#you know kids have probably heard of wine

[doobea]

I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.

contents: fem!reader, arranged marriage, suggestive themes but nothing too explicit (read with caution), characters are all in their mid/late-20s, reader has a small supportive friend group of other smut authors, mentions of alcohol, sex toys, and lots of failed attempts to seduce an oblivious (?) husband, mdni word count: 2.4k a/n: you guys already know that this is gonna be a wild one. is this my debut attempt to write smut but make it a romcom? maybe. this is gonna be a four-part series!!

一 : Oh baby, I be stuck to you like glue ->next.

To say that you’re infamous on the internet isn’t an exaggeration but a truth. No, you haven’t posted anything controversial regarding your marital status and haven’t gotten yourself into a crazy D-List influencer scandal; you’re infamous solely because of your erotica literature and, surprisingly, your in-laws were fine with it.

“Whatever brings home the money.” Your father-in-law would always chime. 

You weren't ashamed of your career, and it practically all started in college when you wanted to pass the time writing for your favorite fandom. In a short amount of time, you had gained a small devoted following on your blog that made a lightbulb switch go off in your head - what if I could do this for a living? And so you did. Fast forward three years, now you are making a comfortable living working from anywhere with a wifi signal available and have over 950k followers on your socials, all under your alias 'YN Finalis'. With that many followers, most people would feel worried about their personal life being breached, but you're not dumb; you like to keep your personal life on, what you like to call, "low battery" mode.

Here's what your near million followers do know about: you’re 24 pushing on 25, you've come from a rather wealthy background, you’re married to an athlete, you’ve written well over 40 original explicit stories, and you have a plethora of sex toys and contraptions in your master bedroom.

What they don't know is: you're in an arranged marriage with Rin Itoshi for the past year, he only sleeps in the guest bedroom, and you're a virgin with a really creative mind.

Crazy, right?

But it's not like you're alone in your thoughts, today was the day when you decided to finally vent to your close fellow internet authors about your sexual frustrations.

"My in-laws keep asking me the same thing every time they call," Your voice reaches your laptop where your weekly meeting was set up on the kitchen counter. "I mean just how do they expect us to have a kid when my own husband doesn't even touch me?" You finish the remaining wine in your glass in dismay as sudden gasps were heard from the laptop's speakers.

"He hasn't initiated sex with you in these last few months?" Chigiri gasps.

"More like in the entirety of our relationship." You cry as you pour out another glass. You pick up your laptop, frowning seeing everyone's solemn looks, and make your way to your living room couch. "I'm still a virgin for crying out loud, like who's still a virgin at 24?"

Probably a lot of people but this is about you, not them!

"Oh my god," Hiori looks like he was going to cry for you. "Maybe your husband's just shy? Could it be he hasn't found the right time for it?"

"But a whole year?" Bachira is next to speak. "No wonder your stories have been popping off, you've been super horny."

You try to hold back your drunken sniffles. "I just don't understand! It's not like I'm ugly or anything, plenty of people wanted to date me back in college! He comes home to a clean house, I make fantastic meals that aren't just a ham and turkey sandwich, and for his past birthday I even gifted him an all-paid trip to Okinawa!"

"Shit," Shidou whistles, "I'd fuck you if you made me a ham and turkey sandwich."

"Not now for jokes." Hiori scolds and his tone softens when he speaks to you, "Outside of sex, has your husband been good to you?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. "God, yes. He's so good to me you have no idea."

It wasn't like Rin was neglecting you in other forms of intimacy. Hugs and brief kisses were frequent both in and outside of the house. He loves holding your hands, shopping for clothes with you, giving you forehead kisses, and kissing you 'good morning' and 'good night' every day. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him, other than the occasional 'I'm irritated and I need my space' phase that required a whole evening to himself - but that was beside the point.

"Have you guys even talked about it?" Hiori continues.

"Oh god, absolutely no, it's an arranged marriage for fuck sake. What if I come off too strong and he doesn't even see me like that? Then the whole marriage will just be awkward!"

"But he's willing to do all those other things you listed down, maybe he is just shy." Bachira retorts.

"You think maybe he swings the other way?" Shidou asks but it's genuine this time.

A long period of silence falls over everyone as they try to figure out what they could help you with. But ultimately this was your husband to figure out, Rin wasn't married to them and they don't even know who Rin Itoshi was.

“Ah, whatever!” You swirl the wine in your glass around, frowning at your sullen reflection. “Maybe we’ll just end up adopting a baby instead of having one, maybe his parents won’t be able to tell the difference. And maybe I’ll just have to resort to reading other smut to satisfy my lack of intimacy. Chigiri, when is that next chapter coming out?”

A few clicks are heard from the other side of the screen before he says, “You’re in luck, I’m about to have my friend beta read this and it should be up by tonight.”

Perfect, you thought.

Chigiri, whose online username is RedPanther, has the third most followers on the adult website that everyone in the group was a part of. He's known for his works centering around the tropes 'forced proximity' and 'enemies to lovers', often the smut he writes will include a steamy threesome that has some sort of pegging involved - but that's always towards the second to last chapter.

"Oh!" Bachira calls out your name with a smile, "Aren't you working on a new story yourself?"

“Remind me again,” Shidou leans forward, "what's this one about?"

You find yourself feeling slightly lighter now that you've vented and the topic has shifted to something you're more confident speaking about. After a few seconds of rummaging through your Word documents, you drag the file labeled "I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - rough outlines & ideas.doc" to the group chat. Rarely do you ever share your creativity flow with other people but, after your unwarranted trauma dump, you figure it was better than nothing.

"Funny enough, it's loosely based on my marriage." You confess sheepishly, "This is my way of coping with it, I guess."

"Nothing wrong with that." Hiori chimes in, "It's free compared to having a shitty therapist!"

"Damn woman," Shidou's pink eyes dart back and forth from the screen, eyebrows furrowing up and down as he makes his way through your well-detailed outline. "you need to get laid, ASAP."

You click open your story file to follow along. In the tags section, you listed: Arranged marriage, unrequited love/one-sided, brat tamer, BDSM, choking, spanking, spitting, breeding kink, cum slu–

Okay, maybe Shidou is right (which is a surprise), you do need to get laid. But it's also okay to get slightly defensive for the sake of your ego, right?

You playfully roll your eyes at your group mate. "Ok ok, no need to judge that hard coming from the person who literally writes degradation kinks for a living!"

"Well, I think this story will be your best one yet!" Chigiri and Bachira both flip you a thumbs up over on their end of the call.

After a few more exchanges of small story updates in everyone's life, you all decided to end the call since it was getting rather late in the afternoon and you have yet to get started on dinner. You briefly thank Chigiri for his upcoming update and hop off, just in time before you hear the familiar sounds of the front door opening.

"I'm back."

"Welcome back, Rin!"

You can't help but feel slightly embarrassed and guilty that you were essentially gossiping about your husband's lack of sex drive to your friend group, which he hardly knows about, when he comes home with a large bag of takeout and your favorite coffee order. Rin is dressed in his typical workout outfit, which consists of a black form-fitting t-shirt and grey sweatpants that were just loose enough that you can still make an outline of his 'magic jewels', as Bachira likes to write.

"Baby, you didn't have to." You quickly grab the items from his hands so he can set down his gym bag.

He hums in response, briefly kissing your forehead before making his way into the kitchen to fetch a tall glass of water. "You've been cooking all week so I wanted you to take a small break," Rin says with a smile.

Your ears go warm and mimic the smile back, “Thanks, how was practice today?”

He sighs through his nose and wipes away the remaining sweat-covered bangs sticking to his forehead. “Rougher than usual but nothing too crazy. Isagi was more annoying compared to yesterday.” Rin says with a small pout.

“Boo,” You stick your tongue out in agreement, “how dare he annoys my one and only husband?”

“Oh, shut up.” He flicks a finger to your cheek and lets out the slightest fake scoff.

After hydrating, Rin announces quietly that he’ll come back to eat as soon as he takes a shower and darts to the guest bedroom. And with that, you’re reminded of your odd predicament.

He is a good husband and knows that you care for him and vice versa. When both sets of parents first introduced you two, it was awkward and you knew from reading his background that he wasn’t the most sociable of people but you were, and still are, patient. This arranged marriage was more or less a business deal between fathers; your father held the CEO title at a top entertainment company in the nation and Rin’s father wanted to secure the spotlight for the growing star athlete. Rin didn’t say much during that meeting, and neither did you.

Your first kiss with him was also on your first date. It was at his apartment, both of you shared the same hobby of playing horror games, and you were sitting thigh to thigh on his two-seater couch. You were dying multiple rounds in, fingers bruised from button-mashing and mind-busied with inappropriate thoughts as you kept stealing glances at your painfully attractive fiance. It didn’t take long for Rin to notice because it was stupidly obvious. He sat his controller down, took one look at you, and asked, “Do you want me to kiss you?” with a weird little smile that was seemingly almost out of character from what you knew of him. And the kiss was … awkward to say the least. You remembered him leaning down and you were leaning up, mashing lips and a little bit of teeth together. No amount of research that you had done days prior could’ve prepped for that. And it was almost as if it was his first time kissing too, but you fixated on your inexperience than pay any mind to his mysterious relationship track record. 

One year later and you’re still stuck at first base.

As if on cue, you feel your phone give out a series of buzzes in your back pocket, already knowing that it’s from your online penpals. You break out from your thoughts and scroll to the top of the messages:

Bachira M. [BluntBangs] “You should try seducing him tonight!” Hiori Y. [ChoppyCyan] “You remember reading Chigiri’s fan favorite short story - “Till Death Do Us Part”? There was this one scene where the characters had to share one bed because the other bedroom got ruined by a leak! Maybe you can “accidentally” make that happen too?” Chigiri H. [RedPanther] “I remember I had a fun time writing that scene. You should definitely try and flirt with him, y/n.” Shidou R. [HornyDemon] “And if your husband won’t fuck you then I will /jk” Hiori Y. [ChoppyCyan] “Shut up you’ll fuck anything that has a pulse”

They weren’t necessarily wrong. You didn’t want this dynamic to potentially go on for another year or even for the rest of your life - trying wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? 

You quickly fill up a pitcher of water then peer into the spare guest room and notice warm lighting bleeding through the cracks coming from the bathroom door and the sounds of running water. With Rin still busy washing up, you take the liberty to start messing around for your impromptu operation. You weren’t exactly sure when or who suggested sleeping in separate bedrooms to start but, to your knowledge, this is the first time that you’ve actually sneaked around in his room.

You start with the closet, opening its double doors and seeing his clothes all hung in order and by color. His sneakers and cleats were all stored in separate clear cases in the bottom corner while there is a small center shelf in the middle that holds his cologne, deodorant, and moisturizer. He’s neat, you think to yourself before deciding that it’s probably best to leave his belongings alone and focus on ruining something in the room that was less personal. Next is the carefully made bed with extra fluffed pillows, then the freshly well-kept plants on the window sill, followed by the small framed photo of your wedding day on the bedside table. Guilt immediately rushes over your consciousness.

“No, this won’t do either.” You groan, suddenly feeling like this is the dumbest thing on earth now. “I should just give up.” 

“y/n?” Rin’s voice calls out and you snap your head towards his direction, soon to be met with a series of incoherent sputtering from the male as you realize that he’s completely wet and naked.

“Oh my god!” Hands and pitcher fly to your redden face as you try to come up with an excuse but nothing comes out the way you want it to, “I-I uh–water! I thought you needed more water–I’m sorry!”

You hear him scrambling around the room, most likely searching for a towel to cover up his impressive lower half. “You’re fine,” Rin’s voice sounds flustered and unusually high pitched, “just give me a second–”

“N-No I’m sorry! I don’t even know why I’m standing here I should just go and–” Closing your eyes might’ve been the worst choice all day because soon your body meets the wall and soon the floor, spilling the pitcher’s contents all over you in the process. 

Your phone vibrates again, text reading:

Bachira M. [BluntBangs] “Did it work?!”

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #doobea writing #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock smut #itoshi rin smut #rin itoshi smut #bllk smut #idk how slow but like slowish #they are not gonna fk until like the last chapter i think #but will do everything else in between #i can make your bed rock - rin itoshi #mdni

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐈𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥~

Pairing: Husband!Damian Wayne x Wife!Reader

Word count: 759

Warning: suggestive at the very end

People know you and Damian belong together, no doubt about it. With making your relationship public and years later your marriage, which was also the talking gossip around Gotham for a month or two, everyone knows. But some people are too stubborn to the fact, you learn that very early in your relationship when women would just throw themselves at your lover's arm clinging to him as he tries to pray them off with an annoying expression, thinking that the son of Bruce Wayne would have the same Playboy persona just like his father, but they’re wrong forgetting the Damian Wayne is in fact, the most loyal man when it had came down to your dating and now marriage.

He would rather be with you than any other woman on earth, and for some, it was hard to face reality. You’re grown used to it over the years. But sometimes it just grows a spark inside of you. Much like tonight, in the Wayne manor that now belongs to the two of you. After Bruce’s retirement, it’s now Damian’s job to throw those galas and charity events, much to his dismay.

Secretly you do the work because he wasn’t given the gift of organization at all. So now you stand back, watching everyone. Happy with the way the nights going as you sip on your glass of champagne, it’s different front the rest. Damian thinks you deserve better than the champagne and wine that’s given out to the others. You spot his brothers in the crowd and other familiar faces that belong to a few close friends. The last face you spot was your husband, chatting away with men from his workplace. A forced smile on his face. It makes you chuckle, as a kid he hated them, and even as an adult he still does. But it’s more tolerable, well kinda.

You spot a random woman stumbling towards the ground of men, obviously sober as she tries to act intoxicated for the hell of it. She leaps for Damian’s arm that’s on his side, ignoring the one that holds his drink. He doesn’t shake her off, instead, he lets out a fake laugh along with the others around him.

That’s new you thought.

This went on for more than ten minutes which was a surprise. Normally it would’ve taken him less than five to shake them off, but instead, he’s standing there letting it happen. Which was a surprise. They’re having conversations, sometimes other people would chime in here and there.

Damian says something you can’t hear, and the woman laughs, giggling loudly to the point where you can hear her from the other side of the room. She laughs like it was the funniest thing she’s heard all night.

The horrendous laughter dies down, and she stares. Directly at you. She stares at you with a sly grin that paints her red lips. You frown and glare, gripping your glass. Almost breaking it until one of the servants comes up to you and offers you another drink, which you gladly take without a second thought.

The glare you send is hard, most people can sense it, the chilling aura that spills from you. Damian’s quick to sense it, he’s good at it, with a quick look towards you as you stare down at his arm— he gives you a genuine grin. He shakes off the women.

“Apologies. My presence is needed elsewhere” he gives a side eye down “with my wife” The woman was not happy, pouting as he watched her target leave her sight. But she puts on a facade and leaves, probably off to find another arm to cling on.

There’s a shit-eating grin plaster on his face when he walks up to you, and all you could do is roll your eyes—taking a big sip out of your drink in your hand.

“Zawjati?” he called out “Why are you here all by yourself?”

“You just seemed a little busy with your groups of friends” you hum “I didn’t want to ruin it”

The grin on his face softens, arm stretched out towards you, and you take his warm hand without a second thought. “Don’t be jealous” he chuckles “Everyone knows I’m all yours”

“Why would I be jealous?” You scuff, he was right but you would never admit that to his face. You lean into him closer, bringing him down to your level—lips brushing up against his ear “When I’m the one that ends up taking you straight to the bedroom right after every time”

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne headcanon #damian scenarios #damian wayne x you

[grimesthinker]

Stepdad!rick walking in on you touching yourself in the middle of the night, because he thought he heard something n’ just wanted to check on you…

it's been a slow, calm day in alexandria, yet you're hot and bothered and have been since the morning. you've been watching rick's biceps flex under his white shirt as he helps around the community with a few repairs. your mother is at her friends, probably drowning in wine with her nose in a book. and you, of course, sit pretty on the front porch with a glass of iced tea in hand. you catch rick's wandering eyes land on you a few times, and you bite your gloss covered lip as you imagine him bending you over and taking you right there. your pink polished nails dig into your thigh and you look away from him, swallowing hard. you push your thighs together, which isn't a good idea, because now your clit aches even worse. you can't take it anymore. letting out a breath, you trail back into the house and up the stairs. unbeknownst to you, your brain is so cloudy that you don't even realize how the bedroom door is left slightly open.

you sit on the bed, back against the floral patterned pillows. you lift your hips and drag your shorts down your legs, throwing them to the side. you slip your hand down your panties and suck in a breath as your finger meets your clit. you bite your bottom lip and let out a soft, subtle strained whine. images of rick above you flash in your mind and you close your eyes tight. you think of his fingers replacing yours and his deep voice whispering sweet praises against your lips. just then, you hear the stairs creak. your eyes shoot open and you quickly remove your hand from your clit. rick reaches your door and you pull your knees to your chest, trying to seem as normal as possible.

"hey, kid, i was just wondering if-" he opens the door fully and sees you, only in a tank top and panties, on your bed with a visibly flustered expression. your cheeks are red and your eyes are glossy, still so flustered and cloudy from not being able to cum. rick takes one look and he knows. "you okay?" he drawls, shutting the door behind him as he walks to the side of your bed.

you look up at him with teary, far away eyes. "i..i wasn't...i just..." you stammer and he takes your jaw in his hand. he quiets you with his lips, a kiss you've been searching for all day. before you can even whine, he moves in between your legs and plants a few kisses on your inner thigh. your breath hitches at that and your core aches.

"whiny baby." he mocks and your bottom lip wobbles. rick taps your thigh and when you lift your hips, he drags your panties down your legs. you subtly gasp at the cool air and without warning, he licks up your slit and suckles on your clit. you grip the sheets.

your mind is fuzzy and all you can think about is your stepfather's tongue on your cunt. "rick...i need...i can't.." you babble and he traces your little hole with his finger.

"tell me, honey. you're a big girl." you whine again and he laps at your pussy. "what do you need?"

"your cock-need your cock." you breathe and he chuckles lowly. he must have been needing you all day too, because he holds your hips down and eats you out as if he's been waiting for an eternity. you're a sensitive thing, he's came to notice, so watching the way your pretty lips part and the way the tears stream down your cheeks, he grows in his jeans.

you bite your lip when he moves away to unbuckle his belt and tug his jeans and boxers off. your mouth almost waters at the sight of his already hard cock springing up. you mindlessly scramble to your knees, and his big hand pushes your hair from your face. you look up at him through damp, fluttering eyelashes and he taps his cock on your awaiting tongue. he pushes it past your lips and you hum accordingly, your perfectly manicured hands wrapping around what you can't seem to fit in your mouth.

"atta girl." he murmurs, breath hitching as you move your head back and forth. his hand finds the back of your head, pushing it enough so you gag around his cock. he lets go, and you move back, a string of saliva following. you look up at him, pretty eyes already tired and fucked out and he's no where close to being done with you. the sight nearly makes him cum on the spot.

he lowly instructs you to turn around, and like the obedient girl you are, you listen. he places his hand between your shoulder blades and pushes down, your face being pressed into the mattress. he holds your hips up, making sure you're right where he wants you. rick grips your ass when you whimper impatiently, which only makes you more pouty. he teasingly drags his cock up your slit and you hiss through your teeth. you guess he decides to be nice though, because he soon pushes his way in, and you let out a strained moan. he holds your waist tight as he fucks into you, making sure he hits as deep as possible. soft tears stream down your face and you soon become a sensitive, trembling mess. he holds you against him and you babble incoherent nothings as his cock abuses your poor cunt.

"i need to..rick, i'm gonna.." you pant and he brings his finger to your puffy clit, rubbing circles and coaxing that much awaited orgasm out of you.

"go ahead, doll." your eyes shut tight as you cum, shaking and whimpering. rick's high comes soon after, pulling out in time to shoot his hot load onto your back. he gives your ass one last squeeze before he lets you lay back on the bed. he bites his lip and chuckles at the sight of your pretty, sore cunt and your trembling thighs. he presses a sweet kiss to your lips and pushes your damp hair from your face. "that gonna hold you over until tonight?"

#rick grimes #the walking dead #rick grimes ⛥*:･ #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #andrew lincoln #rick grimes imagine #stepdad!rick #twd imagine

[heartfullofleeches]

dilf bull/hound darling: i’ve been used as a breeder before but i’d love to find someone special to connect with and start a future together you know?

kaimana [heard breeder and got so hard he got nauseous]: i think i hauve Covid

Former Breeder Darling takes a trip out to the beach nearby where the farm they used to work/live on. They strike up a conversation with an attendee at one of the bar stands. The guys a little awkward, but sweet - they guess he didn't have much interaction with others before he got the job and was still getting the hang of things. He noticeably becomes a whole lot clumsier when Darling mentions the details of their past career and current goal.

"So - what brings you out here, Stranger?"

"There's a farm a bit up north from here.. Worked there almost my entire adult life. Job was starting to get to my head so I quit."

"Oh, is that so? I try not to head too far from home, but now I'm starting to regret that. What type of work did you do?"

"I was a breeder.....on top of some manual labor.'

The glass Kaimana held slips from his hands.

"Holy..... You good, Kai?"

K....Kai?? You're giving him nicknames already?? Kaimana grabs the broom propped against the wall behind him - using it to support his wobbly legs instead of cleaning the shards of broken glass at his feet. "Y-yes, I'm fine!... Please continue."

"Eh, not much more to say. Whenever someone needed some assistance having a kid I helped out. Didn't think much of it when I was younger. Paid good, and I got to live on the farm for next to nothing which allowed me to save up over the years.... I had no attachment to it till I received some photos of one of my kids... Well... Not my kid, but their folks were nice enough to send them... It got me thinking... about a family of my own."

You look up from your glass to find Kaimana frantically scribbling something on a napkin.

"My number! .... I-if you'd like to keep in touch. Have you found a place of receidence yet? I know a lovely hotel closeby. I can take you there!- W-we could get to know each other a little better - maybe or dinner or-or a nice bottle of wine."

You chuckle. "Dinner sounds good. Been meaning to try some of the seafood this area is know for.. You should probably clean up that glass though."

You're probably right about that. If he faints atop a pile of glass he'll have to miss your date getting stitches! It's a somewhat difficult for him to move with one particular area of his clothing so drenched in his own fluids.

"Y...yes... dear.... Dear customer, I mean!... haha..."

"Cute." You down the rest of your drink and pull a few bills from your pocket, tucking the napkin in that same sleeve as you stand from the counter. "See you later, Kai."

Kai waves as you depart. He wouldn't call it a goodbye as he'd see you soon enough.

"See you.... Honey."

#Kaimana my oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere blurb #male yandere #tw yandere #yandere merman

[crushmeeren]

Gojo/Fem Reader Drabble

Warnings; age gap (you’re 24, Gojo is 40), major daddy kink, praise kink, vaginal sex, anal sex dirty talk, cursing, Gojo really gets turned on by the fact you’re younger than him—as do you

Note; God. This turned out way longer than I wanted it to be. It’s probably about 1000 ish words? Probably less, I’m not sure, but it’s an AU where Gojo is the definition of a single DILF & you are his new babysitter. Things progress from there..enjoy 💕

When you first got recommended to babysit for Gojo Satoru—you hadn’t thought much of it. You needed the money and you had a great track record. You had heard good things about the man in the circles of moms, but you had never met him yourself.

You heard how ethereal the man is, but you just brushed it off as exaggeration of bored housewives. Either way, the other families you had worked for gave you glowing recommendations. The only thing you felt was out of place was that he was a single dad.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, you just usually deal with the moms. Whatever, no skin off your back—it’d be fine.

To your immense satisfaction, it was. It is. Gojo has the most wonderful four year old little boy—Megumi. You love that kid as if he’s your own and he loves you. But, the moms were not wrong—Gojo is angelic. Snowy white hair, clear blue eyes. Tall as fuck.

You were not even the least bit surprised when your thoughts started turning wildly sexual towards him. Hell, he’s a DILF if there ever was one. You did feel a bit guilty though. You’re not here to lust after your boss. You tried to squash those thoughts for a long time.

Nevertheless you couldn’t get used to his god like stature. Only made infinitely worse by the fact that he’s pushing forty—and you’re only 24.

When you learned that tid bit of information, you shamefully rubbed fast circles into your clit after you got home that night just to the thought of calling him daddy while he fucked you. If it’s not obvious—you have a huge daddy kink.

After almost a year of your pathetic, overwhelming pining for the man, your stomach fell out of your ass when you learned the white haired man had the same—if not more lewd thoughts/feelings about you.

He had invited you stay late one night after Megumi had gone to sleep, watch a movie, drink some wine. You agreed, because well at this point you were past the point of friends and it was the weekend. Plus, you were very close to both of them.

The two of you had drank enough wine to loosen your lips. Not sloppy, but enough for the lines to get blurred. For you to start calling him Satoru. Enjoying the way it made him blush.

For Satoru to drunkenly admit he’s been shamefully lusting after you for months. For him to almost forget he was telling his deep dark secret to the person it’s about.

You sat side by side on his fluffly couch, thighs pressed together, heads fuzzy. Satoru had his head thunked back onto the sofa, eyes closed while you admired how long & lean his legs really were.

When the man just blurted the words into existence—no prompting needed.

“I’m a terrible person,” he mumbled, eyes still closed. You hummed in question, focusing intently on his snowy eyelashes. “I think—no I know, I have feelings for you. I feel so guilty for wanting to have sex with someone so much younger than me—so fucking bad,” he slurred, shifting his head and opening his eyes to look into yours.

Warmth instantly curled in your gut, you felt the enticing burn of arousal blistering through your limbs. Your pussy involuntarily throbbed.

You quietly admitted that you felt the same way, cheeks burning as you confessed to touching yourself thinking about him. Satoru leaned in close, giggling.

“Don’t worry little one, I stroke my cock daydreaming about how your tight, young pussy would feel hugging my cock. Bout how much I could show ya. Bet you don’t have that much experience do ya little girl?” Satoru drawls, wolfish grin on his lips.

You could only whimper at the filthy words, shifting your thighs as he trailed the soft pads of his fingers up the sensitive skin of your forearm, over the inner crease of you elbow, tickling the underside of your bicep. The thick, heady tension between you two pulsing through the air.

You don’t know who leaned in first for the kiss, but now you’re in Satoru’s bed—wine long forgotten. Both of you bare ass naked, tangled in his blankets.

Satoru has a large, sweaty hand clamped over your mouth, trying to keep your whines muffled in his palm.

You’re trying not to wake up Megumi as Satoru has you ride his cock. Pussy stretched open blissfully, so slick—Satoru’s cock kissing your cervix.

Satoru is sitting up, back against the headboard. Knees bent, feet planted so his thighs act as a cradle for you to rock your hips back and forth against.

He’s making you work for your third orgasm. He was eating your pussy not even five minutes ago. Now, Satoru trails his free hand down your spine, following the knobs down to the crease of your ass.

You squeal a surprised, muffled version of his name into his palm as he presses the pad of his pointer finger against the pink, taught skin of your asshole. Your hips stutter.

Satoru’s eyes brighten as if he’s just tried a new sweet and loved it. He tilts his head at your reaction. He shakes his head condescendingly, making a tsk noise when you stop moving.

“That’s not my name is it sweet pea?” He teases, pressing his finger harder against your rim. Your eyes flutter shut and you shake your head no, low moan escaping you. “Tell me what it is,” he demands, blue eyes piercing. He takes his hand from your mouth.

“Daddy,” you choke out softly, nails digging into his shoulders as he continues to loosen the ring of muscle. You’ve come to a stand still in his lap, unused to the sensation.

“That’s it, what a good girl for daddy,” Satoru purrs. “Say babygirl, has anyone ever fucked that pretty ass of yours?” He muses, raising one eyebrow and biting the tip of his tongue.

“No daddy,” you whimper. His cock twitches inside you.

“You gonna let daddy be the first one?” He presses harder on your rim, tip of his finger sinking in. You yelp. “Promise daddy’ll make ya cum like you couldn’t believe,” he coos.

You feel a bit nervous, worried about the pain, but after so long you trust Satoru. You nod your head, happy to give him this first. His head thumps against the headboard as he groans. The hand not in your ass squeezing your waist violently.

Quickly Satoru helps you rise off his cock manhandling you until your cheek rests on the sheets and your ass is in the air. Satoru steps off the bed to grab lube from nearby.

Your belly flutters, pussy clenching when you admire just how tall he really is. How his cock is glistening from your pussy.

He’s behind you again before you can think, rubbing your lower back soothingly as he slowly presses one lubed finger into your ass. You gasp, fingers clenching the sheets shakily. The sensation unfamiliar, burning, uncomfortable.

“Shh, it’s okay little girl, I’ll make you feel good,” he soothes, pumping his finger in and out for a couple minutes. You take a deep breath, relaxing as Satoru presses his middle finger in along his first finger, all the way to his knuckle.

“Daddy!” You squeal, forgetting to be quiet. The stretch is overwhelming, a mix of a dull ache and pleasure. Satoru bends over your back, gripping your hair and shoving your face into the mattress.

“Hush,” he hisses, stretching you open with his fingers, scissoring them. You nod, almost sobbing in the sheets. He lets go of your hair and you keep yourself muzzled. You hang on, thighs twitching as Satoru works a third finger in, loosening your rim to his satisfaction.

You don’t even notice at first there’s three, it’s starting to feel amazing. So yes, you do whine when he pulls free, empty sensation almost unbearable. Satoru chuckles, lining up his slick cock with your ass.

“Don’t be like that sweet pea, daddy’s just gonna use his cock to fuck you now, mkay?” He teases, rubbing his tip over the soft, warm skin of your rim. You turn your head, whispering your yearning to him.

He wastes no time, gripping the base of his shaft and pressing forward, tip popping in past your rim. The sharp sting causing you to tense up, before it fades to a dull ache.

Satoru lets out a twisted version of a whine, carving a space in your ass with his cock until his curly white pubes brush your ass.

“Okay little one?” Satoru pants, petting your lower back, straining with the effort to stay still.

“M’okay daddy,” you whimper softly, ass clenching rhythmically around the thick cock splitting you.

Satoru sucks in a breath through his teeth—ass sucking his cock in so well. He grips the fleshy area at the crease of your hips and thighs, nails digging brutally.

Satoru starts with a teasing backwards pull of his hips, until his tip remains. He smoothly pushes all the way in and that’s when you understand. It clicks in your mind.

The pleasure from anal sex is divine, brain melting as he rocks his hips back and forth, creating a smooth, fast paced rhythm. It’s intense, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

A warmth burns violently in your lower belly like you’ve never been pleasured before. It’s so fucking good, you immediately know you’ll be addicted to having his cock in your ass. Your grip doesn’t loosen on the sheets below you.

“Daddy,” you moan after a few moments. Trying to be as quiet as you can, wanting Satoru’s attention. Hearing the skin of his pelvis clapping wetly against your ass has you already on the verge of cumming.

“What baby? Daddy’s cock feeling too good?” He teases, breathlessly. He watches his cock disappear into your puffy rim as he waits for your answer.

“Mhmm,” you whine. “M’gonna cum already.” You muffle your sob in the blankets. Satoru laughs meanly behind you, but he thrusts harder at your words.

“Already?” He questions incredulously. “That was fast” He purrs, tilting his hips so he’s hitting your sweet spot through your ass. You’re letting out continuous ah sounds as your orgasm winds up tight, the intensity of it making your heart rate spike.

“Daddy—cumming,” you manage to squeak. Going silent as your orgasm pulses through your entire body. The blood in your veins thrums at a dizzying pace. You almost feel high as Satoru fucks you through it.

“Oh god. Yes, fuck—just like that, my sweet little girl,” Satoru groans through clenched teeth, raining his palm down harshly on your ass. You cry out, feeling your ass jiggle from the spank.

Your thighs start to shake as Satoru doesn’t let up in his movements, but you start to float down from your high, still getting railed by Satoru.

“Daddy,” you slur, trying not to scream into the sheets as he chases his own orgasm. “Can’t take it, no more please,” you whine, trying to move forward. He just giggles, gripping your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts—he knows you don’t mean it.

“Just a lil longer sugar, mkay? Daddy’ll paint your back white, promise,” he coos, sounding blissed out. You nod, taking in breaths that rattle your chest.

Satoru throws all his weight into the next few thrusts, forcing a wail out of you that neither of you pay any mind to. Lost in the bliss.

“Fuck fuck fuck, daddy’s g’nna cum sugar,” Satoru whines, yanking his cock out of your ass—which causes your rim to clench painfully.

He fists his cock twice before he lets out a strangled sound. You feel long ribbons of warm cum all over your back—even up to your shoulder blades.

Satoru lets go of his cock, sitting back on his heels, panting. He pulls your legs out from under you so you can rest on your belly.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so satiated in your life. Every inch of you feels like jello. Neither of you speak for a moment, getting your bearings. You still can’t breathe yet.

Eventually, Satoru pats your ass comfortingly before standing from his bed to get a damp wash cloth to clean you with. You lay there limp as he wipes his release from your skin. He pokes your rib playfully but you only twitch, opening one eye to look at him.

“You alright little one? Did daddy fuck you too well?” He teases, giggling. You hum, nodding your head. He actually laughs this time, head tilting backwards.

A soft knock on Satoru’s door makes the two of you jump in surprise. Your heart skips a beat and you raise up to sit on your knees.

“Daddy?” Megumi’s tiny voice calls out softly. “Are you in there?” You and Satoru share a panicked look. Thank God you locked the door.

“What is it my love? Are you okay?” Satoru calls out fondly. You’re shocked he’s able to keep a steady voice.

“Come lay with me daddy, I had a bad dream,” Megumi whines, little sniffles coming through the door. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest from the little boys sad voice. Satoru’s eyebrows scrunch in concern.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream Gumi, I’ll be there in a second to lay with you bubba, go lay back down,” Satoru soothes.

“Mkay.” Megumi’s soft footsteps fade away as he makes his way back to his room. Satoru looks at you guilty but you give him a sweet smile.

“Go, it’s okay—poor Gumi, I hope we didn’t wake him,” you whisper, feeling bad. Satoru looks at you like he’s in love—he is, and kisses your forehead.

“I’ll be back, then we have to discuss how to tell Megumi we’re dating tomorrow. He’s gonna be surprised to see you so early.” Satoru pulls on a pair of loose sweats and heads towards his door.

You hum in agreement, something warm and sweet settling in your heart that Satoru already assumes you’re dating—which you’re not complaining.

You watch the door shut behind him and you shift around pulling on the t-shirt Satoru was wearing, snuggling under his sheets and promptly pass out. You sleep peacefully knowing Satoru will return soon to wrap his arms around you and hold you tight.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojo drabbles #gojo fanfic #jjk drabbles #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojo headcanons #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x you #satorugojo #satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen

[embrosegraves]

𝔸 ℕ𝕖𝕔𝕜𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖

Max Verstappen x Reader  Max just wants to show his love for you 

A pre-graduation gift!

Part 1 of a very fluffy 2 part Fic. I've decided to put all of my Sugar Daddy fics (because there will be more) into their own universe. I dub thee, The Sugar -verse!

Max was a man of his word. This meant that if he said he was going to do something, he would do it. Even if he said he would leave you alone to study. Of course he would pout a bit but he would leave you to do your thing. Most of all it meant that he absolutely would NOT change his mind after he utters the words “I’m going to…” when it came to spoiling you. 

In order to avoid the wrath he was sure to incur from you, he would often say it under his breath or he would think them so as to avoid you hearing them. Because Lord knows what you would make him promise  if you heard the things he was to purchase for you. In his opinion the laptop was nowhere near expensive enough. It made you happy though so he didn’t complain. Too much. 

Now however, Max didn’t see the problem in spending as much as he could on you. You were graduating with your degree after years and years of hard work. You deserved to be given whatever it was you wanted to have. And despite what you said, Max was very aware of his spending habits. Which is why when there was only a month until your graduation, he bought extra cabinets and shoe racks for him to build. 

Closer and closer the date crept up until it was the day before you graduated. Max had made sure that when you came home in the evening, there was a hot bath ready for you to soak in, a glass of your favourite wine and a plate of your favourite dinner meal ready on the bath tray. He was prepared to dote on you for however long you let him. Before you went to bed that night, Max decided that it wouldn’t hurt to give you at least one gift now. 

“Schat, I have something to give you.” 

You turned around in his arms so you could look at him properly. Times like this, when you would just be surrounded by him in comfort, were always your favourite thing. You would probably trade all the money in the world if it meant you could keep Max for yourself. Max wouldn’t make the same trade because that would mean that he couldn’t spend anything on you like he thought you deserved. 

“I’ve already been given so much tonight, My Love.” 

Max frowned a little when you spoke. He hadn’t given you anything yet. What did you mean you had been given so much? Seeing Max’s confusion you elaborated a little. 

“I’ve been given an entire evening to spend around you. I’ve been given all my favourite things and now I get to just lay here with you, which I think is the greatest gift of them all.” 

Max was thankful that most of the lights had been turned off. He could feel his face heating up. He buried his face between your neck and shoulder, giving you a light kiss. 

“I want to give you something you can wear tomorrow.” 

“Max.” Your voice was stern. 

“It’s something small, don’t worry.” 

“Just because it’s small doesn’t mean it wasn’t expensive, Max. What did you buy?” 

“A necklace.” Came Max’s muffled reply. He had been placing soft kisses to your skin the whole time. 

You closed your eyes to enjoy the feeling before you gently grabbed his face and moved it to look at you. Protests of “I wasn’t finished kissing” fell through Max’s mouth as you did. 

“Can you justify it?” You asked. Max looked like a pouting child, but he nodded. 

“I bought it because you’re graduating tomorrow and it’s a simple one so you can wear it every day and not just at fancy places.” It was a simple justification, but dammit he was right. You playfully scoffed but allowed him to get the necklace so he could give it to you. You felt an indescribable amount of love when you saw him get up with a big grin on his face. 

When he gave you the box for it, he sat in front of you like a kid waiting to show their parents a drawing they were proud of. Opening the box, you gasped and covered your mouth. The necklace was beautiful. A dainty gold chain with Max’s initial and your birthstone. 

“Max, this is beautiful.” Your voice was barely a whisper. You could hardly speak. It was simple, like he had said, but it was easily one of the most gorgeous things you had. 

“Will you wear it tomorrow?” Max seemed almost nervous as he asked you to wear his initial around your neck. 

In response you flung your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, tears welling up in your eyes. His arms circled around your waist in reflex to keep you steady. 

“I’m never taking it off.” You breathed near his ear. A few moments later you detached yourself and held the necklace towards him. 

“Put it on for me?”

Neither of your smiles left your faces, even as you eventually succumbed to sleep.

The necklace looks similar to these necklaces I saw on facebook lmao

#f1 fluff #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #formula one #sugar daddy max verstappen #sugar baby reader #Welcome to the Sugarverse #written and loosely edited and then posted in one sitting

[writing-funsies]

OP characters as besties p.5

p.1 | p.2 | p.3 | p.4 | p.5

characters: Ace, Shanks, Mihawk

warnings: mentions of alcohol, light cussing

notes: all platonic hc's

Ace

will share his food with you

but won't let you take any off his plate

falls asleep on you all the time

uses you as his personal pillow

and will make fun of you if you freak out when riding with him on Striker

despite the fact that it's designed for only one person

but I digress

also uses you as a napkin if needed

sometimes shoots little flames at you to see your reaction

talks about Luffy nonstop

like that's the only thing he ever talks about

by the time you actually meet his little brother

you're ready to strangle both of them

not really

but you could spot the kid a mile away

before you ever actually got to know him

Ace and you working together to become more confident

always teasing each other

you having to fish him out of the ocean when he falls in

drinking contests

staring contests

fighting contests

eating contests

just competing over everything and anything possible

training together

he may be really strong and have a devil fruit power

but he won't hesitate to practice his hand-to-hand combat with you

especially if you need it

will tease you about it though

so you just push him overboard again

long talks about your lives

your pasts

your families

where you see yourselves in a year

five years

maybe even ten years

your goals

and aspirations

just talks about life

he tells you about his dad

and is relieved when you tell him that just because he was his father's son doesn't mean that'll be his legacy 

you two would die for each other

nothing will ever tear you apart

besties for the resties

9/10

super sweet and funny

but won't bathe no matter how much you beg

Shanks

party boy™

genuinely doesn't give a fuck

he's here to have fun

and protect his family

that's it

tells you the corniest jokes you've ever heard

also laughs at everything you say

like Luffy, laughs even when you're being serious

uses his missing arm as an excuse if you ever try to get him to do his duties as captain

sometimes struggles with phantom pains

but assures you they'll go away on their own

drinking contests

if he's got a drink in hand

then everyone's gonna have a good time

100% threw up on your shoes once before passing out

laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard when you told him

quickly stifles his laughter when he sees how mad you are

offers to let you throw up on his shoes to make it even

you just stare at his sandals for a moment before walking away

watching Luffy's progress through the news together

bragging about the kid as if he were your own

the antics you two get up to guarantee that Ben will have a constant headache

the rest of the crew finds your dynamic duo to be hilarious

the sheer power of this crew is near unimaginable

so if the two of you ever actually fight enemies

they don't stand a chance

if anyone ever targeted you

and hurt you

Shanks would have his crew capture your attacker

and then show them exactly why no one messes with the Red Hair Pirates

8/10

always provides a good time

but will laugh at you if you fall 

Mihawk

I ain't ever seen two pretty best friends

until now

you are probably a little more lively than this warlord

he just doesn't care for drama

which means it's up to you to keep him in the loop

yet somehow he has the truly juicy details you could only wish to find on your own

y'all have a small book club

it's just the two of you

you tried to invite Perona to join

but she thought that your reading selection was so not cute

you even tried to invite Shanks once

all that accomplished was you gaining a new drinking buddy

which Mihawk begrudgingly allowed to happen

basically, the book club is just you two sipping on wine while discussing every mistake that the author made while writing your current read

salty bitches™

you're one of the only people alive who can get Mihawk to laugh

which is your favorite party trick

except that he's never laughed at the parties you both went to

(ie visiting Shanks and getting roped into a night of drinking)

he airs out all of the other warlords' dirty laundry to you

will talk mad shit about them

well at least most of them

he finds that no matter how powerful they may be

they're all idiots in his eyes

they can't see the big picture

he trusts that you have enough common sense to use the information sparingly

and you do

for the most part

it's giving rich single wine aunt meets vodka mom (but without the kids)

9/10

knows how to relax in style

but will not let you play with his sword no matter how many times you ask

#one piece headcanons #one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #whitebeard pirates #ace x reader #ace x y/n #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader

[daisies-daydreams]

Chubby reader + ghost. chubby reader trying on lingerie for the first time cause she thought she was ‘too’ big for lingerie? And Simon catching her trying them on and going absolutely feral inside? The way her belly pushes out and her muffin top. Even her rolls 🙏 smut pls

Friction (Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Plus-Sized Reader)

Image Source: Pexels

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Plus-Sized!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Vaginal Fingering, P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampies, Slight Mirror Sex, Swearing Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: Eeeee I love this idea! 🥹 I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You frowned as you crossed your arms over your chest. The contents inside the box lying on your bed silently taunted you. It was late the other night and you might have had one too many glasses of wine. A few days later, a package showed up at your door to your confusion. Your cheeks burned when you opened it, revealing a lacy, merlot bra with crotchless panties to match.

You paced around, your body heating up by the second. Surely your boyfriend must've ordered it as a part of some horny scheme...right? You nervously glanced at the tag again. Nope, it distinctly says your name. You sighed and collapsed onto the bed. You didn't even want to look at how much you paid for this set, the delicate fabric already letting you know there's a decent hole in your wallet.

You glanced over at the box and bit your lip. Well, since you already spent money on it, you should at least try it on. You scoffed and shook your head. Who were you kidding? There's no way you'd fit into something like that. You were probably too sloshed to even order the correct size…

You quickly snatched the set from the box. You held it out in front of you, tilting it side to side before stepping in front of the tall mirror on your closet door. You shrugged off your shirt and bra before hesitantly slipping on the thin top. The cups of your new lacy bra pushed your breasts together, showing off your well-defined cleavage. You flushed and quickly looked away when you saw how your belly puffed out. You squeezed your eyes shut, your hands shaking as you clutched the soft, crotchless panties.

You glanced around before biting your lip and pulling your pants and panties down. There's no way it would fit-you were too big for it. Even if it did, you doubted that it would flatter your more curvaceous figure. You quickly slipped the thin bottoms up your legs as you hushed the bitter voice in your head. You felt the fabric glide across your dimpled skin before it fit snugly near your waist. A deep frown stretched across your face when you saw how much of your rolls spilled out. You sighed and grabbed the sides of your bottoms.

"Don't do that, I was enjoyin' the show," you heard from the doorway. Your eyes widened as you spun around.

"S-Simon!" you squeaked. Your boyfriend chuckled as he strolled inside, his eyes flickering with lust. You gazed down at your feet as Simon stepped closer, his arms staying at his sides as he stood in front of you. The tips of your ears burned as he slid a finger beneath your chin and tilted your head up.

"Where'd you get this get up, sweet girl?" Simon purred. You flushed.

"I-I might've ordered it after we had a few drinks the other night..." your voice trailed off as you bit your lip. Your boyfriend's dark eyes lit up a little as he smirked.

"That wasn't just a few drinks, love. I think we drank the whole damn bottle," he drawled. He chuckled when you rolled your eyes.

"Anyway, I-" you gasped as he placed his hands on your waist, his rough palms kneading your love handles. You gulped, your skin tingling as his lips gently brushed over yours.

"You look gorgeous, darling," Simon husked. Your walls clenched around nothing as your throat tightened.

"W-What?" you squeaked. You yelped as he pulled your nearly naked form against him, his lips gliding over yours with heated fervor. You snaked your hands over his shoulders as he tilted his head, his warm, wet muscle massaging your bottom lip. You panted when Simon pulled back, a thin string of spit connecting your mouths.

"I'm just sayin', maybe havin' one too many drinks wasn't such a bad idea,” he murmured. You gripped his shoulders when you felt something hard twitch against your exposed folds. His hands wandered down to cup at the globes of your ass, your thick cheeks spilling out of the thin fabric that just barely divided them. You whined as he massaged your soft bum, his eager mouth ghosting over your pulse.

"You have no bloody idea what you do to me, love," Simon rumbled. You felt a rush of arousal pulse through you as he spread your cheeks apart, his tongue sliding over your neck.

"Love the way that cute tummy of yours puffs out, how your rolls jiggle each time I pound you into the mattress," he whispered. You gasped and dug your nails into his taut shoulders as he kissed along your neck, his thick fingers slipping closer towards your slick entrance.

"You're fuckin' beautiful, babe," Simon praised. You moaned and clenched your thighs as he circled the pads of his fingers around your hole, a soft squelch echoing between your two flush bodies. Your core lit up with sparks of pleasure as you rocked your hips forward, his finger just past the rim of your tight opening.

You whined when Simon suddenly pulled back, his hands slipping from your shivering form. Your mouth watered as he pulled his shirt over his head revealing his rugged, muscular body. A small sheen of sweat already glistened over his ivory skin as he licked his lips.

"C'mere, pretty girl," he cooed as he patted the bed. Your heart skipped a beat as you crawled onto the mattress. You flushed when you opened your legs, your thighs jiggling as you revealed your wet slit. Simon growled as he slipped a few fingers inside his mouth. You moaned softly when he pulled them out with a slick "pop".

"Just relax f'me, sweetheart," Simon whispered as he slid his fingers over your sex. You whimpered as he rubbed his digits over your folds, his thumb pressed against your puffy, sensitive nub. You let your legs fold open a little more as Simon began to gently circle your clit, his fingers spreading apart your soft labia.

You arched your back as he slowly pushed two of his large digits into your pussy, stretching your hole wide open. Your cries of pleasure were muffled as Simon pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your sweet moans while he pumped his fingers in and out of your tight, gummy walls.

Each stroke of his digits left you desperate for more, your pussy pulsing around his fingers as your soft tongues massaged one another. You moaned when he slid his finger against your g-spot, curling against it repeatedly as he circled your bundle of nerves. You felt him smirk over your mouth when he scissored his fingers, deliciously opening your pussy. You furrowed your brows as he leaned back.

"Simon? What's wrong?" you asked. He flashed you a grin before slowly pulling his fingers out. You whined as the warmth and stretch of his digits left you, only to moan when you saw him pull his thick, heavy shaft from his pants. You bit your lip as you watched the rest of his clothes fall to the floor, his slick hand wrapped around his cock.

The bed creaked as he leaned over you and lined his bulbous tip to your hole.

"You ready?" he husked. You nodded, your heart pounding beneath your chest as you gripped the bedsheets. Simon pecked your lips. "Mmm, good girl," your boyfriend purred. He dipped his head back down as he pushed his cock past your entrance. You felt all the air being sucked from your lungs as he sank deep inside your cunt, your walls greedily sucking him closer and closer to your womb.

"Ah, Simon," you moaned when he finally bottomed out, his smooth balls slapping against your ass. He sucked in a sharp breath, letting his heavy cock rest inside your soft pussy as the two of you locked eyes. He gently kissed your lips as he ground his hips against yours.

“Look so beautiful in this lingerie,” he rumbled. You sighed and wrapped your hands around his neck, your head spinning as your mouths collided in a heated kiss. Heat bubbled up from your core as he slid his cock between your gummy walls.

“So, so beautiful,” Simon growled. You cried softly, your legs jiggling as he kept them spread wide open with his hips. His thick shaft dragged along your walls at a slow, agonizing pace. Simon suddenly glanced up and smirked. “Look behind you, baby,” he said as he looked past your. You slowly tilted your head back. Your whole face heated up as you saw your fucked-out reflection in the mirror, your breasts jiggling beneath the merlot lace with each of his thrusts.

“Keep your eyes on there, sweetheart,” he grunted before thrusting deeper and faster. You nearly squeezed your eyes shut before you snapped them open again. The bed shifted as he bullied his cock against your cervix, your walls fluttering around his veiny shaft. You babbled his name as you sank your nails into his rippling upper back, bliss trickling down your spine and straight into your tight pussy.

“Fuck,” you sobbed and thrashed beneath your massive boyfriend. You screamed as he leaned forward, your thick thighs squishing against his body as he folded you in half. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his cock reached every inch of your weeping sex.

“Gonna make you nice and full,” he huffed as he rocked his hips forward. You felt impossibly hot as your bodies rubbed against each other, your rolls sliding against his abs as he shoved his dick inside you at a brutal pace.

“S-Simon, I’m-!” you couldn’t even finish before your hips violently snapped forward. Simon groaned as you shivered beneath him, your walls convulsing around his member as bliss washed over you.

“I love you. I-oh fuck!” he hissed before stilling above you. You gasped as he flooded your juicy cunt with his warm cum, rope after rope completely soaking your walls. Your cunt milked him of his spend as the two of you became utterly enraptured by your pleasures. He gently pushed inside you a few more times before he relaxed.

“Oh, baby, look at you,” he cooed as you rolled your hips forward. You panted as your last contraction faded, your mind hazy with afterglow. You slowly opened your eyes as your heart slowed. Simon caught his breath before capturing your lips in a quick kiss.

“Best $120 I’ve ever spent,” he muttered. Your eyes snapped open.

“Simon-“

————

Thank you for reading! 💖

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[babyleostuff]

the grudge | jeon wonwoo

based on "the grudge" by Olivia Rodrigo (would highly recommend listening to it while reading)

genre | angst word count | 2.1k

author's note | i'm in love with GUTS (but she also broke my heart with this album) -> PART 2

I have nightmares each week 'bout that Friday in May One phone call from you and my entire world was changed Trust that you betrayed, confusion that still lingers Took everything I loved and crushed it in between your fingers

“I’m sorry. It wouldn’t have worked out either way.”

These were the last words you heard from the love of your life. 

Over the phone. 

You were supposed to have a date that day. He just came home from his schedules overseas, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. To hug him. To kiss him.  

It was a perfectly sunny day, kids were running freely around their neighbourhoods, happy about the upcoming weekend, and you were just as happy as them, getting ready with a childlike smile, probably putting too much effort in your appearance - you even put on the dress he bought you for your birthday, just to see his pleased smile. 

The picnic basket you prepared stood ready at your kitchen counter, filled with Wonwoo’s favourtie snacks and the wine you’d always drink on your stay-at-home nights. You were in the middle of rummaging through your room to find a blanket, when you heard a familiar noise of your ringing phone. 

With a grin on your face and a beating heart, you almost ran to the kitchen, hoping to see Wonwoo’s picture on the screen. And you did. 

What you didn’t know was that that phone call would crush your entire world in seconds. 

“Hey, baby. Are you ready? I can pick you up if you want,” One could tell how happy and excited you were by your voice only. 

“About that,” you never heard his voice being so monotone and… cold. 

Something was wrong, and you couldn’t help the way your hands started to tremble in anticipation of what was about to happen. 

It took exactly two minutes for Wonwoo to turn your happy day to one of the worst in your life. The confusion as the line went silent clouded your mind, your brain simply didn’t want to let you believe in what you’d just heard. 

It was a joke, right? He’d call you in a second to laugh about how he lost a bet to Mingyu, and that it was just an unfunny joke. Right? 

But as you stood there, in the middle of your kitchen, with your phone tightly clutched in your hand, there were no calls, no messages. Nothing. 

Your gaze lingered on the basket, and now, when you looked at it, it almost mocked you - seemingly laughing at how pathetic you were. 

Just like that, Wonwoo took everything you loved and crushed it in between his fingers. 

And I try to be tough, but I wanna scream How could anybody do the things you did so easily?

The next few days felt like you were living in a daze. You’d wake up and the first thing you’d do was to reach to the other side of the bed, expecting a familiar body laying there, which you’d cuddle up to - like you did every morning. 

“Wonwoo, I’m cold,” you muttered, your mind still asleep. But as you touched the pillow placed next to you, the bubble popped and you were brought back to reality. 

The reality where Wonwoo wasn’t by your side. 

“Five more minutes baby,” those were the words you’d never hear again. That’s when the silent tears would start to fall, dropping onto the empty cold pillow, and the thought of why? Why did he leave? 

Every morning you’d spend on thinking how the hell did all of this happen? When did he become so unhappy to break up with you over a single phone call? Was he that miserable? 

But the more you tried to find an answer the more unclear it all became to you, was it really that easy for him to end things with you? And it all made you want to scream - scream out of pain, out of frustration, out of the powerlessness you felt. 

You tried to go about your day as usual because maybe finding a routine in your new reality would help you heal your broken heart, but with every step you took, your mind reminded you that the one thing you looked forward to the most was gone. When you thought you’d finally taken one step forward, your thoughts brought you three steps back. 

“Here baby, let me,” you laughed, taking the wooden spoon from Wonwoo before he’d burn the eggs completely. “I think I should stick to making breakfast, and you to giving me my reward kisses,” grinning at him as you took his place at the stove. 

“Yeah, I think that would be the best,” he smiled, placing a peck on your cheek, as his arms wrapped around your waist. 

Those mornings would never come back. 

The arguments that I've won against you in my head In the shower, in the car, and in the mirror before bed Yeah, I'm so tough when I'm alone, and I make you feel so guilty

“Would you stop acting like a child and tell me what’s wrong?” You can’t remember a time where you’d raise your voice at your boyfriend, but lately it felt like this was the only thing you were doing. Fighting. 

“You know I’m not the only one in the wrong here, so don’t act like a saint,” Wonwoo threw back, acting as annoyed as you. The situation was getting out of hand, but neither of you did anything to stop it, if anything, you only added more fuel to the fire. 

“I’m trying my best, Wonwoo. I never complain when you leave for tours or schedules, or when you come home at night, when you don’t even have the energy to say good night.” 

“You know that that’s not the only issue here, baby,” the endearment felt like poison coming out of his mouth like that. It hurt you more than anything else. 

“It’s not, but it seems like I’m the only one trying here. Do you really want to act like a dick and let our whole relationship go to waste just because you can’t get your shit together?”

That was probably how things would have gone if you had the chance to talk to him. But you didn’t. Wonwoo didn’t try to contact you again, not even through a message or a friend. 

“What did you expect though?” You thought to yourself. He broke up with you over the fucking phone, something you’d never expect to happen with him. 

You’d spend endless nights in the shower picturing how you would have screamed at him, finally letting out how hard it was for you too - how hard it was to fall asleep in a cold bed, how painful was it to see him only over the phone, how all of the unread text messages because he was too busy to read them broke your heart - you’d do all of that just to make him feel guilty, even a little bit. 

You felt like you could do anything under the hot steam of water, but the second you entered your bedroom all of your toughness faded away, and you were left alone in the room that held so many, now painful, memories. 

I try to be tough, I try to be mean But even after all this, you're still everything to me And I know you don't care, I guess that that's fine

It would be a lie to say you didn’t miss him. Every ounce of your soul and body craved for his touch, begged for a second of time to see even a small bit of his perfect face, crying out to be held by his strong arms. 

And it didn’t help that everything at home reminded you of him, bringing back the beautifully painful memories of all of the times you’d spend together. 

All of his clothes that he never came back for were still in your closet - the hoodies that would keep you warm on cold December nights, when you’d cuddle under a blanket together to watch a movie, his favourite snacks in your cabinet, that he’d always munch on while gaming, the books on your nightstand, which he would read to you on sleepless nights, his gentle voice unburdening you from all of your worries. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to throw those stuff away. No matter how much looking at them hurt, you knew the second you’d throw them away you would break only more. 

You used to get so annoyed by the music that played in the background, as Wonwoo played Animal Crossing, staring at the small screen for hours, doing anything but focusing on you. Now you missed the goddamn sound, and you'd kill to have him next to you on your bed occupied by the cute animation of the game. 

You started to regret all of the times when you tried to persuade him to turn it off and do something with you instead, because yes, he didn’t pay direct attention to you, but he always had an arm thrown over your shoulder or one of his hands on your thigh, and he looked so adorable whenever he’d laugh. 

How pathetic would you be if you bought the game for yourself now? 

You realised that a lot of things that used to annoy you, you were missing now. Like his glasses that would always magically disappear. Wonwoo always forgot where he last placed them, and for some reason you’d always know where they were.

“What would you do without me, hm?” you laughed at his scrunched nose, as you placed his missing glasses on his nose, kissing it lightly. 

“I don’t know. Good thing I’ll have you forever then.” 

This felt like a dream now, like a distant memory that would never come back. 

Because it wouldn’t. 

As you sat down on the sofa under the blanket you used to share, you hesitantly, with a shaky finger clicked on the gallery app, opening another memory lane you weren’t sure you wanted to go down through.

As you scrolled through the album you made specifically for Wonwoo, past all of those months together, you couldn’t help but let out a broken cry. All of your dates, trips, family gatherings, parties - they were all there frozen in the photos, and every single one of them felt like an ice cold dagger to your heart, piercing it with a pain you’d never be able to describe. 

You looked so happy. Wonwoo looked so happy. 

You stopped at a picture that you could clearly remember taking. It was right after he came back from the States and you had one of your first dates after a while of being apart. 

Almost like that Friday in May when he left you. 

You decided to stay at home, to let him rest and get used to the time change, so you chose to play some video games that you always sucked at, but played nonetheless, because you knew how happy they made Wonwoo. You lost for the hundredth time and you couldn’t help but let out a whine out of frustration. 

“Are you happy? I lost again, this sucks!” you whined, throwing the controller on the table, before burying yourself in the blanket. 

“You almost had it baby, I promise you’ll win the next round,” he laughed, and reached for you under the blankets, caressing your back. 

“Mhm, sure,” you murmured angrily. You knew Wonwoo was smiling, and you were sure he was amused by your sulky behaviour, but that always meant one thing. 

“Will you feel better if I give you some kisses?” he asked, and giggled at the way your head immediately peaked up from under the blanket. “Yes, that will work, thank you very much.” 

But instead of leaning in as you anticipated, he lunged his body at you, caging you in a tight embrace of his strong arms and wide shoulders. At this point you both were a laughing mess, so you quickly reached for your phone and opened the camera. 

You stared at the photo now, with tears in your eyes and an empty heart. The way you were both smiling, so genuinely happy, made your heart clench with pain. His dark hair, that grew out enough to curl a bit at the ends, his glasses that slid down his nose, and his smile that you could stare at for days. 

You’ve lost all of it. 

It takes strength to forgive, but I'm not quite sure I'm there yet

You were sure that some day, in a distant future, you’d be able to forgive him, to look him straight in the eye and say “it’s okay, I forgive you.” and move on with a smile on your face. 

But you were not there yet. 

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin

#seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #svt reactions #seventeen kpop #seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen reactions #seventeen carat #seventeen angst #svt angst #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo fic #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x oc #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo angst #wonwoo imagines #seventeen reaction #seventeen fic

[7s3ven]

hii ! i love your writing so much so you know i had to request a luke imagine 💝

i’m thinking of a reader with a protective godly parent (your choice of which god), who is very selective on who they allow their child to date. luke has loved them for years, so one night he prays to their parent for approval. idk if you’ve watched gilmore girls, but I’m imagining the scene where dave tries to convince lane’s mom to allow her to date ! (if you haven’t seen the show, its a popular clip on tt that you could look up if u wanted)

i’m picturing fluff but could def make it angst too, so it’s whatever you want! also, i’m a fem reader, but i don’t mind gender neutral or anything like that

tysm ! ❤️

DAVE AND LANE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ENDING GAME

I LIKE ME BETTER. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Luke is on a mission to prove himself to the father of the girl he loves. He’ll do anything for her hand, even if said god is asking him to do some particularly stupid stunts.

“I like me better when I’m with you.”

Warnings: drinking, smoking, and vaping mentioned

A/N: Guys… I love loser! Luke AND I KNOW YOU DO TOO. I feel like Dionysus would be the guy to put Luke through all this stuff just for his own amusement

Also, this is my little birthday gift for y’all 😽. Bc it’s my bday today 🙀

—

The first thing when you thought of a daughter of Dionysus’ was a troublemaker, one that rivalled the Stoll brothers. Maybe an alcoholic with bad habits engraved in her mind like her father.

Y/N was a total shock to the camp. How could such a sweet, kind, dazzling girl be the daughter of Dionysus? She didn’t have one mean or sarcastic bone in her body.

She was as bright as Apollo’s kids, as beautiful as the Aphrodite girls prancing around in mini skirts and small tops, and as friendly as the Demeter children who grew roses alongside her. So, it wasn’t a surprise that boys craned their heads to peek at her, something her father hated witnessing. Nobody, not one mere mortal or even a godly being, was good enough for his beloved daughter.

Dionysus held Y/N close. She reminded him of her mother, who died giving birth to her. He had already lost one important woman in his life. He wasn’t going to let history repeat itself again.

“Dad?” Y/N called out into her father’s room, wrinkling up her nose when she almost stumbled over a wine bottle rolling around. Her father was forbidden to consume alcohol but that didn’t stop him from tricking the younger campers into fetching him some.

After concluding that her father wasn’t in his quarters, Y/N took the bottle and wandered to find a bin. The trash cans were always moving around, which made it a mission to find one.

As Y/N passed by the Hermes cabin, she heard her name. She glanced over her shoulder, innocently staring at the pair of boys who were conversing outside. One was leaning against a wooden pillar while the other rested his arms against the railing of the porch.

One noticed Y/N and he nudged his friend, quickly changing their conversation topic.

Y/N recognised Luke Castellan. The Aphrodite girls loved to rave about him, about how handsome and talented he was. How they wished they could kiss him. How they wanted to be held in his arms.

He wasn’t bad looking in Y/N’s eyes, quite adorable actually. She watched as his lips curved into an amused smile as he looked at Chris and how his eyes crinkled slightly. Despite wanting to admire him, Y/N forcefully turned her head. She wasn’t allowed to date. That was one of her father’s golden rules.

She was allowed to drink, allowed to smoke, probably even allowed to go skinny-dipping in the dead of night. Her father was fine with anything as long as she wasn’t around any boys. Of course, she never did consume alcohol or take a much needed hit from a cigarette. She had seen other kids do it.

One of the Ares kids was constantly sneaking in and out of camp to buy new vapes. She had even witnessed Luke of all people, the esteemed golden boy, the role model, blow a cloud of smoke from his lips.

Y/N was always scared she was missing out but she valued her healthy lungs, which had played a part in her surviving a terrifying harpy while on her way to camp.

“She’s perfect.” Luke whispered to Chris.

“Too bad Mr D won’t let you near her.”

It was a known fact that nobody was allowed to date Y/N. She was the camp princess. The only demigod with a parents who cared enough about her to be actively involved in her life. Not even Annabeth had that kind of bond with Athena.

Luke hoped one day Dionysus would let him near Y/N. Until then, he was fine admiring her from afar because he knew no other guys could approach her either.

"You know, I heard Dionysus won't be at the campfire tonight... you could make a move." Chris nudged Luke, muttering quietly so nobody else heard him.

Luke had always been determined to be the first to sweep Y/N off her feet. This was his chance to fulfil that broad claim. He didn't know how he'd do it but when there's a will, there's a way.

All throughout the day, Luke kept close tabs on Y/N. When she was in the arena he was there too, polishing the spare swords. When she was in the garden, Luke happened to be amongst the tall grass too. And he gazed longingly at her from across the pavilion during lunch. She sat alone at her table, Dionysus nowhere in sight.

Luke's heart hammered in his chest as he slowly stood up. Chris slapped his back as a way of encouraging him but it only made his anxiety spike.

“Go get her, tiger.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Luke picked up the pace when he realized that a few other boys the same idea as his. “Hey, Y/N.” He got to her first.

She lifted her head, staring at him through her lashes. She smiled. “Hi, Luke.” She saw his eyes light up.

“You know my name?”

“I’ve been here longer than you. Plus, it’d help concerning if I didn’t know the name of the best swordsman.”

“I’m not that good.”

“You won in a 4 V 1 battle.” Y/N pointed out.

“Did I? I didn’t even notice.”

Y/N let out an amused laugh but she immediately cut herself off when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. Luke cleared his throat, standing upright.

“Good afternoon, Mr D.” He politely greeted the god.

“Scram, Castellan.” Mr D ordered, glowering at the teenager. Luke quickly nodded and speed-walked back to his table, where Chris was trying to muffle his laughter.

“He wasn’t even flirting with me, dad.” Y/N huffed and furrowed her eyebrows. Her eyes wandered to Luke, feeling a little sorry for him.

“Stop looking at him, Y/N.” Dionysus lightly scolded her. Y/N pouted and pushed the food on her plate around with her fork.

“I wish you would let me date. I’m the only girl who hasn’t kissed someone.” She muttered, huffing.

“I will not let you date a hooligan.”

“Daddy, Luke isn’t a hooligan. He’s sweet. He’s the best swordsman in three hundred years.”

“Which means he could easily hurt you.”

“He wakes up early to go for a run.”

“Wow, the perfect set-up to cheat.”

“He’s good with kids.”

“He’ll want his own kids with you soon.”

“That last one didn’t even make sense.”

“I know a man’s mind, Y/N. Luke Castellan is a dangerous boy.”

Y/N glanced at Luke and Dionysus followed her gaze. Luke was attempting to balance a spoon on his tongue while Chris cracked up.

“Dangerous, huh? I’m absolutely terrified.” Y/N sarcastically deadpanned.

“He’s acting innocent.”

“Sure.”

Fathers always had a weird vendetta against the idea of their daughters dating. Dionysus was no different. If anything, he was worse. He was always popping up at the worst times, such as just now. He never let the attention of a boy linger on Y/N for too long, scared it would take her away from him. Perhaps he was doing it on purpose.

“It’s so unfair.” Y/N huffed as she plucked petals off a rose Silena had randomly given her. “He won’t let me date or go to the parties. I’m not even allowed to look at a boy!” Y/N groaned, leaning back in her foldable chair.

She was sitting with Silena in front of the quiet lake, watching as the wind rippled across the still water.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Silena suggested, sipping on a tall glass of whatever drink she had mixed.

“Nothing works! Someday he’ll have to let me date. He can’t stop me forever. I’m almost twenty now!”

Silena hummed before offering Y/N some pineapple juice.

“Any new gossip, though? Besides Mr D being a total cock block.”

“Well… there’s this one guy.” Y/N murmured, shyly flicking her straw around. Silena immediately sat up.

“Tell me everything!” She quickly demanded. “What’s his name? Is he cute? Can he fight?”

“He can’t fight… and he’s good-looking. He’s, uh,” Y/N diverted her gaze elsewhere, “Also a son… of Hermes.”

“Luke Castellan!” Silena exclaimed without hesitation. “I knew there was something going on when he approached her! Why haven’t you taken an interest in him before? You and him have been here for ages.”

“He had a middle part before.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Silena let out a quiet giggle as she relaxed again, kicking her feet in excitement. “Ask him out.”

“You’re forgetting one problem. My dad!”

Silena shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Make Luke prove himself to Mr D. That worked with my dad!”

“Luke proved himself to your dad?”

“No, silly! It was another boy. But if Luke wants to be seen as worthy, he has to impress Mr D!”

“I guess.” Y/N mumbled as she slowly nodded her head.

“Great. Let’s get ready for the campfire. A new Ares boy arrived and I want to see Melo flirt with him. She flirts with everyone.”

Y/N poked a large marshmallow through the skewer before shoving it into the hot flames in front of her. Silena was talking but she was too spaced out to hear a word.

Y/N aimlessly hummed and occasionally nodded her head. “Yup.” She muttered, turning her marshmallow over and watching as the soft white treat turned crisp.

“Are you even listening? I said Luke is staring at you.”

That got Y/N’s attention. She quickly lifted her head, her gaze immediately searching for the brunette. She found him amongst the Hermes kids and a few of the Aphrodite girls loitered around him. He smiled at her for a split second before his eyes flickered to Y/N’s marshmallow.

He subtly pointed at it and Y/N huffed once she realized her marshmallow had caught fire and been burnt black. “That was my last one.” She threw the skewer into the fire, allowing the hot flames to swallow it up.

“Well, you did keep eating them.” Silena pointed out.

Y/N sent her a small glare. “You’re literally eating one of my marshmallows right now. You have a whole pile sitting on your skirt!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Silena was quick to shove the rest into her mouth. “Bye!” She exclaimed but her words were muffled by the marshmallows.

“You owe me!” Y/N called out after her.

“Is Silena stealing marshmallows again?” Luke chuckled as he came to a stop in front of Y/N. He shoved his hands into his pockets whilst Y/N nodded.

“She does this every time. She’s stealing from Annabeth now!” Y/N wildly gestured over at Silena who was sweetly convincing Annabeth to hand over a few marshmallows.

“She should be notorious for being the marshmallow thief.” Luke grinned. He sat down beside Y/N, their shoulders gently brushing.

“Sorry about my dad at lunch.” Y/N blurted out. “He can be a tad… overprotective. You know how he is.”

“Well, I did see him set somebody’s clothes on fire for winking at you.”

Y/N quietly sighed. “Yeah… poor Nick. May he rest in peace.”

Luke glanced over at Nick who was guarding his marshmallows with his life. “He isn’t dead, you know.”

“Yeah, but he looked like he died back then.”

A familiar presence appeared from behind the pair and Luke immediately stiffened while Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Castellan. What are you doing talking with my daughter?” Dionysus sounded friendly yet when he slung an arm around Luke’s shoulder, he could tell the god was holding back on strangling him.

“We’re just talking about Silena and her marshmallows, daddy.” Y/N quickly piped up, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Castellan, let’s have a chat, shall we?” Dionysus dragged Luke off before either of the teens could stop him.

“Mr D, before you say anything, please don’t set me on fire! And if you do, spare my pants! These were expensive and I even got them on sale!”

“Keep your pants on, kid.” Dionysus grunted, knowing Luke was fully prepared to unbutton his jeans in order to preserve them. “What business do you have with my daughter, hm?”

Luke visibly relaxed at the idea of his jeans surviving the convention. “If it isn’t too bold to say, Mr D… I like her. A lot. I have for… years now. But I’ve always respected your wish to distance her from boys. I’ll even pray to you. I’ll give you wine. I’ll pray to you with wine and vodka and butterscotch and, uh, more wine! And grapes! Big, red grapes! Just give me a chance!”

Dionysus held up a hand to stop Luke’s aimless rambling. “You want to have a shot with my daughter?” He asked. Luke frantically nodded. “Alright. Do as I say and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Luke thickly gulped. He didn’t like that mischievous look in Dionysus’ eyes but nevertheless, he agreed. “Thank you, Mr D!”

Luke was the first camper to wake up. He reached under his bed, pulling out a large bottle of vintage wine he had been saving for this very occasion.

“Good morning, Mr D!” He cheerfully exclaimed, clearly showed the god the label of the alcohol.

“It’s worse now that you’re here.” Dionysus grumbled, yet he held out his chalice for Luke to pour him a much needed drink. Once he had gulped it all down, he turned to face Luke again. “Alright, first task, get rid of some rogue hellhound. Chiron sent me to do it but you’re more than capable, right?”

Luke was in no position to disagree.

“It’s near camp so don’t get ya knickers in a twist.” Dionysus stood up, brushing the bread crumbs off his lamp. “See ya at soon, kid. Oh, and I’ll be taking that.” He grabbed the wine bottle without a care in the world, merrily whistling to him with a small skip in his step.

“Did I just see you talking to my dad?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. Seeing her dad get along with a camper was a rare sight.

“Somewhat.” Luke muttered. “Uh, good morning? You’re up early.”

“I went out for a morning jog.” Y/N smiled as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “So, hell hound catching, huh?”

“Yeah- Wait, what?” Luke’s gaze snapped to stare at Y/N in slightly shock. She stifled a small laugh.

“I heard your conversation. What’s the hell hound all about?”

Luke quietly sighed. “Don’t tell your dad I told you,” He leaned forward to whisper in Y/N’s ear, “But I convinced him to let me befriend you if I did a few things for him.”

Of course, being Y/N’s friend wasn’t Luke’s main priority but it was better than nothing.

“You better get to it, then. I’m getting lonely.” Y/N laughed as she playfully punched his shoulder. He chuckled alongside her.

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.” He calmly brushed past Y/N, his smile faltering, “If I survive this.” He muttered to himself, his hands itching to grab a sword.

Finding the hellhound wasn’t hard. Luke spotted its raven black pelt amongst the bright green bushes. It stood out like a sore thumb. It was getting rid of it that would be the problem.

As soon as Luke carelessly stepped forward, a twig snapped under his foot, the hellhound growled. It loudly barked, baring its sharp teeth at the Hermes boy. He pointed his sword at the beast, narrowing his eyes.

“I swear, if you kill me, Hades better revive me so I can date Y/N.” Luke launched forward, tackling the large dog. It howled as his sword scratched its leg. “Nice dog!” Luke nervously chuckled. The hellhound barked again, kicking Luke with its powerful back legs.

“Easy now!” Luke wheezed, the air being knocked out of him from the repetitive blows.

Luke was supposed to be the best fighter at camp. He never dared picture himself rolling across the ground, practically body slamming a hellhound as mud stuck to his orange shirt.

“Just lie still so I can score a date with my long time crush!” Luke exclaimed as he scrambled to stand up. The hellhound paused in confusion, giving Luke enough time to turn it into fine dust.

“I’m never doing that again.” He muttered to himself as he stormed past the tall trees. Dionysus was standing beside the forest, drinking the wine as he seemed to be waiting for Luke. The god pulled down his sunglasses, bursting into rambunctious laughter when he saw Luke.

“What happened to you?! You look terrible, kid!” Dionysus cackled, throwing his head back in amusement.

“You spilled some wine.” Luke muttered, unamused. His usual perfect skin was now adorned with small cuts and bruises. His shirt was covered in dirt. And his hair what probably taken the brute of the attack. Twigs and leaves stuck out of his messy curled brown locks, which caused Dionysus to snicker.

“I told you it wasn’t gonna be easy, kid. You’ll hate tomorrow’s task even more.”

Luke hated every task.

Monday’s was the hellhound. Tuesday’s little chore was to clean the girl’s bathroom. He found out then how much long hair they lost. The Aphrodite girls always complained about their hair falling out. Well, Luke had found it down the drain.

Wednesday’s shenanigan was to steal Clarisse’s beloved spear. Luke wasn’t sure how he was alive after being caught by her. Thursday was surprisingly peaceful. All he had to do was sneak out of camp to buy Mr D more wine.

It was now Friday. Luke was wondering what Mr D had in store for him today. Breakfast whizzed by as usual. A few Aphrodite girls tried to catch his attention but he was focused on Mr D whispering something in Y/N’s ear.

Luke waited patiently throughout the day to be given an idiotic task. It was lunch time when Mr D approached him.

“You finish this one, kid, and you might have my blessing.”

These words made Luke’s eyes light up. “What is it?” He demanded.

“Follow the trail in the forest, jump across some trees, do a perfect dive into the lake from the highest cliff, and swim across the water towards camp. Easy peasy.”

Luke’s small smile wavered. “You’re… joking, right?”

The blank look on Mr D’s face told Luke he wasn’t. Luke sighed. “I’ll get my towel.”

The run through the forest wasn’t so bad. As soon as Luke gave Mr D his towel, he jogged into the thick vegetation. Mr D would be waiting at the finish line for him, if he ever made it. Climbing trees was not Luke’s forte.

His palms were sweaty as he peered down below, quickly gulping at how far down the ground seemed. “I didn’t know I was this stupid.” He muttered to himself before leaping onto a nearby thick branch. He repeated the action, always barely making it and wobbling.

Small beads of sweat trickled down Luke’s forehead as he hiked up the steep hill towards the cliff under the scorching sun. He could see the small figure of Mr D on the other side of the lake.

Luke was thankful he had taken diving lessons before. With a snippet of hesitation, he gracefully jumped. He hit the cold water, shivering. It felt like small needles poking his body. Luke emerged, panting and spitting out a mouthful of water.

He heard Mr D quietly clap. “Good job, kid.”

“What?!” Luke exclaimed, still too far away to hear the god’s voice.

“I said, good job! It was a decent dive!” Mr D cupped his hands over his mouth.

Luke emerged from the lake, drenched and cold and clutching his body as he searched for some warmth.

“Dad? What’s going on here?”

Both Luke and Mr D stiffened at the sound of Y/N’s voice. “Why was Luke in the lake?”

“Mr D.” Luke cut in, “I have something to say.”

“I’m busy, Castellan.”

“You’re literally standing in front of me. That’s all you’re doing.”

“Don’t let the sassy man apocalypse take you too, Castellan.”

“I have a crush on your daughter, sir. You probably already knew that. I know you have strict rules about dating and boys. But I promise to take good care of your daughter. I’ve only smoked once to try it, I don’t drink because I’m scared it’ll make me stupid, I’ve never gotten a ticket. I’m healthy, I take care of myself, I floss for ten minutes every night and that might seem extreme but cavities are no joke. I do well in activities here and I hardly ever play the video games my siblings do in case the theory of them turning you into a psycho is true. I don’t drink coffee. I hate soda because my stomach can’t handle the carbonation. I’ll willingly eat like a cow if you don’t want me eating meat. I don’t mind wearing a suit in the hot sun. I enjoy spending limited time with Y/N and I really, really, really like her.”

Mr D was silent. Luke subtly cleared his throat. “Uh… Mr D? Please don’t make me repeat that list again.”

Mr D broke into a pattern of snickers. “To tell you the truth, Castellan, I was going to let you date my daughter ages ago. She convinced me. It was just so fun making you do stupid things.”

Luke’s face dropped. “I did all that… for nothing… Clarisse almost killed me!”

Mr D, sensing Luke’s anger, merely rolled his eyes and quickly walked off in a drunken manner. “Have fun, you too.”

“Did you really fight a hellhound?” Y/N asked.

“Yes. It ruined my Hello Kitty socks!” Luke huffed. “But I’d do it again for you. What do you say, Y/N? Will you go out with me?” Luke clasped his hands together as a way of begging.

“I feel a little sorry for you, so okay.” She pulled him into a hug. “You know you’re going to have to prove yourself to my friends now.”

Luke stiffened. “No more hellhounds. Please.”

PJO TAG LIST (FULL) : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @jennapancake @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @justanotherkpopstanlol @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @jamesmackreideswife @2hiigh2cry @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303 @luvvfromme @y0urm0m12 @mochi-lover26 @annispamz

#luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #annabeth chase #greek mythology #luke castellan x you #grover underwood #percy jackson series #luke castellan x reader #camp half blood #percy jackson fanfiction #pjo show #percy jackson show #hermes pjo #rick riordan #luke pjo #pjo series #grover pjo

[irondad-defensesquad]

My Irondad fic recs!

I thought of doing this because why not? Admittedly, I'm not reading as much fanfiction as I did a couple years ago, but some fics have changed my life entirely. In case I forgot one, I'll add it later!

I would’ve organized this in a bullet list, but Tumblr hates me and invented a character limit for that. So this is going to be long and will be under the cut. Anyway, let’s do this!

Rare and Sweet As Cherry Wine by loubuttons – I've mentioned this one before, but this fic right here was what inspired me to write my own Irondad works. One very particular detail I like about it is how it portrays Maria, Tony's mother. It's not what I usually see in other fics about Tony's childhood, since they tend to make Howard the big bad parent. Of course, this is because I personally related to it, as I don't believe in the "bad parent vs. good parent". I also like that it praises Edwin Jarvis as the one who looked out for Tony the most. It's pretty realistic and a very melancholic character study, IMO. *TW for abuse and neglect*

You're Always Iron Man by madasthesea – a very short fic but I absolutely love the premise. Takes place after the big battle in Iron Man 2, and Tony finds little Peter again. They have a very endearing interaction. The following chapter is also very cute!

Nothing like a fresh cup of humiliation in the morning by madasthesea – Pure fluff! This one is probably a classic in the Irondad fandom. Tony kisses Peter's forehead without second thought. Shenanigans ensue. It's so adorable and funny. If you just want to read fluff without angst, this one is for you.

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by madasthesea - I think I heard about this fic thanks to @/irondadfics here on Tumblr, but I might be wrong since I already knew the Nice work, kid series. Anyway, Peter is believed to be dead, so Tony (and the rest of the Avengers team) is mourning him. In reality, Peter is astral projecting. You know, sort of like how Stephen Strange, in his first movie, was fighting a guy in the other dimension while his body on Earth was struggling to live. That's basically what happens. Strange appears, of course, and saves the day. And I pretty much LOVE the presumed dead trope. I don't know why. Maybe it's the angst of it all. *TW for grief/mourning and temporary character death*

The Reason by doctornineandthreequarters – I think I read this one when I was still writing Oh, take me back to the start. I was looking for fics for inspiration, and I found this one. During the Time Heist in Endgame, Tony remembers the reason he's fighting to bring everyone else back. It's very emotional.

Couch Cuddles by happyaspie – Classic sickfic, but with more fluff than anything. I like rereading it when I feel lonely and touch-starved, especially when I'm also sick like Peter.

You’re So Much Like Me (I’m Sorry) by SpaceCowboysFromMars – Irondad + Miles Morales! Peter is an adult in this, and he freaks out when an injured Miles arrives in his apartment. Tony gives him some wisdom about mentoring and parenting. I don’t usually find Irondad stories featuring Miles (and not necessarily a Spider-Verse crossover), so this was a nice discovery. Peter & Miles & Tony is a very underrated trio IMO. *TW for slight gore*

I'm Glad I Have You by punkybunny – Peter has been having a rough time, dealing with loneliness as Aunt May is not home often, and with bullying at school... until he finally has the chance to spend time with Tony. However, the demons don't disappear completely. Obviously, more Hurt/Comfort, lmao. *TW for nightmare/bad dream*

I Want to Trust You by punkybunny – Actually part of a series that, admittedly, I haven't read all the other stories. But even this one is a very interesting concept on its own. This is a Hydra Peter AU, after Peter has been rescued. He gets sick but given his past in Hydra, he thinks Tony is going to get angry. Peter is proven wrong when Tony helps him get better. The ending is very adorable. I'll see if I can read the rest of the series one day. *TW for past abuse and experimentation*

what you think I've done wrong by ironxprince – I don't often read Biodad stories as you all know, but I was, again, looking for inspiration for You keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I stumbled across this one. Basically Peter, as Tony's biological son, finally meets Howard. It goes as well as you think /sarcasm. *TW for physical abuse*

i, in time, will climb my mountain by ironxprince – This one is heavy. Once again, Peter is Tony's bio son, and he's suicidal. Every time Peter attempts suicide, he buys a new plant. Tony doesn't know this, so he's confused as to why there are so many plants in their house. I love this one, but of course, I try to read it when I’m not having a really bad day. *Once again, TW for suicide attempts*

how do you get that lonely (and nobody knows?) by parkrstark – Yeah... another heavy one. Peter attempts suicide but he saves himself before he reaches the ground. With that, he goes to Tony. This ends happily, don't worry. *TW for suicide attempt*

When You Can't Sleep by Emily_F6 – Pretty much Tony comforting a sleepy Peter, who has just had a nightmare about Thanos. Just Hurt/Comfort and domestic fluff. *TW for mention of death*

i get by (but it's eating me alive) by Livinei – Honestly, I think this is the BEST May's Abusive Boyfriend story I've ever read. For one, none of the characters are oblivious nor dismissive of Peter's feelings. May isn't neglectful and Ned actually tries to encourage Peter to tell someone. I also like that Peter isn't completely helpless. I don't usually see those things in other fics with this trope, sadly. And of course, Protective Tony is my weakness. *TW for emotional and physical abuse*

Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea – Post-Endgame where Tony is alive, and Peter and Tony are both trying to cope, so they rely on each other. Pure Hurt/Comfort.

A Tremendous Thing by ExpectoPatronum – Possibly one of my favorite Irondad stories EVER. Also post-Endgame with Alive Tony (though the author better explains it in the notes, it's supposed to be part of a series, but this story can be read on its own). There are a lot of references to Charlotte's Web if you're familiar with it. Basically, it's Father's Day and Peter is feeling guilty and out of place at Tony's lake house, even though everyone is readily trying to include him. It's absolutely beautiful and painful.

Hug You I Must by spiderwriting (catch_you_later) – Probably one of the first touch-starved Peter fics I've read. I like how it describes touch-starvation as this "itchy" current in your body, something that makes you anxious. Thankfully, Peter gets his hug later on. Plus there are some Star Wars references (the title probably is one, lol). *There's some minor violence here when Peter is fighting off some bad guys, but not the focus of the fic*

When You're There With No One There To Hold, I'll Be The Arms That Reach For You by Squibbles94 – Another touch-starved Peter fic. But I really like the references to Cast Away. Ironically I saw this movie in the same year the author published this fic (dare I say SHORTLY after it was posted). I also had no idea that Cast Away was entirely about isolation. Gosh, the main character's monologue at the end ALWAYS gets to me... anyway, yeah, the peak of the pandemic was awful to me, so reading fics like this one helped tons. It still does.

I am cold by N/A (orphan account) – Peter tries to visit Tony, but he gets lost in a subway tunnel on a freezing day. Eventually we learn why Peter wanted to see Tony, but overall this is mainly domestic fluff. Everything ends well.

Sorry Pedro by PinkEasterEggs – One of the first Irondad fics I read. Peter has a nightmare about Homecoming (mainly Toomes), but he avoids waking Tony for that reason. But thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y's protocols, Peter goes to his mentor. Tony is also super soft here and it makes my heart swoon.

you are enough by diaz_evan – Another post-Endgame fic. Arguably I began reading Irondad fics only after Endgame released. Anyway, this one is short, kinda sad but it ends well. It’s Tony’s birthday and Peter feels very anxious about what to get him as a present. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to prove his love for Tony. *TW for panic attack*

Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark by downeylove – There are a lot of Father’s Day fics for these two, of course, but this one takes the cake for me. It’s simple but very endearing to me. Tony obviously doesn’t have good memories of this day, but Peter changes that for the first time. It’s really cute. Plus, Pepper is here, and I love her. I wish I could read more of her interacting with Peter. *TW for mentions of alcoholism and past child abuse*

5 Times Peter Didn’t Say He Was Struggling… And The One Time He Did by Bladam_Shevine – Again, an old fic I read years ago. I admit I haven’t re-read it in a while, but I remember enjoying it and even saving it to read offline. It’s basically what it says in the title: Peter struggles in many ways and he initially refuses help. Tony is always there to reassure him he can count on him. Bruce is here if you like him! And MJ helps Peter on one of the chapters as well. The chapters might get heavier as they go, but it ends on a hopeful note. *TW for injury, panic attack, suicide attempt (it doesn’t involve Peter), and depression*

The Good Days and the Bad by SoupGirlLovesSoup - Peter has had a bad day, now he's cuddling with Tony. It takes a while before Peter finally tells him what happened. It gets sad, but it's mostly fluff and it ends hopefully. I love re-reading it when I need the comfort. *TW for mention of suicide attempt, depression, and bullying*

Breathe Again by gwenoakley - Post-Endgame where Tony survives. He's recovering in the hospital and Peter finally reunites with him. Before that, though, we can feel the anxiety and trauma Peter feels. Definitely makes me emotional. It's the ending they deserved.

Well, for now this is it! Again, I might add more fics here. I think I also could make a list of what particular concepts I want to read more in Irondad stories, so maybe you guys could give me your own recs. I might try to resume my habit of reading Irondad fics, because they give me a lot of comfort. Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoy any of the stories I included.

(I'm aware some authors here have their accounts on Tumblr, but I didn't want to annoy anyone by tagging them, so yeah 😅)

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #fic rec #anti starker

[m00nlight-ramblings]

BG3 Companion Modern AU Headcanons

These random thoughts popped into my mind and I had to write them down. I love these little weirdos, and some of them probably don't make sense but OH WELL.

Should I do a Part 2 with more companions?? Let me know - my inbox and requests are open!

------

Astarion

This dude's got iPad kid energy - he loves to scroll Tiktok for hours.

He gets bi-weekly pedicures. And not the basic kind - the full on 1.5 hour long with the massage and the mask and the exfoliation.

His favorite holiday is Halloween. He plans his costume starting in August.

He'd be the type of person to be walking through a mall, see a Claire's, and spontaneously decide to get his ears pierced idk.

Is really into metal. Like, you'll come home and Metallica will be blasting and you walk into the bedroom and he's folding laundry and just like, "Oh, HELLO, Darling!" but will have to scream it over the volume in which he's listening to music

Will truly take an hour picking out the perfect wine to pair with your dinner...he's definitely a wine snob.

The cheapest article of clothing Astarion owns is from Banana Republic and it's an undershirt...everything else is ~*very fancy*~

Loves watching all types of vampire movies/TV shows. He can often be heard saying, "Oh no, they got that all wrong" under his breath.

He definitely reads like 1-2 books a week. He's recently really gotten in spicy smut books (he definitely got recommendations from BookTok).

For sure falls asleep to ASMR videos.

Gale

This man loves HGTV *queue Home Depot commercial music*

Has the most absolutely beautiful, clean home you've ever seen with about 30 bookcases CRAMMED with books. The books are the only disorganized thing in his home because he constantly is reading them, so alphabetizing them is useless.

Pinterest is his most used phone app. His boards are carefully curated. That man has a recipe/inspiration pic/quote for EVERYTHING.

Definitely volunteers at the animal shelter once a month. Often times has to talk himself out of bringing a cat home.

LUSH is his favorite store at the mall. He loves them bath bombs.

He THROWS DOWN at holiday parties...Christmas? Thanksgiving? The table is SET. The decorations are UP. He's wearing an APRON because he's been cooking ALL day. The playlist is PERFECT.

Speaking of holidays, he has matching pajama sets for everyone in the household. For every. Holiday.

Fall is absolutely his favorite season. "Sweetheart...have you ever watched 'When Harry Met Sally'? Perfect autumn movie...also I bought a new scarf today to go with my new peacoat. And mittens. And a new hat...it's getting cold outside."

He definitely has a Live. Laugh. Love. adjacent sign somewhere in his home

He definitely needs glasses to read. And he for sure has those librarian chains so that he can just take them off and they hang, instead of losing them.

Karlach

Absolutely loves to eat meals watching Youtube videos.

Imagine her in Times Square? She tears the M&M's store UP.

Is obsessed with documentaries. She often says things like "I can't believe there's so much stuff to LEARN out there!"

Definitely has a Squishmallow collection. And she rotates which one she sleeps with every night so they all get a chance.

Is absolutely the worst cook of all time but tries really really hard...however, she can make a mean boxed mac n' cheese.

Has an obsession with sugary cereal. There's always Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Fruity Pebbles in her cabinets.

Certified Switie for SURE.

Is really into astrology. Definitely has said, "Oh, you're just saying that because you're a SCORPIO" or the like many, many times.

Absolute Starbucks addiction (venti iced caramel macchiato, extra caramel).

Has monthly "girl's nights" (but everyone is invited) at her place. The rules are: pajamas only, junk food, romcoms, and a playlist of the best pop songs in the past 20 years.

------

How'd y'all like it...should I make a part two with other companions?! Remember my inbox is open and I'm accepting requests!! I'd love to write some stuff so send it in!

#balders gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale fanfic #gale headcanons #gale of waterdeep #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion headcanon #bg3 #karlach #karlach headcanon #karlach fanfic #karlach fan fiction #karlach bg3 #bg3 karlach #bg3 astarion

[gothic-thoughts]

Shut Up and Listen

(took WAY too long to realize out of all my Jojo content, ion have Jotaro 🙄)

Part4! Jotaro Kujo x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, DomesticAU, Babysitter!Reader, Boss!Jotaro

CW: ForbiddenAU, Jojo cheating?? afab parts mentioned, quiet quickie, unprotected cream🥧, tame words(nun vulgar)

Word Count: 1719 (give or take)

(A/n): sorry his first fic is a smut, I hate doing that tbh 😓

Jotaro took a deep breath as he walked to the front door ready to face the possibility of seeing his ex-wife's angry face. He reluctantly opens the door to see his daughter's sitter sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in hand and smiles. He sighed, releasing the breath he held back as his heart began pounding in his chest. 

Since his wife filed for divorce, the only peace he could get after work was whenever (Y/n) was here, whether it be to watch over his 5-year-old daughter or just to check on him. Either way, Jojo's heart pounded against his ribcage just from being around her but it only added to his wife's suspicion of his adultery. 

"Hey, Mr. Kujo." She whispers, "How was work?"

"(Y/n), please, you come over way too much to be so formal."

"Last time I called you 'Jojo' in front of your wife, she looked like she gonna tear my head off."

He scoffs, waving off the thought of her, “Yeah, I bet.”

(Y/n) chuckles softly as he takes off his shoes at the door and tiptoes across the living room's squeaky floorboards before gently sitting next to her much shorter stature.

"Wine after work?" He smiles, taking the other glass from the table. "You know me so well."

"You always complain about needing a drink so I brought."

"You probably need it more than I do, dealing with that one. How was she?"

She groans. "Tantrum."

"About?"

"He just hates resting for some reason. You know how kids are. Though, her mother coming over probably gave him a boost of energy

Jojo almost chokes on his wine, "Her mother? She was here you said? Why?"

"She said she came to see Jolyne for a bit but I feel like she was looking for you."

"Good grief, of course she was. Where is she now?"

"Her inn."

"Good. I don't think I can deal with another fight after a long day. I'm gonna snap." He sits up, "Anyway, did she say anything to you?"

“What do you mean?”

“Anything?”

"What, no not really. I mean, it doesn't matter, she was just..."

Jojo puts his drink on the coffee table. "What did she say to you?"

“Jotaro, I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“She just...reminded me...of my job.”

He furrowed his eyebrows to figure out why his wife would feel the need to remind (Y/n) of her, but he quickly realized that was just it; his ex-wife was telling her to stay in her place. His eyebrows part and irritation instantly washes over his features as his beloved babysitter puts her glass down. “Listen, Jojo–”

"Don’t.”

“I only come over to watch your daughter. I don't know why I tried to go above and beyond by checking on you--”

“Because you’re amazing--”

“Because now your wife hates me. Like I’m pretty sure she fucking told the neighbors cuz they’re starting to look at me like I'm the worst person on Earth whenever I take Jolyne out."

The sudden sternness in the tone makes the man’s lips part before he bites the inside of his cheek in thought. They both look to the ceiling, listening for the sluggish pitter-patter of Jolyne’s footsteps making their way to the staircase—but it remains silent. Jojo sighs with relief and slides closer to her while she averts her gaze to the wine on the table. He rests a hand on her thigh. 

“Sorry, it’s just--” 

"No." He whispers, guiding her chin to face him, "I'm sorry for putting you through this. You deserve so much better than this.”

“What, no. It’s not you; your ex-wife’s just making life hard.”

He pauses, “Yeah, you’re right. But frankly, I could give a damn what she’s doing, I’m not letting you go—not if it’s not what you want.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Honestly, the highlight of my day is coming home to you and my daughter. I’m not letting that go for anything.”

“You...you serious?”

“You know I’m not one to joke about what I want. Or do I need to show you more recent proof?”

She nods then gasps as her boss quickly links his lips with hers. (Y/n)'s hands slide up his broad chest to yearningly grab his broad shoulders and rest the other on the back of his neck. They cup each other's faces and grasp at each other's shirts, groaning into each other's mouths for more.

Neither minded the amount of saliva due to their fervor as he picked her up and sat her on his lap. He holds her body so close that her breasts squish against him but pushes on his chest, breaking their forbidden kiss. Their lust-filled eyes open while they pant heavily on each other's reddened lips. Jojo's hand rests on her face, thumb swiping back and forth along her plush cheek.

"Sorry.” He whispers, “Didn’t know how much longer I could go without doing that.”

“What if someone sees?”

“Curtains are closed. Don't worry about it." He secures his hands under her thighs, "Let's go."

“Go where- oh!”

He carried her up the main steps, but instead of going to his room, he brought her to the guest room, a little farther away from his daughter's bedroom. He kicks the door shut before locking it, then sets her on her feet and continues to make out, sliding his long, white jacket down his arms and to the floor behind him. Their shirts were the next to go, being dropped at their sides before he pulled her hips closer, pressing his huge bulge into her pelvis.

“We do have to make this quick, though.” (Y/n) whispers breathlessly, "She told me she’d come back when you got off.”

“Shit, alright.” He picks her up again and walks to the available bed, where he mounts her, “Quick, got it.”

"Is this moving too fast? I mean..."

“We can stop now if you want.”

(Y/n) shakes her head, hands sliding down his side to his belts where she quickly unbuckles them. He looks down at her fingers and then back at her face with a small smirk. Before she knew it, his pants and boxers were down by his thighs while her leggings lay discarded on the hardwood floor. He tugs her underwear to the side and guides himself in with a breathless sigh from the tightness, head tilting back.

“Oh my...g-god.”

“Heh, sorry. Too quick?”

"Jus’ a little...big. Fuck Jojo."

He presses open-mouth kisses to her neck, "Not hurting you, am I?" He whispers.

“No...god, fuck no. Feels so fuckin’ good.

“I’m not even that deep yet.”

“I might go insane if you do. Just... jus’--”

“Oh yeah?”

The pads of Jotaro’s fingers dig into her hips as he pulls her closer to try to meet his base, but chuckles at the remaining inches between them.

(Y/n) grips his shoulders and curses under her breath, insides gripping him tightly, trying to stay sane while he stretched her wide. (Y/n) gasps out before biting her lip to keep her moans quiet when Jojo finally moves his hips at a slow yet deep rhythm. 

He tried to keep it together but soft moans still came out while he gripped the sheets under her as his movements gradually became harder. (Y/n) shivers and groans at the change, arching her back slightly as euphoria ran up her spine. Once she moaned his name softly, he lost more of his composure and leaned down for another sloppy kiss in an attempt to keep himself from moaning.

"Jojo, don’t f’cking stop, please; oh my god.”

"I know we're farther from the front," He whispers against her lips, "But you gotta keep it down, ngh~"

She nods. "But you're going so deep...so-o deep. You feel so good."

"I know.... fuck, I know. Goddamn, you’re so fuckin’ tight."

He lifts her legs to his broad shoulders, hips slamming against her ass over and over and creating the sound of heavy, wet slapping that fills the room. (Y/n)’s legs trembled so much from the deep strokes that she cried out only for him to cover her mouth and press his plump lips to her ear to shush her.

“Fuck, (Y/n).” Jotaro mutters, thrusts becoming harder, “You’re gonna wake my daughter if you keep that up.”

“But, ah, gonna cum. So close, Jojo, I’m so close~”

"Come on, cum for me then; that’s why I put you in this fuckin’ position. Cum.”

 He quickened his movements and gently pressed his lips to hers again, moaning into her mouth while his girth throbbed and pulsed with every swift drag through her wet, squeezing walls. She kisses back, scratching his large shoulders, as her orgasm rushes through her nerves. (Y/n) holds the back of his neck as he guides her through her climax, making her moan and gasp in his ear.

"I-I think--"

"What, you gonna--"

"I think I love you."

His face doesn’t change but his hips speed up on their own, "D-do you mean it, (Y/n)?"

She nods.

"I-I do too.... a l-lot more than I should."

"Hah~ Goin' t-too...fast."

"Seeing you every day before work is enough to fuel me for the day."

"You’re m-making it hard t-to--mmh god!"

"Fuck, you don't know how badly I've wanted this shit."

"J’taro--"

"Kissing you, touching you, making you cum for me—fuuck, it’s too much."

Her back arches off the bed, and he slides his arm between the bed and her lower back, continuously pulling her into every heavy, breathtaking thrust.  

"Ah~ Jojo! F-fuck, fuuck~!”

“Me too. Don’t worry, I’ll–”

“No, don’t stop. Please d’nt fuckin stop~”

“Then...you want me to..."

"Y-yeah, just please." She scratches up his shirt, "Don't stop~"

Jojo's hips stutter and his eyes shut as his thighs continue to smack against the back of hers. He groans loudly, burrowing his face in her neck when he meets the edge and spills his load inside her. He gasps and clutches at the sheets, while she plants soft kisses to his chest. They pant loudly together as his hips stutter to a stop, their bodies shivering together to calm down as huffs of breath in each other’s faces start to rile them up again.

Before they could get another word out, the front door could be heard opening from up the hall.

#x black fem reader #x black reader #black reader #black writers #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #black fem reader #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #kujo jotaro #jotaro kujo smut #part 4 jotaro #part 4 jojo #jjba jotaro #jjba part 4 #jojo x reader #jojo smut

[lale-txt]

♡ taking care of them when they have a fever ➳ w/ Kid, Mihawk & Rayleigh

a/n: i… i fought Tumblr text editor so long and hard for this and it‘s still a mess oh my god. anyway enjoy those silly little headcanons, i love putting those lads into ✨situations✨

Kid

simply the worst patient you can ever imagine <3

when falling sick, he goes through the five stages of grief several times a day

denial: „i am not sick, what the fuck are you talking about“, he asks with a runny nose and face almost as bright red as his hair, beads of sweat running down his temples, barely able to stand up straight

Killer and you just exchange a look and brace yourself for what‘s coming next

anger: ever saw a tulip explode? now you will

don‘t mind the claw marks on the ground when Killer drags Kid by one leg to bed while the captain combusts and grunts out curses you‘ve never heard before

lots of shouting and yelling and middle fingers being raised with the last bit of energy he has left before you watch Killer pull out some wrestling moves to get the tulip into bed. it‘s like watching two grizzlies fight

feel free to join but be prepared to get bitten in the ass

bargaining: so Kid is in bed, blanket pulled up to his nose, breathing heavily

it‘s when it all sinks in. the realization that maybe he should have covered up those honkers when visiting that winter island. Kid was a South Blue child after all, not used to the cold

don‘t disturb him during that phase, just enjoy the silence while he ponders on every life choice he made that led him here

depression: that‘s when he will call you and the other crew members into his cabin one by one despite you telling him he‘ll just spread his germs that way, but Kid doesn‘t care. he feels like he‘s dying from that common cold and he needs to tell everyone his last words

don‘t flinch when he clutches his metal fist around your hand and rattles something about how he doesn‘t mind when you fall in love again after he dies, but preferably with Killer because then he‘ll know from heaven (or hell) that you‘re in good hands (followed by an hour long monologue on why Killer is the greatest man ever existing)

acceptance: so Kid realized he might not die today but his throat is still sore and all the yelling probably didn‘t make it any better

bring him some tea, tuck him in and kiss his forehead, he‘ll pass out in a minute and the whole thing will repeat a few more times on his way to recovery

Kid is gonna act like none of this has happened once he is back to his old self but he‘ll still make sure to pull you into a hug and mumble a Thank You against your skin, followed by making up for all the kisses he couldn‘t give you during that time

Mihawk

have you ever tried giving your pet any kind of medicine? it was bad, wasn‘t it? then good luck with this man because he is worse

it‘s hard to imagine that someone as perfect as Mihawk could fall sick with a fever, but here you are, standing with a glass of water and painkillers in your hands next to him while he‘s passed out on the couch

„get those away from me“, he mumbles like a dying peasant who is confronted with his own mortality in the face of a common cold 

even with his strength being robbed he is still much stronger than you, using this fact to his advantage (by rolling over flat on his stomach, face down, so you can‘t hold the glass of water against his lips)

give him five minutes for some frustrated groaning until he admits his defeat and finally reaches for the things in your hands

brace yourself for a silent staring duel when he asks for a glass of red wine to wash down the painkillers

he‘s lucky that you‘re in love so madly and deeply with him and have all the patience in the world to bear with him, knowing well he would pamper you too if you ever fell sick (you remembered how he pulled out a whole first aid kit as if he was ready to perform emergency surgery when you cut your finger slightly once while cooking together)

Mihawk would hate the fact that you see him in such a weak state but deep down he is still happy to have you by his side during his darkest hours

he‘ll have a few fever dreams and will be startled, probably panting something about his crops and how he gotta look after them

just gently push him back down by his shoulders and calm him down by telling him that you watered the garden and that the tomatoes are looking plump and ripe and ready for harvesting once he‘s back to full health

he‘ll ask you to read him from his favorite romance novels before he drifts back to sleep

Mihawk will cook you the fanciest dinner to show you his gratitude for nursing him back to health, including the most expensive bottle of red wine and kitchen dances together

Rayleigh

„you‘re burning up, Ray.“

you look at him worried, hands on his cheek and forehead to feel his temperature

Rayleigh just sighs, pushes his glasses up his hair, pinches the bridge of his nose and accepts his defeat

the Dark King knows that there‘s a limit on how much you can push a sick body and that the only cure is rest

after all, he had watched Roger struggle during his illness when no one else was watching; it made him realize that every action has its toll and us humans are fragile little things

he will do his best to not make you worry, after everything he‘s been through at his age a simple cold won‘t take him out

sure, he will try to send you home so he doesn‘t pass on the fever to you, but you insist on staying by his side — after all it was „in sickness and in health“ what you vowed to

a fact that earns you a lot of forehead kisses and the inevitable fate that you‘ll be down with a fever as well a few days later (where Rayleigh will take care of you as well, of course)

he is an easy patient on his best behaviour, drinking up the tea you brewed for him and staying in bed with the newspaper and some card games (since he can‘t go gambling)

Rayleigh will hum and lean deep into your touch when you run him a bath and wash his hair, your fingers massaging every bit of tension out of him

knowing you can‘t resist his charm he‘ll ask you to join him in the bath tub. just do it. the old man is needy and a little cold won‘t stop him from using his hands to return a little favor…

Rayleigh is a restless man, never one for settling down completely or staying in one place for too long, but those days in bed together are surprisingly nice and help him to recover quickly, thanks to your committed care

countless kisses on your skin show you his gratitude and blur the line between heat and fever…

#eustass kid x reader #mihawk x reader #rayleigh x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #eustass kid #dracule mihawk #silvers rayleigh #dracule mihawk x reader #silvers rayleigh x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece fluff #one piece reader insert

[carmybears]

Stay

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: meeting Carmy's sister for the first time. tw for panic attacks.

word count: 2.9K

The sound of shattering ceramic in the other room makes your head snap up with a start. Across the couch from you, Sugar’s eyebrows knit together in concern — an expression you can only think of as “older sister face”—as she calls out to her brother.

“Everything ok in there, Carm?”

“Guess we know why he’s a chef and not a dish washer,” Pete chuckles, giving her a good natured pat on the knee in reassurance.

When you don’t hear a sound in the other room, you feel a lump begin to grow in your throat. 

“I should go check on-“ Sugar starts.

“No, no I got it,” you volunteer, recalling Carmy’s previous statements to you about this sister’s sixth sense for knowing when he’s in trouble (and scolding him for being a “soft shitty bitch” whenever he refuses her help).

“I was gonna refill my drink here in a minute anyway. Can I get you some more wine?” You ask, but don’t wait for an answer as you hurry to your feet and out of the room, leaving the wine glasses forgotten on the table.

__

This was your first time meeting Carmy’s sister.

In the months since you started dating, you had already become well acquainted with his work family, but you knew that Carmy had some hesitations about introducing you to his real family. In the wake of Mikey’s death, he had been putting effort into mending his relationship with his sister, although progress didn’t necessarily come easy. Regardless, someone (probably Richie) let it slip to Sugar that “some girl” had been coming around the restaurant, “making Carmen all smiley.” Before you knew it, Carmy was begrudgingly extending his sister’s invitation to come around for dinner at her house.

The night of the dinner, Carmy drove you out to Sugar’s and you fretted the whole way there about how you looked, what small talk you would make, whether she’d like the bottle of wine you’d brought. But every time Carmy heard the insecurity creeping into your voice, he reached over and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, thumb running softly over your knuckles.

When you arrived, you were greeted by Sugar and Pete, already standing on the front doorstep, ready to pull you into a warm hug.

“It’s so good to meet you!” Sugar tells you with a squeeze. “God, look at you. You’re out of his league.”

She turns and says this with a wink to her brother before pulling him into an embrace as well.

Pete claps you on the shoulder warmly. “Good to have you here - it’s always nice to get another outsiders perspective on these two.”

Dinner itself is phenomenal—you learn that Sugar makes an eggplant parmesan that is to die for and you can’t help but wonder whether aptitude in the kitchen is genetic. Although, you do feel a bit like you’re on display for the first few hours of the evening because every time Carmy even so much as looks at you, Sugar’s eyes widen in delight like a kid on Christmas morning. Eventually Carmy nudges her arm and shakes his head at her, mumbling something about not wanting to scare you off.

At the end of the meal, you stand with your plate in hand, more than happy to help clean up after the amazing meal Sugar had prepared for you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Sugar fusses, reaching out to take the plate.

“No, no I insist. Dinner was so great, it’s the least I can do.”

“How about I get the dishes,” Carmy offers, turning to his sister. “You can go tell embarrassing stories about me in the other room or something. I don’t need to be there when you pull out my sixth grade yearbook picture.”

Sugar looks like she wants to continue to debate the matter but decides against it, settling for topping off your wine glass and motioning to the living room around the corner.

You stack your dishes beside the sink and give Carmy’s arm a quick squeeze. "God, I bet you were such an awkward sixth grader.”

His lips pull into a brief smile and he lets out a knowing chuckle.

“Believe me, I was.” He plants a quick peck on your cheek. “I’ll be out there in a few.”

_

When you enter the kitchen, Carmy’s back is to you as he stands at the sink and you see shards of ceramic – one of Sugar’s dinner plates—scattered on the floor surrounding his feet. Only when you step in closer do you notice the white knuckle grip that Carmy has on the countertop and the way he’s leaning against the granite for stability.

“Carmy?” your voice is panicked as you rush over to his side, sidestepping the worst of the broken dishware on the floor.

When you reach him, all of the color has drained from Carmy’s face and he’s got a fist pressed tightly to his chest as he sucks in frantic, shallow breaths. He blinks heavily, eyes squeezing together as if in pain, and you register something like fear in his eyes when he reopens them.

Your heart catches in your throat as you reach out to him, extending a shaking hand to cover his fist, now clawing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Carmy, Carm –“ You try to keep your voice a soothing tone as you press your fingertips lightly at his jaw. “Carmen.”

His gaze shifts and he starts, seemingly just now aware of your presence. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“Carmy, honey, you’re having a panic attack,” you tell him. “Let’s sit you down, alright?”

At first, you start to steer him toward the kitchen table before he hesitates, keeping his feet planted firmly where he stands. When you look up, you realize why – the table is in full view of the living room, directly in the line of sight of Sugar and Pete.

“Ok, c’mere,” you coax him in the opposite direction, finding an open space away from the broken plate where Carmy can slide to the floor, back pressed up against the cabinets as you settle onto the ground in front of him, gripping his hand firmly in yours.

“If you breathe, you’re gonna feel a lot better. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

He gulps in a shaking breath, which he immediately exhales. Not great, but it’s a start.

“Ok, that’s good,” you nod, rubbing your hand in circles on his back. “This time, I want you to do that for two seconds. I’ll do it with you, ok.”

You breathe in audibly through your nose, counting out the seconds on your fingers as Carmy does the same.

“That’s better, let’s do it again.”

Again, Carmy breathes and you squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“You’re doing great, baby. Now lemme see you hold that breath for two seconds and then exhale out real slow.”

You continue to guide him in his breathing, counting out loud as he gradually builds up to taking longer, deeper breaths. Some of the color seems to have come back into his face, and you can feel his pulse thumping in his wrist, still rapid, but not alarmingly so.

When you stop counting aloud, Carmy continues taking the long breaths on his own, tilting his head back to rest against the cabinet with his eyes closed. You readjust your position on the floor so that you’re sitting beside him, bodies pressed together hip to shoulder as you continue rubbing small circles on his back.

A shadow crosses the doorway, and you see Sugar enter the kitchen, a look of alarm crossing her face.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, willing her not to make a sound. It’s ok, you mouth to her.

The look of concern never leaves her face, but she nods trustingly and retreats back to the living room.

A few minutes later, you feel Carmy squeeze your hand tightly and you turn to look at him. His eyes are red and look more sullen than usual, but otherwise he looks fine.

“Thank you,” he rasps, not quite meeting your eye as he rakes a hand nervously through his hair and shifts his weight as he begins to stand. “I’m just gonna, uh, splash some water on my face. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” you promise.

Carmy disappears down the hall and you hear the click of a door and the faucet running a second later. In his absence, you find a broom and dustpan, cleaning up the broken plate the best you can before Carmy returns.

He says nothing when he comes back, just eyes the now clean floor and nods curtly. The pinched expression on his face tells you that he’s just barely holding something back, so you keep your questions to yourself and allow him to twine your fingers together before leading you back to the living room.

“Uh oh, there are the lovebirds,” Pete chimes when you return. “I was getting scared that you two might be up to trouble.”

Sugar’s face contorts from exasperation to defeat, but you see Carmy smile out of the corner of your eye, acting as if nothing had just happened in the kitchen as he addresses his brother in law.

“Not too much trouble, unless you’re asking the plates. Let me know how much I owe you for that, by the way.”

Pete shakes his head. “You don’t wanna know dude. That shit’s Crate & Barrel – costs an arm and a leg.”

--

Thankfully, the rest of the evening passes without incident, and you almost forget about the scene in the kitchen. Almost.

You and Carmy had brought along a box of Marcus’s latest donut creations for dessert, which the four of you happily dive into, swiping crumbs from your plate when you’re done. Sugar and Carmy take turns telling stories about each other, and Pete even brings up a few stories from his childhood, prompting you to take mental bets with yourself about his upbringing (your money is on him being an only child from an upper middle class family in Nebraska; only a flyover state could produce such a degree of loud, overconfident politeness in a man like Pete).

It’s only when you catch Carmy yawning out of the corner of your eye that you all take note of the late hour and begin the process of saying goodbye. You shrug in to your coat and Sugar loads up your arms with leftovers from dinner, all the while begging Carmy to leave the final two donuts at the house for her and Pete.

In a whirlwind, you are pulled into a warm hug and a kiss is pressed into your cheek as you stand on the doorstep with Carmy. As the two of you start down the front steps toward the car, you hear Sugar’s voice behind you.

“Carmy? Can I see you a sec?”

You sense Carmy’s hesitation but he lingers back as you proceed to the car, depositing the leftover food safely in the backseat. When you turn back, the Berzattos are standing close together, voices low and heads tilted toward each other in conversation. The warm glow of the porchlight catches in a few strands of their hair, illuminating them both in an angelic glow as Sugar pulls Carmy into a final hug and says her goodbyes.

Carmy ambles over to the car, and in the dim moonlight, you notice how weary his face looks now that he’s no longer putting on a polite charade for his sister and brother-in-law.

“Baby, how about you let me drive,” you suggest, running a hand down the rough woolen sleeve of his plaid jacket. “No offense, but you look like you got hit by a bus.”

Carmy looks at you a moment and a wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “That’s how I usually look.”

“Well, then it looks like you got hit by a bigger bus than usual.”

He lets out a dry laugh and hands the keys over to you.

You crank the heat in his car the moment you start the vehicle, needing a dry blast of heat to cut through the damp chill of early fall in Chicago. With mirrors and seats adjusted, you pull away from the curb and Carmy directs you out of Sugar’s neighborhood, the headlights of the vehicle cutting through the darkness of Sugar’s suburban streets.

“I think that went really well,” Carmy remarks after directing you to make a left turn onto a more familiar street. “Sugar loves you.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t love me,” you chuckle, bringing the car to a stop at a red light.

“She told me so,” he insists. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already requested to follow you on Instagram and is plotting to invite you to book club with her college friends.”

“Book club? Do they read anything interesting?”

The light turns green and you make the turn onto the highway, accelerating steadily as you merge with traffic. For a few miles, you and Carmy sit together in silence. You swallow the lump that has been gradually forming in your throat since dessert and your palms grow slick as you wonder how best to speak to Carmy about what happened tonight. You suppose you could just let it be for now, although you have a sneaking suspicion, knowing Carmy, that he won’t bring it up unprompted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the city lights sliding over Carmy’s features as you speed back toward home – red and green lights casting long shadows over his cheekbones, fanned out under his eyelashes.

Your chest constricts as you make the decision to dive in.

“So do you get panic attacks a lot?”

There is a beat of silence before he exhales heavily. “How do you define a lot?”

You give him a stern look over the center console before fixing your eyes back on the road, his hands fidgeting in your peripheral vision.

“I started getting them a lot around the time I came back here,” He admitted slowly. “I suppose I probably used to have a version of them back in New York, y’know, with the whole vomit before work thing. But really, it’s been since Mikey.”

You nod silently, flicking the blinker with your left hand as you change lanes, knowing that your exit is coming up.

“This is the first time I’ve had one since meeting you, though. The last time, Syd had just started at The Beef and I just ran out on her, hauled ass to get to the Al Anon meeting across town. I dunno how to explain it, but I just had to get out of the Restaurant, away from Mikey. It had started to feel to real, y’know? Like he was alive again.”

He lets out a long breath, scratching at the crown of his head as he tended to do whenever he was getting stressed or uncomfortable.

“That’s how it felt tonight too –With you meeting Sugar and all. I was standin’ there doing the dishes and thinking God, this is going great and the thought occurred to me that I couldn’t wait for you to meet Mikey.”

Carmy’s still fidgeting, fingers drumming against his thigh, toying with a loose thread on his jacket. You reach out to him and lay your hand over his, squeezing lightly.

He squeezes back and whispers, so quietly that you almost don’t hear it. “He would’ve loved you.”

Your throat feels tight and you’re surprised to feel the prickle of tears stinging your eyes as you listen to his confession.

“I wish I could have met him, Carmy. I really do.”

You take your exit off the highway and zigzag your way down the surrounding streets until you come to Carmy’s apartment, fortunate enough to find parking on your first pass down the street. As soon as you open the car doors, the damp chill of the autumn air raises goosebumps up and down your arms with a shiver.

You’ve barely stepped onto the sidewalk when Carmy tugs you into a tight hug, arms wrapped tightly around your torso as he presses his lips to your forehead. You squeeze your arms around him as you bury your face into the curve of his shoulder and feel him let out a long breath. You stand there for nearly a full minute, wrapped up in each other, unmoving until Carmy finally steps away.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight?” he asks, motioning his head in the direction of his building.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask, a bit surprised. Up to this point of your relationship, Carmy had always had a habit of retreating back after sharing such vulnerable pieces of himself – his relationship with his brother, his anxieties about the restaurant. You’d always respected his space, understanding that he’d come back around when he wasn’t feeling so raw. Honestly, you had already expected that tonight you’d be catching the L home and wouldn’t hear from him until tomorrow, so it came as a surprise when he nodded yes, blue eyes pleading with you in ways that words couldn’t.

“Of course I’ll stay,” you promised him. And as you walked arm in arm into the building, you hoped he knew that you would always stay if he needed you to.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto angst #mine

[hier--soir]

on the ropes

pairing: boxer!frank castle x f!reader summary: a dive bar, a stranger in an alley, and a punch to the kidney. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] boxer!frank au, explicit descriptions of violence, blood, injury, creepy men at bars, harassment, angst, anxiety, hints at trauma regarding violence. word count: 6.7k main masterlist a/n: a little boxer frank castle series that i’ve been playing around with for a minute now. i have fun writing it, so thought i’d share x

“Millie, what the fuck?”

A body jostled roughly into you, and you stumbled forward with a huff, casting a disgruntled look over your shoulder.

“What?” your friend stared at you. The room was dark, but the shadowy yellow light did little to hide the way she batted her eyelashes in an awful attempt at faux innocence.

“You said we were going for drinks,” you spoke slowly, arms raising to fold tightly across your chest. Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the less than desirable company.

The bar she brought you to was crowded. Packed to the brim like a tin of sardines, full of men gripping bottles of beer and shouting to be heard over the god awful music. The second you walked in with Millie and her brother, you’d known something was amiss.

Normally when Millie invited you out it was for cocktails or a bottle of wine, and often at chic rooftop bars that you could hardly afford to be in – never a dingy dive bar with sticky floors and pictures of shirtless men covering the walls.

They were framed, at least—the pictures—denoting a clear sense of veneration and pride from the owner. Covering almost every square inch of the walls around the bar, depicting sweat covered men. Some bleeding, some flexing their biceps; some holding another man in a headlock. Your stomach rolled each time you dared to glance at the décor and caught sight of blood or bruising.

“We are having drinks,” Millie responded sheepishly.

On cue, her twin brother, Ed, wandered back from the bar and handed you a glass of rosé. He looked decidedly casual, wearing a soft pair of shorts and a thin white t-shirt. A backpack rested on his shoulder. You narrowed your eyes, wondering why you hadn’t questioned his outfit at all until that moment.

“I don’t know if it’ll be any good,” he frowned. He had the type of voice that made it sound like he was always on the precipice of clearing his throat. “It’s the only wine they had.”

You scowled, looking back to his sister with raised eyebrows. Ed nursed a glass of water while he peered around the bar, sizing up the men stationed across the room.

“Okay,” she grimaced. “Look, I knew if I told you earlier you wouldn’t have come, and I need you here for support!”

“Support for what?” your voice had risen to a mouse-like squeak at that point. Inside of your chest, your heart had begun thrumming a little faster, and the echo of it rushed faintly in your ears.

“I’ve told you before,” Millie tried. “You know, about Ed doing these boxing games?”

“Boxing match,” Ed corrected quickly. Your eyes flicked between them, and you stayed silent, praying that she wasn’t going to say what you thought she was.

“Boxing match,” she remedied easily. “And so tonight is actually his first big fight, and he wants me here of course, and I want you here—”

“Millie,” you gaped. “I don’t do blood, seriously, I can’t. This—this is not my sort of thing, and I-I’m sorry but I don’t particularly care to see your brother beat someone up.”  

“There won’t be any blood!”

“Well, there probably will be blood.”

“Ed,” Millie hissed. “Not helpful.”

He held his hands up and sent an apologetic smile sizzling in your direction. “C’mon, kid, this is my big break! You’re practically family; we need you here.”

You stared for a second, silently willing the racing cogs in your brain to slow down so you could think. Not for the first time, you realised how alike the twins looked. Even in the dim bar, their choppy flaxen hair shone where it streaked across their foreheads, and their soft almond shaped eyes held you in their gaze, like a mother held a crying child. So comforting, and so fucking encouraging.

Trust us, their eyes sung. Stay with us.

They reminded you of the twins from The Shining, using their silent benevolence to lull you into a false sense of security before you ultimately met a grisly demise.  

God damnit.

“So what, it’s like some kind of fucking Fight Club?” you asked slowly. “Is this even legal?”

The siblings shared a quick look before Millie gripped your elbow. “You don’t need to worry about that. There’s a ref, and coaches – it’s safe.”

“Jesus Christ.” Her words didn’t reassure you in the slightest. You took a large gulp of your wine, lips puckering at the acidic taste. They watched on warily, awaiting the news that you would be leaving, going home to curl up in bed with your cat and watch re-runs of I Dream of Jeannie. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Couldn’t bring yourself to disappoint two of your closest friends.

“I’ll stay,” you vowed begrudgingly.

Millie whooped, the wine in her glass sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she raised her hands triumphantly in the air. The sound garnered a few looks from men around the room, and you shrunk away at the attention. They all seemed to be at least twenty years older than you and Millie. Adjusting your feet on the ground, you downed the last of your wine and tried not to gag as it slid down your throat.

“I just need a minute, though,” you exhaled, discarding your empty glass onto the closest table. “Need to get some fresh air before whatever is about to happen, happens.”

“Okay but don’t be long,” Ed fiddled with the strap of his backpack. “We kick off downstairs in 20 minutes.”

You gave him a quick nod, and for a second you tried to picture him throwing a punch. When you found yourself unable conjure the image in your mind, you turned to walk outside.

The bar was tucked away in a side street, and the only way in or out was nestled twenty metres down a dank alleyway that reeked of something metallic. A red neon sign buzzed above the doorway, and worked as the only indicator that the location was a place of business. The low electric was somewhat comforting, as you took up a spot on the opposing wall.

New York in early March was no more delightful than if it had still been the middle of Winter, and you shuddered at the press of cool bricks against your back. A cool wind rushed past you, snaking underneath the gaps in your clothes and whispering cruelly against your skin.

Nonetheless, you’d always enjoyed the cold. Any excuse to layer clothes until your skin was warm and pleasantly itchy beneath knitted material. Friends chastised the way you left your window ajar all year round; didn’t understand when you explained that you can’t sleep unless there’s a slight breeze. The chill was a welcome reprieve – something familiar to greet you as you stepped out of the bar. Having to warm yourself up always felt kinder and more loving than having to cool yourself down. Hot chocolates and weighted blankets in Winter were a heartfelt embrace, while ice cubes and swimming in Summer were futile efforts.

Cold air, you cruel mistress. I will never be able quit you.

Your phone buzzed every few moments, displaying the latest update in an incessant stream of texts from your roommate about how the radiator in your apartment was playing up again. A frustrated huff escaped your lips, and you put it away without responding.

There were a few men out there, cigarettes dangling between chapped lips as they shared mumbled, gruff conversation. For a moment, you wished you had one. To light a fire in your throat, to bring that heartfelt embrace. You shoved the thought down, reaching for a piece of gum in your purse instead. Numb fingers found the small cardboard packet after a moment. You fumbled with the wrapper, struggling to get it open, until a low voice gave you pause.

“You here alone?”

Your fingers froze, the piece of gum tumbling back down into the dark abyss of your bag. Suddenly you were hyper aware of a presence standing much closer to you than before. Cigarette smoke swirled in the air, seeping out of the burning cherry and drifting past your face. You resisted the urge to inhale.

The guy was lanky, with greasy hair and a word tattooed across his neck that you couldn’t quite make out. “You a mute or something?” he chuckled unkindly. “I asked you a question.”

Your eyes flashed up to his, frowning. The conversation amongst his friends died down, and you could feel them watching your interaction, quiet chuckles leaving smirking mouths as their friend hovered over you. If you just closed your eyes again, you were sure you could imagine you were at home in your bed; that you’d left the bar like you wanted to, could feel the warmth of Cynthia curled up and purring against your calf while Barbara Eden and Larry Hagman chattered away in the background.

“Hey,” he groused, taking a step closer. “It’s not polite to ignore someone when they’re tryna be friendly.”

The calming image disappeared, gone in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“Is that what you’re doing?” you steeled yourself, squaring your shoulders and attempting to pretend as though your stomach was churning inside of you. “Being friendly?”

“Oh, so her highness does speak,” he leered, lips pulling back to reveal a crooked smile and a missing tooth on the left of his mouth. “This isn’t a good area y’know? Bad idea for a thing like you to be out here all own.”

“I’m not here alone,” you muttered, flattening your back further against the wall.

“No?” he raised an eyebrow. It had a slit in it, a puckered white scar marring the skin beneath his hair. “You look pretty alone to me, doll.”

“I’m n-not,” the words rattled out of you. You focused on inhaling slowly, letting the crisp air expand your stomach, but another stilted exhale spilled out anyway. “In fact, the guy I’m here with will knock out all the teeth you have left if you don’t leave m—”

“Is that fucking right?” he interrupted, advancing a step closer. Your heart thundered in your chest, blood thundering in your ears. Your lungs tightened, all thoughts of breathing techniques evaporating in your mind as panic slowly took over. His friends were still laughing. The hand holding a cigarette lifted toward you, the burning end suspended dangerously close to the bare skin of your chin.

“Johnny, why don’t you fuck off and leave ‘er alone?” a rough voice cut through the alley. You flinched at the sound of it, but didn’t take your eyes off the man.

“Mind your business,” he snapped in response. Spittle struck your cheek and you cringed as it settled on your skin.  

“I mean it,” the voice came again, from somewhere deeper in the alley, to your right. “Get the fuck outta my sight or you won’t like what happens.”

The man—Johnny—spared a glance in the direction of the voice, and only then did he hesitate. The smirk on his face drooped, mouth hanging open as he fumbled for something to say, boots scuffing against the ground as he took one hasty step away from you, and then another.

“Hey man,” he said in a low, wary voice. “I didn’t realise. No harm done, alright?”

“Not yet,” the voice responded plainly.

Johnny gave a short nod, dropped his cigarette onto the ground and stamped it out with the tip of his boot. His friends weren’t laughing anymore. With a jerk of his head, he led them back inside, and only when they were all gone did you allow your shoulders to relax. A dull ache had started up behind your left eye.

You scraped trembling fingers against the brick on either side of you, finding solace in the way the coarse material snagged against your numb skin. But a shuffling sound to the right made your ears prick up, and your head darted in the stranger’s direction. The man walked closer to you, almost entirely obscured by shadows. Your eyes strained, trying to see him clearer, but he leant against the wall and kept his head trained straight ahead at the closed door of the bar. Faded orange letters on the door read Hasta La Muerte.

A grey hood was pulled up over his head, working as an accomplice with the darkness to obscure his facial features. But he was tall, and broad, that much was evident, and the red glow of the sign exposed the bare skin of his hands. Faded purple and blue bruises blossomed over the hills of his knuckles, small cuts and scabs decorating the spots where thin skin covered bone. The chill on your skin seemed spread through your insides at the sight of it; wariness filling your stomach until your muscles clenched tight, bracing yourself for another antagonising encounter.

“He’s right.”

His voice sent a shot of heat through your chest, eviscerating the cold until you could feel your palms warm, sweat beading across your skin. 

“What?” Your voice was quieter than you cared for it to be. You felt so small, suddenly. 

“Place is a shithole,” he gestured loosely at the bar entrance. “Filled with scumbags. You shouldn’t be here.”

The stranger made a step to move inside, hand raising to push open the door. 

“Not safe for a thing like me?” you emphasised the word with a curl of your lip, vaguely unsure what had inspired you to continue an interaction that had already ended.

But you did know that Johnny had made you feel so powerless, like an ant he could squash beneath his boot if he felt so compelled. Whereas this man was entirely uninterested – he almost seemed bored with the whole thing. And it spurred something inside of you.  

His stance tightened somewhat, and you watched him roll his shoulders back slowly.

“Yeah,” he spoke, still facing the door. “Something like that.”

You couldn’t pinpoint what compelled you to speak again. and if you were to retell the story, you were sure you’d be ashamed of yourself for pushing, for not letting go and simply thanking him. But maybe that was the thing – maybe it was because he had saved you from that guy, whether it came from a place or care or not. Or perhaps it was because he spoke quietly, didn’t raise his voice. Something about him seemed trustworthy… safe.

“Why are you here then?” you rushed out. Heat soared through your face as he paused, head tilting to the side to spare a glance in your direction. “If it’s as bad as you say.”

As he moved, the glow of the sign lit up his profile. You stilled, eyes widening a fraction as you caught sight of his face for the first time. He watched you out of the corner of his eye, and didn’t speak for a moment.

A mottled purple bruise shone beneath his cheekbone and travelled across the bridge of his nose. His jawline was sharp, the muscle underneath the skin twitching as his teeth clenched together. He still didn’t move, allowing you a moment to rake your eyes over him, to devour the imperfections and discolorations of his abused face. Almost as if he wanted you to see – wanted you to know that his warning wasn’t made up of empty words.

You were no stranger to violence, and all the ways it could manifest. Painfully familiar with the way blues and reds and purples and yellows could discolour skin until natural hues were all but gone. Well acquainted with discerning the difference between an injury inflicted by oneself or another, if only you looked closely enough. It was something you’d grown up considering—the juxtaposition between defensive and offensive wounds, and the way one chose to hide or not hide them.

The way he moved was so nimble, so quiet. That hood was tucked up over his head, and yet hands were bared to you, exposing himself in a way that said this is what I will allow you to see; this is what I can control.

And somehow, amidst the brutality of it all, he was handsome. Dark eyes—so dark they almost seemed black under the humming red glow—and a strong, crooked nose with a bump along it, as if it’d been broken at some point and never reset properly. He looked fierce, and maybe not as safe as you’d first thought.

You swallowed thickly.

“Pays the bills,” he clipped. You let a noncommittal hum vibrate inside your mouth. He works here.

It made sense, you supposed, that he was a bartender. It matched his rough exterior; gave clarity to the guys from before being so cautious of getting on his bad side. You pondered how his face had gotten so fucked up; considered that maybe a patron had gotten out of line recently, and had perhaps taken a swing at an innocent hospitality worker.

It was almost comical, the lengths your brain went to in order to rationalise his appearance.

“I actually live pretty close to here.” Why are you still talking?

“Is that your way of inviting me over, sweetheart?” His shoulders shook with a short, silent laugh. “I’m flattered.”

“What?” you stiffened, gaze darting to his torn knuckles once more. “No, no. I’m just—I’m saying I know the area.” He caught the movement of your eyes and tucked his hands into his pockets after all.  

“Well, if you live so close,” he said. “You should go home.”

A short, indignant scoff rushed from your nose. “I can handle myself,” you muttered unconvincingly.

“Oh yeah?” he snorted, demeanour shifting into something that bordered on incredulous. All nerves you’d once felt seemed to have vanished, and yet you were painfully aware of how his stature dwarfed your own. You swore you saw him roll his eyes, perhaps taking note of the same thing. “My bad, hot shot, I’ll stay out of your way next time.”

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, and you tugged it out quickly. Millie’s picture lit up the screen and then disappeared, and your eyes darted over the notifications.  

meet me downstairs

it’s about to start. where are you?

please don’t tell me you left

“Go home,” he repeated finally. Tone softer this time. “This isn’t the place for you. I mean it.”

You looked up from your phone. He had turned his head almost entirely, giving a full view of his face. Short dark hair peaked out from where his hood had fallen back an inch. His face looked solemn; lips pressed together tersely.

“Yeah,” you replied quietly. “Maybe I will.”

With one final look in your direction, he pressed his hand firmer against the door and stepped inside, leaving you alone with the cold air once more.

You gave it five minutes before you followed him inside.

Tacky stairs led to a large basement. To floors and walls made of concrete slabs that brought an extra iciness to the space. A chill that was eradicated, however, by the sweat and body heat that emanated from the mass of men crowding the room, jostling against each other as they shouted and yelled and geared up for the show.

Animals.

Excited chatter drowned out the low, droning music that played from speakers in each corner of the space. You spied men handing each other cash, speaking in hushed tones, placing bets on what was about to happen. You wondered if anyone had bet on Ed. Tried not to think about the possibility of them betting on his opponent.

Millie was front and centre, standing beside the ring with a shorter man that you didn’t recognise.

“Where the hell were you?” she asked, handing you a fresh glass of the sickening wine. “It’s about to start.”

“I told you,” you raised the glass to your lips, glancing at the bald man hovering by her shoulder. “I needed some fresh air.”

“This is Rodge,” she followed your gaze, introducing you quickly. “Ed’s trainer.”

You shared a polite nod, but no words were exchanged. Rodge’s eyes were trained on where Ed stood, hopping up and down on the balls of his feet and stretching his arms. A navy mouthguard rested behind his thin lips, matching the shorts he wore. You’d never seen Ed shirtless before, and he was lean, almost as lanky as you’d expected him to be. But he had a sleeper build of sorts. Clear firm lines of muscle protruded through the skin of his arms and stomach, hinting at a strength that you’d never expected him to possess.

“Have you seen him fight before?” you asked.

“Loads of times,” she nodded. “He’s got this, don’t worry.”

You nodded absentmindedly, attention stolen by a tattooed man dressed in black entering the ring. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and your fingertips tingled sharply, as it they’d each been pricked by a small, invisible needle. He raised a hand, and the crowd quietened a fraction, all eyes turning to him. Silently, he motioned to someone on the other side of the ropes. And with a sinking feeling in your stomach, you watched Ed’s opponent step into the ring.  

He had his back to you, but you allowed your eyes to trail over his figure, sizing him up in an attempt to gage how much of a risk he posed. He was dark haired, and he looked strong. Stronger than you cared to admit. Small black shorts clung to his upper thighs, but his torso was bare, and very little of his body was left to your imagination. His back was broad, the muscles in his shoulders shifting with every movement he made. A few scars littered his bare skin, defacing otherwise unmarked flesh.

The dark-haired man stretched his arms over his head, bending them this way and that, flexing the muscles in his biceps and triceps as the crowd jeered. His physique was different to Ed’s.

Where Ed was discreetly muscular, this man was imposing. He stood a few inches taller than Ed, and was obviously a decade older, showing a clear advantage. And then as he lowered his arms and flicked his head to the side to listen to what his coach was saying from outside of the ring, and you caught a glimpse of his face.

Crooked nose. Bruised cheekbone.

It was like you’d been punched in the stomach yourself.

You glanced uneasily at Millie, but she had her eyes solely on Ed, fists clenched by her side as she muttered inaudible words of encouragement. Movement in the ring drew your attention once more.

It can’t be. He was a bartender, for god’s sake. Or… you had just made that up in your head and decided it was true.

Pays the bills, he’d said. But he’d never said what exactly he was doing to make money.

“Shit,” you breathed, hands shaking as the man from the alley turned to face Ed and you saw him in all of his glory.

With bated breath, you watched the two men meet in the middle of the ring and knock their boxing gloves together. And then before you could prepare yourself, it had begun.

Ed threw a punch instantly, the force of his glove whipping the man’s head to the side. Millie let out a shrill whooo and you flinched, stomach coiling as he retaliated, delivering a heavy blow to Ed’s ribs.

He grunted, stumbling back from the force of it. It seemed like he wasn’t expecting such a fast response, and in his surprise, failed to block the next two punches sent his way. First to his ribs and then a quick second to the side of his face. A lump formed in your throat, and nausea twisted inside of you as blood and spittle flew from Ed’s mouth, painting the mat like a Jackson Pollock. For a moment you feared you might truly be sick.

The blood didn’t deter the man, who advanced on Ed like a predator, caging him in against the ropes. He didn’t let up for a second, delivering punishing blows wherever he could find a gap in his opponent’s defence.

“Come on, Ed!” Millie hollered, and your head snapped to the side. Her eyebrows were drawn tight in the middle of her forehead, mouth hanging open anxiously.

As if he could hear her, Ed propelled himself forward, colliding with the other man. They grappled for a second, both searching for purchase, but Ed had his arms wrapped tightly around the other man. What the fuck?

“What’s he doing?” you asked, but nobody could hear you over the roar of the men in the room. They clambered around the platform from all angles, getting as close as they could. Spit flew as they shouted profanities at the fighters, faces reddening as they bellowed with all their might.

Rodge yelled something inaudible at him, but Ed persisted, planting his feet on the ground and pressing his chest against the other man’s. And then the man’s body jolted to the side and he was stumbling to the ground, a loud grunt echoing through the room as he held a gloved fist to his waist. The referee shouted and everything stopped for a second as the man rested on the mat. Cold dread flooded through your veins as you noticed the way he glared at Ed. Even in the light, his eyes seemed black. The men around you were roaring, and harsh boo’s reverberated off the walls of the basement.

“What the fuck just happened?” you asked breathlessly, looking to Rodge for an explanation.

“He punched him in the kidney,” Rodge ground out, arms folded across his chest. He seemed to be glaring at Ed as well, although you couldn’t tell if that was just his face.

“Okay so?” you questioned cluelessly, eyebrows raised. The man rose slowly and walked to his corner of the ring, where someone held a water bottle to his lips.

Rodge ignored you, stepping toward the ring where Ed was waiting for him.

“He can’t do that.” Millie told you anxiously, staring wide eyed at her brother. “Why the fuck would he do that?”

It appeared as though the words Rodge had for Ed were of a similar sentiment, based on the way he was cowering under the bald man’s glare. Blood dribbled out of his nose in thin lines, and he wiped them away with his glove, leaving a crimson streak smeared across his cheek. You held your breath and looked away.

After thirty seconds the men gathered in the middle of the ring once more, and you attempted to quell the anxiety that swelled inside you. But as much as you internally begged for it to end, the second round began and the sound of gloves smacking skin hit in your ears. And you couldn’t bring yourself to not look.  

Because, god, it was a sight to behold.

The dark-haired man was back on his feet, and he was furious.

He moved quickly, twisting and ducking around Ed, never giving him a moment of respite as he sunk his fists into his flesh. He found all of his weak spots and targeted them in a second, attacking with finesse, and knowing all the right moments to pull back and block Ed’s futile attempts to return a punch. He was too fast, too agile, too big. And when he struck, it was brutal, every single time.

Sweat seeped through the thick material of your shirt, sticking it to the skin of your back. Everything was too hot, too loud. You felt lightheaded as you watched Ed take another hit to the face, blood spurting as his head jolted to the side.

It was disgusting, he was disgusting. It was animalistic, it was brutish. And yet you couldn’t stop watching him.

Sweat shone on his shoulders as he moved, shimmering under the harsh white light dangling above them. You could hear him grunting through the black mouthguard covering his teeth; could see how the corded muscles in his abdomen clenched and shifted beneath his skin with every movement of his arms. It was painfully mesmerising.

Ed’s body hit the ropes and bounced back towards the man, and a gloved fist met his already bruising ribs. The air rushed out of your lungs, chest aching as if you were the one who’d been struck.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” you said, but Millie didn’t hear you, too busy shouting mindless instructions at her brother.

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you looked back just in time to see the man swing his fist upward into the bottom of Ed’s chin, snapping his head back. And when he fell, intercepting the mat with a sickening thud, he didn’t stand back up. A harsh, guttural shout came from the man’s mouth, so loud it felt like your body vibrated. Whether it was a triumphant battle cry, or a sound of exhaustion, you weren’t so sure, but you didn’t take your eyes off him as the referee counted eight seconds and then gripped his forearm, raising it in the air to signal him as the winner.

A deafening cacophony of sound rose from the crowd, louder than you’d heard it all night. Praise mixed in with heckles of abuse, and yet the man stared into the crowd as if it were all below him. His chin was raised in the air, blank eyes gazing into the swarm of people, flitting from face to face as if he were still trying to process the victory. It was nonchalant, as if the entire thing was no big deal to him. As if he hadn’t just beaten someone to a pulp. And then suddenly, those dark orbs were on you. Your entire body stiffened, eyes widening as you held his gaze. His eyebrows quirked into a soft frown, chin lowering as he squinted a little, perhaps trying to determine whether you were the same person from the alley or not. But his gaze shifted away just as quick, and you relaxed somewhat, relieved to have escaped the intense scrutiny. His glistening chest heaved with breaths of exertion, and you watched as he gave a single jostle of his fist in the air, before turning to exit the ring. 

Rodge led Ed out a side door, Millie rushing behind them with his water bottle gripped between her slim fingers. The red colour of her acrylics shone against the black plastic. You stumbled behind them as fast as your feet would carry you, but your body felt light, stomach shifting inside you like you were on a boat, a feeling that had you swaying from side to side; set aimlessly adrift in the teeming crowd. Like a small fish against a strong current, you wormed through thick arms and tall torso, finally slipping towards the door tucked so discreetly against the back wall. When you plunged through it, and the door had clicked shut at your back, you found yourself alone in a long hallway.

A multitude of closed doors decorated the path ahead, worn silver handles shining below the brassy light on the roof, taunting your uncertainty. Soft murmurs rose from somewhere in the distance, but boisterous cheers still rang in your ears, and you couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of the voices. An image of Ed hitting the mat swum through your vision and your first step faltered, palm colliding with the wall in an effort to steady yourself.

Your throat was thick as you swallowed, but the ball of anxiety stayed lodged in the top of your chest. You began to walk, ears pricked in hopes of recognising a familiar voice as you passed by the first set of doors. Millie or Ed—hell, even Rodge would do.  

You’d only made it a few steps when one of the doors smarted open, the hinge creaking painfully loud. The expectation that Millie was about to step out and greet you brought a welcome relief flooding through your veins, and your shoulders relaxed somewhat.

“Thank god,” you muttered.

And then stopped short, feet planting on the ground as the person fully entered the corridor.

Definitely not Millie.

Not for the first time that night, you were struck by how large he was. In fact, it was probably the hundredth time the thought had crossed your mind.

One hand gripped an ice pack to his waist, right where his kidney sat, and the other rubbed a small towelette across his chest, absorbing the sweat that still shone across his pecs. A pink mark covered his unbruised cheek, a stinging reminder of Ed’s first punch. Black, unruly eyebrows twitched in recognition, and the hand gripping the towel paused as he assessed you.

“What the hell are you doin’ down here?” he bristled. His voice was deeper than it had been earlier. Rougher.

You didn’t respond for a moment, eyes glazing over as they flicked in a constant loop from his face to his bare chest, his arms, his thighs. His bicep flexed as his hand tightened around the ice pack.

Jesus Christ, you thought. Get a hold of yourself.

“M’serious,” he griped. “If someone finds you down here when you’re not supposed to be, you’ll get your ass handed to you.”

He was more intimidating now than he had been earlier. Expression frustrated—almost pissed off—as he stared at you. It was a stark contrast to the interaction in the alley, where he’d kindly but firmly told you to get the fuck out of here.

The memory of Ed hitting the mat reared its head once more, and you flinched.

The ball of anxiety seemed to grow another inch, inspiring a low throbbing sensation behind your sternum. It screamed at you, pounded against your bones and hollered, you don’t know this guy, what the fuck are you doing? Sweat dampened your palms, and you allowed your eyes to dart down the hall over his shoulder, just for a second, before looking back at his face. Where the fuck is Millie?

Something shifted in his demeanour then. His eyebrows softened a touch, the corners of his mouth relaxing.

“You okay, hot shot?”

Heat soared through your belly at the nickname.

“Uhh,” your voice was a higher pitch than normal, and you cleared your throat quickly. “Yeah, yes, ‘m good.”

He nodded once, face unreadable. “Did you see it?” Black eyes watched you closely.

“Yeah,” you wiped your palms on your jeans. “Yeah, I saw.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

The tip of a pink, wet tongue slipped out of his mouth to swipe along his lower lip. So fast you almost missed it. Your face felt hot.  

“And what’d you think?”

You thought you could see the smugness in his eyes. The way his chest puffed out a little, knowing you’d seen his victory. You hated how pleased he seemed to be with himself… almost as much as you hated yourself for noticing how soft the inside of his elbows looked; for wondering what the sweat on his neck tasted like.

“I thought it was awful,” you told him truthfully. His smirk faltered a little, the spark in his eyes dimming as he stared. “I… I didn’t want to be here.”

He contemplated your response for a moment, eyes shining curiously as they ticked down your body, giving you a swift once over before flashing back up to your face. You shifted uneasily under the scrutiny.

The bag of ice crunched in his grip as he readjusted it against his side. For a split second he cringed, lower stomach tensing as he modified his footing, leaning most of his weight on his other side. The sight of his pain intrigued you. It had such a flawed, human quality about it. Something as real, as universal as hurt seemed to bring him back down to earth – to the same lowly reality that normal people lived in; ones who weren’t made of brick and couldn’t throw their fists with a god-like agility.

For as long as you could remember, you’d believed that any person who made the cognisant choice to inflict violence, was dangerous. And yet, your feet didn’t move. Couldn’t bring yourself to side-step his broad figure, to dash down the hall and bang on the doors until a guardian angel in the shape of Millie appeared. Because after a few short moments alone with him, away from the crowd and the bright lights and the fighting mat, you remembered why you didn’t feel the need to. Safe.

“But you stayed,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. An indisputable fact. Indeed, you had stayed.

“Call it morbid curiosity,” you muttered, scuffing the tip of your shoe against the ground.

He opened his mouth to respond, but you were already speaking. “Do you know if Ed’s okay?”

“Who?” he frowned. Your face mirrored his, confusion zapping through your body. However, the train of thought was interrupted by the door swinging open, and another man’s head dipping into your line of sight.

“Alright, we gott—” the man cut himself off, mouth hanging open as he caught sight of you a few metres away. “Oh.”

He was tall, taller than the boxer, with dark skin and black hair shaved short. Lips peeled back to reveal teeth, and you realised he was smiling at you. A polite, comforting smile. You recognised him from the fight; standing beside the ring, holding a water bottle to the boxer’s mouth in between rounds.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, gaze darting between the pair of you before landing on his friend. “But we need to talk.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of the words but didn’t tear his gaze away from your face. A splotchy, deep red mark had formed on his side of his stomach, hinting at how hard Ed must’ve punched him.

“’M Frank,” he said abruptly.

You blinked.

Frank.

Frank, Frank, Frank.

A name to put to the violence.

The man in the doorway glanced curiously at you, his eyes soft. After a long stretch of silence, in which you did not respond, and did not offer your own name up, a low scoff erupted from Frank’s mouth and that almost familiar smirk slid back across his lips.

“I get it,” he let out a low chuckle, a sound that echoed a simmering tone of disappointment. “Can’t go around giving your name out to just any scumbag.”

You cringed at the word choice. But as you went to defend yourself, to tell him your name, to say anything, he had already turned his back, readjusting his ice pack as he disappeared through the doorway.

It banged shut behind them, a whoosh of air rushing into the corridor with the movement. Alone once more, you took a steadying breath. The lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickered once, a low hum emanating from it, and then a faint tap tap tap. You glanced up to see a small, black moth flapping it’s wings in earnest, repeatedly knocking against the warm glass of the bulb.

And then that soft, lilting voice was calling your name. You saw the blonde hair first, then the acrylic nails.

“Millie,” your feet carried you down the hall to where she stood, hanging halfway out of an open doorway.

“C’mon,” she hurried back inside. “We’re taking Ed to the hospital. They think he might have a concussion.”

You caught a glimpse of him inside the room. Rodge was wiping a damp cloth over his face, trying to clean away splashes of dark blood that stained his chin. Vacant eyes burned a hole into the ground, and the corners of his mouth turned down as he murmured something under his breath. Millie crouched to rest a sympathetic hand on his knee.

You spared a final glance down the hall, to the spot where you’d stood with Frank only moments before. Perhaps you were curious to see if he’d reappear – if he’d stalk back out and demand to know your name after all. But he didn’t, and you could hear Ed beginning to cry. So you did what Frank had done; turned your back, and let the door close behind you.

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