#its deep enough that it shouldn't show up but.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Good evening *said sliding down a ramp*! Here's another fic. It started as a study of shadows and light, then it got derailed. As always thanks for reading. Enjoy 💜

When Fernando raises his eyes to the window, he is surprised to see it is already late at night, his watch reading at 00:30.

The moon shines, yellowish and full, creating a path of bright squares and dark lines.

The desktop in front of him is starting to become blurrier and blurrier, and he definitely needs a break.

He raises his arms, stretching and hearing the pops of his back. He stands up, deciding for a reinvigorating midnight snack, when he remembers he is supposed to have company.

The screen on the desk in front of his own is still on, but from his position he can't see anyone looking at it.

It is only when he walks around the table that he solves the mystery of his missing companion: Lance is sleeping sitting at the desk, face on his bent arms and soft breaths leaving his slightly parted lips.

The bright artificial light gives him a white hue, ghostly pale. It only serves to highlight the bags under his eyes.

He's pushing himself too hard, Fernando thinks, feeling worried seeing the toll the season is taking on his teammate.

Sighing slightly, he reaches for Lance's shoulder. He wants to lightly shake him, but in the exact moment he touches the other, Lance flinches away, waking up and looking around, searching for the disturbance.

When his eyes land on Fernando, he relaxes a fraction, before diverging them and starting staring at the screen, not saying anything.

"Lance, is late. Let's go home" he says softly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the room.

"It's ok, you can go. I'll just stay for a couple more minutes" Lance tries to smile, but Nando can see it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Lance, we came together, remember?"

They didn't. They are strict about trying to keep their private lives separated from their professional ones.

But Lance seems so tired Nando isn't sure he can drive back home. And with the silence stretching, with Lance trying to figure out why he doesn't remember it, Fernando is sure it is the right call.

"We... did...not?"

Fernando is actually going to pick him up, put him on his shoulder and carry him to the car.

"No, we didn't, but you thinking about it this long tells me you shouldn't drive"

Lance has the audacity to look annoyed, before sighing and admitting defeat.

"Yeah, fair enough. But I still need to analyse the data from the last race. I'll call an Uber" he says, before turning to his computer and seemingly starting ignoring Fernando.

I love this man, and arguing will lead to nothing, Fernando has to remind himself.

From the look of it, Lance wouldn't stay awake for long. So Fernando simply leaves him alone to retrieve a water bottle from the adjacent kitchen, forgoing his snack.

When he comes back, he can see Lance's head slowly losing its battle against gravity, lowering and then rising up, each time deeper and slower than the previous one.

He waits until he is once again in front of the Canadian, leaning back against the desk, then taps Lance's cheek with the cold bottle.

Lance flinches again, but he doesn't seem to have the energy to look angry or even annoyed. He simply takes the bottle and drinks a little bit, before giving it back while offering a small smile.

Fernando takes it, and waits. Still as a statue, he can see Lance looking up at him from time to time.

Lance could be patient, but nothing compares to Nando's psychological warfare methods. If he put his mind to it, he could wait until next year.

"I know you think I can't do it. But I have to. So just, please, leave. I'm enough of a pathetic show already, there is no need for an audience"

Lance's words cut deep, fast and cold, straight to Nando's heart.

"Lance, I'm the first one who believes in you. But won't solve anything on a Tuesday morning at one a.m."

"There is no more time, Nando. I've done anything I could think of, and nothing changed. I feel like I'm just wasting time and resources here. I need to get better, to do better. If not, then all I've done, the sacrifices and the things lost and the time spent would have been for nothing. I need this to work" he is basically vomiting the words, rubbing his eyes in the vain hope the tears he can feel filling his eyes don't actually leave them.

Fernando feels like he can't do anything for his lover. He can't promise him a better car, a better strategy, a better season. He can see his partner being crushed by the pressure put on his shoulders, and he starts searching for some kind of sign of when it had started.

He knows how people talk about Lance, what they say and think, but it never seemed to bother the younger man. He starts wondering how he had been so blind to not realise their words had chipped a hole in Lance's armour.

Anyway, the damage is already done. He can only pick Lance up, and support him while his shield is under maintenance, lending his own.

"Lance, it's not going to work right now. You are tired, we both are. Let's just go home, and tomorrow we start fixing this"

Lance has a moment of hesitation.

"What if there is nothing to fix. The car is ok, the tires are ok. You have good results. What if I'm the problem, and I cannot be fixed?"

Enough is enough.

Fernando takes the face of the man he loves in his hands, forcing Lance to look at him, his grip firm but still gentle.

"Lance, listen to me. The car is shit. We know it, Mike knows it, the mechanics and the engineers, even the waiters know it. I have results because I see a problem and hammer at it so hard until it goes away. You are not the problem. Doing what we do, is difficult. Training, travelling, racing. It never stops. We keep going but is hard. So just stop, for tonight. Tomorrow we start again, but for now, let's just rest"

Fernando knows it's over when he feels Lance's head falling against his chest.

He won, but at what cost?

They stay like this, Fernando caressing Lance's hair while the younger man just breathes, trying to hide his quiet sobs and the light tremble of his shoulders.

When his watch starts vibrating, reminding him time is real, Nando gently pushes the other up, wiping the tears away.

"Let's go home" he repeats, and helps Lance get up.

With their hands intertwined, Fernando leads them outside, not turning around, sure of Lance following him, close behind.

They'll be back tomorrow, so they can leave Lance's car for the night.

Once in Fernando's car, the ride is quiet, neither needing any more words, just needing each other.

They fall asleep pressed against each other, united in a mess of fears and tiredness and love, because no matter what will happen tomorrow, or the day after, they are sure they will continue to have each other's backs.

So, when they get home, and start settling for the night, it's no brainer that Lance attaches himself to Nando's body, in need of being reassured through touch and presence. Fernando is more than happy to comply, the need in him to provide and protect finally calmed when Lance is in his arms, watching the boy falling asleep, calmer and more settled, with just the light of the moon to illuminate half his face, and for the first time, he looks real and solid and alive.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, not able to limit his affection anymore.

[atoriid]

A Glimpse Of What Was

-one shot- (series??)

summary: Visions of the past seemed to haunt you more than usual today…

incl.: angst, murder, death, canon divergence, established relationship, fem reader, heian era Sukuna, son Itadori, pseudo-adopted son Megumi

pairing/s: Sukuna Ryomen x Fem! Reader, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru (yes I’m keeping those two together fuck death!)

warning/s: angst, nsfw talks but just a sprinkle, blood (well…Jujutsu Kaisen is a whole warning in on of itself so…proceed with caution)

note: I’m. Going. To. Have. A. Happy. Ending. No. Matter. What. Gege. Says. So! This one shot is inspired by this flash fic [ ever imagine having children with me? ] Can be read as a standalone but check it out still! Also, part two is in the works! Hurrah!

☆masterlist☆ Part 1 - 2

Everything felt wrong.

From the moment you opened your eyes in the morning til after you've wrapped up your class with the second years, everything just did not feel right…

You could not pinpoint the cause, like an itch beneath your skin that you were unable to scratch. And to your misfortune, your unease showed just enough for your co-teacher, Gojo Satoru, to notice.

“You look like you just touched chewed gum, L/n~chan.” His infamous giggle, like a menace melody, rang through the faculty room.

A heavy sigh left your mouth as you continued to type the report you have neglected to work on from your previous mission. “It's…nothing, Gojo.”

“Eh~.” Poke, poke, his freakishly long fingers mercilessly assaulted your cheek. “But you look so miserable~.”

Having no energy to entertain this massive cat, you begrudgingly tried to ignore him.

A few seconds later, the office door opened, revealing Gojo's better half, Geto Suguru. Well, better half was an overestimate. Geto Suguru was a whole other menace but at least he's more tolerable than his partner.

“Toru? Shouldn't you be with Megumi right now?” You raised an eyebrow; Gojo had told you Megumi was back in his dorm.

“Gojo…did you give Megumi your task…again?”

“Maybe~,” he shamelessly replied as he spun around in his office chair.

“You're supposed to retrieve a special-grade cursed object, Toru!” Geto scolded, forcing the chair to halt so he could face him.

“He'll be fine, baby~.” Geto facepalmed.

“A gentle reminder you willingly proposed to this pain in the ass,” you said before taking a sip of your poison for the evening.

Geto's face scrunched, a look of deep regret painted on his face, while Gojo's jaw dropped, seemingly offended by this. “Hey! That's mean.”

“Don't worry, babe, I still love you.” Geto kissed his cheek before pulling this noodle of a man to his feet, and you gagged at the display of affection.

“Really? Right in front of me?” Gojo stuck out his tongue as he clung onto Geto’s arm, who was clearly amused by your misery.

“You're the one who refuses to see people, L/n-san,” referencing the countless attempts they made to set you up with someone they know.

“Mhm~ you're gonna get old and alone, L/n~chan~.”

An irk mark appeared on your forehead. “I swear, Gojo, if you stay here any longer, you won't have a full head of hair.”

“Eik!” Gojo pathetically jumped onto Geto, reflexively wrapping his arms around his neck as Geto held him up like he weighed nothing.

Geto chuckled, “I'm taking this pain in the ass away now.”

You rolled your eyes, dismissively waving your hand. “Just go, you two.”

“We'll see you tomorrow, then, L/n-san. Don't stay here for too long.”

“Mhm, yeah, yeah, I'll try not to.” Once the duo was out of the room, you caught a bit of their conversation.

[ Gojo: Let’s get Kukifuku before picking up Megumi~]

Though you can't see it, you just know Geto was shaking his head but would ultimately give into Gojo's whims.

You were right because the next thing you knew Geto was agreeing.

Just as their voices faded away, a sharp pain shot through your head, before disappearing just as abruptly as its appearance. You shrugged it off before continuing your work.

:

After a few, the initial ache came back again with a cruel vengeance as the pain crawled into every crevice of your brain. You started to feel nauseous, your vision began to blur, and not long after, everything turned black.

You woke up from your little nap, nestled onto your husband's lap, wrapped around one of his strong arms. You looked up, your sleepy eyes catching a blurry image of your handsome husband. A dopey grin stretched onto your face as he fussed over the small bundle of joy in his other arm.

Once he noticed you were awake, he turned his head to face you, pinching your cheek with one of his free hands. “Look kid, your mother is finally awake.”

Your smile widened even more as you heard the melodious gurgles of your little baby. You sat up to lean over and reach your hand to hold onto his small, gloved ones.

“Sorry, baby, Mommy was just feeling a little tired~.” Your husband's warm hands rested on the small of your back and onto your shoulder. Your baby started to playfully punch the air, happily kicking his chubby feet.

“Hm~ yeah, go reprimand your mother.” You playfully glared at your husband.

“Ryo! Just so we're clear, this is all your fault.” He just gave you a look.

“Woman, are you on about?”

“Oh, I don't know…fucking me to oblivion just this morning? Hm?!” You accused him, leaning closer until your nose was almost touching.

Sukuna deadpanned, “Say that to me again but do remember you're the one who begged me not to stop.”

Heat crawled up to your cheeks. “I- uh sp-ugh…s besides the point…”

He quirked up an eyebrow, “Hm…yes, sure…whatever you say, wife.”

Before you could say anything more, your little boy made a few noises before spiraling into a crying session.

“Oh no, Yuuji baby~.” You reached out to hold him in your arms, rocking him a bit before realizing he must be hungry. “Hungry, are we now?”

You bolted awake, the migraine gone, but the ringing of your phone might as well have brought it back. You looked at the caller ID; it was Megumi.

Without a second thought you answered it. “Gumi?”

[“L/n-sensei, uh, there was a situation.”]

You heard a big crash in the background.

“Are you in danger or hurt, Megumi?” Worry filled you; you swore if Gojo and Geto let this kid get hurt while in their watch-

[“Danger, no.”]

You let out a sigh of relief.

[“Hurt…yes.”]

“I-what? I thought it was a simple pick-up?”

You heard him sigh, [“It was supposed to be, but it spiraled out of control.”]

“Oh dear…do I need to go there?”

[“No, but are you still in Jujutsu Tech?”]

“Yes, why?” You heard him choke out his words, and you found it adorable, really adorable.

[“C-can you patch me up when we get back?”]

You fought the urge to coo, “Of course! I'll wait for you at the gate.”

[“Thank you, sensei.”]

You chuckled, “No problem~ oh, and please be a dear and say to Gojo and Geto they're dead once I see them.”

[“I will, oh, we'll be heading back in a bit.”]

“Okay then, I'll see you soon.” He ended the call, and you stretched a bit before preparing the first aid kit for your injured student.

:

You stood near the entrance of the tech when a cold chill ran up your spine as you made out the figures of Gojo, Geto, Megumi, and a pink-haired boy slumped onto Gojo's shoulders.

Sulfur filled your lungs, your eyes fought to stay wide open as you fought tooth and nail from your captors and the special chains they caught you with.

You let out a strangled scream; to your right was your husband struggling to fight his way towards you. Tears of pure rage streamed down your face as you witnessed the grueling sight. Your husband’s arms and legs were wrapped with red-hot chains as several sorcerers tried to subdue his rampage.

And as if this sight was not enough, your world slowed when you heard your precious little boy's scream.

Your head snapped to the direction. Your boy, your Yuuji, was being held like some animal by some disgusting sorcerer.

“YUUJI!” He was supposed to have run far from here already; why is he here?!

This split-second distraction was a grave mistake as the sorcerers took this chance to finally pin you down.

A guttural sound came out of you as they began to gag you and put more chains to keep you from moving. You were breaking your skin, your bones even as you feraly tried to break the chains.

Your husband seemed to also have seen what was happening as his rampage seemed to amp up. You could see your Yuuji trying to get out of the man's hold, kicking, punching, and screaming to let go. Your baby was calling your name and your husband's. Your heart broke again and again as you heard his broken voice crying for you.

“Kill the child.” Some fly dared to order. The man holding your baby pinned him down while another was holding up a blade ready to swing.

NO

NO

NO

MY BABY

YUUJI MY BABY

LET GO

You gave everything you've got to loosen the chains, dislocating your arm in the process just to give you even a small opening to brutally pry yourself out of the hold. You ignored the searing pain everywhere in your body as you made your way to your crying child.

What you failed to notice was a sorcerer behind you; she took a stance and without hesitation swung the blade right on your back.

You stumbled forward, a gut-wrenching feeling coursing through your veins; you did not even feel the blade because right in front of you, the sorcerer plunged his sword into your Yuuji's chest.

He mercilessly stabbed thrice, “Stop it, soldier!” The woman behind you shouted, and the man hesitated before giving up, muttering curses before stepping away.

You pathetically crawled your way to your baby, blood dragging and pooling around both of you as you took your boy into your weak arms.

“M-mom-mommy…” His weak voice choked out.

“I-I'm so sorry, my baby…” Your shaky vision caught his tearful eyes. You tried your best to hold his bloody body nearer to you.

“I l-love you, my Y-yuuji.” You choked out as you felt his weak heart give out.

A lone tear started to fall from your eye. Not a second later, like a dam had been forced open, tears freely flowed from your eyes. Emotions of unknown origins weighed heavily on your heart as the face of the pink-haired boy came into view.

“Oh dear gods…my Yuuji.”

☆masterlist☆

[findafight]

god i love when fics have steve experiencing insane things but being nonchalant about it bc he thinks it's normal when it absolutely is not. i like to think there have been multiple instances where other guys have been like psychosexually obsessed w steve so when billy starts acting like that steve's just like "ugh again?" like imagine if when he's dating eddie he's just casually like "god isn't it so annoying when other guys get like aggressively obsessed w you and stare at you all the time?" and eddie is sitting there chanting wtf in his head wondering how steve is a real human.

Ya I think it'd be very funny if kinda very strange things happen to Steve and he figures that it's just a normal thing. He'll be sitting around with people like hey y'all ever think about when you and your friends would dig a big hole and pretend to bury someone alive and hold a funeral for them and then they'd go home and tell your parents you died in the woods? When your mom ran into the forest she found you covered in flowers and dirt staring at the sky thinking about how cool it'd be to decompose into the ground she cried and it was probably the first time you saw a grown up cry? And every one is like uhhhhh no. Our friends did not actually fake our death semi successfully and scare our parents??? And he goes oh. Huh. Weird!

my HC is Robin is Steve first similar age friend that has not wanted to fuck him since eighth grade. This is funny because she has also never been normal about him. No one has ever been normal about Steve.

I think it's also very funny that Billy teamed up with Tommy, who you know has never been normal about Steve in his life. Like maybe when Steve was in middle school there was a guy who also was weirdly obsessed with Steve except he and Tommy viciously hated each other. Like straight up brawling and crying about it and Steve is there like what the fuck are you doing??? And Carol beside him just shaking her head going uhg Steve they're being gross let's leave.

But Tommy and Billy...They sniffed each other out or something idk how but they found each other and were obsessed with Steve together in a toxic positive feedback loop. And poor Steve is sitting here like "uhg 😑 Still? Another one? Why does this keep happening?" As though it's a completely regular occurrence. Bro. Buddy. What is your life actually.

Eddie finding out about this history and he's just like. No. Steve. I do not know what it's like to have men stare at me with thinly disguised lust?? But also keeping to himself that he was ALSO obsessed with Steve. He's like oooh my god. I'm not the only one?? The one thing I have in common with Tommy Hagan and Billy Hargrove is our weird obsession with Steve? What kinda world...

Except he's also immensely smug about it because yeah other guys have been obsessed with Steve. It seems to be a Hawkins right of passage for their age group. But Eddie actually got him. He fucking won.

[tobiasdrake]

*deep breath* Okay. Here we go.

I don't think the Netflix Avatar show likes women very much. It's a great show for fans of Aang, Sokka, Zuko, and Iroh specifically. All four of those characters get a ton of great material. In fact, it's super great for Sokka stans, because the show takes him ultra-seriously and can't go five minutes without one character or another (usually a woman) praising him.

But the way it handles its female cast is troublesome.

Katara

So, all three of the main trio got some changes made to their stories. They changed Aang's story so that he wasn't running away from his responsibilities; He was just clearing his head and somehow accidentallied himself into a tsunami. Whoopsy-dooodle. Aang did nothing wrong.

They changed Sokka's story so that him being a leader of his people and a great guardian warrior is treated with complete seriousness. Multiple times, characters stop to talk about how brave and noble Sokka is for taking on such an intense responsibility, and tell him to his face what a great warrior and a wonderful leader he is. Also his misogyny is erased.

And they changed Katara's story so that she directly got her mom killed because she sucks at waterbending.

Katara tries to waterbend to attack the Fire Nation soldier but couldn't manage it, provoking the soldier to start actively searching for her and forcing her mom to fake a waterbending attack and draw his fire. They changed Katara's story so that her bad decision making fucking got her mom killed.

This is treated with the same level of severity as "Sokka was bullied by mean kids and also his dad doesn't think he's good enough to be a leader."

"I hoped Sokka would do better but not everyone is meant to have people's lives in their hands," Sokka's dad says of him.

Yeah, you're right, that's totally comparable to watching your mom get barbecued because you tried to waterbend in a situation you shouldn't have and then failed.

In fact, they give Sokka's greatest trauma more weight because it gets examined again with Yue next episode, while Katara actively getting her mom killed isn't brought up again at all. We get traumatized glimpses of it throughout the season leading up to the reveal, but after this scene in episode 5, it never comes up again.

But to be fair, Katara was a child. An event this significant would surely have motivated her, driving her to become the great waterbender she is now, right?

No! Katara sucks at waterbending and needs men who aren't even waterbenders to teach her how to waterbend. She requires instruction from Aang in episode 1 to learn how to waterbend, then from Jet in episode 3 to learn how to waterbend better.

And unlike the show, her relationship with Aang isn't a give-and-take; Katara doesn't teach Aang a single goddamn thing. He never learns to waterbend. She is a strictly a pupil throughout the whole season. Though she at least gets officially labeled a master in episode 8, so there's that.

In any case, the whole traumatic memory thing isn't even the only time she's directly compared with Sokka. Episodes 3 and 4 see Katara and Sokka bicker over whose morally dubious side character is better. Sokka likes the Mechanist and Katara likes Jet.

Ultimately, Katara is forced to eat crow when Jet turns out to be the worst, while Sokka is vindicated when the Mechanist sees the error of his ways and reforms. But not before two separate arguments where Sokka calls Katara childish and accuses her of acting like a little girl.

Arguments ultimately resolved when Katara apologizes to Sokka for not adequately respecting his very serious and ultra important role as village protector and leader. Gives him a whole speech about how great and glorious he is. And Sokka... appreciates Katara learning to respect him properly, I guess, because he never offers any similar sentiments back to her.

The show just... They need you to know how important Sokka is, okay? It's very important that you respect Sokka.

Suki

Suki suffers tremendously from that whole "Sokka's misogyny was removed" thing. Y'know, because they need something else to do with that episode. The show is deeply aware that Suki is Sokka's love interest, so they just do that right off the bat. Suki falls madly in love with him from the moment they meet, and spends the entire episode making goo-goo eyes and trying to get him to Notice Me Senpai.

They still do the "Suki Trains Sokka" stuff. But Sokka is a serious, dignified manly man worthy of the deepest respect now, so of course they don't make him wear the Kyoshi uniform. Instead, the main purpose of his training is to allow them to flirt some more. It's less martial arts training and more an excuse to grope each other and near-kiss.

Suki's just a waifu now. She still fights real good, but all of the stuff that made her relationship with Sokka interesting has been erased.

Yue

Yue, similarly, leaps straight to shipping from the word go. They write out her fiance, Hahn, by having Yue briefly meet Sokka earlier in the season. She spends one minute talking to him in the Spirit World about Spirit World lore; In that time, she falls so desperately, madly, unfathomably in love with him that she breaks off her marriage to Hahn and devotes herself to waiting for him to one day come to her.

"Never have I known such joys as that time you let me explain the spirit bear Hei Bei to you. Truly, we are destined to be together for life."

Like with Suki, they go out of their way to have Yue and Sokka already be a ship from the word 'go' so they don't have to spend time developing any kind of meaningful attraction.

They just. They really want you to know that Sokka is the manliest and most desirable man ever to walk this earth. It is very important that you understand how great he is. Women hurl themselves into his arms with zero effort whatsoever, because he's just so goddamn irresistible.

Fortunately, Hahn is super okay with this turn of events. He's the most chill guy ever, he gets along perfectly well with Sokka, and he completely supports Yue's right to dump him! In the famously misogynistic Northern Water Tribe, no less! What a swell guy. Aren't men swell?

June

June gets hit with that "rewritten as hollow waifu" stick too, but her eyes are set on Iroh. They rewrote June to be super attracted and flirty towards the man who was her unwanted sexual harasser in the source material. So that's fun.

Also, she barely does anything. Zuko hires her to find Aang, she succeeds, and then she fucks right off out of the show - But she manages to find time to express how unbelievably sexy Iroh is twice during that time.

She seriously just dropped into the show to flirt with Iroh and leave. She is unbelievably inconsequential.

Kyoshi

And then there's Kyoshi. They really want you to hate Kyoshi. She's constantly shot from below, as if looking down on Aang and the audience. Her voice takes on a demonic echoing reverb at one point as she's screaming at Aang that "THE AVATAR MUST BE A MERCILESS WARRIOR!!!"

She despises Aang, calling him a coward for running away from his responsibilities - Which, I remind you, is no longer a plot point because they unwrote that flaw from his character. So she's just a complete and utter asshole, shot from the asshole angle, yelling violently at him with asshole sound effects. They want you to despise this woman.

Azula

Awkwardly, they do not seem to want you to despise Azula.

There's a lot to be said for how Ozai treats Azula in the original show. The way the favoritism he shows her is every bit as cruel and manipulative as the unfavoritism that he shows Zuko. Ozai does not love Azula. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in her eyes, and his encouragement urges her to polish herself to ensure his reflection always shines through.

This is not that. The show instead erases the favoritism entirely. Ozai doesn't really care one way or another about either of his kids. He plays them against each other, bragging openly to Azula about how great Zuko is and unpleasably writing Azula off as weak and useless.

They've rewritten the dynamic between abusive father and his two abused kids in order to take Azula's pride away. Reimagining her from a gifted prodigy who excels at imitating the toxic behaviors of a father who doesn't truly care for her, to a put-upon overachiever tearing herself in knots to live up to the standards of her unpleasable father.

This results in a truly wild portrayal of Azula as insecure and jealous of Ozai's seemingly love for Zuko. Here, she is simply a browbeaten child constantly complaining to her friends about how mean her father is and conspiring to get one up over Daddy's Golden Child Zuko.

Which she fails at, because she backs Zhao. Zuko deftly defeats her without even realizing they're in competition.

Conclusion

The season ends well for some of these women. It ends promising that maybe we'll see Katara teaching Aang some day. It ends with Zhao bragging that Ozai just used Zuko to train Azula so maybe we'll see the more confident and misguidedly proud Azula some day. Yue becomes the moon like she's supposed to. June's still out there so maybe she'll get to do something again some day.

Katara gets to fight Pakku and lose, but she looks pretty cool. She gets to fight Zuko and lose, but she looks pretty cool. Azula learns to lightningbend because she's just so mad about Ozai's contempt for her and favoritism for Zuko, which isn't how you lightningbend.

But promises of future content fall flat when the content that exists is so underwhelming. This season made its feelings on these characters pretty evident, and it's unwise to expect better material from creators who've disappointed you with the material they already made.

The women of Netflix Avatar simply do not get to shine, outside of superficial moments like the "Women of Northern Water Tribe demand the right to fight and then fuck off and don't do anything for the entire rest of the episode" bit.

"In the midst of battle, we demand that you stop being sexist and give us permission to fight! This is a way better idea than convincing you to teach us to fight before the battle begins."

The characters of this show feel as if they've been reimagined to glorify the boys at the expense of the girls. The boys are treated with a great amount of care. They're dignified and made important movers of the plot, with their rough edges sanded off. While the girls are molded around them.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Whatever My Wife Wants

Summary: On your honeymoon, Javi decides to break out a new accessory you've never seen him wear before. Little does he know, that seeing him wear a chain for the first time is about to drive you wild.

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also its your honeymoon so who am I to say), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, literally the biggest, fattest, ugliest breeding kink (I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not), marriage kink (?) creampie, cum play, kind of exhibitionism (like if you SQUINT), talks of starting a family, Javi LOVES his wife, Javi in a CHAIN, Javi on his honeymoon deserves its own warning, did I mention that Javi LOVES his wife?!

A/N: shoutout to my sweet @honeyedmiller for this request after reblogging this MASTERPIECE from @enstatia. It's supposed to be a painting of Din, but it gave me such big Javi vibes, and I really haven't been the same since picturing the one and only Javier Peña in a chain (bc If i can't unsee it, you shouldn't be allowed to either) 😵‍💫 Also shoutout to Lucien Flores for singlehandedly ruining my life today with that new clip from the Uninvited (but also you can't tell me that this outfit is so Javi on the beach coded PHEW)

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

Javi had never been one for jewelry- well, that was until a few days ago when a new golden wedding band had made a home on his hand. Since you had slipped it on his finger, Javi couldn’t get enough of watching it glisten in the warm, tropical sunlight on your honeymoon, a reminder that filled his heart to the brim to know that he was yours forever. 

Javi’s new wedding ring was the only jewelry that he had ever pictured himself wearing, until you had mentioned to him in passing while shopping for new clothes for your honeymoon how good he’d look with a chain to go with any of his outfits he had planned for the trip- considering there was no way Javi was going to have no less than 4 buttons undone on his shirt at any given time while basking in the tropical warmth of your honeymoon paradise. 

Later on that week, he had dug around in his dresser to find a thin, golden chain necklace he had back from his time in college, that hadn’t seen the light of day in too many years to count. But, given your enthusiasm for the idea of him wearing something like it, Javi had decided to pack it with him in his suitcase to surprise when the time felt right. 

Well, after being a few drinks deep at the pool bar from earlier, Javi’s slightly tipsy confidence had him feeling like now was the perfect time to try out his new accessory to see what you thought. Digging through his suitcase, he pulled out out the chain to go with the rest of his outfit for your dinner on the beach, clipping the necklace around his neck as he looked himself over in the mirror, quickly fixing his hair and adjusting his shirt, undoing one more button than probably necessary to show off his new look. 

And while he could admit that he didn’t look half bad with it on, and figured you’d like the new surprise addition to his wardrobe, there’d be no way in hell he could have ever prepared himself for the viscerally awestruck reaction you’d have to the thin, gold chain dangling around his neck.  

“I can practically feel you burning a hole through my chest, Hermosa.” Javi chuckled, raising an eyebrow at you as he took another bite of his food, giving you a playful smirk at the way you had been ogling at him ever since you had noticed the thin gold chain resting across his tanned skin as you began your walk through the hotel to head to dinner. 

“Oh shut up, it’s not my fault you’re so hot. You’re making it very hard not to look, in my defense.” You sighed, trying to get yourself to focus on your food instead of staring at Javi for the rest of dinner, despite the fact that the only meal you had your eyes on was sitting across the table from you. “There’s already something about you being my husband that makes you somehow even hotter than you already were, and now with this?” You picked up your fork, gesturing to the chain dangling between the parted fabric of Javi’s shirt, “I think you may be trying to legitimately kill me.” 

“Figured you’d like it. Didn’t think you’d like it this much.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip before taking another bite of food, his cheeks growing flushed and warm as he looked at you admiring him, wondering how in the hell he had gotten so goddamn lucky. “Thanks, Mrs. Peña.” He laughed, taking another bite of his food, shooting you a quick wink. 

Mrs. Peña. 

God, if that alone wasn’t enough to send you over the edge already, your new last name, combined with the incredibly attractive man you had gotten it from that you now got to call your husband? On top of that stupidly hot chain he had decided to throw on with his outfit? There was definitely something else you were hungry for other than the half cleared plate below you. 

It was then that you couldn’t have been happier you had been seated at a table on the edge of the beachside boardwalk, tucked behind a few stray palm trees, secluded enough out of view that you had no problem reaching under the table to rest your hand on Javi’s knee, toying with the hem of his shorts before letting your fingers creep further and further up his thigh. 

“Are you almost done with your food?” You asked, your voice sweet and sultry as your hand brushing against Javi’s crotch immediately caught his attention, making his eyes go wide as he sat up straight, setting down his knife and fork to look down in his lap. “Because if you are, I can think of something else I want for dessert when we go back to our room. Something I want really bad. You wanna feel how badly I want it?” 

Javi swallowed hard as your fingers wrapped more firmly around his bulge, gently massaging his dick in your grasp, before grabbing his hand and guiding it to brush along the slit of your sundress and closer to your core, aching and dripping with arousal. Letting his fingers creep up the inside of your thighs and ghost over your folds, his eyes went even wider, jaw practically dropping open to feel that you were not only absolutely soaked, but also not wearing any underwear at all. Using every ounce of composure he had to keep from falling apart right then and there at the dinner table, letting out a deep sigh as he cursed under his breath. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck, baby… Yeah, I can be done right now.” He groaned, nodding at your proposition before wrapping his hand around the meat of your thigh as he took a long inhale, staring you down with darkening eyes and a devilish grin across the table. 

Never had you been more thankful that the resort you had picked to stay at was all inclusive, because if either of you had to wait a minute longer for a server to get your bill so you could get back up to your room, the probability of impending implosion would have been practically inevitable. 

Firmly intertwining your fingers with his as  you grabbed his hand, you were nearly dragging Javi through the hotel to the nearest bay of elevators, pleasantly shocked to find no one else waiting with you to travel up to their room, leaving the two of you alone to catch the next elevator back up to your floor. 

Without a word, the second the elevator doors had closed, the two of you were on top of each other, a messy dance of tongue and teeth crashing together, Javi’s hands palming the meat of your ass over your dress while yours roamed over his chest, tracing the freckles of his tanned skin up to the golden chain dangling in the open buttons of his shirt, stopping to wrap the necklace around your finger, tugging Javi closer to you. 

“Fuck, you look so good with this on, baby.” You moaned, your words hot against Javi’s skin as you nipped at his neck, chain still tangled in your grasp. “I can’t wait to fu-”

Barely aware of the fact that you had reached your floor, the ding of the elevator was enough to catch your attention and cut you off from completing the rest of your thought before the doors slid open, revealing a group of couples waiting for their ride down to the lobby. Frantically trying to play off the fact that if the elevator ride had gone any longer, you two definitely would have been seconds away from fucking in it, you gulped, giving Javi a nudge to his ribs to bring him back to reality, the two of you quickly trying to slide past the other guests without making a scene. 

As the door closed behind you, you and Javi couldn’t help but giggle at the fact that you couldn’t seem to take an elevator trip alone without almost being caught making out like a pair of horny teenagers (which, to be fair, a pair of horny teenagers probably would have had more self control than the two of you being newlyweds on your honeymoon). 

With your room only being a few doors down from the elevator, Javi began fumbling in the pocket of his shorts for his room key, working around the full hard on he already had under the fabric from how pent up he was. Quietly cursing under his breath until he found it, as soon as the card was swiping over the lock of the door, Javi was yanking you through into your room, instantly beginning to pull down the zipper to the back of your dress as you fumbled your way back to the bed. 

Your dress fell to the floor in a crumpled pile before Javi was tossing you onto the mattress, shocked to see that you also hadn’t even bothered to put on a bra, revealing your glowing skin and obnoxious tanlines from your time spent out in the sun. 

“Dirty fucking girl, not wearing anything underneath that dress for me. Fuck me, Hermosa. God, you’re so beautiful. So fucking perfect. My perfect wife.” Javi growled, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed to part your legs, draping them over his shoulders as he admired the wet mess between your thighs, your slick already coating your folds, glistening in the dim light of your hotel room. “My perfect wife and her perfect fucking pussy already so wet for me. 

Dragging his fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal as he ghosted over your throbbing clit, you let out a soft whimper in protest, sitting up on your elbows to look down at Javi, peppering kisses along the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Javi, fuck- Baby, I wanted to go down on you. You look so good, I-I wanna taste you, Jav, p-please.” You moaned, your argument becoming less and less convincing as his kisses traveled to your center, nose brushing against your aching bundle of nerves before looking up at you with a lustful smirk, tightening his grip around your hips to hold you in place. 

Javi shook his head as he laughed quietly to himself, watching you squirm and buck your hips towards his face, so desperately worked up and aching that the mess between your legs was really beginning to contradict your need to get Javi off before yourself. 

“Cariño…” Javi tutted, almost mockingly, digging his fingertips deeper into the meat of your flesh, “You’re not going anywhere ‘till I get a taste. I can’t leave my poor wife all worked up like this, can I?” 

Before you had a chance to respond, the flat of Javi’s tongue was dragging through your heat in a long, broad stroke, firmly pressing against your clit, looking up at you with a satisfied grin as you threw your head back in pleasure, a soft whimper escaping from your parted lips. As the last of his lick slid through your folds, you shuttered at the feeling of the metal of his chain ghosting over your cunt as it dangled from his neck, only to cry out as you could feel the other piece of jewelry he was wearing on his left ring finger sink deep into your entrance. 

“Oh f-fuck-” You whimpered as another finger breached your tight hole, already sucking him in with your warm, wet walls while his digits curled, bumping against the sweet spot inside you that he knew made you crumble. 

“That’s it, baby girl.” He cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt before diving back between your legs like a man starved, his tongue dancing in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you, even more so now with the wedding band that had made its permanent home on his finger, taking every chance he could get to watch you cover the glistening gold ring in your arousal as yet another way to prove that you were his. 

Javi could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his fingers as your bottom half squirmed against the sheets of the bed, the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten, tingling building at the base of your spine. Latching his lips around your clit, he began to suck at your sensitive nub, his hand thrusting faster and deeper into your cunt, feeling you slowly coming undone under his touch. 

“Oh shit- fuck, fuck, Javi, I’m so close baby, oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaaahhhhhh-” Just like that, you were falling over the brink of collapse, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, pleasure flowing through every inch of your veins as you met your high, feeling the smirk of Javi’s smile pressed against your cunt as you soaked his face, his free hand wrapped around your hip, holding you in place for him. 

“Fuck, I swear, I’ll never fucking get over that.” Javi mewled, pulling back enough to sit on his heels, admiring the wet and puffy mess your pussy had become, gently pulling his fingers out of your heat, looking down at the way your arousal coated his fingers, covering his wedding band. “Fucking soaked me, Hermosa. You like feeling my ring when I touch you like that, baby? Knowing I’m all yours forever?” 

With your chest heaving in heavy breaths, you nodded frantically, blissed out look plastered across your face as you stared up at Javi, lust pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he brought his soaked fingers to your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip as, opening your mouth for you to suck him clean, the warm and tangy taste of you still fresh on his skin. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby. Mi esposa sabes muy dulce.” (My wife tastes so sweet) Javi cooed, gently tugging his fingers out of your mouth, standing up to lean over the bed, caging your body under his as his lips crashed against yours in a needy mess of longing and desperation. 

You could feel how painfully hard he was through the fabric of his shorts, his bulge straining against the seams of his zipper as he rubbed against your thigh, laying on top of you with one arm propped up beside your head, the other gently cupping your face, thumb rubbing back and forth along your cheek as he kissed you with the tender intensity that set your insides ablaze with desire, longing, no, needing to feel him buried deep inside you as you screamed his name. 

It really had been your intention to suck Javi off the moment you had gotten back to your room, to drop to your knees and worship the beautifully handsome man you now got to call your husband and turn him into the same type of moaning, whimpering mess that he had just made you, but with the ferocity of each kiss and the instinctual jerk of Javi’s hips, there was nothing you wanted more than to be filled by the sweet sting of his cock pounding into you, over and over.  

“J-Javi, fuck- I need to feel you baby, please. Fuck, I wanna feel you so deep inside me.” You whispered, your teeth tugging at Javi’s earlobe as he peppered your jaw and neck with kisses, feeling the audible groan in his chest at your request, followed by a deep sigh as he tried to compose himself from the mess he was already becoming. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want, sweet girl? Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets.” He rasped, a devilish grin spread between his cheeks as he sat back to pull his shirt over his head, followed by his shorts and boxers, leaving him in nothing but the gold chain still dangling around his neck as he reached down to stroke his cock, red and dripping with precum before leaning back down to line up with your entrance. 

You could feel your breath hitch as his tip brushed through your folds, rubbing gently against your clit as he collected your arousal to coat his length, looking down to watch as his length sunk deep into your cunt, the both of you letting out ragged moans at the sensation. 

Javi paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch as he filled you, his tip kissing your cervix while his hips met yours. The fullness made your brain go blank, completely at a loss for words as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, pulling himself out enough to sink his whole length back into your cunt, each thrust making you whimper and moan, desperate for more. 

“F-fuck, give me more, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your hand wrapping around his bicep, fingertips digging into his flexing muscles. 

“Yeah? You want more, Hermosa?” Javi mewled, smirking to himself at the blissed out mess you were already becoming as the pace of his hips rutting into you began to quicken. 

As each thrust became faster, the gold chain draped around his neck began to bounce against his chest, his body close enough to yours to feel the cool metal brush against your face with each snap of his hips into yours, the sight of his necklace dangling over you as you stared up at the furrowed and focused look painting his face. The image alone of him wearing that chain was enough to make you feel like you were going to cum on the spot, but as you lay caged beneath the weight of his broad body, feeling nothing but his warm skin and chain rub against you, you were nearly convinced it was going to be over for you right then and there. 

Without even thinking, you lifted your head up off the bed just enough to grab the chain between your teeth, tugging him closer to you, the sudden yank making his eyes go wide in surprise as the two of you came nose to nose, foreheads brushing against each other before his lips were on yours again, entangling you in an all consuming kiss without faltering in his pace. 

“Fuck, you look so good.” You moaned, your lips parting just enough from his to whisper your praises into his ear. “You look so hot with this fucking chain, Jesus Christ.” 

Your comment had a low, breathy laugh escaping from his chest, shaking his head to himself almost in disbelief at how enthralled you were with him. 

“Me? Baby girl, you have no idea.” He cooed, slowing his thrusts to sit back on his haunches, readjusting you to bring your knees pressed to your chest, leaning back down, running his hands along your body, up your arms until he had them above your head, pinned down to the bed in his grasp. “You know how many guys I’ve seen staring at you since we’ve been here? How many dirty fucking looks I’ve had to give them? Maybe this ring on your finger isn’t enough, mi amor.” 

“W-what do you, fuck- what do mean?” You whimpered, the new position opening you up in a way that had you feeling every inch of Javi as he sank his cock even deeper into your cunt, splitting you open in the most delicious way possible, your brain barely working enough to let your words escape from your mouth. 

“I mean,” Javi groaned, tightening his grip to hold you in place, his eyes growing darker with desire with another deep, long thrust into your heat, “That maybe, I need to fuck a baby into, Osita. Fuck a baby into my beautiful fucking wife, and let everyone see that you’re mine with our kid growing inside you.” 

Javi’s words sent a shiver down your spine, the thought alone making you whimper- You and Javi both had undeniable cases of baby fever, and now that you were finally married and had agreed that your birth control wasn’t going to be a part of your packing list, the prospect that in 9 months from now, you could have a third member to your family? That was enough to have you close to finishing right then and there. 

 A gulp traveling down your throat before a long exhale, trying to find the words to respond to his proposition, your voice trembling in an anxious excitement. 

“F-fuck- Oh my god, yes. Fuck a baby into me, Javi. Let me, oh shit- let me make you a daddy.” 

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi groaned, gritting his teeth, trying his best to maintain his own composure, taking a long exhale before his gaze met yours again, a fierce kind of determination and promise pooling in the deep chocolate brown of his eyes, leaning his body on top of yours, pushing your knees closer to your chest, opening you up to an even deeper angle as his mouth crashed into yours, beginning to pick up his pace once again as his hips snapped into yours. “That’s what  you want, Hermosa? Fuck, I’ll give it to you, baby. Oh shit- Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets, remember? You want a baby? Fuck- I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you I’ll fuck a baby into you right now.” 

You could feel the all too familiar tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine once again, Javi’s cock pounding perfectly into your g-spot over and over again, the hairs at the base of his length grinding against your throbbing clit, sending you to the brink of collapse with each thrust in and out of your cunt. 

“Yes, oh my god- yes, I w-want it so bad. P-please, baby, fuck.” You whined, starting to stumble over your words as you could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his cock, the coil in your core tightening to the point of nearly snapping. 

“Fuck- say it again. Tell me- mierda- tell me how badly you want it.” Javi moaned, his thrusts becoming slopier and more desperate as he could feel himself on the verge of chasing his own high, knowing all too well you were almost hitting yours.  

“I want you to fill me up, Javi. Fuck, fuck, fuck- I want it so bad. I want you to knock me up and give me a baby, please, baby, oh my god- please.” You were all but panting at this point, your legs starting to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter and tighter around Javi’s cock, the overwhelming sensation of his fullness, promise of pregnancy, and that damn chain dangling in your face was enough to finally send you over the edge. “Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I’m so close baby, I’m gonna, oh shit- I’m gonna cu-ahhhhhhh.” 

Those were the last words you were able to muster before you were screaming out Javi’s name as you came, euphoria and ecstasy radiating through every inch of your body, your orgasm crashing through you with so much intensity you could have sworn you were seeing stars. 

Watching you fall apart beneath him, soaking his cock in your arousal as you came had Javi only moments behind you, the rhythm of his hips beginning to stutter, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each others combined with your wanton moans and whimpers and curses under your breath making him begin to babble incoherently. 

“That’s it, Osita. That’s my good girl. Fucking soak my cock, baby. Cum all over me before I, fuck me- fuck myself so deep in you it’ll fucking take. Holy fuck- Fuck, I’m gonna cum too. Gonna fucking fill you up. Give you all of me. Fuck, I’ll give you everyting, baby, mierda- everything you’ll ever wa-ahhhhhh” 

With one last final thrust, Javi was spilling deep inside you, warm ropes of his spend coating your walls, milking himself of every single last drop before collapsing on top of you, the warmth and weight and of his body sinking on top of your chest as the two you sighed in sync, trying to catch your breath with long, labored huffs. 

As Javi felt himself begin to soften, a groan rumbled low in his chest while he pulled out, feeling the mix of your spend dripping out your hole, coating the inside of your thighs in glistening juices. You let out an involuntary whimper at the loss of fullness inside you, your head falling back on the mattress in blissed out satisfaction, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself back to reality after floating away in post-colotial bliss. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, lifting your head back up to see Javi sitting back on his heels, admiring the mess of the two of you pooling between your legs. 

“So fucking pretty, Hermosa.” He mewled, peppering kisses down the soft skin of your thighs, making his way back towards your core. Before you could even realize what was happening, Javi’s head was back between your legs, one broad stroke of his tongue collecting the tangy, salty mixture leaking out of your cunt and lapping it back into your entrance quickly replacing his mouth with his fingers to push the mixture of your spend even further into you. 

Looking up at you, slick covering his mustache and smug grin spread between his cheeks, Javi curled his fingers just enough to make you yelp as he pressed against your g-spot, considering how worked up and overstimulated you already were. 

“Gotta make sure I keep you full of me, baby. Can’t let anything go to waste.” Javi smirked, gently pulling out his fingers, resting his hands on your thighs, drawing soft circles on your skin with his thumbs. 

You tried to sit back up, propping yourself on your elbows before Javi’s body was caging over you once again, slowly lowering himself down until your back was flat against the bed, cradling your jaw as guided you down with soft, slow kisses, feeling his chain brush against your chin he pulled away from your lips. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Momma. My wife wants a baby? Then I’m doing everything I can to give her one. Whatever she wants.” Javi smirked, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead as his hand caressed your face, brushing your skin just gently enough to tickle you, a little giggle escaping from your lips as your eyes met his sweet puppy dog ones. 

“You’re ridiculous, you menace.” You laughed, playfully nudging Javi as he rolled over next to you on the side of the bed, wrapping his arm around you, tugging you to lay against his bare chest, your hand draping over his stomach before crawling up his chest, wrapping his gold chain around your fingers. “Hmmmm whatever your wife wants, huh?” You smirked, looking up at him with a mischievous grin. 

“Whatever she wants, Hermosa.”

“Your wife wants you to never take this damn thing off again.” 

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

[s-vtoru]

where's my reward? | wriothesley x reader

ᡴꪫ summary: wriothesley comes to you, his biggest cheerleader, after winning his 5th boxing match this week. he expects a reward for his hard work and who are you to deny him? pairing: boxer!wriothesley x fem!reader warnings: smut, praise kink (wrio), pet names (angel, baby, pretty girl), p in v, porn with plot, breeding kink, implied pregnancy

wriothesley was in the ring, throwing punches to the face and gut of his opponent, almost rarely receiving them from the other end. one uppercut and left jab from the duke left his combatant on the floor gasping for air, covered in bruises and a bloody nose. cheers and clapping erupted from the crowd around the arena as wriothesley was deemed the winner, or champion rather, which happened almost every time. as he held the belt given to him, showing off his well-earned prize off to the crowd, he spotted you just a few feet away from the rink screaming his name and cheering for him. seeing you apart of the crowd, his number one fan, it was his sole reason to keep on going in his boxing career. you are his motivation.

a few interviews and photograph signing later, he was completely spent. all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and head on home. so once he saw you waiting for him in his personal dressing room, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head in the crook of your neck. you smiled warmly, "hi mr. champion," you spoke, turning your head to press a kiss onto his cheek. man was he happy to hear your sweet voice. "mm. hey," he pressed soft kisses against your neck, fingers messing with the bottom of your shirt. "you did great out there, wrio," you caressed his forearm with the pad of your thumb, the both of you swaying side to side. "thanks baby, couldn't have done it without you," and it was true, if he didn't have you, he wouldn't have made it this far. he wouldn't have been one of the top 3 best boxers in the world.

having you in his arms never got old. he loved feeling your body against his big, bulky frame. remember how spent he was earlier? well, not so much anymore. with you in front of him, looking all pretty in those tight leggings and compression long sleeve shirt with his name on the back that hugged your figure oh so nicely, you can feel his growing bulge against your ass. "i figured you'd be tired after such a long match, but i suppose not?" he chuckled against your shoulder, looking at you through the vanity mirror in front of you both. "well, i was. but then i thought about how i won and.." you raised your eyebrow, not really knowing where he was going with this. "and what?" you could feel him smirk against your skin, his deep gaze on your body and your pretty lips.

"where's my reward?"

".. reward?" you repeated, still confused for a moment before realizing what he meant by 'reward'. "shouldn't i be rewarded for winning today's match and for all my hard work?" a laugh left your lips, turning your body to look at him fully. "oh why yes, of course," you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, a grin spread across your lips. "what would be a good enough reward for you, hm?" wriothesley hummed, ocean blue hues glued to your lips as he came up with an idea. "well, i think this pretty girl in front of me would make a pretty good reward. don't you think?" your cheeks flushed a bright shade of red, getting a bit embarrassed by his words but you pull him closer, your lips just a mere centimeters apart. "then you can have this reward you speak of in any way you want. how's that sound?" your tone was gentle, alluring. a deep chuckle left his lips, his smirk only widening, "sounds perfect," his lips crashed against yours eagerly, hands already finding purchase on your ass.

his leg found its way in between your legs, knee pressing right up against your clothed cunt. you could feel him smiling against your lips, a whimper being pulled out of you from the friction his knee gave you. your panties were already ruined, your slick creating a wet patch on them as well as your leggings. "w—wrio.." you mumbled in the kiss, his tongue finding the opportunity to flood your mouth, dancing against yours in a coinciding rhythm. he tugged on your bottom lip, a fervorous growl leaving his lips. "fuck, you're already so wet for me.. and i barely did anything to you," his eyes bore into yours with an intensity you've never seen before. he wanted to bed you over and fuck you right then and there with no hesitation, but he needed to hold back. just for a while longer.

his head dipped down to your neck, his lips sucking light red marks onto your soft skin that would soon darken in due time. his canines spent no time in leaving their own mark on you, biting down with ease, but not hard enough to cause you any pain but a slight sting. the duke's hips rutted against the fat of your ass, his painfully hardened cock grinding against you with a kind of desperation you knew very well. however, you gathered his attention by cupping his cheeks with your small palms, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "wait.. let me," you retracted your hands, slowly lowering down to your knees, face to face with the bulge portruding through his shorts, "reward you."

wriothesley's cheeks flushed a bright shade of crimson that stretched to the tips of his ears, watching you get down on your knees for him. he licked his lips at the sight of you, his expression contorted with lust and need. "by all means, please," a little grin spread comfortably across your lips, pulling down his shorts and underwear in one swift motion, watching his cock spring out excitedly. a content sigh left your boyfriends lips, finally feeling relieved from the confines of his clothing. you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking at a teasingly slow pace that made him grunt. you took your time with him, wanting him to savor every small motion you made as you kept eye contact with him the whole time. after a few slow strokes, you sank your mouth down onto him, absolutely reveling in the way the all time champion shakily groaned.

"oh— fuuck— , that's it.." he placed his hand on top of your head, biting his lower lip at the feeling of your warm mouth around his girth. you swirled your tongue around his cock skillfully, tracing the thick vein all the way down to the base, the dark hairs of his happy trail tickling your nose. he admired how talented you were at sucking his dick, and that tongue of yours — the way it prodded at his slit before taking him back into your mouth with hallowed cheeks — it drove him crazy beyond words. those lewd noises of you choking on his cock was almost enough to bring him to the brink of release, tasting the pre that leaked from his tip as you held onto his thighs for support.

his dick twitched against your tongue, letting you know he was getting close. "baby, mph— i'm close.. gonna cum in your pretty mouth, okay?" you nodded your head in response, your movements picking up pace as you sucking his cock faster, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. you were growing needy yourself, one of your hands reaching down to rub your cunt through your leggings. your muffled moans sent vibrations against his shaft, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from how deep he was in your throat. at this rate he was panting like an animal in heat, desperate for release so he can hurry up and fill your pussy with his seed next. he placed his other hand on your head, using both of his hands to eagerly fuck his cock into your throat. tears fell down your cheeks from his tip reaching the depths of your mouth. "feels so good baby, shit.. i—i'm gonna—"

one, two, and three more thrusts had him leaning his head back with a drawn out moan, shooting his cum down your throat just like he said he would. you gripped onto his thigh tighter, not letting a single drop of his release go to waste. you swallowed every last bit of his cum, ignoring the salty and bitter aftertaste. "that's a good girl," he stroked your hair with a proud grin on his face, taking his still very much hard shaft out of your mouth. you stood up on your feet, wriothelsey immediately turning you around and bending you over the vanity while he tucked his face in the crook of your neck. "need to be inside you, please.. i need to fuck you, baby," you let out a giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lips with a alluring smile, "go ahead, wrio.. this is your reward after all, right?" your voice was sweet like honey, yet had a hint of spice to it that sent your black haired boyfriend over the edge.

he spent no time in pulling your leggings and panties down to your ankles and disregarding them completely, just aching to be inside you already. he turned your face towards him by your chin, kissing you hungrily as two of his fingers rubbed circles around your clit. your moans were music to his ears, sending blood streaming straight to his throbbing cock. he gave his shaft a few strokes before pressing his tip against your hole that clenched around nothing, dying to be filled up by your champion of a lover. "gonna put in inside you now, okay?" you hummed, feeling his fat tip ease itself inside of you, sending a stinging sensation through your body. wriothesley was by no means small; he was quite literally big. so as he pushed his massive girth entirely inside you, you gasped at the sudden stretch, beginning to adjust to it.

"you alright, angel? did it hurt?" you loved how sweet he was, how much he wanted to make sure you were okay. that was just how he is, not wanting to hurt you at all. you shook your head, "i—i'm okay, wrio.. just hurry up..," you could hear him scoff, sliding out of you and bottoming out again into your cunt, ripping a moan out of you. "someones impatient, huh?" you nudged him softly leaning your head back on his shoulder as he slowly began to move his hips. "you're— mmf.. s—shit.. one to talk," your voice was shaky, covering your mouth to repress any further noises from reaching anywhere out of the room you both were in. "yeah, i suppose you're right," wriothesley's thrusts became more frequent, biting your lip at the pleasure of his cock in your greedy cunt.

he pressed soft kisses over the marks he left on you earlier, balls deep inside you with his pace quickening with each passing second. it felt like heaven inside of you, feeling your pussy grip onto his thick cock as he took hold of your jaw, turning your attention to the mirror in front of you. "want you to watch me fuck you, watch me earn this pretty reward," he bullied his length into your dripping cunt, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. the pleasure took over your body completely, your vision going white as his tip repeatedly kissed that sweet spongey spot that made you see stars. you uncovered your mouth, drool sneaking passed the corners of your mouth and dripping down your chin.

you loved the way wriothesley fucked you, it was filled with love and lust even if it was rough at the same time. you can tell his movements were sturdy and skilled with the way his hips thrusted his cock deep within your womb, heat rising throughout your whole body. "you did so g—good today wrio, 'm so proud of you!" and you really were, you were so so proud of him. and even though you meant that in a totally innocent way, it set something off inside of the man fucking you from behind. he cursed under his breath, his dick somehow getting bigger inside of you. "w—wrio? you—"

"say it again. tell me how proud you are of me."

you didn't think he'd be the type of person so be into being praised, let alone get aroused by it. but you didn't mind at all, because you truly were extremely proud of him. you know how hard he worked to get where he is now. "i—i'm so so proud of you wrio, y—you did so good out there!" he chuckled to himself, his thrusts becoming more erratic and his heavy breaths turning into feral growls. he loved when you praised him, told him how good he did during his matches. he was an all-time winner, all because of you. and because of his hard work, but mainly you. "ngh.. f—fuck baby, it's all 'cause of you," his thrusts remotely became erratic, unable to stop the reckless pace of his hips slapping against your ass.

your back arched dangerously, allowing your boxing champion to sink his cock deeper within your walls, abusing your cervix in a way that had your legs trembling. wriothesley caught sight of your wavering legs, an idea forming inside that mischievous head of his. without warning, he lifted you up by your thighs, holding them with a fierce grip in his large hands. he fucked up into your pussy harshly, a gravelly groan leaving him as he did so. you could see his cock slip in and out of you through the mirror, watching him split you open with his girthy shaft. "w—wrio! too d—deep!" your moans only got louder, almost positive people from outside the room could hear what you both were up to. "shit, princess, look at you..," he latched his teeth onto your shoulder, wanting to mark you up as much as possible.

"fuck.. i'm gonna cum soon," his thrusts had gotten sloppy, pace faltering too, feeling his cock twitch eagerly against your gummy insides. "i—inside.. c—cum inside wrio.." your expression was all fucked out; mouth agape, tongue lolled out, practically begging him to empty his load into your womb. those words had only turned him on even more, a chuckle leaving him, "well shit, baby, gladly," his pace picked up instantly, his grip on your thighs now deadly as he pounded into you from below. you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, feeling that heat build up in the pit of your stomach. "c—cumming! i'm cumming—!" it didn't take long for that coil to unravel, squirting all over his cock, your juices coating the mirror in front of you. wriothesley was on the verge of cumming too once feeling your pussy pulse around him, sending blood rushing throughout his body.

a few more thrusts against your g-spot had him spilling his warm cum inside of you, a deep, shaky moan erupting from your boyfriend. you both took a minute to catch your breaths, you clearly losing all feeling in your lower body. he set you down on the vanity, grabbing your panties from the ground and slipping them up halfway. "wrio..?" you looked at him, only to be met with his scheming gaze. he watched as his cum seeped out of your gaping hole, using two digits to scoop his seed back up and push it inside of you. until then, that's when he slipped your panties up all the way. a wave of heat coated your cheeks letting out a content scoff. "can't let it go to waste now, can we?" you rolled your eyes at his comment, unable to stop yourself from smiling. "hmm, i guess not."

after getting you all dressed, himself included — him only having to zip up his pants and whatnot — he leaned closely into your ear, placing his hand over your tummy, giving it slow rubs. "after all, i don't mind having another cheerleader to cheer me on," he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you slow and passionately before continuing, "that would be a pretty amazing reward, no?"

[mellowwillowy]

You really shouldn't have shrugged your husband of convenience like that when he hinted to you about sex.

Yan! Drug Lord Husband x GN M! Spouse (Non-con/Dub-con/con?; asphyxiation)

He really had reached his limit; putting up with your distant self who was only all about framed perfection but never the household's perfection.

It was a marriage arranged by convenience, per se. As the next heir of a crook, you possessed wealth, intelligence, and relation to match his, the drug lord and one of the nation's biggest threats.

What he expected was not something as cold as this when he first saw you. A well-bred heir, growing up in opulence unlike him, a stray mutt who grew up in poverty. Unlike you who was sheltered by the crook of your parent, he was orphaned without a name to remember.

The two of you were different right from the inside to the outside. So it was only natural that he expected the marriage's life to be hollow from any connection.

And not miserable.

Kaspar was a man of avarice himself despite embodying the sin of a glutton, alas his little heart, his little inner child couldn't help but yearn for a sliver of your warmth.

To feel the warmth of your body colliding with his, not out of scheduled marital duty but out of urge and yearning. To chat with you about the weather on the dining table instead of relaying what your parent had asked you to relay to him.

And to hear you reassure his little heart just for once that he had long grown up as a fine man and not a stray mutt.

You had accidentally read his diary, so why, instead of a face flashing in pity, did you show him a face of indifference? You apologized curtly after you were caught reading it, and left without saying anything more. Not a touch or reassurance nor a glance.

That very night too he decided to test your conscience. A shake by your shoulder, a whisper above your ear. The two of you rarely sleep together, let alone perform marital duties.

But instead of giving him the illusion of pity from your conscience, your scrunched-up brows and elbow had snapped his consciousness into half.

He had always been the gentleman to you so naturally you were surprised when something akin to a beast strangled you as he had his way with you, rough and merciless.

Just like the stray mutt he was, forced to bear its canines and defraud for survival. You had always been the sheltered dog despite the life you lived in. You had seen a fair share of beasts in the underground world.

But what you had never expected was to have a beast have its way with you.

Black dots started to cloud your vision as you failed to catch even just a breath. The pressure around your neck had you coughed up in pain as your hole was stretched without any proper lube.

Yet oddly enough, you find this enjoyable.

Being the sheltered dog you were, you craved for something indescribable. Something you had never felt. And you knew what it was. Pain. Horror. Fear.

All three surged into you tonight, your eyes rolling behind out of suffocation and pleasure, your sex made it evident to him which earned a husky chuckle from his lip.

"You should have just told me you enjoyed being abused like this early on, love. That way, I wouldn't have to fuck you to boredom all this time."

Yes. You knew deep down what you were. The heir who gets off from pain, evident when the bullet was shot into your limb that one time.

The moment you read his diary was the moment you shuddered in expectation. A stray who had to fight for survival, surely he knew his way around digging his canines into his enemies instead of just ordering his men around right?

You wrapped your arms around him for the first time, and with a hoarse gasped voice, you pleaded, "Do me how exactly I like it, my love!"

[javiscigarette]

Emergency Contact

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie gets in trouble and this is the last time you're helping him. At least that's what you tell yourself.

Warnings: angst, smut, post break up, mentions of drug/alchol use/abuse, military ptsd, frankie on a downward spiral and needs to get his shit together, emotional smut because I had to, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, frankie is literally this emoji -> 🥺 the whole time

w/c: 6.8K

a/n: part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0!!! I picked puppy eyes brown and my genre was angst with the prompt: "Tell me how to fix this." And guys listen. I literally never write angst I’m such a softy but I tried my best with this okay! and I obviously had to include some smut I just couldn't resist hehehe. Also thank u to my baby love @undrthelights for finding theses pics and for everything else you do :) enjoy!

my masterlist

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.  But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath. “Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

The vibrations of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulls you from a deep slumber, your heart is already pounding at the sudden noise, the rest of your body slow and sluggish as you try to gain your bearings. 

You paw for your phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen when you find it. A call from a number you don't recognize. You debate letting it go to voicemail but the area code is local and that makes you pick up, a raspy Hello? leaving your mouth as you roll over in bed, glancing at the clock. 

2:13 am.

The sound of your name crackles down the line, the immediately recognizable voice causing your heart to plummet to your ass.  

"Frankie?" You ask, sleep quickly leaving you as tension takes its place.

"...Yeah, sorry, I…I didn't know who else to call." His voice is frail and pinched.

You don't have to ask him what's wrong, your brain already piecing the puzzle together You've been in this exact position before. The anger is already starting to creep in, your brow furrowed and stomach twisting as a familiar rage blooms in your chest.

"You couldn't have called anyone else?"

You know the answer is no. The rest of the boys are on a mission, leaving him behind after he failed on his promise to stay clean for long enough to get cleared to go. And now, you’ve fallen victim to that decision too,being the only person left to call whenever he finds himself without a leg to stand on. Frankie in trouble, you bailing him out. Just like normal. 

"I'm sorry I didn't want to bother you I just..." he takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm at the station on Oak street. Can you maybe... pick me up?"

You close your eyes and take a moment to compose yourself and reign in the anger at the way he's gotten under your skin already.

"What did you do this time, Frankie?"

He's quiet for a second before he finally says, "DUI. And um, slightly resisting arrest? It’s uh, it’s my first one and I didn’t blow too high so they’re letting me go as long as I show up for court in a few days."

His voice is soft but you can hear him fighting back emotion, his voice cracking and straining under the pressure. the sound eliciting sympathy you desperately wish you didn't feel.

"Jesus, Frankie," you sigh, defeated already.

It shouldn't even faze you at this point. It should be expected given the path he's fallen down since his return home from their last mission 3 months ago. The Frankie you knew before he left had been a steady force. Protective, headstrong but soft in his demeanor, so sweet and full of love. The man now standing in his shoes still holds some traits of that Frankie, but they've all been scarred and tainted with his fall from grace.

Memories of the nights spent tucked in his bed, his arms around you, his hands buried in your hair come flooding back like they usually do. The sound of his laugh, the feel of the downy hairs on his forearm pressed against your skin and the steady thrum of his pulse under his jaw as you placed kisses against his neck. The words you would speak softly to one another in the early hours of the morning, secrets only shared with each other under the protection of black velvet night sky. 

All of it traded for bitter resentment and anger towards a version of the man that was ripped away from you.

When he was gone, you’d sleep in his shirts and on his pillow, clinging to the faded scent of his cologne as your brain conjured up ghost touches from his fingertips. Dreaming of the day that he'd come home, how he might touch you, and kiss you, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin on yours. A reunion so deeply desired that the day after he returned was a sharp double edged sword - a blessing, and a curse. The Frankie that walked back in your life was broken, smothered with the weight of the innocent lives on his hands. 

Warmth and tenderness traded for stony silence. Nights now spent at the bar, warming himself up with vodka instead of your embrace. Fights ending in harsh words and raised voices as he stubbornly dug his heels in deep, too ashamed to admit he needed help. Staying out late with no warning and coming back at dawn smelling of smoke, weed, and liquor. You are always wondering where he went, who he was with, if he was safe, or if he’d found someone else to soothe the pain. 

Then the coke. An old habit that was kicked to the curb in his earlier years now back with a vengeance. Your ultimatum quickly following.

This or you.

A choice you prayed he'd be strong enough to make, but was clearly not.

And now here you are. Two months since you walked away, trying to convince yourself it was for the best. The majority of the last two months of his life is a mystery to you, which you've accepted is probably for the better. 

"I know," he finally replies. "I'm so sorry baby, you know I..."

You can almost hear the way his jaw snaps shut, three words catching on his tongue. You don't need to ask to know what the next words are. Tonight was not the first time he's tried to use them in a vain attempt to patch up a crack in the foundation of your crumbling relationship.

There’s nothing but silence on the line as a war wages within you. Part of you wants to believe that he’s the selfish, careless man that he’s recently proven himself to be. But your heart whispers in your ear a softer notion. He's scared. Fragile. Battered. Embarrassed. Alone.

With a heavy sigh, you run your hand down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the grogginess clinging to you.

"I'll be there in 20," you say.

There's a pause before he speaks, "Really?"

Always an air of disbelief.

"Yes. But this is the last time I'm doing this Frankie, I mean it,"

"I know, I... thank you."

You don't bother to reply, simply hanging up the phone as the heaviness of this final gesture sets in. The gravity of the situation, of the line you're about to cross, already threatening to consume you.

This will, without a shadow of a doubt, be the last time you show up to save Frankie’s ass. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself. Just like you told yourself the last time this happened and the time before that. But this time will be different. You'll set new boundaries. That's it, just ride this storm one final time and be done.

You know it’s a lie, one you desperately want to believe it.

___

He’s standing outside the doors of the small station, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the still night air. He looks up as he hears the engine of your car approaching, the red glow of his cigarette temporarily highlighting the deep frown on his lips as he takes one last drag before he flicks the butt aside and heads your way.

The anxiety radiating off of him is tangible as he drops into the passenger's seat, gently shutting the door and peering at you with wide puppy dog eyes full of shame. You don't look at him, focusing on backing out of the parking spot before pulling onto the road.

He picks at the skin around his thumb and bounces his leg, his jaw tight. You wonder how long he’s been at the station. How long he’s been sober. You’re still not sure if he entirely is right now.

Most of the ride is silent save for the hum of your engine and the clicks of your turn signal. His eyes never leave you, he can feel him boring a hole in your profile, trying to catch your eye as you watch the road.

"What?" you finally snap.

"Nothing, just...I was wondering if I could stay with you tonight. I can sleep on the couch, I…I don’t really want to be alone right now" he speaks so softly it makes your stomach lurch.

"Absolutely not."

"Please? I'll leave early in the morning, by the time you wake up I'll be long gone."

The rage is back, glowing red hot in your chest, fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, your knuckles white and tense. How fucking dare he ask. 

"Absolutely. Fucking. Not," your grit your teeth with each word, biting off the end of the sentence with a sharp finality.

"Right. Okay."

Silence takes over once again, your heart slamming against your chest, heat crawling up your neck as your cheeks grow red and damp. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. Absolutely not.

Frankie leans his head back against the headrest and rolls it to the side to watch you again. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him, hear him sniffling, his eyes, big and glassy, pleading when you glance over at him. 

It would be a lie to tell yourself that your “plan” isn't already halfway out the window as your jaw clenches and your gaze ping pongs between the road ahead and the man beside you. Deep in the darkness of your soul you know that with Frankie is where your comfort lies. It’s tucked in the space between his ribs, squished alongside his heart and lungs, running the length of his spine and settling between each vertebrae. You worry you may never be able to completely dislodge it, unsure if it would ever fit anywhere else in any other person.

Maybe it would be easier if Frankie didn't fill up the cracks in your heart with the fractured parts of his. If he didn't take up room in your brain that's not his to own, if he didn’t crawl under your skin and take root into your DNA. Now every cell in your body knows what it feels like to be next to him, now programmed to cry out for his presence when he isn’t near.

And it’s no different now. He’s here, looking so pathetic it’s almost laughable, staring at you with tears sliding down his cheeks that glisten in the glow of the headlights passing you by. Crying over something that’s entirely his fault. You should be the one crying right now. Not him. 

So you do. 

Hot angry tears spilling over your lash line. Though you can’t decide who you’re more upset with. The man who drank himself out of your life, or yourself for falling for him once again in spite of it all. Either way, it’s not enough to convince yourself to stay firm in your decision. 

Fucking pathetic. Both of you. 

“You’re out first thing in the morning and then I’m done Frankie. I fucking mean it this time, we can't keep doing this to each other."

“Okay. I promise baby, I will. First thing, I promise." He replies quietly. 

Your hand flinches with the urge to reach over and slap him for calling you baby. But instead, you clench your jaw and you shake your head at him.

"Don’t call me that, Frankie."

He quickly nods his head in understanding, his eyes again facing forward as he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, watching the road the rest of the way to your house. 

—

Neither of you move once the car is parked in your driveway. The silence is heavy, cut only by the tick of the engine slowly cooling once you remove the keys from the ignition. You chance a look at him and find him picking at his thumb once more, his face red, his eyes soft and timid when they meet yours. 

“Tell me what happened, Frankie?” 

You ask even though you don’t really want to know. 

Frankie sucks in a breath and scrubs a hand down his face. 

"I got into a fight at the bar, got kicked out, made the dumb fucking decision to try and drive home and...now I'm here," he laughs mirthlessly as he waves his hands as a vague gesture to you, your house, his current situation. You can't tell if he's telling you the whole story, his answer simple and devoid of context. The context you’re sure wouldn't be good for you to know. 

“You could’ve killed someone, Frankie. yourself included,” you say after a few beats, your voice comes out sharp, frustration bleeding in each syllable.

He slowly nods as huffs out a breath.

"I know... it was stupid, and I was an idiot I...shit I was really careless and not thinking straight I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I-"

"I mean seriously Frankie,” you snap, cutting him off. “Do you ever, I mean ever, think about anyone but yourself? Or has it genuinely never crossed your mind that your shit might possibly affect the people around you?"

Frankie opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he's about to respond. You don’t give him a chance to. 

"How many more times are you going to take advantage of me, make me look like a fucking dumbass always showing up to rescue you? Why am I always the one covering for you, taking your crap, cleaning up your messes, only to have you throw it right back in my fucking face, every single time!"

Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, chest heaving with each word that flies from your mouth. Two months worth of bitterness bubbling up from deep down, spilling over and cascading down your face in the form of frustrated tears.

"When did you become so fucking selfish, Francisco?!"

Hearing his full name fall from your lips spurs Frankie on, the last of his shards of resolve flying away as his walls come down.

"I don't fucking know okay?! I don't fucking know!" You flinch at the rise in his voice and his tone stings. But it's how quickly he follows up with a softer, feeble excuse that adds fuel to the fire, "I'm doing the best I can."

That does it for you. Hot searing molten rage pulses under the skin of your face, the tips of your ears hot with blood.

"Doing the best you can? The best you fucking can, Frankie? Fucking bullshit! Getting into bar fights, spending all your money on booze and blow, losing your fucking pilot license because you were too coked up to see straight? Was losing your driver's license just putting your best foot forward? Throwing your whole life away just because you refuse to get clean? Is that really the best you can do?"

You pause and swallow, giving Frankie a second to take it all in, letting him process the onslaught of scalding truths you've thrown at him, before you quietly continue,

"I can't keep doing this, Frankie. I just can't."

He sniffs and shakes his head in what appears to be defeat, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap. 

“I know...fuck. I know I’ve fucked up alright? I know that. I just don't know how to fix this," he admits quietly, his wide eyes watching you helplessly. “Tell me how. Tell me how I can fix this. Please."

You bark out a laugh, sarcastic and cynical.

"Are you serious right now? What do you mean you don’t know what to do? How many times did I help you try to find a therapist, try to get you into a program? How many times did I suggest AA? Don't fucking tell me you don't know what to do because you do."

He nods, shifting around in the seat, sniffling yet again as he looks back at you. "Okay, okay. I get it, okay? But what can I do right now? To fix this at least for tonight?"

You sigh, deep and heavy, your entire body now just exhausted. You half wish he would put up more of a fight, call you a bitch, snap back at you for going off on him. Maybe it’d make it easier for you to let him go. But instead, he looks at you with desperate eyes and you can feel your resolve crumbling once again. 

"Just forget it, Frankie.”

But he won’t give up that easily. The man is persistent, you’ll give him that. 

"I'm serious. Tell me what I need to do right now to fix this. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?"

You stare back at him, jaw clenched, biting back the next words you were about to speak. They die on the edge of your tongue. You know the answer is.

Not a single damn thing.

"Look, I'll try harder, I fucking promise alright?” His tone becomes more frantic as your silence stretches on. “I’ll fucking try harder, please just...please," Frankie pleads, more tears welling in his eyes.

Your throat is tight, your head spinning and aching as your blood roars in your ears. He's already taken enough, stealing more would simply be the end of you. Giving in now would mean you've swallowed the bait, falling hook line and sinker into his trap, stepping back onto the slippery slope you've fought so hard to escape. And for what? More heartache, more bullshit excuses, more fighting, more pain?

But one glance into his wide-eyed, watery gaze and you know he's got you. Again. Faster than you can tell your mind no, your heart, foolish and hopeful, speaks for you instead.

"Lets just get some sleep, okay? It's late. We can...we can figure it out tomorrow."

"Thank you," he whispers immediately, relief coming off of him in waves. "I really mean it, I-thank you, I promise I’ll—“

“Can we not talk anymore Frankie? I just wanna go to sleep."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, let’s go."

There's nothing left to say, washing over the two of you as you make your way inside. You give him a towel and dig up some of his old clothes that live in the back of your closet from when he was here almost every night. You're back in bed before he’s done with his shower, tucked underneath the covers with your face pressed against your pillow, the silk fabric soaking up your tears of sadness and frustration.

The water shuts off and you can hear him getting settled in the living room. A pillow being fluffed, the creak of the couch when he sits. 

And then soft footsteps on the hardwood 5 minutes later, padding their way into your room.

He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t bother speaking either. He just simply creaks open the door and walks over to the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers before slipping into bed beside you. 

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain. 

But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.

“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

You don’t have any fight left in you. Because at the end of the day, a night spent wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, touching his skin and his beating heart is worth a thousand fights. And a million shattered dreams.

You don’t answer him, but you don’t tell him to leave either. Instead, you block out any looming thoughts, the impending worry of where this could go, or how bad the damage will be. For now, you chose to focus on the rise and fall of Frankie's breath against your skin, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms. 

One more night.

Frankie presses a kiss into the back of your neck, repeating his previous sentiment in a rough scratchy whisper, "Just one more."

And you listen to it resonate, bouncing around the walls in your head and tickling the space behind your eardrums.

Inhale

Exhale.

You should want to fight.

But instead, your body melts his, molding your bones and flesh against his, fitting into all the creases and gaps that have been carved out and reserved just for you.Trying to forget, to bury this pain as deep as possible,. Just for tonight. 

He waits a few more minutes, waiting until your breathing levels out with his before he makes his next move. His fingers trace mindless patterns on the skin of your stomach, goosebumps erupting under his fingertips, rippling outwards like a rock being tossed in a pond. He leans in once more, slowly dragging his nose up the length of your neck and curling his lip to press another kiss behind your ear. Then another.

And then another, this time lingering as he sucks softly on your skin.

Inhale.

You close your eyes, hoping for anything but this, yet feeling the sting of arousal spark below your skin.

And exhale. 

You’re better than this. You won’t stoop down to his level, you won’t let him chew you up and spit you out again.

But fuck, his lips are soft and warm, so is the breath as he exhales against your neck, lightly swiping his tongue and soothing the faint red mark he left behind with a small little hum.

“Frankie..." You warn, albeit much more breathless and weak than you would have liked. 

“Tell me to stop and I will," he murmurs, his beard gently grazing your sensitive skin, causing your toes to curl.

You take another deep breath, but this one is shaky, as you can't help but tighten your grip around his hand, squeezing his fingers as you lean your neck to the side, exposing more of your soft skin to him.

Dead in his trap. Caught so fucking easily. Pathetic.

But if his teeth and lips and tongue and soft, gentle touches are how you go down, then so fucking be it.

He hums his appreciation against your skin, scraping his teeth down to your shoulder, latching his mouth on a spot and sucking harder. Strong, callused fingers continue exploring, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to give him permission.

He rolls his hips forward against your ass and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper at how hard he is against you, his soft grunts in your ear traveling straight between your legs and fanning the flames building.

Then suddenly, he's sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist and traipsing over your chest until he’s cradling the weight of your breast in his palm, his thumb slowly brushing over your peaked nipple, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan out loud.

A small gasp escapes you instead, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand. 

"Frankie."

This time not a warning. It’s a plea. A desperate, burning want that you should be ashamed of. 

He murmurs into the shell of your ear then, his tone is deep and scratchy. 

“I miss you...I need you, baby. Just tell me to stop if you want. But I... fuck I miss you so much."

You don't tell him to stop.

You roll your hips back instinctively, a warm wave of arousal washing over you at the feeling Frankie's hardened length pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts in satisfaction as his palm slides from your chest and up your throat to your jaw. His grip is gentle as he turns your head to face him, his lips against yours without missing a beat. 

It’s too easy to fall right back into him, back into the practiced, very well rehearsed routine. To let him glide his tongue along the seam of your lips and coax them open so he can lick into your mouth, getting the taste of his tongue stuck behind your teeth. Too easy to let him remind you just how easily you fit in the palm of his hand, how tightly you’re wound around his finger. 

He kisses you fervently, desperately almost, lips and tongue moving against yours as though he’s trying to devour you whole, just like he used to. He’s been starving for too long.But right now, he's finally found nourishment, the feeling of your body under his hands and the taste of you on his tongue feeding his soul. Wanting more. Always more, entirely unable to help himself.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, his mouth half a centimeter away from yours. “Let me make you feel good baby, please.”

As if you could say no.

As if you even wanted to.

He pushes his leg between yours, thick, firm muscle under warm skin pressing against your clothed core and you answer him with a roll of your hips, seeking out any sort of friction you can. 

It takes less than half a second for him to have you flipped over on your back. When Frankie truly wants something, he does it quickly and efficiently.

He moves above you, licking and kissing a trail down your neck. He makes his way down your body, greedily nipping at the skin stretched over your collarbones. He swirls his tongue over each nipple, only moving on when he’s satisfied. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to your ribs and your tummy just above your navel, his beard tickling skin, making it twitch under his mouth. 

Your body is cooperating far more than it should, your hips lifting up instinctually when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, your thighs automatically parting further, and your hands migrating to his head. Your fingers tangle in his soft curl, your nails softly scratching his scalp just like you know he likes. 

And when his tongue drags up your thigh you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the reactive moan. But your back arches with pleasure anyway, the last bit of your resolve evaporating into thin air as you give into him freely.  

His hands burn hot where they smooth over your skin, a comforting weight and a familiar drag of calloused palms fueling the fire and tightening the coil in your stomach. 

“Missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your pussy before you feel the first stroke of his flat tongue up through your center.

This time, you're not strong enough to hold back the breathless mewl that leaves your mouth. You immediately push down on his head while simultaneously canting your hips upward, needing more friction, dying for more of everything he's willing to offer. He slides his arms underneath you and hooks his hand over your hip bones, holding you down and keeping you in place as he tries to find salvation between your thighs.

Heavy breaths through his nose as he uses his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to take you apart. Lapping and sucking at your clit while his fingertips nudge at your entrance, dipping just enough to tease, waiting until he hears the high pitched whimpers that he's after.

And when you've reached that level of desperation he wants from you, whimpering and panting, he slowly dips a finger in.

He moans along with you as though he's the one experiencing the pleasure. He's always gotten off on this almost just as much as you. The warm, slick slide of his fingers in and out of you, how you gush on his tongue, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, the tingle of his scalp when you tug on his hair.

More addictive than any substance he's ever found solace in.

And against your better knowledge, you're more than happy to indulge him, let him chase the high you give him and let yourself drown in it as well.

Your back arches off the bed as he adds another finger, grunting into you and thrusting faster as you tighten and flutter around them. He finds the spot he's looking for with practiced ease, whimpering into you and groaning along with you as he drags his fingers back and forth along the spot that has you bucking your hips into his hand. 

He knows how to get you there. Knows how to do it fast. And right now, that's what he wants. He's craved it too long, spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock your name on the tip of his tongue as he fucked up into his own hand. He wants to hear you fall apart again, feel you coming on his tongue, your walls clenching as they try to suck his fingers in deeper. Wantsto know that he hasn't ruined absolutely everything between the two of you.

"Come on baby, lemme feel you,” he urges, voice deep and rough as he brings you to the edge. His mouth, licking and sucking at your clit, works in perfect rhythm with his fingers, sliding in and out, crooking them at the exact angle and speed he knows will get you there. 

"Please, Frankie...need to– fuck, I'm..." Coherent words evade you as he works you towards your peak, your breath stuttering as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. Your grip tightens in his hair, tugging roughly in an effort to ground yourself as the wave of euphoria starts to crest, the undercurrent pulling you down. 

Frankie growls in approval as you tighten around his fingers, all your muscles tensing as the sensation crashes into you. Your mind and body shut off and float into that sweet state of oblivion as Frankie's name falls from your lips, mixed in with a litany of profanity and slurs and choked back moans. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down until you're yanking on his hair hard enough for it to hurt, trying to wiggle away from his touch.

Frankie raises his head up and locks eyes with you, the tip of his nose, beard, and cheeks shiny with your arousal as he looks up at you through his dark, heavy lidded lashes.

"Want you so bad," he sighs, breathless and needy, crawling up your body and resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. He kisses you again, soft and sweet as if he has the right, tasting yourself on his tongue. 

You whimper into the kiss and hook a leg over his hip to pull his hips towards you. His cock strains almost painfully in his boxers when he grinds it against you, your warm arousal dampening the front of the fabric.

"Gonna let me baby?" He rasps when he moves to your neck, his teeth scraping sensitive flesh.

You both already know he's won. You're not even putting up a fight at this point, any dignity you thought you had left totally abandoned the moment you picked up the phone. But he asks anyway, needing the verbal affirmation, needing the confirmation that you want him as badly as he needs you.

And you can't lie.You're both equally weak and vulnerable. Two pathetic, heartbroken creatures chasing a temporary relief. A small glimmer of something to make the pain more bearable, something to fill the hole for the briefest amount of time.

You both know. And neither of you care.

No response to his question. Instead, you push up the hem of his shirt up and he does the rest, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor before he hooks a thumb underneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his hips and off his legs.

Your hand finds his cock and he hisses at the contact, his hips shuddering as he pushes forward into your grip. You swear he's thicker and longer than before, heavier and hotter where you hold him. Your thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the pearls of pre cum around, coating the rest of his length to ease your glide. Frankie's mouth finds your neck again, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, his shaky breath in your ear.

You try to push up onto your elbows in an effort to roll him over, wanting to take over. But a palm finds your chest, gently pushing you back down until your flat against the bed again. 

"Wanna look at you," he says simply, as he pushes his length into the palm of your hand once more before sliding out. 

He lets his length rest against your sensitive clit and gently rocks his hips, slicking himself with the mess between your legs, sighing whenever you gasp each time his tip nudges at your clit.

"Please..." you whisper, feeling pathetic and needy, but at this point too desperate to care.

And he’s equally impatient, not waiting another moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. 

You tense at the initial intrusion, not having been with anyone in far too long and the feeling is almost overwhelming. You're trying to remember how to breathe again as you let your head fall to the side, trying to hide from his intense stare. But Frankie's there, using a gentle finger to tilt your face back up towards him as his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace to let you adjust.

"That's it baby. Look at me."

And you do, the heat in your belly burning brighter with his eyes boring into yours as he witnesses your surrender to him. Your heart aches, still raw and tender and in pain from all the hurt that's transpired. But you ignore it and tell yourself the tears in your eyes aren't a result of a broken heart, but rather of how full you feel as Frankie's length finally bottoms out in you.

"Fuck..." You both curse under your breath as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts to move his hips. You cling to his broad shoulders as he pulls out of you, his eyes glued to where you’re joined, his thick cock slick and shiny with your arousal before he slides back in again with a quiet groan. He repeats the motions over and over watching as he pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, stuffing you to the hilt.

"Shit,” he hisses under his breath, his eyelashes fluttering when you clench in response. “You feel so good baby, fuck."

He buries his face into your neck, panting and pressing soft kisses as his pace starts to speed up. The soft grunts in your ear turn into more desperate moans when you lock your legs around his waist, pulling him, trying to get him even deeper than he already is. 

Your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, hoping that you’ll leave half crescent moon shapes embedded into his flesh. A painfull reminder for the morning that you were here and this was real, despite the circumstances.

His hands slide under your ass, angling it upwards to let him hit just that little bit deeper inside, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust. The muscles in his forearms flex and strain as he tries to hold back, always making sure you finish before he does. 

And he doesn't have to wait much longer. Your orgasm is creeping up and taking over your body and Frankie can sense it. He knows exactly what to look for, knows all the signs.

One hand moves to reach between the two of you two fingertips pressed against your pulsing clit, drawing fast, tight circles just like you like it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails digging into the skin and dragging down his back as his thrusts become more erratic. 

"Keep lookin' at me," he grunts and you struggle to keep your eyes open. They sting, the image of him above you starting to blur around the edges as he drives you closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, baby. Lemme see it, lemme see you come on my cock."

He doesn't have to tell you twice.

You come undone again just like that, dizziness spreading and heart hammering in your chest as you sob out, pleasure consuming you from within. He fucks you through it, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, as he curses and rambles in your ear about how he's missed this, how he's missed you.

You've barely started to come down when he grabs one of your legs behind your knee and pushes it into your chest, letting himself sink even deeper into you. The new angle has your head spinning, drowning in an unparalleled amount of pleasure. Your eyes flutter and roll back in your head as you whimper his name, fingers curling into the pillow above your head.

He doesn't last much longer, breathless moans and strangled whimpers into your neck as he gives you the last few sloppy thrusts. He's almost there, and when he tries to pull out, it's the way your leg tightens around his waste and your needy whine that sends him over the edge, groaning and cursing with his face in the crook of your neck as he spills himself into you.

His cock pulses inside you with every wave, his hips chasing his release, tiny jerks as he empties into you. He stills, his heavy breathing in your ear, his weight resting on you, heavy but grounding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

Once the room stops spinning and the stars clear from behind your eyes, you drop your legs. With a shaky sigh, Frankie starts to pull out, both of you groaning in protest as he slips out.

His cum leaks out of you, quickly pooling between your thighs no matter how hard you squeeze your legs together. And when he catches sight of it, it makes your face burn. At the mere sight of his sticky, warm release spilling out of you, mixing with your own, Frankie swears he could go another round right then. Something about knowing he marked his territory, his claim on you established once again. He looks up at you, your eyes closed, forehead creased, and he has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dragging his fingers through the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back in, keeping it where it should be. 

But the weight of reality is starting to press on him once again, the fear and shame from earlier taking root again and tugging at his stomach and pulling him out of the euphoria.

He kisses your hip bone once before making his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. The room is silent as he cleans you up, wiping gently between your legs, both of you keeping your eyes on anything except each other's. 

When he's done, he stands and moves to gather his clothes off the floor, tugging his boxers back on before heading towards the door. But your shaky, watery voice breaks the silence and freezes him where he stands.

"You're leaving?" You ask, voice squeaking at the end as you pull the sheet up to cover yourself, as if it would protect your heart when he ultimately breaks it again.

He turns to look at you, his heart aching in his chest from the innocent way you're looking at him. The way your eyebrows draw together, and your lips pull into a frown, the way your lower lip trembles as your eyes fill with tears.

"Can I stay?"

His voice is quiet, fragile, as if speaking any louder would scare you off, would cause you to start yelling at him again until you ultimately kick him to the curb for good.

He stares at you through the darkness of the room as you chew on your lip and try to grapple with the split decision you’re facing.

The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say no and end this right here and now. But that part of your brain is buried and silenced underneath the heaviness in your heart. That desperate need to hang onto whatever's left. You swallow the lump in your throat and give in.

"Please," you plead softly. "Don't...don't want to be alone anymore."

A rush of air leaves his lungs as the pressure is released from his chest as he climbs back into bed beside you. Your head finds his chest, curled into his side and letting his arms wrap around you. His embrace is familiar, comforting, your safe space.

You count the steady beats of his heart in your ear as his blunt fingernail scrape lightly up and down your back, knowing it always soothes you. No words are spoken but the air between the two of you is thick, full of the things you both want to say, but neither of you speak.

Sleep wraps its tendrils around you once again, exhaustion settling in your bones. You welcome it fully, even though you know when you wake up, you'll have to face the reality of the situation once again.

You can only hope that he'll still be here in the morning to face it with you.

For now, you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace, pushing away all the other things that are gnawing at you and letting yourself relax in the arms of the man who broke your heart.

Just one more night.

Thank you for reading!! :))

[chaethewriter]

You're dead to me [3]

dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, barely proofread, a lot of awkward tension cause Neytiri and humans + reader being in conflict, terrible na'vi sentence.

Word count: 3,8k

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A superior of you recommended you to Norm, a human scientist in an avatar body that went against the RDA a decade ago. He lives close to the war, which means close to the Omatikaya. This means you were going to face your father, the man you really didn't want to see. It wasn't that big of a shock to you when you were told that you were going to the front lines. You were always preached about for being one of the best warriors, you saw it coming. Both Raja and Seb were also ranked as one of the best warriors among your group, so it was fortunate you could at least be close to your friends if you were to break down. Yet you weren't planning to do that. Deep inside you yearned for him, wanting to jump into his arms the moment you see him and call him daddy again, but another side of you told you to keep quiet about it. Let him figure it out on his own. Act like you don't care and show him what you became. Was it the mature way? No, definitely not. But you threw your childhood away to become a warrior, being childish every now and then shouldn't hurt too much. And I mean, they had your files. The information of you potentially being Jake Sully's kid was out in the open for the higher-ranked to see, so whether he was interested enough in getting to know his soon-to-be acquaintances or not, the choice of figuring out you are his babygirl is really up to Jake Sully himself. It's not like he would notice it by looking at your face, your mask wasn't see-through and covered half of your face. Besides that, you look different than what you looked like over a decade ago. So here you were, in this helicopter with Raja and Seb on your way to the Omatikaya clan, adrenaline rushing through your veins as Raja kept her grip on your forearm.

Jake Sully held his wife in his arms as he begged her to accept the help that is supposed to get to home tree soon. Norm already told him weeks ago that the resistance was coming soon. He didn't know what he meant, unaware of the things that were happening on earth. He was explained how earth was in an uproar, divided into three groups: with the RDA, against the RDA, or being neutral. Information was leaked about the RDA's doings, how they were sending humans to Pandora to kill the natives. History repeats itself. From killing their own kind centuries ago to killing a different species on a different planet. Norm told him how he was in contact with a huge resistance party on planet earth, one that was open for it to directly take action, how they wanted to send their trained warriors to Pandora to end the wrongdoings of mankind and keep the RDA away or any human that was a potential enemy to Pandora and its nature. Young warriors that just finished their training, choosing to fight for someone else's freedom rather than living a safe life on earth. Safe as in not getting attacked then, because planet earth is definitely dying. Jake could appreciate this selfless decision, whether some may be in it for the paycheck or just an act of kindness, all of them were there to help. He was hoping Neytiri could see it like this too, they were here to help fight against their own kind. Jake's pleading eyes couldn't make Neytiri decline, so with a loud hiss she agreed, "fine, but I'm coming with you. If they make one wrong move I'm going to pierce an arrow through their skulls, ma Jake." Her tone sounded annoyed, but she couldn't help but lean into his touch.

Even though Neytiri agreed to accept help from the sky demons, she was against the idea to bring those demons directly to high camp. It was that feeling all over again, when Jake betrayed her and the RDA came to destroy their past home, home tree. She was scared for her people, for her children. Jake could understand where she was coming from and agreed with Norm through his throat microphone to meet at the lab instead. His children were listening from afar and Tuk jumped out of their hiding spot, much to Neteyam's, Loak's and Kiri's dismay. "Are we going on an adventure?", giggles left her lips as she jumped towards her mother, her arms wrapping around her waist. Her chin was pressed against her mom's hip as she looked up at her with sparkles in her eyes. Kiri smacked herself against the forehead as their little sibling ran towards her parents. The three got out of their hiding spot, Neteyam walking in front as he was ready to confront his father, "sir I-" he started, but was immediately cut off as Jake spoke over his voice, "Neteyam I need you to come with your mom and me. We are retrieving guests, sky people. This will be part of your Olo'eyktan training." Jake's tone was fierce as he spoke to his son, treating his own blood as nothing but a warrior. Neteyam pursed his lips as he nodded his hand in response, "yes sir." was all he had left to say. Loak groaned as he felt left out of the situation. He wanted to go on an adventure too, and spend time with his father. "What about me? Why can't I come?" He didn't hide the disappointment in his tone as he asked his questions, mainly directing them to his father. "I need you to stay here and take care of Kiri and Tuk." Kiri then decided to chime in on the conversation, planning to get more information on the current situation, "what is this all about dad? They're going to help us, but what are they exactly?" Jake sighed in response as he brought his hand to his forehead. It was no use hiding anything, they would get to know the truth eventually. So he just decided to tell them everything he knew from Norm.

Everything comes to light after all.

Jake Sully prepared himself for their departure. Hunter's knife strapped to his hip and his throat microphone attached as always, in case Loak gets into trouble yet again. "Ma Jake? Are you ready soon? My mother would like to see you as well before we do." Neytiri called from outside their family pod. "Almost almost, I'll get to her tent soon." Jake was frantically looking around the pod as he spoke. He was looking for his good luck charm. Childish one may call it, but it made him feel at ease during these stressful times. There it lay, the thing he was looking for, under one of the woven carpets. He picked the round charm up, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he tried to open the lock. His heart pounded into his throat as he did so, struggling to open it because of his much bigger hands. He was delusional, scared to lose it. He breathed out when he came face to face with your cute baby face, all smiling and giggling. "Thank Eywa," he mumbled to himself and tied to chain to the handle of his knife. When Jake Sully opened the flap that separated the inside of the pod from the outside world he came face to face with Neytiri, "Mo'at wants to see me?" She responded with a nod as her head nodded to the healer's tent, "she wanted to speak to you, she told me." He wondered what that could be about. He wasn't injured or suffering from any illnesses, so what could have possibly happened? Jake Sully nodded his head before speaking up, "I still don't think it's a good idea that you come." Neytiri crossed her arms at his words, "Ma Jake, I need to see what kind of people are about to enter my clan." And with that, she walked away. A sigh left his lips since he knew things would not turn out too well. He stepped towards Mo'at's tent. Time to find out why she needed him, as he entered the tent Mo'at was supposed to be at. "Ah, Jake Sully. I was awaiting you." She motioned for him to come in and he followed her order. He awkwardly stood next to her as she busied herself with her herbs, "Eywa has spoken to me. It has to do with you, Jake Sully." His ears twitched in curiosity, motioning for her to continue speaking. "You are about to be in a huge conflict. Hearts will break and tears will stream. You mustn't give up as Eywa has spoken to me this needs to happen for you to continue forward, so don't back down, Jake Sully." This just confused him, what conflict? Does this have to do with the arrival of the resistance? Is this about the RDA? But he doesn't dare ask, because he knows the Tsahik can't get into detail. His gaze is focused on the herbs the Tsahik is mixing up into medicines. Was it to distract herself from this conversation? He didn't know what else to say, but there is one thing he dared to ask, "when will this happen?"

"Way sooner than you will ever expect, Jake Sully."

"Your codename is Buttercup?" Norm looked at Seb in disbelief as the guy in question just shook his head, "I was forced, this is a crime." The three of you were talking about yourselves to Norm as Norm listened carefully. Raja giggled at the embarrassment of her friend, "so there used to be this cartoon I found in one of my great grandma's old boxes. It was called the Powerpuff girls. It is about three sisters that fight against crime and we needed codenames, so I forced (Y/N) and Seb to match with me." This made Norm realize how the three trained warriors in front of him were actually still kids at heart. Of course he knew that they were young, but this just showed how much they missed out on beings kids. You chuckled at the conversation and shrugged, "I mean, my codename is Blossom so it's not too bad, not like being a buff dude and getting called Buttercup. Raja's fits hers, bubbles. It fits her bubbly personality." Seb continued complaining about how it was two against one and that he couldn't escape from his codename being Buttercup. "We are here," Norm commented and you felt the nerves go through your body once again, your grip on your katana so hard your knuckles turned lighter. As the helicopter lowered, you looked outside the window and there you saw three blue figures standing next to one another close to a facility in the middle of the forest. There he was. Your dad. Standing all high and mighty and he was so tall. He looked so different, yet still the same. You noticed certain features that just made him look like your dad. You wished you were a little kid again. If it was little you in your place right now, she wouldn't have given a damn. Would've run up to him and told him who you were as you would have jumped into his arms. But you grew up, full of anger and pain. You pursed your lips as you watched him talk with his mate and son, silently wishing it was you there, by his side as he had a proud look on his face. You had an intense conflict within yourself. Why did you have to be such a tryhard? If you slacked off, you could have been chilling with the other warriors that were spread around the other forest clans. Yet, this was something to be proud of. You did this on your own, you should prove yourself to them, to him. But were you ready for this confrontation? All this inner dialogue made your head hurt. You had to stop fighting the thoughts in your head and focus, because you were getting lost in your thoughts a lot. That wasn't acceptable, not on a battlefield. Once the helicopter landed, Norm was the first to step out of the helicopter, followed by Seb, Raja and you. When the three of you stood in a line you were standing right in front of the Na'vi: Seb in front of Neteyam, Raja in front of Neytiri, and you in front of Jake Sully right in the middle. As if Eywa herself wanted this to happen, wanting the two of you to reconnect. He analyzes you from head to toe, his gaze burning into your skin making you push your mask further into your skin. You wanted to crawl into a cave right there and then.

"Oel Ngati Kameie," the three of you say in unison as you brought your hand towards your forehead, dropping it slowly to the height where your chest is at. The na'vi in front of you do the same na'vi greeting, before Jake Sully switched to English, "I, Jake Sully, Welcome you to Pandora, I can speak for everyone of the Omatikaya clan that we are very thankful for your arrival and your help." His English sounded rusty, but understandable when you haven't been using it for the past decade. Your eyebrows raise at his English, "we understand Na'vi. Pxoeng nolume Na'vi." You spoke to your dad through your mask and you could see the surprise on his face. It made you smile, he looked proud. Fortunately, the mask covered your mouth, otherwise, everyone could have seen your happy expression. Norm chimed into the conversation, "These three are the best warriors of their group. (Y/N), Seb and Raja, all scored fantastically on their physical exams. Six years ago, these warriors left just a few weeks before RDA's departure. We got a few weeks to plan out a raid against their new forces." Everyone nods in unison and you glance at your dad once again, locking eyes with him, since he was already looking at you.

Jake's eyes widen at that name. It was a name he didn't hear in so long. He thought of his babygirl, wondering what you could be doing right now. Did you graduate? Have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Was he a grandfather? He got so overwhelmed at the thought of you. He missed you so much. His little girl, who is probably not so little now. Regret and guilt fuels his body as he remembers that he was the one to leave you and never return to earth. How he hoped to see your face again. Come and live here with him on Pandora, was that a selfish thought?

Norm took out a form and cleared his throat, making Jake Sully wake up from all his thoughts, "Jake, the warriors first need to do this checkup before they can get to work, resistance orders," he passes him the map with your files and your heart immediately dropped to your stomach. You knew he was about to get your last name eventually, but on the first day? You don't know if you can do that. "This was supposed to be my task, but I trust that you can do this, oh great Olo'eyktan? Max is researching something and he urgently needs my help with it." Great Norm, just great. Eywa, is this your doing? Because you would rather wish she takes you to her right this instant. "You can trust me with this, Norm." Jake flashes him a grin. "Don't lose it and I really mean that," Norm's gaze reaches the three of you once again, he almost looks worried, "I read the checkup, good luck, because as a scientist I could never." And to the lab he went.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Seb raised his eyebrows in concern and his eyes glanced at the map your father was holding. Neytiri has been quiet this entire time as well as Neteyam. Both were weary ever since they met you three, like mother, like son. Everyone could notice the tension, it would have made Jake's arm hair stand if he had any. "Okay, let's see what we have here.. Pretty.. gruesome.." Neteyam was looking over his dad's shoulder, frowning at all of them, "sir, is this normal for humans?" Again, you raise your eyebrows and you couldn't stop the next words you say from coming out of your mouth, "you call your father 'sir'? What is this, an army?" Raja widens her eyes, as well as Seb. Neytiri hisses your way in defense, Jake putting his arm out in front of her as to not make her pounce in you, but you don't flinch. You just looked at your father in disbelief at how he was treating his own son. It was awfully quiet as Jake didn't know what to reply. Your hard gaze on him made him feel something, guilt? Pain? He couldn't describe it, but he felt weird in some way. Luckily, Norm came back in his human body, clear mask on his face, "false alarm, he already got help from the other scientists and everything is go- what the hell happened here?" Norm could feel the tension in his bones as he watched the six of you. You were the first to speak up, "nothing is wrong here. So you will do our checkup right?" You walked towards your father, gripping the file map out of his hands and handing it over to Norm. Everyone's jaws drop to the ground and Neytiri drew her hunter's knife, "you sky demon I knew you couldn't be trusted! Such disrespectful behavior!" Jake takes a hold of his mate. They couldn't fight, not now. Neytiri needed to get out of here before blood was about to be drawn. "Ma Neytiri please, it's fine, could you please check up on Loak?" The tension was unbearable for Jake Sully. His eyes pleaded for himself to handle this. The grip on her knife loosened as she hissed again. Neteyam stepped towards his mother as his hand wrapped around hers, the one she was gripping the knife with, "mother please, please trust father." He himself had doubts about these humans, but it looked like his dad trusted them, so he should at least try right? As future Olo'eyktan. Looking into her son's eyes, she felt herself calm down as she lowered her knife, attaching it to her hip. She put her hand on Neteyam's cheek for a second before pulling her hand away. Once again, she threw a glance at you. "I'm watching you." She sent you a hiss as a warning and crept back into the forest. Great, you have a bad relationship with your dad's mate. Maybe this was for the best after all. Jake sighed, he shouldn't have taken Neytiri with him even after all her demands. With sky people she just met it was bound to go like this.

After that awkward ordeal, Neteyam led everyone to an open field in the forest. With your dad's gaze still lingering on your body, you decided to try and ignore it. Easier said than done. You yearned for your dad, but you couldn't give in. Neteyam and Jake stood to the side as the three of you started stretching in the conveniently open field that was formed into a circle. "The checkup is about strength, focus, and speed. You need to fight one vs one hand-to-hand combat battles against one another without masks on."

"Without masks?! Are they out of their mind?!"

"Do you expect an answer or?"

"No I don't!"

Seb and Raja continued their daily bickering as always, but your mind was completely somewhere else. Jake seemed to notice this, as he walked towards you. He had this urge to comfort you. Could it be, because you had the same name as his daughter on earth? Maybe, but maybe if he took care of you, he could feel at peace again. He sat on his knees and put his hand on your shoulder, making you look his way. "I'm sorry for my mate, she can be very protective of me," he softly spoke to you, "and I don't blame you, you woke up after 6 years and your entire life is upside down. I understand." You pursed your lips at his words. Why was he being so soft to you? You couldn't stand it, not when he spoke like that, reassuring you like that. You didn't reply, you just gave him the shoulder as you stepped away from his grip. This just made him even more confused as his chest hurt, did he do something wrong when he met you? Was he staring at you a little too long? Did his gaze offend you?

"We will do three rounds and in those three rounds, you need to put your enemy down for ten seconds to win."

"Let's dance then, shall we?"

And those words you spoke, felt awfully familiar to Jake Sully.

Neteyam Sully watched in awe as you fought the final round against Seb. Your mask was on the ground as you pounced on the much taller guy. He tried to lock your legs with his to make you lose your balance, which would have given him an advantage, but you punched him in the face with your fist, making his mouth open and gasp for air. In his moment of panic, you used it to knock him face-first into the dirty mossy ground, keeping his head on the floor as you twisted his arm. You sat right on his back as you used your knee on his neck to keep him down, the other weighing on his lower back and arm. You gasped for air as you saw blurry, listening to Norm count to ten was honestly something. It sounded like he counted to a hundred in slow motion. When he yelled the word ten, you quickly got off your friend, crawling towards your mask. Jake wanted to run up to you to help you, but Norm told him to stop and that this was what you were supposed to do in a real battle if it would ever happen that you lose your mask. You quickly took your mask in your hand and put it on your face with a shaky hand, gasping for the oxygen you needed. You coughed loudly as you sat on your knees with your hands on the ground. Jake rushed towards you and put his arm around you, rubbing your back with his free hand, "are you okay?" worry in his tone as he spoke. Your eyes widen at the familiar hug. The warmth of his arms as he used to hold onto you as you snuggled against him in your sleep. But you couldn't. You held onto his hand, letting the touch linger your skin before you pushed it away, "I'm good, yes." You stood up and walked towards Norm, not looking back at him once.

Just what was it with you?

And why did it hurt how you treated him?

A/N: I was lowkey insecure about posting this part 3 fr, idk if I liked it. I kept adding and adding details in the hope I would feel better about it, so here's a longer part than usual. Hope you enjoyed it. Pls tell me what you think. <3

taglist:

@hoodiepandaninja16 @l0v3e1i @neteyamforlife @noname2246 @littlelia007 @j0551 @navs-bhat @fyfy-world @hellok1ttycake @lwozy @n1ght5h4d3-24 @kahlowy @iloveavatar @farleyis @reguluscrystals @inomoikawa @bobojojoba69 @eternallyvenus @imakms @alice121804 @aimsro @carollise @jjkclub @onlytays @yeosxxx @dakotali @degenweeb @sunshinewwx @sassy-persona @ggeveryone99 @calums-betch @voniikg @jakesullys-bitch @answer-the-sirens @ilovebluesliens @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @crazy4books1 @kitkat1690 @iikatsukii @666yourmomdotcom @ssc7514 @nhloversblog @eatassskatefast12 @mizuki80 @makeup-stuff-and-such @ayanies @n3t3y4msm4t3 @tigresslily @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @mangolog

[lovifie]

Hi this is my first ever request lol, so I uh was wondering if you could write a soap x reader little red riding hood. It could be some cute fluff or I guess even smutty depending on how you'd want to depict it. Sorry if it's a rather blank request, I'm very bland when it comes to writing and such (>_<)

Hi love! Thank you so much for the request, I hope I met your expectations 🩷

It did turn really smutty though, so I hope you don't mind 🩷

Back to Masterlist

W: Werewolf!Soap x Little Red Riding Hood!Reader (inspired at least), smut, defined breeding kink must it's mostly a werewolf thing, biting, mentions of pregnancy (is the breeding kink warm up, you know), knoting.

You were used to being the one taking your grandma her food, making sure she still ate the produce she couldn't acquire in her house deep into the forest.

So every other week, you would do your little journey. It didn't take long, you'll get to her house before lunch time and you chose to stay the day with her before making your way back.

You already knew the path like the back of your hand, always on time and never getting lost.

There is also Johnny, a friendly neighbour who on many occasions chooses to walk along with you. The chat is nice, makes the walk more entertaining even when you go the different route that Johnny showed you; just because it is longer and that way you can talk for longer.

You obviously didn't trust him at first, a grown man in the middle of the forest sounds terrifying on its own. And you need to add to that the fact that Johnny is built like a brick house.

“I could have you for dinner.” He joked once when you asked him what did he ate to be so big. A silly joke.

The fear of the big man following you in the forest, quickly turned into the big man walking with you. And the little fear you had of the wild dissipated the closer he walked with you.

Especially, when during the spring rumours started flying around about a massive wolf living in the forest. Apparently a huge striped dog has been seen walking on the forest line for a couple of weeks now, always looking into the town but never quite entering.

The dog, big enough to be the size of a grown man on his hinged legs, eyes that reflect the light of the fire and teeth to rip the flesh off the bone.

Your grandma moved out of her house, moving inside town to be away from the animal. Still, you couldn't sleep at night knowing Johnny was out there.

With your grandma living in your house, you didn't have an excuse to walk in the forest. But still, on a freezing morning in the middle of spring you found yourself walking inside the forest wishing you could come across Johnny quickly and be back home.

What you come across instead, is a growling behind you. So deep you feel it shaking your bones before you can see it. You only need to see the outline of the monster before you are sprinting for your life, it is a stupid decision and you know it. It immediately triggers the beast to follow you.

The path to your grandma's house has never been so long and you don't even make half way through before you fall, tripping on your own feet. You turn around, looking for the dog which seems to have evaporated into thin air.

A warm hand on your back makes you jump, turning around and coming face to face with Johnny, a pained expression on his face. You jump into his arms, a groan into your ear as he hugs you back, a bit too hard.

You peel back when he cups your face. “You shouldn't be here, bonnie.” He says, looking in pain, making every alarm bell ring on your head.

You pat his body, looking for any injury and hearing him groan whenever your hand touches his body. “Are you in pain? Did it attack you? Are you fine?” You ask frantically.

“Lass!” He grunts, making you look into his eyes, dark when you lay your eyes on his. “You need to get back! Get away from me!”

“But why?” You ask, hurt with the rejection. “I came here just for you, Johnny…”

He groans, looking away from your face as he licks his lips. He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “You need to go back because every part of my body is screaming at me to eat you whole, bonnie.”

“You can.” It comes out before you can register it, you are not a stranger to your own feelings for the man in front of you. The weekly walks, your hand on his arm, his hand on your back, the soft pecks on your cheek when saying goodbye. It quickly had you getting home warm on the face and your tummy.

The man groans again, closing his eyes, as if your words hurt him. “You don't know what you are saying-”

“I do! I do know!” You argue, cutting him off and sitting up closer to him but his arms pull you back. He looks down on you, searching for any doubt in your face. Anything that could silence the hungry voice in his brain, but when the only thing he can find is the same hunger in yours he laps forward, crushing his lips on yours.

He is not gentle by any means, his wide hands roam your body pulling you closer, grabbing your body, winking his nails into your flush meat, biting your lips, growling on your mouth. His hands scrunch up your dress, ripping the bloomers under it making you gasp at the feeling of the cold air on your core.

“I can fucking smell you, bonnie. And it's driving me mad. You have been driving me mad for months.” He grunts against your mouth, grabbing your hips to sit you on top of his.

You whine at his words. “I want to feel you, Johnny. I want to feel you here.” You say, grabbing one of his hands to place it on top of your crying cunt.

Johnny takes a deep breath, regulating himself, before he sinks two of his fingers inside of you; the stretch making you mewl against Johnny's neck, moaning softly as he starts to move his wrist.

You can feel him grind his hips against your, the material of his trousers rubbing against your exposed clit making you whine and he quickly shushes you kissing your temple as his fingers open you up for him.

“I can't wait to sink into you, my sweet bonnie.” He groans at you, making you clench at the sound.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, closing his eyes as he hums at the taste. His pupils impossibly wide when he opens them again, the blue on his eyes barely visible.

He helps you onto your hand and knees, standing behind you as he licks your neck from behind, his tip probing at your entrance. You don't have a chance to peek at his shaft, so you don't expect the wide stretch that just simply seems to never end.

Never in your life has you felt this full, the stretch of his fingers far from enough and it has you falling face first with his hands on your hips.

He grunts when he bottoms out inside of you, bending down to lick the tears on your cheeks. “Shh, bonnie lass. You are taking me so well, I could live right here. So tight, so warm, so wet “ he moans, pulling his hips slightly back making you whine as you clench down making him grunt.

It's too much, it is reaching places you were not aware existed; his wide hands on your hips keeping you in place, it has your brain mushy barely able to put your hands under your face to prevent yourself from eating dirt.

His thrust starts to get deeper, slowly pulling out until only his tip is inside just to push in again just as deliciously slow as the first one. It is torturous how slow he fills you up, the empty feeling when he pulls back making you whine and move your hips back.

He pulls himself back, not wanting to give in to his instincts just yet, needing to know you are ready. The way your cunts sucks him in whenever he pulls back making him grunt; he hears you moan his name, asking for more, and that is everything he needs to hear.

He bends down, hugging your middle as he shoves his face on your neck, keeping you in place to be able to piston his dick in and out of your weeping cunt as fast as his hips allow him.

It pulls the breath out of your lungs, only able to moan loud like a whore as the man on your back fucks you like a bitch in heat.

His arms are tight around your body, his grunts and groans loud on your ear and when his hand moves lower, right over your clit rubbing it, is like pushing the button to have you coming undone.

You cry out his name, eyes rolling back as you do, your cunt pulsing around his cock making him fuck you faster.

You don't have time to come back down, not stopping pleasure waving over you. Filth being talked into your brain. “I'm gonna fuck you full of my pups, love. Gonna keep you forever, full of me, love. Gonna make you a mama, round and plush.” He groans, his brain empty of any sense and only listening to his instincts of breeding, the spring making him completely lose his ability to think clearly.

Another round of stretch has you whining softly, you are already to the brim what is it now? You cry at the feeling, Johnny mouth opening over the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His thrust became sloppy, more shallow as if he couldn't move as freely. He bites down hard on your shoulder, making you whine at the pain but the way you clench down on his length as he grunting as he comes inside of you, his hips flush with yours.

You moan at the feeling, warmth feeling every bit of your inside. But after a while you try to pull, wanting to lay down. Just for a stinging sensation to make you cry and Johnny to grab your hips to prevent you from moving.

“Let's stay like this for a little, bonnie. We stuck.” He groans, as if it makes perfect sense.

“What?” You ask confused.

“Shh, I'll explain it to you later, love.” He says, licking your neck like a dog and caressing your body.

And you want to argue, to understand what he means, to understand what is inside of you opening you so widely, to understand why he was talking about pups, to understand why he bite your shoulder so hard, to understand why the wolf following you suddenly disappeared when he appeared, to understand why he told you to go away, to understand how he found you so easily.

But your eyelids start to weigh tons when Johnny hums behind you, kissing your neck. Plus, the spring is barely starting and Johnny's den is close by. He'll explain later, when his brain stops screaming at him to keep breeding you.

If you liked it please drop a comment or a reblog, it really helps me to want to write more 🩷

TagList: @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @lolly145 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @justyourfriendlyneighbourhood1 @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @crinoid90 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @emat-05 @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @salsamander

@whos-fran

[roosterforme]

Ready, Rough and Unromantic | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley has a rough day at work, he knows the only thing that will make him feel better is his wife. But will you let him dominate you? Will you let him use you just how he needs to? He shouldn't have been surprised by your answer or your response to him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, rough smut, dominant smut

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"I am so proud of you, Roo," you whispered, kissing his neck and zipping up his flight suit. It was early, the sun was just peeking through the bedroom curtains, but you were up helping him get ready for the first day of his duties.

Bradley would be spending the week as an assistant instructor at Top Gun. Few people would appreciate what an honor this was, but you understood it implicitly. You hadn't yet bothered to dress for the day, but you decided to wake up early to wish him luck. 

He ran his fingers along your soft skin, completely bare for him except for your glasses and wedding rings, as he said, "I always want to make you proud, Baby Girl."

When Bradley tipped his head down to kiss your cheek, you giggled. The sound went right to the part of his brain that controlled his unbridled desire for you. All he had to do was squeeze your bare hip with his big hand, and you looked up into his eyes.

"Do we have time?" you asked softly before you bit your lip.

He kind of shrugged and grunted, but you were already lowering the zipper of his flight suit all the way down. Bradley let you take the lead on this one, and when you dropped to your knees, he was not disappointed. 

The way you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock... yeah, there would always be time for that. "You're so fucking good," he groaned as you took him deep, and he hit the back of your throat. You sucked on him until you were gagging, then you pulled him out as a strand of your saliva dripped onto your tits.

"This is for good luck," you told him before you tilted your head and sucked on his balls until he was pulling on your hair a little rough.

"Oh," he groaned. "My wife doesn't mess around." His words were deep and gruff compared to the long, soft moans you made as your tongue swirled up the length of his cock. 

You kissed the tip of him, whispered, "I love you," and then you gave him absolutely filthy head until he was cumming all over you. Your hollowed cheeks and warm hands had him fucking your face until cum dripped out of the corners of your lips. And when he spurted onto your glasses a second later, your giggle returned.

Bradley loved the sight of it enough that he wanted to make a mess with you later on when he had more time. Coat your glasses up real good. Maybe help you lick them clean. 

"Fuck," he growled. "I need to leave, Sweetheart." Bradley pulled you to your feet and placed a soft slap to your ass. You kissed him hard one time, and he promised he'd take care of you later.

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

"Tally, tally!" called one of the younger recruits into the radio. But his teammate and wingman left him hanging long enough that Bradley got himself quickly into position. A few seconds later, Bradley got tone on him and eliminated him. 

He was feeling great, and when the team landed along with Bradley, he took some time to show them where they went wrong and how they could improve. "As soon as you hesitate, it's over," he informed them, knowing very well that he had learned that lesson himself not terribly long ago.

The recruits filed back inside for lunch while Bradley joined Maverick and the other teachers to go over the plans for the afternoon. Honestly, he was having a great day, and when he was told he'd be taking another team up in the afternoon, he was looking forward to it.

But he must have been distracted. Or maybe he was the one who hesitated this time. Because as soon as Bradley managed to fly the two seater Super Hornet into a corner, he heard tone lock onto his own aircraft. 

He had been outmaneuvered by a twenty five year old student. 

Bradley landed his aircraft in a state of shocked silence, barely managing to communicate with the tower. He was mortified. And of course, as soon as he walked into the tower, everyone knew about it. 

"It happens," Mav told him. "It was your first day instructing. You'll nail their asses to the wall tomorrow."

But Bradley could see the looks on the students' faces. He could practically hear Nat's voice through her text message.

Are you fucking kidding me, Rooster? They took you out?

He wasn't even sure how she heard about it from the simulation classroom. But seemingly everyone knew. It took everything inside him to keep his shoulders squared and his voice calm. Because inside he wanted to rage. He wanted back up in the air. He wanted to meticulously pick off every single other aircraft one at a time until he didn't feel like a joke anymore. 

And that made him feel like maybe he wasn't ready to be an instructor yet.

"Fuck," he growled, slamming his locker door closed later. Absolutely nobody messed with him in the locker room. Nobody would even look at him. He was surrounded by dead silence everywhere he went. 

As he stormed out to his Bronco, his skin was crawling with the burning need to prove himself. To dominate his surroundings. When he started up the engine, he took a few deep breaths that did nothing to calm the rising temperature of his humiliation. The blazing desire to conquer. Overpower. Defeat.

He needed to get home to you. Somehow he knew you were the only thing that would make him feel better.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was practically panting. You were already home from work. This was good. When he opened the front door, he called out, "Where are you?" His voice was raspy. His body was too hot. 

"In the kitchen, Roo!" you replied. "Come tell me all about your day!" 

You had taken your boots and socks off, but you were still in your uniform with your hair pulled back in a tight bun. And you were up on the kitchen counter changing the lightbulb that he had noticed kept flickering. This kind of shit was his job to take care of around the house. You shouldn't have to be up on the counter like this. 

But as soon as he really looked at you, his cock throbbed with need. You looked at him over your shoulder as you finished with the new bulb. "What's wrong?" you asked softly, slightly alarmed. You must have seen the look in his eyes. He had never looked at you like this before.

Bradley knew you could make him feel better. If you let him do it. If you'd let him take his day out on you. 

He snagged you off the counter and into his arms as you squealed, but you quickly gaped at him as he carried you to the bedroom. 

"Bradley?" you whispered, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and searching his face.

He tossed you onto the bed and climbed on top of you, not bothering to remove his boots. You were silent, eyes wide and lips softly parted as he let you have his body weight. Your gaze was on his lips like you were expecting him to kiss you and be your sweet husband like he usually was.

"No," he growled, and your eyes darted up to his. You looked needy and uncertain. Bradley could tell you wanted to ask him what was going on. But then he read your last name on your nametag, annoyed that it didn't say Bradshaw yet. Very gently, he removed it, snapped it in half, and threw it across the room. Then he unbuttoned your shirt without a word and pushed it open wide. 

Your nipples were straining against your black lace bra. You were very subtly rubbing yourself up against his hard cock. Your pupils were dilated. You wanted to get fucked. 

"I hate your fucking name tag. Okay?" he asked, voice gruff as he wrapped his hand around the front of your neck. "I hate it."

You bit your lip and whispered, "You had a bad day."

"You told me you were going to get a new name tag," he grunted, pressing his hard cock against your thigh. "You said you submitted the paperwork for your name change."

"I did." Your voice was so needy. Bradley shoved his thumb into your mouth and watched as you opened wide and licked him.

"Get a new fucking name tag. And leave the light bulbs for me to change."

"I will," you said again with your mouth full of his thumb.

"Shut up," he growled, and your eyes went so wide as you moaned. "I'm not in the fucking mood. And I'm not going to be sweet. Not right now. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you cry. Use your pussy exactly how I want to."

You moaned around his thumb again. 

"Tell me that's what you want," he demanded. You nodded your head, and he withdrew his thumb. "Fucking say it."

"I want it." Your voice was breathy but sure, and Bradley was going to dominate you until your tears and whining made him feel better. Because there was always only you who could fix him.

He practically ripped open the front of your khaki uniform pants to get to you. Bradley yanked the fabric down your legs and sent your pants across the room to meet your broken name tag. Tiny, black lace panties cut low on your hips. He could see your tattoo. He could tell you were wet through the fabric. 

"You look like a little slut," he informed you. He watched you bite your lip as your back arched off the bed. "You shouldn't be this excited about being manhandled." Then the scrap of black lace met the same fate as your pants and the name tag.

Bradley had to commend you. You kept your mouth shut as he unzipped his flight suit, lowering the sleeves and pulling his cock free. You were silent as he rubbed himself through your wet slit. You didn't make a noise as he slowly slid himself inside your dripping wet pussy until he bottomed out. And only the softest sound escaped your lips as Bradley wrapped his big hands around your hips and lifted you slightly off the bed.

But you screamed when he held you in place, your ass in midair, and fucked you like you were his own personal toy. He slammed into your pussy with short, rough strokes. It was, in so many ways, the dirtiest thing he had ever done to you. And it felt to fucking good, Bradley could cum inside you right now. But your screams had him going harder, wanting to enjoy this feeling of control for as long as possible. 

"Louder," he told you. But he didn't really even need to say anything as he tightened his grip on your flesh and fucked you until tears leaked from your eyes. Your cries filled the room, so loud his ears were ringing from it. 

He withdrew from your body and let you fall to the bed. You were scrambling now, reaching for him. Looking up at him with tears in your eyes like you needed him to kiss you. 

He flipped you onto your belly before ramming his cock inside you again. Your hands were all balled up in the pillowcase as you cried out against the bedding. The rapid slap slap slapping noise of his body dominating yours was one of the prettiest things he had ever heard. The way you were letting him calm his nerves and soothe his ego, well if he hadn't already married you, he'd do it today. 

He palmed you softly before laying a solid smack right to the round of your ass. You moaned and sucked in a deep breath as he leaned down and put his lips next to your ear. "Tell me you want me to stop."

You shook your head and turned to look back at him, eyes red with tears. "Keep going," you hiccupped. "Please."

Bradley pushed your face back down into the pillow as you gasped and cried for him. He pumped his hips hard, grabbing at your thighs and your backside. Then he wrapped his forearm underneath you and pulled you up until you were on your knees for him. And how he had the perfect view of your body as you took him, full hilt, like a champ. You gorgeous pussy grabbed at him with each stroke, and Bradley spit on you where you were joined, making everything wetter.

"You like this, don't you?" he asked as you moaned and whimpered. "Huh? You actually fucking like this." He was so close as he spanked you just to feel you clench around him. "You fucking slut." 

He pressed his lips to your ear again and slipped his hand up to shove his fingers into your mouth. You were moaning and slobbering all over his hand, crying into the pillow. 

"You're perfect," Bradley growled as he filled you up with his cum. He fucked you with jerky strokes, pushing his load deeper and deeper until he guided you down flat on your belly with his hand on your ass. You were half crushed under his body weight, kitten licking his fingers when he realized he felt so good. So much calmer. You made everything better just like he knew you would.

But now he was slightly concerned that he had taken it too far, even with your permission. As he kissed along the back of your neck and ran his fingers softly up your arm, he whispered, "Are you okay, Baby Girl?"

Your voice was still a little watery with tears as you said, "I won't be able to walk tomorrow. And now I need to update my to-do list so I remember to order a new name tag. But that was hot. Do you feel better?"

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and buried his nose against your skin. He felt perfect. "So much better. Thank you." 

He helped you to your feet with the promise of a bubble bath. Then he assured you he could figure out how to make something for dinner. After he picked up all of the discarded clothing, he threw your name tag in the bathroom trash can while you sank down into the tub.

"I have an extra name tag in my office, you know," you told him with an eye roll and a smirk. 

"I know," he replied, bending to kiss your nose. "And I have an extra one in my locker. You can have it. We can match. It'll be cute." And now all he could think about was you wearing his last name on your khaki uniform every day. 

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

Okay, yes...okay, yep. That happened. Stay tuned for the upcoming (4th!) series with Roo and BG called Always Ever Only You! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[ghouljams]

Friend.

Viking!Ghost with a huge wolf-dog.

Or, even better : shepherd!reader with a huge wolf-dog, or two ; big, ferocious babies who absolutely love the guy, smothering him in kisses and floof every time he visits his darling. Huge balls of fluff who are absolutely delighted when he picks both of them up as if they were still puppies. Reader falling a little bit more in love with him every time she catches him interact with them, gently talking to them as their tails wag and wag and wag. And Ghost who has to suck in a breath when he finds her asleep in the barn after she spent the night helping one of her sheep give birth, the two dogs acting as really big and warm blankets, along with all the other sheep ; just a huge pile of snuggles that won’t let any kind of cold wind through. Just utter cuteness, and the huge, powerful viking is smitten.

My period has been acting up since yesterday, and last night was a nightmare. I’m a little bit better, but I can’t eat otherwise it’s gonna start all over again. I am not hurt, I AM the hurt. I really wish I had a big doggo or one of my cats to snuggle with, or a partner to help with the panic attacks this shoot always comes with (or all of those, I need warmth and cuddles and love).

I wanna write, by I can’t, because brain not braining properly. So I’m imagining fluffy scenarios while listening to the rain outside.

The birds are singing in harmony with the rain. It’s a cozy melody.

Lots of love, Friend.

Mii, out (like a light, soon, probably).

You're getting used to the visits. The giant of a viking that hovers just at the edge of your fence, watching like he's got something to say only to turn away when you ask him to say it. The dogs like him, galloping over to the man every time his shadow crosses your fence. They wiggle and jump like puppies, pushing their big paws against his chest and stretching long with their heads back, the only man that hasn't been bowled over by them yet. You can't blame them for their affections.

Your guest scoops up one of them and cradles the overgrown mutt against his chest. Your dog, for all its ferocity, licks at his mask like the tamest pup in a litter. You get your flock settled before making your way over. It's a fair assumption the viking won't walk away with your dog, so you're guessing he's worked up the nerve for a conversation. You manage to get all the way to the fence, though he takes a step back when you lean against it. You switch your attention to the dog still on the ground and scratch under her chin. Her big eyes stare sadly up at you, as if you could pick her up like the viking.

"Ghost," he says, and you're struck by how rich his voice is, deep and smokey as a dwarves cavern, "you can call me Ghost," he explains, apparently having realized his attempted start at a conversation wasn't going to go anywhere.

"There another viking hidin' his face like you?" You ask him, the introduction is lovely (if a little awkward) but everyone in the village knows Ghost. Or, they know of him. Nobody really knows him. You figure that's what the mask is for.

"Suppose not," he replies, and there's a touch of humor in his voice you hadn't expected. It makes you think he's smiling. Somehow that makes your cheeks feel hot. Strange.

"What do you need Ghost?" You ask, leaning against the fence. He leans to put your dog down, and the other one goes to nose his hand. He scratches her head lightly before straightening up.

"Just came to pet the dogs," he tells you. You smile. "No show this time?" He asks.

"No wolves," you nod towards the pasture, your flock safe and sound as they graze. Your eyes land on the wolf fang sewn to his leather. It's familiar enough to make your heart squeeze. You wish he'd come for you.

-

You're not out in the pasture, or answering the door when he knocks. It's early but Ghost didn't think you'd be that sound a sleeper. Fucking hell it's early, he shouldn't even be here but he wanted to see you before he left and- and he couldn't stop himself. He was delaying leave for his own selfish desired, but he couldn't stop himself from coming out to your little pasture. He had no excuse for it, nothing he could tell you, but he didn't want to talk to you he wanted to see you.

These are two different things.

He wanders around the fence you've put up, sturdy, well maintained. He wonders if you fix it up yourself or ask someone else to do it. You could ask him, he'd fix it for you. He'd fix anything for you. As long as it was you asking, he could do anything.

He stops outside a little covered barn, the hay leading into it is fresh, the doors slightly ajar. It's a good bet if he's ever seen one. The hinges don't stick when he inches the door open to look inside.

One of your dogs lifts its head from your lap, and stares at him, it's fluffy tail wagging softly against the hay. You're asleep, of course you're asleep. Sprawled over the hay, your dogs cuddled around you, the rest of the sheep settled to huddle close to their shepherd as well. You're surrounded by thick wool and wirey dogs, hardly bothered by the animals and straw as you sleep through the wee hours of the morning. You don't even look cold.

Ghost unhooks his cloak, the black leather and wolf's fur feeling ominous in such a pastoral scene, and drapes it over you like a blanket. Your dogs sniff it inquisitively, nosing it until he pushes their heads away with gentle pats. He tucks the fur against your neck and strokes his knuckles against your cheek. You're so beautiful, soft and vulnerable even under your fangs. He would have taken you to bed last night if you'd let him. Stayed up to watch the ewe and her new lamb while you curled up under the pelt blankets to sleep. How safe must you feel? How safe would he feel?

His thumb strokes against the fur and he stands. You'll still be here when he gets back, maybe not in the barn but here. In the village, in your pasture, right where he knows he can find you.

And hopefully, you'll be wearing his cloak when he does.

[webslingingslasher]

trouble waking peter up bc she’s horny… I stg he’s never been happier to be woken up

“blood, tears and fire only”? he’s gna have to add one more to the list

YES. IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR SO LONG.

it’s like being so hungry, you wake up with a growling stomach. knots tied and pulled, gurgling for sustenance. this is a new kind of hungry, one that has you famished. you could eat alone, or, you could invite peter to the buffet.

you start gentle, he’ll be grumpy no matter what, but maybe this time he’d catch on to your desperate touches and connect the pieces. peter looks so peaceful when he sleeps, it’s like he turns off all thoughts from the outside world.

‘peter?’ taps on his arm, they turn into delicate pokes. ‘peter? are you up?’ you’re unsure of him moving away from you means yes, he still looks asleep. ‘yes? you’re awake?’

peter breathes deep, you start to feel guilty, but not enough to let him continue his slumber. ‘pst, peter. wake up, please.’ a light shake, it does enough, your touch is shook off.

‘leave me alone.’ his blanket is tugged under his chin, its risen over your head, you bat it off, peter blissfully reaching back into dream land.

‘no, wait.’ you’re met with a heavy sigh, ‘what’s the rule, trouble?’ you trace shapes on his shoulder, like a toddler, you recite his bedtime rules. ‘blood, tears, and fire only.’

‘do we have any of those?’

you’re so… hungry you could burst into tears. but, that’s not what peter asked. ‘no.’ a satisfied nod, ‘great. i’ll talk to you when the suns up.’ the blanket is forced over your head again, you shove it off, this time you’re met with a whiny ‘hey!’

‘i think we need to add another one into the rulebook.’ peter cracks an eye open, you’re too awake for his comfort. ‘what time is it?’ you look behind you, a flash of white on your screen. ‘two.’

‘jesus, trouble. what do we need to add?’ you blank, peter’s frustration shows. ‘c’mon, quickly.’ you roll to your back, ‘i’m… horny. really, really horny.’

a total one eighty from peter, suddenly he’s wide eyes and smiles. ‘oh! okay, yeah, sure, we can add that.’ you blink your eyes and in the short second peter rolled himself over to lay above you.

'what do you want? something quick or the full shebang?' you think he might have been sending you the graphic dream because he's just as, if not more, ready as you are. peter's tugging his, your shirt off while you move your hips around to make more room for him.

'um, i mean we can have sex, sure.' peter looks up at your face, he leans back slightly, the missing blanket makes you shiver. 'you don't sound sure.'

'it's kind of selfish, so, yeah. let's have sex.' you hum when peter wraps an arm around your hip and tugs you closer to him. 'what's selfish?' it's two in the morning and you woke him up from a dead sleep, you shouldn't push him any further.

'what i want. let's just have a quickie.' you reach for his boxers, your hand stings when it's slapped away. 'ow?' peter pushes past it, 'what do you want?'

you feel shy for a moment, it feels like you're using him, you want to ditch the whole thing. you went from overtly horny to guilty in a second. 'i don't know...' peter isn't playing your games, he leans in over you.

'i'm not asking again, trouble. what do you want?' meaning, if you won't tell him, he'll override the situation and shut it down. 'okay, okay. could you... please?' it helps nothing, you just hate asking for it.

peter might not be able to fill in the blanks, but he could pick up a hint. 'could i?' your hands rest on his shoulders, he questions you and you answer by gently pushing him away, pushing him... down.

'what are you... oh, are you? that's what you want?' you pull the comforter over his head, peter fights it off, his hair falls in tufts. 'don't lock me down there, it's dark and hot.' that was the complaint? he's not upset?

'you're not mad that i woke you up just to go down on me?'

'god, no.' kisses down your neck, 'what's the rule?'

you smile, 'blood, tears, fire, and sex only.'

'that's my girl.'

[alavestineneas]

Poisonous bites

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader

summary: It's a shame, really, to kill her so soon. He was almost enjoying her—the way she trembled under his touch, the way she whispered his name in ecstasy. But that was the way of the world. There could be only one winner, and Coriolanus knew better than to believe his wife when she promised to always be loyal. If your dog bites you, someone else is feeding it. warnings: mentions of minor violence, mentions of cheating, not really canon-compliant, blood and shitty people in shitty relationships word count: 3,7k

Part 1 is here

author's note: part 2 of Losing Dogs is here! thank you for the love and support that you showed for the first chapter - hope you enjoy this one too! we all love some twisted people in fiction :)

She knows.

It's in his mind when they get into the black car, away from the president's party and obnoxiously loud music, with a few new cuts on his hands and faint blue marks on her neck.

She knows.

It's the only thought in his head when it hits the pillow at almost midnight, as her warm body lays beside him, breathing even so faintly. His brain almost explodes under the pressure of guessing her thoughts, hidden behind the soft smile and gentle touch. She, the ghost wrapped in opulent sheets, is a new figure on the chessboard. The crippling fear of being watched cuts his forehead in sharp, taunting pain.

YN, the blind lamb with sharp teeth, knows.

-

He did everything right. A whisper here, a bribe there, and no one noticed how a small, silly rumour grew into a threat almost overnight, pointing its sleek, twisted fingers at the President. Corrupt, illegal activities—that's what the press called them, but the truth was much less poetic. Some lines shouldn't be crossed, and some people shouldn't be trusted.

It was supposed to be a simple payback—let the bastard simmer in his own venom, betrayed by people he considered allies. But then it became something bigger: the sacred place is never empty, and the herd of sheep is always in need of guidance. That's when Coriolanus knew what he had to do for the better future of Panem. For the pride of his family. For the satisfaction of his hunger.

He is deep in his thoughts when YN appears in the doorframe; she is careful not to make too much noise as she waits for him to look up. Beautiful, like death herself— Coriolanus saw her enough times up close to recognize the dark glimmer in her eyes.

''Come here,'' he motions, clearing the space on the table for her to sit.

She does. YN's steps are light, even in the heels she always wears. There were a lot of things money couldn't buy, and class was one of them. Nobody came close to her upbringing; therefore, nobody could come close to him.

''Here,'' he hands her his speech, a careful combination of neat letters. Coriolanus watches with starved eyes as she reads, studying every expression and passing of emotion on her dolled-up face. ''What do you think?''

''It's good, really good.'' YN nods, a small smile covering her lips. ''You were always great at this type of thing, since the academy.''

Coriolanus feels a cold sting in his abdomen; she knows him. Before he became a man, before he got a chance to truly be the person he was destined to be, YN remembers a peckish, awkward boy who was pathetic enough to let an animal fool him. 

''Thank you,'' he says, placing a hand on her thigh and slowly sliding it up. He likes the way her body reacts in response, leaning closer.

It doesn't matter who he was before. He won, and he is almost at the top—a few steps, and there won't be just her body underneath him—the whole country will be in his hands.

-

Her husband is messed up. The way he fucked her in the dining hall hours before the guest arrived, in the same dining hall where they stand, brings a smile to YN's face. Nobody suspects a thing, not even her closest confidants, who now sipped from the stylish tall glasses beside YN, conversing on everything and anything but the swollenness of her lips.

Coriolanus wants to play in politics now that he has had enough of game-making. Like a small, pouty child tired of his old toys. The thought of her husband in a one-piece strikes her as funny; her mind is drawing the picture vividly. He was, for sure, a mama's boy. He still is.

It's cute, the way he kisses her aged picture when he thinks YN can't see him, or the way he buys the rose female perfume nobody ever uses—its smell still lingers in the air every time the maids change the sheets. The only woman who can truly love is a mother, he told her one day. The only woman he thought was deserving of loving back.

YN watches as he approaches the group of men with confident steps. The people are right, the way is wrong—if it were that easy to fit in their circle, it wouldn't be as important. Just like she predicted, he is quickly cast aside to the benches of dialogue; the tall figure of her husband lingers silently, waiting for the right moment to strike.

It's entertaining to see him slowly boil, which goes unnoticed by everybody else in the hall. YN observed him for years to crack his facade as swiftly as she does now. A few moments, and he will decide to walk away, unable to swallow his pride back anymore, and there will be no chance of meeting the people he desperately needs.

''Excuse me for a moment,'' YN smiles at the women beside her, placing her glass on the gilded trail. They are good people—sure, some a little less bright and some a little less assertive as she is, but still, most of the information she finds useful comes from them—silent furniture, as they often joke. They are noticed no more than vases in the corners of their grand mansions; just like their houses, their husbands come in different shapes, and just like houses, the inside is always the same. Empty.

''Good evening, gentleman!'' she chirps, putting on one of her many expressions. She never felt bad about changing her face to fit the situation better; after all, they were all just different versions of her. ''I believe you already met my husband.'' YN delicately diverts her gaze from the black mass of suits to her husband's face, sending a loving smile his way.

The men are smitten, as usual. Who could've thought the young lad was the owner of this house? YN doesn't pay them much attention; they are never the driving force behind connections. Instead, she turns to the only woman in the bleak company.

''Missis Nej, what a lovely broch! You have to tell me where you got it; the details are incredible!''

It was true—YN sees no point in lying about liking something when the compliment is right there—a beautiful dove broch with sparkly gems instead of eyes, placed on a delicate lace.

The woman's face lights up at her words. ''I made the design myself, and then my seamstress pulled it together. I am glad you like it—isn't the stitching so fine?''

''It is! I wish I was as creative as you are; my imagination is only enough for the table centerpieces.''

''You know what? I have many other drafts at home; why don't you and your husband stop by for tea for a few hours? To see if my seamstress could come up with something for you?''

''Oh, that would be absolutely wonderful! What do you think, Coriolanus?''

What can he think? Her husband is happy things are going his way, of course, but there is something else in his gaze that makes YN's heart skip a beat. Suspicion. The only thing she should be scared of was her husband's mind—the deadliest of the weapons, his paranoia. It, like a vicious exotic, has to be put away from his reach; it sinks its teeth in everything Coriolanus feeds to it, and if he does not, turns onto him.

He smiles and nods, wrapping his hand around her bare shoulders. YN thinks she ought to be more careful; it was her job to keep him on a leash, like a beat she signed to care for. Whose fault would it be if the wild thing did what wild things do—bite?

-

He almost doesn't have any opponents left. Those who dared not to support the young candidate from the party were quickly silenced, and those who tried to get their hands on Snow's place were eliminated. What was better was that nothing could be traced back to the blonde male in a red suit. YN didn't worry about that.

She had to work overtime to make sure their paths didn't cross. Coriolanus never told her his plans so she could build hers. Oh, no. She had to scurry, like a rat, searching for his ideas to make sure they didn't clash with hers because, just like her mother told her, you can't put on everything best at once.

That's why YN sits in the dim, foul-smelling room on the outcast of the city during what was supposed to be a lunch hour. She almost laughs at the thought of her Coriolanus finding out where his wife spent this afternoon— in a brothel, in clothes that weren't even hers, without her usual jewellery and signature scent.

The door to the room opens quickly, but YN doesn't even bother looking in its direction. She knew what she was going to see there, so why bother?

''YN,'' the man in his forties breathes out, ''you came.''

Jerome. A tailored suit of dark brown, matching his hair. Wealthy, pretty enough, and damn stubborn. One of the few who refused to step down in elections, one of the few who still had a huge chance at winning them.

''Of course, I did—how could I not?'' She sheds a tear, breathing in his scent and hiding her face in his lean chest. ''I missed you, J; I missed you so much.''

They used to fuck before she married Coriolanus, ever since she turned eighteen. He even wanted to marry her for some time before she married Snow. YN was quite popular with the suitors; her husband was a fool for thinking other men didn't notice her. They did.

Jerome crushes her lips with his, leaving no time for talking. He was a serious man—a tough man, even—the type to endure the hardships of life without complaining. He is the type to get what he wants, no matter the obstacles. YN thinks he could've been on top instead of her dear husband if she only chose to marry him, but Jerome is too human for her. He is a man, a man who takes pleasure in her, and YN can't stand it. She likes her lovers without weaknesses, and Jerome isn't like that.

When an hour passes, YN thinks it is time to return home; she kisses Jerome goodbye one last time and waits for him to exit the room as quickly as he enters. That's the agreement: he pays for the room under his name; he deals with hosts and room service. YN just has to be, and he is happy with that.

She waits exactly fifteen minutes before she picks up her coat from the floor and puts it on—fifteen minutes is what was needed for a junkie she hired to stab Jerome in the ally seven times—for every year of their age gap when he first kissed her at her birthday party. Symbolic: She pays attention to the details, not only on her high-end dresses. YN imagines the headlines in the papers tomorrow morning: a respected politician found dead near the whorehouse. A death fit for a pig.

She leaves the building in a good mood—one more step to being the first lady of Panem—and she still has an hour before Coriolanus returns home. YN has everything in check, down to the smallest gist, except for the blonde man in the telephone booth across the street.

-

Coriolanus is mad. Another man, behind his back, even if for the sole purpose of eliminating him. He doesn't like that YN makes arrangements when it is he who is the man of the house, the driving force behind the successes. She forgot her place, and if he has to remind her, he will. Coriolanus always liked YN better with her mouth shut.

''How are things at work?'' YN asks, twirling in front of the mirror in their bedroom. It's like she doesn't notice his annoyed stare or his jealous eyes following her every move.

Coriolanus doesn't answer. He pulls her closer and takes off her robe in one swift motion. It falls on the floor, light blue fabric pooling around his feet. He searches for something—anything—to indicate another man's presence near her body or in it. Nothing—her skin glows under the faint light of lamps, free of any marks or scratches.

Coriolanus sighed with relief, his hands letting go of YN's hips. She looks at him, confused.

''Is there anything wrong? Why did you stop?''

He wants to slap her. To make her apologize, to make her beg for his forgiveness. But something in her deep eyes and painted lips makes his head cloud, stirring around a familiar mix of emotions. Anger. Lust. Fear. Maybe she was the death herself—he wouldn't know. The way YN laughed as he kissed her exposed skin, pressing a little too hard for it to be enjoyable, made blood rush to his body. ''Tell me,'' Coriolanus whispers in her ear. "Have you ever killed?"

YN grins, holding his reddened face in her hands. ''No, never.''

Coriolanus chuckles softly, diverting his gaze to her chest. A lie.

He turns her around, pushing her body on the bed before getting on his knees. That was the night he knew she had to die.

-

It wasn't hard to make her fall in love with him. Flowers on the doorstep of the mansion just in time for her to leave the house, along with a handwritten note declaring his undying affection. Make her less alert; make her more vulnerable. YN gave him the key to her demise easily��it was always him.

Coriolanus was good at ensuring everyone benefited him, and his wife did nothing better than play right into his hands. YN willingly planned her own funeral with her every move—she knew too much about his secrets and had become a liability. If only she knew better than to play with fire, she might have stood a chance.

It's a shame, really, to kill her so soon. He was almost enjoying her—the way she trembled under his touch, the way she whispered his name in ecstasy. But that was the way of the world. There could be only one winner, and Coriolanus knew better than to believe his wife when she promised to always be loyal. If your dog bites you, someone else is feeding it.

''New wine?'' YN motions to the tall bottle on the table as they eat dinner. ''Is this the one from the Darians?''

Coriolanus shakes his head. Darians. It was like fate was testing his patience, as if one headache wasn't enough. The only one of his possible opponents in the upcoming elections held a good amount of votes, mainly because of his recognizable name. The Darians were wine magnates, with at least forty vineyards under their name. Of course, they gifted wine bottles for holidays, and of course, it was nothing but a slap in the face—Coriolanus could very much afford to buy his own bottles.

''I bought this one yesterday. Would you like a glass?'' he pours before YN has time to agree; the dark red liquor fills their glasses, turning the transparent walls slightly pink. Coriolanus watches as his wife takes a big sip, surprise evident on her face.

''It's sweet,'' she announces but quickly corrects herself. ''But it is good. Unusual, but quite nice.''

''Really?'' He acts surprised and takes a small sip, not to raise any suspicion. ''It indeed is.''

They continue their dinner as usual, with occasional remarks here and there. Everything goes according to plan, with YN drinking from her glass more than twice more. Until it doesn't.

Fifty-five minutes.

This is how long he has before the poison kills him. Given that YN weighs less and consumes more, she should start to portray the first symptoms. She doesn't.

Twenty minutes pass, and Coriolanus feels a slight nausea. Twenty-five—his head starts lightly spinning. He watches his wife put down a fork and stare at the sky through the open window. If she faints now, he would still have time to drink the antidote, but she doesn't. Instead, she smiles at his wandering gaze and asks for dessert.

When thirty minutes pass, Coriolanus feels a stream of blood travels down his chin onto the freshly washed shirt. He can't keep himself on the chair, sliding down from it on the carpeted floor. The surrounding furniture stands as if in a haze, and the only thing he can make out is the nearing steps of the heeled feet.

YN says something, kneeling beside him and putting his head on her lap, although he can't understand the word she utters. It hits him like a brick wall—the smell of roses radiating from her, the same perfume his mother wore. Her hands, although adorned with more rings than his mother could've possibly owned, are just as gentle when they touch his forehead.

''I'm sorry,'' he tries to choke out, but all that comes out of his mouth is hot, thick blood.

-

When Coriolanus wakes up in the hospital, he is frantic. The only thing he was familiar with was the only thing he tried so hard to escape. Fear. It spreads through his body, paralyzing his limbs in the white room of a singular bed. It chocks him, tugging the strings in his throat to leave hot, burning holes each time he swallows. It burns, and bites, and twists in his stomach; if he survives, YN will get her revenge.

That's why she kept him alive—to taunt and mock. He lost, once and for all, and got himself into a corner with no escape. There is no point in begging, no point in lying—his wife knows everything he did, and she won't hesitate to let the whole country know. Outsmarted, outplayed. Alone.

His eyes wander across the room in a last resort—he will take his own life, and she will have no power in making him a laughing stock. But the hospital room is empty; the only thing besides a small coffee table and bed is a pile of newspapers. Coriolanus stands up and almost falls in an attempt to reach them, yet manages to grab one. Just like he predicted, on the front page of it is the perfectly painted face of his wife; the beauty of it is disturbed only by a single tear rolling down her cheek.

POISONING ATTEMPT ON A FAMOUS POLITICIAN 

Three days ago, an attempted poisoning took place in the Snow's family's mansion. Our correspondent was lucky enough to ask a few questions to YN Snow, the wife of the victim.

''Tell me, Miss Snow, why do you think you and your husband were the targets of this crime?''

''I think it is rather obvious that motive was political; we all know that my husband posed a serious threat to Ethan Darius because he was estimated to win instead of him. That's why he decided to kill him in that dirty way, like a snake, with poison, instead of losing to him in a fair competition like any gentleman would!''

''And do you think there are any correlations between Mister Darius and a string of suspicious murders of civilians and people higher in power?''

''As far as my knowledge goes, the court is still deciding on the matter, but one thing I know for sure: if Ethan Darius went as far as to try to kill his opponent, what indicates he wouldn't have done the same with others? ''

''People of Panem were moved by the love you and your husband seem to hold for each other ever since your wedding, but the way you fight for justice made many wonder - will we see you as a first lady of Panem soon?''

''I just do what any person would—it is my duty as a wife and as a citizen to advocate for those who were wronged. As for your question, I do think this happening only solidified that our country and political scene need change. And change is what my husband stands for.''

''And lastly, is there anything you wish you could say to your husband right now?''

''I would want to remind him of a simple truth:  the one who is more afraid always strikes first. Thank you.''

Coriolanus didn't need to read anymore. YN made sure she wasn't going anywhere if he did something like that in the future—the public loved her before, but now they will go crazy. But that didn't bother him too much; on the contrary, he was rather impressed. Coriolanus felt fear leave his body with every breath. His place took something else, something he couldn't quite name yet—the feeling of stillness in his stomach. He wondered if that's what fullness felt like. A sweet, honey-like sensation in his veins.

-

The hall of the president's house is filled with what seems to be hundreds of people. Tables are overflowing with the most exquisite dishes, and laughter fills the air.

''Corio, look! The kids are dressed as little snowflakes—for us! Oh, isn't it so cute?'' YN coes, motioning at the girls-ballerinas in white tutus. They twirl on the stage, their movements mimicking the ones of snow falling outside.

He doesn't care if they are dressed as giant cockroaches, but he still nods in agreement. Coriolanus watches as YN steals one white rose from the piles decorating the balcony and throws it on stage, laughing in delight when girls start to argue over it.

There are flashes of cameras capturing every interaction between them; he knows that, so he places his hand on the back of the chair YN sits on. She looks as beautiful as always, perfect from every angle. His wife might be poison, dangerous, and lethal, but he is the one who knows that, when handled with care, it brings much more benefits to its owner than any other weapon.

Coriolanus already envisions their photo as the headline tomorrow morning—beside them, the big, bold letters.

Panem today.

He feels YN place a kiss on his cheek, staining it a little with her red lipstick.

Panem tomorrow.

Coriolanus smiles and brings her closer, whispering a compliment in her ear. 

Panem forever.

The hall erupts with applause and cheers, some even going as far as shouting words of admiration for the new president and his wife. 

They are the guard dogs, and they are the house dogs guard. And, until the last brick of it is there, they will bite. 

tag list (do tell me if I'm doing it wrong) @aemondsb1tch @cecekcecekceckceckceck @queenofshinigamis @julesandro

[blingblong55]

Now that we don't talk- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

A/N: funny enough...these two drivers are no longer with the girls in these pictures. also, this is not me telling you how reader looks like

--- F!Reader, angst, established!relationship, F1 au, F1 driver!Simon, cheating ---

A/N: watched the Las Vagas shit show of a race and then got inspired....so here's this shit mess of a fic

He was the guy every girl wanted, from the teens to the older women, yet he held your hand on the red carpet at that award show. He kissed you in yachts and danced with you in galas and ballrooms. Paraded your name when he won races. You were everywhere, from tea pages, to fan-made edits and now you're here, stuck in a hotel room, waiting for him. For the past seven months, he's kept you hidden, like you were some kind of repunzel. Never to be let out of the tower unless it was by him. He had what every driver and fan wanted in their lives, fame, wealth, social status, a gorgeous and supportive girlfriend and the way he was the best at his job. 

They always say to look for the smallest of clues, that's why, all the tabloids talked about how he 'had it all'. Now, he took out the girlfriend part and added Playboy to the list. 

Three months before you and him announced your split, he sat down with you. Told you all the truths he kept from you. Your tears well up in that pretty face of yours. "I started to see other women, that was nine months ago, in Spain, that's why I told you to stay at the hotel," his eyes too teared up. It took a lot to not slap him, scream and yell at him for being such a man slut, but you needed to hear it, needed to know the truth before the internet did. He took a deep breath, "I...there's been at least ten different women, I've slept with more but...only those ten did I take to race weekends instead of you." His eyes, full of regret look at you. "When did you stop loving me?" Your question caught him off guard. "I...I think it was a year ago but I thought it was me being anxious over that whole contract thing and having to move and...I'm sorry, I shouldn't make excuses for my actions," he looks down. 

You nod, not daring to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry, R/N," his voice small. "No, I'm sorry," you respond and he looks at you confused. "What do you mean by that?" He questions you. "I'm sorry for falling in love, for being a fool and seeing myself with you for the rest of my life. I'm sorry for trusting you were sleeping alone when I wasn't there...I'm sorry I wasn't enough to make you stay...or to be patient enough and end it like a real man would," you play with your phone's edge. You look at him, finally. "Why did you keep me hidden?" He shakes his head at that question. "The times you were there, the other women were there too," he confesses and your heart stops. "...oh," your voice is small, so soft and filled with so much woe. 

"I...I guess I should go," You stand up. "I'm sorry I wasn't what you deserved, I hope you find a man who treats you like you are the universe to him, I hope he kisses you in public and I wish you happiness, I'm sorry." He stands up too and walks you to the door. 

A month later, you and him confirmed the rumour. "Formula 1 driver Simon Riley and long-time girlfriend [R/N], have announced their split on a joint social media statement." The article read. Your phone is on silent as you reread the message you put out to the world. "To the fans, it is time we confirm that we are no longer together. We have grown apart and it's time we grow up and move on to new parts of our lives. We will always love each other, together or not but our relationship has run its course. All our gratitude for the six years of acceptance, Simon and [R/N]." Your eyes glistened with sorrow as you shook your head. 

For days, you stayed indoors. Cried, looked through memories, private ones the world never saw. What did he do? He was photographed in clubs, hand on a woman's waist, drunk kisses, alcohol, tight dresses and that new title, "F1's playboy." He kept winning, getting more fame and having his name all over the world. Meanwhile, you walk the streets alone. You were there for when he was accepted in F3 and when he moved to F2, even were the shoulder he leaned on all the years he waited to become an F1 driver.  

His bed was never the same, neither was his flat. It was no longer cosy, no longer comforting after a bad or long day. His bed missed the warmth of it. His lips missed the consistent pecks after he gave you a pouty lip when you denied staying up late on race day. What did he miss the most? You, all of you and that was soon to be shown. That Playboy facade was for show, inside, all he wanted was to stop being seen with so many women. He wanted one and quickly, his team noticed. He stopped showing up at parties, and clubs and stopped talking to all the women who weren't there for official business or if they weren't a fan who asked for an autograph or picture. 

That mask only stayed on for eight months, thirteen days and four hours. He stopped showing off his wealth, dressed in only team attire, comfy clothes, or in suits and ties. His bed was empty most nights, his right cheek was no longer stained with the red lipstick you left at every little accomplishment he made. He fixed his image and unfollowed any woman who wasn't important in his career, except one, you. 

And as he did this, all you saw were the old tabloids. Him all over women. You dated off the light the media gave you, you kept your nights away from sight, fixed and resolved all your problems and then, by some cruel mistake, you saw him. Jogging by your place. For some twisted way, your heartbeat fastened. It brought you back to when you'd time him before the season started. That's where the kiss on the right cheek came from. A towel-dried that side of his face, just so you could kiss it. This happened all through your relationship. And, on some Wednesday, a friend invited you to attend the last race of the season. 

You attended, not just because of the invite but because it was a promise. "When I win most if not all races I want you to go, be waiting for me, look up to the podium because my love, that entire season will be yours," he, one night whispered to you. And there you were, in that garage, wearing a hat, his number on it as you watched the qualification. The cameras awaited to capture you and him kissing, but none of that happened, not even a glance from you to him. 

"Riley takes pole, all eyes on him to see if he breaks yet another record," the commentator said. And as he sat there, he thought of you. The good luck kiss, the pat on his helmet before any race. And holding hands when walking to the paddock. It was a ritual, something he held holy to him. If only he could prove he is the man you now deserve if he could get out of his car, run to you and confess a speech he memorised. The one that said all the truth, the one in which he tells you that just in your first year being together, he had a ring picked out, the same one he kept in every coat for when the time was right. And there was that mistake, one fatal one that cost him his Mrs. Riley. Every single second was the right time, every stare, every kiss, every laugh, the whispers, the running from the cameras, it was always you, it was always the right time when with you. 

Simon Riley, world champion, world record breaker, the man every driver wants to be this year, now claiming every single race of that season as he walked to that podium. And, in a crowd of friends, teammates, fans and cameras, he looked for you. National anthems played and as he was about to lose hope, he saw you there, the spot he told you to stand in for when the day came. You look up, and the cameras pan to you and him. That stare, oh that stare that spoke the romance no other book or poet could explain. His smile widened, gaze softened when he noticed you cried. Proud of the man who made his dreams come true. 

Maybe you weren't there for all the days he drove but that engagement ring, that symbolised you, was there for all of them. You give him a nod and his smile widens.

"I'll do it, I swear one day, I'll be added to the list of legends who came before me and when I do, I need you there, my love," he kissed you. "And when I do, you nod at me, that's how I'll know you are proud of me," he whispered. 

As the night came to an end, the photos, flashes, and signatures, all rushed to come and find you. He needed his right cheek kissed and maybe this time it wouldn't be his lips but to just feel you next to him, that fed him enough. He spotted you and as he ran to you, he stopped in his tracks. 

One month, two days and three hours. That is how late he was to you. His gaze was now filled with tears as he saw you hold another hand. A woman, looking for nothing but sex approached him and he declined. "Why not?" She questioned him. "I have a fiancé," he said coldly and moved away from her. He looked down, at a paper, written by his poetic hand, a small box, made by him with the help of some carpenter, all gripped as he swore he would not give up. Not ever, especially when he knows that in this life, he was meant for one woman. Maybe he did fuck up, maybe he will be forever alone but to know that for one second he held you in his arms, that was enough. 

He nodded and sighed, "Is it over now?" he thought. "No," your heart would've responded for you. As he turns and walks away, you look back and you notice that box. Your heart...oh that tingle that makes you feel alive. Maybe it was all in his head, maybe he wasn't late...maybe. "Simon!" you called out, the crowd too loud for him to hear you. Your friend lets go of your hand. "Simon!" you move through the crowds. "Simon, stop!" You push and run. Adrenaline, maybe not like the one he has after every race but it's still something. He walks away, getting into a car and looking at that piece of paper. 

No one heard of him for months. No one heard of you for months. 

My love, my R/N, I made a mistake. Not cheating but one that is worse, pretending I didn't call you my wife to everyone else. A vow I made in my head, a wedding night I planned one night as we made love. Truth is, no, I didn't cheat. No, I didn't sleep with anyone when I was with you. What happened was, I noticed it. I noticed how you paused your life for mine, how you took care of me, how you made sure I ate healthy, slept enough, and got used to different time zones, all whilst giving your life no attention. I was 17 when we first met, you and I, an accidental 'Hi' one that gave me the privilege of falling in love with the woman who knows me better than anyone else. I've known you for a decade now, loved you for nine of those years, and made you my girlfriend for five of them. I wore that title with pride. By the way, didn't you ever question why everyone called you my wife or Mrs. Riley? Funny how you didn't even ask me about it. I admit, I was only at those clubs looking for you, I didn't drink but pretended to, I kissed their cheeks, made it look like I kissed their lips. In my head, I was married. I am married. Called you my little wife when you patted my helmet to the mechanics, they laughed. I did sleep with other women, I confess to that but I didn't kiss them, didn't care for their pleasure, not when I promised it was your pleasure...just yours that mattered to me. Did you keep my locket? I hope you did, if not...it's fine, we'll find a new one and start fresh. I know you are wondering, why I can't let you talk as I give this speech and I know you are crying, your lips quiver as I confess. It's a reason why I haven't looked up from this piece of paper. I can't see you cry, you know that. I am begging, begging as an imbecile, to have you again. To prove that I never cheated, I lied about doing it but never did. You'd think I'd be crazy to cheat on a crazy girl like you? Baby, that was a joke, although...you are a little crazy but I still love you. I love you...yeah...yeah, I do. I know you are asking, when will this stupid man stop talking and it's now. Well, wait...just let me say this. Marry me, marry me so I don't have to pretend anymore. So...please, be kind to my bastard heart and marry me.

A/N: you know well a Kasper fic isn't a Kasper angst fic if it doesn't end in a 'but are they together? did he die? did she die?' way

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[sukunasweetheart]

the urge to throw trueform sukuna into the shoujo manga genre....

(fem!reader, sexual undertones towards the end)

it would be so funny yet so beautiful...i also think he would look so great in that flowery, feminine kind of artstyle <3-

in terms of cliche shoujo love interest, he's a lonely immortal god who is against everything that supports the notion of love... until he experiences what true love is like, for himself. you're his little servant toy that he mingles with for some time, until he realises something's wrong with his heart...

i love him for what he is, but wouldnt it also be lovely to see him in a softhearted story?? the almighty and powerful, but grows weak in the knees all because of one woman!

one day, imagine if he, the most renowned selfish man, with complete disregard for others, who had always valued himself vastly more than anyone else, comes to a point where he sees you in the way of an unstoppable attack from the wrath of an enemy, and rushes in to tank the would-have-been-fatal strike in your stead...

it happened in an instant. he didnt even realise he was moving until he had already been hit. he's bleeding for the first time in a thousand years. he's hit, and it should hurt, it should feel unpleasant, because he certainly wasnt planning to be hit, nor did he engage in this fight for his own pleasure, but for your protection.

yet, he feels relieved. you're tucked behind him safely, looking up at him with worried eyes, and he feels relieved, all because a weakling like you is alive.

after he sends you away to uraume (who gives you the stink eye), he promptly kills the opponent but becomes a little weakened temporarily afterwards as a result of the powerful attack

he's absolutely grumpy about having to be bedridden for a few days for recovery, often stares down at you with unreadable eyes, like he's in deep contemplation about his own feelings

oh fuck me, he thinks, when he finds himself wanting to comfort you as you're in tears over him, even though he's the one that's hurt.

its a confusing sensation, feeling like shit but also not hating everything about being in the centre of your concerns. look at you, feeling so guilty, so worried sick, fussing over him. as you should. he mulls over the incident where he uncharacteristically jumped in to protect you... but he's not one to over complicate things for too long. he'll just continue to do as he pleases, just like before. and if that involves showing you some affection, kissing you, holding your hand, shielding you from his woes... then so be it. if he's the strongest, if he's a god, shouldn't he also be able to save such a frail thing as you?

he orders for your presence in his bed to keep him entertained, but he doesn't even say a word when you're there laying next to him, he's only just staring at you and giving curt touches, like your body is a plaything to him. maybe palms your thighs and breasts, but it doesn't feel sexual at all.

"it's not so bad, having you in my debt," he suddenly says, as sukuna plays around with a lock of your hair. these new feelings he harbors, intrigues him just as much as they irritate him.

"i do owe you my life..." you tell him in response.

"so you're aware. and? what will you do about it?" he asks you.

"i'm not sure, my lord... what would you like me to do?"

"how sly of you, turning the question back onto me."

he thinks about it for a moment.

"well, i suppose there's nothing you could offer me but yourself," he says as he slowly undoes your robe, the other free hand grabbing your face.

"...and your everlasting devotion, to me."

as he's about to sit up to continue, your tiny hand pushes against his chest in resistance.

"you mustn't exert yourself, your wounds are still healing, my lord," you protest, much to his annoyance.

"cease your fretting. movement of this degree isn't enough to hurt me," sukuna sighs, grabbing your wrist and pinning it down against the sheets.

"i... i can do the moving," you tell him with determination, which earns you can amused smile.

"...oh? now that's certainly worth considering," he says, slowly letting go of you.

you carefully get up to straddle the larger man, sitting yourself down on his hips.

"alright then, my brave little devotee. entrance me."

and you do just that for him, all throughout the night. (it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wont be the last)

sukuna learns all about how some fragile things are worth keeping around.

at first, the relationship revolves solely around his own pleasure and satisfaction. but as the ice begins to melt, he sinks into a trap in which he's seeking more and more to keep your own happiness and your beautiful smile in place. he begins to hurt when you're hurting. it was exactly as he feared - his life becoming molded around one singular person who's somehow crawled their way into his heart-- his heart that should've been sealed tight.

at times, when his teasing goes too far, and your bright expressions dissolve into sorrow, his own mood drops considerably and there comes seeping in a crushing feeling in his chest.

he lifts your face up by the chin and says; "i'm only joking. don't make such a pitiful face."

but when he realises that you were merely feigning your hurt, giving him a little cheeky grin, he flies into a quick, but playful anger.

"you little minx. i've spoiled you a little too much haven't i? you're getting ahead of yourself."

he proceeds to lift you up into his arms, an extra hand keeping your wrists together, as he aims to litter his bite marks down your neck and shoulder.

"aah! forgive me, my lord!" you exclaim, writhing around in his tight grip.

but there's an audible giggle in your voice.

Masterlist

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