he demeaned the fuel of your abilities, what guided you through this traumatic thing called life. Meanwhile, Miguel functioned on minimal emotion-- the suppression of what he’d lost by protecting what he was. 

“It’s your fault I was distracted in the first place.” 

“You should be able to control your own feelings.”

“Fine. Apúrate. I’ll get out of your way.” 

Miguel snapped the healing aid thread and ran his clawed fingertips across the long streaks on your neck and shoulder. It was mere moments that he lingered there circling your neck. As your breathing evened out, you felt your body pull together fibrous strands of tissue and heal. Yet, you couldn’t care. 

“Done.” Miguel refused to address your gaze but opted to draw your top back into place to over your breasts. You stood and secured the buttons of your halter top behind your neck. That was it. You’d return to your duties, healed half by your emotions and half by Miguel. You would need to learn to ignore the love you had for him. One day, all this would be well. Miguel rolled up the excess thread around his reel.

Fine. If he was going to ignore you--

“Do you think,” you paused long enough to debate your words. Enough for Miguel to glance up with his stoic red eyes and lift an eyebrow at you. It irritated you how unemotional and consistently unbothered he could be when you stood there just the opposite. Always desperate for a sign of his feelings. “Hobie wants to fuck?” 

There were some lines you should never cross. While you would never actually fuck your partner, the mere mention of the thought ever crossing your mind was one step too far. It was terribly disrespectful. Miguel’s reel plopped onto the floor and rolled short of your feet.

You slid your palms over your hips before hooking at the bend in your waist. His gaze focused on the glide of your hands trailing slowly down your sides. Sides that he often snatched in the dead of night after a warm shower. Or that he’d cling to during lovemaking. Your following words caused him to lurch off the bed. “Qué piensas? He might still be in HQ, no?” 

“What,” His hand fit along your neck like a tight collar. The next moment, pain radiated from your skull and blurred your vision. The pain licked flames of excitement to life in your belly. A gasp slipped from your lips. Instead of shock, your cry was tinged with delight. With his wild brown hair slumping forward over his scarlet eyes, he was more beautiful than ever. His claws squeezed your neck, jerking and slamming your head once more. His breath tickled your cheek. “What did you say?” 

Of course, he couldn’t help himself: the control freak. He was a genius. You knew he knew it was bait. He had to. But your looming threat was enough for him to take the risk. Your lips curled, laughing your words rather flippantly. “I said-- do you think Hobie wants to fuck?”

You eviscerated his already thin patience. The searing pain of his fangs piercing your battered neck seared all thoughts of Hobie from your mind. Your hands choked out a pitiful cry. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel-- calma.”

The familiar burn of his frantic biting, his violent ownership of your body, made your body slick. He lifted your hips onto his, legs dangling over his slim thighs. Crunched up against his massive body, you felt small but as if you were the focus of his world. Just how you loved to feel when you were encased in his arms.

“You think he could fuck you like I can?” His gravelly voice rumbled. His face pinched tight, daring your response. “That you can replace me— so easily?”

No, the answer was a resounding no. But he didn’t need to know that. If Miguel thought he could play games with you, you’d play games with him. The last forty-eight hours had been a blur of his rejection. It was only fair that Miguel felt the same.

Blood seeped down from your neck, a feeling you were accustomed to today. On the other hand, you weren’t accustomed to how he tore into your uniform as if it were as offensive as your harsh words. You calmly noted that you were glad to have multiple: a consequence of doing this work too long. 

That was it. You slid your hands up his forearms, around his firm biceps, to his broad shoulders. There you rested your arms, knocking your foreheads gently together. Past the rage, you recognized the slightest hint of fear in his eyes. The promise that you were lying. For security under another name. You refused to give it to him: he never gave it to you.

“He is Spiderman, isn’t he?” 

He shifted the pad of his finger between your lips. Your tongue slid over his thumb, crooked in your mouth to suppress any more words that he may regret hearing or that you may regret saying. 

“He may be,” Miguel rasped. His lips quirked into a wicked grin. With Miguel’s sudden sharpness, you weren’t expecting to see his smile. You welcomed it, a rare delight that you found yourself loathing the more he spoke. “But you’re mine.” 

His. The inklings of fear you previously spotted in the depth of Miguel’s eyes seemed to weaken, sliding his thumb from your lips, rolling past your nipple, and the muscles of your stomach. He slid past your vulva, trailing with expert care along your slit. It was barely a touch if even a graze. Words failed to form. They were a thick bolus in your throat, congealed and thick.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I thought so.” 

Your eyes trailed Miguel’s strong jawline and ambled up toward his lips. Your gaze lingered there as his fingers slipped between your lips, finding your cunt soft and wet. His eyes flickered toward your shy gaze and danced his lips against yours by virtue of his words. “It doesn’t seem like you’re that interested in finding him.”

“How would you know?” you cried out when one of his clawed fingers dipped inside your body. Your hips jerked onto his hand to seek out more of him. Your traitorous, awful body. It wasn’t comfortable when he scratched you while stroking your velvety inner walls. But you always needed more of his touch.

“Oh,” Miguel hummed. He bent close-- your eyes now focused on his high cheekbones. You couldn’t look him in the eyes and know that he knew how weak you were for him. “I know. It’s the way you look at me.” 

“As if--” You dropped your eyes, reveling in the pressure of his prodding fingers, the delight in having him here, with you, once again. It shouldn’t have felt as intimate, as comforting as it did, but it did. His fingers withdrew, pleased with his work. “You know I can give you what you need.” 

“You said you couldn’t,” Miguel slipped his fingers into your mouth: sweet and sour with your own excitement and the scratches of blood. His hands worked at the waist as you secured yourself on the wall with your hands, knowing what was next-- and expecting it. 

“I lied.” he drawled out, a long hum. He spat on his hand and rubbed himself as you watched, anticipating the soft prod of his cock’s head at your entrance. It hadn’t been long. Yet, as he buried himself in the warmth of your body, you inhaled a wealth of air into your chest, exhaling it in soft shudders. Perhaps it was the fear of never having this again. 

His large hands shifted underneath your ass and pinned you square against the wall. His claws drew blood to the surface of superficial cuts. Your hands snapped to his shoulders and clung onto him for some security. You found no rest between the wall chafing your back and Miguel’s long, pointed strokes into your body. Your body burned with the pull of his dick dragging in and out of your cunt, fighting to keep him inside with every squeeze and pull. He wasn’t lying, you knew. But it didn’t matter. Not when you were his complete and utter focus. 

Miguel let a word of praise slip free as he ground into you. With a wall of muscle before you and the sturdy wall behind, breathing was slight and hard to come by. It had to be what he wanted-- to make you focus on him and him alone. It’s what you deserved after antagonizing the man. Your hands found his hair, knotting your fingers in it, and accepting the ferocity of his deep, then shallow strokes into your core. Your eyes flitted shut as he bottomed out, grinding his hips in tight circles. As you came, your body furiously clenched onto his cock, slowing his sweeping thrusts. 

You craved it: the moment of Miguel’s weakness. Your body urged out his orgasm with a noise tempered by pleasure and annoyance. Your cunt milking earned you a particularly firm slam of his hips. Miguel would drag you down to take it all. He spilled into you with a deliciously unique warmth, grinding his hips until spent. His forehead rested on the crook of your neck. In place of another hard bite, he gently kissed your collarbone and throat. After he finished, he settled you down onto the floor. But your legs were sloppy, weak shaky things. Miguel snatched your hand as you swayed to keep yourself upright. 

“I have to go,” you held his hand begrudgingly for support. Then bent down to pick up strips of your clothes. Yet another victim of your relationship with him. You would have to... mend this. Somehow. Probably not. “They’re expecting me--” 

“Muñeca,”

“Cálmate, Miguel. You know I’m not going to fuck him,” you swiped the coursing fluids down your thigh. You dragged your hand down Miguel’s firm chest and danced your finger up his chest to flip up his chin. He glanced down, puffing air from his nostrils in protest. His eyes rolled, oh so slightly. “He’s not my type. I like them big, mm?”

“You would if he was?” he bristled.

“I never said that.” You said. Despite this fact, certain needs needed to be met. Ones that if he didn’t fill, someone else would. You both knew this. Your work was long and stressful and done in the name of the man who was before you. If for nothing but that love, you knew you would keep going. You believed in Miguel: his choices and his heart. 

“You didn’t need to.” 

“Mi alma--” you stopped, waving your hand at his pet name. “All this is fleeting. I need someone that will meet my needs. To tell me they love me. Can you?” 

He pressed his lips together and stewed on your request. You knew without a question in your mind what that answer was. In the aftermath of sex with Miguel, he was closer to you than ever. And yet, it was impossible to convince him of an actual connection. For him, it was easier to leave you than love you. 

He didn’t need to say it.  

“I know you, Miguel. You didn’t lie. It was the truth,” you slipped your hand from his. Instead, you opted to set a fleeting kiss on the side of his lip. For better or worse, he didn’t reciprocate. Your steps carried you backward. Then, you afforded him a small deprecating smile. “Other than sex, you can’t give me what I need.”

#Miguel O'Hara x Reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman imagines #spiderman imagine #spider 2099 x reader #sy writes #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel ohara oneshot #across the spiderverse imagine #marvel imagines

[pumpkin-writes]

i'm sorry

jax teller x reader

warnings: mature language, some mildly steamy smoochin', mostly just soft, fluffy, sappy jax. you know, what the show robbed us of.

word count: 1.1k

notes: as requested by @thisreadswhatever

i hope you enjoy, love! i had so much fun writing this 🤭 thank you again so much for your request & positive feedback on my other jax stuff ❤️

you had hardly slept. you tossed and you turned, you stared at the ceiling, you stared at the empty space in the bed that jax normally slept in. the two of you fought for hours the previous night, and ended up going to bed angry. you never went to bed angry at each other, and really you two didn't fight. but with all of the stress of the club, jax hadn't been himself lately, and he unfortunately took it out on you after dinner last night. what started as an admittedly snide comment from you about dirty dishes or something irrelevantly domestic like that turned into a screaming match between the two of you. you spewed things like "arrogant" and "mama's boy" at him, you finally broke down and told him how much you hated that he never talked to you about club stuff. and when he erupted back, he called you things like "nosey" and "ungrateful" all things that stung when you heard them, but what got you is when he called you a bitch. it wasn't what you were used to from him by any means, he typically adorned you with pet names and practically worshipped the ground you walked on.

jax knew he fucked up, the second the word left his lips. things with the club had really been getting to him, and suddenly, he felt like his world was falling apart. all his knew was the sons of anarchy, it was his legacy. but since he'd found and read his father's journals, he wasn't so sure of that anymore. he wasn't sure of most things, and he hated the uncertainty. he hated how on edge he'd been lately, working late, sometimes not even getting a chance to see you before you were off to bed. but he always came in and slipped under the covers with you and wrapped you up in his arms. god, he wished that's how last night went. just when he thought he'd been lucky enough to spend the evening with you having dinner, he had to go and fuck it up. he didn't even realize how fired up he'd gotten and how out of hand your argument got until he saw tears instantly swell up in your eyes in reaction to him calling you a bitch.

he took the liberty of sleeping on the couch, not knowing where to begin when it came to his apology. just as you barely slept, neither did jax. instead, he stared at the ceiling until the sun came up, just thinking about how he could make this up to you. was he really willing to lose you over an argument? an argument that shouldn't have even happened, he thought, but either way, the answer was absolutely not. by the time the birds started to chirp outside, he couldn't wait anymore. if he was going to do this, it had to be now, while everything he wanted to say was still fresh in his brain.

the sound of the bedroom door creaking open behind you made you go stiff. should you just act like you're asleep? before you could even decide, you felt the familiar feeling of the duvet lifting and jax sneaking under it. you bit your lip, unsure if you should just turn around and say something; tell him to leave, or tell him how upset you still were. but you stayed frozen on your side, waiting for his next move. that's when you felt him scooting closer in toward you, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. with a final, swift movement, he'd wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body flush against his.

"good morningggg," his voice was low, yet still possessed a sing-song tone that made the corner of your lips start to curl up into a smile. his hand started to work it's way up, then so gently down your arm, and jax found himself nuzzled into the crook of your neck. "i know you're awake." he mumbled into your skin before pressing a kiss to your neck, sending shivers down your spine, another kiss following not a moment after. "i'm sorry."

you sighed and finally gave up. you couldn't just sit there and pretend to sleep while he was trying so hard to get you to face him. although you still felt conflicted about all that had been said the night before, you hated not talking to him. not sleeping beside him. and he knew just how to make you weak, peppering your neck and shoulder with more and more kisses. it was kind of nice to have him so desperate for your attention and forgiveness. maybe you'd let him keep trying to prove how sorry he really was.

you shifted a bit in his grip before fluttering your eyes open to meet his baby blues. how are you supposed to stay mad at at face like that? but you kept it together, following through on making him work for it. "are you now?" the tone of your voice was so very obviously teasing him, and he knew it once he saw the cocky smirk you sported. if you wanted to play this game, he was down. "i am so," he began, all while he snaked his arms around your waist entirely, grabbing a proper hold of you. "so, so," his head dipped down and your foreheads met in the middle, "so sorry." seeing jax this way made you gush on the inside. you were starting to feel bad, almost, and you didn't see yourself playing hard to get much longer.

you were practically stuck in jax's arms, he'd been holding onto you pretty firmly and didn't intend on letting you go until he made things right with you. you'd been eye to eye, faces only inches from one another and all you could think about was his lips. his soft, beautiful, generous lips that you just couldn't take your eyes off of. and jax noticed, of course he did. he knew you wanted to kiss him, or him to kiss you, and hell, your wish was his command; no need to say it out loud.

without another second of hesitation, jax leaned into you and pushed his lips to yours hungrily. it's all you need to give in and accept his apology, returning his energy and moving in synchronization. you felt him softly bite your bottom lip, and it incites a soft moan to escape from your lip. you feel jax smile against your lips before pulling back from you, leaving you longing for him to keep going. "i knew i could make it up to you." his words made you roll your eyes, and all you could say in response was what you'd already been thinking all morning. "maybe you should be sorry more often."

#jax teller #jax teller one shot #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy one shot #jax teller x reader #mine

[shotmrmiller]

Vindictive little omega.

This is sloppy work but it had to get done. it's been a long time since i've looked at omegaverse so forgive any inaccuracies or whatever. unedited, unbeta.

TW: A/B/O DYNAMICO. F/F for a sec, then F/F/M

All it had taken for you to be smitten was one heat. One. Simon had helped you through it, growled in your ear about how good you'd look swollen with his pups, breasts heavy with milk. You were utterly enamored. And then you had smelled the pheromones of another omega on him. Oh, you'd been rabid. You snarled at him because you had thought he was your alpha, not the community's.

All he'd done was shrug flippantly and say, "I never claimed you as mine, lovie. At most, you had my scent." You almost turned violent until he reminded you of your station with a vicious growl and a nasty submit.

Biology was the only reason you complied— but he has no idea that heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, and you were about to show him the fury of a woman scorned.

You took your suppressants, muting your scent, and went on the hunt. It was almost comical how easy it was to find her at a bar and befriend her— Miss ma'am had nothing but pebbles in that pretty head of hers. Casually, you struck up a conversation, with a flirty line here and there, testing the waters. How fortuitous for you that she reciprocated with fervor.

You'd asked her to come to your flat, get to know each other better and she all but tossed herself in your lap, manicured hands cupping your jaw, and pulled you in for a kiss. Her tongue entangled with yours, her breath was so sweet.

You ended up on your knees with your head between her quivering legs, two fingers knuckle deep into her pretty cunt, and you hadn't even made it past the living room. As her walls fluttered around your fingers, you gave her swollen bud a suck, forcing the climax out of her.

She tasted like candy, saccharine. Slowly, you pull out of her and leave a lovebite on her inner thigh while she is still coming down from her high. Rising to your feet, you nuzzle her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her gland, tasting her skin—leaving it slick with saliva.

Her breathing seems to stabilize, so you ask, "You alright?" Her straw-blonde hair grazes your cheek as she nods. "Let's move to the bedroom, hm?" Taking her hand, you interlace your fingers and lead her away, to where you'll ensure she sees a deity behind her eyelids. Simon is, after all, tough competition.

The next time you see Simon, you don't really see him. He kind of takes liberties with your person and manhandles you like some kind of caveman out of the coffee shop you're stepping out of and into an alley, away from prying eyes.

"I hope you understand how this looks— a big, bad alpha corning a weak, frail omega against the wall."

He snarls at your nonchalance. "Explain your scent."

You widen your eyes, in an attempt to portray an innocent countenance. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

"You're tellin' me tha' I didn't smell you on her?" The harmless look you sported transforms into a cruel sneer.

"I don't recall you claiming me, Simon."

He barks out a laugh, startling you. "So that's what this is about, eh? You wanna be the center of attention? Fine. Let's make you the star of the show." Simon has his phone to his ear, quick as a flash, and only says, "Get over here. Now," and hangs up.

Before you even get to ask where here is, Simon's already whisking you away. The grip on your wrist is too tight, you can feel your pulse beat against his fingers. Maybe you've bitten off more than you can chew.

You've definitely bitten off more than you can chew. Simon is splitting you open with his thick, heavy cock from behind— bullying it into your tight channel that's dripping slick. You can feel Miss Ma'am's tongue rub circles on your clit, and lower to slurp at your leaking arousal. It's far too much all at once, and you can't even voice it because Simon's hips are pistoning into you, a devastating pace that leaves you as empty-headed as the girl currently licking at where you and Simon are joined.

He grabs your face with his massive hand with a bruising grip, and with a mocking tone says, "What's wrong, lovie? Have I finally fucked you into submission?"

Miss ma'am giggles like the daft bint she is. "I think you did, Si."

Bitch.

@pieckyghost

homie hopper 9000 <- me

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #cod mwii #simon riley x you #a/b/o dynamics

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 5)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

A first date???

Warnings: Sexual innuendos and working through internalized homophobia

Author’s Note: No beta but this chapter took me wayyyy too long. This week was crazy with getting a new apartment states away and defending my thesis 😵‍💫

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

Jacob nervously slipped into the kitchen as Melissa waited expectantly for a ziti you requested to finish baking. He attempted to keep space between himself and the Italian - for his own safety of course. The space between the two roommates had grown after he confronted Melissa a few nights ago about seeing her kiss you. Tonight he was looking to mend the bond between them. 

He leaned on the kitchen island, hands clasped and eyes studying the countertop, “I wanted to, uh... apologize for what happened a few nights ago. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive.”

The redhead only offered him a momentary glance which was harsh and skeptical. It was clear she wasn’t interested in having any conversation about the events Jacob witnessed. While Melissa continued giving Jacob the cold shoulder, he wanted to make it clear he was there to support her, “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.” “There isn’t anything to talk about.” Melissa quickly responded in a monotone with her back to Jacob so she could go about her business of pulling the ziti from the oven. She placed the baking dish on the top of the stove, and took a deep breath as she pulled the oven mitts from her hands and tossed them onto the counter. Spinning to face her roommate, she cocked her head and forced herself to make peace with the young man, “Thank you, Jacob.”

“I found a new puzzle for tonight... if you would like.” The young man gestured towards the dining room where he left the puzzle, earning a smile from the redhead.

With a flick of her hand, Melissa turned off the oven and folded her arms over her chest, “I would like.”

--

When Melissa picked up your phone call and wedged her phone between her ear and shoulder, she had no idea you were sitting outside her house. Before she could get a word in edgewise, you spoke - trying your best to sound smooth and collected so she couldn’t tell you were fearful of her rejection, “Let’s go, Schemmenti.”

“What?” She leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes to hide her enthusiasm from Jacob who sat across the table with his head cocked, staring at her in curiosity. They were about half way through their 3D puzzle of the statue of liberty when you interrupted. 

After opening your car door, you step out and lean against the car door frame, smirking as you catch a glimpse of her red hair through the front window. You doubled down on your mission of taking Melissa out, giving her an order rather than asking, “Come on out here. I’m taking you on a date.” 

“What makes you think I’d go on a date with the likes of you?” Melissa tittered as she tried to hide how she enjoyed flirting with you from her companion. 

You reply sarcastically, feeling a sense of excitement wash over you when you make her laugh, “My good looks and sense of humor. Or perhaps my love of long walks on the beach.”

Melissa finally lifted herself from her seat so she could make her way to the front window where she pulled aside the sheer blinds to catch a glimpse of you. Your cheeky smile melted Melissa’s icy exterior as did the way you leaned your cheek on your forearm as you gazed at her. She had one hand on her hip as she stared you down, “Where are ya’ takin’ me?” 

“I’m still trying to decide between the Olive Garden or some chain sports bar where we can watch the Cowboys play.” You joke, grinning wildly as you watch her lip curl.

She turned her back to you, looking around the room for her purse and shoes, “Are you tryin’ to get me to say no?”

“Just testing to see how much you like me.” You quip as you watch her curiously. More than anything you hope your joking wouldn’t turn her off from the date you had planned. 

“What’s the dress code?” The redhead asked, glancing down at her comfortable outfit of old jeans and an Eagles shirt. She had been ready to slip on her shoes so she could meet you, but she began to second guess herself. 

“Something easy to take off.” Your quick wit made the redhead stifle a laugh as she clumsily began gathering all of her belongings. Her pacing made her seem a little too eager to Jacob, causing him to arch his brow in amusement. You could see her grabbing her leather jacket and purse which caused you to remember the ziti you asked her to make just for this occasion, “Oh, and did you make that ziti?”

“Well, yeah.” She scoffed, almost offended you would question her willingness to cook for you. 

“Bring that too.” 

— Melissa folded her arms over her chest and watched out the window as she skeptically wondered where you could be taking her so late in the evening. When you turned into the stadium parking lot of the Lincoln Financial Field, she glanced over at you with a look of pure disbelief. She didn’t believe you could get her into the Eagles home stadium for a single moment, “And how do you think you are gettin’ in here?”

“I know a guy.” You shrug as your eyes sweep the parking lot for the entry point your cousin told you to find. 

Melissa was all heart eyes in the passenger seat, watching you with complete amazement. Her chest swelled with pride when you ended up handing over her ziti to your cousin whilst telling them she is the best cook in her family. And the cherry on top was how you gave a subtle threat to your cousin to make sure they would return Melissa’s baking dish to you. In a period of five minutes, you tapped into three of her love languages: having connections, bribery through food, and not-so-subtle threats. 

—

Melissa was like a kid in a candy store as you gave her free reign of exploring the sports complex. As a night security guard, your cousin had agreed to give you access to everything as long as you set him up on a date with some girl you knew from high school and Melissa’s cooking was just the icing on the cake. 

The redhead was in her happy place when she settled on the Eagles sideline bench and grinned up at you, “You didn’t have to go to such great lengths to get me to sleep with ya’.” 

“Who said I was trying to sleep with you?” You cock your head as you stare down at Melissa, your heart jumping into your throat as you consider sharing your true intentions for her. While every fiber of your being was screaming for you to stay quiet, you remembered you were conducting your relationship with Melissa on your own terms rather than giving her all of the power. 

You popped yourself down on the bench next to Melissa, stretching your legs out in front of you as you stated your intentions with confidence, “I’m gonna get you to fall head over heels for me.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mel perked up in faux excitement as she loved to challenge anyone when they were filled with a noticeably high level of confidence. Her heart stalled in her chest at the notion of you trying to get her to fall for you - in a way it felt like too much too soon and a long time coming all at once.

You nod, staring out across the field with your chin held high, “Indeed it is.”

Melissa allowed a few moments to pass between you before she spoke again. While the prospect of a new relationship was frightening for her, she was determined to give a romance with you a fighting chance. She leaned into you when she spoke, giving your arm a loving pinch, “This is a good start, but if your guy can get us into the locker rooms, things will go a lot quicker.” 

—

You shifted the car into park outside Melissa’s house and a silence fell between you. The date had gone well, but now there seemed to be a new energy between you that had yet to be felt by either of you before. It was almost as if there was a palpable mutual yearning that expanded far beyond sexual desire. 

This feeling terrified Melissa.

“Everything is going to change.” When she spoke, you felt the need to do a double take to see if Melissa had been replaced with a 16 year old version of herself. Her tone was the same as when she told her father she wanted to be a teacher rather than the next Effa Manley - fearful of disappointing loved ones.

You shifted in your seat to more readily face the redhead. Cocking your head, you tried to give her an encouraging response, “Why does everything have to change?” 

“Didn’t everything change for you?” She asked as she chewed her lip, one hand lifting to her miraculous medal to rub the image of the Virgin Mary with the pad of her thumb. 

While it wasn’t easy coming out when you were teenagers, you remembered the support you received from your family and Melissa. At the time it was all you felt you needed, but of course, after telling Melissa about your attraction to the fairer sex, you did gain a sexual partner - the thought of which made you grin, “Mostly life was better. It helped having good friends.”

Melissa hummed to acknowledge your response before falling deep into thought. She wouldn’t even know where to start. Jacob would be easy, but Barbra? She felt sick at the thought of even discussing the matter with her. 

You broke up her swirls of anxiety with your own question, “Why did you say yes to this date?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Melissa retorted as she was briefly filled with relief of a lightened mood before realizing you were completely serious. Her face fell once more as you left her in a heavy silence to respond to your question. Her reasoning stemmed from your spat that occurred months ago, “When you told me you remembered that night before the wedding… I forgot how you asked me to give you a chance and I never did.”

“I said a lot more than that.”

“So did I.”

When you opened your door to a red eyed Melissa, you were literally taken aback by the redhead pushing her way into your arms. It was the night before she was set to marry Joe - some loser firefighter she had met while tailgating at a Eagles game. You hated him since Mel told you he wanted to take her to a strip club on the first date. 

While you would never tell her ‘I told you so’, you knew he wasn’t the right person for her. You kept your mouth shut, hugging her to your chest and guiding her further into your little apartment so you could close the door. 

She told you through teary eyes and angry hiccups that the rehearsal dinner had gone terribly and that Joe was a complete pig. You didn’t offer an opinion, opting to let the redhead rage as you settled on the couch together. She would wave her hands over her head and curse in Italian while you nodded along, only deciding to pull her to your chest once more when hot, angry tears began rolling down her cheeks. 

Rubbing Melissa’s back was an easy way to settle her anger, but her tears continued to fall regardless of how many times she wiped them away with her sleeves. You held her face to your chest and spoke softly, hoping she wouldn’t turn her anger onto you, “Maybe you shouldn’t be marrying him if all of this is happening and you aren’t even married yet.”

“My parents have already paid for the wedding. I can’t back out now.” Melissa nuzzled her cheek against your chest. She was in absolute despair yet she wasn’t willing to actively do anything to solve her issue. 

“But if you do, then… maybe we could be together.” It was unavoidable for you to sound like you were begging. You wanted this so badly. You wanted her so badly. In the brief moment where she didn’t respond, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying a little harder, “Come on. Give us a chance, pretty girl.”

Melissa only peered up at you, and her furrowed brows and sad eyes broke your heart. “I want to… I just-”

You held a hand to her cheek, brushing her hair from her face. You were desperate for Melissa to come to her senses. Couldn’t she see that you were meant to be together? Your voice was barely above a whisper as you moved to press your lips to her forehead, “I love you, Melissa. Please.”

The redhead eyes lit up at your words - like you had ignited something within her. Without a moment’s hesitation, Melissa shifted to sneak closer so she could press her lips to yours. She kissed you over and over - each kiss was filled with so much desperation it left both of you breathless. 

She pulled away only for a moment, her forehead resting against yours, “I love you.”

From there you fed off one another’s passion and energy like frenzied sharks. You ended up making love on your living room floor, clinging to one another as if you would be separated forever if any distance formed between you. Only if you would have known that distance was fated to form regardless.

Melissa’s face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if she was reliving that night with regret or fondness - perhaps it was a combination of both. You watched thoughts run through her mind and her green hues were pleading when she spoke, “Have your feelings changed?”

“Never.”

Melissa both feared and adored your response.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes longer, spiraling at the omissions of love and not wanting your time together to end so soon. It was finally Melissa who made the move to leave, followed by your immediate reaction to open your door as well. You felt the thrum of excitement as you circled the car and walked the redhead to her door. 

She stopped when she had a hand on the door handle and glanced back at you, noticing you were at the bottom step with no intention to go any further. Her brows furrowed in confusion, “Aren’t you coming inside?”

“No. I’m just walking you to your door.” You shrug, craning your neck back to watch her with a cocky smile. 

“Chivalrous.” Melissa’s dry humor emerged as she abandoned the door handle to stand a step above you - her hands sliding up to your shoulders while she stared down at you. After years of being entwined with one another, you wouldn’t have thought her next words would make you so nervous, “Do I get a kiss at least?”

Wrapping your arm around her waist, you pull her into you, relishing in the feeling of her body weight pressing against you. The feeling of her green eyes staring intently down at you was overwhelming, especially as her focus on you was unwavering. Glancing back and forth, you whispered with a shyness that made you want to swallow your words, “Aren’t you worried about the neighbors getting the wrong idea?”

“Hadn’t crossed my mind.” She whispered in return - a white lie meant to soothe any concerns you may have about her intentions. Melissa had no interest in her neighbors knowing more than they needed to about her personal life, but she chose to wrap her arms around your neck and press her lips to yours regardless. 

You could have sworn you felt Melissa Schemmenti moan as she leaned into you more to deepen your kiss. This wasn’t any moan, however. This high pitch, quiet moan was a ‘please dear god keep kissing me’ moan. It made your heart race and your stomach twist into knots - so much so that you pulled away.

“Goodnight, pretty girl.” You lingered close as you whispered your farewell, ghosting her lips with your own before you gingerly took a step back.

Melissa swayed where she stood, her flushed cheeks hidden by the dim lighting of the streetlights. She folded her arms over her chest, shrugging as she hopelessly attempted to find a way to bid you goodbye that wouldn’t rob her of her ‘tough guy’ style. The redhead suppressed a smile and watched you through heavy lidded eyes - she was smitten and hated every bit of it. “Yeah yeah yeah. Get off my lawn before I have to turn a hose on ya’.”

—

Melissa settled onto the couch next to Jacob and was stewing with mixed emotions she didn’t know how to process. For years she hadn’t given you the chance of letting you in emotionally, and the very second she let her walls down, she was tripping over herself to get your attention. She found you to be a perfect balance of everything she wanted in a potential partner, successfully making her feel remorse for how much of your time she had wasted by not pursuing this sooner. Mel was fearful of how you would move forward together, but god she wanted it terribly. 

Jacob interrupted her thoughts with his own - knowing full well he was treading on grounds that could quickly earn him a place on Melissa’s ‘Perpetually Ignore’ list. He was shockingly plain and confident with his words, “I know you are going through something right now, but don’t... hurt your friend in the process.”

Melissa sat in his words, truly taking them to heart. She wanted to do better by you and she knew where she needed to start, but she was fearful of taking that leap. The redhead stared down into her lap as she began picking at her nails, “We aren’t really friends...”

Tears formed in Melissa’s eyes, but she wasn’t about to let Jacob see how scared she was to admit those words aloud. She hadn’t even truly come out to Jacob and she was feeling entirely overwhelmed at the prospect. Jacob wasn’t phased, rather he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. He rubbed her arm gently as he spoke, “I know, Melissa... I know.”

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship? kinda

[permanentswaps]

Nonno’s Globetrotting Adventure

Part One

I sat in my modest apartment, the weight of my years heavy upon my frail shoulders. My once-strong body now betrayed me, confined to a wheelchair as age and illness took their toll. But despite my body, I still felt young at heart. And, more importantly, I had a  burning desire to experience the world beyond the confines of my small Italian town before my time was up.

One day, my grandson Nico came to visit. Although it feels weird to say about my grandson, Nico is a very attractive young man.

He’s currently working as a waiter while pursing his dream of getting signed by a modeling agency in Milan. While Nico certainly has the looks to get signed, he seems to lack the discipline and patience needed to succeed. Every time he comes close, he finds a way to sabotage his chances – oversleeping for a final callback, not bothering to dress nice enough, always something.

Seeing that Nico was struggling, I had an idea for how to help us both get what we wanted.

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Nico said. “You want to use my body to travel the world, while I stay here in yours?”

“Exactly,” I replied. “I know it sounds strange, but think about it. You’re young and full of energy, it’s really the only way I could see some sights before I pass.”

“But how would it even work?” he said.

“I have these enchanted necklaces. If we both wear them at the same time, we’ll swap bodies. And then, when the summer is over, we can switch back by both removing the necklaces,” I explained.

“Wow, that’s… That’s a lot to take in, Nonno,” he said.

“I know it’s unconventional, but I would be willing to pay you double what you would make from waiting tables over the summer. That way, you would have a cushion to focus full time on landing a modeling gig when you get back. And I’d be sure to take a bunch of pictures for you while I’m away to help build up your portfolio.”

“I don’t know, that’s a great offer, but I’m still not sure.”

“Well, let’s try now and see how you feel,” I said, quickly clasping the necklace around his neck before he could say anything.

Then I threw on my own. I felt my soul rush out of me and slam into my grandson. Standing up tall and taking a deep breath, I felt my strong muscles. Then I looked down at my hands and saw thick veins. Damn, I hadn’t felt this good in years.

Sensing some reticence from Nico, I quickly said “Oh! Thank you so much Nico, it really means the world to me.” Hoping to guilt trip him before he could say anything.

Clearly still worried, he tried to play it off and said, “Alright Nonno, you’re welcome.”

Taking in this body, I snapped this photo on the way to my new home:

Part Two

The first stop on my world tour was New York City. Since I was a little boy, I had always dreamed of visiting America, but I had never gotten the chance.

As I stepped out of the metro and up to ground level, I couldn’t help but stare at the skyscrapers touring over me. Walking down the street, I could tell that guys and girls were checking me out, which was a new feeling. Sure, I was attractive when I was younger, thats part of where Nico gets it from. But even then, I’d never really gotten these types of looks back in the day, especially not from such hot guys … I think I like it.

At the youth hostel, I met a bunch of really cool guys – we hung out in a crew and went to do all the iconic landmarks like Times Square, Central Park, and the Statue of Liberty.

Walking through Midtown one of the guys, Adi, shouted to me, “Hey Sal, check this out!” as we turned a corner, revealing a perfect view of the Empire State Building. I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight, feeling a sense of awe wash over me.

Adi slapped me on the back, grinning widely. "Pretty awesome, huh?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it's incredible. I never thought I'd get to see it in person."

We bar-hopped around the city together, sharing stories and laughter late into the night. At one point, we stumbled upon a street performer playing the guitar, his soulful melodies filling the air with a sense of nostalgia. Adi nudged me with his elbow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Sal, you ever played an instrument?"

I shook my head. "No, never had the chance."

Adi grinned. "Well, there's no time like the present. Grab that guitar and let's see what you've got!"

With a mixture of nervousness and excitement, I hesitantly approached the street performer, who handed me his guitar with a friendly smile. As I strummed the strings and attempted to mimic the chords he had been playing, I felt a sense of exhilaration wash over me. Despite my lack of experience, the music flowed through me, filling me with a sense of joy and freedom I had never known before.

The guys cheered me on, clapping and cheering as I played. In that moment, I felt alive in a way I hadn't in years. It was a feeling I never wanted to end.

I made sure to snap some more selfies of myself, and get my new bros to take some shots for my modeling portfolio too:

After bidding farewell to the bustling streets of New York, I traveled westward. From the majestic mountains of the Rockies to the tranquil plains of the Midwest, each destination had its own unique charm.

But it was in California, with its sun-kissed beaches and sprawling landscapes, that I truly felt at home. As I walked for what seemed like endless miles along the rugged coastline, the salty breeze tousling my hair and the warmth of the sun on my skin, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that surrounded me.

With each step, I felt the strength and vitality of Nico's body coursing through me. I would’ve never been able to do this trip in my own body. Gone were the aches and pains of old age, replaced by a sense of boundless energy. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was somehow meant to be, me in Nico's youthful body.

Part Three

After about a month of traveling, I found myself in India. While I hadn’t really though about traveling there before, so many people had recommended it to me as my next stop. So I decided, why not check it out.

Arriving in Mumbai, I checked into my hostel and made a conscious decision to introduce myself as Nico, not Salvatore, this time. While my fellow travelers were none the wiser, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement every time someone addressed me by my new name. It made feel even more at home in this body than I had in California.

Among the eclectic group at the hostel, one stood out to me – Emilio. Another Italian adventurer like myself, Emilio had a warm smile and an easy charm that immediately put me at ease. With his curly hair and striking green eyes, Emilio was undeniably handsome, and I found myself drawn to him in a way I hadn't expected. We spent our days exploring the bustling streets of Mumbai, immersing ourselves in the sights, sounds, and flavors of the city, and going to some nearby hotsprings.

One fateful night, after returning from a night out on the town, Emilio found himself locked out of his bunk. Immediately, I offered him a spot in my private room, and to my delight, he accepted without hesitation.

Since it was so hot in Mumbai, we decided to strip down to just our underwear. As we lay sharing my small bed, I feel his hand trace up my inner thigh. My breathing getting heavier, Emilio decides to increase the pressure of his strokes. In reponse, I reach over to his thigh and work my way up to his cock, which I can feel is massive. That was all the sign he needed.

Emilio gets up and splits my legs, now rubbing both of them and playing with my waistband. As he does that, he also leans over and begins sucking my nipples. While this wouldn’t have done anything for my old body, Nico’s nipples are sensitive as hell.

“Fuckkkk” I said in a low grunting whisper.

As he switched over from one nipple to the other, Emilio then reached into my trunks and began jerking my uncut dick. Eventually, he flips me over and pulls down my underwear before taking off his own. I can feel his cock now teasing between my ass cheeks. The anticipation is agonizing as I wait for him to put it in.

He reaches underneath me and pulls up my chest so that I am on my hands and knees. Nibbling on my ear he whispers “you’re the fucking sexiest guy i’ve ever seen,” as he shoves his 25cm cock inside me.

Thrusting in and out of me, he uses the hand that he has across my waist to play with my nipples again, which drives me crazy. Before long, I feel pressure growing, and without him even touching my cock, I feel myself shoot my load across the bed.

Smirking at me as I turn my head around, Emilio takes his fingers, runs it through my seed, before then showing those same fingers into his mouth. He then lifts up his arm, flexes his biceps for me, which makes me tigthen my hole. The tighthness is too much for him and he shoots his entire load inside me. We collapse onto the bed, his cock still inside, where it stays for the rest of the night.

From that night on, Emilio and I became inseparable. We decided to travel together for the rest of our journey, visiting  South Africa, Kenya, and Egypt before finally finding ourselves in Greece at the end of the summer.

The beaches of Greece were a paradise. We spent our days basking in the warm Mediterranean sun, swimming in the azure sea, and indulging in leisurely walks along the shore. In the evenings, we treated ourselves to sumptuous dinners at quaint seaside tavernas, savoring the flavors of Greek cuisine and the company of each other.

One night towards the end of our time in Greece, over a sunset dinner, Emilio turned to me with a serious expression.

“These past few weeks have been beyond anything I could have imagined,” Emilio began, his voice soft but filled with emotion. “I've had the time of my life, Nico, and I don't want it to end when we return to Italy.”

His words echoed the sentiments that had been swirling in my own mind, and I felt a rush of anticipation at what he might say next. Meeting his gaze, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for this man who had become so dear to me.

"Me neither," I replied, my heart pounding in my chest as I gazed longingly into his eyes.

With a determined look, Emilio took a deep breath before continuing, "Will you be my boyfriend?"

The question hung in the air between us, charged with the weight of all that we had shared and all that was yet to come. And in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty what my answer would be.

“Yes, of course,” I replied, a smile spreading across my face as I reached out to take his hand in mine. “I've been waiting for you to ask since the night we met in India.”

He looked at me, his eyes glistening, before pulling me in for a deep, passionate kiss.

Part Four

Eventually, Emilio and I made our way back to Italy. We'd been back about a week, and I was eager to share my adventures and introduce Emilio to the rest of my family, which I planned to do at dinner tonight. However, there was a significant problem: none of them knew about the body swap. I hadn’t spoken to the real Nico since I'd left three months ago, but I'd see him tonight. I knew what I was going to do, but I didn’t know how it would go over.

Walking hand in hand, we approached the familiar doorstep of my family's house. I could feel Emilio’s nerves radiating, but I squeezed his hand reassuringly, confident that my family would adore him as much as I did. Stepping into the warm embrace of my family, I proudly introduced Emilio to each and every one of them.

My mother’s (formerly my daughter) eyes lit up with delight as she embraced Emilio warmly. "Oh, it's so wonderful to finally meet you, Emilio! Nico has spoken so highly of you."

Emilio returned her embrace, a smile playing on his lips. "Grazie, signora. It's truly an honor to meet you all."

My father clapped Emilio on the back, a jovial twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to the family, Emilio! Nico here has been a bit of a handful lately, but it seems like you've got him under control."

We all shared a laugh at my father's jest, and Emilio's cheeks flushed with warmth. "I'm doing my best, signore," he replied, earning a nod of approval from my father.

As we sat around the dinner table, sharing stories of our travels and adventures, Emilio chimed in with anecdotes of his own, effortlessly weaving himself into the fabric of our family dynamic. With each passing moment, I could see my family growing fonder of him.

As we sat around the dinner table, I asked, "Hey, where’s Nonno?"

My mother's expression softened with concern as she replied, "He's in bed, nico. He's been resting a lot lately."

A pang of guilt tugged at my heart as I excused myself from the table, my footsteps heavy with apprehension as I made my way upstairs. "Nonno," I said softly, approaching his bedside with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "I need to talk to you."

"I am so relieved you’re back," he replied weakly, his voice raspy with exhaustion, "but, why did you call me that?"

Taking a deep breath, I summoned the courage to tell him. "I... I met a guy," I began, my words faltering slightly as I struggled to find the right way to express myself. "I've never felt such a deep connection before, and I need to see where it leads."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "But... what about our agreement?" he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.

"I know, Nonno, and I'm sorry," I replied, my heart heavy with guilt. "But I can't ignore how I feel. I hope you understand."

Anger flared in his eyes. "You can’t do this to me," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "It's not fair."

With a sudden surge of frustration, Nico ripped off his necklace, the enchanted chain clattering to the floor with a finality that echoed through the room. "I want to swap back right now," he demanded, his gaze locking onto the necklace that now hung around my neck.

I leaned in towards my old body, my guilt giving way to slight confidence as I made my declaration. "I understand it's hard to accept, Nonno, but this is my life now," I asserted, my tone laced with a sense of superiority.

With a swift motion, he reached for the necklace around my neck, his fingers trembling with desperation. But as he tore it away, his expression twisted with shock as he realized that nothing happened.

I looked at him with a face of pity. “It’s not going to work,” I said.

"I melted down the necklace and had it made it into a bunch of different pieces of jewelry while I was in India," I confessed.

His eyes widened in disbelief, his feeble grasp on the situation slipping away with each passing moment. "You... you did what?" he stammered, his voice tinged with incredulity.

"I wanted an insurance policy so that I could ensure nothing would stop me from pursuing Emilio," I continued, my resolve unwavering.

"I knew you probably wouldn’t think to take off the necklace until I cam back. So I took the opportunity to melt mine down into jewelry that I can wear all the time and nobody can just accidentally take off or force me to take off – earrings, bracelets … cock piercing. Emilio thought they were so hot."

"You couldn't get them off me even if you were in the best shape of your life – and well, now I am in the best shape of your life and you’re in the worst shape of mine," I added with a touch of irony.

"I’m sorry, but this is my life now," I concluded, my voice firm. "I hope you can understand."

With that, I turned and walked back downstairs to rejoin my family and my beautiful boyfriend, leaving behind a bewildered Nico in my former body, grappling with the weight of my decisions.

Epilogue:

A week later, I get a call from my mom early in the morning while I am still in bed. Nonno passed away in his sleep. I feel a pang of sorrow mixed with relief, this body was officially mine forever.

I roll back over to see Emilio sleeping peacefully beside me. Leaning over, I gently kiss him on the lips, waking him from his slumber. He stirs and without opening his sleepy eyes, a soft smile graces his lips and he pulls me down into a big hug. In that moment, as I feel his skin on mine, I know with absolute certainty that this is exactly where I belong.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day nineteen: hate sex

>>> i’m really taking some liberties with this prompt LMFAOOOOO listen. y’all should just be thanking me this wasn’t a gojo kinktober. leave me be. also this is the first piece since my laptop kicked the bucket so PLEASE ignore the UGLY formatting i will fix it as soon as i get a new laptop.

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: ghostie gojo jdjdfkgk, bestie nanami, uhh spankings, choking, doggy, prone bone, cream pie, pet names (sweetheart) and mean names (dickhead, asshole) >>> wc: 4.5k >>> event masterlist

everything was perfect. he was a great partner despite all the people that warned you that the special grade sorcerer was incapable of it. he was wonderful and sweet and considerate, even. he brought you lunch at work and took you on wonderfully lavish dates. he texted you constantly and showered you with gifts. you had only been together for a few months, though almost a year of history had led you here. you were happy, proving everyone who doubted your relationship wrong. until you realized that they were only trying to keep you from this reality.

“i love you, you know.” you told him, swinging your intertwined hands between you as he walked you home. this was a truth you’ve known since the relationship was too fresh to say such things, but a truth nonetheless. he hid it well in the moment, but that was the death sentence to a man like satoru gojo. he knew it was only a matter of time—yet his heart stopped in his chest, turning to steel before falling out of his ass. but he made sure his smile never faltered.

“oh yeah? i’ll add you to the list.” he chuckled, poking your side to make you laugh at the stupid taunt. it worked well enough, you didn’t seem to catch on to his avoidance. you didn’t chastise him for not saying it back, at least.

he walked you to your front door like normal. he gave you a goodbye and goodnight kiss like normal, he even smiled so genuinely and told you he’d call you in the morning—just like normal.

but when morning came, his call didn’t. no big deal, you thought, he’s a very busy man. once he gets some free time, he’ll call. but hours pass, and you don’t get so much as a text to apologize or let you know he was going to be late. you keep staring at his contact, debating whether or not you should bother or not for an hour or so. but a text couldn’t be too distracting, so you type something up.

‘good morning! or afternoon now, lol–i missed ur call, i hope ur having a good day!! call me when you can xx’

it doesn’t deliver. you furrow your brows and try it again, but it still doesn’t go through. you move to a different area of your house, thinking it was spotty reception in your bedroom. you try to send the text again—but it still doesn’t send. you try to call, your heart now pounding in your ears. something must have malfunctioned, right? after all your years as friends and these brief months exploring more—he wouldn’t just block you, right?

the phone call doesn’t ring, just an automated voice telling you that that the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. he blocked you. without so much as a hint to why. everything was perfect last night, he was all smiles and laughter, what could have changed? you want to call the only mutual connection you have—ieiri shoko—but decide it’s best not to involve her in the matter between two of her friends. it’s not tasteful and if there’s any chance of this being a misunderstanding, then taking it to your friends is the last thing you want to do. you could maybe ask nanami for advice at work in the morning—you wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends, but he’s how you met the strongest man alive. so he has to have some tips! yes, you’ll talk to nanami about it first thing tomorrow.

talk his ear off about it is more apt if you ask the grade one who merely dabbles in business work. he tried to be polite and listen to the tale—but your first mistake was in dealing with gojo in the first place. there was no advice in the world to fix that amount of stupid, especially if you were looking to get him back. but nanami catches the issue as soon as you recount the tale of your last conversation with the special grade.

“you told him that you love him?” he clarified with a raised brow. based on the judgment that flashes in his eyes, you know that was the wrong move. you huff in frustration.

“you introduced me to him—why would you set me up like this nanakun??” you pout, angrily folding your arms over one another. it’s a shitty attempt to take the heat off yourself, and nanami can appreciate it.

“hardly. he shoved his way in my office and you happened to be in there already.” he rolls his eyes. trust him, he did not want to see more of gojo—and dating his workplace’s secretary only meant that the annoying presence followed him even here. “i strongly advised against it. i knew we would end up here.”

you shoot him a glance, but his unamused face remains unchanging. you ignored everyone’s warnings, choosing the results he was giving you as reason enough for them to be wrong. did he enjoy leading you on and wasting his time? what was the game in all this?

“you shouldn’t have gone after him at all. but you definitely shouldn’t have told him you love him first.” nanami nearly seemed horrified. or what you imagined he would look like when horrified, eyes slightly widened and jaw dropped partially.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. maybe it’s because you knew how you felt for so long. maybe it was just because satoru put you at ease—none of the reasons matter now.

“it’s hard for him to do serious. love is as serious as it gets.” nanami sighs wistfully. you were a nice girl who didn’t deserve to be another name on the list of hearts broken by satoru gojo. for your own good, you should forget all about him and sorcerers as a whole. you would be much better off. but something about that look on your face paired with the fact that he knows satoru has never been happier in his miserable existence makes nanami sigh. “he’s just afraid of committing. the only person he ever loved just up and left him one day. so just…try to let him go. let him come back if he wants—if you want. maybe then he’ll be ready.”

your heart warms at your friend’s words. it was clear he couldn’t care less if things worked out or not, but he wanted you to feel better. you smile softly at his words, “thank you nanakun, i’ll try to…let him go.”

you think you did a pretty good job of that. as time went on, you think you even managed to convince yourself you didn’t want him back at all. if he could just flake out on you—look you in the face and lie—you didn’t want him. no matter how sexy and sweet and strong he was, trust is the most important thing. you keep your head down and work hard, catching up with nanami and learning any updates on your sorcerer that way.

apparently he was casually dating around, but nothing nearly as serious as you. he made sure of that. he hadn’t heard an ‘i love you’ in years, and while he may have thought it at different times throughout the past couple of dates you’ve been on, he hadn’t said it. even thinking it was bad enough. that meant you held an unimaginable and concerning amount of power over him. that meant you could crush his soul into a million pieces. that meant you could ruin him—and he can’t go through that again. the possibility of handing himself over to deep and passionate love was beautiful in theory but terrifying in practice, and the thought of giving in just to lose a second time were odds he just wasn’t willing to gamble with.

so he did it first. if he broke your heart you couldn’t break his.

so why does he feel so bad? so empty? every pretty girl he carted around after that was a weak competitor. they were nice enough, but so shallow and boring—they treated him like everyone else. you were special. you treated him like a person. someone with feelings and dreams and regrets. you asked him questions. real questions that made him think about real answers, nothing surface level like his favorite color or movie. you wanted to know him. and he let you learn just some of his darkest days and you told him you love him anyway. and he ran away from you. goddamn. he’s his own worst enemy.

he shows up with flowers one day, six weeks after you’ve broken up—or he dumped you. it was a normal day until then, but it certainly wouldn’t be after. it was laughably large bouquet, it almost looked like he was struggling to hold it all. your eyes must look like two full moons based off of his amused yet apologetic smile. you have to make yourself stop your smile before it spreads.

“hi…” he said nervously, shifting his weight foot to foot. he messed up—how could he make up for it? “i was wondering—“

“leave.” your shaky voice manages to croak out, quickly looking down at your paperwork. you had to avoid his stare, surely he would figure you all out if he looked deep enough. nanami said to make him work for it.

“flowers aren’t your thing, huh?” he seems undeterred—in fact, he seems emboldened by your reaction. “that’s fine. i’ll leave them here…” he styles them on your desk, sweeping your stapler and pencil sharpener and organizers to the side to accommodate the large vase. you watch him carelessly move things about, forcing you to accept his gift.

“you’re annoying.” you groan, though the flowers are gorgeous. they’re the same kinds you pointed to when you went on a nature walk one time—something he swore he was going to hate but ended up being one of his favorite outings with you. you seemed to have that effect on him.

“i know! one of my better qualities, i think.” he hums happily, chlorinated pools of crystal blue stare at you over the lenses of his casual sunglasses. he traded in the blindfold in hopes of winning you back—he wasn’t above playing dirty, even if he was the reason he had to play at all.

“as opposed to? ghosting?” you raise your brow. he sighs. he doesn’t know what he expected. he knew you wouldn’t fall right back into his arms, but that biting look in your eye makes him wonder if he’s messed things up beyond repair. either way, he won’t go down without a fight.

“yes—that’s one of the bad ones.” he scrunches his nose in distaste. he bends at the waist to lean his elbows on your desk, propping his face up in his hands. “look sweetheart—“

you scoff, leaning back in your office chair with something akin to amusement. you fold your arms over your chest and arch your brow, and even though you are absolutely pissed, you still manage to make his heart skip a beat. “don’t call me that, you fucked me up. or does that it make you happier?”

“you think i’m bringing you flowers for my health or something? i’m trying to apologize!” he whines, tugging a lone flower out of the bouquet and extending it toward you. “i’m an asshole, i know, and i don’t deserve to call you sweetheart—“

“i don’t accept.” you tilt your nose in the air. he swears he can see the hint of a smirk on your lips, and he sighs. you hold the power yet again, but this time he’s going to allow it.

“what can i do to make it up to you? it was a mistake..i see that now.” he frowns, looking down at the pale pink petals brushing against his fingers.

“mm, yeah? i’m sure fucking a bunch of other women helped clear that up.” you look at the flower in his hand too, examining the brightness, the absolute perfection of the petals. it almost withers with the man holding it.

“wh-what?” he blinked rapidly. he hadn’t had sex with anyone—god no, he can’t do fleeting connections, and in his heart of hearts he knew that none of them would fill the void you left behind. but your jealousy…now that he could use. “aw, baby, just say you missed me. i could clear up some things for you too.”

you snarl at the insinuation, even more annoyed that he didn’t deny romping around with other women after dropping you like it was nothing.

“i’m sure you wish you could, baby, but i’m not sloppy seconds.” you take the flower and snap the stem, tossing it on your desk without second thought. he pouts at the gesture, deciding that words were no use on you, he hums. he knows how to handle this.

“no, but you are more delicious the second time.” he sings, and you get up from your desk in frustration. he was so irritating. did he think that he could just disappear on you like that and you’d just forgive him like nothing? you huff up at him, gathering all your stuff and shoving it into your office bag. nanami watches from the stairs—and he’s proud that you’re making gojo work for it, at least.

you stomp out of the office building with all the theatrics at your disposal, and it only makes satoru smirk as he walks after you. god you want him so bad, he thinks. he catches the office door before you can slam it closed behind you, sliding his palm across the wooden panels with a suave coolness. it’s like he has the situation completely under control, strolling leisurely after the little lady stomping and yelling at him over her shoulder. he knows he fucked up, and if you wanted to blast him through the city on your route home, then he’d smile and walk dumbly after you.

your heart was racing. he was still following you—and you knew if he cornered you alone, there would be no denying him. your brain was fighting hard enough to deny him back in the office already. your blood is boiling. why do you want him back so bad? he left you—is sleeping with other women, even, and you're letting him tail you to your house. you shut the door on him, but he just teleports into your living room anyways. you give him a look—not sure what else to say. ordering him out would be futile—as you didn’t want him to and he clearly wouldn’t obey.

he’s smug, sitting on your couch with one long leg crossed over the other one, his arm stretched across the back of the couch like he’s just waiting to put it around you. he stares at you knowingly, but that smirk is driving you insane.

“stop looking at me like that—and get out of my house.” you try meekly, at least you could say you could. your eyes narrow at his unmoving form and he can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

“you’re trying so hard to be mad at me, sweetheart.” he hums, arching a brow in amusement. he bats those long white eyelashes at you like he’s just ready for you to admit the truth and come crumble in his lap.

“i’m pissed, not trying that hard at all.” you scoff and shake your head, tossing your bag on the floor so that you may properly cross your arms at him. “you lied to my face, ghosted me, and now you’re acting like i’m being ridiculous for not accepting your flowers and taking you back?”

he shakes his head, a little nonchalant frown on his face. “you aren’t ridiculous for that—“ he stands and makes his way to you, not even bothering to hide the way he eyes you up and down. “you’re ridiculous for pretending you don’t want to. i could make this allll better if you’d just let me, sweetheart.”

his breath is as icy as his eyes when he leans down, brow arched like he’s asking a question. he is, you realize, he wants to know if you’ll let him.

“i never really slept with anyone, sweetheart. promise. was just trying to get you off my mind. didn’t work—made everything worse, actually. i got what i deserved.” he sighs softly, noting the hesitation on your face but the want in your eyes. he reaches a tentative hand to your face, giving you a soft smile when you let him touch you. “i’m sorry…you’re all i can think about. i just got nervous—i’m so stupid. beyond stupid—“

you smash your lips onto his to keep him from yapping. all he had to do was apologize. really apologize and mean it—but you would still punish him for walking away. you would make sure he could never do it again, lest he’ll never be able to get you out of his head even in death.

his hands grab at your dress, pulling you against his body in one fluid motion. the kiss changes moods entirely. the room feels like it’s buzzing now, his passion felt through the way he moves. he slides over your ass, kneading and fisting the fat with a groan into your mouth. you step into him, backing him to the couch. he grins against your lips like always—his kiss was warm and apologetic, lips hurriedly slotting over yours in an effort to make up for his transgressions.

he falls into a seat, pulling you into his lap with him. he sees your plan, and won’t go down without a fight. he promised to straighten you out after all. but letting you think you’re in charge was adorable, so he didn’t mind to indulge in it. you push his chest back with your own, grabbing his chin in your hand roughly. his back hits the couch and he can’t hold back his little giggle as his hands follow the paths of your body, though a satisfied hum follows at the feeling.

“you are sorry—a sorry piece of shit.” you huff, repeatedly kissing him over and over with all the anger you’ve been pinning up for the past few weeks without him. he grunts lowly, opening his mouth to invite you deeper. you take his willingness as a gift, plunging your tongue in his mouth and making sure yours stays in control. he tastes like honey and cinnamon, and it was a taste you missed more than you let yourself believe.

“pieces of shit must be your type though.” he sasses, standing up with you on his lap. he knows where your room is based on his extensive stays over, it’s nearly muscle memory for him to kick your door open with the point of his shoe, smiling up at you like no time had passed —like no bad blood had resulted from it. he throws you down like you weigh nothing, though he takes a seat on the side. upon hearing you gasp at his words, he scoffs and shakes his head. “don’t even think about it. i’ll fuck it out of you anyway.”

you can’t deny the way your body tingles and warms at his command. he’s usually soft and sweet, just rough enough to satisfy any cravings of yours—but he never struck obedience into your soul. your mouth closes, and he chuckles a little bit at your change. “that’s better. now if you wanna keep poppin’ off with attitude, i’ll get nasty instead of the sweet apology i planned for you.”

you roll your eyes, he was testing it. “don’t tempt me—“ you huff, a little annoyed at how easily your body gives up. you didn’t want to give him the ego boost of obedience, so you give him the attitude requested. “you messed up—i’ll talk to you however I want—“

he sighs and tugs at you, pulling your body at will. he splays you across his lap—long legs hanging over the edge of your bed. your dress is shoved up over your ass, and the tiny string of your thong is drawn back and snapped against the flesh. it makes you squeal a little in surprise, but you would be lying to say you didn’t want more.

“oh i’m a piece of shit, who are these for, nyeh?” he flicks your panties again, the sensation a small pleasurable sting.

“you dumped me—they’re for whoever i want.” you huff at him, even if his jealousy makes your heart warm. he slaps the fat of your ass lightly, humming at the way you jolt.

“yeah?” he smacks your other side, “i didn’t fuck anybody though. knew i needed you.” he spanks the same spot, the sting intensifies so wonderfully and makes your head spin. you can’t help the little moans that leave you with every slap.

“didn’t fuck anybody either, dickhead.” you pant, tossing him a glare over your shoulder. his free hand comes to grab your throat, sinewy warm and soft fingers wrap around your column with a tight grip—though not enough to restrict any airflow, of course. his cock stabs into your side at the sight. he grins brightly, almost sadistic in nature.

“you’re silly.” he hums, squeezing your throat until your eyes cross a little. he hums at you, the vision enough to make him painfully hard, but he always knows when to let up. he slaps your ass in conjunction with his little squeeze. he knows how to keep your eyes on him— repeatedly shaking his head, like he disapproves of you. “so pretty though. but mouthy.” he tsks, giving you a punishing spank to your tender skin. he hums pleasantly at the way your skin breaks a little, his red handprints making their way to the surface. “can’t even accept an apology. what do you want me to do, sweetheart?”

you can’t deny the wetness pooling in that skimpy thong. the stinging through your ass only makes your brain fog worsen, need was the only thing on your mind. he was so strong and sexy, and he was trying to make it up to you. you suppose you could…hear him out. that didn’t mean you were back together.

“fuck me—i’ll make my decision based on your performance.” you purr in his lap, wiggling your branded ass. he groans, you’re going to tease when you look like this? he woulda proposed if you asked him to if it meant you were all his again. commitment didn’t scare him so much anymore. you were as angry as ever and you still smiled when you saw him. you still let him follow you back home to plead his case. even if you didn’t have much a choice, you hardly even put up a fight. and he knew what that meant: you weren’t nearly as angry as you were trying to be.

“oh i’ll fuck you, sweetheart. let’s see if you can take it.” he hums so innocently, scooting you off his lap and onto all fours. he slides your thong to the side, laughing giddily at the sight of your soaking cunt. you definitely weren’t as mad as you were trying to be. “god look at this ocean—i almost feel bad for ya. trying to be such a meanie t’me when i’m the only one that can make it better.”

he wrestles with his pants, pushing them to his knees with haste. precious time was ticking, and stripping completely was a waste of it. he nearly sighs in relief when he frees himself, pumping his length fluidly. you whine at the time it’s taking him to fuck you, wiggling your cute rear and huffing.

“takin’ too long—“ you can’t finish your sentence before you cry out, his cock splitting you open just as you asked for. your walls felt like coming home, and every squeeze you give him was like a warm hug. he can’t believe he denied himself this for weeks just because you said something he’d been dying to hear from someone who meant it his entire life.

“better?” he asks, using your plush hips as his handlebars. this was why you would never be able to move on from him no matter the advice and warnings and every sign in the world telling you ‘no satoru gojo!’ he was just too good, he knew you all too well and your body craved and needed him like water. he fit in your cunt like he was built to, every pump of his cock left you gripping the sheets in an effort to hold yourself up, which you can only do for a few more seconds. “what, too hard? i thought you wanted to be fucked, little one?”

you’re stuck in a silent scream, unable to answer him. you feel like you can feel him in your lungs, his hips absolutely bullying yours. he admires your deep arch even though you’ve fallen forward, your ass rippling into his pubic hair so perfectly he had to reward you with some grunts and groans of his own. he lays over your back, cooing his praises in your ear.

“there she goes, now she’s taking good dick. can’t believe you almost wasted a thong like this— good thing i stay around, yeah?” he shoves your forward just a bit, off his cock and face first into your pillows. you whine at the loss, but he flattens your legs and sits on top of them—squeezing his cock between your thighs and ass, guiding his dick back in. you mewl at the new sensation. how could he possibly be deeper? “awww, that’s a good girl. letting me fuck ya like i hate ya when i’m just trying to prove that i love you too.”

you clench when he says it, moans intensifying as he uses you in this new position. he smirks, you’re adorable. laying there screaming for him with a gorgeously painted ass and a perfect body taking all the force behind his thrusts. “you still love me, sweetheart?”

you nod eagerly, your moans borderline animalistic. “yes—fuck, yes i do, i love you satoru!” you feel him so deeply in your stomach that you can’t keep holding back. it felt like a rubber band snapped as you squeeze around him and cover him with your essence. he keeps going, eyes trained on your recoil and the white ring you left at the base of his cock. your confirmation only drives him crazier, your limp body beneath him taking his increased pace like a champ—little overstimulated moans the only sound he can hear.

“gonna cum in this pretty pussy to show you how much i love you.” he groans, picking your body up in one strong arm to hold you down on his cock. you feel the rush of heat and shudder, the fact he was willing to deal with the consequences of cumming inside alone made you want more of him—until he couldn’t cum anymore. he holds you up, luckily enough— you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself—and places soft kisses to your neck. he hums, enjoying the taste of your skin slightly sweaty and warm from his love. he stays inside you, he can’t bring himself to move just yet, but he sighs in content.

“so…we back together?”

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #kyleewritesjjk #Kylee’s kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut

[kirawaswrong]

somewhere in the haze

summary: You made a mistake that nearly cost you your life. Now your boyfriend is pissed at you, and you're not completely sure why. Is there hope for reconciliation?

pairing: chuuya nakahara x female! reader

genre: slight angst, smut

word count: 4k+

warnings: MDNI!! starts angsty but then...., fingering, oral (fem receiving), soft dom chuu [kinda], bratty reader [a bit], aka I finally am dipping my toes into smut, also depictions of stabbing

note: I wrote smut, ya’ll!!! But being me, there is a story too. Dealing with big emotions and all that jazz. I hope you enjoy!

Getting ready for work wasn’t usually an arduous affair. You had it down to a routine, and even made an event of it. While cooking breakfast, you were a celebrity chef. When taking a shower, you’d give the concert of a lifetime. But today, nothing was making it easier. It was your first day back in over a month. It should have been a cause for celebration. But you were in a fight with your boyfriend. 

The previous night's events played on repeat in your head while you put your clothes on.  You brushed your teeth, and all you could think of was Chuuya's furrowed brow.  The fight made you see the past month in a new light. You felt stupid for not realizing his feelings sooner.

You were working on a solo assignment. It was pretty standard, and in fact, one you’d done several times before. It was security for a jewelry store. The store turned a blind eye to the Port Mafia's illegal jewelry ring. In return, sometimes they'd request a member come by and watch over the place.  

It was late at night. It seemed like a rare uneventful day was about to pass by. But then a tall, slender man tried to enter the store after hours. You knew you could take him, so you chased him to the roof. Before he could turn, you socked him in the back of the head. He fell immediately, out cold. 

You were sure you’d incapacitated him enough to call for someone to assist you in disposing of him. As soon as your back was to him, an arm wrapped around your throat. Pain shocked your lower abdomen; he'd stabbed you. He called you a dumb bitch before removing the knife and throwing you to the ground. 

With a shaky hand, you reached for your phone. The warm ooze of your blood made it too difficult to maneuver it to call for help. Your wound went from feverish to frigid, and the edges of the world got a lot fuzzier. As you faded, you thought of the hardships you’d faced and how you finally felt like you belonged somewhere. And now you were gonna die on top of a shitty building. 

Your last thoughts were of Chuuya, and how you hoped he wouldn’t have to see your corpse.  Then, everything went black. 

---

But the Port Mafia had your back. You awoke with a sharp ache in your stomach and a heaviness in your head. Before even blinking your eyes open, you knew you were in the organization’s medical wing. 

“You’re awake.”

The voice that spoke was one you knew well but never failed to slice a shiver down your spine.

You forced your eyes open. Mori Ougai stood like a shadow by your bed. His hands clasped behind his back. He held an almost bored expression as if your stabbing was a mild inconvenience to him. 

“Hi boss,” you said. You tried to sit up to formally address him but hissed in pain. 

“Refrain from unnecessary movements for the time being,” He said. “The blade nicked your appendix, so I took the liberty of removing it for you.”

Wow, a surprise appendectomy. How thoughtful. 

“We’d received no communication from you in some time,” Mori said. “So it was clear you were in danger. If you’d lost one more liter of blood, you would be dead. That’s why I started a transfusion.”

You looked down to see an IV in your inner right arm. Blood came from a bag, and you knew better than to question its origins. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d woken up in the medical wing, nor would it be the last. But usually, someone else was at your bedside.

“So,” you said, “Where is-?”

“Chuuya will be here shortly,” Mori interrupted. “He wasn’t notified until it was certain whether you would live or die.”

You weren’t surprised. If Chuuya knew the extent of your injuries, he’d tear the world apart to be there. From Mori’s perspective,  wherever Chuuya was had more importance than being with you. 

“For now, continue to rest,” Mori smiled in a way that was supposed to offer comfort. “If there are no complications, you can go home tomorrow.”

“What about work?” You blurted out.

“We’ll discuss the matter later.”

Mori administered more pain medication and left the room. Before you could think about much else, the drugs knocked you into a hazy sleep. At some point, you swore you heard muffled voices outside the room. Your eyes were too heavy to open, but you felt a warm gloved hand holding your own. You slept deeper after that.

---

The next day, you went home. Naturally, Chuuya took you to his place. Resting was imperative to your recovery, and you had trouble with that sometimes. 

Once at the penthouse, Chuuya set you up in the guestroom. When you weren’t recovering from a knife wound and impromptu surgery, you were used to sleeping with him in his bed. You thought that he was afraid of impeding the healing process. 

Once you were comfortable in the bed, he told you to stay put. 

“If you don’t,” he said, “I’ll use my ability on you.”

His crooked smile and delivery of the threat told you it was a joke. But there wasn’t much joy behind his eyes. You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough. 

That set the tone for your stay. You weren’t completely oblivious. Something was wrong with Chuuya. He went through the motions of aiding in your recovery. He helped you bathe, changed your dressings, and made sure you took your medicine. But the other times Chuuya rehabilitated you, he’d be smirking and telling jokes. When you worried, he'd give you soft kisses. This time, he was more…sterile. 

You told yourself that it was because of how close to death you were this time. And in a way, you were right. 

A week later, you had a partial return to work. Though your wound had superficially healed, internal damage was still possible. So you were stuck doing nothing but paperwork. You fucking hated it. Everyone at the Port Mafia had to deal with papers, but not hour after hour, day after day. You felt like a glorified secretary. You were eager to go on missions again. 

When you shared those thoughts with Chuuya, you received a slight nod and silence. It was odd, as your perseverance and enthusiasm were what had attracted him to you in the first place. 

A few weeks later, Mori told you that you would be able to return to full-time duties the following day. Though it was exciting, you felt deflated. Chuuya had been so distant, you didn’t want to tell him. He was an executive, so the odds were he already knew. 

That night after dinner, he confirmed your suspicions.  At the table, you nonchalantly said you were nervous and excited to leave paperwork duty. Chuuya’s expression darkened, and he sighed. You decided it was time to rip off the bandaid. 

“That was a pretty heavy sigh.” 

He said nothing.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t think you should go back yet,” he said. 

It was your turn to sigh. “Look, babe. I know it was a pretty serious injury, but I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not about that. I think we should go over training again.”

“Chuuya, I’ve been in the mafia for almost a year now,” you said. “Training ended a long time ago.”

“Well, maybe you need a refresher course,” he said in a venom-soaked tone.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Everyone knew Chuuya was an explosively angry man. His yelling was nothing to scoff at, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. What most people didn’t know was how terrifying it was when he was quiet. 

“I never thought you would be so reckless. Turning your back on an opponent while on a solo mission. Didn’t even call for backup or anything.”

You felt like a stone sank into your stomach. The other shoe dropped. He was…angry at you. 

“I tried,” you sputtered. “But the blood was coming out, and I-”

“You should have called for someone as soon as you saw the guy.”

“He was a beanpole,” you said. “I thought I could take him!”

“He might not have been alone. What would you have done then?” 

You were at a loss for words. “I just…I-”

“You got cocky,” Chuuya finished. “Which is exactly what I’ve warned you against since day one, haven’t I? Don’t get a big head, and never turn your back on anyone. Especially if you’re alone!”

“So, what, am I the only person who’s ever made a mistake?” You spat back.

“You can’t afford to make mistakes like that,” his voice rose. “You make those mistakes, you die!”

“You think I don’t know that?” You exclaimed. “That’s all I could think about on the roof!”

“Good,” Chuuya said. “Hold onto that feeling. Next time you’re on a mission, you can think of it. Then you'll remember to cover your ass and you won't pull something like that again.”

A tense silence hung over the room. You were both heated and so angry. You knew better than to say anything. Having the last word would be a petty thing to worry about. 

But anger made you a petty person.

“Fine,” you said. “I will remember that feeling. When I go out on the field tomorrow.”

Chuuya scoffed. “I don’t want you to go back out yet!”

“So sorry, Mr. Nakahara,” your voice dripped with sardonic respect. “I know I made you and the rest of the higher-ups look bad, but I have to get back to doing my job.”

You got up from the table and began to storm from the kitchen. Two steps later, Chuuya’s hand wrapped around your forearm. 

“We’re not done talking.”

“I am,” you said.

He turned you around to face him. Anger still filled his eyes, but his jaw wasn’t quite as clenched. 

“You can’t just run away from this,” he said. His voice softened to the slightest degree. “I’m not saying this as your superior. As someone who cares about you, I don’t know if you’re ready to go back out there yet. Is that so hard to understand?”

You wanted to agree with him. Fall into his arms, and put the whole mess of a fight behind you. But pride was something you shared with Chuuya. 

“I’m going in tomorrow,” you said. “And you won’t stop me.”

After a moment, he let your arm go. 

You packed your things and came into the living room with a suitcase. Without a word, Chuuya helped you put everything in his car. Neither of you spoke on the drive. The silence was relentless in the parking lot. When you left the car, he finally spoke.

“Be careful.”

You gave a nod and headed into your building. 

---

Which led to your first day back. A day that should have been celebratory, but was now marred with grey. 

Besides a few passing remarks from colleagues, no one made a big deal about your recovery or return. It was the mafia. People pulled through from worse injuries all the time. 

You had no solo assignments that day, which you were thankful for. Not because of fear, but because it was easier to shut your mind off and focus.  You did keep your word and were very careful. 

During downtime, the argument swirled around in your head. Chuuya trusted you. He knew that you were well-trained. Why would he say you weren’t ready to go out on your own anymore? 

The end of the day came. When you got to your car, he leaned against it with his arms crossed.

You weren’t sure if you felt relieved or annoyed. 

“Can we talk?”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

He slid into the passenger’s seat with you in the driver’s. 

For a moment, he said nothing. Both of you stared forward.  You were starting to wonder why the two of you had so many tense silences in cars.

“So,” you said. “You wanted to talk.”

“You didn’t get hurt today,” he said. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Good.”

Another silence. 

“Look, Chuuya-”

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

You turned to him. “Okay?”

“You’re good at your job,” he said, turning to you. “I’d be an idiot not to know that.”

“Then why did you make me feel like I don’t know what I’m doing?” You asked. 

He sighed, leaning his head back on the seat. “Babe…You almost died.”

“Yeah, I know that, but–”

“No, you almost died. It scared the hell out of me.”

You didn’t know what to say. 

“I know anyone could fuck up and wind up dead,” he continued. “But you’re not just anyone.”

His eyes were on you. He reached over the console to hold one of your hands in both of his. 

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your resolve melted like a puddle. “Why didn’t you just say this like a month ago?”

He chuckled without humor. “I was afraid I’d blow up at ya.”

“Thank god that didn’t happen,” you deadpanned.

“I am sorry,” he said. “Look, either of us could die any day.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s the truth,” he said, squeezing your hand. “But I need you to do everything you can to keep yourself alive.”

His eyes shone with sincerity, and your lingering anger evaporated.

“Only if you promise to do the same,” you said. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

He pulled you across the console and held you against his chest. You embraced each other for what seemed like an eternity before he broke the silence.

“Wanna come to my place tonight?”

---

With the fight resolved and put behind you, it was easy to return to the domesticity you’d both grown accustomed to. Chuuya ordered takeout from one of your favorite restaurants. Throughout the meal, his eyes couldn't stay off of you. 

After dinner, you sat on the couch together, barely watching an old sitcom rerun. Your back was against his torso, and his arms wrapped around your waist. You chattered on about your first day back. 

“...And then Higuchi kept trying to get Akutagawa’s attention even though I’ve told her a thousand times that he–Chuuya!”

He’d leaned forward to kiss the side of your neck. 

“Go ahead,” He murmured against your delicate skin. “I’m listening.”

You made an earnest attempt of continuing your story. Chuuya thwarted it by nibbling and sucking below your ear.

“Y-you’re distracting me,” you fought the urge to moan.

“Am I?” He chuckled. 

You gasped as his hands crept down to your thighs, gently pulling them further apart. His dick began to harden against your back.

“I’ve just been thinking, baby,” he murmured. “Between your injury and our fight, there’s a lot of things we haven’t been able to do in a while. Wanna start doing them again tonight?”

You answered with a breathless whimper and he kneaded his fingers on your thighs. His touches crept closer to the heat pooling between your legs.

But then, he stopped his movements and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Only if you want to,” he said. “No pressure, okay?”

You turned your head to smooch his cheek.

“I do want to,” you breathed.  “I really want to.”

---

In previous instances of lovemaking, Chuuya could be a bit rough. This benefitted both of you. It helped him work out some of his aggression. And for you? Well, you found it hot.

But tonight, he placed you gently in the middle of the bed. His eyes remained locked with yours as he removed his waistcoat and pants. He joined you on the soft sheets, framing one of your thighs with both of his. He tangled a gloved hand in your hair and then leaned down to kiss you. His lips pressed onto your lips, your heart thunked against your ribs. Warmth bloomed from your chest and spread throughout your entire body. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. Chuuya rubbed his knee against the heat between your legs, causing you to moan into his mouth. 

He broke the kiss, a smirk across his lips. 

“You okay?” He asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah,” you gasped. His knee still rested squarely against your crotch. “I’m very much okay.”

He chuckled. “Tell me if that changes, got it?”

You nodded. Before you could verbally respond, he moved his thumb from your cheek to your lips.

“Would you take this off for me, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth and gingerly bit the tip of the glove. He pulled his hand back, releasing it from the leather. 

He took the glove from you, planting a quick kiss on your lips. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” you responded, trying to pretend your face wasn’t burning hot. 

His next target was your collarbone. You’d have hickeys by morning with the way he sucked and scraped his teeth against the soft expanse of skin. He untucked your shirt, slipping his hand underneath and up your torso. Your nipples responded to his touch from beneath the fabric of your bra.  

“We gotta level the playing field, babe,” he playfully admonished against your neck.

“Hmm?”

“I’m practically naked,” he said. “And here you are, still fully clothed. Doesn’t seem fair.”

You snorted. Chuuya wore so many layers of clothing that being in a dress shirt and boxers really was close to nudity for him. 

“I see your point,” you said. 

You pushed him off, sitting up and pulling your shirt over your head. A smug grin played on your lips when you saw the way he looked at you. Even in your everyday bra, he still made it seem like you wore the most mouthwatering lingerie he’d seen in his life.

“Better?” You asked.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close and kissing you again.

“Almost,” he murmured against your lips. 

And with one hand, he unclasped your bra. 

“Chuuya!” You laughed out a reprimand. The impressiveness of the act outweighed any embarrassment. Still, you held the garment against your chest. 

“What?”

“I’d hardly call this an even playing field,” you said. 

“Semantics,” he scoffed, waving a hand. “Now, get your fuckin’ arms outta the way, would ya?”

You playfully rolled your eyes but did as he said, and removed the bra completely. 

He laid you back on the bed, hovering over you. Mindfully keeping his weight off of you, he grasped your breasts. His mouth found your right nipple, sucking on it hard while his gloved hand played with the left.

With a moan, your head rolled back onto the pillow. When he switched to the left nipple, you raised up to look at him. He'd closed his eyes, and he seemed to be at peace with everything in the world. 

“Enjoying yourself, Chuu?” You teased. 

His eyes shot open, and his face rivaled his hair in redness. 

“Yeah,” he said after dislodging from your breast. “And I bet I’m not the only one.”

His bare hand traced down your torso and into your pants. He traced a finger against your panties, feeling the soaked-through fabric.

“You’re pretty wet,” he said. “Want me to do something about it?”

“Uh-huh,” you gasped.

“Aw, where’d that smart mouth of yours go, babe?” 

You narrowed your eyes, saying nothing.

He chuckled but relented by pushing your panties aside. He slid his finger down your slit before plunging two fingers inside. The fingers crooked inside you in the most delicious way. 

“Now, tell me,” he said, continuing to work you from the inside. “Is there anything else you want me to do to you?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered. 

“And, uh,” he stroked your shoulder with a gloved finger. “What exactly would that be?”

You fought to form a sentence. “I think you already know.”

He smirked, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “Yeah, I have a pretty good idea. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Chuuya,” you whined. “Please.”

“C’mon, pretty girl. Use your words. I’ll take good care of ya if you do.”

The way he was using his damn words–and his fingers–was driving you crazy.

You drew in a shaky breath and looked straight into his eyes.

“I want you to make me cum on your tongue.”

His smirk intensified and placed a kiss on your cheek. 

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Quit teasing and put your mouth to better use.”

“Hey now,” his tone playfully darkened. He withdrew his fingers from your core and lewdly sucked them dry. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, Chu.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “brat” and sat back on his heels. He removed his other glove, tossing it aside. He peeled off your pants and discarded your underwear. 

Your eyes lingered on the ceiling while his gaze raked over your nude body. The intensity of his eyes tracing over every inch of you was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to. His thumb smoothed over the raised skin of the new scar that brandished the skin above your right hip. 

“Look at me,” he said.

He rewarded you with a lovestruck smile when you did what he said. 

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, y’know?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend’s mentioned it from time to time,” you giggled. 

“I’ll tell ya every day if I have to.”

He put a pillow beneath your hips to elevate you and then began to settle himself between your legs. He tossed his hair over his shoulder to get it out of his way. His arms wrapped around your legs, and his hands pressed into the soft flesh. He pressed kisses to your inner thigh, inching closer to where you desperately wanted him. 

His face was mere centimeters from your center. His blue eyes locked onto your face. He ran his tongue over his top lip.

And then he kissed the other thigh.

“Chuu, come on!” You whined. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

He tsked under his breath. “Be patient.”

“I have been,” you argued.

“You’re gonna get what you want,” he reasoned. “I promised you that, didn’t I?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the pillow. 

“Yeah, you did,” You grumbled. “But I thought, you know, it’d be some time tonight and wouldn’t take forever-oh!”

In your exasperation, you failed to notice the devilish look on Chuuya’s face as he dove in to lick your slit firmly. He ended it with a flick to your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

When you returned your gaze to him, the sight was almost too much to bare. His eyes danced with gloating. Your thighs framed his handsome face.

The admiration turned into more ecstasy as he continued. 

He gave you another unyielding lick and then began to suck on your clit. You moaned shamelessly, burying your hands in his hair. When you tugged at his roots, his groan reverberated into you in the most wonderful way. Spurred on, he shoved two fingers back inside of you.

It was clear you wouldn’t last long. His tongue curled around your clit now, with the tips of his fingers crooking against you from the inside. Your eyes slammed shut and your mouth gaped open. Sparks flew in the darkness of your vision. And before long, you came while crying his name.

His mouth continued to work you through it. On the onset of overstimulation, you whined and pulled his hair harder. 

Chuuya pulled away with a lopsided grin. “Tapping out already?”

Too dazed to shoot a quip at him, you nodded with a grin of your own.

He released your legs, paused to gently kiss your scar, and made his way up your body. His lips met yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I’ve missed you,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “Missed this too.”

“Same here,” you murmured. 

Though the moment was tender, your heart was still racing. Reuniting with Chuuya made you feel so relieved. And he made you feel safe, loved, and taken care of. 

But you couldn’t help but notice how hard his dick was against your thigh.

Your hand reached down and palmed the outside of his boxers, earning a stuttering gasp from him.

“Now we gotta take care of you.”

#chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #chuuya smut #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #mine #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya #not sfw

[luimagines]

Caught K-I-S-S-I-N-G Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part three will include Time, Sky and Wind.

Content under the cut!

Time

Time and you were walking side by side at the point of the group, leading the way for the boys to follow.

Since you were already walking side by side, you took the liberty to reach your hand out and put it on top of his. He makes no noticeable reactions but his hands curls over your gently, holding it without missing a beat.

You smile a little easier and step closer to match his pace and his stride. You have to hold yourself back from swinging your hands back and forth in the meantime.

Behind you, you hear a scoff and playful groan. “Gross.”

You both turn around and Warrior stands there with a smirk, if exasperated expression. “Really you two? Before marriage? In broad daylight?”

Sky snorts and elbows the other lightly to get him to back off but there’s no real venom anywhere here.

You bite your lip and smile back but self consciousness eats away at you. You try to pull away from Time but his grip on your hand tightens. Warrior notices and his smirk grows. “I thought I taught you better, Sprout.”

Time raises an eyebrow at the Captain, not impressed what so ever. “You’re absolutely right, Captain. Forgive me, I’ve seemed to forgotten my manners.”

You’re confused. You initiated this. You know that Warrior is joking but Time seems to be 100% serious. “Uh... listen, honey-”

Time pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Sorry, My Love. But I owe you an apology as well. I should have made myself a little more clear earlier.”

“Time-”

He kisses you deeply, cutting you off before you could begin to ask to be on the same page as he was. It takes your breath away and your eyes flutter close as you kiss him back.

“Oh, come on man.” Warrior says defeatedly.

Sky only dissolves into laughter.

Time pulls back with a smirk of his own. He’s too devilishly handsome for his own good. You don’t remotely think to scold him for that. You’re too preoccupied with how the light bounces off of his hair and how his gaze makes you weak in the knees to mind this.

Time pecks you once more before turning to Warrior with a nod. “I don’t need your permission to love them. Excuse us.”

Your jaw drops. 

Warrior’s jaw drops.

Sky is still laughing to himself.

Time takes your hand again and begins to walk once more, swinging it back and forth to your hearts content.

You can’t seem to be bothered by that one bit. In fact, you wouldn’t mind it if he did that more often.

Sky

Sky had taken you away from the group to have some lunch just so that it could be the two of you alone for a little while.

It was a sweet enough gesture to simply having lunch with him but he wanted it to be a little more special. 

He brought a blanket and some desserts to have with you, feeding you every once and a while as you both looked at the view he’d chosen for you impromptu picnic. The lake in front of you was a beautiful blue, reflecting the sky with crystal clear clarity. You had both sat underneath a tree with enough shade to cool you from the sun’s warm rays.

You sighed blissfully and leaned back against the tree, taking a moment to lean over and put your head on his shoulder. “This was perfect, thank you.”

Sky chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He holds you closer, tighter, resting his head on top of yours. “I had hoped you’d like it. You seemed a little stressed lately. I figured a nice break away from the chaos would do you some good. If only for a little while.”

“It was exactly what I needed.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Sky rubs your shoulder. He turns a little bit and kisses the top of your head.

“Oh. Whoops. Am I interrupting?” Legend puts his hands up in mock surrender. 

You snort. “No.”

“Yes.” Sky glances down at you with a disapproving frown. You ignore him.

“I wasn’t aware that I was walking into the middle of something.” Legend smiles. He puts his hands down, pointing to Sky instead. “I came to get you though. You have a minute.”

Sky hugs you protectively. “What do you think?”

You swat his arm with an amused glint in your eye. “Be nice. If you have to go, then go. I can wait here for you?”

“No.” Sky mumbles into your hair. “Don’t wanna.”

You send Legend an apologetic smile. The Veteran doesn’t seem to mind. It looks like he had a suspicion that this would more or less be the outcome. He gets a large grin on his face and put his hands back up in surrender.

“I’ll tell them to not bother you two for a while.”

“Thank you, Legend.” You sigh.

Sky doesn’t respond, choosing to hide away in your hair instead. He nuzzles into you and tightens his grip somewhat. It feels nice.

“I can’t guarantee that they won’t send someone else though.” Legend admit as he walks away. “But I’ll leave you to it.”

Sky huffs. “Can’t even have five minutes.”

“We’ve had more than five minutes.” You remind him with a small laugh. “It’s been over an hour now.”

“Well it should be more.”

You laugh a little louder and hug him back. “Honestly... I can agree with that.”

Wind (Same age)

You and Wind had escaped from the group for a little while just talking silently amongst yourselves.

Your hands were laced together as you both down under a tree for the shade.

“I think I like this place.” You say quietly, slowly rubbing your thumb over his hand. “It’s a shame we can’t stay for long.”

“I didn’t think there could be so many trees in one place.” Wind admits, looking at your hands softly. “I’m so used to the color blue... there’s so much green.”

You grin with a small giggle. “Maybe we should trade. You show me what the ocean is like and I’ll take you to my village, where you’ll find a lot of grey instead. It’ll be new too!”

“Grey?”

“We live in the mountains. Lots of rocks.” You explain with a grin.

“Mountains...” Wind leans back, squeezing your hand gently. “It sounds almost like a fantasy. Do you think we’ll ever get to your village any time soon?”

“I don’t know.” You admit, wiggling your feet a little bit. “I’d like to at some point though. Just to see if everyone is ok. I’d like everyone to meet you too!”

Wind smiles bashfully, bringing his free hand up to scratch behind his ears. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Like you? They’ll love you, just like I do!” You laugh and lean over, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Wind gets a big smile on his face and leans over to kiss your cheek as well.

“Well isn’t that cute~”

You both jump. Wind instantly getting into a defensive position with his arm to cover you if need be. He snaps his head from left to right only to land on Four a little ways away.

Wind glares, biting down the curse that threatens to slip off of his tongue. “Smithy, you almost gave us a heart attack!”

“Oh please, you’re both fine.” The other boy laughs. “I was just looking for you. We’re about to head out. I suggest getting cleaned up a bit and heading back before the others actually start wondering where you both went off to and begin searching.”

Wind groans dramatically, getting to his feet. He holds out his hand for you as he dusts off his tunic from any stray dirt that might have gotten on top him. “Fine. But only because I don’t think I can handle the annoyed look Wolfie get son his face every time he has to come out and find someone.”

You take Wind hand and try to keep the smile off of your face. “It’s fine. No harm done.”

You’re quick to lace your hands together again and shoot Four a thankful smile. “Thank you for coming to get us, Smithy. We’ll join the others in a minute.”

Four nods with a soft smile of his own and gives a mock salute. he turns and leaves with very little fanfare. “Make sure of it.”

Wind sticks his tongue out at him.

Feeling brave, you kiss his cheek one more time, knocking the look right off of his face. You giggle. “Behave.”

“He started it.”

“Well I’m ending it. Come on. Let’s go back.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #I had a lot of internal debate with Wind's #whether i should include him here or not #but i think i found a balance #but he's usually last for people who's rather skip him anyway