#seeing all these titles brings back memories

[alexiroflife]

"in every life"

curse reincarnation, fluff

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: you, a former sorcerer and sukuna's wife, are killed in the heian era. sukuna does not believe in a life without you, so he takes it upon himself to bring you back a thousand years later

to sum it up: you are sukuna's life, and no matter how long he has to wait, he will bring you back to him by any means necessary

WC: 3,621

Warning(s): angst in the beginning, reader death (but you're revived), brief icky descriptions of a vessel's possession

-> ask | sukuna fic list

Sukuna remembers the exact moment you left him, soul fluttering almost gracefully from your eyes as your body fell limply into his four arms.

The moment replays in his mind as though it had only happened yesterday, or perhaps as recently as a few hours prior. Time has never been something the king of curses worried himself over, for his strength and existence exceeded such mortal constructs, but when his thoughts wander to you as frequently as air fills and deflates from his lungs, the very concept grows skewed and suddenly, time is a matter of great importance to him.

A king is nothing without his queen beside him, his rock, his partner, and that is what you are. That is what you were, but Sukuna refuses to address you in any form of past tense because your temporary withdrawal from the planet and from his side would never alter the fact that you are his, that you have been his, and that you will be his until the end of time. 

Sukuna has never been one for romantics, for connections that tie his free spirit down from the unfettered, terrifying rule that he leads, but when you entered his life, his opinions shifted and his ambitions changed, making room for you at his side upon his throne. 

The two of you had been married for years before you left him. Sukuna had never bothered to count, but now he finds himself mulling over the years’ contents in search of a piece of your memory that can stay with him until the time comes for you to return to his hand. 

When you were alive, Sukuna never fathomed you leaving his side. He almost feels he should punish you for so abruptly taking an absence from him without permission, castigating your spirit until he feels that the space you once occupied close to him emanates remnants of an apology, of guilt, of a promise to never do such a foolish thing ever again. 

When you were alive, you were a sight to behold, a perfect fit for the title of his wife. You were deserving of each and every privilege he bestowed upon you; of holding his face in your small, dainty hands, of pressing your lips to the textured plate of his face, of throwing your legs over his thighs as you settle onto his lap with a large, burly arm coming around you and securing you there for all of his servants and former concubines to see how high you sit amongst him and how low they remain beneath the two of you. 

You always said what you were thinking. While he ensured that everyone within and outside of his temple feared him, you were always unaffected by his intimidating presence. He remembers one instance in which you were lying beneath him, a mess of silk fabrics swarming your bare figure over your reserved place in his bed with your hair splayed out messily over the pillows and your eyes weighted with a foolish look of what he could only describe as enchantment and tender allegiance.

He feels the ghost of your fingers trace his jaw as he looks down at you quietly, dwarfing you in his mass. A smile touches your soft lips with a rosy hue swirling over your (s/c) skin. 

“Your eyes are quite beautiful.”

Your voice is a whisper of past enamorations through Sukuna’s ear as his brows arch in reminiscence. He remembers how he glared at you in confusion, face hard though he always allowed you to continue admiring him, to continue touching him without consequence. His eyes, which mirror the color of fresh, crimson blood as he has watched it gurgle from the mouths and limbs of his victims, staining the streets, his hands, and his monstrous legacy, are windows you believe to be… beautiful.

Your sentiments never failed to befuddle him. He never did understand why you associated such a ferocious beast with beliefs so light and pure. He is not beautiful, he had thought. He never desired to be beautiful. He is simply Ryoman Sukuna, enough of himself to be categorized in unique isolation, separate from your labels of aesthetic charm and peace. 

You’re silly. Silly with love and submission, he thinks, but he has never denied you of these admirations though he fails to agree. 

Besides, you are his wife. He would have allowed you to worship him in any way you pleased if you asked, and in truth, you hardly did ask. You knew what you were to Sukuna, how you and only you remained the only soft spot that the salmon haired demon withheld in his breast. You were beyond requesting approval to love him in the ways you saw fit, and Sukuna was pleased because you knew, in all spaces, that you were his and he was yours. 

Among all the trophies of battles won, of cities conquered, of titles obtained, you are Sukuna’s greatest prize. 

His love for you was always silent, long glances and grips of the waist, orders to slaughter on your behalf and the pat of his hand over his beefy thigh to beckon you over. His love was an unrestrained space for you to express your desires, to demand his attention, and his compliance with a veil of frustration poorly masking his easy willingness to give you anything you pleased. His love was long, sleepless nights, the marking of his territory by means of stinging bites and purple bruises over your smooth skin that no living being in his wake could mistake for anything but a reminder of your connection to him. 

His love was you incarnate, just a woman before hell’s greatest crown, but his love no less. His wife. His queen. His eternity.

Sukuna does not know why he mourned you when you died. He found himself reacting impulsively, in a short-lived panic when your blood spilled over his skin and your eyes lost the light that he’d been following through the tunnel of his rein for years. 

He knows death is a taboo concern only for mortals to fret over, but when you die, he feels as though he has died himself. Your life flashes before his eyes, your time with him, and this strange ache swarms his body and manifests as a ball in his throat as his ruby hues melt over you in alarm. 

He struggles to accept your parting. He’s viciously angry, a horrible wreck that his servants fear stepping too close into proximity as the time passes and your vacancy weighs itself over his temple and his body like a mountain. He had believed your death to be painful, but the period that follows, the period of waiting stings him like no pain he has endured before. 

A king needs his queen, and without you, no matter for how long, he feels empty. He rampages his heartache away, but it no longer holds the satisfaction it did when you were with him, watching from the sidelines and cheering him on. His estate feels colder somehow, the dent you’ve left in his bed losing its shape and the memory of you fading from others’ minds, but not from his. Never from his. 

Sukuna knows that he will see you again. In any era, no matter how much farther into the future, he will find you once more, bring you back to his embrace, and dust off the crown that he has reserved for your pretty head alone. 

He holds onto a piece of you, storing it safely, awaiting the time to revive you even within his own cursed slumber after having sealed himself for a millenia, severing parts of him and scattering it over the country.

You, however, remain stowed safely in one place. A place he will remember to return to when he reawakens in rebirthed flesh.

Now, a millenia following your untimely death, Sukuna stares emptily at the woman before him, curling and tossing around with bound wrists and ankles at his feet.

She’s crying, screams of horror rising into the starry sky as Sukuna’s eyes glint menacingly beneath the moonlight. He watches her carefully, curling his lips. He looks at this pest, this fragile, forgettable mortal woman and sees everything that you are not. For a moment, he hesitates, his fingers clutching over the ancient parchment wrapped object he holds protectively within his grasp at his side. 

His brows draw together in frustration induced by your vessel. He knows he picked wisely, however, he can not deny the hesitation that captures his mind when he contemplates whether this vessel will do your worth justice. Whether it will truly bring you back the way he plans for you to be. 

He holds up the object in his hand, your energy emitting from behind the paper and through his veins, easing into his blackened soul. You are practically calling to him, holding his hand, murmuring into his ear that it will be okay. 

Sukuna is reminded then and there solely by the spirit of you that nothing in this world could even begin to dwindle the brilliance in which you shine, that even within the body of a bird or a squirrel, your essence would burst through. You will reincarnate wholly as how you left him, and as nothing less. 

With a heavy exhale through his nose, Sukuna unravels the object, tossing the parchment to the ground, and takes a step forward to approach the young woman squirming in the grass before him. He walks over her, feet planted on either side of her figure, and bends down. Her eyes go white with terror as snot and tears dribbles over her nose and down her cheek. Sukuna looks into her coldly, grasping a hand over her face and digging his black nails into her jaw. 

She shudders an agonizing, shrill screech that is soon muffled by the manner in which Sukuna squeezes her cheeks inward and forcefully pries her mouth open. 

With a steely, disconnected glare, Sukuna takes the object imbued with your cursed energy, your ring finger. He pulls your wedding band from the decrepit digit and pushes it to the woman’s lips. Her eyes go wide as she chokes over her jaw’s lack of mobility, and the taste of something foreign and timeworn on her tongue. Her stuttered, whimpering gasps release and she gargles once Sukuna pushes the object down her throat. He slaps his hand back over her mouth as it slides down her throat and she twitches uncontrollably, eyes cracking with red veins. 

The king of curses holds her still as her body flops wildly, her chest lurching forward and limbs flying about. Her body can not handle the intrusion of a thousand year old sorcerer’s influence, so it fails. Her eyes roll into her skull and her fingers twitch once her limbs have stilled in the grass. A symphony of crickets chirping lifts into Sukuna’s ears as the woman beneath him goes completely silent, dead, still.

He waits. After a millennia of existence confined to cursed flesh, after years of the cold left in your wake nipped at his skin, after battling bodies for dominance over a vessel, he waits just a few seconds more for you.

After it seems as though he has lost you for a second time, the body’s eyes flicker. Sukuna stills above you, pupils shrunken in anticipation.

Movement shifts beneath him. A chest rises, and breathing begins steadily through it. The color of this vessel’s skin shifts, transitioning slowly, milking into the hue of gentle (s/c) that Sukuna once caressed with his rough fingers. Color flushes through pale cheeks, and irises of (e/c) roll back from the skull and stare widely ahead, directly into Sukuna’s gaze. Finally, your voice comes, a gentle hum of confusion and discomfort as you regain your lost senses.

Sukuna’s heart skips as the familiar warmth of your body emanates from beneath him again, and his hand is slowly sliding from your parted lips. He feels as though he’s just run a marathon despite his inability to wind himself. He breathes out heavily, gradually, and silence envelopes the two of you in the darkness of the late night. 

While Sukuna had planned this from the very moment you went dead in his hands, he feels somehow starstruck by you. You look as beautiful as you were centuries in the past, skin smooth, brows curled, lips soft as though you had not been gone from his life for more than a brief second. You have returned to him as he had thoughtfully calculated, and yet, he can not fathom the fact that you are here at long last, mere centimeters away, manifested into truth by his graze of your chin. 

The muscles in your brows pull together in disbelief, glimmering eyes shining over as you take in the sight before you. The last thing you felt was a blade slicing into your heart and ripping down through your body, the last vision of Sukuna racing to throw you into him as your opponent met his end with the selective mutilation of his internal organs at your husband’s hard, feral, red glance.

You blink hurriedly, shooting a hand out to your husband’s bicep. “...Ryo?” you whisper in a trembling voice, knowing him by gaze and presence and touch alone. 

The said demon’s brows angle and his body lurches forward with a sharp exhale upon hearing your voice utter his name outside of the confines of his mind’s nostalgia and imagination. He is overcome by the return of you to him, eyes fiery with longing for his once lost love and shoulders aching as the weight that had been crushing down finally releases. The sensation of your fingers curling over his arm sends chills down his spine, for time has never altered Sukuna’s course of existence, but time tells in the way he physically shivers when your loving contact revives on his skin after having been stripped of him for what feels like eternity.

Tears pool in your eyes and your shaky hands raise to smooth over his face, exploring his marked skin and familiarizing yourself with the structure of the being you fell in love with many lifetimes ago. Sukuna’s brow flinches as you feel over his face, and his own palm cradles over your cheek, dwarfing your head in the fashion it always used to as the back of his fingers skim over your heated flesh. 

“Ryomen,” you say his name again, voice crumbling and your shoulders jerking in awe.

He trips down into you, hands clutching over your head as you guide his face down with his hasty movements. Your name tumbles hoarsely from his rumbling voice, against your lips, and slotting into your mind in a haze as his lips meet yours urgently. 

You cry gently into him, lips parting and pushing back in as he kisses you fervently, savoring you, burrowing you into his body’s memory to recover the time he has spent deprived of you. Your hands fly over his neck, down his back, detailing the ridges and the muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his shirt that you know so well. He presses himself down into you, pulling you in closer by your head, flushing your chests together to intertwine your souls once more. Heady grunts and growls heave into your mouth between frenzied, stunned, satisfied kisses, and each time a tear of yours catches into the liplock, Sukuna is pulling it into his lips, saltiness swirling through the sweet release of his misery. 

He’s missed you. So very much, he’s missed you. He doesn’t know how he has managed to go so long without you now that you are here again, now that he is holding you again, kissing you again. 

“My king,” you whimper when you get a chance to break away, foreheads bumping as Sukuna shushes you gently.

“Do not fret, peach,” he soothes you, lips brushing yours as his now loving gaze spills into your own. “You are alright.”

Despite Sukuna’s ruthlessness and his wild murderous expeditions, as well as his blood-curdling tone that further accentuates the weight of his threats when thrown into the direction of others, Sukuna melts into calmness for you, his low voice mellow and meditative, enraptured in the peace that you bring him. You know all sides of your dear husband, and yet this is the rawest side of him that you know, that he treats you with. 

“What happened?” you whisper as his hands run over you, catching your tears and tracing the curves of your flesh. “Where are we?”

“In the garden,” he answers you easily, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. 

“At… at home?” 

He hums in affirmation, leaning back just a bit to stare into you. The pairs of your eyes shine as they absorb the image of one another, still and sincere. Grass tickles your ears and your arms, and you look down, realizing that you are lying in a patch of greenery. You slowly tilt your head to the side, and Sukuna keeps his gaze glued to you like you will disappear before him. Your eyes capture the stems of daffodils and lavender that sprout around your head, pointing into the night sky and swaying gently in the warm breeze. You recognize the plants as the ones you had always taken to tending by the creek behind Sukuna’s temple, which he had the servants fashion as a suitable garden for you to indulge in. 

You do not recall being here last. You recall dying. You recall your world going dark.

You turn back to meet his heavy eyes. “What did you do?”

He is silent for a moment, taking his time to study you before answering as though the question is the simplest one he has ever been asked. “I have brought my queen back to me. As I have always sworn to do if we were ever separated.”

“...How long have we been separated?”

“It does not matter.”

“How long was I away from you, Ryo? How long did I leave you for?”

“It does not matter,” he reiterates gently yet ever so firmly. “Do not think of it.”

“Please-” you frown, eyes shining over again. “I hadn’t- I didn’t mean to leave you. I don’t know how I even let it happen… I can’t imagine what that must have gone through…”

Ryomen catches the guilt in your gorgeous eyes and he is quick to gather you up in his arms. He pulls you up slowly, keeping your eyes locked as you allow him to lift you from the ground with his arms wound tightly over your waist. Your hands go to Sukuna’s shoulders as he kneels over you, keeping you steady and upright, face to face, nose to nose, eye to eye. 

“I refuse to allow the first thing you do in reincarnated life to be reminding me of what life was like without you,,” he says. “I do not wish to revisit it. It does not matter,” he repeats for a third time. 

You tilt your head with the tug of your lips downward sadly, threading your hands through his pink locks and holding onto the nape of his neck. The moonlight milks over you regally, as though the stars have aligned for this very moment, to illuminate you both in the universe’s joyous eye. You swallow hard. “Am I a curse?”

“You are my wife. I will not tolerate you labeling yourself as anything different..”

You inhale deeply, bringing your forehead back to him and closing your eyes. His arms pull you in tight, rhythmic breaths easing you into this reality complacent, affectionately, lovingly. 

“I’m sorry I left you, my love,” you murmur.

Now that he’s heard you apologize, seen your remorse sparked by something out of your control, he doesn’t fare well with it. 

You are not a plague to him, a burden, and telling him that you are sorry in his mind now insinuates such. Even after leaving him, after stealing away his warmth, after haunting his slumber and his consciousness for eons, he does not fault you. He would never fault the woman he chose to keep by his side in wellness and in death. 

He does not accept your apology. You have done nothing but love him, yet Sukuna is the one who should have protected you. 

He runs a hand over the back of your head, down your hair, and exudes his message of impenetrable love to you through his embrace and sweltering red eyes. “All I ask of you is that you stay. In this era and the next. Stay by my side as you are meant to be.”

You nod eagerly against him. “I will,” you whisper. “I will, I promise.”

Sukuna reaches down at his side for the ring he had set down. With one hand to your back, he pulls your wedding band forward and presents it to your twinkling eye. You gasp. 

“You still have it,” you sigh.

“In what world would I not?” 

You bring your hand down, spreading your fingers, and you watch as the kind of curses slips the rusted treasure over your finger, fitting it perfectly into place with the renewal of your marriage and the reunion of your hearts.

You admire the way it looks upon your hand happily, and Sukuna drags you back into his lips, pecking you tenderly before moving back in with his hands firm to you. You shift further up so that his arms can completely take you in, heads bumping as your lips swim together in commemoration of a rebirth into a new life.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Would they or would they not catch you…

Dick: yes. 100% yes but he’s -no pun intended- a little bit of a teasing dick about it.

He will catch you but then act as though he’s going to drop you by loosening his grip, making you scream out of surprise and cling onto him tighter, all the while beaming that bright and beautiful smile of his as though he wasn’t about to willingly let you fall flat on your ass on multiple occasions.

‘I fucking hate you!’ You whined, smacking Dick on the bicep.

‘Oh do you now?’ Dick inquires as he slowly begins to losses his grip on you, smirking.

‘Did I say hate you? I meant love you, a lot! Please don’t drop me.’ You cried as you tightened your grip on his neck whilst struggling to keep your feet from touching the floor. ‘Awww I love you too gorgeous.’ Dick coos as he pressed kisses into your face as you could only glare at the cheeky bastard.

You hate him sometimes but you weren’t going to complain about the affection you were being given. So you guess you’ll suffer for now.

Side note: he might even try and see if you can catch him. 💀

Jason: He will catch you but makes it a big deal whenever he can. He loves holding you in his arms.

He could keep you in his arms forever if he could but knew that he can’t, so he settles for going about his day carrying you throughout the apartment instead.

‘You can put down any day now.’ You’d tell him but that only makes Jason tighten his grip on you as he moved in his makeshift library for a book to read.

‘No.’ He simply replied, scouring the many book titles in front of him in the hopes that one might speak to him. You pout. ‘What do you mean no?’ Jason then looks at you and says. ‘No means no. As in no I will not put you down because I do as I like and will not be told otherwise, so the cutie currently in my arms has to deal with it.’ He then smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead before looking back towards the bookshelves.

You end up falling asleep in his arms and Jason couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, even if you did look like the living dead.

Damian: says no but will in fact catch you without hesitation.

However if you do try to tease him about it, then he will drop you without a second thought. ‘You can catch yourself next time.’ He would say as he walks away, leaving you with a bruised ass. Titus -who saw the whole thing- would come up to you to make sure you weren’t genuinely hurt and encourage you to get up by nudging you with his head.

Don’t test him because he will do it and then act like the whole thing didn’t happen if you were to bring it up.

‘Dick.’ You’d say as you stood up.

‘I heard that.’ He’d call back, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘You were meant to.’ You reply. ‘And at least Titus came to check up on me to see if I wasn’t hurt.’ You’d add while scratching Titus behind the ear.

Needless to say you were more cautious when choosing Damian to catch you. However he does apologise for dropping you on your ass by gifting you something he himself drew by hand; He secretly doesn’t like it when you’re upset with him and will do anything to rectify it.

What a sweetheart.

Bruce: he’s too use to you pulling this type of shit that it’s basically muscle memory for him to catch you as you’re running towards him, all with a straight face mind you.

Be grateful because he risked a much needed bowl of Mulligatawny soup just to catch you in his arms, but then again the kisses you bombard his cheek is more than reward enough, a small almost missable smile appears on his lips as he then proceeds to carry you for the rest of the day as “punishment.”

( this only occurs when Bruce is feeling particularly affectionate or playful)

Much to your batkids -Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cass and Steph- dismay. They’d want to use this as blackmail, but they know that it will backfire as you’ll probably hang the photo on a wall somewhere in the manor, reminding them of how disgustingly their parents can be when given the opportunity.

[inkskinned]

in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

[papurgaatika]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

A/N: This got so out of hand so fast, but it is FINALLY here. This is for all my Joel girlies with crazy daddy issues, I see you and I get you. I really didn’t mean for the first half of this fic to be so angst-filled, but I think the smut is a good trade-off for it in the end. AS ALWAYS humongous shoutout to my beloved beta readers @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin yall kill me with your comments and I love yall so much. And yes the title is a Hozier lyric, I love that guy. Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! Tags: daddy issues, minor misogyny, minor body shaming, angst, Joel wants to beat up reader’s dad, age gap, daddy kink, pillow humping, exhibitionism if you squint, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller’s filthy mouth, breeding kink, cumplay kinda, protective Joel, no outbreak AU, no use of Y/N Word Count: 5.3k

Visiting your parents with Joel for the first time brings up some bad memories. And lets you make a few good ones too.

(aka Joel hates your parents and fucks you in your childhood bedroom)

Your fingers stilled over your phone, minor panic setting into your bones when you got a text from your mother asking you to come over for dinner with her and your father. Now you loved your parents and you think they loved you too, in whatever weird way they showed it, but your relationship with them was never amazing. They were overbearing when you lived with them, always expecting the most of you but never recognizing what you actually did, like you were never going to be enough in their eyes. You were a grown woman, a degree in hand, and jobs lined up, but with rent at an all-time high and entry-level positions barely paying enough, you had sucked it up for as long as you could and continued to live with them. The passive-aggressive remarks about their friends’ kids moving out and about your degree essentially being a waste barely mattered anymore, you kept your head down and didn't engage unless you really had to. Your daydreams of moving out and being independent dwindled a little with every snide comment your father made, but you were living rent-free so you didn't say anything. 

But then you met Joel, and Joel couldn’t see a single flaw in you, his perfect angel. You weren’t even planning on dating anyone, especially not someone this much older than you, but there was just something about him that drew you in. You could still remember the day you met him like yesterday. You had been driving home after taking a much-needed weekend to go see one of your friends from college and managed to run over a nail and saw your tire pressure going down. You had pulled over and contemplated calling your father, but the idea of him driving out to lecture you on being a better driver and why he thinks women shouldn't drive just gave you a headache. So, being the self-determined woman you were, you got out of your car, popped on a YouTube video on how to change a tire, and knelt next to your car. 

Granted, the video wasn’t helping you out much, and your headache was getting worse under the blistering Austin sun, and you felt the tears start to brim in your eyes as you rested your head against the door of your car. You were seconds away from sucking it up and calling your father when you heard a gentle, “Do you need any help, ma’am?” You’re not one to usually take help from men, especially not random men on the side of the road, but your head was pounding and your eyes were red, and something about his voice just put you at ease. So you sigh and nod, explaining how you really did try to change it, but it just wasn't working and he shoots you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “I’ve got it for ya don’t worry, it’s just a tire ‘ain't worth those tears.” 

You stand to the side as he kneels down to take a look at the damage before standing back up and grabbing the tools from your trunk. His arms were working on unscrewing the bolts of your (now useless) tire, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. His sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and beads of sweat were rolling down his tanned skin. You watched as the fabric of his shirt clung to his belly and his gray-streaked hair grew damp from the heat, finding yourself unconsciously biting your lip when your eyes linger on the veins that strained under his arms. He lets out a soft grunt when he gets off the ground and turns to look at you. “I don't think it’ll be safe to drive on your spare sweetheart, let me call you a tow.” 

“Oh! No, it’s okay really,” your eyes go wide and your brows furrow as you try to figure out how much it would cost and who you would even call to come pick you up, but he’s already dialing a number into his phone and telling them they owe him a favor before hanging up and giving you another smile. “You really didn’t have to do that-” Your words falter because you realize you don’t know his name.

“Joel. And I couldn't let ya deal with it yourself, my mama raised me better than that.” You blush softly at his words, genuinely grateful to have met him. You let out a breath, your tears having subsided and your heart rate finally calming down before sitting back down on the ground, fully expecting Joel to walk back to his truck and head out, but are instead met with a frown when you look back over at him. “Can't just leave you here like this sweetheart,” he sighs looking down at you, “Let me take ya to the garage at least, just so I know you’re safe.” 

Quite honestly, you weren’t used to someone treating you with this much care and attentiveness, you weren’t sure what to do with it. But the worried look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice have you nodding, taking his hand and getting into his truck to go to the garage with him. You sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next few minutes until you decide to be bold and ask for his number “Well, just in case my tire pops again” Your words are matched with a small grin playing on your lips, and JoeL, well joel was a goner the moment you had said those words. 

You and Joel had moved relatively fast, only being together for about eight months before you were packing your stuff and moving in with him. He had heard all about your parents before then. He saw the tears that fell after a fight with them, heard the words they threw at you while you recounted to him, and he could never imagine treating someone, especially not someone as perfect as you, like that. He could recount how many times you would curl up into him, breathing in his scent to try and calm down while he ran a soothing hand over your back and told you it was going to be okay. So it was no surprise that he had a few choice words when you mentioned that your mother had asked you both to come over. “Dunno how civil I’ll manage to be, sweet girl” he groans into your shoulder, arm draped over your middle as y'all lay in bed. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side so it’s leaning on top of his slightly. 

“Gonna have to be,” you catch his fingers in your own, running circles over the rough skin to soothe yourself. “I haven’t seen them since I moved out... I just want them to be okay with us I guess.” A sigh leaves your lips when you think about how displeased they used to be about anything that you ever did growing up, that displeasure skyrocketing when you started seeing Joel. 

You feel him still your fingers, taking your hand and wrapping it with his own, before shifting to look at you fully. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay, sweet girl, but just know I’m in it with you forever okay?” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles and you feel your eyes start to water as you nod. “Now, we don’t need to think ‘bout it for a while, lets get some sleep yeah?” You curl into his side and mumble out a soft okay before letting yourself drift off, feeling the weight of his arm draped around you. 

The rest of the week passed with relative ease, you were busy with work and Joel had been doting over you more than usual to keep your mind off of things. Eventually, Friday rolls around and you find yourself in Joel’s truck fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, heart pounding in your chest. You’re staring out the window lost in the endless stream of anxiety that is your brain, until you feel Joel's hand, warm and heavy, running small circles on your knee. You let your hand rest on top of his, basking in the intimacy of it all before he pulls up to your old house. You can feel your breathing start to quicken, chewing on the inside of your lip, before looking over at him. “Wait, baby, can we go back, I can’t do this. I’m not ready,” your words were tumbling over each other, panic clear on your face. 

“Hey, hey, look at me angel. It’s gonna be okay. We can do this okay?” His hands are on your cheeks making you look at him, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior, and if we go in and you wanna leave at any time, we’re outta here okay?” He breathes out a small sigh of relief when you nod, a small giggle leaving your lips at his words. You take one last steadying breath before throwing open the door of the truck, smoothing out your outfit, and letting the flowers you had picked up for your mother rest in your arms. 

You knock at the door and feel your nerves setting in again, but Joel's hand is holding yours and you feel like he’s pulling you back down to the ground again, keeping you steady. You’re both met with a loud laugh and are pulled in for a hug when your mother opens the door. “Oh! Sweetheart, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You certainly look like you’re eating well.” You did not miss those passive-aggressive comments at all, so you hand her the flowers with a tight-lipped smile, mumbling something about just having more time to make the food you enjoy, 

And being the attentive boyfriend that he is, Joel senses your discomfort immediately. He turns on his southern charm and throws one of those gorgeous smiles at your mother, complimenting her cooking and how good it smells in here. “If her cooking is any indicator, I’ll be asking for a to-go bag tonight.” Your mother just blushes and goes on about how her food isn’t that good but she hopes he likes it. You grin, watching the two of them interact helping your nerves dissipate slightly. Joel was always a charmer, that’s why you were drawn to him, he knew how to make you feel safe which was something you had seldom felt in this house. 

You’re sitting on one of the chairs, head leaning against his shoulder while he laughs at something your mother says. It finally feels like you can breathe like you don't have to put your guard up because Joel does it for you. And then suddenly it’s like the floor is being ripped out from under you as your father makes his way downstairs. It was like you were 16 again begging to get his approval for anything, waiting for the day someone would whisk you out of that house. You sit up straight and move your head from Joel’s shoulder and let your eyes dart to his, and he is visibly angry. Joel knows about your father, the fights and the screaming matches, the way you were so similar it made you sick, and he just could never understand how someone would ever treat their child that way.

Now your father isn’t necessarily short but Joel was looming over him, eyes burning daggers in his direction as you both stood up to greet him. Joel’s hand envelopes your fathers in a grip that looks like it could break a bone and you give your father a curt nod and however much of a smile you can muster up with a quiet “hi dad.” only to be met with a grunt like you weren’t even worth sparing a few words to say hello to before muttering and going to sit on the couch. “It's alright Joel… he’s just like that baby... let it go.” you manage to press a kiss to his cheek to let him know you’re alright, it wasn’t like you were expecting the world's warmest greeting anyway. 

Joel tries to let it go. He really tries for you. But it is so hard being nice to someone who hurt the person you love. So he brings up Sarah, not out of spite really, he just loves to talk about his girl. “Comes up to visit almost every month, jobs got her real busy though,” he says, taking a sip of beer, eyes focussed on your father across the table. “Couldn't go without seein’ her.” Joel’s face immediately brightens up when he talks about Sarah, the pride he feels for his girl sparkling behind his eyes. 

Your father is not a man who is good at hiding his emotions, anger, and resentment showing clearly on his face. “‘M sure it’s nice to have a daughter who amounts to somethin’,” you feel your blood go cold for a moment, tears stinging in your eyes as you duck your head down to look at your plate very carefully. Joel’s hand is immediately squeezing yours, bringing you back down to earth, back to him. You take a deep breath to respond, but before you even get the chance, Joel’s voice is hurdling at your father. 

“Sure is. You’d understand what it would feel like if ya made any effort to be in her life.” The silence in the room is eerie. You cannot remember a single time in your life when your father didn’t have something to say, something to hurl at you in a fit of anger, only to claim it never happened after the fact. You feel Joel squeeze your hand again as your father shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, not making eye contact with either of you. Your mother just looks between Joel and your father silently, apparently still unwilling to stand up for you. You press your eyes shut for a moment at the absurdity of it all; the absurdity of bringing Joel to meet your parents, of him trying to defend you, at the idea that you had truly believed that your parents would have changed. You knew better than to hope for things like that. 

The rest of the dinner passes in relative silence, save for a few questions your mother asks Joel about his work and a minor argument that ensues because Joel mentions his love for the UT Longhorns after your father brings up his love for the Aggies. You roll your eyes at Joel when he throws up the Hook ‘Em hands before you get up to wash the dishes, only stopping when Joel tugs at your wrist. You look down at where he’s sitting, eyebrows raised at you because you're well aware that washing the dishes is his job “Baby it’s okay, I'll just do them today”

Joel just shakes his head and pulls at your wrist again, essentially pulling you back into your chair. “Don’t think so angel, you know that’s my job,” you giggle with a small nod of your head before the both of you turn to look at your father who is scoffing from his seat. “‘S there a problem?” 

Your father rolls his eyes at Joel, clearly still upset about how dinner went. “Just think you should let the woman do the woman’s job, ain't yours to do.” Your father barks that out with such ease that Joel thinks he sees red for a second. He grew up helping his mamma around the house when he was younger and became even more fond of cooking and cleaning when Sarah was born, so it is safe to say that he doesn’t agree with the idea that housework is a “woman's job.”

You know how Joel feels about this but your father is getting irritated again and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take another argument between them, so you’re trying to grab the plates from Joel again. But stubborn as he is, Joel does not let up, especially if it means letting your father think that he’s right. “I don’t think so, sweet girl. Ain’t the 1950’s anymore, if you’re too pussy to wash a dish wouldn’t consider you a real man.” Your mouth falls open slightly, and you try to bite back your smile when your father huffs and gets up from the table muttering something about not knowing a real man if it bit him in the ass. 

You finish helping your mother put leftovers in the fridge, save for a bag filled to the brim with leftovers for Joel, and catch a glimpse of Joel smirking happily to himself while the sink runs hot over his hands. You sneak behind him and press a kiss on his shoulder blade, letting your hands snake around his waist. “I’ll be honest baby, kinda hot watching you tell him off like that..” You hear him huff out a laugh before he shuts the water off and spins you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting his mouth drop to your neck. You giggle as he nips at your skin lightly, but push him off gently after a moment. “They’re gonna see you, Mr. Miller, gonna get me in trouble.”

“Is that so?” his hands are on your waist, prints from the water on your shirt. He grins down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “let ‘em see baby, not their little girl anymore, all mine now.” He presses another kiss to your neck, finding the spot right above your pulse point and drawing a small mewl from between your lips, before standing up straight and letting go of your waist, a grin plastered to his face. 

“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, poking a finger into his chest, eliciting a laugh to tumble from his mouth. You give him a small kiss again and find yourself smiling into it. “‘M ready to go home now baby,” you murmur against the plush of his lips, wanting to feel his hands on your body again. Joel simply nods and grabs your purse for you while you say an awkward goodbye to your parents. You take your purse from his hands and open the door only to be met with the sight of rain. You were used to how quickly Austin would flood when a storm hit, you had grown up with it, but you hadn’t checked the weather and this was certainly dampening your plans to go home. 

You turn around to face Joel, eyebrows furrowed and before either of you can say anything your mother is swooping in. “Well, now I cannot send you two out in this weather! I have your old room set up still, and Joel can take the guest room!” Your eyes lock with Joel's, taking in the look of shock on his face. You should have assumed that your parents would be weird about letting Joel stay in the same room as you, despite living with him, but you were still caught off guard. 

You say your goodnights and thank yous, your father’s grip on Joel’s hand dangerously tight, before showing Joel up to the guest room giggling about having to be apart for the night. “Dunno how I’ll be able to sleep without you angel,” he groans sitting down on the old guest bed. 

You roll your eyes and kiss the scar on his nose “Sure you’ll be okay for one night cowboy, I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?” He just scrunches up his nose in response and plants a few more kisses on your lips before letting you walk out to your room. You can hear him exaggerate a sigh as you close the door and walk back to your old bedroom. You grin to yourself before walking into your room, taking in the sight of what used to be yours. Your hands skim over your dresser, the drawers mostly empty from when you packed in haste to move in with Joel, dried petals from the last bouquet of flowers he had gotten you still sitting in a small jewelry box. Pink sheets, pink pillows, and at least five stuffed animals still sit in their perfect setting on your bed, and a pang of guilt for leaving them bubbles up inside of you. You sigh and pull out an old shirt from the drawer and slip into it, foregoing pants and just staying in your panties. 

You spread out on the bed making futile attempts to fall asleep. It wasn’t like you needed Joel to be next to you, but you missed his hand draped around your waist and the way his body was a literal furnace to the point where you had to take the blankets off. Your mind cannot stop thinking about him. The way his hand was on the small of your back when you came into the house, the way he stood up for you when your father was speaking, the taste of his lips when he pulled you in for one last kiss before you left his room. You let your fingers trail down your body, sneaking into your panties and letting out a shaky sigh when you feel the slick pooling between your legs, eyes falling shut for a moment before situating a pillow between your legs. You press your face softly into one of the stuffed animals Joel had given you, the smell of him just barely lingering in it, and start to grind your hips down on the pillow. Your breath hitches when you feel the pressure on your clit through your panties, moans muffled by the bunny as you grind your hips down chasing your pleasure. Your eyes are still shut imagining Joel, lost in your pleasure until you hear a low whistle behind you, making your head whip around, your heart pounding a mile a minute. 

And there he is. Joel is leaning against your door, when he got in is beyond you, his eyes are hungry and locked in on you, eyebrows raising when you stop to turn around. “Why’re you stopping, baby? Go on, put on a show for me.” Your mouth opens to answer, but he’s cutting you off with a small tsk and a shake of his head “Nuh-uh. Don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, keep going.” His voice leaves no room for discussion, and his hands are on your waist pulling you flush with the pillow again. You whine when his hands leave your body, and try to turn around to grab at him. He pins your hips back down to the pillow, a low noise leaving his throat. “Like you were before, wanna see what you used to do when you miss me” 

A whimper leaves your mouth and you lay your head back down on the bed, pussy grinding on the pillow again. You move your hips back and forth, breathing becoming heavier as you angle your hips a bit higher and you bite back a whine as you clench around nothing “Joel please-” you plead, looking up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes,  “want you to touch me,” A small shudder movies through your body as you whine at him again. 

He just shakes his head at you, eyes not leaving your clothed cunt, “Not yet baby.” He brings his hands back to your waist and traces small circles into the skin just above your panties. 

  “but-” You keep grinding but throw a pout at him trying to get his decision to sway. 

He swats at your ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to be a good warning “You arguing with me baby?” His eyebrows are raised, the look in his eyes not one that wants to deal with a brat tonight. 

You shake your head with a pitiful no sir and keep grinding on the pillow, your panties fully drenched by now. You feel your hips start to stutter as your climax catches up with you, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Your stomach is clenching and your breaths are ragged, “Joel- fuck gonna cum, oh god- fuck-” You babble at him, words muffled, legs trembling lightly, and eyes falling shut as you’re hit with your orgasm, face falling into the stuffed bunny again. 

You try to steady your breaths after coming down from your high, eyes still closed until you feel his hands sneak around your waist and under your shirt, grabbing your tits softly. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl, probably did this all the time when you thought about me? Desperate fucking thing.” You groan into his touch, and arch your back into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. He grabs at the hem of your shirt, before pulling it off and tossing it to one of the corners of the room, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. You let out a squeak when he tugs at them before he lets go and presses his hand over your mouth. “Quiet. Gonna wake up your parents, or is that what you want, hmm?” His hand dips into your panties, rough fingers swirling over your clit “wanna get caught in the room you grew up in?” 

A whine leaves your mouth, muffled behind his hand, as you try to grind into his fingers. He brings his hand back to your nipple, flicking at the nub and making you jump. “Joel please- need it” You plead as he circles your clit. 

Joel pauses, drawing a pathetic whimper to leave your lips. “Came already and want another one? Greedy fucking thing” You nod at his words before yelping when he throws you down onto the bed and pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He throws your legs over his shoulders and you buck your hips into the air, trying to catch his touch. He rests his head on the plush of your thigh, eyes on yours, waiting for you to ask for what you want. 

Your eyes are pleading with his, hoping that you can get out of having to beg by batting your lashes at him. “I’ll be so good for you, please.” your lip trembles a bit, hips still moving in the air, trying to get into his mouth. He relents and his lips press against your thighs, his stubble scratching at it gently, before pressing a kiss to your clit, making you jump softly. “Fuckk thank you.” Your head falls back as his tongue sweeps over your weeping cunt, his arm pinning your hips down to keep you from bucking into his face. 

His tongue dips into your slit, making your back arch off the bed as your hands fist in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit, and your hand clamps over your mouth to stop the obscene noises you were making from leaving it. His fingers tease your entrance before slipping into you and thrusting in and out at the same pace he was flicking his tongue. You feel your thighs start to tremble and clench around his head, your grip on his hair growing tighter as you feel your second orgasm hit you, red hot in the bottom of your spine, and up to the tingling in your fingers. Joel’s pace does not slow down as he coaxes you through it, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck look at her baby.” He says pulling his fingers out of you and spreading your slick over your pussy. “Fucking weeping for me. I’ll give her what she needs don't worry” 

His fingers press against your lips, and you let them into your mouth, tasting yourself off of him and groaning at the taste. He drags his spit-covered fingers down your chest, relishing in the fucked out look on your face. He takes off his jeans letting his cock spring free, dumb bastard going commando at your parents' house, and spits into his hand before fisting his cock in your line of sight. You whine at him, pouting your lips at him, cunt dripping down your thighs onto your bed. He chuckles at you and brings his hands to your waist, before slipping his cock into you, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. “Look at that sweet girl, taking me so well.” He moves so his cock is buried to the hilt in your cunt, the coarse hair that surrounds him pressing into your pelvis. 

You try to rock against him, to gain any friction. “Joel please move... please I want it” You plead with him, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. “Gonna be so good for you Daddy, please” And that does him in. He lets out a groan and thrusts into you with enough force to move your headboard. His cock is hitting you in just the right spot, filling you up almost too much. 

You feel yourself clench around him as his hand tightens around your waist, one of your legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good angel,” he says as your pussy clenches around him like it was begging for his cum. “Make you all mine, show everyone who you belong to,” his thrusts are growing messier, and you can feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s almost too much. Your toes curl and you meet his thrusts as you let out a pathetic slew of pleasepleasepleaseplease before you feel him cumming inside you with a soft pant of your name. You feel him pull out of you slowly, his cock replaced with his fingers. “Said I was gonna make you mine, gotta make sure it takes.” His fingers collect the cum that leaks out of you in the most obscene way and pushes it back into you, as a shaky breath leaves your lips at the depravity of his words. 

“Fuck thank you, baby,” You manage to get out after what feels like an eternity of recovering from your orgasm. Joel shoots you a sleepy grin, before wrapping his clean hand around yours and laying his head down on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes. 

“I should be thanking you, sweet girl. Did so fucking good for me” You grin and look down at him with sleepy eyes and run a hand through his hair. 

“You know you gotta get back to the guest room right?” You ponder, realizing the situation that you were in. The idea of your mother waking up to find you naked and stuffed full of Joel’s cum was horrifying. 

Joel just grins back up at you, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast before pushing himself up off your bed and peeking at the window. “Dunno baby.. Rain stopped a while ago, I'm ready to just get outta here.” He raises his eyebrows at you, sliding back into his jeans as you drop your arm over your face with a dopey smile playing across your lips. 

“So long as you carry me to the truck, I'm game, baby” You bite your lip and smile up at him as he tosses your dress at you before he scoops you up and tromps down the stairs quietly and puts you into the passenger seat before getting in and pulling out of the driveway. “Thank you for being there tonight baby.. I love you.”

Joel just smiles at you, half asleep in his passenger’s seat, and runs a hand over your knee before grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Love you too angel. Don’t plan on ever making you come up here again though” You just giggle and lace your fingers through his, extremely content to just spend the rest of your days with Joel, not worried about your parents.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.  Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[letterlitter]

Pacify Her

Lando Norris x reader

•Tags: smut, toxic Lando, hate-fuck, makeup sex

•Loosely based on a song by Melanie Martinez with the same title.

•Wordcount: 1.6k

It was unbearable how Lando squeezed this new girl's thigh and whispered in her ear. You knew it was to make you jealous, he was a tease even more when you two were in a relationship. You had really bad arguments that let to the decision of splitting, but since you didn't want to break up the friend group, you agreed to just say the relationship ended on good terms and decided to be friends which was a total lie and both of you knew it.

Now, only a couple months after everything, Lando had shown up with a new "girlfriend" which drove you absolutely mad how uncouth he could be. Bringing this girl in your group out of the blue fully knowing that neither you nor himself had moved on from that deep, long term thing you had.

She looked at you like she wanted to be your friend and get your validation so bad. You didn't know if Lando had told her you were his ex. He didn't even dare mention it when he was introducing her. You automatically hated her, although her big brown eyes seemed lovely and innocent. She didn't have a clue what she had gotten herself into. You pitied her cluelessness.

You noticed Lando's griny glances at you, he kept making sure you were looking before each kiss he left on her cheek. The bastard had all his moves coordinated and planned but you had been with him for too long not to see right through his facade.

You were at your limit, who was he to inflict this hurt on you after all that he had done?

Rage made your body dense as you walked towards Lando's house the night after, when you made sure nobody else was with him. His Friday nights had always been free on purpose to sleep until noon, game, and sleep again. You remember trying to wake him up for lunch and he was dead asleep because he had stayed awake to play with friends.

You rang and he buzzed the door open without asking. Walking towards the stairs you noticed the rose garden you had planted in a corner. The thought of Lando's face after a thorn had poked him in the arm and how he treated the flowers as his enemies forced your lips into a fainted smile. You hated that his memories made you happy. You hated it was him you had those memories with.

You pushed the thoughts away and tried to focus on why you were here. Lando opened the door, a confused look on his face, "y/n? What is it why are you here?"

"We need to talk." And you stormed in.

"Please come in, make yourself comfortable." The sarcasm in his voice was familiar, and now that you weren't in love with him, infuriating.

"Want to talk about what?"

"About how you're being such an asshole."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't act like this Lando I know you did those things on purpose."

"Damn I don't know what you're talking about." He kept his sarcastic tone. You hated it.

You pushed his chest back in anger, "stop playing with me. You know damn well this girl you keep bringing is just a doll to mess with my head."

Lando smiled as if he had been expecting these words from you.

"This is way too low, even for you Lando."

"Everyone thinks we're friends, why can't friends introduce their new girlfriends to their other friends?"

"I'm not everyone. I know this is a lie stop trying to make it sound casual."

"What do you expect me to do? Stay single until you're over me?"

"Yes!" The loud sound that exited your mouth surprised you as it did Lando. You never planned to sound weak or needy. You just wanted to get closure, "look. I'm not trying to control your life or whatever, but what you're doing to make me jealous is messy and fucking pathetic. Fix it. Goodbye." And you started walking towards the door.

"Well did it work?" Lando's voice stopped you. He sounded sort of genuine for the first time in months.

You kept silent and still, wondering what to answer. Turning around to face him you said, "well do you love her?"

"Of course I do. She's very real."

You took one step closer, "stop lying."

Lando took a step closer to you, "stop being jealous."

You took one more step, "she looks way too innocent for you. I pity her."

Lando took another step , "I can teach her."

-"Funny."

-"I know."

-"You're insufferable."

-"I know."

Silence.

Now you were only one step away from eachother. Only one breath. You were mad at him and the tension felt heavy in the air as the sun was halfway set. His eyes looked crazy blue in the last golden rays of sunshine coming in fron his big windows. His face stingy and lips so soft it made you even more angry at him.

Your self control was getting shaky and you felt it shatter when Lando swinged his arms up to hold your face to kiss you deeply on the lips.

You squeezed your hand on his arm in protest to rip him off of you before it was too late but he was desperate.

He kept kissing you harder and harder like you gave him air to breathe.

You hated this. You hated the way his body pulled you in and you hated how it felt so good. He knew his way with you. Every single button, all the nooks and crannies.

You finally eased into the kiss, letting go of Lando's hoodie that was balled up in your fist and started to kiss him back.

His hands unzipped your sweatshirt and pulled it off your arms as soon as he felt that you wanted this as well. You let him. He slipped his hand under your tshirt, pinching your belly, messaging your back.

You let out a heavy exhale.

"I missed you." He whispered into your mouth, putting his lips on yours before you could say anything back.

Lando's hands moved down to your jeans but you held onto his hand to prevent him from going on. He stopped kissing you.

It was all too much for you and you hated him for being so good at this. You stared dead into his eyes, knowing full well that you were helpless, and said, "you fucking bastard."

He giggled when you pressed your debating lips on his again.

You let him kiss your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, your belly. You let him get down on his knees for you, between your legs.

His wet tongue on you made you jump in a surprising pleasure. The tip of his tongue moving in circular motions, in search of the place that made you moan the loudest. You tried fighting the sensation but failed miserably when he raised his finger to your entrance, messaging and warning about what's to come.

The moan that left your lips after he pushed his finger inside you was involuntary. You could feel Lando smiling on your pussy with the sound. He kept moving his tongue with your hand in his curls; pumping his finger and pulling moans out of you until you felt like you could take it no more. That's when Lando pulled his now soaked finger out and stood up, Leaving you clenching around nothing.

He faced you again to continue his kisses; you could taste yourself on his lips as he took off your tshirt and your bra, leaving you completely naked in the middle of the house. He looked at you once more before taking off his own hoodie you've been pulling on to get rid of since the start, he turned you around and got closer. His bulge rubbing against your butt from under his sweatpants.

"You're so pretty." He whispered into your ear, "wait here okay?"

You turned around to see him almost run to his bedroom to get condoms and you got a chance to take a look at his smooth, tan skin as he walked back.

Lando kissed you shoulder and your back as he slowly bent you over the handle of the couch. Messaging your body as he bent on you to let you feel his skin, his pants were off, your could feel his hard dick against the back of your leg. He adjusted himself on you and pushed in. You weren't hesitant to moan anymore. His length inside you was a familiar sensation of pleasure after this long. He was all you needed.

Lando started pumping deeper into you, making you feel fully stretched. You could hear his little groans and exhales when he grabbed your neck to make you arch your back more, pulling your head towards his mouth. "I bet nobody fucked you like this since I was gone." And he started moving faster. You pushed back your body into his, blurring the lines infront of your eyes.

You came within seconds after that.

He pulled out of you. You turned around quickly, grabbed his shoulders and lead him to the couch to sit down.

"Could you ever teach her this?"

And you climbed on top of him, each leg on each side. Leading his still erect dick to your hole and pushing down on him. Lando threw his head back with a moan. You took his hands and put them on your ass. He squeezed his hands with every movement you made.

You started kissing under his ear, where you knew he was sensitive. Moans started turning into whimpers and he started pushing up his legs towards you. You both moved faster as you reached your high. You nails dug into Lando's shoulder and his hands tight around your back when you both came and you collapsed into his arms.

****

"What a stupid decision." You said through your panting and you both giggled since you knew you were going to make more.

(This is the first time I'm posting a smut one shot online sorry if it's short or lacking♡)

[daycourtofficial]

Never seen that color blue

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 4.5k | Warnings: smut, PIV, unprotected sex, fingering, angst city baby population: me

Summary: follow up to 'I pretend you're mine all the damn time'. You and Azriel return home from that fateful mission. How will you two cope with your recent discoveries?

Author’s note: eeeek everyone loved part one and I was so happy bc I adored it so much and I was so glad to see such a good response!!! Anyway shout out to Hope @prythianpages she’s a real one she helped me with some plot stuff thank you thank you 🥰

Your sighs lived in Azriel’s ears, carried on the wind by his shadows. How they carried it he’s not sure - your sighs were left behind, echoing through the hall in that Illyrian camp he unceremoniously left.

He was so used to using his shadows as a shield to hide at least some part of himself. They had disappeared that night, making it impossible for him to hide the way you shine in his thoughts. The way everything he does brings him back to you. Before, he hadn't realized just how much of his life revolved around you - you had crept into the crevices of the day to day monotony of living together. 

Every day he’d make some snide comment to Cassian, waiting to tell you about it so he could watch you scrunch your nose and laugh at whatever response Cassian had. If he was lucky, you’d throw out a hand onto his bicep, his skin immediately tattooing your touch into his memory.

Every day he would help you make lunch, stealing the occasional strawberry. You would swat at him, calling him a 'berry burglar'. It was a title he wore with pride, even more so when you had made him a ridiculous party hat for his birthday with the moniker across the top.

Every day during dinner you would steal something from his plate, whether it be a carrot or potato or bite of meat. You would say it was retribution for what he stole during lunch, and he’d allow it, a small smile on his face at your thieving.

From the entire flight home to now, two weeks later, his skin had remained on fire from your touch. Every nerve ending screamed your name, your scent, your heat. His thoughts were consumed by you previously, but now it was as if every thought had a backing track of your voice, your skin, your touch.

He tried to ignore it, tried to push it down, down, down. But every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts kept going back to the obscenities of that day. The way you looked as you rode him, how you laid yourself bare before him. The curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your legs on either side of him, your mouth on his. The way your fingers touched his wings.

Gods, your fingers. How delicately you had touched him, as if he had ever been a fragile creature deserving of such tenderness. He had never let anyone touch his wings before, determined to leave some part of himself untouched if the Mother would ever bless him with a mate.

He doesn't care much about that now.

The images tortured him, finding him everywhere he went. At meals, in the shower, as he roamed the halls searching for your scent while still avoiding you. The worst was when he slept, he only dreamt of that night over and over again. He became insatiable. He was terrible for fisting his cock to the way you felt around him, the moans you made, how beautiful you had looked bare before him.

He was terrible for it not making a difference. He’d finish, shame and embarrassment coating him as his cock would immediately get hard again.

He didn’t know how to convey that he wanted more. He wanted you, all of you. Not when he practically forced himself on you once before. Not when he was burying himself away in his room, hiding in his shadows in the places in between, to avoid even a glimpse of you.

-

The flight home from that mission was the worst experience of your life. The only sound was the wind whipping around you two, his grip on you barely there. He kept you as far from his body as he could, and you couldn’t blame him. You had just violated him, for cauldron’s sake. And yet, your skin thrummed where his body made contact with yours, even through the multiple layers of leathers between you two.

The wind whipped into your eyes, making them an even harsher shade of red. The debrief with Rhys didn't even register to you, you couldn't recall a single moment of it even if you tried. Explanations of the mission were given from both you and Azriel, but the high lord knew something was wrong between you two.

Your eyes downcast to the floor, your thumb rubbing the skin of your other hand seeking some comfort. Azriel's wings twitched every so often, the only tell Rhys has ever been able to figure out from his brother.

You expected Azriel to tell Rhysand of your actions, asking him to execute you on the spot. You’d deserve nothing less.

But those words never came.

The meeting went by in a blur - your only memory of it is the back of Azriel's wings as you both left Rhys's office. The membranous skin was so close, and now you knew what it felt like. How incredibly smooth it felt as your fingers glided over the veins, feeling where his bones were underneath.

Your hands itched to reach out to feel them again. Instead you watched the back of him until he retreated into the room opposite your own, closing the door quickly behind him. Leaving you, yet again, alone, with more questions than ever before on the wrong side of the door, the answers you need behind it.

You considered knocking, bringing your hand up to the oak finish of his door. You hold your fist in the air, ready to strike, when you can't bring yourself to do it. Instead, you lower your arm, softly padding into the room across the hall, seeking comfort in your own bed.

You woke up the next day after a fitful sleep, one of dreams haunted by the male who slept across the hall from you. You moved to your bathroom, surveying your body in the aftermath of the mission. Not much bruising from the actual mission, but you were littered with Azriel’s touch.

You can make out all of his fingers on the bruising on your hips, your knees battered from the harsh desk you kneeled atop.

You’re sure Azriel’s back is littered with similar bruising.

Neither of you mentioned what happened in that room to anyone.

A week passes by, neither of you were brave enough to talk to the other or to anyone else. You don’t even see Azriel, not even a glimpse of his scent lingered in the hallways of the House of Wind.

You asked Cassian, and he told you that Azriel’s been around the house, but you two must be missing each other. You miss the curious gaze Cassian gives you, taking in your dark eyes, comparing them to the same bags underneath his brother’s eyes.

After you left, Cassian kept thinking about you and the sad look in your eyes as you said his brother’s name. He kept thinking as he continued making his lunch, thinking about how strangely the two of you had been acting for the past week.

Today marked an entire week since either you or Azriel have shown up to Valkyrie training. He was well aware that the training was somewhat optional, and that you two missed it whenever you were away on missions. But you were here in the house, you just came by to speak with him, but you wouldn’t come to training.

Cassian sighed, feeling like he was losing his godsdamn mind over the realization that something was wrong. Because it wasn’t just training. It was dinners, lunches, drinks, everything. At this point Cassian could be convinced fairly easily that the two of you moved out.

He huffed, knowing he’d have to do something about this mess. He was always cleaning up his brother's messes when it came to females. Rhys and Azriel just didn’t understand them the way Cassian did.

The opportunity for Cassian to act came when he happened across Azriel in an unused room in the House of Wind doing paperwork. He quickly slipped away, not wanting Azriel to catch wind of him being nearby and to leave abruptly.

He ran down to the kitchen, searching for you. He pulled you off your stool, telling you he had something important to show you. 

“Shh, come on, you gotta be quiet or it’ll ruin the surprise.”

You rolled your eyes, but allowed him to slip you through the halls. He walked down one of the house's many hallways, stopping in front of a door you actually weren’t sure where it led to. Cassian opened the door and pushed you inside.

You hear the lock on the other side twist, shutting you inside. You turn around, trying the handle, only to find it not budging. You turn on the spot, resting your back against the door. Your palms are sweating as you look over to Azriel, shocked to find him in here. He looked just as bewildered to find you in here as you felt.

Stupid Cassian being a stupid busybody.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You calm yourself enough to open your mouth, only able to get out “Az-“ before the shadowsinger folded into his shadows, his hazel eyes the last thing you saw before he began disappearing before you. Your breaths become more ragged as you sink down to the floor, the reality of the situation sinking in.

He hated you.

And he should.

He couldn’t even stay in the same room as you.

Your voice is soft after you spend a few moments searching for it. “Cassian, please,” you whimper through the door, “he’s gone.”

Cassian unlocks the door, wide eyed looking down at you sitting on the floor. You can’t look at him, slowly rising back onto your feet. The shame, the embarrassment floods you as you walk past him, not answering his questions or his confused gaze.

You open the door to your room, laying down in bed and just crying. He won’t even look at you after what you’ve done to him.

Cauldron, what have you done? 

Cassian stops by at some point, dropping off some water and some food. You have no idea what time it is, you don’t hear whatever it is he says, hardly register his presence as he climbs into your bed, pulling you into his warm chest. 

It was then you broke your silence, repeating, “I fucked up, he won’t even look at me” over and over until you eventually wore yourself out.

You woke up the next day, eyes puffy from crying all night.

You know what you have to do, but you don’t want to. You get dressed, heading through the house to Cassian’s door. You knock swiftly, head swiveling down the hall to ensure Azriel isn’t lingering about. Nesta opens the door, her hair wet from her fresh from training bath.

“Can we talk?”

-

After explaining your thoughts and plans to them, both of them against your ideas but still not knowing exactly why you feel the need to do this, Cassian flies you to the River House, dropping you off to speak with Rhys while he goes and spends some time with Feyre.

You knock on the door to Rhys’s office, and he quickly opens the door letting you in before leaning against his desk, bracing his hands behind him.

You sit in the chair across from him, nervously twisting one of your rings trying to figure out how to start this conversation, when Rhys’s voice interrupts your thoughts.

“You want to leave.”

Stupid Cassian butting in again.

“Is this because of-“ he twirls his hands around in the air- “whatever’s going on between you and Azriel?”

There’s no point in hiding it anymore.

“Yes.”

Your tone is flat, trying to keep it together when all you want to do is fall apart. Everything was wrong, so so so wrong.

“And you think running away will fix your problems?”

“I’m not running away,” your tone becomes more defensive, “I messed up, he won’t look at me anymore, I’m giving him space.”

“How long will you give him this space?”

“However long it takes me to be able to look in the mirror again.”

Rhys’s smugness deflates, a pang echoing through him about all of the shitty choices he was forced to make on behalf of someone else.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you added, “I’m just moving into a different house. I’ll be in the same city. It’s not a big deal.”

His eyes bore into yours, “if it’s not such a big deal, you can do it.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t really asking permission-“

“But you have to tell him.”

-

Later that night you open the door to Azriel’s room, dashing in and softly shutting the door behind you before placing your body in front of it.

The room was one you’ve spent countless hours in - Azriel considered you to be the only member of the Inner Circle he trusted enough to share his private space with, an inclusion that you valued greatly.

The walls were a beautiful shade of blue, deep and rich like the ocean singing to you from the shore. The walls held a few paintings from Feyre - one depicting Ramiel, one a portrait of some of his shadows, and one a sweet moment when the two of you had fallen asleep together on a couch, Azriel’s body draped across yours, wings covering the couch and the tips touching the floor.

She had given it to him privately, because she knew Cassian would surely have some choice words about it. You hadn’t been there when she gifted it to him, but you do remember how his eyes couldn’t meet yours the first time you saw it as he called it ‘cute’.

Azriel was sitting at his desk, papers strewn across it, hair mused from running his fingers through it.

He looked up, his face scrunching at the sight of you in his room. His eyes narrow, trying to discern if this was real or not. He scans your body, looking for some indication that this wasn’t real, that his mind was still playing tricks on him.

“We need to talk,” looking up to the ceiling, you started pacing around his room, trying to block out his smell, the heat from his gaze, as you tried to remember the speech you had prepared about how it would be good for the both of you to have space.

Azriel’s demeanor shifts, “yes, we do.”

You start wringing your hands, needing something to do with them. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, desperate to find the words to start your rambling.

“I assaulted you.”

Okay, not the best first words. Azriel’s face doesn’t change as he watches you try again.

“I’m leaving.”

Still not great words.

“I took advantage of you, when we were in that room. I assaulted you and Rhys should throw a noose over my neck for it.”

Azriel tries to interrupt, but you stop him.

“There was no way you could have actually consented to that. You were out of your mind, and I took advantage of you. You were needy and I used you for my own gratification and it’s killing me. And I know it’s killing you. You can’t even look at me, for cauldron’s sake!”

Your feet move of their own accord, pacing in front of the door, unable to look at the male before you.

“You- I-,” you don’t want to tell him, not like this, but you need to air everything out before letting him go completely. You turn to face him, his expression unreadable.

“I’m in love with you. I have been for cauldron knows how long. And I- I thought I was helping you, but now you can’t even look at me and when you walked out I realized that I fucked up and let my feelings cloud my judgement-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

Azriel’s words put an end to your rambling, making his way over to you.

“What are you talking about? I forced your hand - you felt obligated to help me-“

It was at this point you both began speaking over each other, trying to get the other to see how awful you were in your decisions.

“-but I practically pinned you down-“

“-held you down on my-“

“-you were out of your mind-“

“-drunk on lust-“

Neither of you stop until a shadow comes whirling by, pushing both of you forward unsteadily. Hands reach out to catch each other, yours falling onto his chest. 

“But I- I told Rhys I was moving out for a while, to give you space.”

“I don’t want space.”

You shake your head, not allowing yourself to believe his words, “but you’ve been avoiding me for weeks now, I thought.. I thought you hated me.”

Azriel’s hand tentatively moved up to your cheek, cupping your jaw, “I thought you find me repulsive for forcing you to… help me.”

“No,” you say, hands resting on his hips, “I don’t find you repulsive at all. Do you think I’m a monster?”

He snorts, “no, no.”

The two of you keep your gazes locked, the room charged with emotion. Even his shadows were still, allowing the circulation of the room to move them as they waited to hear what you two said next.

Azriel’s voice is quiet, his words coming out in a soft exhale, “I haven’t been able to get the sight of you out of my head.”

Your palms pressed against his chest, the ends of your fingers curling to grasp onto him. His fingers tangle in the ends of your hair, lightly grasping it.

“The past week, I could close my eyes and swear I could still feel you on top of me.”

You stop breathing at his words.

“You’ve been following me around like a ghost. I’ve hardly slept. All I can think of is how good I felt wrapped up in you - how it felt to be inside of you."

When you think of this night years later, you can never exactly figure out who moved forward first. Maybe it doesn’t really matter whose lips were the ones to make first contact.

The kisses you shared under Azriel’s drugged haze were rushed, desperate, laced with years of yearning underneath a haze of burning need.

Now it was all pressure, putting everything into the kiss you haven’t said. The words would come later. As would the many, many nights of staying up, words of adoration flowing between you two.

Tonight was about rewriting history, redoing previous touches.

For weeks all you could think of was him, his moans floating through your mind like a song. You woke to the sound, and it lulled you to sleep each night. Hearing those moans again made you ache with need, as if your one night together had already conditioned you.

You open your eyes to watch his darken with need, pupils blown wide. You grabbed the front of Azriel’s shirt, pulling him as close to you as possible.

You started pulling his shirt out from his trousers, reaching your hands around the back to undo the snaps underneath his wings. You start pushing the fabric up, and Azriel breaks away from you just enough to pull the shirt over his head.

His lips are immediately back on yours, a new urgency to his touch as his hands move to your ass. His hands squeeze the flesh as you bite his bottom lip.

His fingers tap twice, urging you to jump up, hooking your legs around his waist, your dress pooling at your hips.

He presses you into the wall, his mouth moving down your jaw, down your neck, down your chest. You move your fingers up to his hair, tugging lightly as he sucks on the top of your breasts, leaving a litter of hickeys across what he can see.

His hands reach down, mouth still on you, and he lifts the hem of your dress, pulling your head from the wall so he can pull your dress off.

He gazes at you, eyes heavy with lust as they roam your body, your underwear the only thing covering you. He smirks as he pushes his hips back into yours, causing you to moan at the contact.

“Beautiful,” he mumbles, and you’re not sure if it was something he meant to say out loud or not, but your cheeks blaze with heat just the same. 

His lips reattached to yours, and you slid your hands back down his torso just enough for him to slam his hips into you, causing your eyes to roll back with need.

You start digging into his skin lightly with your nails, and he goes back to kissing your neck. Your fingers find the strings to his pants, which you try to start undoing, but he keeps thrusting against you, distracting you.

“Stop,” you say, breathy, “let me- undo- your pants.” He accented every other word with a thrust, leaving you breathless and soaked.

“I’m gonna- cum from this- if you don’t stop.”

His eyes light up, one of his hands holding you against the wall, the other sliding up your waist to your breast.

“Is that a challenge?” 

“N-no.”

His fingers circle your nipple, pinching lightly causing you to moan at the sensation, hips thrusting with more intensity against Azriel.

“See, I think it’d be pretty hot if you came in your underwear.”

“But I- want to be- on your cock.”

“Oh but you are, baby.”

Your hands gripped his hips as you grind harder and faster onto him, feeling yourself tighten, getting closer, and closer, and closer.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me.”

His words sent you toppling over the edge, loud moans escaping you as he held you up. Your face fell into his shoulder, and he rubbed your back.

He kissed the top of your head, moving his hands under your thighs to carry you to the bed. He collapsed onto it with you on top of him, slowly coming down from your high.

You breathe heavily on his chest, kissing his neck and down his chest as your hands move down the planes of his stomach. Fingers move through his happy trail, stopping to lightly tug on the waistband of his pants.

He lifts his hips so you can shimmy his pants off of him, letting his cock spring free. He groaned at the freedom, his cock hard and throbbing already. He flipped the two of you, his weight now on top of you, his hand sliding up the underside of your thigh leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“You are so beautiful,” he tells you.

"Az," you pant.

His fingers tighten their grip on your hip, "yes, baby?"

"Please touch me."

"So polite," he says, his fingers circling your clit. You moan at the contact, hiding your face in his neck. He quickly nips your ear, eliciting a gasp from you. “Eyes on me, baby. I want to see you.”

You bite his neck in retaliation, and he laughed as you pulled your face from his neck, his fingers tilting your chin to look at him. His thumb gently caressed your jaw as his other hand continued stroking your clit.

His fingers were divine, but as his eyes stared into yours, nothing existed outside of the two of you. Your hand moved down his chest, scraping your nails against his toned torso. The action caused his fingers to stutter slightly, but as he felt your hand move closer to his hips, he started moving faster. 

He shuddered as your hand wrapped around his cock, your thumb stroking from the base to his tip. His movements falter at the distraction and his eyes darkened even further.

“Fuck,” he moaned, biting his lip.

You grin, his distraction spurring you on. You lifted your hips up, sliding your underwear off before settling back down onto the bed. His weight is nestled back on top of you, the two of you staring at each other. Your hand moves some of his hair out of his face, then moved gently to hold his face.

“We can’t go back after this.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

With his words, he slides his cock into you, feeling just as good as you remembered.

“I can’t go back.”

His words come out clipped as he thrusts into you slowly, stretching you so deliciously. You moan at his movements, causing him to go faster. His face is inches from yours, his warm breath hitting your face.

Shadows enveloped around the two of you, making a cocoon of sorts. To keep the world out or the words in, you’re not sure. All you know is this moment with Azriel.

“I can’t go back to not knowing what it’s like to have you.”

His hips thrusted inside of you, and you wrapped your legs around him. The bed moved with his thrusts, and some deep part of you wonders how loud you’re being.

You can’t find it in yourself to care.

“How can I go back to keeping my feelings to myself?”

You grip his shoulder, your nails digging into skin, and you’re sure you’ve sliced through skin, but he doesn’t register the pain at all.

“How can I go back to not knowing how good your pussy felt around me?”

You moan and he leant down to capture the sound in a kiss. The sounds in the room were obscene - the moans flowing from both of you, the headboard hitting the wall absurdly hard, the wet squelching. Neither of you cared. 

You kept kissing him, hands on his shoulders trying to pull him closer and closer towards you. One of his hands moved down to rub at your clit, and that extra contact was all you needed to send you over, the pressure releasing from your belly as you came around him.

You could feel how close he was, his thrusts becoming faster and more erratic.

“I love you, Az.”

You’re not sure if you said them because you felt it or because you thought it would make him finish, but your words sent him over, his hot cum spurting inside of you. You were seeing stars, tangible thought outside of Azriel’s name impossible in the wake of your second orgasm.

Azriel collapsed on top of you, his cock still inside of you. His wings lay stretched out on the bed over you two, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you tucked in beneath him.

You wiggle your hands free to cradle his face before your hands move to the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there. After a moment he pulls his head up enough to look at you.

“Too tired for a bath?”

You smile at him, shaking your head slightly. At the movement, the house begins drawing a bath in the other room. He pushes himself off the bed before lifting you in his arms, kissing you softly on the forehead.

“Are you still moving out?” 

You sound pensive as he carries you to the bath, “I could be persuaded to stay…”

Tagging everyone who asked for part two: @sirenpearldust , @thatacotargirl , @justrepostandlove , @yearninglustfully, @heartless-tate , @nocasdatsgay , @anainkandpaper , @acourtofbatboydreams , @goldenmagnolias , @je-suis-prest-rachel , @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris, @lolasjournal , @kalulakunundrum , @daardyrnitta , @starseedsamurai , @nahimgoodmom , @persephonesalvatore, @hannzoaks , @rinalouu , @bookdragon1, @username199945 , @charlotteintumbleland , @kscyberwrld , @blacktreacle22

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher , @lees-chaotic-brain , @topaz125, @chessebookgirl, @fides25, @lady-of-tearshed , @ashbatz , @fxckmiup , @lilah-asteria, @justvibbinghere, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @heartless-tate, @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry, @olive-main, @azrielsmate3 , @pit-and-the-pen

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading 💕

[bbsmuts]

Field Trip Part 2: The Queen's Homecumming ft. BLACKPINK Jennie and Lisa

A/N: This is the continuation of Field Trip, which was something that was requested a lot back when I released the original. I've kept people waiting long enough, and I'm sure seeing that title made a lot of people excited. Field Trip remains my most popular smut, with over 900 notes, shoutout to my man @xiaoondc for pitching it. It's almost been a year in real time, so it'll be accurate.

-상훈

Length: 8.45k

Possible TW: Pretty much all of it

Tags: Domination, slave/master, choking, spanking, breeding, humiliation, whipping, gangbang, spitroasting, anal, throatfuck, bondage

WARNING: Intense and graphic sexual violence and degradation is depicted in this smut, much more than the original Field Trip. If you are easily triggered by or sensitive to such content, I strongly advise that you stop reading here.

FIELD TRIP PART 1: Field Trip

It had been nearly a year since Jennie's scandalous visit to Nairobi, and the time had come for her to return. At last.

Jennie had been waiting eagerly for a full year to go back to Kenya as she had promised, and now she had the opportunity. So it was with high spirits and high anticipation that she packed her things and headed to the airport. Only this time, there was a difference. She had decided to bring along a friend of hers who was relatively pure and innocent, Lisa. The two of them boarded the plane together, Lisa happily talking Jennie's ear off, having no idea what was in store for her. She was jittery the whole flight, anticipation and excitement flooding her. The thought of what was going to happen when she arrived...it made her want to finger herself right there with Lisa and the random-ass guy sitting in the seat next to her.

She disembarked the plane hastily with Lisa, waited very impatiently going through security, and took a cab to the familiar Radisson Blu hotel, where she settled down for a few hours of sleep before the morning.

...

The look of pure shock on Ngina's face when she saw Jennie, in her crop top and shorts, back on the bus was laughable, she stared for a moment and then recovered herself, going back to her clipboard to examine something. Jennie smirked and sat down near the front next to Lisa, watching the locals of Nairobi mill around by the bus stop. Once Ngina had counted her passengers and made sure everyone was there and that there were no stragglers, the bus engine started and they began moving. Jennie's excitement was reaching fever pitch, but she kept a calm outer demeanor. The scenery brought back vivid memories of her last visit, and as they pulled closer to the village, Jennie could see the massive Mugumo tree that had lead her and Somi into the trouble that had ultimately lead her to a Kenyan BBC addiction.

The village had run into some subtle improvements since Jennie had last been there; the houses and buildings had been renewed, the villagers clothes looked newer, and the architecture was slightly more modern and updated, and something that resembled an outmoded hotel was visible at the far end of the square. The massive baobab tree that Jennie and Somi had been tied to and whipped at last time was also clearly in sight, the thought sending a pang of anticipation through her body.

All the passengers disembarked the bus and entered the village, Ngina shaking hands with the leader, who looked mildly surprised to see Jennie back. The same could not be said for the other passersby, who stopped and openly stared in shock. Jennie approached the leader and extended her hand.

Taking her hand and shaking it, he said, "I never did catch your name, did I?"

"It's Jennie. You?"

"Jaali." He looked to Jennie's left and saw Lisa, who was standing there watching the exchange and had chosen to wear a very small and very tight white halter top and black shorts, which perfectly displayed her flawless figure. "I see you brought a spare."

"Indeed I did. This is Lisa." Lisa stepped forward and shook Jaali's hand, eyeing him and her surroundings very curiously.

Jaali stepped back, a cunning smirk on his face. "Very good. Well, have a look around, feel free to explore." His smirk widened. "I hear the Mugumo trees are very pretty this time of year."

"How funny, so did I." Jennie returned the devilish grin, both of them sharing a knowing smirk. "Be a shame if we didn't check them out."

He laughed. "Indeed. Well, I have matters to attend to, so I'd best be off. Enjoy yourselves."

Jennie and Lisa departed towards the large, open fields together. The word that Jennie was back spread very quickly, and various locals, especially the men, greeted Jennie as she passed and voiced how glad they were to see her again.

Jennie inwardly smirked and shook her head, since she knew well that everyone but Lisa knew what would be going on today. She wondered vaguely whether she and Lisa would be separated, or whether Lisa would consent to or enjoy what was bound to happen once they reached the Mugumo tree. The guard troop passed several times, each time a different member greeting Jennie and throwing a glance at her retreating form.

"Wow," commented Lisa the sixth time this happened, "you must be really popular down here. What, did you make friends with every person in Kenya?"

Jennie chuckled as they both sat down side by side on a large lakeside rock. "Sure I did. Plenty of guys, as well. You know me, you know I'm into black guys."

Lisa scoffed and laughed as well. "Of course you would."

They laughed together for a moment before Jennie spoke. "Hey, you never know what could go down."

Lisa's giggles came to a hushed silence. "You mean...with them?"

Jennie nodded, curious to see how Lisa felt about it. Lisa blinked a few times and then said, "Three letters. B. B. C!"

Jennie laughed again. "Shocking that you would think that way."

Lisa paused her giggling once more. "But seriously, did you actually?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Sure then. Whatever you say."

Jennie scoffed and then glanced toward the bank opposite them, spotting the massive Mugumo tree, fully in bloom, and the altar below it. The scenery was really quite beautiful, but as the guard troop passed by again, she had other things on her mind.

"Say, Lisa," Jennie said, still observing the tree, "you ever seen a Mugumo tree up close before?"

"No."

"Well, why don't we go see that one?" Jennie nodded towards the other bank. Lisa looked over at it and hopped up.

"Sure, let's go."

A small and insignificant part of Jennie felt guilty for leading her friend into such a trap, knowing that the level of pain, shame, and humiliation would match if not exceed that of last time, but that small part of her was drowned by the other parts of her, particularly parts in her lower region, that had sworn loyalty and developed addiction to the cocks of the tribesmen.

They approached the tree, Lisa making comments on how nice the leaves looked, and sat down on another rock near it. Before long, the small body of guards started moving steadily in their direction.

"That's odd," Jennie commented, fighting hard to keep the smirk off her face and her excitement down. "I wonder why they're coming over here? There's no one but us."

"No idea." Lisa yawned. "God, I should have had some coffee, I was up all night."

Inwardly, Jennie speculated that once the guards finished their trip over here, Lisa would very quickly forget her tiredness. The guards marched their way all the way up to the rock, and their leader took another step forward.

"This is a forbidden area, you must not trespass here. Come with us now."

"Oop," said Lisa as they got off the rock and followed the guards back towards the village. "Guess we weren't supposed to be there. Well, we didn't know."

"Yup. We'll probably just go back to Ngina now." Jennie knew full well that the words coming out of her mouth were blatant lies, but she ignored it as they were led into the village. Her excitement was almost making her tremble, but she kept it in.

The guards then split them up, just like last time. Lisa's cries of "Hey, wait!" were ignored by Jennie and the tribesmen. Jennie was brought to the same hut as last time, with the clay floor and thick wood centerpost. The tribesmen shoved her inside and then took their places in a circle around the hut. She would have removed her own clothes, but she really enjoyed how rough they were with her. Two stepped forward and tore off her top, not bothering to be careful. Then one of them knelt, grabbed her shorts by the front, and ripped them in two. To her surprise, they left her bra and panties alone, perhaps at the order of Jaali, and tied her hands in front of her, leaving her kneeling half-naked on the floor.

Speak of the devil, Jaali himself walked into the hut, wearing only the loincloth that the other tribesmen wore, unlike his usual expensive manner of dress. Jennie surveyed his muscular and fit figure as he paced around the small hut, feeling heat grow between her legs, finding herself growing exceedingly horny just at the sight of him.

"So, Miss Jennie," he said, the same devious grin on his face as earlier, "you find yourself the same predicament as a year ago." He gave a theatrical sigh. "Of course, since you are now a repeat offender, your punishment for such a heinous crime will be significantly more severe than last time."

He stopped directly in front of Jennie, looking down at her and allowing her a glimpse under his loincloth, both the sight and his words spiking her arousal up. He chuckled at her expression and resumed his pacing.

"I must commend you, however, for the new addition to my harem. Lisa, her name was? Quite a beauty. And in no time she, like you, wil become a cockslave to me."

There was a short pause, in which he made a half revolution of the hut. "I notice, as well, that your friend from last time has foolishly chosen to ignore my warning and stay away. Very well. She will regret it."

"How will you bring her back?" Jennie asked.

"I will send my best men to South Korea and find her. They are skilled and they will track her down and drag her back by the hair if they have to."

Jennie considered this for a moment, then realized something.

"I mean no disrespect, sir, but wouldn't a bunch of massive, smelly, half-naked Kenyan tribesmen draw a lot of attention?"

He snorted and paused in front of her, raising his eyebrows. "Surely you are smarter than that, Miss Jennie. This may appear to be a rural, run down little village, my little slut, but believe me, we are not living in the stone age anymore. I have ample equipment to disguise my men and make them fit in."

He shouted something in Swahili to the men outside the hut, of which Jennie could piece together as him requesting a chair. A heavy scraping sound sounded outside and the door opened, allowing two guards to push in a large, fancy, luxurious throne-esque chair, which they pushed up against the pillar in the center of the hut. Jaali sat down on it, unsheathed a knife from a sheath on the underside of one of the chair's arms, and handed it to a guard behind Jennie, who slashed the straps on her bra and both sides of her thong's waistband, removing both and leaving Jennie naked, wet, and desperate. The guard handed the knife back to Jaali, who cut off the string holding his loincloth together, removing it.

Jennie could practically feel her mouth watering at the sight of his cock; even semi-hard he was packing at least 7 inches. She waited for his order.

"Now, my little slave," he said, tossing the parasol leaf loincloth aside and spreading his legs slightly more, "come here and suck my cock like you mean it. Show me how much you want it."

Jennie crawled forward, sopping like a Korean rainstorm, and took his hardening shaft in both hands, slowly pumping up and down, feeling her arousal soar. She took his head into her mouth, sucking lightly. She had planned on starting slow, and she was doing so, but Jaali had other plans.

He grabbed her hair into a rough ponytail and forced her head down, sending half his length into her mouth and throat. "No one ever taught you how to suck a dick, slave?"

She moaned lightly around his dick, closing her eyes and letting him take control. Independent of him, she pushed her own head further down, pushing more of him into her.

"That's a good girl," he groaned quietly, controlling her head and moving it up and down. "Guards! Mfunge mikono!"

She didn't need to understand him, as his instruction was followed through. She felt her hands being tied together behind her back, at the same time as Jaali pulled her head down to his base, making her gag and moan. She was absolutely in love with this life, eager to serve and eager to please. She gagged again and choked as he did not release her head, thrusting his hips up into her face and driving his cock, if possible, deeper into her throat. She pushed her tongue out and licked along his balls, thoroughly enjoying being treated rough. Jaali moaned again, waited a moment, and then released her. She pulled her head off his shaft and gasped in a breath, but her moment of peace was short lived. She was turned around and shoved down, her face pressing into the cool clay floor. Jennie's heart rate increased, as she knew what was coming. A moment later she gave a gasp and a broken moan as a large cock slid into her tight, wet pussy, filling her to the brim. She had never felt so stuffed before in her life, and the sensation of the tip of a cock against her cervix when he bottomed out made her moan louder.

"Fuck!" She cried. "You're so big...master..."

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Seems she knows her place better than I thought."

No further words were exchanged as he started thrusting his hips, slow at first, but quickly getting much faster, and in a matter of seconds Jennie was shrieking in pleasure and her legs were trembling with the effort of supporting her pleasure-riddled body. The continued assault on her pussy drove her crazy.

"Oh, fuck! Yes, yes, oh my god, please keep going! Fuck, you're so big! Keep pounding me!"

He pushed on her head and grabbed her breast, squeezing tightly. Jennie felt herself rapidly careening into the first orgasm of many that day.

"You like that, huh? You fucking slut, all nice and wet for me."

"Yes, I love it..." Jennie whimpered softly, brow furrowing at his deep strokes. "I-I'm a slut for you, master..."

"Good girl." He kicked up his speed and fucked her faster, automatically increasing force. Jennie's "Ah!"s became exponentially louder and within seconds, she gave a wail of bliss and squirted hard on his cock, her cheeks growing hotter as well.

"Fuck, Jennie, I can see why you're a crowd favorite!" He groaned. "God, you're tight!"

He pulled out and yanked her upright, slapping her face with his dick. Immediate lay understanding, she dove forward and shoved him all the way down her throat, desperate to taste his cum in her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down very quickly, sounds of deepthroat reverberating in the timbers of the hut.

"I'm gonna cum in your mouth, slave. Are you ready?"

Jennie let out a muffled "Yes, master!" around his cock before slamming her head down again, driving every last millimeter of his length down her throat. She gagged hard and coughed muffledly, but kept herself there, throat squeezing him. He gave one final loud groan, grabbed her roughly by the hair, and pulled her into his crotch, before exploding in her throat, straight down into her stomach. She slid off him slowly, savoring the taste of his thick cum, while he sat panting on the chair. She over balanced and fell on her side, still breathing heavily.

Jaali stood up and then squatted down in front of her, turning her languid hesd towards him. "I expect a performance of that standard every single time I use you, is that clear?"

"Yes, master," said Jennie, practically seeing hearts, as she looked at him.

"I must now go and sort out your friend, who will submit to me soon enough. I will leave you to my men." He walked to the door, and as the tribesmen approached, he threw a smirk oved his shoulder. "Have fun."

Jennie wished she could see Lisa get dominated, but she had no time to think about that as the men approached. Loincloths were removed, and suddenly she was surrounded by 5 large dicks, all stiff and ready to pound her.

She was grabbed and raised to a kneeling position, in which the man with the biggest cock slid under her, and pushed into her still-wet pussy, making her gasp loudly and moan in both pleasure and slight pain. He was incredibly big inside her, stretching her out considerably. Another moved in front of her and she opened her mouth obediently, allowing him in. The shaft that entered her ass, thus completing the trio, brought back strong déja vu from a year back, and she moaned louder as all three started pumping fast and hard. This feeling of being completely full, it was what she had missed so bad, and now it caused her more pleasure than ever before.

"Fuck!" Jennie moaned around the cock in her mouth as the man fucking her ass reached around her and choked her, none too carefully or lightly. She gagged as the cock was thrust deeper into her throat, her eyes rolling as she stuck out her tongue and allowed t deeper still, until he bottomed out.

All three of them groaned, and one of the other two cut the ropes binding her hands, allowing her to stroke him and his counterpart. The six of them moaned and grunted in various languages, tumbling down towards the inevitable orgasm that awaited all of them. Jennie could understand a couple of them degrading her in Swahili, which only served to turn her on more, and she felt the familiar buildup going sky high as their thrusts increased in strength and speed.

Then the hand on her throat tightened considerably as the first orgasm of the group erupted in her ass; she moaned at the spurts of warmth flooding her suddenly, and the pulsing in her tight hole. Her continued deepthroat sounds were turning her on, making her wetter, and the man fucking her pussy got an ample dousing of organic lube. His thrusts became less inhibited, faster, more slick, and he finally buried himself deep inside her, and the first shot of cum deep inside her womb made her throw her head back, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp, the sheer depth of it having her stunned and pleasured. The man in front of her grabbed her hair impatiently and shoved his cock back into her throat, and she gagged again, eyes rolling back as he bottomed out, groaning loudly.

Jennie closed her eyes and let the pleasure and arousal take over, allowing her submission to control her. She bobbed her head back and forth on the tribesman in front of her, driving him in and out of her throat, pushing him closer to his climax. Suddenly, the two others she had been stroking moved behind her, and she gasped, choked on the sudden inhale of saliva, and whipped her head around as the sensation of two cocks pressing against her asshole invaded her. She had never been double penetrated in one hole before, and she had the feeling it might not be as pleasurable as single anal penetration. With a fair amount of spit, they managed to push into her tight hole, causing her a great deal of pain and pleasure. She moaned out of both, but dutifully turned back to the other, jamming his cock back into her mouth. Both men behind her began furiously thrusting into her, seemingly enjoying her cries of both pleasure and pain. The guy in front then assumed a new position; one that benefitted all three remaining gangbangers. He lay down on his back, sliding his thick legs under her, so his cock was pointing straight up. She quickly brought her upper half down, so her ass was in the air, opening up her hole better, and brought her head down on the shaft hard, plunging it down her throat in one smooth motion. She furrowed her eyebrows in the effort of keeping it there; the new position allowed for better leverage and more penetration in her throat, it wasn't easy.

As her throat contracted around him and she massaged the underside with her tongue, he gave an almighty groan and grabbed her by the head, pulling her down still further as he blew his load in her throat, straight into her stomach, and her eyes rolled back once again as she struggled not to choke and spit his cum out. She pulled off him, swallowed with difficulty, then looked him in the eye, biting her lip in arousal.

Her seductive look was interrupted by a moan and her eyebrows arching upward as one of the two behind her started roughly fingering her clit, making her arch her back and buck her hips against them, crying out wildly at the sudden burst of pleasure. The other pushed her head into the ground, allowing him to see her side-profile moan. He leaned forward, putting more weight on her grounded face, railing her into the floor. Her entire body quaked under the force of the impacts, the strokes, rocking her prostrate form. Each and every blow to her ass made her tremble. She felt her limp hands being tied together again, something she didn't object to in the least. It made her feel controlled, helpless. And she loved it.

The man in front of her, now sitting comfortably on a wide pillow, grabbed her hair and yanked her face up, allowing him to see her pleasure-addled face. Her eyebrows were curved upwards, eyes closed, and she bit her lip at his roughness. She opened her unfocused eyes slightly and looked at him, letting out a small "ah" at a particularly hard thrust from behind her.

"You're a good obedient whore, hm?" He spoke in a thick accent, but not indecipherable. She didn't answer immediately, trying to think clearly past her haze of bliss. He slapped her roughly, making her yelp and give a quiet moan.

"Yes...master..." Jennie moaned out, giving a louder cry as three additional fingers were shoved into her pussy, adoring the roughness and the degradation. "I'm a...fuck...g-good little slut for you...master..."

He chuckled and let go of her hair, allowing her face to fall back into the floor. "Yes you are. Good girl."

Jennie moaned again. How could she ever go back to Korea? How in her right mind would she ever give this feeling up? As one of them behind her slapped her ass viciously, making her yelp louder, and she threw an arched-eyebrows lip bite over her shoulder, which earned her another slap on the ass. She moaned a vague plea for more, and the two kept up the spanks.

"Fuck..." She said softly, a small squeal escaping her lips at an especially hard spank. "I'm gonna cum..."

Her head was pulled up and she looked with hazy eyes into those of the man now relaxing on the pillow, who smirked. "You're going to what?"

"C-cum, master..." Jennie repeated, her voice trembling slightly, the pleasure reaching fever pitch inside her. "It's so good...so f-fucking good..."

He moved closer and pressed his cock against her lips, to which she gave a long lick, and then took it into her mouth, slowly moving back and forth. She moaned around his thickness, and with stifled groans, both men fucking her ass orgasmed simultaneously, sending another tirade of hot cum deep into her bowels. Her moans increased in volume dramatically, and she pulled off the cock in her mouth to vocalize her pleasure.

With a scream, she squirted intensely all over the thighs of the two behind her, yelling her lungs out as her world disappeared in a whirlpool of bliss. She was no longer aware of anything; all she knew was the pleasure of being the cockslave of this tribe. She panted heavily, slumping to the floor as all three men backed off. Faintly, she heard a very similar scream rent the air, and she immediately knew it was Lisa succumbing to the pleasure as well.

A sheen of sweat covered her entire body. She could feel cum starting to leak out of her ass and pussy, and as she returned to full consciousness, she heard footsteps approaching. Jaali entered the tent, a large and satisfied smile on his face, and she turned onto her back to see him.

"Did it work...master?" Jennie said breathlessly, chest heaving. She pulled herself upright as he approached.

"Very well, I'd say." He smiled wider. "She hasn't fully complied yet, and she's still acting a bit defiant, but that'll be fixed very soon. My men have done a good job so far. Soon enough she, too, will realize that she has no choice. The pleasure will get to her."

Jennie knew quite well what was coming next, and she was both excited and scared. It was quite painful last time, though she had enjoyed it in a way. But this time, he had said it would be more severe. She shivered, even though it was at least 40 degrees outside.

"So now," Jaali continued, "I believe you are aware of our next step?"

Jennie nodded, a small smirk tugging at her lips despite her fear of the possible intensity this time. The guards moved forward and grabbed her by the upper arms, pulling her upright. They marched her outside, where a crows had assimilated and she could see Lisa's slim naked form waiting by the huge baobab tree in the village square. Among the many emotions Jennie could see in Lisa's eyes, betrayal and hurt were not detectable. What was detectable was pleasure, adoration, slight confusion, and excitement. Despite having experienced this exact situation before, her modesty had been somewhat recovered during her year in back Seoul, and she felt her cheeks grow hot as her naked body was exposed to the crowd. However, she made no attempt to cover herself and allowed herself to be led up to the baobab tree. The guards lifted her onto the brick tree ring, and one climbed up after her. He tied another rope around the one binding her hands, fashioned the other end into a noose and threw it up over the branch of the tree, tightening it so she couldn't move her arms. Lisa's arms were also tied above her head, and as the guard retreated, she turned her head to look at Jennie.

The guard started professing their crime to the crowd gathered, and Lisa said three words to her.

"Did you know?"

Jennie was silent for a moment, considering whether or not she should tell the truth. Finally she looked at her and spoke.

"Yes, I did."

Lisa snorted. "So you led me into this on purpose?"

Jennie thought she was angry, but she then smiled. "Can't say I expected something like this to happen, but I like it."

"Wait - you're okay with this?"

Lisa smiled wider. "Didn't you hear me earlier? BBC! I wasn't talking about the news corporation, I knew we'd be doing that kinda stuff with them."

In spite of what she had just said, Jennie looked away. "I'm sorry."

"But why?" Lisa questioned. "We came here both knowing what would probably happen, you just knew more of it than me."

The voice of the guard and the usual angry shouts subsided from behind them, and Jennie looked over her shoulder. The box of whips and punishing tools was being brought out again, and Jennie could see a few cat-o-nine tails hanging over the edge of it. Jennie's heart skipped a beat; they had refrained from using the cat-o-nines last time, but since it would be more severe, would they this time? A cold sweat gathered at her hairline. She knew that, even though she would enjoy being punished with their other implements, she would not enjoy that.

Lisa looked around as well and her face went pale. "Wait...wait, they won't use the spiky ones on us, will they?"

Jennie breathed out a heavy exhale. "They won't use them on you. They might for me...since it's my second time doing this. I really hope not though..."

The two guards in charge of punishing them approached the box, dug around in it momentarily, and one pulled out the barbed whip. Jennie's eyes went wide and a stab of fear tore through her. But she experienced heavy relief as the other one grabbed his hand to stop him, shaking his head and irritatedly saying something in Swahili. The other protested, and the reasonable one raised his voice slightly, which allowed Jennie to hear and understand what he was saying.

"No, you sadistic idiot!" He said in impatient Swahili. "We're punishing the girls, not tearing them apart!"

The one holding the barbed whip put it back, looking sullen. The other one continued digging around, shaking his head and muttering incredulously. Jennie thought a silent blessing on him for his mercy and breathed a sigh of relief. Her heart rate jumped up drastically as they finally settled on a pair of flexible riding crops, pumping her excitement up. She was a pain slut and she knew it. They approached holding the tools, and Lisa whipped her head around to look at Jennie.

"How long do they do it?"

"Not long," Jennie replied, shifting into a comfortable position and preparing for her punishment. "Enough to hurt, though. But don't worry," she continued, smiling deviously, "you'll enjoy-"

Her sentence was interrupted by a vicious smack to her ass by the crop. She cried out loudly in the middle of her sentence and Lisa gave a small squeal at her first strike. And then the second stroke came. And the third. The fourth. The fifth. Jennie, through her haze of pain and pleasure, saw Jaali sitting on his chair by a different hut 10 yards away with his ankles crossed, a drink in his hand, observing the scene. He saw her looking at him and raised his glass mockingly, his smirk visible even from this distance.

She yelped louder at a particularly hard stroke. So far, she thought, this was not more severe than last time, in fact it was more mild. No sooner had she thought this than the crops were put away, and she caught a glimpse of the bullwhips from last time when she looked back. Lisa shot a glance over at her calm, composed demeanor.

"Well, you were right, it isn't as bad as I thought it would be. And I do kinda like it."

A loud, sharp crack cut through the air and Lisa shrieked in pain, eyes wide from the shock of such a drastic increase in intensity. A faint red streak was visible on her ass. A second later Jennie felt a stinging pain on her own ass, and she yelled out as well. Lisa got whipped again, and she gave another howl, eyes screwing up.

"Ow!" She cried, tears welling in her eyes. "It hurts!"

Jennie got her next lash, and she felt tears springing to her own eyes, purely from the pain of it. At a glance to her right, she saw Lisa's pained and tearful eyes looking back at her, her mouth opening in another cry at her next lash. They were each given 12 more lashes and then the bullwhips were put away. Behind her, Jennie heard a man's voice, shouting in Swahili.

"Turn around!"

Jennie turned to face the crowd obediently, but Lisa didn't move, not understanding the command. Jennie opened her mouth to tell Lisa what he'd said, then another crack sounded and Lisa wailed again.

"He says turn around, Lisa."

Lisa turned around hurriedly to face the crowd as well, and a pink tint appeared in her tear-streaked cheeks at the lecherous jeers of the onlookers. She crossed one thigh over her pussy a bit, in a minimal effort to decrease the humiliation, but a warning look from a guard was enough for her to put it back down. She let her leg relax, letting the crowd have an unadulterated view of her naked and abused body, hanging her head in shame. In a way Jennie felt sorry for her, but that thought was strangled by the sight of Jaali walking over from his chair. The guards stood at attention and bowed their heads respectfully, and he climbed up to where Jennie was, surveying with approval the marks left on her and Lisa's bodies. He stepped right in front of her and spoke into her ear, roughly grabbing her sore ass.

"Do you think we should bring out the kitties, little slut?"

Jennie could only assume he was referencing the tails, to which she frantically shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, master."

Jaali chuckled. "Very well."

He walked behind her, delivered a painful slap to both of their asses, and then walked back to his chair with a single shouted word.

"Kuanza!" ("Commence!")

While Jaali had been talking to Jennie, the guards had gotten out two thin wooden canes and were now preparing to strike. Jennie gulped and steeled herself as much as possible, and completely lost her composure as the first lash landed directly on her nipple.

"FUCK!" She screamed, jerking away as much as possible. It stung way worse than last time, and she had not been prepared for the level of agony it caused. Lisa spouted a similar shriek at her first hit.

And so it continued for dozens of lashes, each stroke becoming more agonizing, until they stopped, leaving the two girls panting heavily, moaning in pain and covered in red streaks. Despite the intense stinging pain she was feeling, Jennie couldn't deny that her pussy was absolutely drenched, and she found herself wanting more. Then she spotted her punisher eyeing her pussy as though about to hit it with the switch.

"Please..." Jennie said quietly, almost to herself, "No..."

Despite her arousal, she knew that being whipped there with that switch would be absolute hell. He seemed to consider it, but shook his head and put away the switch. This time around they used different tools. Perhaps since it was Lisa's first time, they went easier on her this round. Her punisher brought out a multi-tasseled leather flogger, and Jennie's retrieved an old-fashioned Russian knout, thankfully designed without wire. It was, Jennie thought, like a more intense version of Lisa's flogger.

The guards approached once more, holding their different implements of punishment. Jennie saw what was coming an instant before it did - the crowd gave a collective gasp as each of the two girls was struck violently in the pussy with their respective whips. But instead of a shriek of pain, both of them let out moans of pleasure.

"Ooooh..." Jennie moaned, as the guards drew their arms back once more. "Now you like it, huh, Lisa?"

Lisa gave a cute yelp as she was struck between her thighs again. "Mmm, yeah..."

The next upswing hit her directly in the clit, eliciting a high pitched "ahh" and upping her arousal. Lisa moaned again, a barely perceptible buck of her hips signaling her pleasure.

"Harder!" Jennie cried as she was whipped again, desperate for her release. "Fucking whip me harder!"

The guard didn't understand the words she said, but could clearly decipher her tone because his uppercuts increased in force and frequency. She felt herself drawing nearer to an orgasm from pain alone, though the strikes caused her intense pleasure from it. Lisa's cries also got louder as she too approached her orgasm.

"Fuck," Lisa gasped, chest heaving, "I'm gonna cum!"

Jennie only moaned in reply, giving a loud "ah" at her punisher's swing. But then there was a pause in the pleasure pain. Jaali had roused himself from his chair and was making his way through the crowd as Lisa's shouts continued, and after a quick word with Jennie's guard he took the knout from him and turned to face Jennie. There was a moment of silence, broken only by her counterpart's broken whimper, wherein Jaali and Jennie looked each other in the eye, and Jennie knew she was about to cum.

With a slight cock of his head, Jaali brought his hand down and then swung it up into her soaking wet pussy. Then again. And on the third strike, he calculated his movement, let his hand fall, and then brought up a stinging, painful, blissful strike into her. Every tassel of the ten-tail knout was felt, each landing an exquisite sting on a different spot. Her clit, her entrance, her lips, everything was hit in a magnificent blow. And this was what drove her over the edge.

With a final shriek, voicing her pleasure, she squirted explosively all over the place; droplets of her cum showered the tree ring and everything below her. It only took a few more strikes for Lisa to reach her orgasm as well; lithe body writhing, she squirted hard on the tree ring below her too. The two of them hung limp against their bonds, chests heaving.

Jaali climbed up to stand in front of the crowd, back to the two bound girls, and starting speaking loudly in Swahili to the audience.

"You see this?" He gestured at the two of them. "These two degenerate whores have just orgasmed before your eyes, from a public whipping! They are aroused by pain and humiliation! Now that you have seen with your own eyes the level of decadence these licentious sluts show, I leave them to you. I trust that you will handle them appropriately."

The crowd, especially the men, cheered at the last two sentences, and the mob converged. The rope on Jennie's hands was sawed off and she was dragged onto the ground with Lisa. Jennie felt a mass of hands groping and fingering her, to which she moaned quietly. She was pulled to a kneeling position, at which time someone tied a piece of cloth into her mouth, keeping her from talking. A hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, and a few more restrained her hands behind her back. She felt a lukewarm substance being daubed across her breasts and cleavage, but she couldn't decipher the words from feeling alone. The hand gripping her hair was pulling very hard, and Jennie gritted her teeth at the pain. Yet another hand grabbed her by the neck and tightened its grip until she was gasping, and several more slapped whatever parts of her were accessible. She felt blows land on her ass, pussy, breasts, face, thighs, and other spots. She managed to turn her head enough to see Lisa, who was being treated the same way, and black clay paint which had been roughly smeared across her breasts spelled "Kahaba" (Whore). An unknown someone slapped her face hard enough to knock her over, but she was steadied by the thirty hands grasping her.

Jennie's mind was a whirlwind of chaos and mixed emotions, and the only things that resonated with her brain were the pleasure of being caressed and fingered and the pain of being slapped, spanked, and abused. Bodies and noise pressed in on her. Her hair was released, and she looked down at her chest to see the same clay paint, which spelled "Malkia Kahaba" (Queen Whore). Her cheeks grew hot again, but that was nothing compared to Lisa's. Lisa's face could have been easily mistaken for a beetroot, it was so red.

The two were dragged onto their feet. Jennie's hands were tied behind her back, and she was pushed forward. She could't see where they were going, or where she was being led, but the crowd was marching her and Lisa somewhere, and by the noise of the crowd behind her, she could tell she was at the front of it. Gasps and shouts were heard from who was presumably villagers who hadn't been made aware of the situation. Blindfolded, gagged, tied, and naked, she was paraded through the village, shown to everyone who hadn't already been at the gathering. As humiliated and ashamed as she was, she couldn't ignore the heat building up between her legs again. Was she really being turned on by this?

Then someone in the lead of the crowd shouted in gleeful Swahili, something like "I got it!"

Jennie didn't know what he was talking about, but all the was concentrating on was keeping her arousal to a minimum, since her thighs were rubbing together a lot as she walked. But then, out of nowhere, something flat and something that stung hit her ass, and she gave a loud cry, not expecting the sudden pain. They had broken out the crops again, and Lisa let out a similar squeal a second after. Jennie's ass was already sore from its earlier abuse, and the sting was made much worse now. But each hit not only send a jolt of pain through her, but one of pleasure as well. She struggled to keep her moans at bay, and was battling to keep herself from cumming again. She was fighting on multiple fronts, including her own front, and soon enough the armies of pleasure would overtake her defense.

And sure enough, when the crop was brought up into her pussy, she folded. Her entire body shook with the effort of controlling itself, and she bit the cloth in her mouth hard to keep herself from yelling out. A stream of cum leaked out despite her best efforts. The leaders of the mob noticed her decrease in pace and pushed her to keep walking, thankfully not noticing her orgasm. Her whole body felt hot and shaky, whether that was from arousal or humiliation she didn't know.

Before she knew it, they had made a full circle of the village, and her blindfold and gag were removed. While they had been away, some remaining helpers had constructed two large structures that vaguely resembled spits for cooking meat, which were made up of two vertical wooden poles with an adjoining horizontal pole on top, both of which having been laid down on the ground. The crowd had assimilated more members on its tour of the village, and various members were shouting something Jennie couldn't understand over the noise. But she and Lisa were each forced onto one of the respective spits. Jennie's hands were tied to the top pole, and each of her feet was tied to the two outer poles, spread-eagling her across it. Then a rope was tied onto each of her thighs and then connected to the top pole, to support her and make sure she didn't fall. She looked to the side and saw Lisa in the same position, everything on display for the villagers. Tears were gathered in her eyes, but she didn't seem to be too opposed to her current situation.

The crowd left them alone momentarily while they held an internal discussion, no doubt debating how to humiliate the two girls further. They seemed to come to a unanimous conclusion, and the two were suddenly surrounded by men. Jennie got a brief glimpse of the surrounding houses before the mob of guys closed in. And in every direction, they all pulled out their cocks, and in every direction they started stroking their cocks.

Jennie understood their purpose now. She and Lisa would be covered in cum and raised on their spits to be displayed to all passersby. She was mortified at the idea of it, but the idea also sent a thrill of excitement through her and a fresh wave of slick to her lower region.

It was only a couple of minutes before the cum started flowing; Jennie gasped as the first spurt of cum landed directly on her hypersensitive pussy, and then the floodgates were opened and dozens more hit every part of her that was reachable. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of each white spray covering her body. They focused much of it on her face, but eventually they covered her whole figure with streaks of white cum. A final spurt landed on her outstretched tongue, and then the men dispersed. Her spit was heaved and hoisted into a standing position, leaving her hanging naked about six feet above the ground, well in view of everyone.

And after a few minutes of jeers, ogling and shame, the crowd dispersed and Jennie found herself in a similar position to last time: naked, tied, abandoned, and humiliated. She looked over and locked eyes with Lisa to her left. Tear tracks adorned her beet-red cheeks.

"You okay?" Jennie asked in Korean, so the remaining locals and guards wouldn't understand.

"Yes," Lisa replied, giving a small struggle against her bonds, "I'm good. And you know what?"

"What?"

Lisa suddenly smiled. "You were right, I did like it."

Jennie raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? All that, and you enjoyed it?"

Lisa nodded. "But fuck - that hurt. A lot."

Jennie grinned. "That's what makes it good, isn't it?"

Lisa giggled. "You're a really big fucking slut, you know that?" She sighed. "How long do you think we'll be up here?"

Jennie shrugged, as much as was possible with her arms splayed out. "As long as it takes for the guards to get horny again."

Lisa shivered at the thought. "Damn, that felt amazing..."

"Yes, now you see why I was so eager to come back."

"So what happens next?"

"You'll probably be taken down, then fucked again, then the tribe leader will offer you the option of being this tribe's sex slave. You can go back to Korea with me as long as you come back with me every year."

"Not that I will, but if I refuse?" Lisa asked.

"Prison, in which case the same outcome happens."

"Well, even if I had a choice I would still become their slave. Because god...I can't resist that..."

Jennie laughed. "Now who's a slut?"

"Heyyy!" Lisa protested. "I'm not a slut, it's just...well..."

"Who said there's anything wrong with that?" Jennie chuckled.

Lisa blushed. "Ok fine...I'm a slut."

"That's better."

It was about half an hour more that they hung there, with the occasional goggling passerby, talking. But then a small body of guards approached and took the spits down, untying the two girls and dragging them to their feet. Then their hands were tied behind their backs again, and their blindfolds were replaced.

No fanfare was bothered with and no privacy was cared for as the guards removed their loincloths and bent the two over on their knees. Jennie had no time to react whatsoever before a thick, long, and hard cock entered her pussy from behind, and another pushed against her lips until she opened them, which she did, gladly welcoming the shaft into her mouth. Both dicks quickly reached their maximum depth and bottomed out, making Jennie moan and gag simultaneously. She was very sensitive everywhere from the day's abuse and manhandling, and the man fucking her pussy was taking no care to be gentle. Nor was the one in front, who was savagely fucking her throat with no consideration for her rapidly emptying lungs. She choked on the thick meat filling her throat, trying to draw breath, but to no avail. He thrusted his hips forward fully, shoving his entire cock into her throat, keeping her from inhaling anything but his precum. She gagged, trying to pull away, but he held her head there, making her eyes roll back. She choked again, inadvertently jerking, her throat being stretched out by his thick cock. She desperately coughed and choked, fearing that he would facefuck her to unconsciousness, but then he let her go, pulling out of her throat. She gasped in a breath, coughing and panting. He gave her a moment's rest before starting throatfucking her again, but he didn't hold her down. Quick, hard thrusts were given from both sides, and again she felt herself drawing nearer to a climax. She had lost count of how many she'd achieved, but the number, whatever it was, had left her very sensitive and very delicate, and she was loving being absolutely demolished by the tribesmen. They gave no regard for her sensitivity, uninhibitedly drilling her with relentless abandon. Similar noises came from Lisa to Jennie's right; her cute deepthroat sounds and moans could be heard even over Jennie's own.

Then she heard a groan from behind her and a moment later, a deluge of hot cum filled her pussy, shooting deep inside her. The sudden torrent of warmth triggered her oncoming peak as well, and a gush of cum streamed out of her. Her loud "ahhhhng" was muffled and absorbed by the cock in her throat, and its owner succumbed to the orgasmic pleasure Jennie's mouth gave him, and finally buried himself inside it, releasing his load deep down her throat.

The two were given a minute to recover, breathing heavily, until they were heaved to their bedraggled feet once more.

"Well, see you." Lisa called to Jennie in Korean, excitement easily distinguishable in her voice, and then they were led their separate ways. Jennie nodded at her and allowed herself to be steered away towards the sex hut. Jaali was waiting there, in his chair which was pushed against the center post. He gave a small smirk at the sight of her, cheeks flushed and red, naked, covered in semi-dry cum and whip marks, and pushed onto her knees.

"Enjoyed yourself, little slut?"

"Yes, I have, master."

"Last time, of course, you were offered a choice, which I will be giving to your friend once I'm done here. This time, you having already accepted the better option, you have another choice. You can, of course, return to Korea, and await this time next year. But," he continued, a small smirk curling his lips, "our hospitable village would be willing to play host to you and your friend, should you wish to stay a little bit longer to enjoy our...amenities."

Jennie was silent for a moment, and then smiled widely.

A/N: Jesus Christ, it's about time I put this out. It might've been a bit rushed. It's been pretty fun writing this series, and you know I can't leave it like that, so a part 3 will be in order in about...ten years. You're welcome.

[greg-montgomery]

Aaron going through boxes of old stuff and finding a journal of yours from a long time ago. He opens it out of curiosity and reads about how your younger self always wanted to be called princess from a significant other so he tries it out along with buying a nice bouquet of flowers 🤭

Aaron’s cheeks were almost hurting by smiling all day, because he was surrounded by boxes of your belongings that would soon be all over his house. Your house.

One certain box with the word “memories” in capital letters written on it though, drew his attention. Opening it, he was met with a few books, magazines, cards, and concert tickets.

At the bottom of the box, there was a pink journal with your name decorating its cover.

It looked personal, but it also looked like it was from a long time ago. He couldn’t help it, and with his curiosity getting the better of him, he opened it.

The pages were filled with pink glittery letters, little drawings, and stickers of Disney princesses and Barbie characters.

He smiled with affection while turning the pages and seeing what your younger self used to fill her journal with. He almost skipped a page when his eyes fell on the title written on top of it.

“My dream boy!”

Oh, this is gonna be interesting, he thought.

Aaron found himself competing with the ideal version of a boyfriend your teenage self had. He went through every single point you had written down, and mentally checked it.

That version of you, was still part of who you were today, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint you or not be enough.

Tall – check.

Dark hair – check.

Sweet – check, well to you at least.

Brings me flowers – check.

Calls me princess – not check.

Princess, huh? That was new.

He knew that you were big on pet names, but princess had never occurred to him before.

A smirk grew on his face. It was time to see if your tastes had changed.

--

Just the day after, Aaron made sure to visit a flower shop after work and buy your favorite flowers. If he was gonna try something, he was going to do it right.

He found you sitting on the couch, eating a bag of chips and scrolling on your phone, some show on the TV playing in the background. You left it open for company when he wasn’t there and something inside him stung a little.

“Baby?”

You threw your head back on the couch and looked up at him as he moved closer. “You’re home,” you sighed with a smile. “Missed you.”

“I did too.” He leaned down to kiss you on the lips and brought the flowers he was hiding behind his back in front of you. “That’s why I decided to get some flowers to my princess.”

Your face lightened up at the sight of the beautiful bouquet and the sound of the pet name. “Aaron!”

You stood up on the couch and threw yourself at him, hugging him with a force that could bring down a bear. “Thank you!”

“You like them, honey?”

“I love them.”

Aaron sighed at the feeling of your lips on his neck, as you left little kisses on the curve of it. “Anything for my princess.”

Your face was still hidden in the crook of his neck but Aaron could feel you laughing.

“What are the giggles for?”

“Nothing…”

He pulled back just enough so he could look at your face, and grabbed your chin softly. You averted your eyes from him as if you had something to hide.

“Y/N?”

“It’s nothing!” you insisted. “I just like to be called that,” you added quietly, playing with a button from Aaron’s shirt. You still wouldn’t look at him.

“To be called what?” he asked.

“Princess…”

“I know.” He smirked.

“What do you mean?”

“I read it in your diary.”

“What?” you raised your voice and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I found it through your old stuff.”

“Aaron, I’m gonna kill you!”

“I’m sorry!”

“No, you’re not. You’re laughing.”

“Oh come on, it got you what you wanted.”

“Shut up,” you said , furrowing your brows.

The two of you sat on the couch and he tried to pull you into his arms. After showing resistance for a few seconds, you let him hold you.

“What else did you read?”

“I saw the whole list. About your dream guy.”

“I don’t remember adding ‘he reads my journal without permission’,” you said.

“I do have all the rest though,” he said with a cocky smile.

“You do, I guess,” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “I was manifesting.”

“I hope you’re happy with the guy the universe sent you then, princess.”

“Ah…” you threw your head back with a lovesick smile. “And it's only getting better.”

[lilacgaby]

title: awaken.

pairing: barbarian!bakugo x goddess!reader,

you've been asleep all this time, who knew a barbarian would be the one to awaken you?

(extended ver of this)

as katsuki wandered through the never ending forest, he let the words of the elders ring through his head. "you'll never be anything more than a placeholder for the next king."

he set off, destined to prove himself, show that he was worth more than any of them could predict. his father was worried and heartbroken at his sudden departure, but his mother understood that he'd need to do this now, or he'd never forgive himself.

the first thing he did as he set off was to secure food for the night. he eyed a group of hogs, all large and heavy, perfect for feeding him throughout the night. he grabbed the bow out of his satchel and aimed it at the largest one, which landed perfectly in his target's head. he couldn't help but to let out a celebratory laugh as it fell to the ground, making the hogs around it scurry off into the forest.

that seemed to be the last of his luck for the day. he now wished he chose a different day to set off, as the rains and winds were heavy, it was impossible to set up camp in the forest as it was. suddenly, through the curtains of heavy greenery, he saw an abandoned structure. he'd prefer anything to the harsh conditions mother nature set out on him now, so he cut through the vines as he made his way into the structure.

it was grand inside, he thought. he couldn't see very well thanks to the darkness brought on by the rains, but from what he could see it must have been a place of high regard in its peak.

he lit a torch, carrying it as he continued on into the structure. he determined it had been a church in its old days, long forgotten due to.. well he didn't figure that part out yet.

he bumped into a object that resembled a bench, besides the old candle wax, fresh leaves, and golden statutes he saw littering it. he made a mental note to take those with him as he organized his things onto the bench.

he laid his wine down first, a treat he'd enjoy on the way back to his kingdom. next, he laid down his clothes he planned to change into. though he was a barbarian, and by nature they did not wear many clothes, katsuki knew the trip would require such clothing, so he brought the best.

his next item was the huge hog he'd caught earlier. he lugged it on to the bench-like object, thinking of how it was a perfect spot to gut and prepare it for his meal later on. speaking of his cooking, he made sure to bring only the finest oils to cook in. he set it down next to the hog, satisfied with his array of items, he'd slumped against the bench, closed his eyes and sighed.

when he opened it again, he saw the shadow of a person moving behind him. alarmed, he readied his other weapon he always kept on his side, his blade welded by his mother.

though, his blade was dropped out of his hand at the sight. his jaw went slack, eyes wide, and the sudden urge to worship overcame him as he finally saw who was behind him.

a gorgeous.. deity? who glowed with an luminous essence, who adorned pointed ears, heavy amounts of gold, a silk dress that encapsulated your body, and an unreadable expression as you sifted through his items.

the ability to speak was taken from him, he felt as if he was at your mercy, and he was. he was on his knees before he could process it.

your hands glided through the items he had placed on the bench, after you finished looking through the group, you finally spared him a glance.

"your gifts are of high value," you spoke, your voice royal, with an unimaginable presence. "i'm not as powerful as i used to be, my temple and followers were lost to time, my memory faded from the minds of the new." you sauntered over to him now, becoming eye-level with him.

he'd never felt so unworthy.

"i have not much i can give you or do for you, so what would you like from me?"

his ability to speak finalky returned, his mind though, remained blank, so he answered with the only thing on his blank mind:

"your hand."

he immediately rescinded back, never feeling so unnerved and unknowing as he did in this moment. "i- it was an unreasonable request! you-- it's beneath y-"

"that's acceptable. i will go with you, barbarian."

he was shocked as you accepted, though he wouldn't dare question your judgement. "katsuki." he blurted out. "please call me katsuki."

"i will marry you, if it's what you desire katsuki."

his eyes shot open. "yes. i-- it's what i'd like."

"you may call me [name] then." he clutched his heart, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming, but if he was he'd never want it to end.

"alright.. [name]." you smiled at the hesitance in his voice, and waved his worries off with a smile.

"shall we head out then?"

"we can't, the weather is horrible."

"what weather? it's sunny as normal." surely enough, as he turned around the weather had returned to a calm, warm day. the harsh winds and rains no longer present, replaced by the mundane weather.

"i-- i suppose you're correct." he gathered his supplies, even getting your permission to take the things he had on your alter, as he learned it was, back with you two. he slung his satchel behind his back and turned to you.

you held out your hand, and after he placed a chaste kiss on it, he carried you in his arms. the journey back was a blur to him, the burning in his feet nonexistent as he focused on the feeling of his skin on yours, the feeling of his hands on your body.

you arrived sooner then expected. internally, katsuki was excited. not only did he manage to revitalize a goddess, but he'd marry her. he was ecstatic not only at the prospect of beating this into the elders' faces, but to be yours for his eternity.

as he burst back into the conference room, the elders were shocked to see him back so soon. the smug expressions they would've gotten were wiped off the second they noticed you in his arms.

even they, from their distance at their cabinets, could sense the raw presence you had.

"prince bakugo, what is the meaning of this?"

"i've brought to you undeserving folks my wife."

the table of elders all collectively choked at the revelation. "wife? but we've yet to go through the proper trails and period of compatibility. that woman isn't even a barbarian."

"you're right, she's above all of you. she's a deity, and i've earned her hand in marriage. i want my wedding planned for next week, make it fit for a god."

"a deity you say?" the elder's felt like their eyes were about to burst out their sockets. "but--"

they heard nothing as he walked away from the room, you still in his arms. as you eyed the new, strange innovations and buildings around you, katsuki clutched you closer to his chest.

he set you onto a bed, the feeling of silk under your hands one that was foreign, as you hadn't been awakened for over a century.

he knelt in front of you, taking off one of his necklaces, and wordlessly asking for permission to set it on you.

you didn't know this, but this was sacred to the barbarians, presenting one's necklace to another was like talking a piece of your soul and entrusting them with it.

he looked at the sight of you, his ruby necklace with the teeth of the beasts he slayed contrasting severely to the gold you adorned, and he smiled.

you felt your heart go into a knot at the sight of him, he held your hand as he suddenly made a vow to you.

"i vow to be your greatest worshipper. even if i am not the last, i will set a standard that will long exceed my lifespan.

for you are my wife now, and i'll cherish you as long as i may live."

you smiled softly, reaching out to him to hold his other hand. "you've already become my most interesting worshipper, that i'm certain of."

as the two of you basked in each others presence, other gods were smiling upon you two as well.

unbeknownst to you, zeus, a god who had favored you since your birth, had set off the storm on bakugo, leading him to your alter.

not like it was what you were pondering at the moment anyway, as you caressed and embraced your soon to be husband, who you were already planning to turn into a god alongside you.

[vampiresbloodx]

your lips on mine.

summary: the queen has asked for you.

parings: rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

word count: 1k.

Trigger warnings: fluff, sexual tension, a lot of tension, gay tension, kissing, soft rhaenyra, slight angst if you squint.

Living on Dragonstone has been rather interesting. Well, not much exciting happens everyday, you do miss king's landing, mostly because it was your home for the longest time, it held so many memories, but anywhere the queen went, you happily followed like an obedient dog. 

She doesn’t even need a leash for you. One look and you're all hers. And she knows that. 

As of late, you couldn’t help but notice there's been a distance between you and your queen. You know she’s busy running things, there’s a war coming, and happening at the same time. It seems it’ll never end. 

You were the queen's guard, with many dirty secrets that could definitely get you killed. 

But you wouldn’t mind that. Since your first time was with her, rhaenyra targaryen, the woman you love, who you’d die for, nothing beats that. 

Maybe her best friend might be in the mix. 

You’ll do anything for your queen. 

Tonight you would have been doing your usual duties as the queens guard, and yet you find yourself in your room, waiting for an order. rhaenyra herself commanded you to stay in your room for the night, you were confused, slightly hurt, wondering what you did wrong, nothing came to mind. You would know if you had hurt her, said something bad, it would have haunted you. 

You were always supposed to remain by her side. 

Now you find yourself alone. 

You didn’t like it. 

There was a knock at your door, startling you away from your thoughts as you got up, you walked towards the door and opened it. 

One of the queen's handmaidens was there. 

“The queen has asked for you in her bed chambers.” 

Oh, has she now? 

You wanted to smile, but you needed to look professional in front of everyone, so they don’t suspect anything. 

Though you weren’t going to be surprised if there were whispers around the place. Someone was always talking, they should be glad the queen or you haven’t found them. 

The queen doesn’t tolerate that. 

You headed your way through the halls to where the queens rested, wondering why she’s called now, not before, you weren’t complaining, by the gods did you miss her. 

Making it to her door, breathing softly, trying to keep it together, as you closed your eyes, bringing your fist up to knock. 

“Come in” you hear her sweet honey-eyed voice call out to you, she sounded beautiful like an angel, she was a goddess, fallen to this earth wearing the title queen as she rightfully should. 

You went inside her chambers, it was warm, a fire was lit, there was a nice scent that flowed in her room, welcoming you, lavender and vanilla, you’ve been in many presence of royal, princesses, prince, whomever it may be, but none smelled quiet like rhaenyra. 

And there she was, never failing to make you breathless, rhaenyra stood from her seat, there was a slight frown in her brow, causing concern to wash over you. You always worried for your queen, tonight there was something different in the air. 

“My queen?” you spoke, your voice soft, not the usual strictness you were tired of showing to everyone else for formalities as a knight. 

At least you got to breathe a little around her. 

She hadn’t replied yet, you noticed she was fidgeting with her fingers together, a thing she does when she’s bothered by something, she was stuck in deep thought, you could see it on her face. 

You stepped closer, the sound of the fire crackling breaking through the silence. 

Your hand reached out, touching her face, she didn’t back away, you caressed her cheek. 

“My love, what haunts you?” you asked, “we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but if you do wish to, I’ll be here to listen. Always.” 

She smiled, staring up at you. 

“I’ve realised i've been disregarding you” she said, you couldn’t help but frown, did she notice how upset you’ve been not always being with her?. 

“It's fine, my queen” you chuckled nervously, your cheeks heating up. “You’re very busy and needed, there's a lot happening, I’m not as important-” 

She placed a finger on your lips to stop you from rambling anymore. 

“Don’t you ever talk to yourself like that, ever. You are important, especially to me” she spoke with such fire, you could feel your eyes welling up with tears, but you didn’t cry. 

“Thank you, my queen.” 

“Why are you thanking me?” she asked with an amused smile. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” you say, smiling back at her. 

Then she laughed, it made your heart flutter, it’s been a while since you heard her laugh, god, it was a wonderful sound, no music could ever sound as mesmerising as her. 

“It's good to hear you laugh again, my queen.” 

She blushes red, like she’s been caught. 

“You never fail to cheer me up, my darling.” 

It was like your heart came to a stop. It's been a while since she’s called you that, now you were a flustered mess, when were you not around her?. You found yourself staring at the floor, you looked up, feeling her fingers holding your chin, to make you look in her eyes, your breath hitched, you felt like you were on fire, maybe it was just the fireplace that happened to be on, no, it was just her. 

She leaned in, you were never the one to pull away from her, always leaning into her, wanting to feel her all over you, her hand was placed on your neck, the other hand caressing your face. Her lips met yours, you kissed back, hungry for more, your heart felt like it was going to rip out of your chest, you wouldn’t mind dying right now. 

For now though, you just wanted to enjoy the taste of her lips on yours. 

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: It's been some time since your death and yet none of the Hashira still have the heart to remind Muichiro you're gone. A/N: I'm not too sure if the title means what I think it means so let me know if it's wrong...anyways I got the idea from a fic of @oceanxmoonz, so credits! Also you can probably tell I got lazy at the end... WARNINGS: (y/n) is dead. That's it.

“Where’s (y/n)?”

Shinobu’s smile was a little faker than before as she turned around to face the expectantly waiting Mist Pillar, who seemed a little upset. She couldn’t answer that quite yet. “Are you looking for them?”

“Yes,” Muichiro said plainly. “I couldn’t find them at all this morning. Or afternoon…have you seen them?”

Was it sadder to watch Muichiro lose his closest friend - if not something more - and grieve about it for a long time after or sadder to watch him forget they were long dead? That they weren’t avoiding him like his amnesia had him think, that they actually couldn’t? He always needed to be reminded and Shinobu didn’t like to be the one to do so.

“Tokito…they died a few months ago, remember?”

“No, they didn’t. Ginko would’ve told me.” His eyes widened, then narrowed angrily. “I don’t think that’s a very funny thing to say, Kocho.”

“But, Tokito-”

“I’ll go find (y/n) myself,” he said abruptly, then walked off.

Of course he came back later with the same question; of course Shinobu’s smile faltered.

***

“…I forgot your name.”

“…”

Muichiro blinked at the stoic Pillar before him. “You’re the…something Hashira, right? I think (y/n) mentioned you. Are they back from both of your mission yet?”

Tomioka hesitated. He was honest but he wasn’t cruel. He knew exactly what Tokito was talking about, knew that he suffered from huge blanks in his memory. He envied the younger Hashira a little, to be able to forget such tragedy - however seeing him constantly wander around wondering where they’d gone was a pitiful sight.

So in the end he decided to evade the question. “Yes. (y/n) came back safely from the mission.”

The Mist Pillar’s eyes lit up. “Thank you. I’ll go find them now.”

Yes, (y/n) came back from their mission together safely. If only the same could be said of the last.

***

“HAR?”

“I said, where’s (y/n)?” Muichiro sighed after his almost shout at the disbelieving Wind Pillar. “Has your mission damaged your ears?”

“You little-” Sanemi checked himself. “I know damn well what it was you said.”

“Okay then, where’s (y/n)? I found this flower I wanted to show them.”

The older man’s mouth fell open, probably to harshly remind Tokito for the fifth time that month that who he was looking for was long dead and gone. Then it closed again.

Sanemi was not a soft man, evidenced by his scars, shouts, and treatment of his younger brother. But at the end of the day his intentions, though misguided, were what he wanted best for everyone. It was a tragic world out there and whether his next words were going to exacerbate it he would accept the consequences whole-heartedly - no one would fault him for not wanting to bring the poor kid back to shattering reality either, right?

“Probably out on another mission. You can’t keep hogging them to yourself, Tokito.”

“That’s odd…I thought they just came back…”

“Yeah, well, demons don’t wait for anyone!” Sanemi barked. Sadly, too true.

***

“Oh, Tokito…!”

“…Kan-something-san?” Muichiro’s face twisted in confusion as the pink-haired lady threw herself at him crying, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Mitsuri straightened and wiped at her face, plastering a bright but trembling smile for the younger Hashira.

Muichiro blinked. “Okay. Have you seen (y/n)? I just got back from a mission but I can’t find them.”

“…perhaps they’re busy?” Mitsuri swept the tears on her cheeks again. “Don’t worry, I don’t think they’d ignore if they had a choice, Tokito!”

“Oh…alright then.” Muichiro drifted off, readily accepting Mitsuri’s story despite the obvious holes for lack of better explanation.

Mitsuri bit her lip, guilty at her lie. Every day Muichiro would approach with the same question and every day someone or some way it would be broken to him that (y/n) was long gone but as terrible as it made her feel Mitsuri never wanted to be the one who did it.

He’d found the love she’d always been searching for. Unfortunate one didn’t survive for long.

***

“Young Tokito! Are you looking for someone?!”

“You’re really loud…” Muichiro tilted his head. “Have you seen (y/n)?”

Tengen and Rengoku shared a look - the Sound Pillar broke the pause first. “Tokito, don’t you remember?”

“Remember what?” Muichiro’s attention span was already running out. “I think I saw them today but I can’t remember where.”

“You couldn’t have seen them,” Tengen starts again, for it’s not the first time the Mist Pillar has mistaken someone else for (y/n). “They’re-”

“Oh, right…at the Butterfly Mansion, I think. Thanks for…helping?” Muichiro left and the two Pillars glanced at each other again.

“Who’s gonna tell him? He can’t keep walking around thinking they’re still alive. That’s just cruel.”

“But if he remembers his spirit will be beyond crushed - you remember how he was when he first found out. For now, when we need to be most vigilant, perhaps we should let him be!”

Rengoku’s voice carried a tremor of uncertainty, however.

***

“I saw Kanroji and you talk a few days ago. Did you make her cry?” Obanai glowered menacingly at the deadpan Mist Pillar.

“No? She was crying?”

“Yes!” Kaburamaru hissed with his owner.

“Oh…right. Now I remember. I didn’t make her cry.” Muichiro looked up. “At least I don’t think so?”

Obanai resisted the urge to slap his hand on his forehead. He leaned in clsoer. “Why was she crying?”

“I have no idea,” Muichiro said, leaning back. He brightened. “Oh, right. I was asking about (y/n).”

“(y/n)?” Obanai stiffened but took a step back. “Oh. I see.”

“Which reminds me…I wanted to go see her after our sparring, but I don’t know where they are.”

The Serpent Pillar and his snake shifted uncomfortably. “You’ll find them.”

Not really. Obanai hoped for the sake of his comrade that he’d forget he’d already asked the question and not stumble upon (y/n)’s grave.

***

Himejima too cried.

It didn’t really make sense to Muichiro, but he let the oldest Hashira lay a hand on his shoulder and say some prayers. He didn’t really pay attention to the wording but he caught his name and (y/n)’s.

It was safe to assume the Stone Hashira didn’t know where they were so Muichiro bid him goodbye (or at least he thought he did) and set off to go find them himself. From behind the trees one Shinazugawa Genya watched him go before joining his master’s side.

“Why isn’t anyone telling him?” Genya couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose someone so close to you, someone to love and care for, and not even remember when they were no longer there.

“Some things must be found out by himself.”

“Isn’t it unfair to (y/n)’s memory if Tokito doesn’t remember?”

“I’m sure (y/n) will understand…they were very patient with him. They will understand that he needs to take his own time in coming into terms with…”

“Coming into terms?” Genya’s frown deepened. “You mean it’s not just his memory thing?”

“Grief and denial are strange things.”

***

“Where are you, (y/n)?”

Muichiro knelt down by the headstone, dropping the bouquet next to him. “I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. I’m sorry I forgot about you for so long.”

He takes a deep breath and begins to tell about his day, like he’s been doing every day ever since he regained his memories after that fateful fight at the Swordsmith Village and befriending Tanjiro. He thinks they’d like this version of him much more.

“The demons have been awfully quiet lately,” Muichiro mused. “They say Kibutsuji’s planning something. They’re probably all out to get Nezuko. A big all out war’s going to be coming, I think, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to visit when that happens. So I’ll come more often now.”

He dusted off the stone, staring sadly at the inscription. “I’ll kill the demon who got you. I promise.”

At the price of his own life, (y/n) knew, sitting invisibly next to him, crying transparent tears but he wasn’t to know that.

[daniellewritesfr]

𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲

Paring: Jon Snow x f!Reader

Summary: You arrive in Winterfell lending aid to House Stark but seeing Jon brings back lost feelings you both share.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, kissing, fluff.

Word count: 1.4k

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rode through the gates of Winterfell the familiarity of the high stone walls and the sight of Stark banners bringing back the memories of your childhood. You had, in the past, spent many years in Winterfell growing up with the Stark children. Your father became a good friend of Ned Stark; while fighting alongside each other during Robert's rebellion. Leading to many years spent in the castle. 

You arrived in the courtyard of Winterfell, the cloak you’re wearing doing surprisingly little to suppress the cold winds of the North. You had been called as a bannerman of house Stark to lend aid and fight the white walkers beyond the wall. You look around, all the people of Winterfell seem to have solemn faces ‘it’s quieter than I remember’ you think to yourself while dismounting your horse stirrups rattling, the stable boy rushes over to take the reins from your gloved hands leading your horse away. Your men follow you, dismounting their horses, gathering their things and moving supplies, all of a sudden the yard is buzzing with movement.  

“Y/n!” you turn at the sound of your name to see Sansa walking towards you, “lady Stark” you bow slightly she lets out a small laugh as she embraces you, “you mustn't call me that y/n” she smiles “well you are lady of the North are you not” you ask “that I am yes, but to you it will always be just Sansa” she states “very well than Sansa” you smile “take me to Lord Snow.” 

The castle is darker than you remember, as Sansa leads you through the doors of the great hall, you catch sight of Jon, the young man you once remembered as a solemn and brooding child.  

Walking past the large tables in the middle of the hall you pull off your gloves, you look up to see Jon sitting at the high table reading a letter “Jon” Sansa says he looks up, his face breaking into a warm smile when his eyes land on you. You can’t help but smile back. You haven’t seen Jon in a long time, not since before he left to join the Night’s Watch. “My lord,” you take a slight bow, he stands and begins to walk towards you not saying a word, his gaze lingering.  

Finally he speaks “My lady”. He lets out a small laugh before wrapping his arms around you, you can feel the warmth radiating off of him even with the layers of fur between you, he lets go resting his hands on your shoulders before they move to cup your face.

 “Look at you” he mutters, eyes raking across you he pulls away “I didn’t think you’d come.” 

“I’m sworn to House Stark my lord” you reply “it is an honor to fight for your family.” 

 “My lord” Jon repeated “since when were you one to be so formal”? He teased.  

You can’t help but smirk, while walking past him with your hands clasped behind your back making your way to the table running your fingers along the edge,the teasing tone in Jon’s voice luring out your own wit. “And here I thought that being declared King of the North automatically earned you the title of ‘my lord’.” 

Jon chucked, a low rumble escaping his throat, “yes it does except, we grew up together there is no need for formality between us.” 

“I suppose you're right” you agree, your voice lightening. “However don’t let that get to your head, a little formality never hurt anyone.” 

Jon raises an eyebrow playfully. “Is that so? Then perhaps I should start using ‘my lady’ whenever I address you.” 

You laugh “you can certainly try but, I can’t promise I won’t retaliate” 

Jon shakes his head, a smile dancing on his lips. 

A fortnight had passed since you'd first arrived back in Winterfell, and tonight you were dining with the Starks and their men in the great hall, enjoying the loud conversations and laughter ringing throughout the room. It had been a long while since you’d allowed yourself a good time. You spent the night laughing and socializing with the others. Not noticing the way Jon was looking at you. 

As the talking and laughter slowly began to die, people began to retire to their chambers, you being one of them as the fatigue from the day's ride was finally wearing on you. Standing up making your way out to a long hallway lined with sconces providing a small amount of light as you pass various chambers while walking to your own.   

Opening the door you’re greeted with warmth radiating from the fireplace, you walk to a small table in the corner of the room picking up a few letters that you had yet to open, before dropping them back down rubbing your temples knowing that the night would be full of endless reading.  

Jon hadn’t put much thought into what he was about to do, maybe it was the wine or maybe it was just pure ignorance he thought to himself, as he was making his way through the dimly lit corridors. When he arrived at the door, his heart was pounding in his chest taking a deep breath before he raised his fist to leave a soft knock. 

While on your 3rd letter of the night you hear a light knock at your door, getting up from your seat at the table curious as to who it could be. Unlatching the door expecting it to be Sansa you were startled to see Jon standing on the other side.

“Jon” you said surprised “it’s late” 

For a moment he didn’t say anything, his gaze lingering on your face. 

 “Evening” he said “I hope I haven’t disturbed you”   

“No, it’s alright” your eyes scanning his face for any indicator of what he was there for. Tilting your head slightly to one side. “Has something happened?” you asked 

“No, no, may I come in?” 

“Yes of course. Please come in.” 

Moving aside Jon steps through, making his way to stand in front of the fireplace. He looks nervous, still thinking something had happened you ask once again. 

“Jon” you pause, he looks up, his eyes finally meeting yours. The look on his face starting to worry you. 

The silence hung like smoke in the air as you awaited his response. 

 He mumbles, moving one of his hands to run through his hair, turning back to face the fire watching the flames dance. You cautiously walk up behind him reaching to put a hand on his shoulder, he turns to face you leaning into your touch.

 Long forgotten feelings wash over you.   

“Jon, please tell me” you insist, your hand now resting at his jaw he leans further into your touch before covering your hand with his. You stayed like this for a short time relishing in the moment, the unspoken understanding filling the space between you. Removing his hand from yours to cup your jaw as he draws himself closer, his eyes searching yours for permission.

You quickly nod, before he closes the gap between you, lips brushing together. Your lips part slightly, letting his tongue slip inside. His hand glides to the nape of your neck, then moving to your waist, pressing your bodies together. You moan into the kiss, hands running through his hair while he trails gentle kisses leading from your jaw to your collarbone, small breaths escaping your lips. 

Pulling away, his gaze meeting your own.  

“You have no idea what you do to me” he whispers. 

The look in his eyes was evidence enough revealing what he felt without uttering a word. Yet he continues to speak. Hands coming back to hold your face.

“I-” he pauses for a brief moment gathering his thoughts. “You are my every thought” He breathes. “The only person able to ground me, make me feel whole. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you. How I wasted all those years believing I had no chance, only to be standing here right now. With you.” 

Tears begin to swell in your eyes threatening to fall. 

“You consume every part of me, body and soul.” He gently wipes away the tears that begin to fall. “You are everything to me.” 

You smile at him, leaning into his touch. 

“I love you.” 

The words feel heavy. 

He starts to speak afraid of your rejection, you cut him off colliding your lips together for a brief kiss before pulling away resting your forehead against his, shallow breathing filling the room. 

“And I you.” 

The words so lightly spoken, Jon wasn’t sure he heard them. 

Leaning in to kiss you softly once more, running a hand through your hair, his eyes full of nothing but affection. “My lady.” 

[aestheticaltcow]

Six Months

An attempt at some parenthood angst?

Similarly to the title, this fic has been in my WIP folder for a minute; it went through a handful of edits. I'd like to think this is good enough for y'all.

The Bear Masterlist

Next part

 

Carmy sat in the office staring at the paperwork Sugar needed his signature on; when he saw the date on his phone, it hit him—today marked six months. Six months of parenthood and six months of celibacy, to say Carmy was sexually frustrated, was an understatement. “Hey Carm, did you- are you okay?” Sugar asked when she caught him staring blankly at his phone. He didn’t respond until she put her hand on his shoulder. Her touch snapped him out of his trance. He looked at her before quickly apologizing, “Sorry, what were you sayin'?” Sugar grinned as she patted his shoulder, “You okay, Bear?”

Carmy nodded and straightened up in his desk chair, “Yea- just thinkin’ bout the baby.”

Carmy got home from work late. He quietly slipped his jacket off, and hung it on the coat rack before removing his shoes. Walking down the hallway, he slipped into the nursery, knowing the baby would be asleep. He found it impossible not to be happy in her room. The walls were decorated with vintage floral wallpaper you’d bought off Etsy, it may have been a pain in the ass to put up, but Carmy happily obliged when he saw how happy it had made you. He crept to his baby girl’s crib and felt the day's stress disappear. She was peacefully sleeping in a light pink sleep sack, furiously sucking away on her pacifier. “Sweet dreams, princess,” he whispered. “I love you.” 

The joy of watching his daughter sleep faded away as he approached the askew door to the master bedroom the two of you shared. “I’m home, baby.” Carmy grinned as he walked toward the open closet door, “Hi, Carm.” you called from the bathroom. When he entered the bathroom, you were brushing your teeth. As the mix of salvia and toothpaste residue dripped from your mouth Carmy’s breath hitched- was this enough to get him goin’? He shook his head as he pulled his shirt off and threw it in the laundry hamper before turning on the shower.

“How was work, babe?” you asked before bringing a small cup of mouthwash to your lips. Carmy watched as you swished it around your mouth and spit it into the sink. “Carmy?” you asked again; he swallowed. “Yeah, uh, it was good. Busy,” he answered as you hopped up on the counter. You were desperate for adult interaction after being home with the baby all day. 

“Mia, have a good day?” Carmy questioned. You nodded, “We did some laundry, then had mashed pears for lunch- she did. I had that leftover pasta sauce you made... Read a couple books and went on a walk... Then did her bedtime routine, and I worked on that stupid documentary I was telling you about.” 

As you recounted your day, Carmy nodded, but he was staring at your chest, barely hearing what you said. You’d been wearing one of his old T-shirts. He noticed how prominent your nipples were under the soft, worn-in material. He was captivated by the fullness of your breasts, and he’d do just about anything to touch them again. “Carm, you okay?” you asked, hopping down from the counter; he nodded. “Wanna get in with me?” he asked cocking his head in the direction of the running shower. You giggled, “Maybe next time, bear.”

“Oh fuck-” Carmy grunted as he worked his hand up and down his length. He felt like a teenager again, masturbating in the shower before going to school. However, now, instead of imagining the unrealistic scenarios he’d see in pornos, he had memories of you. Carmy thought back to the last time you’d really touched him. Heavily pregnant, hormonal, begging for his tongue and his cock… he’d expected a shift in your sex life as the two of you adjusted to parenthood, but this long of a dry spell was the last thing he’d expected. Carmy squeezed his eyes closed as he came down the drain.

~

“Good morning, princess.” Carmy cooed as Mia squirmed in her crib, trying to get out of her sleep sack. She spat her pacifier out and let out a gruggle. “So it’s one of those mornings?” he chuckled as he unzipped her. He watched her stretch before carefully picking her up, “See, you’re okay.” he rocked her gently before exiting the nursery and heading downstairs. 

You were making coffee and prepping a bottle for Mia as he entered the kitchen. “You’re off today, right?” Carmy nodded in response before handing you Mia. “You goin’ to work?” he questioned, as he got two mugs from the cabinet. You groaned in response, “Jenny called off, so I have to go in. I’ll be back before bedtime.”

“Well, looks like Mia and I are havin' some Daddy-Daughter time,” you smiled as Carmy gently kissed her head before going to get the milk from the fridge. When you’d met Carmy all those years ago at some trendy Chicago bar, you found him incredibly alluring. His disheveled curls, the mix of some musky cologne and cigarette smoke, the way his T-shirt wrapped around his muscular arms… he’d always been… sexy. But watching him interact with Mia was a different kind of attractive.

Carmy drummed his thumbs on the handlebar of the grocery cart. He scanned the shelf before him as Mia happily made her baby noises as she looked around the aisle. “Okay, princess… they don’t have almond extract. What kind of grocery store doesn’t have fuckin’ almond extract.” Mia put her hands out to Carmy, grabbing at the air. Carmy chuckled and ducked to kiss her cheek.

“Oh my gosh, she’s too precious.” a sickly, sweet feminine voice cooed from behind Carmy. He grinned when he turned his attention to her, “How old is she?” she asked. Carmy got a good look at the woman; she was pretty, but she wasn’t you. “Oh, uh, she’s six months,” he answered as the woman stepped closer. She smelled like cheap vanilla and a mix of flowery scents Carmy couldn’t place. Mia glared at the woman, and Carmy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m Selena. I’m in this parenting group. You should stop by.” she smiled as she looked him up and down. The attention made Carmy regret not regularly wearing his wedding ring. “I’m not really the par-” Carmy started to say before Selena cut him off. “I’m not takin’ no as an answer. What’s your number?” she handed him her phone. 

Carmy didn’t know why he gave her his number- could he blame it on feeling uncomfortable? Was that even the right thing to do? It’s not like he’d ever do anything with this woman. He’d never throw away his marriage to you by hooking up with some woman he met at the grocery store. The reality of Carmy's actions didn’t hit him until he was in the checkout line. He gave his phone number to another woman- was that cheating on you? Did doing that in front of his daughter make him a bad father? “Okay, your total is $63.82.” the cashier smiled. Carmy nodded and swiped his card. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t run into Selena again.

~

It had been a couple of weeks since Carmy’s interaction at the grocery store. He’d noticed Selena’s text messages here and there. They seemed innocent until one Friday night, he was working late, you were home with the baby, and Selena had sent Carmy an explicit picture, hoping it would get his attention.

We’re both parents. 

I’m not looking for anything serious, Carmy…

My son is at his Dad’s place

Come over <3

Carmy stared at the messages before his eyes went up to the attached photo. Selena had the hem of her T-shirt between her teeth, showing off her toned stomach. He swallowed as he admired the contrast between her skin and the brightly colored fabric of her lacy underwear. He should block her. He should just delete the messages and block her number. He had a wife and baby at home—he couldn’t make this kind of mistake. He locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket before returning to the kitchen cleanup, “Hey Carm, I can finish this up. Go home.” Sweeps grinned as he attempted to connect his phone to the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. Carmy grinned, “You sure, man?” Sweeps nodded assuringly. “I think I can handle this boss man.” 

You heard Carmy walk into the bedroom that night, “Hey babe!” you called as you put your blowdryer in its designated spot by the sink. As the bathroom door swung open, Carmy’s lips were on yours. The initial shock wore off as Carmy’s tongue invaded your mouth, and his hands pushed under the hem of your sleep shorts to grasp at your ass cheeks. Carmy pulled you closer to him, forcing you onto your tip toes. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers delicately tangling in the roots of his hair. The passionate kiss ended when Carmy started to kiss down your jaw. A giggle escaped your mouth as his lips brushed against your earlobe before he nipped at your neck. “Carm-m what got into you?” you croaked as you adjusted your hips against his.

 “I need you, baby,” he muttered, lifting you off the floor. You squealed as he crashed down onto your mattress. He hovered above your body, staring into your eyes. “I need to be inside you, baby.” he swallowed hard as you bit your lip. “Carmyyy,” you giggled as you watched him pull his t-shirt off. You ran a finger down his chest, making him moan softly.

 “Let me make you feel good, baby…” Carmy whispered in your ear as one of his hands found its way into your oversized sleep shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his calloused fingertips graze your ribs. " I-I—" you studdered nervously. “Baby…please.” Carmy quietly asked as his lips brushed against yours. “No.” you whispered as you grabbed his wrist through your shirt, “What?” Carmy questioned as he stood up abruptly, “Did I do something? We haven’t done anything in like six months- clearly I did something wrong. Just tell me so I can fix it!” Carmy raised his voice as his eyebrows knit together in frustration. 

You propped yourself on your elbows and watched as he picked up his shirt from the floor, “Carmen, please don’t yell at me.” you said calmly. You watched as he rolled his eyes and paced before you, “Baby. I want to have sex with you. I need to have sex with you-” Carmy groaned as he pushed his hands over his face into his hair. Your eyes narrowed, “Carmen. I had a baby-”

 “I KNOW! I fucking know! You had my baby, but now you don’t even want to fuckin’ shower with me! I get it- pregnancy was hard, and then giving birth was hard, and now being a mom is hard.” Carmy started staring at the ceiling while he expressed himself. He took a breath and turned to look at you; regret washed over him when he noticed you were on the verge of tears. “Baby, please don’t cry…” he pleaded as he knelt by the bed. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away before he could grab it, “Sorry, I don’t want to fuck you after taking care of your baby all day.” you spat. Carmy closed his eyes and took another breath trying to compose himself before saying something dumb, “How dare I fail to meet my wifely duties.” you angrily laughed as you stood up. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared as Carmy got up. “Baby, I didn’t—" you cut Carmy off with a groan. “Shut up, Carmen. You don’t get to speak to me like that.”

Carmy sighed and stepped closer to you, as he reached out for your hips only for you to slap his hands away. “Don’t touch me.” you glared at him, “Fuck this.” Carmy muttered under his breath as he pulled his shirt back on over his head. “What do you mean ‘fuck this’?” you questioned as Carmy exited the bedroom, “I need air.” Carmy called back to you.

You moved to your bedroom window to see Carmy walking toward his car in the driveway. He got in and pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. 

Send me your address.

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids: First Times

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: they know you’re their mom … you know they’re your kids … but these are the first times you all say so out loud

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Champion of the World

The roar of the engines has faded, the race has ended, and the stands are filled with jubilant cheers. Among the sea of fans waving flags, the color of the Orange Army is predominant. Max Verstappen has just clinched his first World Championship.

As confetti rains down, Max climbs atop his car, soaking in the euphoria. His face displays a myriad of emotions: triumph … relief … elation. During the celebratory chaos, he searches for a familiar face, and as his eyes find yours, a calm settles over him.

As you approach, he jumps down and without a moment’s hesitation pulls you into a tight embrace. Over the din, he murmurs something almost inaudible.

“Thanks, Mom.”

You pull back, a bit taken aback. The weight of the single word isn’t lost on either of you. Max, ever the tough racer, has tears glistening in his eyes.

He clears his throat, trying to mask the emotion, “I mean, after everything, you’ve been like a second mom to me. I couldn’t have done it without your support.”

Sebastian joins the moment, a proud smile on his face. “Welcome to the champions’ club,” he jokes but the underlying pride in his voice is unmistakable.

You wipe away a tear, “I’ve always believed in you, Max. And no matter what, you’ll always be one of my grid kids.”

Charles Leclerc: What If

The race is intense, the energy palpable. But in a split second, the exhilaration turns to horror as Charles’ car careens off track, crashing into the barriers. The scene is chilling and the paddock holds its collective breath.

Time seems to stretch endlessly until, finally, the screens show Charles moving inside his cockpit. It's a sign — he's conscious. When he is carefully extricated from the wreckage and gives a thumbs-up to the cameras, relief washes over everyone.

As he is taken to the medical center, your grid kids gather, their usual playful banter replaced by anxious glances and silent support.

When you’re finally allowed to see Charles, his face is pale, eyes reflecting the trauma of the crash. Despite the bandages and evident pain, he manages a small smile upon seeing you.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

You lean over, brushing the hair from his forehead, your touch filled with motherly concern. “Hey yourself. You gave us all quite the scare.”

He swallows hard, gaze locking onto yours, vulnerability evident. “I thought ... for a moment there ... I thought I wouldn’t ...” he trails off, the gravity of the incident heavy in the room.

You take his hand, offering comfort and strength. “But you’re here, Charles. You’re here.”

He nods, tears forming. And then, in a voice filled with raw emotion, he murmurs, “Thank you, Mom.”

The title that slips out isn’t one of blood or birth but of bond and heart.

You squeeze his hand, “Always, Charles. Always.”

Lance Stroll: Who Needs Wrists Anyway?

After Sebastian’s retirement, life quiets down somewhat. The raucous race weekends are replaced with peaceful moments gardening and beekeeping. But the bond with your grid kids remains as strong as ever.

One evening, a call disturbs the calm. Lance had taken a hard fall while biking and had broken both his wrists. The news shakes you, memories of crashes flooding back. Without hesitation, you pack a bag and book the next flight out to be by his side.

When you enter Lance’s room, you're struck by the sight before you. Both his hands are in casts, his usually playful eyes clouded with pain and frustration. However, seeing you brings a faint smile to his face.

“You didn’t have to come,” he starts, though the gratefulness in his tone betrays him.

You chuckle, pulling a chair beside his bed, “How could I not? I can’t let you starve or wear the same clothes for weeks.”

Lance laughs, “Well, there’s always the option of going commando.”

You both chat, the room filled with light-hearted banter in an attempt to lift the mood. As you prepare to leave for the night after ensuring he is comfortable and has everything he needs, Lance’s voice halts you.

“You know,” he starts, hesitating, “Even after Seb retired, you still ... you’re still here for us, for me. It means a lot.”

You turn back, smiling gently. “Once a family, always a family.”

He swallows, emotion causing his voice to waver, “Thanks, Mom.”

You reach out to squeeze his arm in comfort but remember the reason for your visit. Pulling back before you could hurt Lance, you say, “Get some rest. We’ve got a lot of healing to do.”

George Russell: King of PowerPoint

The rookies sit in the dim room, fidgeting in their chairs, their faces a mix of excitement and nervousness. They’re about to receive their initiation presentation by none other than George Russell, now the Director of the GPDA — an annual tradition to welcome the new drivers, give them insights into the world of F1, and ensure they understand the guidelines, all while keeping it light and enjoyable. It’s also an excuse to give a PowerPoint … and George never turns down an opportunity to put his prowess to good use.

George steps up to the podium, clicking the remote to begin his presentation. The slides cover everything from safety protocols to media interactions. But then, a slide pops up with a familiar face on the screen: yours.

The title reads: “The Heart of Our F1 Family”

George pauses, taking a deep breath. “Now, for those of you new to Formula 1, there’s someone you need to know, someone who has been instrumental for many of us drivers, both on and off the track.”

He clicks to the next slide, showcasing a larger image of you, radiant in the middle of a race weekend while giving one of your famous pep talks to the grid kids.

“This,” George says, voice filled with warmth, “is Y/N Vettel. To the world, she’s known for her contributions to the sport, her philanthropy, and so much more. But to many of us drivers,” he glances at the familiar faces of the other grid kids sitting at the back, “she’s known simply as Mom.”

There’s a hushed silence, the emotional weight of the moment evident.

“She’s our anchor, our guiding light, and sometimes,” George grins, “our stern disciplinarian. If you ever find yourselves needing advice or just someone to talk to, you know where to turn. Welcome to Formula 1!”

Lando Norris: Stream and Shout

Lando is live on Twitch, engaging with thousands upon thousands of fans from around the world while deeply engrossed in a racing simulation game — swerving, overtaking, and trying to claim the top spot. Along with the intense gaming, he’s also juggling questions from fans.

“Hey Lando, any tips for new racers?” one fan asks.

“Just keep training, mate. And don’t get disheartened by failures,” Lando replies, narrowly avoiding a virtual crash.

Another question pops up in the chat, “Who’s been your biggest supporter in F1?”

Lando doesn’t hesitate. “Well, there’s my team, my family, and of course,” he pauses as he navigates a tricky turn on his screen, “there’s Y/N. She is ... well, she’s like a mom to many of us on the grid. Actually,” he corrects himself with a grin, leaning closer to the mic, “She IS mom.”

Fans catch on quickly, and the chat floods with comments.

“Mom? That’s so sweet!”

“Tell us more about her!”

Lando chuckles, “She’s just ... amazing. Always there, always supportive. We’ve had our fair share of fun, chaos, and love. If you’re ever around the paddock, you’ll know. Y/N is magnetic in the best way.”

Mick Schumacher: Drunken Adoration

The end-of-season party is in full swing. It is a tradition where everyone lets loose by either celebrating their successes or shrugging off the stress of the competitive year. The atmosphere is electric with loud music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

Mick has perhaps indulged a bit too much. His usually composed and calm demeanor is replaced with a giddy, slightly wobbly version of himself.

As you navigate through the crowd, ensuring everyone was having a good time and not getting into too much trouble, you find Mick seated at the bar, a glass of something strong in his hand.

“Hey!” you call out, approaching him, “Having fun?”

Mick turns, his eyes slightly glazed but recognizing you instantly. A wide smile spreads across his face, “Hey! You know, you’re really awesome.” He slurs, the alcohol evident in his speech.

Laughing, you reply, “Thanks, Mick. Maybe we should switch to water now?”

He shakes his head, trying to focus. “No, no, you don’t get it. You’re not just awesome. You’re ... you’re like ... my mom. Like, a second mom. But also the first because you’re always there and ... you get it, right?”

You chuckle, moved by his inebriated but sincere confession. “I get it, Mick. And thank you. That means a lot.”

Helping him off the stool, you decide it’s time to get him some coffee and maybe a sandwich. “Come on, let’s sober you up a bit.”

As you lead him away, Mick continues to mumble about how great you are, his drunken words filled with genuine affection.

The party continues but for you, that heartfelt albeit tipsy confession is the highlight of the evening.

You: Sons and Spotlights

It’s a grand evening and the room glistens with opulence. Influential personalities from various fields gather, all in the name of charity and giving back. The annual International Philanthropy Awards Gala is an event where the most generous hearts are recognized, and this year, you’re among the honorees.

As you take the stage to accept the award for your contributions to various charities, the spotlight shines brightly but among the crowd, you spot familiar faces — Charles, Max, Lando, Mick, George, and Lance sitting next to your husband. Their presence is unexpected but deeply touching

You begin your speech, gratitude evident in every word, “Giving back is a principle I have always lived by. We are blessed in so many ways and it’s our duty to share those blessings with others.” As you continue, mentioning the various charities and initiatives you work with, an overwhelming wave of emotion grips you.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you glance once more at your grid kids and say, “I have had many titles over the years — friend, daughter, wife — but one that has been among the most precious to me is simply being Mom.”

The room seems to hold its collective breath.

“These young men,” you continue, gesturing towards them, “are my sons in every way that matters. Not by birth but by bond. Charles, Max, George, Lando, Mick, and Lance are my source of strength, joy, and sometimes, a bit of frustration,” you add with a twinkle in your eye, causing a ripple of laughter.

“But more than anything, they are my family. And tonight, in this room filled with so many esteemed individuals, I want to take a moment to thank my sons. For their love, for their constant support, and for making me the best possible version of myself.”

As applause fills the room, your grid kids stand, pride evident in their glassy eyes that mirror your own, joining the crowd in honoring you. They might be champions on the track, but off it, they are just sons, celebrating their mom.

Bonus: A Family Holiday

Mother’s Day arrives and you wake to find a beautiful bouquet of flowers on your doorstep accompanied by a heartfelt note that reads:

For the woman who has been a mother to us all.

Touched by the gesture, you make your way to the living room. As you enter, warm smiles greet you and the scent of a homemade breakfast wafts through the air.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” your grid kids chorus, raising their glasses.

Max grins, “We know you’re not our biological mom but you’ve definitely earned the title.”

Charles, holding a tray with a stack of pancakes, adds, “We couldn’t ask for a better mentor and friend.”

Lance, with a card in hand, steps forward, “And we wanted to show our appreciation.”

You take the card, and as you read, your heart swells. It’s filled with their personal messages, anecdotes, and memories — marking the journey you’ve all shared.

George, holds out a gift bag with a sheepish grin, “We thought you might like this.”

Inside the bag is a beautiful necklace with six interconnected rings, each representing one of your grid kids. It symbolizes the bond you share, a connection as unbreakable as those rings.

Tears well up in your eyes, “This ... this is so thoughtful.”

Mick smiles softly, “You’ve always been there, through everything. This is just a small token of our gratitude.”

You pull them all into a group hug, the love and warmth radiating through the room. “Thank you, my sons. This means the world to me.”

And as you all sit down to enjoy the homemade (only slightly charred) breakfast, the simple yet emotional celebration of Mother's Day reminds you that family isn’t just about blood ties. It’s about the connections forged through shared experiences, tireless support, and love that transcends convention.

[enwoso]

Emily Fox x Reader based on "I Love You, I'm Sorry" by Gracie Abrams

I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY — emily fox

this is probably a bit longer than all the other blurbs i’ve done… but i got a little carried away writing it,, anyways enjoy xox

masterlist

you and emily fox had a complicated relationship as well as history. it wasn't the usual hatred towards each other it was that you were just civil and that was part of the problem.

you'd both met way back in college, you both playing for UNC alongside some of your current teammates at the moment, alessia and lotte. you joining arsenal just a year after lotte wanting to make the big move back across the pond in hope it would help build your footballing career.

and much to your surprise it did, while you spent most of the first season on the bench you still managed to come on and most of the time make a difference in the game weather that being to score or assisting the goal.

before cementing yourself in the first team just the next season and finding yourself starting majority of the games and then going on to help arsenal lift the league title in the 18/19 season.

but enough of that and back to the complicated history of you and emily fox. you and her were the best of friends from the moment you met, you were glued to hip. you loving to make fun of her funny american accent while she would make fun of how bad your american accent was no matter how hard you tried, it sounded nothing like hers.

over the four years that you were at UNC you grew closer and closer together, to the point you weren't really sure if you were just friends anymore. on some nights when the team would be out celebrating and you both may not be thinking straight due to the alcohol that would be flowing through your veins.

and more times than you would like to admit out loud you would find yourself pinned to the a stall in the toilets while you were out, small whines strung from you as begged for her to carry on kissing you. her lips, her touch, her everything were your drug.

and while the casual hookup happened every other month, it never went anything further than that. you were simply just friends with benefits and while you wished you were more you just couldn’t bring yourself to commit in fear of ruining a friendship.

so when the offer to move across the pond, you grasped it with two hands. it breaking your heart that you were leaving but also emily’s but you made a promise to the girl that you would stay in contact and you would try and make the journey to see her whenever you had time.

however, the long distance between the two of you proving difficult for the two of you to stay close, text messages going from every hour to every other day as well as calls going from every morning to every week until the contact stopped and it was radio silence from each other.

so when the news hit arsenal that a new girl was coming from america the last person you expected was for it to be her.

watching as she walked through the club the same bubbly girl that you knew and left in america.

she quickly fitted in, reconnecting with the UNC duo alessia and lotte and over the weeks the american was back in your life all those feelings you had spent years trying to forgot came rushing back quicker than you could have said 1,2,3.

so on a night after a big win in the league you were sat in the booth of a bar by yourself as you watched on with a slight twang of envy as emily effortlessly danced and laughed with the arsenal girls.

you hadn’t had a chance to talk properly with emily, only the odd little small talk, ‘how your day’ ‘how you finding london’ or ‘you okay’ was all that had been spoken to by the two of you. but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by bringing up the past in case she was over you, and she didn’t want to bring up old memories cause what if it was just a college hookup to her.

you told yourself you would rather be hurt not knowing then hurt yourself by knowing the truth.

“why don’t you just talk to her?” beth said as you jumped a little not knowing how long she had been there or how long she had been watching you watch emily’s each movement.

“who?” you tried to play the dumb act but you knew by the look on beth’s face that she knew, you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“y/n don’t play stupid with me, just talk to emily. i can see the way you close yourself off from her every time she gets too close. you never know she may want to talk to you too about the past.” beth smiled softly nudging you slightly towards the end, you knew that she’d spoke the emily about you, more than likely meddling. beth had been one of the only people you had told about your past with the american.

“i can’t beth, it is what it is. it’s in the past now. m’trying to move on” you sighed, swirling your empty glass in your hand, hearing a tut from the blonde beside you.

“you can, y/n. and what’s the saying it’s better to try and fail then to never try at all!” beth tried as you gave her a pointed look, your eyebrow raised slightly at the sudden inspirational words.

“who would have thought drinking made you all inspirational quotes!” you laughed lightly as the blonde rolled her eyes pushing you out of the booth. “yeah, yeah, go and get your girl!” beth mocked your tone as she took another sip of her drink.

walking over to the american your nerves were all over, as you tried to navigate the hot and sweaty bar people being everywhere you turned it was like you were in a can of sardines.

finally reaching the girl, you tapped her on the shoulder probably not the best move to pull in a bar full of strangers but before you had time to think your body had already moved and done it for you.

startling the american as she turned around her features softening as she realised who it was, watching as alessia, kyra and laia were now stood behind emily eyes glued to the interaction between the two of you.

“hi”

“hey, you okay?” emily looked worried, this was one of the first times you’d been the one to start a conversation since she’d joined arsenal just a little over a month ago.

“yeah, um can we talk-“ you stuttered out looking down at your hands as you fidgeted with the rings on your hands. “of course, what’s up?” emily said quickly, her worried look still not moved but not clicking on at the fact you didn’t want to talk in front of prying eyes.

“um follow me” you said grabbing the girls hand and dragging her through the crowd and out the door of the bar, sitting on one of the six steps out the front, emily sitting down next to you as the cold london air hit you both.

“so.. what did-“ emily began after minutes of silence between you both.

“yeah right um just wanted to make amends see where we stand” you pointed between the two of you with a slight laugh, a habit you tended to do when you were sad, something emily picked up immediately.

“oh” was all emily could find the words to say. you were glad it was dark outside in the streets of london as it was able to hide your red cheeks of embarrassment you knew you shouldn’t have had this chat.

you began to back peddle but emily cut you off, “no we need to have this chat but it hurt when you left, i know you had to but you promised to stay in contact and you didn’t. there were so many moments in the past years that i’ve needed you and you haven’t been there.” emily smiled sadly as you bit your lip, you’d been nothing but a dick to her.

“i’m sorry” was all you could say and something you probably should have said to the american a long time ago.

“but i miss you y/n i really do, i miss how we used to be. i know we were never official a thing but i loved you, i really did” emily confessed as you nodded along, the word loved, past tense did that mean she didn’t still love you.

“as sick as it sounds i loved you first” you smiled slightly remember the moment you realised you loved the american. from the moment you met her you knew she was the prettiest girl you’d ever seen.

the two of you sat in silence just taking in each other, as emily carefully moved closer to you as she placed her hand on your cheek, her thumb moving slightly as you sighed. you hands resting on her torso, as you gripped her t-shirt she was wearing.

“y/n” emily breathed out as her hand rested on you cheek, your lips only a mere inch away from touching. you could feel her breath on yours.

“i love you, i’m sorry.” you whispered against her as you moved closer attaching your lips.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Honkai: Star Rail) Stelle, March 7th, Himeko, Natasha, Seele, Bronya, and Firefly missing you

Alternate title: "From the Aqueous Star with Love"

A song from Zeta Gundam got me feelin a certain way, so we doing a song fic. Whether reader is dead or not, tis up to interpretation. (Song: Mizu no Hoshi he Ai wo Komete - KOM_I)

Aoku nemuru mizu no hoshi ni sotto Kissing softly the star of water that sleeps in blue,

Stelle watches the waves of the ocean crash against the shore.

This time, the Astral Express took her to a planet mostly consisting of water, it was a beautiful sight that she got to indulge herself in, along with her companions.

She instinctually looked to her left, about to make some witty comment regarding how such a romantic view was so cliche-

...Only to remember you aren't here with her.

The smile that was originally forming vanishes quickly, her expression growing more somber.

As much as the pain in her heart aches, she knows that you wouldn't want her to dwell on your absence.

Forge ahead, that was the way of the Trailblazer.

(Stelle) "One day, I'll get to tell you about this planet."

Fists clenching, she walks along the path, not looking back.

Stelle's phone wallpaper of you and her smiling together is what reminds her to keep pressing on.

Kuchizuke shite inochi no hi wo tomosu hito yo A person who lights fire of life,

March sits on the side of her bed, staring at her wall of photos, each one bringing a bright smile to her face as she recalled each memory.

But it was shortlived, as her sight inevitably caught sight of the side of you and her together.

Throughout her journey on the Astral Express, she had met countless individuals. Plenty of which she cherished like dear friends and missed them dearly, and plenty more she hoped to never see again in the vast universe.

And there was no one March missed more than you at this very moment.

The photos she took of you two ranged from hilarious to lovey-dovey, to kinda inappropriate for the situation, but each one inflicted a pang of sadness and joy.

Standing up from the bed, March walked over and grabbed one of her favorite photos: One where she was dramatically kissing your cheek as you were laughing, a moment she recalled with perfect clarity.

(March 7th) sigh "I'll add some new photos onto this wall, just you wait!"

Toki to iu kin'iro no sazanami wa The time, the golden ripple,

Himeko put down her coffee as the Astral Express was still in transit, watching as the stars slowly passed her by.

Her eyes glanced to her left, feeling something missing in her usual routine.

And of course this moment didn't feel right: after all, her lover was currently absent.

But that didn't stop her from always putting your favorite teacup next to hers, in some small hope that you'd take your spot like always.

Himeko knew better, logically it made no sense for you to show up right now.

Even so, it was a sign, that she'd be waiting to see you again, no matter where the Astral Express takes her, she'll be able to have you in her arms sometime, somewhere.

Instead of saying anything, she quietly chuckles to herself, going back to her coffee.

Yet, there was a hint of sadness in her recognition, one that her friends could always sense everyday that you were gone.

Ozora no kuchibiru ni umareta toiki ne is sigh from the lips of the sky,

Natasha slumps down on her bed, sighing as she felt how cold it was to the touch.

Another long day taken care of, with many more patients out of her office.

Usually it didn't bother her as much, but these days the solitude was starting to become deafening.

Especially when you weren't here to greet her like always.

Natasha's hands massage her temple, knowing that spiraling wouldn't bring you home, any more than her patiently waiting.

Even the Moles could tell that Natasha wasn't the same without you here to wrangle them in, or give her a loving embrace.

Rolling to her side, she turns to the empty side of the bed, her hand reaching out and feeling only a cold sheet.

(Natasha) "...Just be patient, Nat..."

Saying nothing else, Natasha eventually falls asleep, the only warmth coming from her blanket.

Kokoro ni uzumoreta yasashisa no hoshitachi ga hono age yobiau The stars of kindness buried in heart flame up and call to each other,

Seele just kept herself busy instead of thinking about how much she missed your voice.

There was plenty to do, but every now and then, she would catch herself thinking that she couldn't wait to tell you a story from that day, or something interesting she found.

Only for the excitement to be culled instantly, remembering that you aren't here.

(Seele) sigh "Damn it..."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Seele shakes her head and looks up to the sky longingly.

(Seele) "...Don't keep me waiting too long before I see you again."

Next time she saw you, it'd probably result in both a punch and a kiss.

Seele thought you drove her insane when you were actually here.

She had no idea how much she'd miss that feeling when you were gone.

Namima sasurau nampasen no yo ni Like wrecked ships wandering on the waves,

Being the Supreme Guardian was no easy task, but it was work she found satisfaction in.

Especially now that her people didn't have to live in constant fear anymore.

She had help from the Astral Express, Seele, Natasha, and so much more.

Yet, it was your aid she craved the most, and was one she wouldn't be able to receive or reciprocate it.

Bronya exhales from her nose, putting down her pen for just a moment.

Looking at the picture frame of you and her smiling brought a small tear to her eye, one she quickly wiped off.

It wasn't goodbye, not really. At least to her.

(Bronya) "You're not gone…You're…just not here right now."

One way or another, she'll be able to tell you everything that's happened when she sees you again.

Mo nakanaide ima anata wo sagashite iru hito ga iru kara Don't cry, any more, because now there is a person looking for you, Omae ni aitai yo to Dying to see you...

Firefly strolled quietly through this planet's field, feeling the wind against her skin blow gently.

It was nights like these that usually got her thinking about plenty of things that brought all sorts of emotions out.

This night being no exception, especially since you were on her mind.

Firefly closed her eyes as a pang of sadness tugged at her heart, but that wouldn't stop her.

Even if it took the rest of her life, she would wait for you.

...No, she would find you first. She'd burn so bright, that it'd be impossible for you to miss her, no matter where you are.

(Firefly) "There isn't anyone in this world who can live alone...Not even you."

Taking a deep breath, she let her armor rapidly form, before the thrusters let her take off at blinding speeds, shooting off towards the stars.