#but i never finished it! very bittersweet

[harrysfolklore]

mother's day - single dad!harry

hellooo this is a trope i have on my patreon ! if you want to read more of them subscribe here <3 | MASTERLIST

Harry stood at the kitchen finishing up breakfast, the sound of his daughter playing around in the living room filling his ears.

It was Mother's Day, a bittersweet day for him. His daughter, Violet, was the light of his life, but he couldn't help but feel hurt knowing that her mother was not around to share this special day.

Violet was a smart, sassy, funny and kind four year old girl, and everyone who met her would automatically fall in love with her and agree that she inherited her dad's charm.

That was what happened when YN met her.

YN had taken a job at Pleasing a year ago as the head of Marketing and Media, and she was over the moon about it.

She would never in a million years imagine that taking that job would lead her to meet Harry and completely fall in love with him, and the little carbon copy of him, of course. 

YN had always been fond of children, but there was something special about Violet. She was a mini version of Harry, her intelligence never failed to impress her, and she found herself looking forward to spending time with her and Harry outside of work.

Over the past year, YN and Harry had grown closer, their friendship blossoming into something more and sharing so many touches and kisses that it was hard to keep count, YN never imagined herself in a relationship that involved a kid, but she couldn't be happier to be Harry's girlfriend and part of Violet's life.

"Daddy, Daddy, Happy Mother's Day!" Violet she exclaimed, holding out a handmade card adorned with glitter and stickers.

"Thank you, sweetheart. This is beautiful." Harry smiled, his heart swelling with love for his daughter.

Ever since Violet learned about the concept of Mother's day, she would make card for Harry and her Nana Anne every year, the entire family making sure the little girl never felt the absence of her mother on this day.

"When is YN coming? I want to give her her card too!" Violet said, holding out a card similar to the one she just gave him, but with a small drawing of what Harry guessed what her and YN holding hands.

"You made YN a Mother's day card?" Harry asked surprised, not expecting the gesture from his daughter.

"Yes, Daddy! YN is like my other mummy now, she makes me breakfast when she sleeps here and plays with me and does my hair, my friend Lana says her mummy does that with her, so YN is like my mummy!" the little girl explained excitedly, making Harry's heart melt, "So I made her a card too!" 

Harry felt like he could cry, his daughter adored the girl he was in love with and that felt like if he head won the lottery.

"That's very sweet of you, darling," Harry said, pulling her into a hug. "YN will love it."

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Violet ran to answer it. YN stood at the door, a sweet smile on her face, and before she could greet them, Violet showed her the card with excitement.

"Happy Mother's Day, mummy YN!" Violet exclaimed, throwing her arms around her.

YN was completely shocked, kneeling down to Violet's level and hugging her back, looking at Harry with wide eyes, he just smiled fondly and raised his eyebrows teasingly.

"Thank you, Violet," YN replied, her eyes shining with tears,  "You're the best daughter any mummy could ask for."

"Daddy made breakfast and I helped him!"

As they sat down to breakfast, Violet chattered excitedly about the gifts she had made for Nana Anne and how she had helped Harry prepare a special breakfast. Harry watched them, his heart felling full of love for the two most important girls in his life.

After breakfast, they went for a walk in the park, enjoying the weather and listening to Violet ramble about random things. As they sat on a bench watching Violet play, Harry took YN's hand in his and squeezed it gently.

"So, you're mummy YN now," Harry said, smirking at her.

"Harry! You could've gave me a heads up about that," YN spoke quickly, making Harry laugh, "I was so surprised, I almost peed myself."

"I'm sorry, love. It was a surprise for me too," he kissed the side of her head gently, "But if you don't feel comfortable I can speak to her about it."

"Are you kidding?" YN cut him off, "That was the sweetest thing someone has ever said to me, I can't believe she trusts me enough to call me her mommy."

"That's the sweetest thing, isn't it?" Harry said, smiling at YN. "Violet adores you, and I'm so grateful to have you both in my life."

"I'm the lucky one," YN replied, squeezing his hand. "I never imagined I'd find a love like this, a family like ours."

As they sat together, watching Violet play and enjoying each other's company, Harry knew that he had found his happiness. He had found love again, and this time, it was even more special because it included Violet.

[pietadean]

since people are swan song posting (i saw two (2) different blogs posting about it!!!!!!) here's a thing i wrote when thinking about dean driving alone, after both sam & cas left him. (800k)

Cas’s departure had been swift. One moment he was there, on the Impala’s bench seat next to Dean, spilling metaphysical inquiries all over Dean’s freshly cleaned plate, and the other, he was gone. Leaving Dean alone driving Baby into the dark, nowhere bound. 

The endless roll of asphalt on the other side of Baby’s front window took Dean back to the sleepless nights - weeks, months, years? - of driving that had preceded his reunion with Sam, back in 2005. Sam’s Stanford days. The days when John had been AWOL more than not, though never in a worrisome way, until that fall when Jess had crashed and burned on Sam’s ceiling. 

Dean had been used to being alone, then. Used to not having anywhere to go till he found the next news clipping about corpses drained of their blood or weird organs missing or houses growing cold and people drowning and houses burning. He’d never expected much else, once Sammy was gone. He’d stopped wishing for his father to need him for anything else than Sammy maintenance. 

Not that he’d succeeded in that, mind you. 

The dark stretch of the road glinted with Baby’s headlights, it had been raining earlier. Dean was grateful for the periodical flash of yellowish beams in a puddle in his otherwise dark surroundings. He needed to keep himself awake. Somehow, it was always more difficult when he was alone rather than when Sam was sleeping next to him. The air surrounding wasn’t warm with drowse and peaceful breathing, but he didn’t feel the fierce protectiveness that prevented him from running the Impala into a ditch. 

Well.

Thinking about Sammy wasn’t the best idea to steer clear of that kinda path, clearly. 

So he wondered about where Cas was. Well, not exactly - he knew the angel was in Heaven, duh. But what did Heaven even look like to angels? Some sort of enormous nebula made of the individual bubbles of every soul? Greyish limbo? Clouds? Cas seemed offended whenever Dean talked about them hanging out on clouds, but well. Ya never know. 

Maybe it looked like this, like this pine tree-lined road, like Dean’s Heaven had looked like. 

Was Cas thinking about him? 

Probably not. Cas had other angely things to worry about. The apocalypse had been averted, God had resurrected him again, Cas was his little soldier again, only this time Dean wasn’t his first priority anymore. 

He felt cold. Not in a dead-of-winter-in-the-middle-of-Nebraska way, or even in a ghost-just-made-the-room-drop-ten-degrees way. Cold like he wanted something to warm him up, but whatever could make blood circulate in his body again was gone for good. 

The weirdest thing about all of this was that Dean never expected to survive any of it. Yeah, sure, he’d gone to Stull Cemetery so that Sam wouldn’t have to die alone, but also so that he himself wouldn’t have to live alone. They’d already been over this, he didn’t cope well with Sam being gone. 

The rain had started to fall again. Dean rolled down his window, letting the drops of water land on his face and neck. The rain wasn’t heavy, but the wind rushing around the car made them crash on his cheek like skipping stones, painting transparent patterns over his freckles. A drop brushed his cold skin in the middle of his forehead. 

His eyes almost fluttered shut under the onslaught of the memory of Cas’s soft fingertips soothing the line in his brow. He’d felt the bloodstains lift off and evaporate from his pores, he’d felt his muscles relax, he’d felt the swelling of his busted eye deflate and vision come back to him, he’d felt the despair melt into a blissful nothing. 

He’d looked up, and there he had been, the harsh white of the sky a halo around the slump of trench coat. He’d been divine in the afterglow of the healing. The light frown, the resting lips, the scruff, the cheekbones had never looked less human. He’d asked him if he was God, because really, what else could ever inspire so much awe. Dean for one didn’t know.

So yeah, if he was completely honest, things were a tiny bit different this time. He’d been saved. Again. By an angel who apparently didn’t care if he didn’t want to live, because he’d decided that he would. 

Who could argue with that logic. Especially when the ghost of Castiel’s fingertips still lingered on his forehead, light and warm, full of promises. 

Because sure, his brother was gone. But maybe, just maybe, during the past year, he had found another reason to carry on? 

Of course, the bastard had then promptly disappeared, leaving Dean to his brooding and his driving off to nowhere. 

No Heaven (where Cas was). No Hell (where Sam was). Just more of the same (Dean, alone).

[onionninjasstuff]

[todayisafridaynight]

I've been in my feelings about Jo and Aoki's last interactions for a bit...

Because that whole scene is textbook verbal abuse, right... Aoki is very clearly trying to tear Jo's self-esteem and bolster his own, establish control, all that, and Jo just has to stand there meekly and take it. All because Jo's disobeyed one too many times and Aoki needs someone he knows he can control to head the Tokyo Omi Alliance.

Like Jo says he's never disobeyed Aoki except in that one instance, but not handling things himself at Otohime Land was very much his way of giving Ichi an out indirectly, and I feel like Aoki was beginning to catch on based on his comments about Jo neglecting the situation and acting strangely. Directly refusing his orders just confirmed his suspicions.

It's kind of lost among all the bombshells dropped in Chapter 13, but Jo's hesitance to kill anyone who's important to Arakawa is a big deal to me. It's not like he had any personal ties to Hoshino or any investment in maintaining the balance of the Ijin Three whatsoever; he went to those lengths to set himself up to be stopped because Arakawa wouldn't want Hoshino to die and that was it.

To return to the scene, I think it's also a great demonstration of Aoki's "those who use and those who get used" mentality. This next thing is... pretty badly mistranslated, at least in the subs, so it was lost on me for a while. But before the Lost Puppy line, the specific way Aoki chooses to downplay Jo's merit is by telling him he only got to his position because everyone was so sensitive to his (Aoki's) feelings and could tell he favored Jo, following him around like a lost puppy being precisely why Aoki favored him.

I don't think that was all there was to it, of course. Dude was five and deliberately brings Jo wherever he goes to this day by choice. It's kind of like those guys who get rejected once and start going on tirades about how "she should've been grateful, she was ugly anyway." But that's what Aoki wants to portray--you only had it that good because of me, and I can take it away whenever I want. Whenever you're no longer of use. Anything to preserve his status as the user and Jo's as the used.

Jo's crossed the line at this point. He is no longer of use. He does kind of get into it so that takes the edge off my frustration with The English Language, but from this point onward, he believes Aoki sees him as a "bullet"--a hitman only sent on suicide missions. So despite everything he's done for him, despite being "the favorite," he knows full well Aoki's trying to kill him before Aoki even gives Ishioda the order. And... he accepts it.

So TO GO FROM THAT to having to reconcile in prison would've been so much powerful than what the ending was trying to do. Having to come to terms with the fact you killed one of the only people who saw you for who you were and truly cared about you, were going to kill the other two, and have abused all three from the moment you realized you had power over them. And for Jo, going through everything he went through because of Aoki and loving him without question anyway... Getting to express that in some small way... I need to lie down...

ALSO tattoo essay... later... maybe tomorrow... I mainly just feel like I sound extremely mean about rggtattoos' take😭😭😭but the show must go on

YEAH NO THAT'S IT ALL FAX NO PRINTER NO EXTRA NOTES NECESSARY

It'd be the fact that Aoki'd have no choice but to confront those decisions he made and those things he wanted to happen. he'd made a social circle for himself where people predominantly liked him for the power and influence he had and totally turned his back on the people who- awfully ironically as he wanted- loved him for him

He'd already smoothed things over with Ichi, so- by his own hand- all that was left was Jo, the person he'd taken for granted the most next to Arakawa and who he planned to have executed alongside him. Jo's got every right to not forgive Aoki and to push him away, let each other rot in prison ignoring each other. So it's the worst feeling when Jo doesn't do that- its impossible for me not to imagine Jo wondering about what happened for Aoki to get so banged up if he's brought into prison the same night, and making sure Aoki's okay despite it.

Whereas Ichi was more upfront about his love and even frustrated about it ('frustrated' in that 'how could Aoki be so blind not to see how much care there is for him from us'), the breaking part about Jo is that he's forced himself to be so careful about showing his affection. Ichi's love was borderline irritating for how apparent it was: Jo's could have easily been written off or ignored.

All of that said, prison is where Aoki would be forced to realize that Jo does love him like Ichi said he does; there's no reason to keep up appearance or kiss up anymore- Aoki doesn't have any use to Jo anymore (if Aoki chose to interpret Jo's loyalties as a stepping stone to promote himself), and there's certainly no where else to run. It's probably that dawning moment that's gotta be so. Oh God What The Fuck. Like it's a sobering moment for him to go 'What have I been doing this whole time/what have I done to everyone', as corny as it sounds

[space-coupe]

-

[yatiso]

today i got to see a friend i still keep in contact w (even if its just sending memes every other day) but havent actually gotten to see since freshman yr of hs.. ive known him since 7th grade <3 it was very nice but it hurt to say goodbye :,( i didnt realize until today, but hes the only person from school i still talk to… guys im getting old

[libertyybellls]

KISS IT OFF ME !

pairing; finnick odair x f!dist4!reader

summary; finnick can’t take his eyes off of you in any crowd- but he can take care of you, what’s new?

contains; FLUFF, established relationship, finnick is still pining for reader, alcohol consumption- but positively i guess, reader is anxious in the beginning, objectification by the capitol as per usual.

a/n: i hope im not misunderstood but when i put specific photos or outfits/hairs in the headers of my works that is not directly what i am picturing the reader as! its more-so the hairstyle, or the outfit- or simply the aesthetic of the picture. not the race, hair nor body type. ur all cutie pies. ok anyways onto the fic kiss kiss.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

“well would you look at that!” your stylist squeals in your ear, “from the moment you won your last games i have just been dying to design for you again and… here we are!” she ushers you to spin around.

she’d always been kind to you, perhaps less kind to your dignity- always wanting to flaunt you like a show pony- but nonetheless her support had always been there.

“it’s beautiful, thank you.” you smile small at her. so bittersweet, she was oh-so ecstatic to dress you up once more but to you- this meant less serenity to you. more agitation, more distress, more death.

it felt like a paradox, to be adorned in this sweet, innocent, baby pink before you’re sent away to a grim world once again- you’d already gone off on a tangent to finnick. you’d both sobbed solemnly about the cruelty of it all, how you would never be able to live in peace.

but finnick just wanted you both to have this one night, to indulge in the capitol before you were sent of to your deaths, obviously he would see the brighter side of thing- blabbering about plutarchs plan and how he only needs to protect you, katniss, and peeta until he can get you out of there.

sounds so very simple doesn’t it?

once you’d finished your interview you attended a party, a celebration for the third quarter quell. how ironic, what was there to celebrate?

you’d seen the food platters, the spiked drinks, and indulge you did.

your brain had been fuzzy by the time you’d escape the overbearing class of the capitol citizens, who wanted to know every detail of your life.

it was then- finnick had spotted you- so inebriated you’d genuinely laugh at something the woman next to you said.

feasibly being that she’d said something so pretentious you couldn’t help but tilt your head back in laughter. but nonetheless he admired.

he admired your dress, your smile, the way your eyes slightly disappeared when you laughed, the way your hair was laying down your back. he was simply under the spell of you.

it was then your eyes met his smitten ones, so love drunk- or possibly just drunk- that you’d excused yourself and made a beeline straight for him.

he’d encaptured you with warm arms, a leather corset-like article of clothing consumed his waist- followed by his white buttoned down that seemed to be unbuttoned.

you noticed the way his eyes consumed you- not like the others did. not like you were a piece of cake, not like you were something they had to have for the night, but someone who lit his chest alight.

“you look beautiful.” he murmurs into your hair, his hands around your waist.

“i hardly feel that way- im scared, i think.”

he shook his head, pulling you from his warm embrace much to your dismay. “don’t be. you’re with me right now.” finnicks plush lips lay atop your forehead now.

you laugh as he continues to peck your face, giggles leaving your lips.”so beautiful.”

it was only when you nearly toppled over your unnecessarily long pumps that he took not of your consumption.

“so head over heels it seems you’ve had a little to much to drink. what do you say i get you back to your room now? hm?” he straightens you back up. “run you a bath?”

you let out a muffled mm into his chest, your other hand placed on the side of his chest holding you steady. “love you s’much finn.”

it was his turn to laugh now, there was no mockery, no heinous act behind it, just you and finnick. “i know baby.”

-

[zarla-s]

We move forward, 'cause we can't go back...

It's the EIGHTH anniversary of Handplates, and the first one after I finished the comic back in July! I decided to dig up a very old wip that I never finished and finally do it. I've always loved WeMoveForward by The Midnight, and I think it applies not only to the comic itself but also this period after it... there's no way to go back to when I was doing it, only moving forward after it's done.

Even more appropriately, since I did this wip, these characters all moved forward even further... even as this sat in my files, they moved forward, in a sense. I don't know, the song gives me a sort of plaintive, longing, bittersweet feeling... it's hard to explain.

I had a very insistent voice in my head that always made me do a Handplates page over the years I was working on it, no matter what happened. I wasn't sure if that voice would ever stop, even when it's done, but it has! It's gotten quieter now, mostly only nagging me about other projects I should be working on (Defrag, the Ace Attorney/Frozen fic, web design, fic ideas, art ideas...) whenever I'm doing something, much like it did before I started the comic.

How I feel about Handplates finishing though is strange. At times it doesn't feel like it's over, even if I don't feel like I need to do another page. At other times I get sad thinking about it and I miss it, and other times I look back on it with amazement that I was able to do it. Sometimes I look back on it and think about what was happening in my life at that time, and sometimes when I look at it it's unreal and it's hard to believe I even did it, like someone else did the whole thing. It's like it's there but it's not, it's present but it isn't. It's a very strange feeling, it's hard to describe or pin down. I know it'll always be with me in some way, but it is strange to be able to focus so much attention on other things without that feeling of having to set aside a few days to do a page every two weeks... not bad or anything, but I'm not used to it still.

I don't know! When I read the comments on the last page a lot of them made me cry, especially those talking about how the comic had been their childhood, and now their childhood is over. It was sad to think that I had a part in something like that ending... but it ends for everyone, no matter what you do. We, you and me, everyone... we move forward, 'cause we can't go back. That line was so evocative for me that I even used it as a chapter title for the penultimate chapter on Comicfury.

I don't know, just nostalgic thoughts! I don't know if that's the right word for it... but thank you to all of you who read it and enjoyed it. Even now I hear from new people coming to it and reading through it again now that it's done. Even if it's finished, it's still new to people just finding it. It's still "living" in a sense. And thanks to those of you who stuck around even though it's done, I appreciate it. |D

(As a note, the Gaster ukagaka has a surprise if you boot him on the anniversary after seeing the brothers, if you haven't done that)

[index] [patreon]

[goddessofwisdom-7]

His Girl

Luke Castellan x female!reader

Description: Luke spends a moment with his favourite hot tempered darling.

Gif is not mine, credits to the creator.

*****************************************************************************

It was an agreed upon opinion that battle axes were incredibly unconventional but you had decided from the moment you had it made that this would be your weapon of choice. And by the gods, did you have a temper. You'd joke that at least your brutish rage would match your brutish weapon. It was extremely ironic when the owl symbol burned brightly over your head and not the symbolic blessing of Ares.

Luke always thought you were a fascinating person: soft features sharply contrasted with fiery eyes and an axe. All that righteous rage never looked so beautiful. He'd received a very limited amount of blessings that were for him alone, but you were satiating and comforting and the hollowed feeling in his chest filled when you let him reach out and accept him in your hands and heart.

And sometimes he'd think, okay maybe there's some salvation and goodness for me.

"Luke? What are you–"

"Just– let me, okay?" He asked as he traced his thumb across your brow and cheekbone, his other hand cupping the back of your neck, cradling you close– admiring, imbibing, "the twins tried to prank you again?"

You rolled your eyes, "would've been funny if I didn't see it a mile away."

"Is that so? Is that why they had me hide your axe?"

He laughed, drawing you close, kissing away the claims of betrayal and conspiracy.

"Gods, you're so beautiful," He sighed.

Sooner or later things were going to change. Luke had a feeling that the summer solstice would truly stir the pot and for all your anger, he knew that when it came down to it, you might not side with him always. In a way, Athena cannot be trusted and hence, neither could you or even Annabeth for a matter of fact.

That wasn't going to change his mind or the skeleton of a plan he'd created but it did make him begin to miss you already, and he knew that he'd covet you even more as the time passed and he'll miss your precious righteous anger and the bittersweet taste of salt and sweat that he kissed off your lips and cheeks after strenuous tasks or games.

His girl with fiery eyes and an axe.

"Yeah, yeah; you keep complimenting me while aiding and abetting the twins. Cancels each other out."

You grinned, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, sneaking your thumbs under his shirt, brushing his sides. You know Luke'll return your weapons and Travis and Connor will be sent for their showers after the entire Hermes cabin finishes theirs for the next week. All in all, dating Head Councelor has its perks.

"Your birthday's coming up, got any requests?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your hair before leaning back to look you in the eye.

"Nah, maybe we can spend the day sparring. I can show you this technique I've developed."

"Sparring, huh?" He smirks, "sure, I'd love to see this technique of yours."

"Wow, leave me alone," you roll your eyes, swatting at him.

He catched your hand and presses two kisses between your knuckles and as always, almost love a traditional practice you do the same to him.

"Alright I gotta go, the new kids got their Greek lesson now," you say.

"Wish I had such a gorgeous tutor back in the day," he teases, grinning as you stick your tongue at him, "I'll see you later."

"Yeah you will. I love you."

"I love you more.'

His girl with fiery eyes and an axe.

*****************************************************************************

[elllisaaa]

no nut november - han jisung (5th to lose)

-> pairing : han x fem!reader

-> words count : 5k

-> genre : smut, ennemies-to-lovers

-> warnings : switch!han swearing, teasing, dirty talk, praising, protected sex, oral (f. and m. receiving), face sitting, deep throathing, masturbation (m. and f.), use of 'good girl' and 'baby boy', marking, hair pulling, begging, a little bit of angst because han and y/n are dumb + the way i'm depicting jisung does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

“- Are you serious !?”

Your smirk widened as you heard his annoyed voice ringing in the room. He must have found out that you finished Felix’s cookie. But Felix was your best friend, you didn’t like Han and you were hungry. Logical conclusion : you ate them regardless. The door of your room swung open as Jisung bursted into it, visibly furious. You turned around in your chair, your eyes falling in his angry ones immediately. 

“- Serious about what ?

- Please ! I know you’re dumb but not that much.”

And your smile told it all : you knew very well what he was talking about, but pretending you didn’t and irritating him even more was always entertaining. 

“- Oh ! The cookies, is that it ?

- Yes, that’s it ! 

- Well, how could’ve I known that you wanted one ? 

- You could’ve been nice, for once in your life ?

- Towards you ? Never !

- I hate you.”

Jisung didn’t give you the time to answer but you didn’t mind, you just watched him storming out of your room, bragging about how much of a bitch you were. 

“- I hate you too, don’t worry !”

You heard a door slamming somewhere in the apartment, and you laughed quietly at the noise, happy to have angered him to the point he left once again. It was either him or you who ran away from your arguments, but it was always about silly things like these cookies. You preferred to avoid serious subjects. It was safer, because you knew yourself, and you thus knew you were capable of saying the wrong thing very easily. The only thing you allowed yourself to do in his presence was fighting and teasing him, because you knew that he was attracted to you as much as you were to him. 

In the first place, you weren’t seeing him as anything but a talented guy. You became trainees almost at the same time, and he was so much better than you at everything. He was good at dancing, singing, rapping, and composing music. Everything he did was immediately incredible, just because it was him. You weren’t bad, not at all, but having this as your goal to reach and surpass was overwhelming and putting pressure on you. On top of that, Jisung had a good personality. He was kind, funny and a good friend. He even tried to help you a few times, but all you had in mind was that he was your rival, your enemy. So, you pushed him away, not seeing the disappointment in his eyes everytime you did. 

And little by little, your frustration of not being able to do at least as good as him started to become hate, until the point there was no going back, until the point the only thing holding you back from saying it all to him was your career. Jisung must have sensed your hostility, because he started to look at you from afar, he stopped trying to talk to you and you felt relieved somehow - you couldn’t have carried on with this behavior if he kept being so gentle with you. 

The thing was that you couldn’t help being attracted to him, even after all your arguments, after all that jealousy. With time, it all faded to end up in a bittersweet habit that you didn’t want to break, afraid that it would shatter the only relationship that you had with him. You weren’t jealous anymore, but you didn’t know how to act around him, other than arguing for the most stupid things. 

__________________________________________________________________________________

“- Felix !”

You jumped in your friend’s arms, happy to see him after this exhausting night. You liked to see other people, but award shows were always nerve wracking for you. Your favorite part of it was just starting : the after party. Felix guided you to a table where he poured you a drink that you definitely needed and deserved after all the hard work you put in to win this award. As you were talking with him, you let your eyes wander around the room until they landed on Jisung. 

He must have felt your gaze on him because he turned to you, his eyes fixed on yours. Your smile widened when he looked down, checking out your outfit. When he glanced at you again, you felt like a fire had started to burn into your stomach. He always had that effect on you, raising up something you didn’t want to think about. What you wanted to think about right now was your plan. 

Your plan was to make him surrender. Felix had told you about their stupid bet once, when he was a little drunk with you, and you decided to take advantage of it, you decided to make Han lose. If there was only one thing about him that you knew, it’s that he was as attracted to you as you were to him. You tried almost everything you could to bring him to the edge. But you didn’t get any reactions out of him, which was really starting to irritate you. 

So, tonight was the night. If you got nothing from him this time too, you would give up. And maybe it would help you to move on from him, finally. Deep inside, you really hoped he would react, because you didn’t want to stop seeing him, teasing him, fighting with him. It was the good part of each one of your days, you didn’t want it to stop. 

And you didn’t stop, spending the whole night touching him even when it wasn’t necessary, staying close to him even if you didn’t address a word to him, teasing him even if he seemed more and more tense as time passed by. But it wasn’t like you were exactly calm yourself, on the contrary. You drank, and drank, and drank to relax, until the point you were a bit tipsy. You were less anxious, but the control you had over your words worsened too quickly. You would have to stop with alcohol if you wanted to keep a little dignity. 

And as you laughed one more time at one of Jeongin’s joke, you landed your hand on Jisung’s arm, feeling a shiver running on his bare skin. He got rid of his stage outfit, instead wearing black tight jeans and a white shirt tucked inside, making his waist look so slutty you practically drooled at the sight. Suddenly, your wrist was trapped inside the iron grip of his fingers, leaving you no other choice than to follow him when he excused himself, pulling you with him to the hallway, slamming the door shut behind the two of you.   

“- What do you think you’re doing ?”

He was breathing heavily, as if he was holding back from saying or doing something - and you hoped it was from fucking you right there. You smiled innocently under his lustful gaze, trying not to seem too excited by the whole situation. 

“- I didn’t do anything Jisung… What do you think I’m doing ?”

Han took a step towards you, checking you out without an ounce of shame. Why should he after all ? You did that too many times to count, couldn’t really hold it against him now. 

“- I think you’re trying to make me lose. It’s all about that bet, isn’t it ? Wanted to see me fall apart since the first day.

- And ? Did it work ?”

You watched closely when he licked his lips, wondering what he could do to your body with that exact same tongue. He took another step towards you, and another, until his face was only inches away from yours. 

“- You want to see how much ?

- Yes.”

Your voice came out shaky, but Jisung didn’t seem to mind since he took your face into his hands, lowering his lips to the point they were almost touching yours. He took a second or two, taking in your whole face as if he wanted to remember it forever. But quickly, everything that wasn’t his lips on yours left your mind : the moment he kissed you, the world got blurred. 

Han’s hands found their way to your hips, gripping on them to keep you as close to him as possible. You ran your fingers through his hair, opening your mouth gladly when you felt his tongue licking your lips, moaning when he deepened the kisses. You felt your back hit the wall behind you, and Jisung’s body pressing into yours. You smiled lightly when his erection pressed up against your thigh. All you did was for that exact moment, for the moment he’ll finally give up. 

Without a word, you pushed him away from you just enough for you to get on your knees, your hands searching for his belt immediately. But Jisung stopped you just as quickly, putting his hands on yours. Your eyes fell into his, absolutely loving what you saw. It was what you wanted all along, seeing how much he wanted you. He was out of breath, his cheeks were bright red, his hair were messy thanks to your hands and his gaze was shining with envy. He was just so hot, without even trying. 

“- We shouldn’t do that… 

- What ? You’re gonna tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick ?”

You distinctly saw him shallow, his eyes wandered all around the corridor before they came back to you. 

“- I just don’t want you to be seen loving it so much.”

His fucking smirk was back, and you never thought you’ll like it this much one day. But you did. And as his hands left yours, you came back to your previous activity, unbuckling his belt and sliding his clothes just enough to free his cock. You stuck your tongue out, licking just his tip playfully, and then all along his dick. 

“- Hurry up, we can’t get caught.”

You chuckled lightly ; of course he didn’t want to admit that he was just craving your touch. But he wasn’t totally wrong. You were in a hallway, and even if it was late and that the probability of someone walking on you was very low, maybe it could happen. And to be honest, you were excited by this idea, by someone seeing how desperate Jisung was for you, that he needed you to the point he couldn’t hold back until you were alone - ignoring the fact that you offered that. 

Maybe he was desperate, but you were eager to please him too, to finally feel him and taste him. You took his cock in your mouth little by little, relaxing your throat with slow moves of your head. When your nose touched his pubis, you could tell Jisung was really lost in his pleasure. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back, and his mouth was hanging open, letting out whimpers and pleas. 

“- I swear if you don’t start to move I’m going to lose my mind…”

Jisung could have easily taken your hair and made you move himself, but he was so putty in your hands his body wasn’t responding anymore. You grabbed his thighs for support - and not because you wanted to touch them, not at all - then, you finally started to bob your head. You heard Han whine loudly, biting his lower lip immediately to prevent any other sound to escape his mouth.

“- S-Shit ! You’re too good at that…”

Maybe you would have responded, if your mouth wasn’t full. One of his hand flew to your hair, gripping on them tightly when you hollowed your cheeks and twirled your tongue around his cock. He was hitting the back of your throat with each move you’d make, and you could sense that he was holding back from fucking your mouth, you could feel his dick twitching. But you didn’t want him to restrain himself. No. You wanted him to completely let go, completely give in to you. So you sucked him harder. 

“- F-Fuck ! Don’t stop… Please.”

You let his cock fall out of your mouth, licking on it a few times before glancing back at him. He looked fucked out already, and you liked it too much for your own good. 

“- No need to beg for it baby… Serve yourself.”

His dick was back in your mouth before he could say a single word, a moan escaping his lips instead. Jisung let out another obscenity before he started to thrust into your mouth slowly, not wanting to hurt you at first, but he quickly lost control at how tight your throat felt around him. Your eyes filled up with tears as he started fucking your mouth faster, roughly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he was seemingly on the edge of his climax.  

Han knew he had to stop. He should have stopped before cumming, he would’ve still participated in the bet. However, he couldn't. He couldn’t stop himself, he couldn’t stop you. He was dreaming about this for too long to stop now. All he wanted was to shoot his load down your throat and then bury his face in your pussy for hours. 

“- Oh God ! I-I can’t… I- Fuck, baby !”

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth once again, and then his hot cum landed directly in your throat, leaving you no other choice but to swallow it, moaning too when you finally tasted him. Some of his seed spilled out of your mouth, dripping on your chin and then on the floor, but your mind was focused on how sweet Jisung’s voice was sounding, whimpering your name as you licked him clean. He seemed to definitely lose it when you gathered the cum resting on your chin on your thumb, sucking on it right after. 

When you got back on your feets, your knees were aching, and your jaw too. But it was worth it, especially when you saw Han trying to recompose himself by arranging his hair, trying to look unbothered but you could see his hands shaking. Were you in a better state ? Not really since your panties were soaked in your arousal, sticking to your cunt. And you knew by the way he had gripped your hair that they were probably too messy to only look like you two had another argument. 

“- Y/N ?”

You were about to head back inside after arranging your hairstyle a bit, trying to not let him see how shaken you were by what had just happened. You put on a mask of confidence before turning to look at him, finding Han buried in a state of nervousness you’ve never seen him into before. He had always been that cocky guy around you, full of himself as if he knew the effect he had on you, not that anxious boy scratching the back of his neck and barely looking at you.

“- What ? 

- Do… Do you want to come with me to the hotel ? I didn’t even had the chance to show you how well I can use that tongue…”

If he had let you see a vulnerable side of him, it disappeared quickly, only to let you contemplate that smug smile of his. You sighed, holding back your own smile to spread across your face. Wasn’t that what you waited for ? 

“- You’ll have to make it worth it baby.”

He tried no to show how much this nickname was affecting him, or how turned on your smirk was getting him already. You had certainly noticed at this point, but he had always been admirative of your ability to act like nothing happened even when you should have been crying. Like this time when you performed for your monthly evaluations with a broken ankle, smiling at the jury as if you weren’t dying on the inside. Or like right now, as you were jocking around with Felix and San, as if he wasn’t fucking your throat minutes ago. Jisung would never say it out loud, but he had dreamt about this since the first time his eyes crossed yours in the rehearsal room, years ago. 

______________

You stumbled across his room, not even remembering how you made it to the door, the only thing crossing your mind being his hands trying to unzip your dress, and yours unbuckling his belt for the second time tonight. You pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed and getting rid of your dress yourself under his hungry gaze. Jisung’s eyes were wide open, watching closely as the piece of clothing fell to the floor, pooling at your feets. 

He tried to say something, but his throat was dry, and he could only look as you straddled him. His body seemed to understand what was happening only when you leaned in to kiss him again, your tongue entering his mouth easily. His hands wandered on your skin, moaning when he felt your warmth under his touch and your fingers running through his hair. 

“- You’re so gorgeous… I need more baby, please…”

You took a handful of his hair and pulled his head back, earning some incoherent whines from him. 

“- You need what ? You need to be more specific, baby boy.”

It only made him moan some more as you started grinding against his bulge. The fact that he was still fully dressed while you were only wearing your underwear turned him on. You should’ve been the one feeling small and vulnerable, but here you were, teasing him, having control, and Han loved it. 

“- I need you to touch me… Please, please…”

Your smile softened when you heard him beg. It was what you had always dreamt of - of having Han Jisung on his knees for you. 

“- But didn’t you promise to show me how well you could use your tongue ? 

- Yes ! Yes, I’ll eat you out, I just want to be good for you…”

There was something so wrong about seeing this proper and talented guy so desperate for you, and only you. But it was also so exciting, you didn’t think about it twice before throwing away your panties and pushing him to lay down on the mattress. And when Jisung saw you crawling until you straddled his face this time, he felt like his heart would come out of his chest from how fast it was beating. 

“- You’ll better not make me regret coming here baby.”

Maybe he would have responded, if his mouth wasn’t full of your pussy. You lowered yourself on his tongue, moaning when he started to lick your clit. You kept yourself up on your knees, not wanting to suffocate him, but his hands gripped your thighs, pushing you entirely on his face, not giving a fuck about if he could still breath or not. He just wanted to dive in your cunt forever, to taste you for hours, to stay between your thighs for as long as you’ll allow him to.  

“- That’s it Hannie, feels so good…”

You grabbed his hair again, pressing his face harder against your wetness, getting him to moan so loudly you thought he was coming. Jisung licked your slit, tasting your sweet juice again and again, knowing he’d never get tired of it. His tongue flicked against your bundle of nerves harshly, feeling your thighs tense under his fingers. Your moans were making him dizzy, and he was so hard he thought he could come undone just from your savor and your praises. 

“- So great with that tongue, you didn’t lie… Now make me cum, I can’t wait to feel you in me…”

Han didn’t need you to tell him twice before he pushed his tongue past your walls, his nose rubbing against your clit. You threw your head back as waves of pleasure washed over you, grinding on his face shamelessly and crying out his name over and over, until it felt too much. Your legs were trembling as you slowly got off from him, allowing him to finally sit up.  

He was as breathless as you, his lips and chin were covered in your arousal, his eyes were glistening, and you didn’t know if it was from tears or just excitement. You stared at each other for a few seconds, without saying a word, before his hoarse voice came out.

“- Let me fuck you… Please…”

You bit your lips, your eyes focusing solely on his lips for a moment, before you leaned in to kiss him again. This was enough of an answer for Jisung, and this time, everything coming near to demanding was only a memory as he grabbed your breast over your bra roughly. You moaned in the kiss, and he took advantage of it to rub his tongue against yours messily, saliva dripping down your chin. 

He didn’t stop kissing you when he took off your underwear, nor when he pinned you against the bed, only letting your mouth go to get rid of his own clothes. He threw them away quickly, not caring where they landed as your hands ran his chest up and down, biting your bottom lip as he also got rid of his pants and underwear. You couldn’t lie to yourself when it came to him : he was looking like a greek god, naked under the moonlight. 

“- Fuck me Jisung. I want you to ruin me.”

His eyes darkened, if that was even possible, but you didn’t get the chance to admire that as he dived in again to kiss you passionately, moaning in each other's mouth, teeth clashing and tongues dancing together. You felt his hands caressing your knee before spreading them open with a strength you didn’t think he’d have. Another whine escaped your lips at the images running in your mind from this newfound information.

“- Please, tell me you have a condom or I might go crazy.”

You smiled, and pushed him away just enough to grab your bag abandoned on the floor next to the bed, searching in a little side pocket to hand him a condom, trying not to get distracted by his hands grabbing your ass cheeks. 

“- I’m surprised you don’t have one.

- Sorry, didn't expect a little brat to suck my dick tonight.”

You chuckled at his mumbled words, pulling on his hair to bring back his lips on yours. Jisung tried to focus on it all at once : getting the condom on, kissing you, and not fainting. He seemed all confident and composed, but his hands were shaking from anticipation and nervousness as they landed on your thighs again. He knew you were the type to get a new guy every week just for fun, you had so much more experience than him, what if he ended up embarrassing himself ? 

“- If you don’t fuck me right now, I might go crazy.”

Your whiny voice - as much as you tried to sound composed - made him come back to reality. And the moment he pushed his cock past your folds, the moment he felt your wetness engulfing him, the moment he heard your desperate moans for more of his dick, his brain deactivated definitely. Han hissed when he finally filled you up fully, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck as he started moving, holding your legs up, allowing him to thrust deeper each time. 

“- Fuck… You feel so good, so wet and tight just for me… It is just for me right ?”

He didn’t know where this possessiveness was coming from, nor did you, but judging by the way you clenched around him as he whispered the words against your sensitive skin, it wasn’t really bothering you. But you didn’t answer, focused on the way his cock was hitting all the right places already, making it hard for you to contain your noises. Until a hard thrust of his hips made you cry out his name.

“- F-Fuck Jisung ! Keep going…

- Answer baby, is this all for me ?”

Another thrust that made you see stars behind your closed eyes - a vain attempt to hold yourself back from moaning at each one of his moves. He kissed the skin of your neck slowly at first, quickly turning into sucking, biting and marking you. You had a stage tomorrow, and it was obvious that it would leave purple marks on your skin. But at this exact moment you couldn’t care less about it. 

“- Yes, yes, just for you !”

Han groaned loudly before he stood up on his knee, wrapping your legs around his waist and his hands gripping on your body as he started to pound into you, making your back arch and your mouth hang open, an incoherent mix between pleas, his name and animalistic sounds coming out. Trying to keep some sanity, you grabbed the sheets beneath you, looking up at Jisung between your legs : sweats was glistening on his skin, moans falling from his lips with every little clench of your cunt around him

“- That’s my good girl… Shit ! Letting me use her sweet pussy like that, screaming only my name. Only mine.

- Yeah ! Y-Yes… Only yours Ji !”

Your grip on the sheets wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed him. 

“- More.”

It took no more than a word from you to get him. The weight of his body soon crushed you into the mattress, the skin-to-skin contact making you whimper. You immediately ran one of your hands through his hair, the other one resting on his back, needing to feel more of him. He came back to your neck, attacking the other side this time as the speed of his thrusts increased. Your nails dug into the skin of his back when he hit your g-spot again, making you clench so hard around him he thought you were cumming. 

“- God, I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that princess… 

- Don’t care, I want your cum all over me.”

A loud moan escaped his mouth before you felt him pull out of your dripping cunt, jerking himself off right away. The loss of his dick was soon replaced by two of your own fingers pushing into your pussy, circling your clit as you watched him fall apart in front of your eyes. 

“- Oh fuck ! Shit, shit, shit… I-”

Another loud moan interrupted him as his hot cum landed on your stomach and breast, some even ending up on your chin. His blissed out face and little whines as he slowly stopped moving his hand just did it for you, cumming hard around your own fingers, missing the look of wonder Han threw at you when you came, rubbing your thighs gently to help you come back to reality. 

You didn’t know how much time passed by like this, next thing you knew was that you were in Jisung’s arms, legs tangled, and your face buried in his chest. Your eyes opened with difficulty, blinded by the light of the bright sun coming from the window - you didn’t really care about closing the curtains last night. With almost as much struggle, you managed to get out of his embrace, heading to the bathroom with your clothes from yesterday that you picked up on the floor. 

As soon as you saw your reflection in the mirror, you gasped. If last night, you enjoyed his mouth on your neck, you were regretting it now that you saw how many hickeys he left on your skin, and how dark they were. You couldn’t ask the stylist to give you something else since the outfits of your group had already been selected. You sighed while thinking about what you’ll need to do to convince the staff so they would cover this up with makeup. 

“- Couldn’t keep his mouth shut, as always.

- I won’t apologize for this, everyone should know you’re mine”

You turned around quickly, finding Jisung landing against the door frame of the bathroom, his fucking smirk back on his lips as you tried to process what he had just said. Your heart fluttered, but you couldn’t do that. It was too complicated. So you just decided to brush it off, and focused on taking off your makeup that was smeared around your eyes instead - keeping your hands busy to keep your mind busy too.

“- Stop with that. I’m not yours.”

You saw his smile drop in the mirror, and it suddenly felt like a heavy burden was weighing on your shoulders, like it was getting harder to breathe. 

“- I- Fuck… I can’t keep this up anymore Y/N. 

- What are you talking about ?”

Maybe playing dumb would allow you to ditch this conversation. You were not ready. Not ready to admit what you were feeling, and not ready to accept that he was maybe feeling the same way. 

“- I’m talking about us, about… About this whole fucked up relationship, because I know for a fact that you don’t hate me, and I can’t bring myself to hate you either. I’m tired of lying and always pretending that I don’t want to be near you when this is all I dream about. I don’t know what you want, but I’m pretty sure that I want you all for myself.”

From the way he was talking, from the anger and sadness that was pouring out of his words, you knew that it came from his heart, that he had been holding back for a long time. And maybe you did too. Because you slowly turned to look at him again, head down and playing with his fingers restlessly. 

“- I… It’s way too complicated Jisung, and you know it.”

Suddenly, his eyes were fixed in yours again, and you were only inches away from each other’s body. It seemed as if his gaze was burning with fire, as if he was struggling to keep himself together. 

“- I don’t give a fuck about that ! I don’t give a fuck about the stupid shit you find complicated ! Because you know that it is not impossible, you know it. I just want you. That’s as simple as that.”

You breathed heavily as he calmed down quickly, coming back to his previous state of anxiety. You didn’t dare to say a word, afraid to hurt him once again when all you really wanted was to hold him.

“- Please, just say something.”

You felt your eyes well up with tears as you hugged him tight, his arms immediately wrapping around you, as if it was where you should be. Your plan was not to get there, but now that his fingers were stroking your hair gently, and that his intoxicating scent was surrounding you, were you really regretting it ? 

“- Maybe… Maybe I want you all for myself too, and… Maybe we can try.”

Both of you will need a long and serious talk, but Han’s smile as he buried his face in your hair and your heart fluttering when he did so was enough of an explanation for now. And as he took you back to the bed, caressing your skin tenderly, the bet was long forgotten. 

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

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[rosielovesf1]

podiums + pregnancies

someone knows how to make an entrance (she gets it from her mummy)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none! (my first post oop)

author's note: welcome to my blog!! this is a bit rough, but i figured it's only going to get better with time so here goes. thanks for spending some time on my little corner of the internet!

y/n was not joking when she said her ankles had left the building. she didn’t know when it had happened, but they had completely and utterly given up on her. 

“Baby girl, it’s just rude at this point,” she said quietly to herself. Despite the discomfort, she was unable to stop the beginnings of a smile when she thought about the little human that she’d couldn’t wait to meet. “I thought we had a deal that you wouldn’t do this to me until my maternity leave started.” 

And that leave was so close she could practically taste it (thank God), but brought with it some bittersweet feelings. In her comfortable seat in the McLaren motorhome, watching the race coverage on the television with papaya headphones secured over her ears, she took a second to enjoy the moment. Her whole life she’d been working towards her dream of being a motorsport journalist, and after a couple of wildly successful interviews with the most closed off of drivers, she was catapulted into the glitzy and glamorous world of F1. In the midst of seeing her dreams come true, she hadn’t expected to fall in love- with the curly haired boy who was currently in a comfortable third place. 

The garage started to buzz with excitement as the end of the race drew closer and closer. y/n gasped as Lando’s position was threatened with five laps to go, but he defended skilfully, pulling ahead on the straight and successfully creating more distance between him and the contender. The mechanics roared, and suddenly there was a flurry of motion as they got ready to cheer their driver to the checkered flag. 

“That’s your daddy!” y/n said, unable to contain her excitement. There was an uncomfortable twinge in her gut when she stood to celebrate him crossing the finish line with the rest of the garage, but it was easily ignored in the midst of hugs and cheers with the rest of the team. Pato found her in the crowd (she was hard to miss at 38 weeks pregnant), and squeezed her shoulders in a side hug. 

“No wonder he’s on the podium, with his lucky charms here,” the McLaren reserve driver said, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. y/n's smile grew as she took him in- race weekends were always made better by his presence in the McLaren garage. Pato had been one of her very first motorsport interviews while working in IndyCar, and her nerves had been through the roof when first meeting him. Luckily, they’d clicked instantly, bonding over their shared upbringing in Texas, and her ability to draw out his wonderful personality on camera had been a huge help to advancing her career. “Wanna head over there?” 

“Yes! Definitely. But I’m warning you, it’s going to be slow.” She shook her head and smiled fondly down at her bump. “I’ve seen turtles who walk faster than me.” 

“Oh, come on,” he said, steadying her arm as she stepped down from the raised platform where chairs were placed in the garage. “I think you could at least win a race with a snail.” 

“Mean!” she laughed, swatting his arm away as they followed the horde of people surging towards the podium. “You get pregnant, and then we’ll see how you do.” 

“Yeah, I don't think that's in the cards for me,” he said, bumping her shoulder. There was too much noise to continue their conversation as they neared the podium, and they only had to pause once on their journey as y/n breathed through another twinge. This one seemed a little stronger, but she recovered quickly, and Pato shielded her as people jostled for a spot close to the front. Luckily, the McLaren team recognized her fondly and made a path towards the fence, closing in behind her and Pato so they couldn’t be bumped around. 

“God, this never gets old.” y/n said, taking in the roar of the crowd, the feeling of being one in a sea of many. 

“Here he comes!” Pato yelled over the many voices around them, and an uncontrollable smile broke out across her face as her boy pulled off his helmet and ran towards them.

He slowed down as he neared her, wrapping her in a tight yet cautious hug. 

“Doing okay, baby?” he said into her ear, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek. 

“Are you kidding me? You were amazing out there! I’m so proud of you!” y/n squealed, hugging him as tightly as her belly allowed. Cameras clicked around them as she pulled back to meet his soft lips, smiling into the short kiss. 

“Did it for my girls.” He said, eyes bright as he stared into hers. For a second, it was just them, and she felt a warm rush of gratitude for where life had taken her. Dream career, dream love, and a new dream- a child made from the best parts of both of them, arriving in just a few weeks. 

“Go celebrate with your team,” she mouthed, eyes going glossy. 

He looked conflicted but nodded, gently cupping the sides of her face and planting a kiss on her forehead before stepping away. With a giant whoop, he launched himself into the crowd of waiting McLaren employees, clapping hands with some and hugging others. He shot a wink over at her before walking into the building and the cooldown room, and the crowd grew antsy as they waited for the trophy presentation. 

Now that there was a lapse in the excitement, the twinges y/n felt were becoming harder and harder to ignore. She gripped Pato’s arm to her left as a particularly bad one came on, wincing in pain. 

“y/n?” he asked, voice filled with worry. “Everything okay? Is it too crowded?” 

“Yeah,” she breathed out, the pain subsiding within a few seconds. “I just, I keep feeling this squeezing sensation that I-”

They came to the realization at the same time, and Pato’s eyes seemed to almost be more terrified than hers. “You don’t think?” 

“I uh-, I mean,” Pato looked around frantically. Any hopes of further conversation were blown away as the trophy presentation started, and Lando was announced as the third place driver. He walked out onto the podium, a smile on his face and Pirelli hat on, taking his spot on the third place platform. His happy expression only grew as he scanned the crowd, until his eyes found what y/n assumed was an alarming sight- her practically doubled over, hanging onto Pato’s arm for dear life, and Pato looking like he would rather be thrown out of an F1 car than in this situation. 

Others around them started to take notice, and the female employees in particular rushed to her aid, offering bottles of water. y/n accepted gratefully, and looked up in time to notice that her favorite driver was no longer standing proudly on stage, and all of a sudden he was rushing out to find her at the fence. 

“Go back-” y/n forced out. “Fine. Just need a second.” 

“Baby, no.” He said, finding a way to move the fence so y/n could join him on the other side.  He took charge of supporting her- Pato practically sagged in relief- and ran a hand over her hair. “We have to go. Oh my god, we have to go? Is it time?” 

“No.” y/n said firmly. She could feel all eyes of the crowd on her, and even the announcer on the podium had paused his program to watch the chaos unfolding below. “Your moment! She can wait!”

But as y/n's face crumpled in the wake of another contraction, the decision was made for the both of them by their daughter- she was coming, and she was coming now. His hands shook as he guided her inside, y/n groaning more about making a scene than the pain. Pato called out a feeble “Good luck!” from behind and she sent a weak wave his way. 

A staff member inside the cooldown room had already called an ambulance, and Lando guided y/n into a chair before squatting down to press his forehead against hers. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, rubbing her hands over his shoulders.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” he said, taking a deep breath to try to stop his hands from shaking as he intertwined them with hers. The combination of the post-race adrenaline and the imminent arrival of their daughter was doing crazy things to his nervous system. “I can’t believe this is really happening. I’m so sorry you spent the day here when you could’ve been comfortable at home.” 

She shook her head at him, her deep breaths the only sound in the space. “No place I’d rather be.” 

He squeezed her hands at that, kissing both cheeks and leaving the lightest kiss on her nose. 

“She’s really coming, huh?” y/n whispered in disbelief, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“She’s really coming,” Lando laughed, not able to believe his luck.

@y/nnorris: our angel on earth. amelia parker hinata norris. 03/16/2024.

@landonorris: my two favorite girls in the world. ☀️ someone knows how to make an entrance (she gets it from her mummy).  ready for #2 whenever you are @y/nnorris 

[helenanell]

Every Saturday || Challengers

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Every Saturday || Challengers 

Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader 

CW: Kissing. Emotional affair. Infidelity. Angst. Yearning. Bittersweet / slightly sad ending.

Notes: No smut. No use of y/n. Set after the events of the film.

(This is not connected to my other Challengers story - ‘Breath Of Life)

Wordcount: 4K

This is the response to a request from @anehkael :

‘Art, exhausted by the pressure of competition and his wife, decides to escape for a day. He ends up at a local tennis court, where he meets a talented and charismatic female player. Their instant connection on the court turns into an unexpected love affair, but Art's professional and marital obligations threaten to keep them apart.’

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You had always known that tennis would never be your vocation. Vocation implies dedication; a calling to pursue that ever evasive thing in life: utter fulfilment. 

You love it and you know that you’re good, really good, but you’re also realistic. 

The expanse between ‘really good’ and ‘great’ also contains the capacity to make something your career. You don’t have the capacity to go pro. Which is fine. Totally fine. 

You content yourself with filling all of your free time on your local–and free to use–court. Hours that would otherwise be whiled away on the realisation of your own loneliness or swiping right on dating apps only to panic and ignore any messages you receive. 

It’s Saturday evening and the sun is waning, its outlandishly burning rays absorbed by clouds as it sinks down the horizon. 

You’ve just wrapped up a match with a woman who you see at the courts from time to time- shamefully you don’t remember her name. She did tell you it once, the first time you met, but then a month passed before you saw her again and you felt too awkward to ask. Besides, there’s no post-match conversation between the two of you, the woman is in a perpetual rush and always disappears immediately after you finish playing. 

You, on the other hand, have nowhere else to be. 

A young woman with nothing to look forward to beyond the hits of adrenalin and the all too temporary sense of fulfilment that comes with beating other amateurs at tennis.

You’re alone as you sit down on the bench at the edge of the court, chest still moving with erratic breaths. Your skin is already adorned with beads of sweat but when the sun dips down even further, its light is replaced by a swathe of blue shadow and your burning flesh immediately pebbles at the sudden change in temperature. 

Your body is seized by a reactionary shiver, so you jump up off the bench and hurry over to your bag, crouching as you unzip it and dig around for your sweater. 

Your fingers have just closed around the soft fabric when you hear the metal gate to the courts creak open, the chainlink shaking as it shuts again. 

“You forget something?” You call out. 

As you’re presuming it’s your acquaintance, you don’t bother to look, busy pulling the sweater over your head. 

Your head is awkwardly pushing through the neck hole when a distinctly male and very amused voice hits you square in the side of the face: 

“Not to my knowledge.” 

You go still, your sweater settling down onto your torso of its own volition. 

Your mind has a sort of detached recognition for the voice: you’ve heard it before, but perhaps not in person. On the radio, or a movie or…or in a post match interview on tv. 

You scramble, pivoting violently to face the new arrival. 

“What the fuck?!” 

You’d meant for the exclamation to be internal, but in your shock it tumbles out of your mouth that’s already agape. 

Art Donaldson, the champion tennis player– infamous and beloved athlete– is standing in your shitty, free to access local court. 

A genuine, full watt smile spreads across Art’s face before he lets out a soft chuckle. 

“I’m sorry if I startled you.” 

You watch, dumbfounded as he saunters closer to you, placing down his bag and racket just beside yours. 

Fuck, his racket…it probably costs more than your practically antique car. 

“I'm sorry, but are you lost or something?” You blurt out. 

Art straightens up, hands placed on his hips as he surveys you. He’s enjoying your panic, you realise. Not in a malicious way, just highly amused. 

“What gave you that impression?”

You let out a clipped laugh. “Well…you’re standing here when the exclusive country club is fifteen minutes that way.” You point over his shoulder. 

“I know where it is.” He answers simply, still smirking. 

He’s toying with you. And never one to back down from a challenge, defiance rids you of your nerves. 

“So why aren’t you there, Mr Rich and Famous Tennis Champion?” 

At that Art tilts his head, as though he’s been given new information and has to reassess you.

“Because I don’t want to be.” He responds. “Why are you here?” 

You shrug, brushing past him to gather up your things, heart beating punishingly in your chest. 

“Because I want to be.” 

“But you’re leaving.” Art points out, bordering on exasperated despite his goading tone.

“Because my match is over.” You throw your bag over your shoulder and turn to face him, unable to stop yourself from teasing him back. “Oh, did you think I’d stay just for you?”

“Yes.” He answers unabashedly. It glues you to the spot. “I caught the tail end of your match, you were great but you were holding back. I’m guessing you don’t encounter many people here who challenge you.”

His tone injects some defensiveness into your veins. “I don’t need to be challenged, I’m not a professional. This is fun for me.” 

Art quirks a blonde brow. “Oh, but being challenged is very fun.”

“Are you offering?” You shoot back sarcastically. 

“Yeah, I am.”

And just like that you’re gawking at him again. “Are you kidding?”

Art holds his hands up placatingly, as if showing you he’s not concealing a weapon. “Deadly serious.” He says. 

You look around the abandoned park, searching for hidden cameras. This has to be for a prank show. It has to be.

“I can’t play you.” 

Art frowns as if disappointed at your lack of self-belief. 

“Sure you can. I was watching you, I'm certain you can keep up.” 

You hold his stare, his blue eyes glinting as his expression settles into something anticipatory. You glance at your racket that’s sitting on the nearby bench.

“Don’t go easy on me.” You order. “I’ll know if you do.” 

“I don’t doubt it. Come on, quit stringing me along and pick up your racket.” 

You reach down, your fingers hovering above the racket as you grin at him. 

“Careful Donaldson, it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a tease.” 

His cheek dimples as the corner of his lip tugs up. “Prove me wrong then, pick it up. Play tennis with me.” 

Eyes still on his, you curl your fingers around the racket and straighten up, raising your eyebrow. 

Challenge accepted. 

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The moment Art wins, you let yourself fall to the ground.

You lay down, uncaring of the harsh surface beneath you as you suck in breaths, your throat aching, your whole body shaking with exertion. 

You’d never felt like this after playing tennis. 

Whoever you’d gone up against before, it had always felt like you were waging war on a one person army across from you: you would bear down on them with all your might to achieve victory. You were an attacking force.

But playing with Art it hadn’t felt like a battle it had felt like…a joining. You were so attuned to all that he was and every move he made, that it felt like you had become one with him. 

For a brief moment in the daunting expanse of time, it had felt like only the two of you existed, only the stars bearing witness. 

Stars. 

Only now as you’re staring up at the sky, do you realise that night has well and truly fallen; the harsh automatic floodlights throwing your exhausted form into stark relief. 

You let out an almost giddy laugh. 

In your peripheral, you see Art run over, easily jumping and clearing the net to get to you. But you’re too tired to move, so you just lay there inertly as he comes to stand over you, placing one foot either side of your hips.

He smiles down at you.

“How you doing down there?”

All you manage to do as your eyes drift shut, is lift up your hand and flip him off. 

Art lets out a full-bellied laugh that catches hold of you and takes you along for the ride. With your breaths slowing, you find yourself able to laugh along with him. 

“Okay.” He begins, shaking off another chuckle. “Let’s get you up.” 

You feel a shift in the air and open your eyes to see Art stepping to the side of you before he’s leaning down and holding out his arm for you to take. 

Like you, he’s drenched in sweat, but neither of you even really notice as drops of it fall from his cropped blonde hair and onto your body.

With a dramatic groan, you sit up and grab onto his arm.

Art tightens his grip and pulls you up, placing his free hand on your back for extra support and tugging you close. 

You’re quickly back on your feet, but as you sway slightly Art keeps his hands on you. 

“You good?” He asks genuinely. His face is so much closer than you realised. 

When the hand on your back begins to rub soothing circles, a traitorous flutter appears in your stomach. 

You’re suddenly extremely grateful that your face is already flushed. How embarrassing, fawning over a married man who likely just wanted to play some tennis in relative peace and with no absolutely no stakes. 

God you needed to have sex.

Your own thought startles you- the same effect as being doused with a bucket of ice water. How desperate were you, that playing tennis with Art had got you so worked up?

No, actually you knew the answer to that. The experience had been beyond any sort of intimacy you’d ever felt. You want him. 

You shake your head, scolding yourself as you pull away from him, stepping back. 

But Art follows you, closing the small distance you’d created. As concern blooms on his features, his hands settle on your arms, bracketing you in his hold. 

“You’re not okay?”

You blink up at him. “What? No, I am. I’m fine.”

Art narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “But you shook your head.” 

When one of his thumbs starts brushing back and forth on your skin, the answering heat that begins to pool in your belly tells you it’s time to leave. 

“Did I?” You ask airily as you shake out of his hold and pick up your racket.

“Yeah, you did.” 

“Well, I didn’t mean to. I’m fine. That was great. Really great.” Each word is forced out.

As you walk over to the side of the court and start gathering your things, you feel him walking up behind you. 

“Yeah, it’s the panic in your voice that’s so convincing.” 

You shove your racket into its case, your back still to him. “I don’t think you know me well enough to judge my moods. You don’t know me at all.” 

He’s by your side in an instant. His hand is hovering over your waist, as if he wants to hold you in place to stop you from leaving but knows he has no right to do so. 

“Look, will you please slow down? I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” 

You let out self-pitying scoff as you turn away from him again and throw your bag over your shoulder. 

“You’ve not done anything wrong. This was…I’ve never felt like that playing tennis. Or ever, really. So thank you.” 

“So why are you running away?” 

You halt, your sneakers scraping against the abrasive ground. Art’s voice has taken on a new severity; a frustration that even he sounds confused by. 

“I’m not running, I’m just going home.”

You’re stepping out of this court and extricating yourself from his orbit that he’d so easily pulled you into. You’re not just attracted to a man who’s one half of America’s Favourite power couple, you also really like him. 

But this court isn’t the real world and he’s almost certainly just passing through. If you can get out now, he’ll be gone: by the time you wake up in the morning, he’ll likely be on a flight with Tashi Duncan, en route to his next competition.

When you walk away and out to the gate, you’re beyond grateful that Art doesn’t call out to you again.

But instead of the disconnect you hope to feel once you're free of his presence, instead there’s a tugging, as if he managed to tie a cord around you and is pulling on it in the hopes he can reel you back in. 

You keep walking until you reach your car, still tense as you peel out of the parking lot.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Exactly a week after you first met him–almost to the hour–Art Donaldson reappears in your life. 

As you’d played your weekly match with the woman whose name you still don’t know, he had been watching. You’d caught him in your peripheral vision, leaning up against the fence and tracking your every movement. 

You curse him and thank him in the same breath. 

You curse him because he’s only going to exacerbate the issue that you’ve been having, which is that he’s taken root in your mind. He’ll burrow his tendrils deeper and stop you from thinking of anyone else for a long time. 

You had been so sexually frustrated after meeting him, that you’d actually committed to a date with a Tinder match for once. You’d just been there for the sex, which you might have felt bad about had your date not made it clear that he had had the same motivations. 

It had been fine. 

You’d thought of Art the entire time. 

And you thanked Art, because…well, you thanked him because you’d been desperate to see him again. Tortured by the ghost of his touch and furious at yourself for the way you’d left things.

It’s a good thing your opponent is always seemingly in dire need to be somewhere else, because she leaves the court with such rapidity that she doesn’t spot the world famous tennis player making his way over to the now open gate. 

Your breath stutters in your throat as Art approaches. It’s the same time of day you’d first seen him the week before, so the light is at the exact same point of fading into darkness. But this time, he seems to be bringing the shadows with him. 

Art looks utterly forlorn. And yet, he still manages to smile at you as he approaches. 

You’re still standing on the centre of the court, your racket hanging in your hand. 

Only as he gets closer do you really register that he’s not in sports gear. Instead he’s dressed in jeans and black t-shirt. 

“You never told me your name.” He says, still making his way over. 

The statement jolts you out of your reverie. Had you really…he didn’t know your name? The evening you’d shared had been so intense that you already felt like you knew him and he knew you. 

You give him your name and he smiles almost gratefully, as if you've bestowed him with a gift. 

When he comes to a stop before you, you find more words waiting on your tongue: 

“Why are you here?” 

Art pushes his hands into his pockets, eyes dropping briefly to the ground. 

“You didn’t ask me that last time.” He says quietly. 

You scoff, gesturing at his clothing and the clear disparity between his casual attire and the tennis court. 

“You’re clearly not here to play another match.” 

“You shouldn’t presume.” He teases. “Maybe I secretly love the feeling of denim and sweat on my skin.” 

Despite yourself, you laugh and it causes Art’s dimples to make an appearance. 

“Well, that would make you a psychopath.” You say.

Art’s eyes skitter over your face, it’s brief but unnerving. It’s probing. Then he steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your face. 

You’re suddenly sure that meeting his gaze will open up a horrible, confusing can of emotional worms, so you set your eyes on the racket in your hand, twisting the handle around in your fingers. 

Art is undeterred by your withdrawal: “Let me walk you to your car?” 

The question sounds so much like a hopeful supplication, that you have to look at him. When you make eye contact, his brows draw together as his gaze turns entreating.

Your eyes widen slightly as your heart sinks. You know what this is. A goodbye. 

“You’re leaving New York.” You say flatly and with the utmost certainty.

“We have a flight in a few hours.” 

“Art.” You say admonishingly, a sharp pain in the shape of that ‘we’ digging into your chest. “You shouldn’t be here.”

We. ‘We’ meaning him and Tashi Duncan. Art and his wife. 

He says your name for the first time and it makes your heart stutter. 

You’re pathetic. You scold yourself internally. You’ve only interacted with this man once before. He’s a professional athlete with a beautiful wife. He can’t be wanting for anything more.

So then why has he been driven to this run-down public court? Why did he spend an evening playing with a stranger? An amateur stranger.

Why has he felt the need to come and say goodbye to you?

You know why:

It’s because the two of you have started something that you can never finish. You’re both enamoured with the idea of a connection that can never be fully realised. 

Art reaches out and tentatively touches your arm. 

“Please let me walk you to your car.” 

You can’t bear to see his face, not when his words sound so sorrowful. So you nod shortly and then move past him to collect your things. 

 ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The walk to your car is made in utter silence, but Art remains close to you the entire time, his arm brushing yours. A couple of times you even feel the touch of his fingertips, as if he’d gone to take your hand but stopped himself. 

As if to compound on your delusion that in this moment only your and art exist, your beaten up red car is the only vehicle in the parking lot. It stands bright against the darkness as an ominous ending point: the moment you reach it, you both know whatever this nascent but potent thing between you will be stifled.  

You don’t let yourself dwell on how Art might have got here if his car isn't here. Whether fear of being spotted had him parking elsewhere, or he was staying somewhere so close that he’d been able to walk to you.

You both slow your pace as you approach the vehicle. You want to stop completely but you know you have absolutely no rational reason to. 

Once you reach the car, you dig your keys out of your pocket. 

“Thank you for walking with me.” You say on an uneven breath.

When you turn to unlock the door, Art steps up behind you, his arm crossing into your vision as he closes his larger hand around yours, stopping you from completing the action. 

You go still, relishing the contact but feeling awful for wanting more. All you find yourself able to do is stay still and wait- wait for him to do something that he shouldn’t. 

You let out a conflicted sigh as his other hand lands on your shoulder and turns you around to face him. He then takes your hands in his own. 

Your sight can’t help but snag on his wedding ring and he must be watching you so closely that he notes the very brief flicker of your eyes.

“It’s just a ring.” He says the sentence like he’s afraid of it. “It doesn’t mean what it used to. To either of us.” 

“But you are still married.” You reply, hating how small your voice sounds. 

“Yes.” 

“And you’re leaving.” 

Art’s hands tightens on yours, his thumbs running over your knuckles. “I’ll be back in New York.”

“When?”

He reaches up and cups your cheek, fingers sinking into your hair.

 “I don’t know.” His tone is somehow simultaneously mournful and apologetic. “But I will.” 

Even though you know you need to pull away, you lean into his touch. 

“I guess I’ll see you then.” You say, trying and failing to sound unaffected. 

“You will.” Art concurs softly. His heavy-lidded eyes drop and his hand shifts, his thumb running along your lower lip. Then his other hand is on your thigh, rising up beneath your skort. 

“Art.” His name is meant to be a warning on your tongue, but it comes out as a whispered plea. 

His thumb drops away and then he’s cradling your face in both hands, he closes in and presses a slow, sweet kiss to your lips.

But his next words are anything but chaste. “Unlock your car.” 

His command is feverish, his hot breath skimming over you as he kisses along your cheek.

Only then do you remember that your car keys are still clutched in your hand. You're holding them so tightly the metal grooves are digging into your skin.

“Art, you have to go. You have to get on a plane. We can’t have sex in the back of my car.”

You let out a small gasp as both of his hands fall from your face to encircle your waist, then they go lower, gliding over the curve of your ass before settling just beneath, causing your skirt to ride up.

“I have time.” He mumbles against your jaw, moving down to press desperate kisses to your neck. “We have time.” 

His words are so glaringly false to both of you, that a visceral melancholy appears between the two to you and as it grows larger forcing you apart.

Art strains to stop his kisses, his lips lingering as if he’s fighting against an engrained instinct to be connected with you. When he presses his forehead against yours, his hair tickles your skin. Then as his hands shift to grip your waist, you rest your own on either side of his neck. 

You feel a tightness in your throat, panicking as you realise how deeply entangled you already feel with this man you’ve only met twice. You don’t know him. He’s a stranger. 

And yet, you can’t let this unknown being go. 

But you have to. 

You force yourself to say the words, making them sharp and swift like the severing snip of scissors: “Art, you need to go.” 

He nods, his forehead brushing yours where you’re still pressed together. But he doesn’t move, instead his lips press to your forehead as he encircles your body with his arms. The hug is the same sort of crushing yet comforting force of gripping someone’s hand when you’re afraid you’ll lose them in a crowd. 

When Art buries his head in the crook of your neck, he places a gentle kiss there. You raise your arms and squeeze him back. 

“How often do you come here, to the court?” He asks, another kiss placed on your neck. 

“Every Saturday, the same time.” 

Art pulls back and takes your face back into his hands. His eyes alight on each and every dip and curve of your face as if he's mapping your features like they’re the stars of the night sky. As though he’s memorising patterns so he’ll be able to find you again. 

“Then I’ll see you on Saturday.”

You smile sadly, smoothing back his hair. “Which Saturday?” 

His answer is another passionate kiss.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 41 || The Cute Bartender

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, very cute fluff, & teasing.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.6k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOUR QUESTION REMAINS unanswered for quite some time. To constantly weigh out your options of who would be a better lover for you is going to take time.

But, as of right now, even if you wanted to choose Gojo over Choso, he's already made it clear he's not allowing that. He doesn't think he's good for you and, in case you forgot, you're technically supposed to hate him.

That being said, your choice is already made for you.

But none of that is important right now. You were allowed a break until the semester began again but, since your university's winter break was a span of two, almost three months, you were honestly ready to finish the list by late January.

Even though you said you were taking a break from the men, you still kept in contact with them. You'd text Choso on some days but he'd often scold you about how you wanted a break, which only made you want to talk to him more.

Then, you even had your phone calls with Gojo which consisted of him doing the same damn thing-- pestering you by saying 'As much as I love listening to you talk, sweets, you're supposed to be taking a break from me' which, was just as sweet as the messages Choso would send.

Yeah, you were definitely falling for both of them in your own way and nothing could stop that. Even so, you were ready to get back to the list.

There was one name left. You couldn't believe it. As of now, you were laid out on your bed, your delicate fingers curled around a pen as you went down the list of yours. Reading over each name reminded you of your experiences with them, whether it was good or bad, and you were surprised you finally made it this far.

At one point, you doubted you could even do this. So many lessons have been learned, so many personalities and so many situations have been experienced. It's almost, emphasis on almost, beautiful when you think back on it.

To go from a broke and regular college student to one whose life is filled with drama, good (for the most part) sex, and men who've somehow managed to fall for you. It's the kinda thing you never imagined for yourself.

Just one semester ago, you were worried about even landing a job and now look at you; you've managed the money from Gojo better than ever so you're truly set for quite some time.

With a sigh, you place the pen down beside your journal and trace your fingers over the final name; Nanami Kento. Once you sleep with him it's over. It's almost bittersweet to think about.

As you stare at your journal, you think you have a plan for it once the list is complete. A plan that you've talked to Gojo about and he's agreed to-- the two of you are going to burn the list.

Neither of you want any physical evidence of it so you think burning it once it's complete will prove to be a nice way to say goodbye to the memories that come with the list. Nowhere in your text messages or his do you two discuss the list explicitly, just in case someone were ever to go through your devices, and the only time it's been talked about aside from in person is over phone calls.

But, you're not worrying about that getting out. Someone would have to dig really deep to find the recordings of you and Gojo's phone calls. Like, to the police deep to find them. Or hacking your cell. But, you have no reason to worry about that, right? Gojo said he's not involved in anything illegal and you trust him (to some extent).

So again, it's bittersweet to think about this list finally coming to an end. It was like a game you had to play and knowing that the end credits were about to roll soon just made you feel odd inside. Yeah, you wanted it to end but as it was actually happening, it was like leaving a chapter of your life behind.

After all, you'll never be able to undo what's been done. You can't go back and change who you've slept with or how.

So, with that final little thought, you sigh again and then shut your journal. Getting up to put it away in its locked drawer compartment, you wonder what it'll be like to finally meet Nanami.

You have a good feeling about him.

And no, not one of those good feelings that result in disaster but, an actual good feeling. Something about the thought of this tall, blonde, and sexy man whose facial expression holds a stupidly attractive seriousness at all times just makes you feel calm.

You feel like you're going to be dealing with someone so mature that it'll ease your mind, kind of like how your mind was at ease when you first met Choso.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

And you had every right to be in good spirits about meeting Nanami because the man did, in fact, turn out to be one of the best and lightest experiences for you.

Despite how difficult he may seem, Nanami is just a man you couldn't catch at the right time. That was the only reason why you ever considered him to be 'hard' to seduce. And no, it's not some magical effect you had that made your efforts work, it was this genuine and raw connection that formed when you met him.

It was surely a night to be remembered.

A simple pair of black heels lightly clacked against the floor as you walked with your head held high into that damned nightclub-- the same nightclub in which you couldn't run into Nanami at the right time for the longest. This night was different though, as you had arrived before him for once.

It wasn't planned or anything but, your arrival to the building was before he'd gotten there. The dress you wore to accompany the heels on your feet was just as simple and was shaded in the same color; black. It was moderately tight-fitting and hugged your body just right.

Unlike some of your past dresses, it didn't make you feel like you were going all out and you thought you blended in nicely with everyone else that was there. Around your neck was that same necklace Gojo gifted to you on Christmas as you never really had the heart to leave home without it on.

Your excuse for wearing it all the time was because it was really pretty. It had nothing to do with Gojo of course. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself anyway.

Making your way to the bar, you took a seat in an area you knew Nanami to typically sit at and then you scouted the area for either him or the cute brown-haired friend he's always with. Finding nothing and no one, you sigh and decide to order a drink.

After which, you gave yourself thirty minutes before you'd leave and try again in another two weeks. You didn't even tell Gojo you were starting back up on the list yet so it's not like there was any pressure for you to seduce Nanami tonight, maybe that's what made everything so different.

Your nails tapped across the bar as you waited and at some point, you even made conversation with the cheeky bartender. The thing about this bartender is that you've seen him talk to Nanami plenty of times and you're pretty sure they're friends.

He had this really cute face and pretty brown eyes that made you feel safe in a strange way. Every time you see him he's got this beanie on top of his head and his clothes are always baggy, something you saw his manager scold him about a few times at one point.

Either way, today was your first time actually talking to him and you learn that his name is Ino Takuma and that he actually recognizes you, having paid attention to the few times you've been there.

"Are you waiting on someone, beautiful?" Ino had questioned you.

Oh yeah, and he's also been complimenting you nonstop from the moment you two began talking. It's in a friendly way, you think. It doesn't seem like he's flirting, just being kind, which you like.

You smiled at the man, "Is it that obvious?"

He makes this silly face in thought and you note how expressive he is. "Hmmmm, I mean for me, yeah. But that's only because I see you come here around the same time every two weeks."

"Yeah?" You meet his eyes with a smile on your face and he holds the eye contact for at least five seconds before he looks away. He's adorable. "So, you've really been paying attention to me all this time?" You ask before going to take another sip of your preferred drink of the night.

Ino laughs and the sound is so joyful it almost heals something in you. "I mean, nooo..." He drags out, smiling through his words before he shrugs, "I pay attention to everyone. And plus, how could I forget a pretty face like yours?"

You're still staring at him and you don't think you've ever paid attention to how much someone avoids eye contact before dealing with Choso. After that man, it's so obvious to you now when someone gets nervous to look you in the eye for too long.

"Is that a compliment, Ino?" You ask softly, the use of his name making his ears flush a cute shade of pink.

He clears his throat and wipes down a part of the nearby counter. There are not that many people at the bar tonight so that gave him the leisure to speak to you. "...Yeah," Ino replies, trying to focus on his small task instead of your eyes gazing at his face.

You hum. "Thank you," You say before moving to rest your chin in the palm of your hand as you rest your elbow on the bar.

Ino finishes his little task and then places the cloth he used elsewhere, finally looking at you now that your eyes have gone elsewhere, "He'll be here soon, by the way."

You blink and your eyes flick up to Ino's face, confused by his words, "Who?"

He flashes that friendly smile at you, "Nanami."

You're not sure if you should pretend not to know who Nanami is or if you should ask how Ino knows you're waiting on the man. For now, you swallow, "Nanami?"

Ino moves his hand up and over his head a bit, "He's like this tall, blonde," The brown-haired male gestures toward his eyes, "Wears these funky glasses sometimes?"

You bat your eyelashes at him in confusion, "Okay... Why uh, why're you telling me he'll be here soon?"

"You know him, don't you?" Ino asks, his thin and well-kept brows furrowing a bit as he innocently tilts his head.

"I know of him, I suppose," You answer vaguely, "But, why'd you think I know him?"

His shoulders raised a bit, "Cause' he asked me about you."

You swallow the sudden nervous lump in your throat, "H-He asked about me? Why? When?"

Ino chuckles at the worry in your face. To him, it just seemed like you were nervous in a shy sort of way, "He just asked me if you came here any other times. Like, times when he's not here."

"Why?" You ask.

"I dunno'," Ino shrugs casually, "I think you caught his attention." He adds on with a little wink.

Your lips pull into a straight line, "I highly doubt that."

"Why? You're pretty," Ino compliments yet again.

"Thanks but I've seen Nanami enough times to know that I have not caught his attention. Trust me, I know how men operate when their attention is caught." You scoff as you glance over to the dance floor and watch some of the people there.

Ino doesn't seem to understand what exactly you mean by that and his brows furrow, "You caught my attention, and yet this is my first time talking to you." He points out.

Almost naturally, as if you'd grown accustomed to flirting, your gaze trails back over to the cute bartender and you smirk, words slipping out of your mouth without thought, "I've caught your attention? How so?" You ask, unintentionally adding a sultriness to your tone.

He gulps and his eyes avoid yours yet again, "I mean you are an attractive woman. S-So I just mean it in that you catch more people's eye than you think. A-And uh, y'know, not everyone's gonna approach you first because sometimes attractive people make others nervous..." He stammers out.

He's so ridiculously nervous and it's the cutest thing. You lift your head from your hand and cross your arms over the counter, leaning forward a little and your chest unknowingly growing more visible as you do so, "Am I making you nervous right now, Ino?" You whisper.

Okay, now you're purposefully teasing him.

He chuckles, kinda awkwardly, "N-No? Pfft... I'm not nervous. Y-You-," He clears his throat, "You're not making me nervous."

You raise but a single brow and keep your gaze on him, "You can't even look me in the eyes while we talk."

Ino suddenly looks at you, meeting your unwavering gaze and sweating a bit. "I'm lookin' at you now."

You stare long and hard, right into those brow irises of his and he tries to stare back but, he can't help but glance to the left or right for a split second before trying to keep his eyes on yours.

A slow and taunting smile spreads across your features, "Barely." You point out.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, "Whatever. I wasn't nervous I'm jus' not good with eye contact."

You tilt your head at him and narrow your eyes, "That's not true."

"Eh?" Ino's brows push together, "How are you gonna' tell me..." He says with a pout.

You giggle, "You manage eye contact with everyone else just fine."

He moves for a nearby empty glass someone's placed down, and glances at you as he does so, "So you've been paying attention to me, then?"

Of course, your eyes have hardly left his. It's fun teasing someone like this, "A bit, yeah."

Ino moves with the empty glass to place it with other dirty ones, humming a little nervously, "Oh..." As he does so. Then, you watch him pick up a clean glass and move to make a new drink right in front of you.

"Is that okay?" You murmur. Your voice has this purposeful flirtiness to it and it does not go unnoticed, "Am I allowed to pay attention to you, Ino?"

He gulps, "Course' you can."

Your eyes drop to the glass in his hands as he pours alcohol into it and you smirk, "Ino..."

His gaze flicks to your face for a moment, "H-Hm?"

"You're shaking." You point out.

Ino nearly fumbles the glass in his hand entirely and you watch him miss the cup for a moment, a bit of the liquid he'd been pouring trickling onto his hand and then the floor, "Shit," He curses.

You chuckle slightly at first, earning a little pouty glare from the man.

Then as he goes to clean up you hear him mumbling to you, "That's not funny..."

Your chuckling proceeds to elevate into genuine laughter, "Yeah it is," You snicker, "You're adorable, holy fuck."

Ino's face is a little red as your words hit his ears and he drops down to clean the mess on the floor. After which, he pops right back into your line of vision, seeing you still laughing at him and pouting yet again.

"I am not 'adorable'," Ino grumbles.

You giggle, "Yes, you are."

He shakes his head and sighs in this sassy kinda way, "Am' not."

"Are too," You argue.

His eyes meet yours and despite being embarrassed, he's got a little smile back on his face, "Nuh-uh."

You nod, “Yuh-huh."

Ino then rolls his eyes, still smiling, before he puts all the items he had in his hands down to the side. You then watch one hand drop down into his pocket before his phone is pulled out. Ino unlocks the device and then places it in front of you, sliding it closer to you with an empty contact slot on the screen.

"Put your number in here," He sighs, smoothly requesting your contact info like it's nothing.

You raise a brow, "Are you asking for it or are you demanding it?"

Those almost innocent brown eyes of his trail over to yours and he holds eye contact for a longer moment, "I'm asking. I like talking to you so, can I get your number?"

"Hmmm..." You hum playfully, purposefully taking your time to answer, "Is this to be friends or something more?"

He's still looking you in the eyes, "Uh, friends? I'm not sure I could even handle a woman like you."

You raise a brow.

"I mean that in a good way," Ino clarifies.

You shrug and move to enter your number in his phone, "Thanks. I was only asking that 'cause I uh..."

He tilts his head and watches your fingers tap across his screen, "...Have a lot going on?"

"Something like that, yeah." You answer before you finish adding your info and then slide the phone back to him.

He picks up his cell and pockets it before shrugging, "I see, well, if this makes you feel any better, I always try to get people's numbers after a nice conversation with them."

You frown playfully, "Aw, so I'm not special?"

Again, he's flustered, "W-Well, I mean you are b-but I just-"

"Ino," You snicker, "I'm just teasing you, relax."

He rolls his eyes again and sighs, "You're driving me crazy."

For one last time, you tilt your head and give him this flirtatious look, "Am I?"

Ino looks at your expression and gulps, "Yes ma'am."

Okay, is it weird that a part of you wishes he was on the list too? Holy shit is teasing this man fun. Even so, you've got enough men to worry about in your life and you don't need to add to that.

You chuckle and your expression returns to something more platonic, "Alright, I'll stop then."

"Please," Ino begs quietly in a joking manner.

That makes you laugh again and this time, he laughs along with you. Then, you watch him go back to preparing that drink from earlier and he does it flawlessly this time, his nerves calmed after you stop all your teasing.

As the drink is finished, you sip on yours and then a pleasant smell slithers into your nose. It's cologne, a strong but ridiculously pleasant scent filling your nostrils. You blink a few times as you take in what you're smelling and for a second, you wonder if it's coming from Ino because he got kinda close as the drink he prepared was placed next to you.

Your question is answered within the next second though because you hear a voice that accompanies the scent. A deep, sexy, and soothing voice that makes your posture straighten due to how surprisingly close to you it is.

Nothing more than a simple, "Thank you," Was voiced but even so, it was extremely attractive.

Then, you curiously turn to where the voice came from, which was to your right, and you're met with your last target; Nanami Kento.

There he was, in the flesh, right next to you. Like, literally sitting in the barstool next to yours. And that drink Ino made? Yeah, it was his. Your eyes were all over the man, drinking in his features shamelessly.

The man seemed to be more muscular than you thought he was as the blue button-up shirt he wore clung to his body so delectably. The sleeves were rolled up near his elbows and you could see how muscular his arm was, veins decorating his skin as they became visible from his elbow and down.

The shirt was just hugging his body and you couldn't help but stare. Then, for a moment you look down at his pants. He wore these khakis that were just as fucking tight as his shirt and you swear you didn't mean to look at his crotch but because of the way he sat it was like your eyes were there before you even rendered it.

God, his pants hugged his thighs and you just drink in the way his hips push up slightly as he adjusts the way he sits. Holy fuck, you had to force your eyes up because you swore you could see his manhood, or at least imagine what he's hiding beneath those clothes of his.

So, your eyes went back up to areas more respectable to look at, such as his shirt, which you noticed he had enough buttons undone to reveal a teasing amount of his chest. His collarbone was so sharp and defined and you could only imagine the rest of his body.

Then, you trailed up just a bit more to his neck, then his jaw which was sharp as fuck, to his defined cheekbones, and then his eyes-

And shit.

He was already looking at you.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Bakugo Katsuki

I finished this yesterday but forced myself to wait to post it due to my one part a day pattern I've had going on.

Anyways~ as I said in Shoto's part, I did make this one a bit angstier, but I hope I didn't stray too far away from the original prompt :'). It's kinda bittersweet lol but I kinda like it.

Angst to fluff/Comfort | Kinda bittersweet~ | 993 words | female reader

Warnings!: arguing, yelling, being scared of your partner, parents arguing (the kids were not present), kids being left at school (not for very long), caps, excuses, self hatred, and insulting themselves (Bakugo). Please let me know if I miss any <33

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

You both had been fighting for at least half an hour, screaming at one another for this and that. It started with Bakugo 'forgetting' to pick up your sons from school, and has now escalated into you screaming at him for not 'caring about this family' and his yelling about how hard he works for your family.

No one was totally to blame, both parties had some points that were right, and some that were wrong. But it should have never reached that point.

~~~

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD I WORK TO PROVIDE FOR THIS FAMILY! I TOLD YOU WHEN YOU BEGGED FOR KIDS THAT I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HELP OUT MUCH! WHAT ELSE DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME!"

"I UNDERSTAND THAT- BUT YOU'VE HAD THREE DAYS OFF! YOU'RE FULLY RESTED- AND SHOULD'VE PICKED UP THE KIDS NO PROBLEM WHILE I WAS HELPING OUT YOUR MOM!"

"WELL WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO! I FORGOT ABOUT IT, OKAY! AND YOU DIDN'T CALL TO REMIND ME EITHER!"

"I EXPECTED YOU TO HAVE ENOUGH BRAINS TO REMEMBER, BUT I GUESS THAT WAS IDIOTIC OF ME!"

"I HAVE SO MUCH TO DEAL WITH BESIDES THIS BULL CRAP THAT'S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY! I WORK, YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS!"

"KATSUKI I CANNOT WATCH THE KIDS 24-7 WITHOUT YOUR HELP! I NEED BREAKS TOO! YOU HAVE TWO DAYS OFF A WEEK TO RELAX, AND CATCH UP ON SLEEP! WHILE I HAVE NIGHT TIME, BATHROOM BREAKS, RUNNING ERANDS, AND NAP TIMES TO CATCH A BREAK! I SHOULD BE ABLE TO RELY ON MY HUSBAND TO HELP OUT WHEN HE HAS TIME OFF!"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTED THE KIDS IN THE FIRST PLACE- WHY ARE YOU WHINING TO ME ABOUT HAVING TO TAKE CARE OF 'EM!"

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THEY AREN'T YOURS!? WE BOTH AGREED ON DOING THE BEST WE COULD FOR OUR KIDS, AND YOU SAID THAT YOU'D HELP OUT WHENEVER YOU COULD!"

"Y/N IT WAS THIS ONE TIME- I WAS BUSY, I FORGOT!"

"YOU WERE PLAYING GAMES ALL DAY WITH YOUR FRIENDS! THAT IS NOT BUSY!"

Blazing anger filled Bakugo as he stepped towards you, planning on simply getting closer to you to somehow try and make you see his side of things. He didn't mean to forget about picking up his kids, he loves his kids, he was simply engrossed in talking about them to his friends as he gamed, totally forgetting about the time and the fact that they were at school, waiting for someone to pick them up.

In truth, Bakugo felt bad. Really bad. But you wouldn't stop, so he continued, his unwavering pride making it near impossible to simply apologize and leave the argument behind.

Storming towards you, Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks as you flinched from him, eyes holding a certain terror. Wait- did you- did you think he was going to hurt you?!

Apologies and 'are you okay's were caught in Bakugo's throat as he opened his mouth, too terrified to speak.

Y/n.. his y/n was scared..of him. HIs y/n- the person that tore him out of his 'I don't care about anything or anyone' stage. She brought him out of his dark pit of self loathing, hating himself for how weak he was, how he couldn't do anything compared to that idiot Deku. She brought light into his world, she is his light. His first and last love, his wife, his center, his other half, his partner, his reason for life, the mother of his children, his one and only lover, his queen, his everything.

And he scared her.

Screamed at her for something that was his fault.

Treated her so badly that she flinched away from him- terror filling her eyes.

Her gorgeous e/c eyes. The same eyes that his sons had inherited. Now he's brought tears to three sets of those goregous eyes. What a scum bag.

Pain seared through Bakguo as he embraced his y/n, knowing if he left now she would entirely break, thinking that he was giving up on her. On their love. When in reality, he would't be. He would never dream of leaving her, or their beautiful children.

Because no matter how much of an a-hole Bakugo may be, he would never stoop that low. Never. And so he held her, and continued to hold her as she tearfully cussed him out, telling him how much she loved him and how much of an a-hole he was for treating her like that, their kids like that.

He just held her, telling her that he was sorry, that he knew, that he would make it up to her -and their seven year old twins- somehow.

And for now, that was enough. His love, and comfort was enough as you clung to him, insulting him while telling him that you loved his idiotic self in the same sentence, telling him that you loved him too much to not be able to forgive him.

And that if he was serious about making things right, that you would help him.

Because you were Bakugo y/n*. You chose to take his name and become his wife. Bakugo has helped you through so many up and downs, so you would do the same for him. Because he truly loved you, and you truly loved him.

*Japanese last names go in front of the first name to pay respect to the family name, and that's why Kirishima and Bakugo's other classmates call him Bakugo instead of Katsuki -to pay respect to his family name-. So you would be (in Japan anyway) Bakugo y/n (if you choose to take his last name) and strangers/aquaintnesses/not so close friends and co-workers would call you Bakugo instead of y/n. Annd due to me not liking Bakugo a whole lot I call him Bakugo or Baka/Bakuhoe instead of Katuski and call Todoroki and Midoriya, Shoto and Izuku- do you get what I'm saying?? I hope you do <33

Series' masterlist | Bakahoe's Bakugou's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated<33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Red Ribbon ❣️

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: The end of Fi's Christmas Market ☃️ is here! A bittersweet goodbye 😞 I hope you enjoyed my lil festive event! I had lots of fun doing it. There's much more planned for the new year! I hope you like this smutty parting gift!

~Fi 🐝

Warnings: NSFW CONTENT 17+. proceed with caution. Oral (m and f receiving), slight bondage, orgasm denial, PiV, creampie (don't be like them), very needy lovers, this is so soft and sappy.

Word count: 3.0k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

It all started innocently, you were just wrapping presents with Leon. You were seated on the living room floor, surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper, ribbons and gift bags. Humming along to the music in the background, you finished another bow on a present, handing it over to Leon so he could write the name on the little tag you'd attached.

"Who is this one for?" Your boyfriend asked, gold pen in hand. You glanced at the gift and narrowed your eyes at it for a second before answering.

"That one's for Jill." He nodded with a hum and went to write the name on it before you quickly stopped him.

"No, wait-" you took the present from his hands leaving him with his brows furrowed. You gave the box a small shake and listened closely before giving it back to him.

"Yep, it's for Jill."

"How do you- it didn't even make a sound." Leon said, his face contorted into utter confusion.

"Exactly." You gave him a proud smile, going back to wrapping the remaining gifts.

"You're a mystery to me, baby." He slightly shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Well," you began, leaning in his direction and placing a hand on his thigh, "solve me, then."

He didn't miss the sultry tone in your voice or that playful and seductive glint in your eyes. A smirk settled on his lips, and there was a lustful glow in his sparkling blue irises.

Leon almost pounced on you, he'd never say no to an opportunity to ravish you. But, to his dismay, before his heated lips could even touch yours, you stopped him with a firm hand on his chest.

"After we get the presents done, of course." You smiled sweetly as you went back to wrapping up gifts like nothing ever happened. Leon slumped back into his previous position and grumbled quietly under his breath. He respected your decision, of course, but did you have to tease and rile him up?

Even the slight touch of your hand on his thigh had his cock throbbing in his pants. And the way your voice was so silky and suggestive made him want to rip your clothes to shreds.

Nonetheless, he continued being the good boy he was and tried his best to put all the names on the designated presents in his best handwriting.

You clapped your hands together as you finished the last wrapping job.

"That's the last of it! They look quite nice, huh?" You smiled proudly, admiring the wrapping skills you had painfully acquired over many years.

"Good job, baby," Leon said with an equally as proud smile, placing a big kiss on your cheek, "now, about solving that mystery-"

You broke into a giggle.

"Patience, sweetheart, patience." You scolded playfully, waving your finger in the air. You leaned to one side and grabbed one of the many ribbons you had splayed out, along with a little festive tag. Shuffling over to Leon, you sat down on his thighs and began to tie it around his neck.

"What're you planning?" He smirked, his hands kneading at your hips.

"Just wrapping the last present." You smirked, finishing up the red bow. You had to stop yourself from drooling, the crimson satin band sat so nicely against his pale skin. The bow was peeking out from under his chin as the tag dangled from the ribbon.

"Hm.. and what does the tag say, huh, baby?" Leon grinned. The way his arms completely encased your middle and pulled you flush against his chest made your breath speed up, but hopefully, not enough for him to notice. With nimble fingers, you took hold of the tag and turned it over.

"Mine." You said quietly, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth to try and hide your smile as his jaw slacked slightly and his eyes widened. He squeezed you just a little tighter, and you

could feel his dick getting painfully hard as you were seated on his lap. The pressure of his hard on nestled perfectly against your pussy made your breath hitch in your throat. No matter how many times you would do this dance, he would always have this effect on you. All the blood rushed to your cheeks and to your cunt, leaving you light headed.

"S'only fair that I get to add a little bow to my present, too, right?" He breathed out. Even in his breathless state, there was nothing stopping that cocky smirk from creeping onto his face.

After you'd undressed, although it was actually more like tearing the clothes off one another, you'd dropped to your knees and decorated the base of his cock with a ruby band. You trailed kisses up his shaft, all the way to his tip. You gave it a gentle suck and Leon let out a small gasp, his head slightly tipping back as his hand found your hair.

It was so gentle, the way you dragged your lips up and down his dick, holding onto his thigh with one hand, and lacing your fingers together with the other. Your movements were slow, but calculated. Leon knew he wouldn't last long when you took him in your mouth as far as you could, and rubbed along the veins with your tongue.

"S-Shit, Baby... you really know how to make me fall apart, huh?" He chuckled breathlessly, which was quickly cut off by a groan when he felt your lips stretch into a smile around his cock. The hand that was tangled in your hair tightened its grip, but not to hurt. Never to hurt.

You gave his hand a loving squeeze as you moved up and down on his length, the bow at the base occasionally brushing against the tip of your nose. You pulled away for air, your chest slightly heaving as your spit dripped from his dick.

"I love you.. I love you so much. Want you to come in my mouth, Baby, please." You breathed out, pressing kisses to his trembling thighs.

"Y-Yeah? What my girl wants, she gets." Leon grinned, still breathless and all the love he held in his eyes for you never wavering for a second. He sheathed himself back into your mouth and gently began fucking your throat.

You hollowed out your cheeks and looked up at him with glazed eyes. His head was thrown back, his mouth was agape as whimpers and moans fell from him. The ribbon around his neck was being stretched slightly and the tag swayed with each thrust of his hips.

When the muscles in his stomach tensed and his moans became deeper you focused on his tip, swiping your tongue over it and sucking on it.

"I'm.. f-fuck, I'm gonna come.." Leon groaned, the sound being raspy and hoarse. He held onto your hand for dear life, grounding himself as the euphoria you brought him made his head spin. You gently stroked your thumb over his thigh, reminding him that you were here with him.

He came in your mouth with a strained cry of your name, stilling his movements as spurt after spurt of his warm cum trickled down your throat. You pulled away and swallowed all he had to give you, pressing one last gentle kiss to the tip of his cock before getting up from your knees and wrapping your arms around him.

"Are you okay, my love? Do you need to sit down?" You asked softly, stroking along his spine.

Leon chuckled.

"Fucking hell, woman. I don't need to sit down, I need a new pair of legs."

"Sorry." You giggled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"You're in for something, pretty girl," he leaned down and spoke lowly into your ear, "because I won't stop feasting on you until you need a new pair, too. Who knows, maybe we'll get a couples discount." With that and a sinister grin, you were dragged off to the bedroom.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

And that's how you ended up like this. Writhing, with purple and pink marks littering your skin all while Leon had his head buried between your thighs. Shuddering breaths tore through you as he lapped at your sopping cunt.

The red satin tied around your throat started to feel more suffocating by the second, the sharp edges of the tag poking into your flesh. The sting melded so deliciously with the sensation of Leon dragging his tongue through your folds, making you moan and whine.

The second ribbon he had decorated you with was tied just underneath your soft tits, stretching across your ribcage as the satin brushed against the underside of your breasts. Everything felt so overwhelming, there were too many sensations at once, making your skin raise in goosebumps.

The band around Leon's neck brushed against the back of your thighs and your ass. The last ribbon was tightly tied around your left thigh, some of your pudgy flesh spilling from the bound string. Leon was eating your pussy like it was his purpose, like it was the sole reason he was created; to bring you bliss with such carnal adoration that you'd melt before him.

"F-Fuck, Lee... slow down, I can't... oh God!" You cried out when he took your sensitive clit between his lips and started sucking. Your thighs clamped down around his head and you tried to push him away in a pathetic attempt. Leon growled into your pussy in a displeased manner.

He wanted nothing more than to pin down your arms by your side and knead at your chubby tummy while he was fucking his tongue into your hole. Unfortunately for him, you'd tied his hands behind his back and he was straining against the ribbon. He wanted to touch you more than he'd ever wanted to touch you in his life and he couldn't.

He couldn't, and it was making the determination to make you come undone without his touch grow even more. Leon ceased his struggling against his restraints when a particularly cute moan fell from your lips and your eyes squeezed shut. His cock twitched and he moaned into your cunt, bucking his hips up in the air in hope for some friction.

The tip of his dick was flushed and had a pearl of pre-cum running down the underside of it, meeting the red ribbon tied around at the base. Leon pulled away from between your thighs, his hair disheveled and his lips glistening with your slick. You whined and cried at the loss of his tongue on your pussy, having been so impossibly close to the edge.

"Let me touch you. Please, I need to touch you so bad." He begged with a heaving chest. You'd do anything he asked, but fuck if he didn't look divine like this. That whole growly attitude about feasting on you went out the window the second your taste hit his tongue.

"I'll.. I'll let you touch, I promise, just- please go back to what you were doing." You pleaded breathlessly, fisting the sheets both in frustration and anticipation. Leon would've made a smug remark or gave you that cocky smirk but he was so drunk on you, and on the lack of touching you, that all he did was nod dumbly and went right back to lapping at your poor cunt.

A shiver ran through you at your approaching climax, your ruined orgasm from before having you dangle on a string above a raging hot fire of love and lust.

"Don't stop, don't stop..." you moaned, your mouth falling open in a silent scream and your back arching. Leon circled your clit with his tongue and with one last flick against your sensitive bud, the coil inside you snapped. Your thighs shook and shuddered breaths tore through you as you were riding out your blissful high.

"Holy shit.." you breathed out, one of your arms falling over your eyes.

"Was that good?" Leon asked, kissing and sucking at your thighs that were drenched with your release. You could hear the smirk in his voice; he already knew the answer to that question.

"That was more than good. I might need to tie you up more often." You smirked, getting up on your elbows.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, pretty girl?"

"Very much so. But, I believe I promised you something." You said softly, shuffling over to undo the string keeping his hands behind his back. His hands found your thighs and he gently caressed the marks he'd left, brushing his thumb over the ribbon around your thigh in the process. You took his hands and pulled him up from his knees, pulling him on top of you.

"I've not gotten a single kiss, can you believe that?" You teased, bumping your nose against his playfully.

"We can't have that, can we?" Leon smirked, capturing your lips in a kiss that overflowed with so much desire and passion it almost made you melt. His hands that were finally free to touch you gently slid over your body, stroking and kneading at your flesh. His cock lay heavy against your pussy, making the fire in your veins ignite once more.

One hand toyed with your tits, groping them, while the other cradled your cheek so delicately as if you were made from porcelain.

"Can I fuck you? Please, I need you. Need t'be inside you.." Leon breathed against your lips. You nodded eagerly before stealing a kiss from him once more.

"Yeah. Wan' you inside of me, Lee."

He continued to kiss your breath away, reaching a hand between your bodies to line himself up with you.

"You.. are you gonna leave that on?" You questioned with your lips puffy, glancing down at the ribbon around his cock.

"Yeah, I was gonna leave it." He said breathlessly, going back to your lips again. You sucked in a sharp breath.

"God, that's hot." You whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yeah?" He chuckled against your lips, slowly starting to push inside your sopping cunt. You whined with a nod as he stretched you out.

"Fuck, Baby... you fit around me so perfectly... s'like you were made for me."

"I was." You whimpered, Leon's hips beginning to move slowly after he fully sheathed himself inside of you.

"Yeah, you were. My pretty, beautiful, perfect girl... all for me, all mine. For me to hold, to kiss, to love."

He groaned when you clenched down on him at his words.

He was stroking your hair while his other arm was around your back, pressing you close against his chest. His thrust became harder and you mewled when you felt the ribbon brush against your clit.

"Oh, fuck.. I love you, I love you, I love you." You cried as the tip of his dick rubbed against that spongy spot inside of you. Your lips were almost glued together, only ever coming apart to mumble sweet words to one another. He swallowed your every moan and whine, just as you did his.

"I love you too, sweetheart. M-My.. shit... my angel, my princess.."

"Oh my god.. I'm so close, please..." you panted, your eyes falling shut at the feeling of Leon inside of you. He moved his hips just a little faster and trailed one of his hands between your thighs to rub at your clit.

"Come f'me, Baby... you can be good for me, can't you?" He breathed, cut off by a whimper when you tightened around him.

"Mhm, I'll be good for you.." you babbled mindlessly, the only thing in your head was how good he made you feel and how much you loved him.

His hand searched for yours, grasping it just in time as you came around him with his name falling from your lips. Leon spilled inside of you with a moan muffled by your lips. His cum flooded your walls, making a delightful and fuzzy feeling creep up your spine. His cock twitched inside of you, making you gasp softly.

Leon stayed inside of you for a minute to catch his breath. You were all hazy and smiles when he finally pulled out and situated himself next to you. He pulled you close to his chest and you kissed along his jaw.

"Are you alright, pretty girl?" Leon asked softly, running his fingers through your hair.

"Always when I'm with you. How are you feeling?" You smiled drowsily, ready to pass out for the next two hours.

"I'm okay, Baby. More than okay." He replied quietly with a smile on his lips. There was a comfortable silence, your synchronized breathing slowed and your eyelids began to flutter shut.

"We should take a shower." Leon mumbled against your hair, not wanting to let you go.

"I know... jus' gimme 20 minutes and I'll wash your hair."

"I love it when you do that. But I think we need a nap first." He yawned, snuggling closer together and pulling the blanket over the two of you.

"Agreed." You sighed comfortably.

"Is your neck itchy too?" You mumbled into his chest.

"Yeah, I don't-" Leon reached up to his neck but stopped when he felt the ribbon against his fingertips. You opened one eye to see why he stopped.

"We forget about the ribbon, didn't we?"

"Yep."

The two of you broke into a fit of tired giggles, and you helped each other from your bounds, kissing the skin in your wake.

The crimson bands were tossed out the bed, and now you were content, cuddled up with each other. The world was left behind as you were enveloped by the warm and pleasant tug of sleep, drifting into shared dreams.

And just like your bodies were a minute ago, so were your hearts; bound with a Red Ribbon.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

This might be my last fic for 2023! It definitely won't be the last you hear of me, though.

My plan for the new year is to focus on the requests sitting in my inbox, maybe accept some more and throw in my own ideas here and there!

<3 🐝

[pacentia]

Title: Forever

Summary: After BG3 events, Astarion and reader feel ready for a child.

Pairing: established relationship fem!reader x Astarion

Tags: NSFW, rough sex, sweetness, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, bloodsucking, kissing, L-bombs

Word count: 1,704

Note: listen up folks. no idea if vampires thralls can make people pregnant. but in my world they can. Pls enjoy. i haven't finished the game, so this is my own fantasy after bg3 events:)). Drabble/fic/headcanon requests about our darling husband are welcome :))

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and eventually months into years, together with your darling Astarion. After the events of tadpoles, mindflayers and vampire masters, the time had come to settle down and live quietly, close to Baldur's gate city. Close enough for easy supply runs, yet far enough to enjoy the privacy of your very own house. Astarion was quick to realize he'd want no one else in his eternal life but you - and asked you - on one knee - to be his forever.

The wedding was held shortly after, with only a close circle of your friends present. Karlach shed a tear from happiness - knowing you two were destined to be together, while Halsin felt just… Bittersweet. Astarion wed a fine woman, although he was secretly convinced that an Druid like himself: alive, warm, and aging could take better care of your needs.

This was often also the subject of certain discussions that popped up in your marriage as you were reading in the garden, or drinking hot tea beside the hearthfire. Worries that washed over him about the coldness of his touch - or the eventual loss he would have to endure somewhere in the far future, when you would eventually lose the battle against time. You understood where his worries came from, but you were always there to comfort your darling husband. You possessed no interest in anyone's touch but his and you pledged to him that you'd always be present in his undead heart.

Of course, the latter made you interested in if his vampirism could be cured or, if you could transform into one. Yet, both choices were frustratingly impossible. Curing him would just mean ending him, heaven's forbid. Transforming yourself would mean serving another vampire lord, a fate that Astarion would never want you to experience.

Though tonight - nothing of that sort mattered and you found yourself intertwined in one another, the soft duvet covering your bare bodies. Your fingers played with his light-grey curls, while his arms were wrapped around your shoulders, ready for bed.

"Say, love," Astarion suddenly spoke up, "I heard you took care of a lost little girl in the city today."

Right. A young Tiefling girl had lost her mother inbetween the packed crowds of the city, and the girl came to you for help. How exactly did Astarion know that?

"Karlach told me of course." The vampire stated as a matter of fact. "She saw you and passed by this noon for tea." You nodded and explained the situation - how you held the little girl's hand right until you found her mother together. The woman thanked you over and over again.

A small silence fell between you two, until the man continued his stream of thoughts, "Karlach then asked me if we'd ever have children and I said that I didn't know what you would think of it and I -" Astarion's gaze avoided yours until he remembered he was probably rambling again, "Sorry love, I just wanted to know if you and I could have that sort of future together?"

Your heart fluttered at the thought of Astarion as a father. He'd definitely spoil his little ones and love them unconditionally.

"A little one to raise in our house." The pale man smiled, lost in his thoughts. "We already have a spare room that we could decorate for them."

Of course those thoughts had crossed your mind. It would be a new chapter in both of your lives, and you felt ready to take it on together with him. Behind his cheeky and often sarcastic banter, there was a sweet and caring man - only revealed to the closest ones he trusted.

"You know they'll be incredibly mischievous and stubborn, right?" You smirked up at him, to which the vampire quickly retaliated, "Darling, you wound me. Besides, that's why you're there to teach them kindness." Astarion sing-songed, nuzzling into your hair.

No hesitation was present in your words, '"Of course, Astarion. I want this with you." You smiled sweetly, gently guiding his cold digits over your belly, making your vampire husband rub it with such fondness.

Something within him stirred, yet another level of deeper protectiveness that he would soon feel over you. Any other man that would come too close to you, would feel his deadly fangs buried into their jugular. Rip them to shreds. Kill them in cold blood. In fact, it made him involuntarily bare his fangs to you, accompanied by a low growl reverberating in his chest.

You grinned at his primal reaction, and whispered as you caressed his chin, "Dear Sir, you know you can't drink anything from me when you've put your little one in me, right?"

He was taken by a frenzy, and rolled his heavy body over yours - his nose buried into your neck, inhaling the delicious smell of your perfect blood. His cock hardened at the thought of drinking from you, his icy tongue lapping over the countless bite marks that he'd decorated your neck with.

"I know, sweet love. Sadly, I'll have to return to …inferior blood." An adorable pout covered his beautiful features - which made your heart flutter.

"You should get to work then, my love." You whispered in his pointy ear, pressing small kisses along his cheekbone, and you wrapped your legs around his strong back. The vampire chuckled at your words, "Oh, darling." He groaned, elated to see you so eager to get bred by him. His hardness teased over your wet and warm folds, making himself slick before he'd slide home. His arms snaked under yours, to completely wrap himself around you protectively, burying his face into your neck. The intoxicating smell of your blood so close to his lips, made him lose control over his pace and bucked his strong core into yours, drenched cock sliding deep in your sex.

"Fuck, Astarion…" You gasped in pleasure, his large cock burying itself deep deep deep within your folds. The vampire watched your features contort into pure bliss, and bit his lips in return - until he was nestled as deep as possible.

"This is what you want, isn't it, my darling?" Astarion whispered, while you clawed at his back - sweet agony from his pressure on your cervix. His way with words was too much to bear. Icy lips found your ear again, dripping with sin, "Completely inside your warm, wet, delicious cunt."

You could only whimper Astarion and nod, your fingers buried in his soft curls, as his hips started to gently, slowly thrust inside you. His cock felt so perfect. Big, firm, as if he was carved just for you.

"Fuck, darling," Your husband growled, losing himself deep inside you, speeding up his pace, shifting his position so that he could hold onto your hips for leverage. His red eyes feasted on your body, the most beautiful creature he'd ever set his gaze on. He could hear your heart beating faster. Blood pumping through your veins. Cheeks flushed red. He was salivating for you.

"Please, Astarion…" You cried out in delicious agony, needy for him to grab and fuck you harder. Impregnate you. Show Faerûn that you completely belong to him.

"What is it, my love?" He growled with bared teeth, sounds of wet, sloppy thrusts filling the bedroom.

"Bite me once more." You begged, holding onto his strong shoulders, "Just one last time, please."

Yes. One more time he could have you. His sanguine hunger kicked in, and he couldn't restrain himself anymore, "Oh my, darling…" He moaned In relief, his thrusts never faltering, thanking you over and over again for your gift - until he set his fangs in your neck.

One last time that sharp, ice-cold feeling washed over your senses - unable to move or do anything. Delicious pain mixed with heavenly pleasure, both of your orgasms were nearing. No combination more delicious for your husband - your fresh blood spilling from his lips and your cunt wrapped tightly around him. Pleasure welled up inside of your belly, enduring your vampire's violent kiss - until you reached your peak while he drank from your neck.

His digits dug into the sheets, pupils dilated as he released from your neck in time, overcome with adrenaline and power.

"That's it, my darling…"

His thrusts became harder, faster - his bloody lips finding yours, tongue invading your mouth. You were absolutely spent already, having lost nearly two pints of your blood again - so you held onto him for dear life. The metallic taste of your blood made you nearly gag if he wasn't lapping it up off your lips like a hungered animal.

"Astarion, fuck… Make me fucking pregnant." You cried desperately against his lips, his big cock bumping against your cervix with each thrust. And like always, he delivered your plea - and with a deep and primal groan he reached his peak. "Fuck, oh - Fuck - darling!" He growled with bloody fangs, his crimson eyes rolling in the back of his head, jets of his release splattering right against your cervix. Filled up to the brim.

Sated with blood and pleasure, he collapsed on top of you, holding you dearly in the afterglow of your pleasure. Sweaty, bloody bodies pressed against each other. His face buried against the side of your neck, lapping remnants of your blood one last time.

"Can't get enough of it, can't you, sweet?" You grinned.

"Never, my love." He smiled against your flesh as his cold hand gently caressed your lower belly - hoping that his love would nestle itself deep inside of you tonight.

"I love you, Astarion."

"And I love you, my darling. Forever."