#he's the kind of person that smiles with his eyes

[luveline]

—you meet Spencer again after losing out on the BAU job. he comforts you while you do your best not to flirt. bombshell!reader, 0.9k

You lose out on the BAU job to Elle Greenaway. It drives you crazy.

You work just as hard as Elle does, you’re professional no matter what Jason Gideon has to say about you, and you know you could do it. You have just as many successes as Elle does.

It makes you feel sick. You tried so, so hard.

I’m sorry, Hotch had said, and at least you’d had his support. He was kind enough to tell you in person. I can’t make the decision without Gideon, and if he thinks you aren’t right for it right now, we’ll have to wait.

Wait. As though Jason Gideon was ever going to change his mind about you.

You open your purse and take out the barrel of your sheer lipstick. Your compact is next. You hold the mirror up and angle your face in the sun, popping the lid off of the lipstick, and pressing its flat end to your bottom lip. The line you draw is perfectly precise. Your hand barely trembles.

You drop the mirror down and rub your lips together slowly. No matter what falls out of your control, you can present yourself to your liking. You can be immaculate. You—

“Hi.”

You look up from your rumination, startled. You’d been thinking so hard someone actually got the run up on you.

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head gently toward your shoulder.

Dr. Spencer Reid stands a polite three feet away from you. He’s suddenly changed. The last time you met him he was wearing his long hair in a side part. Now it’s split down the middle, just a touch shorter at the sides, and he’s wearing glasses.

(He’s wearing glasses!)

You’d thought he was pretty before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you say, tempted to call him baby, maybe sweetheart. He’s a sweet looking boy. His sweater vest makes you wanna hold his hand. “Thank you for asking. Why are you asking?”

You talk to him with no derision nor malice, just curiosity.

He frowns. It gives his eyes a sad shine. “I know you wanted the open position. You would’ve been great at it.”

“You think so?” you ask, surprised.

“I’ve seen some of your write ups. We’ve used your summaries in one of our profiles, do you… remember that?”

You send Hotch anything he wants to see.

“I don’t know why Gideon doesn’t like you… He’s so rarely wrong about people, but you’re…” He licks his lips nervously. “You’re– you’re smart. You’re inquisitive. I think you would be an asset to the team, and it’s a shame you didn’t get your chance.”

You’re making him nervous and it isn’t your intention. You put your hands in your lap and stop giving him the look, swapping your amicable smile for a proper friendly one. “Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Spencer? Dr. Spencer Reid is a lot to say at once.”

He laughs, still nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Spencer, thank you for caring so much, but I’m okay. I think I might still have a chance one day, but with Elle gone, the sex crimes division is going to need me.” You lift your chin. If he’s sought you out to tell you he’s sorry, your premonitions about him when you met a few weeks ago were correct. He’s as kind as he is pretty. “I love your glasses. Are they for reading?”

“I always wore glasses when I was a kid, and then I started working here, and I thought it might make me seem less… childish, if I wore contacts, but they’re the worst.”

You laugh happily. He says it in such a pained voice. “The glasses suit you so much,” you say, shoving your things into your bag and standing. “Did you wanna go for coffee? I need a pick me up before I go back to the office.”

Spencer touches his wrist. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you ask, again, without a drop of malice. You’re not stupid, Spencer has all the nervousness of someone who’s been mistreated before, and heartily, and it’s easy to be soft with him not solely because of it, but because he seems so sweet. You could happily be his friend. “Do you like coffee? We could get those hot donuts from the cafeteria, have you tried those?”

You close the little gap between you both and raise your hand carefully to his face. Gentle, you try to pull a stray hair from the hinge of his glasses leg without snapping it.

“You can tell me all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Spencer says.

“Come on, there has to be something.”

His mouth gives him away. “It’s not that you’re doing it wrong, you’re just– you– you’re not looking at things the…” Your fingertip brushes his cheek as you drop your hand. “…Right way, sometimes.”

“I wanted your recommendations.” You bump his elbow with yours. “I’ll buy you a coffee and you can write me a list. Cool?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Cool.”

You’re thinking it’ll be the start of a good friendship. You and Dr. Reid make quite a pair.

[satorusugurugurl]

Can you please make something like y/n losing her virginity to Gojo and when she wakes up she misunderstood that Gojo just wanted to have one night stand and as he never make contact with any of his one night stand, so y/n left writing some notes for him. But Gojo genuinely loved her and then he searched for her finding y/n passed out somewhere or finding her getting attacked by some cursed spirit.

🥹🥹

First Time

Summary: You lose your virginity to you friend and co-worker, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age; Gojo Satoru

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!R

Word Count: 5,848 (oops!)

Warning: loss of virginity, mentions of drinking, fingering, jerking off, oral sex, smut, fights, assault, choking (not the fun kind)

A/N: Well this, this was a lot of fun! 😂💚 I got super into it Nonnie!! Thank you! Enjoy!!

“No, absolutely not. That is a terrible idea.” your best friend and colleague looked you in the eyes, not once breaking contact.

“What do you mean it’s a bad idea? Do you think he has something?”

“Do you honestly think I would know if that man had any sexually transmitted diseases?”

“Well, you’re saying it’s a bad idea. So I was just curious as to why you think that is.”

Nanami let out an aggravated sigh, “I don't think I know it’s a bad idea. I went to high school with the man, for God's sake. He is a serial cherry popper.” your best friend took a sip of his beer, aching his head as he did.

“So he has some experience in doing so.”

You ran your finger over the rim of your margarita glass. You were ignoring the cold, judging eyes of your best friend. Nanami knew you had a crush on Gojo for the last few years. The two of you were constantly flirting with each other, and just recently, he had gotten a little more touchy-feely with you, rubbing your shoulders and brushing his hand against yours. He went as far as to kiss your cheek. Nanami knew what he was playing at. The blue-eyed menace was buttering you up; he saw you as his next target.

“It doesn’t matter if he has experience. If you’re looking for anyone with experience, you could always come to me,” he whispered. Thank God that you were a little too out of it to notice what he said. He was trying to make a point; you both were nothing more than friends. The point he was trying to make, though, was that if you were that desperate to lose your virginity, you could always rely on him. “Gojo is notorious for having one-night stands. He’ll get what he wants and be gone the next day.”

“Do you know that for a fact?” Frustration began to rise in your chest. “ or is that just part of the rumor train?”

Nanami wasn’t sure how to answer that. He hadn’t personally met any of Gojo’s past relationships. He did know that several women had claimed he had popped their cherries and left the next day. So, of course, he was nervous for you. Nanami could see the glittering glaze in your eyes whenever you looked at Gojo. You were so into him it was almost painful.

“Rumor train,” Nanami confessed, looking away and“Then it’s settled!” despite your best friend's warnings, you got up and headed straight to the bar where the Gojo Satoru stood.“Hey Gojo.”

Your colleague and massive crush turned to look down at you. His hair was a fluffy mess, his dark sunglasses shielded, his beautiful eyes from you., and he had a smile on his face that could give anyone cavities. You both had been flirting with each other nonstop for the last three months. You have been waiting to see if he would be the one to ask you to go home with him, but you were tired of waiting.

“Hey, sweetheart~ having fun?” He took a sip of his soda.

“I'd be having a lot more fun if you took me back to my place.”

Satoru choked, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he coughed into his fist. Regardless of his initial reaction, you could see the desire in his eyes. He wanted as bad as you. The constant flirting, lingering eye contact, and subtle touches had brought you both here. Were you, for the first time in your life, inviting a man to come back to your apartment to have sex?

Losing your virginity didn’t have to be special. You were fine as long as it was with somebody who knew what they were doing. From how Satoru acted, there was no doubt in your mind that he knew how to please a woman. It was your virginity, and you chose to give it to Gojo Satoru.

“Seriously? Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my entire life. So what do you say? Wanna come to my place?”

There had been no questions asked. Satoru grabbed your hand and led you out of the bar and back to your apartment. That’s how you found yourself being slammed against the elevator door, Satoru’s mouth eagerly moving against yours in a fiery kiss. His hands reached up, massaging your breasts, causing mewls pleasure to leave your mouth.

“Fuuuck, oh fuck.” Satoru growled, his lips pressed against yours eagerly in between each word. “You have the most perfect tits.” His tongue gently flicked over your bottom lip, and the second you opened it for him, his tongue was in your mouth, gently moving against yours.

The raw carnal need behind his caresses of your skin and the way his lips moved against yours had you dizzy. Never once in your life had you ever felt so desired. Satoru wanted, but no, it was more like he needed you. Knowing that had your panties soaking wet.

“Oh fuck, Toru.” As Satoru’s fingers slid under your shirt, trailing over your heated skin, you arched your back off the cold middle of the elevator. “T-Toru~”

“Fuck you’re so goddamn hot.” Lips latched onto your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there. “You taste like a fucking gourmet meal~, and that's just your skin.” he took your earlobe between his teeth, nipping on it. “Can't wait to taste that cunt. I bet she's already wet~.”

His long fingers slid under your bra, brushing over your hardened nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds. “I-I’m so wet, so fucking wet.” Satoru hummed in your ear, and one of his sinfully skilled hands trailed down, slipping into your pants. “Holy shit!” you cried out as his long fingers gently rubbed over your throbbing clit.

“Oh fuck, you weren't kidding.” His fingers rub and tease your sensitive clit. “You’re soaked.” soaked was an understatement. Fisting his jacket, you bury your head in his shoulder as he trails his fingers lower, teasing your tight virgin entrance through your panties.

“F-Fuck, oh fuck.” Satoru pulls back, glancing down at you as the elevator reaches your floor.

“Your pussy is throbbing.”

“I need you, Satoru. Need you so bad it hurts.”

His soft pink lips find yours again in a searing kiss as he pulls his hand out of your pants. “Then take me home so I can take care of you.” Not needing to be told twice, you grab his wrist, dragging him to your apartment.

The second you're inside, Satoru kicks the door shut with his foot, hands locking it before they grab you. He is slamming you back into the wall of your entryway. His fingers make quick work of your shirt, unbuttoning it, tossing it to the side, his lips never once leaving yours, leaving you a breathless mess. He pulls back, giving you a chance to gulp down ark, as he pulls his shirt off, allowing you to run your hands down his toned abs.

“Bedroom?” he asks, lips attacking your neck as he lofts you off the ground.

Your legs wrap around him as he starts blindly moving forward. “First door on the left,” Satoru growls against your skin, turning right. “T-Toru, that's the bathroom, left!” The extremely sexy man grunts in response, making a swift left, nearly sending you tumbling over.

“Sor-” kiss, “sorry, I just can't wait to get inside of you.” The man you’ve had the biggest crush on for years tosses you onto your bed. Satoru doesn't even give you a chance to react; his hands unbutton your pants, yanking them down. “Fuck you smell so fucking good.”

He’s trailing kisses up your inner thighs, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. Skin that had never been touched by another person other than yourself. The sensation of his fingers, his lips, his teeth on you doing things you had only dreamed of him doing. It had you breathless.

“Satoru.” The man between your legs let out a hungry groan.

“I love hearing you say my name like that. Say it fucking more; I want to hear you scream my name.” his fingers hook under your underwear, yanking them to the side., allowing his tongue full access to your dripping cunt. “Say my fucking name.”

His warm tongue is on you before you can even process what he’s saying. His tongue laps at your entrance before slowly sliding up and down your lips, teasing your clit but not touching it yet. Being eaten out for the first time is like seeing God. Satoru is so skilled with his mouth that it has you digging your heels into the bed, toes curling, and your eyes rolling back.

Satoru hums against you, eyes brows furrowing as he seals his mouth around your dripping sex, sucking on it, teasing it with his tongue. His eyebrows knit in concentration, his eyes never once leaving your face. He is entranced with you and with your reactions. Satoru wants to make you cum; the man is determined to do so.

You didn’t stand a chance against him or his skilled tongue. The second he started flicking your clit with the tip, you lost all control. Reality seemed like it shattered into one million pieces as Satoru drove over the edge of your first orgasm with someone other than yourself. You buck up against his face, your head thrashes against your pillows, and you cum harder than you have in your entire life.

“Mmmphm, fuck.” Satoru growls from between your legs. “That’s it, baby, give it to me, give it all to me.” His tongue continues to lick and lap at your folds, making sure to leave not an inch of your unexplored with his mouth.

“T-Toru, oh fuck.” He had left you a pile of useless limbs. “N-Need you, want you inside of me.” you sit up, hands reaching for his pants, undoing the button. He sucks in a breath as your hand gently rubs over his hard, throbbing cock. “S-So thick, and it-it’s hard.”

“Yeah?” The smugness in his voice has you pressing your thighs together. “Wanna touch it~?”

Giving him a nod, you pull back, allowing him to lie down against the headboard. His breathtaking eyes never leave you, following your hand that slips under his boxers and pulls them down. His cock sprung up, bouncing as it stood straight in the air. The tip was a throbbing dark rosey color, the tip dribbling out pre-cum as it twitched in the cool air of your apartment. His hair is trimmed short, a happy trail leading from the v-line down to the base of his cock.

It draws you in like a siren calling sailors to the sea; you’re drawn to his cock. Your fingers try to wrap around it, but you can’t; he’s too thick. Satoru moans out in pleasure, feeling your warm, soft hand wrap around him. It’s so velvety and warm that your curiosity gets the better of you, urging you to stroke him up and down. You give in to the desire, jerking him off slowly.

“Fuuck, ooh fuck.” Satoru calls from above you, his thighs twitching, body shaking as you continue your movements. “Fuck sweetheart, feels so fuckin’ good.”

“I-I don't know what to do.” At the sound of your confession, Satoru chuckles.

“Want me to help you?” He watched as you bit down on your lip with a soft little ‘mhmm.’ “Alright, just follow my hand.” he wraps his larger, rougher hand around yours. “Here we go.”

Satoru drags his hand up and down his shaft, Allowing more pre-cum to dribble out of the tip, coating his shaft in the slick, sticky substance as makeshift lube. You know you should be paying attention to how his hand is moving. That way, you would know how he liked to be touched. But you can’t help but look at his face. His pale ivory skin is flushed, his lips are slightly parted as he whines, and his eyes are narrowed, focusing on your hand that is jerking him off with his.

Eroticism is not the way you would describe this; this was pure filthy porn for you. His face, the way he took his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it, would forever be in your spank bank memory—his ab’s clenched and moved, and time with his deep raspy groans of pleasure. Satoru was losing himself in the pleasure of just your hand. You couldn’t wait to see the expression he made when he was inside of you.

“Sweetheart, fuck.” He groans, jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together. “Fuuuck, your hand is so soft. If you keep it up, I’m gonna cum all over you.”

Hearing him say that, knowing that you could make the Gojo Satoru cum, you jerked your hand as fast as you fucking could. You swatted his hand away, taking complete control. Satoru threw his head back with a roar as you licked your bottom lip, focusing all your attention on how you were moving your wrist. Up and down, twisting and pulling it as he had shown you. Your free hand reaches down and his heavy balls, massaging him gently, urging him to spill his seed all over your hands.

His cock throbbed twice in your hand, and you thought for just a moment that he was about to cum for you. But before he could, his free hand swooped down and squeezed himself at the base of his cock, preventing himself from cumming all over your hand like you had wanted. His chest was heaving, and the flush on his face had spread the base of his neck down to his pectoral muscles.

Satoru swallows hard, wincing as you run your index finger over his slit, spreading the precum over his throbbing tip. “Why did you stop? Weren't you about to cum?” Strong hands grab your upper arms, flipping you so you’re the one underneath him.

“I was, but I would much rather cum inside of you.” those filthy words have your cunt drooling, your slick dripping down to the bed underneath you. “Is that okay~?”

“Yes, god, yes, please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

“Oh, you beg so nicely; how could I deny your request like that?” He slots his body between your thighs, and he rubs the head of his cock up and down your lips, smearing his pre-come over your clit. “Want me to grab a condom? I have one in my wallet.”

“No, I have an IUD.”

“Such a dirty, needy girl.” He presses the tip against your tight entrance. “You sure about this?”

He knew you were a virgin; you had mentioned it to him in passing in between your flirting the last few months. For him to take the time to ask you if you were okay with this made your heart sing. Nanami was wrong about him. Gojo wasn’t just going to up and leave; he genuinely seemed to care about you and what you wanted.

He was the perfect man to lose your virginity to.

“I'm positive.”

Hearing your consent, Satoru sighed in relief. “Awesome, just let me know if you need to stop.”

His cock gently pushes into you. You awaited the dreaded sharp, stinging pain you have been told about your entire life. But the pain never came. It was just a sensation of being full and some slight pressure. The unfamiliar sensation had you gripping Satoru’s biceps, digging your nails into his delicate ivory skin as you tried to adjust to the new feeling.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yeah, I just needed a second. It’s just a weird sensation.”

Satoru gently peppers kisses over your neck before meeting your lips once again. “Relax, I got you; I got you, baby.” Everything Satoru was doing for you had your muscles less tense as he pushed further inside of you. “You're taking me so well, such a good girl.”

“Satoruu~” your hands finally managed to leave his arms before wrapping around his neck, pulling him tighter against you.

“That's it, you’re gonna be good for me, right? Gonna let me bottom out inside that sweet tight cunt?”

You didn't even need to give him permission; his hips meet yours as he’s balls deep inside of you. You are breathing heavily against each other’s mouths. Your soft whimpering mixes in with his deep guttural groans.

“Tight, you're so tight, almost had me blowing my load like I was the virgin.” he pressed his mouth against yours and gave a soft, gentle kiss. “Are you okay?”

You nod, a wanton moan leaving your mouth as he begins grinding his hips into you and not entirely pulling out to thrust back in. But the simple grinding of his cock inside of your pussy, hitting your g-spot, made you squirm underneath him. Satoru repeats the grinding for a few minutes before his lips leave yours.

“I'm gonna start moving, okay?” Your little moans and nods were the only signs Gojo needed to see and hear to know he was ready to move. His poor little sweetheart hadn’t even been fucked thoroughly yet, and she already couldn’t find her voice. “Hey, if you need me to stop, just let me know.”

His hips move, gently pulling back before snapping forward, burying himself deep into your tight heat. He groans breathlessly, eyes shut tight as your walls clamp down on him. “Oooh fuuuck, fuck, you're so tight, so tight, baby.” he pulls out again, leaving you gasping before he immerses himself back into your cunt. “Fuck you feel that~ feel my cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy? Does that feel good for you, baby? Huh?” Satoru growls as he sets a gentle pace, gently fucking you into the bed.

“S-So good T-Toru, haaa haaah fuck you're twitching.” At the sound of your voice, Satoru’s cock twitched again, this time even harder, making you shudder at the knowledge you were making him feel this good.

“Of course, I’m twitching; you're so fucking wet and warm; it honestly feels like my dick is melting inside. So yeah, fuck, fuck,” his pace speeds up, “my dick is twitching inside of you because you feel so fucking good.”

Having sex felt so good! Having sex with Satoru, well damn, it was like heaven on earth. Well, you didn’t have anyone else to compare it to, but you knew that your first time was monumentally better than anyone else. He was so gentle, kind, and patient with you. You couldn’t think of anybody else that would be that sweet. God, he made you feel so good.

Your back arched off the mattress as you dug your nails into his back, climbing up his muscles with your nails. The pain dialed him up, pushing him to fuck you faster and deeper while trying to be as gentle as he could, knowing the fact that you were a virgin. He could only maintain his composure for so long thought.

“F-Fuck, ooooh fuck, fuck.” His cock is dragging against the spots deep inside of you that felt like pure pleasure every time he brushed against them. With each touch of those sweet spots, your wall hugged his cock, letting him know you were closer to your orgasm as much as he was. “Yeah, you like that baby? Like it when I fuck you like this? I popped your cherry, and now I’m fucking you into the mattress.” You’re so loud that your moans reverberate off the walls. “Yeah, you love it. You love my cock inside that pussy.”

“Y-Yeah! I love it!” A coil deep in your abdomen begins tightening and tightening. “I-I’m gonna cum!” eyes locking on with Satoru’s “Oh fuck, fuck I’m close, Toru!”

“Cum for me, milk my cock, sweetheart~ that's it~ that's a good girl~ yeah~” his thrust no longer has any rhythm; all that’s going on in his head is making you cum and filling you up.

Your orgasm hits you hard in the gut like a punch to the stomach. It’s not painful in the slightest. It is a pure, unfiltered pleasure. The kind pleasure that has you seeing white spots. You scream into the void as you squirt all over Satoru’s cock and the bed. The image of you cumming so hard sends Satoru tumbling over the edge right after you. He curses and grits his teeth before he latches his mouth into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin, leaving marks for only him to see.

You’re a shaking, sweat-soaked mess by the time Satoru pulls off of you, falling onto his side next to you. His lips gently press against your cheek before finding your lips. They move against yours in a symphony of pleasure and pure bliss. Satoru spoons you, his arms wrapping around your body, pulling you flush against his naked form.

“You did so good.” His voice is so soft, lulling you to sleep. “Such a good girl~ thank you for letting me be your first.”

You hum, happily turning to kiss him on the lips before resting your head against your pillow. Slowly losing yourself in the warmth of his body against yours. “Thank you for making my first time so special.” His fingers gently graze over your skin as he breathes heavily against the nape of your neck.

“Mhmm, you're welcome. Get some rest, okay?”

You don’t even answer because you’re already sleeping. You dream the most peaceful, beautiful dreams. Ones where you, Satoru, have sex, go out on dates and enjoy each other’s company. God, you couldn’t wait to see you the next day took you. What did the future have in store for the two of you? More happy-go-lucky memories like this? If you could live through days like this, you would be the happiest woman in the entire world.

Dopamine and serotonin spread through your veins throughout the night while you sleep and find you in the early morning sunlight. You’re under the crisp, cool sheets that cradle your body. It’s when you move to turn to look at Satoru that you realize just how sore your body is. You hurt in places that you didn’t know were even possible to hurt.

All you needed was a nice hot shower with your extremely hot partner, and you should be all set to go. Rolling onto your side to look at him, your smile fades. Satoru isn't there.

You reach for the side of the bed he had fallen asleep in, trying to see if his lingering warmth was there. Hoping that if it did, maybe he was in the bathroom or the kitchen making you breakfast in the movies. But the crisp sheets under your hands are cold. He must have left hours ago.

Sitting up in bed, you reach for your cell phone on the nightstand next to you. Unlocking it, you search for a message Satoru may have sent you about why he would leave after such a perfect night. There is no message. No missed calls, no text messages. Nothing. He had slept with you, taking your virginity, and he left you with nothing.

Everything from the night before was perfect. You both had a great time, so why would he get up and leave without telling you? Even if he went to get breakfast for the two of you, he could have at least texted you to let you know that. Even when you pulled yourself out of bed with wobbly legs, you discovered he wasn’t even in your living room, let alone your apartment.

The truth hit you like a wrecking ball. Nanami had been right. He warned you. Your best friend warned you that Gojo was a serial cherry popper. You didn’t listen to him. You thought you knew him better, but the months of flirting back and forth, the late-night conversations on the phone, and the missions meant more than just one nightstand.

The hopes of there being any connection between the two of you left your apartment just like he did. You would never not listen to Nanami again; he was always looking out for you. Since you hadn't heeded his warning, you had to suffer with the heartache you had brought upon yourself. That Sunday, you cried yourself back to sleep curled into a ball and mourned your stupidity and the loss of a relationship that never even existed

The next day, you texted Yaga, letting him know you wouldn’t be coming to work for the next couple of days. You needed time to think about what you needed to do next. Gojo was your colleague and a man with whom you were forced to go on missions and teach the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers. Being around him would be challenging. If things had played out differently, and he didn’t just up and leave you alone in the apartment, maybe you wouldn’t have to be weighing your options.

The way you looked at it, you had two different choices. You could completely ignore Gojo when you return to work—keeping things strictly professional between you. Or you could ask to be transferred to Kyoto, where you would never have to see his face again.

You return to work on Wednesday, and the second you step through the school gates, Gojo stands there waiting for you. His hair was fluffed up as his blindfold was pulled over his eyes, but you could tell his gaze was locked on you.

“Hey, we need to talk.” He tried speaking to you, but you ignored him. “Sweetheart, please just listen to me.”

“I have work to do, excuse me.”

The entire day, Gojo kept bugging you and begging for you to stop to listen to what he had to say. Whatever excuses he had come up with, he could shove them up his ass. He had left you without any explanation at all. So he didn’t deserve your time of day.

You finally found some peace when he was forced to teach the first years for his class. As he left, he pleaded for you to set some time aside so that you could talk things out later. There was no way in hell you were going to sit there and listen to whatever bullshit excuse he came up with. You couldn’t, not when you had been told what kind of person he was, and against your better judgment, you went through with sleeping with him.

Before you could find yourself in another stupor, the door to your classroom opened, and Yaga stepped inside. The higher-ups had requested your assistance with a curse downtown. Specifically, they asked for both you and Gojo to assist. He was preoccupied with his students, so you decided this was easy to handle.

Instead of waiting to talk to him personally about taking on this mission on your own, you did exactly what he had done to you days prior: left without saying a word. You grabbed your shit and walked out the door; being courteous enough, you left a note behind on your desk. It also colorfully told him you had nothing to say about sleeping together.

Your words described how you thought he was different, how you had assumed there was more than just a one-night stand between you, but he had other ideas. At the end of your note, you wished him a long and happy life; there was nothing more to say after that. Writing that note allowed you to get all of your frustration, everything, off your chest without actually saying it to his face.

With the note behind you, you had one of the assistant supervisors drive you to the location of an abandoned building. Luckily, with the curse inside, you didn't have to lower a veil. This was, hopefully, going to be a simple in-and-out mission. At Least, you thought it would be.

Stepping inside the building, you automatically sensed the presence of the curse. One that was a grade four curse, making it super easy to take out. You honestly did it in record-breaking time, but it wasn’t the curse you had to worry about.

The curse user watching you the entire time you fought against his little monster charged you the instant his curse spirit dissipated. He pinned you to the ground, his hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing down on it. You choked, kicking your feet underneath him; your talisman paper was just out of reach; your fingers grazed over it, but you couldn’t grasp it. The man above you looked at you with dark black eyes, determined to kill you.

“I worked so hard to train that curse!” the man shouted as you gurgled on your saliva. “Then you come in here and just destroy it?! How are you any better than they are?!”

Your nails dug into the flesh of his hands, yanking and pulling at his fingers, trying to free yourself as your shoes slid against the dirty floor. Black spots began to appear in your vision; you were so close to passing out. Maybe you should have waited for Satoru. He may have been an asshole but at least he would’ve had your back.

“You sorcerers all deserve to die!”

Help me.

“Die and rot in hell when you belong!”

Please, someone, anyone!

“You deser—”

A flash of red floods the room as the man is sent flying through a wall, well, several walls, finally freeing you from his grip. You curl in on yourself, coughing and gulping down air. You don’t even have a chance to fully recover before you’re scooped up into arms, arms that had held you several nights before. Gojo says nothing as he carries you out of the room you had almost lost your life in.

Silence remains thick until he takes you outside and sits you on the concrete stairs leading to the alleyway. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” The urge to run away is as strong as your need to take deep breaths. There was no point in running now, especially after Gojo had saved your life.

He returned several minutes later, waving at the assistant supervisor's black car. His hands are shoved into his pockets as he watches the car turn the corner before he turns in your direction. His blindfold is still entirely on hiding his eyes from you. But just like this morning, you can feel his gaze locked solely on you.

“We got ten minutes before the cops show up.” You give him a thumbs up, winning a frustrated sigh back. “I got your note.”

“Good.” Your voice cracks as you try to clear your throat.

“No, it’s not good.” He snaps, stomping towards you, crouching down in front of you. “You honestly think I didn’t feel anything that night? That was just a one-night stand?”

“You left!” You cough roughly. “You left without a word, Gojo! What else am I supposed to think? To me, you leaving without a word is pretty plain and clear.”

A large hand cups your face, holding it gently. “Yaga called me in for an emergency. I was needed at the Kyoto school that morning.” You blinked back tears. “And I was going to call you, but I left my phone at the bar because I was so excited to be with you finally.” His head dropped forward with a heavy sigh. “But the more that I think about it, the more that’s like a shitty excuse. I should’ve woken you up before I left, but you looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to. I should’ve known and done better. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“Yeah, you should have asshole,” you sigh, “ at least you have another cherry under your belt.”

“I don’t just want you to be another girl in the notch of my belt!” His hand tightens around your face. “ I know I fucked up. I didn’t get to truly talk to you and tell you how I feel about you.” Your eyes met his. “This isn’t an ideal situation either, having just saved your life, and I almost killed that man.” He yanks his blindfold down, revealing his blue eyes to you. Eyes that are solely focused on you. “This is a terrible time to tell you that I love you; I love you so damn much.”

For the second time today, you find it hard to breathe. Your eyes widen in shock as Satoru stares at you, waiting for you to respond to his confession. If he had told you this several days ago before he had left without a word, you would’ve been over the moon. Now, you weren’t sure how to react. Part of you was still happy that he felt that way, but he left without a word; he should have handled things differently. That was in the past, though there was no point in crying over something that had already happened.

Deep inside your heart, you knew how you felt regardless of what had happened days before.

“I love you too, you idiot.” The white-haired man before you perks up, grinning wide. “But I’m still pissed off. You owe me big time for leaving me after popping my cherry dick.”

“Baby, I’ll do anything you ask, anything.” His hands are gripping yours, planting kisses against the back of them.

“I want you to take me on a date. A real date with food and dessert.”

He smiled softly, his dimple visible as he planted another kiss on your hand. “Dinner and dessert, I can handle that.” He helps you stand, ushering you forward, his hand in yours. “I could sweeten the deal. Maybe I could make you cum on my tongue all night? You don’t even have to worry about me. Just let me worship you if you want.” While his offer is tempting, you lean against him.

“Honestly, I’d rather go on a date and have mind-blowing sex like the other night, just without you leaving me.”

“I can do that too.”

Satoru is true to his word; he takes you to the nicest restaurant he knows. Buys you a bottle of champagne, orders a five-course meal, and every dessert on the menu. After your wonderful first date, he takes you back to his apartment and makes sweet love to you all night. He had you arching, gasping, and clawing at his back for the second time in your life.

The following day, you wake up finding him missing again. The bedroom door opens before you can grab your phone to see where he is. Satoru comes in with a massive tray of food. Mixed berries, coffee, pancakes, and eggs and bacon. He sits on the bed beside you, setting the tray between you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He offers you a steaming cup of coffee that you gladly take,

“I slept great.” You lean over kissing his lips softly.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[withwritersblock]

Sunflower

~Sunflower by Shannon Purser~

Author's Note: requested ! also I have no impulse control and as soon as I finished a fic I must post it despite it being midnight my time italics are flashbacks and also trying not to repeat gifs but I have written so many Luke fics I'm afraid I may have to lmaoooo Summary: Y/N gets insecure over being the "average" Hughes girlfriend Warnings: insecurities regarding appearance Word Count: 2,593 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Luke had two motivations to going to class. One, he wouldn’t be able to play hockey if he didn’t go. Two, there was a beautiful girl that sometimes sat beside him in class. The lecture class was three days a week and usually she would sit two seats away from him. But every so often someone would sit in her usual seat so she would sit beside him. 

He’s only spoken two sentences to her. “Do you have a pen I can borrow?” and “Thanks.” He was sure his voice cracked and went embarrassingly high pitch but she was more than polite. She even let him keep the pen, which he thought was overly kind. 

Here he was twenty minutes early to the lecture, prepped with her pen and his notebook. He had one Airpod in his ear, blasting his country playlist as he stared at the blank notebook page. He was sitting in his usual seat in the giant lecture hall, watching each person walk in and sit in their regular seat. His heart jumped in his throat as he saw her walk in from the opposite side of the lecture hall. 

He kept his gaze on her, she had stopped short looking towards his direction. He watched her walk towards their section of the lecture hall. He dropped his gaze towards the notebook paper as he could hear his own heartbeat. Clenching his jaw, his cheeks heated up because she was coming closer. 

He leaned back in his seat, subtly shifting his gaze towards her. He watched her walk past her usual seat and sit down directly beside him. He felt himself start to smile but he cleared his throat as he turned his gaze towards the paper. 

“I decided to stop fighting for that seat,” she let out, pulling her notebook from her backpack. Luke turned his head, to meet her gaze. “Hope you don’t mind,” she mumbled. 

He pressed his lips together, fighting his grin, “Not at all,” he let out, he leaned forward as he let out a huff of air, “Who knows I may need to steal another pen.”

She giggled but he wanted to punch himself. Why would he say that? That was dumb, very dumb. 

“It’s not stealing if I gave you permission,” she offered as she tapped her pen against the notebook. He looked into her eyes, a soft smile formed to his lips. “You’re here early,” she observed.

He tilted his head to the side, while he squinted his eyes slightly. “So are you,” he let out. 

“I was trying to get to my seat first,” she mumbled while scanning his features. “But you were here and I wanted to talk,” she let out, her eyes widened slightly at the words leaving her own lips. He ran his hand over his nose as he fought the smile forming on his lips.

“Talk about what?” he let out barely above a whisper. She pursed her lips forward as she fought off a smirk. 

It had been a year since they first started dating. After eight months together, he had joined the Devils. It was hard and nearly impossible but they were determined to make it work. She was still on winter break and was planning on staying in Jersey with Luke for a week. 

She was manuvering through the airport with her suitcase trailing behind her. Her eyes were wandering the airport as she was trying to find her tall curly haired boy. It had been two months since she has last seen him and it was starting to consume her.

She spotted him leaning against a random wall, staring down at his phone. A wide grin formed to her lips as she began walking faster towards him. He lifted his gaze, as if he knew she was close. Instantly, their eyes connected. Luke smiled widely as he shoved his phone into his pocket. He started jogging towards her, he knew he looked ridiculous but his girlfriend was only a couple of feet away. 

She let go of her suitcase as she jumped into his arms, she wrapped her arms around his neck. A chuckle leaving his throat as he tightly wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hi,” he whispered into her ear as he spun her around. 

After a few seconds he delicately placed her on the ground, as he scanned her features with a soft smile on his lips. “I love you,” he mumbled as he pulled her towards his chest again, he was never a fan of PDA. Hugs were the furthest he’d ever take it in public, and she was fully comfortable with that. 

“I love you too,” she mumbled into his ear as she slowly ran her fingers through the ends of his curls. “Your hair is getting so long,” she continued.

“I haven’t really had time to get a haircut,” he let out shyly as he pulled away from her reluctantly. He reached behind her taking a hold of her suitcase. They began walking side by side out of the airport.

“I like it,” she said while glancing towards him again. He smiled as he took a hold of the small of her back, pulling her towards his side. 

~

They stepped into the apartment together, Luke laughing at something Y/N said as his gaze landed on Jack and his girlfriend sitting on the couch together. They were cuddling and whispering towards one another. 

Luke’s smile faltered as he saw them together, Y/N walked in behind Luke. “Hey man, thought you were staying at Nico’s tonight,” Luke let out as he stepped inside, rolling the suitcase against the wall. He quickly wrapped his arm around Y/N’s center back, pulling her to his side.

Y/N couldn’t help but stare towards the girl sitting beside Jack. She’s met her briefly over FaceTime and each time she was shocked at the beauty she oozed. She was an actual model who lived in New York. It was no shock to the hockey world that Jack Hughes would get in a relationship with a famous New York model. Especially one who was as stunning and as perfect as her. 

Y/N looked down towards her attire, the UMich hoodie on her frame paired with sweatpants really made her feel droopy. 

Jack smiled as he stood up from the couch, “Yeah, I was about to take Anna back to her place,” he mumbled as he smiled towards Y/N. “Luke’s been miserable without you,” he let out as he wrapped his arms around her. She hesitantly hugged him back. “Come on, baby,” Jack let out as Anna stood up from the couch. She met Y/N’s gaze, smiling politely before she followed Jack out of the apartment. 

Luke pressed his lips together as he turned his head to the side, scanning Y/N’s features. She had a small frown on her lips while she stared towards the floor. He furrowed his eyebrows as he delicately took a hold of her hand. She tilted her head to meet his eye. “You okay?” he asked, pouting his lip slightly. 

“I’m just tired from the flight,” she muttered, “Can I shower real fast?” 

He nodded as he delicately ran his thumb over the top of her hand. “Want me to join you?” he asked. She shook her head.

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” she mumbled. He nodded as he reached for her suitcase. He guided her towards his bedroom. Her eyes danced around the room excitedly. It was empty beside photos scattered around the room. The photos were mainly just him and Y/N. But there was a lot of photos of him with his UMich team and when he got drafted. 

“Bathroom is right there, beauty,” he mumbled pointing towards the door directly outside of his bedroom. He examined her features once more, she looked tired and all he wanted to do was hold her.

She smiled politely towards him as she walked towards it. He furrowed his eyebrows harshly as he slowly sat down on his bed. She stepped inside the bathroom, locking it behind her.

She stared towards her reflection, cringing at her appearance. She could’ve tried a little harder to look presentable for Luke. She leaned towards her reflection suddenly comparing herself to the girl on the couch. Luke could easily get someone as gorgeous as Anna. 

Jack wasn’t the only Hughes brother dating a model, Quinn recently started dating one. She was also out of this world stunning and the mere perfection of what beauty should be. Quinn has been showing her off to all of his private socials, it was hard to not compare herself to these girls. 

She was average. She was average in looks and in status. She had nothing to bring to the Hughes family. She has mountains of student debt and average looks and an average life. She was boring, how could she compare?

Suddenly she was crying, she wasn’t sure when it happened. The longer she made eye contact with herself, the more the tears filled her eyes. It wasn’t easy being with Y/N, she was hundreds of miles away. It would be easier for him to find a model to fall in love with that lived a few miles away. Why would he want her? She had nothing to offer. 

She took a deep breath as she quickly ripped her clothes off and jumped into the shower, she needed to stop looking at herself. She couldn’t continue to compare herself to the definition of beauty girls. 

The hot water hit her face, concealing the tears falling onto her cheeks. It was embarrassing. She should be confident, he loved her. He thought she was beautiful. She wished she felt beautiful when she was with him, but it was difficult when his brothers chose obviously gorgeous girls. 

After ten minutes she climbed out of the shower, wrapped herself with a spare towel. She walked out of the bathroom towards Luke’s room. He was lying on his bed, shirtless, with a pair of pajama pants on. He smiled towards her admiring her nearly naked wet frame. 

“I cannot wait until this is a view I get every day,” he let out with a grin on his lips. She rolled her eyes playfully as her heart began to race. She glanced towards the suitcase that was zipped open for her. 

Normally she would have some flirty banter to bounce back with Luke but she was quiet. Afraid the tears she had just shed would be evident in her voice. He clenched his jaw, his smile slipping from his lips. She took a hold of a matching pajama set and walked back towards the bathroom. He frowned as he watched her walk away. 

It was weird for her to not simply change clothes in front of him. He wasn’t upset, but he was confused. It took her another few minutes to reemerge from the bathroom. “Are you okay?” he asked bluntly. She nodded as she shut the door behind her, twisting the lock. “Baby, I know you’re not alright, what’s wrong?” he questioned as he scanned her frame. 

Tilting her head back, she took a deep breath. “It’s just been a long day, I’m tired ‘s all,” she mumbled as she walked towards the bed. Luke sat up, resting his feet on the ground. She sat down beside him, his gaze never leaving hers. 

“Did Jack say something to you? Did he say something-”

“No, Luke, I’m fine. I swear,” she mumbled as her lip quivered. His eyes widened. She shut her eyes harshly as she dropped her gaze. 

“What’s going on?” he asked barely above a whisper. She took a shaky breath as she rolled her eyes.

Shaking her head, she let out, “Do you see the girls your brother’s date?” 

He nodded slowly, trying to understand.

“Like they are the definition of perfect,” she let out with a huff of air, “I mean there is not a single thing wrong with them. I mean, you could easily date one of those girls yourself. You could easily get one of those girls to fall in love with you because you are so perfect,” she let out with a sob rising in her throat.

“Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper.

“I mean it’s expected right? NHL stars are supposed to date the pretty models and the pretty actresses and the-” she let out a shaky breath, “You’re not supposed to be with the average college girl. I’m supposed to be some girl you date before fame. I’m supposed to be some ex you forget about. You’re supposed to have a beautiful family with a beautiful gir-”

He took a cautious hold of her chin, pulling her gaze towards his. His eyes were teary as she scanned his features. “I will have a beautiful family,” he mumbled. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop the tears from falling, “I will have a beautiful family with a beautiful girl,” he continued. 

“That beautiful girl is you,” he whispered while he raised his hand up slightly, his thumb wiping a tear off of her cheek. “I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m serious,” he mumbled. 

“Luke-”

“Let me finish,” he muttered, a small smile on his lips, “I hated that history class. I hated it so much I almost dropped out of the class. I was going to take it online next semester and forget about it. Until you sat beside me, you sat beside me and I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t focus because you were the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. All I could think about was how am I going to get this gorgeous girl out on a date with me,” 

She pulled away from him, dropping her gaze towards the floor. “I was so nervous to talk to you, I asked for a pen and I had a prepubecent voice crack in the process,” he explained, a chuckle leaving his throat. She let out a small laugh. 

He took a hold of her chin again, “I don’t want some girl who’s only personality is being pretty. I want my gorgeous girl who is funny, smart, independent, and the kindest person I have ever met,” he paused as he watched a small smile form to her lips, “You’re the whole package, baby doll,” he let out with a small chuckle.

“You were doing so good until you said baby doll,” she teased. He smirked as she pulled away from his hand. She wiped the tears away from her face, taking in a long breath. “I love you,” she let out as she tilted her head to the side. He smiled as he tilted his head back; fighting tears of his own. 

“I love you so much,” he let out as he pouted his lips slightly, “You know that, right? Am I not doing a good job at showing you that?” 

She shook her head as she stared into his eyes, “Oh my god, Luke, you are perfect,” she mumbled as she quickly climbed onto his lap, straddling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, she stared into his eyes. “You are doing everything right,” she muttered as she lowered her gaze towards his lips. 

He nodded as he licked his lips. He glided his hands up and down her hips slowly as he leaned towards her kissing her softly.

[iholdwhatican]

reunions

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.8k

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension

summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?

author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3

originally posted by iholdwhatican

You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross. 

You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore. 

So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?

Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin. 

He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all. 

And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work. 

You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it. 

The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right? 

Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband. 

The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him. 

God, what the hell was wrong with you? 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five. 

Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted. 

You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage? 

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.” 

You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same. 

The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.” 

You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?” 

“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door. 

You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning. 

The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated. 

He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed? 

God, you needed a cigarette. 

You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot. 

Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into. 

You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.” 

He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him. 

The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart. 

Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air. 

The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you? 

You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment. 

You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.” 

Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.” 

You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area. 

“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why. 

“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually. 

“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.” 

Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend? 

You needed another drink. Or ten. 

“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to. 

“More than anything else in this world.” 

Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed. 

It made something flip in your stomach. 

“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.” 

You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.” 

“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.” 

You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men. 

Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like. 

You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone. 

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.

The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation. 

“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.” 

The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive. 

You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?” 

His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.” 

You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.” 

“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.” 

You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it. 

“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it. 

“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands. 

Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was. 

“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-” 

“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.” 

You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-” 

“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that. 

The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?” 

The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look. 

The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait. 

You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire. 

“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.” 

You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind. 

“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.” 

He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.” 

Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?” 

You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-” 

But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his. 

You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it. 

You really, really fucking liked this. 

When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff. 

It was unbelievably hot. 

As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you. 

You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband. 

[zvdvdlvr]

— Morning Smoke

💜 — Synopsis. You knew you had a thing for the one person who had a clear distaste towards you. But maybe having a wet dream about him- while sleeping in the same room as him- was probably a good thing.

💜 — Warnings. Rushed writing. Unedited. Dry humping. Clothed grinding. Reader and Spencer smoke cigarettes.

One year, eleven months, and six days. Thats how long you’d been working for the BAU catching serial killers, bombers, and rapists by observing every detail if their crime. You’re a valuable asset to the team, your brain working on the same page as the rest of the team with just a different design. 

During your time at the BAU, you recieved many titles. Caffeine fiend(Aaron), best friend(Penny), mama (Derek), and idiot- affectionately- (Emily). The only person that hadn’t called you anything other than your first or last name, or agent was Spencer Reid.

There was a barrier between the two of you- unspoken, of course, but there was just some kind of wall seperating you from him. You didn’t blame Spencer for keeping you at at arm’s length: you were just some new agent who would eventually transfer. Admittedly, it hurt when Spencer politely uninvited himself from the activities you went along with. And it felt like a gut punch when Spencer chose the farthest seat from you on the jet and chose to move away from you while giving profiles to the police. But you figured he had his reasons.

“Y/n,” Emily murmured, nudging your arm. You looked up, bleary eyes focussing on the dark haired woman in front of you. You blinked.

“What’s- hey!” You cried out indignantly as Emily snatched the cold cup if coffee you had started to reach for. “Emily.”

“It’s time to go back to the hotel. Hotch’s orders,” the dark haired woman said, nodding to the team behind you.

You nodded. “Okay.” You stood up and hastily tucked papers into the manilla folder you were working on. “I’m ready.”

“Put those files down, y/n,” Hotch commanded, raising a tired eyebrow in your direction. “If I’m tired, you have to be a dead woman walking.”

You put the file down and pulled your coat on without protest. You’d only actually seen Hotch exhausted a handful of times. And Hotch was right: you did feel like you were about to fall over. Maybe having an iron deficiency and drinking coffee off an empty stomach wasn’t a very pleasant experience…

The ride to the hotel was over in a blink of an eye- a really ling blink apparently. You hadn’t even known you had reached the hotel until the inevitable and only boy genius Spencer Reid shook your shoulder gently to wake you up. Truly, you thought you were dreaming when you opened your eyes and Spencer’s face surrounded by a mat of curly hair greated you. His furrowd eyebrows relaxed when you looked around.

“Let’s go, l/n. You’re rooming with me,” Spencer told you after locking the car.

If you were in the right state of mind, you probably would have bent over giggling from the way Spencer put his arm around you as he led you into the building. But you weren’t so you just rested your head in the juncture if his shoulder and neck. He smelled good for someone who’d been awake for God knows how long. If you concentrated you thought you could feel the heat of his palm around you, moving in teeny tiny circles.

By the time you reached the bedroom you were practically unconscious in Spencer’s arms, yours and his go-bag around Spencer’s other arm. Spencer gently set you down on the bed closest to the door and put your go-bag in the bed beside you. “You should probably get changed, but I know how tired you are. I’ll shower tonight so you can shower tomorrow,” he explained, brushing a baby hair out of your line of sight. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, Spence,” you mumbled, eyes caught in the way Spencer’s lips moved and twitched. He was an expressive man when he was tired, and you caught the rare smile that graced his lips.

You hoped you would remember the blush on his cheekbones that matched the color of his lips when you woke up the next morning.

Birds chirped. The bright sun shone through the blinds of your home, patterning your room with strips of orangey-yellow. You turned over and saw him.

“Hey, you,” Spencer greeted. His hand came to rest gently on your cheek and pull you up to his pink lips. Your leg fluidly moved to straddle Spencer’s right leg.

Breathlessly you muttered a “good morning” before your hand tangled in Spencer’s curly hair, tugging his head down to meet your desperate kisses.

Spencer moved his thigh up to rub harshly on your core. You gasped sharply and ground down to meet Spencer’s thigh. “Oh fuck,” you whispered, watching Spencer’s back arch as you palmed the massive tent in his pants.

A strangled cry left your lips when Spencer’s massive hands fell onto your hips and controlled your movements. “That’s my girl,” Spencer growled, your hands feeling up Spencer’s chest and tracing the curves and lines of his neck. As your orgasm approached, your hands grasped Spencer’s face and harshly pulled him into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

“Y/n,” Spencer murmured, voice low.

“Fuck,” you cursed. “Jus’ like that,” you slurred.

“Y/n,” Spencer repeated, one hand sliding up to your shoulder.

Your jaw clenched and your hips jerked violently.

“Y/n.”

You shot up in bed, sweat soaking your forhead and hair. You looked around wildly, chest heaving. 

In front of you sat Spencer Walter Reid, eyes beady with sleep. “Are you okay? You sounded like you were having a nightmare-?”

“Fuck, fuck,” you whispered, running a hand through your hair. “I’m- yeah I’m alright. I just-“ you exhaled. “Go back to bed, Reid, I’m alright.”

“A-Are you sure?”

You wanted to groan. The ruins of a spoiled orgasm simmered away in your blood. “Yes. I just- Yeah it was a nightmare. I’m gonna- go get ready.”

“L/n, it is 4 o’clock in the morning.”

You thanked the dark lighting for concealing the dark patch of your pants due to your arousal. “It’s- Please go back to bed.”

“Talk to me,” Spencer pleaded, grabbing your hand.

“It’s nothing, Reid. There’s nothing to talk about. Go to bed.”

“It’s a proven fact that people who discuss their nightmares with someone increase their happiness and healing process by more than 50%,” Spencer rushed.

“Reid it’s embarrassing. I can’t-“ you shook your head. “I’ll- please, Reid.”

The moonlight glinted in his eyes as he searched you for answers he knew you wouldn’t give him. “Are you- y/n. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Your jaw tightened and you looked away. Your thighs burned- you must have been humping the blanket between your thighs. “Reid, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

You threw your hands up. “I know you don’t like me, Reid. It’s kind of obvious, so I’m just saying that you don’t need to have a therapy session because we’re rooming together.”

Spencer genuinely looked offended. “I don’t hate you,” he murmured. “I never have.”

You scoffed and stood up, dream completely forgotten. “Could have fooled me, Reid. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You left Spencer on your bed, bringing your go-bag to the tiny bathroom.

— 💜

After scrubbing you skin raw you finally exited the shower and pulled your hair into a braided updo before pulling on some clean clothes.

The sky was still dark when you exited the hotel, cigarette box in hand.

You sat in the ground, smart enough to know not to willingly wander too far outside of the vicinity of the rest of the team while at an unfamiliar location. “Goddamnit,” you murmured, lighting up a cigarette and watching the sun start to stain the concrete.

Visions of dead bodies filled your mind. Empty coffee cups getting tossed into a trash can, bloodstained hands as you ushered a victim away from the unsub, the ringing in your ears after an SUV blew up near you. When you joined the BAU you hadn’t known that every day you looked into the eyes of those possessed by evil, you would lose a part of your soul trying to save each and every person you saw.

But the team had it’s pros. A group of people you mostly called family, good pay, paid sick leave, mostly free flights, a badass title, and introduction to some very fine specimens (read: Spencer Walter Reid).

Speaking of Spencer, you were thinking of the conversation you both had. ‘I don’t hate you. I never have’. You snorted and lit another cigarette, holding the smoke in your lungs until familiar white spots danced in your vision.

“Y/n.”

You looked up. Spencer stood near you, hands fidgeting. You could see his eyes avoiding yours and suddenly you felt like laughing. After all of this time thinking one of the hottest people you’d ever met hated you, he was standing- nervous- in front of you. “Yeah?”

Spencer sat beside you. “Didn’t know you smoked,” he tried, looking towards the rising sun.

“You refused to make comversation with me for about a month when I started,” you said lowly. When Spencer sighed beside you, you added “I don’t normally. Just when… things happen.”

Spencer nodded. “Oh.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you exhaled. You offered the cigarette to Spencer, raising an eyebrow when he accepted.

“I want to talk to you,” Soencer said finally, snuffing out the cigarette.

You lit another one. “So talk.”

“Well, I… I’m sorry.”

When Spencer didn’t say anything for another few seconds, you turned to him. “Is that all?”

Spencer dropped his head into his hands. “Look, I knew I was keeping you at arm’s length. I thought… I thought keeping you away would make sure that I didn’t…” Spencer sighed.

“Reid, I need tou to really spell it out for me. I can’t keep dancing around your riddles,” you said, facing the sun.

“I love you, y/n. I thought that if I didn’t talk to you, let these feelings grow… Maybe I could harbor my attraction to you.” 

You felt your heart skip in your chest.  “You didn’t consider telling me this? What if I felt the same?”

Spencer looked at you, a confused look in his eyes. “You didn’t like me like that and I couldn’t force you to love me too. You’re way too good for me anyway.”

“I do,” you reply, nodding. “And I’m not too good for you, Spencer. If anything, you should find better than me.”

Prolonged eye contact and silence fell over the both of you.

“Ask me now, Spencer. Make up for lost time.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Spencer lips at your request. “Do you like me like I like you, y/n?”

You nodded, mirroring Spencer’s smile. “I do like you the way you like me, Spencer.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” Spencer asked immediately, eyes dropping to your lips.

You closed the distance between the two of you, hand sliding up the nape of Spencer’s neck to tangle in his curls. Spencer’s lips were skilled, leaving you wanting more as he pulled away.

“So, about that dream I had earlier,” you started.

A sly smirk replaced the smile on Spencer’s face. “I knew what you were dreaming about, I just couldn’t stand listen to you knowing how weird it would be for me to face you at work the next morning.”

You felt your face warm up at Spencer’s words. “Oh. Well. Sorry for waking you up, then.”

Spencer just shrugged. “I’m not- you sound very nice. I guess I will admit the fact that I told you about talking about your dreams was completely false. I just wanted to pry.”

You shook your head with laughter, the sun peeking up even further in the sky.

[zephyrchama]

(Mentions/descriptions of minor injuries, present and past.)

“There, all good.”

“Thanks, Satan.”

Your leg looked much better now that it had been disinfected and bandaged. Not that it was in bad shape to begin with.

Anyone would have thought a dire medical emergency occurred by the way everybody had leaped into action when you fell. Six of the brothers somehow managed to carry you together - one for each limb and another two on the sides to support your back - because they couldn’t pick just one person to help you back to the classroom.

It was incredibly embarrassing. You closed your eyes to avoid making eye contact with any of the other students, but you still heard the hallway whispers and Thirteen’s loud laughter.

Once back inside, Lucifer immediately evacuated his seat behind the podium at the front of the room. You were placed down like a precious glass ornament. Each brother played a different role in patching you up, but you would have been fine on your own.

“This cut kind of reminds me of one I got as a kid.” You twisted your leg around a few times to look it over. “It’s in the same spot.”

Mammon leaned against the back of the chair and grabbed your shoulders. “Are you tellin’ me you cut your leg before?”

“…yes?”

“First time I’ve heard that.” Beelzebub frowned.

Satan nodded thoughtfully, hand on chin, “you’ve never told us this before.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz I just remembered it.” It happened so long ago that you completely forgot.

Asmodeus buried his face in his hands. “How could you be so irresponsible?”

“I was a kid! Kids get scrapes all the time. I probably got it the same way, too.”

“You fell? Well… At least it didn’t scar.”

“Asmo, how d’ya know that?” Mammon asked.

“Because I know every inch of their skin very intimately.” Asmodeus smirked.

Mammon gripped your shoulders tighter. “Ok! Well! So do I!” he growled.

Leviathan came to sit on the floor next to you, looking worried. He fiddled with your pants leg to make sure the hem wouldn’t roll down over your bandage. “So there were other times you got hurt as a kid?”

“I mean, yeah? Bruised my arm pretty badly one time, right here.” You pointed to the spot.

“How come you never told us?” Belphegor asked. He was craning his head up to look at you while laying on the table, which Lucifer hadn’t noticed until that moment. The eldest gave him a push.

Belphegor muttered some choice words and slunk off to get a chair of his own, which he relocated closer to you. It screeched loudly as he dragged it along the floor. Beelzebub just stared and the others flinched, but Satan and Lucifer looked ready for violence until the youngest finally plopped down.

“We’re supposed to know everything about you,” he stated.

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” Leviathan was quick to clarify. “You have to tell us everything, and don’t spare any details.” His sentence ended there, but you swear you heard “the lore…” whispered almost imperceptibly.

“You better not be holdin’ back on us.” Mammon shifted a bit. He appeared to be getting tired of standing, but didn’t want to give up his prime real estate by your side.

“So I have to tell you everything? Like… when a butterfly poked me in the eye?”

A couple of them winced.

“Did it hurt?” Asmodeus asked.

“Did you tear it apart?” Belphegor asked.

“No, I think I was more shocked than anything? Maybe a little? And no!” You glanced down. “Levi, stop taking notes about me.”

Leviathan tutted and swiped out of the notes app on his D.D.D..

These demons and their theatrics. You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re all just overreacting, as usual.”

Satan shook his head. “No, I think you’re under-reacting. There are lots of dangers to humans in the Devildom. You could have gotten a nasty infection.”

Asmodeus gasped, “you could have lost your leg!”

”Or attracted predators,” Beelzebub added.

“On school grounds? Please. At worst I’d only attract Mephisto sniffing around for a scoop for his newspaper.”

Lucifer crossed his arms. You had faith he was going to say something sensible. “At least this isn’t as bad as that time you bruised your rear in the bath.”

There were seven scandalized gasps, including your own. “I told you that in confidence!”

Mammon was yelling in your ear, “how come I wasn’t the first to know about this? Hah?”

Asmodeus lept forward, “show me where!”

“Is it still there?” Satan inquired.

“Do you not trust us anymore?” Beelzebub looked deflated.

“That’s not it, Beel, I just- ack, Levi!” You shouted and shook your bandaged leg as the third-born clung to it desperately.

“It wasn’t my bathtub, right?” he practically sobbed. “Aahhh, I knew I needed to fill it with more pillows. Ahhhh.”

“Why would they be anywhere your tub?” Belphegor took hold of Levi’s collar and wretched him back. By the way he fell, it wouldn’t be odd for Leviathan to get a butt bruise, too.

“If it happened in your room, you would have been there,” you assured, knowing this would start another round of arguing.

The bell signaling next period mercifully rang. You’d never been happier for class to start again. All that was left was to get to your usual seat, which you stood up to do.

“Woah, whaddya think you’re doing?” Mammon put an arm in front of you.

“Going to my seat…?”

“You’re in it, sit back down.” Lucifer said.

You hesitated, giving them a puzzled look. For a moment you considered running past them. A simple cut wouldn’t hold you back, but there were no scenarios where you could outrun them without magic. You narrowed your eyes and sat down as the seven surrounded you again. You got a bad feeling.

“Just make it quick.”

Other students were already starting to filter into the room. You didn’t particularly want to be seen being relocated by these overly doting brothers. You grabbed the edge of the seat as four of them lifted it up, with the others griping about there being insufficient space for them to grab hold anywhere.

[sometimesliterate]

progression | aventurine blurb

loving aventurine was as easy as breathing to you, something incredibly hard for him to grasp. he didn't get it at all. when he first walked into your life, he had this arrogant mask up, another one of his well preserved fabrications to protect himself. he was snarky to you. not necessarily rude, but he wasn't afraid to bare his fangs and show you that he was capable of hurting you if he needed to. he wasn't afraid of hurting anyone. another gamble he was putting his faith in, that he wouldn't be put in a situation where he would have to hurt you.

you loved him during that stage. every sarcastic 'friend' he tacked on to every sentence like it was more of an insult than anything else, every boundary that he crossed of yours, every little lie he spun to keep you at arms length, trying to protect you from his teeth. words hurt less than his bite. and yet, you were there for him even when he was sure he would have pushed you away, and it unnerved him.

" aventurine ~ " you called out from behind him to get his attention, before lightly jogging up to him, standing by his side. not in front of him, but beside him. " i know you might be busy today with business as usual, but i was hoping that you were free this afternoon ? there's this new coffee shop that opened up, and i though- "

" coffee ? sorry to disappoint you, friend, but i am busy this afternoon, " he shook his head, as if dismissing the idea outright entirely.

" oh, that's okay ! i'm still able to say hi right now while we're walking, so that's enough, " you chirped, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of disappointment and sadness in your tone, making the guilt inside of him at being the one who caused your unhappiness eat him alive. but the look on his face didn't change, his walls too big to penetrate.

he did find you at that coffee shop, though. " oh, hello, friend- " he had called out, approaching your table, sitting next to you without even asking. he saw your eyes light up, and for a second he felt the warmth in his chest burst forward, his heart beating against his ribcage. " what good fortune that i was able to finish my tasks a little while ago. i didn't think you would actually come here alone. " there was a hint of confusion in his voice, but it was masked just as quickly as it came.

after this interaction, aventurine got a little awkward with you. what was he expected to say ? what did he do if he wasn't trying to push you away ? he was clumsy with his words, often just silently nodding along as you talked, and sometimes bringing up tiny points. he wasn't good at conversation when it wasn't to serve an agenda. being in survival mode his entire life, he had no idea how to be social, much less to someone as kind as you.

no matter how much he stumbled and fell over his own words, you treated him the same. he approached you cautiously, as if he was afraid that one day you would get sick of him and throw him out of your life permanently. was his personality too much for you to handle ? was he doing something wrong ? he wasn't sure, this was uncharted territory for him. all he could do was throw his dice and hope for the best outcome, something that was so comforting now unnerving. he could bet every single one of his chips, every possession he owned, including his own life, but you ? betting on you felt like one risk he wasn't willing to take.

" hey- i was at this shop a while ago, and i was hoping that you'd want to visit ? with me, of course, " aventurine asked, trying very hard not to look how pretty you looked right now, how your smile made his heart flutter every single time without fail. " i saw something i thought you might like. i wanted to get it for you but i don't know your size. "

" oh ? yeah, i'd love to go with you ! " you agreed immediately, as if everything that you were doing before this was suddenly unimportant. " but you really don't have to pay for me, honestly. i can take care of myself. "

this through him for a loop, and he hid it well, but aventurine had no idea what that meant. did you not want him to pay for you ? or were you just trying to be modest ? it wasn't like he was hungry for money, it was fine on his pockets, and he didn't mind spending if it meant spending on you, of course. besides, what did you want from accompanying him if it wasn't to buy things ? that's what friends were for, right ? it was a mutual beneficial agreement between two people to be friendly with each other to gain something from another, right ?

he was pretty sure that was how it was to be friends, but you challenged all of that. especially when you bought him a drink from a shop. he'd just mentioned it offhanded that he could go for some boba tea, and you had agreed, saying that it would be really good right now. and then you bought him his ? that's not how that was supposed to work, he was sure of it. why would you go out of your way to pay for something for him that you yourself wouldn't even get to enjoy ? he was willing to buy you things to keep you around him, but you didn't need to buy him anything to keep him around.

the possibility that you didn't want anything from him other than his time and himself was confusion, but refreshing.

eventually late night outs became late nights inside, and aventurine found himself in a precarious position, on your couch, your body on the other side, cuddling up against a pillow. the intimacy of the situation felt like it was choking him. and he finally got the courage to ask you the question that plagued him - why ? why did you care ? why did you try so hard ? what was in it for you ? putting your bets on him was a foolish decision that he couldn't rationalize. even he didn't bet on himself.

" because you're worth it, " you shrugged a little, the answer's simplicity wiping everything from him. all of his fears, his confusion, his doubts, just for this moment. right now, he understood. you never pushed him out of his comfort zone, and let your companionship evolve naturally. he didn't even realize he had let you inside of his shell before it was too late. " because you deserve it. "

he thought you were worth it, too. trusting you, putting his faith in you even though you had the ability to hurt him. it was worth it. you were worth it.

[glorious-spoon]

"Naturally gravitating closer together" for buddie 🥰

hello and thank you! this sort of turned into a bobby POV ficlet and i'm not sure why?? anyway, here you go! (can be but doesn't have to be read as a continuation of this ficlet)

-

Bobby's not even sure they notice they're doing it. It's like watching a slow-motion dance across his backyard, the way they keep drifting back toward each other like celestial objects caught up in each other's gravity. Buck goes to get a pair of beers from the cooler and hands one to Eddie, who takes it and leans into his shoulder. Then they're off again, Eddie wandering over to talk to Christopher and Buck darting in to help Maddie catch Jee-Yun's party balloon before it floats off. A few minutes later, Eddie slips back into Buck's space, bumping shoulders and sipping his beer.

It's not that different from how they've always been. Bobby's not even sure he can put his finger on what's changed, only that there's an awareness to them now, an intentionality that wasn't there before.

"You've got your thinking face on," Athena remarks, slipping an arm around his waist and leaning into him. Bobby smiles and leans back.

"Just watching the party."

"Mmhm." She's quiet for a minute, sipping her drink. Bobby's quiet too, savoring the moment: the light breeze shifting the trees, the happy family gathered in his home, the familiar way his wife fits against him. Then Athena says, "You think they finally got it together? Buck and Eddie, I mean."

Bobby glances down at her. "What do you mean?"

"Bobby," she says, a fond, indulgent eye-roll in her voice.

"It's not my business."

"Mmhm. Could be your business, seeing as how they work together on your team."

He laughs, looping an arm around her hips. On the other side of the yard, Christopher has abandoned his barbeque wings for some kind of card game with Harry and Denny on the patio, and Buck and Eddie have closed the distance on the bench where he was sitting, pressed together shoulder to hip as they talk. And the thing is, Athena's not wrong. If he's seeing what he thinks he's seeing, it'll have to be his business, at least as far as HR forms go. But he remembers those early, heady days of sneaking around with Athena—kissing her behind the firetrucks, thrilling at every casual touch, drawn irresistibly into her orbit and the delight of something tender and new growing in the scorched wreckage of his personal life—and he can't quite bring himself to be a responsible fire captain about this just yet.

"I think I'm going to give them a minute," he says. "They deserve that."

Over at the bench, Buck says something that makes Eddie laugh and ruffle his hair. He leaves his hand on Buck's nape once he's done, the sort of half-casual plausibly-deniable touch that Bobby remembers pulling as a teenager in the back row of movie theaters. He doesn't mean to snort, but he can't quite help it.

"Oh, they're really not slick, are they," Athena observes mildly.

Bobby laughs. "It's new. It's exciting. I remember how that feels."

"Mm. You do, do you?"

"Yeah." He turns away from Buck and Eddie, and smiles down at his wife. "I really do."

[tteokdoroki]

hurricane heartbreak katsuki bakugou ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!

⋆˙ᝰ about ! you’ve always thought that katsuki would follow you to the ends of the earth, until suddenly, he stops. especially when he realises that he’s better off without you. ( 2.6K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, angst, no happy ending. characters aged up to 20s, unrequited love, friendship breakups, regular breakups, confessions, gaslighting, reader is morally flawed and a bad friend, katsuki is a hopeless romantic :(, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou - not beta read!

as usual, katsuki moves to open the door before his mind can catch up. 

he knows that he shouldn’t. if he kept the doors locked he could keep his heart safe from the ache that comes with the person on the other side. but, the bigger and weaker half of him succumbs to the longing laced in the blood that soars through the beating muscle keeping him alive. the same muscle every form of media since the dawn of time has associated with the human desire to be loved and adored. 

it’s a human code that he can’t go against, like asking a neanderthal to fight it’s basic instincts. katsuki opens the door not because he wants to, but because he has to, even if his entire body twitches against the will of his one track mind and his hand lands on the cool metal doorknob in advance of his logical train of thought. besides, it’s raining tonight, and it would be cruel to leave you outside. 

as usual, when you step past the threshold of the number two hero’s lush, bachelor pad-like home — he expects things to be different. for you to waltz in with your arms wide spread and a spark of joy in your eyes because you love seeing the blonde and because you missed him. 

“it was so horrible,” you wail to him instead, just as you had done so on the phone — except this time, the cadence to your usually bright voice is as dull and as dreary as the weather outside. “he blew up at me, said that we were done ‘n that i was too clingy. just like that,” pouting, you shrug off your rain-slicked jacket and allow your best friend to hang it up for you. before you can start quivering like a pathetic stray dog, the begrudgingly kind pro hero places a set of clothes, warm and fresh from the dryer, into your hands and ushers you deeper into the space he calls home.

“fuck that guy,” he tells you, while you rant to him on the walk down the hall.

katsuki lets you you dry off and disappear into his room for spare clothes (as if you own the place), giving himself time to think and reflect. the you that katsuki knows and has bitterly come to love is hollowed and desperate — vying for any attention or affection she can get from people who just don’t care. he’s never understood it, the reasons why you go vying for the validation of others who don’t deserve a millisecond of your time, let alone your precious smile.

you know, the one that brings out the crows feet at the corners of your doe-like eyes and lifts the edges of your glossed lips ever so slightly. you illuminate a room and fill it with warmth when you’re happy and feel loved but when you’re like this… thrown out into the rain whilst being hungry for more — much like that of a stray…

…it’s bakugou’s hand that reaches out to feed you tender love and care from the pieces of his own broken soul. he does everything im his power to make you smile again, otherwise he’d shake the heavens from the sky and bring their shattered pieces back down to earth with his destructive quirk…for you.

everything is always for you.

katsuki is the one who deserves to see your radiant grin and be the one that’s always on your mind. so perhaps, he is no better than you, starved with a craving for the attention of someone whose thoughts are simply elsewhere. with someone else.

you resurface from his room wearing a discontinued all-might shirt with an iron-on design that’s cracked on the front and a pair of fluffy dynamight themed socks kept spare in katsuki’s wash for whenever you come over. by this time he’s already popped on the kettle for some herbal tea, though his back remains facing you — fingers clenched against his smooth marble countertop. “why would he say that?” 

you shrug. “i don’t know… i probably deserve it. this always happens.” 

to his right, the kettle’s whistle reaches it’s crescendo but katsuki doesn’t bother to add hot water to your tea.

the assessment you make as you pad back over to katsuki is only partly correct. he turns abruptly, prepped and ready to loosely wrap his arms around you in a familiar hug, another step in this bi-monthly routine the two of you have going. your nose presses into the middle of his molten chest, sending a pang through his heart like an arrow from Cupid whilst simultaneously riling up the butterflies in his tummy. you’re so cute, so sweet and it makes the blonde feel special to be able to witness the more vulnerable parts of you — the parts of you pieced back together by inexpensive glue after you’ve been shattered by heartbreak once more.

you, you’re too sweet to deserve this pain. the same pain that weighs down on the pro hero’s shoulders because he can’t stop chasing after you. this always happens, but you don’t deserve it. even if it’s like some sort of cathartic karma for leading bakugou on all of these years. 

nonetheless, he’s never been the best at comforting people but a selfish warmth that burns brighter than his quirk spans throughout katsuki’s body whenever you seek comfort in him. even if all it does is chip away at his soul, knowing that you’re all torn up about someone else and someone that isn’t him yet again. 

katsuki abandons the tea completely.

however, his cherry lips continue to open and close in search of words and phrases that may sedate your storm of emotions before they rain down on him — just like the world outside. they’re hard to come by, meaningful ones at least, so katsuki settles with a simple… “you deserve better.” 

“yeah? well it doesn’t seem like it. every guy i’ve ever met has hurt me some way, somehow.” you quip blandly, obliviously. “who does better even look like?

me. is what bakugou wants to say. he looks like me. but now isn’t the time or place to tell you that, it’s never been. deep down, he knows that you might never see him that way, as a someone who could treat you right, as someone deserving of your darkest desires and sweet nothings, as someone who could be the very person you deserve to grow old with. you don’t look at him the same way, to you, katsuki will always be your best friend and source of comfort.

he’ll never be a lover or a special one or a boyfriend. 

not to you. 

never to you.

and sadly, he almost feels content to stay this way — if it means he’ll be able to have you near. with the two of you tucked away in one another’s arms, swaying to the melody of harmonious wind and rain, the abrasive, corroding nature of katsuki bakugou is tamed and the world comes to a standstill that feels sort of homely. its familiar, a routine he’s so easily settled into time and time again. confessing to you would be like disrupting the natural course of your relationship and bakugou has seen what you do to guys who cross your limits or suddenly no longer entertain you. sometimes they genuinely do hurt you, other times you’re like a little girl who no longer has a desire to play with her favourite toy — easily casting them aside. the blonde would hate to be one of them, to be thrown out by the person he loves most.

“you’ll find someone,” he says gruffly, after some time. 

pulling away slightly and with a hand centre stage on katsuki’s ooey-gooey lovesick chest, you smile ever so gently. and it’s enough for him, even though it burns, it’s enough to make it worth it. all this suffering in silence, loving you from afar…that is, until he hears what you have to to say next. 

“i wish i could find someone like you, kats.”

the rain outside has hit its peak, bordering on the edge of torrential as it drowns the concrete jungle outside and the grey clouds it pours from shroud the city in a similar darkness to the veil falling over katsuki’s mind. now that, it really pisses his off. someone like him? why not him? he doesn’t understand why you actively put yourself through the ringer when what you want is right before your very eyes.

like a sudden clap of thunder or a strike of bright lightning, katsuki has a realisation. he isn’t so sure how much more of this he can stomach or take. a few weeks ago his best friend, kirishima, had scolded him long and hard for allowing you to walk all over the explosive pro hero. maybe the redhead had been right, your words seem almost purposeful and calculated — designed to hit him right where it hurts. whether or not you’re aware of the fact.

“y’can’t keep doing this.” comes the blonde’s whisper, coasting just under his breath, so low that you almost miss it underneath the howling notes of the wind.

“what?” 

“please stop doing this.” bakugou says again, but firmer, shrugging your hands from his well-built torso like they’ve given him an electric shock. a flash of hurt lines itself across your beautifully crafted features like a film of dust clinging to a marble carved sculpture belonging to an art museum. he hates it, how he can still admire you and treasure you even when you torture him with a punishment of unrequited love. “you can’t keep comin’ here every time you get your heart broken, knowing how i feel about you. it’s fucked up, you’re fucking me up.” 

people have only ever dreamed of being able to bring the great dynamight down to his knees. a man of such power and force could never be shaken, especially with everything that he’s been through to get where he is today. 

the colour in your voice pales, the glint to your eyes dulls and you nervously reach out for your best friend only to be rejected which hurts more than any shitty break up you’ve ever had. “k-katsuki…kats, what are you talking about?” 

“you know exactly what i mean. don’t try to gaslight me or some shit.” katsuki puts it simply, fighting the lump in his throat that nearly stops him from being truthful. it’s always been a difficult task to push you away, “we play pretend, you come to me expectin’ me to lick your wounds ‘n shit. fuck, i’ve been doing it for the last ten years. since todoroki first rejected you in high school, then that guy from class 1B and then shindou from that other school once we went pro.”

he rambles relentlessly and you take every word while memories of each heartbreak flash brightly before your very eyes. it’s clear to you now, standing in front of him, that bakugou has been holding this, whatever this is, inside for far too long. concealing his emotions until his fuse was at its end and it all exploded to the surface. “katsuki stop it.” you say weakly, throat dry.

“fuck no! why should i?” the brash blonde spits venomously, his upper lip curling into an ugly sneer. one you’ve only ever seen when he’s talking to villains, or better yet, talking about your exes. “because it never stopped for me. you never stopped using me.” he blabs, but he’s hardly shouting — the mere fact that he isn’t freaks you out even more. “it’s so fucked up, i’ve been waiting for a chance with you for years. i never said yes to someone fuckin’ loving me for who i am. for all the shit that i come with because i was waitin’ for you.”  for nearly a decade you’ve been offering katsuki all the riches in the world, only to pry them from his warmth fingers and leave him for cold and death.

you could apologise right then and there, make things right, tell katsuki that it was him all along and those other guys meant nothing to you. it’s what he wants so badly, it’s the only thing that could make him forget all of this drama and take you back into his arms. instead, you retreat like a hermit crab back into its shell, stepping back and away from your best friend while selfishly curling in on yourself.

“i didn’t… i didn’t ask you to wait.” 

those words are like a lightening strike to the chest. the white flashbang outside illuminates your face for katsuki to see, guilt outlines the natural slopes and continue of your face and some kind of regret floods the black ink on your eyes. bakugou’s suspicions have been proven true. you’ve never wanted him, not in the way that he’s wanted you. it must be that. must be that you kept him around knowing he’d chase shooting stars and run to the end of a rainbow if it meant the prize was you.

“you didn’t have to,” katsuki’s breathing turns ragged, mimicking the uncontrollable winds of a brewing storm, and his anxiety peaks, spilling over the edge of a glass he’d tried to keep half full for so long. he knew this, all along, he knew that you’d reject him plain and simple but why does it feel like his world is ending. “would have done it anyways ‘cause i am…was… in love with you. you didn’t need to ask me because you knew i'd always be there.” 

it hurts, the truth, it burns like acid rain dissolving through a manmade structure. you hate the taste of it in the air, as katsuki’s words ring through it — undermining the heavy rain pelting down against his roof. you don’t know what to say or tell him, but instead of the contentedness of being close to the blonde you now feel a sudden sense of impending doom. an epiphany. a realisation that you’re going to lose your best friend because you took advantage of a bleeding heart.

you’ve never been the only one whose organs were ripped out and ever-loving corpse was left for dead. each time pieces of you died at every soul-crushing rejecting you’ve ever faced — katsuki has been right behind you, falling to pieces, decomposing, breaking apart… watching you mourn a relationship with someone else. 

someone that wasn’t him. 

words and apologies tangle in your throat and form a knot that blocks their passage. what do you even say to someone who has inadvertently confessed their love for you — something in which you’re not sure you even believe in anymore? “i-i’m… i’m sorry,” slowly, you take a step forward, blindly reaching out for katsuki in his living room shrouded by darkness and only temporarily lit up my lightening crashes. but he steps back, he retreats into a person he used to be — one that was nasty and cruel despite how much he cared.

bearing his fangs, katsuki defends himself from the only person who could truly ever hurt him. you. his walls build up and he snarls again. “i don’t care.” though, his voice wobbles and his eyes are glossy under the harsh white light of the lightening by strikes outside — he remains defensive. 

“i’m sorry,” you sullenly repeat. for what? not loving him? for using him? you’re not sure. “katsuki…i’m sorry—“ 

you sound so genuine, your voice so sweet and sorrowful — it’s almost enough to make the man melt, for his walls to fall away and his heart to open back up just for you. but bakugou knows better, if gives in and steps closer and holds you once more — the cycle will repeat. you’ll know that you can come to him whenever you want, and take advantage of his pathetic yearning and devotion to you. over and over again, for as long as you want. because if you call he’ll answer, always. 

not this time though.

katsuki bakugou steels himself as though he’s facing his greatest foe, his jaw hardens, his ruby red eyes flutter shut and his head shakes and he tries so hard to resist you. when he finally looks at you again, after what feels like an eternity, you’re hopeful in thinking that maybe this can be fixed and you can keep your best friend. however, you’ve seen katsuki’s expression on a dozen other faces before.

that look people give you when they tell you it’s over, when they grow tired of you, when they leave you. 

you know it all too well, the face of someone breaking up with you. 

except this time you’re not losing a half baked love, this time you’re losing someone who adored every part of you even if it was severely flawed. 

you’re losing your best friend. your katsuki.

and all it took was the clouds parting and the heavens crying for you to realise that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen! Little Sister! Reader prompt: When the small council plans to marry off once again, you turn to your older brother for help. word count: 1, 000+ words

You were the youngest and third daughter of Alicent and Viserys. A few months younger than Helaena and Aegon's little shadow in your childhood. Your older brother at first hated it, the way you cling onto him and gawk at him with an innocent awe.

It was your ninth name day, your Father had not paid much attention to it, but your Mother had ordered a celebration for it. You had trailed after him, babbling about nonsense as he tried to lose you. It was at dinner that night that everything had boiled over. Instead of receiving gifts, you had taken to giving everyone a gift.

He had not expected anything. He hadn't been the most kind to you. But was surprised when you had gifted him an embroidered cloth with Sunfyre on it. It was not the best and some threads were loose, but you proudly had told him you learned embroidery for him. Seeing those big doe eyes of yours his opinion changed. He adored you. You were the only one in the family that did not care about his worsening reputation. You just...adored your big brother, flaws and all.

It was why it killed him on your eleventh name day you were shipped off to the Reach, married off to a Lord as old as your Grandsire. He was haunted by your wails, of the way you clung onto Helaena and Aemond, the two of them wailing as Ser Cole carried you off to the carriage.

His young sister, the only one in the family who truly cared, was sold off like a piece of cattle. Not even your cold Grandsire was able to protest the marriage as politically it was a good match and good enough reasoning for the small council to approve it. 

As years ticked by, you gave birth to two children, a stillborn daughter and a healthy son. Your husband kept you away in the Reach, so no one in your family had seen you since you were twelve and given birth to your only surviving son.

He remembered the look in your eyes, so void and almost dead. Of how you tried to stay positive. Saying, "Tis' not so bad. He mostly ignores me, except when he wishes to bed me. But even then tis' not so bad, he finishes quickly."

When he became King, he swiftly ordered you to return home, regardless of your husband's wishes. No one would take his baby sister away from him. Not whilst he was still alive and had the crown placed upon his head.

Watching you bounce your son on your lap, he attempts to pay some attention to the small council, but his eyes keep straying back to you. It was odd to think that you were now a Mother and all grown up. Snapping out of his little daze, he glances back at the small council, each member arguing intently. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Ser Criston slides a piece of parchment in front of him, an uncomfortable look on his face. Raising a brow at what he had just returned to, he glances at the parchment, reading the words quickly. 

Your cunt of a husband was dead, finally croaked in his sleep. There was no reason for you to go back to the Reach. You could stay here in King’s Landing once more. Softly smiling at the good news, he goes to speak up when Lord Lannister stands up from his chair, slamming his hands down on the table. His face red from anger, his eyes wild like an untamable beast, and voice booming loud enough that it would make a dragon’s roar put to shame.

“To speak of the Princess in such a manner is dishonorable, I will see to it personally that your tongue is removed, Lord Wydle.” 

“The girl is of age, she has proven she can bear heirs, healthy heirs. To not give her hand to another Lord would be foolish.” 

“We need allies, the common folk are starving and soon the coin will run out. Surely as Master of Coin you can see reason, Lord Lannister.”

“Your grace, please, listen to reason we should⎯”

It takes a moment to realize what they had been discussing so intently. Then it clicks, they were speaking of having you remarry. 

"What?" He whispers, his voice shaky and full of disbelief.

"No, Aegon, please don't make me do this again. Please." You whisper, tears building up in your eyes.

"It would be best to have your sister marry someone⎯"

"Think of the war, your grace⎯"

Seeing the tears building up in your eyes, it reminded him of all those years ago when you were whisked away to the Reach. Struggling to speak up and dismiss their suggestions, you kneel in front of his chair, gripping onto breeches as you beg and plead for clemency to their plans. Your son starts to wail on the other side of his chair, making motions with his hands to be picked up. 

Feeling his heart break a little at the sight, he shifts his gaze from you then your wailing son then back to the small council. Everything is hectic and he doesn’t know who or what to focus his attention on. Does he console you? Does he tend to your wailing son? Does he handle the small council? Struggling to find his voice, he just stays frozen in his chair. 

“Please, please, do not make me do this again, Aegon.” You beg, “I did what was asked of me before. Please do not ask this of me again.”

“We need allies, your grace. The Princess is still desired by many men, men who will look past her past marriage and son. Think of the kingdom⎯”

“Send treaties, then!”

“Please, Aegon. I ask your sister, not a member of the Court. Please do not make me do this again.” You beg, your voice cracking. 

Watching as the tears begin to fall from your eyes, he clenches his jaw tightly, anger boiling up at the sight of you. His precious little sister, the one person in all of the Realm that he truly cared for, was crying by his small council's hand. Slamming his hands down hard on the table, the room goes deadly silent, minus the soft sniffles of you and your son. 

“There will be no marrying off my sister! If you wish for such alliances as much as you claim, do offer your daughters instead, for I will not be doing the same to my sister nor my daughter.” 

“Your grace, if you would just⎯”

“I am King, no?” He snaps back, “There will be no questioning of my decision. The matter is settled.”

----

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[luveline]

HI MLLLL! I absolutely loved your fainting fic with James! Can you write like a part a part 2 or like a follow up where reader starts realizing that James isn’t as bad as she thought and she falls for him as he takes care of her bc he’s really worried? I love them sm 🥹

James takes care of you when you faint

James is acting weirder than usual… sort of… nice? fem, 1.2k

The days after you faint are just as hot, but you come into work. You can’t afford to miss it, and it’s not as though you’ll make the same mistake twice. 

The memory of what happened is hazy at the start. James had just opened the window, the breeze that filtered in cooling your hot skin. You’d felt sick, you’d tried to stand, and your head had gone blank. 

You woke with your face in James’ hand. You can remember it if you think about it enough, his head tilted down toward you, the sunshine on his skin, his soft smile. He’d felt like a different person. 

You’d felt different. 

“Can you send me that information from the lab, please?” 

You glance away from your computer, eyes tired. “Sorry?” 

“For the, uh, Mr. Nguyen?” James asks. “You didn’t send them to me. I can’t do them if you don’t send them.” 

“Right.” You blink away the phantom of his hand on your cheek. “Okay.” 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

That’s all he asks. Every day since you passed out, at various times and in various ways. Are you okay? Are you alright? Is it too hot in here? Do you want to swap desks with me? That last one had been a little patronising. You’d told him to leave you alone. Your desk is right next to the radiator in winter, it’s prime real estate, and you’re not giving it up just because you got a bit hot. 

“I’m fine,” you murmur, turning back to your computer to open outlook. “Just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“About you not talking to me.” 

“Funny.” 

You drag and drop the paperwork for the tests he’d wanted. It’s easy to render an invoice but you hate doing it because it involves a lot of talking back and forth with clients. James, on the other hand, loves to talk. 

“There, sent it,” you say.

“Thank you.” 

Awkward. You pretend to be busier than you are for a few minutes, stealing company time without remorse. James types up an email beside you, the click of his keys quick and loud in your ears. 

Remus pops a pen lid across the way, scribbling onto a post it note that he sticks on his monitor. You know what time it is from the sounds alone. A half a minute later, Sirius slinks up from the front of the office to wrap his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sing-songing, “You’re coming with me, handsome.” 

“Are you coming?” Remus asks James. 

There’s a lapse of quiet. You stare at your computer, aware of a silent conversation, but not privy to its content. “I think I’ll stay,” James says eventually. 

“Okie dokie. Y/N, do you want to come, lovely?” Remus asks. “It’s not too hot.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, “thanks. Thank you.” 

You don’t feel like yourself since you fainted. You’d hoped it would go away once you had a better night’s sleep, flooded your system with cold water and good food, but you can’t kick it. You have no energy, no want to do more than turn up for work and go home again, and you know what it is that’s making you feel this way, but you can’t admit it to yourself. It crops up in your mind unbidden and you push it back down. 

“Sirius never used to act like that.” 

“What?” 

“Sirius. He was never like that when we were growing up. Love makes him pathetic.” 

Love is a tender touch. Sirius had laid his arm over Remus’ shoulder without any hug or kiss, but it was as loving as either. To touch someone like they need a kind hand. 

Like James had held your face. His arm behind your back as he led you to the break room. 

“Do you wanna come with me?” James asks. 

You hold in a second confused, What? He’s standing now, you hadn’t noticed him moving, his water bottle in hand as he pushes his chair back under the desk. 

“Don’t wanna leave you here and have you smash your head in when there’s no one around. Imagine the clean up.” 

You get up on impulse. You grab your drink, and the back of your chair, and you stand there wondering if you’re about to be dizzy again. Your chest feels tight, but that weight of unconsciousness doesn’t come. 

“Hey,” James says. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not like you today.” 

There’s a softness in his voice you can’t believe. “Can I eat lunch with you?” 

You wish that you said it to avoid the question. James wrinkles his nose, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, but then he says, “I just invited you first.” 

“I… have to get my stuff from the fridge.”

“Me too.”

You walk slowly, worried it’s a joke, another stupid joke, but James comes up behind you and his hand graces your shoulder with the barest pressure. You can smell something sweet and warm on him, like jojoba oil. Maybe argan. “Sure you’re okay? You look peaky. Is it the heat?” he murmurs.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight.” 

“You can’t answer anything, can you?” James laughs with a vocal fry that goes straight to your chest. “I could ask you how many fingers you’d have and you’d tell me you have two hands.” 

James walks with you to the kitchen, where you gather your food and warm it in the microwave. He leads you to the break room, and makes sure to choose a table with enough space for you, even while people he’s friendly with beckon him forward. They look at you with unashamed curiosity, but James pretends not to notice so you do too. 

You’re expecting a joke. Aw, look, we’re finally on a date. Or Wow, you know how to use a spoon, I had no idea you were so dexterous. 

“Did you see they’re making a new movie about those aliens? The ones who can hear you everywhere you go?” 

You squeeze your spoon. “Uh, no, I didn’t see it.” 

“It looks awesome. I’ll show you the trailer on my computer after lunch, it looks just as good as the first two. That actress, the one with the really nice eyes is in it.” 

You have no idea who he means. James talks to you like a friend. He offers you some of his papris and he passes you a napkin from his pocket when you get food on your hands. James Potter might actually be a really nice guy. All it took was for you to garner his pity for him to show it. How pathetic you must seem to need it. 

“How do you feel now?” he asks as you clip the lid back onto your Tupperware. “You look better. Do you feel better?” 

“I’m fine, James.” 

“You frown so much I can’t tell.” He butts his knee against yours. “Alright, batten the hatches, I’m gonna carry you back to your desk.” 

“Why?” you ask in a rush. 

“Can’t fall if you don’t walk.” 

“James, don’t try it. I’m serious.” 

“You don’t sound serious. You sound like you want me to carry you.” 

“I’ll report you to Human Resources.” 

“For what? Being helpful?” 

“Harassment.” 

“Fine, but I’m not gonna catch you this time.” 

[loggiepj]

illicit affairs

Summary: What happens if you fall in love with a married woman? Nothing good, of course.

"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us, I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."

 

YOU DIDN'T intend to fall in love with a married person.

It was the last thing on your mind. You'd never put yourself in such a dangerous position — destroying what happy couples had. If only the old you could see you right now, she would have thrown you off a cliff in an instant.

She was the wife of your Classic Literature professor — Wanda.

She had the most mesmerizing greenest eyes you had ever seen, the kind you want to just spend hours or even days just staring into. Long brown hair that would cascade down to her shoulders and back, the kind that falls into place like dominoes as she'd run her fingers through her hair, as if she never needed a comb in her life.

You and Wanda first met when Vision, your professor and her loving husband, asked you to drop the book reviews he instructed the class to do for the day.

It was just a simple meeting. No out of the ordinary. There were few exchanges of smiles between you and Wanda as you handed the papers to Vision. Then you left.

The second meeting was somewhat rather different. You knew you should focus at what Vision was saying at that moment but your eyes could only betray you as they darted towards the revealing creamy legs of the woman sitting in front of Vision's desk.

You didn't mean to ogle. But you swore Wanda raise her skirt rather intentionally to reveal more when she noticed you looking.

The third meeting was the awaited moment, the actual beginning of the book where the protagonist meets the love of her life.

Vision was nowhere to be found. And in his desk, sitting on his chair was his wife.

"Vision left for a meeting," Wanda said as she stood, making her way towards you.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stark."

"Oh, please, call me Wanda."

Wanda approached you, her perfume lingering in your nose as she took the papers from your hands.

"Y/n, right?"

You nodded back.

There was an awkward silence as you both just stood there silently, a weird tension you couldn't comprehend. Or maybe you were only imagining things.

Like a curious child, you didn't know what to do. Wanda seemed like she was having fun on the other hand as she watched you struggle. Her eyes finally took mercy as she began peering through the papers.

"Mmmm, Anna Karenina. What do you think of it?"

Your brows furrowed deeper. "About the book?"

Wanda only nodded as she stepped closer, making you swallow a nervous gulp.

"Well, I think it's one of the greatest works of literature ever written."

She stopped. "And do you think it's appropriate? What she did with Vronsky appropriate?"

"No . . . She's married and—"

"Even when it was an arranged marriage to a man beyond her years whom she didn't love?" Wanda interrupted.

"Even so, I don't think it's still right. Although I couldn't blame Anna if I were in her shoes and I lived in the 1800s, the heart doesn't follow the laws in marriage. And the law doesn't apply to love."

There was a small pause. Wanda's eyes met yours and you had never seen it in the deepest and darkest shades of green before.

"You're an interesting student, Y/n, you know that right?"

"Interesting how, ma'am?"

A smirk only grew on her face. But before she could reply, Vision suddenly entered the room.

"Oh, Y/n, I'm sorry, I got caught up in an unexpected meeting." He took the papers from his wife as he left a kiss on her cheek. You said it was okay as you bid goodbye to both, to Wanda rather hesitantly.

 

"VISION'S looking for a nanny," Kate suddenly announced when she arrived at the table. You and your friends were in the cafeteria for lunch. "He's basically  convincing his students to apply, handing out flyers. Don't you think it's a bit unprofessional?"

You didn't think it was unprofessional. You thought it was an opportunity, a blessing in disguise. But of course, you didn't tell your friends that.

 

SO, THERE you were sitting in Stark's two-storey house playing video games with their twins on the living room carpet. You couldn't complain choosing this work over some part time job you had at a local comic book store, considering Vision was paying you more.

You thought it was a consensus agreement between the two of them though but when you met Wanda's widened eyes later that night upon seeing you with her kids, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, you had thought wrong.

Wanda and Vision had a fight that night too, about why Vision hired one of his students for the job. It wasn't your business, but you'd probably be fired from the job after that night.

When you had already tucked the boys in their bed, the house had now gone completely silent. You quietly prepared yourself to get home. Hurriedly leaving the house you shouldn't have come in the first place, you accidentally bumped into Wanda in the hallway.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking—"

"No, I should be the one who's sorry. Forgive me, Y/n. You shouldn't have heard all the things you probably heard earlier. I was just not expecting him to actually do it."

"It's okay, ma'am. I don't really mind. And I needed the money anyway." Technically, it wasn't a lie.

There was a short moment of silence before you smiled and bid goodbye. Wanda stopped you the very second you stepped out the door.

"What time will you be here tomorrow?" she asked.

You swallowed as she walked closer. "I. . . I don't remember Professor mention to babysit tomorrow."

"Well, I will be out for business the whole day tomorrow and the twins need picking up from the school. But if you're busy, I can just ask—"

"—No, it's completely fine, I can do it—"

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose," she said as she suddenly arranged the collar of your shirt. The feather like touch of her fingertips against your skin made you almost internally combust. "I don't want you missing out on your studies."

Your cheeks must have gone red the entire time as you eagerly shook your head.

"It's surely not a problem, Miss Stark."

"If you say so. I'll see you tomorrow then. And please . . . call me Wanda."

Little did you know you'd start calling her other endearing names two weeks later.

 

YOU STARTED becoming close to Wanda the following days when you're babysitting their twins. With interesting conversations at night whenever she and her husband got home, it was a miracle how you'd never seem to run out of topics. And in the University as well, what with her regular presence in Vision's office, it would appear as though you and Wanda couldn't handle to spend some time apart from each other.

Your friends had teased you about taking the babysitter job, of course. But they were more concerned about Vision, truly unaware that your intentions were elsewhere, that a certain brunette has plagued your mind for days, that you were so head over heels over your professor's wife.

No, they had no idea about the nights you two had spent together talking, or the prolonged touches that ignited the wick of most carnal desires in your head, or the way she slurred your name behind you as she taught you how to bake the cookies the twins liked. Of how you could almost taste her. No, they certainly had no idea.

But of course, falling in love with a married woman wasn't an easy task.

You weren't supposed to be entering Vision's office without knocking. But being used to be always welcomed in there, you didn't expect Vision to be preoccupied with his wife.

There they were kissing passionately, Wanda on top of his desk while Vision in front of her. Your sight immediately darkened. You hurriedly apologized and left the room.

Vision talked to you the next day about what happened, and how sorry he was for not being professional. He was talking about trying to resolve the cruel woes of a married life but you had already stopped listening when she mentioned Wanda started what happened yesterday.

You asked to take absence from the babysitting job for a while, saying that you needed to focus on the upcoming midterms. Vision said he understood, never questioning how it was more important than the exams.

Fortunately, you didn't have to go to Vision's office anymore. Ever since the incident, Vision never instructed you to.

That was why you had more free time on a Saturday night, making you agree to your friend's invite to another college party. Plus, you needed to move on from something that wasn't even there in the first place.

You met some girl that night too. But you were too drunk to remember the name. She was kissing you against the wall in the dark alley, or even more as you heard your belt being unbuckled.

"Stop," you muttered with a weak voice.

But the girl didn't seem to hear you. She might have taken it as a moan as she hastily fastened the way she was devouring you that moment.

You pulled away from her face as you tried to say it louder. "I can't do this here—"

And then there was a blur before you as the girl was suddenly shoved away. You didn't get to see what happened next because darkness had already enveloped your surroundings.

 

YOU WOKE up in a nearby motel wearing clothes you knew weren't yours. You were starting to hyperventilate, millions of thoughts running through your head, scolding your past self that this was what's going to happen when you get drunk.

It only stopped when Wanda entered the room.

"Miss Stark?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing making out with strangers in dark alleyways?"

You hadn't seen her mad before. Of course, you had heard her yelling during her arguments with Vision, but never towards you.

"You could have been—... you could have been—"

Suddenly, memories from last night quickly swarmed back into your head. How someone was about to take you out in public.

"I'm so sorry," you said back so softly, holding back tears. "I . . . I didn't mean to get too much drunk."

Wanda let out a sigh, calming herself down, as she carefully approached you then sat on the corner of the bed.

When you started crying, you felt her hand slithered around yours, squeezing you with assurance and safety you didn't know you needed.

"Hey, it's okay now," she said. "You're alright now. And that's what matters."

Then Wanda leaned forward, engulfing you into a hug as you cried into her chest. She rubbed circles soothingly on your back, murmuring sweet nothings as if she was more than just your professor's wife.

"You're safe now. I'm here. I'll always be here."

You didn't know what she meant by that, but through the days that followed, you finally understood.

You started to return as the twins' babysitter a week after the incident. Wanda insisted she'd been having a hard time finding someone to replace you. So you finally relented and caved in.

And one night, one lonely sensual night, it all made sense.

Wanda just got home from work. Vision was away for a professors retreat and wouldn't be back until the following day.

"In a hurry to get rid of me?" Wanda chuckled as she poured herself a glass of white wine. You had just tucked the kids in their bed.

You apologized. "Sorry, my friends are just having this party and I . . . Well, they set me up to meet with someone there—"

You jumped when you heard glass breaking. Upon seeing the source, how red looked so much darker unto the white kitchen counter, your feet instinctively darted towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

When you got back into the kitchen carrying the bag, Wanda finally spoke. "It's fine, Y/n. It's just a scratch—"

"No way that's just a scratch." You pulled her hand regardless and started to tend to it like a professional. You had been trained to do this back in highschool as a volunteer. Good thing it wasn't an open wound. You gently rolled the gauze around her hand after you had finished dabbing some alcohol on the wound, unaware that Wanda has never let her eyes leave you.

"There. All done." You smiled then looked at Wanda, finally noticing the distance between the two of you was too inexistent. You swallowed a nervous lump, not realizing you were still holding her injured hand. You let go rather reluctantly and you swore you could see the disappointment on her face.

"Y/n," Wanda called softly.

"Yes?" Avoiding her gaze, you busied yourself cleaning the mess.

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

"What do you mean?"

And as you lifted your head to look at her, Wanda was already starting to lean forward. Suddenly, you couldn't breathe, rendering you immobile as the gap between the two of you was reduced to an inch.

"I'm about to do something stupid," Wanda said. "But please, don't push me away or tell me you don't want the same thing."

Then she kissed you. And of course, you didn't push her away. The kiss was just a soft one, so feather like that you thought maybe you were only dreaming it. And you didn't want it to end. But before you could respond to the kiss, Wanda had abruptly pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Wanda said as she turned her back at you to leave.

Suddenly you forgot why you were there, that Wanda was a married woman and that you shouldn't even be doing what you were going to do. You followed Wanda to tell her you felt the same, that you had wanted her all this time but she had already gone upstairs and locked herself in the bedroom.

 

YOU HADN'T heard from Wanda since. Vision said they had found another babysitter so you could just relax for the meantime before the upcoming exams. But relaxing was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

Determined to get another taste, you knocked into Wanda's door one night. And fortunately, she was the one who opened it.

"Why would you do that when you're gonna avoid me afterwards?" you asked. Demanded, to be exact.

Wanda was surprised at your behavior but she maintained her stance.

"Who's at the door, dear?" Vision's voice came through the hallway.

"No one, Vis. Just a prank," Wanda answered as she kept her eyes on you.

You couldn't believe what you just heard, but maybe it was all a prank, just some stupid thing that should have never happened. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell her that it didn't mean anything to you so it would hurt her too. But you hesitated. It was rather easy to pretend nothing happened that night rather than convince someone that you would reciprocate the advances presented to you.

When you heard nearing footsteps coming from the house, probably from Vision, you hurriedly left.

Little did you know what awaited you later that night when you come back into your dorm room. Putting on your pajamas as you get yourself ready for bed, you didn't expect someone to knock at a very late hour. You were determined to fight with whoever it was outside the door because you were still filled with rage caused by a certain brunette.

It was Wanda, looking worried and anxious.

"Forgive me" was all she said as she quickly barged through the door and pushed herself against you. The frustration you could have fired back immediately dissipated, as if the touch of her skin against yours was a drug that could cure any negative feelings, any hatred you had for the woman.

You did more than just kiss that night. You performed a sacred dance against your sheets, worshipping her, drinking her as if you had been suffering from drought for ages. It surprised you how eager and deprived Wanda was as she pushed your head between her exposed thighs, begging you to touch her. And you were very compliant.

It didn't stop from there.

The blazed nights continued through the days that followed, each day met with unsatiated hunger. It was either in your dorm room or in the guest bedroom of her house, the house she shared with Vision, the guy she's married to.

You weren't an idiot. You knew what you were. You were that exact person you had despised your entire life as you watched news and heard gossips about married life, never expecting how hard it really was now that you're wearing the shoes of the mistress.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Wanda asked one night as she noticed you stop responding back to her desperate kisses, her straddling on top of your hips as she craved for another round.

"What are we, Wanda?"

Wanda didn't answer for a moment. She took ahold of her ragged breathing, calmed herself down as she cupped your face to look up at her.

Pressing your foreheads together, she whispered as if she was scared anyone could hear her confession. "I don't know. I just know that I want to be here with you."

And that was good enough for you. For a while, anyway.

 

YOU AND Wanda spent more time than the usual nights of fulfilled desires. You had conversations about what your future would look like after murmuring tiny i love yous post bliss from your love making. Whenever you finished your classes, you'd immediately go to the Stark's house and spend time with Wanda in the kitchen as she prepared for dinner. If you two weren't that careful enough, either Tom or Billy would caught you stealing kisses in the kitchen counter. You became a regular to their household, unbeknownst to Vision, who thought you only needed the babysitting job more now that you're graduating.

Your friends started to worry about you when they finally found out about the affair. They thought it was overrated and wrong, falling in love with a married person. You were a believer of that too. And it made you hate yourself as you looked at yourself in the mirror, as you listened to Vision's classes and saw how enthusiastic he still was, not knowing you were worshipping her wife on your knees.

You weren't stupid. You had attempted to discuss it with Wanda, even one time you thought you had begged.

"End it with him please," you asked, as she rode the silicone toy between your legs. "Be with me. Be mine, Wanda, and only mine."

Wanda gasped as she eagerly nodded, looking at your eyes with hooded ones as her fingers dug through the back of your scalp and shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Yes, Y/n, I'm yours and only yours."

And you thought she really was and that she would finally end it. But maybe it was just the wonderful effects of orgasmic pleasure that made her think you two would be more than just an illicit affair.

 

THEN IT happened. The one thing that finally extinguished the guilt you had been carrying for months. The one thing you thought would finally save you and Wanda.

Vision had been kissing another professor from the university rather passionately when you entered his office one unexpected afternoon. He begged and begged for you not to tell her wife about it, pleading you he'd tell her eventually and that he just needed some time.

But that was not what you did.

The first thing you did when you saw Wanda was told her about what Vision did. Desperation and selfishness could do such a thing.

You thought she'd finally wake up and get some sense that staying in that marriage would only worsen the consequences. But you had thought wrong when you woke up in your bedroom and Wanda wasn't there beside you.

Through the days that followed, Wanda had never replied to any of your messages or calls. When you went to knock on their door, nobody would answer.

Is that it?

Is that how she ends things?

When you saw Vision in class the next day, it appeared as if nothing happened, as if he didn't just commit a sinful act like his wife did. Vision was still wearing his wedding ring as if nothing happened.

So it killed you to ask about Wanda.

"She's okay, Y/n," Vision said hurriedly, as if he wanted to get rid of you and the conversation. "What happened shouldn't have happened. And we've agreed to save our marriage for the sake of our kids. And sorry, but we no longer need a babysitter. I hope you understand we need privacy at the moment."

You thought whether Vision finally found out about you and Wanda's affair or maybe he was just angry at you for telling her about his own affair.

 

BUT YOU were too adamant to find out. So when it was their twins' birthday, where you remembered how Wanda wanted just a house celebration for their day, you bought a nice gift for the twins and went to their house without an invitation.

Luckily, the house was open to guests that you found yourself invisible as you went inside the house.

You could see Wanda from a distance, chatting with some guests as she drank a glass of white wine in her hand, the hand that still wore her wedding ring. You knew you should be mad but you missed the woman so much that you only wished to touch her and kiss her, to feel her against you.

When yours and Wanda's eyes met, time slowed down. As if this moment was it — the start of another chapter or the ending of the book that was your love affair.

"What are you doing here?" was what greeted you in the kitchen as you busied yourself getting some refreshments. You knew she'd excuse herself and follow you. You could feel her breath at the back of your neck, wondering if she was eye fucking you in the revealing dress you decided to wear for her that day.

"That's something I didn't expect coming out of your mouth after weeks of not seeing and talking to each other."

You faced her this time and drank a gulp from your cup, suddenly feeling emboldened.

Wanda could only sneer as if in disgust but you mistook it as challenged.

"You're not invited. I think you should just leave."

You frowned. "Why? After all that I've done for you and your twins. I'm sure they'd be happy I'm here on their special day—"

"I need you to leave, Y/n."

"Why so hostile? I haven't done anything wrong."

Wanda paused for a moment as she let some guests pass their way.

Then you got serious. "I thought you'd end it with him."

This time she glared at you, her nostrils flaring. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Y/n?"

"I never thought of it—"

"Do you think I'd believe some kid over my good of a husband that he could do such a thing towards me?"

And your whole world just crumbled. "What?"

"Vision told me everything. You're so good, so desperate to have me that you would concoct such a creative story."

"I didn't make it up. It was true. He was cheating—"

"Shut your mouth," she hissed, turning her head to see if you two were still alone.

"I can't believe you won't believe me," you said aloud, more to yourself than directed at her.

Wanda exhaled as she took a step back from you. "Besides the point, I'm trying to save our marriage by putting a stop into this nonsense—"

"Nonsense?" you asked incredulously. "You literally had your tongue and fingers inside me not two weeks ago."

Wanda flared again and cornered you, her fingers wrapping the front of your dress. "You better shut your mouth or else—"

"Or else what?"

You thought you'd broken her resolve as she stared at you. You thought the look on her eyes was hunger and longing. You thought she'd kiss you like she always did. But you had thought wrong. You'd thought wrong all this time.

"You might not believe me," you spat on her face. "But does Vision believe how innocent and faithful you were of a wife?"

"You wouldn't dare." Her grip tightened around you and you wished you hadn't worn that dress.

You were almost crying, but you stopped yourself as you fought back. You didn't want her to see how weak you were.

"What if I might?"

"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us," Wanda went on, her face only an inch or less from your face, lips barely touching, "I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."

You searched her eyes if she meant it. If she was only bluffing. And you wished she were.

But the hatred and distaste in her tongue proved otherwise.

"You would be expelled," she whispered. "Legal actions would be taken against you, for creating such false gossip between married couple. No one would hire you with your records. And no one," she paused, her thumb tracing your lower lip, "no one would trust you. I'm sure you don't want that, right?"

You hadn't seen this side of Wanda. And maybe this was what your friends were warning you all along, that married couples weren't meant to be dealt with.

The woman you loved so much turned into someone you wouldn't thought would ever do something cruel to you.

"You wouldn't," you said but you didn't sound sure anymore.

Wanda finally let go and stepped back from you. "I'd do anything for my family."

And you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. Fortunately, that ground was in some sort of a guest interrupting Wanda as she asked for some paprika spice.

Before Wanda left to tend to the guest, she whispered so low that only you could hear, "Don't do anything stupid I wouldn't do."

But you weren't listening anymore. All became white noise as you looked at your surroundings. You were frozen on the spot, suddenly realizing you didn't belong there at all.

And what little of dignity left inside you fuelled your legs and feet to move on their own accord. You left their house silently, promising yourself you'd never ever dare set foot unto that house again as long as you lived.

 

YOU DELETED her number, your photos together, any memories that the two of you ever shared. You requested to transfer to another dorm just to eradicate the nights you spent with Wanda in your old room. Your friends were helpful. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't have lasted another two months until you left that shithole of a place.

You never dared to be alone with Vision, nor cared when you still saw him and that professor locking tongues together. You just needed to leave. To forget that you just got your heart broken by someone you shouldn't have been having affairs in the first place.

And that day finally came. It was graduation day and you never thought Wanda would come but she was there, in all her glory.

"Don't worry, Y/n, we won't let her come near you," Kate promised. But the fear inside you only worsened. What if she'd tell everyone in the university how much of a slut you were?

You couldn't believe you could ever love someone so empty as your eyes finally met. Time didn't slow down this time.

You were the first to look away as it already pained you how stupid you were.

When the ceremony was over, you immediately left the venue as if scared Wanda could still make a scene if she wanted to.

Something inside you urged to go to the comfort room to get changed first before heading back to your dorm. So you did just that.

And when you were already leaving through the front doors after changing, there Wanda was with her back at you already waiting outside, her neck craned around her searching for something. As if she was looking for you.

You could have just done it. You could have just walked outside and talked to her.

But you couldn't, not after what she did.

You stepped back from the door and went to another exit instead, vowing to yourself never to come back.

Author's Note: Not sure I'd be writing a part two for this because I just want to read angsty stuff nowadays 😂😂😂😭😭😭

[fatkish]

Hey!!!! Could i please an thank you req headcanons for pro heroes and their kid telling them they like another hero over them??? i just think itd be rlly cute haha

Pro Heroes x Child Reader: Asking Their kid who Their Favorite Hero is

Midnight:

When she asked you who your favorite hero was you happily shouted Present Mic. Although she kinda sweatdropped at the thought of Hizashi, she smiled and still agreed that he’s a good hero.

All Might:

When reporters asked you who your favorite hero was, since All Might is your dad, you happily replied with Endeavor. When asked why, you replied with fire is super cool and he make bad guys pee their pants cause he’s scary. All Might had to hide his frown and cried later that night. Endeavor who has caught the tail end of the interview, laughed at it

Sir Nighteye:

When he asked who your favorite hero was you replied with Gang Orca. This started a long Argument between the both of you on who’s better, All Might or Gang Orca.

Endeavor:

He isn’t really the type to care about this kind of thing but when you replied with Fatgum, he wasn’t expecting that. You told him that he’s your favorite because Fatgum is cute and squishy looking.

Hawks:

When he asked you who your favorite hero was, expecting you to say daddy, he was shocked when you said Edgeshot. He regrets asking since you started to argue with him on why Edgeshot is cooler than him.

Fatgum:

When he asked you who your favorite hero was you told him it was Mirko since she kicks butt. He laughed and happily agreed seeing you excitedly reenact her fights

Present Mic:

When he had you on his radio show he asked you who your favorite hero was you told him it was Nighteye since he’s smart. If he wasn’t on air at the time he would’ve been crying and explaining to you that your dad’s smart too

Aizawa/Eraserhead:

When you told Aizawa that your favorite hero was Present Mic, the only reaction you could see was a slight eye twitch, but you giggled and then told him it was a joke and that he’s your favorite since he doesn’t need his quirk to beat a villain. Plus he’s your dad so that automatically makes him the best. He just smiled and gave you a hug and kissed your forehead

Best Jeanist:

When he asked you who you’re favorite hero was you told him you don’t really have a favorite since you think heroes are kinda lame. You told him you liked Nedzu since he could probably bring humanity to their knees. He became kinda worried about you after that answer.

Mirko:

When you told her your favorite hero was Ryukyu because dragons are cool. She smirked and said that she thinks Ryukyu is cool too and asked if you wanted her to arrange a meeting so you could meet your Idol. You screamed in delight and hugged your mom’s leg begging her to do it.

Gang Orca:

When he asked you who your favorite hero was you replied with Black Manta. He sweat dropped and told you that 1.) he’s not real and 2.) he’s a villain. You looked at him with a straight face and said he’s cool like your dad. He’s now a little worried about you

Edgeshot:

When Edgeshot asked you who your favorite Hero was you replied with Itachi Uchiha. He looked you dead in the eye and said that Itachi isn’t real. You then began to explain how Itachi is a better ninja than your dad. Edgeshot listened and was happy that you admired a good person and at least you didn’t favor villains

Kamui Woods:

When he asked you who your favorite hero was you told him Deadpool and Spider-Man. When he told you they aren’t real you told him he didn’t ask for whether they were real or not. You told him you like how they’re funny and that you want to be like Spider-Man.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

headcanon: youre a new student at an MMA academy that the tf141 runs.

its just price in this one, but everyone will be present at a later point :))

the first time you walk into the gym, youre all wide eyed and nervous, the world of martial arts a part of your distant past. but with the state of the world you figured that some self defense classes were a necessity, lest you end up battered and bruised in an alleyway somewhere.

When you walk in, the gym is shockingly neat and clean, windows shining and floormats soft and new. you weren't exaxtly sure what to expect, but this was a pleasant surprise.

the prior class was finishing up, children running about and throwing punches at the punching bags scattered around the gym.

at the forefront was a man, broad shouldered and handsome...in a dilf-y sort of way (not that you were complaining!!) with a grin shockingly similar to a quokka, you thought to yourself with a small huff of laughter.

he must be the coach you had been in contact with for a bit to set up the trial class. John, you believe it was?

"ALRIGHT, first person to knock me over wins. You get two kicks each!" John calls out, his voice booming yet kind.

Laughter echoes throughout the gym as the children attempt to knock him down, but he remains still as a statue, evidence of the years of strength he gained.

A few minutes later the class finishes up, and you make your way over (a tad bit nervously) to introduce yourself.

"Hi! Um, I'm here for the trial class, I think I spoke to you over the phone?" you say, sticking out your hand for him to shake.

He smiles warmly, clasping your hand in his and giving it a firm shake.

'That's right, John Price, it's a pleasure. Welcome to Task Force Training Academy, I have a feeling you fit right in. Have you ever done anything like this?" he asks.

"Not...really? I mean, I did boxing for a few months last year but my skills are nothing to write home about. Taekwondo too, but that feels like a lifetime ago," you say with a nervouse chuckle.

"You chose the right class then, kickboxing combines a lot of skills from both of those disciplines," he says, clasping your shoulder in a friendly manner. "You did good," he says, and you feel yourself flush a bit.

"Th-thanks," you say, and wince at the stutter in your words, but John only smiles down at you.

"Do you have any hand wraps? Boxing gloves?" he asks, letting go of your shoulder. Somehow you already miss the warmth.

"I have hand wraps from boxing, but that's it," you say, shrugging.

"That won't be a problem, we have plenty of gloves you can borrow," he says, before you hear a bell ring out.

"Ah, class is starting. Just grab a jump rope for the five minute warm-up," he says, pointing toward the wall where a collection of jump ropes were before taking his place at the front of the room.

Grabbing one quickly, you hurry to an open spot and begin.

~

...5 minute feel like an eternity.

You're painting like a dog in the heat, your face warm with exertion as the timer finally finishes.

"Don't worry," John says with a deep chuckle. It was unfair how velvety smooth his voice was. "We'll get your endurance up in no time."

Somehow you feel your face heat up even further, and glance at anywhere but John's devastatingly blue eyes.

"I have no doubt," you murmur before rushing to put the jump rope back.

"Okay, we'll start out with partner work. Usually I would start with bag work but since we have a new member," he gestures toward you, and you wave awkwardly to the rest of the class, "I thought it might be best to return to the basics. Pair up, and we'll work on the basic punches first. Jab, cross, hook, et cetera. Go ahead," he says, before turning towards you.

"You, my dear, will be working with me. Let's see how much boxing stuck, hm?" he says. "Gloves are over there, grab a pair and we can begin."

"Yessir," you squeak, the prospect of training with the head coach a bit daunting.

"No need to be nervous," he says, nudging you lightly toward the shelves where the gloves were. "I just wanna get a grasp of how much you know, and what we need to work on, yeah?" he says with a kind smile, and you nod before grabbing a pair of gloves to use.

The one glove goes on without issue, but the other glove betrays you. The strap you struggle with, hand motions limited to crab movements as you try to grasp it enough to attach the velcro.

You hear John laugh lightly again as he watches you struggle before he grasps your hand in his, doing the strap for you.

"Thank you, coach," you say, and he hums in response, eyes seemingly lost in thought for a moment before refocusing on you.

"Let's begin, yeah?"

You nod in response, moving to a more centralized area of the gym. You move into the fighting stance you remember, and he nods approvingly.

"Good, that stance is what I like to see. Do you remember your jab?" he asks, and you hesitantly throw out a punch you recall being called a jab.

"There you go. Try adjusting your wrist to a vertical position rather than a twisting out. Its not incorrect, and I'm sure that's how you learned it, but," he explains, grabbing your gloved hand for a moment. "When your punch is horizontal, your wrist wants to take the majority of the impact. Instead, we want it vertically, so that the impact is distributed throughout the forearm all the way down to the elbow," he says, his fingertip barely ghosting down your arm, but it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

You nod, the heat in your face no longer just from exertion anymore. Adjusting your stance, he holds out the pad for you to hit again, and you listen to his advice.

A delighted grin splits his face at the impact.

"Atta girl, you listen well," he says, and you mutter out a "thanks".

Holy HELLS, the temperature in the room felt like it was rising by the second.

In your embarrassment, you fail to notice the slightly smug expression on John's face, your reactions priceless.

Recovering, you reset, glancing back up at him as he nods.

"Again."

a/n: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SHORT BLURB, RAHHHHH. i was supposed to stusy half an hour ago :/ anyway, this fic is purely because i had my trial class for kickboxing today lol, and is almost based entirely on true events :p (though yknow, the coach was not john price and flirting with me, :/)

ANYWAY, i might start a series of this...we'll see what happens :))

[keikikait]

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader (both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 3.3k

summary: steve recently got a new camera for his birthday, and can only think about one thing he wants to film

warnings: SMUT 18+!, a lil fluffy, being filmed, i wasn't alive in the 80's so i might get stuff wrong, slight dom!steve, slight sub!reader, oral (f receiving - steve's a munch argue with the wall), this is literally just steve being a munch. not proofread

a note: my first ever fic for stranger things!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

“No, lemme see - I wanna see it!”

You pry the camera out of Steve’s hands, clutching it. You admire the camera, a Sony CCDTRV118 Hi8 Camcorder, careful not to smear any fingerprints across the lens. You giggle as he grumbles, trying to grab the camera back. “Your parents really shelled out this year, Stevie.”

Steve snatches the camera out of your hands, ignoring your protest, and puts the lens cap back on. “It was the only thing I asked for. It came with a deck to record tapes, too. They’ve been holding it over my head all week.”

Your eyes widen, knowing how expensive those can get. You’ve never had one yourself, just seeing them on the shelves of Sears before finally seeing one today up close and personal. “Damn. You're going to have a hell of a time repaying them.”

Steve shrugs. “Eh. I'll just record my baby cousin's christening next week and they'll drop it.”

You move to sit down on his bed, cross-legged, playing with the frills on the hem of your white socks. The window was open, a necessity for the hot summer you were caught in the midst of. The first cool breeze of the evening swept into Steve's room, carrying with it the scent of hot air and the oak trees planted around the Harrington property. The curtains, a soft blue muslin, floated gently in the breeze. “Did you only invite me over to show me your new camera?”

Steve grins, setting the camera down on his desk. “That...and I wanted to ask you something.”

You tilt your head in confusion, a soft smile on your face as you admire him. Freshly showered, hair still slightly damp, in a loose-fitting dark blue t-shirt and a black pair of jeans, no doubt from Eddie’s influence. “Yeah?”

Steve moves towards you and pushes on your shoulders, laying you down on your back. He crawls on top of you, pressing his hips into yours. “Yeah. I was thinking...how would you feel if we filmed a movie together? Hmm?” He brushes some hair out of your face. 

You bite your lip, sliding your hands under his t-shirt, brushing your hands over his back.  His skin is so warm and so soft, and you feel yourself melting. “What kinda movie?”

“Oh, the good kind.” He whispers before kissing you, his lips pressing firmly against yours as his tongue slides into your mouth, exploring and making you shiver. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you up against him.

You giggle, kissing him back. You get momentarily lost in the way he tastes and the feel of his lips before you pull away to speak, “Are you asking me to make a porno?”

“A home movie,” Steve corrects, a sly grin on his face. “Totally not the same thing, baby. It’s not a porno if it’ll only be seen by us.”

You giggle, moving one of your hands to his hair, running your fingers through it. “You wanna make me a pornstar?”

“You wouldn't be the star of the movie; I would be.” He pauses mid-kiss to grin at you. “Think of it more like…” He pauses again, searching for words. “Like, a...a feature film starring me and...and a really hot co-star.”

“And what’s in it for me?” You ask, playing along.

“I can think of a few things.” He grins. “A starring role in someone's wildest fantasy, for one. A spot in a home movie that'll be around forever for the people who make it...it could be a classic.”

“Hmm, right, right.” You say, kissing him on the lips again. 

“Think of the bragging rights!” He laughs quietly against your lips. “It could be your claim to fame. Your legacy.”

“Ah, yes, my legacy,” You say. “The girl that got railed by Steve Harrington as he taped the whole thing.”

He leans back, pretending to be offended. “You know, now that you put it like that it doesn't sound so romantic.”

“Oh, it’s supposed to be romantic?” You chuckle.

“Are you telling me you don't think I'm a romantic guy?” His grin widens. “That's kind of hurtful. I thought I was being smooth.”

“Smooth like crunchy peanut butter.”

Steve groans in mock pain, pulling you to his chest as he rolls onto his side. You laugh, and he finds it adorable, holding you close as he sticks his tongue out and pretends to die from your insult.

After a few seconds, he looks at you. “I’m serious, ya know. I wanna make a lil movie with you. I wouldn’t share it anywhere, it would just be for us to watch.”

You smile softly, looking over at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I really do.” He moves some of your hair aside, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment. “It'll be...our own little thing. Something to keep to ourselves.”

You bite your lip. “Then let’s do it.”

"There's the enthusiasm I was looking for." He laughs breathlessly, leaning down to kiss your neck. His teeth rake against the skin, biting and sucking at the sensitive area as he moves his hands up your shirt. He moves his face up to kiss you, his kisses turn from slow and sweet to almost desperate, as if he was afraid he wouldn’t get another kiss again. His hand grips at your waist, and you shiver under his touch. "You are so beautiful. You know that, right? God, I'm so damn lucky."

You giggle, pulling his shirt over his head. “You’re one to talk.”

Steve chuckles, lifting his back so you can pull the shirt off and toss it on the floor next to the bed. "I get that a lot." His hands move to your lower back, toying with the hem of your shirt as he presses you to him. He kisses at your jaw, a mischievous smile on his face as his fingers dance along your skin, sliding up your back. He pauses speaking again, "You know what, let's keep it even." In one quick motion, he slides your shirt off your body, tossing it somewhere in his room. He stares at your bare chest for a moment, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Much better.”

He greedily slides his hands over your tits as you squirm, slowly getting more and more desperate. A thin veil of sweat covers your body, your least favourite thing about the summertime, but he doesn’t mind. Steve bites back a moan as he roughly squeezes your tits, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Your back arches deliciously and he grins, squeezing your nipples hard.

Steve's hands start wandering all along your body. They're warm against your bare skin, and his touch feels almost electric whenever he moves to touch something new. His fingers brush along your hip, tracing the waistband of your shorts while his breaths become heavier. He whispers your name, almost in a plea as he looks down at you, like the sight of you is the most beautiful thing in the world. "God, you drive me crazy, you know that?"

You blush. “Theres no need to butter me up, Steve. I’m already in your bed topless.”

He laughs breathlessly. "Can't help it. Every time I look at you I just wanna...worship you." His fingers hook under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down slowly. "You drive me goddamn crazy. I don't deserve someone as beautiful as you."

Your heart flutters. “You deserve the world, Stevie.”

It's his turn to blush now, a bright red blush spreading across his cheeks as he looks away. "God, you really don't know what you're doing to me, do you?" His thumb brushes over your hip bone, the cool metal of the ring on his right thumb contrasting with the heat of his skin. You and Steve have matching rings, yours sitting neatly on your left middle finger. "You're gonna be the death of me, baby.”

You grin mischievously. “Not doin’ anything.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head as he continues his work in removing your skirt. "Sure you aren't, brat." There's a fondness to his voice as he speaks, and you smile in return. Steve leans down to kiss your cheek before moving to your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. He plants soft kisses in every spot he can reach, admiring your body all the while. He reaches your lower stomach, kissing just above the hem of your underwear. His hands find your hips, and he glances up at you. "You're perfect.”

He slides his fingers under your underwear when you remember. “Wait, we’re supposed to be filming.” Your voice is breathy, clouded and suffocated by lust and desire.

His hands stop for a moment, eyes widening slightly as he realizes too late. "Right." Slowly, he pulls his head up, sitting to look at you. "Where did I put that…oh, for crying out loud - “ He leans across you to grab the camera off his desk, a light laugh in his voice like he can't believe he forgot. He attaches the camera to the deck, putting in a blank VHS tape. The red light on the camera blinks and Steve turns on the deck to capture the playback. ”I guess we're doing a re-take.”

The red light suddenly makes it all feel real. You shift on the bed as he props it up, shooting directly in between your legs. You feel yourself getting hot and your mouth dries. “Make sure to get my good side.”

A smile forms on his face as he adjusts the camera. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get plenty of good angles. But that’s not for me to say, that’s for us to get all sorts of opinions on…” He takes a glance at your half naked body, pausing. “Damn.”

You suddenly feel shy, shifting on the bed. “What?”

“You’re literally perfect, and all mine,” he says, his words thick against the sound of the deck whirring. He starts unbuttoning his jeans, shimmying out of them before he lays back down on top of you. “This is all mine to worship, hm?” His thumb hooks into the thin hem of your underwear, tugging it down.

You nod, your legs opening even wider as he pulls your underwear off. Thank god you trimmed yourself up this morning. “All yours.”

"God, you're amazing." He gently squeezes your hip, smiling as he presses hot kisses onto your stomach, and gradually lower and lower. "Absolutely perfect. You're killing me, baby." The camera is recording it all, but Steve doesn't care about that. He gently pushes your legs apart to settle in between them, and he lets out a quiet groan at the sight.

You let out a soft whine, almost bucking your hips in his face. “Steve…”

"I know, baby," he purrs, his arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you still. "We'll get to it. Just let me appreciate this." You feel his breath against your skin, warm and sending an electricity through your body. He rubs his thumb over your entrance, gathering some of your wetness before spreading it all over, rubbing your clit in soft circles. Slowly, he presses a kiss against your sensitive heat, and he groans softly, his breath coming in quiet gasps through his nose.

You shiver, your hips bucking, another soft whine tumbling from your mouth.

You feel him smile against you, one of his hands sliding up your thigh, and he presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. He chuckles, "Someone's getting impatient, hmm?"

You can only imagine the footage the camera is capturing.

He puts your legs on his shoulders, spreading your pussy out with his fingers. "Stay still for me," he coos, his breaths coming out heavy against your skin, "there we go..." He runs his tongue up your slit, relishing the whine that comes from you as your thighs try to squeeze around him. He holds you down gently but firmly, letting his eyes close as he savors the taste.

You try your hardest to stay still, gripping the bedsheets tight. His soft hair brushes against your thighs and it makes you shiver, goosebumps littering your body as he moves his tongue from side to side. He takes his time with you, his tongue slowly licking and circling to draw out the most noise from you that he can. He lets out a groan as you whine and mewl, and it's hard not to let his hips press into the bed. His fingers are hot against your thighs, his touch light at first, and then pressing hard enough to keep you from writhing in his grasp.

"Good girl." His teeth graze your skin, and it's enough to make you gasp. His kisses start getting more desperate, and he gives another long swipe across your heat before he decides to focus on your sensitive bundle of nerves. In an instant you feel his tongue against it, and his groan vibrates against you as he holds you steadily in place. “Is that good, baby?”

You nod, struggling to find your voice in the moans and pants.

“Words, baby.” Steve says, blowing air directly on your clit.

You whimper. “Feels so fucking good, Stevie.”

He hums in appreciation. "You're pretty enough to be a goddess. A muse," he murmurs against you, his tongue moving in slow circles now, "and you're all mine." His voice is breathless, his moans almost too much for the microphone to pick up, and he starts to move his tongue in faster circles, drawing mewls and whines from you. Between desperate whines, you could barely make out moans of his name in your haze, your hips trying and failing to jerk against him. "My pretty baby, all mine.”

You gasp and whine. “Fuck, all yours!”

He's relentless against you, almost too much and not enough all at once. His hands grip harder at your thighs, his tongue working in dizzying circles. His grunts and groans vibrate against you, and he glances up at you for a moment, the sight of you a beautiful mess. "So pretty, baby." He doesn't slow his motions, not giving you a chance to recover, and you can feel that he's getting hungry for you. You can hear the sounds of the camera capturing everything, the whirling and clicking as it records it all.

“You’re doing so good, baby. My good girl,” he coos, pausing to gasp between the praise. He switches to small, short strokes as he moans against you, his tongue hitting your sensitive bundle perfectly each time. Every noise he makes seems to excite you, pushing you closer and closer to your edge.

Your hips buck against his face, your clit bumping against his nose.

“That’s it, baby.” Steve’s voice is low and thick with a mix of desire and lust. His tongue flicks against you, bringing out whines with each stroke. His grip on your thighs is tight but careful, his nails pressing into your skin just a little too hard to be unintentional. It’s obvious that he loves this, the taste of you and the sound of your moans are his favourite, and he would never get enough of it. It's the thing that drives him crazy, the thing that makes his mind blank and his body run hot.

Your moans get louder, your head leaning back into the pillow. Steve groans against you, his tongue moving in short, fast circles as he presses his hips into the bed to try and get some friction. His breathing becomes more erratic with each moan from you, and the sounds of licking and panting get louder within the room. His hands grip your hips, his mouth growing hungry as he picks up the pace. “God, the sounds you make…”

You let out a shaky gasp, your thighs clenching around his head.

He moans loudly in response, his mouth moving with fervor as he feels your thighs clench around him. The sounds of the wet, needy movements only grow louder as his tongue hits every sensitive nerve of your clit as it slides against you. “God, baby. I love you. I love you so much.” Steve's groan is breathless as he presses closer, his tongue moving in sloppy, desperate circles now. He wants more.

You squirm and shake when he slides a finger into your cunt, sliding his thumb up and down your slit. His body presses further into the bed as his fingers slide into you without warning. You moan as your back arches off the bed, your whine going up an octave and your body trembling as he works his fingers in time with his tongue. “My beautiful girl. All mine.”

You pant, your hips bucking into his face.

His free hand grips your hip to keep you from writhing away as he works you up as fast as he can. He slides another finger into your cunt, chuckling at the way you shake. “Can’t help myself, baby. So pretty, so sweet. I could do this forever if you’d let me.”

You reach down and run your fingers through his hair. “Cl-close, Stevie!” Your whole body feels hot, legs shaking every single time he sucks on your clit.

“I know, I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with his thumb. “But you need permission.” You whine loudly in response, trying to press your clit into his thumb even harder. He moves his thumb in small, tight circles against you. “I wanna hear you ask for it, baby. Ask me like a good girl.”

His fingers move in and out of you, curling with each movement to draw out more whines and whimpers. “You want that, baby?” You nod desperately in response, your back arching slightly. His voice sounds like his mind was being reduced to nothing but you, only you. “Then beg for it. Ask nicely. Beg.”

The words tumble out of your mouth. “Please! Please Stevie! Please let me cum, I’ve been a good girl!” You sound so desperate and Steve laps it up.

Steve lets out a groan as his breath catches in his throat, his body pressing into the bed at your words. He lets out a low laugh. “So pretty…good girl.” He shifts your hips slightly, angling you towards the camera. His fingers speed up once more inside of you. “That’s it baby, cum for me. You’ve been so good, it’s okay. Cum for me. Let the camera see you cum…”

You cum hard, your hips lifting off of the bed. Your moans fill the air alongside the clicks and the whirring of the camera. He works you through it, his fingers and thumb drawing out every possible second of your high as you squirm. He groans as he sees a stream of wetness dribble out of you, forming a puddle under your thighs. He takes one last swipe with his tongue, sucking at your sensitive nerves one last time before lifting himself up to look at you. You already look wrecked, just how Steve likes you. “You okay, baby?”

After a few seconds you nod, your head feeling floaty.

He chuckles as he watches the rise and fall of your chest slow down. He gives a final kiss to your clit before crawling up to you, leaning down to kiss you. “God, you’re amazing.” As soon as his lips touch yours, you taste yourself on his tongue, and he chuckles as you recoil slightly. “Come here.” Steve pulls you close to his chest, his kisses becoming less frenzied and more soft and sweet.

After a few seconds he pulls away, looking back at the camera. “Do you wanna keep going?” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. Steve grins, pushing you onto your back once again. “Good. You’re such a good girl, all nice and ready for my cock.”

You let out another moan as he pulls his underwear down, making sure to look right into the lens as your home video continues.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you all enjoyed! :> requests are open!

[haikyu-mp4]

Safehouse

word count; 1497 – gn!reader

Atsumu didn't usually let things bother him for too long. He knew he always did his best in volleyball and he did his best to be a good friend and teammate even though he’s got an ‘unlikeable personality’ as Kiyoomi would phrase it.

But sometimes, it’s just a little too much for him to process, too many missed serves or spikes and petty disagreements, and there was just one place his mind goes to when that happened. His brother.

More specifically, he would go to Onigiri Miya, where Osamu seemed to spend most of his time trying to make the business go ‘round. That’s why he’s storming in this particular Thursday evening, brushing past you with a quick hello before opening the door to the backroom and rushing in.

You stood there, a bit startled with surprise as you chuckled under your breath. Working at Onigiri Miya had so far been your favourite job ever, and that came with seeing Atsumu ever so often.

After about 5 minutes, Atsumu came back out while you were serving an order with your service smile plastered on. As you walked back to the counter, you found the twin looking around for something before his eyes met you. It might have just been a trick of your eye, but it looked like his usually bright eyes were a bit teary. “Hey, Atsumu. Can I help you with anything?” you asked him.

“Have you seen my brother? Looks kinda like me but ugly,” he said with a cheeky smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes like usual. You laughed anyway, shaking your head before grabbing a cloth to clean the counter.

“I think I know who you mean, but he’s out. There was a delivery issue so he decided to go get it himself,” you explained, glancing up at Atsumu from time to time while working. Thursdays weren’t that busy. He was fiddling with his hands now as you put the cloth away after finishing the clean-up like he was struggling with what to do with this new information. Since he didn’t really answer you, you stopped in front of him and tried to meet his eyes. “Is there something wrong, love?”

You were similar to Osamu in many ways, at least Atsumu thought so. With your warmth and kind smile, he harboured some kind of crush on you ever since he met you on your second day working there. “Do you have some… food?” he asked, voice nearly cracking. You patted his shoulder and nodded, walking past him into the kitchen.

“I think I might find some, yeah.” This made him breathe out a short laugh, sitting down on a bar stool so he could be closer to you. “I’ll get your favourite going, I asked Samu about it once,” you said, hands already working while you glanced up at the restaurant to keep an eye on the customers as well.

Atsumu finally smiled again, if only a little. “You asked him?”

“Making food is my love language,” you said, looking down at the food again so he couldn’t see your red cheeks. Atsumu hadn’t felt his chest fill with this kind of warmth since he last visited his mother, and boy did it feel good on that particularly shitty day. He leaned on his hand on the counter, eyes observing you while you made him food. To show him love.

You didn’t start too much conversation, assuming Atsumu would talk to you if he felt like it, but for now, he seemed content watching you work and asking how your day had been. In the end, he seemed a bit lighter by the time you put his food in front of him, but it still didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you so much, y/n. I really needed this,” he said, mouth already filled with food.

“My pleasure. Professional athletes have bad days too, I guess,” you sighed, hinting that you were there if he wanted to talk.

Atsumu nodded and kept stuffing his mouth, mind going back to his high school team and their banner. “Luckily, there is always tomorrow.”

You laughed more genuinely this time, patting his shoulder as you passed to serve a table who asked to order more. “There is always tomorrow.”

By the time you came back after delivering their new order, Atsumu had finished his onigiri and you could feel his eyes following you again. You raised an eyebrow, taking the plate from in front of him and waiting for whatever lay on the tip of his tongue. “Speaking of tomorrow, how about a date?” he asked, speaking quicker than usual so by the time you registered his words, the plate slipped from your hands and crumbled to the floor in broken pieces. “Shit.”

You shook your head to rid of the fluster, squatting down quickly to pick up the pieces. Your cheeks flushed as Atsumu hurried around the counter to bend down and help you. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why-” you tried to laugh it off, finally about to tell him that yes, you would love to go on a date with him when the wonderful sound of your boss’ voice rang through the kitchen.

“Y/n? Did ‘Tsumu stop by?” And because both of you were called, Atsumu accidentally knocked his head into yours, making him drop all the pieces of porcelain to caress your head. However, you were already off balance so he ended up just pushing you backwards and falling with you, landing unceremoniously on top of you and scraping the pieces of the broken plate along the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” he said, the tone of his dialect even more prominent. And at the perfect moment, Osamu walked in. You were having such a moment, what happened? you thought to yourself, while Atsumu’s head was echoing stupid Samu.

“What the hell is going on here?” your boss asked, making the two of you look at him with surprise as if you didn’t already know he was there.

“This is not what it looks like!” Atsumu yelled, making Osamu look over his shoulder with an apologetic smile at the customers out in the restaurant.

“He knows that, idiot, just get off me,” you laughed, pushing his shoulders to help him up. He scrambled to his feet, finally managing to bend down and pick up the biggest pieces of the broken plate with scattered rice that was now sticking to the floor in some places.

Osamu had already gotten to work, letting the two of you settle yourself and smirking to himself as he imagined how much his brother made a fool of himself. While Atsumu was throwing away the pieces, you quickly got the mop out to clean the floor of rice and smaller pieces, finally getting it all into the dustpan and then the trash. You sighed, using your hand to fan your face, which was red from the quick work and how hot the room suddenly was. Should I turn the air conditioner on lower?

Your boss passed by you with a certain look you couldn’t quite read, but it made you squint at him with suspicion. Then you looked past his shoulder, at sweet, clumsy Atsumu who was back in the high chair with his hands intertwined on the counter in front of him like he never hurt a fly. Okay, maybe you knew why Osamu was looking at you like that even though he was being uncharacteristically silent about it.

While Osamu swiftly moved around to cover his half of work and then some, you took the opportunity to stand in front of his twin again with your hands out in front of you like you were bracing yourself for a surprise impact. “Yes.”

Atsumu stared at you with a blank look, but at least he didn’t look as dejected as he did earlier. Guess you knocked some sense into him with your head. “Yes?” he repeated, a bit lost.

“I’ll work out my schedule with Osamu and you can pick me up tomorrow,” you clarified, picking up one of the business cards that sat by the till, and quickly jotting down your number. “Text me for the address.”

His eyes lit up with that mischievous spark you liked so much that was missing when he came here, standing up from the chair and clutching the little piece of paper as he turned around to the restaurant. “Samu! She needs off tomorrow evening!” he yelled, making you shush him. When did that ever stop Atsumu?

Osamu just turned back to the customer he was standing closest to, seemingly apologising for his brother’s behaviour again while said brother turned back to you like he just solved all your problems. You shook your head with an affectionate smile before going back in the kitchen, waving him off. “Idiot. Now leave before he gets back, unless you’d like our first date to be in the hospital.”

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