#seriously I cried listening to it this morning

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 10

Here we are, babes. The last official part of the main Illicit story. It’s bittersweet because I finally completed something lmao but also, I really love them and their story.

Safe to say this isn’t the last you’ll see of them. I’m fully planning on doing little flashbacks and check ins with them, feel free to let me know what you would like to see/if you have any unanswered questions. Thank you for reading!

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Illicit masterlist

WC- 3.3k

Warnings- mention of wounds, stitching, having children, marriage talk, nightmares, etc

——-

“Harry, for the love of god, please be careful of your arm.” Y/N winced in worry as the man carried firewood over to their fire pit. He had not been taking his injury half as seriously as he had been taking Y/N’s concussion, treating her like the ‘delicate little bird she was.’ He’d gotten an eye roll for that. Of course he wasn’t letting her help lug the wood for their night in front of the fire. She’d requested with sleepy eyes earlier in the morning to make smores because they’d been in her dream and Harry was giving her basically anything she wanted. 

“M’fine, baby.” He laughed, appreciating her concern but knowing the injury barely stung anymore. “The stitches are coming out tomorrow, and we pushed it, keeping them until then. Only kept them because you wanted me to.” 

It had been about 2 weeks since the attack and they’d left for the lake house. As much as he knew it was terrifying for the both of them, he was utterly relieved to have Katherine behind bars. He’d made sure to keep updated by his contact in the force to know what was happening with her case. Apparently she had really lost it, but Harry didn’t give a fuck. He wanted her to rot behind bars, to live miserably and have Y/N be safe without the threat of some crazy ex-who-isn’t-an-ex looming in the background. 

Harry had kept work to a minimum, only logging in to oversee the decisions he had to make. There had been no calls besides the nightly one with his COO to ensure things were running smoothly. Other than that, his entire attention had been on Y/N. They’d barely left the house considering at first Y/N had been a bit embarrassed of her injuries. Another reason he’d hate Katherine until the day he died. Harry always was one to hold grudges, he was infamous for it. She’d never know peace if the man had anything to do with it. 

They were healing incredibly well, Harry taking the time at night to set her on the bathroom counter and wipe them clean and apply the healing ointment to them. The only one that was more than a fading scab was the one on her head along with the slight discoloration the black eye had caused. Other than that, he was more than relieved to see her bouncing back. The only thing that plagued him still was the nightmare. 

His nightmares. 

They’d always start the same, almost a play by play of what had happened to him walking into the home and up the stairs- only when he got there it had been too late. In his nightmare, the knife had already taken Y/N’s life and he couldn’t do anything to save her. He always woke up before the knife struck him, but it actually hurt him. It was a little difficult for him to admit to her, always wanting to be the strong one when it came to their pairing- someone for her to lean on fully- but she had cried once he told her and insisted that she wanted to be there for him. That a partnership was made out of balance and while she could offer him some of the same things he did for her, she was more than capable to be his emotional shoulder to cry on. It had been a tough thing to come to terms with but this week seemed to be healing. Not just physically, either. 

“Ms. Greta, please tell him to take it easy.” Y/N pouted at the older woman who brought out the tray of s’more making supplies. She’d made sure to add the peanut butter cups as requested. 

“I’m afraid if he won’t listen to you, he won’t listen to anyone.” She chuckled. “Men will be men, and that includes straining their physical health for the macho man act. One day they learn we do know what we are talking about.” A little wink was sent her way as Harry huffed, arranging the wood in the fire pit with a grumble. 

“Because I’m fine.” He stressed, standing up straight and crossing his arms. “It’s healed up nicely. I’m more than capable of setting up a little fire.” Crossing over to Y/N, he stole a kiss before grabbing the lighter and a few other things. “Just sit pretty and let your man do the work, baby. I’ve got it.” 

There was a snort heard from both women but Ms. Greta was now off the clock, wishing them a good night before retreating into the house. As much as he loved having the woman around, he really was obsessed with this alone time with Y/N. There was the residual guilt he had over her being treated less than ideally because he was juggling the faux relationship and the contract, but he knew now that he was going to have to take a bit of a step back from work in order to do that. He’d delegate as he was supposed to be doing to begin with, assign more to his assistant, take Y/N more places and on more dates out in public. He couldn’t fucking wait to attent events with her and show her off. 

He’d been waiting months to let people know who his heart belonged to, and he was finally getting the chance to do so. It was obvious now since the articles had been a media frenzy over the attack, things leaked he couldn’t pinpoint. The only thing he had been commenting on was the fact that Y/N wasn’t a mistress, Katherine wasn’t his lover that was scorned, and there was no true excuse for the actions. It was a good thing in hindsight that they were there, alone. No one had a true clue about the location and he didn’t feel like being hounded by paparazzi- though hopefully they knew better now than to test him and his hatred for the cameras.

One thing that had been burning into him, though, was a question he’d been wanting to ask her. One he knew that was a bit unorthodox but a necessary one nonetheless. 

She sat across his lap, his hoodie covering her tank top and denim shorts as her legs swung slightly while they waited for the fire to burn a bit hotter so they could roast their marshmallows.

“When would you like to get married?” He asked. “And how many kids are we thinking about?” 

The girl nearly snapped her neck as she looked at him with wide eyes, the not so casual question leaving his mouth as if it was him asking what she wanted for dinner. Harry always did find a way to shock the hell out of her but this was definitely one of the top questions that had caught her off guard.  Secretly, she’d assumed Harry had that all figured out. He always made sure to let her know how much he appreciated her opinions and her thoughts, that they were important to him- but he was a planner. Harry was the man in charge and she was happy to let him be. It took a lot of weight off of her shoulders that she wouldn’t admit to anyone else actually weighed on her. 

“Uh…” She blinked at him a few times. “I’m not sure. Kinda figured you’d be the one to pop the question. But honestly… Maybe a year? A few months? I dunno.” There was a slight lump in her throat. “I’ve no doubt I want to be with you the rest of my life so part of me feels like I’d probably be fine eloping right now if that was something you wanted but… We haven't really had the chance to be a couple out in the open. While I doubt that’s going to change much considering we feel so strongly, I think it would be kind to ourselves to let us iron out some of the details first before we fully tie the knot.” There wasn’t a right or wrong answer but it still made her a little nervous to answer. “As for kids? I’m not sure. 2? 3? I’d probably say we have one first and figure it out from there.” It wasn’t like they’d have to worry about resources externally but she knew Harry valued family more than anything and he’d want to be an active father. He’d already indulged that detail to her one night when they were particularly loved up. However, neither of them had any children so they didn’t know the workload it would entail, nor did they know how they’d work as parents. Of course they’d figure it out but it would make it a bit more clear on how many they could handle.

“First of all, as much as I’d love to call you my wife right this second… I could never deprive you of the wedding you deserve.” Y/N had told him about the fact that she had always dreamt about her wedding as a little girl. She had pinterest boards full of themes and wedding dresses she’d want to try and cake designs. He wasn’t about to deprive her of those things for his selfish needs.. Harry knew he was indeed a selfish bastard in every other facet of his life, but when it came to Y/N and his soon to be family? That was his only exception. “My mum would probably keel over dead if I did that too. Trust me, you’re going to get your princess wedding.” There was no debating that. “And for kids… I’d love to give you many, many babies.” His tone turned smooth, a little smirk lighting up his face and the twinkle of his eye. “But I think I agree. My idea had been 2-4, but I’ll take as many as you’ll give me. Always.” His hand pulled her in so he could press a kiss to her cheek, muttering a soft declaration of love. 

“Love you more.” She sighed, leaning further into his chest. “I’m so happy that we can live our lives when we get back. I know it’ll probably be a little crazy but there's no more hiding. We can go out and hold hands and kiss, people are going to know we belong to each other.” The giddiness on her face was bittersweet. “I’m so excited to be with you properly.”

The tinge of guilt hit him full on in the stomach, making him frown as he looked into the fire. He knew he had fucked up several times on this journey and Y/N just had a lot of patient and given him a lot of grace when he knew for a fact most other people wouldn’t- but that made it feel a little worse. He’d been wrong in not ditching the contract immediately. “Baby?” He said, voice quieter as he met her eyes. “I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry that I’m a stubborn son of a bitch and I didn’t just dissolve the contract and take on a lawsuit. I should have done it the day I met you because I knew you were going to mean a lot to me even there. I… I know I’ve told you a lot how you were the first and only person to ever make me feel the way you do, but it’s more than that. And my hard headed shit got us into something awful. I know I fucked up and you are more generous than I deserve but…” His fingers tenderly moved the hair from her face, stroking her cool cheek. “I’m going to work every single day for the rest of my life to make it up to you. I’m going to make you the most spoiled, well traveled, happiest woman I possibly can.” His voice stayed quiet as he searched her eyes for any hint of resentment but somehow there wasn’t any there. 

“H.. I knew what I signed up for. You’d been nothing but honest with me the night I ignored you. You laid it all out for me. I knew that you were taken in name only and I liked you so much that I agreed. I never felt like I played second to her. You can say a lot of things about you, lovely, but subtle isn’t one of those things. You never made me feel like she was important. I understood how important your business was to you- it’s the most important thing to you. Did I like seeing you with her? No. But you made it so clear to me that I was yours and you were mine, I never felt like… I never had any competition.” Y/N tried to soothe the ache she knew he felt. Of course she hadn’t liked people thinking he belonged to someone else but she knew he loved her. The most she had ever been loved, the most unashamed. 

“First, I have a correction- You are the most important thing to me. I’d give it all up for you.” That wasn’t a sentence anyone could take lightly, nor one he would ever thought he would say. It used to be the truth, but now it was far from it. “You are my life.” His gaze bore into her own as he cupped her cheek.  “There was never any competition. If we want the honest truth, I thought I’d marry as a business decision. I thought I’d probably not have any kids considering I only ever wanted children out of love. I was happy working until I was gray and about to keel over. Business was my only reason for being, and it wasn’t something I minded- but you gave my life so much more, so much color, my angel.” He’d never sounded more fond in his life, looking at his heaven sent gift perched in his lap. “I didn’t realize there was more to life until I met you. You opened my eyes and made my heart soften. I give a shit about a lot more than numbers now and it’s because of you.” 

People could say he did it himself but he knew the truth. Without meeting Y/N his life would have been the same robotic function it had been since he got out of uni, and he wouldn’t have complained. He’d never know how much he would miss out on. “I thank whoever in the world sent you to me every damn day and you know m’not religious. You are my miracle. It made me feel so fucking sick walking in that house and thinking you were hurt, I have never in my life felt that sort of terror. But I’d do it all again in order to keep you.” The scar on his arm was a reminder of that. 

“I love you, H. The most in the world.” Her eyes watered a little as she smiled at him. “I’m sorry you got scared. I was scared too, scared she would do worse with that knife though I’m still upset you got hurt at all. But I’d go through every bit of it again too.” She sniffled, feeling his thumb brush under her eye as a tear fell. “I know I want everything with you. The marriage and babies and our own house with a pool, if that’s something you want too. You’re the love of my life.” 

“And you’re mine.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to hers. “M’gonna spend every day proving that to you. Just wait and see, my angel. My heart is yours.”  

—-------

Nails dug into Harry’s back as he rocked slowly into his girl in their brand new home. One he’d bought her as a surprise when they arrived back into the city, leaving their old memories behind in the other penthouse and moving on to the next chapter in the rest of their lives. 

“H-Harry…” She bleated, holding on to him while the other hand grabbed his face and pulled his face down so he could be kissed. “Thank you. You always take c-care of me.”

His pace as slow and deep, pressing in as far as he could go on the brand new sheets they’d picked out together. The sunset bled into their room as they breathed each other in, wrapped up in their covers on their first night sleeping there. He’d spared no expense making sure he got the best of the best for her. He was dedicated to the cause, dedicated to proving to her that she was the most precious thing to him in the world. 

“M’always going to take care of you, my love.” He nudged his nose against hers as he dipped his hips to get deeper inside of her. It was like they couldn’t get close enough to one another, her legs wrapped snug around his hips while he kept himself up with one hand, the other under her neck. The term making love was fully about this. It was unmistakable. “You were made for me.” 

He couldn’t wait to spend every morning like this for the rest of his life. The man who used to cringe at the idea of fucking anyone face first now had it as his preferred position, wanting to make sure he could see every second of her reactions to him. She was snug around his cock, taking him like it was her only job in the world. He’d had no problem doing only this for the rest of his life. 

“And you were… you were made for me. We’re made for each other.” Y/N nodded, pressing another open mouthed kiss to his lips as he kept the steady pace, hitting the delicious spot he always knew how to find. “You know my body perfectly. It’s yours forever.” It was both the truth and a bit of a taunt, knowing how much he loved when she spoke like that. 

“You are. You’re mine and m’all yours, never have to share me. I love you so fucking much, Y/N.” He whimpered as her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on it as she was filled over and over again. He hit the perfect spot and was trying to get her to cum, trying to have her finish all over him so he could do the same and stay deep inside for a while. Craving this sort of closeness was an addiction, one he didn’t plan on cutting. The obsession with Y/N grew each and every day. “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

The woman whined out his name at the last sentence, tugging him closer with her legs as she soaked up every bit of heat from him. It didn’t matter what happened, who tried to get in their way- they would always belong to one another. There was an understanding between both of them knowing this love was bone deep, soul deep, it only deepened by the day. When it felt like they couldn’t love each other more it just kept growing, no matter how full they felt. It was everything. 

A love like this was something people revered as pure, perfect, something that everyone craved and yearned for. Something out of a book or a movie, the sort of feeling that trumps all other people and situations. Their passion and yearning for one another had been cultivated in anything but pureness, it was made in the dark. It always made him laugh a little to know that such a concept had blossomed into a real, tangible thing that he could feel between their bodies, something he could see when he looked at her, something he could taste when he kissed her. 

A love that stayed between the lines wasn’t the type that grew stronger- that’s why he smiled when they called it illicit.

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry angst #harry fluff #harry smut #asshole h #asshole Harry #illicit

[knightinink]

My Magnum Opus

x

ref1, ref2

#they are so important to me you guys have no idea #I cried while drawing this #they are so sweet & I just want them to be happy #they found peace & happiness with each other #& that's enough for them <333 #I've also listened to this song first a few years ago & have since made an entire animation in my head of them waking up together #in the morning just happy to be with each other #old-2D animation style of old animated movies (from like the 40s) #I seriously love them so much #this is seriously one of the most important things I’ve ever drawn #pip pirrup #damien thorn #sp dip #pip x damien #south park #my art

[kingtomura]

Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words.  wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen. 

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor. 

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something. 

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!” 

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.” 

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side. 

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.  

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all. 

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most. 

You had no idea what he was up to. 

Maybe he was as depressed as you were. 

Maybe he’s found someone else. 

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous. 

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees. 

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id. 

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you. 

To your surprise, he hadn’t. 

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers. 

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing. 

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media. 

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do. 

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura. 

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far. 

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet. 

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that. 

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile. 

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!” 

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day. 

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle. 

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge. 

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch. 

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains. 

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura. 

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you. 

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession. 

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw. 

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time. 

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy. 

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake. 

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by. 

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?” 

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you. 

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that. 

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there. 

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore. 

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously? 

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective. 

But things are always easier said than done. 

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly. 

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you. 

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination. 

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment. 

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down. 

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now. 

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it. 

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard. 

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall. 

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet. 

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to. 

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen. 

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away. 

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him. 

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of. 

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on. 

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.  

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections. 

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull. 

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face. 

“Stop walking away from me!” 

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner. 

“What are you going to do about it?” 

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch. 

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment. 

Cat and mouse. 

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest. 

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would. 

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed. 

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact. 

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer. 

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible. 

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity. 

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt. 

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well. 

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more. 

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning  as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course. 

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer. 

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over. 

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression. 

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure. 

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure. 

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t. 

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high. 

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality. 

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell. 

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now. 

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time. 

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him. 

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom. 

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock. 

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon. 

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!” 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy. 

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication. 

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well. 

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.” 

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek. 

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.  

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it. 

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word. 

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. 

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it. 

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high. 

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again. 

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup. 

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible. 

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking. 

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.” 

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?” 

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment. 

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles. 

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again. 

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?” 

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is. 

“Tomura…” 

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it. 

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.” 

And it’s the truth. 

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss. 

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine. 

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Four

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.7K

Series Masterlist

She was late for work, again. Her boss was going to kill her.

Just like last time she rushed around the house, grabbing what she needed before she left. This time she managed to grab lunch before she rushed off to the office.

When she got there, nobody noticed how late she was. There was a buzz of something else as she slipped into her cubicle, unnoticed. Everybody else was looking towards the bosses office, whispering to themselves.

"What is it?" She asked the girl in the cubicle beside her own as she leaned over.

The girl in the cubicle was also looking towards the bosses office. Staring, actually. "The hottest guy I've ever seen just walked into Oliver's office," she hissed. "Does Oliver have a son?"

"No way," Y/N answered. She too found herself staring towards the office, captivated.

Inside of the office, Lando was beating the shit out of Oliver Cooke, boss of HC Publishing. "You got the money yet, Oliver?" Lando asked between punches. His knuckles ached in the best way.

"Yes!" Oliver cried, thanking god that his office was soundproof. If his employees heard this, he'd never get over it. "Yes, I'll pay you!"

Lando stopped punching just long enough for Oliver to run over to his chest and pull out a stack of bills. He handed it to Lando, flinching when Lando raised his hand to count the stack of bills, to make sure all of the money was there.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said and strode out of the office.

Immediately the employees went back to work, glued their eyes back to their computer like they hadn't just been waiting for him to walk out of the office. The girls were pretty, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing into the cubicles.

Until he came across her.

"Y/N?"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide in surprise. "Lando, what the fuck?" But then a smile crawled across her face. "Are you stalking me? I'm flattered but, seriously, you didn't have to go to this length."

"Not stalking," he said quickly. "But incredibly surprised to see you. I had no idea you worked at HC Publishing."

That was because she hadn't told him where she worked. They talked about everything but their jobs when they drank in his club. "Listen," he said as he leaned against the cubicle. "I've got to go to Spain for a few days. Do you wanna hang out before that?"

"As long as we can do something that isn't drinking in your club until the early hours of the morning. If I'm late again, my boss is gonna kill me."

Lando could do something about that. One word with Oliver, one flash of his bloody knuckles (which were currently hidden in his pockets) and she'd be able to do whatever she wanted in this place.

"Do you wanna have dinner at mine?" She offered.

"Yours as in where you live?" Asked Lando. He had no need to know where she lived, but it would certainly help. "Yeah," he answered, nodding his head. "That would be nice."

"Perfect," she said and quickly wrote something down. "I finish at five." She ripped the piece of paper out of her notepad and handed it to him.

Lando couldn't stop himself from grinning as he said his goodbyes. He was practically skipping out of HC Publishing, and he didn't give a flying fuck who saw.

"Y/N, what the fuck?" Several of her co-workers called.

She looked around at them. "What?" She asked as she logged into her work computer. "What did I do?"

"You know the hot guy that had a meeting with Mr Cooke! How?" They all asked as they crowded around her cubicle. It was all very intense.

She was the talk of the office for the rest of the day, a never ending source of gossip. She ignored it, pretended not to hear it when they theorised how they knew her. There were several people that theorised that she had slept with him, others that had kinder theories. One person straight up asked if they were childhood friends.

The end of the work day couldn't come quick enough. As soon as the clock hit five, she grabbed her things and rushed out of the office. Her co-workers were still whispering even as she left.

As soon as she got home, she checked in her fridge. There wasn't enough in there to make a decent dinner for two and she wanted to pick up some wine.

Showering and changing into her sweats, she headed down to the shops. It was a small shop and everything was marked up, but she still shopped out, purely out of convenience. She bought what she needed, plus two bottles of wine, and headed back up to her apartment.

With no idea what time Lando was arriving, she began cooking. She multitasked, managing to get dressed while she cooked.

What she didn't know was that Lando was outside of her apartment. He was dressed down, his suit jacket missing and the top three buttons of his shirt open, revealing his necklace against his chest. He leaned against one of the trees lining the street opposite her apartment and stared up at the apartment he thought was hers.

She ran past the window on her way to and from the kitchen and Lando knew. It was definitely her apartment. The area around wasn't the nicest; Lando had done enough shady deals in this area to know. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest.

He strode forward, making his way into the building. He already had her addressed memorised, reciting it in his head as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Lando passed two other front doors before he was standing in front of her apartment. The light in the hallway above him flickered as he raised his hand to knock.

"Fuck!" He heard from the other side of the door. There was a crash before the door opened and she stood there, hand on her hip as she smiled. "Welcome to mi casa," she said and stood to the side, letting him in.

Lando looked around as he strode in. There was no sign of what had made the crashing noise, and he could only assume that she had cleaned it up. "Nice place," he said, looking at the pictures on the walls.

There were some generic ones that she obviously hadn't changed from when she bought the frame. Pictures of family, pictures of pets, pictures of friends. They made her walls bright and colourful.

She had lights strung up around the apartment. Comically large hearts lit by fairy lights, classic chilli pepper lights and more. The couch was covered in blankets and cushions and a giant eight ball rug on the floor.

The apartment had a good feeling spreading through his chest.

"Thanks," she said as she pulled the first bottle of wine out of the fridge and opened the top. "My friends say my calling is interior design. My bank account says to stop buying everything that looks cool." She poured out the wine and handed a glass to Lando.

They tapped their glasses together and she invited him to sit on the sofa. They talked and she managed to take his mind away from his impending trip to Spain. Periodically she ran off to check on dinner and set the table.

After a good fifteen minutes of drinking and chatting, she plated up the food and invited Lando to join her at the table. He brought his wine with him, slipping into the seat opposite her as she lit a candle.

"Do all the guys get a candle lit dinner?" He asked with a teasing smile.

"What guys?" She answered through a laugh.

For a moment, they ate in silence. Well, almost silence. Lando let out a series of moans as he took the first bites. "Fuck me," he said as he got more food onto his fork. But he had no more positive words as he wolfed everything down at an inhuman speed.

She was eating just slightly slower. "So, why were you at the publishing house?" She asked as she picked up her glass.

Lando stopped eating. He should have expected her to ask, but he hadn't. "Uh," he began, trying to formulate a lie. Not that he wanted to lie to her, but he wanted to keep her as far away from his world as he could. "Uh, the people I work for own the building that you guys rent," he said. "I was... having a chat with Oliver about the changing rates," he finished and quickly went back to his food.

She nodded. "It's kind of cool," she said, her gaze on her food. "That you guys own the place where I work."

Lando nodded in agreement, but mostly because he didn't want to say anything else on the matter.

But she had more questions. "You said you're going to Spain, right?" She asked and he nodded his head, still eating. "So, what're you going for?" She asked enthusiastically. "Family holiday?"

Again, Lando didn't want to lie to her. But he had no other choice. He told her as much of the truth as he could. "We're having a wedding out there," he answered.

"A wedding, huh? Fancy."

No, it was going to be traumatising, Lando thought as he finished his food. It was going to be a beautiful ceremony, he knew, but he was dreading it.

It was switch turned on in his head. "Hey," he said suddenly. "Do you wanna come with me for the wedding?" He asked.

"Seriously?" She asked, surprise in her voice.

He nodded his head. "Yeah, hell yeah! It's gonna be a nice ceremony and they'll have an open bar, and I could use the moral support."

"I'd love to, Lan," she said, letting a smile cross her face. "Thanks. I can't wait."

So much for keeping her as far away from his world as he could.

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[toji-girl]

Can you please write something like pregnant reader cries to Toji about something insignificant to him but gets mad at him for not taking her seriously at first? Like hurt/comfort and fluff 💖💖thank you

I haven't been pregnant for a hot minute so I'm trying to remember what I got super upset over which I think was mostly over food lmaoo and ofc! I love writing for Toji and his pregnant wife 🩷 also, this may be more than an insignificant thing but I hope you still enjoy! thank you for asking for this! I love Toji dkgje

tags: pregnant! fem reader + angst with a happy ending

No one warned you about the emotions that would wrack your entire being when you got pregnant, at first you'd thought you glow and be bouncy and airy but right now you are anything but.

There was also no warning about how bad your cravings would get.

Which meant your husband was having to wake up at all times of the night to go get you something. "You wanted to knock me up and think of this as training for when the baby gets here." You tease.

But what you really didn't think about was how far you'd go for said cravings.

All night, you spent awake listening to Toji snore away while you tried your best to get comfortable with your pillows until your stomach started to growl, which wouldn't be a bad thing but seeing that it was a little after three in the morning you still needed something sweet.

You gently pushed his shoulder trying to rouse him from his sleep, it was something he told you to always do when you need something. "Babe? I want some chocolate cake. Please?" You begged softly.

With the whine in your voice, it irritated him. Over the last few weeks, his sleep schedule was already in hell and here he is getting woken up. "What?" He asked clearly upset that you woke him up this early.

You frowned at his tone feeling your bottom lip quiver and then a flash of anger made your blood boil and it hurt your feelings.

"Nothing, I'll go get it." You huffed and got off the bed with a heavy sigh when your swollen feet touched the cool hardwood floor, your belly round and swollen made it hard to see anything really.

But that still didn't stop you from getting dressed with Toji still sleeping while you attempted your best to shove your feet into shoes before leaving out the front door, alone and in search of the chocolate cake that was calling your name loud and needy.

The night was crisp causing you to wrap your jacket more around your achy body, with each step more tears streamed down your face, and a mixture of feelings washed over you like a high tide.

Part of you was more than livid that Toji didn't wake up, but the bigger side knew he was exhausted, the man worked his ass off for you and the upcoming baby boy you'd welcome in a few weeks.

You heaved a heavy sigh shielding your vision from the neon signs that shone down on you, the sidewalk was still damp from the earlier rai, thankfully your favorite place was just a few blocks away.

With it being a few minutes away from four in the morning a lot of people weren't out but you still kept an eye out wondering if Toji ever woke up, but that idea soon left when you pushed the doors open and walked inside the Konbini that greeted you with a sweet smell.

Immediately you greeted the worker with a smile and nob before waddling to the aisle with one thing on your mind as you grabbed a few containers of cake and other items before paying for it all.

The walk home was a lot longer seeing that you popped open a slice of cake to enjoy, usually, you'd have a fork but pregnancy brain is true and a real thing so it was forgotten but right now you didn't care.

Ten minutes later you pushed open the front door tired and full when Toji all but jumped you, his arms snaked around your waist pulling you into his chest. "Where the hell did you go woman? I called you only to see your phone still here. What were you thinking leaving the house without me? For some cake?" He asked exasperated.

You pulled away from him and opened another thing of cake feeling your eyes water. "You didn't want to do it, and I understand why, but I couldn't sleep, and I need this cake whether or not you believe me."

He watched you settle on the couch getting comfortable while he rubbed at his face sinking down by your feet which he pulled into his lap. "I do believe you," Toji replied with a sigh looking at you.

"You don't take my cravings seriously, you like to tease me about and I-" You stopped to wipe at your eyes as you shifted in your spot.

Toji frowned and began to massage your feet feeling the guilt eat at him, the idea of you walking around alone at night while heavily pregnant made his stomach sink with worry. "I ain't tryin' to upset you doll, 'm sorry." He murmured softly kissing your ankle.

Once he was done giving you a massage he washed his hands per your request and then sat back down to feed you, he was better at apologizing this way rather than words. "I forgive you, I love you."

He smiled and leaned in to kiss you gently. "I love you too darlin'."

#💌incoming #tw: pregnancy #ugdjfgd I don't know how I feel about this #but everything else I typed I wasn't liking #toji x reader #jjk x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #jjk x you #toji x pregnant reader

[tomriddleslove]

The Black Lake, a shared blunt, and realisations.

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo has had enough. Everyone and everything seems to be agitating him, and he feels as though he can’t catch a break. Then you come along. Alternatively: You may just be his saving grace, hidden in plain sight.

Slight? Angst but mainly fluff

A/N: I get all my fic ideas when listening to music so bear with me when I say there’s a very certain vibe to this and you have to know the song to understand it.

Songs: Tek it - Cafuné

The clock strikes noon, and Mattheo couldn’t be more than relieved to finally leave the stuffy clasroom. Tossing his bag over his shoulder, he swiftly makes his way out of the classroom, ignoring the agitated glares of the other students he had so rudely shoved past.

Now Mattheo wishes he could say he wasn’t this rude that often. He didn’t really go out of his way to fight people per se, but it just so happened to be that he was quite confrontational and rather good at resolving things with his fists. However these past few days he had been more on edge than usual, snapping at almost everyone for reasons that were far beyond him.

Everything seemed to agitate him immensely, from the way lessons seemed to drag on, to his deskmates who all seemed to have a penchant for being the most agitating, infuriating people possible.

I mean, seriously? What could compel a person to chomp down on a beef sandwich in the middle of class at 10 in the morning? The professor may not have noticed but Mattheo most certainly did, having to spend the last hour with a raging headache trying to ignore the obnoxious chewing sounds and the revolting smell of beef.

He all but almost cries as he collapses down onto the sofa in the common room, grateful for the fact that everyone else seemed to have lessons currently. He closes his eyes for a millisecond, letting out a small sigh of frustration.

He feels the sofa dip beside him and that same frustration returns. He opens his eyes, ready to snap at whatever poor person had decided to sit next to him, but his gaze immediately softens when he realises it was you.

“Oh,” He murmurs, and a lazy grin tugs at your lips as you look over at him, raising a brow.

It’s remarkable just how quickly his mood seems to lighten when he sees you.

“Oh?” You repeat, amused.

“Mhmm. Just not in the mood for it recently and thought you were Belby or some other git. I was ready to hex you.” He murmurs, and you roll your eyes in mock admonishment as you reach for your book, leaning back into the sofa as you thumb through the pages.

“Charming, Riddle. Really, I feel flattered.” You say sarcastically, and the corners of Mattheo's mouth quirk upwards.

You and Mattheo were part of the same extended friend group. You weren’t the closest with him, yet you weren’t absolute strangers. You didn’t talk that much to one another, but got along surprisingly well. Mattheo was one of the only people (bar Blaise) who could match your wit and dry humour, and you were one of the few (if not only) people who didn't seem to annoy him.

You pay him no mind as you read your book, and with any other person, Mattheo would have been largely grateful for that. But for some bizarre reason, he wants you to speak to him.

He glances over at you for a second, admiring the way the gentle glow from the fireplace illuminates your face as you read.

How oblivious could one get?

You break the silence, peering down at your book as you speak.

“Do you have a double free period?”

Mattheo hums, looking over at you. He wants you to look up at him so badly, and he can’t tell why. It seemed as though he’d need a slap in the face to make him realise why he craved so much attention from you.

He shifts on the sofa, trying to appear nonchalant as he replies, "Yeah, luckily. No classes for the rest of the day. What about you?"

You glance up from your book, meeting his gaze with a faint smile. "Same here. Wanna come walk around with me?” You ask, and Mattheo nods, albeit a bit confused as to why you’d want to wander around in such cold weather aimlessly.

You reach into your robe pocket, producing a neatly rolled joint with a cheeky wag of your eyebrows. A grin spreads across Mattheo's face as he looks at you, and he raises a brow in mock disappointment.

“Am I seeing correctly, or has the academic prodigy of Hogwarts just suggested we use our valuable study time to get high?”Mattheo taunts, and you scoff, getting up.

“Piss off, Riddle. Are you coming or not?” You retort, glancing back at him.

He looks up at you, and his gaze lingers far too long on the way your eyes light up, your mouth forming a gentle curve as you smile at him and-

Oh god, Mattheo never really stood a chance, did he?

He nods, getting up as he grabs his robe and follows you. You both meander aimlessly through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, poking fun at the unfortunate students who still had lessons. As you walk past a classroom you catch a glimpse of Theodore, chin resting atop his palm as he sleepily gazes at the board. You snicker, nudging Mattheo as you both hide at the side of the doorway, peering into the class. Mattheo wraps an arm around your waist, moving you behind him and you ignore the way you reel at his touch, dazed for a second.

It doesn’t last long, however, for you're drawn out of your short-lived crisis when you spot Mattheo pulling his wand out from his pocket, discreetly pointing it in Theodore’s direction. It was rather astounding seeing how no other students in the class noticed you, but Professor Binn had a rather uncanny knack for getting people to fall into a zombie-like state of fatigue whenever they were in his class. You were convinced it had to be some sort of superpower.

With a short flick of his wand, Theodore's eyes widened as he yelped, hand shooting up to clasp over his upper arm.

As Theodore's yelp echoes through the classroom, everyone snaps out of their daze, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the disturbance. Theodore grimaces, sheepishly looking down as he tries to play it off. Unable to contain your laughter anymore, you snort, and the sound has everyone turning to look outside the classroom.

Mattheo grabs your hand, pulling you along as the two of you run down the corridor, laughter bubbling up from deep within you.

As you round a corner, out of sight from the classroom, you finally come to a stop, breathless from both the running and the laughter. Mattheo leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath as he looks at you with sparkling eyes.

It was amazing how he had gone from being so irate to so…. Carefree. He felt alive with you, like he could forget about the countless burdens that weighed down on him day in and day out.

“That was bloody brilliant,” You wheeze, clutching your ribs as you laugh. Mattheo grins, panting as he nods.

“Theodore’s hilarious. Can’t wait to hear him complain about that later on,” He muses and you snort, straightening up. You jerk your head to the side, motioning for him to join you as you slip out of the castle onto the school grounds. You leisurely walk down the fields, heading towards the Black Lake.

You stop at a large cluster of rocks near the surface of the water, plopping down on the slightly damp grass. Mattheo joins you, long legs stretched out in front of him as you fish around your pocket. His arm presses against yours and you’re immediately warmed by the heat coming off his body, trying to ignore the intoxicating aroma of his cologne filling your senses.

You hit Mattheo's thigh with your hand, nudging him to get the lighter as you place the blunt between your lips. He obliges, cupping his hand around the flame as you lean down to light the tip, taking a few drags. You pass it over to Mattheo, tilting your head back as you exhale with a sigh. Mattheo mimics your actions, letting out a low groan as he passes the blunt back to you.

“Shit, this is fucking good.” He murmurs, eyes flickering over to you as you take another drag.

You speak, blunt dangling between those perfect lips of yours that Mattheo can’t seem to tear his eyes off of.

“Should be,” You muse, handing it over to Matteho as he takes another long drag. “I sucked dick for it.” You comment offhandedly and Mattheo splutters, coughing as he smacks his fist against his chest, looking over at you in disbelief. You look at him with a lazy grin, a hint of amusement in your eyes.

“Relax, of course I didn’t. But with the price it came at I may as well have.” You murmur, shaking your head.

“So ladylike” He teases and you roll your eyes for what must be the umpteenth time, slapping his thigh as you snatch the blunt back.

You remain silent for a while, and it's oddly comforting. Just you and Mattheo, passing the blunt back and forth between one another as you overlook the black lake. The setting sun is reflected in the ripple of the water, golden rays dancing along the small waves that give the illusion of the lake being made of pure gold.

Mattheo leans back on his elbows, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the crisp air. You're reclined beside him, the gentle lapping of the water providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

"So, Riddle, what's been bothering you lately?" you ask casually, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Mattheo hesitates for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he considers his response. He's never been one to open up easily, but there's something about the softness in your voice that makes him want to confide in you.

"Just...everything, I guess," he admits finally, his tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I feel like I'm constantly on edge, and I'm not sure why.”

Your gaze remains on the lake, a pensive expression on your face as you hum.

“I get it. I suppose for all their goodwill it's a bit hard for the boys to understand that.” You murmur and Mattheo chuckles, looking down at the long strands of grass he was fiddling with.

“Tell me about it”

You remain silent for a second longer, before turning to face Mattheo. He looks up at you and feels as though he's pinned down under your gaze. It’s as though you were dissecting his very being, staring at him with a calculating look before you speak once again, your voice low and soft.

“You don’t always have to be a hardhead. You don’t need to dismiss how you’re feeling. We aren’t meant to have this figured out yet. We’re still young, with so much to learn. What’s the point of life if we know it all now?”

Mattheo listens to your words, feeling as though you've peered straight into his soul and laid bare all his insecurities. There's a wisdom in your words that resonates deeply with him. It's as though you possess a wisdom beyond your years, a rare insight that he finds both intimidating and captivating.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

That god-forsaken smile appears on your face again, and you look over at Mattheo.

“Don’t. Someone has to tell you this, right? I love Nott to bits but I doubt he has anything but quidditch on his mind.” You joke, and Mattheo laughs.

You seamlessly lighten the mood, and Mattheo is eternally grateful for that. Really, he’s grateful for you. He can't think of the last time he's laughed so much. Or felt so free. Perhaps it was the weed, that had lowered his inhibitions and relieved him of his stresses.

But no, it was a drug far worse than that. He had just gotten a taste of it and he knew he would be hooked on it. It came in the form of you, and gods was it dangerous.

There's a heavy silence between the two of you, broken by the sound of rustling as Mattheo sits up abruptly, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hey, wanna go closer to the edge of the lake? I think I saw something cool over there," he suggests, his tone playful as he nudges you with his elbow.

"What, are you trying to pull some sort of prank on me, Riddle?" You ask, your tone sceptical as you raise an eyebrow.

Mattheo feigns innocence, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Who, me? Never," he replies with a smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Despite your reservations, you can't help but be intrigued by Mattheo's suggestion, and with a shrug, you agree to accompany him to the water's edge.

You walk a few steps to the surface of the black lake, peering down at your own reflection for a second. You turn to Mattheo, caught off guard when he gives you a playful shove.

You yelp, reaching out instinctively to grab onto Mattheo as you lose your balance. Instead of regaining your footing, you find yourself slipping on the dampened grass near the edge of the lake and falling backwards into the water with Mattheo.

The icy cold water seems to seep into your body, eradicating any hint of warmth. You resurface with a gasp, brushing your wet hair away from your face as you tread water, your robe floating around you in the water.

Mattheo resurfaces moments after you, his curly brown hair now plastered against his forehead, droplets of water glistening in the fading light. He blinks the water from his eyes and looks at you with a playful grin.

“Why did you do that!” He gasps, though his tone is lighthearted and playful.

You roll your eyes, splashing him in retaliation. “You practically threw me in there! I just needed to find my footing!” You retort, indignified.

Mattheo chuckles, the sound echoing across the stillness of the lake. “Fair point.” He concedes.

Not a second later, however, he splashes you with water, somehow drenching you even further.

“Mattheo!” You gasp, sending a wave of water back at him. The two of you playfully fight in the water, and you laugh, head tilted back. It's a scene straight out of a childhood fantasy, the cares and worries of the world melting away beneath the warm glow of the setting sun.

Mattheo pauses, and his heart pounds against his sternum as he hears your laugh. It’s loud and it's unabashed, and it's the most perfect thing ever. You smile, and he feels as though he can't breathe, you had to have stolen his breath.

The golden rays of the sun illuminate your skin, catching in the droplets of water that cling to the wet tendrils of your hair. You looked like an image out of a Renaissance painting, and Mattheo is sure the sun must hide itself in shame, for on its brightest day it couldn’t compete with your radiance.

He takes in the way the fading sunlight casts a warm glow on your features, highlighting the curve of your cheekbones and the sparkle in your eyes. He’s sure the image must be etched into his mind, permanently engraved. He knows when he closes his eyes, all he will see is the image of you, and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

In fact, he welcomes it.

In your presence, he feels alive in a way he never has before. He will wake up tomorrow and face all the trials and tribulations the universe has to throw at him. For now, however, the sun is shining. The water is cold, but you make him feel warmer. The gentle sound of water sloshing about fills the silence, the horizon is beautiful.

Everything was alright.

@mildlyuninformative @chgrch @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @schaebickel @lillywildly @multifandom-worlds

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader comfort #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff

[bestedoesmeow]

SORRY, AMOUR

request: where he teases the reader playfully (like usual) but without realising she's already had a bad day, so that sort of backfires and she almost cries lol and he starts to panic making it up to her

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ ∘₊✧── ∘₊✧

"Amour, you've been lying on that bed forever. Don't you think you've had enough rest?" Charles teased as he stood in the doorway of your room, a smirk playing on his lips. You didn't turn your head to face him, but you were sure he had that playful expression. "I couldn't sleep last night. I just need a few more hours, Charles," you replied with your eyes closed, trying to fall asleep for over an hour by then. Your mind had been wandering about everything since yesterday night, from your schoolwork and exams to your and Charles's dog's illness. Despite Charles's stress about Ferrari and races, you didn't want to burden him with your own life problems. You felt they were insignificant compared to the weight he was carrying with his team's strategies.

"Why is that, chéri? Was I snoring?" Charles asked with a joking tone. While you were glad he was in a good mood after his podium in SPA, you weren't in the mood for small talk. You just hummed in response, an uneasy and almost angry reply. It was clear that you wanted him to leave you alone, as it wasn't the right time for teasing. Charles, noticing something was amiss and sensing your uneasiness, decided to take a different approach. He swiftly entered the room that you had shared for a year now and slowly sat on his side of the bed before starting to talk.

"I thought we were going to grab breakfast, chéri?" he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. However, his attempt didn't go as planned, and you reached your limit. Your priority that morning wasn't grabbing breakfast. The immense anxiety on your chest and the heavy feeling throughout your body were overwhelming.

"I don't think so. I don't feel like it. Actually, I just want to lay here and cry for a while," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion as tears began to well up in your eyes.

Charles's playful demeanor disappeared as he realized the seriousness of the situation. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you gently into his comforting embrace. He softly stroked your hair and whispered reassuring words, "It's okay, my love. You can take all the time you need. Let it out, and I'm here for you."

You couldn't help but let the tears flow as you clung to Charles, feeling his warmth and support. Gradually, he encouraged you to talk about what was bothering you. You opened up about the overwhelming pressure of schoolwork and exams, the worries about your dog's illness, and the constant thoughts that had kept you up all night.

Listening attentively, Charles assured you that everything would turn out alright, that he was there to help and support you through it all. He reminded you that you were not alone in facing life's challenges and that you could lean on him whenever you needed to.

As the weight on your chest began to lift, Charles noticed your mood improving slightly. He knew that sometimes all it took to bring a smile back to your face was a bit of distraction and comfort. So, he decided to do just that.

"Hey, how about we take a break from everything for a moment?" Charles suggested with a gentle smile. "I got something to cheer you up." He reached over to grab some coloring books and art supplies, knowing that you enjoyed expressing yourself through art.

He also brought out a playlist of your favorite music, hoping that the familiar tunes would help lift your spirits. As the music played softly in the background, Charles joined you in coloring, creating a relaxing and fun atmosphere.

"Je t'aime, Charles," you said, suddenly burning with the urge to reciprocate the love you felt for him.

“Je t'aime, mon amour," he whispered, Charles kissed you tenderly, his lips conveying a sense of comfort and belonging. The worries and anxieties seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of serenity in his presence

#f1 x you #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #f1 fiction #f1 au #charles leclerc au #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #carlos sainz x reader #daniel ricciardo #f1 fanart #carlos sainz f1

[sugurubabe]

Daddy Vibes (part 2)

NSFW! Satoru finally enjoys the fruits of his labor when his wife falls pregnant • creampie • pregnant sex • face riding • daddy kink • mommy kink

Part 1 here

Part 3 here

Satoru is a dedicated and thorough man. He spent weeks after your mutual agreement to have a baby absolutely filling his wife’s sore cunt to the brim with his spend. They’d make lazy love in the mornings, sometimes he’d visit her job and bend her over the desk in her office during her lunch break, and he’d take her at least two times at night before bed. He took their baby making very seriously, and he told everyone who’d listen all about it.

-

“Why the fuck would you say that?” Nanami groans as he tosses his sandwich aside and covers his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“What? I just said y/n and I are trying to conceive.” Gojo replied innocently as he ate Nanami’s abandoned sandwich. Nanami’s eyes twitched as he looked right at the idiot across from him.

“No! You said, and I quote, ‘Y/n and I have been trying SO hard to get pregnant, we’re putting our ALL into this, we’ve been trying every single day’!” Nanami cries out in disgust.

Gojo swallows the last bite of Nanami’s sandwich and nods. “Yeah, like I said, we’re trying to conceive.”

“I DON’T WANNA KNOW THAT YOU’VE BEEN FUCKING YOUR WIFE EVERY SINGLE DAY TO KNOCK HER UP!”

“Jeez, someone needs to get some pussy.”

“I hate you.” Kento sighs.

-

The day Satoru comes home and finds you crying tears of happiness as you hold up a positive pregnancy test is the best day of his life. He swells with pride knowing his seed took and that he’d be welcoming the Gojo heir in the world soon.

He’s a doting dad-to-be. Anything you want, it’s yours. He upgrades your car to a family friendly luxury SUV almost immediately, already installing a car seat in the back. He takes you shopping every weekend and purchases all the baby necessities you think the baby needs. He balks at the idea of a baby shower.

“Why would we need people to buy our baby things? I’m fucking rich. Put it on the Amex.”

Any cravings at any time of the day are immediately taken care of by Satoru. You want pancakes at 5 in the morning? Cool, your husband doesn’t mind waking up early to make them for you before work. Ramen for lunch? He’ll leave work to personally deliver the ramen from your favorite spot to your office. Korean fried chicken craving at 1 in the morning? He’s already ordering it on Uber eats. You grow plumper by the day and Gojo is salivating as he watches you swell.

“Fuck, baby. Let me suck those titties before we go to work, yeah?” He whines as he bunches your maternity nightgown up over your chest and suckles your aching tits. The way your breasts have grown and rounded out from your pregnancy drive him crazy. He could spend an hour just sucking and teasing your cute little buds, hardening them in between his tongue. He’ll stimulate you the point that you’re panting and grinding your panty clad pussy on his thigh.

“Please daddy, stop teasing me..” you whimper in frustration. Satoru chuckles at the needy tone in your voice.

“Mommy wants daddy to make her cum? Tell me, baby. Tell daddy what you want.” He whispers in your ear before nibbling your ear lobe.

“Wanna ride your face, so you can shut the fuck up and put that sassy ass mouth to good use.”

Satoru laughs in response as he pulls you to sit up while he lays down on the bed. He practically rips your nightgown and panties off before you hover your hips over his face.

“Give it to me, princess. Ride my face, okay?” He coos as he wraps his arms around your plush thighs and brings your wet cunt to his mouth. Your husband starts off slow with light licks to your swollen clit. He waits for you to signal for more, usually by tangling your hands in his hair and swearing at him.

“Fuck daddy, right there!”

He smirks as he feels your hands tangle in his white locks. ‘There we go’ he thinks smugly as he truly begins feasting on you. He inserts two fingers into your pussy and begins curling them upwards while he flicks your clit with his tongue.

“Oh shit, juuuust like that, Satoru!” Your hips rock against your sweet husband as your head is thrown back. Gojo looks up and moans as he sees your bare body riding him. Seeing you pregnant and plump because of his seed in your belly is like a fantasy from the deepest parts of his mind.

“Let me grind against your nose while you eat my pussy, baby. I’m so so so close!” You groan unashamedly. Satoru chuckles as he slides down a bit to flick his tongue into that sopping cunt while you rub your pretty little clit against his nose. This has you humping his face relentlessly as you chase your high. He can tell you’re almost there by the way you no longer care what you sound like or how hard you’re riding him. He’s grunting as he tries to keep from cumming in his pants. His cock is painfully hard as he eats you out and his abs tighten from trying to hold back.

“Cumming, I’m cumming!” You keen in a high pitched voice, humping his face for a bit longer while your orgasm hits before eventually sliding off him. Satoru lays there catching his breath. His face is flushed and his chin and nose are glistening from your slick. He’s grinning ear to ear because of how responsive you were. He turns to look at you and laughs at how fucked out you look. Your chubby cheeks are scarlet from the exertion and your chest heaves.

“Mommy, I didn’t cum yet..” he teases you while sliding a hand up your inner thigh. You roll your eyes at the pet name but blush nonetheless. The way he calls you mommy makes you gush for him and he knows it.

“Maybe daddy should go jerk off in the bathroom.”

Gojo fake gasps, “HUH? No way, not when my pretty princess is so perfectly soaked for my cock to just slide in! I won’t deny you my cock, no fuckin’ way sweetheart..” He rolls over and settles himself in between your legs. You look up at him with so much desire and affection that he smiles at you tenderly.

“You know, seeing you like this, all round because you’re carrying my baby… it’s a fuckin’ dream. I can’t get enough of your body. The way you’re so soft, so full and plump, and sensitive… it’s so hot for me.” You stare at your husband and feel that prickle in your eye that signals you’re about to cry. Your lower lip begins to wobble as you sniffle.

“R-really?” You whimper, your tears threatening to spill over from the tooth rotting sweet words your husband said. He smirks as he slots himself between your legs and slides into your messy cunt easily. You mewl at the sensation of his swollen cock head gliding against your plushy walls.

“My little cry baby… so weepy because daddy loves you so much, huh? Pregnancy made you so sensitive, my sweet girl.” He moans out as he pins your arms above your head with one hand and rubs circles on your puffy clit with the other.

He’s thrusting into you mercilessly, his eyes fixated on the way your breasts bounce and the fat of your belly ripples with each stroke. His cock is so sensitive after eating you out and he feels ready to blow his load. However, Satoru is a generous man and wants to make his baby cum just once more before filling her up.

“Let go for me, pretty baby. Let me see my girl creaming all over this cock, yeah? Can you do that for daddy? Please mommy?” He groans as he plows into your pussy faster, furiously trying to get you to your peak.

“Yes! I can do that for you daddy, wanna do it for you!” You cry out, tears streaming down your face as your sensitive pussy flutters around his dick. Gojo whines, actually fucking whines, and you cum around his length. His balls twitch as he floods your cunt with his cum. He’s whimpering as he tries to ride out your orgasm. He’s addicted to the way you flutter around him from the aftershocks of your climax.

“God damn… pregnant pussy is the fuckin’ best.”

“SATORU!”

Your dirty husband yelps as you smack the back of his head.

•

•

(A/N: feel free to request anything. I love interacting with people 💗 whether it’s by anon or dms!)

#gojou satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojou satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru smut #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jjk x reader #jjk

[wileys-russo]

leah being described as strict gave me a thought:

imagine dating her (the team knows) and since she’s captain and takes her role very serious, you get into trouble for not listening and talking to someone else on the team while you’re supposed to be doing drills and she makes you do a few extra drills which you’re obviously not happy about

so after trainings done and you’re at home with her you refuse to hold her hand or let her hug you and say that you’re too sore from the extra drills she made you do which Leah does not appreciate and it ends with her just grabbing you anyway until you give in since you secretly wanted to hug her and were just throwing a little tantrum

thank you if you do write it 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

drill sergeant II l.williamson

"ky there is literally no way thats possible." you scoffed with a shake of your head, sat in your cubby next to hers as the girl was avidly recounting how she built a house of cards last night using 101 cards.

"ask teyah!" kyra nodded as her eyes searched the room for her blonde roommate. "she's already doing her program in the gym." alessia chuckled on your other side, also doubtful of the young australians tall tale.

"i did do it, i'm being serious swear!" kyra whined with an annoyed huff as both you and alessia shared a look. "well its like the little boy who cried wolf. maybe if you lied less we'd be more inclined to believe you!" you grinned as clapping sounded.

"get movin girls! pitch in two minutes or its a fine and laps." your girlfriend shouted, clapping her hands as there was a thunder of cleats clicking against the floor as you and alessia scrambled to tug your own boots on, kyra darting off.

"if we get laps because of her big mouth-" the blonde striker huffed, standing to her feet having gotten her laceless boots on in milliseconds as you hurried to tie your own laces.

"relax lessi! i've got the girlfriend card to play and you get protection as the best friend of the girlfriend." you grinned, jumping up and slinging an arm over her shouder.

"future maid of honour of the girlfriend!" alessia reminded with a wag of her finger as you pushed her hand away with a grin and both beelined it out of the change rooms.

unfortunately for you two you were the last to the pitch, and with kimmy out with a flare up in an old hamstring injury it left leah to run the pack beneath jonas who would be a little late this morning due to a meeting.

"right you two. thats a ten pound fine and a lap then stretch, if you're not back in five its another!" leah barely glanced at the two of you as alessia groaned loudly and you stared at your girlfriend in disbelief.

"clocks started girls, move it!" she called seriously over her shoulder as alessia sighed in defeat and started to run, you eventually following after her as leah continued to ignore your looks sent her way as she focused on warm ups.

"so about that girlfriend card?" alessia shot you an unimpressed look as you rolled your eyes. "declined!" you huffed, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as you saved your breath and jogged the pitch.

it appeared you'd returned just in time as leah sent you both a nod and gestured for the pair of you to stretch, turning her back to converse with kelly who'd just arrived to help out. kyra sent the two of you a guilty smile as alessia's blue eyes shot daggers her way and you couldn't help but smile.

"leave her be she didn't mean any harm less." you chuckled, knocking your shoulder into alessia but a little harder than intended, and given your best friend was horizontally challenged she was sent tumbling to the ground accidentally taking frida down with her who in turn grabbed onto lia who joined the small pile up.

"oi! whats going on?" leah was there within seconds with a scowl as laughter errupted from the team and the three girls helped one another up, alessia's face burning bright red as she shoved you.

"you two, lap again! grow up." leah scolded, returning back to kellys side as your jaw dropped. "for fuck sakes." you grumbled under your breath, alessia sprinting off this time as you jogged, making sure to send your girlfriend a look which she seemingly stared right through as if you weren't there.

that made you frown, then lost in your own thoughts you hadn't realised alessia had long finished, choosing to sprint it to get it over with faster as by the time you returned everyone had already paired off for drills.

which of course, left you with leah.

"next time you dawdle its sit ups, come on." the blonde nodded, tapping a ball your way as you mocked her under your breath but followed, the two of you completing the drill in silence.

normally the taller girl would be talking your ear off as she had been ever since she was able to touch grass again, elated to finally be back with the team.

you weren't sure where the disconnect had grown from, as she was her usual self all morning, in the car ride over here and at team breakfast. yet here she was barely able to look at you without shaking her head in annoyance and it begun to grate at you.

things seemed to worsen throughout the session as time after time leah would use you as an example for simple comments or mistimed mistakes which would normally be overlooked or a warning.

it wasn't just you who would be punished, a lot of the girls settled into their own extra drills with a sigh as they were called out for slacking off or chatting, but it felt personal as it seemed leahs eyes were constantly watching and waiting for you to slip up.

you tried your very best to take them on the chin and tell yourself she was just doing her job as stand in captain, you knew she'd been nervous at taking back the mantle up with having had so much time off due to her injury, but you'd had weeks of training with her now without any issues.

"oi! did i say run your legs or run your mouths? 30 push ups, the pair of you!" leah yelled as kyra jabbed her fingers into your sides making you laugh loudly and tell her off, your face falling as kyra sighed and dropped to her stomach.

"leah she just poked me, thats hardly a contact violation or a reason to punish either of us. lay off would you!" you rolled your eyes, having had enough of the little comments and gestured for kyra to stand up, the australian looking nervously between you and leah.

"no kyra keep going. you too, drop!" leah warned crossing her arms over her chest and staring you down as the two of you locked eyes unwavering. but with a few murmured warnings to let it go from your teammates and you dropped, grumbling angrily under your breath as you went.

by the time you'd finished it was time for a round robin of games, something leah thankfully would only be a participant in as jonas and the coaching staff took the reigns.

focusing in on the game you tried to use it to let out the last of the frustration toward your girlfriend which was bubbling just below the surface, pushing hard as you could to score which paid off.

"get in, super boot strikes again!" you couldn't help but grin as beth jumped onto your back as your team won their final game, jogging around and twirling her for a moment before placing her back down on her feet.

training called for the day you ignored the smile sent your way by leah as she approached you, turning on your heel and hurrying to wedge yourself inbetween lotte and alessia, slinging your arms over their shoulders.

"lift me!" you demanded hanging off of them and causing all three of you to slam down into the ground, a tangle of sweaty limbs and laughter as you all peeled yourself off one another. "you do that every time and every time you never learn it doesn't work!" lotte groaned rubbing her neck as the three of you wandered into the change rooms.

"or the two of you need to learn how to lift me!" you grinned latching on and swinging between them as again all three of you tumbled to the ground.

"you are the worst." alessia groaned causing you to reach out and smack her, lotte standing with an amused roll of her eyes as the pair of you rolled around for a minute, the other girls stepping over you as if you both weren't there.

"practicing your wrestling are we babe? wrong sport i think." you looked up to meet leahs eyes and let go of alessia, standing to your feet and brushing the dust off your training uniform, choosing not to make a comment and striding over to your cubby.

your girlfriend gave you a strange look but just put it down to you being tired, waiting patiently for you to shower and change. "ready?" the blonde asked with a smile, sat at your locker and twirling her keys around her finger.

you blanked her once again, reaching past her to grab your bag, accidentally smacking her in the head with it as you turned and strode out of the change rooms. rubbing her head with a frown leah looked at alessia for help who held her hands up mumbling she wasn't getting involved before leah hurried after you.

you must have sprinted your way out of colney because she didn't catch you until she arrived at her car where you stood waiting, arms crossed and sunglasses covering your eyes. normally you'd wait for her to open the door for you, rewarding her with a kiss and a joke about chivarly.

but the moment leah unlocked her car you were sat right inside, tossing your bag on the backseat and shrinking away from her, pushing her hand away as it rested on your thigh as normal.

"alright whats wrong? why are you being like this?" leah scowled in confusion and annoyance at your dismissive behavior. much to her continued frustration you ignored her, busying yourself with your phone as leah sighed and shook her head, driving off none the less.

every attempt at conversation ignored leah gave up, drowned out by your continued turning up of the radio as you stared out the window.

finally arriving back to your shared home you were just as fast to exit the car as enter, grabbing your bag and wrestling your keys out, letting yourself in as leah followed behind.

"right, thats it!" the blonde huffed as you slung the door shut in her face, yanking it open and storming in after you. "whats up your ass then?" leah snatched the remote from you and held it out of reach, raising an eyebrow clearly expecting a response.

when she didn't get one, the anger faded.

"babe!" leah whined, throwing her head back with a groan. "i miss you, gimme a cuddle cmon." leah flopped herself basically on top of you as you pushed her off and tucked your limbs into your body.

"baby!' leah groaned again, trying to yank your arms open to settle into them. "sorry i'm a bit tired from the laps and the sit ups and the sprints and push ups the stand in gaffa had me doing for no reason!" you finally snapped, shooting her a glare and scooting your body away from hers.

realizing now why you were behaving this way leahs lips curled into a smile which only furthered your infatuation with her. "stop giving me that stupid fucking smirk before i smack it off your face!" you warned, leahs grin growing as she raised her eyebrows as if to challenge you to even try.

"oh babe, you cannot seriously be mad at me over that?" leah chuckled, scooting her body closer as you tried to expand the distance but having reached the end of the sofa you were stuck.

"over that? leah you singled me out, picked on me and didn't get off my ass the entire session, and for the most stupid shit!" you seethed, your girlfriend grabbing your legs and tugging them into her lap.

"you were mucking about love and you had plenty of warnings." leah smiled, fingers tracing lines up and down your calves as you huffed and stared away from her. "didn't we long ago make an agreement about not letting our relationship affect us on the pitch?" the blonde continued.

"whats that got to do with anything?" "well, it would mean that i don't give you any special treatment." "the way you singled me out today sure felt like special treatment!"

"baby-" you didn't give her the chance to finish, kicking her hands away and swinging yourself to your feet, thumping off to the kitchen. "oi, stop running away before you let me finish." leah followed after you, watching as you rummaged through the fridge still ignoring her.

"if i give you special treatment and let you get away with-" once again you didn't let her finish, ducking under her arm and returning to the living room, flicking on the tv and shoving the remote into your pocket.

it was only a few seconds before the grinning blonde blocked your view, staring down at you as you met her eyeline with a glare and averted your eyes.

"if i treat you any differently than the other girls just because we're together, i'd be a bad captain. its the same at england camps and i've never once heard you complain!" leah continued as you stayed silent once more.

you were surprised as she seemingly gave in and sat down beside you, though of course that was a generous assumption as instead your girlfriend switched tactics to gain your attention.

"fuck off." you mumbled after her foot dug into your hip for the fifth time, shoving her legs aggressively away from you making the defender smirk. "no, give me attention." leahs legs swung repeatedly into your lap as you continued to push them off.

as time passed by without leah having any success her amused smile melted into a frown of frustration. "fine, you leave me no choice!" leah suddenly stood and before you could even blink her hands were wedging under your arms and tossing you over her shoulder.

"leah put me down!" you smacked her back with your hands as she carried you upstairs with ease. "stop ignoring me, you're bein childish." leah threw you down onto the bed, crawling on top of you before you could move.

"i'm being childish!" you scoffed in disbelief with a roll of your eyes. "glad you agree babe." leah grinned as you shot her a glare. "now since we're home and captain williamson is still at colney, how about your girlfriend gives your poor tired legs a massage?" leah smiled, propping her head up on her hand.

"its a massive turn off to hear you talk about yourself in the third person." "leah disagrees."

you tried to hold back a smile at that but you cracked, the corners of your mouth curling upward. "leah see's that little smile, can't hide from her." your girlfriend beamed, kissing all over your face as you gave in with a sigh, unable to really be mad at her anymore when she was her normal charmingly sweet self.

"girlfriend leah is still very happy to give you a massage baby girl." "stop!" you gave a half groan half laugh at her repeated use of her own name.

"i'll take the massage though, least you can do after picking on me all day." you frowned, pouting your lips upward as your girlfriend who knew you all too well ducked down to press her own against them for a moment.

"my poor baby, picked on by her big bad mean captain." the blonde cooed mockingly once she'd pulled away, squeezing your cheeks between her hand.

"yeah she's awful, so stern and rigid and uptight. sort of miss when she was sidelined and her coaching wasn't so hands on!" you sighed, squealing as leahs slender fingers dug into your ribs for the comment.

"oh i'll show you just how hands on i can really be my girl."

#woso #woso x reader #leah williamson #engwnt #woso community #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Wet Sheets - A John Shelby/Reader One Shot Story.

Because we all love a bit of smutty John of a Monday morning. Yes, we do!

Words - 1,079

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

He wasn’t very adept at it, back when you first met him. You wouldn’t exactly say lousy, but he needed a little tutelage. Of course, John being John, he didn’t take it all too well to begin with, either. 

“What the bloody hell d’you mean? Ain’t had any complaints before. I find everything I’ve gotta find down there alright, don’t I?” 

Oh yes. With his fingers, he needed absolutely no guidance. Push in, hook over, rake, and there he’d take you right on a clear trajectory to the stars. His tongue, though? Hm.  

“What you’re seeking with your tongue, John... it’s about half an inch from where you think it is.”  

He’d huffed. He’d pulled his undershirt and trousers on, muttering about going for a smoke. You’d wondered if he was coming back at all after he’d been gone for fifteen minutes, but he did eventually return, smelling of tobacco and whiskey, pulling himself out of his clothes. His face had been set in steely determination. 

“Right. Fucking get your legs open and show me.”  

You did, showing him exactly where and how to use his tongue against you, and goodness, how you reaped the rewards of him deciding to stuff his pride down, be a good boy and listen. Now, whenever John has his mouth between your legs, you are reluctant to let him surface. Now, he has your pouring for him like warm honey without fail. Every single time.  

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles, his fingers taking over as he pauses from beating the tip of his tongue rapidly over your clit. “I need gills!” 

You arch an eyebrow, snorting softly with laughter. “Are you seriously complaining?” 

“Nah, bab. Ain’t complaining at all, just saying, like. Got a right fucking little sex puddle on me sheets already, you have.” His words are delivered with much triumph, pressing his tongue against the wet of you, flat, firm heat dragging over your bud again and again. Your hips judder, John smiling at your reactions, long licks continuing as his eyes close and his buries his mouth against you.  

His lips bathe your clit in a soft suck, kissing it, moaning around you, hands gripped tight upon your thighs as your soft cries fill the space. Each lick gilds you golden, pleasure thrumming through you, the swell of it rolling tighter the faster his tongue begins to move. Your thighs lock tight against his head, wailing as it builds, the dawn of your undoing spilling over his horizon as the glimmers burst forth.  

Yet, he doesn’t cease. 

“John... I... oh!” You whimper, shaking from oversensitivity, hands fisting the sheets. “But I already...” 

He snorts softly. “I know, but just cos’ you came, it don’t mean I’m done. I ain’t no Johnny fuckin’ half a job, sweetheart.” 

His teeth gently graze your bud, and it sends sparks glimmering through you, tongue rolling over you again firmly, heat misting your spine. His licks are gently placed to begin with, little flickers chased to skittered heat once more, the hot wrap of pillowy heat from his lips encircling your clit, your body shivering in response.  

He sucks a fever at you, tongue circling, hands gliding over your thighs, your cunt trickling onto his tongue as he opens his mouth to drag a firm lick through your folds. The fever of it rushes over you, winds tight, held in the orbit of his control as moonbeams shine through the darkest depths of you once more, coming apart again quickly. 

Those little pin pricks of ecstasy are still tingling as he kisses his way back up your body, sating you with the thick intrusion of his cock, his mouth landing upon yours as he begins to fuck you slowly into the little puddle his tongue created.  

“Like this big, hard cock, don’t ya, love?” 

“Mmm,” you groan, your nails trailing the shortly shaven sides of his head. “You know I do.”  

He gives you a few more long thrusts a little punt of his hips daggering him deep each time he pushes forth, head dipping to lay kisses over your clavicles. “Turn over, bab. I wanna watch your arse bounce as I fuck ya.”  

He slips out, lust blown eyes watching as you arrange yourself accordingly to his wishes, John giving you a little spank on the bum before returning himself to you with a lust-soaked groan. Anticipation creeps over your muscles, feeling him push against you, the stretch of him sending tingles through your walls. He splits you wide, fills you deep, his hands gripping your waist as he fills and empties you with long, even strokes, and god, if you could see the smile on his face at how good you feel.   

It rolls through you like a storm, your gangster lover not remaining contained for long before he’s pounding into you savagely, his abs trembling as his hands fist tight in your hair, pulling your head back. Mutual moans fill the room with the sexiest harmony of sin, your walls fluttering around him, heat creeping up through him like a vine ascending, taking hold of his senses in a swirling tempest. 

White hot pleasure glints through you, tumbling down your spine like a shooting star, John reaching beneath you to rub circles at your clit as his cock punches you deep, splits you wide, remakes you around him. He grits, a groan like tumbling boulders echoing through his chest as he fucks a storm of nirvana through your body, your hips pushing back against him as you cry out.   

Your voice breaks on his name, your waves flooding his shore as you come with a feral wail, his body rapidly driving against you until his cock jerks and he’s joining you, tight bliss come undone, his head resting upon your back. 

“Fucking hell,” he pants, laying soft kisses against your spine, “that’s proper done me in, that has.” 

You giggle softly, feeling him slide from you, pulling your spent body to rest against his in the messy tangle of bed linen. “Not so much that you won’t be able to do it all over again a bit later though, I hope?” 

His grin is wide and devilish. “Like I said, bab. I ain’t no Johnny half a job.  

Some of his god-given talents truly required no further instruction. The way he fucks you remains as beyond perfect as it ever was, ensuring the sheets beneath you never stay bone dry once he's done.

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

[glacierclear]

ISN'T BITE ALSO TOUCH? part ii.

fuckboy!leon x gn!reader

content: hurt/some comfort, angst, apologies, reader is sad, brief intrusive thoughts, mentions of alcohol

The seasons change. You can only hope he will, too.

[ao3 link]

…and you didn’t see him for three months.

The shifting grace of Autumn gave way to ice. A once verdant campus green now muddled under gray snow, crunched with grit and soot. Passerbys did not linger. Bundled under layered coats and coiled up scarves, students hastily searched for warmth, leaving the sidewalks barren and lonely.

You relied on consistent distraction. School work that numbed your fingers. A fleeting, creative hobby that lasted all of a week. Outings with peers who’d never consider you a friend. None of it seemed to fix you.

And God, you missed him. More than anything in the world.

But the words looped in your head. The stinging from that night boiled into agony.

I don’t fucking need you.

He didn’t mean it. You knew better than to take his venom at face value. But it nurtured the foulest parts of yourself. Self-loathing feasted like a gluttonous beast, growing fat on the careless anger of his beer-fueled tantrum. Because if there was even the slightest chance of it being true…what had it all been for?

Were you truly just a warm body he used for shallow company? Is it possible you were just as disposable as all the rest?

But those thoughts were never allowed to mature. You snipped the buds and opened another lecture video, paralyzing any hint of an emotional response.

Sometimes you’d see him. In the distance, hovering at the edge of his usual crowd, smiling. Once or twice you even made eye contact, but he’d break it within the first moment, as if he had seen nothing but a fly among trash. It’s on those days that you cried. Cried and cried, until all that remained was bitter apathy.

Angrily, you wished he felt the same. You wanted him to break. You wanted him to regret every moment of that night from the instant his eyes opened that morning. You wanted him lost and abandoned and miserable, just like you.

And, truly, it only confirmed your worst fear. If you were always this hateful beneath it all, he never really needed you.

December bit frost under the brittle edges of your fingernails, and you conquered every day with the determination of an undying plague. Christmas was only a week away, and if you could just make it to the holidays, maybe you’d finally start to heal. There’s catharsis in the new year, meaningless or not. It might’ve been what you needed to forget everything. To forget him.

You trudged back home, your evening class wrapped up and concluded for the day. Friday used to mean something. It meant a weekend with Leon. Drunk, covered in gummy worms, squealing at some god-awful horror movie he rented just to get you to hold him. He used to wrap an arm around you, hugging you tight, promising to the moon and the stars he’d keep you safe from anything.

It was hard to take him seriously with popcorn in his teeth, but now you found yourself fantasizing the memory with teary eyes, although it’s probably just the cold weather.

With rosy cheeks and a dripping nose, you turned your key into the lock, kicking open your door with a disgruntled shove. It was dark. Your roommate left for the holiday early, leaving your dorm hollow and unwelcoming. You hovered in the common area, letting the mask you wore crumble off piece by piece.

Friday used to mean something. Now all you did was rot. You stepped over towards your half of the flat, reaching forward on instinct before a reactionary tug gave you pause. Your door was closed. It wasn’t when you left for class.

You listened, straining to hear beyond the chipped oak, but you received nothing. With a dry mouth, you closed your fingers around the knob, twisting, pushing your way in.

What awaited you inside nearly sent you to the floor.

He sat cross-legged by the bed, curled up on your little, brown rug. All you could see was his back, and the gaudy, expensive headphones clamped shut over his head. His head nodded gently to a beat you could barely make out, and he thumbed slowly through a book yanked off your shelf. It wasn’t the careless flipping of empty words, but the patient turning of pages of someone actually reading.

He never read around anyone but you.

You crept closer, letting your backpack drop to the ground like a lead weight, crashing and jolting Leon out of whatever paragraph he was enjoying. He batted the headphones off his ears, swirling to gape at you with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes.

Your favorite shade of blue.

“Jesus! Scared the fucking shit out of me–” He pressed a palm to his temple, panic easily bleeding away, but in its place you saw him tense, awaiting your anger.

“I scared you? You…how’d you even…did you break into my room?” You met him with accusation, though all you wanted was to hold him.

“...I mean, yeah. Duh. Not like you’d ever let me in willingly.” The dismissive tone of his voice riled you up more than you’d care to admit, and you stepped closer.

“Of course you’d stoop to this instead of just asking. What the hell is wrong with you?” The seasonal chill you felt walking home has all but melted completely. You were a live wire. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Come on. You know I bribe the janitor. We’re bros, me and Jeff.” He donned a cocky smirk.

“Oh, well, that’s great. I’m so happy for you, Leon. Now get the fuck out.” You vaguely gestured towards the exit, glowering down at him with an impatient scowl.

Leon’s smirk dropped. He set down the book, standing to his full height. You forgot how much taller than you he was.

“...no. I’m not leaving. Not this time.” His face hardened into a devastating intensity, prying out your seams one by one. “We need to talk. I need to…fix this.” You watched him flail his hands a bit, attempting to sculpt form to whatever this was.

You knew it would never be enough. No apology or heartfelt confession would repair the damage carved from three months of absence after the worst night of your life.

But you’ve always had shitty taste in guys, and he was the shittiest. You missed him more than anything in the world.

“Fine. Speak.” You settled on an impartial response, arms folded across your midsection. “But I’m really not in the mood for bullshit, Leon. I’m not.”

“I know,” he hung his head. “I know. I…” You were kind enough to grant him patience. The time you knew he’d need. Emotionally stunted didn’t even come close to describing Leon, and any effort on his part to offer honesty is effort you needed to encourage, in your own quiet way.

“I fucked up, okay? I really fucked up. Just like I always do and–” You noticed him halt, sucking at his teeth and wincing as if cinched with pain. “No. I’m not…fuck, listen. I’m not trying to like, make you feel bad for me I just…I always do this. I do, and you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

The words came out stuttered and unsure, as if the mere concept of an apology churned the acid in his gut. And maybe it did. What little you knew of his childhood easily explained his behavior. A blood-red thread woven into his heart like stripes on a cobra.

You nodded, coaxing him to continue. You would not shelter him with yielding platitudes.

“...all that shit I said…I was…god, I was scared. Do you realize what the hell you are? What, fuck, what you mean to me? The most fucking important person in my life and I thought I was gonna lose you over a shitty party.” He was too frustrated to look you in the eyes anymore. You felt cold again. “And you’re right. About all of it. I made you go and I ditched you and then I blamed you for – fuck, and then I didn’t have the balls to do anything for two months–”

“Three months.” You interjected, your lips a thin line, the ice he walked on.

“Three…three months? Jesus, I didn’t…” Leon ran a trembling palm through his hair, wrestling his own relationship with time. “Has it really been that long?”

You nodded.

“...I’ve been a mess. I…my grades are tanking, man, and I can’t even eat.”

Against your will, you deflated with a sad sigh. He did seem skinnier. His face sunken in. His body looked frail under his sweatshirt. You wondered if any of his other friends had noticed.

“You shouldn’t forgive me. I’m not really like, expecting you to. But I…I’m…” The word dangled off his tongue, the teetering step into territory unknown. “I’m sorry.”

For the past three months, you dreamed of this moment. Twisted visions of him crawling back to you on his hands and knees, begging for mercy when he deserved nothing of the sort. Over and over again, you extracted pleasure from the possibility of denying him, turning your back and thriving in spite of him.

You were sure the words would feel great. Amazing, even. But hearing them in person, hearing the shriveled warble of a man reduced to his own imitation, you felt nothing.

The silence stretched for miles. Both of you were too hurt to say anything. From the floor, his headphones faded into quiet before transitioning into another song, lyrics incomprehensible from where you stood, mirroring the noise of your own thoughts.

He broke the emptiness with a cough, and scratched his neck.

“...damn, well, I should…I’ll let you enjoy your Friday, I guess. I’m sorry. I really am, I–”

“You said you weren’t leaving.” The words came out without thinking. Leon blinked.

“...what? I–”

“You said. You weren’t leaving. Not this time. Are you really going to break another promise, Leon?” You’re not stupid. You understood your challenge was nothing more than a thinly-veiled plea to get him to stay. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your dignity died with the autumn leaves.

“...oh, I was…I didn’t think you’d – yeah. Okay. Yeah, I’m not leaving. Not going anywhere. Swear on it.” Leon puffed his chest a little, the hopeful beginnings of a smile creasing his cheeks. A real smile.

You shuffled closer, breathing in, filling your lungs with mercy.

“Did you really mean what you said, Leon?” It was spoken so softly, and he leaned closer to hear, just as you hoped he would.

He smelled like cedar.

“...what I said?” There’s confusion in his stare, yet he tilted his head, an eagerness to understand.

“When you said you…when you said you didn’t need me. That I was–” Whatever else you were going to say didn’t matter. In an instant, you’re strangled with warmth. Arms latched tight around your chest, your face smashed into the flesh above his heart.

“I need you.” It’s said so easily. And you knew he didn’t need to think twice. “I needed you every day and I will need you every day after today and…every year and…just, so much, man.” Ruefully, you couldn’t help but laugh. Such an indelicate way of speaking. So thoroughly Leon.

Your arms wrapped around his stomach, squeezing with a reluctant pressure. You still couldn’t believe he was real. But here he was.

“Okay. That’s all I needed to hear.” You went slack in his hold, forgoing oxygen in favor of him. He filled your mind and soul, and you never knew you could miss the scent of Irish Spring so much.

“...okay. Is…Is that it? I mean, not that I– shit, are we good? We chill?” He pried you off, cupping your cheeks with burning palms, searching your eyes for safety. Reassurance.

You wanted to give him that. But pretty words and a warm hug were only enough to quiet your demons. They did nothing to heal.

“No, we’re still not friends.” You said finally, staring away, unable to face his reaction.

“Wait, seriously? What…but I–”

“I don’t forgive you, Leon. Not…not yet.” Cautiously, you gripped his wrists, lowering his hands back to his sides. “I missed you. A lot. But it took you three months to tell me all of this. Three. Months.”

“Yeah, but…you’re actually just…gonna leave me forever? For three months?” It’s not anger in his voice, simply the aching desperation of a heart longing for closure. An answer to every question he had.

“Listen, I…we can be friends again, maybe soon, maybe later. I still wanna see you and hang out and stuff, but…it’s gonna take time, okay?” His shoulders sagged. “You have a lot of things you need to work on, and I can’t be the one to fix them. It has to be you, Leon. It has to be different.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him clench his fists. A vein pulsed on his neck, and you braced yourself for the backlash. The brewing storm he hid behind when he was afraid.

But whatever happened the past three months has drained the fight from his body, and he went soft again, his posture slouching.

“I’ll get better. I will. But…can I ask you something? Can I ask you to promise me one thing? Just one?”

You stared at him again. His ocean stirred, but you stayed afloat.

“Sure, Leon.” you whispered.

“...wait for me. Promise me you’ll still be here when I come back. When I’m…when I’m fixed.” He was so close, you could study each twitch and crinkle of his face. All the voiceless ways he loved you. “Will you let me come back to you?”

It wasn’t even a question.

“I promise, Leon.”

And you loved him, too.

#my writing #resident evil #leon kennedy #fuckboy!leon

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 4

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 6.4k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude both wash up on the island.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 3

Jude lets go of the piece of wreckage involuntarily when she falls into a weary unconsciousness.

Exhaustion renders her to fade into the fuzzy pull of blank inertia, but as soon as her face hits the water, the shock wakes her back up again. She clings onto the debris once more, shivering and trying with all her might to stay afloat. 

The sky is pitch black now; the blackest she’s ever seen it in her entire life, a great expanse of a void unknown, and she ponders the bleak outcome of her situation with a creeping sense of dread as each second passes and she’s not waking up out of this torrid nightmare. 

I mean, think about it; she’s floating on her own in the middle of the ocean, God knows where exactly. Freezing, clinging onto life and the piece of debris to stay buoyant as much as she can, and not knowing what the next few seconds will bring, let alone the next few hours, in this shit storm of a ghastly predicament.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out she’s royally screwed in the ass. 

Perhaps it would have been better if whatever it was that bonked her on the head in the plane had killed her instantly. Jude looks up at the sky and whispers to God that this isn’t a funny joke anymore. 

Seriously, dude.

She cries out when she feels something brush against her leg in the water and freezes instantly.

The searing pain at the back of her calf makes itself known to her again, and she hopes to Hell that it isn’t a hungry shark sizing her up for its next meal. 

The water seems calmer somehow. 

Frankie isn’t being tossed about in the current so much anymore and can finally release his death-like grip on the sides of the broken wing piece.

He curls himself up on it as best as he can, hugging his body for warmth. He blows into his aching, cold hands, shivering and shaking relentlessly. He’s thankful he’s wearing his jacket at least, even if it’s completely soaked through.

Any chance of fully drying off is moot; water still splashes over the edges as he drifts on the ocean’s tide carrying him further and further into the deep swallowing mouth of the sea. 

He licks his lips, still tasting salt, and listens to the sounds of the water, the only thing to accompany him as he floats off into the sheer depths of Hell. 

And despite it all, he can’t help but think that this is probably what he deserves. 

The orange phosphenes dance behind her eyelids, and as Jude opens her eyes, her head is resting on the debris at a weird angle; she has a severe crick in the neck from it. 

It’s daylight and she hasn't a clue how early it is in the morning, or if it is even morning at all. She looks up squinting, and the sky is a bright blue with the hot sun making its ascent across it as she zones out, just watching it for what seems like hours until it’s burned holes into the back of her skull.

She rubs a wet, pruny hand over her face to wake herself up and keep afloat on the debris as she looks about her surroundings. The vast expanse of the ocean before Jude is an incredibly daunting sight. It goes on for miles; a bluey-grey poignant line on the horizon that seems perfectly straight. No wonder early man thought the world was flat…

She touches the side of her head and her hair, although drying, is still matted with blood and she winces as she prods there tentatively. 

Jude leans back, holding onto the debris, and dips her head into the water, closing her eyes and swishing her hair around inside the sea water. Which is probably a bad idea because the ocean’s water is not sterile in any sense of the word - she’s basically swimming around in a giant toilet - but the cool water on her throbbing head feels good, offering a respite from the intense, stinging heat of the pain. 

She opens her eyes and then gasps out, sinking under the water as she clumsily lets go.

Twisting around she chokes; she can see that there’s a land shadow behind her. Either that or she’s fully crossed over into delirium. 

“Oh shit!” Jude cries out and begins frantically swimming towards the knobbly mass in the distance. 

She can make it. She’s a good swimmer if she paces herself, but right in this moment sheer adrenaline and euphoria has taken over and she’s dashing through the water as fast as she can go, leaving the debris to carry on a lonely existence from their one-night stand.

As she swims, the shoreline grows in size, and when she eventually reaches it, her lungs are burning through chronic exhaustion and wheezing. 

Jude crawls up the bank and flops down face first into it, swallowing a mouthful of sand in the process. 

Jude awakes, what feels like hours later, with coarse sand clumps sticking to the side of her face exfoliating it as she stirs.

She coughs after automatically licking her lips and groaning when she realises she’s still living in this warped reality and it wasn’t a bad dream like she hoped it was. 

She pushes herself upright into a sitting position and feels immensely dizzy. The sun is high in the sky now and she feels too hot, like her skin is pulled really tight over her skeleton. She coughs again and can taste sand around her taught gums and tries spitting it out as it crunches over her teeth.

Jude glances around at her surroundings. She’s definitely on land, which is good thing; a real fucking blessing. Where there’s land, there are people and she can finally get some help. 

She calls out from her stupefied position in the sand. 

“Hello?” 

She waits to see if anyone will trundle out from the underbrush where the sand leads into grasses, reeds and then bigger trees that seem to be overgrown. Imagine their surprise to see Jude washed up on the beach casually like plastic pollution. 

“HELLO?” She shouts louder, groggily, and then coughs more; hacking up gooey mucus which she spits on the sand and wrinkles her nose at the sight of it. 

She looks back out to the ocean and the debris that had been her flotation saviour through the night has washed up on the shore. Standing slowly, she walks over towards it and picks it up. It appears to be some sheet metal from the plane which is white on one side; the metal is ribbed on the other from being melted in the fire. 

She runs her fingers over it as her mind flashes the images of the ocean coming up fast when she was looking out the window as the plane hurtled towards it at breakneck speeds. 

All those people... God, what the hell happened?

It’s heavy to carry, but nothing she can’t manage. Picking it up, she raises it over her head, trying to block out the sun’s intense heat frying her, wishing she had her sweater right now to wrap over her burning shoulders, and begins walking slowly towards the grass. 

It’s rockier past the sand; the shrubs and bushes entwine around each other through a forced copulation as they overgrow into one another’s territories, and it’s evident that no-one has cut them back in a long time, which is a slightly distressing thought. 

But Jude pushes on and carries on walking through where they merge with some trees that look like they belong in a forest, not a presumed tropical island, until she breaks through them and starts climbing at a slight ascent.

The landscape becomes hilly and more on a vertical incline. The hill is covered in tree species she’s not familiar with. She hadn’t seen this steep gradient from the beach front either. 

Jude puts down the sheet metal to use her hands to help hoist herself to the top, pulling on shrubs and branches for support. She breaks through the tree line and is puffing and out of breath, sweating profusely, when she finally reaches the top, which becomes a ridge overlooking the island. 

She stands upright, shielding her eyes from the glare of the intense sun on the ocean’s water blinding her momentarily. 

From this vantage point on the ridge, Jude does a full three-sixty turn, and can see the whole of the island practically. Mostly bare, rocky terrain is presented to her with hilly dips and peaks. Clusters of trees are dotted about with the largest gathering of them to the north-east, and the sandy coastline that extends further north of the island curls round the shoreline like a snake on the rim before it disappears into the trees.

It’s much smaller than she anticipated it would be from up here.

“Fuck…” 

Jude crouches down, her elbows on her knees, when she realises with a sinking feeling in her gut that there’s absolutely no evidence of human life on this island whatsoever from what she’s observed. 

She groans out, clutching her stomach and resting her palm on the ground, trying not to vomit despite the swilling nausea bubbling around her gut. 

She licks her lips, feeling her cheeks tingle, and promptly throws up a few moments later. Gasping through the heaving, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and stands again, slowly feeling lightheaded. 

Think. Think... You need water. You need help. What the fuck do they do on those survivor programmes?! 

Her mind is racing with all the things she should do.

Build a fire, maybe someone will see the smoke. How do you even build a fire?

With parched lips and a growing sense of desperation, she knows that finding water is no longer a choice but a matter of survival. Jude slowly begins her descent down the hilly ridge and picks up the sheet metal again as she passes it.

It’s starting to get dark and she’d figured she'd be able to do a full loop of the island in that time, but it seems to keep going somehow.

Like perhaps Jude had gotten lost and kept taking wrong turns in the trees that seemed to be whispering about her. Although she’s thankful for the shade, walking through the wooded area gives her some reprieve from the harsh sun; she discards the sheet metal when her arms begin to ache. 

She sits and rests on a fallen tree branch that’s in the early stages of decay and glances down at her calf that’s stinging. Walking about on her wounded leg has made the pain start to throb uncontrollably.

Her jeans are stained a dark ruby red around the tear in the denim, and she probes gently, revealing a long gash in her skin that’s still oozing and wet.

It doesn’t look to be infected, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t be, eventually. 

Jude views her surroundings and listens out to see if any sounds of snapping branches indicate any signs of life, like animals perhaps. If there are animals on the island then that means there’s a source of food at least. 

The more worrying thought is how she’s going to get water. Licking her salty, dry lips again, she’s unbelievably thirsty and has exuded a lot of energy traipsing and hobbling around the island in the swampy heat so far, and coming up desperately blank with every eventuality.

The fear of dying from dehydration claws at her throat, each laboured breath intensifying the panic that grips her as she tries to recall when exactly it was she last took a drink. The sun, an unrelenting adversary, seems to mock her with its unyielding blaze, despite the thick clouds starting to condense.

The human body can survive up to three days maximum, usually, without water intake. Other factors fall into that of course, such as your age, weight and all that jazz. But for the most part, the longer you go without it, the further you venture into dehydration town, and that isn’t a pleasant walk in the park at all, bub. The effects of dehydration come on quickly, especially in extremely hot conditions when a person sweats, and Jude’s sweating alright.

The body uses water to produce sweat you see, which evaporates and lowers a person’s body temperature. Without water, the body simply cannot produce any sweat. This can lead to a dangerous increase in body temperature and put pressure on the existing fluids in the body, including the blood. If this then leads to a drop in blood volume, less blood circulates in the body, causing a severe drop in blood pressure, capiche?

And then you’re pretty much a goner at that point. Dehydration equals imminent death. 

Trying not to think about it, Jude stands up and ventures forward, carrying on her journey into desolate island exploration; searching for any signs of life. The dense foliage ahead offers a glimmer of hope, and she pushes through the tangled underbrush, fueled by the instinct for self-preservation. After a while, she notices a dilapidated, wooden shack that she’d almost passed by entirely at first, it’s so embedded into the dank underbrush.

It’s half buried in the shrubs with skeletal vines wrapped around its outer body and seemingly squeezing the life out of it. It looks like something constructed in a horror film, predominantly an eighties slasher; a creepy cabin in the woods type deal.

She approaches it carefully, and reaches slowly for a large branch in the bushes beside her. Picking it up for protection, she ventures closer and calls out. 

“Hello?”

There’s no response, just the eerily quiet. Jude peers in at a hole in the wood where she can only assume a window used to be, however there isn’t any sign of glass, not even broken, on the ground. 

She can’t see much as it’s dark in there. 

She rounds it and pulls vines and branches off until she finds a door-sized hole and pokes her head inside. 

There isn’t much of anything of use in here; more overgrown evidence of Mother Nature devouring whatever this place used to be. It’s clearly manmade; no nails hammered in, but it’s tied together with the vines and it looks to be cemented with mud and leaves as her eyes scan up to the enclosing ceiling. 

She enters further inside and her foot kicks against something; she flinches backwards as a loud tinny noise startles her. She looks down to see a dirty plastic bag of rubbish that has toppled over, and crouches down, swiping her fingers curiously through it all.

There are old tin cans, some that have rusted over completely, and then her fingers touch what appears to be an old, two litre plastic bottle. She snatches it up, and standing up too fast, collides with the side of the wall feeling dizzy again. 

The shack creaks and wobbles with the force, and as she scarpers outside, she falls backwards on her ass as the shack collapses fully upon itself. 

Fuck!

Jude lays back against the ground catching her breath and stares at the crumpled water bottle in her arms, cradled to her chest. It’s stained a repellent yellowish colour in the bottom, probably desiccated urine, she thinks, but it would do at catching water for sure.

And pissy tasting water might be better than none whatsoever, as much as the thought disgusts her and causes that nauseated feeling to swill around the back of her throat again.

The light through the trees seems to dim further. Jude stands up and carries on through the woodland  until she exits out the other side of the copse to some larger rocks clusters dotted about on the south-west shoreline of the island. The hills are steeper here and almost seem mountainous on this side.

She rounds across the sand towards the shoreline, scanning the horizon to be met with the bleak, empty blue. 

She bends down at the water’s edge, her Converse drenched with the ocean water again as it laps over her feet, and trails the bottle around, swishing it in and out of the water to rinse it and make it take some of its original shape again. 

She then places it in the sand a bit further up, standing it upright and looking up at the sky. The gritty reality of her world casts a harsh contrast against the darkening sky as she stands there, shoulders slumped, staring up at the stars that slowly reveal themselves.

Jude’s no stranger to life's rough edges, the recent bitter have left more scars on her heart. Right now however, the weight of it all bears down on her in a way that feels insurmountable. 

The bitter taste of cynicism lingers on her lips as she mutters words she never thought she'd say - a plea for help. It isn't a prayer to a higher power; it’s a raw, guttural cry to the damn universe, a challenge thrown into the abyss.

She’s grasping at something beyond her control, something she isn't even sure exists and telling God, or whomever is up there listening, in no uncertain terms to make it rain.

You hear me you bastard, you owe me! 

It isn't about finding faith; it’s about survival. A recognition that, even in the face of crushing hopelessness, there’s a primal need to keep fighting. She has to keep fighting. The grit that defines her is still there, but now it mingles with a reluctant admission that some battles might be too vast for a lone warrior to endure.

The terrifying reality remains, but she’ll face it head-on, with or without the cosmic intervention she seeks in that fleeting moment under the unforgiving gaze of the indifferent stars coming out to mock her plight.

Jude takes shelter in a cave mouth close by, sitting on the rocks and resting her back against them. Inside it’s warm, like a muggy, damp feeling where the cave has been a heat trap all day. She hopes it’s enough heat to keep her warm all evening; she’s just in her damp t-shirt and her arms are prickling already. 

She looks to her left and the cave mouth seems to get darker and more engulfing like a vortex, and she hopes nothing will come crawling out of it during the night to eat her or crawl in her orifices to lay eggs. Her body involuntarily shudders thinking of being back in the freezing water. 

Jude processes the whole event over and over inside her mind, reliving it; living back through the terror, the uncertainty - the events that led up to her taking this stupid damn trip in the first place. 

She wonders if anyone has noticed the plane is missing yet.

Isn’t there radar or something that tracks them? What about the black box? Are there any other survivors at all? I mean, if I made it, then there’s a chance right?

How did I even make it?

Somebody has to know what’s happened when the flight isn’t radioing in when it should. It’s a commercial airliner; these things just don’t go unnoticed, right?

Yeah. Someone will be looking for the plane and then they’ll happen upon the island and then find me, they just have to. The plane couldn’t have gone down too far from here. 

Perhaps it would be on the news back home soon enough. Someone would report Jude missing when she didn’t call.

Oh God! My family'll be so worried!

She sighs out and can feel the prickling around her eyes as they fill with water, thinking about her plight.

What if no-one finds me? What if I actually die here?

The tears come heavier now and blind her through her anguish of repeated doom filled scenarios of how she might die alone, and no-one ever knowing what has become of her deserted body. 

From her position in the cave she can see more rocks that filter into the sand and a small incline down to the beach front. The sand seems less plentiful on this side of the island and the terrain much more rugged. 

Jude can only hope that through the oncoming dark, she’ll spot lights on the horizon from a boat passing by. 

She really fucking hopes so. 

Rain pelts his face and he’s blinded momentarily as he opens his eyes, sitting up unsteadily on the wobbly debris as he continues to drift on the water. 

Frankie’s clothes feel dry in patches and damp in others; his desert boots and the bottom of his jeans are still soaking wet. He can’t feel his toes and hasn't for some time now. 

Wiping his face, he winces when turning; his neck makes the pain rip across it once more. He’s unsure of the extent of the burns on his skin from the aviation fuel coating him and setting him ablaze. 

His mind casts back to the sheer panic when he was all too aware suddenly that the plane was falling out of the sky. He clocked a gentleman in the seat adjacent to him in a business suit, whose face smacked right into the seat in front of him with such force, it knocked him clean out and broke his nose.

Frankie can still hear the screams from the passengers inside the cabin ringing through his jangled senses. 

It had then gone black for a while. He could hear water in his ears and screamed out when he realised he was being cooked alive as he thrashed about in the ocean fighting for his life. 

When his vision comes back into focus from that oneiric, thousand-yard haze, he stares out in dumb wonderment at the ghostly shoreline through the rain, considering if he’s seeing things. 

Fuck!

He starts using his hands to wade and steer himself on the wing towards the shoreline in a frantic desperation, but he soon gives up when he realises it’s a tiring feat, and plops rather ungracefully back into the water and begins swimming, even though his body is utterly spent of any energy. 

He kicks his legs through the current with determined grit; his long arms reaching forward and pulling him through the water with each stroke closer and closer. The shoreline is getting nearer and he grapples through the water and rocks desperately as he crawls and clambers up the bank and falls to his knees on the pebbly sand. 

Frankie collapses backwards, panting and out of breath; his oesophagus burning like his skin and heaves in deep hits of oxygen not quite believing he’s made it ashore. 

He lays on the sand for quite some time summoning the strength to move again until he eventually blacks out from acute exhaustion. 

His cap washes up on the shore beside his feet. 

The sound of the heavy rain wakes Jude. 

Her head has slumped forward in her sleep and her dreams are MIA. She swallows through a sore, dry throat and looks out to see the rain coming down heavily and scrambles upright, dashing out into the downpour and grabbing the bottle.

Fat raindrops fall like a benediction, splattering against the sand and rocks. She stands there, dumbfounded for a moment, arms outstretched and face upturned to the heavens, as the rain soaks her to the bone. 

The cool droplets mingle with the salty residue on her skin, offering a reprieve from the scorching sun of the day. The primal instinct to survive, to drink deeply from the wellspring of the sky, overwhelms her.

As the rain intensifies, she abandons any remnants of restraint, revelling in the raw, unfiltered joy of the moment. The once-barren island transforms into a watery oasis within minutes, and she dances amidst the deluge, squealing  with her mouth open.

The bottle is half full - or empty, depending on your outlook - and she gulps it back greedily, laughing in crazed relief as the droplets coat her well sucked-on tongue that’s swollen. With a newfound respect for the primal fear that has gripped her, she pledges to navigate this island with a tenacity fueled by the memory of that life-threatening thirst - a thirst that had almost condemned her to the merciless embrace of the island.

She lingers in the aftermath as the downpour lightens. Her clothes cling to her body, drenched, but she’s alive.

Jude puts the bottle back in the sand and retreats to the cave when she hears the rumbles of thunder echo across the sky in the distance. 

She glances up at the swell of the sky and mutters a belligerent thank you to whomever may be listening. 

Everything. Hurts. Like. Hell. 

Even the simple thought of standing hurts. His legs feel as though an iron vice holds them shackled together, feeling as though they’ll never part again freely.

His abdomen and pelvis sears with burning and intense stinging when the slightest intake of breath disturbs them. His toes are numb and after wiggling them for a few minutes, eventually find their life again. But they hurt as does everything else. 

His neck is stiff and tight, his head heavy and banging, and his back… Oh God, the intensity of that ache will be with him for days. 

He reminds himself though, that he’s endured through worse. 

When Frankie eventually comes to, he pushes himself up on his unsteady feet, marvelling at how he even has any energy left to stand at all. A knot of unease tightens in his stomach as he scans the immediate surroundings, desperately searching for the familiar brim of the cap that has shielded him from both sun and rain.

His fingers instinctively reach for the bare crown of his head, realising the absence of the well-worn garment that has become an integral part of him.

Then, as if offering a bittersweet reunion, the tide laps at the shoreline, revealing the familiar shape of his baseball cap nestled in the wet sand. It’s worn and weathered much like him, but there it is, as if the sea has decided to return a piece of his identity to ease him into this waking nightmare. 

Frankie's eyes widen with a mixture of relief and nostalgia. He reaches down and picks up the cap; its damp fabric cool against his shaky fingertips. As he holds it in his hands, memories flood back - a flashback to a different time, a different life. 

In the recesses of his mind, Frankie sees the face of a distant friend from his days in the forces, a companion who had shared laughter and hardship. The cap, a token of their unspoken bond, had been a gift from that very friend. His name was etched in the seams of Frankie's memory - a friend who had stood by his side through thick and thin.

A friend that was on the other side of the world basking in a new life and had seemingly forgotten about him. 

As Frankie traces the frayed edges of the cap, he remembers the day it had been handed to him by Pope. A smile plays on his lips as he recalls Pope’s mischievous grin, the kind that could convince Frankie to do just about anything crazy, and often had.

They had been deployed together, alongside Will and Benny and held together at the disjointed seams by Tom; navigating the complexities of combat, and the cap was more than just headgear; it was a symbol of brotherhood.

A pang of sorrow grips Frankie's tattered heart as he remembers a brighter time before life in Delta Force got dark. A time when the eager, yet somewhat naive young soldier, was excited to serve his country when he enlisted. A country that had now abandoned him, in every sense of the word, as he looked out at the never ending expanse of the ocean, never feeling so far from home as he did now.

It was nothing special; a navy blue cap with the logo of some heating company Frankie had never heard of before, yet, over time, the grip of his addiction had tightened its hold, alienating him from his fellow comrades and friends. And this cap had travelled with Frankie through life's battles, a vestibule of protection, shielding himself from the disapproving and disappointed looks etched into the faces of the people he knew he had let down, and now, it’s found its way to the desolate shores of this unknown island with him.

He puts it back on his head, the beads of water streaking down the back of his neck and trudges towards the rocks aimlessly. 

The rain has petered off somewhat and although he’s soaked again from being passed out on the sand and drowned by the heavy downpour, it feels considerably warmer than the sea water at least. 

He trips once or twice over his own feet like he’s drunk, and looks about the rocky hilts and caves that are spread across the shoreline. Frankie stumbles, his senses heightened by the eerie silence that envelops the desolate island. The relentless waves pound the shore like a distant war drum, amplifying the prominent isolation that clings to him.

“Hello? Anybody?” He calls out through a hoarse voice. 

Inside the cave, Jude’s dozing again and can hear the muffled sounds of what she thinks is a voice calling out to her.

It’s a bit like that moment you’re slipping into a deep sleep and you suddenly jolt out of nowhere thinking you heard something, but didn’t - it’s just your subconscious playing tricks on you. 

She passes it off as exhausted calenture, but then she hears it again. 

Hello?

She sits bolt upright as the sound grows closer.

That’s definitely a voice!

Jude scrambles out of the cave mouth to see a broad, wet man freeze in his stride and stare right back at her. Mirroring the same relieved, yet deer-in-headlights look about him she’s certain her face is portraying back at him.

“Oh my God!” Jude exclaims in sheer wonderment. Her brain tries to convince her it might be a mirage, that she's seeing things, but when he speaks, he convinces her he is real.

“Thank fuck!” Frankie exclaims back, his shoulders sagging in a sweet relief at the sight of the woman before him, dishevelled and visibly shaken. “Dios mío, no lo puedo creer.” (Oh my God, I can’t believe it.)

Relief grips him, a gut-wrenching mix of surprise and fear. The woman, battered and disoriented, mirrors his own emotions; her eyes reflecting the disbelief of finding another living, breathing survivor in this Godforsaken place.

Their paths converge on the rocky beach; a slow, hesitant approach marked by the crunch of pebbles and sand beneath their weary feet.

“Were you on the plane too?” Jude asks, eyes wide and heart racing. Another survivor!

He nods slowly as though he’s a little out of it. “Yeah...” He bends over, hands on his knees catching his breath as he sways a little. 

Jude paces forward and reaches for the bottle, pulling it out of the sand.

“Here, drink it all.” She offers.

He takes the bottle from her with a big, shaky hand and she watches him swallow the water in two big gulps. 

“Thanks,” he gasps.

Broad shoulders, squared off under his jacket, cut an imposing figure with his commanding presence as he stands upright. He then wobbles on his feet and Jude clutches onto him, supporting his weight before he fully falls over. He’s ghastly pale despite his tanned skin, and looks absolutely exhausted. 

“Come on, you can make it. Lean on me, it's alright.” She encourages, and helps him to walk towards the mouth of the cave as another rumble of thunder rolls overhead. 

Once inside the mouth, Jude helps him sit against the cave wall and slumps down opposite him. 

He looks across at her utterly spent, and equally disorientated, as they share a confused silence.

A scruff of a patchy beard and moustache adorns his face, framing his mouth with an air of casual dishevelment. Slightly greying on the sides of his jaw, it adds a touch of maturity; a streak of silver threading through the dark strands of his hair and the asymmetry causes Jude to ponder his age.

A large, hooked nose that lends character to his rugged appearance has a pronounced curve above the pale pink of his chapped lips. He looks young despite it all.

His face bears the traces of unspoken experiences etched in the lines around his deep brown eyes, the windows to a soul that has perhaps weathered more storms than the tumultuous sea before them both.

He shuffles out of his wet, heavy jacket and tosses it aside a few moments later. 

“You’re hurt, burned.” Jude says to him, looking at the state of his blistered neck skin. 

He winces as he touches it with his shaky fingertips gently. “Yeah. The fuel tank must’ve exploded.”

His voice is waning, yet it’s still deep and gravelly and she can’t place his accent, although acutely American. 

“Do you know what happened to the plane? Why we came down, I mean?” Jude probes him gently.

He shakes his head slowly and then runs his hand through his damp hair, removing the cap and rubbing sand away in clumps through his thick fingers. Frayed chocolate curls explode riotously from underneath as he separates the knots of them whilst thinking. 

“No. I was having a… beer and watching a-a movie, and the next thing I know I’m drowning and on fire.” He swallows through a hiccup. His mouth feels dry again already. “You?”

Jude shrugs. “I got knocked out. Maybe something fell out of the overhead, I don’t know. When I woke up I was still strapped inside my seat. But half the cabin was missing and the water was coming in so fast, and people everywhere around me were just…" she takes in a deep breath. "They were already…”

Frankie nods, pressing his lips together to form a thin line under his fuzzy moustache. It’s a harrowing thought that the plane is now a swilling graveyard at the bottom of the ocean and both of them could have just as easily been down there, lost forever and drowned at sea.

“Is there anybody else with you?” Frankie questions after a few minutes of tentative quiet thought.

Jude shakes her head. “You’re the first person I’ve seen. It’s been about two days, I think.”

“What about this place, is there anyone here? Where are we?” Frankie asks, looking out of the cave mouth bleakly. 

“I’ve no idea where we are. I don't know how far off course we ended up. And I don’t think there’s anyone here at all.”

Frankie looks at Jude. She notices his eyes. Dark, but trusting in their sadness. 

The words come out, but they’re not going in. He sees her mouth move, but is lost inside of the fuzz that’s now ringing in his ears from growing panic.

“I mean, not now anyway. It looks like there was once; a long time ago maybe... I found an old hut or something in the woods, but it’s empty; nothing there. It’s where I found the bottle.”

“How big is the island?” Frankie enquires.

“Not that big; you can probably walk around it in a few hours or less. I saw it from the ridge. Apart from the trees and rocks, there’s not much else.”

“Food?” He asks as Jude notices him shivering a little; the beds of his nails are purple.

She shakes her head despondently. “I haven’t found any yet. There’s nothing growing on the trees that’s obvious.”

Frankie bites down on his lip. A large hooked nose commands the attention on his face, a testament to his heritage and a feature that adds character to his rugged appearance. Cocoa eyes, deep and contemplative, hold a mix of determination and fatigue, mirroring the weight of the situation they find themselves in.

“You’re flagging, you should rest.” Jude mentions to him as he looks as though he'll pass out at any second again.

He’s been watching her speak through drooping eyelids, trying to come to terms with her omissions that are battering him back and forth across the skull whilst at the same time trying to ward off the impending intrusion of shattered sleep. His eyelids feel heavy, but he blinks out of it and desperately tries to stay awake to decipher it all.

Frankie shakes his head, but knows it’s a fruitless battle that he’ll emerge the loser in. “They’ve gotta be looking for us. Someone will know the plane is missing by now.” 

Jude nods. “Yeah, a few days tops and there’ll be someone out here looking for us. There has to be.”

Frankie nods in agreement. “So, I guess until then we stay hydrated as best as we can and find something to eat, right?”

“I guess that’s the plan.”

Frankie draws his knees up to his chest, shivering and resting his elbows on them, contemplating for a bit. Trying to come up with answers, solutions, scenarios and then dispelling them all when he realises they are ominously bleak.

He tries to remember his training, his combat survivalist skills and everything that was drilled into him for years. 

“Have you got a phone on you?” He asks Jude suddenly, and is dismayed further when she shakes her head. 

“It’s probably at the bottom of the ocean now.” She offers a small crooked smile to him.

“Yeah. What’s your name?” He asks her, eyeing her carefully and taking in her features that seem a little softer somehow. He falls into the colour of her eyes momentarily, drowns in the fierceness of them despite being as tired as his own. 

“Judith. Jude.” She corrects. 

“Francisco. Frankie." 

“Exotic.”

“Not really. Most call me Fish.” He smirks, feeling his bottom lip crack. 

“Fish?”

“Well, Catfish. I was… I-I used to be in the forces. Call sign.” 

She nods. “Ah. So, you're used to this kind of thing then right, surviving in harsh conditions? At least we have a fighting chance.”

His smile is small and wearisome as he shrugs. “I’ll try my best.”

He tries not to think how useless he might prove to be against that statement. He balls his hands into fists when he notices the tremor again in his fingers. 

“Well alright, soldier.” Jude smiles at him with a small salute, two fingers raised to her forehead. “It’s damn good to meet you though, Frankie. Just wish it was under better circumstances.” She surmises with a faint, tired smile. “But you made it.”

“You did too,” Frankie nods, and then gives into the dark fully.  

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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#pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales angst #frankie morales triple frontier #triple frontier fic #adrift with you series #jett's writing

[theendisneat]

Nightmares

Word Count - 878

Characters - Xiao, Tighnari, Zhongli

Warnings - None

Xiao

Your eyes snapped open as you rolled over to face the window. Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were hazy from sleep. Absent-mindedly you realized that the spot beside you was cold. Xiao must not have come back yet.

You whimper as the cool breeze from the window caressed your uncovered arms and you shivered, shuffling into the slightly warmer sheets. The horrors of your dreams pounded at the back of your eyes. Every time you tried to fall back asleep, flashes of the dream came and you snapped your eyes back open.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore, your muscles tense and sleep continuing to evade you. You never liked calling Xiao’s name. You knew how seriously he took his contract to Liyue and loathed to take him away from that for something so ridiculous.

But you sighed and whispered ‘Xiao’, curling even tighter into the silk sheets. He flashed in, surrounded by black and green, his mask covering the pretty face you love. When he saw you were in no immediate danger he vanished his spear that he had been clutching tightly and strapped his mask to his belt where it hung on his thigh.

He sighed and sat next to you on the bed, running his hands through your hair without a word the way he knows you like it. You sat up after a moment and reached out to him, circling your arms around his neck and nuzzling your cheek against his own. He held you delicately, placing his hands on your waist and resting his cheek on your head.

He stayed like that with you for the rest of the night, cuddling you close until your breaths evened out and he laid you down gently, tucking himself behind you and giving you a small kiss to the back of your neck.

Tighnari

When you sat up gasping, you noticed your lover still scribbling away on what you were sure was what had been keeping him up all week. The bed had been cold without him but you made do with listening to the sound of his frustrations when he wrote something wrong and had to scratch it out, the swish of his tail having lulled you to sleep.

But tonight, it was difficult to rest easy as you were plagued with nightmares. They shocked your system awake, shakes in your fingers making it difficult to clench the sheets. You look over to your guys’ shared desk to, unsurprisingly, see Tighnari working away.

Slipping from the bed you unknowingly creeped up behind the unsuspecting fox, startling him when you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek to his shoulder. He jerked under your hold, letting out a breath.

“Nari,” you mumbled, pressing kisses to the crook of his neck. “Come to bed please.”

He sighed. “[Y/n] I-”

“Please Nari?” You whimpered and squeezed him tighter.

He paused, his tail unconsciously wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer. “Is something the matter?”

“I just.. I… I had a nightmare. I want you with me right now, please?”

Tighnari turned around, placing his hands around your waist he brought you into his embrace, running a soothing hand up and down your back. “Alright. My work on Sumeru’s decline in Rukkadevata mushrooms can wait until morning, let’s go to bed.”

Zhongli

You woke you with your chest heaving, tears sliding down your cheeks as you silently sobbed. You didn’t want to wake your lover, who was behind you with an arm curled around your waist holding you protectively to his chest, but it seems that no matter how you try to keep quiet, your still too loud for his Adepti ears.

He stirred at the sound of your cries, immediately blinking awake, wasting no time to look over you to see if you were in any pain. When he deduced that you weren’t, he settled back down beside you to lightly trace his fingers across your hips in easy shapes.

“Are you alright, love?” His voice was heavy with sleep, gruff and inquisitive.

You had calmed your breathing, focusing on the way his fingers traveled your skin. “Yeah.” you croaked out. “I’m fine, just a bad dream.”

You heard him hum and shuffle behind you and you realized he was leaving the bed. You frantically turned over to grab his wrist and stop him from leaving, but he merely smiled at you and cupped your face. He held you like you were china as he reassured you that was only going to leave to make a small cup of tea that would ease your mind.

He knew you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep but it was still late into the night and you had an early day tomorrow that you needed to be awake for.

You stayed up with Zhongli in the kitchen as he made the tea, filling the silence with mindless chatter that Zhongli indulged you in, understanding that this was your way to get your mind off whatever dream had plagued you.

You managed to fall asleep soon after, the tea doing wonders and Zhongli tucked behind you just like before with a hand around your waist and his face nuzzled into your hair.

#genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin fanfic #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #nightmare #short story #hurt/comfort #comfort #slight angst

[saikokirakira]

We're Not Married Yet [Jake Lockley x Reader]

word count: 2.5k

summary: you received nothing but radio silence from your partners for months. one day, jake comes home and calls you by an unknowingly offensive endearment. your insecurity acts up, and jake won't give up control until he fixes it.

a/n: more ANGST. MORE! *insert kylo ren meme* don't worry though. it's just miscommunication. also, it's time for our boy jake to shine and show his simpery. and the thought of this fic came from listening to "porque" by maldita and also finding out that querida is an endearment in spanish. in filipino, it means the complete opposite opposite – a married man's lover/mistress.

warnings: can be standalone; ANGST with fluff ending; hurt and comfort; separation anxiety/fear of abandonment; miscommunication/language barrier; insecurity in a poly-relationship (hinting at my wife layla in the loop as well); jake lockley is a simp and kinda romantically intense; use of chavacano (spanish-creole filipino language) by a non-speaker (so idk how it would translate for jake who is fluent in spanish) (just assume he does understand it lol)

It has been months. Months since Marc woke up and said Khonshu needed him somewhere. He and the god insisted that you stay home after a little mishap got you seriously injured from the last mission. You didn’t argue.

You just wished that there wasn’t any radio silence between you and them. When the first week passed, you managed to find out that they were with Layla, but neither of them bothered to call. They just left you to be the goldfish sitter. Not that you minded that much at first. You knew that Marc was still bothered over the fact that he accidentally killed Real Gus.

During the first month, you thought you were going crazy. You stopped by every day at Steven’s flat to feed the Gus-es and check his tank. Then you’d make yourself some tea and call out, “Do you want one, Steven?” before realizing that you were alone.

Halfway through the third month, you somewhat grew accustomed to the routine. Sometimes, you would spend the night at his flat, not because it was easier – it was harder actually – but because you were afraid that you might forget them. It was a silly thing to worry about, but you didn’t want to be so used by their absence that the feelings would just go away.

You used to have a whole speech on what to yell at them the moment one of them steps through that door, but now… you weren’t quite sure what to say. You’d be lucky if you’d get a word out as a matter of fact. Maybe you could get a slap in.

They came back on the last week of the fourth month.

You just finished cleaning the two Gus’ filter, which probably took longer than you should have. You felt like you were running slow when you woke up that morning. Putting on music on the speakers, you had planned to make a quick sandwich for lunch then curl back in bed.

Bakit sa’yo pa nagkagusto? // Why did I like you out of everyone else?

Parang bula ika’y naglaho // Like a bubble, you disappeared

Between the heavy daze in your mind and the music crooning all over the flat, you didn’t notice at all that the front door swung open. You had your back to him when Jake silently set his newsboy cap and leather gloves on the side. He was very careful that you weren’t holding anything that would injure you or him when he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

As expected, you stiffened and immediately relaxed when you recognized that scent. You hated how you still know it too well. The flat had been long cleared of any of their scent after the first month, and you cried about it for a whole night once.

But now, you weren’t sure what to feel. Like you expected, you wouldn’t muster any words. You couldn’t even distinguish the emotions bubbling in the pit of your stomach. Anger, relief, sadness, happiness?

Instead, all you said was “Jake?”

He merely hummed then buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in after months away. He didn’t want to let you go, even when you tried to move so you can turn to face him. He immediately felt months’ worth of tension leave his body. That and the soft music playing in the background started to make him aware of his fatigue.

“Let’s go to bed, hm?” you offered, catching the slight tired slump of his shoulders.

Jake hummed in acknowledgement again, but instead of walking normally, his hands moved from your waist to threading your fingers together, swaying you through the music across the apartment. Jake held you close to him as you both continued to sway in the free space near the foot of Steven’s bed. He didn’t understand a word of what the song meant, that is, until the chorus played again.

Bien simple lang I yo tapidi // What I ask is simple

Era cin ti tu el cosa yo ya cin ti // I hope you feel my sorrow

Jake still didn’t understand it completely, but fragments of the lyrics, chosen few of the words, he caught and interpreted the gist of it. He stopped moving and tucked his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Is that how you feel, querida?” he asked.

Jake didn’t miss how your eye twitched at the nickname.

You tried to not to let it bother you. You really did. It’s his endearment for you. Jake rarely fronted, and when he did, he was incredibly loving towards you. There was no reason to take offense on what he calls you.

Hiding your discomfort, you buried your face in his chest and continued to sway. “It’s just a song, Jake,” you said. “My playlist is on shuffle.”

Na dimio rezo ta pidi yo // In my prayers, I ask

Era olvida yo contigo // I hope I forget you

“Well, I don’t like it,” Jake said bluntly with a plump pout on his lip. He stopped dancing once again and walked to turn off the speaker. “Let’s go to bed, querida.”

Again, Jake saw you relent but not only after you exhaled in a self-soothing manner. He pulled you under the covers, and you fell asleep within a few minutes. You seemed tired, emotionally drained to the point that you’d sleep to avoid them, and even though Jake was exhausted as well, his worry for you now kept him up.

I told you we were gone too long. Can she no longer stand endearments? Steven piped in their head. Let me have control. I want to talk to her.

“I’ll fix it,” Jake assured him, cutting himself silent when you stirred. He tucked you deeper into the covers and watched the furrow between your brows relax.

Jake will fix it. He always did. That’s why he’s fronting now when the others couldn’t even forcibly take control. Something was wrong.

~

When you woke up a few hours in the late afternoon, you were still tangled up in your boyfriend’s arms. You couldn’t tell who would be out once he woke up, but you were sure that if it were either Marc or Jake, they’d wake up as soon as you sit up in bed. Your thoughts were answered when the grip around your waist tightened when you tried to slither off to the corner of the bed.

“Marc?”

An agitated huff told you that you were mistaken. The sleepy daze immediately wore off. If he was still fronting, something might be wrong. “Is everything okay, Jake?”

“I don’t know, querida. Is there?”

At his pointed question, you immediately closed up. “You’re the one who disappeared for months without contacting me,” you shot back. “I’m surprised you didn’t mail me divorce papers as well.”

“We’re not married yet, querida.”

You scoffed and got out of bed, stomping your way to the kitchen. You took the tea tin and took a bag, then slamming the cabinet shut. It was only until you were filling up the kettle on the faucet did you realise your hands were shaking and tears were dripping on your outstretched arms.

Well, done, Fabio. You really did so well. Marc snarked at Jake from the mirror in front of their bed. Let me out.

“No.”

Let me out! Marc demanded.

Let him out, Jake. Steven pleaded. She needs—

“What? You? Us? Who exactly? We left. Everything will be exactly the same if either of you comes out.”

From the kitchen, you peered at Jake arguing with Marc and Steven from the mirror. There was no doubt they all were concerned now from your outburst. You didn’t even know why you were upset.

Well, you were, are, upset that they disappeared like ghosts for months. What you didn’t understand was why Jake’s endearment bothered you even more. It was an endearment. It’s not like he knew your language that well to deliberately calling you negative names.

Jake was cursing up a fury at the mirror when you silently sat on the spot beside him at the edge of the bed. He immediately stopped staring at his reflection to look at you. Really look at you. That’s one thing you loved about Jake. His gaze made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered to him. More than Khonshu. More than…

You shook the thought from your head. It was absurd to be jealous of your lovers that way. It wasn’t fair to you nor was it fair to them.

“Talk to me,” you said, grasping his hand in between yours.

“You didn’t deserve it. I know you deserve better, but I want you, cariño. You’re all I’ve wanted. I will always come back to you.”

In the background, you heard the electric kettle click itself off, but you were more focused on Jake baring his feelings for you. He was barely around for as long as you knew Marc and Steven, but he had never failed in being sincere with how he felt for you. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed.

Jake’s face fell, and if you could only see what he saw, Marc lowered his eyes in the mirror, while Steven retreated back in the recesses of their mind. Even Khonshu was eerily silent and nowhere to be found, which was odd enough as it is. The god was fond of you in his own way that he kept a safe distance hovering nearby.

“Don’t be,” you said. “I know what I signed up for when I decided to be with an Avatar.” You let out a weak chuckle at the unintentional reference. “Steven would’ve loved that one.”

“Do you wish to talk with him instead, cariño?”

You didn’t miss the hurt that seeped through Jake’s words. You barely spent time with him, and you knew him the shortest. You shook your head and cupped your hands over his cheeks, tilting his head to face you.

The same furrowed brow wrinkled his forehead again, and if it wasn’t for the stiffness in his eyes, the conflicted look behind those brown orbs would’ve easily misled you to think he was Marc. Jake’s hard expression was easily remedied when you pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. The hurt and fear were now exposed, and you had to come clean with your own issues.

“I’m not mad that you left for months,” you said and immediately caught yourself at Jake’s pointed look. “Okay, yes, I was mad, but only during the first month, especially when I found out that you took Layla with you.”

“It wasn’t all us, love.” Steven snuck out for a moment. “But she was also worried that it was too early for you to take this mission on.” His eyes rolled back, and Jake was back, annoyed from those few seconds of being interrupted.

“Sometimes…” you took a deep breath, finding the right words to say, “I feel like I’m just a liability to you guys, you and Layla.”

This time it was Marc who took the wheel. “You can easily put us on our asses, baby,” he laughed softly, trying to lighten your mood. “Sure, we’d put up a fight, but your powers are kinda scary sometimes.”

Your hands pressed against Marc’s chest before gripping his jacket in tight fists as if you were scared that he’d vanish after your next words. “That’s not what I mean, Marc.”

When the realization dawned on his face, Marc immediately cupped your face. “Why on earth would you even think that?” he asked, hurt from your words and from how you felt. “I mean, you were dating Steven when he had no idea of Layla and my existence, and we were even on the verge of divorce by then.” He continued, “and Jake… Well, I think Jake only likes you. That ass only shows up when one of us are dying or when it comes to you.

“And Layla adores you. Otherwise, she didn’t finish our job for us just so we can come back to you,” he added. Swallowing whatever weight that clogged his throat, he finally said, “You’re a part of this crazy relationship whether you like it or not.” Realizing what he accidentally implied, he softly asked, “If… if you were to leave…” He trailed off, his voice ending in a shuddering breath. His shoulder tensed for a split second, and he was gone, overwhelmed from his own fears.

“We will marry you in a heartbeat,” Jake said, grasping your hand. “If that meant you would never leave us.” That wide-eyed gaze he pointed at you showed that he was frighteningly sincere.

But it was quickly cut off with Steven nervously chuckling. “If you would have us, love,” he said. “Of course, consent is key. No need to be psycho about it,” he shot a pointed glance at the mirror.

You exhaled, feeling all the tension and issues wafting away from a single breath. “One thing though,” you stated.

“What is it, querida?” Jake returned, and this time, he finally noticed the twitch in your eye from the endearment he gave you.

“Two things I hate though,” you corrected yourself through gritted teeth. “Call me anything but that word, and propose to me properly. And we won’t have any problems.”

Jake would never admit it but the coldness in your voice and suddenly shifting to a sweet smile after you listed your terms made the hairs on his arms stand a bit.

Later that evening, Jake discreetly looked up what ‘the forbidden endearment’ meant on Steven’s phone. He sucked in a sharp breath at his massive mistake, and a pit formed in his stomach when it sank that he had been accidentally feeding your insecurity all this time. He immediately rushed over to you on the stove and pulled you into his arms.

“Jake! What the—” Unable to pull yourself out of his embrace, you barely managed to reach for the stove and turn the heat to low before you accidentally burn down his flat. “Now barely seems like the time to—”

“You’re the only one for me. I revere you. I fear you. I worship you. Cariño, mi vida, mi corazón​…”

You laughed in the midst of your confusion while Jake pulled you in for a tight hug. “What brought this on?” Your eyes landed on Steven’s phone at the kitchen counter with the latest search page still on display. A more genuine smile tugged at your lips as you buried your face into his chest, embracing his warmth.

“Also, I’m marrying Layla first.”

SMACK!

You barely registered the sting on your bottom when you were pushed away. Steven’s wide-eyed puppy eyes gazed at you in horror. His mouth hung open in surprise as he raised his hands in innocence.

“It wasn’t me. I swear!” Steven cried out. Then he paused, glancing off somewhere. “Jake says he’ll be back once he gets a ring before Layla comes home next week.”

#jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #can be standalone #bakunawa!reader #bakunawa au

[woso-fan13]

Comfortember 2023: 13 (Arsenal)

13. Baking

On a cool Sunday in London, rain pattered on the windows. Inside the house, though, you were warm and snuggly. Your Mummy and Mama had gotten you dressed in a fresh nappy and a thick pair of pajamas that morning, declaring that today was a good day to stay home. Though regressed and not fully comprehending, you agreed. 

The morning had gone smoothly, but once you’re up from your afternoon nap, your parents realized they have no idea what else to do. You had built towers from your blocks already, but when you cried when they collapsed that game was stopped. You had listened to Mummy and Mama read stories, you had played with all of your toys, you had even watched the tele- something that was usually reserved for when you were sick or injured while little. 

It was only when you were munching on your afternoon snack that your Mummy had a brilliant idea. The three of you should make cookies. You didn’t notice as Mama tried to protest- warning of the inevitable mess and sugar rush that were to come. You only heard one of your favourite words before you were bouncing in your seat. 

Which is how you found yourself perched on the countertop. Beth and Viv were flitting around the kitchen trying to gather everything. Of course, they made sure that at least one of them was next to you at all times lest you tumble off the counter. 

You had the most important job of the whole project. You were in charge of dumping the ingredients into the bowl once Mummy and Mama handed them to you. You were really good at it and only a little bit ended up on the counter. 

Towards the end of the recipe, you had grown somewhat bored of your job. Your eyes wandered the kitchen, landing on the bowl of chocolate chips that had been left not far from you on the counter. Somehow, you manage to scoot slowly over to them without losing your balance or alerting your parents to your task. 

The sound of objects moving in a dish draws Viv’s attention, your Mama looking up just in time to see your fist disappearing into your mouth. With the guilty look on your face and the partially empty bowl of chocolate in front of you, it wasn’t hard for her to guess what you had done. 

“Are you stealing chocolate?” she asks with her hands on her hips, “don’t you know that only naughty girls steal chocolate?”

You pull your hand from your mouth, traces of chocolate covering your sticky fingers. 

“No!” you shout in response, “not naughty!”

“Are you sure you’re not a naughty little girl? Because the chocolates are missing.”

“Was Mummy,” you insist. 

“Mummy snuck the chocolates?” Viv asks with a fake gasp. 

You nod seriously. 

“I’m going to have to talk to Mummy, she’s been a very naughty girl.”

Beth walks back into the kitchen at this point, somewhat surprised when you shout. 

“Naughty Mummy!”

“I’m naughty?” she asks in shock, “I was only gone signing for a package. What did I do?”

“Apparently,” Mama says, “you ate the chocolates that are missing from the bowl.”

“I would never,” Mummy swears, “but I think I do know someone who would.”

The women both turn to you as your playful eyes widen. They communicate silently with each other before approaching you. The two wrap arms around you to keep you from falling before wiggling their fingers over your belly. Your giggles fill the air as you’re tickled. 

The torment finally comes to an end, but Mummy’s still not done. She begins pressing kisses all over your face while making exaggerated noises. When you poke out your lips, she gives you a final peck before pulling away and allowing you to calm down slightly from all the excitement. 

She looks confused for a minute before licking her lips, “you taste like chocolate, do you know that?” she asks you. 

You only shriek in reply as you’re again attacked with tickles. 

#age regression #woso imagine #womens soccer #woso imagines #reader insert #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso community #arsenal wfc #awfc #arsenal women #arsenal x reader #arsenalwfc #reader

[stars4anakin]

The way I loved you —⁠ ANAKIN SKYWALKER

summary: when arguing with Anakin you confess your feelings

warnings: master/padawan relationship (one-sided), reading situations horribly, arguments, ANGST.

pairings: Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

a/n: this is very bad but this concept wouldn't leave my head..

songs i listened to while writing this:

The way I loved you - Taylor Swift

Majorie - Taylor swift

Illicit Affairs - Taylor Swift

Drabble ... MASTERLIST

"How could you have been so reckless!"

You furrowed your brows, drawing your arms closer over your chest, "It wasn't my fault, Anakin!" You shouted, You didn't want to cry, You weren't scared, or sad, just angry. You couldn't help it. You hated that you cried when you were angry, it made you feel weak.

"Really?" He scoffed, stepping closer than he was before, his harsh words cutting through the air like a knife. "Tears?"

"Why are you being so mean!" You pushed against him, trying to get space between you two.

"I'm teaching you a lesso-"

"The only thing you're teaching me is how much of a mistake Master Yoda made. You are selfish! You don't care for me, for your squadron! Only you and the senator!" Maybe if there weren't tears falling down your face, he would've taken you seriously, but he didn't. He only got closer, again, his presence like a dark cloud enveloping you. "Don't act like you know me."

"I saved the Senator. I protected the squadron. How can you blame me?" Your voice cracked with every word, and you pleaded, "I..."

"The Senator shouldn't have been in any danger in the first place!"

This wasn't the Anakin you knew. He had always been calm and composed, treating you as an equal. Now, he acted superior, and you didn't want to argue with him. He was your best friend, your mentor, the person you loved.

"I couldn't sense any danger, Anakin." You said, softly this time, your words carrying a profound sorrow. "I was assigned to protect the Senator, and I feel I've done that. She's okay."

He shook his head, his jaw tightening, and his anger remained strong, scarily strong. "And if she wasn't?"

"What then, Anakin?" You closed your eyes, your voice barely a murmur. You wished he cared for you like this, fighting for your safety. But that was a wish that would never come true. And then, almost involuntarily, you whispered, "I love you, Anakin." It was as if you wanted to end the argument or let the truth out while everything was already in ruins.

After a long pause, his anger wavered, and your eyes finally opened. "An-And you're scaring me. I don't want to fight."

He sighed and rubbed his temples, "I'm sorry, but I need to talk to the Council. I can't continue your training."

"What?" Panic and regret surged within you.

Maybe if you kept your mouth shut, if you protected the Senator like you were assigned to, you would be laughing with Anakin about something, congratulating each other with another win against the separatists. But you didn't. Now you're here, grabbing onto his wrists, his arms, shoulders, trying—begging—him to stop, to think about this, "Anakin, listen to me. Please?"

He turned around, looking down into your eyes.

"I made a mistake. I know, but-but I want to forget this happened, I want to go to sleep and wake up in the morning to you knocking at my door, complaining how I never get up in time--"

"I can't continue your training."

"You're not hearing me!"

"I am," he replied coldly, "but what you said won't go away."

You tried to argue again, but he beat you to it, "I don't love you. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No," you whispered, the tightness in your throat becoming unbearable.

"You were right. Master Yoda made a mistake making me your master."

You hated the feeling of your throat tightening, the pain it caused, and the way your body told you, you were about to cry. You shook your head, breathing became difficult, your ears rang, and you heard Anakin faintly calling your name. Your vision blurred, and you continued to retreat, pushing away anyone who tried to reach out to you. The crying was loud and echoing. "I wish I had never joined the Order," you sobbed, your voice filled with pain, "I wish..." You fought to finish your sentence, fighting against your own sobs, "I wish I never met you. I hate you."

#꒰ ੭ 𓈒 ⊹ evana writes #anakin skywalker #drabble #star wars #star wars angst #star wars anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x reader #angst