#i miss my boys shinee a lot too

[cosmojjong]

day (??) of my account acting up, sent another appeal to tumblr staff UNSHADOWBAN MY BLOG I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING

[yeslordmyking]

🌕

[pearlymel]

That boy is mine.

୨୧ Summery: hsr men and their love languages.

୨୧ Including: Aventurine, Jing Yuan, Sunday, Veritas Ratio, Argenti.

୨୧ Warnings: none. Gn! Reader, All fluff, just the hsr men spoiling you like how you should be spoilt.

♡︎ Aventurine— receiving gifts.

“Err, Aventurine? This is the fifth diamond bracelet this month.”

“Today is a special day.”

“You say that everyday…” you whisper to yourself in amusement while your fingers brush over the expensive material sealed around your wrist. You try not to sound disappointed because—you’re not really disappointed but rather confused or guilty for him spending so recklessly with you.

Upon seeing the guilt he knew so well etched on your face, he quickly steps closer, “It looks pretty on you, which is all the reason i need.” He teases, his hand snaking towards your lower back. “You didn’t complain about the shoes and necklace I bought you,” he shrugs with a grin plastered on his face and you shake your head in return.

“I appreciate everything you do to me, i just dislike it when a lot of money is wasted.” You gently scold him but he brushes it off with a laugh. 

“Darling, you need to stop thinking like this. Money was meant to be spent.” He playfully flickers your forehead, before gently caressing the spot with his thumb.

“How can i ever spoil you back, hmm?” He grins at your question, his thumb that was caressing your forehead moves to your chin. Holding it with a firm, yet gentle grip. “I told you, silly,” he murmurs, leaning forward to bring his face closer to yours. “All you have to do is be cute, and give me a kiss every once in a while.”

“… is that it?” Your figure almost slumps at his too simple requests. From now on, you’d try harder to shower him with all the kisses and affection.

“That’s all it takes. Your cute little reactions and your pretty face are more than enough to spoil such a simple man, like me.” He says, his hand slipping down to your waist, pulling you closer. You take ahold of his face with your hands, pulling his face to give his lips some attention, his hand tightening around your waist “will this suffice?”

“I’m a bit greedy, one more.” He whispers, and you press your lips against his again for another chaste kiss. “Again,” he says in a bit more demanding tone this time, taking over the lead and kissing you even deeper, trailing his lips along your jawline then a final kiss just below your earlobe. Your whole face burning just from simple kisses.

“I will get you anything you want, everything you desire,” he whispers against your neck, “A yacht, a penthouse, jewels, whatever you want. My only condition is you stay with me, and make those cute little noises when i spoil you.”

“Cute little noises?” You squint your eyes at him, pulling back to see him, “you mean.. my surprised expressions?”

“Exactly like that. The soft gasps, wide eyes, and adorable smile.” You grins while taking you in a crushing embrace and you only laugh back at him.

♡︎ Jing Yuan— physical touch.

You suddenly can’t breath when the general came home particularly clingy today. Big arms preventing you from escaping his hold with his lips not leaving any spot untouched on your face.

“Missed you today,” he would whisper in his thick raspy voice, hands roaming around your body with strands of his hair almost covering your face, “my pretty spouse.” His voice is muffled from his face buried in your neck.

“You’re the clingiest man i know.”

His suddenly stopped for a moment, expression darkening slightly, “you know other men?”

“Ohh, the most jealous one too.” You chuckle when he shoots you a pout, sometimes you could imagine him looking like a big sad lion.

“Not that I’m complaining.” You press a tender kiss to his forehead, and just like that, his shoulders relax and his golden eyes seem to shine just a bit brighter. “Was work harsh on you today?”

Jing Yuan let out a drawn-out sigh, "Exhausting is more like it," he replied with a tired smile. "Still need to train Yanqing later tonight per his request,"

His expression softened as he looked down to meet your gaze.

"I've been looking forward to this time with you all week." He hums, resting his head on your chest and your hand immediately finds its place on his hair. Jing Yuan smiles as he feels your delicate fingers take out the red ribbon from his long, white hair, letting it cascade down to his shoulders.

"I should call in sick tomorrow," he grins when he hears you quietly chuckle, beginning to lean on you as your fingers worked through his hair. 

“Is this the general of the luofu?” You decide to tease him a bit, his rough hands squeezing your thighs in return. “No, this is just your spouse now. All putty for you."

♡︎ Veritas Ratio— Quality time.

Ratio was sprawled on his stomach, a large book held in his hands. He was so engrossed in the content that he didn't even hear you enter the room until you jumped onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” You simply ask as you make space for yourself next to him, He turned his head to glance at you for a second before returning his attention to the page.

"Reading a book on advanced mathematics," he replied, his voice sounding a bit distracted. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

“Oh the boring stuff.”

"Boring? Excuse you. This stuff happens to be quite fascinating. Not everyone can appreciate the complexity and beauty of mathematical theory, you know."

Your brain goes short circuit at his explanation, and you shake your head instead. "You can read your amazing stuff to yourself while i... Maybe brush your hair?"

Ratio couldn't help but scoff at your suggestion. "Brush my hair, really? What, do you think I'm a doll or something?"

But secretly, the idea of you running your fingers through his hair had a certain appeal to him. He shrugged nonchalantly, feigning indifference.

"Fine, go ahead. Do with my hair whatever makes you happy, I suppose."

"Yay," you immediately grab the brush from your drawer and gesture him to lean back against your chest, and he immediately obliged. Melting back against your chest while holding his book to his lap. “I love you,” you then whisper and he only hums in return.

You huff at his silence, "I thought you were going to say something like 'oh i love you to the moon and back!' or 'i actually don't love you'." You say in a mocking tone.

Ratio chuckled again, shaking his head in mock annoyance. "Oh, so you're expecting some sappy, romantic cliché, are you? Sorry to disappoint you, darling."

He reached up and gently poked your forehead with his index finger. "I don't think I could actually say something like that with a straight face. I have standards, you know."

Then you tug his hair gently with the brush, showing your annoyance, making him gasp. "Hey, careful with the hair," he protested half-heartedly, feigning irritation. "Do you want me to go bald before I'm thirty?"

"At least you look pretty now." You hand him a mirror to show him the creation you've made on his hair. Tiny braids. 

“Aeons, what have you done to my hair?”

"I made an artwork, thank you very much."

He took another look at his reflection in the mirror, tilting his head to examine the braids in his hair from different angles.

“Artwork, you say?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Looks more like a bird’s nest, if you ask me.”

You blink twice at his words, "Wait, what if birds actually lay their eggs on your hair?" His smirk vanished, replaced by a look of mock horror. "Oh gods, please don't give them ideas," he said, you both quickly start unbraiding his hair.

♡ Sunday— Acts of service.

“Is this better, love?” Sunday asks softly when he took off his coat to drape it around your shoulders instead, and you nod your head. He wouldn’t want his beloved to catch a cold now. 

Both of you decided to go on a walk in penacony as a date, just to enjoy each other’s presence for the night.

He wraps a protective hand around your waist, moving to walk on the side of the street while you were safely walking on the sidewalk.

“I wouldn’t ask for anything more.” You smile brightly under the light poles. "I’m relieved to hear that, darling." Sunday replied with a pleasant hum, giving your hips a gentle squeeze as you leaned into him for warmth. He smiled at your laugh, finding your happiness to be such a joyous sight. you had always been such an angelic being in his eyes; just the sight of your smiling and laughing was enough for his heart to flutter madly in his chest.

"careful, dont trip. watch your step."

You step to the side just in time to avoid tripping over a few rocks, giving him the sweetest smile, "Always caring for me, my love."

Sunday felt his cheeks flush ever so faintly at your smile. The soft feathers of his wings grazing his cheeks in a failed attempt to hide the redness. Your sweet personality and mannerisms tugging at the strings of his heart in an almost dizzying manner. 

"i cant possibly let my angel hurt themself on our date, now can i?"

It was your turn for your cheeks to flush at his words. Your tried turning around to avoid him seeing your face when your hand landed upon a bush of flowers.

You carefully pluck the crimson one before handing it to him, "for you,”

He took the flower from your hand and twirled it between his fingers, admiring the pretty, crimson hue. he tucked it behind his ear, the red complimenting his hair nicely.

he chuckled in amusement. “it's beautiful. how did you know red is my favourite colour?"

"Is it? Last time i gave you a blue shirt and you said it was your favourite colour." You laugh, plucking another flower to tuck it right at the fluttering wings next to his ears. 

“Hmm, everything you give me is my favorite. That’s only fair.” For some reason the way Sunday talks, makes you believe for sure that you’re definitely safe with him.

♡ Argenti— words of affirmation.

“I cannot get enough of you.” he murmured against your hair. It’s quieter than usual now with his presence, which is something you don’t hate either.

"You flatter me with your words, darling." You whisper, feeling protected around his arms, with your head resting on his chest where you could listen to his heart beat rather quicker than usual.

"And you flatter me with your presence, my love," Argenti replied, his voice a deep and velvety rumble. His hand rose to gently brush a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering on your cheek for a moment too long.

The steady rhythm of his heart seemed to pick up its pace as it thumped against his chest, a subtle giveaway of his growing excitement. "You make my heart beat faster than it should," he confessed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Your words always manages to make me fall head over heels for you.” You say dreamily, taking a few on his red end strands of hair to twirl with. He laughed softly, shifting his position so he could look down at you. He gently tilted your chin up, his thumb gently grazing your jawline.

"Where do I even begin? Your beauty is without equal, a sight so captivating it robs me of my breath every time I lay my eyes upon you," he whispered, his voice soft yet filled with affection. "Your intelligence is like a rare gem, sharper than the finest sword and just as precious. Every moment spent with you is a treasure, my love."

You shift in your place a bit to take a good look at his face, and you only see gentleness and sincerity behind it.

“I lied, my skin might burn from all this sweetness.” You admit, pressing your chin against his shoulder.

Argenti laughed again, and you might think it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. He gently wrapped his arms around yours, "Seeing the effect I have on you is a sight more beautiful than any sunrise," he purred, voice dripping like honey, his hand now moving to glide down your neck, fingers tracing patterns on your nape.

"I will never tire of making your skin burn, my love. Each blush and shiver you give me only adds fuel to my desire for you." His thumb traced circles on your nape, and you could just sleep right here.

“I never thought I would be this… desire-able?” You mumble, the hint of insecurity showing, making him sigh.

"Nonsense,” he tightens his arms around you, “The way you move, the sound of your voice, the way you look at me... it drives me to the brink of madness. I find myself craving you at all hours of the day, constantly longing for your touch, your presence alone is enough to make me weak in my knees." 

You frown at his words, relaxing right here, in the arms of your lover, “you’re too precious.”

“Likewise, darling.”

[okwonyo]

THE BOY IS MINE, 或 𓈒𓈒 proofs that they are yours.

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 형선 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 3OO fluff established relationship ── non idol au not proofread ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀typed all this on pc and did not proofread .. i hope you all enjoy nonetheless ><

rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

as his phone’s wallpaper, would have a picture of you that he took in zero point five. would tend to stare at it with a idiotic smile before kissing it.

always would refer to you as his girl— well, more like, ‘my girl’— whenever he talks about you, which is a lot. and would giggle freely when his friends teasingly talk about ‘heeseung’s girl’.

JONGSEONG

would keep a picture that he took at your first date in his wallet fondly. at every anniversary, would renew it and would often stare at it, before putting it close to his heart when he misses you dearly.

would carry himself with a pendant with the first letter of your name on.  which would be the cause of the penury of several shirts with ‘v’ shaped necks— as he would buy about the entirety of them.

JAEYUN

on almost every social media he owns, would have you as his profile pictures. which would always create some rise of confusion when he posts and you would always laugh at the comments asking who runs this account— since he would post you a lot too.

would always get extremely kissy when he has to leave the house without you, leading to a bunch of kisses getting exchanged. wouldn’t even notice the couple of lipstick stain on his face when he walks in the streets.

SUNGHOON

would give you matching jewelry whenever he can. although discreet, the promise ring shining on your ring finger would refrain some from thirsting too much on you— or on him, for that matter.

whenever you are out together, would be attached to your hip. not even in the touchy way, but would just follow you everywhere you go— like your shadow or a watermark. where you are, he would be there too.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[onsomenewsht]

The sun's in my heart and I'm ready for love

About when she's right next to you, he's a menace and nothing can rain on your parade

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: -1.4k

》 rain or shine [idiom]: regardless of the weather or circumstances; sometimes used figuratively for whatever happens

“Mami, it’s raining today too!”

Your son’s voice is a sound you’ll never get tired of.

That’s what you have to remind yourself as you open your eyes at six in the morning on a rare day off, a five-year-old kid jumping on the bed without a care.

The rain hitting the windows is actually the third noise your still-half-asleep mind manages to take in – yet one you’re starting to get used to after almost a year in London.

Upon hearing Rafael’s voice – hours of Facetime could never make your son’s voice justice or bridge the distance –, the slight snoring of your wife comes to you, blissfully asleep at your side and unaware.

Lucky her.

“Rafa, it’s gonna stop soon”, you hope, trying to smooth his disappointment. Or at least make him stop bouncing.

“Aquí siempre llueve!” [but it’s always raining here]

He has a point.

Used to the Barcelona sun, the kid’s trips in London are often greeted by cloudy days and unexpected rainfalls. Maybe an entire morning exploring the park was an overly bold and optimistic promise.

“Monito, ven aquí” [come here]

She rises.

You turn to the woman as she pats the space between the two of you with one hand, the other on her face, trying to wake herself up properly – and hiding an amused smirk too.

Alexia’s smile grows as she welcomes your son under the blankets.

She looks tired, exhausted even. It’s a long and tricky season, the one occurring. And the situation you find yourself in as a family since you accepted the transfer to London is not helping.

You’re trying though, you all are.

“What do you think of lots of cuddles and then lots of waffles while we wait for the rain to stop, ¿qué tal?”

“How many waffles are we talking about?”

“A tantos como podamos comer” [as many as we can eat]

You lightly hit the blonde’s arm, avoiding being seen by Rafael.

She’s perfectly aware you’re going to be the one cooking for two people able to eat like an army – way too much for an athlete during the season and a kid barely tall enough to reach the kitchen counter by himself.

As an answer, the Catalan blows you a kiss and a wink.

You miss dearly mornings like this one, serene and without the frenetic need to be and to do as much as possible in the shortest time out of fear of not doing enough, not being together enough, before you have to be far away again.

“Hay trato” [we have a deal], he says with gravity after a careful evaluation of the proposal.

You and Alexia can’t hold back a laugh at Rafael’s unusual solemnity, ruffling his hair.

“¡Mami, no! You have to wake up, you have to make waffles!

“Yo? Oh no, you didn’t make a deal with me, monito”

“¡Por favor!, mamà can’t make them as good”

The mentioned lets out an offended gasp at the boy’s statement, bringing one hand to her chest as mortally wounded, to then theatrically collapse on the bed.

“My own child!”

“Mamà, es la verdad” [it’s true], Rafael doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge his mother, addressing you instead to plead his cause, “She tries to make them when I miss you, but they’re not really good”

Ignoring the grip on your heart at your son’s comment is way too difficult, but one thing you’re sadly starting to master, redirecting the conversation and sparking another little argument between him and Alexia.

It’s something you both learned to do in the past year, both out of necessity and out of care. You don’t hide the pain the distance causes your family, but you always try to make up for it with the love that binds you.

And with waffles, apparently.

The background noise subsides when you come back from your own head to giggles and a tickle fight.

Without even realising how it happens, you find yourself outnumbered with Alexia on top of you, holding your hands, while Rafael can’t hold back his laugh – even if he’s the one tickling you.

As soon as you decide it’s a reasonable time to actually get out of bed, you push both out of the room, demanding that they get dressed and at least set the table if they want to eat as many waffles as they can.

You’ve never seen either of them get ready so quickly.

What’s left of your morning passes between a long, messy breakfast, the constant rain as white noise, and silly games to distract your son from the boredom of another day locked in your new apartment.

For a kid as full of energy as Rafael is, there can be nothing worse.

A gentle hand diverts your gaze from the little boy not far away, busy setting up some toys to teach his moms a new game he invented.

“You don’t want this to get stuck”, Alexia hits you back with the same sentence you usually tell her when, too focused on something, her face wrinkles.

You turn your face, leaning into her care and her calloused hand.

“Does he hate me?”, you ask in a whisper, closing your eyes.

It’s your wife’s face that frowns this time, holding your face with both hands firmly as she tries to lift your genuinely frightened gaze to meet hers.

“How could he?”

“I moved to another country”, you answer – I left you, you’re too ashamed to say.

“Look at me, mi amor”

“I can’t–”

“Then look at him, por favor”

You dare glare back at your son, still lining up his toys and muttering some words to himself. He feels your eyes on himself, firing a smile in your direction and an excited “Almost ready, moms!”

“He loves you, and I love you”

“But–”

“No, we love you”, the Catalan states with a determinate edge in her voice, “You’re doing what’s best for your career, and neither of us is gonna hold it against you, not now nor ever. We’re making this work, no matter what”

Lost for words, you try to convey your gratitude with a kiss.

“No más lluvia!” [it’s stopped raining], the moment is interrupted by the childlike joy of Rafael, who joins you running and jumping, “Can we go out now?”

“I think it’s a bit too cold to–”

You stop Alexia with a hand on her arm and a small, resolute smile on your face, “It’s okay, go wear the raincoat Vic gifted you”

“¡Vamos!”

He skips to his room in your apartment, and you follow shortly behind, urging your wife to do the same. The blonde has a curious and slightly sceptical look on her face at the sudden mood shift.

“Cheer up, you don’t want that to get stuck”, you mock her with a grin.

The walk to the park just behind your apartment is marked by Rafael’s enthusiastic hopping. He is adorable, protected by huge amphibians and a yellow raincoat with a duck beak on the hood.

A view that manages to hearten Alexia, despite her aversion to the London weather.

When the two of you notice a huge puddle in the middle of the park, you know your son is going for it even before he sprints forward.

The kid jumps impressively high, right into the water, creating a wide splash all around as his open laugh fills the park and your heart.

You don’t miss a bit, taking your wife’s hand and running toward the mini version of the footballer ahead of you – right into the puddle to join the fun. Even skipping and kicking the water more when it starts to pour again, soaking you all head to toe.

The Catalan woman’s hands find your waist as you land another jump, spinning you around and right in her arms.

Loud giggles subside just when Alexia’s lips find yours, not caring about the rain or how the smiles on both your faces make it difficult to kiss properly.

What takes you apart is the sudden wave of water that hits hard and cold, Rafael jumping right between the two of you with a huge grin on his face as he draws your attention very effectively.

You and Alexia look at him, not ready at all for the loud “Quack!” he shouts, covered in his duck-like raincoat.

[babyleostuff]

let me go | choi seungcheol

author’s note | tbh i had such a hard time writing for him BECAUSE I MISS MY DARLING CHEOL and i can’t stand the thought of him being in painnnn. i want him to be happy and healthy and i want him to be back with the boys, i hate it hereeee

“Stop moving so much,” Seungcheol whined, his words coming out slurred due to his cheek being pressed against your stomach. 

“But I really need to go to the bathroom, Cheol,” you sighed, looking down at the blond mess that was crushing your tummy. 

Ever since your boyfriend got the surgery done, he was even clingier than he used to be. Not that you could blame him, he spent most of his days alone in bed, so naturally his clingy side would shine through and he’d do everything he could to keep you in bed longer. 

You saw how a couple of times he scrolled through the group chat and looked at the pictures the members sent with envy. He’d do anything to be able to get up from that damn bed and join them in the practice room. 

“Darling, you really need to let me go,” you said. 

His fluffy hair bounced as he shook his head and wrapped his second arm around your waist, to make sure that you wouldn’t slip away. Not like that was possible, he could tackle you with ease, even with a torn ACL. 

You sighed, not knowing what to do. If you could, you’d gladly spend the whole day with him, but the both of you knew you had your own responsibilities and you couldn't just abandon everything for the next months just to stay with him (no matter how much you wanted to do that). 

“Choi Seungcheol, let me go,” you said, trying to wriggle out of his grip. 

“Don’t call me that,” he whined once again, nuzzling his head further into your stomach. 

“Then let me go.” 

“No. You'll just leave then,” he said, but loosened his grip on you. He lifted his head to look at you and he couldn’t have looked more adorable. 

A well- known pout adorned his face, while his hair was a big mess and cheeks were rosy from sleep. Even though he looked like that everytime he woke up, an unusual hint of sadness was prominent in his eyes. 

You put your palm against his cheek, leaning in to place a kiss on his exposed forehead. 

That’s how he wanted to stay for the whole day - in your arms, enveloped by love and comfort, the only thing that made him forget about his knee and the pain he was experiencing. 

“I have to go, Cheol,” you said, pecking his forehead once again. “But I’ll come back in a couple of hours. I always do, you know that,” you put a finger under his chin to lift his head up to your level. 

“I know, darling,” he sighed, and lifted himself up to sit with a grunt. 

You could hear your own heart breaking at the sight of him being so helpless. A week ago he was playing football with Mingyu and Jeonghan and now he couldn’t even sit up on his own. 

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. 

“Stop,” you said softly, placing your hand on top of his. “I know this is hard for you, I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re feeling right now,” you gently ran your finger through his messy hair, soothing the previous tugging of his. 

“But remember that you’re not alone in this and even though you can’t be with the boys right now, they're not angry with you. You didn’t let anyone down Seungcheol. Stop blaming yourself, it was an accident.” 

His shoulders hung low, not convinced by your words. And it would take him some time to believe that, you knew that. 

“I just miss the guys,” he said. 

“I know. But they miss you a lot too, baby.” 

As you sat in silence, a simple idea popped into your head. 

What if you planned an extra monthly meeting? They could all gather at Seungcheol’s place and he would have a surprise, he’d certainly be happy with. If that didn’t make him feel better, nothing would. 

“You can go now, you know,” he said quietly, avoiding your eyes. 

“You know what? I’ll take a day off today.”

[mystic-writings]

ink on skin | daryl dixon

PAIRING — daryl dixon x fem!soulmate!reader

REQUEST — anon — hello! could you do an angsty story with daryl dixon? fem reader please <3 

SUMMARY — daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long ago, even with the words marked on his wrist. and then he found you.

WARNINGS — canon-typical scenarios, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soulmate au

WORD COUNT — 3,573

NOTES — this was supposed to be part of a really long collection of prompt drabbles from years ago but i found it in my docs and turned it into something a lot longer <3 it’s not the best (i couldn't for the life of me work out a good ending), but i think this might be one of my faves i’ve written bc of how poetic the first few paragraphs are 

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long before the world ended. He gave up on it when he was just a boy, when his mother died and his father stopped showing love. When he was told by his peers, his brother, his father, that no one would ever want him to stay with them, because he just wouldn’t be wanted by anyone. 

He grew to loathe the words on his wrist from a very young age. He did everything he could to cover them — makeup he stole from his aunt, long-sleeved shirts, bracelets, you name it. He’d even gotten used to not glancing at the ink scribed on his left wrist, making sure that no matter what, his eyes never fell on them. 

But even when he hated the words that sat there, waiting to be spoken by someone who cared, someone who wanted him, he couldn’t deny the countless nights he spent awake, tracing each letter and imagining what his soulmate’s voice sounded like. How would they say those three little words? What would they look like? When would he meet them? 

Daryl missed the feeling of being wanted. He only ever felt it when he was with his mother, when he was a young boy who didn’t know anything but that the sky was blue and soulmates were real and his father was mean. He hasn’t felt wanted — truly wanted — for a long, long time, not even when he found the group. 

Over time, with the loathing came the forgetting of the words marked on his wrist. By the time the world ended, Daryl had almost completely abandoned the reality of having a soulmate, and he rarely ever thought about it. In fact, he felt some relief in the fact that the world had ended. The chances of him finding ‘the one’ had lowered significantly now that most of the population was undead, and he had no reason to worry about being better for someone just to make it seem like he was worth loving anymore. 

For almost three years, he lived with the relief of likely not having a soulmate anymore. 

Today was an ordinary day, especially for the Alexandrians. At least, it seemed like an ordinary day. The sun was shining, people were milling around, crops were growing. But underneath the surface was something that no one wanted to address. Fear. 

Negan was beginning his wrath on the community that could barely keep itself alive. He demanded supplies, and he demanded a lot of them. So, half of Daryl’s people had gone out on runs to look for stuff. Food, clothes, medicine, whatever they could bring back. Daryl was among that group, taking a car as opposed to his motorbike and going to a high school with Carol.

At first, he volunteered to go alone, but she reasoned with him. It was too big of an area for him to cover on his own, she said. He could get hurt, or worse. And it was Carol, how could he deny her? She was his best friend, after all. So, Daryl drove in silence, Carol in the passenger seat, staring curiously at him. 

The feeling of her eyes on his annoyed him to no end, and eventually, the archer caved. 

“There somethin’ on my face or wha’?”

“Nothing,” Carol chirped. “Just… thinking.” 

“‘Bout wha’?” Daryl asked, sparing a glance at the woman. 

Carol shrugged, eyeing her friend. “About those words, on your arm.” 

Daryl tensed, shifting his posture to hopefully hide them from Carol’s view. “And?”

“Well, they’re not gone, for one.” She stated, a lilt in her voice. “And they’re… interesting first words for a soulmate, don’t you think?”

“How am I supposed ta know? I ain’t never seen anyone else’s tattoos. And it ain’t like I got a good chance of meetin’ ‘em, with all this shit goin’ on.” Daryl grumbled, watching Carol shrug and avert her gaze, looking ahead at the road. 

“Just saying… I wouldn’t give up hope, Daryl.” 

How would Carol know whether or not he should give up hope? Sure, she’d been the person closest to him aside from Rick, but even she knew nothing about his soulmate. Hell, he was still trying to figure out how she knew exactly what words marked his wrist. Still, he shook the thoughts from his head and continued the drive in silence, as though nothing had been spoken between the pair. 

Somehow, the high school Daryl and Carol had arrived at seemed to be completely abandoned. 

There were no walkers roaming around outside the grounds, most of the windows were intact, and the parking lot was practically void of cars. It was a small town, but from what Daryl could remember of the high schools they’d driven past or looted during their time at the prison, he figured most high schools in small towns — like this one, in particular — would’ve been turned into aid camps for refugees. 

Even with no signs of life, Carol and Daryl kept their weapons up as they entered through the main doors. 

Flashlight beams swept over every inch of the school, and it became clear as to why there were no walkers. Rotting bodies littered the linoleum floors, dried blood splattered over tile and wall and metal lockers. A stench that the pair had, unfortunately, gotten used to, permeated the air, filling their guts with a permanent feeling of nausea. 

The first place they’d found was the nurse’s office, and while there wasn’t much in the way of medicines, there were supplies that Alexandria was lacking. Gauze, tension wraps, bandaids, generic over the counter medicines like ibuprofen and Gravol. Whatever was left, Carol loaded into the backpack she’d brought, filling it to the brim with what they found. 

“Cafeteria should be this way,” she nodded down the hall, flashlight sweeping across the path before they exited. 

Passing by empty classroom after empty classroom, Daryl said, “Migh’ need some of this stuff for later, when the kids get older, ya know? Be good for ‘em to learn.” 

“Yeah, it would be,” Carol nodded, eyes landing on a set of double doors to her right. “Maybe we’ll come back for all that stuff later.” 

Daryl grunted in affirmation, about to push the cafeteria door open with his shoulder. He paused as a loud thump echoed down the hall. His eyes flashed, followed by the beam of his flashlight, landing on a singular closed door, a plastic chair propped under the handle. 

“Leave it,” Carol advised. “It’s just a walker.” 

Daryl nodded, but his eyes lingered on the door for a moment. Deciding to leave it be, he pushed the cafeteria door open, finding it empty yet again. The pair crossed the large area to the hot table, where they could already see some canned goods lying about on the tables. 

“If there were people here,” Carol began, “why wouldn’t they have taken the food with them when they left?”

“Why’s that matter?” Daryl asked, propping his crossbow against the wall and pulling out his knife. He knelt by the door to the kitchen, putting his flashlight down and wedging the blade between the frame. “‘S more for us, ‘s all that matters. Don’ gotta question everythin’,” 

Carol said nothing, keeping her flashlight trained on the door for Daryl to use as extra light. 

After prying open the door, the pair used a cart to transport the mounds of large, sealed canned goods. With Carol pulling and Daryl pushing, they’d made quick work of the first two trips they needed to make, loading their trunk as best as they were able. 

On their way out of the third and final trip, Carol held the cafeteria door open as Daryl pushed the half-full cart, stopping abruptly as the door started to swing shut behind him. 

“What? What is it?”

“I hear somethin’,” Daryl muttered, straining his ears to listen for the noise again. He listened for what felt like decades, and just when he thought he was going crazy, he heard it again. “There,”

“What? I didn’t hear anything,” Carol said. 

“Nah, I heard it. Comin’ from this way,” he gestured down the part of the hall they hadn’t bothered exploring. Slowly, focused entirely on identifying the noise, Daryl crept down the hall, a confused Carol following him. 

Just as he’d been passing the room with the chair blocking the door, Daryl heard two sounds: a dull thunk, and a hiccuping cry. He stopped, turning to the door that had drawn his attention before. 

“Daryl, it’s just a walker,” Carol insisted. “Let’s go, we got what we need.” 

The archer didn’t listen, footfalls nearly silent against the linoleum as he approached the door, knife raised. In quick motions, Daryl pulled the chair from the door, sending it down the hall with a resounding screech, grabbing at the handle and pulling it open. The hinges squeaked as he peered within the dark, small room — a supply closet, he’d discerned from the cleaning products lining the shelves. All sense of danger left him when he wasn’t met with a walker, but instead a girl, her body half-laying, half-sitting, propped against the wall. 

Daryl’s eyes widened, taking in her form. She was covered head to toe in dirt and grime, save for the clear tear tracks down her cheeks and neck. Her hair was matted, and the side of her calf, just above the ankle, was wrapped in dirtied bandages. Her only protection was a small knife, covered in dried blood, the handle of which rested in her limp hand. 

“Holy shit,” Daryl blurted, catching the attention of Carol, but barely gaining acknowledgement from the girl before him. 

Carol, peeking over Daryl’s shoulder, moved first. She darted around the archer’s broad frame, kneeling down at the girl’s calf. Peeling the bandage from her skin, Carol sighed in relief, finding a deep gash where she feared there might have been a bite mark. “She’s hurt,” Carol remarked, moving closer to search for a pulse. “And barely alive.” 

“Go bring the cart out, I’ll carry her out,” Daryl’s eyes never left the girl’s form as Carol left. Carefully, he scooped the girl into his arms, relief flooding him when a weak, protesting groan fell from her chapped lips.

There was no telling how long she’d been stuck in that closet, without food or water, simply left to die. And based on the chair propped against the door… it had been intentional. 

Daryl carried her to the car with ease, having Carol assist him as he laid you across the back seat, taking the time to make sure she would be secure as they drove. After confirming that everything was packed into the trunk, Daryl peeled out of the school parking lot, the drive back to Alexandria being much shorter than the one to the school. 

The sun was setting when the car passed the gates, and from there, things passed in a flurry of motion. Daryl carried the girl to the infirmary himself, watching Tara and Denise move about hastily to heal this mystery woman. 

“What happened to her?” Denise asked, cutting the bandage from her ankle. 

“Dunno,” Daryl huffed. “Found her like tha’. Musta been trapped for a while. Few days without water, at least.”

Denise only nodded, working to clean the wound and stitch it. She barely had the focus to think about the wound itself, how deep it was and the likelihood of infection setting in. Tara worked at cleaning the girl’s skin, inserting an IV into her hand like she’d been taught. 

The sun had set by the time they were done, the girl changed into new clothes and her skin cleaned of grime. Tara had been sitting by her side when Daryl came back to the infirmary, after going to the Grimes home to eat something and give as much information as he could to Rick and Michonne. 

“How’s she doin’?”

“As good as she can,” Tara smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think she’ll be waking up anytime soon, she’s like— super dehydrated. It’s been an hour and I’ve had to change the bag thingy twice already.”

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement, pulling up a chair on the other side of the girl’s bedside. He didn’t know much about her — or anything, really, not even her name — but even with her chapped lips and sickly look, he thought she was beautiful. And he also knew that whoever had left her in that closet had done so on purpose. He figured it might have been because of her injury, but it was cruel no matter which way he tried to paint it. 

He just hoped she’d be okay when she woke up. 

It took the mystery girl three days to wake up. Managing her health at a time where there weren’t any real supplies to use had been difficult, and it took all of Denise’s focus to make sure she had enough fluids. 

Waking up in an unfamiliar, oddly clean, room, on a bed, with no stench of rotting bodies wafting through the air was confusing, terrifying, and oddly comforting. 

Your body woke with a jolt, eyes snapping open like you’d woken from a nightmare of sorts. There was movement to your right, and you jumped back from it, frantic eyes finding a blonde girl attempting to calm you without touching you as best as she was able. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re safe.” She’d said, stressing the last word. “One of our guys found you in a supply closet and brought you here. He— He said you were half dead.” 

Pure fear and confusion kept your mouth shut. The girl kept talking, asking questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to any of it. The pain in your leg hadn’t been of any help, pulsing and throbbing with every slight movement. 

By the time she’d realized you weren’t going to respond, she sighed and moved over to the kitchen to your right. When she came back, she placed some food and a tall glass of water on the bedside table, backing away slowly as she spoke. “I’m Denise. The man who found you, Daryl, is on his way to see you. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable talking to him?”

The idea of speaking to anyone, even the man you vaguely remember before passing out due to dehydration, made your stomach roll. Still, you picked up the plate, gratefully digging into the food you were given. Drinking the water, you relished the feeling of it sliding down your throat. Water was something you hadn’t had in what felt like years, and you’d be damned if you didn’t cherish what you’d been given. 

As you finished up, the door creaked open, and your body stiffened. You watched a burly, reserved man step inside, his movements hesitant. You watched Denise approach, whispering something to him — likely about you. Presuming this was Daryl, you willed yourself to relax, even as you pulled your knees tight to your chest, arms locked around them. 

You watched him approach the bedside, standing awkwardly beside you as you looked into his eyes. Strikingly blue, surprisingly soft. 

“Hey. Ya alright?” He asked. His voice was rough, southern accent awfully thick. But his words sounded soft, somehow. Small. Like he was trying not to frighten you. 

All you could manage was a nod. He huffed, nodding back, clearly somewhat relieved that you were at least communicating somehow. You kept your eyes on him, tracing every inch of his face and his clothes. It was clear to you, though you were unsure of how, that he must’ve been built for this world. Daryl seemed out of place in this clean, crisp, white room, and when you pictured him in the woods, he seemed to blend right in. 

After a moment, he turned and went back to talk to Denise. They spoke in hushed whispers, and you thought back to the exchange you’d just had. Your mind had been reeling, so caught up in the entire situation, that the words Daryl had spoken didn’t register. And neither did the tingling across the inside of your wrist. 

Pulling down the sleeve of your shirt, your fingers grazed at the skin where the words you’d been waiting your whole life for the right person to say used to be. With wide eyes, you found the words gone, replaced by a slight scar of where they had once been inscribed. It was surreal, and definitely not the time. 

“Hey,” Daryl called out as he came to stand beside you again, voice still soft despite its natural roughness. “Doc said ya can leave if ya want. I know ya don’t know me, but if ya want… ya can stay with me. I got a cot ya can sleep on, if yer okay with tha’,” 

You mustered up a small smile, nodding at the man before you — your soulmate. You’d been wishing to find him your entire life, but with the world ending, you put that aspiration aside. You certainly hadn’t expected to find him when you were at the brink of death, trapped by the selfish people you’d once considered family. 

Carefully, you slipped out from the blankets, stumbling as you put weight on your injured leg. Luckily, Daryl caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist as the other guided your arm to rest around his neck. Wordlessly, you watched his cheeks flush red as he shifted his weight before you began walking. 

It was painful, getting to the house he lived in. Not because of your leg, but because of the proximity. Along with the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a single word, not even to him. 

As you settled into the large basement room he’d taken, he told you more about the community, about his people. The ones who lived here — Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith — were family to him. The others were the same, but they all lived in different homes. He laid out the cot as you sat on the bed, watching intently as his voice reverberated around the room, rattling your heart in your chest. 

“I know ya don’t talk much,” he huffed, rooting through a bag of his and pulling something out. “But ya can write, right?”

You nodded, watching a smile play on his lips as he handed you a notepad and pen. 

“Can ya tell me yer name, at least? So we can call ya somethin’ that ain’t jus’ ‘girl’?”

Smiling, you wrote out your name and handed the paper back to him. Your smile widened when you heard him say your name, meeting his eyes as he looked back up at you. 

“Ya can talk, right?” You nodded. 

Daryl nodded, leaving the pen and paper with you, just in case. “‘M gonna go find Rick, tell him yer stayin’ with me fer now. Alright?”

The thought of Daryl leaving you, of being alone, in an unfamiliar place, with no light aside from the window at the very top of the wall, shocked the fear back into you. As he turned, heading for the door that led to the stairs, your breath caught in your throat. As quickly as you were able, you reached out, grabbing the man’s wrist and pulling him back to face you. 

“Please, don’t leave.” You whispered, voice gravelly and strained. It surprised even you, eyes widening as you met Daryl’s gaze. But his carried a certain fear as his eyes tore from your own, locking onto the wrist you’d caught. 

Following his line of sight, your heart stuttered, watching the ink on his arm begin to fade into his skin, into the same imprinted scar of words that you had. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes filling with tears.

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes watering, watching him as his eyes remained on his wrist. “Your soulmate.” 

Daryl pulled his wrist from your delicate hold, his mind on overdrive. He’d thought it ironic, that the apocalypse had only pushed him closer to his soulmate instead of further apart. And now, the words he’d been desperate to cover throughout his life were finally gone, and the woman that the universe decided was meant for him was sitting on his bed, saved from the cusp of death because of him. All because he couldn’t take his mind off the closet with the chair blocking the door. 

His hand came to his wrist, rubbing at the skin that was no longer tainted with words he thought would never be spoken. And despite all of the fear Daryl carried with him over the years, the gratefulness he had for the apocalypse and the relief that he’d never have to let down his soulmate when they saw that he wasn’t good enough for them, he felt none of it when he looked at you. 

All he could feel was happy. Relief, not that the world had ended, but that you were safe and healthy. 

And, all of a sudden, meeting your eyes, Daryl was okay with the idea of having a soulmate. All the words that had been spat his way growing up, all the times he was desperate to pretend like he didn’t have a soulmate didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was you. 

It would take time for Daryl to feel like he deserved you, he knew that. But you were here, and you were alive. That was enough for now.

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[boulevardk]

Caught in the Moment (Help, I'm Stuck!)

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (f)

genre: stepbrother!gojo + smut

word count: 6k

summary: When your Mom remarries, a certain white-haired, blue-eyed demon enters your life in the role of your new step brother. It doesn't matter how angelic he looks, he's nothing short of the devil. And while you've never been very close with your family, Gojo wants to be a whole lot closer to you than a step brother should be. But, hey, family comes first, right? Gojo sure thinks so.

warnings: stepcest (the people who like it, love it and the people who hate it wanna burn my house down for writing it), language, gojo's a brat, the stuck-in-washer bs from h*ntai, dubcon bordering on noncon?????? (open to interpretation, honestly), fingering & oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), creampie, low key breeding kink, degradation with some hints of praise on the side like if you squint real hard, squirting, some anal (f receiving)

A/N: i will take no questions as to where I have been or why I was gone. i also write for some anime now too lmao. i miss satoru and I'm pissed at gege and I need an outlet bc these new manga chapters are giving me grey hairs. also, this is like 45% proofread max. oh, and thanks for 2k followers <3 ... i rarely come on here anymore, so I didn't notice until now.

xx Jay

You were never much of a family person. It’s not like your Mom made it very easy after divorcing your Dad and hopping from dick to dick like the floor was lava. New weekend? New date. Summer getaway? Fresh boytoy. Spring break? New guy to break her back- if her obnoxious moans were anything to go by. 

Overall, you were as much of a family person as your Mom was- noncommittal and unwilling to settle down. And you carried over that same distant, superficial behavior to any of your past romantic relationships… which always ended just about as quickly as your Mom’s did. Your closest friends liked to joke that poor taste in men and a lack of commitment to relationships were perhaps the only things you and your Mom shared in common. And you’d both been that way for as long as you could remember.

Which is why you heard a record scratch in your head when your Mom announced practically out of nowhere that she was engaged and soon to be married. Apparently, this was “the one” and “her knight in shining armor”, or so she claims. She’d have periods of puppy love infatuation every now and then with one of her flings, but since your Dad left the picture, none of your Mom’s relationships had led to a ring on her finger- much less a mansion to share with her new fiance.

The moving process proceeded as quickly as your Mom’s relationship had. In the blink of an eye, all your belongings were packed away nicely in boxes and placed in the back of a truck, soon to be parked in the driveway of your new house. It was as if your Mom wanted to move in together with her latest obsession before her new man realized how horrible of a wife she’d make. Your Dad could attest to that. 

The news about the engagement and rushed move all hit you suddenly, sure. But no amount of new information or experiences could have crashed into you quite as hard as your new step brother.

Literally. 

“Ow, fuck,” you rubbed your side, “Watch where you’re going.”

Gojo Satoru. 

Despite the angelic features, this boy was nothing short of the devil. Whenever you were bored, you’d flip through TV channels and stumble across trashy reality shows where rich people drank alcohol like it was water, partied until the sun came up, and had money to burn. You’d laugh at the over the top antics. Surely you’d never run into someone who actually behaved that way, right?

You wish you were wrong. 

Gojo turns around and lets out a chuckle, “My bad, sweets. I’m not used to having such dwarfs living here. The air must be a lil’ different down there, yeah?”

He places his palm on the top of your head and gives it a pat, smirk painted on his lips. You bat his hand away and take a step back, “You say that is if you’re not ducking to keep your head from hitting the door frame. I’m not tall, you're just freakishly tall.”

Smirking at you, he leans a bit closer to your face. He smells of strawberries, you note.

“Well, you know what they say about tall guys with big hands, right? Do you wanna find out if the rumors are true? I’ll give you a hint,” He takes another step closer, “they’re more than true. And all ya gotta do is step into my room and see for yourself.”

You bristle. 

His loud music? His rowdy friends that came over? His unwillingness to wash dishes? None of that came close to the bullshit that came from Gojo’s mouth. If it wasn’t suggestive comments spilling from his mouth, it was outright filth. 

Somewhere in Gojo’s mind, you two being in the city for the summer and practically home alone given your parents were constantly out doing God knows what meant it was open season to flirt and harass you mercilessly. It started as brushing your shoulder and occasionally touching your lower back when he would move past you in the hallway or kitchen, and now it progressed to… this. 

Stepping back like you’d been burned, you look at him with irritation, “Are you on crack? Is it crack that you smoke?”

He quirks his head to the side with a little smile on his face, “Whatcha mean, sweetheart? Don’t Mom and Dad want us to bond?”

You bring your hands to your head to massage your temples, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say… any of what you just said.”

Turning around you begin to walk away, “Keep all your pervy comments to yourself, clean your dishes in the sink, and stay out of my way. I’m supposed to be on summer break, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t come back home from one headache to live next door to another.”

Gojo’s lips curl upwards at that as he tilts his head to the side to get a nicer view of your ass as you walk toward the other room. He knew he’d get you eventually, he just had to play the long game. Despite what the people around him thought, Gojo was no fool. He saw right through his Dad’s rushed engagement and gave the two love birds a few months tops before the relationship failed. And if his Dad was allowed to make foolish mistakes in the name of love (lust), then couldn’t he do the same? After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to see you again once the marriage falls through. 

He might as well enjoy this little…. sibling dynamic while it lasts, right? That’s what any good brother would do. And in that moment, Gojo decides to himself that he is that good brother. Oh, he’d be the best big brother. 

Despite the constant annoyances from the white-haired, blue-eyed demon spawn who resided in the house, you did appreciate the in-house washer and dryer. Lugging your dirty clothes from your apartment to the laundry room of your housing complex was quite the pain. 

Humming a tune to yourself, you walked to the dryer with an empty hamper held against your hip. Opening the dryer door, you leaned down and began to remove the items of clothing. You leaned in a bit further when you noticed a sock at the very back of the appliance. 

Rip

You froze. You’ve never been the religious type, but you prayed to whatever god existed that your favorite sweater did not just get caught in the door of the dyer. You held your breath and tried to pull back a little further.

Riiiip

This time the tear was louder and you could just picture the fabric coming loose. 

Biting your lip you tried to wiggle around a bit to find a way to back away from the dryer door without ruining your sweater even further. No luck. 

After some time bent over with your upper torso stuck in the dryer, you heard footsteps approaching the laundry room. 

“Thank God,” you breathed out, “Mom, can you lend me a hand? The fabric on my sweater is stuck to the door of the dryer, and I don’t want to pull away since it’ll rip the top even more.”

You felt a hand brush against your upper thigh, and your breath caught in your throat. 

“Oh, I’d love to help, sweetheart,” Gogo sighed, “But I can lend you a whole lot more than just a hand.” 

With as much strength as you could muster (given your upper body is stuck inside a godforsaken dryer), you kick behind yourself in an attempt to get him away from you… only to have him catch your foot in his large hand. 

“Oh,” he tsks, “That’s no way to treat your loving brother, is it? After all, I’m just trying to help my cute, helpless little sister.”

You grit your teeth, “So help me God, Gojo, if you touch me again, I’m going to rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

Although you can’t see him, you know he has that infuriating smirk painted on his face. “Nice to know you’ve got my dick on your mind, princess. Although I think I’d like my dick inside something else…”

Latching his hands onto your hips, he pulls your ass against him and grinds against you slowly. 

God, was it a bad day to have worn a skirt. 

“These skirts? These thighs?” he groans, “This ass? God, it’s like you’re begging me to take you. Seeing you leave the house with those skimpy little outfits on made me want to drag you to my room and fuck some manners into you. Maybe then you’d know not to show off what’s mine.”

You furrow your eyebrows so aggressively you know there’s guaranteed wrinkles. “What on earth are you talking about?” you spit, “Get the fuck away from me!”

You squirm some more but to no avail. He grabs your hips even tighter, and you feel the outline of something long and hard against your ass. You do everything in your power not to gasp. The last thing you want to do is give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this is affecting you. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks in a taunting tone, “I’ve known since day one that your Mom and my Dad were never gonna last. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun of our own, right?” He grinds against you again, and the end of your skirt pushes higher up your thighs. “And I couldn’t believe my luck when I just so happened to be walking past the laundry room and spotted you all nice and vulnerable for me.”

“Gojo, this isn’t funny. Let go,” you bite back. 

“Oh, no, I think I’m gonna take my time and enjoy this,” he continues to roll his hips against yours and removes one of his hands from your hips to push your skirt up and over your ass, revealing your panties. “Black lace? You’re kidding me, sweetheart. It’s like you planned for this all along. You want me as bad as I want you, huh?”

You feel his fingers run along the elastic of your underwear and begin to slip them down your legs. This time, you really do gasp. And Gojo certainly heard it if his dark chuckle is anything to go by. 

“I’m not fucking around, Gojo,” you let out desperately, knowing where things are about to head, “This is fucked up. You’re my step brother, and there’s no way in hell I’d sleep with you. If you let me go now, I won’t tell our parents.”

By this point your panties are on the floor and your skirt isn’t covering any part of your ass. “Oh, go ahead and tell them, princess,” Gojo remarks as his fingers draw closer to your cunt. “Let ‘em know how good your step brother makes you feel. Family comes first. And in this case,” his longer digits finally reach your pussy, “you’ll be coming in more ways than one.”

He runs a finger up and down your slit, and as much as you try and fight back, your body gives into the pleasure, especially when his fingers reach your clit and begin to roll against the bundle of nerves. “Thaaaat’s it,” he purrs, “Almost like this body was made for me the way I know it like the back of my hand, hm?”

He picks up the pace at which he rubs your clit and suddenly inserts a finger inside your cunt. “Dripping already and you really had the nerve to pretend you didn’t want this. Kind of a sorry attempt to maintain your modesty, sweetheart.”

Pumping his finger in and out of you, you're beginning to lose the strength in your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that your upper torso was held up by the dryer, your legs might have given out. 

“G-Gojo, we shouldn’t-” 

He cuts you off, “You’re really going to tell me you don’t want this while you’re soaked already? Your mouth is saying one thing, but this pussy is saying another, sweetheart.”

As if to prove you wrong, he adds another finger and picks up the speed at which he’s scissoring your poor pussy. You let out a moan and allow yourself to push back against his fingers, barely mindful of your snagged sweater that landed you in this mess in the first place. 

You’re embarrassed to say (and you’d never admit this to Gojo), but you’re getting increasingly closer to your orgasm. You’ve been with your fair share of guys, sure, but no boy has ever made you feel as good as Gojo was making you feel right now. 

And that drove you nuts. 

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a moan. The pleasure of Gojo’s fingers on your clit and in your cunt was making your mind hazy and forgetful of the promise you made to yourself to not reveal how good Gojo was making you feel with his fingers alone. It was only a matter of time before your legs gave out completely if you’re being honest with yourself. 

“Oh?” Gojo asks tauntingly, “You enjoying yourself, pretty? What happened to that bratty mouth of yours? You just needed that attitude fucked right out of you, yeah?” 

Since Gojo already heard your moan and knew how your body was responding to his stimulation, you all but dropped your resolve and made no efforts to hold your noises back. After all, you were getting closer and closer to your release, and your brain hardly had the capacity to stay silent while taking his fingers. 

The lewd sounds of Gojo’s fingers pumping in and out of you were nothing short of filthy, and you’re almost ashamed to admit it turned you on even more. “Hear that?” Gojo asked as he continued his rhythm. “It’s like she’s calling out for me. You’re close, right?”

You whine at the question. 

“There’s no need to respond, sweetheart. I already know the answer,” Gojo quips with a smile. “But I think this pretty pussy of yours can be a bit louder… How about we pick up the pace a bit, yeah? Maybe add another finger? You can take it, right?”

Before you can respond, he adds another one of his long fingers and is plunging in and out of you at a mind bending pace. Your voice is shaky at best as you whine at the feeling. “Fuck,” you moan, “S-Sato-”

The white-haired boy smiles at your broken speech and the (attempted) use of his first name, “What was that, baby? Trying to moan your step brother’s name, let everyone know how deep his fingers are in your pussy?”

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to muster up the last bits of willpower you have left, “fuck you.”

He laughs at your comment and is half impressed that you’re still able to talk back. “Hm, still talking shit? Don’t worry, my tongue and cock will take care of that riiiight away. But first,” his pace gets impossibly faster, “you’re gonna cum all over my fingers.”

As if by magic, you came immediately after the words left his mouth. If you weren’t already a bit fucked out, you would have pondered how Gojo seemed to already know your body better than you did. 

Gojo pulls his fingers out of your sopping cunt and sucks them clean. “Hm,” he hums, “Tastes even better than I imagined. You’ll let me get another taste, right? I mean, that’s the least you can do for your step brother after he made you cum so nicely on his fingers.”

He slowly lowers himself to the floor as you process his words, and before you could formulate a response, his tongue is on your pussy. You gasp out and would be tempted to reach back and grab his hair if your arms weren’t stuck inside the damn dryer. 

Gojo groans into your pussy, “Fuck, sweetheart, you tasted amazing on my fingers, but I like it even better from the source.”

He dives back in and has you moaning out for more. The way he moves his lips up and down your slit and rolls his tongue around your clit feels heavenly, despite the fact that the boy is the devil himself. 

Your legs are growing noticeably weaker, and Gojo loops his arms around your lower thighs to keep you in place and pull your cunt closer to his greedy mouth. Even then, your lower half is twitching in stimulation. Despite the tremors, you try to push your hips against Gojo’s face even more, and he lets out a laugh at the feeling. If you could see Gojo, you would see how much your sounds and movements are affecting him. He’s already high on the feeling of tongue-fucking you. But from inside the dryer, you can’t see that he’s as hard as a fucking rock, and his leaking cock is straining against his sweatpants to the point where it’s almost painful. 

His tongue settles on your clit and begins to alternate from sucking to rubbing figure eights on the bud. You’re really hoping no one else is home. Because if someone is, there’s no way they wouldn’t hear your desperate moans that are only increasing in volume as Gojo continues to eat you out like your pussy is his last meal. 

“Satoru, that feels so fucking good,” you sigh, leaning your head down to rest against the wall of the dryer since you’re unable to keep it up. 

“Oh, it’s Satoru now, is it?” he asks mockingly as he leans back and lets his fingers continue the pleasure on your clit, “You’re telling me all I had to do to get on your nice side was suck on this pretty pussy? Sweetheart, I would have done that for free.”

He leans back in and latches his tongue to your clit once more, picking up the pace and intensity of his sucking. With the little leg strength you have left, you bounce the lower half of your body against Gojo’s mouth continuously in an attempt to increase the stimulation. 

‘She wants to ride my tongue, huh?’ Gojo thinks to himself. ‘She’ll have all the time in the world to do that when I get her to sit on my face.’

Gojo’s turned on even more at the thought of you suffocating him with your thighs as your cunt drops on to his lips. He’ll have to experience it soon before the idea drives him even closer to insanity. 

Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of you.

He moans into your pussy, and the vibrations almost make you cum on the spot. The feeling is so good your eyes are nearly rolling back in your head. You’re really glad Gojo can’t see your face or he’d never let you forget the fucked out look in your eyes. However, what you don’t know is that Gojo won’t let you forget how good he fucked you no matter what your facial expressions looked like- those were just the cherry on top. 

“I’m so close, Satoru,” you whine, “Please don’t stop.”

You continue to grind on his face, shaking with pleasure and beginning to feel beads of sweat form on your forehead from the heat of the tongue-fucking coupled with the warmth of the dryer. 

The dam broke when Gojo landed a loud smack on your ass. You yelped and your legs gave way fully as you released all over his face. Gojo licked up every last drop of your cum and left kisses around your inner thighs before he pulled away. 

“Damn,” he breathed out as he rubbed his hand against the cheek he just spanked, “I didn’t take you for the masochist type, little sis. Got any other secrets I should know about? Or should I just find them out myself?

You whine at the feeling of his hand on your ass. You know there’ll be a mark there tomorrow. But you couldn’t focus on the long-term consequences of what was happening right now in the laundry room. It was fucked up, of course, but it felt so good that you didn’t even care how wrong it was. 

“Satoru,” you spoke, voice a bit hoarse from moaning, “need you to fuck me.”

Gojo tilts his head in faux confusion, “What was that, princess? I didn’t quite catch that. I mean, you are stuck in the dryer, after all. How else would I have been able to get you this easy and exposed for me?”

You groan in equal parts irritation and desperation. If you weren’t so fucked out already, you would have certainly cussed him out by now. 

“I said,” you repeat more firmly, “I need you to fuck me.”

He hums, “What? No “please”? And here I thought I’d fucked some manners into you. I guess all you respond to is cock, huh?” He brings his hand down against your ass once more. “Why don’t you try again, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you beg, “Please, please, please fuck me, Satoru. I need your cock so bad.”

You know he’s got that bratty smile on his face when he hears your words. His little step sister wants his cock, and who is he to deny her?

He quickly pulls down his sweats and spits on it before pumping it a few times. He rubs the head of his cock up and down your slit before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Wait,” you manage to snap out of your daze, “Satoru, we need condoms.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Condoms? Baby, don’t you trust your step brother? You know I’m clean.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but your mind gets more and more hazy as he rubs his cock against your folds. 

“And besides,” Gojo grunts, “You’ll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

Without another word, Gojo slides into you. You curse out loud. He’s not even all the way in, and he feels fucking huge. The tip alone is wide enough that the ring of your pussy stretches uncomfortably and you feel it sting. And, fuck, even though it feels like he’s been pushing in for forever, he’s still not done. 

“Fucking, fuck,” you gasp, “Are you all the way in yet?

You can’t see his length, but as he pushes deeper and deeper inside your wet pussy, you suspect he’s got to be somewhere around 9 inches at least. Of course, the rich, popular, pretty boy has a massive cock, because he’s just so infuriatingly perfect.

“Just about, sweetheart,” he hisses and finally bottoms out, “What? Don’t tell me you want to back out now. You’re the one who wanted this, remember? My bratty little slut of a step sister can’t take the cock she begged for just a minute ago?”

You bite your lip and try to adjust to his gigantic length. Once the burn subsides, you feel the pleasure seep in. You’ve never felt so full. It was as if he were in your guts, and if you could look at your abdomen, you’d see his cock bulging from your tummy. You could only imagine how much fuller you’d feel when he actually came.

And although you had been apprehensive earlier, now the idea of Gojo cumming deep inside you nearly had you drooling. Better yet, his cock is so massive that instead of drooling saliva, you imagined his cum dripping from your mouth because he had filled up your pussy past the brim. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer, sweetheart,” Gojo groans and begins to fuck into you. “You’re so fucking tight it feels like your pussy is suffocating my cock.”

You moan at his words and try to picture his face as he takes you from behind. Gojo has always been attractive- that was never up for debate. But you could only imagine how hot he’d look with his eyebrows furrowed as he bit down on his pretty pink lips and sweat rolled down the sides of his face. You bet his white hair would stick to his forehead a bit, and you’d kill to run your fingers along his uppercut while he fucked you. 

That can be for another time. 

“Oh, my God,” you cry out as he pounds into you, “Just like that, Satoru, don’t stop.”

He playfully rolls his eyes as if your pussy wasn’t frying his brain too, “So demanding,” he tuts. 

Picking up the pace, Gojo begins to slam his hips against yours even harder. He lands another spank on your ass and grabs your hips tightly with his free hand.

When was the last time you got laid? You can’t even remember when the dick you’re getting now is so good. And you certainly have never had a guy this big before, that’s for sure. But you almost feel like a virgin, because you have never been fucked like this before. It was an experience you hadn’t even considered until now.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Gojo professes, “Every time I’d hear you touching yourself in your room, I wanted to kick the door down and take care of you myself.”

If you weren't so absolutely cockdrunk already, you would have been positively flushed with embarrassment at his comment given you thought you’d been so quiet and strategic about when you played with yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Gojo removed his hand from your ass pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I even thought about sneaking cameras into your room to get an exclusive glimpse of what you looked like all needy and desperate to cum.” 

You gasped at the vulgar statement and felt yourself grow strangely wetter. 

Since when did any yandere behavior turn you on? 

Gojo laughs when he feels you tighten around him. “Oh, you like that? Well, now that I have this pussy, I’m never letting it go. No need for those cameras anymore, sweetheart. Why watch clips when I have this cunt instead?”

You really felt like you were going insane at this point. His cock is bullying itself into your cunt at an almost bruising pace. You could feel your wetness run down your thighs and your cheeks burn with embarrassment imagining the mess you’ve made on the floor from the amount of cum you’ve released. 

Gojo’s not faring any better. He felt like he would bust almost immediately after pushing into you, but he’d be damned if he fucked up this moment- the moment he had been imagining and wait for since the first time he laid eyes on you. 

“Oh, step sister,” Gojo said in a sing-song voice in between grunts, “Could you imagine if Mom and Dad walked in on us now? What would they say, seeing your precious little cunt be stretched out by your step brother’s cock, huh?”

Moaning at the thought, you try to close your legs a bit at the overstimulation.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Gojo quips and pulls your legs apart before shoving a hand between them and attaches his fingers to your abused clit. “There’s no way you’re getting away from my cock until you’re filled with my cum and can’t remember a thing except my name. Got it?”

You nod your head but immediately receive another spank. “Words, princess.”

“Yes!” you cry. Since there are tears welling up in your eyes, you’re now sweating, drooling, and crying. Gojo must hear your sniffling since he remarks, “Next time, I’ll take you from the front. That way, I’ll be able to see your face when I fuck you dumb.”

His words get progressively dirtier as he pounds into you. He’s so caught up in the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock that he’s almost rambling nonsense at this point. 

“Do you know how hard it is not to push you down face-first on the counter when you walk into the kitchen wearing those tight dresses or short skirts? It’s crazy how I've waited this long to fuck you,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll have to take pictures of you after I’m finished fucking this sloppy pussy so I can show all my friends what they're missing.”

You never imagined you’d be into voyeurism, but the way Gojo is describing how he’d photograph and record you to show you off to his friends like some prize to be won has you moaning out even louder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. And everything Gojo is saying and doing is only adding fuel. 

He was reaching parts of you that you didn’t even know could be reached. And he could tell by your reactions how good you felt taking his cock.

“Poor little girl,” he sighed out, “I bet you were getting tired of playing with this pretty pussy all by yourself, right? Your fingers just weren’t long enough to reach right…. here.” He hits your g-spot head on, and it has you screaming out his name. He rams against the spot over and over again, and you swear you’re seeing stars. 

His stamina should be studied by scientists the way he’s relentless as he pounds into you without any sign of slowing down. You knew for a fact that you would have collapsed onto the floor if not for the dryer door and Gojo’s arms keeping you up. You felt like a ragdoll with the way he was fucking you. You weren’t a person in this moment, you were his own personal fleshlight. And he’d be damned if he let you walk away without your pussy perfectly molded to fit his dick and his alone- not that you’ll be able to do much walking for a while anyway. 

“Y-you so big, Satoru,” you exhale, “I swear I can feel you in my throat.”

He laughs at your cockdrunk comment, “Believe me, sweetheart. Next time, my cock will be in that throat.”

He starts rubbing your clit even faster than before, and you’re doing everything you can not to scream your throat raw. It’s like Gojo has some sixth sense for your facial expressions since he barks, “Don’t you dare keep that mouth closed. I waited too long to fuck this tight pussy for you to hold back your screams.”

Your ass shakes as he spanks you multiple times in a row. With each spank, your moans get louder, your ass now bright red and warm to the touch. 

Removing his hand from your waist, your legs fumble. You’re barely standing upright, and practically all your weight rests on the where you body slumps over the dryer. “You better keep standing, pretty.” Gojo taunts. “Because you’re gonna have a much harder time taking my cock if you slip.” He threatens you as if he wouldn’t just fuck your boneless body on the floor, but he feels you tighten even more with his empty threat. 

Using his free hand, he spits on his fingers and brings them to your ass. Your eyes shoot open when you feel one of his digits run against the rim of your ass. “S-Satoru, what are you d-doing?” you stammer out, trying your best to form remotely coherent sentences. 

“What am I d-doing?” Gojo mocks. “Well, I’m just showing this hole some love too. Must have felt left out seeing your pussy be stuffed so nicely, yeah?”

He runs his finger along the rim and leans down to spit another dab of saliva on the hole all while keeping up his cock’s brutal pace and unforgiving assault on your clit. 

You clear your throat and shake your head in a poor attempt to clear your mind. “S-Satoru, I haven’t done anything there yet,” you pant. “Y-you shouldn’t do that.”

He smiles almost sinisterly, “Oh, I think I should, sweetheart. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Without any warning, he pushes his finger into your ass, and you yelp at the foreign sensation. You’d never tried anal with any of your past boyfriends. This was entirely new terrain. 

And Gojo dismissed your apprehension like he was swatting a fly. 

If anyone else did something like that to you, you’d wring their necks. So why did it feel so damn good when Gojo did it?

You moan louder as he begins to pump the digit in and out slowly, his spit acting as makeshift lube for the tight muscle. The combined sensations of your clit, cunt, and ass being played with was driving you insane. 

“F-fuck, Satoru,” you nearly wail, “I can’t take anymore, it’s too much!”

He shakes his head in mock disappointment, “Oh, no, pretty. You can and will take it. You’re not done until I say you are.”

You’re fully sobbing by this point. You can’t tell where your tears end and where your drool begins. Your whole body is shaking and not just because of Gojo’s unforgiving pounding. 

“I’m so close,” you exclaim, “F-feel like I’m going to explode.” You didn’t even know how to explain what you were feeling at this point. 

“Explode, huh?” Gojo questions as he bites back a groan, “Well, that sounds exciting. How could you possibly ask me to stop now? We’re gonna miss the best part.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you taste the metallic flavor of blood that mixes with the excess saliva in your mouth from all your drooling. And if you were actually able to think clearly, you would have noticed the saltiness from your tears as well. 

“S-Satoru!” you scream. “I think I’m gonna-”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before you’re squirting all over your and Gojo’s legs, the floor, the side of the dryer. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel as if you’ve been electrocuted. You’re still crying out as Gojo brings both of his hands down to your hips to fuck you even harder. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gojo moans loudly, “Did you just squirt? Fucking god, I can’t wait to lick it off you.” His pace is as rough as ever, but it feels even more intense since you just had the strongest orgasm of your entire life. “I’m gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, and then no other guy will want my sloppy seconds, yeah? This pussy belongs to me now.”

Gojo fucks into you one, two, three more times before he’s shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your weeping pussy, still unbearably sensitive from squirting. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you would have been mortified that you squirted- on Gojo and because of Gojo, nonetheless. 

It feels like ages before his cock stops filling you with his seed and he finally stills inside of you. That’s a miracle if ever you’ve seen one, because you thought you would die if he kept going. 

You both wince as he pulls out, and he watches in awe as his cum spills from your cunt. You hear him rustle through his discarded clothes on the floor before you hear the click of a camera. This little sound effect draws you from your haze a bit.

“G-Gojo!” you yell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

You can hear a pout in his voice. “Gojo? What happened to Satoru, hm? Is that name only reserved for when I fuck you?”

“Delete that immediately!” you wiggle in place. 

He just scoffs and shakes his head. “Oh? You really want me to delete it? Because I could have swore you were just smothering my cock when I told you how badly I wanted to take pics of you after I’d fucked you stupid.”

You huff and are about to argue back when you feel him run his fingers against your thighs once more, and your words are caught in your throat.

“Speaking of which…” Gojo hums, “I must not have fucked you hard enough if you can still talk back to me…”

Your breath hitches. 

“I guess that just means I’ll have to fuck you again then, won’t I?” Gojo thinks aloud and grabs your ass with both hands. “Like I said, family comes first.”

---

if you made it this far...thanks guys lmao

[yourstruly-caycay]

A "Loving" Husband

Yan! Poseidon x reader

Woo! My first time writing a yandere version of a character, and for the first time in forever I post something ehe.

Warning: yandere behaviour incoming

Synopsis: Poseidon never have any intention to tell Atlas, his son, about the inside of the golden door under the deep sea within the darkness. But, out of impatient and curiosity, Atlas bound to uncover the secret.

....................

The curious little boy finds himself in front of a huge golden door, a shiny one as it shines by the glimpse of the moon. He checks his surroundings once more to make sure he doesn't hear any doorstep near him as the window shows a scenery of the darkness of the sea. He sighs in relief as he's ready to find the answer that his dad has been avoiding to answer, “If this door is in this deep underground, what could dad possibly hide?” 

He tries to push the door, he keeps pushing to the point his face and hand turns red. “I can open it!” He courage himself  as it finally opened a little bit, small enough to fit his size.  

“Ha! Dad must be proud if he knows that I can open a door this heavy.” He pat his back proudly as he goes through the door. The inside of the room is exactly as he questions it, a room full of old neat treasures and artifacts on the shelves. Out of all the treasure he saw, he spotted something bigger. A beautiful and shiny marble statue of a life-sized woman sitting on a couch with a lot of jewelry on her and white silk dress, but he notices that the clothes at the waist part are ruffled, as if that part has always been touched. 

"Hmm, why does the ring seem familiar?" To get a better sight, he climbed to her thigh and sat on her. Observing the ring closer, he remembered the very same pair of rings in his dad's finger.

“But why is it on the statue? I thought mom was supposed to wear this? Perhaps I should try to give it back to her.” Carefully, his eyes focus on taking off the ring from the finger without realizing that his feets slip from the statue's silk dress as he’s hanging by the ring finger. 

Unfortunately, the ring finger cracks as his head knocks onto the floor. He rubbed on his injured head, displeased seeing the gold blood on his hand from the injured head. However, the feeling of pain is replaced by panic as he closes his mouth when he sees the ring finger shatter from the statue. In a speed, he grabs the statue's ring finger and sprints all the way to his room.

… 

By the next morning-

"WHY DO YOU NEED TO BE ANGRY JUST FOR A MISSING PART OF A STATUE?" 

The boy jolted up from the sudden loud voice outside his room, he immediately opened the door. His heart beats fast and eyes go wide seeing his father and mother arguing in the hallway with Hades and some staff hidden in the corner or running away because they’re too scared at the sight of Poseidon.

"WHY? I'VE WARNED EVERYONE IN THIS CASTLE NOT TO ENTER THAT ROOM EXCEPT FOR ME, BUT A HIDDEN INSECT SEEMS TO HAVE BROKEN INTO THAT ROOM! I’LL FIND THE FOOL AND SHRED THEIR HANDS."

"BUT THAT DOESN'T EXCUSE YOUR SUDDEN OUTRAGE LIKE A MAD MAN." 

“You insolent women-” Before Poseidon’s trident even near Amphitrite, Hades held his wrist and said in a stern voice. “Poseidon, calm down,” His eyes now turn to glare at him, but Hades still has the stoic face and staring back at him, “It’s just a statue, I don't know what's so special about that. But, if you’re still determine to punish the culprit, do it, but don’t throw the blame to the wrong person.”

And so, he put his trident down, his breath steadier and turned back to his usual stoic face, yet eyes still glare at his brother, “Just a statue? That statue is a prize possession of mine, worthy of my time to care for it.”

Hades can only sigh and shake his head in disappointment, meanwhile Amphitrite opens her mouth to say something while holding in the trembling voice with knees getting weak pressing down her fear as she stares back at him. The trident might not pierce her at all, but the sharp wind from the trident is enough to cause a scratch of gold blood to flow from her face.  

"You've got to be kidding me, Poseidon, everyone already fucking know that you're protective of that precious little statue of yours. I don’t know what’s so special about it, it might be more special than me, but have you even spared a little heart for your poor wife whom you married by your own choice? Why do you marry me if you never treat me like a wife?"

"Amphitrite," Poseidon said coldly, "Since when gods married for love? Just do your own job as a queen." 

Poseidon is finally out of sight as Amphitrite clenches her fist, glaring at her husband's back. "Tch, what did the statue do to make you this crazy?" she mumbles. 

"Amphitrite, I do apologize for his manners." Hades pats her shoulder as he sees her in a trembling state, she gazes at him with tears spilling from her eyes. 

"There's no need to apologize," she wipes her tears, "It’s his fault… no, it's my fault. How stupid and naive I am to agree to marrying him in the first place. I thought that maybe… if I become a good wife; a good mother, then maybe he can at least show an ounce of love to me like any lover does… what did I do to deserve this?" 

"Don't say that, it’s his fault for being immature." 

"Immature?" she snapped at him, "No no no, it’s insanity. I saw it in his eyes, the possessiveness and madness when the part of the statue is missing, all for the sake of that? I don’t know how long I will have to bear this. I can slowly go insane too for centuries living in this lifeless marriage, Hades, especially when the son he so much loved is not my own blood-" She gasped and closed her mouth, Hades got caught off guard hearing it.

"What?" He holds her shoulder, “What do you mean? Didn’t Poseidon announce to the whole Greek pantheons about you bearing his child?” Amphitrite isn’t able to hold eye contact anymore seeing the confused but angry Hades. 

"Mom..."Her heart drops dead as she turns in horror to see him trembling, the familiar uncomfortable expression when he has to witness the familiar scene many times.

"Atlas!" She runs to hug him, "Did you just see the fight? Oh, I'm so sorry to have you see that." 

"Mom... what do you mean?" 

"W- what is it?" 

"So, you're not really my mom?" His eyes are getting glossier each time passed along with his red nose. "Then, where's my real mom? Did she abandon me?" The tears fall as his crying sound is getting louder making her feeling more guilty, she hugs him tightly and pat his blonde hair. 

“No no, of course not my dear… she’s umm… she-”

“I believe me and him deserve an explanation from you, Amphitrite.” He glared at Amphitrite like a predator caged its prey, unable to let her run away from the problem. After a long uncomfortable silence, she takes a breath first and stands up to glance at him. 

“You both deserve an explanation… but, promise me,” she continued, “Don’t tell Poseidon, at least not now, okay?” He nods as she leads them to Atlas’ bedroom and locks the door. She sits on his bed as she massages her head, trying to find the best words to explain while the two of them wait for her. 

“I already knew Atlas when he’s only a toddler, I still remember the sight of Poseidon holding him…”

… 

~The night before the wedding~

To her younger self when she was still a naive princess, who was once frightened by Poseidon’s first sight. The way he always ignores her or glares at her when she makes a mistake. Hundreds of insults and mockery threw at her, driving her to avoid him even more throughout years staying in Poseidon castle as his fiance because her father thought that it’s a “good thing” for her to get familiar with him before the marriage.

When she’s ready to go to sleep, relaxing her tense muscles before tomorrow's marriage, the sudden strange calming sound arouses her suspicion. She opens the doors and follows the sound. All the way to the bottom of the sea floors. She found the source of the sound from one of the rooms and opened the door a little bit. Her eyes went wide at such a beautiful sight of the cold tyrant of the sea showing a small smile toward the unknown baby, holding the sleeping baby with such a gentle touch while humming a calm deep lullaby with the moon illuminating him heavenly like an angel. 

“Impossible, how can he be so cruel, yet gentle at the same time?” She mutter

“Women, what are you doing?” She jumped at his sharp tone, once warm turned icy in a split second. She slowly opened the door, welcomed by his unamused face. She clears her throat to not feel pressured by the awkwardness, “My apologies, Poseidon, I just happened to hear your heavenly lullaby from my bedroom, I can’t help but listen to it too.” 

She glanced at the sleeping baby, a smile growing wide fighting the urge not to touch the cheek, “So, who’s this baby? He’s just as beautiful as you.” 

“My son.” 

Silence came again, as her mouth slightly opened and eyes wide in disbelief. Unsure what to even say, “S- so, you’ve married before, then?” she frowned when he kept silent, “Where’s your previous wife?” 

“Passed away.” He said in the usual cold tones, but she knew underneath that  there’s a slight crack and irritation as his gaze now turned to the moonlight. Of course she passed away, or else Poseidon wouldn’t even remarry. However, deep in her heart she knew there’s a small crack discovered he’s used to love a certain woman, and now the baby is the only thing left of that woman. 

“Sorry to hear that,” she continued, “What’s the name of the baby?”  

“Atlas.” 

… 

~the night after the marriage event~ 

It was a cold kiss, but she received it welcomely despite his expressionless face throughout the whole wedding, but it’s okay. “It’s really okay, he’s probably not used to me yet. One day he will!” She patted herself. Emerald eyes sparkled at the whole sea regions and the Greek pantheon of deities and nymphs congratulated them, isn’t this what she’s been dreaming of? Marrying a handsome prince and living happily ever after? 

During night time where everyone has a great time of feast, smiling and chattering. While Poseidon were discussing with his brothers and several gods, Amphitrite was accompanied by Aphrodite and Persephone having tea together as the both of them enjoyed their little chats while she quietly listened. 

“Dear Amphitrite sweetheart, may I ask why you would want to marry Poseidon? It’s clear as day that he’s hard to be swayed by love.” Amphitrie got caught off guard with Aphrodite's question, she rested her chin on her hand thinking the perfect way to explain it. 

“Well, I’m aware that a god like Poseidon is difficult to read and likes to close himself off from everyone. I’m aware too that this is a marriage for political reasons, but time itself is impossible to read too, who knows it’ll take time for him to open up to me, and maybe I can fix him.” 

Aphrodite giggled while pinching her cheek playfully, “Amphitrite, I hope you can keep your words, I’ll give you the best gift if you can win his heart.” 

“Haha, to be honest, I’m used to being scared of him too, but when I saw him holding his son gently in his arm it’s like seeing part of the real him open up. How can I not want to win his heart and show his other good side to me too ?”

“Son?” Persephone gasped and stood in surprise causing everyone to look at them, “What do you mean he has a son?” 

Suddenly, everyone is freezed, tons of eyes now peered at Amphitrtie who was surprised too at everyone’s new discovery. “I- I thought everyone know that he has a child-” 

Suddenly Poseidon touched her shoulder and leaned her closer to him as he announced to everyone, “Yes, I do have a son… with her.”

Everyone including his brothers and her families are elated by the news, congratulating the couple as they continued the feast. However, Amphitrite snapped at Poseidon who’s still avoiding her eye contact, questioning his suspicious act… head feels dizzy as she frowned at the announcement. Suddenly, Zeus wrapped his arm around Poseidon and Amphitrite in joyous, “Congratulations on having a child! So it turns out you guys already did a dirty thing before the marriage, huh?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Congratulations, I anticipate meeting my nephew by tomorrow.” Hades shook his hand while laughing, yet despite the wonderful news, Amphitrite got left confused all alone watching the crowd in line congratulate them, leaving her deep in thought of her mind.

…

“Poseidon, what’s with all of this? I thought everyone knew about your son.” Amphitrite sat on bed facing Poseidon who’s changing his clothes to something more comfortable, once again avoiding eye contact with her. She clenches her fist when he has the nerve to ignore her question, “Not only that, but you LIED to them about him being my son in blood? What about your previous wife? How would she feel about this?”

“Don’t remind me about Y/n, Amphitrite.” 

“Y/n? So that’s her name, huh? Don’t tell me that no one also knew about this Y/n.” 

Another silent response made her more convinced, knowing this, she slowly moved away from him, his unreadable expression made her stomach twist. “Poseidon, why would you lie?”

What are you trying to hide?

“All you need to know is that I did all of this to keep her and Atlas safe from the gods’ eyes. If they ever discover the truth about them, I’ll gouge their eyes and shred their bodies to pieces where their mouth wouldn’t spread all over to other realm,” Amphitrite shiver at his calm tone, she felt her heart skipped a beat at his eyes finally made an eye contact, the eyes that threaten her as if a trident ready to strike her if she made a single mistake, “This include you too Amphitrite, just do your job as a queen and a mother, and I’ll turn a blind eye on you. Remember that this is a marriage that’ll benefit your family.”

… 

“That’s all I know,” Amphitrite steady her breath as she lies her head down, feeling uncomfortable with the silence, “It’s true, ever since that, I wouldn’t dare to ask him about her. I- I don’t- I don’t know why my foolish self is still trying to love him despite his undying love for his previous wife.” 

Tears spilled from her eyes, words unable to be formed as she cover her cry from them. “Why did I even keep pursuing?” She thought, but a sudden heaviness on her caught her off guard, uncovering her face to see Atlas hugging her. 

“It’s ok, mom.” Amphitrite hug him back with more tears spilled, her heart melt knowing Atlas is still calling her mom despite the truth. However, Hades is still standing across from her as he Massages his forehead, still surprised yet angry, but at his foolish brother. 

“Atlas, can you please change your clothes and go have breakfast? Your mother and I still have to discuss about… this…further through.” Atlas nods as he changes his clothes and unlocks the door to go to the dining hall, leaving Amphitrite and Hades alone in his room. 

Hades approach Amphitrite to sit beside her as his hand tap on her shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that… I never thought he would do that.” 

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. As his brother, I shouldn’t have been too lenient on him, he’s just using you for his own benefit.”Amphitrite shake her head, “It’s partly my fault too for not refused it and being naive, I was too scared by my own father,” clearing her throat as she jump to different topic, “But, about her…” 

“Y/n…” Hades humm, “So she’s Atlas' biological mother, why does Poseidon hide her from everyone? Out of shame?”

“Shame?” 

“Poseidon is a pride god, if he loves her that much, what makes him want to hide her in the dark? Have you ever suspected her identity and background?” 

Amphitrite put her hand on the chin as she recalled her moment when she was in the library, however it put a frown on her face, “I have try to search about her in the library, yet no books have had a record about her, so for now I’m assuming that she’s not a goddess from this pantheon nor a nymph.”

“Not even a nymph? How did you come up with that assumption?” 

“From Atlas of course, if Y/n is a nymph from certain creatures, he will have the appearance or characteristic of that creature, however none of it are in him.”

“Fair enough.”

 “How about you? Does the name Y/n sound familiar?” 

“That’s… the problem, it’s new and unfamiliar within this patheon nor any other places, never for eons have I ever heard that name,” Hades massages his head and sighs as the mystery causes a headache to him., sick of his brother’s antics, he stand up, “I will ask him right now, he’s the only one who knows the truth.”

Hearing this, Amphitrite immediately stand and holds his shoulder as she shakes her head, “Don’t! If you ask him he will immediately know I told you and will slaughter me,” she continued after steadied her breath, “Please, I’m not stopping you to research about her, but don’t directly ask him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him about this too. He has been hiding this far too long, I’m disappointed at his oddly obsessive behavior-” 

“Hades, your shoes.” Hearing her gasp, he looked down and froze, seeing the crimson blood seeping from under the bed all the way staining his shoes. He kneels, and looks under it to discover the missing part of the statue — the ring finger — feeling the hard rock texture, yet when he touches the bleeding part, he shivers from the soft rotten meat and bone texture. 

“There’s a dead body of a mortal hidden inside a statue, how is it under his bed?” He frown, “Moreover, the ring on that finger-“

“It can’t be, that’s the same pair of rings that Poseidon has.”

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (2/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: established former relationship, discussions of separation and divorce, discussions of moving on, luca and reader has a son, brief mention of blood and minor injury, smut 18+ (fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink? idk luca's big, dirty talk, creampie) notes: it's finally here! thank you everyone for your patience, i am a slow writer by nature and life gets in the way, but i finally got around to finish it! happy reading, and do comment, reblog, and send me asks to tell me what you think <;3 ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted for my latest fics ✨

<<< read part 1 here >>>

06.13 PM

Your apartment has never felt so claustrophobic after that little moment you shared with Luca. You try to stay busy in the next hour —tidying up Alfie’s room even after he made it up, checking your email four times, even doing the laundry, for fuck’s sake— as Luca keeps to himself in the kitchen area. Whether Alfie is obliviously enjoying his screen time or purposely ignoring the weird tension between his parents, you’re not entirely sure. Right now, you’re just grateful that he’s not saying anything at the moment.

The boy simply creeps up to the kitchen counter with a shy eagerness about him. “How long ‘til dinner, Dad?”

“3 more minutes, Chef,” Luca answers, focused on the task at hand, so poker-faced that it makes his son giggle.

“I’m not a chef, you’re a chef!”

“Well, where I work, we call everyone in the kitchen ‘chef.’ Out of respect.”

Alfie climbs onto the dining bench in interest, peering up to watch his father set the dish on the plates meticulously. Luca doesn’t miss how the boy deeply inhales the delicious smell in the air.

“Smells yummy.”

“Thank you,” Luca replies, his excitement seems muted although his heart is soaring. He looks up to find Alfie staring at the plate, chin propped up on his little fist. You’ve always said that he looks just like his dad, but in that moment, Luca only sees you. Alfie has the way your mouth tugs ever so slightly into a smile, the way your eyes shine in childlike wonder. In quiet thoughtfulness.

No Michelin star, earned or retained, would ever amount to this.

“Can you go get your mum and tell her dinner’s ready, please?” He softly asks Alfie, as if not wanting to disrupt this peaceful silence. “Thank you, Chef.”

“Yes, chef.” The six-year-old salutes him and pads over to your home office, which doubles as the guest bedroom. The door is open, and he sees you reorganizing the linen closet with your back to him. He hugs you from behind, startling you.

“Oh!” You put your hand on his head, stroking him lightly. “Hey, bub.”

“Daddy told me to come get you and say dinner’s ready.”

“Gotcha. Thank you.” You half-expect him to run off like he usually does, but he lingers, his arms still wrapped around you. “What’s up, bubbie?”

“Nothing.” He buries his face against your side. “Love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, bubbie.” This makes you smile, pleasantly surprised at this seemingly random admission.

“Love Daddy too, but don’t tell him that,” he whispers as he looks up at you, putting his forefinger in front of his mouth.

“Why not?”

“Sometimes he gets sad when I say that,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t tell me, but I know it.”

Oh. His playful exterior sometimes makes you forget just how emotionally sensitive he is. And it breaks your heart that he can see through the complicated adult emotions with his childlike eyes. 

“Alfie…” you level with him and pull him closer, “Your dad loves you very very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you say that. He’s just sad because… he’s been away, and he misses you a lot.”

“He should come home, then.”

It’s so simple, the way Alfie puts it. His Dad comes home and reunites with him and you, and his puzzle would piece together perfectly again. And you all live happily ever after. The end.

The truth, of course, is not so simple. But maybe, just for tonight… Maybe you and Luca can sacrifice a few of your own puzzle pieces. For your baby boy.

So you get back on your feet and guide your son out of the room. “Come on, bub. Let’s see what Daddy cooked for us, hm?”

When you and Alfie turn the corner into the kitchen-living area, Luca is wiping the side of the plate neatly. He smiles at you somewhat nervously, like he’s not sure what to do with himself, so you throw him the figurative olive branch.

“Smells amazing,” you compliment him as you and Alfie take your seats. “What are we having, Chef?”

Luca’s eyes light up and your heart stops. You stopped calling him ‘Chef’ long ago, when the moniker became synonymous with workaholism and neglect. But there’s no venom in the way you say it tonight. Call him sentimental, but it reminds him of the early summer days in the tiny apartment you first shared in Chicago.

Of blueberry pies and barely there bumps.

He has to remind himself that this whole ‘happy family’ shtick is just a charade now, it’s all for Alfie, it doesn’t mean anything for the two of us, but he can’t help but miss this.

And little does he know, so do you.

“Well, buckle up, you guys, because we are having…” He carries the plates over and serves it to you and Alfie with a flourish, “Baked sweet potato wedges with Mediterranean dip, and our pièce-de-résistance… Alfie’s Nuggies.”

It looks nothing short of beautiful, with the wedges fanned out like autumn leaves underneath a colorful burst of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and feta cheese. The chicken nuggets are rich golden brown against the brilliant white plate. The splatters of sauce (is that Tahini?) is a hint of thoughtful chaos on the dish.

Your six-year-old let out a little noise of awe and amazement next to you, but no sound escapes you—not for the longest time.

“This is…” you look up at Luca as if he would have the word you’re looking for.

But his blue eyes just look a lot like I love you.

“Thank you,” you ultimately say, with absolutely no pretense whatsoever.

And if he does hear an ‘I love you’ hidden somewhere in there… he hopes he’s not imagining things.

*** 

08:37 PM

If you could travel just a few hours back in time and tell yourself that you would spend the whole day stuck at home in a nasty storm with your son and his father that you’re divorcing—and that you’d be okay with it, you would’ve probably scheduled yourself an MRI scan because clearly something is wrong.

But the night is winding down. Luca is tucking Alfie into bed for the first time in months. You are washing dishes in the quiet accompaniment of steady rain and running water, and everything feels just right.

“He’s out like a light,” Luca informs you quietly as he reemerges from Alfie’s bedroom and stops right by the kitchen counter. “Need a hand?”

“Nah, I’m just about done,” you casually wave him off. “You want anything to drink?”

“Uh… what do you got?”

“Scotch, gin…” you pause, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. The sink tap squeaks a little as you shut it off. “...wine.”

His heart skips. Don’t overthink it, he reminds himself. “Red or white?”

“Take your pick,” you shrug nonchalantly. 

Luca reaches up to see the bottles of wine you have in store, and you try not to pay too much attention as his shirt rides up around the waist—or the sleeve, showing off the remnants of Alfie’s crayon work over his inks… you’re just two co-parents hanging out. It’s normal, right?

“What about the Malbec?” he eventually chooses, taking out the bottle.

He’s always loved Malbec—this particular brand of Malbec you brought him when he first invited you for dinner on your third date.

Don’t overthink it, you remind yourself. “Yeah, sure.”

You pick up two wine glasses and set them down on the dining table, shuffling into the corner bench. Luca settles into the other bench, directly against the kitchen counter, pouring the wine onto both glasses.

“How many bedtime stories did Alfie manage to get out of you?” you pipe up, swirling the purplish liquid around.

“Just one…” he sips on his wine thoughtfully. “Although he made me read it three times.”

You smile, bemused. “Which one was it?”

“‘The Bear Who Did.’”

“Ah, yeah. He’s been into that one lately,” you muse. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he asked you to tuck him in tonight.”

The two of you exchange a soft look. A ceasefire. A truce, at least when it comes to your son. Because you really do want Luca to have a good relationship with Alfie.

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry you had to… make do with spending the day with Alfie here.”

He shakes his head softly. “Nah, don’t be. I had a good time. It’s nice to just hang out… at home.”

At home, the words echo in your head.

With you, they echo in his, loud and unsaid.

“So, uh… how have you been?”

“Ah, you know how it is. Work is kicking my ass—my current client’s only two blocks away, but the house is a total fixer-upper, and Alfie’s… Alfie.” You don’t want to backtalk your own son, although you both know how trying he can be sometimes. “But it’s all good. My mom helps out with Alfie, and Jess insists that I go out and live a little every now and again.”

“And do you? Live a little?”

“I mean, within reason. I can’t go clubbing ‘til 4am anymore. I think I’m getting old…” you stretch your arms, feeling that soreness just from your daily activities.

Luca grins, raising his glass. “I hear you. I don’t even really go out anymore.”

“Seriously?” 

“Mm-hm.”

You make an incredulous face. It would make sense for you not to go out much, with Alfie and everything. But he was alone, abroad… “Why, though?”

He just shrugs lightly. “I’m working. Whenever I’m off, I mostly just… eat or sleep.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” You take a dubious sip. You both know how much Luca enjoys grabbing a cheeky pint. He’s British; it’s in his blood, goddammit.

“Oh come on…”

“You don’t even go out drinking or whatever? Meet people?”

His gaze flashes towards you almost playfully. “Do you?”

Your face falls, not expecting to be caught so off-guard with such an innocent question. And upon seeing that, his face falls. Shit. And with that, the air between you shifts so dramatically.

Stupidly, you still try to save the conversation. “Of course my friends and I go out—”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice darkens, his blue eyes piercing through you. 

This conversation is a long time coming. It’s a natural progression of your relationship—or the lack thereof. You separate, you get divorced, and eventually you move on. Two years is a more than acceptable time to start dating again. And still, you phrase out your next words very carefully.

“I’ve been on dates here and there…”

Luca sucks in a slow, calculated breath. “Does Alfie know?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious so far.”

He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s nothing serious, or that you’re holding out for something serious in the future.

“Look, we both know this is happening sooner or later…”

“I know,” he quickly recovers—or as much as he can recover. He just stares down the stem of his glass.  “It just… It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”

“I understand.” The wine feels like gravel down your throat, and the words coming out of your mouth feel like throwing up a boulder.

“Because I do miss you.”

Your eyes immediately dart over to his, as if you’re not sure you heard it right. “Luca…”

“I miss you everyday. I miss us. I miss everything we used to have.”

Your heart catches—no, stops altogether at his admission. “Luca, we can’t do this anymo—”

He swallows thickly, his jaw setting as he braces himself. “I’ve been thinking about it everyday—the whole time I’m away, and frankly, I’m kicking myself over not telling you this sooner.”

“That’s probably just the homesickness talking.” You turn away. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening. What the fuck?! “It got you reminiscing about the good old days. Give it time, you’ll come around.” You try to maintain a neutral, distant, cold approach to this, although the crack in your voice betrays you.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Your words cut through the quiet apartment like a flash bang. Luca stops dead in his tracks in his shock, and honestly, so do you. Awful silence hushes over the room, and both of you are almost too afraid to break it. Neither of you even dare to move.

After what seems like forever, Luca moves first. A tear escapes his eye, and he wipes it away with his knuckle hurriedly. “Noma should’ve been a dream. And it is, in a way. I guess.” He stares blankly ahead, his life in Copenhagen replaying in his head like it’s on fast-forward, and the playback seems to just highlight how lonely he is there. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m utterly miserable there. I get up and go to work and I just feel empty. Because what’s the point? You and Alfie are way over here, being a family while I’m… doing what?” He wants to tear his hair out, because this is everything he’s dreamed of, and yet he is living the stuff of nightmares. “It makes no fucking sense.”

It makes even less sense to you. You can’t even begin to process this tangled mess in your head. “Luca… we are almost officially divorced. You’re telling me this now? When everything is—”

“I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I should just… let you cut your losses and—”

“The best for me? How the fuck did you think giving up was the best way forward for me?” The thought of it burns your eyes with angry tears. They melt, and you don’t do a thing to stop it from running down your face. “You didn’t think to fight for us while you still could?”

Luca’s heart aches to see that. He is dying to reach out and wipe them away, but he can’t. His voice is quiet and small and almost childlike. “I tried. You were just so… sure about the divorce. You had it all figured out. And I… I thought you had no room for me anymore.”

“I had to keep it together. I had to figure it out—for Alfie’s sake. For mine.” You stare at your little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “I don’t see the point in being vulnerable with you anymore when you’re already set on leaving.”

The words have run out. The whirlwind of emotions has passed. What he feels and what he wants is now very clear.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” You wished he didn’t. Everyday for the last two years. And everyday you set yourself up for disappointment because, the truth of the matter is, he did leave. So you stop wishing. “Because I don’t know how to come back from this. I really don’t.”

Nothing that comes out of your mouth is unexpected. But it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “It’s just… seeing you guys today… We were a family again. And I would do anything for us to be a family again. Please.”

You sigh heavily. “What else is there to do, Luca…?”

“We can, I don’t know, figure something out, go to couples counseling—”

You groan in frustration, Jesus Christ not this again, wanting to tear your hair out when— CRASH! You accidentally knock over your wine glass and it shatters as it hits the floor. “Shit…”

“Mommy?” Alfie calls you from inside his room, sleepy but alert.

The two of you freeze just before you can move out of your seat. Afraid the slightest of noises would rattle your son.

“Yes, bubbie?” you try to sound bright and normal. Maybe if you can convince him that everything’s fine, he won’t come running in panic. 

“What was that?”

“I just knocked over a glass, kiddo, everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

You and Luca wait a few seconds with bated breath. One, two, three… ten seconds go by, and there’s no movement in the bedroom.

The coast is clear.

You scramble down to pick up the shards of glass. The spilled wine looks like blood in the dim light of the room. It’s a painful reminder of the broken pieces of your former life, the casualties. He quickly follows suit, as if struggling to put it all back together. The irony is not lost on either of you, you’re sure of that.

“It’s fine, Luca. I got it, I—” a sharp piece of glass accidentally cuts your palm as you pick it up in hurry. “Fuck!”

“You okay?” He takes your hand as quick as lightning, wanting to inspect the wound, but you snatch it away.

“I’m fine.” You get up on your feet, teetering over to the sink, away from the crime scene, careful not to step on any piece of glass.

Yet he still follows you, walking over to where you’re standing now. “Come on. Let me just take a look.” He reaches out to your wrist, running little circles with his thumb to ease your grasp.

“It’s not a big deal…” you let him look anyway, you figure it’s easier to just let him do his thing than to argue your way out of it. 

His calluses are brittle against your palm, but he handles you with the gentlest touch. The wound is not too big or too deep, but the sight of blood marring your palm makes his heart drop. There’s no visible piece stuck to it, that’s a good sign, he thinks. He rips off some paper towel and wets it on the sink, and softly dab at the gash, cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to show any sign of pain although it stings. “It’s just a little cut…” your tone bears less and less conviction, as if you have no energy left to argue with him on such a small matter.

There’s a very particular way his eyebrows arch when he’s deep in thought. The left one always sits slightly higher than the right. Blue eyes fixed on the object of his focus. A minute gesture behind the chaos in his head. “You need a Band-Aid,” he points out. 

“It’s in the—”

Luca is already opening the drawer next to the stove, taking out a packet of a Star Wars-themed Band-Aid. He still remembers where everything is, and you can’t tell whether the ache in your chest is a good or bad thing.

He puts the Band-Aid on your cut, then takes your hand close to kiss it better, like he used to do.

“Um.” You freeze in your tracks, taken aback. And it seems he’s just as equally as taken aback by his own action. He is flushed with embarrassment, and you feel your face growing hot as well.

He’s the first to break the awkward silence, quiet and tentative. “I’ll clean up the mess. You just hang tight.”

It seems so mundane, sweeping broken glass and cleaning the floor. His body registers it as a simple muscle memory—he must’ve cleaned up messes on this very spot a million times. But his heart is heavy with the burden of your history, and all the pain that comes with your separation. He might not be able to put the pieces back together, but maybe he can clean up the mess and make it nice again for you.

And all the while, you’re stuck to the kitchen counter, watching him so effortlessly reacquainted with his former home. It’s as if he never left. For a confusing moment, it feels like home again. How did you manage without this view, this presence for so long?

Luca puts away the debris in the trash, hidden away in another kitchen drawer next to you, and hovers in front of you, as if wanting to reach out and touch you… but too afraid you’ll push him away.

“Does it still hurt?”

You can’t tear your eyes off of his. The little cut on your hand is but a dull ache now, but the insides of your chest feels like it’s been mangled beyond repair. You burst into tears, sobs ripping through the seams.

His arms wrap around you, keeping your tattered pieces together. Your face is buried in his chest, surrounded by soft cotton and earthy perfume, and your first thought is you can’t remember the last time you were in his arms like this. You rake your mind through all the memories, all the times you hugged each other hello and goodbye and all the times in between, and you can’t remember the last time you stopped, why would you stop—

“My love…” Luca’s voice soothes you, so quietly murmured against your forehead with a soft kiss, yet rings so clear in your ears. He cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay... I got you.”

The palm of his hand grazes your lips, and you kiss it the way he kisses your Band-Aid earlier. You have no energy left to fight whatever is going on inside you. You don’t understand the nagging urge to be away from him, when being close to him feels this good. You miss his touch and his voice and his face, and you’re so overwhelmed with longing that you close the distance between your lips and his.

Luca gasps when you kiss him—and it feels like the first breath he’s drawn in two years. Your lips are just as he remembers, just as warm and inviting and familiar, and he relishes coming home to them tonight. He didn’t think he would be so lucky ever again, but now you’re here, kissing life back into him again.

Against your better judgment, you stumble into the bedroom, careful to make as little sound as possible as you tread down the hallway. Still tangled in each other. Refusing to let go even for a second. His five o’clock shadow scratches your skin, following the trail of his lips down your neck.

You push him into bed and climb on top of him without a single thought. You need him close, closer than the past two years, closer than now, and your clothes feel like they’re in the way. Of his hands, of his mouth, of his warmth…

You tear your dress off and throw it away, and he stops in his tracks. He has every part of you memorized, every curve and every ridge, every notch of your stretch marks, every inch of your C-section scar from Alfie’s birth… and yet he’s looking at you for the first time all over again.

“Beautiful…” it escapes his mouth just like that, and you kiss him senseless in return. You worry that if you stop, the moment will pass and this whole thing turns out to be just an illusion.

Or worse, a mistake.

You tug his t-shirt over his head, trying not to linger on his broad chest too long. He gets the idea—he is dying to say something, but doesn’t—and just unclasps your bra in response. He keeps his mouth busy by kissing and licking and sucking your newly exposed breasts.

It’s not that you haven’t been touched like this in a while; it’s just that you haven’t been touched by him like this for so long.. “Luca…”

He never thought he’d hear that again. His name in a wanton sigh, uttered by the lost love of his life. He’s not one to waste his chance. “It’s okay. I got you, my love. I got you.”

Because for the first time in a long time, it’s true. He’s got you. He’s got your body underneath him, your nipple in his mouth, your sweet sex in his hand.

God.

You’re so soft, so warm, so wet against his fingers. The little stuttered moan you let out sounds absolutely heavenly. He remembers exactly the last time he was here.

Christmas Eve, two years ago. 

Things had been tense long before that, but Luca was home and able to spend some time with his wife and kid at last. You didn’t seem all that chuffed having him around—whether he was here or not brought out that “neutral look of displeasure” from you these days— but at least you didn’t pull away when he rested his head on your shoulder as the three of you watched Jurassic Park (Alfie’s all-time favorite). Didn’t roll your eyes and turn away when he kissed you and wished you happy Christmas before bed.

And he wanted so desperately for you to openly want him again.

So he tentatively deepened the kiss and reiterated his love for you in every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. Trying to convince you that he was still here. Trying to convince himself that with every orgasm he pried out of you, that you still wanted him there.

But you just… laid there and watched. Hands locked in on the sheets, not even touching him. Motionless as he went through the motions of his thrusts. Numb as he touched and kissed and fucked you the way you used to like. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well have been making love to a ghost. 

“Luca…” Your breathless voice snaps him out of his own intrusive thoughts, more clear and alive and real than any memory of you posing no desire for him.

“I— yeah, sorry. I just…” he shakes off his own thoughts.

“Hurry up, come on…” you needily thrust yourself into his hand.

“You sure?”

No, and neither does he. But at this point, you’re much too stubborn about your decision in the divorce and much too prideful to admit that you want him back and maybe just a tad too eager to make a mistake with him.

So you nod your head yes, and with a searing kiss, he fingerfucks you the way you needed him to. 

“Oh, God… fuck…” you sigh under the undoing of his fingers. It’s like he never forgot how to work your body. His fingers play a pattern on your clit that makes you sing. And when one slides into you, crooking and curling against your silky heat…

“Luca, I— now.”

He unlatches his mouth from your nipple almost begrudgingly, as if too sweet to part with you. “Not yet, baby. We can’t…”

“What, why?”

“Because…” he nips at the smooth flesh of your chest thoughtfully. How can he explain it to you in a way that makes sense? “I want…” to take as much time with you as possible, he adds another finger inside you deliciously slow. “I need…” to feel you in every way first, he chants in his head as he kisses you through your orgasm.

Your resolve is slipping, but the craving is as ravenous as ever. You try to squirm in protest anyway. “But…”

“Please.” His lips press against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I got you, okay?”

His blue eyes meet yours, as familiar as the sky you’ve walked under your whole life. As sure as day. And before you realize it, you find yourself nodding along.

Watching him slither further down your body. Mouth paving the way between the valleys of your breasts, up the diamond-hard tops of your nipples.

Down your torso.

Between your nether lips.

You don’t remember the last time you did this either. Memories of attempts to rekindle the romance flash before your eyes. The nights that he climbed into bed late at night after work, still smelling like chocolate or mint or whatever ingredient he was working with that day. Waking you up with the parting of your legs and hushed kisses saying, “Missed you so much, baby…”

“Right there. Yes…” you pant as he laps you up where you’re dripping, catching every drop and coaxing more at the same time.

His eyes close, and he swallows back a needy groan. “Come for me, baby.”

The words shoot right into your core, and you’re suddenly overcome with the waves of pleasure running through you, grinding your hips into his mouth shamelessly. Has he always been so greedy in the way he ate you out?

Your head is spinning with need and you hope the broken words you string up are comprehensible enough for him. “Luca, come on, I can’t—”

“No, please—” he seems to understand just fine, but still he shakes his head and buries his face deeper into you.

“Luca…”

“Wait, just let me—”

So insistent. So stubborn. So… needy. You grasp a fistful of hair on the back of his head. Both heaving, you breathe out,

“Please.” 

The word stops him in his tracks. But it’s not so much the word as it is the gravity that comes with it. Whatever the two of you are doing, whatever you’re feeling is beyond words at this point.

It’s just you and him and this need.

And as much as he wants—needs— to satisfy his hunger, there’s just no way of stopping you anymore. Truth be told, he’s not even sure why he’s been stalling you in the first place. Not when you’re so eager to tug his clothes off and touch him absolutely everywhere. To stroke him, and taste him…

“No, baby.” He stops you just before you slither down his body, settling you back on the bed and caging you underneath him.

You throw him a look, indignant. If he’s gonna hold it off some more, you swear to God—

“No, I…” he kisses you hard, hoping you’ll get that he wants you too. More than anything. And that he’ll give you what you want. Hell, he would give you anything if he could come back to this again for the rest of his life. “Just trust me, okay?”

You marvel at the sight before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With dark blond locks tousled in passion and eyes lidded from lust and longing, and it makes your heart stop because… there it is.

Love.

As much as you shut it out and as much as you avoid it, love is permanently etched to his actions. Tattooed onto the smallest of things. In the way he kisses your temple softly, and the way he caresses your skin as he aligns himself against you, and the way he holds you as he pushes in…

“Luca…” you gasp sharply.

He stops halfway into you, his eyes searching your face with compassion. “You okay?”

You’re aching and craving the stretch of him all at once, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, so you ultimately nod your head. I’m okay. 

And he knows that deep down. He feels the same. Soothed and tormented by your very presence, although he can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to stop?” Please don’t ask me to stop…

You shake your head quickly. Neither of you would ever dream of it. You would take everything—the weight and the sting of it all— and he would leave everything behind just to have this again.

Your hips colliding again in a frenzy of a rhythm you haven’t played in so long—still remembering every beat like it’s your own pulse. Your walls gripping him like you wouldn’t let him go.

He shudders a little. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that…”

“I don’t care,” you murmur into his neck with a kiss, “Come.”

“What…?” He can’t have heard that right… right?

“I want you to.”

“Jesus…” he breathes out. “I wanna make this last, baby—”

You shake your head again and wrap your legs around him almost demandingly. “I want you to come inside me and fill me the fuck up… want you dripping down my legs… please…”

“Fuck!” The images flash before his eyes faster than he can stop his hands from grabbing you by the hips, slamming himself into you. 

Nor can he stop himself from coming deep inside you.

There’s no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. The way tension peaks and snaps into release. How it brings you into your climax as well. Your lips must be swollen from the assault of your own teeth as you hold back the filthy noises coming out of you. You don’t mind the building ache in your thigh muscles, because as soon as that warmth fills you up, your body is overcome by waves of bliss.

“Fuck…” he flops back onto his side of the bed—the right side—and quickly gathers you in his chest. It’s an effortless little maneuver, making sense at last as you lay half on top of him.

Your hand finds his—more puzzle pieces coming together as he fills the spaces between your fingers. You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprised to find the gold wedding band still adorning his ring finger.

***

9:56 PM

“Was that really your first time since we… you know?” Your murmured question rings loud in the absence of the rain. The storm has finally passed, but neither of you move—neither even dare to bring it up— afraid to ruin the moment. 

“It was.”

“Not even in a casual, ‘no strings attached’ kind of situation?”

“No.” He looks almost embarrassed to admit it, but there is no hesitation in his answer.

“Wow…” your heart sinks. Is it possible to feel good and bad at the same time?

Luca pauses for a moment. You can see the conflict brewing in his head. “Did you?”

You don’t have to answer. The sheer silence you take is an answer enough.

The confirmation feels like shit, but he tries to stay neutral. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Can I ask how many?”

“Gosh, does that even matter?” You sigh. There’s another argument coming—you can feel it.

“No, I just… I wanna know.”

“You don’t really wanna know.”

“Is it a lot?”

“I mean…”

“How many?” 

You take in a sharp breath. There’s no way out of this now. If the truth is what he wants, then the truth is what he shall get. “Twelve.”

He tenses up next to you. The whole world stops, and you can’t help but think, it’s over. There is no way this marriage is salvageable now. “What…?”

“I know that it’s a big number, and I know you might be upset—”

“That is a big number.” He doesn’t say anything about the latter part of her sentence, but it’s obvious that he’s upset, too. “I just… why?”

“I was trying to get over you.” It’s a pathetic answer, but that’s all it is to it. “I couldn’t sleep in this bed for months. I just couldn’t. Slept on the guest bed instead,” you motion at the next room, “and then one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a switch flipped inside my brain, and I needed to—”

“What?”

“I needed to… overwrite the memories of you,” you admit feebly. “On this bed. On my body.”

Knife, meet heart. He’s not sure what answer he was expecting, but whatever it was, this hurts so much more. “And did it work?”

“Up to a point…” you pause, a sad smile in realization. “It’s funny. I keep getting bits and pieces of you somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

You close your eyes, your memories flashing, reminding you that every single time reminds you of Luca one way or another. “It’s… somebody’s perfume, or the timbre of their voice, or the way they hold my hand…”

“And you see me in them?” 

“Every single one.”

“Jesus…” Luca finds himself relieved and choked up at the same time. He doesn’t want you to ever get rid of your memories of him, but at the same time, it’s painful to hear that you tried anyway.

And you tried very hard.

“I’m sorry.”

He hums, and you realize… he hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. Not even after your little confession. It makes the argument easier, knowing he’s there. It’ll be easier to part with him again after tonight, you hope, knowing you both did your best to understand. Why you needed to be apart. Why you did the things you did.

The armor has been shed, and the two of you are now naked, in every sense of the word.

Luca turns to look at you, studying your profile. He remembers the last time he was here.

He had just told you about Denmark. Stupid of him to feel excited, to tell you he’d just been offered his dream job, to ask you and Alfie to move someplace new with him, because it turned into a fight.

Worse than a fight; it was a death sentence.

You turned away and stared at the ceiling, and told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

And in some fucked up way, Luca feels as if he’d been brought back in time, and this is his one chance to make it right. So he asks you,

“Do you still love me?” 

You breathe out, heart clenching because in spite of yourself, “I do.”

“Do you want us to try again?”

“Luca…” you sigh heavily, “How would that even work? Alfie and I are here, and you have Noma–”

“No more Noma. I’m giving that up.” The answer is straightforward, and he surprises himself over how easily it rolls off of his tongue. How right.

“What? You wouldn’t…” Your face falls as you turn to him.

“I would. And I am,” he says firmly. “Look, I’ve thought about this for months now. I can’t do Noma anymore, I need to be home.” His gaze softens, and you feel the pattern running on the back of your hand again.

Slow and steady and certain.

The tear rolls off the corner of your eye and onto the pillow with the tiniest drop. “I wanted you to come home…”

“Then let me come home. Please?”

“I want to. I just…” you reach out and cup his face tentatively. “I just want to make sure that we’re not doing anything rash.”

His eyes light up. The only thing that matters is that you want him home, too. It takes him everything to let his logical part of the brain take control. “How about this, then?” Luca pauses thoughtfully. “We’ll take a minute. For me to sort out everything at Noma, find a replacement… and for us to figure out if this is really what we wanna do.

“If it starts to feel like a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it. But if it feels good… maybe we can give it another shot.

“And in the meantime, we’ll talk. We’ll FaceTime and… figure out what the hell to say to our lawyers.”

That makes you grimace. You were supposed to have another meeting with your divorce lawyers. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. But awkward beats saying goodbye to the man you’ve always loved, right? It’s a small price to pay.

“What do you say, baby?” He looks at you with all the hope that he has. “Just give me a minute to get everything sorted and then I’ll come home.”

You smile tearfully. “A minute is not enough… how about a month, hm?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” He chuckles sheepishly. “A month. I can do that.”

“Good.” You sidle up to him and kiss him where his heart is. You’re willing to settle for having him just for the night, but you can’t wait until he comes home to you for good.

You hope he will.

[runningthroughthegarden]

finally kissing you

the relationship you had with art was complicated to say that least. you had always tried your best to keep your feelings for him a secret. you didnt want to be just another girl pining over him. you were his best friend after all, your job was to support him, not fall in love with him. but that didnt matter anymore, cause you had fallen in love with him. and now you were burdened with the task of having to pretend like he was just your best friend.

-

it was a usual thursday night, after training you would head over to art’s place to study or watch a movie. tonight you decided the homework could wait and put on your favorite movie.

his arms clung around your waist as his head lay softly on your chest. you raked your fingers through his curls with a soft smile on your face. it was times like this you truly thought your relationship could be something more. that soon came crashing down.

“thank you y/n” he whispered so lightly you almost missed it.

“for what?” you softly giggled.

“just everything, i cant imagine what id do without you. dont tell patrick but i think youre my favorite best friend” he replied, quickly gazing up at you with a soft smile before snuggling back into you.

best friend. you knew thats all that this was, but the subtle reminder hit harder than youd like.

“yeah of course” you let out a small laugh to cover the break in your voice, tears threatening to spill.

you could tell by his change in breathing he had fallen asleep. before you knew it hot tears were spilling down your cheeks. this was so stupid. you knew you were just his best friend. but here you were crying as his arms clung around you and his breath tickled your neck.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you slowly slipped out of his grip to grab your things. taking one last look at his peaceful state, you left.

-

waking up on friday morning was honestly a shit show. you felt pathetic and just wanted to forget about all of it. so you decided it was time to move on.

it was no secret you had guys who would do anything to go out with you. you never paid them any attention cause you had art. but it was time to get over him so you decided to text a guy from one of your classes and asked if he wanted to hang out. he of course said yes so now you were in your dorm putting on your best dress to hopefully forget about art.

you truly felt so good about yourself and were excited to hang out with someone that wasnt patrick or art.

the date had gone shockingly well. the two of you had a lot in common and were laughing practically the entire time. still, a part of you ached. you felt yourself thinking back to art but tried to snap out of it as soon as you could.

he had offered to walk you back to your dorm which you kindly accepted. walking through the courtyard as the moon shined down you couldn’t help but wish it was art you were walking with. but you weren’t, you had to stop thinking like this.

“thank you for tonight, i had a lot of fun” you stop, looking up at him.

“yeah of course, im just glad i got the opportunity to take such a gorgeous girl out” he replys with a smile.

a blush creeps up on your face as he slowly starts to lean in. cupping your face with his hand, noses slightly touching.

“hey!” a voice you recognize all too well is shouting from behind you. oh my god.

stepping back from the boy you look to see art standing there. a flood of embarrassment washes over you.

“do you have a problem?” the guy asks putting his hand around your waist to pull you in.

“yeah i do get your hands off my girl!” art comes storming up pulling you away from him.

“you two are dating?” the guy steps back, clearly confused.

“no!”

“yes!”

you and art shout at the same time. looking at him with the most confused look on your face.

“it looks like you two have some things to sort out. i’ll see you in class y/n” he states with a sad smile and walks away.

“what the fuck is your problem?!?” you yell, turning back to face art.

“what is my problem? you’re the one who ditched me to go make out with some random guy!” he yelled back.

“why are you so mad?!”

“im not mad! i just think theres better people you could be kissing” he confesses.

“oh and who would that be?” you ask, angrily getting closer to him.

“me” he whispers.

“what?” every thought you had was now thrown out the window.

“i want you to kiss me” he confesses, stepping closer to you.

“but im just your…best friend” you whisper, feeling yourself get nervous under his gaze.

“y/n i think youre the love of my life”

his hands come up to cup your face.

“so can i please kiss you” he asks, desperation written all over his face.

without saying a word you smash your lips onto his.

[spideyhexx]

sub!snowjanus x dom!reader where she finds them doing it together without permission and punishes them. maybe bratty!coryo idkk. ALSO I LOVE YOUR WRITING -(🍒 anon (IF ITS NOT TAKEN YET))

THAT IS ALL YOURS AND THANK YOU SM THIS IS GREAT

also ty to @goosita and @floralcyanide for talking through this concept with me and making me write this tonight instead of tomorrow <3 I popped off with this.

mdni

Coryo was well aware you told him and Sej to not fool around or even touch themselves this next week. You were busy and you wanted to have some excitement to look forward to at the end of a long and stressful week and this was the way you thought you'd get it; having a night or even a day of pleasure with your two lovers who have been built up all week. It sounded like a dream.

But Coryo is an evil little shit. You knew this. Sej knew it. Coryo knew it. But he's never attempted something as risky as this.

With only half the week gone by, he's losing his mind. He's gotten so used to your and Sej's touches that now he's spiraling without it. He doesn't even think to jack off, knowing it wouldn't feel the same.

Coryo has a different plan.

One night, he gets Sej to invite him over while you're still working. Sej is no fool. He can see it in Coryo's eyes. The way he lingers his hand on Sej's arm or how he kept bumping his knee against Sej's own as they sat in bed, talking.

While Sej usually had a lot more self-control, he has to admit to himself the week has been torturous for him too. Ever since Coryo joined your relationship, the need to satiate his desires has only heightened.

So it's no surprise that when Coryo leans in to kiss Sej, his hand moving from the boy's arm to his thigh, Sej gives in. Coryo is surprised at how quickly Sej leans into the touch, his kisses more urgent than he's ever felt them before. "She's gonna be so mad," Sej mumbles as Coryo's fingers make quick work of undoing Sej's pants.

"She's not here right now," Coryo says, in almost an irritated tone. His brow is furrowed and he smiles against Sej's lips when he wraps his hand around Sej's length, stroking it in slow, painful movements until Sej breaks, pushing Coryo down onto his back in bed.

"We have to be fast," Sej mutters, only pulling Coryo's own trousers down enough to get his cock out as he lays over the boy, pressing himself flush against him and grinding their dicks against one another.

Coryo's smirk etches deep into his face at the feeling, letting himself moan out, "fuck, finally," and Sej laughs, burying his head into Coryo's neck as he rocks his hips against Coryo.

This feeling, his blood rushing only to his dick as he gets harder, the ache burning deep within him as he feels Sej's sweaty body trembling above him, both of them so desperate after only a couple days without a release. The way Coryo was rolling his hips up against Sej to make the boy moan into his neck and the light little kisses that Sej would leave on his skin. This feeling makes it all worth it.

Even when the door opens and you're standing, your jaw about to drop at the sight.

Coryo sees you first, patting Sej's shoulder gently and he turns, going red in the face when he locks eyes with you. Coryo still has a smirk on his face and that is all you can focus on.

Without a word, you put your bag down, your coat following, and then your shoes. You take your time, knowing both of them have sat up and Sej is the first one to speak, "I'm sorry, doll, w-we were so worked up and I...we missed being able to-"

"I know baby," you coo at Sej, moving near him and cupping his face in your hands, giving his forehead a light kiss, mumbling against it, "but you still broke my rules." You feel him try to nod in your hold and his eyes shine big at you. "I'm s-sorry," he says in a hushed whisper and your eyes dart to Coryo who's sat back against the pillows.

"Sej, baby, can you go get the ties from my closet?" His eyes trail up and down your face before nodding and you let go of him, beckoning Coryo to come closer. He obeys, to your surprise and you give him a soft smile.

It almost makes him lose his demeanor because he knows by now you're not thinking of anything soft. "I take it you started this?"

He nods, not afraid to admit this to you, "What was I supposed to do? We wanted to fuck around, so we did. Your rule was pointless."

You raise a brow, a little surprised by his confidence, something you so rarely see from him in bed. "Honey, if you want to be that way-"

"What way?" His head is held high as if he's challenging you, wanting to see exactly how far you'd go.

Your smile drops a little and you lean closer to him, kissing the corner of his lips, "If you want to be a brat, I'll treat you like one. You haven't learned this yet, but I don't take these things lightly, honey." You kiss the corner of his lips again before backing away and nodding over to your desk chair.

"Go sit down there." Coryo takes a moment to listen, his eyes a little wide at your words and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, his shoulders slumping into submission, but he holds his head high again, getting up from the bed.

"Oh, and take all your clothes off?" You smile sweetly at him, it almost sickens him.

You help Sej undress after he brings the ties out for you and you lean to whisper in his ear, "Can you tie Coryo's hands tight behind his back for me? Behind the chair,." Sej follows your instructions and while Coryo scoffs, he lets him do it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You ignore him, sitting on the edge of your bed and undressing yourself.

Full-heartedly, Coryo thinks you're gonna be down on your knees for him any minute now. Almost every time he's in your desk chair, you're sitting between his legs on the floor with his cock down your throat, so his mind naturally wanders to that being your course of action.

Sej on the other hand has been at the mercy of your punishments before and he has a faint idea of what you plan to do to the blonde boy now tied to your chair.

"Sej, come here," you say, your voice soft and it's throwing Coryo for a loop. "You know he broke your rules too?"

"I know, honey, but I also know that you're the reason he gave in. So just sit there and look pretty, okay?" You give him another one of your sweet smiles and Coryo takes a deep breath, already starting to squirm against his restraints. You tug Sej onto the bed with you, pushing his head down before he can kiss your lips.

"No, baby. You gotta earn that back." Sej nods obediently, trailing kisses down your chest to your tummy. You lay back where Coryo once was, Sej parting your legs and looking up at you, "will this let me earn it back?"

"Mmm, yes. Good boy." He lets out a shuddered breath and kisses your inner thigh. Once. Then twice, nipping at the skin and urging your thighs to spread more. Sej repeats the same kisses to your other thigh, biting a little more against the skin and you tangle your fingers into his curls, pushing his head closer to your core.

"Enough of that," you grunt, Sej's hands rubbing from your knees up to your thighs and gripping them tightly as he presses his nose to your clit, as if he's savoring, taking in your scent. You let him hold your thighs apart, the feeling of his warm hands against your skin was too alluring, too perfect.

You told yourself you wouldn't even spare a glance at Coryo, but you do. His gaze is laser-focused on the two of you and you smirk as you see his hardened cock resting up against his tummy, his teeth seemingly biting into the skin of his inner cheek.

"Do you..." you trail off in a moan as Sej's tongue plunges into you, licking into you like you're his last meal. "Do you have something to say, Coryo?"

"I-I want to touch you," he says and you chuckle, tilting your head back with a groan as Sej presses his nose to your clit harder, your hips bucking up to grind into his face. "I don't care what you want, honey," you breathe out through little gasps, Sej's tongue fucking into you with a skill that he's only improved on every single time.

You hear Coryo hold back a whine, your cute little nickname for him sounding so filthy on your tongue as his own head tips backward in frustration. He tries to see if he can get out of the ties, but he can't. No tug or pull or twist even lets up the tightness a little bit.

"Sej, baby, you're doing so good for me, f-fuck." Sej moans against you and as his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself come undone on his tongue, his hands holding your hips down so he can lap up all of your release without you squirming too much.

When Sej moves his mouth away from you, you're tugging him up and kissing him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling his body flush against yours, cock resting, aching against you.

Coryo audibly groans, his hips squirming at the sight and he wants to lash out at you so bad. He feels it on the tip of his tongue, something mean, something so angry that he isn't even sure what you or Sej would do, but he can't say it. All he can do is watch, mouth parted as you guide Sej's dick into you, coaxing the man on top of you to bury his head into your neck, just like Coryo had done earlier.

"That's it, baby," you purr into Sej's ear as his hips slowly begin to roll into yours, the thickness of his cock inside of you starting to turn your brain into pure mush, but you regain your focus, massaging the back of his head as he groans into your neck.

"You're doing so well for me, so perfect, you just needed my cunt didn't you?" Sej whines, nodding and you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder.

"P-please," Coryo gasps out. You hear him, but don't reply, kissing the spot beneath Sej's ear and pushing his hips into you deeper with your legs.

Sej is losing his goddamn mind just as much as Coryo is, despite him being the one that gets to feel you, warm, wet, and snug against him. He wants to move faster, but his hips move easily, languidly as if he's trying to get to know every part of you all over again. He also knows you're loving leaving Coryo ignored. He can tell by the way your lips quirk against him when Coryo lets out yet another whine.

His whines feel purposeful like he's trying to make them sound as sad and needy as he can, but there is a shift that tells Sej they're becoming real. Sej longs to see how Coryo looks all tied up right now, but he forgets about that when you bite on his ear, "I know you wanna fuck me harder, baby. You earned it."

He lets out a shaky breath, keeping his head down, too afraid if he looked at your face, he'd bust on the spot. He ruts into you with more force, starting to set a frantic pace that he doesn't let up.

His pent-up desires unfold completely as he fucks into you, your legs holding him so tight, so deep.

"B-baby, please," Coryo begs a little louder, his own hips bucking up into absolutely nothing. He rarely called you that, so you spare him a look.

His cock, drippy and the tip so red makes you want to give in, but you can't. He has to learn. "Coryo, h-honey, please what?" It's hard to talk to him as Sej pounds into you, but you make do, making sure to tug at Sej's curls when he starts hitting the right spot.

"I n-need to cum so bad, please," he whimpers, his hips still moving on their own accord. That's when you see the shine of a few tears on his cheek. "Are you crying?"

He whimpers again and nods his head, closing his eyes. You laugh. A full-on laugh and Sej smiles into your neck. "Oh, my poor, honey. You can't cum."

Coryo starts to plead with you, "N-No no...I need to cum, baby, please...I need it so bad, you don't understand..."

But you shush him, "Be quiet, Sej's gonna make me cum."

You feel Sej groan, as his pace begins to falter and you feel his arms push under you, holding you so close to his body as he spills himself inside of you. You squeeze around him as your own release washes over you, your moans higher than before and you pull on his hair. Sej keeps thrusting into you as you both ride out your orgasms he leaves wet open-mouthed kisses from your shoulder, up your neck to your cheek.

He gives you a lazy smile when your eyes meet and you return it, ruffling his hair. You're lost in a daze with your lover until you hear a choked-out sob from the other end of the room.

Sej pulls away from you, his cock slipping out of you and you're met with the sight of Coryo.

His chest is heaving, his forehead sweaty and his cheeks wet as his eyes glow bluer from the tears still pricking at them.

His tummy is coated in his release, some of it still dripping down his cock and onto his balls. His dick is hardening again as soon as you make eye contact with him, crawling to the edge of the bed and standing up and Sej's release starts to drip down your thigh.

Coryo sniffs, looking up at you as you stand in front of him, "please," he whispers, his lip quivering. You run your hand through his sweaty curls and he moans at the touch alone. "I told you that you couldn't cum, honey."

"I-I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop it, I tried so h-hard. Please, believe me, I tried so hard," he rushes out his words, as a tear falls from his eye.

You look down at the cum pooling on his tummy and your chair, then look back into his eyes, "you look so pathetic, honey."

Coryo's jaw clenches and he holds in whatever noise he is about to make. "Actually, you don't look pathetic, you are pathetic." His cock throbs against him at your words and Sej chuckles from his spot on the bed.

Coryo sends him a glare and you quickly kneel onto the chair, your knees on either side of his thighs and you hold yourself above his lap.

"Don't look at my baby that way, he took his punishment." This time Coryo does let himself scoff and roll his eyes, "What punishment? Not being able to k-kiss you? How is this fair?"

His tone comes off harsh but the way he sniffles after it and the way another tear falls from his eyes has you smirking. "You needed to learn, honey. And I'm not done with you." His eyes close at that, his brow creasing, trying to think of what else you could possibly do to him.

You ghost your fingers on his cock before holding it and Coryo's hips buck up. You let him, his tip, leaking already, just shy of prodding at your entrance. "If you want to fuck me, you gotta do it yourself," you taunt, biting on your bottom lip as you lower down just a little so he can easily fuck up into you.

He stares wide-eyed and sees Sej shaking his head in amusement. You cock your head to the side, "well? Are you gonna do it, honey? It's what you wanted, right?"

Coryo whimpers, still sniffly, and nods, pushing his hips up, his cock sliding into you with ease. He's so loud, letting out strained whines and sobs, his cock so fucking sensitive and needing to release again.

He applauds your own self-control as you stay still for him, moaning when he's able fuck up deep into you. But Coryo didn't take into consideration how tiring this would be. With his hands still tied, his leg and hip muscles began to strain, already exhausted from his first orgasm. "My pretty boy, maybe if you hadn't finished before, I'd help you," you coo at him, your hands so close to touching him, but you keep them on the chair.

You don't give in at all and Coryo lets out a frustrated groan, his bottom lip between his teeth as he desperately tries to thrust his dick up into you but he can't find a decent rhythm.

"y-you're so fucking mean," he sobs, and you almost take pity on the way he's starting to cry more.

You ignore his words though, watching him with admiration as he tries to fuck you. Even though the stimulation is weak, you do eventually feel his cock twitch, and his tummy tightens, but before he can even release you lift your hips up.

"f-fuck! B-baby?" His cries were tempting still, but you were determined. You kiss his cheek, the salty taste of his tears on your lips, then move your mouth to his ear.

"If I find out you've made yourself cum over the next four days, I will do this again, maybe even meaner. I won't even let you be in the same room as me and Sej when he fucks me better than you probably can. And you and your pathetic cock can be alone and untouched for even longer. Do you understand me, honey?" You tangle your fingers in his hair and turn his head to look at you.

His eyes are glazed over, lips parted and he nods, "y-yes." You could almost feel Sej's proud look at how well you've taken control.

"good boy," you whisper and give him a gentle kiss on the lips, realizing just how much you missed kissing Coryo.

let's chat about coryo, sej, or both, here :)

[shiny-holographic-star]

Sirene asteroid (1009) observations

Sagittarius Sirene people appeal to others when they're fulfilling their purpose or having a clear direction in their lives. For example, my cousin has this placement, and she's able to appeal to others when she's so sure about being a dancer, believing that she was made for that, following the direction set by her heart/intuition without questioning it.

I have this placement too, and I think people come to me a lot in search for answers, to understand themselves better since Sagittarius is all about expanding ourselves.

Sirene in the 5th house is about mesmerizing people when you're in the spotlight, being confident and letting yourself shine. Also when performing, so this is a good placement for celebrities. My cousin has this, and she grabs everyone's attention when dancing, plus her personality (5H) is very charismatic.

I also have Sirene in the 5th House, and I'm not so comfortable in the spotlight which to me comes from the Capricorn degree (10°, 22°). This brings delays and challenges when it comes to you expressing or getting used to this alluring energy. You have lessons to learn before you're able to own this energy.

A Leo degree shows that you're confident to use this energy, you were born to be seen and to shine under the spotlight! Guess who has this. Yes, my cousin 💃🏻⭐️ It's worth noting though, that she has insecurities and suffers from anxiety, but she still loves the spotlight and wants to shine.

Libra Sirene attracts people when they show a chill attitude, by wanting to make everyone feel comfortable or included, by using a soft voice and having a great sense of aesthetics. My dad, for example, uses a soft voice when he wants to be polite or liked by others, and shows a super chill attitude with my sister and I's friends. A couple of my girl friends simped for him 😷

My sister has this placement too and she's the type to try and include everyone in the conversation, plus she too softens her voice when being polite or wanting to be liked? She also has a great eye for fashion. And with her friends she appears more chill than how she really is (she's crazy, your honor - in a good way).

Jungkook from BTS has Libra Sirene and his singing voice is very soft compared to what I thought it would sound like at first.

He also has Sirene in the 9th House so he might drawn in more foreign fans than korean. This placement could indicate being alluring when you're open to learn from other cultures or expand your understanding of things. Think about ambiences like college, school, foreing countries.

Scorpio Siren could be appealing when they're intense, reserved, observant, alert. Also, when they're being toxic (controlling or uninterested) or give off that aura of bad boy. For example, one of my exes has this, and he pulled me in with little to no effort, he used to take his time replying to my messages and I waited for him, thinking about what he could be doing and wishing for his attention. 🤢

A high school friend has this placement too, and he had this air or mystery when he actually was doing nothing? He has Scorpio Sun conjunct Sirene, and he wasn't easy to get close to at first. It's like he gave off an air of "I'm on my own, don't bother me", and some girls pinned after him.

Virgo Sirene people are alluring when they keep a humble attitude, lending their attention to you and recognizing they can learn something from anyone. My grandma and two friends (a guy and a girl) sometimes would ask me for advice, to explain something to them or to give them my opinion about something, and as I reply they'd look at me with the utmost attention, not wanting to miss any detail. They look at you recognizing the value of your words and that's so wholesome, it makes you feel heard and appreciated.

Sirene in the 1st House might give a great first impression considering it's the house of beginnings. They might be the person people notice or get curious about first in a group, and nobody knows why; it's unconscious. They also might atract people when they take initiative, which movilizes or motivates others. They seem like they would do good in a leadership position, people would be drawn to listening to them (especially when they're in the energy of the sign their Sirene asteroid falls under).

For example, a Virgo Sirene in the 1st House person might drawn people in by taking iniciative and assuming the role of a leader in a humble way, paying attention to everyone's input and striving to reach their ideal.

[droolypupboy]

MINORS DNI

warning: petplay, orgasm denial/control, painplay, degrading

my puppy’s being a huge brat as i type this “i can be rude to you if i want” - “im NOT talking back” - “im not being a brat” - “im gonna win everyyyyy game we play” “you can’t punish me for something i didn’t even do” to name a few.

he “doesn’t believe” that i know EXACTLY what im going to do to him later so im typing this to prove to my dumb little bitch that im always ten steps ahead of him.

if you’re reading this it means he’s already fucked out, used, and has had his attitude reigned in.

the only way to reign in that smart mouth of his is to deprive him. so first i’m going to gag him and put him in time out for six minutes (it was originally going to be three but his mouth got him in trouble, not that he knows it yet). i’m gonna ramble about allllll the things he’s missing out on since he’s talked himself into a hole.

afterward, i’ll let him take the gag out, force him to give me the apology i deserve, and edge him a couple good times before i breed him up and fuck him and brainwash him into being the good puppy he always is deep down.

my boy’s always a good puppy even when he’s making a pathetic attempt at behaving badly. he’s trained too well to know how to do it right. so i’ll let him use that tone with me, not gonna take much to remind him he’s too dumb to keep up the charade.

i love my little bimbo pup, even when he’s being a stubborn little bitch.

those are the plans. the rest of the post is gonna be scene updates.

update mid punishment: had to add on more time to his time out. thirteen minutes instead of six. he “didn’t regret his words” …he does now. he’s sitting on a chair with a vibe (turned off) between his legs, a gag in his mouth, and hands behind his back. i have a vibe on. poor thing is so jealous it hurts.

i told him no words apart from the ones i asked him to say. “i’m sorry for being a brat sir, please punish me, im sorry for being a naughty boy”

poor baby sounded so embarrassed. i forced him to get up with the vibe in and on to go grab the other toys im gonna use to edge and fuck him. poor thing promised to say thank you after every orgasm i deny him. he better be ready to keep that promise.

and only ten minutes into it he’s telling me how much better it feels to be a good boy and that he’s too stupid to be a brat. didnt i predict that earlier? nice and easy to break. my mutt <33 i think its because i made him listen to me cum.

sucked my cock SO obediently for a good ten minutes <33 he’s finally taking the easier route; being a good dog. i’m so proud of him. my training really shines through.

some of the details are just for us <33 but i’ll let you guys in on a pretty intimate part. we came to the sound of mutual i love you i love you i love yous.

extremely intimate and lovey-dovey scene. it ended up a LOT sillier and more giggly than it started. @purenullity

[biteofcherry]

Echo that thunders

Bucky Barnes x female reader

summary: The life you and Bucky built has crumbled. Or so you think. But maybe some ruins can be reconstructed, if true love is given a chance?

warnings: angst; lots of feels; hurt/comfort; divorced couple; mention of past infidelity; marital problems; both Reader and Bucky are self-blaming and self-punishing idiots; and obviously are still deeply in love; they need therapy and I encourage that; reconciling intimacy (yes, I mean sex with feelings and tears); Alpine is almost squeezed to death with love (truly affectionately);

word count: 6k

Author's Note: This is my entry for Eight Types of Love challenge from @the-slumberparty. I took a twist on pragma: exes with feelings.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Every week the hollow in your chest would ache and you’d try to cram it with sweetness of fleeting moments: catching the pure joy and love on your little boy’s face, mulling your sorrow with pastries that you’d eat alone, then quiet your longing with laughter and shouts of your friends. 

You made it look like it was easy, like you didn’t die a little every damn Friday when you drove your son to his father’s place. 

Maybe you’d feel better if it was the mother missing her baby boy for the weekend, but the wounds opened not for the few days of empty nest, but because seeing Bucky ripped you to pieces. 

You wouldn’t avoid it, though. He loved your son so much, was so happy to spend every possible day with him and you would never take that away from either of them. 

Even if it hurt. 

Truth be told, you wouldn’t let anyone take that away from you, either. Because the pain of seeing Bucky was also sprinkled with that fluttering, bittersweet feeling. Love that you still harbored. 

You didn’t think it was possible to ever stop loving Bucky. 

As you proved, it was possible to divorce him, but it didn’t sever the hold he had on your heart and soul. 

So you welcomed the ache in your chest as an invisible iron fist clenched its cold claws around your heart, when Bucky smiled and waved at you from the sidewalk in front of his building. You knew he waved at your little boy, who was already bouncing in his seat, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips in return.

“Hi, rascals!” Bucky greeted you, the same way he’s been greeting the both of you ever since your son was born. 

He waited for you to round the car after you parked it, loosely wrapping an arm around your middle and giving you that awkward half-hug. 

You assumed it was as awkward for him as it was for you, though for different reasons.

Bucky was simply nice, trying his hardest to maintain a good rapport with you for the sake of your son, while he had to be repulsed by you inwardly. For you, the hug was difficult, because you always craved to bury yourself within his arms and feel that protective, loving hold. 

“Hi,” you smiled and ducked under his arm, before he noticed that pathetic longing shining in your eyes. 

You went to retrieve a small bag and backpack with Stevie’s clothes and belongings, while Bucky unbuckled your son from the car seat and scooped the boy up in his arms. Joyous squeal “Daddy!” melted you all over again, reminding you how ecstatic the boy was every time Bucky returned home - no matter if he’s been gone a few days on a mission, or just an hour running errands. 

When you turned to them, the sight of them grinning at each other froze you on the spot. You were aware that Stevie shared some of Bucky’s mimics, but it was that moment when your boy pressed his cheek to Bucky’s and they both looked your way with lopsided grins that shattered your heart into pieces. 

You squashed the flare of sorrow inside, saving it for later when you’re alone with a pint of ice cream. 

Bucky had suggested a couple of times that he could come pick Stevie up from your place, but you were too scared of seeing Bucky back in the apartment where you all used to live together. Where the love and happiness were supposed to be forever. 

You were scared he’d come inside and see that you still had a few photographs of him on the shelves. 

You reasoned that it was for the sake of your son, so that he felt his dad’s presence at all times, but you couldn’t fully let go of Bucky yourself. 

“Hey,” Bucky took the bag from your hands, but left you holding Stevie’s backpack. “Can you come upstairs for a second? I wanted to talk something over.”

He always invited you under the pretext of talking over some details regarding Stevie, but ended up dealing with it in two sentences and then coaxing you into a neutral small talk that left you all the more missing him. 

Yet you couldn’t force yourself to say no. 

“Sure.” You nodded, squeezing the strap of the small, red backpack in your trembling fingers. 

Bucky’s apartment, which he got after you filed for divorce, was small, but clean and spacious enough for a four year old and a cat.   

Alpine stuck her head from behind a wall when you entered. She made a tiny meowing sound and walked forward, but the second Bucky put your son on his feet the cat bolted away. Stevie of course followed, running after the furball with glee.

“So I know there’s still plenty of time to plan summer vacation-” Bucky started, leading you toward the counter separating the kitchen from the living room- “but Sam invited us to Louisiana, to spend a few weeks at his sister’s place.”

“Oh.” It was instinctive, that very first thought about your baby boy being away for weeks. In a different state, nonetheless. 

However, you promised yourself to not be an overprotective, controlling mother. And you trusted Bucky with your son at all times. 

“That sounds fun.” You relaxed your shoulders and smiled. “I’m sure Stevie will love it. Especially if you take him on a boat.”

He was in a marine fascination phase. At least once every few weeks you had to go to the aquarium and turn on Discovery channel instead of morning cartoons. 

“Maybe I’ll manage to re-do his bedroom, while he’s away with you,” cogs in your brain started turning. “It’d be a fun surprise when he gets back.” 

“Won’t you need help with that?” Bucky asked, perking up. “We could do that on the weekend when he’s with your parents? You know I’d be happy to help. We can rope Sam into it, too.”

He sounded so eager. For a fleeting moment you enjoyed the warmth at the thought of the two of you doing something for your son together, but you quickly reminded yourself that Bucky would do absolutely anything for Stevie, including dealing with your presence.    

“Umm, sure,” you swallowed nervously, “if you’re not on a mission.”

You regretted saying it, seeing a flash of guilt on Bucky’s face. 

It was a sore subject and bringing it up hurt you both. 

You always admired Bucky for what he did, how much he risked to save others. It didn’t change the fact, however, that saving the world meant neglecting you at times. He tried his best, you knew he did. Still, it hurt when you spent some nights and celebrations alone. 

“We’ve made some changes on the rooster.” Bucky didn’t look at you as he talked, instead focusing on taking out ingredients from the fridge. “It’s doable to book some dates as non-active.”

“That’s good!” You tried to sound genuinely happy for him, while inside you felt a wave of rage that the accommodation wasn’t made when you needed it in the past. “All of you deserve rest and to, you know, live your private lives, too.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky’s shoulders drove up in tension even as he nodded. 

You stayed quiet for a long moment, the sound of your son’s giggles coming from the bedroom where he chased Alpine filled the space, but didn’t ease the sudden heaviness. 

“I better-” you started at the same time that Bucky began:

“Do you want to-”

Both of you paused, but before either motioned at the other to finish, you were interrupted by a pitiful meow and soft paddle of your four year old’s feet.

You both turned and watched your son wobble as he carried Alpine. Though carried was a bit of a stretch to describe two tiny arms tightly wrapped around the upper half of the cat’s body, with its head barely sticking out and two front legs sticking upwards while the rest of the furry body dangled down. 

You quickly covered your mouth to stifle the burst of laughter, but Bucky behind you couldn’t help the snort. 

“Buddy.” He moved around the counter and crouched in front of Stevie. “Alpine knows you love her lots and want to play with her, but this is a bit uncomfortable for her.”

You thought the cat is an actual saint for not having yet scratched Stevie for all the love she was getting from him. 

“Hey!” You chimed in, reaching for the small backpack. “You forgot about the present you have for Alpine.”

“Mousey!” Stevie dropped the cat almost instantly and ran towards you. 

“A present, huh?” Bucky placated Alpine, scratching her behind the ear while she rubbed against his leg. 

“Made it with mommy!” Your son beamed proudly after you fished out the small toy from his backpack. “For artses-” which was his version of saying art classes. “But mommy said it’s perfect for Apine.”

It was a bright blue, slightly askew, crocheted mouse. With a very, very long tail. You thought it would be perfect for Stevie to hold the end of the tail and slide the mouse across the floor, so Alpine could chase it.

“It really is,” Bucky nodded, noticing that the soft toy had caught Alpine’s attention. “Why don’t you run around with it, play nicely with Alpine, while I make us spaghetti?”

Stevie didn’t have to be told twice. Alpine seemed eager for this kind of play, as well. Chasing a new toy surely was more preferable than being squeezed to death. 

Bucky straightened. His tall, broad figure filled your vision. He was much closer now, with no counter separating you. He looked after your son fondly, then his soft gaze switched to you. Not for a second did the affection fade in his eyes as he looked at you. 

“Thank you,” he almost whispered, touching your shoulder gently.

You wanted to blurt out that there was nothing to thank for, but you understood what he meant. The same way you were grateful for his concern whenever you had a cold and he took Stevie so you could rest (bringing you some chicken broth on his way), or that he picked you up when your car died. The small gestures each of you displayed, that betrayed care neither of you seemed to be able to lose. 

Bucky’s hand slowly slid down your arm and because you were so lost in the blue of his eyes and the tenderness of the moment, you forgot to brace yourself for the small sting that his touch brought when he passed your forearm.

You winced. 

Unfortunately, Bucky noticed.

Instantly, he stilled. His hand remained on your forearm, but his touch eased. His gaze flicked from your face to the spot covered by your sleeve and up to your face again. 

“What is it?” Worry pinched his features. “Are you injured?”

He moved even closer, angling his head so he could maintain eye contact with you, even though he towered over you. He gently took your wrist into his metal hand and carefully rolled your sleeve up. 

“It’s nothing. It’s-” 

Words died on your tongue when Bucky’s gaze hardened, a muscle in his jaw twitching, as his gaze landed on the injured spot. 

There were no visible bruises. Not to you, anyway. You mostly felt the tenderness of that area than saw any marks. But Bucky’s senses were enhanced and he definitely could see the difference in the smallest changes of your skin, the barest hint of different pigmentation. 

And, much to your dismay, you could never lie to him. 

“Who did that?” Bucky kept calm, but you sensed the concern bursting into protective rage inside of him. 

“Someone, who is no longer in the picture.” You replied, tilting your chin up. “I may have not expected it happening, but once it did, I wouldn’t chance it repeating.”

The whole attempt at dating was so uncomfortable for you, but seeing some pap pictures of Bucky with an unknown female had made you impulsively agree to the fifth invite from a guy from accountants. 

It was irrational and irresponsible - as some of your past mistakes. There was nothing that suggested Bucky and that woman were connected in any way beside the work area. They weren’t even alone in that place. It’s just that he had his hand on her back and she was giving him a flirtatious smile. 

Well, your jealous brain told you it’s flirtatious. The same brain that forgot to remind you that it was no longer your business if and whom Bucky was dating.

So you went on the stupid date yourself, feeling all kinds of wrong during it. Then got a glimpse of what shit you almost got yourself into, when you wanted to end your date short and the guy called you a tease. His hold on your forearm when you tried to leave was forceful enough to leave a painful reminder. 

“I’d still like to know the name.” Bucky’s gaze shone a dark glint; plates in his metal arm moved in a reflection of muscles tensing. 

“No need.” Placing your free hand on his chest to soothe him was a habit, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. “I promise you, he won’t ever find himself near Stevie.”      

Bucky frowned at that. Suddenly, he was letting go of your arm and cupping the side of your face instead.

“Baby,” it slipped out of his mouth as mindlessly and naturally as you touched him. 

“I know you’d never let anyone hurt our son. But no harm should come your way, either. The guy deserves having his fingers dislocated.”

Bucky wasn’t a violent person. His past, which was beyond his control, painted a certain picture that some people still believed in. But you knew how soft-hearted and kind he really was. He used force and combat in missions, but his teammates knew he would be the first one to show mercy and pull back his punches. 

However, he was protective. And when he entered that mode, he could be very scary. 

Your fingers on his chest clenched slightly, gripping the fabric of his soft, blue henley; as if you were trying to stop him from marching away and finding whoever posed as a threat.

You felt the steady thud of Bucky’s heartbeat beneath your palm, the rhythm of his breath. You sensed the moment his muscles slightly relaxed.

“How about-” hands cupping your face slowly slid down and away, but Bucky didn’t put any distance between you- “you stay for dinner and we’ll talk more about it later?” 

There was nothing to talk about, really. Or maybe there was, but it shouldn’t be Bucky giving you the talk. His concern only messed with your head and your heart, leaving you with incomparable longing and aching solitude when you went back home. 

You opened your mouth to refuse his proposal, but your son suddenly found himself nearby and torpedoed your resilience.

“You gonna stay mommy?” He looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes. 

Bucky and you made sure to be together for important events like Stevie’s birthday, or kindergarten recitals, or even for the 4th of July. But day to day everything happened separately. You didn’t share meals, or walks, or trips the way you used to when you were married. 

You were aware of the impact it had on your son, but one can’t be divorced and still spend every day with each other. 

However, you couldn’t find the strength at the moment to crush your son’s unexpected spark of joy at the prospect of something so simple like spending the afternoon with both of his parents. 

You couldn’t deny your deep, wallowing desire to spend some more time in Bucky’s presence, either. As self-harming as it could be. 

“Um-” you swallowed nervously as you looked down at your little boy. “Yeah- yes, I’ll stay. You know I always liked your daddy’s cooking.” 

Your heart nearly burst when Stevie launched himself forward, wrapping his small arms around yours and Bucky’s legs. Then he was running away, with even more bounce to his skip than before. 

To your relief, Bucky easily switched the topic to casual conversation as you joined him in the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He told you a few latest, funny stories; gushed about a new book series he started reading; asked about your dad’s knee surgery. 

Falling into this comfortable pattern of domesticity with him was too easy. Like you haven’t been living separately for the past year, nursing deeply hidden resentment (which you expected from Bucky) and heartbreak. You knew it would hit you harder when you got back home, step into that silent, empty bedroom, which once upon a time was your nest of safety, laughter and love. 

All of which you blew up. 

You didn’t protest too strongly when Bucky fed your son an extra portion of ice cream after dinner, you were too distracted with your own ache that was spreading its nasty vines over you. 

You played with the melting scoops in your own bowl as Bucky picked up a half-asleep Stevie and carried him to the bedroom. Alpine trotter right after them. From the occasional pictures that Bucky sent you when Stevie was staying at his place, you knew that the cat would jump onto the bed next to your boy and fall asleep with him. 

When Bucky returned and sat beside you on the couch, his presence almost toppled you into a sobbing fit. 

Once upon a time, you’d cuddle on the sofa in your living room and talk for hours, or watch shows, or make out. Even sitting in silence, while Bucky read a book and you browsed social media, was comforting and easy. 

There was nothing easy about it now. Because that desperate need to crawl into his arms and have him chase the sorrows away couldn’t be sated.  

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Bucky’s quiet voice surprised you.

You blinked as you looked at him, slightly confused with what he was talking about.

“I know you’re responsible and very strong. You’re more than capable of looking after yourself and don’t need my meddling in your intimate life.” He said, staring down at some spot and not meeting your eyes. 

The words intimate life sounded as if he almost choked on them.

“I know it’s too late to mend what I fucked up.” He sighed, bowing his head even lower.

Your heart ached, seeing him so resigned.

“James Buchanan Barnes, what the hell are you talking about?!” Instinct to rush to his aid kicked you from your stupor. 

The anger at yourself heightened as once again you saw first hand how much you hurt him. Bucky wasn’t flawless, but he didn’t deserve what you’ve put him through. To know that your actions added to his tendency to self-blame, only made you hate yourself more.

“It was me who fucked everything up.” You countered, setting the bowl on the coffee table with a loud thud. You shifted on the couch, turning your body so that you could face Bucky directly. 

“I broke what we had. I- I broke your heart and you never deserved such awful treatment!”

Neither of you deserved all that pain, but it was on you to take the responsibility for it.  

“I’m not gonna lie, the divorce hurt more than falling off that damn train…” Bucky’s voice quivered with emotion; his fingers shook slightly as he wiped his palms on his thighs.

“Divorce?” You paused, slightly stunned. “I mean, I know it was hard. For both of us. But I knew I needed to set you free after what I’ve done.” 

It was Bucky’s turn to frown, his muscles pinching in a quizzical look as if he didn't understand what you were aiming at, at all. 

“Bucky, I cheated on you!” You hissed loudly, but minding your voice enough to not wake your son.

There it was. The heaviest of truths which triggered the whole domino effect and which both of you avoided naming directly.

But Bucky deserved it - you admitting your faults. There was enough on his shoulders and you couldn’t stand the thought of him taking this burden onto him as well, when it was yours to pay for.

Bucky’s face cleared of confusion, however his frown deepened. 

“What I know is that you were hurt, alone and inebriated. A state some douchebag took advantage of.” There was an undertone of anger in his tone, but not directed at you.

You shook your head in exasperation. 

Leave it to Bucky Barnes to be an understanding, chivalrous knight. It was a wonderful trait, but shouldn’t apply on all occasions, to all people. It definitely should be directed at you. As much as you’d love to follow that reasoning, you had enough self-awareness and responsibility to not go easy on yourself.  

“Being drunk doesn’t excuse what I did.” You stated.

“It wouldn’t, if that was your aim.” Bucky argued. “But tell me, did you go to that bar because you were looking for a hookup? To get back at me?” He rushed with his counter arguments. 

When you tried to turn your head slightly to avoid his gaze, he squeezed your chin between his fingers and gently guided you to look back at him. 

It was hard. To face him when the memories of that awful evening replayed in your head, bringing back a wave of shame and regret. You vomited three days in a row after that night; and only the first half of the first day was due to the alcohol. All the rest was stress and guilt. 

“No, you didn’t.” Bucky continued when you remained silent. 

“You went there, because it was our anniversary and I wasn’t home. I was on a mission. Again,” he sighed regretfully, aware of how his absence weighed down on you. “You went to the bar which we often went to on our dates, before we got married. Probably cursing my ass for absence on another important day and drinking the pain away.”

That was true. Your parents took Stevie for the whole weekend, starting Friday. It was supposed to be a carefree, romantic time for you and Bucky. Even if he would need to just be lazy in bed for an entire day, to recharge after a mission, you still would be together. 

While Bucky returned from one mission, he jumped onto another one right away. He called you to say that he’d be later than he first anticipated, but in the craze of it forgot what date exactly was it. 

You were understanding. Or, well, you tried to be. There was a whole monologue you gave yourself as you paced the floor of your apartment, convincing yourself that your husband was saving someone. So that someone else could return to their family. 

But you still felt bitter and angry that your husband didn’t return to you for something that was supposed to be important to the both of you.

When you went out to that bar, which wasn’t that far from your place, your plan was to have a drink or two and wallow in self-pity. Perhaps to be passive-aggressive, take a picture of yourself all dolled up and send it to Bucky with happy anniversary wishes.

That was it.

Then that man joined you. For a conversation, at first. Two drinks turned into four. Then five. To be honest, at some point his face got a little blurry. He had dark hair, like Bucky. Had his arm wrapped around your middle the way Bucky often did. 

At some point your drunk brain was certain it was Bucky fucking you, not some stranger you just met at the bar.

“I could’ve chosen to stay at home.” You argued, clenching your fingers into fists so hard that your fingernails needled your skin. 

“I could have drunk a bottle or two of wine alone in the safety of our home and sent you angry, slurred messages. Or wait for your return and throw something heavy at your head.” There were so many choices to be made that night. 

“Instead, I made a mess of our lives…” the words fell out of your lips in a broken whisper, your eyes filling with tears.

“And I forgave you.” Bucky said softly as he released your chin. 

“Hell, I don’t even think I was angry with you.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair in a nervous manner. “Oh, I was pissed and hurt!” He gave you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to protest. “I even tracked that man and… well, let’s not talk about things that thankfully didn’t happen once I saw him.” 

“Most of all, I was angry with myself,” Bucky suddenly deflated.

“Why?” You frowned, barely stopping yourself from reaching out to caress his cheek.

“Because I let it happen.” Bucky sighed and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “It was my constant absence that started those clouds over our heads. I was so focused on redeeming myself that I took on more missions than I should.”

A part of you wanted to contradict him, to convince him that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But there was also a part of you that was still resenting him for doing that, for constantly choosing others over you.

“I think I also wanted to feel needed, which is why I joined teams even though they could’ve handled things without my presence.” He shifted again, sitting across the couch with one leg bent, so he could face you fully. 

He was more hesitant as he reached out for you again. Though you didn’t flinch away, he still dropped his hand as he revealed his own guilt:

“I forgot that you needed me, too.”

You still did. But you wouldn’t dare to tell him that.

“What you do is important. You save lives.” You said quietly, but there wasn’t as much heat to it as you’d like to present.

“I didn’t save us.” Bucky’s words opened the gate to the feelings you tried to stifle for many months.

You almost lifted your fist to angrily rub away the tears threatening to spill, but Bucky reached for you faster. His warm palms rested on your fists; he squeezed them gently.

“Baby, I remember when you mentioned therapy.” He admitted, wincing at the memory of signals which he ignored. “You tried to say it so casually, I know you were afraid of telling me directly that you needed me to save our marriage. I dismissed it.” 

“You hate therapy. I didn’t want to force you into it.” There wouldn’t be any point in attending any sessions, if Bucky would stay guarded.

You understood his hesitance, too. The mandatory therapy he went to a few years back was hard for him, not only because of the topics he had to deal with, but he didn’t feel emotionally safe or comfortable with the appointed professional.

“I disliked my assigned therapist.” Bucky pointed out, with a slight eye roll. “There are hundreds of therapists in this city. I’m sure there’s at least one that I could connect with.” Suddenly, he shook his head. “Or hell with how much I like a therapist, it should be about me connecting with you!”  

He let go of your hands and cupped your face instead.

“I wonder-” he leaned forward, closing the distance between you. “I’ve been wondering, if I didn’t fuck up by signing those divorce papers so easily.”

He did it without much questioning. Which only strengthened your notion that he was repulsed by you and couldn’t wait to be as far from you as possible. You didn’t blame him.

“I understood that. After what I’ve done.” You whispered. 

A single tear rolled down your cheek, stopping on Bucky’s thumb. 

“I couldn’t look you in the eye, because I was so ashamed. I wanted to give you a chance to find someone worthy of you.” More tears flowed.

Bucky tenderly wiped them away.

“I don’t think I’m worth a single hair on your pretty head.” He said, resting his forehead against yours. “I signed those papers, because I thought you were going to find happiness with someone else. That you wanted to build a life with someone else.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You would shake your head, if Bucky wasn’t holding you in place.

If his hold didn’t feel so overwhelmingly wonderful.

“Why not?” Bucky asked, incredulously. “You’re the most amazing, kind, smart, beautiful-” 

“Because I’m in love with you.” You blurted out.

Your eyes widened when you realized what you said. Scorching shame mixed with a sudden wave of cold fear as Bucky slowly pulled away and stared at you in shock. 

He was still cupping your face, though.

“Say that again, baby?” Bucky’s tone was a whisper, like he was afraid he’d burst some magical bubble if he moved or spoke louder. “Please,” he squeezed your cheeks slightly.

Maybe the best choice would be to take those words back. Or to start listing all the arguments to why it didn’t matter. But you couldn’t lie to Bucky. You never could. Especially not when he was looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes, filled with hope.

“I love you, Bucky,” you confessed. “I never stopped loving you.”

Tears streaming down your face were warm, but they felt much colder when compared to the warmth of Bucky’s lips on yours. 

He kissed you with reverence and despair, like the first gulp of breath after drowning in murky waters for much too long. There was nothing but his closeness, beckoning you like a flare in the darkness. You followed the coaxing of his lips, the unspoken vows he sealed with his mouth. 

You weren’t even fully aware of your body moving, yielding to Bucky’s smooth maneuvers. Until the full weight of him rested on top of you. 

He provided both that shield of safety and heavy temptation that had your legs spreading to accommodate him.

“I never stopped, either.” Bucky croaked out as he broke the kiss; his lips still brushed against yours as he spoke.

“I love you so much. So much, baby.” It crushed your heart to see his own cheeks glistening with tears. “Please, can we try again? Let me mend it. Please.” He begged.

Bucky sounded so helpless and so hopeful at the same time. If your heart was set in cold stone, it would still shatter for him like a fragile glass. 

“I should be the one mending it,” you pressed your fingertips to his cheek.

“Us. We’re going to do this together,” he briefly closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. 

“Always together,” you agreed and tipped your lips upwards, tempting Bucky into another kiss. 

Months of distance surely added fuel to the fire of need, but Bucky’s touch always had the power to ignite your desire. Him being on top of you, the kiss deepening, his hand traveling down your side - your body responded instantly. 

You wrapped your arms around him; one hand combing through his hair, the other mapping his broad back. Your legs were already spread to accommodate his hips between yours, but as Bucky continued to kiss and touch you, your knees drew up higher and your hips rolled against him.

Bucky’s responding grinding was most welcome, but he suddenly froze. 

“Baby,” he groaned, almost in pain. “I don’t want to ruin the moment, but if you keep doing that I’m going to lose it.”

“Need you,” you whined. 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and slipped your other hand beneath his blue henley. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at him and rocked your hips into his once again.

“Need to feel you!” 

For months you were deprived of any intimate touch, somehow not in the mood to even give yourself a release with your pitiful toys. To even think of anyone beside Bucky ever touching you like that made you nauseous. And you missed it so much!

Missed the way Bucky played your body. The way he felt inside of you. 

“Bucky, please!” There was urgency in your tone that made Bucky snap to attention.

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, as if assessing that you were as sure as you sounded. A glint brightened his steel blue eyes and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip in the most sensual way. That had your clit pulsing wildly. 

“You always beg so prettily,” he murmured against your skin as began chaining kisses along your jawline. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Bucky braced his weight on his metal arm as he used his other hand to pull up the layers of your tulle skirt. You shivered, nipples pebbling, as his touch shifted to the inside of your thigh and wandered upwards. 

He pressed the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, finding your panties already damp. It wasn’t a novelty how quickly your body responded to Bucky’s ministrations, but it seemed that longing for him sped up the process. 

Bucky swallowed your moan in a messy kiss as he pressed harder on your nub. While you loved the way he sometimes drew this pleasure out, how long he could spend just fingering and licking you, it wasn’t what you needed at the moment. 

You dropped both of your hands to his hips then slid them between your bodies to fumble with Bucky’s zipper.

“Fuck!” He cursed, dropping more of his weight onto you when you freed his cock out and wrapped your fingers around him. 

“I’m afraid I won’t last long this time,” he groaned, tugging the fabric of your panties aside. “I’ll make it up to you, baby, I promise. But, fuck, it’s been so long since I felt you-”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded fervently, not really listening to him. 

All your focus was on that throbbing need that spiked even higher as you guided the tip of Bucky’s cock inside you. 

It was everything - the stretch of his girth spearing through your neglected pussy, his scent and warmth, his mouth sucking on your neck, his moan at the feel of your tight walls gripping him - that had your body seizing in the most rushed climax. Already, while he was barely halfway in. 

You dug your fingernails into Bucky’s hips as your legs shook; your upper half curling up, face buried in the crook of Bucky’s neck to muffle your cries of pleasure. Your walls clenched so hard it was almost painful, then fluttered in a crescendo of aftershocks. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you babbled, falling onto your back and squirming as the orgasm continued to tingle in every part of your body.

“Sorry?” Bucky choked on breath. “My girl cumming for me so fast is an ego boost beyond any other,” he chuckled. 

He always had the ability to make you fall apart rather quickly, but that was a new record. Provided by suppressed sexual tension and emotional connection you were deprived of for so long. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Bucky cooed as he continued to slide into your fluttering cunt, “I’ll give you more.” 

He shifted his hand, so that his thumb brushed over your swollen clit. He moved with no rush, but each of his thrusts was deep, nearly painfully so. As if Bucky sought more of that connection; needed it as fiercely as you. 

As promised, he made you cum again. Then shuddered within your embrace as he followed you over the edge. And though your heart was thundering in your chest from the exertion, it was the first time you felt complete and at peace since a very long time.��

You welcomed Bucky’s full weight as you laid spent, your hands drawing soothing patterns on his back. His cock was still nestled inside of you; neither of you wanted to lose that intimate connection too soon. You rested, listening to each other’s breathing and soaking in the comfort of being together. 

When Bucky fucked you again a while later, it was more languid and sensual. He made breathless vows of love, curling his metal fingers around your throat and squeezing just enough to spill more of your warm tears. He confessed his need for you in his life as he increased his pace, tilting your ass with his other hand, so he could spill deeper inside of you. 

In the morning, as he woke up early with the intention of going to the bakery and getting fresh treats for your family breakfast, there was so much brightness in Bucky’s eyes. So much love and happiness, like on the day your son was born.

As you looked at your own reflection in the mirror in his bathroom, you saw the same spark in your own eyes. 

[kingcrow01]

DC x Marvel Fic Recs

@jas-per11 @letthedeadghostrest

Hello! I saw your post, and I've been meaning to rec some DC x Marvel fics anyways, so I'll do that here. I don't know what you've read, so I'll start with

Peter Parker / DC Series:

The Dark Matter Multiverse Series by @mysterycyclone

Dark Matter is the blueprint for most Peter Parker / DC fics, and it's also fucking fantastic. If you're reading a crossover and don't understand why, without explanation, Peter is talking to ghosts? Why he by default ends up living in a firehouse? Read Dark Matter.

Spider and Bat Friends Series by @emmacortana

So far, 12 well written and hilarious works from my all-time favorite author, Miss emmacortana. This, coming from someone with over 1,500 bookmarks. She's that good.

Bitsy and The Bats Series Series by @wibbwoby

Haven't read this one in a while, so I don't have much to say, but Rated T for Traumatized is an absolute classic.

Pizzaverse Series by Irisen

A heavier read, wherein Peter tries to keep his job, make rent, and has a lot of unfortunate run-ins with Gotham's rogues.

Peter & The BatBoys (Doctor AU) Series by @thepoppypress

Peter is the Wayne family's doctor. He has a... chaotic time. I've only read Part 1, but I am still including this here because it's a series.

Peter Parker needs a hug (From the BatFamily) Series by @true-blue-fool

Shorter fics about Peter bonding with the Batfamily. Part 3 is especially cute.

Spider and Bats Series by @superklutzkent

Peter Parker whump, featuring the Batfam. All of the whump.

Let's take a break and look at some DC x Marvel fics that DON'T feature Peter:

Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place Series by RavenclawAngel

After Civil War, Steve gets exiled to DCs earth and builds a new team.

from the nucleus flight Series by @blackkatmagic

Khonshu whisks (Comic) Moon Knight away to DC. Very well written and passionate. If it's not your thing, don't let the Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector tag dissuade you from reading; since it's unfinished, the ship hasn't happened yet, and it's too good of a fic to miss out on.

The Devil's in Gotham (Remastered) by @prince-link13

Matt Murdock moves to Gotham and befriends Jason Todd, his neighbor. Bruce Wayne/Matt Murdock

Marvel/DC Crossovers Series by @bamboozled-and-alone

What it says on the tin. My favorite, part 2, is Matt Murdock taking care of Damian Wayne.

Echolocation Series by Firecat23

Matt Murdock and the bats; though, part 6 does have Team Red, meaning Peter.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming:

Peter Parker slash fics:

Cassandra Cain/Peter Parker

Along Came a Spider Series by @rags-n-bones

Quiet Respite by @faeriekit

I'm not too far in this one yet, but it's Faeriekit, so it's bound to be good.

Peter Parker/Tim Drake, affectionately called redspider

a shining spider web by Selador

Needling by LaughingFreak

How dimension travel can lead to love. Series by Psychic_Queen05

My current Favorite Ongoing Peter Parker / DC Crossovers:

The Ones Burnt by This_is_lovin

After the events of No Way Home, Dr. Strange's magic sends Peter to Gotham. He wakes up in another boy's body, and has to deal with the consequences. Part one just ended with a bang, you all should be there for part two, it's gonna be awesome.

Arachnomaly by @songue85

The (Comic) Amazing Spider-Man, being neighborly in Gotham. Plus some sick art from the author.

time flies by (bye) by WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN

Two difficult years after No Way Home, Peter ends up in Gotham, but with a whole lot of introspection. One chapter left; you better be there.

All of the rest, that didn't fit in the prior categories:

Unforeseen Consequences by @mysterycyclone

Gotta Get to Rock Bottom! by @emmacortana

Read the initial notes first.

Set Naked on Your Kingdom by sassydandelion

Peter's Gotham Debut by BlankGeode, Leeavy

This Was Home by @emmacortana

The Peter Parker Theory by nicfics

and even though we are strange and exquisitely scarred by Wingfeather6913

What happens in New York by @violent138

A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back) by Vivia_wants_boba

Ignorance is Death by No_idea_what_Im_doing_lmaooo

One Dead Spider by Miellonek

If you do check out any of these fics, always leave a comment. Authors love those, it’s like catnip to them.