#i got very carried away with the first prompt

[silverryu25]

i would love to see sci-fi day 6 star wars with the prompt “Have you forgotten how it all ended last time?” :)

Nonny... I have so little knowledge of Star wars but... this kinda hit a plot bunny so I hope you like! XD

DAY 6 - Star Wars + “Have you forgotten how it all ended last time?”

Tag warnings: implied suicide (briefly and in a "I should have done it" way)

---------------

It was peaceful.

Nothing was happening today. Just like yesterday. And the day before. And before that.

It's been years, though it felt like eons, since anything changed here. No one ever came to this place, not since he got here and made it his home. His aura permeated into the ground and the air, making it inhospitable to anyone and anything.

It was exactly what he wanted.

What he deserved.

What he imposed on himself.

But today... today he felt the emptiness. It slithered into his thoughts, his mind feeling as if it was crawling with his past sins. He could even feel them crawling down his back, making him feel restless. So instead of meditating or just trying to sleep through the fog of negativity that enveloped him, he decided to expend some energy.

The loneliness and emptiness was replaced by rage as he swung his lightsaber.

The flashes of red spread all around him, digging into the piles of old abandoned wreckage of AT-AT walkers, AT-ST transports, cloud cars, AAT's, AAC-1's and many, many more. A graveyard left after many battles. Abandoned to rot and decay, just like he was. Just like he earned through his own stupidity and greed.

Now here he was, adding to that destruction. If he let himself think deeper about his actions he might have realized how symbolic the destruction he was spreading around him was to what he was doing to his own mind and soul. But he didn't. He never did. Thinking would mean acknowledging the guilt that festered in his soul and that would break him because he would have to think about.............

With a roar of rage he swung his lightsaber, splitting the largest piece of wreckage in front of him. He continued swinging until he couldn't anymore. Until all his energy was depleted and all he could do was fall on his knees and pant. Breath coming in harsh desperate gulps, air his body didn't really need to live but his mind needed to drown out his own thoughts.

He wouldn't let himself think.

He couldn't let himself think.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans for him

Just as his breathing stilled and he started focusing on the rage that he forced to burn inside himself, he felt it. A stab in his soul, as sharp as a lightsaber slashing through his ribs and directly into his corrupted soul.

Dread. Fear. Guilt. Fear. Anger. Fear. Hate. Fear. Longing. Fear. Desperation. Fear. Need. Fear. Lo- Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear.

He could feel his eyelights extinguish as the fear took over everything else. He was spiraling so fast, so hard, so completely, that he didn't even notice the soft footsteps making their way slowly towards his kneeling form from the back.

The soft taps of slippered feet felt like hammer strikes into his soul.

He wanted to flee, but he couldn't. His legs wouldn't move. Wouldn't lift him from the desolate ground he deserved to dust into.

Then they stopped and there was only silence left.

Silence except for the rush of his magic into his skull. It was screaming fear to him.

'run away!' His mind screamed at him. 'hide! don't let him see you! don't let him see what you became'!

But he couldn't.

The silence stretched forever, neither of them moving. Neither of them wanted to speak first. Neither of them knew exactly what to say. He didn't know how much longer his soul could take this silence, how much longer he could keep himself from falling apart. Or worse.

Thankfully, mercifully, the other spoke first.

'red.' His tone was gentle but carried the weight of Red's world in it.

Red felt his whole body shiver from that one word as it came from his mouth. It was like lightning struck his very soul, making his whole body quake. It was time...

"heh," his voice cracked, he hadn't used it for anything but screaming in rage for years. "yer finally 'ere."

There wasn't an answer, only calm silence and cool refreshing magic combined with a powerful force washing over Red's frame.

"wha'? not gonna talk ta me before ya finish me off?" Red barely kept his voice from cracking. "ya changed sans."

The name felt so sweet as it left his teeth, even as bile rose behind them at the implication of his own words. Sans was here to do the one thing Red couldn't make himself do. The one thing Red should have done to atone for his crimes. The one thing he should have done to save Sans from himself. He should have ended it before Sans had to dirty his hands.

There was no reply and Red didn't expect any.

So he just sat there, accepting.

Waiting for the final blow that would free him of this horrid world that took the only thing that he ever truly loved from him. The one thing he was cursed to love but not have. The only thing that made living worth it but was forbidden to him.

Waiting for Sans to end their curse forever.

Waiting for his final judgment for daring to love.

Love wasn't allowed for a Jedi. It would consume them. But Red was weak, he let love enslave him, let it make him want more than he was allowed. It was a crack in his soul that left him open to his inevitable fall into the dark side.

Red loved Sans and he would love to die by his hands.

He waited for the sound of the lightsaber, for that gorgeous blue glow to shine from his back and stab through his soul.

Instead, a pair of skeletal arms grabbed him from the back and pressed him into a bony chest.

He froze in place, unable to process what was happening.

The warmth from the embrace felt both incredibly painful and wonderfully familiar. He could feel his magic gathering on the edges of his eyesockets. Was Sans trying to torture him before he ended it? He wasn't that cruel before, but Red definitely deserved it after everything he had done.

Suddenly, he felt Sans' body shake as it pressed impossibly closer, hugging him even tighter. Was Sans... crying?

"s-swe-," Red almost slipped up, but he wasn't allowed to call Sans pet names, not anymore. "sans?"

All he got in return was an unintelligible mumble from the teeth pressed into his shoulder.

"wha'?"

"..." Sans moved his head to the side, facing away from Red. "you idiot."

"...?" Red was too stunned by the emotion in Sans' voice. What was happening?

"why did you leave?!"

"wha'?" Red tried turning around, but the arms around him held him firmly in place. "wha' da ya mean? ya know what i did an-"

Sans grabbed his shoulders at a speed not even Red could keep up with and twisted him around. Their feet tangled as Red's body was twisted and Red fell backward, Sans landing on top of him, still holding his shoulders. Their faces were close. Too close.

"i don't care about that!" Sans yelled and Red's sockets snapped wide open. He never saw Sans yell before. "why did you leave me behind you moron?!"

Silence followed Sans' question as they both stared at each other. Sans' eyelights dug holes in Red's, emotions Red didn't think he would ever see in them burning like two supernovas.

It didn't feel real.

“sans," Red was almost sure he was hallucinating. "have ya forgotten how it all ended last time?”

Instead of a reply, Sans glared at Red, eyelights burning impossibly hot with an emotion Red would never have dreamed he would see in those beautiful white eyelights. But before Red could fully process what he was seeing, Sans leaned down and pressed his teeth to Red's.

A spark of magic spread from the contact and through Red's whole body. He could feel his own magic and force ignite. His whole body felt as if it was burning. As if it was alive again.

The moment Sans pulled back Red let out a whine. It wasn't enough. He needed more.

"i don't care." Sans breathed out, before he closed the gap between them again and deepened the kiss.

It felt magical.

It felt unreal.

It felt like a lie.

But Red didn't care. 

Reality could go fuck itself.

Sans was here and Red would never let him go.

---------------

This got a bit long >.>

For anyone confused about what the hell is going on (cause I have no idea how clear I managed to make it ^_^;;;): Red was a Jedi, he fell in love with Sans, the dark side noticed and used that love to get Red to work for them. Red did some very bad things for the Sith... but when he ended up in a battle where he almost hurt Sans he ran away. And hid on an abandoned planet. But Sans found him >:3

Hope you like this! And I hope I didn't butcher the Star Wars lore too bad XD

[ask-the-crimson-king]

⏰️🌑🏥

[Time asks]

⏰ or “future” for a glimpse into a potential future memory and to see my muse in the future

The surface of the world had long been desolate. Destroyed, scoured, and left behind as nothing more than an empty rock where once it flourished with all manner of wildlife.

Alone, a solitary figure walked alongside what had once been a riverbed, countless centuries ago. Memories of watching the various amphibious life swimming through its currents and the various avian species trying to catch them sprung to his mind. Subconsciously, echoes and phantasmal images of what had been were overlaid over what now was.

He came to a stop next to where the river split into several smaller tributaries. One of them would have ran to the edge of an ocean; another would feed a small pond not too far from here. That tributary had been split by the native Prosperine people long before even his coming to this world as an aqueduct. The river itself sourced from the mountains that, once resplendent and mighty, were half-destroyed to his back.

From here sprang so much life. All of the life upon this world ultimately depended on this river being able to flow, and flow freely. It was the fundamental bedrock of an entire ecosystem. And here it was, dry and barren.

Never had the moniker of Desolation been made more true. But that was all going to change.

The visitor crouched. Two fingers touched to the riverbed, their clawed tips digging into the dry, thirsty earth beneath. He could tell it could be cultivated again; it had spent many long millennia without something living nearby, but it could be brought back to that state again. It could be changed. There was still silt left behind. There were still minerals here that would be able to support new growth and new life.

He reached to a small crystalline ball that had been hanging around his waist. Within it was a tiny seedling from a fern, along with some minor growth of mosses and lichens. He dug next to the riverside, then carefully removed the seedling and transplanted it next to the riverbed. It felt good to feel the dirt of his home upon his hands again.

Somewhere he knew it was unlikely the seedling would survive. That, perhaps, him occasionally coming to his old home and trying to plant these small specimens was all going to be for naught. After all, the river was dry. There was no water within it to flow. But that would change. He would enact that change, drawing upon the power he had been "gifted" with to restore this place. It would be a long, arduous task ahead, but he did not care.

Once the seedling and mosses were planted, he rose to his full height, looking at the similar seedlings and saplings he had been carefully cultivating alongside the bed. They endured. They clung to life. They would die without the rest of the ecosystem they had been drawn from, but he would ensure they would not. He would become pollinator, cultivator, whatever it took.

Bit by bit by bit, he would restore this world. He would make it a home again. But this time, no one would be allowed to destroy it. He would defend it until his very being was undone.

With a look of grim determination, the visitor disappeared. In his wake, everywhere he had stepped, the earth had become damp and moist. It was as though there was still moisture, impossibly locked beneath the surface. The tiny plants he had brought here began to drink it, and some had even begun to flourish.

The next time he came back to this spot, there would be the smallest of flowers awaiting him.

🌑 or “dark” for one of my muse’s darker memories and/or secret memories

Lightning split the skies above. Magnus paced ceaselessly, his mind racing with possibility of what to do next. His wings were left slightly opened, their edges catching the light of the new star that hung above him. Here, at the tallest point of the Obsidian Tower, it was open and exposed to the world around him.

Sortiarius had been brought into realspace. His home, his true home, was now close by for the first time in millennia. Fenris had been all but decimated. The Wolves would need time to recover, and unfortunately, they had been granted it.

His brother had returned. Somehow, Guilliman walked the stars once more.

And now Magnus needed to act. Ahriman had been useful ever since he was invited back after his exile; a fragment of a map depicting the ways through the Aeldari Webway had been brought to his attention. The Legion would need to mobilize and fast. Guilliman would need to be dealt with. If he was not, it would mean all that he had hoped for and planned would be thrown away.

He would not allow that to happen again. He would see his visions to their fruition, Imperium be damned. He would see his Legion reborn and reforged. He was not about to let his Macraggian brother stop any of that, and he knew with grim certainty that he would.

A pause. His pacing slowed to a stop as a part of his memory was dragged before him; him and Lorgar, together upon the Fidelitas Lex.

"Do you hate Guilliman that much?" his own words echoed. The feeling of death consuming the tides around him, the untold suffering... a chill ran down his spine then. How hypocritical of him, he mused. But this was not a vengeance ploy -- nor, he had to fully admit, was Lorgar's entire Shadow Crusade -- this was done out of necessity. If Roboute was allowed to influence and stabilize the Imperium, he could see himself and his Sons potentially routed from this world again.

And he would never let that happen again.

And so, he looked skyward at the swirling clouds above, and he began to speak his will and plans into existence. Far below, the Thousand Sons would begin to march.

🏥 or “injury” for a memory of when my muse was injured

The blow had hurt.

It had cloven right through all of his aetheric wards, right into the meat of his breast. His mutagenic blood had spilled into the ice and snow beneath him, conjuring brightly colored fungi and spawning strange, tiny creatures that would die in the coming minutes. The blow had bit deep, and bit hard. Harder than he had expected.

It had blown him all the way back to his tower on Sortiarius. Pain, the first true pain he had felt in millennia, had rippled through his entire being. He knew why. The weapon used against him was anathema to his very being; it was a weapon of the Blood God, of course. How the Wolves had come to possess such an item, Magnus could only guess.

But the axe had done what it had needed to. He had become cut from the rest of his Legion, he had been exiled from that frozen, wasted world. It mattered little; he could recall his Sons back on a whim. The ritual had been completed. The Silver Towers burned with energy and potential.

Magnus had to take some time to recover. His own talents felt diminished in the lingering effects of the blow. Still his blood, glittering and terrible, ran from his cracked breastplate. It was beginning to heal, but it was slow. Where initially it had flown like a small river, now it only beaded upon his skin. The very edges of it felt as though they burned with acid. A grimace twisted his features.

He would not let it ruin his plans. For too long had he been planning this. For too long had his Sons made ready.

He could feel the power still roiling from the Silver Towers; he needed to act quickly if he was to be successful. So, he raised his arms, and he began to speak. He forced his will upon the entire world beneath him, and he fought desperately against the currents within the Great Ocean to do so. The wound in his chest burst anew, sending waves of fresh agony through his body as he conducted his sorcery. With a grunt, he pushed onwards, his entire body feeling as though he had begun to touch the surface of a star.

The Towers gleamed and began to flicker, as did the planet around him. His mind envisioned the final destination as he conducted the most demanding ritual of his entire existence. He dared not draw upon the power of the few sorcerers left behind, for fear of turning them into dust like their brothers. But it burned, oh how it burned. It felt worse than when he stopped the Lux Ferrem from crashing, from when he translated all of his Sons to this desolate and volatile world, from when he had made an attempt to break into the Sanctum Imperialis.

Every single part of him was alight. His form writhed with potential. In and out of this reality beyond the stars the world flickered. The Towers were burning, now, acting as conduits for this immense amount of power. With a thunderous roar, he spoke his will into the depths of unreality, and forced it to become reality.

A spark. A gleam amongst the empty space and starlight. And suddenly, a tear was opened, and forced through was not a starship, but an entire world.

Sortiarius breached into reality and tore the void asunder. Daemons gibbered and cackled with glee, some of them becoming snuffed out as the Immaterium became the Materium. The world shuddered as it came to a stop. The Silver Towers orbiting high above were damaged and tarnished; they would be restored in time. It did not matter now.

Magnus collapsed down to one knee, his wings drooping and brushing the ground beneath him. Ragged breaths and crystalline sweat rained from him, along with his blood from that damned wound. He barely found the strength to stand for many long, agonizing moments. He reached outwards and his glaive came to his hand, and he dragged himself to his feet. He needed to see if he had been successful. The world felt different, but he needed to see it.

Slowly, carefully, blood painting his footsteps behind him and becoming the foundation for strange flora and fauna to emerge, he walked out onto the balcony of his private sanctum. His eye looked outwards towards the horizon, his aethersight able to pierce even the strongest of Sortiarius' storms. Out in the distance, he saw a lone, rocky world, with the occasional whispy cloud covering its surface.

Slowly, his shoulders began to tremble and rise. Something welled within his chest at the sight of it.

And then, he began to laugh. He had been triumphant. He was exultant. His work had been a great success.

But most importantly of all, he was home.

[tojirights]

Prompt “❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜” with alastor :3

Likke reader has been with multiple people but alastor is the first person to make her cum 0.0

prompt: Hii I really like your work! Can you do face sitting with alastor like reader mentions that she wants to sit on alastor face to angel and alastor overhears or angels says outlook to husk while his wasted thank youu

a/n: combining these two prompts!! ^ thinking maybe alastor overhears you talking with angel about your woes and offers to uhhh assist 👀

"the guys down here suck, angel." you sigh, sitting next to angel in the hotel lounge. you crack open your beer and hand him one as well. "yer tellin' me, babe." he chuckles. "whats got ya worked up this tIme?" he hums, reaching an arm around your shoulders. "thats the thing! nothing!" you groan, leaning into his body. "you know how many times i've tried hooking up with someone just for them to bust in 30 seconds and rub my inner thigh?" angel almost chokes on his drink.

"they're the worst. no one down here has been able to make me cum but myself." you mutter, taking a sip of your drink. "who do you want, hm?" angel asks. "maybe i can hook ya up with someone good." he wiggles his eyebrows, earning a giggle from you. the alcohol is making you feel a little brave, so with a sigh, you let your words free. "y'know who i think about all the time?" angel's eyes widen with interest, anticipation building.

"alastor..." you admit for the first time out loud. angel does choke on his drink this time before he laughs. "bitch! the radio demon?!" he barely contains his cackle. "stop! i mean, have you seen him? god, angel. i'd get down on my knees and bark if he told me to. i wanna sit on his face, hold onto his antlers for support. ughh, he's so hot." you whine into angel's chest, embarrasmemt finally setting in. angel tries to contain himself, but you've never said something so out of pocket but also very relatable.

unbeknownst to you, alastor stands not far behind you, his ears twitching as he listens in. a part of him does feel a tinge of guilt for listening, but you'd be quieter if you didn't want anyone to hear you. "well now, isn't that interesting?" alastor's voice makes you jump, almost tossing your beer straight onto angel. "oh fuck..." angel all but pushes you over in an attempt to get away.

"oh my god. alastor i'm so sorry, i was just-" you scramble to defend yourself, but alastor puts his staff under your chin to raise your eyes to his. "what was that you said about wanting to... sit on my face? about these worthless little demons not knowing how to treat a woman?" the sultry tone in his voice has you clenching your thighs together, which you blame on the alcohol swirling in your gut. you laugh awkwardly, trying to brush this off as alastor teasing you but there's a look in his eyes that tells you he's dead serious. "it's nothing! just venting some frustrations, that's all."

your eyes are a dead giveaway, desire flooding them as you peer up at alastor. "why don't you accompany me to my room for the evening, darling? we wouldn't want these inexperienced fools to try and make a move now, would we?" he extends his hand, and you decide to throw caution to the wind. standing, you let him pull you close. "blow my mind, radio boy." you whisper, watching alastor's eyes darken and his smirk grow. alastor uses the shadows, leading you straight to his room in a mere moment.

your heart rate sky rockets, realization hitting your gut as you start to strip. "how long has it been?" he asks, picking you up with ease and carrying you to the bed. "w-what?" you hesistate, watching as alastor ushers you to climb on top of him. "since someone else made you cum?" you swallow, straddling his chest. "i don't even remember al..." alastor's hands come around to grip your ass and pull you forward. with a gasp, you brace yourself on the headboard and then the feeling of alastor's tongue immediately has your brain turning to mush.

it's dizzying, the slide of his tongue up and down your slit was already far better than anything you've experienced in such a long time. "o-oh fuck." your body shudders, barely being able to hold still. alastor's tongue dips passed your entrance, lapping up your juices like a man starving. you already feel that familiar coil in your stomach forming, threatening to snap all over alastor's face. "that's, oh god alastor, that's so good." you moan, gripping tighter on the headboard as your hips start to stutter on their own.

then, you feel alastor's hands on your ass start to push and pull you, forcing your cunt to slide over his tongue. "y-you, i'm gonna-" you can't even think straight, pleasure blinding you to anything else happening in the entire world. alastor hums against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and that's it, you're cumming hard enough that your vision goes dark and tears well in your eyes.

you're shaking, barely being able to breathe as alastor's tongue runs lazy circles over your still sensitive clit to ride out your orgasm. before you're fully recovered, alastor quickly flips you onto your back and his fingers find your puffy pussy. "you have no idea the honor it is to be the only one to see you like this, my dear. the only one to feel you-" he pauses, pushing two fingers inside your needy cunt so he can hear your sweet moans. "cum. and i will be the only one to continue feeling that. you will cum on my face, my fingers, my cock... anything you please."

the desire burning in your core strengthens once more. not even your own fingers have ever made you cum twice, but alastor is about to pull a second orgasm from you almost completely back to back. "make me cum again." you whine, hips arching further off the bed as his fingers pump in and out slowly. "on your cock, fuck, please fuck me alastor."

alastor chuckles, his free hand unbottoning the front of his pants just enough to free his cock. "how could i deny such a good girl? cum on my cock, my princess." in an instant, alastor's fingers are replaced by the thickness of his cock. the first thrust alone has you teetering on the edge, while his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit.

your pussy clenches around his girth, pulsing with every sweep of his finger. each thrust of his hips pushes you closer to the edge, his cock filling you like no one else could ever. "y-you, gonna cum again." you cry out, spasms wrecking your body as your second orgasm hits even more intense with the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy.

alastlor groans, pumping his cock deeper, deeper until he's cumming as well. "such a good girl." he grunts, pushing each thick rope of cum further inside. "you won't ever have to worry about not being taken care of, my dear." he assures, pulling out slowly even as your cunt tries to squeeze him in. "there's plenty more where that came from, rest your pretty little eyes." he coos, pulling a blanket on your tired body.

you just know this is going to be the best sleep pf your fucking life...

[chuluoyi]

first ultrasound with gojo (love entries) headcanons?❤️

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 12:55 P.M 」

*sigh* why am i so weak to domestic requests... this is just a little thing i wrote in one sitting while stalling my nanami fic (and after coming back from the company retreat!) sobs, i'm going back to it i promise!! :')) this loosely takes place after daddy-to-be <3

a part of gojo's love entries

“now let us see…”

you were lying on the examination table as the ultrasound gel made contact with your still flat abdomen. the sheer coldness and the way the probe pressed hard on your skin made you wince a bit, until that discomfort was eased by a comforting squeeze of your hand, prompting you to turn your head towards the source.

your husband, gojo satoru, offered you a smile so warm it made everything else fade into the background. beyond his sunglasses was the way he always fondly looked at you, as if he was silently assuring you that he would be by your side every step of this journey.

you couldn't help but smile back at him.

“ah, here’s the baby,” your doctor gestured at the monochrome screen with a grin. “around five weeks now. it’s the size of a seed.”

a seed? your gaze fixed on the screen with a sense of wonder. honestly you couldn’t really pinpoint where your baby was, until you saw one dot that the doctor zoomed in.

and there it was—the tiny beginning of life. the product of you and your husband’s love, growing steadily inside you.

suddenly it felt so real that you were carrying a new life. your heart overflowed with warmth, swelling with emotion, and you struggled to hold back tears as your gaze shifted between the screen and satoru, who offered you a comforting pat on the head.

“hush,” he whispered softly, seemingly moved too after looking at the living testament of his baby on the screen. “don’t cry now, hmm?”

after seeing the sonogram and had it printed, both of you sat before the doctor as she instructed you to take things easy from now on, and through it all, satoru held your hand firmly in his, attentively listening to everything the doctor mentioned and even proactively asking questions in return.

“doc, she gets dizzy and nauseous easily, can you prescribe her something to make it bearable?”

“i can certainly prescribe some anti-sickness medication, but i highly recommend you to have plenty of rests and eat healthy food too to reduce morning sickness—”

“hmm, and can you recommend anything to improve sleep? she can have trouble sleeping too…”

honestly it touched you to see satoru picked up on these little things about you despite being away so often. only now did you realize that he had always been watching over you, without fail.

back at home, he sat you down on your bed, back to being a carefree clown who would draw laughs out of you.

“now, little mom,” he began, his lips already turning up into a grin as he took your hands in his, kneeling before you. “you need to listen to me very closely, okay?”

you snorted. “don't address me like that!”

“uh-oh, no squirming,” satoru warned playfully, pinching your cheeks, and you swatted his hand, holding back giggles.

oh my. just what a blissfully happy couple you were.

“first thing first, now you are to have lots of breaks and rest,” he declared, amusement melted a bit from his tone. “the doctor said so. it'll help with your nausea too. if you feel the slightest bit unwell, you have to go back and rest.”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, yeah...”

“and no staying up late too,” he added, fixing his clear eyes on yours. “especially not for waiting for me to be home.”

that got you to clamp up. so he noticed it too, the way you would always wait for him, even at the cost of not sleeping at all. satoru never really said anything all this time, but now you knew, he was indeed worried.

once again, your chest burst with love and warmth. but still...

“can you promise me that?” satoru asked you gently, his smile still in place, but you knew the underlying command behind those words. “i'm coming back. always. i have everything i want here, with you. there's no way i'm not coming back.”

you hung onto his every word, and much like spellbound, you let go of everything and nodded.

“and now baby...”

he then shifted his focus to your tummy, gently brushing his fingers across it, and the gesture stirred something inside you, making you throb with emotion.

“you only have one job. grow big and healthy, and you can even bother mama sometimes! just don't make her too sick or i'll worry...”

somehow your vision blurred with tears, hearing how unusually earnest he was. “satoru, you're so silly.”

but as always, he would pick this moment to flip the switch, reverting back to his usual teasing.

“hmm, what's that? you're getting soft now, aren't you, mommy~?”

“...why do you have to sound like that? you're making it lewd on purpose!”

in this little world of love of yours, it was just you and him, along with the tales of your life together. you had weathered various moments side by side, and now, as you were embarking on another significant chapter with him, you were certain that everything would be alright.

satoru pulled you to the bed and smothered your head with kisses, trapping you between his strong arms. “hmm, comfy now?”

“mmm, yeah. keep cuddling me...”

and from his side, he was sure, that right now, everything had never been and felt so right than ever before—with the love of his life and future in his arms.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦

↳ summary: the x-men can't seem to leave you alone, even if you've made it clear that you want nothing to do with them. as a last-ditch effort, they send logan, who's a little different than the rest

↳ notes: man writing this fucked me up. i kept editing it because i didn't like how it sounded, so some feedback would be much appreciated

↳ warnings: mentions of blowing things up in a past instance, but no one died. reader is a mutant and their powers are kept ambiguous, but it is implied they can somehow cause explosions

↳ song: promiscuous—nelly furtado

masterlist | commissions | carrd

The first time they sent someone, you had been excepting it

You weren't dumb. You knew the difference between an innocent bystander and a hired gun; or at least something along those lines. The way people walked talked and carried themselves was always a dead giveaway, and recently you had been surrounded by a few too many intense stares and stiff shoulders for your liking. A lot more than you were used to, in fact. Maybe that's what prompted you to start taking a new way home from work instead of the usual combination of cross walks and dirty bus seats.

The quick guy with silver hair was their first attempt at contact. You had found him waiting outside your apartment for you to get home all but a week after noticing the new attention on you, and you would have ignored him too if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting on the outside your balcony, kicking his feet merrily off the side about ten stories above the pavement below without a care in the world. And with what looked like a twinkie in his hand, too.

You'd closed the blinds without a second thought, tossing him a fake grin and a little wave when he eventually turned around as you slammed them shut. You were fairly certain he could have stopped you in no time flat, if the way you would watch him zip away in the blink of an eye later said anything, but you took a heat-of-the-moment gamble and were satisfied when all your efforts got was a whine from the other side of your window pane. His mouth was too full of pre-packaged pastry to say anything in the moment, you realized

"Not interested." You called over your back as you began to retreat into your kitchen without another moments notice.

"You haven't even heard what I want!" He said thickly, clearly trying to swallow as he spoke. You must have startled him a little then. Good.

"And I don't need to."

He left a few minutes later when his one sided conversationalist skills got him no where, and you responded by throwing a frozen pizza in the lower half of your oven.

You had been craving pepperoni all day anyway.

The second person try was a bit more aggressive.

They didn't have the decency to wait for you to come home this time. Instead, you found yourself looking up from your laptop as a chair was pulled out across from you at the quaint table you sat at. It made a scraping noise, and you tensed the muscles in your hands for a moment at the sound.

"Can I help you." Your eyebrow quirked up as you looked at the woman across from you. She had blonde hair, and what you thought were the brownest eyes you had even seen. You had trouble looking anywhere but into them for a second. When they hit the light, you swore they turned yellow just for a moment, and she looked about as annoyed as you were that she was sitting by you. You didn't have to wait long to find out why.

"We've been trying to reach you." The surrounding noise of the café hardly disturbed the hard tone in her voice. "You're avoiding us."

At least this time these people had the common sense to approach you in public. If you were any form of confrontational, which you very much weren't, you could have started a fight the last time. Who knows if you would have won against super speed and whatever else the first guy had— you weren't exactly sure about the extent of his powers, and at this point didn't care —but the point remains that some damage could have been done. Now, in the middle of a coffee shop on a busy afternoon, it would be a bit harder to start a fight. Not that you were seriously concidering it. If anything, you wanted to duck into a large crowd just to loose this new recruiter, or whatever they were called. You didn't exactly know if they had a name for this type of situation.

"I have no idea who you are." Your tone matched her own, dealing out the half lie nonchalantly. You weren't technically wrong, really. You didn't know her, nor did you know that other man that had shown up before. But you knew what they wanted, and you'd be damned if they didn't pin you down without a bit of a struggle.

Moving with a speed quick enough to get your message across, but not fast enough as to alert any of the surrounding coustomers that something was up, you closed your laptop, abandoned your now lukewarm drink, and started for the door. You only paused in your movements after a weight settled over the back of your shoulder, and you carefully turned your neck to look down at the hand resting firmly on you.

"I don't recommend doing that." You said with a bit of a warning tone in your voice, looking her right in the eyes as you did so. They had since shifted from dark brown to an almost hazel shade, and you filed that information away for later use.

Her grip remained where it was for a moment. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind, and she let go of her hold on your shirt; even if a bit reluctantly.

You didn't stick around to see if anything else would happen. You just made your way out of the shop and into the bustling street, not caring if she followed. They already knew where you lived anyway.

"Taxi!!"

The final person they sent for you, you hadn't seen coming.

Every other time— from the teleporting blue kid, to the woman with white hair and fair skin, and even the tall guy in glasses that had turned a little blue when you pushed your way past him —you had been able to prepare beforehand. At the very least you were able to lock your doors before going out and about your day. You knew that wouldn't stop them in the slightest, but it was a silent message to stay out of your business.

But this guy? This guy just didn't care at all.

"You know, you're really nailing this first impression thing."

A gruff voice sprang to life at the same moment that your hallway lights did, doing a fine job at catching you off guard. You managed to not jump, but with the way the intruders lips tilted up, you figured he knew he had surprised you.

"Oh, fuck my life."

You were really not feeling like another impromptu visit tonight. You had gotten home from a rough day of work a couple of hours ago, only to realize that you had finally blown through all your food, and was once more sent back out into the city to look for a grocery store. You had been looking forward to finally resting your feet, and maybe your eyes a few hours earlier than planned, and you most certainly weren't in the right state of mind to entertain this hulking figure of a man and the proposition that came with him.

You looked at him harshly. He had muscles for days, and a brown leather jacket to accentuate just how large he was. You knew for a fact that he was a few weight classes up from the last guy that had been sent to your house, and you wondered if this was their way of trying to intimidate you into forcefully accepting their offer.

Tiny scars dotted his face and the skin on his neck. You wondered why there were so few, considering that you already knew what he did for a living, but also knew better than to question someone like him. Especially since he was already standing in the doorway to your home, looking like he owned the place.

"Go away." You didn't grant him any sort of emotion in your voice as you walked in the direction of your fridge. The plastic bags full of your food for the week swung in your arms, and for a moment you thought this new guy was going to block your way into the rest of the house before he backed off with a roll of his shoulders.

You clocked his broad chest and bruised knuckles out of the corner of your eyes as you opened the ice box and slowly placed some frozen veggies in side by side. He had either gotten here straight from a fight, or was itching for one. You figured it was probably the former considering he hadn't jumped you the second you walked through the door. Or you know, maybe he just had fucked up hands. You could never tell with people at this point.

"You're pleasant." The mans wry smile was nothing but headache educing as you finished putting the cold groceries up. You snorted with hollow amusement.

"Try being stalked for a month and a half. It really makes you feel like being hospitable."

"Try being the guy that gets sent to get in contact with you. It ain't exactly the way I wanted to be spending my Friday night either." He parroted back your words while running a hand down his face and across what you had since recognized as mutton chops in the process.

"When are you going to tell that professor of yours that I'm not interested in his little passion project." You think that might have been the first time you ever directly acknowledged what exactly was going on. Every other time you had just told the other person to get lost or slammed a door in their face to really get the point across, but the way this guy was looking at you gave you the feeling that he wouldn't be as easy to shoo away as the others, and you weren't really feeling up for a giant display of effort right about now.

"You could always tell him yourself, bub." His eyes followed your face as you crossed the room to stop in front of him, hand outstretched with something that ignited a small smirk on his face.

"Trying to bribe me?" He asked, going to take the fresh beer you offered him all the same. You shook your head.

"No. My master plan actually consists of getting you shit-faced drunk so you guys will finally leave me alone." You watched as his hand hesitated in mid-air slightly, and you misinterpreted his silent amusement at your jab for skepticism. "I've just got too much beer and a stranger in my apartment that's not going to leave me alone anytime soon, that’s all." You relented with a shrug.

"Fair enough." He took the brown bottle by the neck and popped open the top without so much as looking around for a bottle opener. When the cap went rushing to the floor less than a second later, you squinted.

"What are you then? Super strong? Or is your power alcoholism." That got a rough chuckle out of him. He swallowed about half of the bottle in one go before answering, and you sucked at your teeth as he did so.

"Something like that."

"Wow. Really feeling the comradery here." You didn't miss the way he deadpanned at that, and you figured he was thinking about all of the times you had kicked every other pursuer to the curb without even letting them get a word in edge wise. Still, you pushed on. "Remind me how its fair that you and your friends know all about me, but I have a new hero-of-the-week showing up on my doorstep every other day without so much as a clue as to what they could do to me?"

"About as fair as your little accident in Colorado." He responded without a seconds hesitation. You felt a little perspiration form on the back of your neck, and chalked it up to the lack of a.c in the room. Even if it was anything but.

"If you're here to try and convince me to join your little superhero team, I hate to tell you, but it isn't going to work. Just like it didn't work the past ten times." You ignored his last comment and made yourself comfortable on your living room couch. "Do you have a name? I've never really stuck around to talk to one of you this long before, and it's annoying to keep rendering to you as 'some guy' in my head."

He paused abruptly while drinking the beer, and you barely held back from rolling your eyes at his change in mood.

"It's Logan." He finally bit out reluctantly. You got the feeling that the only reason he told you was because he was here by request. If it has been any other circumstances, you had no doubts that he would have told you to fuck off. He gave off that energy.

"You already know mine, so I'm not gonna bother." You kicked your feet up and let your head hit the back of the couch with a sigh. "Just let me know when you finally get bored and head out. I want to make sure my landlord knows to blacklist you from the building after you're gone."

"Is this how you got everyone else to leave? By annoying them to death?" Logan sounded more entertained then you would have liked, and you blamed it on the beer.

"Depends. Is it working?"

"I've been sleeping at a school filled with screaming kids for the past few weeks. You're going to have to try harder than that to get me out of here." He took another swig.

"What will it take to get you to leave me alone. All of you." Your voice dipped out of it's usually casual tone for a more annoyed one. You were used to playing the long game when it came to getting people to leave you alone, but at this point it was getting ridiculous with the amount of people that they were throwing at you, and it was starting to wear you out. You weren't sure if Logan could tell your patience was being tested, and you weren't sure if you wanted him to.

Logan raised one eyebrow in your direction as an answer to your question, and you sighed.

"I'm not taking a stupid fucking spot on the X-Men if that's what you're implying. What do I have to do to convince you guys that I'm not up for it; blow up a building on accident or something?" The word 'again' went unsaid, but the implication was there.

You watched as Logan seemed to throw something around in his mind for a moment.

"Do you want to know why I joined the X-Men?" He eventually asked.

"Because you had nothing else to do with yourself other than styling your hair real stupid? Seriously what's with this horn thing you've got going in."

"I joined because they helped pull me off a dark path, kid." He barreled past your sarcasm, shutting you down quicker than you would like to admit. His tone was laced with something you recognized all as hatred, and you knew it wasn't directed at you, but rather himself. You knew the feeling all too well.

"I was running from something that I didn't even know I was trying to avoid." He continued. "And if it wasn't for the Professor and his 'stupid fucking team', I wouldn't have ever stopped."

For the first time in the past few minutes, you allowed one of your walls to come down as he spoke. You stared at him with a tired look lingering behind your gaze, choosing this time to listen rather than to ignore.

"I'm not running from anything." Even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. Logan didn't even have to look at you for you to sigh and lean forward again.

"I can see why the Professor wants you on the team." You felt the cushions on the opposite end of your couch dip slowly as he sat down. The now empty beer bottle was still in his hand, but as you looked over at Logan, you found his eyes filled to the brim with nothing but the honest truth.

It was a strange, tense moment. Both you and Logan could admit that. You were clearly filled with regret for your past actions, no matter how accidental they might have been, and conflicted with yourself because of it. Logan could do nothing more but watch as you battled with yourself over his words. His original plan had been to come here, show off a claw or two if needed, and bring you back to the school with a characteristic scowl on his face. But all that was thrown out the window when you offered him a beer, and when he was finally able to get a good look at you.

You looked exactly how he used to before one of his old cage matches. Detached and losing yourself. He could see it in your eyes.

The room delved into silence. You wrung your hands together and planted your feet. Logan watched as you seemed to have a silent conversation with yourself, and he began to regret not pacing himself with the beer. He wasn't anywhere near affected by the alcohol, that's to say. He just wished he had something to do other than sit in your home with squared shoulders and a furrowed brow.

"If I took one trip over to the place, would you guys let up on whatever this is?" You finally asked. Logan pushed down a faint smirk as you turned your neck to look at him.

"Sure."

You didn't say anything else, and you didn't have to. You got up without another word and grabbed a bag from a nearby closet. Logan found himself leaning on your doorframe as you stuffed a few essentials down into your travel bag in the room over, and he remained there until you finished.

"Still curious about my powers?" Logan decided to bait you just a little further as you shut the door to your apartment with a click of your keys, and he had trouble keeping a straight face when you looked back at him with curiosity dancing across your features.

Without saying anything, he held one of his hands up, and let you watch as his trademark claws popped up slowly. Like seasonal weeds in a garden full of flowers. The appendages let out a slight sliding noise as they did so, and you blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"And I thought my powers were bad." You finally said after a moment, and Logan scoffed at you.

"Kid, everyone thinks their powers are bad at first."

You seemed to take that as a challenge, and Logan watched as a bit of that fire that he'd heard about from Storm and the others flared up in you.

"Yeah? You ever accidently blow up a boiler room and take out half your high school's classes, big guy?" Your grin was all teeth as the two of you made your way down the complex hallway. Logan slowed his pace so you could keep up, and turned around so he could fully look at you as he walked backwards.

"Big guy?" He questioned you with a tilted of his head, looking about as unimpressed as he could.

"I mean yeah." You snickered. "Just look at your, well, everything." You took to gesturing at his entire being, something that got you a huff from the other man.

"Maybe you're just small." He shot back. You laughed and shook your head, looking down at yourself. Yeah right.

"And maybe I'm right, and you're just freakishly big."

Your banter continued all the way down to the elevator, where you had a hard time holding in your laughter as Logan accidentally almost stabbed the down button with his claws, apparently having forgotten that they were even out.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was always like this; if everyone at the school was like this.

Maybe going for a visit wasn't as much as a bad idea as you'd thought.

[joosthead]

SMUT PROMPT 2 PLZZZ

just too soft for all of it || j.k. f!reader

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 2S) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over & 3F)  gently pushing their hair behind their ear to see their face better

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, no pronouns, reader gets referred to as his “favourite girl” one time. notfamous!reader lol also does not speak dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 4.4k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (fingering, piv), a good amount of negative self thought (i may have gone overboard—feeling inadequate as a partner, reader is very hard on themself and quite sensitive), mentions of anxiety/stress/being overwhelmed, a very fluffy and healthy joost :( aur i love him anyways, pls heed the prompt cuz that in itself is a content warning teehee, 🧀🧀🧀alert i can’t lie!!, a variety of dutch terms of endearment i'm not sure i’m using right but it’s for the sake of no y/n

₊˚⊹⋆ track of the fic: "sweet nothing" by taylor swift

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i resonate heavy with this 🙃🙃 had the worst last few weeks of this uni year but i’m FREE!!!! thanks for requesting this, i combined this with a few other asks stated above! happy first juno joost fic to meee yippeee

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. please do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

To say the utter least—it had been a hard few weeks for you. 

The whims of life carried you away like a tsunami to your normal routine—work and classes and friends and family and life, life that you couldn’t ignore or get away from like you wanted to do, nothing to do except doing it. And you’d been doing it, just fine for the most part, but one thing led to another, and the last week was a whirlwind of commitments, obligations, your procrastinating on all of them, somehow. You got yourself into a mess of your own making. 

It certainly didn’t help that your boyfriend, Joost, was away for his own life: a festival performance in Canada, one in Belgium, one in the Netherlands but not one you could attend easily with all of the work you had for yourself. After that, he worked on the new album in Germany, putting the final touches on his 9th project, filming new content and preparing for his upcoming tour. 

He left around the beginning of when your life started getting busier. If you added it up—23 days you hadn’t seen him in person, but it’s not like you were counting (you were counting, and sad the entire time about his absence.). It felt like the same amount of time you hadn’t even seen or talked to him, through the phone, on Facetime, even texting each other.

Voice memos in the bathroom at work, always apologizing for how rushed you had to be; leaving him on delivered for hours as you studied, or had an event you needed to be at, or had a person you needed to talk to, someone else who needed your time more than Joost needed yours, and it was too much. All of it was too much. Too much for you to handle easily, every second taken by someone else. 

You felt like a terrible partner, not being able to speak to him as much as you wanted. Seeing all of his messages, the reassurance that he understands how busy you are and that in the end, you'll always make time for each other…his ability to be such a good partner held up next to your perceived inadequacy made you even more stressed. 

In the end, it’ll all work out—today, Joost flew back home, though you still had a number of commitments and assignments to get to and couldn’t pick him up from the airport. Your mutual friend picked him up, and you bit your nails at every update given; willing the time to go slower so you could tidy up more, work on that one last piece of paperwork so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, make sure everything is perfect so Joost can have a good welcome back.

In the nick of time, you were able to get everything done, but it still felt as if there was something missing, like you'd be hit with a missed deadline in the midst of your time back together, and it would all come crumbling down. 

As you opened the door, right as your friend pulled up to your street, you tried to put it aside, and you did—for now. Late afternoon and you stand at the top of your townhouse steps, watching in nervous excitement as Joost unloads his luggage from the trunk. Your friend closes the trunk and waves at you.

You wave back, but your eyes are on Joost as he gathers the two suitcases and starts rolling them to you in a sort of disorganized frenzy, just as excited as you are; you would come forward and help, but it’s cute to watch him, clumsy and stumbling over his long pants and tote bag and everything—your Joost, finally back with you. 

He wears a heavy black jacket, sunglasses, a black cap that he takes off and shakes his hair out of; the sun shines off him, and you can't help but smile at the sight. His hair grew out a little, the darker blonde roots growing in. Those jeans are ones you’ve never seen before, new glasses, new clunky boots that look greatly uncomfortable but perfectly his style. Evidence of the time passed, and for some strange reason, it brings a pang to your chest that you try to ignore as you come down the steps of your house. 

“Come here, come here, come here, baby, I missed you,” Joost exclaims, arms open and leaving his bags behind him to come meet you halfway, laughing. 

You say as you hug him around his neck, his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick—” 

“Don’t worry about it, I know you were busy.” 

You nod as he moves his arms around your neck and you go around his waist, Joost pecking your cheek several times and making you laugh. “I still feel bad I couldn’t pick you up.”

“Never feel bad, you’d still be the best even if you left me on the side of the road.” You give him and his compliment a weak smile as you pull away. 

—

The first time you get a moment to yourself in a month: Joost’s head lays in your lap as you both watch some cartoon on the couch together after eating. 

You cleaned most of yesterday and some of today; you cooked most of last night since you knew you had more time, preparing Joost’s favorite meal—it was the best you could reasonably do, considering all of the other obligations you had in these last two days. 

As he ate, you pushed around your own food; would’ve made it fresh, could've had a nice table setting for dinner, should’ve prepared more for all of this. You still gave him a sheepish smile as you watched him happily eat the microwaved meal you warmed up for him, no indication at all that he’s disappointed or unhappy like you are with yourself. You shouldn’t feel like this, but you do. It’s getting increasingly difficult to shake. 

The colors and lines dance across the TV, spouting raunchy jokes that you can half understand with the few years of Dutch you have under your belt; the air conditioner is on, and you can finally rest. Joost is changed out of his airport outfit and into some shorts and a shirt. He’s home, and you did the best you could do, and now he’s in your arms again. 

You don’t even mean to, but you sigh, perhaps louder than usual, because Joost looks up at you from your lap, brushes a lock of your hair out of your eyes, says, “You’re the best, you know?” 

It catches you off guard enough that you shake your head almost instinctively, not fast enough to hide…whatever feeling this is you’re feeling. “I don’t feel like it, Joosty.” 

“You don’t?” He gets up from your lap, sitting next to you, and brings his face close to yours. “You should, because you are.” 

Your noses are brushing, and even in the midst of your racing thoughts, you can't help but smile at him. His face grows into a smile, and you come forward and kiss him, deeply; you know it takes him by surprise, how he takes a little to kiss back, like trying to learn each other again. Nonetheless, he kisses back, holding your face in his hands, grinning into it—he's so pleased, so content, you know it by how sweetly he holds you. 

The TV becomes background noise to you, the air conditioner no use with how hot you feel when you move to sit atop him in his lap, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your ass as you grind down on him, licking into his mouth. 

“You're so tense,” Joost says when you pull away, thumbs rubbing into your back where there are sure to be knots in your muscles. 

You roll your eyes. “Can you blame me?” you snicker and he smiles. 

“I’ll relieve some tension for you, then.” 

Nothing but a few layers of clothes separate you—he smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good that you pull away, run your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his warm body, his stomach. You move to take it off of him, and he’s a step ahead of you, taking it off himself and attaching his lips to yours again, like a magnet. 

“You’re not wasting any time,” he says as you rest your hands on his chest and kiss down his stubble covered jaw to his neck, on top of Lola Bunny and back up again. 

“I need you, Joost,” you breathe in between kisses, and he pulls back and groans which makes you giggle, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You can't just say that, oh my god,” Joost whines, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “That’s so hot,” he laughs, and it makes you laugh too, how ridiculous he is. “Fuck, I love you.” He comes back in for one more kiss before he shifts so you can lay down on the couch, and he's on top of you, kissing again. He helps you shimmy down your shorts, your underwear, and in no time—his hand is between your legs.

“I would have taken it slow but—I’m too excited,” he breathes. You palm his hard cock through his shorts, coaxing a sigh out of him. Joost hovers above, leaning on one elbow and using the other hand to run his fingers through your slit, wetting them with how aroused you are. Involuntarily, your legs twitch, your breath catches in your mouth, and Joost gives you a soft laugh. “You’re so sensitive, schat.” Fingers still touching you so gently, he noses at your cheek—you’re a hairpin trigger, how reactive you are to him. “Has it been that long?” 

Breathless, you nod as he presses his thumb to your clit, petting at it. “Too long, I was waiting for you.”

“I could say the same for you.” 

You sit up, pushing up against him, still kissing like you can’t bear to be separated from him, but he pulls back from you—brings two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his spit, and the sight brings your heart to your stomach with how arousing it is. 

Sure, Joost sends videos; yes, you have…homemade…videos of your own between the two of you; his deep voice through the speaker in your late night Facetimes, talking you through it or his incessant compliments when you send him some pictures of your own. 

Nothing compares to the real thing—the smell of his cologne on his collar even after he’s taken a shower; his blonde hair in your eyes as he kisses you; holding onto his strong arms as he fingers you, the wet sound music to your ears though normally, it would make you sheepish at how filthy this all is.  

Sometimes it makes you laugh that the random guy you met with a Crazy Frog tattoo on his forearm is now your boyfriend, but it feels so serious now more than ever. You realize now how much you’ve missed him, and how much you’ve pushed down that feeling in favor of everything else. 

Joost crooks his fingers inside of you and you moan into his mouth, which he smiles at. “You like it?” he asks, both of you knowing the answer. He knows you so well, inside and out. Knows that spot inside of you that renders you unable to speak, how to hit it just right like it’s muscle memory to fuck you with his fingers. He rubs your clit at the same time, using his spit and your wetness to do so, and God—you wish never leaving this spot was an option. 

Your climax fast approaches you; Joost kissing at the side of your lips, your chin because you’re too lost in your pleasure to kiss back. With a few more pumps of his fingers, he brings you there, a choked moan tumbling from your mouth as you cum, almost falling into him as he takes you through the last waves of your orgasm. “Thank you,” you breathe, pressing a deep kiss to his lips again now that you have the ability to. 

“Thanking me? Nothing to thank me for,” he says, but you shake your head.

“I disagree,” you say quietly, palming over his erection once more now that you’ve gathered yourself. “I have everything to thank you for,” you think, but can’t say out loud. You move so you can be on your knees on the ground in between his legs. It’s been quite a bit, enough so that the program on the TV is completely different now, the AC has turned off—he’s still so hard, still hasn’t been taken care of.

You're about to lower his shorts, take him into your mouth, but Joost takes your hand and says, “Can we skip it? I wanna be inside of you, lieverd.” 

Almost a whisper, you reply, “Whatever you want,” nodding, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re so quiet today. Is anything wrong?” He can read you like a book, the furrowing of your brow at his suggestion an easy giveaway. 

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lie, but he still looks disbelieving. “I just wanted to give you something back.”

“This is something back and more, baby. Lie down.” 

You do, too tired to argue for your side—the side that wants to give Joost everything you have and more, pay him back for the time you’ve been so absent, so distracted from your relationship and all the things Joost had been doing in the time away. It’s not as if you don’t want to lie down and have him fuck you—it’s just that you feel that you haven’t earned it yet. 

Your body language gives you away—“Still so tense, lieverd,” he says, squeezing your shoulder as you adjust, legs on either side of his thighs. “You sure you want to do this?” 

“Of course I do,” you purr, because of course you do, reaching into his briefs—Joost Klein branded, of course—and pulling his cock out, jerking it a few times and making him groan with the sensation. “You're so sensitive,” you quote him from earlier. “Has it been that long, schat?” 

The pet name makes his cock twitch; a month away, hard work on his album and music videos, content and marketing, coming back home to his favourite girl gazing at him starry-eyed with a hand around his dick and ready to take him inside. If you peered into his mind, this is what he’d be thinking. No thoughts match your worried thinking about how you may or may not have let him down—you didn’t. That would be impossible, at least to him. 

“Much too long.” 

You rest your head on a throw pillow that Joost has laid for you, and he lines himself up with your entrance. Fingertips on his stomach, you stop him for a few seconds from coming forward, and you wrap your hand around his shaft, swiping it through your slit a few times, collecting your wetness and his pre-cum on the head of his cock.

Loudly, he swears in Dutch, and the latter half sounds more like a strangled whisper than any real word. “You…fuck, my god…you are evil,” he laughs, even though he’s now rubbing the head of it against your clit, making you mewl. 

“You ready for me?” he asks, and you nod, licking your lips, trying to control your breathing. Your initial apprehension is long gone, though it could creep back every second—who cares? You’re finally together again. “You’re so wet,” Joost breathes as he eases the head of his cock into you. The stretch is something to get used to after so long away, but he gives time for you to adjust—seems like he might need it more than you do, how he sucks a breath in through gritted teeth, the snail’s pace he's going at. “I might cum right now.” 

“You promise?” you tease, watching the slow slide of his cock inside of you, watching just like he is. 

“I might have to promise with how this is going.” 

“You can do it,” you giggle and then moan because he's managed to fit half of his length into you. “I believe in you.” 

“Yay,” Joost smiles as he bottoms out in you, then gives you a kiss. “We did it!”

He holds his hand up for a high-five and you laugh—”I’m not high-fiving you while you're inside me.” 

“When has that ever stopped you before?”  

Rolling your eyes, you give him the high-five he so desperately wants and he beams at you with a toothy grin. “Never, I guess.” 

“Never,” Joost repeats, and then straightens up. You look up at him through your eyelashes—his mullet is mussed from the tangles of your fingers through his hair, his chest moving steadily up and down with the exertion of this all.  He moves your legs so your left ankle rests on his shoulder, the right wrapped around his hips. 

His hand creeps up your shirt, and you do the rest, exposing your tits to him. Joost is normally so clumsy, so heavy-handed—what a contrast that he can be so calm dragging his fingertips around your nipple, making it pebble in the cold.

He cups your cheek after you moan, then runs his tattooed knuckles down it, slips his thumb between your lips and hooks it on your teeth momentarily—you chase  it, but he continues down your chest and to your belly until his thumb is finally back on your clit and circling it slowly. 

The drag of his cock out of you is wonderful, so wonderful it makes you shudder when he does it, combined with his terribly slow treatment of your clit.

“My baby, did you miss me?” Joost says softly, kissing at your calf, your ankle as he sinks back into you. The sensation robs you of a response, a sigh tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it, but he takes it as a response enough.  The smile on his face—the beauty mark under his lip, those deep dimples so prominent—you could never tire of it. “I missed you more, schatje.”

It feels so good, it feels like heaven being with him again. He comes back from such a busy time in his life, where you’ve done little, and all he has is praise and warmth and affection for you—fingers you within an inch of your life and doesn’t even ask for anything in return, just takes care of you in the way you need most. 

You know that he benefits from this just as much as you do—this isn’t so one-sided. But your brain is so frazzled from this last month, the nerve endings fried and in want of a fuck up to cling to like they have been whenever you’ve made a mistake at work, in class, in your relationship. 

Joost interrupts your thoughts: “I was so happy to see you on the steps, I could’ve sprinted to you if I wasn’t wearing those damn shoes.”

All of the times that you forgot to reply to Joost, getting a text saying your name and a sad face right after; the times where you were too distracted to give him your full attention and could only hum your acknowledgement to him, having to be reminded about what he said later; that one time just a few days ago you fell asleep on call with him in the middle of him excitedly speaking about a breakthrough with a bridge on the most important song of the album. 

The pleasure you felt earlier is now overshadowed by your racing thoughts. 

“I wrote a song about you, you know?” Joost says, his voice so gentle. I was only going to let you know when the album came out, but I can’t keep a secret.” Rocking against you, his pelvis rubs against your clit and it makes you cling to his shoulders. “The voice memo I sent you earlier—it was my first draft, just me. Did you like it?” 

“You…you wrote a song about me?” 

Only now do you remember the voice memo Joost sent you in the morning when you were still cleaning, the one that you saw and made a fleeting mental note to reply to later on, which you promptly forgot as you vacuumed, dusted, folded. 

Such misplaced priorities, and now you're paying the sad price.

“Joost,” you say, eyebrows screwing up, that all too familiar pulling feeling behind your nose and eyes—you realize quickly that all of the emotions bottled up inside of you from the past month have come out with vengeance at the new knowledge of Joost’s song about you. The knowledge wouldn’t have been new if you just paid more attention. 

You try to hold it back, pushing down the feelings again, but it just won’t work. All of it spilling over at the worst possible time, tears streaming down your face before you even know it. You fail to wipe the wetness from your cheeks—Joost stops his movements, asks in a panicked and concerned voice, “Oh my—are you crying, schat?”

Attempting to pull it together once more, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head silently, but your already sniffly nose sells you out. Your shoulders shake with your crying. Too far gone now. 

“I wanted—“ you sniffle, and he hands you a tissue from the side table for you to blow your nose into as he stumbles out and off of you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, but I just—so much—I never—I never listened to your memo, I couldn’t, I had to finish so much before you got here and I couldn’t and I feel so bad, like, you wrote a song about me and I didn’t even have the time to listen—” 

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Joost coos, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you sob. “Baby, please.” His expression is so concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he pats your back. “Wait, shit,” he says, getting up from the couch and looking down at his still bare bottom half. “Let me put everything back on, I’m sorry schatje, give me—“ In a hurry, he puts his underwear and shorts back on, tripping over himself and almost falling over. “I just can’t do this naked, I’m sorry.” 

That brings a laugh out of you and a laugh out of him, and you start explaining as he sits back down next to you, rubbing your arm. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.” You shake your head, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. “I should’ve listened to what you sent me, I should’ve been there more.” 

“Bro,” he deadpans, beckoning you to come and sit on his lap. 

You do, still trying to get the tears out of your eyes as you settle into his arms. “Shut up, don’t call me bro while I’m crying,” you laugh, voice weak but lighthearted.

“Bro. I will do it again.” Joost gives you a second to let it out more, to breathe as he smooths his hands back and forth on your back. “You did everything perfectly, lieverd. Perfectly. We were both so busy, and you still made time to call me and text me. I would have been lost without you, I know for certain.” 

You shake your head. “I forgot to reply and pick up your texts so many times, Joost, I felt like such a bad person for doing so.” 

“You did? I didn’t notice. All I cared about was that you replied.  You’re not a bad person at all,” Joost says, and the sweetness of his words just make you want to cry more. “I appreciate more from you the effort that you put into everything, into what we have. Not what you couldn’t or didn’t do.” 

“You’re so nice,” you whisper, sniffling. You can’t think of a better compliment with how overwhelmed you are, so you kiss him, instead, and he kisses back. Even with this, you can tell how gentle Joost is holding your cracked pieces back together. 

“I’m nice?” he asks, smiling. “Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” For a little, you both sit there in the silence together. “How about this—tomorrow, we can have a day to ourselves. You can lounge and study by the pool, and I’ll be your little butler or whoever and we can just relax for a bit, hm? Order food, drink, smoke, whatever.” Pausing, he grins. “We can even listen to the whole album, if you want.”

“You finished it?” you ask, sitting up more and incredulous. That’s complete news to you.

“This morning, right before I flew back here,” Joost says, nodding proudly. “I also texted you, but duty calls, no?” 

“You texted me?” He texted you? And you missed it?!?!? Again, the new information makes you cry, and he holds you tight as you do. “You should be mad that I didn’t see it,” you say in between dry heaves into his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“I could never be mad at you, lieverd, and I’m sorry I made you cry again,” he says, rubbing your back, petting your hair. “I just wanted to let you know when I did it—it was just a timestamp, that doesn’t mean you needed to know right that second.” 

“But I wanted to know.” 

“You know now, and I know how proud you are of me. That’s enough, that’s even more than what I wanted.” You trust him and his words so fully, every passing second with him is another way to help you feel better. “I love you,” Joost says your name so seriously, a punctuation to his love letter. “I mean it.” 

“I love you too.” You kiss him, deeply, moments passing that you use to thank everything you can that he’s so good with your worries, your anxieties. “I’ll take you up on that offer for tomorrow, Joost,” you say, finally calmed down enough. Your eyes are incredibly bleary—you didn’t know that was possible. But at least you aren’t actively crying anymore. “Thank you for everything.” 

“Thank you for giving me something more to look forward to, schat. Now—let’s go run a bath together and listen to my song for you.” 

[winterrrnight]

mystery of love

PAIRING: husband!soft!rafe cameron x wife!fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe started to get more busy with his business, and you couldn’t help but start to feel neglected by him.

WARNINGS: soft soft SOFT rafe, he's so lovesick for his wife it is crazy (no it isn’t that’s practically canon), slightly suggestive content but it’s written with a fluffy intent, usage of nicknames like goddess & baby, and just loads of sweetness over all, very very slight angst (?) and intentional use of lower case

EDITH SPEAKS: this fic is more on this, you can’t look at that picture and not think that’s rafe, cause it is! thank you so so much to @glimodejun who commented their idea which prompted me to write this 🫶🏼 i was supposed to write a blurb but I got carried away, clearly, and this is pushing 2k words 😁

anyways, please please reblog if you liked this and feedback is always appreciated! thank you so much for reading 🫧

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oh will wonders ever cease? blessed be the mystery of love

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

it was starting to get a little out of hand.

you always knew how important rafe’s business was to him, especially after he inherited it all from his father. the burgeoning fire in him to make the business bigger and better than it had ever been and be so much more powerful than his father, who couldn’t give him an ounce of attention or praise his entire childhood was one of the biggest things fueling his motivation.

that, and wanting to give you everything you could possibly need in great abundance so that you never felt you were at a loss of anything under his roof.

so you knew he tended to sometimes spend longer hours at the office, to get everything done, to not let a single mistake fall into place in front of his eyes, everything perfectly coordinated and right up to his standards.

he always made sure to call you or send you a text if he was going to be late, informing you why he was going to be late, the tentative time he should be back home, with a small ‘i love you’ and ‘i miss you’ accompanied with the occasional red heart he only ever used for you.

since the past few days, unfortunately you hadn’t been receiving the texts you always did. if you did, it was short, something along the lines of ‘i’ll be late’. but no explanation as to exactly what had been keeping him busy, and no words of endearment at all. he started coming home really late, most of the times when you had tried your best to stay up till he comes home, but the exhaustion would always defeat him in the race and you’d be out like a light.

and the next morning wasn’t close to being better than the night. if you were lucky, you would catch him getting ready for work, and you would always prompt him to stay for at least breakfast. but he would be in a hurry and shake his head no, saying something like ‘i have to leave, it’s important’ and leaving you with a chaste kiss to your lips.

whatever you’d ask, his answers to you would be short, concise and quick, and you felt as if you’re catching the subtle drift of vexation and annoyance in his tone. was it actually there or were you just imagining it? you didn’t know.

and if you weren’t lucky, you wouldn’t even get to see him leave. by the time you would be up, you would only feel the cold wrinkled sheets next to you, the faint scent of him lingering in the air as a burning memory of the love of your life.

this specific night, exactly one week after since the first day this peculiar behavior of his started, you were seated on the edge of the bed after a shower, applying your lotion on your arms as you prepared yourself for another night of waiting for rafe, falling asleep in the process, and letting it be a mystery solved only by some higher power if you would see him in the morning or not.

as you were rubbing the lotion into your skin, you couldn’t help your wandering mind. how were you supposed to deal with this situation? were you supposed to confront him and demand answers? or were you supposed to tread slowly? you knew you were nearing the end of the american fiscal year; 30th of september being right around the corner. it involved loads of financial and accounting work, preparing end-of-year accounts and statements, and what not. so him being busy felt justified. but he should be able to spare a moment to at least send you a proper text, shouldn’t he?

no, you shake your head. you’re his wife, for god’s sake. you shouldn’t be reducing your worth down to some text. heck, you should be getting proper calls from him. you’ve been so wonderfully patient, not complaining for a second for the past week. the least you can get is a proper conversation with him.

as you made up your mind firmly, your thoughts were cut through firmly when the door to your bedroom opened. you looked up to see rafe entering inside the room, his blazer off and resting on his shoulder, and his sleeves messily rolled up to his elbows.

“hey,” he muttered as he closed the door behind him, keeping his bag on the side and disappearing behind the washroom door.

“hey,” you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the floor as you heard the washroom door close. you remained seated on the edge of the bed, clad in a satin black robe which he swore made you look even more of a goddess than you already did as you waited for him to come out.

you heard the shower run inside for some time, after which the door opened and you were greeted with rafe sporting a pair of grey sweatpants, his upper body bare with some water droplets still trickling down his skin.

as he came out, he saw you in the same position at the edge of the bed as before. “hey why aren’t you going to sleep hm?” he asked as he busied himself with applying his moisturizer to his face.

“no reason,” you muttered, your back to him as you kept your gaze down at your feet.

rafe was very quick to catch the dejection in your voice, and before you knew it, he was making his way around the bed to you, standing right in front of you as he looked down at you.

“baby, look up please,” he murmured softly, one of his hand coming to rest on your cheek.

you lifted your head up to meet his gaze, your eyelids heavy as you look up at him through your lashes. “yeah?” you mumbled.

rafe exhaled softly at your bleak tone. he sank down on his knees in front of you, his gaze coming to your level.

“listen baby,” he sighed softly, placing both his hands on your thighs right below the hem of the robe. “I… I haven’t been the best husband the past week and I’m… so so sorry about that,”

his heartfelt words reached your ears and caused your eyes to widen, your mind started to work away the gears to process his words.

“I haven’t been giving you the attention and love I vowed to give you on day one,” he whispered looking deep in your eyes, his own eyes softened to such an extent it had you melting completely. “I haven’t been communicating well with you I…” he muttered, running one hand over his prickly buzzed hair, “I didn’t mean to do that baby I’m so sorry…”

you wanted to say something, anything, for that matter, but you were rendered completely speechless when you started feeling him press kisses over your thighs.

“I hope you can forgive me,” he whispered into your skin, “I hope you can forgive me for everything I did… I’ll make it up to you I promise…”

your lips parted to let out shuddering gasps as you felt him slowly move the satin of your robe up to reveal more of your thighs, his lips pressing kisses against your inner thighs and trailing over your outer thighs.

“I’m so sorry… so sorry, my goddess…” he whispered. “i won’t ever do this again… you’re my top priority, always, and there will never be a second where you don’t feel that way…”

his words left a searing mark on your skin, his lips trailing up to your left hip bone. one of his hands came to rest on your right hip, rubbing gentle circles onto your hip bone through the satin of your robe, and his other hand shifted your robe even higher to grant him more access to your skin. his lips landed on your hip bone and he pressed the most tender kisses along the bone, a soft gasp escaping your lips at his actions. your hand came to rest on the side of his face, your head leaning back as you felt the sensations of his lips on your sensitive hip bone thrum all throughout your body, lighting up each and every nerve that constituted you.

“I love you so much…” he whispered against your skin, starting to gently suck on your skin, his eyes fluttering shut. a hum of pleasure tumbled past your lips, your own eyelids getting heavier. “I love you so so much darling and I’m…” his lips started to trail over your lower abdomen, pressing kisses through the soft satin of your robe that still covered your upper half, “I’m never making this mistake ever again I promise... please forgive me…” he pleaded, his lips making over to your other hip bone and kissing on it, before gently sucking on it the same way he did earlier.

“you only deserve the best…” he murmured, lips trailing a path down to your inner thigh again. “just the best… cause you are so amazing…” he whispered, nipping on the soft skin of your inner thigh. your fingers curled over the nape of his neck to give you some leverage, soft gasps leaving your lips, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chest starting to heave from every kiss and nip of his lips and teeth.

his both hands now rested on the sides of your thighs as they gently kneaded into the flesh and his lips peppered insistent kisses all over your inner thighs. he looked up from your thighs up to you, a pleading expression in his eyes, his lips slightly parted as breaths escaped them.

“please forgive me, my beautiful goddess…” he implored, his voice a mere whisper. “please please forgive me, I’ll never do the same I promise…”

you looked down at him, your fingers trailing to the side of his face to gently cup his cheek. he snuggled into the warmth of your hand almost immediately, his eyes closing for a moment as he let out a soft sigh, letting his lips press a chaste kiss to your palm.

“I forgive you, rafe…” you whispered.

that made him look up at you, his eyes widened and the pleading expression draining out to be replaced with a hopeful one.

“yeah? you do?” he asked, squeezing your thighs in return.

“yeah,” you whispered back, giving him a small smile as you trailed your fingers to the side of his neck, gently scratching your nails against it. he let out a soft exhale at the sensation, letting his head drop to your thighs as your fingers made their way to the back of his neck, continuing the scratching motion. he almost purred in your lap at the feeling, nestling his face into your thighs.

“thank you…” he whispered against your skin. “I won’t disappoint you again, I promise,”

you let out a gentle sigh as you looked at his buried face in your thighs, your expression softening more.

“I know you won’t,” you mumbled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his head.

that night, he held you in his arms and kept you pressed against him, his warmth lulling you in the most beautiful slumber you had experienced in that past week. he made sure you fell asleep comfortably, his lips always pressing random kisses to whatever part of your skin he could succumb to, whispered sweet nothings stumbling past his lips to your ears to alleviate you to great heights.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @mistress-amidala @sadfury @sage-burrow @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahkahansorangejuice @rafesgiirl @theoraekenslover @fals3-g0d @personalfavsthatarerandom @b1mb0slvt @babypoguelife @ilyrafe @ladyinbl00d @thisisntannie @zyafics

[buzzinrusso]

FIRSTS

Genre: smut

This isn't very good as it is rushed and english is not my first language

Prompt: where you visit Jenni in Mexico for the first time.

You knew it from the moment that you spotted you girlfriend in the crowded airport.

The look she gave you as you ran into her arms was not only a look on happiness but a look of 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 and 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵.

"Te voy a follar muy bien cuando lleguemos a casa." She whispered. That statement alone, along with the looks she gave you made you very, very horny.

On the drive to her home, her tattooed hands that you loved her much, sometime too much, always rested on your thigh.

a lot of firsts occurred in your life. Your first time driving a car, your first time drinking, your first kiss, your first time... But you will always remember this first.

The first time you went to Mexico to see jenni.

Her nonchalant act quickly disappeared as the both of you made your way into her home.

She immediately slammed you against the now closed door that you walked into seconds ago, and started to plant needy kisses on your lips, her hands finding you ass and squeezing it hard as your hands wrapped around her neck to pull her closer.

"I missed you so much, bébé " she mumbled hurriedly as she went back to kissing you as you started to lightly grind you hips against hers.

"Fuck, jenni" you moaned as you felt her lip go down to your neck and start sucking on your sweet spot.

She tapped her finger twice on your thigh which made you quickly jump up and circle your thighs around her as she carried you to the bedroom.

She pushed you down onto the bed and quickly went in to her closet ; your eyes widened when you saw the huge purple strap that was now harnessed around her naked hips.

She made her way to your lying figure on the bed with a cocky smirk, just as she reached the edge of the bed, she started kissing you feverishly.

Her hands made their way to the hem of your shirt , pulling it up and off of you, smiling as she was met with your naked boobs.

"No bra? " she questioned while raising a brow.

"Didn't bother. "

She immediately got to work and started kissing your chest , sucking on your nipple while toying with the other one, all as you tried to get some friction by squeezing your thighs together.

"Your so fucking pretty, " Jenni said in between kisses as she trailed away from your boobs and to where you needed her most.

She unbuckled your shorts, slid them off along with your underwear and threw them off the bed to lie with your discarded shirt on the floor.

"So wet for me and I haven't even touched you yet. "

"I'm always this wet for you Jenni. " you simply stated facts as those words hurriedly spilled out of your mouth.

She continued to kiss down you boy and Just before her lips made contact with your glistening folds, she pulled away making you let out a long drawn whine from your lips.

"Relax bonita, you're going to get what you want. " she told you as she finally began teasing your folds with the tip of her strap .

You let out breathy moans as you felt her slightly dip in the tip of it before quickly pulling it out and resuming her teasing like it was nothing .

You were going crazy with every little touch she granted your naked body, with every little inhale and exhale she did and the words she said. She was quite literally driving you insane.

Then, She unexpectedly shoved half of the strap into you ,making you let out a 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 loud moan that echoed along the wall of the room.

"That's it baby. Take it like a good girl " she said as she watched your pussy greedily take the strap in inch by inch .

You let out a moan at the praises that left her mother as you finally fully took in all 10 inches of her strap or as she liked to call it, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬.

"Such a good girl form my, mi amor." She finally began to pound into you, just like you wanted her to.

The only sound that was heard in the room was the sound of skin against skin and your loud moans along with jenni's slight grunts as the harness hit her clit directly.

Her hand reached down to rub you clit as she continued to repeatedly pound in and out of your tight hole.

The extra friction she gave your puffy bud was a lot to handle along with her large strap pounding into you.

"Jenni,gonna cum. " was all you were able to get out in between heavy breaths.

"Wait for me mi Amor. " she said as she leaned down to connect your lips to each other .

They moulded to get her perfectly as always.

"Yeah, you like my cock don't you? ".

The reply you gave her was moaning her name.

"Jenni, Jenni, Jenni. " you moaned her name like it was prayer falling from your lips. "Cum in me please. "

"Cum for me. "

You let out a moan that mixed with jenni's own moan as you both came together, she kept pushing in and out for you both to ride out your highs .

A few second later, she pulled out slowly and started to plant sweet kisses on your neck, face and lips.

"You did so well mi vida. "

Just after s couple of minutes of you both laying on the bed, Jenni started to miss down your neck again. "Don't start something you can't finish hermoso. "

"Who says I can't finish? " she said with a smirk as her lips trailed down.

[queers-gambit]

Not All That Glitters is Gold

prompt: during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he holds choice words about you. or finding out he calls you clingy behind your back.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 3.1k+

warnings: cursing, draaaama, mild angst, AU timeline technically, hurt and comfort (reader don't play those games i guess), relationship angst, half edited.

His cloak was a shimmering beacon of golden glimmer even in the dark of night. It promoted an air of confidence and swagger, something independent from his usual cockiness. No, with that gold cloak, he walked as if the very air you all breathed was produced by him; being silent and domineering in his presence. It had been something you were initially attracted to, his alluring mystery and overwhelming stoic self-awareness.

He moved around the Throne Room like wings were gifted to his feet, carrying him with lithe movements to look as if gliding. All eyes were on him, whether out of admiration, jealousy, confusion, or lust - eyes followed him no matter where he went, no matter what he did, who he interacted with. You lifted the heavy gold goblet to your lips, taking a careful mouthful of wine before setting it down, swallowing, and standing from your seat at the banquet table.

You wanted your lover, so, you got up to satisfy your craving.

You approached him as he spoke to a pair of noblemen, slowing your gait to ease your arrival and not cause a surprise. Your dress was something a little more alluring, more revealing than you'd usually wear, and as you approached the men, the eyes not belonging to your new fiancé nearly bulged from their skulls.

Daemon turned his head and saw you, smirking as his arm opened and he welcomed you into his side. "I was beginning to wonder where you got off to," you told him softly, one arm around his hips as the other planted your hand against his chest. "The Aunties have descended and are becoming insufferable, I fear I needed reprieve."

Daemon grinned, sounding amused, "It was a matter of time before they found you. Stick with us, darling, the Aunties will stay away."

"They're about to serve dinner," you told him, "perhaps we should find our seats?"

He nodded, looking at the men he had been speaking to before you showed up. Daemon bid politely, offering no other explanation besides, "Excuse us, gentlemen."

They bowed out of their Prince's way, letting Daemon lead you toward the head banquet table (again) where his brother, King Viserys, was sitting with other prominent members of court. The night had been pleasant, everyone rejoicing in the upcoming nuptials between you and the Rogue Prince. For years, he'd been something chaotic and shunned; and after the passing of his first wife, Rhea Royce, he was like a kite cut from string. Loose and set adrift. Wild and out-of-reach. And then you came back into Daemon's life after not seeing one another since you were ten-and-six, and all of a sudden, the Rogue Prince was something more domesticated.

It was a refreshing change, albeit totally uncharacteristic for Daemon.

Viserys was the most shocked of them all, constantly praising you for whatever you had done to his brother to reel him into a controllable pace. He thought you and Daemon were perfect for one another, likened you two to fit-together puzzle pieces. The King had been more than happy to host the celebrations, starting with tonight, an engagement party! You had to play part of dutiful fiancé and upstanding citizen since you were to inherit a royal title; being poised and collected at all times with either a calm, passive expression or one of bright entertainment.

"Here, love," Daemon whispered, pulling your chair out for you. He waited until you were sat before taking his own seat, sighing when he glanced around the table only to settle his gaze on you.

"What's wrong, my Dragon?" You asked softly, leaning in to place your hand over his on his lap; pressed into his side despite the wooden chair arms between you.

"Just amusing," he mused, "most of these Lords and Ladies had much to say about my first marriage, and now, they break our bread to celebrate us."

"Cannot be the first time someone's tried to suck up to you," you chuckled, moving your conjoined hands in your lap. "The dragon does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep," you advised smartly, "they only tolerate the sheep because one day, the dragon will need to feast - hmm?"

Daemon smirked, "When did you become so insightful, darling?"

"I've always been, you're just pussy-whipped now that I make a lot more sense."

He laughed, letting a servant pour your wine. In your ear, he mused, "Jest all you want, but you were meant to be a Targaryen. Once we are wed, I will plant my seed, and bind us together for eternity."

"Our marriage wouldn't doing exactly that already?"

"A child is more tangible - it's a bloodline."

You shrugged as a plate of blood-red lobster was set in front of you. Viserys truly went all out - giving a wide variety of foods to taste. "A marriage is for life, though," you countered.

"So is a child."

"Until they are married off."

Conversation continued, flowing easily between the family members and patrons of court. Viserys looked pleased, enjoying the celebration as his ailment often caused him grave pain and he could not attend events. He hardly had reason to smile, but when he watched you feed a bite to Daemon, he let his lips spread without thought. Queen Alicent clocked the King's expression, glancing at you and Daemon, then smiled fondly before reaching for her husband's hand.

Throughout the dinner, Rhaenyra watched you and Daemon with a bitter glare on her face; jaw locked and lips pursed. You ignored her obvious displeasure in favor of your husband, both too enraptured with one another to ever pay attention to the Princess' distain. When the meal was over, the dancing, mingling, drinking, and musical portion of the evening commenced.

And cake. Cake was to be served.

Daemon's golden cloak swept around guests as you both played dutiful host for your party, and mingled with those who arrived tonight to celebrate your upcoming nuptials. You did your best to keep up with the plethora of Lords and Ladies, like Daemon did so effortlessly, but it was a lot. You still held your own, but by Gods, there was a lot of people in attendance tonight and there was noway you could remember any names.

Thankfully, while Daemon was caught in a conversation with Ser Gerold Royce, you eventually made it to a small group of familiar faces: Princess Rhaenyra, Ser Harwin Strong, his brother, Larys, Lady Laena Velaryon, and her twin, Ser Laenor.

You graciously received the compliments, well-wishes, and joyful greetings of them all, but acutely noted the Princess did not offer even so much as a polite greeting. "This dress was made for you, it's just darling," Laena complimented, petting the bodice. "It must've cost a fortune."

"It was a gift from Daemon," you told her with a soft smile. "And the necklace, too! See?" You showed her, "He had it custom made, it's Valyrian Steel with embedded jewels."

"The perfect combination of your Houses, and a gorgeous piece of art to hang on such a gorgeous neck," she praised, but it was Princess Rhaenyra's scoff of annoyance that peaked your interest.

You thanked Laena Velaryon before eyeing Rhaenyra. "Princess?" You questioned. "If I may ask you something, plainly?"

"By all means."

"Have I... Upset you in anyway?"

"You mean beside my uncle spending the Crown's coin to buy you something exquisitely made; being a fleeting, lady interest of the Princes'? No, no, nothing's wrong," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"What is this distain you hold towards me - towards my relationship with Daemon?" You demanded, the alcohol in your system spurring you on despite knowing the looming consequences of offering a member of the Royal family sharpened words.

"Truly? You wish to know why I do not fawn over you as others?"

"They do not fawn, oh - " You stopped yourself, sighing deeply and correcting yourself, "Of course I wish to know what the issue at hand here is, Princess, I do not wish for ill-will between us. I wish to resolve this."

"In truth, I simply do not understand it, this - this sham of a wedding," she snapped. "Daemon might buy you pretty things, but it's only out of guilt."

"What guilt could he possibly - "

"He finds you overwhelming, overbearing, suffocatingly clingy. So, with his distain, he, too, felt fleeting guilt - being why he showers you with gifts, it's for his own conscious. But if you ask me why I host such distain towards this union, it is because I know my uncle is not happy with your overwhelmingly clingy behavior. He's voiced his displeasure many-a-time. Not just to me, but to the King and Queen, as well."

You felt shell-shocked, acutely aware of the lingering eyes of the audience around you. You worried: how many of them had heard this rumor, how many secretly pitied you? Finding your voice, you managed to squeak out, "I beg your pardon?"

Rhaenyra only shrugged, "You asked, I answered."

"I see," you cleared your throat. "And your answer is that my betrothed has, what, started to slander my name behind my back?"

"Indeed. His chief complaint is how you seem to cling to him more and more, and he doesn't have the heart to push you away more than he already has. You're the one daft enough to not take a hint."

"And where do you get your information from?"

"Daemon, himself."

Your mind raced with all the little things: how Daemon would release your person during public events, avoid physical touch, ignore you sometimes, shut down your woes (call that gaslighting), how he stiffened at times you took his arm, how he seemed to shut down and only offer bored 'mmhms' when you spoke to him about your life. Your heart sank to your feet as you realized there were some truths to Rhaenyra's words.

You nodded slowly as Daemon chose that moment to approach your awkward group. His arm slithered around your waist, but you were silent as the grave and stiff as the corpse in said grave. Your mind raced with the idea that Rhaenyra could just be fucking with you, but the also with the idea that all she said was true.

"I'm going to retire for the evening, I've a headache," you told Daemon, finding an easy way out of his grip, "but you stay, enjoy the celebration. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am just tired."

He agreed and gently kissed you - sure to remain modest but still affectionate. "I'll visit you tonight," he muttered in your ear.

"No, I am truly tired," you told him softly but sternly. "We'll see each other tomorrow."

He hummed, "Then I shall walk you out - "

"No, you're needed here to save face. Go, mingle, play nice," you dismissed him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You bid whoever you came across a good and safe night; thanking them for their attendance tonight. After thanking the King for hosting the party, you disappeared, taking a few secret passages to avoid the main hustle-and-bustle of the feast. When you arrived in your room, you slammed the door, bolted it, and leaned against it for a good long moment. Your mind was reeling with all kinds of thoughts regarding your intended, his niece, all of it suddenly feeling very overwhelming.

You were exhausted, so, you swiftly stripped, unpinned your hair, refused your maid's help, and soaked in a long, hot bath. After, you settled into bed with a book, and tried not to overwhelm yourself with the anxiety tomorrow would bring.

About an hour later, you heard Daemon knocking at your passage door. You paused, not making a sound, hearing his muffled voice, "Love? My love, are you awake?"

You didn't answer.

"Please, sweet girl, let me in," he begged quietly.

When you wrenched the door open, you seethed, "NO!"

"What - ?"

"I heard plenty tonight from your niece. In your moments of frustration, you know what? Sure, complain about your woes - but to find out you call me clingy when in regard to my affection - that's not something I'm going to be happy hearing, Daemon!"

"I know, but let me explain - "

"What? What will you say? That you just needed someone to talk to? To vent your feelings? I get that - I really do. But you fully offered slander to my name, to our relationship; to who I am as a partner. Your poisoned words of your irritation is soaked into your family, in the courts. And now, I must endure the pity those will offer knowing my husband truly holds distain for me!"

"No, you've got it wrong, I don't - "

"Then why!?" You demanded, voice cracking. "Why say those things? Why not come to me and communicate you're not comfortable with this and that behavior!? I won't know unless you tell me, so, instead of talking your shit to the courts and your family, why not just speak to me!?"

"I should have!" He admitted quickly. "I should have, I know that, and it was my mistake, my love. But I regret it, I regret feeling so, so - I don't know! Sure, let's call it frustrated, irritated, I don't care, I just needed it off my chest!"

"I understand that fully, but being as we're to marry one another, I should be the one listening to you when you need something off your chest. You should talk to me. And if I'm the one you need to speak about, choose more trustworthy confidants that do not need further reason to despise me!"

"What're you...? What? What does that mean?"

"Rhaenyra, Daemon! Your niece, Rhaenyra! Every-fucking-thing you've said to her, she remembers, and holds it against me! You forget, when you speak to family about the woes of your relationship, that's all they remember. You get to make up with me, we get to move on, but because you needed t'vent to them, that's what they can hold against me. Do you even wish to marry me, still!?"

"Of course, I do!"

"Then something needs to change," you deadpanned, exhausted by this. "I refuse to be belittled, spat on, and disrespected by your niece any longer."

"I will speak to her."

"Yes, you will! This is far too out of hand! She has weaponized your frustration to drive a wedge between us, and she chose a public event with an audience to lob it all at me!"

"What truly happened with Rhaenyra? What was so bad?"

"Daemon, she called me out for 'being clingy' in front of an audience! At our engagement celebration! Do you know how humiliating that was!? I'm more embarrassed than angry!"

He nodded, "I'll handle this. I swear, my darling, this will be resolved."

"You know what?" You breathed. "Do whatever you please because I've realized something. Not only did Rhaenyra spew our business to others, but you... You said it in the first place. You said those words..."

"Out of anger - "

"But you still spoke them!"

"I was foolish to do so!"

"You are a fool for many reasons, Daemon, but this is one act I am not willing to forgive so blindly. Wear your jester hat all you'd like, but it will take more than pretty words to make this up to me."

"I'll do what it takes to fix this." He tried to step into the room with you, but you held your ground in the doorway. "My love, please, how can I make it up to you if you do not let me in?"

"You must find any other way to do this because there's no chance in any of the Seven Hells that you share my bed again - married or not." You offered him a look of distain, musing, "You know what, I've decided: I simply don't care what you or your family thinks. I am extremely proud of who I am, and there's not a soul alive that can make me feel lesser than. Your words hurt, they cut deeper hearing it from the Princess, but that's simply your opinion," you eased. "I refuse to modify myself, but it's good to know you don't like my affection - I can always reserve it for whoever I choose to warm my bed. What was it you said?" You quipped venomously, "Marriages are political arrangements?"

"Not ours," he snapped.

"Oh? We're so different, are we?" You laughed.

"Of course we are, there's nothing I'd change. Hear me? Nothing," he sounded angry. "I was a fool to speak out of term, but you're right, I should talk to you about it - I am simply unequipped to having a wife I've chosen."

"Oh, spare me - "

"It's true," he insisted, "what woman in my life has loved me as you do? Has encouraged me to be so - so - loving and safe?"

"Apparently, I've been clingy and not as encouraging as I thought."

"I spoke out of turn," he insisted. "You're right - I can't go and take back what I've said. But I will do all I can to ensure I change their opinions on you, to mop up whatever verbal mess I've made."

You laughed without humor.

"And I will set Rhaenyra straight about all of this, I will ensure she knows that there's no room for such tension, jealousy, hatred."

"You swear to clean up all your messes?" You wondered earnestly.

"I swear."

"Good," you mused, "after that, how do you intend on rebuilding my trust?"

Daemon blinked, "You do not trust me anymore?"

"Of course not," you assured, "not since finding out how you speak of me so hatefully without my knowledge. That's where trust comes in, Daemon, but you proved me wrong, and now, that trust is gone."

Daemon looked confused, mouth opening and closing rapidly, shaking his head, "No, no, no, love, don't do this. We're okay, all right? We're fine, things with us - we're fine. We're okay."

"Saying it doesn't make it true."

"Do not tell me," He snapped. "H-Have I lost you?"

"Mhm. Not saying you can't fix things between us, but as of now, there's nothing about you I can trust."

"And if you cannot trust me, can you love me?"

You paused, considering his words. Honestly, his betrayal was something that hurt worse than anything you've endured before. "I'll have to think about that one," you whispered. With a saddened look, you hugged the door, sighing, and bid, "Goodnight, my Prince."

"My sweet - don't shut me out. Don't do this."

"Find a way to make this all up to me," you demanded, "because I'd hate for either of us to eventually resent this marriage, too."

He tried to argue but you shut the door on him forcefully; loudly locking it from the inside to prevent him from following you. You felt yourself brimming with anger, but nothing was like the betrayal coursing through your heart and veins. There was no sleep that night, there was a lot of tears, a lot of pacing, and a lot of grumbling to yourself.

requesting rules and masterlist

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Be mine

Alpha! Natasha Romanoff x Omega!FemReader

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: Natasha may have lost some hoodies, but she gained a mate and in her eyes, that's a trade she'd be willing to make any day. Based on the above prompt, but with some twists ;)

Warning: NSFW, 18+, A/B/O universe, mutual pining, lesbian? relationship, heavy petting (clothed sex), oral sex (R receiving), penetrative sex, a tiny bit of breeding kink, mating, claiming, knotting. You'll have to forgive me if this isn't your typical A/B/O fic, but I haven't read many of those and I don't know much about the universe itself, so this may not be super accurate, but I did my best. I hope you guys will enjoy it none the less.

As soon as she entered the room, you could smell her. It was always the way with Alphas, their strong, musky scent was unmistakable, but with hers came a sense of relief. Natasha made you feel safe, made you feel protected, without being overbearing. You could always feel when she was looking at you and you knew she kept track in her head. She knew if and when you ate, knew if you drank water, and when she didn’t deem it enough, she would silently bring you some. She never forced you to drink it, never even said a word, she would just leave it in front of you and walk away. She also knew damn well that you drank it. She also knew that sometimes you were stubborn, but most times you were just anxious and she stayed with you during long nights, watching a movie, knowing that her presence calmed you, and when you finally fell asleep, she carried you back to your room and put you in your bed, so you’d rest, the way you should. Yes, Nat was a kind and caring Alpha and the way her smell filled your nostrils made you drop your shoulders, before you greeted her. “Good morning, Nat.” You smiled, turning around, holding a plate with your breakfast, only to see the woman in nothing but sweatpants and a sports bra. Not even shoes! Her bare feet slapped on the floor as she stepped confidently into the room and you immediately looked away, feeling shy. “Morning.” She grumbled distractedly, her eyes scanning the room for something. “Do you want some breakfast?” You offered, still avoiding her gaze and the absolute mouth-watering sight that was her torso. God, you loved those strong arms, with their well-defined muscles. Not to mention those abs. You wanted to straddle her and rub your pussy over those gorgeous abs and when you’re done, you’d lick them clean! But you tried to push that thought away, not wanting to spend the rest of your day with wet panties and smelling of desperation. “No…” Natasha answered absent-mindedly, barely even looking at you, when her head suddenly snapped at you. “Hey, you haven’t seen any of my hoodies, have you?” She asked with a curious expression.

Ah, yes, her hoodies. You knew damn well where they were. And, truthfully, you intended to give them back. When you first took one or two, you meant to give them back to her. But then things got out of hand. You would usually go on missions with her, you worked well together, and an unclaimed Omega, who knew how to handle herself, not to mention, who could resist an Alpha’s influence, the way you did, was a very useful thing to a spy. But then they told you, that you needed to go on a mission with a new Alpha. The Scarlet Witch, or Wanda to you, now that you knew her a little better, was not yet experienced enough and having a seasoned, well trained and collected Omega with her certainly helped your mission greatly. But it made your anxiety sky-rocket. So just before your mission, you took one of Nat’s hoodies. She had left it on the couch in the common room and it smelled like her so much, that you didn’t even think twice. You packed it in a separate, sealed bag and took it with you, placing it on your pillow each night, thinking that you’ll wash it and give it back to her upon your return. But things didn’t exactly go that way. Apparently, your mission with Wanda went better than expected and you were asked to train more with the other Alphas, to go to more missions and each time you thought of having to leave the compound, your anxiety and distress would spike. And that’s how you found yourself with most, if not all of Natasha’s hoodies in your nest. You’d take a new one each time you had to leave for a mission, promising yourself to give them back and then you’d get so attached, that you just couldn’t. “Your hoodies?” Presently, you pretended not to know what she talked about. “No, I… I have no idea.” You lied shamelessly and you walked away, completely forgetting your own breakfast, which is why you were there in the first place. Natasha only shrugged, scratching the back of her neck as her eyes continued to search the room, even though she knew that her hoodies weren’t here. Now if only she could figure out what happened to them… During the next few days, you could see Natasha asking various people about her lost hoodies and her eyes scanning training rooms and lounge arias and your anxiety had reached a new level. It wasn’t just that you knew that she’ll eventually find out about what you did, or having to make a fool of yourself by explaining that you wanted her desperately… You also didn’t want to give them up. You felt so attached to them now. So as a means to placate the woman and maybe get her off your trail, you went ahead and bought her new ones.

It wasn’t hard to guess what she’d like, considering that you had so many of hers and you made your way back with a happy smile on your face. Yes, you were sure this would work. The stunned expression on Natasha’s face, when you handed her the shopping bag and explained the content, was absolutely priceless. You watched with joy as she rummaged through the bag and took them out one by one, inspecting them and smiling. “These are great! They’re better than my old ones! Thank you!” She exclaimed, giving you a brief hug, before she returned to her new hoodies. “You’re very welcome, Nat.” You smiled, before trying to walk away, only to be stopped in your tracks by Wanda. “Hey, Y/N, that was a very nice thing you did. Why don’t you sit down, detka, I’ll make you something to eat. I bet you skipped lunch, since you were out shopping.” The disapproving look Natasha gave the witch did not go unnoticed by the Sokovian, but she only smiled, making her way to the fridge and picking out products for a quick meal. She suspected that you liked the spy, and she had a feeling that the infamous Black Widow had similar feelings and she also suspected that neither of you had the courage to say so. Natasha was a strong Alpha, in the field, she was mesmerising to watch, but in her personal life, she never believed to be worthy of a good, little Omega to make her own. And you? God, you had it bad for her, but an Omega needed to be claimed, so of course, you wouldn’t say a thing. But Wanda had the perfect plan to nudge you both in the right direction. Let’s see how much can Natasha sit back and watch her favourite Omega being flirted with. “What do you say I make you some pasta, hm?” Wanda turned to you with a gentle smile. “With that special sauce you like so much?” She suggested. “You don’t have to do that, Wanda… I can…” You were about to say that you can make your own meal, but you were quickly interrupted. “But I want to, pretty girl. You’re always so nice and sweet and you take care of us so much. Let someone take care of you for a change.” She said with a grin, loving the way Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Come, sit down and pick a nice movie for us to watch, while I make you something to eat.” She continued, practically guiding you to the couch and seating you, handing you the remote, so you’d pick a movie, while she cooked, all while Natasha glared.

She couldn’t explain why she felt so irritated, you weren’t hers. But you had went out shopping for her, you had bought hoodies for her, it was meant to be her that now complimented you and pampered you, not Wanda. It almost felt like the witch took her moment and it pissed her off. Grumbling, unable to watch this much longer, Natasha took the shopping bags with her, carefully unpacking everything and putting a few hoodies into the washing machine, so they’d be clean for tomorrow. She had already picked which one she’ll wear, appreciating a shorter, white hoodie with an image of a black spider above her left breast. It was gorgeous. You had wonderful taste in clothes. But with the memory of the nice gesture you made, she also remembered that you were currently spending your time with Wanda, the young Alpha complimenting you repeatedly and the image of that brought a fresh wave of irritation. It didn’t sit right with her, the way she flirted with you. So, with a brisk step, Natasha came back to the common room, only to find Wanda seated right next to you, her arm extended around your shoulders and pulling you close, while she was telling you how beautiful you looked. “I thought you guys were watching a movie.” Natasha snarled from the doorway, her hands balled into fists. “We will. We’re just waiting for the food to get ready.” Wanda informed with a sly smile, pulling you even closer to her, almost into her lap it seemed. “There’s plenty of room to talk on the couch.” Natasha pointed out, her eyes fixed on Wanda’s proximity and especially her arm around you. “I thought I’d get to know Y/N a little better. After all, she’ll be coming on another mission with me the day after tomorrow.” She announced, causing both you and Natasha to stare at her. You didn’t know anything about a new mission, especially so soon after your last one. “No one told me that.” You said, a little stunned. “They debriefed me this morning while you were out. Steve has all the files for you when you’re ready.” Wanda explained calmly. “It’s nothing special. Just 10 days in Brazil. We’ll be going after a cartel that recently seems to have gotten enhanced weapons and technology. Their leader is famous for having an eye for unclaimed Omegas. He’ll be arriving a few days earlier, so we’ll follow his movements and find out who the seller is.” “Sounds easy enough.” You nodded, trying not to show your distress.

You always got a little antsy when you had to flirt your way into an Alpha’s operation like that. They were suspicious, territorial and often vicious. Some killed Omegas, when they thought they were being spied on. Some did even worse things. You always feared what your fate would be, should your team fail you one day. Not that something like this had ever happened. Despite putting on a brave face, Wanda could sense the way you tensed up, the tightening of your muscles in her hold. You were scared, she could tell and a part of her felt terrible for bringing up so many unpleasant feelings. “Don’t worry, malush, I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” She assured, her words honest. “I know, Wanda, thank you.” You nodded, relaxing a little in her hold and allowing her gentle fingers to run through your hair. “You better make good on that promise, Maximoff.” Natasha growled from her spot, watching the scene unfold with mind clouded by a deep sense of irritation. She was jealous. Undeniably so and she couldn’t stand to see you being soothed by another. It was meant to be her, who protected you, made you feel safe, made you feel cherished and loved. You were meant to be hers. If only she had actually made a move. But how could she? Why would someone like you ever want her? With the bitter taste of regret still on her tongue, Natasha turned on her heals and left the room, not even letting Wanda respond to her words. She’ll give the younger Alpha a stern talk about you later… If she was going to stand by and watch someone else court you, she was going to make sure that they knew the consequences, should they ever hurt you or your feelings. Feeling angry, Natasha entered her room and fell on the bed with a thud. Her head turned to the shopping bag, still full of clothes that you had went out to get just for her and her heart warmed at the sight. She really should thank you. Getting up, she ran to the nearest store, buying a box of your favorite chocolates and a beautiful card, writing a few words of gratitude inside, before she returned to the compound.

Natasha looked at her hands for a moment, thinking if she should interrupt your movie with Wanda, but decided against it in the end, so she went to your room, deciding to just leave the small package for you to find. She didn’t think much of the action, having been in your room many times before, so she just walked right in. She loved being here, surrounded by you and she closed her eyes briefly, savouring it, but her steps faltered almost immediately, when her eyes opened and landed on your bed and the pile of her hoodies on it. She could smell your sweet scent in the room, all around her, but especially the bed and as she got closer, she could distinctly smell the way you’d practically rolled around in her things. She could barely sense her own scent on them now. Some of these she’d missed for months. “So that’s where they went.” She heard herself saying. As soon as the recognition came, so did something else. A question. Why had you taken them?  Why did you want her scent on you? Could you… No! That simply couldn’t be… You wouldn’t be in love with her? Perhaps you simply got attached? Omegas were such sensitive souls sometimes. And the two of you had spent so much time together. But deep down she knew she was just denying the obvious. Just like she was denying her own feelings. Unsure of what to do and how to approach such a subject, she stood frozen in place, her thoughts racing wildly. She was lost in her own world of worry and regret, desire and longing, that she didn’t even hear the approaching footsteps, until you were in the room, gasping at the sight of her. “Natasha!” You exclaimed, your eyes filling with fear and panic, as you realized she’d seen your stash of stolen hoodies. “I can explain!” You started to say, but were interrupted, when she dropped the box in her hands and closed the distance between you in a few short strides, capturing your face in her hands and making you face her. “Tell me it’s true.” She said, pleading, too impatient to even explain what she wanted to hear, her eyes soft and full of so much hope. “Please?” She almost whined. “It’s true.” You nodded, some of the initial shock dissipating. “It’s always been true. How can you not know that?” You smiled, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. That soft smile and that sparkle in your eyes as you looked at her was all the confirmation Natasha ever needed and she leaned down eagerly, claiming your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all her passion and love into it, hoping that she could convey just how much she had been dreaming of this moment with you. God, your lips against her felt divine. She could hardly contain the throaty little growl that left her as she deepened the kiss, her arms wrapping around you in an almost possessive manner, while she pressed herself firmly against you, letting you feel the bulge in her pants, that only seemed to grow and harden the longer she touched you.

“I love you.” She whispered, lifting you off the ground and crashing your bodies against the nearest wall. It seemed to take her no effort at all to hold you up with one hand, the other cupping one of your breasts, while she pressed and rubbed her clothed sex against you. “Fuck, you feel so good!” She gasped, her hips slamming into yours, her bulge teasing your pussy and making you grow even wetter and more desperate for her. “So good, baby.” She whispered, detaching her lips from yours, so she could start trailing kisses down your neck. You shivered and trembled in her hold, back arching, so you could feel more of her. You wanted to rip the clothes from her body, feel her skin against yours, feel trapped underneath her as she pounded into you, the way you’d been dreaming of all this time. “Natasha!” You moaned her name and it drove her even more desperate with desire for you. She pulled on your shirt, hearing it rip and starting to fall apart, until she had your breasts in front of her face. Those delicious nipples were just begging to be sucked between her lips, she was sure of it, and she didn’t hesitate to do just that. “Natasha, baby!” You almost screamed this time, feeling the pressure in your stomach grow with every thrust of her hips. “Take me to bed, please!” You begged, nails digging into her shoulders as she bit your nipple. She used her tongue to soothe it and she stole one last quick peck from you, before she moved, carrying you just as effortlessly to the bed and dropping you on the big pile of her hoodies, her own body following right after and trapping you eagerly. “Don’t worry, baby, from now on, you’ll always have my scent on you.” She smirked, positioning herself between your spread legs and rutting against you with the same fervour as before. “Fuck, Natasha!” You let out a little whine. She was getting you so close. You could feel the pleasure rising, even through the layers and you were approaching an embarrassing orgasm much faster than you ever thought possible. “Fuck, baby, you gotta stop, you’re gonna make me…” You tried to warn, but she was having none of it. “Me too, Y/N. Come with me, baby.” She gasped, pulling you as close as she could, her body sweating from the heat and the intensity of the moment.

She couldn’t hold it back. Fuck, she didn’t want to. She just needed a release. She was going to claim you properly after this, give you the pleasure you deserve, but she needed this first. “Oh God!” You practically screamed, holding on to her for dear life, while her movements grew more erratic. She was practically humping you, but it felt so good that you didn’t even care. You just wanted her any way she would let you have her. “Fuck!” She grunted, a short and forceful thrust signalling the beginning of her climax, while she kissed you deeply and it was all you needed to fall off the edge right along with her. Your bodies trembled in unison and you held onto her as you whined, feeling the throbbing of your clit as you came. You felt the way her cock spasmed as well. It twitched in her pants as she released, a sigh of relief falling off her lips as she did. Eventually you both slumped against each-other, the pleasure and the intensity of the moment making you feel drunk and you weakly cuddled up to her, closing your eyes and inhaling her deeply. Natasha felt you fall asleep against her almost immediately and she didn’t have the heart to wake you. Instead, she waited for you to fully relax, before taking a quick shower, discarding her ruined boxers and putting on just her sweat pants and taking her previous spot next to you on the bed, loving the feeling of you in her arms. Her mind was plagued by doubt and insecurity and as she watched you sleep, she wanted to savour every second, too scared that you’ll wake up and realize that you’ve made a huge mistake, that she might have ruined her chance to stay in your life, now that she’d done this. Eventually, exhaustion took over her as well and she allowed herself this moment of bliss, hoping it will never end, only to be woken by soft breathy whines and little whimpers, combined with your sex rubbing itself on any part of her you could reach in the limited space of her hold. Your scent was impossible to ignore in this state and she could smell the beginnings of your heat and the desperate way your body tried to relieve some of the unbearable pressure it felt. You were still asleep, and so beautiful, features dominated by pleasure in your peaceful sleep and she admired your beauty for a long moment, before she decided to wake you. “Wake up, pretty girl.” Natasha whispered, stroking your cheek. “Open those eyes for me.” She encouraged, watching the way you scrunched up your nose, as if the mere thought was offensive. “If you’re gonna use me like that, you have to at least look at me.” She added after a moment.

You blinked your eyes open in confusion, your face brightened up by the sight of her still in your bed, before you realized what you were just doing, momentarily stiffening. You opened your mouth to say something, but you were immediately shushed by a finger on your lips. “Don’t you dare apologize.” Natasha smirked. “I just need to know if you still want this.” She told you, some of her insecurity showing. She knew you were vulnerable right now, the uncomfortable feeling of your heat only growing with each passing second. It would be so easy for her to take you right now. But she didn’t want it that way. She wanted you to be sure. “Natasha… I have loved you for so long, wanted you more than you can know, I’ve spent countless days thinking of you, countless heat cycles moaning your name and wishing you would make it better. Alpha… Please make it better this time?” You practically whined, eyes filling with unshed tears as you felt your insides churning with need. You were sure you would die if she didn’t fuck you right this second. Natasha didn’t say a word this time, pulling down your pants and panties in one smooth motion, gasping at the gorgeous pussy that presented itself to her hungry gaze. You were so wet already, your sweet smell filling her nostrils once more as she ran a finger through your wet folds. “Alpha, don’t tease!” You whined again, your hips canting up for her. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.” She said, taking no time in finding her place between your legs and dipping her tongue in your wetness. “So delicious, baby.” She moaned at your taste, immediately needing so much more of it. She took her time cleaning you up first, savouring your taste with every flick of her tongue, before she finally wrapped her lips around your clit, drawing slow circles over it and driving you crazy with the way she made you feel. She ate you like a woman starved, sometimes sucking on your sensitive clit with fervour and drawing deep moans of pleasure each time. She could hardly keep your hips in place, not that she cared much to try, loving the way you rode her face with clear abandon and she wasn’t surprised when you reached your climax with a strangled cry and a chant of her name. “Fuck, so good!” She murmured, after helping you ride out your orgasm. She was just about ready to start all over again, her own pleasure entirely forgotten, even if she was humping the mattress, but your hand in her hair stopped her. “Yes, that was good… But I need you inside me now, Alpha.” You pleaded, your legs spreading even wider for her. “Only your cock can make it better, please.” You practically begged and it triggered something in the older woman.

She pulled down her sweats in one swift motion, showing you her cock for the first time. God, she was big! You could see the veins that ran along her length and the precum that dripped from her tip. She was perfect. And the look in her eyes was ravenous, so she didn’t hesitate for a second, easily flipping you over and putting you on your hands and knees, letting you present yourself like a proper little Omega for her. She rubbed her length at your opening, getting her cock slick with your juices while you squirmed, but her teasing couldn’t last. She had dreamt of having you this way just as much as you had and she needed to finally claim you. Needed to finally be inside you. “Please.” You begged once more, your hips chasing her and the brief feeling of pleasure and relief that she provided every time she rubbed herself on you. “Like that, baby?” She asked, pushing herself against your opening, her tip sliding inside easily. God you were so warm, so wet, so tight around her and it took everything in her to keep her pace steady. She wanted you to feel good, wanted you to enjoy every second of being with her, she wanted to be so good that you’d never even dream of any other Alpha ever touching you. Not that she’d allow it. Now that she had you this way, she was realizing what she was missing all this time and she wasn’t going to ever let you go. “Just like that, Natasha, please!” You gasped, pushing yourself against her and taking the rest of her cock inside you, all at once. “Fuck!” She grunted, her cock spasming at the feeling of being fully buried inside you. “Is that what you want little Omega?” She asked, she teeth gritted. “You want me to ruin that pretty pussy?” “Yes! God, Alpha!” You screamed, her pace picking up quickly. You could feel your ass bouncing off of her with every thrust, her cock hitting deep inside you each time, her hands squeezing your hips in a grip so tight, you were sure she’s leaving imprints and it was heavenly. She was so good. Better than you ever imagined she would be.

“Come here!” She growled, burying her hands in your hair and pulling you up against her. She held you close, her nose buried in your neck and breathing you in deeply. “You wanna be my little Omega? Want me to claim you, baby girl? Make you mine for good?” She asks, biting your neck gently, just scratching your skin, right on that sensitive spot that drove you wild. “I’ll take good care of you baby. I’ll protect you and keep you safe, I’ll make you happy.” She promised, words soft. She could feel her knot forming at the base of her cock, her release approaching quickly and she barely held it back. You could hardly respond, all your thoughts fading into nothingness at the feeling of her cock deep inside you. You just knew she’s right where she belongs, right where you need her most and you never want it to end. “Feels so good! Yes! Want to be yours! I’ve always been yours.” You pant, soft whimpers cutting off your words, as you felt your orgasm approaching. “I’m so close, baby!” Natasha panted behind you. “You gonna come with me?” She asked softly, pulling your head further back by your hair, to make sure that your neck is fully exposed to her. “Yes, so close! Please! I want you to come inside me, please!” Watching you beg her like that was truly the last straw, and with a final, sharp thrust, Natasha felt her knot slip into place, triggering her orgasm. Endless spurts of white flooded your pussy as she felt the best orgasm of her life. This was the best moment she just knew it, her teeth sinking into your neck to mark you for good, while her legs shook and her cock throbbed inside you, making her see stars. Her knot slipping in triggered your orgasm as well and you cried out, a deep sense of satisfaction washing over you when you felt the spurts of her cum fill you up to the brim. Not even a drop slipped past her as she still rutted against you, prolonging both your pleasure. But it was her teeth sinking in that really had you experience extasy, a second orgasm crashing over you, right after the first and you milked her of everything she had as you felt yourself being claimed. When it was all over, Natasha laid you down gently and settled on top of you, your bodies still perfectly connected, chests heaving. As you turned a little, trying to look up, Natasha did her best to accommodate you and after look down at you, eyes hooded from lust, she silently turned her neck, silently offering it for you to leave your own mark on her and seal your connection for good. You licked at her neck a few times, feeling her shiver in anticipation and you sunk your teeth into her, just as she had done, hearing her soft whimpers of pleasure at the action and you tried to soothe the wound as best you could, offering her little licks and kisses that she happily accepted, even if each one made her cock throb once more. “I don’t want you going on any more missions.” She finally said, her voice thoughtful. “Especially if I can’t be there to keep you safe. You’re my mate. My love. I don’t want you in danger. I don’t want other Alphas looking at you, thinking they can have what’s mine. Don’t go tomorrow, love?” She confessed, almost pleading with you to understand. “I’ll talk to Steve.” You nodded, placing a small kiss on her lips. “And I’ll talk to Wanda.” Natasha grumbled, remembering the other Alpha and the way she had her hands around you. Her words made you laugh and the older woman looked down at you confused. “What? You think I didn’t see her hands around you, touching your hair, talking to you like that. She can’t have you!” Natasha insisted, more firmly now. “Oh, baby…” You smiled, shaking your head in disbelief. “You really don’t know?” “Know what?” She squinted down at you. “She never wanted me. I know for a fact she has her eyes on a certain robot… But I sure am grateful she gave you a push.” You laughed and this time Natasha laughed with you. “Good luck mating him.” She joked, finally relaxing, allowing her eyes to close in content. She finally had her mate. _____________________________________________________

Dear anon, on the 12th of June you sent me this request... I don't know if you still use Tumblr, I don't know if you still follow my blog, or read my fics, hell, I don't even know if you remember sending me this, it was so long ago... But should you ever see your request and read this fic, I hope you'll enjoy it!

[russo-woso]

No space || Kim Little

Requests here. Prompt lists here.

"It's fine, you can just sit on my lap."

Quick little one :) (sorry I had to do that)

You had made plans to go with it with the team to celebrate the end of the season.

Finishing on a big high, a 5-0 win against Brighton, it was definitely a well deserved night out.

The season has been a crazy one at that.

There were lots of firsts for a lot of people, first debuts, first goals, for you, it was first time being captain.

With Kim being on the bench, Leah out injured, and Katie also on the bench, the armband was given to you.

Although that was a major first, it wasn’t the biggest one.

The biggest one was dating a teammate for the first time.

When you joined Arsenal during the 2021-22 season, you knew who your new teammates were.

Some you knew internationally, Leah, Beth and lotte, some you knew from playing against them, some you hadn’t met at all.

There was one person who you had never met personally but had always been intrigued and impressed by.

The way she played, the way she spoke, the way she smiled, it had you in a chokehold even though you’d never met her.

Kim Little.

When you first met Kim, it was, well you liked to put it this way, love at first sight.

As the rest of the 21-22 season went on, you and Kim got a lot closer.

There was a noticeable age gap between you and Kim by five years but when you really started falling for Kim, that worry disappeared.

And she felt the exact same way. At first Kim was weary of the age gap, but she figured love was love, and she loved you.

Near to the end of that season, Kim bit the bullet and asked you on a date.

She thought it out very well and had noted down over the months which foods you liked and didn’t like, and made a three course dinner for you.

As you were leaving her house that night, you said goodbye and hugged at the door, and as you jumped in your car, you realised you forgot something.

Running back to her door, before you void even knock, Kim opened it.

“Y/N, wait! I forgot something!” Kim shouted, not knowing you were just there.

“I forgot something too.” You smiled, walking closer before leaning down to connect your lips.

That was a long time ago now, and although you thought in that moment you couldn’t be happier, you really could.

Within the past year, you and Kim have moved in with each other, which was perfect.

You were having the highest of highs in your career, having been arsenals top goalscorer, with 21 goals, this season.

So when you were asked to celebrate tonight, there was no way you were saying no.

“Y/N, Kim!” An Irish accent was heard from the other side of the club. “What drinks would you like? First rounds on me.”

“I’ll have a margarita Katie, thank you. I’ll come with to help you carry the drinks.” You told her before turning to Kim. “You go find us seats, baby. I won’t be long.”

You pressed a kiss to her cheek before walking over to Katie who was at the bar.

“So, you and Kim got anything planned for later tonight?” Katie asked, passing the time whilst the barman got the drinks prepared.

“I don’t know. It depends on what time we get back.” You responded, a light pigment resting on your cheeks.

“There’s your drinks, ladies. Enjoy your night.” The barman smiled politely, handing you a tray each filled with numerous drinks.

Making your way back to the table, you helped hand the drinks round before looking at all your teammates, noticing there way no more space left.

“Where should I sit?” You asked aloud, most of the girls looking in your direction.

“It’s fine, baby, come sit on my lap.” Kim told you, gesturing for you to come sit on her lap.

You smiled, walking over to Kim and settling on her lap, leaving a kiss on her lips.

She wrapped her arms around you, attempting to rest her head on your shoulder but with the height difference, it made it hard for her to do that.

“Switch?” You asked and she nodded straight away.

Once Kim was comfy on your lap, you finally noticed the girls all smiling at the two of you.

“You two are so in love.”

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Drunk on You

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After losing a bet, Frank's drunk night turns into a nightmare when he accidentally leaves a VERY honest voicemail on your phone. (Prompt: "I need to see your phone.")

warnings: swearing, excessive drinking (do NOT do this.), Frank being affectionate

a/n: This wasn't requested by anyone, I just saw this prompt and immediately pictured Frank freaking out about a voicemail he left on someone's phone. A huge shout out to @gracethyomen and @madschiavelique who I forced into beta-ing this for me multiple times. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you!

w/c: 6k (Yah, i know. I got carried away.)

Frank liked to think that he was decently romantic—so it was almost embarrassing that your relationship happened by accident. 

He didn’t possess a natural charm, like the one that Red always flaunted, but he could usually hold his own when he found someone attractive. Before…everything, his cocky attitude and unjustified youthful arrogance helped him flirt with Maria. Since the loss of his family, flirting was more of a pastime. Until you. 

From the moment you both met, Frank had known that you were different—that you were never meant to be a casual fling. It terrified him, at first, but after many many lectures from Curtis, he was ready to try a relationship again. 

Despite that fact, he could never seem to get the words out. 

Flirting with you was as easy as pulling a trigger, but being honest and open about his feelings? Never his strong suit. He was just thankful that Curtis believed in boundaries and David was oblivious, otherwise you would’ve gotten the news through the grapevine weeks before he blurted it out. 

It all started when David scolded him.

“Language, Castle. This is a family establishment.” His stern tone was completed with a pointed finger.

The two men were seated on opposite sides of the Lieberman’s sturdy dining room table, on the precipice of one of their classic “Family Dinner Spats”–a term Curtis had coined exasperatedly a few weekly meals ago. You, Sarah, and Curt were also currently at the table, nursing your wine while the kids played video games in the living room.

Smirking at David's tone, you raised a brow at the curly haired man. “Can you really call your suburban house an ‘establishment’?”

Frank chuckled at your attempt to defend him, his lips parting around the lip of his beer bottle in a smug smile.

“The house has been established, and there is a family present.” David snapped at you with a no-nonsense look. Looking at his wife incredulously, he threw his hands in a vague gesture. “C’mon Sarah, back me up!”

Sarah shrugged at him, grinning at his defeated groan. Shooting you and Frank a knowing look, she murmured, “We’ve all heard worse.“

Desperate for someone to agree with him, David glanced across the table pleadingly. “Curtis? C’mon man.”

Sighing, Curtis nodded, his lips twitching in a tiny smile. “You do have a foul mouth, Frank. There are children present.”

Frank scoffed, gesturing widely to the two teenagers in the other room.

Crinkling your nose as you stifled a laugh, you nodded solemnly. “They sort of have a point, Frank. Your vocabulary could make a sailor blush.”

Finally vindicated, David crowed, “You practically only speak in curses and grunts!”

The marine gaped. “Christ, I am not that bad.”

Smelling a game, David’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh yah? I bet you couldn’t go a week without swearing.

Sarah and Curtis took the vague challenge, and Frank’s responding bitter laugh, as their cue to leave the table, murmuring about cleaning up after dinner and chuckling to each other as they left. You, unfortunately, were far too intrigued to remove yourself from the conversation.

Good thing you were entertained, because David was far from finished with his accusations. “You know what? I don’t think you could even last a single day without that sinfully filthy language of yours, Castle.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but his jaw was tense. “Ya gonna make me a swear jar, Lieberman? What are you, my ma?”

David shrugged, pleased at how easily he was able to get under the hulking man’s skin. “Someone has to teach you some manners.”

You tapped a finger on your chin, meeting David’s roguish gaze. “He’s right though, a swear jar would never compel him to change.”

David crossed his arms. “And you have a better suggestion?”

Frank glanced at you, brow raised in curiosity, lips pursed.

You grinned manically. “Maybe a drinking game? Every curse word he says within 24 hours means he takes a shot.”

The technician erupted in bellowing laughter. “YES!”

Ignoring him, Frank smirked at you. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You placed a hand over your heart in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken, Frankie.”

The large man bristled, straightening his posture as he shook his head. “Course not.”

David was glowing. “So you accept?”

“Uh—“ Frank’s hesitation was quickly settled by your adorable expression, your head tilted at him as you anticipated his next move. “Fuck, I guess.”

Practically screeching, David pointed a finger at the man, looking at you excitedly. “Oh my god, that counts right? That totally counts!”

Laughing as David practically began a victory dance, you raised your glass of wine. ”Let the game begin!”

What had he gotten himself into?

Unfortunately for his liver, the next 24 hours did not get easier.

With the combined efforts of you, Curtis, David, and the various CCTV systems of New York city, the tally landed at 52 curses in 24 hours.

“Holy shit, Frank,” You gaped at the final count, turning to him with wide eyes. “Were you even trying?”

Frank glowered, sinking further into the booth next to you. “Yes.”

“Well, we’re gonna need to change these rules a bit. Otherwise, you’ll need a transplant by next week.” You frowned, eyes glowing with the light of David’s computer screen.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now, doll.” Frank muttered, the corner of his lips lifting up against his will.

“I’m always soft on you, tough guy.”Your words were earnest, causing Frank's throat to constrict. You raised a hand to pinch his cheek, seemingly unperturbed by his furious blush.

As if knowing he was ruining the moment, David returned to the table with a tray of half a dozen shot glasses. “Who’s ready to get wasted?”

Groaning, Frank dropped his head into his hands—his stomach already churning.

“New rules:” You announced, “No more than 7 drinks an hour.”

“Woah woah woah, who died and made you referee?” David scoffed.

“Everyone who has ever taken 52 shots in one night.” You retorted, refusing to change your mind.

While David began placing a row of tiny glasses in front of him, you took one of Frank's calloused hands in your much more delicate one. He raised his head to meet your serious gaze. “Hey, you do not have to do this. It was a stupid bet.” You were chewing on your bottom lip, his hand itched to cup your face and smooth the furrow in your brow.

“Um, he does so have to do this! I already put my card down. Drink up, asshole!” As David shoved the alcohol towards him, your arm shot out, acting as a barricade.

Looking at him with an inquisitive concern, you stroked your thumb over his knuckles. With a sigh, Frank grasped one of the shots between two fingers, downing it with a grimace.

David cheered. “Thattaboy! Drink up!!”

Biting your lip, you slid a single shot towards yourself and one to David. “If he’s going to do this, he’s not doing it alone. Drink up, Lieberman.” You teased, parroting his words before downing your own shot with a grace that was shocking and incredibly attractive. 

“Damn, that’s smooth. You shelled out for us.” You snorted, setting the shit glass back on the sticky table. 

Pouting at the tiny cup of clear liquid, David groaned. “I haven’t had tequila since college.”

“Sounds like you made a poor choice of beverage then. Drink!” You grinned at him, face warming as Frank slid an arm around your shoulders.

“She’s gotta point, Lieberman. You’ve dug your own grave. I ain’t drinkin’ another drop until you take that.” Frank smirked, eyes dancing with a mirth that you’d been missing.

“C’mon David!” You encouraged, the curly-haired man across from you finally nodding and downing the drink with a gag.

You and Frank cheered, laughing as he coughed in the aftermath.

“Alright, it’s gone. Your turn.” David nodded to the three remaining shots, crossing his arms impatiently.

Huffing out a breath, Frank tossed all three back, chasing the acrid taste with a swig of the beer he’d purchased himself without thinking. “There, ya fuckin’ happy now?”

“Thrilled.” David laughed. “We’re going to wait…15 minutes, and then I’m going to hustle you in pool.” Setting a timer on his watch, the engineer missed Frank’s exaggerated eye roll.

“Doesn’t a hustle require one party to not know they’re being hustled?” You asked, settling into Frank’s side with a smile.

“I could kick your ass with my eyes closed, Lieberman.” Frank snorted.

“Oh please, it's all geometry–I'm a whiz at geometry.”

Listening to them bicker, you couldn't help but smile. Sipping your beer, you crossed your legs, excited for the upcoming show.

As Frank's inhibitions grew steadily lower, you were joined at the booth by Curtis and Karen–both of whom were humored by the giant man's state, but not free of their own worry.

“Y’all trying to kill him?” Curtis chuckled, eyes focused on Frank's uncharacteristically wide grin as he slid into the booth across from you, beer in hand.

“Trust me, I’ve been negotiating Lieberman down all night to spare his intestines.” You huffed, your own gaze fixated on Frank as he lined up his next shot at the pool table, muscles bulging against his tight shirt as he bent over.

“See something you like?” Karen asked gleefully, lips curled in a smirk.

“Shut up,” You hissed, squirming in your seat as your body was hit with a flash of warmth.

“He's not making this easy for you, is he?” Curtis chuckled, sending Karen a knowing look.

“Does he always get so…touchy when he’s drunk?” You asked quietly, trying not to salivate as you got a perfect view of Frank's ass, his back turned towards you as he played his next turn.

Letting out a bark of laughter, Curtis shook his head at you.

“Oh stop it,” You groused, ignoring your friends' giggles as you slid off of the vinyl bench and made straight for the bar.

“Um whiskey. Neat, please.” You stammered out your order to the bartender, trying not to cringe at how disjointed the words sounded. Your mind was entirely preoccupied by the feelings you harbored for the man currently guffawing behind you. The scraping of glass on wood startled you out of your daydream.

Taking the glass from the bartender, trying not to meet their gaze as they eyed you suspiciously, you nodded a thank you.

Before you could return to your seat, a thick arm wrapped around your shoulders--a sensation that would've been horrifying had it not been accompanied by a familiar voice.

“When did ya start drinkin’ whiskey?” Frank's deep rasp ignited a heat deep in your gut, stealing the words straight off your tongue.

”I-I, uh didn't,“ You squeaked out, shoving the glass to Frank's chest. “I figured you’d want something other than mid-shelf tequila.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, your breath caught in your throat as you met his stare.

Frank's lips were tilted in a small smile, the tension he normally carried in his jaw nowhere to be found. His cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed from running his hands through it throughout the night. Boring into you, his beautiful ochre eyes crinkled with a happiness you rarely saw from the man.

A rough knuckle tipped your jaw upwards, shutting your mouth, which had apparently been hanging open as you admired the figure before you. “Somethin' on my face, sweetheart?”

Tilting his head, his eyes twinkled, his smile growing wider as you remained silent. “No, Frankie.”

“Good. C'mon, I need someone to cheer for me when I whup Lieberman's ass for a third time.” Frank snorted, pressing a kiss to your crown before taking your hand and dragging you towards the pool table.

The rest of the night flew by, a symptom of the intense focus you held on Frank's relaxed drunken nature. He'd been tipsy with you before, so you'd caught glimpses of this behavior from the man previously, but it would always catch you off guard to see him so...easygoing.

It wasn't that Frank wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly sweet, he just wasn't usually so forthcoming with his emotions. Nor was he normally content snuggling with you in public.

Rubbing his nose against your hair, Frank gave a sleepy hum before pulling back to down the rest of the ice water you'd forced into his grasp. His hand was gently gripping your waist, thumb tracing lines over your hip as your friends chatted. Frank was much too tired to be paying any attention, and your ability to retain any conversation topic flew out the window the moment his hand landed on your side.

Watching as his free hand lifted to clumsily scrub at his face, you frowned. “Wanna call it a night, Frank? You look ready to drop.”

“'M fine.” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shit, you'd hoped the water would stave off the impending headache for now.

“The kid's right.” David remarked, smirking at your offended scoff. “If I'm beat, you must be half dead. I'll go close the tab."

"Can the rest of you make it home ok if I handle this one?" You asked, kneading at Frank's neck as he dropped his head to your shoulder with a grumpy huff.

"Yah, we can get David home in one piece." Karen promised, squeezing Frank's arm as she passed. "Goodnight."

"Ok, tough guy. You gotta get out so I can get out," You murmured, nudging the marine as carefully as possible.

Grumbling under his breath, he slid out of the booth, grabbing the table as he listed sideways.

"Christ, Frankie. Hold on, I gotcha." You grunted as he leaned against you, his weight shifting you off balance. Wrapping an arm around his waist in a motion similar to the one he'd made mere minutes ago, you shuffled towards the door. "Ok, Castle, you gotta work with me a little bit here."

As the two of you neared the exit, you heard an indignant squawk from the bar. "I OWE HOW MUCH??"

Chuckling softly, Frank's skull knocked against yours. "We'd better get outta here, sweetheart."

The two of you made it back to Frank's tiny apartment without incident, though the man was stumbling all the way. When you reached his front door, he snatched his keys from his pocket, tossing them at you without a word. 

Not expecting the projectile, the ring of keys hit you square in the chest, your chin following them as they crashed to the grimy carpet underneath your feet. Looking at Frank with narrowed eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

Frank chuckled quietly, his laugh as close to a giggle as it would probably ever get. His half-lidded eyes creased as he grinned at you. “Sorry,” The apology was undercut by the shit-eating expression on his face. 

“Drag your ass all the way home, breaking my back doing so–mind you,” You complained halfheartedly, your chest swelling with fondness as Frank’s raspy laughs continued. “And you just throw your shit at me.” 

Shaking your head, you let your smile betray you as he kissed your forehead. “You’re unbelievable, Castle.” 

“Thanks for puttin’ up with me.” His stubble scratched your skin as he spoke, his lips still resting against your temple. 

“Anytime, big guy.” Your eyes fell closed as his hand rubbed over your lower back.

After a minute, Frank spoke again. “Are ya gonna open the door, or am I gonna have to sleep in the hallway?” 

“Jesus Christ.” You groused, breaking out of his hold to squat down and grab his keys.

Just like that, Frank was back in stitches, shifting his weight to the door frame as his body shook with near silent laughter.

Shoving the key in the lock, you opened the door and shoved at him gently. "Get in there, goofball."

Shuffling inside, Frank beelined for the couch, collapsing onto it with his boots still on. Rolling your eyes, you followed him in, crouching by his feet to start unlacing his shoes.

Wriggling on his stomach, he craned his neck to look at you. “Whattya doin'?”

“Taking your shoes off, Frankie.” You explained without stopping your actions.

Grumbling, he flapped an arm at you clumsily. “Leave 'em.”

Huffing with exasperated affection, you ignored him. "You'll be more comfortable if I take them off, Frank."

You received a disgruntled noise in response, but his arm stopped moving. Face squashed against a throw pillow, his eyes were closed and his pink lips were parted--soft breaths slipping in and out of them every so often.

Finally pulling his second boot off, you sat back on your heels with a satisfied sigh. Standing as quietly as you could, you strode to the tidy kitchen.

Given that you were well-acquainted with Frank's place, you moved around the apartment with ease, finding the sparse first aid kit that he possessed and making a mental note to bring some supplies by soon. Sure, Frank would manage—he was the most capable man you'd ever met—but you wanted to make his life easier in any way you could.

Which is why you grabbed a few individually wrapped pain pills and placed them on the coffee table, along with a glass of water. Now for the difficult part.

"Frank, I know you're comfy like this but you have to turn to your side for me." You spoke softly, running a hand up his arm and pushing in the direction he needed to turn.

"Hngh..." Frank protested sleepily. "Why?"

Stifling a smile at the grumpy face he made, you continued to push. "C'mon, you big baby. On your side, so you don't choke and die overnight."

Huffing frustratedly, Frank flopped onto his side, glaring at you.

“Thank you. Do you need a blanket?” You asked, laughing indignantly when he flipped you off. “That was an actual question, asshole.”

Standing up, you took a step towards the worn armchair on the other side of the coffee table, nearly tumbling over when a force tugged on your wrist. Eyes closed again, Frank was poorly hiding a smile as he yanked your arm towards him with more strength than his inebriated self should have been capable of. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you feeling nice now?” You grumbled, balancing your weight over him precariously as you tried to escape his hold.

Tugging your arm again, Frank muttered a jumble of grouchy nonsense.

“Christ, Frank.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to the ceiling before sliding your palms underneath his shoulders to shift him over. Squishing onto the couch next to his head, you found yourself smiling as he wriggled towards you, settling his head into your lap with a relieved exhale. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a piece of work when you’re drunk?”

Your murmur was more for yourself than for him, but he responded nonetheless. “M’ria.”

It was far from the first time he’d spoken to you about his late wife, but hearing her name fall from his lips when he was in such a vulnerable state felt like a swift punch to the gut. Regaining your composure, you threaded your fingers into his hair. “Go to sleep, Frankie.”

As your nails softly scratched at his scalp, darkness crept into the corners of his vision, his eyes fluttering closed again.

The next few hours passed like fractions of a dream. A warm pliant surface beneath his cheek, a cool hand running through his hair. A whispered conversation and hushed groans. A loss of contact.

Somewhere in the haze of alcohol-induced fatigue, Curtis appeared, taking over your role as his babysitter. Curt was good at taking care of him...he was a lot less pretty than you were, though.

“Christ, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.” Curtis griped, insulted by comment Frank hadn't intended to share, shoving a bottle of some form of sports drink at him. “Drink this.”

Scowling, Frank took a long swig. As he was gulping down the sugary liquid, his eyes locked on a piece of fabric draped over the back of the couch. Setting the drink down, and nearly spilling it all over himself in the process, he grabbed clumsily for the coat, clutching it to his chest when his fingers finally landed around it. ”She forgot it.“

”What?“ Curtis, rubbing a knuckle between his brows, looked unamused.

”Her coat, Curt.“ Frank whispered, holding it out to show the other man. ”We gotta find her. She forgot it. It's winter.“

Shaking his head with a huff, Curtis dropped his head into his hands. ”I'm sure she'll be fine without it for a night. Go to sleep, Frank.“

Frank frowned, still focused on the piece of plastic in his hands.

Grappling his pocket, he eventually pulled out his phone and flipped it open, squinting at the bright screen as it powered on. Scrolling through the list of contacts, he found the one he wanted and dialed.

”Frank,“ Curtis sighed, but didn't stop him from calling you.

Receiving your voicemail, Frank groaned. “Sweetheart, you better not be frozen to death out there somewhere. You left your coat here. You gotta come and get it, ok? I don't want you to be cold.”

”Hang up and sleep, Castle.“ Called the medic from Frank's bedroom. When had he gone in there?

Ignoring his friend's explicit instructions, Frank sighed. “Please come back. I like having you here. You just...you take such good care of me, and I really don't deserve it, but you do it anyways, and--” The phone was snatched out of his hand.

“Frank says goodnight.” Curtis snapped into the phone before ending the call.

“Hey!” Frank glowered, fumbling for Curtis's hand to take the device back.

“Go to sleep, Frank. You can talk to her tomorrow. Trust me, you'll be grateful I took this away when you've sobered up. You don't need to be spilling your secrets to her over voicemail.“ Spreading a blanket over Frank, Curtis glared at him. ”Close your eyes, Marine. I am not playing games with you tonight.“

Rolling to his other side so that Curtis couldn't see him, he smirked at the other man's final snort. ”Real mature, Frank. I'm taking your bed. I'll be out to check on you every once in a while.“

As Curtis retreated into the other room, Frank waited impatiently, staring at the back of the couch until he heard a door close. Grinning in satisfaction, he withdrew his burner phone from his other pocket, opening it up and inputting your number.

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone. I wasn't done talking to ya. I like talkin' to ya, it makes me feel...god, I'm bad at this. I dunno, sweetheart, you make me feel good...special. I haven't felt that way in a long damn time. But you just make it seem so easy. You make everything seem so easy...”

The intense rolling of his stomach is what ruptured his unconsciousness, igniting a spark of adrenaline powerful enough to carry him to the bathroom so he could collapse in front of the toilet.

God, he felt fucking awful. His head was pulsing with the beginnings of a migraine, his throat burned with acid as he emptied his stomach repeatedly. Moaning with regret, he slapped the lever to flush the toilet, sinking back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub behind him.

“Was wondering when that would happen. David owes me 20 bucks.” Curtis leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom with his arms crossed, smirking at Frank's evident misery.

“Glad I could help.” Frank muttered, digging the heel of his hand into one of his eyes in an attempt to offset some of the building pressure in his skull.

“You look like shit.” Curtis chuckled, passing him a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.

“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, rinsing out his mouth before throwing back a few pills.

“Well, clearly you're feeling more like yourself. Christ.” Curtis snorted.

“God, Curt, what happened last night?” Frank grimaced. 

“Besides you drinking enough to kill a racehorse? Not much. Unless you count me discovering your collection of burner phones as ‘interesting’.”

Curtis’s words were innocuous, but Frank felt a wave of dread crash over him at the implications. 

“What collection?“ He asked mournfully, hoping fiercely that Curt didn’t mean–

“The one you were using to call your girl.” Fuck. “Every time I turned around, there was a new phone in your hands. Can't say I didn't try to stop you from making an ass of yourself, you just managed to do it anyway.”

“Fuck!” Frank cursed. That was exactly what he was hoping to avoid. “Please tell me you're jokin'.”

“Unfortunately not, Frank.“ The other man laughed, but his brow pinched in sympathy. “You're gonna have some explaining to do, I expect.”

“Fuck me. What did I say?” He looked to his friend pleadingly, feeling like his impending doom was perched just over his shoulders.

“I didn't catch all of it, but the parts I heard were pretty damning.” Curtis rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Frank’s intense eyes.

Mustering the dwindling energy he had, Frank lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the door. Thankfully, Curtis caught him when his balance faltered after a few steps.

“Woah, shit, Frank! Where are you goin'?” Curtis chastised preemptively, letting Frank lean against him as he ambled to the foyer.

“To apologize, or delete that message. Whatever needs to be done.” Frank’s jaw was stiff, his voice gruff with fear and discomfort. Undraping his arm from Curt’s shoulders, Frank bent down to grab his boots, halting as the motion caused a spike of pain to shoot through his brain. Clenching his fingers around his thighs, he bit his tongue to keep from hurling again.

“Jesus, Frank. This isn't a goddamn military operation.” Curt scoffed, kicking Frank’s shoes closer to him with a grunt.

Frank huffed a bitter laugh. “You're right, that would be easier.” Squatting down, Frank shoved his boots on and laced them up.

“You need serious help, you know that?” Curtis sighed, only waiting a moment before slipping his own shoes on. “C'mon. I'll drive you.”

Tipping your chin up, you let the final dregs of your latte trickle across your tongue, silently begging for those few drops to contain the caffeine you'd need for the rest of the day. You were practically giddy with lack of sleep and the immense amount of sugar you'd dumped into the coffee to make it palatable–you weren't used to so many extra espresso shots.

After looking out for Frank at the bar, wrangling him on the journey home, leaving abruptly to accompany your distraught roommate and her accident-prone boyfriend to the hospital, and then staying with said roommate all night while her boyfriend got a cast put over his broken arm–you were understandably exhausted. And, if you were honest with yourself, a bit aggravated that you'd been ripped away from Frank when he was so unusually receptive to your affection.

It wasn't as if you could just call Curtis and ask to switch roles again, it was almost noon. Frank would probably be up and hungover by now–far grouchier than the cuddly lump he'd become last night when he passed out on your lap. No use to mourn that loss any further, you supposed. It wouldn't be that hard to make him agree to another bet, after all. 

Lounging on the couch, your eyes slipped shut for a moment, flying open in shock when you heard a knock at the door. Of course someone would show up right after you sat down. Inhaling deeply to keep from groaning, you dragged yourself off of the couch and to the door. Huh, speak of the devil.

Unlatching the door, you rested a hand on your hip as you took in the posture of the man before you. Frank looked awful, a perfect example of the saying “green around the gills”. He was slouched forward, barely meeting your gaze, and his complexion was so alarmingly pale that it was more translucent. Before you could ask what the hell he was doing on your doorstep, he spoke.

“I need to see your phone.” His tone was pained and especially gravelly, which made sense given how hungover he must be right now.

“Damn, Castle. Hello to you too.” You laughed, the humor of it not fully reaching your eyes as concern churned in your gut. Stepping out of the way, you allowed him to stride past you into the apartment. 

Looking over his shoulder at you sheepishly, he cringed. “Sorry, hi. Your phone?”

Well he’s clearly on a mission. You had to admit, you were curious what he was so riled up about. 

Your eyes narrowing, you gestured to where it sat on the counter, anchored by its designated cord. “It's charging. It died while I was running around last night and I just got home, so.” Frowning in confusion, you picked it up to show him. 

“Thank god.” Frank let his face fall into his palms, collapsing onto your couch. 

“Why do you need my phone, Frank?” Intrigue still piqued, you flicked a thumb across the screen to activate your phone.

Realizing he’d made a fatal error in his anguished haze, Frank swiveling in his seat, craning his neck just in time to see a massive grin break out across your face. “Shit wait–”

“Jesus Frank, are you ok? Why did you call me so many times?” You laughed, scrolling through the myriad of notifications you’d apparently missed from him. 

“Sweetheart I'm begging you–” Standing on his wobbly legs, he hurried to remove the device from your hands, but it was too late.

“You left multiple voicemails?” You looked at him with an almost pompous smile, clearly taking satisfaction in his downfall.

“Please don’t–” He made for your phone, but his reflexes were lacking. Spinning just out of his reach, you raised the phone above your head victoriously.

“Voicemail number one!” You announced proudly, pressing play on the recording. 

Frank’s voice sounded tinny through the small speakers, or maybe it was just being drowned out by the ringing in his ears. “You forgot your coat…”

“Aw, Frank, that's so sweet!” You spoke over the short message, your lip sticking out slightly as you looked at him with gratitude.

Stepping towards you with his palms displayed, he tried for a placating tone. “Yup. That was all, no need to listen to any more of–”

“Voicemail number 2!” You crowed, darting out of the kitchen as he grabbed wildly for the offending phone once more. 

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone...”

“This ain't funny.” Frank growled, scurrying after you into the living room “Turn those off!” 

“You left them for me!” You giggled, holding the phone to your ear and squealing with delight at his first confession.

“You make everything seem so easy–”

“Aw, Frank–”

“It's so hard for me to focus when you're around–”

By the grace of some higher power, his drunk rambling cut off. Nearly keeling over, he leaned heavily against the back of your couch. “Thank Christ.”

“VOICEMAIL NUMBER 3!” You said gleefully, practically dancing with joy as Frank resumed chasing you.

“Goddamn it.” He muttered. He should have known he wasn’t that lucky.

“I can't stop thinkin' about ya–”

His words were coming back to him now, and it was crystal clear that he had very limited time to retrieve the phone before your relationship with him was irreparably damaged. Nearly bowling your coffee table over, he managed to snatch the hem of your sweatshirt, but you simply slipped out of it and resumed your lap of the space. 

“I can never stop thinkin about ya–”

You leapt onto the couch and over the arm, making for your bedroom. How on earth were you this agile after last night? He was pretty sure this would be the last thing he ever did. 

“I hope you made it home safe–”

You stumbled around your bed frame and Frank saw an opening. 

“You shoulda stayed here with me–”

His eyes narrowed, vision tunneling like a predator’s. Frank bounded forward and your eyes widened as you realized he had you cornered.

“I'll always keep you safe–”

Finally, he arrived within the distance he needed, snatching you by the waist and spinning you into him. Your chests were pressed together, quivering with the force of labored breaths, but before he could hit the power button– 

“Cause, I dunno, I just love ya, sweetheart. I'd never let anythin' happen to ya.”

His world blurred, his heart pounding so aggressively it felt like it was creeping out of his rib cage. It was done. It was over.

Panting, you looked up at him with a furrowed brow. His heart sank as he watched the realization crawl across your face. 

“You...you love me?” You asked meekly as Frank took a step away from you.

His entire body felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t decide whether he needed to scream or be sick. An apology roosted on his tongue, but his mouth was too dry for the words to come out.

“You love me.” You murmured, looking at the phone as if it would explain his words for you.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinkin'–” He choked out, scrambling backwards sloppily so that he wouldn’t witness your pity.

“Frank–” You spoke softly, the sympathetic edge to your words cutting his composure like a blade.

“Christ, I'll just go, I'm sorry–” He whispered, his throat tightening with immense regret.

“Frank” Your fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist, turning him back to face you. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the rejection and subsequent loss of connection that he’d stupidly caused. But it never came. 

Instead, your free hand cupped his neck, pulling his lips to meet yours. His knees wavered, nearly giving out as your soft lips met his. He was bombarded with surprise and affection and relief. Pulling back from him, you rubbed a finger over his nape and smiled softly.

“I love you too.”

“You–” He was too shocked to even ask a full question. His knees finally gave out and he fell against you. 

“Woah, careful there, tough guy.” You chuckled, nudging him backwards so that he crumbled onto your mattress instead of taking you both to the ground. 

Listing sideways onto your mattress, he let you prod at his limbs until he was fully seated. Bile was swiftly rising in his throat, but whether it was from the chase or the resulting emotions, he was unsure. Swallowing roughly, he grimaced. 

Biting your lip, you let go of his wrist to stroke your blissfully cool fingers along his cheek. “Let me get you some water, ok? I’ll be right back.”

Eyes falling closed, Frank took a handful of measured breaths, lips twitching with a small smile despite his current agony. You loved him too. He had a feeling that he should be skeptical, but he was experiencing too much to consider that at the moment. For now, he would just accept this outcome, however miraculous it might seem. 

Hearing your soft footsteps back into the room, he opened his eyes–immediately regretting it when his head convulsed with a renewed stab of pain. Moaning softly, he scrunched his eyes shut, bringing his thumbs up to his brows to knead them in the hope it would lessen the ache. 

“Head bothering you?” Your voice was impossibly soft as you knelt by his side, gently prying one of his hands away from his face and pressed a cold glass into it. 

“Yah. Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to crash here.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I already texted Curt and told him you’d be staying here for a bit.” Pulling back your sheets on the other side of the bed, you propped yourself up next to him. “Tired?”

Grumbling affirmatively, Frank tilted his head into your shoulder, rolling as far into you as he could stomach. “But we should probably–”

“We got all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You stroked his stubbled chin languidly, smirking as his expression relaxed beneath your touch. “Just sleep. After last night, we both need it.”

“God, I love you.” He murmured, throwing an arm over your hips and letting you nestle in close. 

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, Frank.” 

Frank made a mental reminder to buy Lieberman a beer the next time they went out. He’d never admit it to David, but he was beyond grateful that his uninhibited self had finally made a move. 

Feeling more content than he had in months, he let himself drift off to the sound of your soft breathing.

Thanks for reading!!

[irisintheafterglow]

hello!!! i saw your that your requests were open so i was wondering if you were able to write a hurt/comfort zoro x reader story about how the reader gets injured from a fight, but they don’t wanna be a burden so they hide it until they collapse on deck :)))

tell me that we’ll be just fine (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 1.74k

cw/tags: hurt/comfort with happy sappy ending, swearing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of drinking and alcohol, zoro just loves you and you worry the shit out of him

note: yassss i love hurt/comfort injury prompts (it's the innate desire to just be carried and be vulnerable and have someone care in my weakest hour and and and and) hope you like this, thank you for your request !!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“Guys, I am about to get so wasted.”

“We still have that good shit from Baratie, yeah?”

“Hiding in the back of the cellar, baby!” A loud smack rings out into the harbor as Usopp and Sanji’s hands clap together, deliriously excited after winning a scrimmage with a rival crew. Their proud vocalizations are added to by their captain and devolve into giddy skipping down the remainder of the dock as you make your way back to the ship. Zoro walks just ahead of you, glancing back every so often like he was worried you would collapse. You were planning to, but not now. Just get to the ship. Get to the ship and we’ll be fine.

“I vote Zoro for vomit duty tomorrow morning,” Nami mutters next to you, nudging your arm with her elbow. It’s a light touch but it feels like the world tilts sharply and you pray she can’t see the panic in your eyes when you try to remain upright. Despite her best efforts to remain mature and indifferent, her eyes were sparkling with self-assurance that you only saw from her when she felt a mission went well. She carries the folder of coveted Marine intelligence under one arm, her other hand holds up a bag of goodies you’d snatched from the base that would make good money down the line. “Plus, it gives us some time to take our share of this stuff. Nice finds, by the way. I’m impressed.” 

“Thanks. I learned from the best,” you reply, relief flooding you when she turns back to watch her idiot crewmates and not further inspect the limp in your step. Zoro’s eyes meet yours over his shoulder and you give him a strained smile, well aware that you probably looked like you’d crawled out of hell. When he turns away again, you exhale with great difficulty, fighting off another wave of nausea that threatens to send you stumbling into the water. It’s just a flesh wound, you figure. No need to halt their celebration just because you got a silly cut. “What’s your first pick out of the bag?”

“There’s a pretty little jeweled chalice I was looking at,” she says casually. The waning afternoon sun makes her hair look like a fire, bright and warm. “We could scrape off the rubies and pawn them at the next island.”

“Or, you could drink water from it and look like a pompous asshole.” Just keep it casual. Be normal. The pulse in your ears becomes slightly faster when you notice the foggy spots in your vision. “Freeze some of the diamonds from that candlestick and use them as ice cubes.”

“Very true,” she laughs and you force out a chuckle to mirror her, wincing at the aching pain in your side. Her eyebrows furrow and her mouth falls into a frown. Your attempts to seem fine were starting to fall through. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been walking a little slower than usual.” 

“I’m fine, I promise. I just got punched in the gut a little harder than I anticipated,” you lie straight through your teeth, well aware that it wasn’t just a fist that had you losing enough blood to fill the galley sink. To be fair, the guy’s second blade appeared out of nowhere. You were outnumbered five to one but still held your own; only when there was a single fighter left did he resort to cutthroat tricks. One minute, you’re parrying with ease; the next, a small dagger pops out from the fighter’s left sleeve, cutting a deep wound into your side before you can block it with the saber in your right hand. It was a dirty move and you mentally kicked yourself for not anticipating foul play much sooner. To make matters worse, you were only able to staunch the blood so much before Zoro found you in the courtyard. Though you sufficiently covered your injury, he was still eyeing you like he knew that something was off. Like clockwork, every minute he was checking on you. It was wordless, but you still knew he was inspecting you, waiting for you to reveal that something happened and that you needed help.

That moment came the instant your boots met the wood of the deck. 

In seconds, your vision violently careens to the right and you’re conscious just enough to expect the thud of your head against the floor. But, the crash never comes. When you fall, your mind registers another body that you fall into, strong and stable. One arm slips effortlessly under your exhausted legs, lifting you from the ground while the other supports your upper back. Your eyes blur the image of your panicked crew like an oil painting, smearing it every which way until the colors are bleeding together more uncontrollably than the blood dripping from your side. Everything sounds like you’re drowning, rising above the water for a moment only to be pulled back down into murky disorientation. 

“Idiot,” a low voice says. It’s wrought with worry, even though you can tell they’re trying not to hide it. It’s clear enough that you know it’s coming from whoever is holding you. “Why the hell did you wait?” You’re barely able to distinguish far-off shouting from Sanji, ordering Luffy and Usopp to grab his knives. But, if all three of them were over there and Nami was throwing open cabinets looking for the med kit, that means the person holding you was… “Fuck. I knew something was wrong.” You have half the mind to articulate a weak response, but it comes out as nothing more than a groan when you’re placed onto what feels like the galley counter. The pounding in your forehead starts to become airy, like when you’re walking down the sidewalk after a night of drinking until you were on the verge of passing out. Zoro doesn’t let you go, though. His calloused fingers gently brush the dirt from your face, quietly pleading for you to stay with me, stay with me, stay with me. “You’re okay. We’re okay. Just stay with me.” 

“They’re losing a lot of blood and I can’t find the damn med kit.” 

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Above deck, having a collective panic attack.” Nami’s voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away. 

“Figures.” Zoro’s, on the other hand, is the only thing keeping you rooted and stopping you from drifting off. It’s sharp and strained, nothing like you’d ever heard from him before. Sanji’s lanky steps enter the kitchen and you hear the zip of his knife bag somewhere close to your ear.

“This is bad; I need to stop that bleeding or they might–” Zoro’s grip on your hand is tight, physically holding you down to reality. Whether you laced your fingers in his or the other way around, you didn’t remember.

“Well, let’s fucking do something about it then, waiter,” is the last thing you hear before darkness wipes your vision. 

Your eyes blink open after what feels like seconds, but the starry sky outside the window tells you it had been hours. It takes a moment for the details to come back to you, as does the soreness where they must have patched up your wound. The hard stone of the counter has been replaced by your bed and the comforting sway of the ship tells you Luffy ordered the ship to depart. It’s healing, in a way, the rocking back and forth motion of the ship that reminds you how close you were to slipping away. After a minute, you muster up enough energy to look at the rest of your room and you can’t help smiling when you see Zoro sitting at your bedside, tensely sleeping with the Wado Ichimonji laid across his lap. His eyes fly open when you whisper his name, delicately setting his blade on the floor before crouching at your side. 

“You’re okay,” he breathes and it sounds more like a reassurance for himself than for you.

“I’m okay,” you confirm just as softly, threading your fingers between his and squeezing lightly. He squeezes back, looking at you like you painted the constellations outside your window. “How long have you been here?”

“Since Sanji and Nami fixed you up, about six hours ago.”

“You’ve been sitting there for six hours?”

“I would have sat longer. I’d wait for you, no matter how long you slept,” he says and it sounds like a vow. “You scared the shit out of me, you know that?”

“Sorry,” you apologize weakly, giving him as much of a shy smile as you could. He rolls his eyes in exasperation but can’t help the corner of his mouth quirking too. “I didn’t want to bother you all while you were celebrating.”

“You really think I’m going to give alcohol priority over you?”

“Depends on the alcohol,” you point out and he shakes his head at your teasing. Your hand fits in his like a puzzle piece and you’re struck by the overwhelming feeling of safety you have whenever Zoro’s around. “But, really. I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

His eyes darted to the side like you’d said something that embarrassed him. The only thing he could think to do in that moment was bring your hand to his lips and press the lightest kiss to it. A promise that he’d always take care of you. He never was the best with words, you realized in your friendship-borderline-relationship with him. The things you said tended to short-circuit his brain and it was fascinating to watch him try and think of a coherent response. In times like these, however, when he’s simply unable to find the words for how much he feels for you, his actions are infinitely louder. 

“You should go back to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up. Do you need anything before you rest? Water or blankets or something?”

“No, just you. If you got in here with me, I wouldn’t mind,” you suggest nonchalantly and you giggle when his face becomes pinker. He obliges, though, slipping into the covers with you and carefully pulling you into him until you’re pressed against his chest like your own personal heater. His breathing is slow and steady, but you swear you can hear his heartbeat racing. “You’re the only one I’ll ever need, I think.”

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart. Just don’t do stupid shit like get stabbed again.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[oneforthemunny]

autumn changes |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you and eddie take bea to the farmer's market to pick out a pumpkin.

still on my fall shit lol. feeling hormonal and longing for a child, so a domestic soft dad!mafia!eddie x mom!reader fic was in order bc i said so lol. very fluffy and sweet.

“What about the big white ones?” You pointed across the aisle, stepping towards the wooden crate filled with ‘Cinderella Pumpkins’ as the chalk sign read. 

“Oh, look at these Bea, you know what they call these?” You cooed at the little toddler, bouncing her lightly on your hip, her cheek pressed to your shoulder, knuckling her eyes sleepily. The three year old was still a little grumpy about being woken up from her car ride nap. 

“Baby,” Eddie hissed, closing in on you, eyes scanning the crowds. “Stay close to me, alright?” 

You rolled your eyes. “We’re right here, Eddie.” Your tone clipped, shoulders tight with irritation. You knew his protectiveness came from a place of love, pure adoration and devotion for you and Bea both. Still, it was irritating. 

Eddie’s narrowed gaze pierced through you, even behind his darkened sunglasses. A tattooed hand sliding over your waist, squeezing your hip lightly in warning, the same way he used to when you two had first started dating. It sent a chilling thrill of excitement to your core, glancing over your shoulder at him with a small grin. 

“Look, Bumble Bee, these are called Cinderella Pumpkins.” Your voice lifted in a soft coo that had Eddie’s chest tightening with affection. 

“Princess?” Bea’s eyes lit up, perking up from her sullen state at the mention of one of her beloved Disney Princesses. Though she was favoring Jasmine these days, she was still a fan of any of them. 

“Mhm,” You hummed, holding her close to your chest. “What do you think, should we get those?” 

“Yes,” Bea wiggled, trying to push out of your arms, ready to get down and run around. “Get-Get the big one, Mommy.” She pointed a finger over towards the rather large white pumpkin on the ground. 

“The big one?” You gasped lightly, bouncing her on your hip so she shook with laughter, giggles trilling out in a soft screech. 

“You gotta ask Daddy if we can get the big one.” You muttered lightly, turning towards Eddie. “He’s the one who’s gotta carry it.” 

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, your cheek pressed to Bea’s, face to face; the two of you looked so alike. He always told you that. You’d roll your eyes, scoff and insist she was his twin, but he saw more of you in her every day. 

“Can we get the big one, Daddy?” Bea reached for Eddie, practically launching herself in his arms. “Please? I asked really, really nicely.” She curled into him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, looking up at him with big brown eyes rounded so sweetly- a look she definitely got from you. 

“You did ask nicely, thank you.” Eddie hummed, running a hand over her messy hair, tangled from the wind. “What do you think, sweetheart? Do you want one or two for the porch?” He looked at you, already reaching for his wallet in the back of his jeans. 

“Probably two. I can put them on either side of the door.” Eddie passed you his wallet, keeping a careful eye on you as you walked to the front to pay. He scanned the crowds again, letting Bea babble away to him about the different things she saw, humming in response lightly as he watched. Eddie knew Gareth was lurking around somewhere, no doubt scanning the crowds just as he was. 

“Hey, Ed,” You called, breaking him from his trance. “She said they have wheelbarrows you can borrow to load them to the car if you want.” 

“Oh,” Bea squealed, turning towards Eddie so quickly she almost hit him in the face. “Can I ride in the wheelbarrow?” 

“Ride in the wheelbarrow?” You parroted with a grin. “Why do you wanna ride in that, hm? Are you a pumpkin now?” 

“Nooo,” Bea giggled, leaning back to look at you. “I just wanna ride in it.” 

You eyed her playfully. “Hm, maybe if you ask nicely.”  

“Please?” Bea added quickly, already squirming to get out of Eddie’s arms, sending his heart lurching with panic. 

You didn’t seem bothered, pulling the wheelbarrow off the ground, maneuvering it towards the pumpkins. “Fine, but let me load these in first, ok?” 

“Let me get them.” Eddie clicked, reaching a hand out to stop you before you could wrangle the obnoxiously large pumpkin up. “I got it, baby. You hold her.” He passed Bea to you, bending down to lift the pumpkin, hoping his rings didn’t stab it like last time. 

“Are you going to help me decorate when we get home?” You cooed to Bea, swaying her lightly like you did when she was a newborn. You knew she was too old, all the parenting books told you that, but it was a habit- one that soothed the both of you. 

“Yes,” Bea grinned, curling in closer to you. “I’ll help you, Mama. We can put the bats up.” 

Eddie’s heart burst with warm joy at her soft sing-songy voice. For all his hesitation and terror about having a baby, he never knew he could love something so much. From the moment she was born, all seven pounds of screaming baby, he’d been so overwhelmed with a feeling of adoration he couldn’t begin to explain. Everyday it seemed to grow, for the both of you- his girls. 

Bea settled on top of the pumpkins, gripping the sides as Eddie pushed slowly over the graveled parking lot, her tiny giggles and squeals of laughter leaving you both beaming with pride. 

“Mama,” Bea turned, leaving both you and Eddie cringing in fear, for a moment, scared she would fall. “Can we make the pun’kins into carriages like on the real Cinderella?” 

“Sure, baby. I think we can craft that.” You smiled, speed stepping to stand beside her, a hand on her back to steady her. 

“We can put bats on them too so-so it’s scary.” Bea giggled. “Right? Because Halloweens ‘sposed to be scary, right, Daddy?” She turned to look at Eddie over her shoulder. 

“That’s right.” Eddie grinned, making his way towards the sleek black car in the parking lot- bigger than the luxury sports cars he had in the past. Safer now and bigger for a baby, his baby. 

You lifted Bea out of the wheelbarrow, carrying her around towards the backseat to buckle her into place, while Eddie loaded the pumpkins in. The car ride back was much louder than the one there, Bea babbling on and on to you and Eddie about Halloween, her costume, the decorations, what candy Grandpa Wayne would have this year. 

Eddie held your hand in between the console, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he allowed himself to relax just for a moment. He let himself feel at peace, safe in the serenity of the car with his family. 

[fractualized]

A while ago I got under someone's skin for referencing Joker's surprising delayed reaction to killing Jason Todd, and since then I've been thinking it's worth digging into as an interesting element of Joker's characterization.

Of course, first thing's first: Jason's murder in Batman (1940) #427, as originally presented in 1988.

Jason has just reconnected with his biological mother, Sheila Haywood, at a famine relief camp in Ethiopia— and he's discovered that Joker is blackmailing her with information about her criminal past. She gets him truckloads of medical supplies to sell on the black market, and Joker restocks the trucks with toxin. While Bruce races to stop a tampered truck, Jason decides to help his mother on his own. When he discloses he's Robin, however, Sheila betrays him to Joker, not only to stay on Joker's good side but because she's actually been embezzling money from the organization she works for this whole time. She's afraid an investigation prompted by Batman and Robin's appearance would expose this fact.

So Sheila stands by as Jason is felled by Joker and his goons, and then the crowbarring starts.

It's bad! When we return later, Jason is presumably dead.

While Joker isn't shocked that he's murdered a child, he does have an unexpected reaction to Sheila's point. He hadn't really been thinking about what he was doing, implying that he hadn't intended to kill Jason. He just got carried away, whoopsie! He didn't do this to get at Batman; he wasn't thinking about Batman at all. Now, however, he's concerned about how Batman will react.

Joker thinks Jason is already dead. The purpose of the bomb is to get rid of the evidence of his involvement, including Sheila. Joker is not broken up about what he did, but he does have a sense that he's gone a step too far and he doesn't want Batman to know about it. At least for now!

In the end, while Jason wakes and he and his mother try to save each other, they're trapped in the warehouse when the bomb goes off. Bruce makes it back only in time to find a dying Sheila, who tells him it was Joker. When Bruce finds Jason, Jason gets no last words. He's already dead, and Bruce is devastated.

A clue from Joker leads Bruce to the United Nations in New York, and there, infamously, Bruce learns that Joker has been made the ambassador from Iran. Joker is now protected from prosecution, and Batman going after him risks an international incident. Bruce still very much wants to, but Superman stops him.

Well, mostly Superman. I recommend reading Batman #429 to see Bruce's full thought process on this. He is furious and constantly thinking about finally ending Joker— but he also questions his mental state. He still wonders if he can hold Joker responsible if he believes Joker is insane. He uses phrases like "what happened to Jason" like it was a natural disaster, not murder. He even confronts Joker to give him one last chance to turn himself in to Arkham Asylum. Bruce is in a kind of denial, still grabbing at how things usually go.

But back to Joker. Evidently, he's no longer worried that Batman will find out he killed Robin. Joker admits to it immediately.

I assume Joker realized there was no point in denying it. Is Batman going to think it's a coincidence that Robin got blown up when Joker was around? Though Bruce does say it's Joker's taunts that 100% confirm for him that the clown was responsible, pointing again to Bruce still grasping for reasons to not break his rule in his grief.

By the end of the issue, Joker has naturally tried to kill the entire United Nations assembly, which instantly made him free game. So Bruce pursues him to a helicopter, and an in-air scuffle ensues in which Bruce explicitly prevents Joker from being killed by friendly fire, evidently so he can decide how Joker will die. Bruce jumps out of the helicopter, abandoning Joker to a fiery crash. However, despite Bruce's (supposed) intentions, Joker's body is nowhere to be found. The clown lives!

So that's it, right? Joker felt some unease about killing Jason initially, but in a short time, he was happy to gloat about it to Batman's face.

But when Joker reappears in Batman #450, in 1990, he is not triumphant. He's holed up in a dilapidated building, where he learns someone is impersonating him.

How often do we see Joker upset by murders? When the story returns to him, we learn more about his mental state.

With all of Joker's cackling glee at the things he's done, coming close to actual death in the helicopter crash has jarred him— and not just the crash, but the murder that led to it. He recoils from the memory of what he did to Jason. It's why he can't see the joke anymore. It's set apart from his previous crimes. It's too far.

Which is not at all to say that Joker is completely broken up about Jason. By the end of #450, he rallies and sets out to go after his copycat and restore his reputation to his liking.

In Batman #451, though, Joker is still plagued by doubts along the way.

Even when he overcomes those doubts, claiming the mantle as the one and only Joker when his copycat dies by falling into acid, Joker challenges Gordon to finally kill him. It's reminiscent of The Killing Joke, the first time Joker went too far. But like TKJ, Gordon and Batman decide to get Joker back to Arkham against their more vengeful instincts.

Joker's also decided Arkham is just what he needs. Outside, he's plagued by the reality of what he's done; in Arkham, he can settle back into his insanity and stop caring about it again.

So after that, Joker has no second thoughts about killing Jason, right? After all, he largely references the murder in callous terms. In-universe this makes sense as Joker revising history in his own head, particularly as more stories portray his effort to be more monster than man. Monsters don't have qualms about murder! But this is comics, so we can also presume that not all Joker writers know or remember #450/451, which I think is a shame. I find stories in which Joker expresses even just a degree of vulnerability to be more interesting than those where he's just mwahaha evil.

I have seen a few other bat stories bring some nuance into Joker's perception of Jason's death, though.

First up is the particularly nuanced "Fool's Errand" in Detective Comics (1937) #726, published in 1998. Bruce visits Joker in Arkham to get information on how to find a kidnapped girl who's running out of time. It just so happens Joker arranged this kidnapping for a particular day.

I strongly recommend this issue for batjokes fans, as it revolves around Joker talking the case through with Batman in his cell to help him figure out more clues to a crime Joker himself planned. Even with Bruce beating Joker up, the conversational tone feels almost friendly. They're just doing their usual thing.

Well, sort of. Bruce has already said he's not in the mood, and he interrupts their conversation to say so again.

Joker could insist that Batman stay and keep playing the game, and needle him for being unwilling to merely talk to Joker to rescue this child. Instead, Joker gives up her location.

And Bruce does come back as predicted.

So that was Joker's nefarious plan. He wanted to restore some hope to Bruce's cynical soul to be sure that his future failures would hurt even more. But it sure seems the middle didn't go the way Joker expected, when he recognized Batman just wasn't going to play the game as usual.

Joker doesn't jump into taunting. He doesn't answer Bruce at first. He's withdrawn and reflective. He's got something else on his mind on this anniversary of the second Robin's death, and he knows that Bruce does, too. Perhaps not forcing Batman to play was a small gesture, acknowledging the difficulty of the day, remembering how things changed. And what does that gesture cost Joker when he still gets the outcome he wants?

Second example is actually also called "Fool's Errand," this one from Robin (1993) #85, published in 2001. This is a fun one in which Joker discusses his interactions and frustrations with the Robins.

But while Joker indicates more than once that he wants to fight Batsy alone, after he talks about killing Jason, this is the next page:

Joker does not then say he was relieved when another Robin showed up, but still. He's acknowledged again that when he murdered Jason, things were not right. As angry as the birdies make him, they're a key component in the game.

Then we come back to "Once More, With Feeling!" in Harley Quinn (2000) #25, from 2002. Harley's been playing double-agent against Batman with Joker, and she and Joker have this exchange.

Joker typically makes light of murdering Robin, but it seems that when he's with just about his only confidante, he lets other feelings about it burst out.

There's also a flashback to DitF in Batman: Gotham Knights #44 in 2003. We get an exchange between Bruce and Joker before Bruce jumps out of the helicopter.

Joker laughs as the helicopter dives, ready to die, but before that, he seems resigned. He doesn't throw in a real dig about murdering Jason, and he doesn't gloat that he's finally gotten Batman to kill him. He acknowledges he crossed a line.

Lastly, there's a 2006 exchange between, well, Joker and Jason himself in "All They Do is Watch Us Kill, Part 2" as part of Under the Red Hood in Batman (1940) #649. Jason has kidnapped Joker as batbait, and when Joker needles him, Jason needles him back.

Joker regularly extolls his own crimes, but suddenly one of his victims mockingly accuses him of putting up a front, of not being as coldhearted and untouchable as he wants to seem. Maybe Joker does doubt what he's doing and retreats under the cover of madness so he doesn't have to think about it— just as he did in Batman #451.

I'm not sure if there are other examples of Joker expressing anything but mocking glee about Jason's death. I do know of times he's shown a sort of fondness for Jason (such as in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Suicide Squad: Get Joker #3), but that's not really the same thing. Joker could've seen Red Hood as his and Batman's Frankenstein child without feeling any squeamishness about killing him in the first place.

But if anyone knows of any other moments where Joker does not act like killing Jason is absolutely his most favorite thing he ever did, do share!

[satoruhour]

if you haven’t done it yet! aftercare with gojo?

a/n: oh i just HAD to write this thank u for the prompt mirah <3

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink but it’s described as briefly as possible

he used to think aftercare was sort of boring? i feel it’s because he never really found the right person so he usually does the bare minimum, cleaning his partner up, getting them water and making them feel comfortable

but he always felt empty inside after they fall asleep, always keeping his distance no matter what

that was until he got together with you and he feels like he’s been missing out on so much

i have a headcanon he’s so unused to affection that his partner will be the one to introduce aftercare to him

like foreplay, aftercare can anything you want it to be!

and he laughs at your comment, fingers shaking from how much he liked you when you sink into his side with the tv droning on at the back

gojo loves all forms of aftercare but i feel he would love a few minutes of cuddling and skin to skin contact before you actually clean up

always has a packet of wet tissues on the bedside table and a glass of sweet sweet tea

it’s kinda gross bc of how sweet it is and if you have a sweet tooth too then good for you

but otherwise it’s insanely sweet, and he uses his cursed energy to heat up the tea!!! waow

but if you dont want hot tea then u gotta drink lukewarm tea sorry

he always carries you. dont try to fight him but he loves to take care of you after sex. loves to wash ur hair and body and you’ll do it back to him :)

sometimes it escalates to another round but most times he likes the two of you in the quietness of the bathroom and just the swooshes of the water

he doesn’t prefer the bathtub or shower more but he’ll pick what you like and go along with it

if you still have energy he likes to watch random youtube videos like cat memes or funny videos (the ones he picks are not exactly funny however…)

you two rarely watch movies bc they’re really long but if you do you’re usually the one to fall asleep bc gojo is naturally replenishing himself with his technique. and also he likes to watch you sleep

creep

he takes photos of you when you’re asleep in his arms and he shows it to you the next day but one day youre suggesting to him that maybe he can fall asleep first

and when he stops his CT it’s like … woah. he falls asleep so soundly in your arms that it’s adorable and now he’s more open to being tucked under your arms to succumb to sleep first

that time also allows you to say your confessions softly and to admire him without any teasing

this time is very soft and delicate and intimate and satoru thinks it’s his favourite, but then again every moment with you is a blessing ♡

the air is thick and musky with sex, skin laced with tear stains while gojo continues to rock into you long after you’ve cummed, moans and pants leaving your mouth with whispers of satoru’s name. the kisses he litters there makes your skin tingle before he’s releasing in you, and it’s thick, filling you up while his lips meet yours passionately, muttering confessions with a smile.

“baby…” gojo pokes your cheek, your expression close to pure bliss from the orgasm that he’s a little worried but he knows you’re being dramatic. it’s something you picked up from him. “you okay?”

your eyes crack open a bit as your hands make their way to his cheeks, feeling the fat of his cheeks fill up your hands when he smiles. with a free hand, his hand engulfs yours, planting a kiss to it and the smile-turned-grin he gives you is blinding before he decides it’s been too long that he’s kissed you.

slipping out of you, he pulls you closer with an arm while the other brushes the sweat-filled hair from your forehead, lips capturing yours softly. you move together, languid and slow and satoru cannot stop smiling as he pulls away, drunk on you.

“let’s get you clean, hm?” gojo plants one more peck on you after twenty minutes; twenty minutes of talking in whispers and kissing (satoru’s doing). he waits for your outstretched arms, hooking his own under your neck and knees just as you plead for him to carry you. “such a big baby.”

you giggle, mumbling a soft yeah before pecking his cheek, holding his stare so full of ardent love that your heart feels like it might actually stop — it almost does when you feel the cold water from the shower head hit your back and you jump with a yelp.

satoru laughs, “my bad, heater wasn’t on.”

“bastard.”

“you certainly don’t think i’m one by how much you were screaming my name just n—”

you groan as his giggles only increase in volume, swooping you up easily before it falls silent and it’s only the sound of the shower filling your ears.

soon, the night is calm, something that isn’t the case usually with gojo, but you’ve casted such a deep spell on the strongest — the weakest when with you — that all he can do is watch your content face and humming voice with a silent love, fingers gliding through his white locks with shampoo and suds.

recently, satoru finds that he’s starting to smell more and more like you.

i have chronic loving-gojo-satoru-like-an-clinically-insane-person disease