#all wide eyes and loud words of encouragement

[shewrites02]

Forgive Me, if I break you | Zoro x Reader | Pt. III

Part II

Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, verbal abuse , physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI

*THERE IS A GRAPHIC DEPECTION OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE THE SCENE BEGINNING AND END ARE MARKED WITH THREE ASTERISKS (***) *

A/n: I know it has taken me forever and a day to finish this part, but all of you have been so encouraging in spite of that. I hope that this chapter is worth the wait!

Request: Open

Word count: 8.4k

Leave a comment if you enjoy :)

You twirl in the boutique's mirror. The owner was gracious enough to close, so you and your friends can shop in private. Apparently the villagers have become quite fond of the pirates' during their stay. It is difficult to walk the streets without them being recognized or stopped. It seems the cheerfulness of Strawhats is as infectious to your people as it is to you.

"You really don't like it?" Robin asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror after looking you over.

She stands behind you, a little off to the left meeting your reflection’s gaze. Bashfully, you shake your head. You drag your hands down the pink fabric. This is the fourth dress you have tried on- all of them beautiful- but you have yet to find a dress that makes you feel pretty while sitting in all your ugly emotions.

"I think you look hot! but- I said that about the other three dresses." Nami quips.

"What don't you like, y/n?"

Robin's voice is soft, patient, her smile unwavering. You feel bad when you can't produce a truthful answer. 'It's me that's ugly, not the dresses' is not a sentiment to be spewed so recklessly. When you are unable to produce a satisfactory response, you shrug, feigning ignorance.

"Maybe the color?" You question. The pink feels unfitting- the color too loud for how you bleak you feel. The occasion feels more kin to a funeral than an elaborate celebration.

Robin nods, taking in the note. She flashes you a wide smile before dragging her hands up and down your arms in comfort. She implores your trust before grabbing Nami, the two of them head to the dress racks.

When Robin returns she waves you back into the closeted dressing room. She is insistent on forcing you to get dressed with your eyes closed, saying the reveal will be so much better blind. Nami shouts her agreements through the door. Willing to try anything at this point, you agree.

Robin's fingers are laced in yours as she guides you back to the mirror. After planting you dead center , she instructs you to open your eyes . They widen immediately at the sight.

The velvet fabric runs down to the floor, a high slit on your right leg. The corset is adorned with flashy embellishments, and the color- emerald green, seems a lot more fitting for the occasion.

It had been a long while since the sight of yourself in a mirror made your gasp in a way that didn't sting your heart. You couldn't be more thankful for the silly idea Nami and Robin suggested. The two squeal at what they hope is your pleased reaction.

"We think the swordsman will like it too." Robin teases in a hushed whisper. Zoro enters the room soon after, surely of no coincidence.

"And that's our que." Nami announces as the pair start their descent out the room.

Zoro immediately stops at the entryway once he sees your reflection in the mirror. his mouth is slightly agape, before morphing into a toothy grin. His crew-mate's voices seem to draw his attention back, forcing his feet.

"This is the fifth dress y/n has tried on today. She is still on the fence about it. " Robin instigates.

"Why don't you tell her what you think Zoro?"

And with that the two are gone. The room is quiet, and for a brief moment the two of you just stare. No anger. No sadness. Just a moment where the two of you could cherish being together, that you are finally alone. A moment where Zoro can just be the swordsman, and you- a damsel on the beach.

"Can I touch you?" Zoro asks. His voice is hushed and fragile. Already broken as if preparing in advance for your rejection. The stoic swordsman, the pirate who was more used to taking what he wanted than asking for permission, what had you done to him?

You nod solemnly. Thought the days of pleasantries and cautionary asks were long behind you and the Pirate. Hearing him revert back so quickly, so readily after your repeated rejections- It's disheartening. Zoro is wrapping his arms around your waist, before you have the opportunity to dissect the thought thoroughly. He plants a kiss on your temple, then your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. He meets your eyes in the mirror, grin still on his face. Your hand finds his cheeks caressing him lightly.

You had missed being able to bask in the eye of the swordsman so freely. To feel the warmth of his love for you in his stare. The pirate looks at you as if you are truly the most amazing thing he's ever seen. The same wonder and awe he has when tending meticulously to his swords.

"You like it?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax into his hold. Though you know you shouldn't, It is impossible not to indulge when there is swiftly coming a time you'll never feel his touch again.

"I like it. I think you look gorgeous... " He kisses your cheek once more.

The butterflies wake in your stomach. Violently swarming as though this is the first compliment you have ever gotten from the swordsman. They're quickly drowned in your guilt, in your knowing that this- whatever it is the two of you are doing- is only going to destroy the pirate in the end.

"Do you like it?" He asks as if sensing your apprehension. You shrug in response.

"It's fine. As long as you like it."

Zoro's brow raises to his forehead. His expressionless face shows that he is unimpressed with your attempt to dismiss your feelings in favor of his.

"What was wrong with the other dresses?" He pivots.

You swallow the lie that tries to climb its way out your throat. Tired of the rancid aftertaste it always left in your mouth after its departure. Part of you is astonished at how reflexive it was, the lie so ready to fly past your lips. The shock quickly turns to grief.

This is a part of yourself you could openly give to the swordsman. A part of you that only had his fingerprints indented into it. A part of you that Lee would never have claim too. This was a truth you could openly and honestly give him. Are you not obligated to?

"Nothing." You confess taking in a shaky breath. There's a frailness to your voice that houses all the tears wanting to swell in your eyes. "I'm too sad to feel pretty Zoro. To sit here playing dress up when our time is ticking away with each dress I put on ... How do I pick out the perfect dress to say goodbye to you?"

"We aren't saying goodbye." Zoro states the words plainly, as if you are supposed to know already.

You turn your head to face him. The eye contact made in the mirror is no longer sufficient enough for the conversation. You need to see if his collected demeanor shifts once your pain-staked eyes stare back at him. It does not. The pirate looks at you deadpanned, in search of an explanation.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I told you , I'm not leaving until you tell me what's happening."

The furrow of your brows has deepened into a full frown. You stare back at Zoro with your mouth wide searching for your next words. Can only describe this static in your brain as disbelief. What is he talking about? Stay? Here?

"Zoro. The sunny is leaving here in two days. Your crew has spent all morning preparing for their departure ... "

He nods, confirming your words are true.

"Zoro-"

"I'm not leaving."

It's as though your senses come flushing back all at once. Jolting your body to break free of the pirate's hold. Forcing his arms away as you create distance.

"You can't stay ... not for me." You want your proclamation to come out strong, demanding, but you only sound broken. Making a desperate plea.

"I'd really love to see you make me leave." He lets out a boisterous laugh. "I bet your husband would love that, uh? Me out the way."

Zoro reaches his hand out to you, he is still smiling. As though he is not saying he is going to abandon his crew mates for you. Give up his dreams for you. All to what- watch you play house with another man? A relationship filled with fleeting touches , and stolen moments. How is that fair to him?

"Zo-"

"I know you miss me." His voice has dropped in tone and volume. He drops his hand once you don't return the gesture. The smile previously seared onto his face is gone.

"I know when he touches you, you're wishing it's me. Every smile, every laugh, every touch , every kiss it's me in the back of your mind. All the affection you give to him- it's mine ... I know he can't make you feel as good as I can. "

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Nothing comes to mind in the midst of the overwhelming whirlwind of your emotions. You don't- can't- lie to the swordsman, tell him that none of it is true. But how can you admit the truth when you know there is no escape, no way out.

You could tell Zoro you loved him a million times, it is not going to change this absolute fact: you are not going anywhere.

"It doesn't matter. What I want doesn't matter." You mutter.

"Your feelings- they don't matter?!" The swordsman snarls in response . "Don't fucking say that."

There's a stab to your heart, his words cutting you just as deeply as if he put a sword through your chest. You could not for the life of you understand the concern Zoro had for your emotions when you are undoubtedly breaking his heart more with each passing day.

"Please Zoro- don't stay behind for me. Go."

"Why don't you trust me?" The swordsman asks. His voice so hushed it threatens not to make it to your ear.

The sword in your heart twists in a devilish way. Is this what Zoro has deduced? That your lack of openness could only be a fault of his own. That he has not loved you enough , made you feel safe enough. Yet another reminder of why you are so undeserving of him. Though he doesn't meet you , you still search his gaze . Look at the truth in his expression to see that this is truly what Zoro believed . You didn't trust him.

"It's not you I don't trust Zo...."

This time the pirate doesn't ask. He closes the gap between the two of you in two strides, taking your hands in his.

"Then why won't you tell me what's going on? Why won't you let me help you?" Zoro asks.

Your eyes closed at his inquiries. Trust. You have already given every bit of excess you had to the swordsman on the beach. You aren't sure you have anymore to spare now that you are home. Wished it was that simple. Simple enough to only have to make a decision and stick to it. To have only your heart to follow, but that is not a luxury of yours.

"You can't save me Zo..."

His face drops. The squeeze he has on your hands tightens some.

"I can. Ask me to. Please ..."

The room falls silent. It is now you who is averting eye contact from the pirate.

" ... Do you think I'm not strong enough?"

You sat beside Zoro digging your hands in and out of the sand despite the fact you hated the feeling. It was something to do while watching him meticulously care for his swords. In the time the two of you had spent on the beach, you had watched Zoro tend to his swords more times than you had seen him do almost anything else.

"Can I touch your swords?"

Your words were meant for the first mate, but they seemed to grasp the attention of the whole Strawhat crew. They tried to pretend, act as if the breakfast Sanji's was serving was far more interesting than the conversation the two of you were having. This did not stop his crewmates from taking turns borrowing their eyes into the side of his skull. If you hadn't known any better you'd even swore they were holding their breaths in anticipation of the swordsman's response.

The tension in the air gave way that you may have made a mistake. That perhaps that was not a question allowed amongst this crew. You looked toward Zoro, bracing yourself for the harsh rejection. Instead he removed the three swords he had just placed on his hip and laid them out on the sand in front of you.

There was an audible gasp that fell from his crewmates. Zoro quickly narrowed his eyes toward their direction, the pirates sitting on the wooden table Franky had conjured up around the fire. His crewmates' eyes scatter in different directions faking obliviousness. Usopp even started to whistle to further prove his distraction. Zoro rolled his eyes before facing toward his swords.

"This one is Enma, Sandai Kitetsu, and Wado Ichimonji."

Zoro goes from top to bottom, pointing out each sword as he names it. Lightly, he pushes the first two away, so they are out of your arms’ reach. Leaving only Wado Ichimonji within your grasp.

"What- those two your favorite? That why I can't touch them." You teased.

"Not that." He gave you a playful laugh in response. That familiar cocky smile on his lips. "These two will literally kill you if you touch them."

"Oh-"

"This one is my favorite." He pulled Wado close so it was parallel to the knees of your criss-crossed legs. Before Zoro picked up his sword he forced your hands palm side up, arms out, rested against your thighs. Once he was satisfied with your posture he inched close to you smushing his thigh against yours then placed the sword in your hands.

"Why is this one your favorite?"

You go to move your hand from beneath the sword to foolishly trace the edge of the blade, but Zoro grabs your wrist before you have the opportunity. Quickly instructing you to be still. Griped that he had your hands placed like that for a reason.

"I don't want you to cut yourself." He scolded. Feeling like a small child, a 'sorry' clumsily fell from your lips in response. Zoro continued to answer your question.

"... A friend gave it to me."

This time you got the sense that you weren't to inquire any further about this. You wouldn't dare push the boundaries of the pirate. Instead you shifted the conversation.

"Was I not supposed to ask about your swords? ... your crewmates seemed kind of surprised."

"It's sort of a rule on the ship, that no one can touch my swords. " The swordsman's hand found the nape of his neck rubbing nervously. You laughed at his proclamation. His crewmate of years hadn't touched his swords, yet there he was placing his favorite blade in your hands. Unsure of what you had done to earn the pirate's trust, you were grateful all the same.

"So two swords that can kill you ... you must be like really strong?" you ask.

"Yeah, you could say that..." The swordsman chuckled. There's amusement filled in his expression as he takes the sword from your grasp so he could return them to their home. "You've really never heard of the Strawhat pirates?"

You shook your head 'no'. Had no intention of explaining to the swordsman that Lee had controlled most of the entertainment you had access to, and the news was hardly something he viewed as a concern of yours.

"I do keep hearing Luffy say he is going to be the pirate king a lot!" You tried to defend, hoping the information was relevant. the green haired pirate let out another laugh, nodding in agreement.

" 'nd I'm going to be the strongest swordsman in the world one day."

There was no uncertainty in his voice. No unsureness of weather it would be. The swordsman spoke his declaration as if it were a prophecy.

"How can you be so sure?"

"... Because I made a promise."

-

You forgot what the ballroom looked like filled with smiling faces, a sight lost after the death of your father. The warmth you feel at the anticipation is quickly replaced with an ice cold chill once you remember what these balls entail. Acting. You fix your smile, make it wider. As genuine as you could fake. Run your hands along your dress to smooth the folds. Make sure you are presentable- perfect like the chief expects.

Lee extends his hand as you approach the bottom of the steps. He does not wear a smile, but his eyes don't hold the malice you've become accustomed to searching for. He wordlessly looks you over with your hand in his. When he begins to lead you to the entrance of the ballroom you assume your appearance satisfies him.

There's an announcement as the two of you enter.

"Presenting Chief Misatori , and his wife".

The villagers look upon the two of you with such... mixed reactions. Some scold, probably wondering what you could possibly see in such an evil man. Probably trying to conjure up ways you cope with all his cruel actions. Others are more welcoming, the pain and grief your husband has put them through carved into their smile lines. Despite which side they lay, all the villagers have their eyes on you. Watching. Waiting for any crack in your façade.

Once you two reach your table at the front of the room, the announcer introduces the Strawhats next. The reception they receive is blazing compared to you and your husband. The room fills with cheers and whistles. Toothy smiles from all patrons. The pirate crew seems to enjoy the attention, maybe not welcoming of it, but definitely not shying away.

It seems Luffy couldn't be bothered to change out of his cut off denim for the formal event. Throwing on a button up shirt as compensation for his otherwise casual dress. You suspect that was Nami's idea. The other Strawhats are dressed more appropriately, in spite of their captain's relaxed attire. Although all look stunning, your eyes fall on Zoro, dressed in an all black 3 piece suit.

This is the first time you've seen the pirate in anything that wasn't a kimono or plain black shirt. The sight is a Divine gift. You would be watering at the mouth had you not been so aware of your surroundings. The swordsman's eyes meet yours the closer he gets. He flashes you a small smirk darting his eye down to his chest then back to you.

His tie and pocket square are velvet, the same emerald green of your dress. He has a gold sun pinned to his left lapel, its center adorned with an emerald stone strikingly similar to the stones on your corset. Shock is not a strong enough word to describe how you feel when your eyes return to his.

The emotions in you swirl so violently you feel like you're going to puke. Elation. Dread. Guilt. The three battle for space in your chest. The smirk on his face turns into a crooked smile at your eyes going slightly wide. If you didn't know any better you might even say he lets out a laugh at your surprise. When the group finally makes it to the shared round table, Zoro does not hesitate to take a seat next to you. Doesn't shy away from meeting Lee's disgruntled glance as he takes his seat.

"You look amazing love, a true sight for sore eyes." Sanji compliments.

It deepens the scowl already on Lee's face, but Sanji does not bother to acknowledge him. He gleams at you adoringly with a wide grin. You can only smile in response, softly thanking the cook. You wouldn't dare throw more ammunition onto the fire already fuming in your husband.

"She does look beautiful, doesn't she?" Lee gloats.

He has dropped the scowl, in an attempt to morph his features into something more inviting. He draws you in to meet his lips for a kiss. Usually Lee isn't one for public displays of affection, but in the face of the Strawhat men, he seems more than happy to make an exception . The chief has always been one to flaunt his spoils of war.

Zoro pinches your thigh. Not too hard, but enough to draw a reaction from you. It forces you to jump in surprise, drawing away from your husband. The puzzled look on Lee's face begins to look more of anger the longer his eyes linger on you awaiting an explanation.

"I'm sorry honey. I thought I felt something run across my foot, it just startled me." You caress his cheek to try to ease the tension. The sound of Zoro snickering whispers behind you.

The further into the night it gets the more lively the party has gotten. Alcohol has started to flow, live music Blares while patrons fill the dance floor. Most of the Strawhats have scattered.

Luffy in search of meat, or adventure. Don't remember which one he was singing about as he drug Usopp along. Chopper followed gleefully with hopes to join the fun. The cook has made himself busy talking to the maid from before, her appearance almost night and day in the evening gown. The others are difficult to track down, each with their own agendas for the night. The only ones sitting and enjoying the music with you are Zoro and Robin.

Lee has abandoned you at the table to entertain the men of his council, leaving you with the command to stay here. The chief never allowed you within ten feet of the dignitaries. Always said you were 'sure to say something stupid'. 'Only going to embarrass him and yourself'. So worried you would not be perfect enough for them, in spite of the fact that these men have known you since childhood. But you do not complain. Would much rather sit at the table swaying to the music than smile in the faces of your husband's subordinates anyway. Plus, the addition of company has made the experience that much more enjoyable.

"You want to dance?" The swordsman whispers.

"Roronoa , I wouldn't have taken you to be a dancer." You jest in return.

"I'm not. You haven't sat still since the music started. If you want to dance, I'll dance with you."

Your cheeks flush at his testament, at the mere thought of Zoro willing to wade through his own discomfort for you. It aches that you cannot do the same. That instead of exclaiming a resounding 'yes' your eyes fall to your husband on the other side of the room.

"It's okay Zo. Thank you."

Zoro glances back to see where your eyes have fallen. Rolls them in response to seeing Lee. A sigh leaves his lips but he doesn't push any further.

"I'm sure I can buy you guys a few minutes." Robin interjects. "I bet the garden is beautiful under the full moon."

Her eyes glance over at the swordsman briefly before returning to her drink. Zoro is already standing, adjusting the way his swords sit on his waist before heading presumably to the garden. You watch his figure shrink as he wades through the people to find the exit. When you return to Robin, she too is on her feet. There is a smile on her face, free of any anxieties.

"I'll distract Lee. Go find the swordsman."

Your heart pounds against your chest with each stride Robin makes towards the chief. Is this happening? Defying your husband so blatantly in the face of the entire kingdom. Your breath quickens as you watch her greet him. Gets shallower with each word that falls from the archeologist's lips. It's completely snatched from your throat once her fingers intertwine with his, leading the man out the ballroom with a giddy smile on his face.

You sit dumbfounded looking at the empty chairs that surround your table. There genuinely is nothing but you and the decision you have to make. Disrespect your husband to gallivant under the stars, or- Be the good wife. Behave. Act. Sit and smile while Robin wastes her precious time presumably flirting with your husband who had done little to conceal his crush on her.

Your feet are moving before your brain has an opportunity to justify their movement. All that echoes in your brain is Zoro's voice proclaiming he won't leave. How he is willing to risk his dream for you, and all you have to do is have the courage to leave the table. Once you make it to the garden you don't have the restraint to keep yourself from running in search of Zoro. Looking for any clue of his whereabouts in spite of your heels sinking you into the dirt with each step.

"I'm right here princess."

Your head snaps in the direction of his voice. The swordsman sits at the fountain in the center of the garden. His arms crossed against his chest with his legs outstretched in front of him. There is a full smile on his face as he takes you in, really takes you in.

"You're so fucking pretty... I hope he tells you everyday."

You don't want to discuss the chief. Hadn't escaped his watch to allow him to infiltrate your final moments with Zoro. You rush to the swordsman intertwining your fingers with his, and pull him to his feet or- more accurately, he stands at your request. The music from the ballroom carries into the garden faintly.

"You promised me a dance."

You wrap your arms around Zoro's neck. His hands find your waist. He pulls you close until your chest are flush together. You rest your head on his chest as the two of you sway. There is a comfortable silence falling between the two of you.

"We could do this on the sunny. Brook plays that violin non stop. " Zoro whispers.

Your eyes close as you allow your mind one second to wander. To think about what life on the seas would be like with Zoro. Naps in the crow's nest. Sake on the deck. Morning kisses before breakfast. The swordsman would love you. This you are certain.

"That would've been nice Zo."

"Don't say it like that- like you're never coming back ."

The swordsman's plea has you stopping in place. You take a step back to look up at him with somber eyes.

"What do you think will happen Zoro? ... That your crewmates will leave and my circumstances are going to change? If they don't- will you stay here to watch me be in a relationship with another man?"

"You won't even tell me what your circumstances are!" Zoro rebuttals quickly. Seemingly having no intentions of playing these games of 'what if'. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to gather himself.

"I'm just hoping that you will eventually tell me the truth. Tell me what's going on so we can go back to living our lives together! Is that not what you want?"

"I don't get to make that choice Zoro!" You retort. "I don't get what I want!"

An astonished huff leaves the swordsman's mouth. His lips upturn as he snarls at your words.

"Yes you do! You could decide to let me love you! I've been begging you to let me help and you just keep-"

"Go!" You shout . Unable to withstand the sweet sentiments he spews so fervidly any longer. The shake of pain in his voice growing unbearable to hear. "Leave Zoro! How many times do I have to say you can't stay!"

"How many times do I have to say I am not leaving you?" The pirate responds without missing a beat.

You hate the decision you make next. Cringe at the words before they even leave your lips. Disappointed at how quickly the idea pops into your head.

"You're never going to be the world's strongest swordsman, Zoro. The world's strongest swordsman would never give up their dream to chase after some woman they've only known two months."

The swordsman’s face drops in a way you've never seen before. Worse than when you introduced Lee as your husband. That was betrayal, this-

This was pure agony.

"Why are you trying to hurt me?"

You swallow hard. Shoving down the pained cries that want to shout out the truth. 'To make you hate me.' If that is the only way the swordsman is willing to leave then so be it. You would shatter him again. Tap at the cracks in his already broken heart, until the pieces are on the ground for him to pick up again. If that is what it is going to take.

"I'm telling you the truth Zoro. I know you look down on Lee , but he would never be foolish enough to jeopardize his dreams just for me."

"You saying that makes him a better man than me? That he's the one you're choosing." Zoro seethed. "He doesn't fucking love you- I do!"

"I'm not choosing anyone." You screech desperately.

It has taken some time, but it has finally sunk in. You do not get to leave. To choose. To stray from the path your husband deemed appropriate. You don't get saved. There is nothing the swordsman, or any of the other Strawhat pirates could do to change that.

Zoro nods his head as though he is saying he finally understands. He drags his right hand down his face before letting out a tired sigh.

"You win. You want me gone ... We'll leave tonight."

***

Finally the last of the patrons filed out. A sigh of relief leaves your lips when the castle doors shut. Your performative smile drops at the click of the locks. Air could fill your lungs again. Now that the night has drawn to a close, you wish nothing more than to get out of this dress. Strip down bare so you could cry in the tub. Soothe your heart's ache in privacy for just a little while.

Lee grasps your hand in his to force your attention. He wears a smile. You expect it's rewarding of the good job you've done tonight. He pulls you in close to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft, delicate . When you go to withdraw, the chief does not allow you any reprieve. The tender kiss quickly turns forceful. He tangles his hand into your hair so you have nowhere to go.

"You must think I'm a fucking idiot, Honey." Lee mumbles against your lips. He starts pushing you backwards until you are pressed against the iron doors. His free hand wraps around your throat while his lips travel to your ear.

"You love the swordsman..." He whispers. "Do you really think I'm too stupid to notice? "

Goosebumps appear at his words. For a split second everything stops. Your Hearing. Your breath. Your heart. How- how could he know? Sweat beads at your brow as they scrunch in confusion. You try to blink your way out this nightmare as tears start to swell in your eyes. Refuse to accept this as reality.

"No Lee, I only love you. Zor-"

Lee squeezes his fingers tight around your neck. The piercing blow to your windpipe brings your testament to a swift end. You claw violently at his fingers. Attempt fervidly to pry his grip from your neck to no avail.

"Don't say his fucking name ... Not in my house. You and those pirates think you're so clever sneaking around tonight. Did you honestly think I would take your word on some filthy pirate? That I wouldn't have you watched after strictly forbidding you to see him? Darling, surely you aren't that pathetic..."

The sound of Lee's voice drifts in and out along with your consciousness. Your limbs feel heavy, moving lethargically with each thrashing movement. Before your vision fades to black, Lee drops your body to the floor. A loud smack echoes the halls once your skin meets the marble.

For a moment there is only the sound of your hacking. A poor attempt to force your lungs to work. Lee bends at the knees to observe you. Ponder on if this punishment is enough. If you had endured enough pain to assuage his anger.

"Tell me sweetheart..." He reaches out to sweep the hair out of your face. He caresses your check lightly before continuing. "Is the garden you and the swordsman's special place? Uh? Do the two of you sneak off and laugh at the fool you make of me?"

You go to speak, curse that your words would fail you in such a crucial time. Your brain is too light headed and caught off guard to have lies readily available. You avert your gaze away from the chief. Look toward all the staff too afraid of the man's wrath to watch his atrocities' face on, but bear witness all the same.

When you don't respond, Lee stands. That darkness has consumed the totality of his eyes. Your husband -and what little humanity resided left in him- is gone. The chief: Judge, Jury, and Executioner stood before you determining your sentence.

"You want to leave ? Go ! Be with the swordsman!"

The hair on your neck stands at his proclamation. Lee had sneered you with one trap . You would be foolish to allow him to devour you whole in another. You shake your head 'no'. Repent to the man. Implore his forgiveness. The chief stares unmoved. Glowering down at you with a merciless grin.

"I warned you before Honey. There is only one way your leaving."

You push your back further into the doors. Willing them to burst open at the force. Your eyes scatter the area as he approaches. There is nowhere to run. Nothing to grab. You are utterly helpless to the whims of the chief.

Lee fists his hand into your hair, grabbing tightly, then pulls to drag you along the floor. The scream you let out at the sting does not deter him. Neither does your kicking, or clawing at his fingers in hopes of relief. None of it offers any reprieve.

"I don't want to leave. I don't want to go with the swordsman. Please Lee- Let me stay." You wail. Your heels slide against the stone floor foiling your attempts to dig your feet into the ground.

Lee has made it to the bottom of the staircase, and finally in the chaos, you are able to ascertain his plans. This was it, the final straw on the camel's back. The last defiance Lee is willing to forgive. He had finally deemed you useless. Worthless. And was planning to get rid of you in such a manner.

"I tried to teach you sweetheart, but you just won't learn." He scolds

Your body must be weightless the way Lee is so effortlessly dragging you up the steps. Was this really how things were going to end? Had the chief decided himself so deserving of his authority he would rule without the woman who made him monarch in the first place? Your father must be turning in his grave at the sight.

"I'll be good. I promise!" You weep. Your hands are tangled in your hair searching for relief.

The chief lets out an obnoxious laugh. Now that the two of you are at the top of the stairs, it has only gotten easier for the man to drag you along the hardwood floor. The entrance to your bedroom is coming into view. The boom of your heart thumping rings in your ears. Your time is running out.

"Trying to play me like some fucking idiot. I guess you are your fathers daughter after all... "

Fervidly you press white fingertips into the door frame, using all the strength you had to fight against Lee's pull. It is no use. Like a rag doll at the manipulation of her owner you're easily forced into the room.

"I'll have to take care of you, just like I did your father."

"Please ! Please ! Please ! Please -" You beg, pleas barely audible in the midst of your sobs.

Your eyes scatter the room in one last stitch effort to save your life. If this were it, you refused to go quietly. Scissors. They have fallen from the top of your dresser onto the floor in front of the bed. You thank whatever god has taken mercy on you. Whoever decided the chief plans too nefarious to come to fruition.

You snatch the blades as he drags you past the bed. Jab the tool into the chief's feet before withdrawing and jamming it into his thigh. Lee lets out a sharp yelp, before falling to the floor. He curses loudly, grasping his wound. There is no time to revel in victory.

Hastily you rush to your feet, fleeing out the room. You can hear the man shouting out after you, but the mistake is already made. Too deep to fall to your knees and beg forgiveness now.

***

The rain refuses to let up. With each thud of your feet against the wet forest floor, you swear the drops only quicken in pace. The regal gown you wear , or the pieces that remain in tack, are soaked through. Your heels are long discarded in the shuffle. In spite of the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you shudder at the brisk winds.

You push your discomfort aside. No time to think about the weather, when you had to flee as far away from your home as you could. you had gotten away once , surely you could do it again. Had to be able to do it again.

guilt consumes you with each step you plow into the ground. Leaving behind the home your mother raised you in. The land your father thought sacred- just to save yourself. Selfish. That's all you are. Selfish. Pitiful. Failure- Your thoughts flee when you go crashing onto the wet forest ground.

Hurriedly you wipe at your face to see the culprit of your disruption. It is to no avail. The rain has done a remarkable job at distorting your vision. The darkness is its fateful ally. You can barely make out the voices calling to you through the rumbling of the thunder.

"What are you doing out here?"

There's a hand around your arm dragging you up before you are able to grasp your bearings. Fear consumes you too much to focus. Only know that getting caught isn't not an option. You jerk to free your arm, but the hold is too strong.

"Y/n!"

Your panic forces coherence. Your vision finally comes to.

Zoro.

His face is contorted into a grimace as he looks you over. His hand travels up and down your arm as though he could wash the bruises away with the fallen rain. When the wounds remain the pirate pierces his eye into yours.

"What Happened?" He growls.

Your arms wrap your body. As if you could stretch your limbs around you like Strawhat to hide your bruises. Eyes quick to dart away from him. For a second you try to conjure up a palatable explanation. One that would soothe the fire in the pirate's eye. Eradicate the concern from his voice. But there is none.

For the first time in six months you are all out of excuses. All out of ways to justify the pain away. No words to lie reassurance into anyone's hearts.

Your eyes are glued to the floor shielding your face from your audience. From Zoro. Your skin trembles against his fingers. Using his free hand, Zoro wraps his fingers gently around your chin. You wince at his touch. The sting is intense despite his delicate disposition.

Don't want to expose yourself to him any further. The scratches and cuts that covered you were indicator enough of your injuries. The swordsman does not care. He gently presses against your jaw , forcing your head up to see the fingers indented into your neck. The red bands evidence of your skirmish even without your confirmation.

You feel small underneath Zoro's gaze. There's a mix of emotions that flow through his eye. Anger. Relief. Guilt. The only that's lingers is pity. It makes your skin crawl to see it so clearly painted on his face.

"Did he do this to you?" The swordsman barks.

You want to run. You're going to run. Refuse to be subjected to the pitiful glances and stares . It is as if Zoro can read your mind, tightening his grip around your arm the moment your muscles tense beneath him.

"...Yes." The answer is almost lost in the storm.

Zoro releases you. His hand immediately finds Enma's hilt. Wordlessly he turns to walk in the direction of the castle. His crewmates do not speak. Wouldn't dare ask where he was going when the answer is so obvious.

"Please- Zoro! Don't leave me!" You sob, tears mixing into the rainfall that covers your cheeks. Your voice, broken from Lee's abuse, forces your plea to come out as a strained cry. Zoro stops in his tracks to glance your way.

"I know I don't deserve you! I know you're too good for me! I know! But please-"

You can barely make him out as he approaches. The blur from the showers distorts his figure. Can only make out the swordsman sheathing his weapon. In seconds he is within your grasp, drawing you into his chest as his arms wrap around your shoulder.

"Shh- I'm right here."

You curl into his hold, trying to shield yourself from everyone- everything. Can only bawl into the pirates chest. Your legs fail you. Too weak to hold their own. Zoro does not let you fall, holds all your weight against him as you cry.

"He killed him. He killed my father."

There is only the sound of thunder in the air. You have rendered the pirate speechless. This was probably the first time the swordsman has ever not known what to say. How to comfort you. Zoro holds you tighter, closer. Rubs your back in a soothing way.

"... Let's go home." Zoro whispers, kissing the top of your head.

The walk to the sunny is silent. Not even the pirate captain has anything to say. It's hard not to feel on display in the midst of everyone stares. You know your friends do not mean to watch in the way they do. To trail their eyes down your abused body every time they glance your way. Probably just taken aback by your appearance. You look far worse than when you washed ashore on the beach. Still, it makes you want to hide. Strip yourself of your skin to escape their stares.

Zoro glances over at you every few seconds like he must be sure you're still there. That you haven't abandoned his side. Run off to lick your wounds in isolation.

"Here."

The pirate strips out of his suit jacket then wraps it around your shoulders. Although soaked from the rain you appreciate having the cover. For being able to give your arms a break from shielding you. The coolness against your skin actually offers some relief to the pain drenching your body.

Immediately once you board Sunny, Zoro is walking you to the infirmary to have chopper look at you. He does not ask, and you get the impression that the topic isn't up for debate. Chopper does not ask any questions. Doesn't pry about how your injuries came about. Just treats each wound, handling you as delicately as he can.

Zoro holds your hand the entire appointment. lightly rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You squeeze his fingers tightly at Chopper feeling your neck.

"It's okay princess, you're doing so good. He's almost done. Right chopper?"

"All done." The reindeer backs away hooves up as proof. "I'm going to give you some ice for your neck, leave it on for about twenty minutes."

"And the rest of her bruises?" Zoro asks.

"I don't have any reason to believe there is internal bleeding, but we will keep an eye on your condition the next couple days just to be sure."

Chopper extends out an ice pack for you then goes to rifle through the medication cabinet. Once convinced he has all he needs he turns to hand you two bottles.

"These are for the pain. Take these in the morning " He holds up one bottle, shakes it lightly then picks up the other. "These are for night."

Zoro reaches to take both bottles before you have the chance to.

"Thank you chopper."

-

Zoro holds your hand the whole way to his quarters. Though you told him when you first boarded the ship you could walk on your own now, he does not let you go. You suspect Zoro is scared of where you'll go if he does.

When the two of you walk into his quarters it is quiet. Only the soft sound of the waves swaying the boat fills the air. You make your way to the bed, flopping lazily on top of the comforter. Your body begs the comfort of a soft mattress after all the harsh treatment. When you look over at Zoro he hasn't moved.

The swordsman's back is against the door as though he is guarding it. Covering the exits so you could not scurry away from him again. His gaze doesn't linger on you, instead he stares out of the singular port hole into the darkness of the night.

The quiet begins to eat away at your consciousness. Usually silence was comfortable between you and the pirate. No words ever needed to be exchanged to feel the comfort of the other person's presence. But now was different-

Now you stood in front of the swordsman with your heart in pieces, just as broken as him. Waiting for him to put the pieces back together like he had done unknowingly so many times before. How could two people, broken the way you two are broken, offer anyone comfort or solace?

"Is this what you didn't want to tell me? ..." Zoro asks.

His voice battles the waves for space in the room. Wins only barely taking its place. You don't say anything. Act as though his question going unanswered, will keep the truth from spilling into the space.

"How long?"

"... Since my father died."

Zoro gives you a curt nod before pushing himself away from the door. Still his eye does not fall on you. Part of you begins to wander if it's intentional. If the sight of your broken body is just too much for the swordsman to bear.

"You can take the bed. I'll wake you up when it's time to take your meds again. Chopper will be just down the hall. If you need me, I'll be in the crow's nest." He begins to ramble.

As your mind reels the pirate starts to rifle through his clothes for a clean shirt. A task you are sure requires exceptional effort in his messy quarters. After the third black tee Zoro finds a clean one and hands it out to you. Only then has your mind caught up enough to clasp his wrist.

"I don't want to sleep alone." You admitted. "Please don't make me sleep another night without you."

Zoro exhales a shaky breath. Like it is taking everything in him to grasp his bearings.

"Okay. " He whispers in response.

The sentiment settles and wrenches your heart. The guilt pains you much more than the bruises ever could. The physical pain would heal. In time the red marks around your throat would fade. The cuts that cover your feet will only be a distant memory. But you will forever have to live with the pain of what you did to the swordsman.

As Zoro climbs into the bed you wonder why he still has so much affection left for you. Why he was offering refuge after the terrible things you said. Think it might have been better had he screamed. Cursed and yelled at the sight of you, opposed to these gentle ministrations. After all, you deserved to feel a fraction of the pain you have put him through.

"I'm so sorry Zoro. I-"

"Go to sleep." He mutters. Lazily wrapping an arm around your waist. "We can talk in the morning."

The swordsman holds you close to his chest. His hold is so tight it slightly stings against your wounds. If you concentrate enough you swear you can feel Zoro's heart thumping violently.

The smell of the sea can almost deceive you into believing you're on the beach. That things are okay. The daydream only crushes your spirits more. Emphasizes how your world is actively crumbling around you.

You wished you had the heart to let it go. To not need reassurance at his expense. But the words are fumbling out your mouth before you can stop them.

"Do you still love me?" You choke out.

There is no strength left to hold back any tears. To swallow the vulnerability before the pirate is able to see it. All that is left is to slice your chest open for the swordsman. Show him all the broken ribs you have endured trying to protect your heart only to have it broken in the end.

"I still love you." He confirms placing a kiss to your temple.

The words bring more anguish than relief. A visceral hurt cascades your body. All you can do is sob. Grasping desperately onto his arm in an attempt to ground yourself.

"I hate him, Zoro. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him."

"I'm going to kill him." The pirate announces.

The definiteness in his voice , kin to when he announced he would be the strongest swordsman in the world. You turn in his arms to face him, and this time when you look up at the pirate he is meeting your gaze. The stress of the day so clearly pronounced by the bags under his eyes.

"Zoro you don't hav-"

"Go to sleep." The swordsman reiterates, before you can continue. He sweeps his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears, even though more come to replace them. He gives you a soft, weak smile before gently pressing his lips to yours. The feather light touch has you second guessing if you had felt him at all.

"We'll talk in the morning."

—————————————————————————————

A/n: Hey luvbugs! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Comment your favorite quote 👀 or part ! I’d love to know. I think there’s gonna be about two more parts left at the most. Ahhhh can’t believe we’re almost done.

If you would like to be on the taglist , let me know ! I’d love to have you! :)

Tag List: @turtletaubwrites @jinjen @sanzu-clinic @heyauntieeee @honeybuzzzzzz @nothing-but-brass @katiemrty @zorotime @kahelis @vikispike @haitaniwhor3 @starlightanyaaa

[blizzardsuplex]

Yet each man kills the thing he loves; by each let this be heard: some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word; the coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword. - Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol

Adam Cole, mask on versus mask off from AEW's World's End 2023, 12/30/2023

[lowkeyremi]

JJK MEN AS DADS

How they are with their kiddos/babies ! ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami

content: no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families.

Gojo Satoru

"Look at my little boy, he looks just like me, what a heart stopper you'll be when you get older!" He praises his two year old, Kenji Gojo.

"'Toru stop trying to manifest our son into a hoe." Satoru turns to you with a loud gasp, eyes wide, and it causes your little boy to giggle.

"How could you say such words, in front of him? Don't listen to Mommy. Daddy was never a player. Never ever!" Kenji has no clue what's happening he just laughs at his father's dramatics.

"Oh brother, I hope he doesn't turn into a drama queen like you. And yes you were a player before I got with you. Remember when you kissed my friend then like ten minutes later tried to kiss me?" Satoru was a menace in college. Every time you bring up that specific college memory he always says-

"Ugh, blame Suguru! He was the one who made me take shots when I didn't like to drink." There it is. That was excuse for two-timing you and your best friend back then.

"Save it for someone who believes you. Kenji, don't be like Daddy when you grow up, okay?" Your husband knows you're joking but he can't help but whine and feel like you're being against him.

"Otay Mommy! Daddy is hoeeee. Hoe hoe hoe. Merry Christmas!" Your poor little boy thinks he's saying the noise Santa makes instead of a derogatory term and it's hilarious.

Of course you encourage him, "Daddy's a what?"

"Hoe!" Kenji screams out with a smile on his face. Satoru frowns loosing his playfulness.

"I-i guess my family just hates me... no one loves me." He sighs loudly to sell it to you guys but you don't buy it. He sits in the corner pretending to cry. "Boo hoo..." Kenji waddles his way over to his father patting his head.

"No cry Daddy, you not a hoe. You Daddy." Satoru fakes a loud gasp when he hears his son comfort him, thinking Satoru is actually crying.

"Really?!" He asks the little boy standing next to him.

"Yeah, Daddy is cool!!" Satoru chuckles, picks up is little boy and tosses him into the air. The small white haired child screams in delight as his father catches him, and you can't deny that all the trouble you and Satoru had in your relationship was worth seeing this.

Geto Suguru

"And then, the monster ate the twin girls who didn't go to sleep at their bed time-"

"Ooooookay. I think that's enough bed time stories from Papa." You say ushering your girls to bed, Hana looks scared out of her mind but Kana's eyes are sparkling with curiosity.

"Awww, Mommy, it was just getting good!" Kana whines, you know she wants to hear whatever else Suguru makes up on spot but he scared Hana who looks like she wants to cry.

"I know sweetie, but I don't think Hana really liked that story." The girls are six and full of energy at any given time.

"Come on baby, let me tell Kana the rest." Suguru matches his daughter's tone, knowing you'll give in.

"Alright, fine, but you need to apologize to Hana, look at her." Your husband looks at his younger twin daughter and he does feel kind of bad for scaring her like that. Suguru likes telling scary stories and myths to his girls just like his father had done to him. He always thought they were super cool.

"Oh, Hana, sweet girl. Papa's sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. How about I tell you and your sister a different story?" Hana looks a little doubtful as do you, but Suguru grants you a smile. He knows you trust him so you give him a stern look before kissing his forehead.

"Don't take too long, I need my cuddles." He smirks, kissing your hand, "Of course my dear."

The twins coo in unison at their parents romantic gestures, they think it's the coolest thing ever. "You girls have your stuffed animals?" He asks them and they nod together waiting for his story.

He tells the two about a princess who needed saving. Her long lost sister came to save her from a scary dragon and they lived happily together.

"That sounds like me and Hana!! I fought the scary dragon and Hana was the princess!!!" Kana says with excitement. Sometimes Suguru sees two little girls he used to foster in his own girls. He wonders how they're doing these days. They're probably grown up by now or at least in their late teens.

"I really wish Mommy had let me name you guys Nanako and Mimiko." He whispers with a soft smile. Kana looks at him in confusion rubbing her tired eyes, Hana's already asleep.

"Huh?" Kana asks.

"Nothing my dear, good night, little one." He tucks her into bed and gives her a tend kiss on the forehead.

"Night night, Papa." She says with a yawn and Suguru makes his way downstairs to join you.

Kamo Choso

Choso bites his lip looking down at his son, the boy looks a lot like you he thinks. Ryuji is his name, you let him name him. "I didn't mean to break it." He whines to his father. Choso has a soft spot for his boy. He reminds him a lot of his little brother Yuji.

"I know bud, but what will we tell Mom when she gets home?" Ryuji had accidentally broken your favorite ceramic mug. Choso was not sure what he signed up for when he got you pregnant but it sure wasn't this.

He and his son were always getting scolded by you. Every time Ryuji gets into some kind of trouble it also happens to be Choso's fault for not watching him closely as you always say. The truth is, Ryuji seems to get into trouble even with his father watching him closely.

"Um... we can tell her it was at the edge of the counter and i walked past it and it fell down. Then it will be her fault for leaving it by the edge." Choso smiles at his devious ten year old. He knows lying is bad but if you heard what really happened you'd scold both of them.

What actually happened as that Ryuji was playing in the kitchen, even though you've warned him against it many times and he knocked your mug down onto the ground.

"Good idea, kid. I don't want to hear Mom yelling again. I might get couch treatment again." Choso shivers at the idea of sleeping on the cramped couch rather than in his warm bed with you.

"You remind me a lot of your Uncle Yuji." Choso says ruffling his son's hair. "You and Mom keep saying that and I don't know if that's good or bad."

"It depends. Yuji can be both." Choso chuckles. His son gives him a crushing hug.

"I love you dad, you're doing great." And Choso didn't know how much he needed to hear those words but they were getting to him.

Fushiguro Toji

"Quit kicking your Ma, ya little brat." He threatens your swelling belly. He gives you a questioning look when you glare at him. Those emerald eyes challenge yours in a staring contest.

"What is with you and threatening our unborn children?" Your question is followed by a giggle.

"Gotta let the brats know who's in charge." He blows out a breath and puffs his chest, you find the whole ordeal ridiculous. The man is a girl dad for crying out loud. Even his oldest, your step-son thinks his father is a clown. And before Tsumiki died there were three daughters in his life.

He thinks your third one is bound to be a boy, but you're secretly hoping for a girl just to further sink Toji's idea of having a little boy to boss around. Megumi comes around maybe twice a month to see his little half-sisters, which means Toji is surrounded by girls all the time.

You like to joke around with him and say, "What do you know? Girls seem to follow you wherever you go." He always grumbles about it being stupid and unfair.

"As I was saying-"

"DAD!!!!! MY HAIR OH NOOOOOOO." Toji's up off the couch in seconds answering at his daughter's beck and call.

He walks into her room to see her braid was messed up. "What happened, Doll?" He asks her, undoing the braid so he can redo it.

"Yui undid my braid!! She took my hair tie and ran to her room!!!" She squeals, in horror at her little sister's thieving.

"Oh did she now? I'll go have a talk with her once I braid this back up." He's gentle with his tender-headed daughter. He quickly braids her hair back up, the pattern memorized. 100% self indulgent bc im tender headed.

"I have this green hair tie, is that okay, sweet girl?" She sighs quietly. "Where are the blue ones?" Toji clicks his tongue. "I can go get one real quick if you hold the end of this braid." He tells her and she's quick to do it. Her favorite color is blue after all.

She cheers when her father returns with a blue hair tie. He ties it up quickly, "Okay let me go talk to Yui." Nami nods brushing out her baby doll's hair.

Toji makes an appearance in front of his four year old's door, she's making her dolls scream at each other. "What was da reason?!!!!" She screams pretending to be one of the dolls, "I had a reason." She makes the other say.

Toji rolls his eyes, his daughter has been watching too much TV with you. "Excuse me miss Cardi B, why did you steal your sister's hair tie?" His hands are on his hips and his eyes are squinted to add to his authority.

"Whattttt, Dad, you know dat?" She asks as if her dad lives under a rock.

"Tch I'm not old, I know what memes are. Now answer the question." She rolls her eyes. You tell Toji she gets her attitude from him.

"If you haf to know I needed it, so I could give Sprinkles a ponytail." Sprinkles is the dog Toji said he was NOT going to get for his girls but caved in and got anyway.

"Ya coulda asked me or your Ma for one rather than stealing it right from your sister's hair." She shakes her head in disagreement. Toji wonders what's going on in her head right now.

"Dad you don't get it! It had to be that one!"

"Why that specific hair tie?" She goes silent turning away from her father and mumbling something Toji can barely hear.

"Speak up, princess." She scoffs and sighs and folds her arms. Wow the sass is unreal.

"Sprinkle thinks Nami is super cool so she wants what Nami has." Toji isn't stupid he knows his daughter is using the dog as a place holder for how she admires her older sister. Yui doesn't like to admit it though.

"Are you sure it's Sprinkle who thinks Nami is super cool?" He gives her the chance to be open with him and she sighs taking the bait.

"I guess. I think Nami is super cool." She murmurs and Toji smirks.

"It's alright to think your sis is cool, Dad didn't get to grow up with any cool siblings. Just annoying cousins."

"Mai and Maki are cooler than you, Dad, not annoying!" The man in question raises his brow his smirk never leaving, "Okay since I'm not cool. I guess I won't take you out for treats anymore when Ma says no."

Little Yui gasps, bursting upward like a rocket and running toward her dad. She hugs his leg, her little head looking up at him, "I was kidding Dad. You're super cool. Please don't stop taking me for treats!!"

Toji smiles, picks up his little girl and tickles her. She screams out for him to stop, "Huh? I can't hear what you're saying."

"Nami help!!!!"

In seconds Nami's attacking her father in a playful manner, "Let go of my sister!!"

"Okay then." Toji holds his daughter upside down by her feet, as she screams some more. "MA!!! HELPPP!!!!"

"Toji put her down." You say in a half-hearted manner.

"She is down. Upside down."

Nanami Kento

"See, you're getting the hang of it, Hiro." Kento softly encourages his son who's struggling with his math homework. You had tried to help him but he screamed that what you were saying didn't make sense. So of course you yelled back, letting your emotions get the better of you.

Kento had stepped in to keep you two from ripping each other's heads off. Plus all that screaming had woken up the baby. You could hear her crying.

That was about an hour ago. You quietly walked into the dining room with your seven month old baby girl cuddled up to your chest as you held her tight.

The sight of your husband helping your son warmed your heart, but you also felt guilt hot in your stomach for yelling at him, he's only twelve.

"Hey, Hiro. Can I talk to you, hon?" You ask softly. Both your son and Kento turn their heads upon hearing your voice. He nods at you and you inhale deeply, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, bud, I didn't mean it."

His eyes soften as do Kento's.

"I'm sorry too, Mom. I started it. You were just trying to help me." Kento's smile encourages you to walk closer to the table which you do.

"We should have had Dad come help in the first place, huh? I'm not good at explaining." Hiro shares a laugh with you, and Kento cups your cheek.

"Explanations might not be your strong suit but you're still a good mother, baby." Hiro gags at his father calling you "baby" he hate when you two get sappy.

You move your head a little so you can kiss his palm. As expected Hiro covers his eyes and making more throwing up noises.

"Oh hush, one day you'll find someone for you, and you'll be just like me and your mother." Kento says rolling his eyes and you giggle. Even though you guys have your differences you guys always forgive each other at the end of the day.

Your little girl coos quietly and Kento holds out his arms gesturing for his little girl.

"She's just had dinner, so she might fall asleep on you." Your warning doesn't bother him at all, if anything, you'll probably have more pictures to add to your baby gallery on your phone if she falls asleep in his arms.

She's already a dad's girl and she's only seven months old. You thought maybe Hiro would be a mama's boy but he's definitely his daddy's son.

You don't mind though, well, sometimes you're a little jealous that you have to share your man with your kids. Kento's a very lovable man though, so you can't blame them.

[forzalando]

Orange Theory

Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)

summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right? wc: 2.5k author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists! warnings: none!

You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.

Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.

“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?” The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles’ body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.

“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”

“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.

“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”

You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.

“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

“I just came to give you this.”

Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.

“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”

“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”

“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.

“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.

Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.

“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.

“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.

He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”

You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.

“He peels your oranges for you?”

You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”

“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”

“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”

Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.

“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”

“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”

As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.

“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.

As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight. “Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”

“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”

“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”

“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”

A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.

“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”

“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”

“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”

Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between. “Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”

“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”

“What else?”

“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”

Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.

“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.

“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.

“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”

Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”

“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”

“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”

“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”

Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition. “I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.

Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.

Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.

You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.

When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.

You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.

But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.

They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.

You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”

The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.

“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”

“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”

“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.

“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”

You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.

“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”

This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.

“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”

“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.

“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.

You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.

He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.

He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.

His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.

You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.

After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.

Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[abbyshands]

i need more sub ellie omg that was so good

welcomed

PALESTINE LINKS | before engaging !!! | click before you fic ♡ | m. list | join my tag list!

♡ a/n; this is an old req but !!! finally getting around to it so let’s hope this suffices. been having breeding kink brain rot the last few days so this was more than necessary <3

♡ pairing; sub!ellie williams x dom!fem!reader

♡ warnings; ellie calls reader mommy/mama/ma'am, use of a dildo, choking (r!receiving), sweet degrading (pretty slut, sweet whore), praise, nicknames for ellie (hun, baby, sweet girl, pretty girl), titty sucking, huge breeding kink, reader refers to dildo as her cock/dick, dildo is referred to as reader's cock/dick, etc

♡ synopsis; you had been out on patrol, all fucking day. so, when you're finally back home, finally back in ellie's arms, she's not afraid to show you just how much she missed you.

♡ wc; 1.6k

she said “fuck me like i’m famous,” i said, OKAY.

FOR VISUAL PURPOSES.

ellie had all but jumped into your arms as soon as you had gotten back from patrol, face buried into your neck, hands around your body. she was needy, your poor baby, pent up all day from you being gone.

and you couldn't just leave her like that, could you?

you were kneeling in the midst of ellie's legs, spread wide open for you, her pretty pussy soaked as you pumped your black dildo in and out of it. ellie's head was cocked backwards, auburn hair messy over the pillow as small whines escaped her lips.

"m- mommy, fuck," she cussed as her body squirmed, her hands rested on your hips as her face went pink. "please, can you, fuck, need you to, mmm," she spluttered. she couldn't properly get her words out, not when you were fucking her like this.

but you wouldn't let her off that easy.

"what, baby? c'mon, use your words for me," you rasped, beginning to rub your thumb over ellie's swollen clit as you forced your dildo in and out of her cunt. ellie let out a small groan of annoyance as she bit into her bottom lip.

“f- faster, mommy. c’you move faster?” ellie whined, pale green eyes wide and dilated as ellie looked into you. and if moves could speak? she'd be fucking begging.

you take it upon yourself to force your cock deeper into ellie's cunt, causing a mewl of your name to escape her lips, her body jerking. you can't help the smirk that crosses your face when it happens, and, of course, it only encourages you to give her all that she's asking for.

“mhm. whatever my pretty slut needs,” you hum, pumping your black dildo in and out of ellie's pussy as fast as your hand will allow you to.

ellie's response is quick as her head falls back into the pillow behind her, because just like that, you've got your girl right where you want her. “f- fuck! feels so, fuck, good. don’t stop, mama.”

“not gonna, hun. nah uh. gonna keep fucking this cunt ‘til my baby’s making a mess all over my cock, yeah?” you rasp, and now, you move closer. you move so you’re hovering above ellie on your knees, while managing to make your access to her cunt even better than it'd been before.

“mmph, y- yes, mommy,” she whined brokenly, clearly liking the view of you on your knees. maybe a bit too much, but not that you minded at all.

ellie only grew more desperate, more needy, as time went on. you'd be concerned she was being a bit too loud, to the point where people outside of your shared home could hear you. if you gave a fuck.

“god, shit,” ellie moaned as she reached her hand out to grasp your neck, veiny hands closing around it in a somewhat rough grip. you let out a groan of your own once the pressure seeps into your skin, your eyes shutting in pleasure in no more than a second.

“oh, would you look at that. is mommy fucking her girl dumb? god, such a sweet fucking whore," you praise your good girl, even if the rasp in your tone makes you sound pretty whorish yourself. "all cockdrunk for me when i’m only using my hand. must really like mama’s dick, hm?” you tease.

ellie nods eagerly in response, like you'll suddenly fade away if she doesn't. she forces herself to look into your eyes just to drive you crazy, and she does. "mmm, y- yeah, w- want you to, fuck, put a baby into me, mommy. canfeelyousodeep.”

well, that was new. and ridiculously welcomed.

you and ellie had had talks every once in a while, about what it would be like to have a baby, if you could. who would get who pregnant, who could handle it better. silly discussions of the sort that were usually just that: silly. but now? fuck. you hadn't known it would go to your girl's head like this. you hadn't known how much it would go to yours.

and what kind of person would you be to not oblige?

“is that right, hun? need me to fuck a baby into that pretty little pussy of yours?” you voice, and the words come out easily, as if you've said them to ellie over and over again in the past. ellie's brain seems to click right there, because she enables a moan so pornographic from her lips, it's criminal. illegal.

ellie doesn't have enough time to find herself embarrassed by what she's just said. she's too damn needy, too wet, too far gone, to really say much at all. barely, she manages to mutter a few words in response. “mmm, yes, please. s’all i want. you’re all i want," she says, and it's obvious her words are genuine. she needs you. no one else. just you.

“such a good girl. god, so fucking tight. pretty hole’s just begging for me to fill it, huh?" you groan, her words making you ravenous, and her whines making you crazy. you move in closer to ellie, your lips a mere few inches away from hers, before going on. "wanna be filled in mommy’s cum so bad, don’t you, yeah? my pretty slut needs me to fill her up?"

ellie's speechless, pausing, just to whimper as loud as she can, her eyes rolling back into her head as she begins to feel your index rubbing her swollen clit. you give her her time, fucking her into submission as you wait for her to become coherent once more. and when she does? 

you know she's a wreck for you.

“y- yes, ma’am. so bad. please, i’ll be so good for you. s’good, just, just—please," she splutters out finally, voice broken, whiny, and goddamn desperate, and all you could think about was how pretty she was. too pretty for her own good. and just to cap it?

she was all yours.

“i know you will. such a pretty little slut for me, hm? needy girl. gonna make you a mama, yeah? just like you want,” you rasp.

but you’re nowhere near done.

“god, my sweet whore can’t get enough of me, huh? let me use this pretty pussy all day if i wanted to. how long have you been craving me, baby?”

ellie’s way too quick to answer. “all day, mama. patrol’s too long, fuck. could barely manage," ellie easily obliges your ask, and you can't help but chuckle, nor can you help what you do following.

but ellie doesn't seem to mind.

you bend down from your knees and use your lips to latch onto one of ellie's pretty nipples, which is rock hard for you. you've got her moaning easily as you swirl masterfully around her breast, all while your attack on her pussy never ceases. “poor girl. probably getting yourself wet, pretty legs all pressed up, body begging for some release," you say, words coherent, as your lips remain on ellie's nipple. "well, don’t worry, hun. mommy’s here to take care of you. right?”

ellie nodded eagerly, her hand remaining on your neck, but now being on the back of it. words failing her badly, she can only manage a broken, little, “r- right.”

maybe if you were feeling mean, you'd make your girl say a little bit more than that. but right now, from the way ellie was looking up at you, to how fucking soaked she was? you decided to be a bit more generous than usual.

your movements on, in ellie's pussy, and your lips on her nipple, make it impossible for her to hold on for much longer, as you knew it would. actually, it'd been your goal from the jump. her grip on your neck grows rougher, and you know you've got her now. “fuck, mommy, so close, s’close. can feel you in me, fuck," ellie whines.

“i know you can, hun. gonna fill my pretty girl up, yeah? make a fucking mama out of you like you want," you groan as you feel her fingers close around your neck's back, cutting off more of your oxygen, and sending a rush of butterflies down to your own cunt. "just keep being good for me. give you as many babies as you want.”

“mmph, as many as i want, mommy?” ellie whimpers. oh, does she like that idea.

you smirk, adoring the way ellie's words flow so prettily from her lips. adoring the way only you can make her feel like this; how the gorgeous brunette below you was yours and yours alone. “mhm. whatever my baby needs? she can have.”

and, finally. . .

“f- fuck, m- mommy, gonna cum. please, can i cum?”

you quicken your pace, moving your hand as fast as you possibly can as you force your dick in and out of ellie's cunt at a goddamn sinner's pace. it's only then that you decide to allow ellie's body to have all it's been begging for. “mmm, ‘course you can, sweet girl," you rasp, easily. "c’mon. make a mess for me.”

she doesn't need much more than that.

you have ellie finishing in seconds once you give her permission to, and the brunette girl is gorgeous as she buries her face into the pillow, voice a whiny wreck, your name falling from her lips. her back arches up into your hand as you talk her through her orgasm, your own face growing warm as you watch her fall apart for you.

“oh, fuck, thankyou, thankyousomuch," ellie hurriedly moaned out as her rear side came back down to the bed. her green eyes bored into yours as she panted, pale cheeks hot in a rosy blush. "you’re so fucking good. fuck.”

“y’think so, baby?” you smile at her, slowly but surely removing your cock from her cunt once you were sure she was fully pleased. ellie returned your expression, but it wasn't in the form of a smile, or a grin. she was smirking.

you knew full well what that was about.

“i know so. now, can i make you feel good, too?”

reblogs are very much welcomed (get it?) <3

divider creds !

[l13]

part two here

cw: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! f!reader, peter is married and having thoughts of reader soo cheating? voyeurism, masturbation, peter getting off to you and miguel fucking:), not proofread

perv!peter b parker who comes in Miguel's control room (or whatever the fuck) ready to annoy the fuck out of him, when he’s suddenly very glad he didn’t bring his daughter with him as the obscene sounds from up above reach his ears.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, mi vida. Look at you, dripping down my cock. Couldn’t even wait till I was finished hm?” if that wasn’t proof enough for what you guys were doing, then the sloppy sound of Miguel fucking his cock in your pussy gave it all away.

Peter felt as if someone threw cold water down his back, and he searches his brain for answers- something to justify the outline of his now hard cock in his pants. You were attractive, he wasn’t blind, but weirdly enough he’d never thought about you that way.

Until now, that is. Now, that he can hear your pretty moans and whimpers of Miguel’s name as you beg him to go faster, to fuck you deeper, to make you come.

Peter’s thankful that the floating platform is all the way up, and that he has no view of you, or else he’d never be able to get the picture of your body, of your face scrunched up in pleasure, out of his mind. It would ruin him.

In fact, Peter could see nothing except Miguel’s wide back, shoulders hunched over, no doubt holding your thighs up for easier access. Fuck, Peter could feel precum dripping down the tip of his cock, at the vile picture forming in his head.

He was so hard that it hurt, and he could feel the stinging of his eyes, tears gathering up fast. He wanted to touch himself so bad, but he couldn't. He shouldn’t.

“Hah- shit. What if someone came in here, bebita? hear you like this? See you like this? You'd like that, wouldn’t you? Ffuck you tightened up so much when I said that. Such a little slut for me. Say it.”

Peter turns around, ready to walk out the door. He shouldn’t be here, he wasn’t allowed to be here during this. He should go home. MJ was waiting for him to- Fuck, MJ. He has a wife. What the fuck was he doing? He-

“Yes! yes fuck, i want everyone to know that im a good slut for you!Ah-want them to see me like this pleasepleaseplease”

Peter clamps a hand over his mouth, and moans, letting himself fall against the wall, elbow propped up against the surface to keep him upright, and he bites his lip roughly, keeping his mouth shut just so that he could palm himself through his sweatpants.

God, fuck, he wanted to see you so badly. He wanted to be the one fucking you, to be the one pulling those sounds from you. Hell, he’d let you pull those sounds from him. he’d do anything - using you or being used by you. Peter couldn't decide which thought excited him more.

His last remaining morals were thrown out the window when you cried out, and he could hear you thrash around, Miguel muttering praises and encouraging words that fall deaf on peter’s ears. By that point, Peter had completely tuned out any sound Miguel made, choosing to focus on your pleas and cries.

Peter was full on jerking his cock now, sweatpants bunched up at his ankles, as he fucks the lame excuse of a hole his hand made, all the while imagining that it’s you. He was timing his thrusts to the sound of your broken moans, having to bite on his forearm to keep quiet as he whimpers and grunts, drool running down his chin.

Unbeknownst to Peter, the platform, slowly but surely, makes its way down to the floor. After all, even if Peter made sure he was being quiet, that was still loud as fuck to Miguel's ears, who had heard him the minute he stepped in the room.

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

QUEEN’S THRONE. 18+

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

> the first image has no implication of readers skin tone, the picture itself has the feel of the fic!!

word count. 2041

summary. you have been feeling insecure and been nitpicking yourself apart. bucky notices and shows you how much he loves your body by asking you to sit on his face

warnings. 18+ only!! reader is feeling insecure within her body and weight, descriptions involving self doubts, little bit of body worship, cunnilingus, face sitting, bucky being a munch and cuming untouched. minors dni

based on this request

No one ever really prepares you for how difficult it is to like yourself, to find parts of your body you don't hate. To not tear yourself apart over things you deem ugly or heinous. 

There's no manual you get for counteracting these doubts in your mind. You're supposed to trick yourself into thinking otherwise - to deceive the mistrust in your brain. But sometimes, the lies you tell yourself to feel better have no effect on you - the affirmations you repeat in rituals feeling like robotic words from self-help blogs. 

You stand naked in front of the full-length mirror in your room, towel on the floor pooled around your ankles. Damp strings of hair collecting on your shoulders, the almost dry strands indicating the time you've stood looking at yourself.

The skin under your eyes soaked with tears, flesh sore and tender from the last near twenty minutes of picking yourself apart. Your gaze hones in on yourself in the mirror, looking at the reflection of your thighs, mindlessly staring at the chub you consider ugly.

Your eyes sadly trail up to your stomach, taking note of the wideness of your hips and patches of stretch marks that litter those areas. Seeing yourself in the reflection after a day of feeling bad about yourself was not a healthy coping mechanism, nor was it one you would encourage - but there was just something inside of you, something inside your brain telling you to nitpick your 'problem' areas. 

It was like there was an evil little gremlin in your mind that made things worse for yourself. That made you give in to the doubts and insecurities - that made you believe them.

Sometimes, you had a better hold on that gremlin, quietening that voice with your own, but on others, like today, that was not the case. You had a difficult day, feeling like a sore thumb everywhere you went - feeling like you stood out in all the worst ways. But that was not the truth - the people you passed on the street were too preoccupied with their own spiral of doubt and shame to even notice your 'problem' areas. 

But, right now, you had no space left for rationality - that loud, pitiful voice overshowing the logical parts of your brain.

You hear a light knock on the door, the sound snapping you out of thought. 

"You've been in there a while. Everything okay?" your boyfriend, James, calls out, his tone soft. 

You clear your throat and grab an oversized tee - throwing on the closest one you can find. "Yeah, out in a minute," you reply, evening your voice to avoid detection. 

"Mind if I come in. Need to grab something," Bucky asks, words muffling behind the closed door.

You hesitate momentarily. "Okay."

The door opens, and Bucky steps into the room, eyes immediately landing on the back of you - head cocking to the side suspiciously. He picks up a t-shirt he pretended to need and walks around the bed to you on the other side - standing beside you as you look out the window. 

"What you looking at?" he asks, subtly scoping you out. 

"Just been looking at the moon," you lie, nodding to the silver crescent in the night sky.

Though he doesn't believe you, keeping his eyes on you as you try to redirect his attention. He extends his neck, reaching his head out to see more than just the side of your face - to see the giveaway he knew was there.

He twists you around more to look at him, making you show your face that you've been trying to hide. His eyes land on yours momentarily before you divert them away, turning from his gaze almost shamefully. He takes note of the sore under your eyes, how they look damp and swollen - how tired you look.

"What's the matter? What's wrong?" he asks, worry evident in his voice. "What's the matter?" he repeats quieter, features softening as he looks at you.

"Nothing," you shrug, turning away from him. "Probably just tired," you partially lie.

He parts focus from you and begins to place together the pieces you weren't willing to share. He glances around the room until he lands on the mirror, the towel on the floor confirming his theory. 

Poking his neck out, trying to meet your gaze again, he calls your name - trying to refocus you.

"You have to stop doing that to yourself," he murmurs, twisting you around to him for the final time. "You're so mean to yourself, and you don't deserve it," he softly shakes his head, reinforcing his words. 

"I wasn't doing that," you reply, bottom lip beginning to tremble with your lie. "I don't do— I don't do that anymore."

His head tilts to the side, not believing you. "Honey," he coos, drawing out the term of endearment as he brings you in for a hug - wrapping you up in an embrace. 

"I don't," you continue, voice almost breaking. "I don't," you repeat, shaking your head softly in the crook of his neck. 

"Okay," he hums, brushing comforting strokes up your back, soothing you. "I know," he murmurs.

He holds you like that, large hands engulfing the middle of your back, caressing you with delicate touch and waiting for you to pull away. 

"I'm sorry," you sniffle, backing away as you wipe your nose on your hand. "I'm being stupid," you shrug with a weak smile, self-depreciation creeping in.

Bucky shakes his head firmly, a soft furrow of his brows indicating his distaste for the topic. He extends his hands to your face, placing palms over your cheeks - stilling your face and making you look at him. "Stop it," he scolds, voice warm and gentle. His hands secure on your face, eyes boring into yours. "You have to stop doing that."

You sigh, a slow, uneasy exhale leaving your lips as if to steady yourself.

"I think you're perfect," he whispers, pressing a kiss onto your cheek - absorbing the tear from your skin. "I wish you could see it too."

His hands leave the placement on your cheeks, moving down to rest on your hips over your tee. One flesh, one metal sitting on the curve. He keeps his eyes locked on you, looking for signs of discomfort, only to find none - your gaze trusting and enamoured. 

Bending at the knee in front of you and at eye level with your 'problem' areas, he glides his hands up your outer thighs - palms running over them intently. He keeps his eyes locked on your upper legs, watching the soft jiggle of the chub - utterly captivated by their beautiful shape.

He hesitantly runs his hands higher and towards your hips, forearms catching on the hem of your t-shirt, rising and revealing your bare pussy underneath. He inhales harshly, the lewd sight of you mere inches away from your face. 

He presses soft kisses over your plump thighs, almost worshipping you - on his knees, kissing parts of you he adores most. He glances up to meet your gaze, your eyes already locked on him.

His kisses trail higher, lining up the crease between cunt and thigh, working up the cute swell of your tummy. "You're beautiful," he murmurs,

words muffling into your hip. "And so perfect."

You rake your fingers into his hair, softly stroking his scalp - all thoughts from earlier dissipating slowly, everything feeling inconsequential with your pretty boyfriend on his knees between your legs.

"Sit on my face," he mutters, pulling away from your stomach to look up at you. "I want you on my face."

Your half-lidden eyes fling open, shock almost slapping you across the face. "What?" you question, gently tugging Bucky's head away from your tummy. "No," you shake your head. "I'll hurt you."

He faintly chuckles as he stands, leaning back onto the mattress. "You won't," he smiles, resting his head on the pillows behind, getting comfortable. "Come on," he nods you over, beckoning you to your throne. 

"I don't know," you reply sheepishly, glancing over him.

"You don't have to sit— just hover."

You step closer and kneel on the bed, pausing like you're debating yourself. "I don't want to squash you."

"You won't," he shakes his head, his expression eager. "Just... come on."

With a gentle sigh and a nod, you crawl up the bed, scooching along the mattress on your knees until you're beside his head. You grip the headboard for support as you lift a leg, placing it on the other side of his head, situating yourself in a hover over his face. 

"I don't want to hurt you— please tell me if I do," you worry, lifting the hem of your t-shirt to get a better look at him below.

"Promise," he says lowly, placing his hands on the swell of your thighs, slowly guiding your pussy closer.

He lays his tongue flat against the slit of your cunt, an immediate pleased hum muffling into your folds. The warm contact of his tongue makes your thighs tremble and breath hitch, everything feeling new from this heightening position. 

With light pressure, he swipes through your pussy lips, tongue lapping you in a leisure rhythm as the tip of his nose bumps at your clit.

His palms graze over your thighs, reaching up to the crease where he can get a hold of you and push you down onto his face. But you notice his pawing and swat his hands off - raising yourself back into a hover and lifting further away.

Bucky doesn't let you go far before he's pushing you back down, a firm grip on your waist keeping you still. "Stay," he muffles into your cunt, caressing it with slow, sloppy kisses.

He laps at your pussy, burying his tongue further into the wet warmth of you - repeated pleasure-filled groans vibrating against you as you give into the bliss. You finally allow yourself to enjoy the moment without doubt getting in the way - all worry slowly being replaced by euphoria as you sink further onto his face.

Meeting his gaze over the top of your pussy, he gives you a wink - the act like silent praise, him voicelessly applauding you for tuning out the voice in your head. 

With one hand on the headboard, you dip the other down, circling the ache in your clit a few times before moving into the short, dark brown hairs at the top of his head. Tugging on his hair as if you're holding him there.

His grip on your waist trails down, moving back to the plush of your thighs where he squeezes - fingers digging into the doughy flesh. He holds you there, muffling moans against your folds as he coats the insides of his boxers in a sheen of his cum - the taste and feel of you alone, enough to send him over the edge.

You twist your neck, looking over your shoulder to the tented cock in his sweats, his head protruding through the wet patch of where he just came. A breath gets caught in your throat at the lewd image, and it all begins to feel like too much, all your senses consumed in the feeling.

With the knot tightening in your tummy, you feel yourself grow closer to the edge - the soft jerk of your hips indicating the closeness of your climax. Within moments, you're cuming on Bucky's tongue, whining broken and spluttered noises into the air.

He continues to hold you there, making out with your cunt through your orgasm - lapping up everything that seeped out. Letting you smear your juices on the bottom half of his face.

You lift your leg from the other side of his head, moving from his face and flopping backwards onto the bed. Laying heads and tails, completely spent. 

But Bucky follows after you - not letting you get far. And before you have a second to process it, he's back between your legs, lips kissing at the soft plush of your inner thighs.

Poking his head up to look at you, he asks. "One more?"

[silverstonesainz]

five minutes

─── its only five more minutes

lando norris x fewtrell!femreader warnings; none 1.7k words

lando’s arms are crossed over his chest, nodding every now and again as he pretends to listen to the other person talk. you know he’s pretending because his head is tilted ever so slightly, so that his eyes can look just past the person and right at whatever is on the wall behind them. this time around, it’s a television playing a new advert starring the driver himself. he scrunches his nose when he sees himself pop up on screen, and forces himself to look back at the person who hasn’t noticed that he’d lost the driver three sentences ago. the conversation eventually comes to a close with an exchange of smiles and hopeful goodbyes. 

you watch his shoulders deflate the moment the person is out of sight, his eyelids drooping down to his phone. he taps away, clenches his jaw all the while before he slips his phone back into his pocket. but his jaw doesn’t let, you see the tendons moving about underneath his skin. you push around your purse as you make your way over to him. he sees you, you don’t see the moment he does, the way he smiles when he sees a familiar face approaching. 

you pull out a pack of gum, shaking it with a smile. “gum?”

he chuckles, straightening his posture as he reaches over to pluck the pack from your fingers. “am i doing it again?” you hum a confirmation, “thanks mins.” 

mins. he’d given you the nickname when you were six, he was eight. mini-max, is what he called you. you hated it, and he loved calling you it. he reveled in the scowl you’d give him every time, and it only encouraged him to call you that. and the longer he did, the older you got, the nickname evolved. mini-max, to mini, and now just mins. 

you pull out a piece of gum for yourself before popping the pack back into your purse. lando looks around the room, “where’s your brother?”

your head spins around, searching for a head of curly hair and a man of small stature. but you can’t see over the mess of people at the event. you tiptoe, crane your neck, but to no avail you don’t find him. so you shrug your response, turning to look up at your brother’s best friend, who is too busy looking around the room to see your response. 

“if i had to guess, probably taking advantage of the open bar.” 

lando laughs. he tries to soften the shrill sounds, muffles it into a soft chuckle as he leans his weight onto the cocktail table. “probably.” he agrees. 

he indulges in a bit more conversation with you. the easy kind, the kind that makes your swell and make you believe that for a second this could work. this. you and him. 

“lando,” his pr officer, harry, appears by his side, offers you a curt smile before looking back at the driver, “a potential sponsor would like to speak to you.” 

you try to hide the disappointment, put up a supportive front even as the british boy looks at you apologetically. he huffs a breath, looks over at harry to ask if it was really even necessary. but the man is stubborn, shakes his head as he stresses the importance of his next conversation. lando concedes, asks for just a second and sends his pr person off to wait for him a few feet away. the boy is apologetic, though he shouldn’t be. its work. this was work. 

“it’s alright, i’ll be right here.”

“promise?” 

“of course.” 

he smiles, relieved, “okay. i’ll only be five minutes. don’t move a muscle, mins.” 

he smiles at you, miserable and apologetic, as he takes careful steps backwards. he doesn’t quite take his eyes off you, ignoring the man in orange walking by him, playfully rolling his eyes as his companion continues to yap on about things he’d surely forget in the next ten minutes anyways. lando doesn’t turn away until he bumps into a table and has to apologize to the people standing by it. you laugh behind your palm, try to hide the all-too-wide smile and soften a giggle much too loud for the situation. he turns his head one more time, almost like could hear your amusement from across the room. he grins widely when he sees the inexplicable joy on your face over his embarrassment, grins because your laugh makes the night a little more bearable. 

at least you think that’s why.

“what are you laughing at?” 

your posture stiffens at the sound of your brother’s voice, hear beating quickly out of nerves. you turn to look at max, who is holding a glass of something in his hand and his eyebrow raised like he wants in on the joke. 

“lando uh, he bumped into the cocktail table.”

max nods into the rim of his glass as he takes a sip, “course he did. klutz.” 

lando is deep in conversation now, a little more enthusiastic than earlier. he’s moving his hands a lot more, and his smile had yet to fade away. there’s a bit of jealousy— or maybe neediness, when you see him like this. you wish you had five more minutes of his time, just five more before he had to be lando norris, mclaren’s golden boy. you just wanted five more minutes of just lando. 

but you always ask for five more minutes. you’d been asking for five more minutes since you were sixteen, when lando’s 100th goodbye hurt like it was the first. five more minutes on the phone, five more minutes at the family dinner. it’s only five more minutes. 

you miss his eyes, you miss his presence. it’s silly really, how much you can miss a person even if they’re only across the room. 

“stop that.” 

max’s voice takes you out of your trance, pries your eyes away from his curly haired friend who continues to wow the person before him, forces you to look over at him the disappointed look on his face.

“what?”

“you know what,” max quips, “don’t look at lando like you’re in love with him.” 

“shut up max.” the embarrassment rises to your cheeks, turns them red and makes the skin hot. 

“i’m being serious y/n, you can’t fall in love with him.” there isn’t a hint of humor on your brother’s face, not a tremor of amusement. he’s stoic, dead serious about what he’s just said. 

“you don’t really get a say over who i fall in love with max, it's really none of your business.”

it’s not a no, not a denial to the unasked question over your feelings for lando. you turn away from max, but even then you can still see the way his face contorts to one of realization. you try to ignore the way your brother puts together how in deep you are for his best friend, the worry turn to panic, then to a grimace you can’t quite read otherwise. 

max puts his drink down on the table, takes a step closer to you to add a pit of privacy to the conversation at hand. “it’s my business if it’s my best friend. it’s not a good idea kid, i could give you a million reasons why it isn’t a good idea.” 

“give me one.” you dare, words hissed through your teeth. “if you have a million, give me one.” 

there’s a bit of hesitation from max. he looks over at his friend, who has yet to notice his presence in the room, then back over at you, his little sister. “because he’s my best friend. and when he inevitably breaks your heart— because he will, it’s lando. when he does, i’ll have to hate him. i will hate him because i love you. and i will hate him even if you ask me not to.” max looks over at his best friend, who finally sees him and waves over. max returns the gesture, pretends he’s not breaking your heart for him. 

lando’s skin glows under the warm light of the room. curls are defined atop his head, trimmed and kept with purpose. he looks heavenly, and it hurts to see him this way. 

it hurts to be in love with him.

“he’s going to hurt you,” max whispers, “and i’ll never be able to forgive him for it. and then i’ll lose him too. and i can’t lose him.” 

tears sting your eyes, “you don’t give him enough credit.” 

“you give him too much.” 

you turn away before the tears fall from your eyes. you’ll be damned if lando catches you crying, damned if you had to explain why. so you turn away, the back of your hand coming up to swipe away the tears on your cheeks. 

“i have to go.” you mumble. max sighs your name, begs you not to, but you shake your head, “i’m fine. it’s fine.” 

it’s not fine. you’re not fine.

“i’m just trying to protect you.” max mumbles. 

maybe he was. maybe one day you’d thank him for saving you the trouble of getting involved with lando. one day, you’ll be happy with your version of mr. perfect and thank the heavens that your brother talked you out of a bad idea like lando. one day you’ll be okay.

but for now, you’re not. in that moment, it hurt. you didn’t feel protected. you feel exposed, stripped of security and left bare at the cold truth. for now, you’d revel in the heartache of realizing lando could never be yours, that he was always going to be as unattainable as the five more minutes you used to pray for. 

“just tell lando…” you start. you turn your head, look over your shoulder and over at lando who laughs at something in the middle of the conversation. you wish you could laugh with him, wish you were in on the joke. you wish you were by him, part of this great big world he’d created for himself. 

you turn away, shaking your head and pulling your purse tighter against you. “… never mind.” you finish.

you duck out of the room, ignoring the way your brother calls your name, or the soft sound of lando asking you where you were going as you slip out the door.

you wish you could go back five minutes, before the heartache and the bitter truth. just five minutes.

d rambles. . . i have such mixed emotions about this one and i almost wanted to delete it but. here we are. lets just say i hate the first half, like the second. so ya. anyways. thx for reading! and saying it just to say it: don't be a ghost reader! i hope you liked this one & as always, feedback is always always appreciated.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Four

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Descriptions of past domestic violence, past abuse, past sexual assault, SANE exam. Death scene in relation to reader's job. Stalking. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Trauma. PTSD. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Comfort. Soft dads. Johnny is a shameless flirt.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday sweet Penny-“ 

Their baby shrieks at the crest in the song, smile shoving her plump cheeks upwards, little fists banging on her highchair tray. She has no idea what’s going on, Johnny imagines, but he knows she’s excited that everyone is singing to her, looking at her, celebrating her. “happy birthday to you!” She swings a hand forward, plunging into the buttercream icing of the cupcake, fingers digging in as much as she can. Johnny can't help but give her the biggest kiss he can manage while trying to dodge the flying food, and Simon laughs over his shoulder. 

“Atta girl.” Simon encourages, trying to peel the wrapper so she can get more in her mouth, icing and cake all over his fingers now too, and Johnny wanders for a second, imagining something certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s first birthday. 

“Can’t believe your kid is a year old.” Kyle says from behind him, two beers in his hand. “Feels like yesterday you were even tellin’ us she existed.” 

“Time is movin’ too fast.” Johnny agrees, taking a long sip as Simon pulls Pen from the highchair, white and blue icing all over her face, arms, and hands. Kyle is right, it is hard to believe it’s been a year, hard to believe that their baby is already one, growing up right before their eyes, taking her first steps, saying her first words. He knows it won’t be long until she’s really talking, running, riding a bike, going to school… thoughts of the future forming a lump in the back of his throat that sticks like taffy. 

Simon steps into his orbit with Penny in his arms, keeping her turned outwards away from his body, half tilted to avoid the sticky smear of icing that’s painted all over her. 

“What is it?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips against Johnny’s cheek, warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Nothin’ ah-“ Penny babbles, head tipped back, gazing at him with wide, pretty eyes, and Johnny rubs a knuckle across her messy cheek. “she’s gettin’ so big. Feel like ‘m missing it, sometimes. Like I should be here.” Simon sighs. 

“Johnny-“ 

“I know, I know.” They made this decision, together. They chose what was best for their family, even though they both knew the distance, the time apart, would sting.  

“The option is always there if you want to swap. Though I think we both know you’d lose your head behind a desk.” He nods, but the longing lingers, and Simon reads him right through to his heart, like always. “After this next op, let’s sit down and talk about it. Maybe we can make some adjustments for next year.” 

“Ah love ye.” 

“I love you too.” He shifts Pen into his side, inclining his head towards her grubby hands. “Can you wash her up?” She reaches for him, trying to latch around his neck, and he rubs her back, cooing into her hair. 

“Whit happened to my precious bairn, eh? Where’d she go?” Pen giggles, fingers finding his nose, long strands of his hair with a tug, and he playfully lifts her, mouth against her tummy, blowing loud raspberries over her shirt that has her absolutely screaming with glee. 

“Da. Dadadada-“ she babbles at him. 

“C’mon wee lamb, let’s go get ye into some clean clothes.” 

There’s an envelope shoved under your front door.

The shitty carpet in the hallway is too high, threads jagged, so it sits a little crumpled, half wedged beneath the bottom and the floor.

It’s manilla. Letter sized. Stepping over it to get inside, you immediately notice the lack of postage. Or addressing. Or anything at all, that would signify that it had been delivered by proper authorities.

It’s from him. 

You know it is, even though you try to find any other rational reasoning, anything that could explain the mystery behind the envelope and how it got here.

You know. You know it’s probably a letter. Handwritten. Signed in perfect penmanship. You know it’s probably something foul, sick words twisted into terrifying sentences.

You kick it inside and let it sit there for a few minutes. You get changed, get into comfortable clothes, start your kettle. You wrap your sweater tight around your body and lean against your countertop, staring at the offensive tan-beige paper that lays in the middle of the floor.

It’s from him. 

He knows where you are. 

“That’s impossible.” You answer yourself aloud, fingers curled so tight into your palms that they make little crescent moon shapes in your skin.

Your illusion, delusion, of safety, anonymity, is easily washed away by the appearance of the envelope, and whatever lurks inside it.

It’s too soon. 

You didn’t make it.

It’s not a letter inside the envelope at all.

It’s a photo.

A photo of you, taken in harsh hospital lighting, dated over two years ago. It’s taken from the shoulders up, skin bare and exposed, fresh impact bruising around your neck, eye starting to swell, lip crusted with blood.

You remember this photo. You remember the awful experience of the SANE exam, the drive to the hospital that took over two hours because you had to go to another state, just in case.

You hadn’t changed. Hadn’t showered. Your white eyelet blouse, one of your favorites, was splattered red, bright ruby dried a dark wine by the time you pulled into the little county hospital.

You remember the way it felt, to have your clothes put in a bag. To be handled by gloved fingers, with care and attention. The same way you had done for others before that day, and since.

“What’s your name?” your nurse had asked you, so cautiously, so kind. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” She tried to promise, but you knew the truth. There was nowhere you could run, not a single place you could hide, where a shadow wouldn’t find you.

The girl, the woman, in the photo is the same person that looks back at you in the mirror every day, except now she’s buried beneath layers and layers of function, schedule, consistency. She’s silenced by distraction. By work.

By fear.

You flip it over with trembling hands, looking for the note or signature you know will be there. Like a greedy, starved pig; he cannot help himself. 

Found you. 

Bile rockets up your esophagus and into your mouth. How long will he toy with you this time?

“Hey, you okay?” Nia asks, frowning at you from her locker.

“Yeah, just slept like shit.” You roll your shoulders, emphasizing the half-truth. You really did sleep poorly, fragments of nightmares keeping you suspended in twilight sleep, clips of memories morphed into the snapping. bloodied jaw of a monster who reared their head every time your REM cycle started, and it shows. In your face, your posture, your skin. You look awful, the only thing really holding you together the resolve you have to push through, to get it together, to leave the envelope and its contents behind in your mind. You’re safer inside these walls above anywhere else, that you know is true. Your safety. Your sanctuary. Nothing can hurt you here. “You know how it is.” You add, and she chuckles.

“Tell me about it. Thought I was going to love overnights, but the sleep schedule is brutal.”

“You get used to it.” You assure her, the two of you making your way down the hall to the pit, and she shrugs.

“If you say so.”

You stand outside of two sixty-eight for too long. People pass you in the hallway, eyes curious, and you pretend to scroll through the tablet, decidedly trying to distract yourself from the dread that’s gathered like a sailor’s knot in the pit of your stomach.

You’re a professional. This behavior is definitely unprofessional. Get yourself together. 

You try, filling your lungs with a deep breath, but you can’t shake the shame, the mortification that is curdling in your stomach at the idea of facing Simon and Johnny after the code black situation last week.

“Go sit with Johnny.”

“Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

Will they be angry that you were so rattled? Could they tell? 

Your watch alarm beeps, and you uncurl your spine.

Buck up. 

You’re both anxious, and relieved, that Johnny is asleep when you finally step inside. Simon sits in his usual spot, paperback book’s spine split in the palm of his hand, and at first… he doesn’t even look up. Not until you clear your throat, and he startles in the chair, eyes snapping up to find yours. “Hi.” He frowns.

“What day is it?”

“Uh, it’s Wednesday?”

“I thought you start your week on Thursdays.” That makes your eyebrows raise, uncontained surprise filtering through you. He knows your schedule? Butterflies thrash in your stomach at the notion, something hot flooding your veins as you blink at him.

“I’m on OT.” You drift towards the other side of the bed, eyeing Johnny’s monitor before lifting the blanket to peek at his elevated leg. “How is he?”

“Uncomfortable. The burn debridement has been… difficult.”  You chew on the inside of your cheek. They better not be letting Simon even stand outside and watch that through the window, you think. You’ll have to follow up with whoever is on days.

“Healing burns can be a long and painful process.” You tell him, pulling back the blanket a little further. “I’ll be quick, try to let him get enough sleep as possible.”

“He’ll be sad he missed you.” Simon answers, still watching your every movement, eyes dark and focused above the black cloth mask. The intensity in them catches you off guard when you meet his gaze, hair on the back of your neck standing up straight, and you swallow.

“Well, I’ll still be here in the morning when he wakes so…” you trail off awkwardly, choosing to direct your attention to the scaffolding that’s supporting his femur and hip, checking his sutures for any redness or swelling.

“Do you work a lot of overtime?” Simon asks at the same as he leans forward to brush a stray lock of hair from Johnny’s forehead. The touch is so tender, so gentle, it makes your heart bleed inside your chest, blood warming beneath your skin, captivating your attention until he’s tearing his eyes away from Johnny, and latching onto yours with an expectant expression.

“Oh. Um. Sometimes?”

“Seems like a lot.” He comments, words lazily pulled from his lips, his tone soft, nearly a whisper. “Must make it difficult to spend time with your family, or partner.”

“Oh, I don’t have one of… those.” You immediately refute, pulling up short before the word those, embarrassment making your nose burn. Why are you telling him this? Why are you announcing to a stranger that you’re practically a recluse loner? 

Simon’s head tilts, and he looks like he’s about to say something but your tablet chimes, insistent and loud, signaling a vitals issue in another room.

“E-excuse me.” You stumble, and he nods, turning his attention back towards Johnny.

One… two… three… four…One… two… three… four… One… two-

The count in your head is second nature at this point, turning over and over after four as your arms, back and core start to scream, your breaths coming in shorter. Where the fuck is he? 

The count continues to roll on, lactic acid building up through your muscles, and you take another deep breath, as much as you can manage. The pain is familiar, it’s necessary, it’s a part of your job, but today, it’s burrowing itself beneath your skull, tugging and tearing at the memories that you’ve buried deep.

Pain. Gnarled and knotted strands of associations pull free from the confines of compartmentalization, stretching out across the front of your mind.

One… two… three… four…

You think about the photo. About being on your back, in a bed like this, lost inside the maze of a panic attack while the NP took photos between your legs. While they swabbed for DNA inside of you, under your fingernails, in your mouth. It’s funny how certain things can stick with you, the sound of the plastic bag crinkling as your bloodied clothes were shoved inside, how you can’t sleep on your back now, the way you counted the ceiling tiles over and over that day. One… two… three… four…

“How long has it been?” Nia asks from the other side of the bed, hand steadily squeezing the bag at the correct rate, still watching the monitor like a hawk.

“At least ten minutes.” You glance at the shade pulled over the window, grateful you remembered when you came running in here, the patient’s family standing just outside the door, holding their breath, hoping you’re in here bringing their beloved granny back, when in reality, you’re just traumatizing her body. You’ve already broken one of her ribs, and you’re worried if you keep going, her sternum will fracture too. It’s not fair. “Where the fuck is he?” you hiss between breaths, anger starting to heat your skin, irritation clear in your tone. This isn’t even your patient. Lazy, slacker, pompous ass, where the fu-

“How long has it been?” The nervous voice just inside the door calls, and your head snaps up.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. 

“Eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds. Where is Marshall?”

“He- he sent me.” You shake your head. Nia sighs.

“Have you pronounced before?”

“Um. No.”

“And where is Marshall?” You ask again, just to clarify, and the resident swallows.

“I uh, don’t know.” Normally, a resident’s first pronouncement would be supervised by their attending. But since this one’s attending is Marshall, a grade A prick that you can’t stand, it looks like he’ll be on his own.

“Great. Okay.” You take a huge breath, trying to flex your wrists without losing your position. “It’s been twelve minutes now, and no response. Do you want to check?” He nods, and you chew on the inside of your cheek when he doesn’t verbally respond. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“You can stop compressions.” You immediately wilt, stepping away from the side of the bed, the motion of Nia’s hand also slowing until it stops, and she slumps. Marshall’s resident physically checks for a pulse, listens for breath sounds and then finally, does a sternum rub, to no avail.

“Sh-should I…” they trail off, looking back down at the elderly woman in the bed. The deceased woman, whose family is waiting, desperately. You nod.

“Yes.” You tell the resident gently. You can tell he’s unsure, nervous even, and for a moment, you’re transported back to your first code, when you were a baby nurse, a terrified, bumbling mess that needed help, just like he does. And since Marshall is a piece of shit… “No pulse?” You ask, and they nod. “No breath sounds? No sound of a heartbeat?”

“None.” They answer you confidently, and you manage an encouraging smile.

“No response to painful stimuli, no reaction to the sternum rub?”

“Right. No.”

“Okay. So normally, you could also use a thumbnail to press into their nailbed, if you feel like you need it, if you’re not comfortable with the sternum rub, but-“

“No, no. I’m. Yeah. Okay.” They too, take a deep breath, and check their watch. “Time of d-death… twenty one forty five.”

“Great job.” You tell him, pulling the blanket back up around her shoulders. “Do you feel comfortable speaking with the family?” He blanches, and Nia’s work phone dings, signaling another patient’s needs. You sigh for the eightieth time tonight. “Okay. Come on, we’ll do it together.”

The supply closet welcomes you with open arms. It hides you in the low light of it’s forgotten space, and when you fall into the chair, your face drops into your palms, pressing so hard into them that you start to see stars. The curtain falls. The walls of your sanctuary start to feel frail. 

Found you, found you.

He found you. 

Get it together. Get yourself together. 

“Hey, there she is. Missed ye.” Johnny coos, eyes half shut, sleepy and sweet.

“Johnny.” Simon rumbles his name like a warning, one your patient doesn’t seem to heed, still blinking slowly at you with a sly look on his face.

“Had a dream about ye, pretty girl. Dreamt ye were at ho-“

“Alright.” Simon cuts him off, swiftly. Patients often have vivid, weird dreams when they’re all dosed up on medication, and it’s not the first time someone has slurred out some weird vision they’ve had of you in their sleep.

“Good morning to you too.” You quip, glancing at the catheter bag before putting your hands on your hips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m alright. Stomach hurts.” You frown.

“Can you tell me where the pain is?” He motions to his upper right, the area where his newly repaired liver is sitting, and you nod, pulling out your phone immediately to update his doctor. Could be nothing. Could be something. Not for you to determine, but you won’t let it go unnoticed, and you’ll make sure it’s top of mind during shift report. “Can I check your side?” You motion to where his burn is lightly wrapped, and he nods with a sheepish smile.

“Aye, sure can. Ye can take my clothes off anytime.” You roll your eyes, unbuttoning his gown at the shoulder, peeling the gauze away very slowly. The wound looks better than you were expecting, if you’re being honest, and it relieves some of the anxiety that curled up in the pit of your stomach after his admission of upper right quadrant pain. “Yer hands are warm, bun. Feels nice.” Bun? You opt to ignore it. Probably still a little floaty.

“Good, that’s… good. Better than them being icicles.” Your hand brushes across the center of his abdomen when you pull the rest of the dressing away, and he tenses, ab muscles becoming clearly defined, enough that you stall out for a second before turning away to grab fresh gauze for his wound care, hands just a little unsteady. “Oh, fuck.” You mutter when the pack slips, sliding halfway under the little table that’s along the wall, and you sigh, whirling away from both of them and bending at the waist to tiptoe your fingers across the floor until you feel the corner of crinkly plastic. “Gotcha!” When you straighten, turning back towards the bed, Johnny and Simon are staring at you, and there’s a glee filled smile on Johnny’s face, it’s presence both mischievous and beguiling, fingers of his good hand slowly rubbing circles into the inside of Simon’s forearm. “What?”

“Nothing. Ignore him.” Simon deadpans, and then shoots his partner a very serious look, one that nearly has you straightening like you’re in trouble.

“Ach.” Johnny huffs, stroking a gentle touch upwards across Simon’s jaw as you start to reapply his dressing, taking your time to ensure everything looks good and he’s comfortable. You smooth over it once you’re satisfied, checking for any precarious pieces of tape. “Ye take such good care o’ me.” Johnny murmurs, accent soft and scratchy. It’s decadent the way his voice sounds sometimes, enough to make your throat dry and the room feel too hot. “Got lucky, didnae we, Si?”

“Well, it’s m-my job.” You answer, trying not to look down at where his chest and stomach are still exposed, or get caught in the cerulean blue waves of his eyes. They’re such a stark contrast to the intense, velvety hue of Simon’s, the pointed focus of his gaze that’s able to stun you, throw you off kilter the same time Johnny’s makes you feel overheated, and lightheaded. Both of them together could drown you. Overwhelm you.

Balanced. A yin and a yang. 

Get it together. This is your patient and his partner, for gods sake. What is wrong with you? 

Something warms brushes along the skin of your knuckles, a fleeting touch, and when you look down, you see Johnny’s hand, two fingers barely stroking yours, the lightest touch catching your breath in your chest like time is slowing to a crawl, and you’re freezing along with it.

Everything goes quiet in your head.

Simon’s watching you, methodically studying you like he’s trying to decipher every twitch in your expression as Johnny’s fingertips move over your knuckles to the back of your hand, thumb slipping into your palm, blazing heat sparking beneath it.

What… what is happening? 

A phone vibrates. The noise snaps you free from your near statuesque state, and they both divert their attention to its screen. 

“They’re here.” Simon tells him, glancing at you before looking back to his partner. “Be good.” He warns, and Johnny rolls his eyes in response, but he looks almost… desperate now, eyes wide and anxious. 

“Hurry?” he asks, hopefully, Simon leaning down to press mask covered lips to his forehead, his eyes shuttering closed, deep breath passing between their two bodies.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’m really concerned about the pain in his upper right quadrant. I already sent a text, but if his doctor isn’t on this floor in the next hour, page him again.” The dayshifter nods, tapping a note into her phone. “And Marshall’s resident is practically unsupervised, so keep an eye out.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You mention a few other things, details you noticed throughout your day, and she thanks you for the extra eye, sending you off with a parting wave into the cold, crisp morning, your mind already skipping over your commute to when you’ll be able to sink into your bed one last time.

You’re busy compiling a list as you wait for the elevator. Necessities, things you’ll need indefinitely as you bounce back and forth between a rotation of hotels and on-call rooms, all the usual stuff, clothes, toiletries, and all the important things that can’t be left behind, your birth certificate, passport, other things that could make or break you if lost.

Deep breath. You can do this. It’s not the first time. You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. 

The elevator dings. You take a step forward, not paying attention, and then pull up short when you see who’s getting out.

It’s Simon stepping towards you, with a baby girl in his arms. She’s situated on his hip, nestled into his side and for a second, you falter because… you recognize her. Or at least you think you do... she looks just like the little girl you saw last week.

“Um. Hi.” You blurt, failing to notice at first that he’s not alone, the man from the first night you met them, the one with the mustache standing behind the width of Simon’s body, his arm curled around the woman you saw last week. They step into view, and you give them all a polite smile, one you really hope doesn’t betray your confusion. 

“Hi,” he says your name next, says it so softly it feels tender, and then takes another step closer. “This is Penelope. Our daughter.” Oh. Oh.

They have a baby. A girl. They have a little girl. You don’t know why, but something inside you stumbles, melting into a frazzled, awkward mess, heart thumping in your chest. They have a baby, and Johnny almost died. They have a kid and he’s been trapped in this hospital, miserable in pain, missing his kid. “Pen, this is your Da’s favorite nurse.”

“Bunny.” The baby, Penelope, says, little finger stretching out towards your badge, which is facing outwards with the giant sparkly sticker. Simon chuckles, genuinely, masked lips pressing to her cheek, and you see a glimpse of a father, a protector, a provider. It makes you feel dizzy.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, and you nod like a robot, unable to really form a word with your tongue. “Alright baby girl. Let’s go see your Da, yeah?”

[x-uno]

Hey! If it’s okay, can I request olpa x reader where it’s sort of a part two for your last zoro post where zoro and reader gets closers and it’s obvious they both have feelings for each other but they themselves don’t know about the other and it’s until after zoro wakes up from his coma, reader is crying and rambling on about how much he’s scared them and accidentally confesses to him, and he’s just stunned but he then quickly grabs reader by the back of the neck and kisses them breathlessly?

Sword and Heartstrings PT.2

Pairing : OPLA!zoro x fem!reader

notes : Certainly! I had fun writing this one! ~ I hope it's up to your expectations, anon! :DDD

<< 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

After the grueling battle with Mihawk, Zoro found himself in a coma, his injuries severe and his life hanging in the balance. The crew was distraught, but none more so than you who had been training with him, heart aching with worry.

Days turned into a painful wait, and every moment by Zoro's bedside felt like an eternity. Your tears fell freely as you whispered words of encouragement and love, unable to bear the thought of losing the man you had come to care for so deeply.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the room was bathed in soft candlelight, You poured your heart out to him. "You mean everything to me," you confessed, voice choking with emotion. "I can't lose you, Zoro. Please, wake up and hear me."

As if in response to your plea, Zoro's eyelids began to flutter, and he slowly regained consciousness. His eyes now focused on your tearful face, and he was overcome with a profound sense of relief and gratitude.

Before he could fully grasp the situation, before he could form words, he acted on instinct. With a fierce determination born from the depths of his heart, Zoro reached out, his hands grabbing the back of your neck, before pressing his lips with yours.

It was a kiss filled with all the unspoken feelings that had grown between them, a kiss that spoke of their shared experiences, their undeniable connection, and the depth of their love. In that moment, as their lips met, everything became clear—they were no longer clueless about the emotions that had silently bound them together.

You gazed into each other's eyes, the unspoken emotions finally finding a voice.

Zoro was the first to break the silence, his voice husky with raw emotion. "I... I didn't know," he admitted, his brows furrowing in a mix of confusion and realization.

Your tears of worry had turned to tears of joy. "I didn't either," You confessed. "But when I thought I might lose you, I couldn't hold back anymore."

Zoro's thumb brushed away a lingering tear your cheek. "You're an idiot," he muttered with a hint of a smile, his thumb tracing your lips.

You chuckled softly. "You too."

Laughter filled the room, a shared moment of relief and happiness. You couldn't help but lean in for another kiss, it was no longer a kiss born of confusion or desperation. It was a kiss of love, a kiss that sealed your newfound understanding and bound your hearts together.

In the warmth of each other's embrace, you knew that you had found something precious, something worth protecting. And as you both held onto each other, the cluelessness of your past had given way to a love that was now undeniably clear.

The moment was short-lived though, when a loud, indignant voice rang out that you were both jolted back to reality.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH Y/N, MOSSHEAD?!"

The voice came from none other than Sanji, who had arrived to fetch you for dinner, completely unaware of the recent developments. He stood at the doorway, his eyes wide with shock, and his cigarette dangled from his lips.

Zoro and you quickly pulled away from each other, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Zoro's brows furrowed as he glared at Sanji. "Mind your own business, Cook."

Sanji, however, was having none of it. He pointed an accusatory finger at Zoro. "I knew it! You've been hiding something from us, you bastard! And with Y/N of all people!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the dramatic scene unfolding before them. "Sanji, it's not what you think," you tried to explain.

But Sanji was already in full-blown outrage mode. "Don't you dare corrupt our innocent crew member! I won't allow it!"

The commotion drew the attention of the rest of the crew, who came rushing into the room, equally bewildered by the scene. Nami raised an eyebrow. "What's going on here?"

Sanji dramatically pointed at Zoro and you. "Zoro's trying to seduce Y/N!"

Zoro facepalmed at Sanji's absurd accusation, while you couldn't stop laughing. It was clear that Sanji had jumped to conclusions, and the crew's confusion quickly turned into laughter.

Amid the chaos and laughter, Zoro and you exchanged a knowing glance. You might have been clueless about your feelings in the past, but one thing was certain now — you had found each other, and nothing could change that.

And as Sanji continued his over-the-top protest, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected comedic twist that had brought your feelings to light.

taglist: reply to be added !

© 2023 x-uno ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. 

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

The List (1)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Not Beta’d. I was going to conclude this with an actual ending, but it was getting long so I’ll let the readers decide how it ends. If enough people are interested, I might do a part 2. Comment if you want a part 2.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Rumors spread through the underground of New York like the plague. Four murders of New York's most elite in the past 72 hours. Floating around the city was a list of names, a hit list for anyone involved with the mafia. Bucky was no stranger to a threat on his life. Being a mob boss, he constantly walked a thin line, a trapeze artist always one slip away from falling into the hands of death. Bucky had the resources and power to not be taken out so easily. If his name was on the list, he’d be toward the end, but no one knew home long the list was or who was on it. His team had spent the past 3 days searching the city for any information on the list. He had to know who was on it.

“Mr. Barnes, sir,” Peter Parker stammered, catching his breath in the doorway. Peter was a prospect, a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Bucky couldn't understand why such a gifted kid was so eager to join the mob. Regardless, Bucky couldn’t be happier to have such potential, but the kid picked the wrong time to join them. “We have a lead.”

Bucky’s head snapped up from his desk. He had been engrossed in his own research on his laptop that he had forgotten about his men’s quest. Peter’s spine went rigid under the mob boss’s intense stare. He had yet to get used to it. Peter was certain that was why Bucky’s right-hand man, Steve Rogers, had sent him to retrieve Bucky. Well, that or it was part of Sam Wilson’s attempt at a joke to haze the new guy. Either way, Peter had been a fan of Steve growing up. Steve usually was the face while Bucky worked in the shadows, which only made Bucky more intimidating to Peter. He respected Steve though which is why he found Bucky without hesitation.

“Follow me, sir.”

Standing abruptly, the chair Bucky had been sitting in crashed into the wall behind him with a loud bang. He smoothed his rough palms down the front of his pristine white shirt before straightening his black suit jacket. Without a word, he extended his hand behind Peter, encouraging him to lead the way.

Peter anxiously peered over his shoulder the entire way down the hall. He thought he might have been walking too fast, but Bucky’s pace never faltered. Bucky was hot on his heels, always one step behind him. Stopping unexpectedly outside of the boardroom, Bucky hissed nearly crashing into the teen. Before Bucky could reprimand him, Peter explained, “Before we go inside, Steve told me to give you a message.” Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a bit leaving Peter relieved his boss wasn’t going to chew him out. Still, his own dress shirt began to cling to him with the amount of sweat he was producing. Bucky may have relaxed a bit, but his posture was always disciplined, predatory, and intimidating.

“Spill it out,” Bucky huffed, his hands resting in the pockets of his slacks.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter nodded, “Right, um- He said don’t do anything stupid and that we need her.”

The jaw of the boss twitched before he stormed past a confused Peter. His hands pressed into each of the double doors using his full force to slam the doors wide open. All eyes snapped to Bucky as he strode into the room, confidence and determination oozing off of him. Peter ushered in behind him, awkwardly failing to close the doors several times before succeeding. A string of apologies escaped his lips as he stepped further into the room. The serious look Steve shot Peter had him clearing his throat and adjusting his dress coat.

Sam and Steve stood side by side on one end of the room, their arms crossed. They were cautious, guarded rightfully so. Any one of their lives could be on the line. For all they knew, everyone in the room was on the hit list. Spying the woman sitting at the middle of the conference table, Bucky stalked across from her. With his eyes trained on the floor, he dragged the chair away from the table but made no move to sit down as he stepped up to the table.

When his eyes met hers, he puffed out his chest. His arms remained at his sides, his hands burrowing in his pockets. Without so much as a greeting, Bucky began his interrogation, “Who created the hit list.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, a frown etched on her crimson-painted lips. “Right down to business, huh Buck?” A smirk replaced her frown. “I should’ve known, you never were one for much foreplay.”

Bucky pressed his tongue to his cheek. He had expected this, her teasing. It was always a dance between them, one he wanted to avoid by cutting to the chase. She always knew how to rile him up, in more ways than one.

“Princess-”

‘No,” she stopped him with her hand raised, “you don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Bucky snorted, leaning forward, “Isn’t that what you are now?”

“Who is she?” Peter attempted to whisper to Steve, but everyone heard him.

Taking pity on the clueless teen, Sam answered, “She’s Bucky’s ex-wife, Y/N.”

Ignoring the other men, Y/N flashed her diamond engagement ring at Bucky. The light reflected off of the ring making it impossible to miss even from where Steve, Sam, and Peter had been standing.

“That title is pending, followed by queen,” she sassed.

It started out as a term of endearment. Y/N always had a taste for the finer things in life, Bucky’s lifestyle satisfied that craving. He enjoyed spoiling his princess, but that was all she would be. A princess, someone no one would take seriously. It had been an ironic twist of fate that she had met an actual prince after her divorce from Bucky.

Examining the rock on her finger, her signature red nail had been replaced by a nude shade. She was no longer accepting his blood money; she had a good man and clean money now. His eyes traveled back to her face, zeroing in on her red-painted lip. Her hands may be clean now, but her lips were still tainted. The secrets she could talk about his business alone could ruin him which reminded him of why she was here in the first place.

“Who created the hit list, Y/N,” he tried once again to control the conversation.

Pursing her lips, she let him.

“I don’t know,” her gaze dropped to the table, “but I know who has it.”

Finally getting somewhere, Bucky reached back pulling the chair behind him. Once he was seated, he snapped his fingers. Not a moment later, a pen and paper were placed in front of him.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, pen in hand.

Y/N raised her head, the man twirled a pen between his fingers tempting her to sign a deal with the devil. Shaking the image from her head she placed her hand over his, ceasing his movements.

“It’s not that easy. He won't meet with just anyone.”

“He?” Steve asked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Bucky isn’t just anyone,” Sam called out.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “He may very well be suspect number one. It would be bad for anyone to meet with Bucky alone.” Feeling Bucky’s hand turn beneath her own she went to pull away, but he grabbed her hand.

“What about a future queen?”

Eyeing him beneath her lashes, Y/N pulled her hand back to her chest. Noticing the hesitant look on her face, Bucky leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a fool to think she was here willingly. She wanted something; she needed something.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Bucky asked, “What do you want?”

Thumbing the ring on her finger, she contemplated lying. She didn’t want to need Bucky, but she did. One look at Bucky and she knew he would see through any lie she would come up with, so she told the truth, “I need protection.” Suddenly she felt exposed with everyone's eyes on her. “If my name is on the list,” her voice shook. She wasn’t Bucky’s dirty little secret. People knew she was his wife, well ex-wife. She had ties to the mob and if her name was on the list or if her fiancé found out, the engagement would be called off.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke, “Get me access to the list and let me worry about the rest.”

Relief flooded Y/N. He could have turned her away. He could have blackmailed the information out of her, but he didn’t. Bucky was a rough man, but he was also kind. She had seen it first-hand for many years. Guilt ate away at her for her earlier actions. He knew she had been engaged but she didn’t need to rub it in his face. She wanted to hurt him but only because he had hurt her. A small part of her hoped he would protect her not because he was kind but because he still loved her.

Y/N was able to request a meeting with the man not even 24 hours later. His assistant had sent her an invitation, but it wasn’t for what she had been expecting. Instead, the man had invited her to a gala. He was a businessman after all, and her appearance would be good for business. At a time when she should be laying low, she was about to attend a high-press event.

It wasn’t long after Bucky was notified that he insisted he escort her. Y/N protested but he had argued that he couldn’t protect her if she was dead. That had convinced her, on one condition, they arrive separately. She was still engaged.

The event was beautiful but high glass windows had Y/N on edge. Anyone could see her. She tried to distract herself by searching for the host. There were so many bodies and no sign of the man who had invited her. In the middle of her search, a hand circled her wrist tugging her in the opposite direction. Y/N began clawing at the man’s wrist, an attempt to pry him off. When he stopped and spun around, she crashed into his chest. With her face in his chest, the unmistakable scent of expensive cologne hit her. She shoved his chest putting enough distance between the two.

“Bucky,” Y/N hissed, “you’re supposed to be laying low.”

Surveying the crowd, Bucky muttered, “I am. It’s you who is running all over the damn place.”

Y/N shook her head glaring at him. Not only did he smell good, but he looked good too. He had shaved since she had last seen him. He had traded in his white dress shirt for a black one, forgoing a bow or tie. The top button of his shirt was open, relieving his collarbone. Instead of drooling over her ex-husband she continued to glare at him. It was easier to hate him than to pine over him.

“If someone takes pictures of us together and my fiancé finds out-”

His cerulean eyes shot down to meet her eyes, “Where is he anyway? Shouldn’t you be asking him for protection? Surely, he has the resources.”

Y/N froze, her hands clutching the sides of her silk gown. “He doesn’t know,” she mumbled, then her voice grew. “He doesn’t know about the list, my past, or about you.” Bucky’s eyes softened. He had his doubts before, but he was certain now that she wasn’t happy. He wanted to gloat, to rub it in her fiancé’s face. He knew Y/N better than her fiancé did, and even better, she wanted to tell him. Bucky wanted to make a joke about how keeping secrets in a relationship was unhealthy, but he kept his mouth shut. Y/N sighed, running her hands down her dress to smooth out the wrinkles she had created. “He’s out of the country right now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she wrapped her arms around herself. His gaze dropped to the floor, but Bucky’s remained on her.

He recognized a lonely soul when he saw one because he was one himself. His lifestyle left few people he could trust. He hadn’t always been lonely though, and neither had she. Bucky’s hand twitched to reach out and hug her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that with cameras around. He took in her appearance and couldn’t help the squeeze he felt in his heart.

“You look beautiful.”

A giggle escaped her lips, “Thanks, Buck. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He had meant to cheer her up, but her giggle was unexpected. He missed it, he missed her. Everyone he knew in the mob lifestyle had died in the mob. It was poetic in a live by the sword, die by the sword type of way. No one got out, but she did. With his status, he’d never get out and a selfish part of him wanted to pull her right back in.

“You got out, you got away from the life,” Bucky hummed, admiration in his voice, respect.

Y/N shook her head. “No, I just got away from you.”

It was his turn to laugh, “Now if that were true, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. I am standing here with you, not you are standing here with me. He meant it. Even if she was here because of him, he was here for her, to protect her. He put her first.

“You of all people know once you’re in there’s only one way out.”

That was it for Bucky. He wasn’t pulling her back in. She never left. They might have been divorced but they had both meant it on their wedding day when they said, “Till death do us part.” Bucky’s calloused hand cupped her jaw just below her ear, pausing. She didn’t push him away. With both hands, she cradled his jaw pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips brushed one another, slowly at first, testing the waters. Then his other hand slid up the length of her neck, sliding back to tangle his fingers in her hair. It was a dance they were all too familiar with.

The flash of a camera penetrated Y/N’s eyes beneath her closed lids and it was like pouring a bucket of cold water over her. Quickly, she pulled away shoving Bucky’s chest when his lips tried to follow her. She was fucked, royally.

“Y/N?”

Wiping her smudged lipstick, she ignored Bucky’s lingering gaze before turning to face the new voice. A woman in a blue silk dress approached the pair.

“Virginia?” Y/N asked.

The woman waved her hand in the air. “Please, call me Pepper. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Mr. Stark is ready to meet with you. Follow me.”

Without looking back, Y/N followed Pepper through the crowd. She knew Bucky would be right behind her. She would deal with him later. Right now, she needed the names on the list. Upon their arrival, Pepper exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. On the other side of a glass desk was one of the wealthiest men in the world, Tony Stark.

“Did I interrupt something?” Tony asked eyes darting between Y/N and Bucky. “I swear there wasn’t so much tension before you two walked in.”

Y/N sent him a tight-lipped smile holding up her left hand. “I’m engaged.”

Tony shrugged, “What you do is none of my business. Besides, something like this would be published on the front page.” Y/N’s stomach dropped. “You know what they say, all press is good press.”

“Says the man with a new woman every week,” Bucky grumbled.

Tony smiled. “Precisely, I would know.”

“Mr. Stark-”

Tony loosened the bow tie around his neck. “Call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Y/N corrected, “so you know anything about a list?”

With a raised eyebrow Tony laughed, “If it’s a list you want, I suggest you talk to Pepper. She handles all of that stuff.”

“Not just any kind of list,” Y/N took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her, “a hit list.” From this distance, Y/N couldn't miss the way Tony’s eyes shifted to Bucky.

“Are you looking to assassinate anybody?”

Bucky held up his hands, “I’m just looking to protect the people I care about.”

Y/N stood still, watching the intense stare-off between the two.

Eventually, Tony sighed, “I don’t want to be in the middle of any of this.” He tapped a few keys on the computer on his desk before turning the screen. “You better get out of here before your fiancé sends someone.”

“What?” Y/N gasped, blindly clutching Bucky’s forearm beside her. Both of their names were written in green on the list. Beneath them were some of Bucky’s most trusted men; their names written in white.

Tony leaned back in his chair. “Green means active. You’re both next on the list and judging by the number of cameras here, someone probably already knows you’re here.”

“You knew,” Bucky growled.

Tony barely flinched. “Your names weren’t active until recently. Other people’s lives are on the line. I can’t get to everyone in time.”

“Wait, why would my fiancé send someone, he’s not even in the country,” Y/N asked, trying to wrap her head around everything.

Tony frowned. “Your fiance is the one who put the hit list out. What better alibi for your significant other’s death than being out of the country at her time of death.”

Y/N would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight.

“Why?” Y/N whispered wide-eyed.

Bucky wanted to drag her out of the building toward safety but was there even a safe place? People already knew their location.

Tony shrugged. “The New York mobs aren't the only mobs out there. They're all over the country, they're in other countries. There are some real higher-ups in the mafia in other countries. The mafia controls everything, it's one of the most powerful positions. Take out other mobs and you can control more area, more power.”

Y/N felt sick. When she said you never get out once you get in, she hadn’t realized how deep she was in life now. Turning to Bucky, he was already on his phone typing. “Bucky, we need to go.”

“No. I text Steve, he’s rounding everyone up. They’ll be here soon.”

Tony’s eyes widened, his eyebrows reaching his forehead. “You can’t be serious. There are cameras everywhere. This will be plastered on every news station.”

Bucky shrugged, lifting the back of Y/N’s hand to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a quiet promise to protect her. “All press is good press.”

Next Chapter

[hemmingsleclerc]

Karting ┃CS55

summary: where carlos and his daughter go karting

It was a beautiful evening in Madrid and the sun reflected on the karting track while Carlos Sainz stood next to a small, elegant kart. Her daughter Camila was next to him, enthusiasm and curiosity shining in her eyes. The distinctive sound of engines roaring and tires screeching filled the air as they watched other young drivers speeding down the track.

"Are you ready, Cami?" Carlos asked, smiling at his daughter. Camila nodded enthusiastically, her small hands gripping the steering wheel with determination.

Carlos bent down to her level and explained the basics of karting. "Remember, Camila, it's all about control and precision. Start slowly, get familiar with the kart and little by little you pick up speed. And most importantly, have fun."

Camila nodded again, paying attention to every word her father said. Carlos helped her put on her helmet, carefully adjusting it to ensure a perfect fit. As she adjusted the straps, she could see the mix of excitement and nervousness in her daughter's eyes.

The engine roared and Carlos walked next to the kart while Camila drove cautiously towards the track. The air was filled with the smell of rubber and the exhilarating sound of engines. Carlos shouted words of encouragement to Camila, guiding her through the initial laps.

With each turn, Camila gained confidence. Carlos watched with pride as his daughter understood the fundamentals of karting. His eyes lit up with excitement and a wide smile spread across his face as he felt the gust of wind against his helmet.

When Camila felt more comfortable, Carlos motioned for her to stop. She approached the kart and crouched down to her level again. "You're doing great, Cam! Now, let's work on taking those turns a little faster. Remember, use your body weight to change the balance of the kart."

Carlos demonstrated the technique, leaning into an imaginary spin. Camila nodded, eager to try. The engine roared once more as they resumed their turns, Camila now executing the turns with new skill.

Time flew by and soon the sun sank behind the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the tarmac. Carlos and Cam sat next to the kart, without helmets, sharing a moment of achievement and joy.

"You did fantastic, Cam," Carlos said, ruffling his messy hair through his helmet. "You have the makings of a great racer."

Camila smiled, her eyes shining with pride. "Thank you, Daddy! This is so much fun! Can we do it again?"

Carlos laughed out loud as he realized that he had just introduced his daughter to the world of racing. "Of course, amor. This is just the beginning. Who knows, maybe one day you'll be on the big circuits, making a name for yourself."

''Do you think that one day I will be as good as you?''

''I know you will be even better than me darling''

[ghxstic]

⸝⸝ — YOU'RE MINE NOW .

⸝⸝ A/N :: serial killer! toji makes me feel some type of way <3 5.2k words.

⸝⸝ SYNOPSIS :: you're a college student, one dark night, the time was passing by normally, that is until infamous serial killer, toji fushiguro, breaks into your house with the intent to kill. you manage to run, but not for long, what will you do to save yourself?

⸝⸝ C/W :: dub-con, hunter and prey dynamics, mentions of murder / violence, breeding, mating press, slapping, degrading, mentions of impregnation, kidnapping, cheating, etc .

⸝⸝ TAGLIST :: @devmimi @luvbladez @snake-titan @zannivrs @fatenpara @lilithlunas @fartwithsplinters @beebopsalad @chaoticevilbakugo @getoswhore

a soft sigh escaped your lips as your eyes gazed over your notes, studying for a midterm at night was always a daunting task. a cup filled with coffee sat beside you on the desk, the only thing keeping you awake, sure the only thing coffee brought was a false sense of alertness, but it still kept you relatively awake. 

rubbing your forehead, you let out a small groan, for how long have you been studying? you started at around five thirty in the afternoon and now it's eleven at night, seven hours? you needed a break, desperately. 

standing up and taking your mug with you, you sat on your bed, placing the mug on the nightstand before laying down, your muscles tensed as your back got used to the new position, you have been hunched over your notes for hours now. making a small mental note, you needed to fix your posture. 

taking out your phone, the home screen flashed brightly, showing off your notifications, you had a handful of text messages, some from your friends, and some from your boyfriend. seeing his name on your screen made you smile.

nuzzling onto the soft pillow, you opened your phone, tapping in your passcode quickly before opening your boyfriend's messages. 

' hi baby, are you still studying? '

' remember to not overwork yourself, love you. '

your face felt warm reading his messages, gentle butterflies filling your stomach, clicking the keyboard, you were quick to type up a response. 

' hi! i just finished studying, my brain feels like mush. but coffee always comes to the rescue! how are you? '

you didn't know if he was awake at this hour, it was almost midnight after all, maybe he had already fallen asleep waiting for your reply, which made your heartache from guilt, maybe a bit of anxiety. unconsciously, your lips caught up teeth, chewing on it as you stared at your screen. but the message was opened, the little ' read ' coming at the bottom, which surged a new sense of alertness, he was typing. 

' i'm good, baby. i hope your study session went well, i know you're going to do amazing on this test. '

again butterflies filled your stomach, your hand went to your mouth as a small noise left your lips, a small squeal, he was always so sweet, constantly praising you and making you feel loved, it was like a dream come true for you. he had to be your soulmate, no other man has made you feel this loved, and truly, you have never fallen for someone so hard before. he was everything you ever wanted, kind, funny, handsome, he respected you and your goals, encouraging you to follow your heart instead of pushing them aside. he was absolutely perfect. 

as the minutes passed, the two of you kept talking, he asked you about your studying, about your day, if you ate, etcetera. and you did the same too, you asked about his day, how work went, how he was, overall the conversation was lively and it always left you aching for a response from him. the evening couldn't get any better. 

but that loving liveliness in the night was quick to end, a noise came from your living room, it was rather loud, making your body jump in surprise. your eyes moved to the door of your room, your door was shut, but even then your eyes were wide and you were high and alert. 

what was that?

your mind started to go 70 miles per hour, trying to rationalize the noise, you were home alone, was it the fridge? maybe it was refilling the icemaker? no, it didn't sound like the fridge, maybe something fell? right? sure. you nodded to yourself, letting yourself relax. your attention went back to your phone, going back to texting your boyfriend, but then another noise came from outside your room, now that scared you. something couldn't have fallen twice, there was no heavy wind inside your home or any pet that could hit a surface that could cause a noise.

slowly, you sat up on your bed, staying quiet to keep an ear out for any other noise. it was faint, but you still caught it, the creaking of wood, your floors were old and wooden, the floor constantly creaked when someone walked on it. 

there was someone inside your house. 

you grabbed your phone quickly, your hands shakingly wrote your boyfriend a text. 

' there's someone inside my house. '

you didn't have any time to give more context, you stood up from your bed slowly, maybe it was a friend? that sounds normal? right? 

but no, your friends wouldn't stop by your house without telling you first, there was an intruder inside your house. you hoped it was just a thief, your feet stood in front of the door, as quiet as you possibly could. but your heart was hammering against your chest, you were horrified, you could hear the steps, getting closer and closer to your room. finally, your fight or flight kicked in, hide, you need to hide, you need to call for help too. 

you rushed to your bed, quickly arranging the sheets so it seemed like the house was vacant before hiding under it. you had no idea if this was a good idea, your house has never been broken into. your hand gripped your phone tightly, your hands quickly opened the call app on your phone, you could see your boyfriend was messaging, spamming you, but your ringtone was off, so there was no noise. you didn't care though, your main focus was to call 911. 

you opened the dial and quickly punched in the number, pressing your phone to ear your breathing was shaky, it felt like someone pressing on your chest. 

"911, what's your emergency?"

a woman's sweet voice came from your phone.

"someone broke into my house— send someone please— i-im alone, please—"

you whispered, your voice was shaky, your eyes focused on the door as you hid. 

the door's knob turned, he was getting in. 

"okay ma'am, what's your address?"

your heart was stuck into your chest, your eyes wide as the door creaked open.

"ma'am? are you there? i see your location, the police are on their way." 

she spoke, but you said nothing, your hand was clamped over your mouth, as you tried to muffle your fast and shaky breathing. 

a deep chuckle filled the quiet room, "i know you're here." a new voice came in, it was a man, the person inside your room, it was a man with a deep voice, sending shivers down your spine, you heard him walk towards your bathroom. he opened the door and scanned the restroom, you heard him jank the shower curtain back, he muttered something before entering the room again, part of you cussed, you should've taken the opportunity to run away, but you didn't. 

he walked to your closet, opening it, empty. just like the bathroom, his eyes narrowed, his back facing the bed, not in the bathroom or closet? he turned around, his hand gripping the handle of his blade tightly, his gaze fell on your bed. clever girl. 

slowly walking over, he stood by the end of the bed, kneeling down, he leaned down to see if you were under there. 

your back was facing the end of the bed though, you were frozen rigid, you knew he was there, you knew he had found you, but you didn't know he was bent over, you didn't know he was watching you. his eyes were piercing through you. the call with the 911 operator was still on, she was trying to reach you, asking if you were there, but you couldn't say anything. 

the man reached out for your ankle, you didn't know, you didn't know until it was too late.

a large hand gripped your ankle, before you could even say or think, your body was pulled from under the bed. your hands tried to grip the floor, trying to pull away but he was stronger than you, much stronger. 

once you were exposed, your body was shaking like a leaf, your eyes were wide and teary, your eyes met his. something about seeing the man in front of you broke you. a scream left your lips, as you tried to kick his grip away. 

he stared in amusement, trying to kick him off? how cute. his grip got tighter, painful, he was definitely going to leave a bruise. 

"c'mon kid, stop kicking 'n screaming, you're only making it harder for yourself." he said, but you didn't falter, you caught a glance of his knife, it only encouraged you more, if you were going to die, you were going to die trying to run away. 

toji tsked, he got on top of you, one hand holding your ankle while the other gripped your chin, the blade was so close to your skin. now, he leaned down to your level, his dark eyes connected with yours. now you could really see him, messy black hair, he had a scar on his lips, dark bags under his eyes, he was much older than you, maybe in his early 40's? but his gaze. the murderous glint behind his eyes, it made your heart fall to your stomach. 

he was familiar, you knew him from somewhere, your brain worked on trying to see why you knew him. why was he so familiar, then it hit you, he was on the news, his headshot. his name was toji fushiguro, he had been on the news recently, he was a serial killer. he had been accused on at least three murders recently, and suspected for more. now the realization hit you, you were going to join that list. there's so many things you haven't been able to do in life, you haven't even graduated college, this was your third year, you haven't gotten married, you haven't had kids, all those traditional adult steps that you didn't care for then were now the most important thing in your eyes. you haven't seen your boyfriend, your parents, your family, you haven't been able to say goodbye to your loved ones. the realization was heartbreaking. 

"just give in 'n it'll be less painful, 'kay?" toji spat, a twisted smile coming to his lips as he saw the realization hit you. the way you got that hopeless look on your face, how cute. 

what he didn't expect was for your knee to crash against his groin, that really caught him off guard. while his hand gripped your ankle, he forgot about your other leg. a strained groan left his lips before he moved away, he let go of you before yelling curses. 

seeing now that his hands were off you, your window of freedom opened and you didn't hesitate to take it. you scrambled to your feet and ran out of your room, your adrenaline spiked and you were going to take advantage of it. toji was doubled over himself, he watched as you left, he cursed to himself, fucking bitch. he heard the backdoor slam open, he wasn't going to let you get away. grabbing the handle of his knife again, toji got to his feet and ran after you. you want to play hunter and prey? fine. just know, you'd be hunted.

you had run out the backdoor, your backyard was practically a forest, you knew your way around the forest, you hoped you had the advantage, that he would get lost and stop following you. besides, the police were supposed to be on their way. 

you were barefoot, sprinting down the wooded area, barely paying attention behind you. your adrenaline was so high you could barely notice the ache of your legs or the burn in your chest.

you thought you had the advantage, but toji was right on your tail, he was fast, faster than you expected, even if you ran as fast as you could, he was faster. you were truly the prey here, you were stupid for underestimating him. 

your sprinting got caught off when two large muscular arms wrapped around you, one pressing the knife tightly against your throat, with one harsh slash he could easily slit your throat. your eyes were wide as you felt him against you, you were breathing heavily, and now your muscles started to register the soreness, making it hard to even stay standing upright. toji was breathing heavily too, his warm breath brushed against your ear. his chest was heaving against your back.

he laughed at your worthless attempt to run away from him. "you're really fucking stupid huh? - hah - now look at you, all worn out and useless." toji degraded. 

you let out a small whimper, tears building up at your waterline quickly, "p—please, don't kill me, i'll do anything! i won't tell the police, i promise! just let me live!" you cried out, tears streamed down your cheeks like a waterfall, sobs leaving your lips with no end. toji only tightened his hold on you, he stayed silent for a few seconds, "yeah? you'll do anything?" toji questioned, you nodded your head quickly, small hiccups and whimpers leaving your lips, not hesitating at all. toji hummed in reply, you were waiting to see what would happen, part of you expected to be let go while the other expected your neck to be sliced open and you'd be left there, to bleed out in the middle of the forest. 

but instead, toji shoved you to the ground, the collision knocked the breath out of your lungs, weakly, you turned around stared up at toji, you didn't know what go expect, but you didn't expect his hands to be untying the knot on the waistline of his pants. 

then it hit you, he was going to fuck you, normally you wouldn't allow this, but if it meant you'd die, you just let him do what he wanted. 

"pull your pants down." toji commanded, standing over you, with a small sniffle, you started fumbling with your pajama pants before slipping them off slowly. as well as your panties, leaving your lower body bare, you felt ashamed, were you really letting this happen? not wanting to get brutally murdered by the man before you, you just complied, spreading your legs, trying to keep the killer happy. seeing you like this made his cock twitch, oh you were so desperate, he could tell, but he liked that. he liked dumb little girls like you. 

he kneeled in between your legs, pulling his shirt up slightly, revealing the lower part of his abdomen, you couldn't help but stare, his happy trail starting under his belly button, and his v-line was pronounced, it leading down to the bulge under his baggy pants. 

he pulled his waistband down, his cock springing out nicely, causing your eyes to widen slightly, it was so big, so thick, precum adoring his tip. this made your muscles tense, did you really want to do this? was it too late to run away? was death the better option? your boyfriend flashed through your mind, making guilt to wash over you, if you survive this, he would understand right? probably, but would he forgive you? you didn't know, you were too focused on your own regrets that you didn't notice how toji had towered over you. 

seeing how your mind was somewhere else, toji pulled his hand back, slapping you across the face before gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him, you were brought out of your guilt filled daze and stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights, your cheek stinging from the slap. "if you pull any more tricks, i promise i'll kill you. i'm being nice with you, 'kay?" he warned, his voice laced with pure venom, this time, you knew he wasn't messing around, nodding your head, you replied. "y—yes, i p—promise." you whimpered, toji grinned, "good girl." he praised. 

taking a hold of his cock, toji pressed it against your entrance, but before he could push in you spoke up, "w—wait, no prep or anything?" you questioned, but toji only laughed, he took a hold of your hips with such ease, he held them up so your cunt would be closer to his lips. due to the position, your back dragged against the grass under you. what was he going to do? toji then spat down on your cunt, making your hips buck against the air at the feeling. a soft noise left your lips, toji pressed his thumb against your cunt, spreading the saliva around so it coated your slit. then he dropped your hips down.

"there, i don't want you breaking with just the tip." toji spoke, his hands helping his cock press against you, something about his words made your cunt clench around nothing. the way he spoke about himself just made you feel some type of way, but you didn't know how. his confidence made you squirm, but you were still grateful that he at least prepped you a bit. 

toji rubbed his bulbous tip against your hole, you just needed to calm down, your eyes shut, trying to imagine something to distract you, you imagined your boyfriend, maybe if you imagined him while toji used you, you didn't have to feel too guilty? maybe it will make time pass faster? you just wanted this to end so you could be left alone, that is, if toji was kind enough to let you go. something inside you said that you were being too hopeful, but at this rate you needed more positivity in this situation. 

since your eyes were closed, you didn't notice how close toji was to pushing his cock in, his thick cock was pushed inside you stretching you out further than ever before, a sharp cry of pain left your lips and your eyes practically shot open, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt, tears built up in your eyes for the pain of being brutally stretched out like that. toji groaned though, your walls practically suffocated his cock, they were so tiny compared to his girth, it made his eyes shut in bliss. 

small sobs left your lips as you tried to accommodate him, it's either this or death, you reminded yourself as you tried to calm down. but god, it was so hard, he was so big, you swore that if he moved he would break you. he was so deep inside too, you didn't think it was that deep. toji pressed his palm against where your womb would be, "am i too big for ya, kid? i can see my cock inside ya." toji mused, pressing down on the bulge in the bottom of your tummy. you whimpered, teary eyes moving down to where his hand was, holy shit, there was a tummy bulge, the sight making your cunt clench around him, sudden arousal pooling to your cunt. 

"ya like that? you like having my cock?" toji teased, his hips pulled back before rolling his hips against yours, feeling his thick cock rub against your walls made you whimper, your little hands gripped his shirt, while your gaze was still on your belly, watching as the stomach bulge disappeared but appeared once more when he pushed in. his thrust was slow, mostly because he was interested in watching how you took his fat cock, not because he cared for you. his next thrust was harder, uncaring. 

what did you expect? he has killed countless people before and he showed absolutely no care for them, why would he care now? toji wasn't your boyfriend, he wasn't someone you shared a story with, he was just an obstacle. he was using you for his needs and you were letting him. 

your lips parted as shaky breaths and gasps slipped past, fuck, toji's hands moved to grab your legs, he easily folded your body into the position he wanted to, your legs were trapped in between his thighs and his arms, his body shadowed over you. he had you folded nicely into a mating press. the new position gave you the illusion that his cock was just hitting deeper than you expected. 

the small breathless gasps that left your lips slowly turned into small moans, you couldn't control it, the full feeling he gave you made your stomach twist. maybe it was the danger, he could kill you right now, but he wasn't, the older man was enjoying your little cunt wrapped around him.

he kept fucking his cock inside you, but as much as you hated the idea of sleeping with another man before, you couldn't help but enjoy it now. you tried to keep your moans and whines minimal, a voice inside your head telling you that the police would find you like this if you let yourself loosen up. now, were you afraid to get caught due to your dignity? were you afraid they would see you in such a vulnerable state? or were you afraid that they would see you enjoying it? what would people think if they saw the way your little hands gripped his biceps? what would they think if they saw your face twisting in pleasure? what would they think when they heard your cunt squelching as he fucked you? that didn't matter now. 

you couldn't help but enjoy it, the danger of the situation only adding more to your senses, like this you realized toji was an attractive man, much older and insane, but his facial structure made your walls flutter. having his face so close to yours, his breathing gently caressing your skin, how his lips were parted and deep, guttural groans left his lips. 

toji placed his large palm on the side of your head, he pushed your head to the side, your cheek pressed against the dirt floor, he angled his hips again, keeping you folded into a mating press, but with his palm staying pressed against your head the power of his thrusts got harder and faster. 

the noise of skin slapping echoed through the dark and quiet forest, as well as the sinful noise of your cunt sucking toji back in greedily. 

"you hear that? sucking me back in like a whore, and just a while ago you were crying 'n screaming." toji spoke with a wicked smile on his lips as he fucked you senseless. "i wonder what that lil boyfriend of yours would say seeing ya like this—drooling on the cock of a murderer." toji mused, now at the mention of him your eyes widened, first the guilt rushed through your body, then a question popped in your mind. how did toji know about your boyfriend?

"h—how- how do you..k—know?" you asked weakly, the hand that was holding your face down now gripped your chin, he pulled your face so you could see him properly, his face was so close, it startled you. 

"i know everything about you, y/n l/n." toji spoke, a twisted grin on his lips as he saw the horror wash through your face, even as he made this revelation, he kept fucking your cunt like a fleshlight, making your insides into mush. 

he knew everything about you? a new feeling of unease built up in your stomach, had he been watching you? for how long? what does he know? "i know about your studies, friends, your family, your boyfriend.." toji drawled, with every word he slammed his cock down inside you to add more punctuation, his cock knocked against your cervix as he did so, sharp moans leaving you lips as he did so. 

you were shocked, why you? so many questions filled your brain, but keep track of them was getting hard as toji kept fucking you.

you stopped caring about the consequences, the questions, you didn't care, at least not now. not when your cunt was stuffed and toji kept moving. your head turned to the side, moans leaving your lips, your tone getting louder and more high pitched. 

atta girl. finally giving in. 

toji kept slamming his hips against yours, his hand gripped your shirt before yanking the hem up, your tits bounced at the force of his thrusts. leaning down, he put his lips on your nipple, sucking on it so hard it bruised, this repeated for the other, then he littered hickies on your chest, marking you as his. 'property of fushiguro' he thought, he leaned back, your head was still to the side, that was no fun. if you were going to keep moaning like a whore while you got fucked, he at least wanted to see your slutty face. 

he yanked your face so you would look at him, "look at me while i fuck you, 'kay?" toji ordered, and you nodded weakly. so obedient. 

you were sopping, your slick coated your cunt, his cock, balls, and pubic bone, as well as your thighs. you really were enjoying this, huh? he never imagined you to be like this, from all he knew you and your boyfriend were slow and vanilla, you weren't being taken care of sexually if you were this messy. no worries, toji is here now. 

your cunt started to tighten, and your moans were practically incoherent babbles. "m'gonna— c—cum!—toji!—" you cried out, a horrible pressure had been building up for a while now. throughout the time your arms had wrapped around the older man for some type of support. you could barely handle it anymore, the pleasure was way too much for your body to handle. you kept babbling about your climax and how close it was, toji let you cling onto him while his lips were on your neck, bruising and biting your skin. 

finally, the pressure snapped and your body jolted against his, your back was arched and your head was thrown back against the dirt floor, your eyes rolled back as a sharp cry left your lips. now you were nothing but a mess, hearing you cry like that made toji tense, the way your cunt squeezed down on him, milking him, he was getting close too. your walls fluttered and your body shook. 

you laid back, your arms resting against the floor and your gasped and panted, glossy eyes looking up at toji. his large palms moved your thighs again, this time he pressed them tight against your chest, your calves rested over his shoulders as he chased his climax, he was grunting and groaning. 

"when i cum, m'gonna fill you up, maybe get you pregnant, how does that sound, huh? then you can be with me." toji grunted, but instead of a cry or argue, you just nodded your head like a dumb bimbo, still crying his name as your body tingled in overstimulation. 

"mmyeah–! breed me, p—please!—" you moaned, your constant begs and moans were fucking killing him. in all these years he's never fucked someone like you, you had him in a fucking chokehold. he was sweating, you both were, his ebony colored hair was stuck to his forehead, he grunted as his thrusts got sloppy, he was going to cum, he was going to fill your little cunt to the brim. make sure you get pregnant with his kid, just so he can have you to himself. 

his cock twitched, and with a deep groan toji came, he had shoved his cock inside you, letting it pressed against your cervix before his cum spurted out, thick, warm, and milky. it painted your walls nicely, stuffing you nicely too. his body weight was pressed against you, making sure to keep you filled. slowly, he rolled his hips against yours as he came down from his high, his breathing was heavy and so was yours. your brain practically stopped working, all you could think about was toji, only him, your body was limp and sore, and your cunny was nice and filled. 

toji pulled out, his eyes watched as your stomach bulge left and your cunt oozed. he pulled back from your body, his gaze still on your cunt, with two fingers he pushed his cum back inside you before shoving his soft cock back inside his pants. 

now, you could barely think straight, what was he going to do with you? he snatched your pants and panties off the floor before haphazardly putting them back on your body, he then pushed your shirt down, but what about now? he remembered you were in a call with emergency services, which was a pain in the ass, toji stood up from the floor, he saw something glimmer, his blade, he grabbed it and shoved it into his pocket. he couldn't take you back to your house, with a groan, he pulled you off the ground with relative ease, with those muscles of him, you weighed nothing to him.

your head  rested against his chest, you were so ungodly tired now, that you couldn't process anything and just drifted off in the hands of a murderer. 

now that he minds, it's better to deal with you when you're asleep, he doesn't want a moment of clarity to hit you and cause another fit like before. 

when you woke up, you were in another room, another place, your head was pounding. you barely remembered anything, reaching for your phone you saw nothing, then reality started to set in, you remembered the night before, the intruder, the game of predator and prey, and the way you got out of dying. you panicked, throwing the sheets off before scanning the room, maybe there was a phone here that you could use? when you saw nothing you aimed for the door, ignoring the soreness in between your legs, slamming the door open you rushed down the hall, only to slam against someone. 

"look at that, you're awake."

looking up, you met his eyes again, toji, it was him– you gulped, "where am i?" you asked, ignoring his comment, "my house, or should i say, our house?" he replied, smile crawling to his scarred lips. your eyes widened, "what are you talking about?" you questioned our house? what the fuck did he mean?

"after last night, after that little show you gave, i realized i wanted to keep ya, and that's what i'm going to do." toji said so casually, causing your lips to part, your words catching your chest. "b-but i– i have a life! i have college, family, friends, my boyfriend!— you're insane if you think you are just going to take me away from that!" you yelled, but he didn't care. "we'll figure that out later, and a boyfriend? yesterday you didn't care about him, why worry now?" toji laughed cruelly, shame and guilt filling your mind. 

"it's not like that and you know it.." you argued back weakly, not being able to meet his gaze, "yeah? yesterday you were like a dumb whore, crying over cock. i don't wanna hear your excuses." toji reminded, the more he spoke the more sick you felt, but you were mostly sick of yourself, because you knew all that was true. without replying, toji spoke up again. 

"besides, it doesn't matter if you run away or not, you're mine now, kid. and i will always find you."

ⓒ VMPIRX on TUMBLR do not repost or copy my works.

[wheels-of-despair]

The Nerd King Cops a Feel Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie learns something about bras. (He hates them.) Contains: Assassination attempt, Girl Boob, an Eddie Munson First. Word Count: 800ish

Author's Note: This one goes out to all the ladies who look down and sigh every time they encounter one of the many 'Eddie Loves Your Tiny Tits' fics. 😂

Jeez, you accidentally say "Nerd King" instead of "Dungeon Master" one time and suddenly you're running for your life, jumping over piles of dirty laundry and trying not to crash into anything breakable.

Eddie chased you into his bedroom and tackled you to the bed, cackling like a madman. Flailing this way and that, you squealed and pretended like you weren't enjoying the absolute hell out of this.

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry!" He grins at your surrender and collapses on top of you, ignoring your exaggerated groan at having to support his full weight. After catching your breath, you reach up to brush the hair out of his eyes, his chin resting between your breasts.

After a few minutes of staring wordlessly at each other like a couple of lovestruck morons, he rolls to the side and you let out a sharp yelp.

"What'd I do?" he asks in a panic.

"Not you, this fucking bra."

He watches with a puzzled look as you sit up and reach under your t-shirt to take off the offending garment. As you suspected, the underwire had worked its way out during your tussle and stabbed the absolute shit out of you. You angrily fling it to the other side of the room and lay back down, turning your head toward Eddie and being met with a most curious sight.

His eyes are wide. Pupils blown. Fixated on your chest. It suddenly dawns on you that he's never seen you without a bra before. Normally this would embarrass you, but the rage from the garment's betrayal is still pumping through your veins.

"See something you like, Munson?"

He nods cautiously.

"Well, go on then."

His eyes flick up to yours, growing even bigger, which you didn't think was possible.

"I just survived an attempted murder. I need to be comforted."

His fingers twitch, making you smirk. But judging by the look on his face, his brain has turned to mush, so you gently take his hand and move it yourself, placing it just below the place his eyes are locked onto. He's still frozen.

"You still breathing over there, Munson?" you tease. He nods slowly, finally daring to move. Light as a feather, his hand glides upward and splays out, now holding a considerable handful of Girl Boob. Why is he acting like this is his first time? Is this his first time? You watch him silently, a gentle smile on your face as you both soak in the sensation.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but snaps it closed again when no sound makes its way out.

You try your hardest not to laugh. This loud, filthy-mouthed little horn-dog has been rendered speechless, possibly for the first time in his life. Should you get an award for this?

"Something on your mind?"

One side of his mouth twitches into a smirk.

"Can… no."

"Looking for some under-the-shirt action already?"

"No! That's not-- I don't-- You-- I--"

You mercifully cut him off before he can stutter his way through the alphabet. "'Cause you can. If you want. But you don't have to."

Looking upward for reassurance and receiving a nod of encouragement, he carefully drifts his hand down to the hem of your faded band shirt. Taking his time, his fingertips glide back up the skin of your stomach, stopping at the imprints the band of your torturous device had left. He traces the marks and furrows his brow.

"Bra band. Its mission to slowly suffocate me was taking too long, so it resorted to stabbing."

"Does it hurt?"

"It's not exactly pleasant."

"Why do you wear it?" he asks softly, fingers still lingering on the marks in your skin.

Surprised at his question, you bark out a laugh. He stares at you with his innocent doe eyes and moves his hand north, splaying out his fingers again and holding you gently.

"Are you kidding me? Are you seeing these things? Are you feeling these things?" Your hand comes to rest on his, still under your shirt, and give it a jiggle. He shrugs a shoulder and shifts his eyes downward again. Boys are so dumb.

"Girls with not a lot going on up here," you gesture, "can get away with that. But when they look like this and they're not... contained, it's kind of noticeable."

He looks up at you thoughtfully, then that spark of mischief returns to his eyes. Eddie clears his throat.

"Hear ye, hear ye," he begins in a deep voice, "The Nerd King hath issued a royal decree… that the princess must never wear a bra in his presence again. Refusal to comply will result in a punishment most severe."

"Oh my God," you laugh, rolling your eyes. The Nerd King responds with a grin, removing his hand from beneath your shirt and pulling you to him, then burying his face between his new favorite subjects.

[surielstea]

Glazed Over Eyes

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader takes care of a very drunk, very clingy Azriel.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol | Fluff

1.9k words

The Inner Circle had gone to Rita’s. I had opted to stay at home with Amren— saying that she couldn’t be trusted to watch Nyx alone as my excuse instead of going to the pleasure hall, besides, I’d much rather be silently doing puzzles while listening to the music coming from beside the bank of the Sidra with the windows wide open.

Feyre and Rhys had come home with pink cheeks, nearly forgetting they shared a house with others, Rhys trying to mount his mate right in front of us. Amren banished them to their room with an annoyed look before returning to the nearly complete puzzle we only started an hour ago.

A moment later, Cassian is stumbling into the room with his arm hooked around a very sober, very annoyed Nesta. She lugs him behind her, he seemed too drunk to fly so they're most likely crashing here for the night. My brows crease when I notice my mate not following in after them. Azriel was hesitant to leave me here in the first place, not wanting to go to some kind of party without me there for him to retreat to when things got too loud. I encouraged him to go, to have fun. I was now worried he was having too much fun.

"Hey Nes?" I call before they can disappear down the hall. She turns to me with creased brows and tired eyes. "Hm?" She asks. "Do you know where Az is?" I ask worriedly, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, she pales and looks at Cassian who is oblivious to everything but her. "Azriel?" She snaps her fingers in his face and he blinks, waking from his stupor. "Uh, last time I saw him he was cradling a whiskey bottle so it's anyone's guess." He says and I square ny features. "That's reassuring," I whisper. "Sorry, I didn't know I was on babysitting duty for both Illyrians." Nesta sighs as if she's truly let me down. "It's fine, take care of Cass. I'll check Rita's." I wave her off and she nods in thanks. "If you can't find him let me know, I'll help you." She gives me a soft expression and I give her a carefree smile. "Will do." I nod at her, knowing damn well I would be too busy panicking to ask anyone for help if I couldn't find him. She nodded and left down the hall with the huge male draped over her shoulders.

"Sorry Amren, I'll be back," I say, walking towards the front door. "Go, girl. Gods know he's probably found himself in a jail cell by now." She grumbled and I pale. "Comforting, thanks," I mutter before slipping out the door.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Rita's was abnormally loud tonight, or perhaps it was just my lack of intoxication. My brows crease as I scan the pleasure hall for my mate, pulling at the bond connecting us and getting an overwhelming amount of attention back, more than a tug— a pull, towards him.

I don't hesitate to follow the golden tether, leading me right towards the bar.

I spot a familiar head of blonde hair, the girl flirting with the bartender as my mate lays his head down on the bar top.

I push past the crowd, eager to get over to them— shoving drunk males off of me until I finally reach the duo. Mor didn't notice, busy making seductive eyes toward the bartender. I tap Azriel's shoulder and he groans. "I have a mate." He waves me off and I roll my eyes. "I know," I say, he whips his head up and looks at me— eyes widening as he recognizes me. "I'm a genie." He smiled proudly and my brows twitched toward eachother, entirely confused at his giddy behavior. "I wished for you to be here, and now..." He searches for the right words in a long pause. "And now you're here." He finishes and all I can do is blink, bringing the back of my hand to his forehead. "How many drinks did you have?" I tilt my head and he smiles knowingly. "Just one, plus a few more." He shrugs innocently and I release a sigh. "You're drunk." I frown and he scratches the side of his cheek, staring at me blankly.

“I’m not—” hiccup. “Drunk.” He finishes and I arch a brow at him, my stare incredulous. “You’re also not a good liar.” I chastise and he glowers at me, setting his empty glass down on the bar and turning to me fully. “I’m the shadow-master, it’s my job to lie.” He crosses his arms over his chest and I need to refrain from my giggle threatening against my lips. “You’re the spymaster,” I correct and his expression falls.

“Whatever,” He brushes me off. “Words are dumb anyways.” The male grumbles and I laugh at his attitude. His cheeks flush pink and something tells me it’s not due to the alcohol. “You’re so pretty,” He murmurs dreamily and I roll my eyes. “Can you kiss me please,” His hands find mine, pulling me closer with a yearning look. “You’re drunk.” I remind and he groans, head going up to the sky before coming right back down to me. “Drunk on you.” He states as if that makes him any more sober.

I release a soft sigh, rising onto my toes and press a gentle peck to his lips. As I back away he looks at me with a glaze over his eyes, a dumbfounded smile coming to his lips. “That felt good.” He mused and I shook my head in disbelief, wrapping his arm around my shoulders to support him as I dragged him away from the bar and towards the exit. “Bye Mor!” I call back but I doubt she heard me, doubt she even noticed I was there with the way she was talking to the bartender.

Shadows swish around the both of us, causing the crowd to part a path for us, in fear of the shadow singer who, little did they know, was too inebriated to even think about harming anyone.

I lug him out of the bar. “Can’t fly,” He mumbles. “I know,” I pat a hand on his chest reassuringly. “Will you throw up if I winnow?” I look up at him and he takes about three seconds too long to answer. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” He shrugs. “Okay just, don’t do it on me,” I instruct and he nods dutifully.

I winnow us back onto the lawn of our house, Azriel’s knees buckling and his hands coming down onto them, leaning over as if he was about to hurl. “You okay?” I press a hand to his back and he nods eagerly, trying to convince himself. I comb his hair back, shadows swirling around the both of us until he’s fully recovered.

Slowly, he stands back up to his full height and drags his feet as we walk up the porch to our house, his arm around my shoulders yet again as he leans most of his weight onto me, wings just barely hovering above the floor as I open the door to our home, pulling him in with me.

“Let’s get you some water,” I say, leading him over to the kitchen and settling him down on a barstool. He sits unstably, staring at me with a stony look. I cautiously back away, afraid he’d tip over without my support, then walk into the kitchen. His eyes follow me with every step I take, shadows swirling around my legs and through my hair.

“Have you always been this pretty?” He asks unprompted, I flush, flicking my eyes up to him as I pour him a tall glass of water. “You’re like, ultra-beautiful—” His words are cut off as he topples over off his chair and crashes down onto the floor.

I pale and set the glass down, rushing towards him and falling to my knees beside his body. He chuckled as he stared up at the ceiling, making me more worried than I should have been. “Are you hurt?” My hand comes to his cheek, scanning for injuries. “From when I fell from heaven?” He raises a brow at me curiously. “From when you fell off your chair.” I correct and he blinks slowly. “Uh,” He mumbles like he has to think about it. “I don’t think so.” He uttered and I giggled, now that I know he was okay. I help him sit up, grabbing the water from the counter and handing it to him.

“I didn’t take you for a clumsy drunk,” I look at him quizzically. “The spymaster is a very quiet, very precise male.” He speaks in the third person. “And very, very, very sneaky.” He adds with a hiccup and I shake my head, making sure he drinks every last drop of the water I gave him.

Once he’s finished I take the glass and help him up. Placing the glass in the sink, he drapes his arms over my shoulders, my hands coming to his forearms as most of his weight now relies on me. “C’mon, you big baby,” I grunt as I haul him towards our bedroom. “Not a baby.” He reminds me like I’ve forgotten. “Sure,” I mumble, pulling him into our room and shutting the door behind us.

He makes the rest of the journey to the bed himself, flopping down onto it. “No sleeping yet,” I grab him by the collar and pull him back upright, beginning to undo the ties of his clothes. He helps me with the undressing, shucking off his leathers as I walk over to the armoire and find a pair of lounge pants, tossing them at him.

He hums a soft tune to help him focus as he pulls the pants up. I wander into the bathroom, open the cabinet, and find a tonic to help with headaches, issued by Madja. I walk back into the room to find him beneath the covers, already half asleep.

“Az,” I call, and his humming halts, head raising to look at me. “This is for the morning okay?” I hold up the small vial and he nods with a soft smile. “You take such good care of me,” He sighs as I climb into the large bed beside him, his arm immediately snaking around my waist and pulling me into him. “I have to return the favor somehow.” I smile up at him, brushing his dark hair from his forehead. “Thank you.” He mutters. I can only nod in reply. He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, then he pulls me upward and nuzzles his nose into my shoulder, pressing soft kisses there as well.

I comb my hands through his hair with a nurturing intent. Shadows settle around us, disappearing into the floorboards and corners of the room. Azriel releases a soft sigh of contentment at the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, my warmth consuming him. “Love you.” He murmurs tiredly. “Love you too,” I whisper back, and then his breathing steadies out as if that’s all he needs to hear in order to fall asleep.

Sleep swallowed him entirely, and once I know he’s cared for and safe, only then do I allow myself to fall into a slumber of my own.

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[eksvaized]

StripClubOwner!Simon x Reader

After you start dating Simon, who is the owner of not one but three popular strip clubs, you find yourself deliberately avoiding them.

The main reason for this aversion is that you don’t want to be trailing behind him for hours on end while he attends to his business. Moreover, it’s difficult to ignore the way the dancers gawk at your boyfriend with obvious admiration, which they don’t bother hiding. Not even when you're glued to his side, holding his hand.

You’ve never considered yourself a jealous girlfriend. You’re secure in your relationship and you trust Simon. But there are moments when you find your confidence waning. This often happens when you see the amount of attention that he attracts, particularly from the girls who work for him.

They're always around him, their eyes following his every move, their laughs a bit too loud, their smiles a bit too wide. The intensity of this attention becomes especially palpable when he walks into the dressing room to hand out their checks. It’s almost as if the atmosphere changes—the air electrifies with expectation. The girls straighten up, their backs arching subtly, their faces lighting up.

It’s these moments that leave a sour taste in your mouth. You try to brush it off, to reassure yourself that it’s all in your head. But the feeling of insecurity, instigated by these instances, clings to you, stubborn and unyielding.

At first, Simon’s unaware of the turmoil brewing within you, oblivious to the anxiety you feel and blind to the fact that you are increasingly crafting excuses to avoid setting foot in his clubs. This avoidance goes unnoticed by him for a while, your subtle changes in behavior flying under his radar. But when he finally picks up on it, it leaves him feeling more than just a bit frustrated.

That frustration eventually leads to a conversation where he asks you directly about your reluctance to visit his clubs. Faced with his question, you spill your guts out about how it all makes you feel insecure.

Simon, to his credit, listens to your concerns. He doesn’t interrupt or dismiss your feelings, instead he absorbs your words, letting them sink in. After that intense conversation, things change subtly between you two. For a while, he doesn’t bring up his work.

However, there comes a night filled with laughter, deep conversations, and a hearty dinner. Admittedly, the two of you indulge in a little too much to drink. Simon, ever the extravagant spender, spares no expense when it comes to fine alcohol. You, on the other hand, despite not having the same tolerance, try your best to keep up with his pace. The result is you ending up in a state of giggly euphoria, while he, accustomed to such indulgences, barely feels tipsy.

Amidst this atmosphere of light-hearted intoxication, Simon, with a serious expression that starkly contrasts the jovial mood, proposes a solution for you to overcome your insecurity. He suggests an idea that is as unexpected as it is intriguing.

“Dance,” he says. "One of the girls would teach you,." His belief is that by doing, you would not only come to see that you are every bit as talented as his dancers, if not even more so, but you would also realize you don’t need to be jealous or feel insecure.

In the morning, you find that the idea which seemed brilliant the night before doesn’t hold the same allure. However, after a week passes, before the club opens its doors for the night, Simon drives you to it and introduces you to his top tipped dancer.

You’re immediately intimidated, unsure of what to expect. However, as it turns out, your fears were unfounded. The dancer is a lovely woman, slightly older than you, patient and understanding. She starts you off with simple moves that you can practice on the floor. Once she sees you getting comfortable moving around in heels, she encourages you to try some moves on the pole.

The following week is spent training intensively, and surprisingly, it becomes a fun. This happens especially once you find your balance and stop falling each time you raise your legs in the air—the initial awkwardness fades away, replaced by a growing confidence in your movements.

As the month passes, your readiness to step onto the stage grows, but it only happens after a lot of persuading from Simon. He reassures you, tells you he wants to show off all the hard work you’ve put into your training.

And show you off, he does. After your debut performance, you’re met with an overwhelming amount of positive attention from the rowdy men in the audience who can’t tear their eyes away from your body. The thrill of being on stage, combined with the generous tips you receive, makes you want to dance again.

You become a regular performer at the club, captivating the crowd with your mesmerizing dance moves and the way your body moves. You never strip, daring only to shed a few pieces of clothing here and there, but that doesn’t prevent you from becoming the customer’s favorite—your aura becomes a magnetic pull, drawing in patrons night after night.

Simon’s overjoyed when you decide to leave your shitty job and start working for him. His excitement, however, doesn’t blind him to the need for certain rules. He puts several in place, but there’s one rule specifically created for you — no lap dances. Under no circumstance is anyone allowed to lay a hand on you.

But there are those who dare to break the rule. Occasionally, men attempt to get their hands on you. But each time, they end up with broken fingers.

Surprisingly, the pain and humiliation don’t deter them. They return to the club the following night, attracted to you like moths to a flame.

I wanted to write a short fic based on this, but I already have many WIPs >.<