#these two i swear *misty eyes*

[gas-station-trackphone]

ftm trans Eddie Munson gets turned into a chew toy for hell bats and rescued in the 11th hour by his friends who don't know he's trans, who have to run some triage first aid and can hardly make sense of the blood and gore that used to be his body as they cut off his shirt and pants to get access to the worst of the wounds, who definitely aren't in their right minds well enough anyway to think of anything other than stopping the bleeding and getting him to a hospital, which they do, and miraculously Eddie finds himself blinking awake in a bright, fluorescent room feeling exactly like he imagines a chew toy for hell bats would feel in the aftermath which is to say: like shit. Even more miraculously, he finds hometown hero Steve Harrington posted up at his bedside with greasy hair (!!! Eddie never thought he'd see the day) and bags under his eyes.

The overwhelming relief on Steve's face when he sees Eddie is awake is touching, the misty eyes and cracking voice when he says god, i thought you were toast, man are downright flattering and, let's face it, giving Eddie all the wrong ideas that he figures he has an I-almost-died pass for at the moment so he rocks with it, let's himself indulge in the fantasy for a moment. Then, gradually, Steve's relief becomes more and more obviously some brand of deeply felt pity (or sympathy, but Eddie's never been good at distinguishing the two), which bursts his bubble enough to call him out.

"I know I look like what comes out the business end of a meat grinder, but I swear I'm good, dude. They definitely have me on the good shit, I hardly feel it. I'll be good as new in no time." Big fat fucking lie, by the way, but he'll say whatever if it gets that wounded puppy look out of Harrington's eyes.

"I...yeah, Eddie, I'm glad." And whatever it is he doesn't want to say, whatever is putting that you poor motherfucker look on his face, he's absolutely the opposite of subtle about it.

Eddie can hear the manifestation of his panic on the heart monitor.

"What? What is it? Is everyone- is Dustin-?" He can't say it, can't even think it, would rather be slowly torn to shreds all over again than know he failed at his one fucking task to keep the kid safe.

"No! I mean, yes, he's fine, they're all fine. Henderson's got a broken ankle and both of Max's arms are broken but the docs say they'll be fine in a few months with physical therapy."

The release of tension in Eddie's body hurts almost as much as the relief soothes him. "Okay then, what the fuck are you not telling me? It's fine, I'm a big boy, Harrington, I can take it."

He sighs, looking sick with it. "Eds...I don't know how to tell you this."

Oh god, what the fuck. Eddie's right back to freaking out because Steve looks inexplicably guilty, pained in the face like he's about to deliver the worst news he could imagine but if everyone's fine then-

"It's your dick, man. It's- it's gone. The bats-"

And Eddie laughs so hard he tears about a dozen stitches, immediately stops laughing, and throws up over the side of the bed and thankfully not all over his freshly reopened wounds as Steve shouts for help.

Eventually, when he's all stitched up again and barely hanging on to his hard earned lesson to not literally bust his gut laughing about the look on Steve's face (he has to force himself not to tell Wayne the specifics of how he ended up back in the OR, because he's absolutely gonna crack up and Eddie will definitely be unable to help himself from laughing with him), he realizes he's going to come out to all his friends in the very near future because holy shit, he has to tell everyone about Steve's utterly devastated expression at the news of Eddie's Ken doll-ification by way of demobat.

[sluttywoozi]

Somewhere In The Middle | ljh x f!reader

Somewhere in the middle, I think I lied a little I said if we took it there I wasn't gonna change, But that went out the window

You and Jihoon started as roommates and naturally became best friends. After a breakup and a little too much wine, you become best friends who kiss, but there's no danger there... right?

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~9.7k | Pairing: ljh x f!reader

Genre: romance, smut, best friends/idiots to fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mention of a breakup, alcohol use, besties to besties with benies to lovers, jealous/possessive jihoon, depiction of a nightmare (lots of water involved but no drowning), appetite issues/food eating, hurt/comfort

Smut Warnings: dom!jihoon, dirty talk, manhandling, strength kink, dumbification, breast/nipple play, oral r. rec., fingerfucking, biting, multiple orgasms, piv sex, creampie, pet names (princess, good girl), allusions to f. masturbation, reader goes into subspace a lil

Reader Notes: sub, taller than Jihoon, has breasts and a vagina, gets carried by jihoon, on some form of birth control, crybaby, she’s smart i swear being around jihoon just makes her dumb 

You and Jihoon have been roommates for three years and best friends for two and a half when It happens. 

It’s nearing midnight and most of the lights are off, the glare of the TV illuminating the room though it’s been muted for the past hour. You’re drunk on the couch and for once, Jihoon is drunk with you, helping you lament the shitty boyfriend you finally ditched. 

Well, the shitty boyfriend who ditched you. 

It stings that he was the one to end things, prickles to admit that maybe you had some hand in the crashing and burning of the relationship, but you still feel valid enough in his faults to complain to Jihoon about it on this dreary Friday night. 

“We hadn’t even kissed in like… weeks. And sex? I counted myself lucky he didn’t seem interested, he was that disappointing,” you bemoan, dropping your head on his shoulder and hugging his arm to your chest. Jihoon doesn’t love physical contact, but you’ve worn him down and now, you’re the only person he allows free reign. 

You think he even likes it at this point, especially when he presses his cheek to your head and sighs, “Men are the worst.”

“You’re a man, Jihoon,” you remind him, tilting your head up to glance at him, dislodging his cheek and making him look down at you. 

“Yeah, but I don’t count, do I?” He says sardonically, knocking his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know anymore,” you mumble. “I just miss kissing, and being touched, and-,” you hiccup, though whether it’s due to tears or to drink, you don’t know. “And I miss someone loving me.” 

Your eyes are misty now, Jihoon’s face blurry even though it’s inches from yours. 

“You know I love you, right?” He asks softly, and you try to smile through the tears, appreciative of him for attempting to make you feel better. 

“Yeah, but not like that,” you remind him, your eyes fluttering shut and your lips pouting. 

“But I could kiss you like I do.” 

You peek one eye open, blinking away the saltwater in your eyes, not even flinching when he brings a hand up to wipe it away from your cheek. 

“You could?” 

“I could,” he nods, his brows drawn together and his mouth tight. “I don’t want you to suffer like this when I can fix it.” 

You think it through for a split second, consider the fact that Jihoon is your roommate, your best friend, and decide that you don’t care. 

“Okay,” you whisper, fragility clear in your voice and in the fingers suddenly clutching at his shirt. 

“Just… promise me nothing will change, that we’ll still be us after,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you until his lips are a breath from yours. 

“I promise,” you tell him, though in the back of your mind, something whispers that it already has. 

Then he kisses you, and your brain goes perfectly silent. 

All you can feel is him, his palm on your face, his fingers in your hair, his soft lips sipping at yours like the wine you downed together just an hour ago. 

The room is quiet, filled only with your breathing and his, and every sensation is heightened by the peace surrounding you. 

His hand tilts your face, changing the angle as he glides his tongue along your bottom lip, and when you gasp, it darts inside, learning, exploring. 

Jihoon is lazy, you both know this, but apparently he’s the very opposite when it comes to kissing you because before long, he’s devouring you with vigor, panting into your mouth like he can’t catch his breath, searching like you’ve stolen it. 

You’re not faring much better, your grip tight on his shirt and your cheek hot under his hand, forgetting to even breathe as he kisses you stupid. Literally, you feel dumb with it, empty headed, no thoughts occupying your mind except for Jihoon, Jihoon, Jihoon. 

You suck in air when he rips his mouth away from yours, his fingers in your hair holding you back so you don’t follow him as his chest rises and falls erratically, a blush creeping up his neck and along his ears. 

“You should get to bed,” he whispers, his eyes hooded and his voice rough. 

“Yeah, I suppose I should,” you agree, even though you want to kiss him more, want him to take you apart, if you’re being honest. But something tells you not to push him this first night, not to ask for too much. 

So you tease him instead, murmuring, “Tuck me in?” only to gape at him when he slides off the couch and takes hold of your hand, tugging you up off the sofa and to your room. 

He waits on your bed as you half ass your skincare, handing you pajamas when you ask for them and getting up when you emerge from the bathroom. You climb under the duvet, think for just a second about asking him to join you, and whisper, “Goodnight, Jihoon.” 

“Goodnight,” he whispers back, before leaning in close and pressing his lips to yours one last time, mumbling into your mouth, “One for the road.”

After he leaves, you fall into sleep slowly, and when you do, it’s deep, dotted with dreams that taste like him. 

True to your word, nothing really changes. 

Except for the fact that you just… kiss now. 

When you’re tired, when you’re stressed, when you’re sad, when you’re needy. 

All it takes is a look and a little pout, and Jihoon is shaking his head and pressing his mouth to yours, his hand firm on your cheek and his tongue dancing over your bottom lip. You find yourself craving him when you’re at work or around friends or sometimes in your sleep, dreams full of feeling your body under his and his arms around you. 

Your kisses haven’t progressed to that yet, though you’re hoping they will soon. He usually keeps them chaste, but there are times you can tell he wants to take it further, by the way he holds your chin and angles your head so he can kiss you deeper, dirtier. 

Just two weeks after that night, he’s become a habit you can’t quit. 

It’s gotten to the point where he greets you with a smooch when you come home from work, a peck when you finish making dinner together, a soft kiss before you go to sleep in separate rooms. 

Most of the time, you wish you could follow him into his bedroom, climb into his bed and his arms and his ribcage, squish right in next to his big, juicy heart. But you promised nothing would change, that you and Jihoon would still be you and Jihoon, and you know that if you delete the spaces between you, it would change everything. 

So you content yourself with his kisses, with the little touches you steal as often as you can, with the knowledge that at the end of the day, you do have someone who loves you, even if he doesn’t love you like that. 

You’re laying on the couch with Jihoon, your legs resting on top of his thighs and his big hand warm on your ankle, when he asks you if anything interesting happened at work. 

Normally, you would have nothing to share, but today, something exciting did happen. 

“Oh! Yeah, actually, Jun from Accounting asked me out on a date,” you gush, your legs bouncing until his hand tightens into a near painful grip. 

“I didn’t know you were looking to date again,” he says pensively, his eyes suddenly on the TV and away from yours. 

“I mean, I’m not really, but he’s cute and sweet and I miss sex,” you sigh wistfully, letting your cheek rest on the back of the couch as you watch his jaw clench and unclench. 

“What did I say when I told you I could kiss you like I love you?” He asks, his gaze on you again and so much heavier than before, so much weightier and darker. You can almost feel it like a physical touch, the way it roves over you, assessing. 

You try to wrack your brain but you come up empty, an unfortunate occurrence when it comes to Jihoon. 

“I don’t remember,” you respond honestly, your main memory of that night being the kiss. 

“I said, ‘I don’t want you to suffer like this when I can fix it,’” he reminds you, before continuing, “You don’t know if this Jun guy will be any good, and I don’t want him to disappoint you.”

Your breath stalls in your chest at what you think he’s implying, but you need him to clarify before you jump to your own conclusions, fueled by delusion and desire as they might be. 

“So… what are you saying?” You ask slowly, pushing down the hope and heat rising within you. 

“I’m saying that I’ll take care of you. You miss being touched? You miss being fucked? Let me be the one, not some rando who might not even be able to make you cum.”

Fuck. He’s so- You don’t even know what he is at this point. 

You sort of feel the need to leap to Jun’s defense, but by the fire in Jihoon’s eyes, you think that would be the wrong move to make right now. You also don’t know if you can speak, with your tongue tied by lust as it is. 

He’s still staring at you, his face unreadable but his hand hot, tight on your ankle, like if you tried to get away, he wouldn’t let you. 

That won’t be happening, not when all you want to do is crawl closer, into his lap maybe so you can feel his chest against yours and his heat between your legs, so he can pull you into him and show you just how well he can take care of you. 

“Okay,” you breathe out, because you need to respond sooner or later, and that’s the only word you can summon at this moment in time. 

“Tell Jun you won’t be going out with him,” Jihoon commands, and you bristle at his domineering tone but you also feel yourself clench, just a little. You acquiesce all the same. 

hey Jun! i have to say no to your offer, i just don’t really like to mix business with romance, I’m sorry ☹️

“Done?” He asks, waiting for your nod to swipe your phone out of your hands, put it on Do Not Disturb, and slide it between the couch cushions before yanking you toward him by the grip he has on your ankle. 

“Hey!” You exclaim, out of breath and full of indignation. “Don’t be rude.” 

“We’ve been best friends for two and a half years, you think I don’t know what you like by now?” He asks rhetorically. “You like getting manhandled, like being talked down to, and then you like being treated like the pretty little princess you are. Am I wrong?” 

God, he’s so hot. You hate him. 

“No,” you answer petulantly. “You’re not wrong,” you continue when he raises an eyebrow and loosens his touch. 

You barely even recognize Jihoon right now, he’s being so cocky and mean and sexy. The smirk he sends you makes you shiver, or maybe it’s the fingers swiftly smoothing up your leg. Curse your little pajama shorts and curse his big, warm hands. 

He’s just about to reach your panties when you whisper, “Wait!” 

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are sharp on yours, his hand frozen as he evaluates you for misgivings and anxieties. 

“Just-,” you sigh and wriggle a little bit in shyness. “Not here, I can get… messy.” 

His smirk is back and bigger than ever as he shoves your legs off his lap, stands, and leans down to haul you over his shoulder, making you gasp and cling to him for dear life. 

“Jihoon, I’m too-“

“I squat 450, babe, you’re fine,” his palm cracks down on your ass as he speaks, both his words and his touch making you whimper. 

You assume he’ll take you to your bed but he takes you to his instead, and when he roughly deposits you on his comforter and pushes your hands to rest above your head, all you can do is stare as he yanks his shirt off and tosses it to the side. 

You see him topless often enough, but in this context, it’s different. You actually get to look this time, and you let your eyes travel slowly over every inch of pale skin and muscle, feeling your center start to throb when he palms his growing cock and slides his own little pajama shorts down. 

He leaves on his boxer briefs and sets a knee on the bed, slowly climbing over you until he’s got his hands bracketing your head and his knees spreading your thighs. You’re surrounded by him, his scent overpowering in the best way now that you’re in his bed and under his body. 

This is exactly where you’ve wanted to be for weeks, but now that you’re here, you find you’re feeling a little nervous. Jihoon, obviously, can read you like a book and asks in a low voice, “Would it help if I told you what I’m going to do?” 

“Um, yes,” you answer, because of course it’ll help, in more ways than one. “You already know?” 

“I have the makings of a plan. First, I think I’ll kiss you until your head is too empty for nerves. After that, I’ll play with your tits until you’re crying for me. Then, I’ll eat you out until you cum, and fuck you with my fingers until you cum again,” his voice is low, seductive enough that you’re nodding without even realizing it, close to begging before he’s even gotten started. 

“And then you’ll fuck me?” You ask weakly, feeling small under him even though you’re taller than him in actuality. 

“Maybe. If I feel like you’ve earned it,” he teases, or at least you hope he’s teasing, because if he doesn’t give you his dick tonight, you think you might go crazy. 

“I feel better, I think,” you whisper faintly, and you actually do, now that you know how he’s going to take care of you, what he’s going to do to you. 

“Good, that’s the goal here.” 

He almost smiles, you can see his lips twitching, but he doesn’t let them stretch in a grin. Instead, he slowly lowers his body to lay over yours, dropping to his elbows and letting his legs relax so he’s pressed up against you, weighing you down to the bed. You feel safe, secure like this, and you can’t help but sigh into Jihoon’s mouth when his lips meet yours, a soft, relieved sigh born from knowing you’re in good hands. 

Good, large, warm hands, one petting your head and the other cupping your jaw to pull you into his kiss, as if you need any encouragement. He’s gentle until he’s not, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and his mouth sucking at the sting, his tongue pushing between your lips when they open on a gasp. 

You feel more than hear his groan when you shyly glide your tongue against his, the sound rumbling through your mouth and straight down to your core. You’re already throbbing, just from this, and you can’t believe you’ll have to endure his evil, delicious mouth on your tits when he’s finally deemed you brainless enough to move on. 

It won’t be long before that happens, you already know, because your thoughts are starting to sift through your fingers like sand, too hazy to pin down and not important enough to try. A voice in the back of your mind whispers this will ruin you, but then he does something with his tongue that makes your breath catch and your pussy clench, and the voice goes silent. 

In fact, every racing thought in your mind is gone, eroded by Jihoon’s whirlwind, and you actually whine when he pulls away, your kiss-swollen lips open and attempting to chase him for more. He doesn’t let you, shifting back to sit on his knees and pulling you up with him so he can wrench off your tank top and flimsy bralette. 

He lets out a shaky sigh, his eyes caught on the rise and fall of your tits as you try to regulate your breathing, before pushing you back down with a firm hand on your shoulder. He keeps the other on your waist, preventing you from just collapsing back on the bed, and follows you with his body, his gaze heady and his lips parted. 

He doesn’t waste any time, immediately leaning down to suck a nipple into his mouth and bringing his fingers up to pluck and squeeze at the other, both of them pebbling under his attention. They’re extra sensitive today for some reason, but that might just be because it’s Jihoon touching them, wrapping his lips around them, warming them with the heat of his mouth and fingers. 

Time slips away as he works you over, his tongue plush and soft and fever hot on your tits, his fingers unrelenting, just on the right side of mean as he twists and pinches whichever nipple isn’t in his mouth. He alternates every so often, never leaving a side neglected, and eventually gets into a rhythm that has you whimpering and arching into him, begging him with your body to keep going. 

You can’t feel how wet you are with your legs spread by his body like this, but you have to be soaking by now with the way your cunt is fluttering, your walls squeezing down on nothing as he sucks and bites and worries at your breasts with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. You already want him to make you cum so bad, and you distantly remember what he said just a little bit ago. 

Until you’re crying for me. 

Well, you can certainly do that. The tears are already rising to your eyes, already burning in your throat, making your breath hitch and your chest stutter beneath him. You don’t know when you closed your eyes but they’re bleary when you open them, your lashes lined with saltwater as you look down at him. 

He’s looking at you, probably has been this whole time, and when he sees the first tear fall, he pops off your nipple and presses his smirk into your breast, his hand still firm on the other. 

“Jihoon, please,” you whisper thickly, and for a moment, you’re scared he’ll make you outline what you’re asking for. He doesn’t, thankfully, just shifts back up on his knees to admire his handiwork. You can only imagine the picture you must make, your chest covered in his teeth marks and your nipples swollen and spit-slick, your eyes half-lidded with desire and need, not a single critical thought behind them. 

He visibly collects himself, taking in a deep breath and letting it flow out as he tucks his fingertips in the waistband of your shorts and panties. You don’t have enough brain power to think of lifting your hips to help him so he pulls them up with one hand and wrenches your pajamas down with the other, dropping you back down to the bed when they’ve cleared your ass and he can tug them the rest of the way off. 

Your legs have bent in the process, your feet resting on his knees, and he takes hold of your ankles, straightening your legs out before dragging his hands up and setting them on your thighs. You expect him to push them apart, to move you like he has been, but instead he says, “Show me.”

You’re past being shy but you still feel a little vulnerable, so it takes you a few breaths to slowly spread your legs. The air clings to your arousal, cool compared to your heat, and the longer he stares, the faster your heart beats. His hands press to your inner thighs, keeping them apart so he can memorize every inch of you. 

“Fuck,” he exhales laboriously. “You weren’t kidding.”

“About what?” You ask tremulously, with not even a bit of a clue as to what he’s talking about. 

“About getting messy. You’re so fucking wet, I think I could slide in right now,” he sounds far away, like he’s imagining it, picturing himself sinking his cock into you, filling you up to the brim. 

Now you’re picturing it too, and your thighs try to squeeze together to soothe the ache between your legs but he’s still holding them open, and he’s too strong for you to even bother fighting his grip. 

“Maybe you should,” you moan enticingly, one hand leaving its place above your head to drift over your body and down to your pussy. It doesn’t get that far, not when he levels a stern, warning look at you, one that makes your clit pulse and your heart race. 

Adequately discouraged, you bring your hand back up and lace your fingers together, leaving you spread out and powerless beneath him. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t hide the way the words light you up inside, make you want to be even more compliant for him, make you want to be so good you become his best girl. 

He smirks at your response, a look in his eye like he’s filing every little reaction away for the future, hope blooming in your chest that maybe there will be a future. You can admit that you don’t want this to be the only time, your first and last with him. 

(What you can’t admit yet is that this is already more than sex for you.)

Fuck, your thoughts are coming back, no longer so nebulous and murky, now too solid for you to swim through like before. You know Jihoon can see it in your gaze, and he moves so quickly, you can hardly make sense of it. 

Before you can take another breath, he’s on his belly between your legs, your thighs still pushed apart by his hands as he all but dives into your dripping pussy. You don’t know what you expected but it definitely wasn’t this, his tongue pushing inside of you, reaching as far as it can go and licking your walls on its way out, his nose grazing your clit with every jerk of his chin into you. It feels like actual heaven, his tongue so lithe and agile and smooth as it fucks in and out of you, sparks zipping through your veins with every drag of his nose over your clit. 

He refocuses his attention, his mouth shifting to suck gently at the bundle of nerves, lulling you into a dreamy state driven by soft pressure and the vibrations of his little groans around you. Your head is finally, blissfully empty again, and Jihoon seems to be able to sense the switch, because he starts sucking harder, flicking his tongue back and forth over the bud until it has its own heartbeat.

You lift your head up, tucking your chin into your chest so you can watch him, his dark hair against your thighs, his face between your legs, that smart mouth wrapped around you. 

You’ve never cum from just oral before, but you’ve also never had someone eat you out with so much dedication, so much fervor, and everything is made better by the fact that it’s not just someone, it’s Jihoon. 

Jihoon, your best friend who you sometimes miss even when he’s sitting right next to you, his thigh pressed against yours and his arm around your shoulders. 

Jihoon, your roommate who you occasionally stare at for just a bit too long when he stumbles into the kitchen wearing only his little shorts and a serious case of bedhead. 

Jihoon, your Jihoon. 

Suddenly, the wave is building, sucking you into its undertow, and you can’t keep your head up or your eyes open as pleasure grows and grows and grows until finally, the wave crests. It might have been your thoughts, it might have been the heady groan that reverberated around your clit, it might have been both. Either way, you’re lost under the surface in a sea of bliss, and when Jihoon breaks away and gets his knees under him, you assume it’s to offer you a hand, to help pull you out. 

And then you feel that hand petting over your sensitive pussy, feel the drag of his fingertips over your clit, and you realize he’s not going to pull you out, he’s going to drown you further. 

One finger slides inside of you, longer and thicker than your own, giving you something to clench down on as your walls continue to spasm with aftershocks of your orgasm. He bites out a swear, and internally you preen at his reaction to feeling you for the first time. Externally, you can only buck your hips into his touch and whine something that sounds like his name as he pulls his finger out and returns with two. 

The fullness makes you sigh, the feeling of warm flesh and bone decadent after months of silicone, and when he crooks those fingers inside of you and starts searching, you know you’re done for. 

You can’t ever find your g-spot on your own, your fingers are too short and your toys aren’t shaped right, and the second he locks in, you know he won’t stop. He’s the same when he’s writing a song - once he finds his flow, he could be lost to you for hours, days, weeks. The thought of him devoting that same focus to you sends a flash of electricity down your spine, one that ends with a squeeze of your cunt around him. 

You can feel his eyes on you and blink your own open to meet his gaze, the eye contact hypnotizing, consuming. The next curl of his fingers brushes something inside of you that makes your face crumple, makes you forget how to breathe, and his stare grows determined as he taps his fingertips in the same spot. Instantly, you feel yourself get wetter, feel it seep out around his fingers and drip down your ass to his bed, and his face grows darker somehow, his stare penetrating and possessive. 

He leaves the sensitive patch alone for a little bit, sliding his fingers in and out, getting you used to the rhythm and the sensation of being fucked with them, and then he starts grinding into it with every thrust, the muscles of his arm flexing as his pace rockets up. It sounds fucking obscene, the squelch of your soaking cunt around his fingers, especially paired with your breathy, high pitched noises, your whines and whimpers and gasps. 

You’re already getting close again, but you don’t want to cum so soon, don’t want this to be over if he decides you haven’t earned his cock. 

“Jihoon!” You squeak, squirming beneath him in pained pleasure, though you can’t get anywhere with his hand pressing your thigh down and his fingers filling you up. 

“Be a good girl and take it for me, hm?” His voice is so low and rough, you almost don’t recognize it, but you listen anyway, trying your best to be still under his siege because all you want is to be good for him, for only him. 

“There we go, that’s my girl,” he murmurs under his breath, his words like a live wire snaking around your throat, stealing your voice and leaving you to shudder beneath him as he works a third finger in and sets his thumb on your clit. 

You wonder if he’s stretching you out to fuck you, or if he just remembers you tipsily spilling to him that you prefer to cum on three instead of two. You don’t want to get your hopes up so you stop thinking, just lay there and take it, exactly like he said. His knuckles pound against the lips of your cunt as he fucks you hard with his fingers, the tips hooking into your g-spot on every stroke in and scissoring on every stroke out. 

You can feel heat spreading throughout your body, the fire starting in your lower belly and traveling through your veins to scald every limb, to raze every cell. You’re on the precipice of something great, something that will destroy you, but you need just a little more, though you don’t know what it is that you need. 

Jihoon does, of course Jihoon does, and as soon as he demands, “Cum for me, now,” you feel the dam break and the euphoria flood you, the icy bite of release sharp and cutting, dousing all of the embers burning within you, leaving you to tremble and try to breathe through every last curl of his fingers. He’s still fucking you with them, but he’s slowed down, gentled his touch, eventually leaving them within you with his fingertips pressed right into that sensitive spongy spot inside. 

You feel like you’re floating, adrift, lost, until he releases your thigh and leans down over you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that feels starkly different from the rest. This one has purpose, it has meaning, it has heart, and the sheer longing you feel for him has tears welling up and bubbling out of the corners of your eyes, dripping down the sides of your face into your hair. 

When he pulls away, you can’t stop them, and soon enough, you’re bawling like a baby. Usually, Jihoon seems uncomfortable with your crying, but now, he just pulls his fingers out of you with a slick pop and wipes them off on the comforter, laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms. 

He lets you cry on his chest for who knows how long, one hand rubbing comforting circles on your back and the other cupping the cheek not pressed to his pec, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a soothing pattern. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers into the air when your sobs start to taper off, replaced by soft breaths in and out as you slowly drop into sleep. 

You know you’re in a nightmare. 

You’re sprinting through the night, pouring rain pounding the street and covering the sounds of your footsteps. There’s a car ahead of you and you know Jihoon is driving, and that’s what tips you off because Jihoon can’t drive. 

You’re running as fast as you can, but not fast enough, even though the car seems to be slowing down, the distance decreasing between it and you until you can maybe, maybe reach out and latch onto the bumper. You throw a hand out and your fingertips graze the fender, and then it speeds up and disappears from sight, leaving you alone in the darkness of the storm, water steadily rising until it covers your knees, your hips, your waist. You try to float but something is weighing you down, and just as the water surges above your head, you wake up. 

You blink rapidly in the dark, unfamiliar room, your heart thumping so hard in your chest that you can feel it, though you start to calm down when you take in a deep breath and all you can smell is Jihoon. You pat around the bed for him but find you’re alone in the room, dread pooling in your stomach as you start to wonder where he is. 

You won’t be able to sleep again until you see him, until you know he won’t leave you behind like he did in the nightmare, so you clumsily roll out of bed, your limbs shaky and your thighs and pussy a bit tender from the way he handled you just a few hours ago. You stumble through the door, following the sound of soft snores to the living room, where Jihoon is spread out on the couch, barely covered in a blanket. 

A frown pinches his face, his brow tight with stress, and you want to smooth it out with your thumb, want to snuggle into the spaces left unoccupied, but you don’t want to wake him, and more than that, you don’t want to know if he’d push you away. 

You try to tell yourself that he just likes to sleep alone, that you were too warm for him to really rest, that him leaving has nothing to do with what happened.

Deep down, you know it has everything to do with what happened.  

You take in a shaky breath and exhale it quietly, praying he’ll stay asleep as you dig your phone out from between the couch cushions. He does, and you thank him for being such a deep sleeper before darting off to your room and checking your texts. 

There’s one from your bestie, asking for updates about the developing situation between you and Jihoon (you could keep it from anyone but her), and a text from Jun, telling you no worries at all and that he’d see you around, which only makes your heart feel heavier. 

Needing something to do, you strip Jihoon’s bed of the damp comforter and put it in the wash along with your shorts and panties, relying once again on his ability to sleep through anything. 

You numbly carry out your skincare routine before putting yourself to bed, laying awake reliving every moment in his bedroom from beginning to end, ready to admit to yourself that you’ve changed like you promised you wouldn’t.

That he’s not just a best friend to you anymore.

That you no longer want to be you and Jihoon but youandJihoon, with no spaces in between. 

That you might even be in- 

No, you’re not ready for that yet. 

You fall asleep eventually, and there are no more nightmares, but no more dreams either. 

Jihoon is pulling away, and you don’t know what to do. 

He doesn’t kiss you anymore, doesn’t cook with you anymore, doesn’t even watch TV with you anymore, even when you put on the anime you were powering through together. He just stays holed up in his room, keeps the door shut where it used to be open, coming out only to eat or go to the gym. 

You’re trying to shake it off, the grip that night still has on you, but it’s difficult when you have no idea what’s going on with Jihoon.

Does he regret it? Is it that he can’t even stand the sight of you? What if he hates you now? 

Those are the main questions that occupy your frazzled thoughts, though you fear with the way he’s behaving, you’ll never get an answer to them. 

Soon enough, you find you can barely stand to be in the apartment with the ghost of him, the reminder of his absence like a punch to the gut every single time you do something without him.

You start spending more time at your best friend’s place, her boyfriend happy to lend her to you so he can game more, though he steals her back every night before you force yourself to return home. 

When you do, you pass his closed door and tell yourself, you’re not in love with him, you’re not in love with him, you’re not in love with him, like a mantra. 

You don’t think it’s working.

Four weeks pass by in much the same fashion, and you’re on the verge of tearing your hair out and begging him on your knees to come back when he finally shows himself. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen alone, your comfort music playing on the smart speaker as you force yourself to eat even with your appetite all but gone. You hear his door open and freeze, torn between staying where you are to confront him and scurrying off to your room so you don’t have to see him. 

He appears before you can make that choice, his mouth drawn tight and his face shadowed. He hesitates in the doorway like he’s not sure if he’s allowed inside, and you’re mad at him, so fucking mad at him, but more than that, you miss him.

Miss his quiet humor and his cackle of a laugh and his sparkling eyes and his warm body. You miss having his shine on you, miss knowing that you’re his favorite, that he doesn’t treat anyone else the way he treats you, that you’re special. 

And fuck it, fuck everything, because you are in love with him. 

So you sigh and offer, “There’s more fried rice on the stove, if you’re hungry.”

It’s not an olive branch, but a lifeline, one you frantically toss into the treacherous sea that used to be your friendship, hoping he’ll take it and let you reel him back into your arms, into your life. 

He forces a smile, one that doesn’t meet his eyes or even his cheeks, just barely curling the corners of his mouth as he lumbers over. He walks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, your very own Atlas, though you’ve never known his strength to falter, not until now. 

He scoops up some rice into the bowl you still habitually leave out for him and joins you at the counter, sitting heavily on the stool across from you and starting to eat. He’s slow about it, as if his appetite is as minuscule as yours. You keep your eyes on your bowl, avoiding looking at the gauntness of his cheeks and the cut of his jawline and trying to work up the courage to ask him what the fuck is going on. 

An hour passes and you’ve finally finished eating, Jihoon taking both your bowl and his to the sink, quickly washing them and the utensils as you pack up the leftovers and store them in the fridge. You finish around the same time, and the chasm between you seems to widen ever further, the ledge you’re trapped on shrinking before your very eyes. 

He takes in a deep breath and clears his throat, and somehow, you just know he’s going to say something that will cleave your fragile heart in two. Something like ‘it was a mistake,’ or ‘we can’t do that again,’ or-

“I don’t think we should live together anymore.” 

Oh. Well, that’s infinitely worse. 

“Okay,” you say dazedly, for the third time since you started this with him, because once again, you have no other words. Also maybe because you wouldn’t be able to get anything else out with the way you’re swallowing back tears. 

“Okay?” He questions harshly, just a hint of life flowing back into him as his temper ignites. His brow furrows at you, his mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know where to begin because there’s too much to say. “What do you mean, ‘okay’?” 

“What do you mean, what do I mean? What else do you want me to say?” You can’t help but raise your defenses, attempting to protect all the little fragments of your heart as they lay at his feet. 

“I want you to-,” he blinks rapidly, his face slowly turning red as he sputters, “Don’t you at least want to know why? We’ve lived together for three fucking years, I thought you’d care a little more.” 

“Don’t turn this around on me! Of course I fucking care,” you don’t mean to raise your voice, but you can’t believe his audacity, abandoning you for weeks on end and then expecting you to chase after him. “But I don’t know if I want to know why, because this already fucking hurts! It’s hurt for the past month. I mean, I literally cried myself to sleep on you and then woke up alone. And I’ve been alone every day since. How do you think that’s made me feel?” 

You don’t want to cry in front of him right now, not after what happened last time, but you can’t hold back the tears anymore, not when they’re burning behind your eyes and closing up your throat. 

“I was trying to protect you, I still am,” he claims desperately, softening at your words and the sight of your watering eyes. “I can’t be what you need.” 

“I don’t need you to be anything but my best friend,” you whisper brokenly, lying through your teeth in an effort to keep him here, keep him close. 

“That’s the problem.” 

He sounds like he’s pleading for you to understand, to find the hidden meaning in his words, but you’re too worked up, too on edge and hurt to make sense of anything. 

“How is that a problem? You made me promise nothing would change, that we’d still be us, and now me wanting you to be my best friend is a problem?” 

“Well, I’m sorry but I didn’t think I would fucking fall in love with you!” He all but shouts, his eyes wide and his chest heaving before he sucks in a shuddering breath and takes a step back, running a hand through his messy hair and looking away from you. 

His words ring in your ears, blending together into a jumble of sounds that you can’t parse through, until you’re not sure he even uttered them at all. 

“Say that again?” You request quietly, feeling a bit out of your body, a bit out of your mind. 

“Don’t make me, please, not when you don’t-,” he stops himself like he can’t bear to speak the words. 

So he really did say it. 

“And how do you know I don’t? Did you ever even think to ask before trying to take yourself out of my life?” You whisper with exhaustion and misery, wounded feelings warring with the hope attempting to blossom within you. 

Jihoon seems stunned at your questions, like he really, truly was certain you didn’t love him back. 

“Were you protecting me, or yourself?” You have to ask, if only to make him realize what seems so obvious to you. 

“Maybe… maybe both,” he bites his lips and looks away, crossing his arms over his chest as his shoulders tense with what you assume is regret and perhaps a little embarrassment. That’s not why you asked him those things, and you can’t bear to see him so closed off to you still, not now that you know how he feels. 

“Jihoon, I didn’t expect to fall in love with you either, but I did. Like, after the first kiss, if I’m being honest,” you laugh weakly at yourself, hoping to put him more at ease. 

“You did?” He asks cautiously, waiting for your nod to let some of the tension in his shoulders go. 

You take a step toward him and then another, and another, until you’re close enough to grip both of his arms and unfold them. 

He lets you, his gaze back on your face, something like pained wonderment in his eyes as you tuck his arms around your waist and cup his cheeks. You lean in, your lips just inches from his, and whisper, “Kiss me like you love me?” 

“Should be easy enough,” he whispers back before pressing his mouth to yours gently, reverently, his hands careful on your back as he tugs you closer. This kiss reminds you of the last one you shared, the one that made you sob yourself to sleep, but this time, there’s no longing involved, no sadness, because this time, you know he’s yours. 

He pulls away before you’re ready, but you release his cheeks and let him go, love-tinged surprise bursting in you when he holds you tighter and pulls you into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and you twine your arms around his, one hand sinking into his hair to scratch at his scalp and the other rubbing his back as he breathes you in. 

You’re always the one seeking affection, the one reaching for him, and you feel the cracks in your fractured heart start to seal back up as he whispers into your skin, “I love you, so fucking much.”

“I love you more,” you murmur, laughing freely when he pulls back and says, “Don’t even start, you know I’ll win.” 

“Yeah, because you fight dirty,” you tease, giggling until he promises, “Baby, you have no idea.” 

He claims your lips in a deep, ardent kiss, one that soon makes your knees weak and your thoughts turn to stardust in your head. One of his hands rises to the nape of your neck, holding you to him and controlling the angle so he can kiss you how he wants. The other drops to your hip, pushing you against the counter as he knocks your legs apart with a knee and fills the space in between with his body. 

You gasp into his mouth and he slips his tongue inside of yours, a rumbling groan vibrating into your lips when your fingers clench in his hair. It’s so soft and his body is so hard, the dichotomy of the sensations stealing your breath as he pushes himself against you, grinding his thickening bulge into your thinly covered core. 

You’re wearing those blasted pajama shorts again but of course it’s laundry day so they’re the only layer covering your center, and almost embarrassingly rapidly, you feel them dampening. You don’t know if Jihoon can feel it too but he’ll notice soon enough, and you can already picture the pleased smirk that’ll stretch his lips when he realizes how wet you’ve gotten for him. 

It’s not your fault though, he’s so hot and you love him so much and he still hasn’t fucked you. It’s been four weeks since he touched you, and when you weren’t battling through nightmares, you were stuck in dreams of him touching you more. You still couldn’t conjure the feeling of his cock, or even the look of it, and deep below the raincloud of loneliness that’s been following you, there was a hunger, a yearning, a desperation to finally know him in this way. 

Unable to stand it any longer, you break the kiss and summon your courage to pant, “Please fuck me, Jihoon.”

You expect him to tease you, to draw this out until you’re really begging, but he just releases you and takes your hand, dragging you behind him to his bedroom. When he pulls you through the doorway, you gasp at the sight that greets you, piles of clothes on the floor and sheet music and scrawled lyrics taped to nearly every free inch of the walls. 

He’s normally clean, meticulous, about both his music and his space, and part of you feels sad, sorry that he’s been affected this much, but another part of you feels relieved that he’s suffered just like you have. The rest of you feels ravenous, and that’s what you focus on as he rips off his shirt and reaches for yours, his eyes hot on your breasts when they���re revealed to him. 

His hands cover them immediately, cupping to test the weight of them and squeezing to feel the give, his thumbs rubbing circles around your nipples until they pucker for him. A shiver rolls through you as he ducks his head to suck one into his hot, wet mouth, groans vibrating against your skin like he loves the taste of you. He moves over to the other side, nipping at the bud and laving his tongue over it, his fingers pinching and pulling the one that’s still spit-slick. 

When he pops off and brings his eyes back to yours, they’re deep, dark, covetous, and you’re so hypnotized by his stare that you don’t even notice he’s wrapped his arms around your waist until he lifts you and drops you onto his bed. 

You land on your back, your breath exiting your lungs in a whoosh, knocked out by his rough handling, the action only making you feel hotter for him. He doesn’t give you much time to recover, his fingers tucking in the hem of your shorts and starting to pull them down. You have enough wherewithal to lift your hips for him this time, and when he tosses them aside, you don’t even wait for him to tell you what to do, you just rest your hands above your head, spread your legs, and let him see the mess he’s made of you. 

“Fuck,” he gasps out, climbing onto the bed and settling on his stomach between your thighs, his head turning and his teeth latching onto the sensitive skin along the inside. It stings but you love the ache, hope you’ll bear the indentations for days after, though you know he’ll just replace them when they fade away. 

He releases you when he’s satisfied, licking over the dents to soothe the burn before pressing his hands to the backs of your thighs and lifting them onto his shoulders. His eyes meet yours just as he leans forward and drags his tongue from cunt to clit, the fire in them sparking brighter when you buck into his mouth and whine sharply. 

His thumbs come up to spread your pussy apart and then he’s on you, sucking, nibbling, biting, relearning every fold and contour of your cunt with apt attention. His tongue darts inside, tasting you at the source, and the groan that escapes him reverberates through your whole body, making your thighs squeeze around his head. 

He moves his hands, one wrapping tight around your thigh and pulling it to the side to give him more room, the other shifting down to pet at your entrance. He lets you take in one breath before he starts to sink two fingers inside of you, pushing at your walls to make space until his knuckles are flush with your cunt. 

You can feel yourself fluttering around his digits, the fullness blissful and the warmth comforting, and you almost think you have a hope of lasting more than a few minutes until his lips wrap around your clit and his fingers curl. 

How he can pinpoint your g-spot after just one encounter, you don’t know, but all you can do is hold tight to the sheets beneath your hands and try not to scream as he builds up his rhythm. It’s fast, staccato, his fingers tapping into that spongy spot over and over, your arousal so abundant it’s seeping out of you. 

He works in a third finger, and that’s when you know it’s over, the stretch of your inner muscles around him immaculate as he grinds his fingertips into your front wall, playing you like an instrument and drawing the orgasm out of you as if he’s conducting an orchestra. 

His mouth is nowhere near as graceful, the pulse of his lips around your clit erratic and hurried, his mouth opening wider every so often to gather more of your arousal on his tongue and swallow it down. 

The difference in sensations is what sends you careening over the edge, freefalling through the clouds of euphoria until Jihoon rips himself away from you and yanks you back down to earth. 

“Fuck, I have to be inside of you,” he slurs, his face red and his eyes hazy. He lowers your thighs to the bed and sits up on his knees, licking around his glossy lips to chase the taste of you as he pushes his shorts and underwear down enough to free his dick. 

Your eyes fly to it immediately, desperate to get your first look, and when it bobs in the air, a pearl of precum dripping from the head down the shaft, you almost want to cry. 

You didn’t think dicks could be pretty but Jihoon’s is fucking gorgeous; thick and long enough to make you ache tomorrow, lightly pink toned until the head where it’s red and blushed, the entire thing so hard you feel your core throb just at the thought of having it inside of you. 

“Please, please, please,” you whimper, need clear in your voice as you watch him crawl toward you. 

He doesn’t stretch himself out on top of you like you expect, instead laying on his side next to you and sliding the arm closest to you under your back, gathering your legs with his other arm so you’re bundled up against his chest. You can’t help but wrap your own arms around him, holding him to you for both stability and comfort, your eyes caught on his as he looks down at you. 

You love feeling so close to him after so many weeks apart, love being surrounded by him and held by him, love feeling his heart beating and his lungs expanding against you, evidence that he’s alive and he’s here with you. 

“Line me up, baby. I’ll do the rest,” he murmurs low in your ear, and you obey as if you’re under his spell, reaching around your legs to take hold of his perfect cock and align it with your entrance. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, just as he starts to push inside, and you know he said it then so he could feel how your pussy responds to him but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed, not when his face flushes with pleasure, his brows pushing together and his mouth falling open as he carves a path inside of you that’s just for him to tread, just for him to own. He feels like magic inside of you, the way he fills you to the brim and warms you from the inside out, the way you finally feel complete, like he’s the last piece to your puzzle. 

He’s still for a few trembling seconds, and you can’t tell if he’s letting you get used to him or if he’s trying to keep from cumming, but either way, you want to torment him, just a little. 

So you squeeze your inner muscles around him, luxuriating in the tightening of his hands on you and the swear he grits out, his eyes flashing heatedly at you as he draws his hips back and shoves them forward. 

The loss of him makes you whine but the sudden fullness makes you keen, your cheeks heating at the sound of him bottoming out inside of you, the squelch that follows making him smirk. He can’t hold it for long, not when he gives you one testing thrust, then a second, then a third, and you cry out for him every single time. 

You’re responsive in bed, you knew this already, but you never thought you’d be this loud, this wet, this pliant for him. All you want to do is lay here in his arms and let him fuck you how he wants, use you how he wants, take you how he wants, letting him know with your voice and your pussy just how much you love every single second. 

You don’t want to think, or call the shots, or make decisions, not when you know you don’t need to with him, and suddenly you remember him saying, “You like being treated like the pretty little princess you are,” and fuck, he was right. 

Jihoon must see it in your eyes, how the submission has taken over, because he coos and presses his lips to your cheek, still fucking in and out of you as he says, “You are my good girl, aren’t you?” 

You manage to nod and whine, “Wanna be your best girl.” 

His face softens even as his thrusts don’t, his voice gentle as he says, “You already are, baby. You’re my best girl and my only girl, okay? So don’t worry your pretty little head with anything, I’ll take care of you.” 

That’s enough to have you tearing up again, this time in relief and rapture. He doesn’t miss a beat, kisses away the saltwater as it dots your cheeks and continues to sink into you so deeply, it’s like you can feel him in your guts. 

Pleasure starts to spool up inside of you, scorching twine coiling tighter and tighter and tighter, moans and whimpers continuously escaping your parted lips as you feel a rush of molten gold surge through your veins, your pussy fluttering and then clamping down on him. 

He shudders out a groan and fucks you through it, the friction on your rippling walls sublime, elongating your ecstasy until he finally breaks with you, filling you with a burst of warmth as his white hot cum coats the depths of you, starting to gather around your entrance when it has nowhere left to go. 

You pant, trying to catch your breath and gather what little wits remain as he tucks his legs up beneath your thighs, removing the arm bolstering them and bringing his hand up to caress your cheek.

Your tears are starting to dry up as you slowly come back to yourself, and he brushes the remnants away, whispering soothing, affectionate words to you.

He tells you how much he's missed you, how sorry he is for shutting you out, for leaving you alone. He tells you how he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, how everything he's written for the past month has either been a love song or a breakup song, how all of them made him cry too much to record a guide so sorry, baby, but you can't listen to any yet.

Then he tells you that he loves you, that you never have to worry about being alone again, that he'll be with you for the rest of your life.

So when he carefully reclaims his arms, kisses your temple and slowly pulls out before climbing off the bed, you don’t panic, because you know that he’s not leaving leaving, that he’ll come back to you this time. 

And when he does, a warm, damp washcloth in one hand and your water bottle in the other, you feel a bone-deep love settle into you, one that you know is here to stay. 

AN: shamelessly self indulgent, reader is me i am reader

thank you for reading, i know this was a long one!

pls lmk your thoughts i am desperate to know 😩

this is the longest oneshot i've ever written but i really wanted to have a complete narrative and im so happy with it but also nervous to share it 🥹

inspired by pretty please by dua lipa but became a beast of its own

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ flustered tweets

🏁 Pairings : Max Verstappen X fem!Reader

🏁 Warnings : suggestive sexual themes, touching, kissing, licking etc. no explicit content, swearing, Daniel Ricciardo being a menace.

🏁 Word Count : 3.3k words (3352 words)

🏁 Author's note : First suggestive conntent on this blog! woo-hoo, light the fireworks. But I do hope you enjoy and as always please leave a comment or reblog, since they do fuel my motivation. <3 Note that word dividers are by @cottage-writings and as always, translations are available via radio comm.

🏁 Music player : Love by Lana Del Ray

You smile to yourself as you stare at your television screen, the metallic box was currently projecting your boyfriend’s face, post-race, red faced and sweaty. Positively gorgeous. His blonde hair was mused due to his helmet and droplets of water leaked down from the strands to his forehead, trickling down his temple to his chin where they dripped down to his fire-proofs. It was nearing the end of the interview, and that meant his favourite questions would begin to pop up, the personal ones.

“So Max, how’s the missus doing? Based off her Instagram it looks like you both are very happy.” The man holding the microphone smiled at the driver, who rolled his eyes playfully at the memory of the multitude of stories that you would post by the hour, in fact he was 99% sure that you had posted at least 5 whilst he was in the car.

“Yeah well, it’s a dream being with her, it really feels like I’m on cloud 9.” He gushed, a rare occurrence for the notoriously grumpy man, but as soon as you were brought up in conversation, it was as though he was a wilting sunflower that was just introduced to sunlight, “I’m doing all of this for her.” Max admitted bashfully.

“Well, if that isn’t proof of the it couple on the grid, then I don’t know what is.” The interviewer admitted, grinning at the lovesick expression on your boyfriend’s face, “But before I let you go, the fans were in uproar a few days before the race. Based on a tweet made by a fellow driver on the grid.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if his humorous actions would jog Max’s memory.

You, on the other hand, knew exactly of the tweet Mark, as he introduced himself as, was talking of. It was tweeted by none other than Daniel Ricciardo, the cheeky bastard decided to divulge the fans with a tidbit of information about Max and your sex life.

Just walked into the 2-time WDC and his girlfriend doing it like bunnies. Somehow, this man is never embarrassed.

You remember that day like no-other, it was the moment after the Spanish Grand Prix and Max had just won.

“I’m so proud of you,” You breathed against his lips, holding his face between your palms as your fingers fisted his hair, close enough to the root that he groaned outwardly. The scent of victory wafted from him as one of your hands snaked down between the two of you to unzip his race suit. Allowing you to push him against the hotel room wall and move down to lick thick, wet stripes against his pulse point, revelling in the taste of fresh champagne.

“heilige shit,” he breathed out, gnawing at his bottom lip whilst the hands that rested on your waist tightened and bruised his fingerprints against your skin.

 “Geliefde.” Max whispered, bringing his left hand up to grip the nape of your neck and guide your face away from the fifth fresh hickey you were creating on his muscle, towards his own, gazing into your eyes with a heavy stare.

“Yeah?” You answer, blinking rapidly to clear the misty haze that overtook your brain, all you could think of was the delicious way that his suit hung low from his hips and how tight his fireproofs were, exaggerating his muscular pecs that strained against the protective layer.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as you scratched your nails lightly down his scalp towards his thick collar that stuck to his body, “Maxie?” You prompt, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

He chuckled at your act, wrapping a large hand around your neck and squeezing gently at the sides, just enough for you to gasp, “What do you think the press will say huh? My girlfriend got too horny watching me win?” He guided you towards the freshly made bed, pushing you down to a sitting position as your knees hit the back of the padded mattress, “It’s okay though, mijn mooie vriendin-“ He paused, moving his hand up to cup your jaw and pull at your lower lip, parting your mouth until you obediently allowed him to slip his thumb in, “I only do this for you.” He murmured.

Max nudged you further, watching contently as you fell onto your back, sinking into the thick blanket and released his thumb with a loud pop. You laugh a little at his proclamation, “Really? You do this for me?” You bite your lip, fiddling with the comforter beneath your fingertips, pushing off from the bed as you anchor yourself on your elbows.

“You doubt me?” He arches an incredulous eyebrow at you, bending down to part your knees, “dat zal niet lukken.” He murmured, getting down onto his knees to hook your thigh onto his shoulder, allowing him to twist his head and kiss the sensitive skin, “What should I do to prove it to you? Huh?”

Max chuckled as you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down suggestively and he would’ve given into your request had it not been for the interruption.

“HEYYY CHAMP-“The friendly boisterous voice of a certain Australian rang through your hotel room, causing you to jump and grip your boyfriends head, which had merely jolted slightly before coming to rest against your opposite thigh, uninterested.

“Daniel.” Max deadpanned, his cerulean eyes merely slackened, cracking a lazy smile as his friend stopped in his tracks, blocking the door from what seemed to be at least half of the grid, “Must you really bother me?”

“Sorry man,” you heard Lewis call out, chuckling loudly as a familiar French cackle sounded off after a lewd comment sounding like, “damn he’s pussy-whipped”. You whimpered with embarrassment, falling back against the bed as you covered your face, hiding the blotchy blush that covered your face.

“Max” You whined, twitching your leg so that he could get up and most likely go out to celebrate, “Get up, we can continue this later.” You assured him, already imagining the dress that you would wear.

“See what you did wankers?” He called out, barely lifting himself up, “Made my girl embarrassed.” He admonished his colleagues.  Max looked up at you, cooing at your red face, “It’s okay, Mijn liefje. I’ll get them to leave.”

“Guys lets go” Lando called out, “Let the guy get his dick wet.”

“Ew gross.”

“Not my fault you’re single fuck-face.”

You groaned, “Guys!” The crowd settled at the sound of your harsh, crackly voice, “It’s fine, let us at least get ready?”

“Yes ma’am” Charles shouted, which was soon followed with sounds of violence and pathetic groans.

Max kissed your cheek, getting up from the floor to go and slam the door in the few faces, but before you could hear the satisfying wood beat against the hinges, Daniel had whispered, “How the fuck are you not embarrassed?” Which prompted more snickers and a flurry of agreements about your lover’s lack of humiliation.

“You should be embarrassed ass wipe.” Max chuckled as he pushed the group out of the doorway, “Walked in on me about to get the best meal money could never buy.”

If you thought about it too much the humiliation would creep back in, along with the curiosity.

Later that same evening, when your friends and you had gone out for dinner, your face was still flushed and any thought that led back to that moment in the hotel room would lead to you shaking your head promptly and diving back into conversation. Whereas Max was comfortably seated next to you, chatting happily as he sipped more alcohol from the flute by his porcelain plate whilst his free hand rested on your thigh, slipped underneath the silky material of your sundress.

It was as if the moment never happened and he was already fantasising about getting you back into the room, ready to bend you into different positions that would make your legs shake hard enough into next Sunday. He did infact, manage that.

Max laughed on your television screen, turning to look at Daniel, who was animatedly doing his own interview, “Yeah well, it’s hard to embarrass me,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth as he shrugged nonchalantly, “It really was just an inchident.”

Max winked cheekily at the camera as Mark laughed and patted his shoulder, “Nice to see Max, have a good one,”

“You too,”

You huffed out with amusement as you pointed the remote at the screen a certain calm filling the apartment as the light blinked away from the box in front of you. The sun was slowly setting on the streets of Monaco, a subtle signal that meant that your boyfriend would soon be returning home to you. Max would claim that home was where you were, but you could tell that the large penthouse was probably the closest alternative to the driver, it was a joint investment as a couple, the first of many and it was beloved by both of you.

Large windows that overlooked the high-end shopping district which curved with the positioning of the building, an oblong shape that influenced the soft edges of the entire apartment. The home was out of your Pinterest board, soft plush coaches and tall glass vases that littered every free surface, Max had claimed 2 of the 4 bedrooms, one of them being his office and the other being his specialist home gym. The third was saved for guests and the fourth, that resided on a separate floor; took over the entire area and was your shared bedroom. Luckily on his and your salary, the home was merely a drop in the ocean, along with the numerous pretty pennies you spent on furniture.

It was in other words, your baby.

Jimmy and Sassy slinked between your legs as you walked to the kitchen from your spot on the largest couch that was turned inwards to face the TV that was mounted within the ceiling, dropping down mechanically at the push of a button and retreating into the seemingly solid concrete at another. You had done exactly that, dismissing the piece of tech to show off the full-length balcony. Cooing at your fur-children you picked them up in one hand, “Come on guys, let’s finish dinner,” You kissed their heads, chuckling as they nuzzled into your face before letting them down on the floor in front of the sink when you went to put on a pair of gloves and fish out dinner from the oven.

The tell-tale chime of your elevator and the mechanical tone of the keypad informed you that Max was home, along with the cats going off to welcome their father from a long day of work,

“Hey guys,” you heard him greet the children whilst he kicked off his shoes and tucked them along with his jacket into the small cupboard that sat within the wall in the entrance hall. You turned away from the oven, placing the entire grill onto the kitchen island as you huffed happily at the dish within the Tupperware as Max walked further into the house and towards the kitchen, where you stood patiently, the soft sounds of the Vitamin String Quartet playing in the background.

“Hey, schat,” He murmured, eyes softening at the corners as he rushed to your side, tugging you away from the counter to wrap his hands around your and bury his head into your neck. You giggle at the tickle of his hair against your skin and bring your hands down to cover his that were wrapped around you, “Hello my love,” you whisper, turning your head slightly to kiss his forehead.

“You cooked,” He stated happily, smiling against you.

“I did.”

“I’m happy,” He confirmed, removing himself from your neck whilst keeping a firm hold on your waist, “How was work?”

“Same old same old, people want to invest in stocks, I do it for them. Very boring.” You rush through your day, recounting the odd events that went on in the office, “But I saw your interview, watched it on the archive.”

“Hmm,” He hummed, knowing that when you do watch the interviews, you normally do it to hear his voice and see his absurdly attractive post-race glow, not listen to the odd mechanical language and repeated statements of, “-push the car harder next race.” Or “-really disappointed this time.”

“Heard what you said about that tweet Daniel made,” You feel him kiss the skin behind your ear before snorting.

“What else could I say? Man doesn’t think before tweeting.” Max grumbled.

“Made me think-“

“Oh no.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay,”

“Anyway, made me think that I actually have never seen you blush.”

“I’m sure you have,” He assured you, untangling himself from you to get a chilled water bottle from the fridge behind you. You twist your body around, leaning back against the counter to watch his movements with squinted eyes.

“Hmm,” You tap your chin for a few seconds, “Nope, never.”

“Schat, it’s been almost two years,” He paused to crack off the top of the bottle, “I am positive you’ve seen me blush. And even if you haven’t, it’s no big deal.”

You huffed and crossed your arms childishly, “But I’m your girlfriend!” You reached out with your hands to grab his own slutty-man waist.

“Thanks for the reminder, had het anders niet geweten,” Max chuckled, allowing you to pull him by the waist to rest his abdomen just above yours.

“It’s a big deal Maxie, I’m meant to be able to make you blush,” You pouted up at him, scratching your nails up his spine, grinning as he shivered against your hold.

He took a final gulp from his bottle before minutely shifting to press harshly against a cupboard to reveal a hidden bin that popped out at his commend. Max dropped the empty plastic into the metallic cylinder and pushed the sliding contraption in again. He turned back to you, focussing on your large unblinking eyes and wet, pouting lips.

He held your face tenderly, kissing your forehead with his own, “S’okay schat, somethings just aren’t meant to happen.”

You pull away at his statement.

Like hell it won’t

“Nope, that won’t do,” You tug at his arm, guiding him into the separate dining room, a large area that was painted an off-white creamy colour, containing a brass sputnik chandelier that hung low against the white marble dining table which had at least 12 separate chairs tucked beneath its oval body. You pulled at the upholstered chair and dug your hand into the tactile Borg fabric before seating Max, who patiently trailed behind you whilst holding the separate doors open, allowing you to execute your plan perfectly.

You stood in front of the man, who was sat with his legs spread graciously in front of him with his large palms splayed against his slightly-less than normal skinny jeans. It was going to hard, yes. Harder than a diamond heist, to extract the long sought over blush from this well practiced stoic man. But you were determined.

Starting easily, you planted your hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward, close enough that your noses were touching and lips ghosting over each other’s.

“What about this?” You whispered, eyes fluttering closed as you could begin to feel the small grooves and indents of his lips against yours along with his tongue licking at your bottom lip.

“Don’t think so, love.” He murmured back, laughing heartily when you groaned and pushed at his chest.

“Ok that’s it, take it off.” You folded your arms, tapping your foot impatiently.

“Woah, at least buy me dinner first?” Max’s eyes widened as you growled playfully and tugged at the hem of his branded red-bull shirt, “O-Okay okay, chill out you horny demon.”

“Good,” You huff, undoing the buttons of your light blue shirt, until you stood in just your bra and a long pair of silky lounge-wear pants, “We aren’t leaving here until you blush at least once.” You promised him, grinning manically when he stared at your chest.

You re-started once again, barely brushing your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling to yourself when his breath hitched and he groaned, “Anything?” You breathe out, licking slowly, lustfully at the sensitive skin between his ear and the nape of his neck.

“No,” Max denied, squeezing his eyes shut when you took the skin of his collar bone between your lips, sucking lavishly until you were sure of a dark blue love bite before moving inwards, littering the pale canvas with your marks.

“Come on Maxie, you know you want to,” You crooned moving further down, until your face was between his pecs and your hands were braced against the muscles, you dug your nails into his skin before dragging them slowly downwards whilst keeping your eyes locked with his, waiting for the victorious rosy tint to paint his face.

No luck.

“Maybe we should just give up? I can think of a lot of things I can do,” He just barely moaned out from between heavy pants whilst your mouth had made its way to his navel, leaving a wet trail in its wake. You shook your head slightly, flicking your eyes down to where your tongue lay flat against his stomach, “Are you fucking kidding me?” You complained, biting his abs.

“What? I can’t help it,” He defended, holding his arms up innocently before clenching his jaw shut when you began to fiddle with the button of his jeans.

“Yeah?” You challenge, getting up from the tiled floor to swing one leg to one side of his waist while the other sat on the opposite side, allowing you to straddle him and sit directly on his crotch whilst raising an eyebrow at his rolled back eyes.

“What about now Maxie?”

You winded your hips once. Twice. Until he came to hold your love-handles with a tight, possessive grip. Max leaned up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, you whimpered when one of his hands slipped beneath your pants to snap the elastic of your underwear.

You pulled away, burring your hands in his hair and letting the soft strands flow through your fingers, “What about now?” You murmur, pushing yourself against his palm whilst arching your back. He hissed, smirking at your determination.

“Nope.” He removed both hands from your body to fold them behind his head and lean back, “Now what, schat?”

You slumped down and pulled at your bra strap contemplatively, “Dinner.” You stated simply, clambering out of his lap.

“That’s what I tho- wait why are your clothes on?” He asked you incredulously, pointing at the significant tent in his jeans.

“Max Emillian Verstappen I put a lot of effort into dinner tonight,” You scolded him with your pointer finger as you slipped on your shirt, leaving the buttons undone.

“W-what the-“ He spluttered reaching for your hand, “Seriously don’t do this,” he whined, adjusting his jeans with an uncomfortable expression.

“That’s what you get.” You shrugged, leaving him in the dining room, not before you bent down in front of him- swaying your hips suggestively as you collected his shirt from the floor and throwing it at him, “Don’t come out without your shirt on.”

The door slowly creaked shut, leaving Max still shirtless, flabbergasted at his inability to blush.

Well, not really.

He groaned loudly, balling up his shirt to hide the angry red flush that creeped up his cheeks and took over the entirety of his chest, ears and neck.

“HAH!” You called out, re-emerging from the door with a bang, “I KNEW IT.” You had your phone in your hand, displaying a perfect picture of his flustered state, the blonde was buried within his team’s shirt and was very obviously scarlet, “NOW THE WORLD WILL KNOW!” You shouted victoriously, jumping up and down in your spot, shirt still unbuttoned.

You squealed when Max jumped and growled at you, “Get back here, I’ll give you something to tweet about.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

heilige shit - Holy shit

Geliefde - Love [r]

mijn mooie vriendin - my beautiful girlfriend

dat zal niet lukken - that won't work

Mijn liefje - My darling

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

had het anders niet geweten - wouldn't have known otherwise

[ichorai]

spiderling ; peter parker.

sequel to particles!

pairing ; peter parker x stark!reader

synopsis ; peter was supposed to find you after strange wiped everyone's memory of him away. instead, you found him.

words ; 2.0k

themes ; angst, mild fluff and comedy

warnings / includes ; lots of feels crammed into this, peter is a flustered mess, reader is an insanely smart kid of tony’s, mentions of may and the rest of the spidey gang :(

main masterlist.

Ever since Peter had asked Strange to wipe the entire world’s memory of him, things had been… uneventful to say the least. He studied, he worked two boring jobs for a low minimum wage, and he visited May’s grave every afternoon. 

There wasn’t much else to do when nobody knew him as Peter Parker. 

Sometimes, he’d go out in his itchy, make-shift spider suit that he’d fashioned with bright fabrics from a corner store that also sold his most favorite orange-flavored popsicles, stopping common crime as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Other than that… he slept. He played Crossy Road on his phone—or he’d rewatch the Star Wars movies for the billionth time. 

He thought of his best friends, Ned and MJ. He thought of his brothers, Peter 2 and 3. He thought of his Aunt May, and Happy, who visited her grave almost as frequently as he did. He thought of the closest thing he had to a father figure, Tony Stark. He thought of Mr. Stark’s oldest kid—which he used to refer to as his significant other. 

The love of his life. 

Y/N Stark.

Peter missed you. He missed you more than anything in the entire world. He missed your wide smile and the specific way you’d throw your head back and laugh so hard you’d be grabbing onto his arm, gasping for breath. He missed how you’d press your chest into his back and kiss along his neck while he did his physics homework, quietly mumbling corrections to his calculations when he’d distractedly scribbled down the wrong formula. He missed how Mr. Stark would pull him to the side to give him the ‘Responsible Dad Talk’ just about every time the two of you hung out together, and how you’d have to tell your dad that you could make your own decisions and you didn’t need him to hover over the two of you.

Besides, you used to say with a soft smile, it’s Peter. You know Peter. He’s… he’s Peter. He’d never hurt me, pops.

But he did hurt you. He erased all the memories you had together—he completely wiped himself out of your life.

You loved him—and he had taken that away from you. 

“I love you,” you had whispered into him as you hugged him tight, a tear slipping down the corner of your misty eyes. Peter wrapped his arms around your waist and held you all the closer. “Come back to me, Peter. Or… or I swear to fucking God—I’ll find you myself and—” 

Your words died on your tongue as he surged forward and kissed you, hard and desperate. The kiss tasted of salt from your tears, of coppery blood from his throbbing, split lip. Neither of you cared.

You hiccupped a sob when he reluctantly pulled away, pressing one last kiss to your grimy forehead, before letting you go entirely. He turned before he could see you crumpling into MJ and Ned, who had roped you into a pained embrace, your shoulders trembling with wracking cries. 

That was five months ago. Five months after Strange wiped everybody’s memories of him.

He’d wanted to find you again—he really did. Obviously, you were an extremely busy person, not only being the oldest kid of Tony Stark, but also a genius student, a researcher, the heir of an entire company, and an older sibling to Morgan. But, if he was completely honest, he didn’t really know what to say.

Hey, I’m Peter Parker and I’m in love with you, but I never got the chance to tell you because this wizard that’s sort of a friend of your dad’s erased everyone’s memory of me because the multiverse broke and a bunch of bad guys from other universes slipped into ours because I ruined my friend’s chances of getting into their dream college—

Yeah. That wouldn’t really work out, would it?

So he put it off. 

Put it off for a week, which rolled into two, which became three, which became three months.

All of a sudden, it was summer, and he still hadn’t seen you. 

He made sure to go to the coffee shop MJ worked at, just to see how she and Ned were faring. From what he heard while he eavesdropped—they were doing great at MIT. 

Peter tried his best to keep up with you through those news articles that kept flashing him ads like You Wouldn’t Believe What This Celebrity Looks Like Without Makeup! or Learn All About Steve Rogers’ Exercise Routine! 

There wasn’t much that he could find about you, other than a couple pictures of you with your little sister, Morgan, chowing down on cheeseburgers at McDonald’s. After all, you’d always been a rather private person, which was the one jarring difference between you and your infamously public father. 

Your social medias were, expectedly, all privated. Peter doubted you’d accept his follow request, anyway.

It was an ordinary Tuesday—Peter had a shift at a car garage in a couple hours, which left him quite a bit of time to burn. He had ACDC softly playing in the background—a band that both you and your dad had been completely infatuated with—half a dozen books spread out around him as he multi-tasked studying new chemical compounds for his web fluid, and rotational mechanics for an upcoming exam. 

Then, much to his surprise, the doorbell rang. 

It’s probably the landlord, Peter thought with a grimace, thinking of the old woman who always had a cigarette between her coarse fingers, despite her own strict policy of no smoking in the building. He turned the music down to a low thrum, before swinging the door open.

And… there you were.

Peter could feel his heart drop to the floor.

You were… God, you were beautiful. There wasn’t much about you that changed—you got a new pair of glasses, he could see, and you’d cut your hair shorter. There was a tattoo peeking slightly out of your loose-hanging t-shirt etched over your skin, depicting a sketch of an arc reactor, in memory of your late father. 

Besides that, you were the very same. The same bright, intelligent eyes, the same lips that puckered ever so slightly to the side in thought, and the same brows that knitted together whenever you were concentrating. 

Your hands were shoved into your jeans as you cocked your head, studying him with narrowed eyes.

“Erm,” Peter started, mouth opening and closing as his brain struggled to comprehend that you were here. In the flesh. Fuck, you were gorgeous. “Wh… Y/N?”

Your eyebrow arched high up, closer to your hairline. “First name basis already, huh?”

“I’m—”

“You’re the Spiderling, aren’t you?” you asked abruptly, nearly giving him whiplash. Before he could say anything else, you were swiping your phone open, a hologram of a Youtube video playing right in front of his face. The video displayed Spider-Man swinging from building to building, stopping a car from ramming into an elderly woman crossing the street with nothing but brute strength. Peter didn’t even remember that happening. To him, that was just an ordinary day. “That must’ve been, what—like, thirty-five hundred pounds, about fifty miles an hour? Impressive.”

“Wh—”

You brushed past him into his tiny apartment. Peter cursed himself for not throwing away the pizza boxes stacked on his kitchen counter, and for leaving his sketches of web shooters out on his desk. 

A small smile graced your lips as you spotted the blue and red scrap fabrics discarded into the trash can. “Hm. You make your own suit? My dad did, too. God—are those goggles?” You picked up his vision goggles from his unmade bed, peering through them as you snorted in amusement. “How on earth do you see anything though these?”

“I—”

You turned to him with an intrigued grin. “I’m sure you already know who I am, seeing as you knew my dad. It’s nice to finally meet you, Spiderling.”

Peter blinked. The overwhelming sense of deja vu washed over him like a tidal wave—you were behaving eerily similar to when Mr. Stark had approached him to go to Germany back in 2016.

“I… how…”

“What’s your name?” you asked, gingerly stepping over his textbooks to stare at his pinboard, where his calendar hung. 

“Peter,” he finally mumbled in reply, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “And it’s Spider-Man, not Spiderling. What are you doing here? I mean, not that I don’t want you here, but, uhm—how did you find me?”

You looked over your shoulder with a knowing glint to your eyes. “I keep tabs on everybody my dad used to work with. Honestly, it wasn't too difficult to track you down—given the radius of where Spider-Man usually frequents and his response times to local crimes, it was easy to pinpoint where you lived. After my AI ran a couple voice recognition tests and estimated bodily proportions, that led me right to you.” You leaned against his rickety wooden desk with a curious grin. “Thought you’d be a bit older, though. Looks like you’re around my age.”

“I… that’s… wow.”

Wrinkling your nose in amusement, you turned back to his full calendar. 

Peter prayed you wouldn’t flip over to your birthday month—he’d circled your birthday with bright red sharpie and drew loopy hearts all over the little square. Thankfully, you stopped skimming through, pausing at the relatively empty weeks where he had nothing planned other than a few work shifts.

“Looks like you’re free from school in a couple weeks,” you said. “I know this is really sudden and very abrupt of me, but—I’d love to offer you a job at Stark Labs. You must be crazy smart to design synthetic webs with a Young’s modulus that’s off the charts. Could really use that brain of yours at my company. Plus, you’ve got a lot of work experience in the bag.” 

There was a beat of silence. Peter stared at you with parted lips. 

A bit more timidly, you added on, “And… it’d be nice to work with someone that knew my dad.”

Well, Peter didn’t want to brag, but he’d definitely say that he didn’t only just know Tony Stark. But you didn’t need to know that right at this moment. 

“Yes,” he blurted out, a bit louder than necessary. “Are you kidding me? That’s… that’s amazing! Yeah, oh my God, I’d love to! Thank you!”

Before he could stop himself, his body moved out of pure muscle memory and excitement, stepping forward to wind his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. Your familiar perfume made his eyes well with tears—fuck, he missed you so fucking much.

“Oh—” you began to say, muscles tensing. “Okay, then. You’re welcome, pal.”

Rouge flushed hotly over his cheeks as he realized that you weren’t his significant other anymore—in your mind, this was the first time the two of you were meeting. Quickly, he let you go, backing away with a grimace. 

“Sorry,” he winced. “Sorry, I just—”

“Have we met before?” you asked, cutting him off. “I don’t know… it just feels like… nevermind. I’d probably remember a cute face like yours.” 

Peter’s face burned an even brighter shade of red. 

“Here’s my contact information. I’ll send you any contracts, NDAs, legality issues, dates for any research projects you might be interested in joining, payment negotiations, all that jazz,” you told him, placing a card onto his desk. “I look forward to working with you, Patrick.”

“Peter,” he corrected.

A smile played with the corner of your lips. “Right. Peter. Nice music taste, by the way. I love ACDC—I can see why my dad liked you so much.” 

With that, you ambled over his scattered belongings on the floor, flashing him one last beam, before striding straight out the door. 

Peter stared at the open doorway for a minute—or was it an hour? He really couldn’t tell. 

He collapsed into his bed, the goggles you’d dangled digging into his back. He arched up just enough to pull it away, clutching it to his chest with a goofy smile.

You found him. 

Against all odds, you’d found him.

Fuck, Peter loved you so much.

Telling you though—now that was a different story entirely. One that Peter knew was going to take time. 

But for you… 

He’d wait centuries.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 49

part 1 | part 48 | ao3

cw: angst, canon-typical violence

It's a totally normal Tuesday the day it all starts going to shit.

Eddie's got a show at The Hideout, and Wayne's got a rare night off, so Steve's at his boyfriend's place without him catching a basketball game with Wayne and Ernie. He did try to go to the show, to be fair; wanted to, but Eddie took one look at the way he was cradling the side of his head and winked at him to "sit this one out, big boy," so here he is: drinking beer with two old men and watching the most frustrating game he's seen all season.

"Oh, what the hell was that?" he begs the tiny screen, jumping out of his seat to pace a tight circle and rake his hands over his scalp hard enough to pluck a few strands. Beside him, Ernie shakes his head and mutters "goddamn disgraceful, that's what" and in the kitchen Wayne munches happily on a fresh plate of nachos, taps his bald head with a half-eaten chip and warns, "Quit tuggin' at your hair 'fore you wind up lookin' like this."

"Whatever, old man." Steve rolls his eyes, but he loosens his grip. Drags his hands down his face instead. "Don't act like you're not loving this."

Wayne laughs, a broad, smug smile that's pure Munson mischief. "Never claimed otherwise," he says, then he pops a cigarette in his mouth and tells them to get their wallets ready.

Bastard. His team's doing fine tonight. (And sure, the bet was only five dollars, but it's a point of pride, damn it.)

Steve turns his attention back to the game, where the ref is making yet another call that's so laughably bad Steve's not sure how he isn't getting decked for it. A stray elbow to the face, at least. Fucking something.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles; still pacing, arms crossed. "If they don't fire this idiot, I swear..."

He turns to Ernie for back up; remembers that Ernie's got a lapful of Misty the cat right now and quickly looks away. Creepy little thing still freaks Steve out (even if Ernie's stroking her fur like she's a harmless stress toy and not the razor-clawed, rat-chomping demon she really is.) He still can't look at her. Gets queasy just thinking about all the "presents" she's left him since he moved in.

Ernie catches the way his shoulders tense. "Didn't think you'd be afraid of a little pussy," he teases, scratching the cat behind her ears.

Misty gives a low rumble of approval.

Steve's stomach flips. "Whatever," he scoffs, looking anywhere but at them. "That thing's bad luck. No wonder we're losing."

He settles back into his seat, and the game goes on — and on, and on, until the score gets so embarrassing that Steve considers just getting up and yanking the TV plug out of the wall, or maybe storming out of the place in protest — and he's about to beg Wayne for mercy, ask him to change the station to anything else, when the front door opens so softly it sets off alarm bells in his head.

Steve whips around at the lack of sound. Knows immediately that something is wrong, because Eddie Munson doesn't do quiet. Eddie Munson comes home like fireworks going off: Crack! Whizz! Bang! He's always a burst of noise and energy; he's a fucking racket; Wayne's said so a million times — muttered it angrily when Eddie's music keeps him up, grumbled it fondly over breakfast while he tries to stop himself from falling asleep face-first in a plate of eggs.

Tonight Eddie comes home quiet as a thief. A mouse trying to evade the clutch of Misty's claws. His head's hung low as he shucks off his boots, his face obscured by frizzy hair.

Steve's across the room in a heartbeat.

"Baby?" he whispers, trying to peak behind the curtain. Eddie won't look at him, but his breathing sounds off; labored and whistling, and his hair is matted with something dark. "You okay?"

"Fine," Eddie croaks.

They both know it's a lie.

Steve lifts a hand to gently tip his chin up, but the moment his fingers graze skin Eddie winces and tugs away. "Okay," he says, pulling his hand back. "Okay, I'm sorry, just— can you look at me? Please?" He softens his voice, tries to coax Eddie out. You're safe here; you can trust me.

When Eddie finally looks up, Steve's heart lodges in his throat.

His face is ruined. Caked in dried blood, the skin below his left eye like an overripe eggplant: deep purple and threatening to split down the middle, to spill rotten juices all over the floor. There's a cut above his brow, another nick between his eyes, and— fuck.

His nose is broken.

Steve's gonna kill someone.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, deadly quiet. Whoever it is, they're not living to the morning. Steve's got a car and a nail bat and a boy with a broken nose, and he's going to kill whoever did this to him. "Eddie." He grips his biceps; shakes him a little. Insists. "Eddie, tell me who did this!"

Eddie hiccups a weak sob. Lips shiny with blood and tears, and Steve lets go; feels horrible for making it worse, for letting his anger get the best of him. He wraps Eddie up a gentle hug, cradles him against his chest and doesn't care if Ernie sees. He doesn't give a damn.

"Fucking—" Eddie grunts against Steve's shirt, his teeth chattering around the word. His throat clicks when he swallows. Sticky with blood and phlegm.

Hospital, Steve thinks. Blood loss; sepsis; shock.

Eddie gulps a ragged breath and tries again. "Fucking assholes," he gets out, "they took our- t-took our—" The words cut off with a pained whimper, and he breaks down and just cries. Cries and cries until the heaving subsides, until it lessens to muted trembling in Steve's arms. There's fresh blood on his shirt.

Eddie's blood is on his shirt.

He looks up, eyes wet and wide, and then Wayne's there; two strong, weathered hands firm on Eddie's shaking shoulders. "Is it bad?" he asks Steve. No nonsense; demanding answers. Decorated veteran.

Steve nods without a word.

"C'mon, kid," Wayne soothes. "Let's get you cleaned up."

—

part 50

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[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 5

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 3975

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Feeling good seemed out of reach, but you'd never felt safer than you do with Law. Safe enough to ask for what you want.

Author's Note: Alright friends, patience is required, but rewarded 🥰

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added, Fluff, Sexual Dysfunction, Safe words, Choking, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

“What do you mea–”

“Nuh uh,” Law scolded, sticking his thumb in your mouth like a hook to pull you closer by your bottom teeth. “You know I could always tell when you were lying. I know you faked it.”

You pulled his hand away from your face, frowning at his shit-eating grin. 

“I don’t know wha–”

“You little liar,” he accused, sitting up. His movement forced you to slide from straddling his waist to sitting in his lap, the feel of his still firm cock beneath you making you gasp. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, even as you scowled at him. His satisfied chuckle made you scrunch your nose, heat burning your face. 

“How could you tell,” you gave in, earning a quick kiss before he flipped you, laughing at you while he laid you on your back beneath him. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Your mouth fell open in outrage, but you couldn’t attack him while he held your fists, kissing your knuckles. 

“I’m an incredible liar,” you squirmed, his weight pinning you down. 

“See what I mean,” he taunted, your futile thrashing making you breathless. “That wasn’t believable at all.”

A frustrated huff left your lips as you struggled to punch that smirk off of his face, but he stopped talking while he kissed his way along your neck and collarbones, so you let it slide. He finally slowed, releasing your hands as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Why didn’t you just mist away,” he seemed to tease, but his voice was too soft. 

“I…” you paused, about to argue until you realized that you didn’t want to answer. You clamped your eyes shut against that feeling, then opened them again to glare at him. “Don’t change the subject. How could you tell I was lying?”

Law took a moment, seeming to search for his answer, which did not appease you.

“I’m not sure,” he smirked at your disgruntled hum. “You always seemed so… cute when you lied.”

He blinked, looking down as if he hadn’t meant to say that, but you wouldn’t give him a pass just for looking adorable. 

So you bit him.

“Gah, what,” he sat up, pulling back in surprise until your teeth left his arm.

“Two things,” you snarked, propping up onto your elbows, “I want to know exactly what my tell is so I can get rid of it, then I want to hear all about how you thought I was cute back then.”

“So your tells are,” he grunted, catching your fist at the plural word, “sometimes the corner of your lip goes up just a bit–”

“It does not! That’s the first thing I trained out,” you argued, sitting up on your knees to face him. You narrowed your eyes at him while he ran his thumb over the edge of your mouth, until you sighed at his touch. 

“Maybe I just pay more attention,” he mused, voice husky as he kissed your temple. His breath moved to your neck, your need for answers melting away. Until your body reminded you of the moment.

“Uh, Law,” you coughed, pushing him away gently, “do you have a towel?”

He returned from his adjacent bathroom with a warm, damp towel, helping you clean up the mess he’d made before kissing up your stomach and chest again.

“What’s my other tell,” you interrupted, his soft touches ending as he rolled his eyes. He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers before moving your own thumb across them. 

“You rub your thumb over your fingernails,” he reported, brow raised as if judging your performance. 

“I do that all the time,” you yanked your hand back, embarrassed that he’d read you so well. Lying was something you prided yourself on. It’s what kept you safe. 

“It’s a self-soothing behavior,” he softened, pushing the hair back from your face. “And you’re right, you’re probably a great liar. I just spent too much time watching you.”

Releasing a frustrated breath, you looked at his stupid face, and couldn’t help but smile. 

“Is this when you tell me how cute you thought I was?”

Law sucked his teeth, his bright eyes ready for a challenge, but instead, he kissed you. Unhurried lips and tongues, treasuring the taste of each other. 

“I thought you were gross,” he whispered against you, earning a hard punch to the arm. He laughed before he continued, holding your wrists again. “But then I thought you were cute, and I thought that was gross too.”

You grinned at the memory of what a grouchy kid he was. For over two years, you’d spent everyday together, bickering, sparring, and causing chaos. 

“At first, I studied you to gain an advantage during training,” he confessed with a sigh, looking away while his fingers tugged at the sheet. “I don’t know when it changed, but eventually I was watching you because I wanted to. Because you were cute.”

He teased the last word, caving in to your demands, and you rewarded him with another kiss, wrapping your arms around him. Soon hands and lips were traveling, until he laid you back against the pillows. 

“Can I make you come now, or do you have other demands?”

You rolled to the side to hide your face while your skin burned, and his pleased hum and teasing kisses along your side didn’t help. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he soothed, your breath going too slow, and too shallow. “But I would love to make you feel good.”

His voice, his words, his gentle fingers that had pulled away to give you space, all of it made you freeze. 

“What can I do to help you feel good, Y/N?”

There were so many strange thoughts in your head, most moving too fast for you to follow.

Except for one thought that felt more like an emotion, a need. You were barely conscious of it, yet it drove you forward, pulling him onto you.

Make him feel good. 

Lost again in the way he touched you. Lost in the way he breathed your name while his marked fingers smoothed along your skin. Lost in the need to please him. 

“Fu-huck,” he gasped out, moaning as your fingers wrapped around his shaft, already hard again. 

Stroking him with purpose, you lined yourself up as you rubbed his tip through the new wetness his touch had drawn. His eyes rolled back before he buried his face in your neck, leaving a sloppy kiss against your skin.

A long whine left your lips, frustration making you writhe when he pulled away. He laid on his side at the edge of the bed, panting while his eyes tried to focus on your face. 

You rolled, crawling toward him with your lip caught between your teeth, more needy sounds leaving your throat. 

“Gods, you’re too fucking good,” he rasped, catching your hands before they could reach his cock again, “but, you didn’t answer my question, Y/N. How can I make you feel good?”

Your body slumped, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before his fingers brushed across them. 

“Let me take care of you,” he pleaded, the words hot against your ear. 

All you could do was nod, body limp as he lifted you back to the pillows, propping you up as if you were one of the precious comics on his shelves. That thought made you laugh, making him narrow his eyes at you until you giggled even more. 

“Something funny,” he teased with that lovely smirk. 

Words weren’t leaving your lips, so he sucked his teeth while he watched you squirm. Your breath stilled at the touch of his fingers along your inner thighs. 

“It seemed like you enjoyed me eating you out earlier, until I started fingering you. Did I read that right?”

Your eyes went wide, pausing for a moment before your words spilled out.

“N-no, it all felt amazing! I just got overwhelmed, but you felt so good…”

He watched you closely then, and you wondered if you’d shown a tell. 

But I didn't lie… 

“Okay… Please tell me if you’re feeling overwhelmed, or if you don’t like something.”

“I will,” you promised, your voice a bit high while you tilted your head down to the side, looking up at him with a teasing smile playing on your lips. 

“How about we use a safe word,” he suggested, smoothing a hand along your arm while he ignored your attempt to distract from the topic. “Do you already have one you’d like to use?”

Your eyes were a little wide as you shook your head, but a gentle kiss on your temple slowed your breathing. 

“It should be a word that doesn’t mean much, and that we wouldn’t normally say. Anytime you’re feeling overwhelmed or want to stop, you can say it, okay,” he paused, waiting for you to nod before continuing. “How about… radish?”

“Why radish,” you snorted, your body loosening up.

“Why not,” he grinned at you. His smile was a sight you’d never get enough of. “Do you have any other ideas?”

Your lips quirked, but you agreed to the word.

“Perfect. Now, will you please tell me how to make you feel good?”

He stared at your parted lips while you froze. No words came to mind. Just tension, and a mild sense of danger. 

“It’s alright if you don’t know,” he reassured, his eyes going soft as they raked over you. “Just talk to me. Is it alright if I touch you?”

You caught yourself rubbing your thumb over your fingernails when you agreed, stopping the movement before he noticed.

What’s wrong with me?

Law’s hands and lips traveled the length of your body, pulling soft gasps and sighs from your throat. You moved into his touch, reacting, showing him how good it felt. 

“I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he whispered, looking down at your face while he traced his fingers along your leg. Your cheeks were already burning before a breathy moan surprised you both. 

He cocked his head at you, repeating the movement. For some reason, the barest touch of his fingertips to the middle of your shin made you moan again, the ticklish sensation feeling better than you thought it should. 

“Mm, found something,” he teased, leaning closer to kiss your embarrassed face. “Do you know any other places I can touch to make you moan like that?”

“Law,” you writhed, voice breathy as his fingers danced up your body. 

“Come on, pretty. Tell me one thing that feels good. I know you can think of something.”

There was no pressure in his words, but there was heat, and the hint of a challenge. You still couldn’t think of any words, but you managed to move your head to the side, trailing your fingers along the crook of your neck. 

He hummed as his fingers replaced yours, as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Your skin’s so soft,” he purred, the hunger in his words making your toes curl. “Does it feel good when I kiss here too?”

Whining, your body went loose when he laid beside you, one of his legs resting between yours before he kissed your neck again. 

It felt so good, you could have stayed in this moment forever. The feel of his lips, tongue, facial hair, even his breath overwhelmed you. That sensitive skin sent electric shocks down to your lower back until you shook for him, his warm laughter only adding to it. 

“Thank you for showing me what you like,” he breathed against your ear. “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

Law’s praise took every thought away, everything was gone while your body reacted. Your hands fisted the sheets, your thighs tried to rub together, seeking friction, but his leg was in the way. 

“Mm, Y/N, is it alright if I finger you? You can say the word if you want me to stop, okay?”

Hesitation came back, along with anger. Anger at yourself for whatever was stopping you. For whatever was keeping you from enjoying this time with him. 

Anger at yourself for not pleasing him by giving him what he wanted.

“It’s okay, hey,” Law soothed, his thumb stroking your cheek, “we can stop here, or we can do something else. Whatever you–”

“I want to,” you choked out. Clearing your throat wasn’t enough fix the broken sound in your voice. “I don’t know why, but… me feeling good seems…”

His soft eyes warmed your skin, even though you couldn’t meet them. He waited for you.

“I keep getting nervous when it’s just me,” you murmured, keeping your eyes wide to fight the heat there. 

“Just you feeling pleasure,” he prompted, studying your face while you gulped, nodding to confirm. “You said you want to. Do you wanna try, and we can stop if you need to?”

“Mhm,” you agreed, looking up as you brushed away an unwelcome tear with the back of your hand. 

Law pressed gentle kisses across your face, wiping away another wayward tear. 

“You deserve to feel good, Y/N.” His fingers followed his pretty words, and you fought to just be here with him. So slow, so light, that tattooed hand trailed lower, until he traced around your entrance, leaning close to your ear again. “I wanna make you come so bad. Please, can I feel you come on my fingers?”

Your “yes,” came out in a whine, and you both moaned at the slide of his fingers, your drenched pussy aching for his touch. 

“Gods, you're so wet,” he panted, playing with your clit while he watched your face. “Can I–”

You interrupted his request, nodding permission before he pushed one finger, then two inside of you. His eyes never stopped scanning, and he sat up to free his other hand, caressing down your body. 

It felt so good, but there was something. You’d been able to keep memories out, but you couldn’t relax. 

“What do you need,” he checked in, his skilled fingers bringing you close, but not close enough. 

“I feel like I–” you moaned, his thumb moving over your clit while his fingers curled up to that spongy spot inside you. “I feel like I need to make you feel good.”

“Mm, you are making me feel good,” he rasped, his body seeming to relax at your confession. “I love the way you’re gripping my fingers like this. I love the little sounds you make. Watching you come would make my fucking year, Y/N.”

A laugh fell from your lips, then a moan as he pressed a little deeper.

“You don’t need it, but you have my permission to come,” he teased, his voice just a bit too real, and somehow those words released something. A tiny smirk graced his lips as you started to fall apart. 

“Gonna be a good girl, and come for me?”

“Fuck,” you breathed, the steady rhythm he’d found was building so much pressure in your core it almost hurt. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so well,” he praised, his free hand grabbing your chin to force your heavy lidded eyes to his. “You’re close, yeah? I want you to tell me exactly what you need so you can come on my fingers like a good girl. I know you can.”

“Law…”

“Can you do that for me?”

So close. So fucking close. But here was a new plateau, and all of his wonderful work was about to go to waste. Until you thought of something. 

Something that came with a pile of confusing memories and shame. Something you would have ignored, and stuffed away if you hadn’t felt so safe. 

If Law hadn’t made you feel so safe.

“Choke me, please.”

The request was almost silent, but you saw his lips part slightly. A hesitation. A mountain of self loathing threatened to roll over you.

Long, tattooed fingers encircled your throat, a necklace marked with “DEATH.” 

“Such a good girl, telling me what you want. Let me feel you– Mm, there’s my girl.”

He wrapped the perfect amount of pressure around your neck, keeping the pace with his other hand until your body started bucking, your eyes rolling white. 

It was everything you fucking needed. 

And it kept going. 

Law never stopped giving and giving, praising you while you shattered. You almost went to mist from the overwhelm, only managing to stay solid because you needed to keep coming for him. For you.

You mourned the loss of those wicked fingers choking and fucking you, but he worshipped your body again while aftershocks tore through you. 

“You’re fucking amazing,” he chuckled, laughing harder at the gibberish you replied with. He kissed and caressed you while your body came back to the room. “Can I get you anything? Water, or are you hung–”

He’d moved away slightly, but you reached out with your wobbly arms, pulling him close. He hummed at your touch, then gasped again when your hands found his cock, the heat of him making you writhe.

“Y/N, we don’t have to–”

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, sluggishly rolling onto your stomach. Looking over your shoulder at him, you got to witness the loveliest, most desperate look you’d ever seen on his face when you lifted your ass toward him. “I need your cock.”

There was no hesitation now. 

Just the whispered, “say the word if you need to,” before he was behind you, thrusting into your twitching cunt while you screamed for him. 

Tattooed hands on your hips helped him slam into you, hitting that perfect spot so fast, so hard, that you came in what felt like seconds.

“Oh fuck. Pussy feels so good, baby,” he moaned, slurring a bit before pressing your upper body into the bed. The new angle made you scream louder, clawing at the sheets. 

“You like that, Y/N,” he checked in, voice strained as he fought his need. 

“Pull my hair,” you demanded softly.

One of those hands pushed you down, his weight between your shoulder blades while he pounded into you. Frenzied thrusts rocked your body while his free hand fisted into the hair at the back of your head, finally giving you that sting you needed. 

“Do it again,” he forced through his teeth, his bruising grip making you drool onto the sheets. “Come for me, pretty. Come on my cock right fucking now.”

“Law, fuck, I’m…”

Words were gone, his quarters ringing with your breathy screams, and his heavy grunts. The slapping of wet, needy flesh nearly drowned you both out until he buried himself as deep as he could go, your toes curling while he filled you with heat. Your body milked the come out of him until you both collapsed, sweaty limbs still reaching for each other. 

“Are you okay,” he coaxed, brushing another hot tear away from your cheek. 

“I’m happy.”

Those words had left your lips many times over the past few years, but this time you didn’t have to lie. This time you let tears fall without shame, laughing as he left tickling kisses anywhere he could reach, holding you close. More laughter floated through the air while he carried you to the bathroom. You trailed your fingertips along his lines of ink, as though you were walking the paths around your new home, memorizing each lovely view. 

“You know this doesn't mean I’m gonna go easy on you, right,” Law threatened as he threw a blanket over your bare skin, wrapping himself around you. 

“You’re such an ass,” you hummed, nuzzling into his warmth. 

“You could be nicer to your captain, you know,” he quipped, his deep voice making you shiver. 

“If you’re my captain, does that make me a Heart Pirate?”

His arm tensed around you, and your mind cringed against your presumption.

Nothing’s changed. I’m still a tool, a threat, even if I am something more. Don’t fucking push–

“Only if you want to be.”

Law’s hushed offer stilled your thoughts. You couldn’t answer without seeing his face, so you twisted in his arms until you could cup his cheek, knowing that the shy smile on his face reflected your own. His eyes poured over you, until his brows creased slightly as he waited for your response. Waited to hear if you wanted to spend your life as a pirate, living on this submarine, putting yourself in danger. Waited to hear if you wanted to stay with him. 

It wasn’t a question.

“I do,” you promised with a kiss, pulling back to smirk at him, “but I’m still gonna call you an ass.”

Soon you were begging, breathless as you lost the fight, your cheeks hurting from laughing after his long fingers had stopped tickling you. Being wrapped up in each other still felt unreal. He fell asleep so fast, his light snores a comforting sound, even when you couldn’t stop the tears from staining your skin. 

You’d never felt safer. 

But memories were still there.

Doffy. 

He’ll find me. He’ll take me back. After he makes me watch him kill Law. 

He’ll probably use my hands. Just like…

You went completely limp, head lolling as your body fought the sticky memory of blood on your hands.

Part of your brain still had memories. Part of your brain berated you for not enjoying this perfect moment with Law. But most of your brain went to a strange buzzing place, unfocused eyes seeing nothing but a blur. 

When this empty space wasn’t frightening, it was relaxing, in a sick way. 

Leaving. 

Being nothing. 

Safe.

“Y/N? You okay,” he checked in, groggy voice filled with concern. 

Your limp body rolled as he shifted. A tiny part of you floated above the bed, watching, yelling at yourself to move, hating that he had to deal with this.

The rest of you was trapped in a fish tank, sinking to the bottom.

Law stayed with you. Even though you couldn’t feel, even though you couldn’t hear, you knew he was there. He was there when you returned, soothing your “sorry’s” away. Asking what you needed, bringing you water, then starting all over again as if it hadn’t happened.

Holding you close as he drifted off to sleep, and this time, you followed him. 

This time, Law pulled you from the nightmares. He reminded you where you were while he kept you from clawing at your chest. He waited until he saw your eyes stay present, then he teased you until you were his again. 

“Hurry up, or I’ll make you use the barracks bathroom,” he warned, pushing you through the door with a towel and a change of clothes. He beamed at your middle finger, and you could hear him counting down random numbers while you got ready. 

“Why don’t you just join me,” you challenged, about to turn on the water.

“You know why.”

You showered fast, even though your body twisted with need at the thought of him shoving you against the tile wall, but your mood soured when you looked in the mirror. It was disorienting to see that face on this submarine. To see that face anywhere but at Doffy’s side.

You managed to pull yourself out before you fell too deep, but this time you didn’t push it away. No hiding, no running in fear. 

Doffy lived there, behind your misty eyes. The weight of his presence hung around your shoulders like that heavy, pink coat. Your body screamed with the need to be safe, the need to be whatever he wanted you to be. His laugh echoed in your skull as he called for his “pretty doll.”

But you weren’t a doll anymore. 

I’m a Heart Pirate now, Doffy. And I’m gonna help Law kill you.

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me all the ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Heeeyyyy we made it. We completed the fic request. It's over... Lol, not! I have so much more planned for this story, but there will be a pause here while I circle back to another fic. But fret not, I'm obsessed with this story, and have already outlined some upcoming chapters!

Thank you so much for joining me! Again, I hope none of you relate to the reader's trauma, and her struggle to enjoy her own pleasure, but if you do, you're not alone 🖤 I hope you are given all the patience and love you need so that you can enjoy all the pleasure you desire.

You deserve to feel good!!

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass | @lovemesomefanfic846

Part 6

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[sc0tters]

Burn | Matt Rempe

summary: you thought you were prepared for your relationship with Matt, but nothing could prepare you for what would come.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, light mentions of cheating.

word count: 0.79k

authors note: I am currently avoiding writing another fic, and I saw this idea come in (you told me to write something for Matt) and I was in the mood to rip up a relationship...

You knew it was stupid to fall for him.

You were the one who said you wanted nothing serious. You swore getting involved with a rookie was only going to end in heartbreak for you, the warning signs were all there. Matt was going to get attention and you couldn't blame him for that, he was pretty and a boy.

That was all three months ago and now you were in love. Matt had you feeling like the only girl in the world and it was everything you needed from a relationship, the protection and comfort had you feeling seasick.

Matt couldn't help but grin as he watched you appear from the bedroom "hi pretty girl." He opened his arms wanting to embrace you "nice to see you awake." Mat added as he kissed your neck feeling you melt into his touch.

The hockey player was confused hearing your silence "you okay?" He asked as he cocked his head "just feeling really weird right now." You hadn't been sleeping properly for weeks so now that you were awake before noon was a surprise for you both.

He watched you shrug "you want to talk about it?" The hockey player pulled you onto his lap "not right now." You shook your head as he went to ask you follow up questions.

But you stopped him as you raised your hand "I just want to sit with you and enjoy this morning." You explained making him nod as he agreed with you "love you sweets." He mumbled kissing your temple as he sighed pulling you in closer.

It had been this rollercoaster of emotions trying to not get caught up in the mess you now found yourself in. After the boys won the conference game you both drank a little too much only to end up back in his apartment and in between his sheets. It was his return from the summer break when you told him that you were pregnant.

It seemed like your reality was ripped from you like a bandaid against your skin. With each month that progressed you two grew further apart. Conversations that were once about getting an apartment for the two of you turned into mere checkups about your baby.

The gap between you both grew larger with every moment that passed. By the time you processed what was going on and how your relationship had screwed up, you were too late. Seven months pregnant and he was seeing you once or twice a week because he was leaving early and only coming home when you were beyond fast asleep.

Despite that all, things were going to fall apart eventually. Even when you swore that staying was the best thing for your baby. Nothing could have prepared you for the fact that Matt no longer had only one girl in his life, he had two.

You had caught him through a twitter post, he was on a roadie and he was with some girls. Nobody was kissing anyone and to the untrained eye most people would have sworn that they were just friends. But you knew that look all too well, it was how Matt once used to look at you. Back at the start, you were in that (false) sense of security.

Even with your swollen ankles and misty eyes, you still knew what to do as you pulled your suitcase out and shoved your clothes into it. You called into work sick as you needed to leave "baby?" Matt called out hearing the sounds from your room "what are you doing here?" He added as he cocked his head seeing your phone on the table.

In the chaos of everything you sniffled wiping your nose on the back of your hand "leaving." The baby stuff your had bought was already in a pile as your mind was frazzled "I know about the girl." His face dropped as he felt his eyes grow wide.

His silence gave yu everything you needed to hear as you sighed "I knew I was stupid letting myself love you." You spat as you got up "I am sorry." All he could do was apologise, Mat had played out every possibility, none had him getting caught.

So as you pushed ahead of him he couldn't help but sit there in silence as he frowned not knowing what else he could do as he was left with the message "go fuck yourself."

The humid air of New York hit your skin as you placed your bags on the ground as you felt your stomach cramp up "fuck." You gasped looking down to see that your blue dress darkened like it was wet.

You were having this baby, with or without Matt by your side.

[sst0rmm]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ in the mornings ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ft: isagi.

notes: more morning fluff to feed your soul (and the smallest bit of angst, too) ₊˚⊹⋆

warnings: slight sexual content, slight swearing too (no explicit mentions)

part/series: 1.0 2.0 3.0

wc: 2643

guys morning isagi has a chokehold on me

ok maybe all of isagi has a chokehold on me.

like you can't tell me the man is NOT a warm cuddle sleep love perfection isofjsdf

mans so genuine and sweet god im laufey lovesick

listening to rach 2 [start at 20:40, it's gorgeous] while writing makes me feel even more (yes i linked it it's amazing)

sunlight is just a daily morning occurrence when isagi yoichi's around.

"you sleep well, baby?" his arms come around the small of your back and across your body, centering you firmly on the warm, hard planes of his chest. it was a very long night, after all, you grin to yourself.

isagi smiles down at you, blue eyes bright and all. way too bright for eight in the morning. and still, you're filled with fondness, because this man, talent and cuteness personified, is yours.

you murmur up at him. "who's got you smiling like that?"

he swoops down tantalizingly close until your lips are just a hairsbreadth away from touching. you can feel a warm ghost of air flutter across your face. leaning in closer, you-

isagi pulls away with a smirk and you groan. "definitely not you," he hums and leaves the bed. sighing to yourself in half exasperation and half amusement at your boyfriend's antics, you spare a glance over at his retreating form.

"don't tell me your ears are blushing again," you call out, but he ignores you, despite the fact that the tips of his ears, are, in fact, slightly red.

cute.

and just seeing this action fills you with joy because isagi yoichi loves you, and damn everything else, because when it's just the two of you, you're light as air and rejoicing in a summer sun. the two of you, on the beach in italy, relaxing on warm, silky sand.

you're still a little sore from last night (isagi normally is a little different from isagi in bed) so you fall down into cozy, white sheets, and dream of nothing but happiness.

is this man even real

well he's in an anime so he's not but like that's not my point

where can we get these blue lock guys irl

breakfast is a... marathon.... you'll see...

a burning scent invades your senses as you walk drowsily into the kitchen. briefly, you're distracted by the pull of isagi's back muscles, and you can see the marks of where your hands were wrapped around those muscles last night.

you blush to yourself, before you hear isagi's sheepish voice. pan in one hand, apron stained with grease, and an adorably perplexed expression on his face, he looks at you more than a little embarrassedly.

"i'm telling you, i followed the recipe! i cooked the eggs just like epicurious said but-"

huffing at him in exasperation, you snatch the pan from his hands and scowl down at the offending iPad housing the recipe that caused this mini-disaster.

isagi's by your side in a flash, looking everywhere but your eyes and very much like a kicked puppy.

"you're not mad, y/n, are you?" you're not, of course, just amused and a little sorry for isagi (because this lowkey happens every other weekend), but you decide to try a little... experiment.

letting the sun warm your face gives you ammunition for what you're about to do next. you raise your eyebrows at him, give him an unimpressed stare, and sigh.

you start off a little slow. "it's fine, isagi, just-" you push him away mock-tiredly and plop yourself down on the coach.

it's around two and three quarters mississippis before he comes right by your side. blue eyes startingly clear and misty with emotion, looking at you like that's enough to make tides move, end the world, and stop your heart.

like you're the one glimmering light in a world of darkness. like you're the only thing that matters.

that look sends a pleasant burst of heat through your veins, and you almost want to give up the ruse. not yet, you chide yourself. just a little bit longer.

his voice's soft, low, and melting your insides. "i'm so sorry, y/n, you have to forgive me. baby- i was only trying to make breakfast for you, and it just-"

you sigh despite yourself. in spite of being one of the world's best strikers, isagi yoichi's pretty lacking on some other basic human survival skills. common sense is a little uncommon these days.

"i mean, how did you manage to burn an egg and ruin my pan? and spill milk on the floor without even cleaning it up?"

"i spilled milk-?"

you're starting to get a little frustrated, even though this all started off as a harmless act. "it's right there, dripping on the floor, isagi."

and he looks so distraught that you just want to wrap him up in your arms, mold yourself to his warm frame, hold him tight and never let him go. you know what isagi's about to do (it's what he does best, although you'll never admit it).

he goes in for a hug. a special hug, á la yoichi. it's one more comforting than warm coffee on a hot day, one more loving than words can even describe. it takes your breath away every time, even more than the gorgeous view of the city of stars mapped onto a blanket of inky, purple sky you see every month.

hikes on mount jiju are worth it.

and in that hug, isagi says all he needs to say and volumes more. a delightful rush of heat courses through your veins, magnetizing and all-consuming. like that, your lips press his like a moth to a flame, splendidly, effervescently, totally consuming you whole.

you feel all of him. toned arms clinging to you like it's the last time he'll ever hug you, lips gently coaxing yours apart with a soft sigh on your end as you melt into the utter beauty of the kiss. the way your arms slot perfectly just underneath his neck, like you were made for each other.

he presses his lips even firmer on yours, passionate and all-consuming. you think you can feel your heart melting into a little, happy puddle of warmth and everything isagi yoichi. your mind's consumed whole with the blazing inferno of heat warming your heart completely, and the sheer mindnumbingness of your boyfriend's kisses.

then, you two break apart. cheeks flushed, breathing heavy. his eyes meet yours, and you think you might cry with the pure love and passion practically shining out of them. suddenly, you feel utterly whole and human in a way.

you can even feel the press of his coc-

"do you forgive me, y/n?" isagi distracts you from your... thoughts.

"i wasn't ever mad," you smile up at him. spills of milk and broken pans are temporary, they're easily mendable. but love and emotions and memories, now that's forever.

he picks you up gently as a porcelain doll and suddenly you're on your bed, the white sheets warmed by the sun. featherlight kisses make their way down your neck, and he traces absentminded patterns on your chest with warm, gentle fingers.

indelible marks on your skin showing your love.

"may i?" he smirks, moving further south.

"i thought you'd never- ahh- ask-" you breath out a soft sigh as you feel his lips press soft kisses on the inside of your thighs.

"fuck being a gentleman," he says, and it's your last coherent thought before you really feel all of isagi. you fall underneath the spell of the sun and the sheets, completely and utterly blissful.

it's always the two of you, broken down to sand, it's the two of you. you and isagi yoichi, together.

and that's enough.

GAWDAMNN WHATTT

i did NOT think that was how it was gonna play out LMAOOO

lowkey i never have any set plans, like i just write and write and yeahhhh

that would be an amazing ending, but now i want to reverse the roles a little bit!!!

a fresh coffee spill glares at you from on your computer, a silent, undeniable sign that maybe mornings aren't the best time for working.

especially not mornings like these. (your mind heats up at thoughts of just hours before, skin on skin and lips on lips and you two just-) shaking your head to clear it, you try to focus on your work again.

you can hear isagi puttering around the house. he's a real house husband, truly, doting and all. even if the tasks he does aren't exactly the best results, they're certainly intented with the best result in mind. effort is what matters most in your eyes.

"hey, baby," he comes in with bangs tied up with a red bandana, sweat slightly beading on his brow, and looking totally and utterly adorable.

"it's giving housewife from the 80s," you tease him and he makes a mock-affronted noise.

then, he seems to change his mind. "actually, being a housewife's tough work," he nods sagely, "and i think good housewives deserve rewards, don't they?" he says this with such a straight face that you can't help but crack a smile, despite your macbook's bright screen shining up at you a reminder to get back to work.

you lean in to peck him on the cheek.

"i think a kiss should be sweeter, don't you?" he smirks,

he smirks, and leans in, but you back away. despite the warm tinge of heat you can feel emanating from his body, soft and sure and everything you want. despite that fire courses through your veins, threatening to set you and everything around you ablaze.

somehow, you manage to affect a tone sweet and soft and languid as honey. "if you kiss me, i don't think i'll be able to finish my work."

isagi lets out a soft, low laugh. "when'd you start becoming so hardworking?" he leans in closer, and closer, and like the bewitched lover you are, you're powerless to back away.

then, you feel the absence of warm heat, and only the soft scent of isagi's shampoo.

"get your work done, y/n," he whispers with a smile, and then he's gone. you're left alone with only thoughts, a half-spilled cup of coffee, and a undeniably empty word document.

time passes, yet your productivity remains frustratingly low.

11:39 A.M., your computer blinks up at you and you resist the urge to slam it shut. time's moving slow, but not sweet. slow as a snail slowly inching past your door, and your head's muddled with thoughts of precisely nothing.

you're walk down and your eyes are met with the sight of a cheerful isagi, covered in a form-fitting plaid shirt that's faded and a size too small, hair tied up in bandanas and all, talking with a delivery girl up ahead.

said girl is very clearly starstruck, and it sends a ray of sunshine through your otherwise very grey, very tired brain.

sometimes, you forget that your boyfriend's a striker celebrity. you smile fondly, going up to receive the forlorn pizza in her waiting hands, when you freeze. it's like ice freezes in your veins, slowly threatening to swallow you whole.

she's giggling at something he said, twirling her hair behind her ears, and, oh- it fills you with a hollow pit of jealousy and a frightening feeling of rage.

she's flirting with your boyfriend.

and you see her grab onto his arm- oh- it's like a bucket of cold water's dumped onto your head and now the rose-colored reality of earlier this morning is no more. you aim to walk forward, to give that girl a piece of your mind, and you notice her lean into him.

oh- and the second you don't see him back away, it's like something's stabbed your heart, piercing it into pieces and shattering it whole. suddenly, you don't have the fight, the energy. looking on helpless for a moment that feels like forever, you're oceans apart.

heart thudding fast, you feel the emotions threaten to spill over your cheeks. soft tears cascading down in a never-ending waterfall and forcing you into an melancholy abyss.

isagi looks back then, and you see a confused quirk of his lips before his eyes widen.

"thanks for the pizza," he looks down at her nametag, "val," before he runs towards you. you see her shocked, indignant face, and you can't help but feel a gleam of fury.

"get the hell away from my boyfriend," is all you say before she huffs and shuts the door and you collapse into isagi's waiting arms.

"baby, don't cry," you hear his voice crack and his hands rub soothing circles onto your back.

you scoff. "oh, please, isagi. i saw the way you two were flirting. good for you, she's a great catch-"

he cups your face in his hands so gently you can almost feel your heart begin to mend itself. it's a mindbending stare that sets all your nerves alight. long fingers wipe your tears away gently, and you can see his eyelashes and watery eyes too.

"it's not what it looks like."

you sigh, "well, what it looked like to me, was her arm was on yours and she-"

isagi looks at you firmly, eyes entrenching you in that sea of love you want to fall back into. but insecurity nips at you, pulling you back into that dark abyss.

"it's true, but-"

"and i'm just terrified, you know," you whisper so soft the silence's almost serene but not at all, "that you'll leave me-" your voice cracks, "for a better, younger, prettier-"

he presses his lips to yours. it's nothing like the kiss from earlier today, that was pure, raw passion. this one's tender, like you're falling into the arms of a waiting angel.

soft, sweet, and slow.

your arms find their comforting space around his neck, and your world's tumbling on your axis. but his lips on yours, arms a constant warmth on your skin, ground you, and center you. rebuild you, because he's there.

"listen to me, y/n," he whispers so fiercely you can feel the gravity of his emotions and everything else blocked out for a moment but the two of you.

"i will never, ever leave you. never. because there is nobody, more gorgeous, more intelligent, more caring, more kind than you."

"even a gorgeous pizza worker who should be a korean idol?"

isagi's hands come to grasp yours, lovingly, reverently. "definitely not. and you know why?"

"why?" you breathe out softly.

he looks at you with that gaze that could stop tides and set the world aflame. again, like you're the only object of his affection and his whole world's you. it's enough to make any girl cry. "because she's not my y/n. in my eyes, you're the most perfect ever. there's nobody else who's comforted me, helped me, and just loved me as much as you."

each word's punctuated by a wordless deeper meaning that you find yourself remarkably understanding. he loves you.

"i love you to the ends of the earth, y/n. till we grow old, and forevermore, i'll always be with you."

"i-" your breath shutters to a close with the soft press of his lips on yours.

isagi grins at you, smile so gleamingly wide with all the force of a thousand suns you can't look away from it's brilliance.

"i love you too," your lips curve up and are captured immediately with his. fireworks set off in your brain, glorious in their radiance and defeaning all your inside thoughts.

because you're isagi yoichi's, he's yours, and nothing will ever take him away from you. for a moment, just being together's enough.

kisses speak unspoken volumes. of memories, of desires, of pure love.

of being infinitely together, forever.

WOWOWOW i did not have any plan for it would end

isagi's really the sweetest, isn't he? that's how i imagine him, at least, soft cuddles and small smiles. he's not the loudest about his affection, but he shows it in actions that warm you to your core, fundamental things that can rent you asunder, tear your world apart, because of his love.

and when it comes to, we love poet isagi.

ignore the fact that this one's 2x longer than the first i had a lot of ideas okay

a humongous thank you to @benkeibear and @cute-sushi-roll for dividers, idk what i would do w/o u 🫶

man makes me powerless, you see his normal cute adorable side on the left, and let's just say the one on the left's when he gets really passionate, and i don't just mean on the field ;)

THANK U SM for reading, you all keep me motivated! any reqs you have for the future, don't hesitate to comment! 💖

[coalswriting]

being protective of reader in the wilderness + subtle demonstrations of affection headcanons - natalie scatorccio

a/n - my ass got a lil carried away with it but SURE WHATEVER lol. i also tried to play off natalie's over-protective nature as 'subtle' because i feel like she's way too hard-headed to be simping like crazy

(approx 1.1k words)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

the two of you had first kissed at the party the day before the flight for nationals.

you decided to put your romance on hold until after so that you could focus on the match.

when the plane first crashes, the first thing nat does is look for you.

she finds you a few metres outside the plane, groaning in pain; you were shot out during the initial crash.

you have a concussion and a few gashes but surprisingly, no breaks or anything that requires misty’s surgical skill (thankfully!)

natalie is already naturally a stand-offish person, but after the disaster that unfolds, she closes off even more.  

you try to talk to her but she keeps giving you reasons why she can’t.

“sorry (y/n), i have to go hunting with travis.”

everybody notices the way you look at her longingly as she leaves every morning.

you’re always sitting by the fire, sharpening the knives when you catch her eye. it’s part of your routine at this point, and you swear you can see a remorseful look in her gaze.

eventually, natalie, overcome with guilt, tries to be more attentive to you.

one day she invites you out hunting.

“uhhh, look, (y/n). i know i haven’t been great but do you want to come with me? hunting? just the two of us…?”

you say yes almost immediately, longing to talk to her about unspoken things.

natalie is a bit awkward as it’s been a while since you’ve properly talked. you fall into a tense silence.

however, things brighten up a little when you trip on a fallen log. before you can hit the ground, natalie snakes a sturdy arm around your waist, holding you close to her.

“careful,” is all she says, her warm breath hitting your neck.

both of you blush hard and you cough as she lets go of you.

hunting with natalie becomes a normal occurrence (which travis hates because he thinks she’s totally into him).

one day, natalie gives you a wildflower. it’s half dead and looks like shit, barely able to survive on the coarse, dry ground, but your cheeks grow rosy, and you melt.

you give her a tight hug, to which she instantly stiffens up. after you apologise, she brushes the awkwardness off, but you swear you can see a small smile on her warm face.

natalie likes to give you lingering touches. she hates to be one of those ‘obnoxiously in love’ people, so this is her way of showing that she likes you. you notice the touches and appreciate them a lot.

for example, she might have her arm touching yours when you sit together eating or link your pinkies together when you’re standing/sitting next to each other.

she touches her foot against yours as you sleep, but after it starts to get a little colder, you wake up with her arms wrapped around you.

she denies it at first, extremely flustered, but starts to own it after the other girls tease you about it.

natalie never admits it, but she’s a little spoon. despite this, she will try to big spoon you even though she always ends up curled into your side, your arm draped over her securely.  

she’s honestly a bit of a radiator and her warm breath against your skin is one of your favourite feelings when you’re sleeping.

being the competitive girl she is, natalie has a lot of competitions with you; think competitions about who can find food the fastest.

she always coincidentally gets ‘distracted’ when there’s a deer around the corner. you know she just loves to see your joy when you think you’ve gotten her beaten.  

when winter hits, natalie is reluctant to let you hunt with her because of the terrain. however, you convince her with your very innocent puppy dog eyes.

cue natalie tightening the strings of your hood before you go out every morning – it’s such a subtle caring moment but you love it. you always smile at her when she does it, and she grins back.

another thing she does is rub her palms together while blowing her breath on them, and then putting them on your cheeks to keep you cozy. it really doesn’t work when you’re in freezing temperatures, but you appreciate the sentiment.

she also loves snowball fights. you’d be blabbering on about something and she’ll suddenly assault you.

“yeah, mrs stevenson was so damn strict, right? but i think she was going to go on maternity leave right before we left for nat- ooph! did you just fucking throw something at me?”

natalie’s face is red as she laughs her ass off, nearly losing balance.

“you should’ve seen your face, (y/n)! you were all like ‘arugh!’” she’d exclaim breathily, mimicking your shocked expression.

her face changes to faux fear the moment she sees you sprinting her way.

you tackle her into a snowbank, knocking the breath out of her lungs and the both of you wrestle, giggling as if you’re just two teenage girls with no fears in the world – no plane crash, no death, nothing.

natalie suddenly sobers up and you stop laughing, noticing.

“you okay, nat?” you ask, before she grabs your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss.

ah, yeah. the whole romance thing you never ended up talking about.

you both discuss it as you walk back to the cabin, and that night, natalie seems a bit more obvious with her romantic advances.

one day, you get split up while hunting and as it grows darker, natalie can’t find you.

she returns back to the cabin hastily, begging for you to be there waiting for her.

but you’re not.

tears streaming down her face, she tries to leave to find you again. anything can get you; the cold, wolves, your clumsy ass could even trip and fall down a cliff or something.

tai and van have to physically hold her down to stop her from pursuing you. after all, she’s too much of a skilled hunter to die.

the next morning, she looks for you. she thinks that she’s out of luck and starts heading back to the cabin at the end of the day until she sees a flash of green in the snow. your jacket.

she runs over and starts digging, finding you, cold and barely responsive.

with a newfound adrenaline, nat brings you back all by herself. the girls are shocked to see you and after you’re warmed up, she talks to you.

she can’t stop crying the whole time and you hold her face with trembling, weak hands, giving her a kiss.

this is the first time natalie ever tells you she loves you.

and god, does your weak heart swell with adoration.

that night, she’s the big spoon and she traces shapes into your back while breathing on your nape.

she’ll warm you up as a thank you for all the time’s you’ve warmed her cold heart up.

she just loves you so much, and you love her too.

[juyeonszn]

WHAT IS LOVE?

PAIRING ₊˚⊹ lee juyeon x f!reader

GENRES ₊˚⊹ fluff﹒crack﹒angst﹒slice of life

WARNINGS ₊˚⊹ mature language bc even on a different blog i won’t ever change, uni!au, reader is a matchmaker, juyeon plays baseball, lots of kys and kms jokes, sunwoo is an incel, a bunch of lesbian jokes, um one sided pining for a while, like i am absolutely ruthless to reader for a Hot Minute i am so sorry, but it’s okay!!! bc then i’m also ruthless to juyeon, the unrequited love in this series goes crazy, it wouldn’t be a fawn smau without a second lead — so there is a small second lead moment, most of the written parts are full of sheer Angst and i’m not sorry about it, there’s like idol shipping in here ? but it’s for the sake of the plot i swear i don’t condone idol shipping 😭 it’s literally in my carrd, the bullying in this smau goes even crazier, ummm for some reason there are a lot of barbie references towards the end

FEATURING ₊˚⊹ the rest of tbz, soyeon + yuqi from (g)-idle, seonghwa from ateez, lee know from skz, sakura from le sserafim, dahyun + tzuyu from twice, jaehyun from nct and mingyu from seventeen

SUMMARY ₊˚⊹ all is well in the business of matchmaking. except it’s actually not, because lee juyeon, the school’s star baseball player, has just come to you for help in obtaining the girl of his dreams. oh yeah! and he happens to be the guy you’ve had a crush on since your first year of university.

STATUS ₊˚⊹ complete!

BEGINNING ₊˚⊹ august 1st, 2023

ENDING ₊˚⊹ october 19th, 2023

MORE ₊˚⊹ HIIIII hello!!! my first smau on another blog this is crazy ?!!2!!22!!2 fun fact; in case the plot seems familiar, it was an old wip for yeonjunszn that i had for jake from enhypen and decided to scrap for reasons that i do not remember LOL but then it came back to me and i decided to redo it for juyo bc it was so juyo-coded and now we’re here 🤗 send an ask to join the taglist (bc note and dm notifs get swallowed up with the ones from my other blog)!!

PROFILES ₊˚⊹ realize real eyes real lies | ball hitters + the token lesbian | ouran high school host club (+ tzuyu)

ONE ₊˚⊹ i’m the ceo president and chair mama

TWO ₊˚⊹ the hwang yeji incident

THREE ₊˚⊹ i hide and u seek therapy!

FOUR ₊˚⊹ /s or /j

FIVE ₊˚⊹ setting virgins up with other virgins

SIX ₊˚⊹ POSER FAKE FAN

SEVEN ₊˚⊹ #mancrushfriday #mrstealyogirl

EIGHT ₊˚⊹ I HATE WHEN WOMEN ARE RIGHT

NINE ₊˚⊹ the start of a W matchmaking season

TEN ₊˚⊹ ur on THIN ICE JAMAL

ELEVEN ₊˚⊹ Just Like A Doughnut (2.04k)

TWELVE ₊˚⊹ need a comically large piano to fall on top of me

THIRTEEN ₊˚⊹ hit tweet follow me 🙌🙏

FOURTEEN ₊˚⊹ what the bell are u talking about

FIFTEEN ₊˚⊹ THAT WAS A CRY FOR HELP

SIXTEEN ₊˚⊹ chest heavy eyes misty

SEVENTEEN ₊˚⊹ they laugh at me cause i’m emo

EIGHTEEN ₊˚⊹ sangyeon boyfriend material era

NINETEEN ₊˚⊹ Blocked and Reported for threatening language

TWENTY ₊˚⊹ A Hole In The Shape Of You (2.17k)

TWENTY ONE ₊˚⊹ men against song yuqi

TWENTY TWO ₊˚⊹ i thought we were friends.

TWENTY THREE ₊˚⊹ u think i’m pretty??? 🥰

TWENTY FOUR ₊˚⊹ for research purposes

TWENTY FIVE ₊˚⊹ The Middle Of My Heart (1.60k)

TWENTY SIX ₊˚⊹ AND THE CROWD GOES WILD

TWENTY SEVEN ₊˚⊹ to me it was

TWENTY EIGHT ₊˚⊹ clown to clown communication

TWENTY NINE ₊˚⊹ A Space Just For You (2.05k)

THIRTY ₊˚⊹ THE JUYEON THERAPY FUND

THIRTY ONE ₊˚⊹ is this pic AI generated

THIRTY TWO ₊˚⊹ i’m gay…

THIRTY THREE ₊˚⊹ 11:11 make a wish

THIRTY FOUR ₊˚⊹ Our Love Loop (2.62k)

THIRTY FIVE ₊˚⊹ graduated from bitchless university

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[coconutcordiale]

up to no good 

pairing- bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female pilot!reader (callsign clutch) no use of y/n

an- my first fanfic ever! and it's just filth (lol) so 18+ minors DNI. top gun has a hold on me y'all. haven't even opened a word doc since college but the entire film basically lives rent free in my head and I had to write some obscene rooster so I could get back to functioning like a normal person. anyways *nervous sweating*

warning- seriously 18+, not beta’d, swearing, pwp (dogfight football is just an excuse for foreplay they knew what they were doing with that damn scene), unprotected sex, choking, edging, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, dom!rooster, oral (f receiving), rank kink if you squint, bruises, praise kink, dumbification, rooster is a leg man fight me, mentioning hangman during sex (yes this is a warning because jake seresin is sinful), the whole nine honestly I can't believe I'm posting this

length- 3.3k ish words

You silently curse Maverick for introducing the team to dogfight football as everyone trudges down towards the beach. Now, instead of working on your tan or napping on the beach for your one and only day off, you're being forced into athletic competition masquerading as a fun beach game. You like working out as much as the next pilot, but with one day off? You’d much rather spend it horizontal with your boyfriend than sprinting after him in the sand. Your gorgeous, half-naked boyfriend who's currently smoothing out his mustache in annoyance while he argues with Hangman about how they’ll split up the teams. You’re not sure who decided to make these two idiots team captains, but suspect it was born out of making sure they wouldn’t kill each other on the same team.

Rooster ends up choosing first, much to Hangman’s chagrin. 

“Payback.”

“Wow,” you joke, your hand over your wounded heart for theatrics. “I see where your loyalties lie, babe.”

“Don’t be mad,” Rooster smiles into your hair before kissing your temple.

Pulling you into his side by the waist, he lightly skims his fingers across the part of your hipbone that always makes you shiver. The part that already has a bruise forming from his unrelenting grip this morning, while you were falling apart on his cock. 

You glare up at him as if to say silently, don't change the subject, and he pointedly looks above your head to Seresin, pretending he’s not having flashbacks of your wanton moans.

“Hangman, go.”

The blonde flashes his signature smirk, stupid mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and reaches out to tug you from Rooster’s grasp, “Clutch, you’re with me.”

It’s surprising, of course. You weren’t actually mad at not being picked first, and definitely didn’t think Hangman of all people would be the one to do so.

“Bro,” Coyote grumbles. “No offense, Clutch, but what the fuck?"

Hangman shrugs in response, trying to maintain his poker face and not laugh out loud at the way Rooster’s jaw clenches. He knows having you on the opposite team is a huge distraction for mustache boy and well, he’d be remiss if he didn’t take advantage of Rooster’s ridiculous misty-eyed love for you, wouldn’t he?

Phoenix and Bob end up with Rooster too while Hangman manages to snag Coyote and Fanboy, punching Coyote in the shoulder for being so grumpy about not being picked first. 

Not long into the game, Rooster has the ball, looking around for an open teammate and you see your opportunity. 

As he knew there were no limits to your competitiveness no matter how much you complained about having to play, Hangman suggested you cover Rooster, so you’re already face to face with his very shirtless, very tanned body. You trail your hand across his abs, barely dipping your fingertips below his waistband. Subtle enough that no one else clocks what you’re up to, too consumed defending each other, but suggestive enough that Rooster’s attention snaps to you immediately.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, eyeing you suspiciously, hands still firmly planted around the ball that’s well out of your reach. 

You flash the most innocent smile you can manage, “Sorry, babe, you just look so good. Couldn’t help myself.”

He beams down at you, completely disarmed and blushing a little despite his best efforts to maintain a healthy level of skepticism. 

“Am I making it hard for my girl to concentrate?” He teases, arms faltering slightly.

“Something like that,” you grin, like the cat that got the cream, before taking advantage of his momentary lapse in judgment to snatch the ball out of his hands, swiftly turning and throwing it straight to Hangman by the makeshift endzone. He sprints through, throwing the ball to the ground in victory.

“And that,” Hangman shouts, practically banging his chest, “is why you’re never stupid enough to pick Clutch second, fellas!”

“Ruthless,” Rooster feigns hurt across his tanned features, fighting a smile at your cheesy finger guns. “Didn’t know we were playing dirty.”

“What, you think this is a fuckin’ game, Bradshaw?” You taunt.

“Oh, it’s on.” 

You know you have to up the ante the next time around, without the element of surprise it’ll be harder to shake him.

You absentmindedly play with the bruise forming on your hipbone before the ball is anywhere near you and you can feel his eyes raking over the spot where your fingers touch. Fighting a smile, you adjust your workout shorts next, tugging them down the inside of your thighs where they’ve ridden up, fingers dancing a little close to your hot center for the public setting, but hey, hopefully no one’s paying attention. Besides, he’s always been a sucker for your legs, evident by how much time he spends between them. By the time he’s done staring and lifts his eyes to yours you’re smirking.

“Bradshaw, my eyes are up here.”

He doesn’t even bother looking ashamed, instead meeting your gaze with that filthy glint in his eyes. It takes everything in you to remain focused on the task at hand. You’re supposed to be sidetracking him, not the other way around.

You manage to sneak around him and catch the ball as Fanboy throws it your way, but you’re a little too far from the endzone to make a break for it without Rooster catching up to you. His dog tags are reflecting in the sunlight, resting against his hard chest and you smile, leaning in to grab them with your free hand.

Pulling him towards you by his chain so you can keep these words between the two of you, you adopt a comically casual tone, “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like if you choked me with these, babe, I mean your big hands are more than enough but—”

“Nope," Rooster cuts you off tersely as he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder before marching in the direction of the parking lot. 

You giggle, arching your back to toss the ball towards the group as best you can while still mostly upside down, and throw them a sloppy two finger salute, “See y’all later.”

“You guys are the worst!” Phoenix shouts after you and everyone yells in agreement. 

He doesn't set you down until you're in the parking lot, immediately pulling you back against his front.

“You’re gonna pay for teasing me like that, princess,” he breathes in your ear, right hand sliding up your chest and to your neck as his left digs for his car keys.

“Oh no,” you drawl sarcastically, “That wasn’t what I was aiming for whatsoever.”

He can’t help but chuckle, even with his hand practically engulfing your throat you’re still playing him like a fiddle, teasing and pushing his buttons until he aches to put you in your place. He knows exactly what you’ve been playing at, but he still can’t help his primal response to it. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna wipe that bratty little smirk right off your pretty face.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you respond cheekily. “Was just admiring my gorgeous boyfriend all day. Always makes me smile, how beautiful he is.”

His fingers tighten almost unconsciously at his rank tumbling out of your delicate lips. And now it’s his turn to smirk, as he hears your breath hitch and feels you grind back onto his growing bulge. He unlocks the car and pulls the passenger side door open with his free hand, turning you around for a searing kiss before picking you up and setting you in his Bronco. He buckles you in, and you roll your eyes at the babying gesture, still in a fiery mood. 

Shooting you a warning look for the eye rolling, Rooster gets in the other side and you begin running your hand up his arm, stopping to appreciate his bicep flexing as he turns the keys in the ignition. It’s almost innocent, really, but he sees right through you. 

“No touching me or yourself until we get home.” 

He bites back a laugh at your pout and settles his hand on your knee as he starts to drive. Which, you find out quickly, is much worse than not being touched at all, although you imagine that’s purposeful. He always knows how to wind you up while barely lifting a finger. You feel his hand burning on your leg, rubbing affectionate circles just south of where you want it. You shift in the passenger seat and the movement subtly urges his hand up your thigh, thinking he won’t notice as his eyes are decidedly fixed on the road.

As soon as he pulls up to a red light, he immediately removes his hand from your thigh to grab your jaw roughly and pull you into a kiss. 

“You have to learn to be patient, baby. Keep trying to rush me and I won’t touch you at all,” he mutters against your lips. “Be a good girl for me.”

Your breathing shallows and you nod, both of you knowing as soon as that phrase comes out, you’re done for. 

You’re crawling out of your skin by the time he pulls up to the house, mind on an endless loop of please touch me, kiss me, please do something, anything. 

“I hope you remember your colors, because if I don’t hear the word red I’m not stopping,” he promises darkly, possessive hand around the back of your neck as he leads you into the house and to the bedroom. 

He all but throws you on the bed, making quick work of your clothes. Stepping back and taking his time with his own while he admires you, naked and squirming for him. He watches patiently as your thighs press together, hands fisting in the comforter. 

What feels like eons later, he settles on the bed, pushing your legs apart to fit his wide frame between them. Peppering kisses up the inside of your thighs, he refuses to put his mouth where you really want it. 

You whimper in frustration and Rooster snickers at your exasperation before licking a stripe up your dripping wet slit. The sound that comes out of your mouth is positively filthy, doubling in volume when he slips one of those thick fingers in without warning. 

“Fuck, baby,” It’s his turn to groan now. “You’re so wet. Surprised you didn’t soak through those tiny little things you call shorts.”

“Thought I was going to, been ready for you all day,” you grit out.

As much as you love his mouth on you, it’s not what you need right now as your cunt is aching to be filled. You untangle your fingers from the comforter to pull him up by the shoulders and attach your lips to his. Reaching down to palm his hard cock, you run your thumb across the slit that’s leaking with precum. He drops his head to your shoulder, panting as his control wavers. 

“Need you in me,” you beg between kisses. “Please.”

You immediately wish you hadn’t said anything when raises his head to look at you, pupils blown but with newfound resolve and a smug grin on his lips. 

“Greedy,” he teases, taking your hands from his cock and lifting your arms above your head.

He easily pins both wrists down with one hand, while the other traces down your body, taking his time palming your tits one by one, touching your hipbones with surprising gentleness, before settling between your legs once more. His fingers slide through your wet folds, pad of his thumb circling your clit and your head falls back against the pillows, body arching at the feeling.

He’s building you up, exactly how he knows you like, your inner walls already beginning to shake with anticipation, clenching around nothing as you get closer to the edge.

And then suddenly, he pulls his fingers away and you want to cry with how quickly you feel your climax disappearing into thin air. 

“You’d let me do anything I wanted to you right now, wouldn’t you baby girl? You’d do anything to get my cock in that needy pussy.”

“Yes sir,” you whine submissively, even surprising yourself at how desperate you sound.

“No more Bradshaw and babe now, huh,” he mocks your cheeky tone from earlier. “Told you I’d fuck that bratty attitude right out of you.”

You wish you had the wherewithal to come up with a witty response about how he hasn’t even fucked you yet and could he get to it already, you really do. But before you can formulate half a thought, he’s finally pushing his thick member into you and no matter how many times the two of you do this you always, always forget how much he stretches you. How each time you wonder if he’s going to fit.

The only indication he gives that he’s as affected by this as you are is that there’s no time to adjust to his size before he’s thrusting, hard and fast and rough. It’s right on the line between pleasure and pain.

The moment he swipes the pad of his thumb over your bundle of nerves again you’re close, embarrassingly close. You feel your body tensing, winding tighter and tighter.

“Please, I’m so close, please let me come.” 

You’re pushing hard against the grip he has on your wrists, to no avail. 

He smiles against your skin, nipping at your neck before bringing his mouth to your ear. 

“No.”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes as he pulls away the hand that was on your clit, slowing his pace to an unbearable speed and you feel your peak slipping farther and farther away.

“Please, Roos—" you start, trying to pull him closer with your legs. 

“You know my name, princess,” he growls, pulling back.

“Bradley,” you moan, the hard edges in his words sending another wave of heat through you. “Sir—plea—I need—harder, faster. Ohmy god, please.” 

You’re barely coherent and the evil part of him wants to push further, to see how long he can keep you like this, if he can make you lose your words completely.

He completely ignores your pleas, releasing your wrists so he can run both his hands down your body, stopping again to rub circles around the bruises on your hipbones.

“You think they’d believe me? If I told everyone how needy you are for me?”

You don’t answer, can’t answer because all you can think is please, harder, more. Instead, you’re gripping his biceps for dear life, mind still reeling from how infuriatingly slow he’s fucking into you.

“The team would never expect strong, hard-headed Clutch could act like this. Putty in my hands, whining and begging for me like a depraved slut.”

A loud moan leaves your mouth at that and he rewards you by picking up the pace, putting his weight behind his thrusts again. You’re staring up at him with glazed eyes, mouth parted and breathy mewls coming out in a constant stream as he continues. 

“Seresin definitely wouldn’t. Can you imagine if I told him how pretty you look fucked out and dumb for my cock? He’d probably think I was lying, thinks you dominate the hell outta me. If only he knew the truth.”

You clench around him involuntarily and he smirks when he sees the blush rising on your cheeks.

“God, I do love having you all to myself, but it seems selfish not to share someone as perfect as you, darlin’.”

You tuck your face in his neck, unable to meet those playful dark eyes. He pulls out and flips you over, pulling your ass into the air and sliding back into you in one smooth motion.

He’s hitting that spot deep inside you, and you shove your face into the pillows to muffle your moans. You feel fingers tangle in your hair, tugging and arching your back as he pulls you up towards his chest, pace unrelenting. Bradley slides that big hand up around to your neck again, finally getting to pound you from behind like he wanted to outside of his Bronco. That seems like days ago, now. His other hand is circling your clit, quickly bringing you right to the brink once more. 

“Come for me, baby, come all over my cock like the little slut you are.”

You feel like a rubber band, pushed to its limits and snapped. White-hot pleasure courses through you, finally releasing all the tension in your body.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” Bradley’s breath is hot in your ear. You barely register his praise, still shaking. “Wanna come inside your tight pussy and fill you up.”

You can’t help the obscene noises spilling out of your mouth, even louder than before as he continues to fuck you, relentless, while you try to come down from your high. It’s overwhelming, his thick length pounding your trembling, slick walls. His grip impossibly tight on your hip as he empties in you. The warmth is spreading inside, your walls spasming weakly at the feeling of fullness. He keeps his hands on you as he softens, fingers starting their dance in maddening circles on your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“S’too much,” you slur, head falling back on his shoulder.

If you weren’t in such a daze you might be impressed on how he’s managed to make it his mission to continue ruining you only moments after his own climax. He’s completely supporting your weight, any sense of self-preservation having left you long ago.

He shifts, pulling out and you try not to whine too loudly at the empty feeling. You momentarily think he’s done with his torture, but then he lays you down on your back and puts his lips right to your center, fingers pushing his cum back inside you as it tries to drip out. 

“No,” he lifts his head to say again, and you hate how that always sends a wave of heat right to your core. “You begged and begged to come. I’m just giving you what you wanted baby."

“Dunno,” you shudder, “if I can take anym—Bradley pleas—”

“You can.” 

There’s no room for disagreement in his tone.

“You’ve been such a good girl. I know you can come again. Just one more and I’ll give you a break.”

He’s making lazy circles with his tongue, his pace the only indication there exists a fiber of mercy in his being.

Your skin feels tight as his praise washes over you. He’s fucking you with his fingers now, curling them while slowly increasing his onslaught on every nerve in your body through his touch to your core. You can’t help but grab his wrist, trying to pull him away from you as he blurs the line between pleasure and pain. You’re shaking uncontrollably and shouting his name, as you come again, sure you’re going to black out. 

“Shh, baby, I got you,” he whispers as you clench around his fingers. He’s kissing your jaw, lips, forehead.

He gently pulls his hand away and wraps his arms around you, holding you through the aftershocks.

“You’re perfect, baby. Did so well for me.”

You smile up at him a few minutes later as he gently puts a water bottle to your lips. Ever the gentleman, you think, even after he’s absolutely wrecked you.

“We have to wash the sheets and comforter,” Rooster complains jokingly, when he’s pretty sure your mind is mostly functioning again. “There’s sand everywhere.”

“Yeah, you should get right on that, Lieutenant,” you mumble, planting your face in his chest. 

He reaches out to tickle your sides lightly, “Maybe this Lieutenant will order you to do it for him.”

“It’s so cute you think you’re in charge,” you yawn, rolling over and settling in, clearly not making a move to get up.

Rooster rolls his eyes, forcing himself not to take the bait this time, instead pulling you tighter. 

[ao719]

What's Already Mine

A/N: This is a part of my Us Again series. Submission for @choicesflashfics using prompt #2. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.

Title Inspiration: Already Mine - Us The Duo

Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x MC (Katherine)

Rating: G • Warnings: None.

Word count: 2500

Catch up here

Both my suit jacket and arm are draped over Katherine’s shoulders as we walk back towards the hotel from her old bar where I found her. 

We’ve walked in silence for a few blocks and it’s deafening despite the bustling city around us. We’ve seemed to have only a silent understanding of the situation; neither of us has said a word. 

My mind is too muddled to speak. I don’t know what to say because there’s so much to be said but nothing all at once. I don’t want to ask if she’s alright because obviously she isn’t. I don’t need to ask what’s wrong because I know. I know why she was there. I know why she broke down when she saw me. 

Despite knowing, I don’t know what to say … and I hate myself for it. 

I glance down at her when I hear a sniffle; she’s staring at the ground as she walks holding my jacket securely around herself. I watch her hand poke up from beneath the lapels to wipe a tear from her cheek and I feel my heart break a little more. 

I want to tell her it’s ok, that it’ll be ok, that we’ll be ok. I want her to tell me the same. But I know that neither of us can say that right now with certainty. 

So we continue to walk … in silence. 

****

Once back at the hotel, Katherine and I step inside our suite. I shut the door behind me and start to follow her as she walks into the bedroom; now that my arm isn’t around her, I notice that she’s a little wobbly on her feet thanks to her slightly tipsy state. She didn’t have much to drink, only a couple of glasses of wine at the gala, and based on the tab I paid at the bar before leading her out, I’d surmise no more than two drinks there, but I know she’s barely eaten anything today which is doing her no favors and she’s always been a bit of a lightweight as it is. 

When I enter the bedroom steps after Katherine, I see her draping my suit jacket on a chair. She then reaches back, attempting to grab the zipper of her gown, but she can’t quite reach it. When she becomes frustrated, evident by the small huffs of breath she keeps releasing, I step up behind her and gently cover my hand with hers. She goes completely still. After a moment, she glances over her shoulder; her eyes are rimmed red and still misty when she meets my gaze. I give a soft nod, and she slowly lowers her hand as she looks straight ahead again. 

As I lower the zipper of her gown, I let my thumb graze her spine, and I swallow thickly. When was the last time I touched my wife like this? The last time that my fingers brushed against her bare skin? I think back … it’s been a year. We were in Ramsford for the Beaumont Bash and we both had a lot to drink that night. I vaguely remember stumbling into our room, my hands tugging at the fabric of her dress and her arms wrapping around my neck as I kicked the door shut. Before that night, it had been months since we’d last been intimate, and before that, even more months. When we woke the next morning, we showered and dressed without a word, and when we arrived back at the palace, she went to the east wing while I headed to my study. It was awkward in a way and treated like it never happened. I think that’s when the deteriorating state of our marriage started to slowly consume my thoughts. 

Once her zipper is lowered enough, Katherine takes a step away and turns to face me, holding the front of her gown against her chest so it doesn’t fall. I slip my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her because I don’t know if that’s something I’m allowed to do anymore. We stare at one another, and my eyes are silently pleading with her. Talk to me. Please. Talk. To. Me. I can swear I see a similar plea in her own eyes. I open my mouth to speak but quickly snap it shut because I still have no idea what to say. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

“Of course,” I nod in reply. After staring at me almost expectantly, she lets out a soft breath and turns. “Katherine, I …” 

She stops and looks back at me; I see a flicker of something … of what I think is hope mixed with desperation and worry. “Yeah …?”

I hold my breath and her gaze for a moment before shaking my head. “Nothing …” 

Her breath subtly hitches in her throat as she drops my gaze and nods. When she disappears into the bathroom, I hang my head, squeezing my eyes shut in disappointment. 

Disappointment with myself, where we are, and my inability to grasp how to fix it. 

I begin to loosen my tie, but I freeze as my eyes shift to the bathroom door when I swear I hear a muffled cry from behind it. 

Where did it go? The love I once knew? It’s lost in the dark The light can’t shine through Where did we go? I can’t see it now I’m fighting the night To find you somehow…

*******

My fingers are steepled over my lips as I stare out the window of my study. My mind is in the same place as it has been for the past week since returning home: my marriage. Hell, my mind was here before our trip, but now, it’s all I can think about morning, noon, and night.

Katherine and I have yet to speak about what happened in New York. The morning after finding her in the bar, we sat through a silent breakfast followed by a few appearances that were scheduled before heading to the airport for our flight home. On the jet, I almost said something but decided against trying to have that conversation 35,000 feet in the air with no escape if we needed one. 

In hindsight … maybe that wouldn’t have been the worst idea. 

Since we’ve returned home, things have gone back to exactly how they’ve been. I work through the day and go to the east wing for our nighttime routine with the children. But instead of leaving the moment they go to sleep to go back to my study or the west wing … I’ve lingered. I think she believes I’m just waiting to be sure the children are asleep before slipping out, not realizing I’m there for her. I’m trying to give myself the courage to bring it up, but I find an excuse every damn time. It’s not good timing. It’s late. The kids are there. Whatever my mind can conjure up, it does. My fight or flight has turned to strictly flight; I flee every time. And either she’s having the same thoughts and coming up with the same excuses to not bring it up herself … or she’s completely given up, which after what happened in New York, it’s plausible. 

The bottom line is this: I know we’ve reached our limit. I know, one way or another, a very difficult conversation is eventually coming. 

At this point, it’s inevitable … and it fucking terrifies me. 

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even register the knock on my study door. It’s not until I feel a shove against my arm and hear my name that I finally snap out of it and glance up to see Drake staring at me questioningly. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head as I straighten in my chair. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“No shit,” Drake playfully scoffs. “I knocked a few times … called your name when I came inside, but you were zoned out.” 

I release a breath and nod, rubbing my eyes with the pads of my fingers. “Yeah … sorry. It’s been a long week.” I blink a few times to focus my vision and when I do, I see Drake now sitting across from me. His arms are folded across his chest and his brow is arched. “What?”

“Seriously, Li … what’s been going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you like this over the last few months. You seem like you have a lot more than just the stress of running a kingdom on your mind.”

I look away, unable to hold his gaze. Neither Katherine nor I have ever mentioned anything to our friends pertaining to the state of our marriage. We’ve put on the same show in front of them that we have in front of everyone else. 

“Liam … talk to me.” 

I look at my best friend again, trying to rein in the sadness I feel. If I can’t talk to Katherine, maybe talking to someone will help. I clasp my hands together and lean forward against my desk as I let out a heavy sigh.

And I end up breaking down as I tell him everything. 

Drake listens without interruption, but he doesn’t hide the surprise in his expression. When I finish, I can see him still trying to process everything I’ve just told him. 

“I never would have guessed … any of that,” Drake finally says. 

“We’re good at hiding it,” I say. Too good. “It’s just … it’s become our norm. It’s like second nature now … putting on the front.” 

“Why haven’t you guys ever said anything?”

I can hear the hint of hurt in his tone. “I don’t … I don’t know,” I reply truthfully. “I can’t speak for her, but for me … I guess it’s … I feel like I’ve already let her down … and the kids. I didn’t want to let my friends down, too.” 

“Liam, you’re not letting any of us down.” 

“I’m supposed to maintain this image of my life. Acknowledging that my marriage had completely fallen apart to myself was hard enough. Saying it out loud to someone else …” I shake my head. 

“So what the hell are you going to do?” Drake asks. “I mean, you’re going to fix it, right?”

“I don’t know,” I scoff with a shrug. “I don’t know if it can be fixed.” 

Drake’s brow furrows. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that …” I trail off, chewing the inside of my cheek, not wanting to say my next words, but they come anyway. “I’m saying that perhaps this is the end of our story.”

“What the fuck, Li?” Drake barks as he abruptly stands from his chair. The reaction startles me, and I look at him, unable to hide my surprise. “How could you even say that?”

“Do you think that’s what I want?” I snap. “Because it’s not! But I can’t force us to get back to where we once were!”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Drake chides, and when I open my mouth to retort, he leans forward, getting right in my face. “It’s bullshit. And. You. Know. It.” He stands upright. “To just accept defeat is not only the easy, coward’s way out, it’s not you!”

“Drake—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Drake interrupts. “What you and Katherine have … it’s the fucking dream, Li. And I’m not talking about the literal fairytale crap,” he says, waving his hands dismissively. “I’m talking about the real shit. I watched you two; I had a front-row fucking seat. I watched your story unfold. I watched you both fight like hell to be together. And here you are now, a decade later, and you’re ready to wave the white flag because you two hit a rough patch that you won’t acknowledge to each other? Fuck. That.”

As I stare up at him, I feel a tear slip down my cheek … because I know he’s right. I clear my throat and snap my gaze toward the window, trying to fight back my emotions.

“I know you both, Li, and neither of you would keep putting yourself through this if you truly wanted to walk away. That’s gotta stand for something.” 

My gaze shifts up to his again. “I don’t want to walk away,” I say through a cracked whisper.

“Then you fight.”

Where did it go? The passionate fire? We can’t find the flame And now we’re both tired What do we do When all we have left Is dying for life But on its last breath?

****

That evening, as I’m finishing up my work for the day and finalizing some plans I’ve set into motion, I hear a knock on my study door and call for them to enter. When I look up, Katherine steps inside. “Hi,” I greet her as I rise from my chair.

“Hello,” Katherine responds. She quietly closes the door behind her. “I’m sorry to bother—”

“You’re not bothering me,” I interrupt as I walk around my desk. 

Katherine swallows, holding my gaze as she subtly nods. “I, uh … I was just trying to get things in order with my schedule for next week, but it’s … did you have it cleared?”

“I did,” I answer, and my heart is pounding in my chest as I watch the confusion fill her expression while I try to keep mine impassive. 

“Why?”

“Because we’re going on a trip.”

Katherine’s brows raise. “We?”

“Yes,” I nod. “We … as in you and me.” 

“A trip for what?”

“That’s still to be determined,” I say cryptically. 

Katherine furrows her brow. “Is it a work-related thing?” 

Even though I expected her to think that, it still hurts when she asks. “No,” I shake my head. “It’s not.”

“I’m confused …” 

“About?”

“We … we haven’t gone on a trip that wasn’t duty-related in a long time,” Katherine says. “At least … not together.”

“I think it’s safe to say we’re a bit overdue,” I quip. 

“But what about—”

“Eleanor and Lucas are going to have some quality time with their Uncle Drake,” I interrupt again, knowing what she’s wondering. “I spoke with him and made all of the arrangements already.” 

Katherine lets out a sigh as she continues to stare at me. “I …” She trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t understand …”

My impassive wall drops and I sigh as I let the emotion I’ve been trying to conceal fill my features. “Katherine …” I speak just above a whisper. “You and I … we’re lost.” 

I see her eyes slightly widen as she lets out a breath before she drops my gaze, but not before I see the pain fill her expression. It’s as if hearing me finally acknowledge the truth we’ve both known but have remained silent about out loud has gravely wounded her. 

“We’re lost and we both know it. And we can’t keep running from it. We need to face it. We need to … to talk about it and figure out if we’re going to find ourselves again — find us again — or …” I trail off, struggling to say the next words out loud. “Or if we’re going to walk away from this … from each other … because we can’t keep living this way.” 

When Katherine looks back up at me, tears trickle down her cheeks. She parts her lips to speak but stops as she lifts a hand and rests it against her throat to where I assume the lump is that’s stolen her voice. More tears fall and more confusion crosses her expression as she continues to hold my gaze. 

“I cleared both of our schedules for the next two weeks,” I continue to explain, “and made arrangements for this trip … just for us.” 

Katherine’s breath hitches. “Where … where are we going?”

“To the private island …” 

I hear the soft breath of acknowledgment Katherine releases. 

We can’t run there; we can’t hide or avoid each other. And she knows it. We’ll be left with no other choice but to face this … to face one another. 

We stare at each other, and I’m certain the worry and fear of the unknown of what this trip will bring that I’m feeling is the same thing she’s feeling. 

We both know we’re going into this completely broken. And we both know that we’re either going to come out pieced back together and on the mend to being whole again … or we’re going to come out irreparably shattered.

I can’t control you Or what your heart will decide But I’ll never stop Trying to fall back in love with what’s already mine…

***************************************

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[cheesus-doodles]

It's funny lowkey for me whenever you write about the reader being unable to resist the tears and puppy eyes because since I'm the third oldest out of ten (oldest daughter, just number 3 in the line up) I've become immune to puppy eyes and if my own siblings can't work that on me I doubt that the Founders could. So I was wondering how you think said Founders would be like if Darling was immune to the puppy eyes, especially if said Darling is like me and has a bunch of younger siblings >:3c

Immune to puppy eyes+multiple younger siblings anon here, feel free to ignore that though if it isn't a prompt you want to do! No pressure at all!

aksjdnaskjdnas finally getting round to answering some of the older asks ;-; sorry it takes so long y'all - just disappointed in myself today cause I hesitated to buy Izzy's standee and in that moment he sold out ;-;

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Masterlist

Upon reflection, the Toman founders really are like younger siblings huh. Maybe not so much Draken, Mitsuya or Pah, but definitely your needy trio of Mikey, Baji and Kazutora who would be as good as clingy younger brothers with separation anxiety. Or maybe more so like puppies, but same difference in the end.

I think it would only take just the first visit to your house and a glance at all your younger siblings clamouring for you to help them with something for the realisation to set in with the Toman boys that no amount of tears or puppy eyes would work on you. No doubt Mikey and Kazutora would still try, but the boys would be quick to turn to other means to wring out what they want from you.

Draken and Mitsuya find out quickly that annoying you into giving in and doing what they want works pretty well - after all, Misty himself has two younger sisters and he knows what buttons they usually push to get him to do things for them. Though they personally don't want to whine and plead (they are still delinquents with some measure of pride after all), they know who will, and young kids are easily bribed for their help. Sets your younger siblings on you with a small bribe of sweets and with their help, would ultimately manage to force you into doing whatever the two Toman boys wanted just to get the hassling and pestering to stop. Sometimes even pretend to step in to help you stop the non-stop disturbance so that you can get your homework done, no doubt putting them in your good books. High fives all around, no doubt Draken and Mitsuya are the more popular pair around your place.

Mikey and Kazutora, on the other hand, have no such dignity left when it comes to you. The two of them would definitely still try their tears and puppy eye combo a few more times just to be sure it doesn't work before they switch tactics. Would do literally anything to get your attention and affection on them, even if it means blackmailing you - stealing your homework and holding it hostage, refusing to leave the bathroom whenever you need it unless you pinky swear to spend time with them afterwards, dragging you out of class and straight up sitting on you and not moving. Tears and puppy eyes were the easier option if they were honest, but whatever works ain't stupid. Your siblings couldn't get to you when you are in school, but they can, and these baby boys absolutely will, threatening to kick up a fuss and disrupt every class if you don't let them lay on your lap and cuddle. Tried to give you some of their favourite snacks as bribery but obviously didn't work cause they were all half-eaten, so back to disruption they went.

And then there's Baji and Pah - the two who have individually consulted outside persons and have come to the same conclusion. Baji would have asked his mum on advice on how to steal your attention (she thinks he's trying to get a girlfriend), while Pah will ask Peh, and the two airheads will end up bribing and buying your time and attention. Baji would take advantage of the community cats that he cares for and invite you along to feed and play with them whenever he could - none of the other Toman boys can get as close to them as he could, and he knows all the good spots too. The community cats let you pet and rub them since you were with Baji, and this baby boy would use the opportunity to get your attention and affection. Pah is the best out of the six at arcade games, so buying your time with games and prizes was no brainer (or at least that was what Peh told him) - you did enjoy winning a ton while with him, and he got to hang out with you with no complains, so its a win-win.

End of the day, it just makes life more difficult for you if you were immune to their crying and whining, so my recommendation would be to play along when its convenient and encourage the behaviour rather than let the boys come up with their own idea of how to get your attention: the more things doesn't work out, the more desperate the boys become. Wouldn't be long before one of the more desperate ones get the idea that if they hurt themselves, you would be sure to pay attention and fuss. Or worse, if they took out the number of people who wanted your attention, then you'll have to give time of day to them - so maybe just give them the pats and forehead kisses they want and they'll be happy to be nothing more than your clingy baby siblings.

[sawyerconfort]

eyes on fire | lottie matthews x fem!reader

I said two posts in a row and I DID IT!

Enjoy, Yellowjackets fandom!

Thanks for the likes and follows, by the way!

Requests open! Send me an ask if you want to! (I normally don't take requests from messages, sorry!)

Masterlist for these ladies coming soon!

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

Prompt: After Misty's disastrous Doomcoming, some things between you and Lottie need to be straightened out. But she still doesn't seem truly regretful about what happened at the party, and it might be too late to run away now…

WARNINGS: smut, sub!reader, dom!lottie, mentions of possession and cannibalism, post-fight sex, make-up sex, +18 (not really but be careful), mentions of platonic natalie x reader, lottie being bratty, lottie swearing and being a hot gay mess.

***

The morning after the party started off wildly. The mood was not at all favorable and there seemed to be tension between the girls in general, not to mention poor Javi who had mysteriously disappeared the night before, leaving his brother a nervous wreck.

A fight between your friends was what you least needed right now. Months had already passed, you had already gotten used to life after the plane crash - another absurd thing that you never imagined you would be a part of - and everything seemed to be settling into place even though you had to deal with the chaotic life in the forest on your own.

It was a daily struggle to survive, and you were doing pretty well. You were confident that you could handle it until someone came to rescue you. Eating deer and bear meat wasn't even that bad.

Except for last night, you were sure you were going to die.

And maybe you'd prefer it now, if you knew you were going to have to face your teammates fighting.

You had no idea how the argument had started, because you weren't in the cabin. You knew Misty had something to do with it and that she was talking about last night's party. A few girls were arguing about being possessed by something - like Jackie and Shauna, screaming for no reason a few steps away from you.

But you visibly remembered one thing.

Lottie Matthews. Lottie Matthews going wild.

By the way, you didn't know where Lottie Matthews is now. And you didn't want to know either, because the sound of her evil laugh as you spouted off the truths about the madness she and her friends were about to pull off with Travis still echoed in your messy, confused mind.

Just trying to escape Jackie and Shauna's fight, for fear of getting in the middle of it without even having a clue why, you decided that maybe you'd better get going, talk to Natalie, at least, because she wasn't affected by the "Misty's Mushrooms", had helped you confront Lottie and was not part of the forest brawler's party.

"You stay there", that voice startled you, and you turned around to face those small, dark eyes again, beyond the face that seemed to glow with the sun hitting her skin. Lottie was beautiful, yes, that was nothing new, but at that moment, she looked even more so. It was as if the wilderness had given her ethereal beauty as a gift for the follies she had decided to lead last night.

She seemed much calmer, and probably, like the others, she had already recovered from the hallucinogenic effects of the mushrooms.

"Lottie," you whispered, just trying not to remember how scared you were of her for a moment.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry if that scared you, I couldn't control it."

She knew. How could she know?

"Are you going to let me apologize for sounding like a crazy cannibal last night?", she asked, in the same tone, leaving you in a tight spot, not knowing what to answer.

You sighed.

"So you remember what I told you yesterday?"

She nodded. "Every word. And I'm sincerely sorry, (Y\N), I'm so, so sorry."

You knew you couldn't faithfully believe what she was saying. Something in her tone betrayed that she wasn't really sorry after all. And worse, something told you that she hadn't really been high last night.

Something inside you insisted it was all real. Some kind of possession.

And it wouldn't be the first time something like this had happened to Lottie. When Jackie had contrived to have a séance your first few days in the woods after the plane crash, she also had been possessed by something bad, something that wasn't quite her.

And you were there. The glass wound on her forehead? It could have caused some kind of hemorrhaging if you hadn't been there to heal it beforehand.

"Why would you guys eat Travis? Why him?"

She looked at you with a smirk, and then raised her eyebrow. The next words that came out of Lottie were unbelievable, and you wouldn't believe it if it weren't for her speaking, in front of you.

"We weren't. Who told you that bullshit?"

"Nobody. Didn't have to. I saw it with my own eyes…", you snapped, and then, the whole thing went through your head in a flash. You couldn't believe you were being so nice and genuinely caring while she was trying to trick you. "You don't remember that part then?"

"I remember everything, sweetheart. I remember everything anyway. Including how you trusted Natalie and started insulting me like I was a fucking danger to you."

Oh, Natalie. You knew Lottie adored her anyway. Except when she was around you. For some reason, your friendship with the blonde girl bothered her to an absurd degree.

"Natalie was right. And I was trying to help you," you replied, voice shut. Obviously, Lottie made a face and slowly approached you, step by step.

She didn't give the evil, sneering laugh this time, but simply grabbed your waist and pulled you so hard against her that more memories of last night flooded your mind. Memories of her words, frightening, strange, affected by whatever was happening to her there.

"The wilderness chose this, (Y\N). It wants you and me, together. It's watching us. And it knows how much I want you all to myself."

Her eyes weren't different, so it couldn't be possession, one way or another. Lottie brushed a strand of hair out of your face with one hand as she held you with the other, lightly biting her lip.

"If you really wanted to help me, you would have turned yourself in when I told you to," she breathed, whispering in your ear. "But you resisted, like the mean, pathetic little girl you are."

"Lottie, you need help. You're getting so worked up about all this, you're not making sense."

"I don't need help," she breathed into your ear again. "I need you, only you."

"Lottie, we can't…"

She laughed, softly, and then shook her head. "We can, there's no one else holding us back, we're on our own. We can do whatever we want here, and we can please the wilderness if we do the right thing, if we follow our instincts…"

You didn't have time to respond, and she wouldn't let you have time to respond either, if it was on normal days. Lottie always looked forward to being in your presence, you could feel the hard-on exploding as she looked at you, all the desire she'd always repressed so badly now written all over her face as she kissed you, taking your face in both hands.

"You have no idea how long I've been holding back to do this…", she murmured, trailing kisses lightly down your cheek, then down to your chin. "I always wanted you so much, (Y\N), but I was the perfect girl. If my parents knew, I would stop being that way, and it would be so hard to adapt to a life where I wasn't like that…"

You sighed with relief, relieved now because you knew you didn't have to voice your feelings out loud. Lottie felt the same way. Lottie knew you felt the same way. If the wilderness had really come to life somehow, if this whole wilderness thing that chooses people's fates was even real, the wilderness would tell Lottie how much you reciprocated her feelings.

Still, it wasn't one hundred percent safe for you to confess like that, all of a sudden.

"Come with me, we should go somewhere more… private…"

You laughed as she pulled away, squeezed your hand in hers, and led you back to the cabin. "Uh, Lottie, we're not in New Jersey, we don't have a motel or anything like that here, remember?"

Lottie's eyes widened, as if her domineering persona had given way to the ordinary person you better know. She cleared her throat and shrugged with a wry smile.

"Okay, so, uh… at least let me take you to the cabin?"

"With pleasure…", you whispered, still enjoying her failed attempt at looking sexy, even though in the first few moments, it worked for you.

***

She shouldn't have, and she didn't let it go. When you reached the top floor of the cabin, Lottie threw you to the ground and your back - by a divine miracle - narrowly missed hitting the ground. She crawled your body like a lioness walks to hunt carefree prey and went back to kissing you, pressing her body more and more on top of yours.

Lottie's kisses were different from the kisses you imagined she would have. Of course, she probably still wasn't in her right mind, and the way she showed her love for you at that moment was anything but wholesome and caring. And, to be honest, neither you nor your body minded that much.

Your body was about to set the whole cabin on fire with the heat it gave off, and you were about to break into a sweat when Lottie started to put her fingers under your shirt, practically pushing her face into your neck. Bites, hickeys, nibbles, sucking, she was determined to do it all, and you couldn't even complain.

"Is this satisfying you? Am I doing everything right, babe? Hm?", she whispered, after a while, panting. Her face was red, her nose was glowing like a firefly at the tip, and you could tell she looked like she was sweating too.

You nodded, and you had the faint impression that your inner desire took hold of your body for a moment as you said, "More, Lottie. I want more."

She smiled, and nodded too. "You look even hotter when you ask like that, you know? I can't believe I never got the chance to touch you and hear those words come out of your mouth…"

She continued to roam your body underneath the shirt you were wearing. Her fingers really had something unearthly about them, charged with shock and electricity, feeling like when you've been hurt and need to press ice into the warm spot of the wound to make it heal faster.

And then she finally lowered her face and wriggled her body between your legs, and if you weren't already moaning before, now you'll start hearing them loud and clear. So loud that you had to make a mental note to lower your voice. Lottie tugged down your sweatpants with enormous ease, and you tugged at her white dress, trying to reciprocate. Now you were the one apparently not making sense.

Lowering your panties slightly, Lottie introduced the first finger, and the shock in your body was immediate. You moaned even louder as she explored, attentive, seemingly oblivious to what was going on. Of course, she wasn't. She was just pretending so you wouldn't feel ashamed of giving yourself all to her at once.

"Hm… Lottie…", you called her, whispering, breathless.

"Yes, (Y\N)?"

"Just keep going…"

She laughed and continued, obeying you, introducing two, three more fingers. All of this was driving you crazy, and she was starting to lose character, moaning in satisfaction that you were responding to her touch that way.

"Fuck, Lottie…", you laughed, sighing. "Fucking hell."

"That's it. That's my good girl… all given to me."

You guys had sex for a while longer, her going slowly as you seemed to get your fill. And it was so magical, the moment you came in her arms, the moment you could breathe a sigh of relief because you were feeling fresh again.

She hugged and held you, even with the cold outside, the breeze coming in and penetrating your naked bodies, making you shiver even more - if that wasn't just Lottie's effect on your body -. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed, and you buried your flushed red face in her neck, laughing.

"Like I said, we have no way out. The wilderness chose…", she murmured. "And it's proud of us. Of you especially."

"Oh no, Lottie. I refuse to have to listen to your magical conversations and wild witchcraft with the wilderness, especially after we literally had sex on the cabin floor!"

She giggled and nodded, purring as she rubbed her face against your bare chest.

"Sorry, (Y\N), sorry. I promise not to do that again."

"Okay, I'll forgive you. It was sexy, by the way."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, really? Well, in that case, then, I guess the wilderness is kind of asking us to try again, round two maybe, what do you think, hm?"

[honeyblonde8929]

Pulling The Reins.

- Ellie x Reader Fanfiction.

Warning: NSFW wlw, Smut, Lemon… whatever you wanna call it😂 and swearing!

• I see lots of fanfics of Ellie being dominating towards the reader, but what if we switched that round. I mean, I’d like to experiment with that…

-

“You okay? Ellie?”

You rubbed your aching eyes, what time was it? 2am? The timer was blurry and you couldn’t be fucked to focus on it. Something was up with your girlfriend, she was sitting by the windowsill, gazing at the stars that were twinkling amongst the the misty horizon. She didn’t take her eyes off until-

“Babe, shooting star! Come look.”

She curled her fingers, wanting you to join her. You sluggishly got up and stretched your back out, ouch, almost pulled a muscle. You joined her side, wrapping your warm hands onto her shoulder and slowing moving it up and down, creating friction on her freckly skin.

“Why are you up at this time? I’m surprised I didn’t wake up, especially if you moved my legs out of the way.”

She smiled and turned her head to you.

“Yeah, you like to put your whole body weight on me, like a pillow.”

Ellie twiddled with her thumbs, remembering how much she enjoys rubbing your back while you snore in your sleep, though you always denied her accusing you of that.

“Oh yeah? Like this?”

You sat on her right leg which wasn’t leaning against the window, you licked your lips in excitement, trying to hold back your yawn from only getting a few hours sleep so far.

“Babe.”

She brushed her cold fingertips against your tangled hair.

“Go back to sleep, we can do this in the morning.”

You definitely didn’t want to now.

She kissed you gently on your lower lip, your arm hairs were dancing from her saliva leaving a mark on your chapped lips.

“No, Ellie, I wanna mess around a little~”

“Oh, a little? I’ll show you a lot, baby.”

She took her plaid jacket off and threw it onto the wooden floor. You yelped slightly as you swooped you into her arms and carried you onto the thin white sheets. You bounced a little on the bed and Ellie looked at your see-through nightgown, your nipples erected, she loved seeing you turned on in as little as 5 seconds.

“Mmm, you are quite a sight, Princess.”

You smirked at her compliment, it really made your confidence spike through the roof. You sat up while leaning your body weight on your hands.

You tickled her ear as you whispered to her;

“Then why don’t you take me, now, my strapping Knight.”

It normally takes two rocks to make a spark, but this matchstick set a striking fire between you two.

And the heat was building up quickly.

Ellie listened to you, and took you in a more aggressively passionate manner. Before you could comprehend, she lifted your nightgown and placed it on the bedside table. Your breasts jiggled as she grasped onto them and pulled your nipple while biting the side of your neck.

“Mmm, oh~ Ellie~”

She sucked onto your protruding veins, like a thirsty vampire, her canine teeth leaving marks and little hickeys that were flushing up your skin. Damn it, she’s a natural.

She went down and circled her tongue around your right nipple, then looked up.

“I swear they have grown a little.”

She squeezed your tits, feeling the weight enveloping her hands. You started to feel the motion swirl down into your underwear. You had a few stretch marks on them, but Ellie didn’t care. She worshiped your body, and knew exactly how to tend to your soul.

“Well, there’s more to play with, I guess.”

You chuckled at what you said, then gasped at her teeth pulling and sucking the ends. Your voice slightly cracked as her wandering hands ventured down into the soaked fabric below.

“Hey! Where’s your treatment, El?”

You grabbed one of her hands, the ends of her index finger wet from tracing circles from your damp opening and you sucked on her fingers. Looking into her mesmerising eyes and freckled cheeks, you wanted to tease her too.

“God, that never gets old.”

She exhaled deeply, you wondered what was going through her head, nothing pure or innocent, you suppose. Good, you want her to give into your power.

Your tongue parted her fingers, making an “eating out motion” towards your girlfriend.

“You ready?”

Ellie looked a little surprised at your comment.

“What? Babe-“

You want her. Right fucking now.

You pushed her into the bed and locked her into position, sure, she was physically stronger but your mental capacity to take control took her breath away.

Ellie’s breathing quickened as your pulled her trousers down and left them hanging on her ankles, less movement, smooth thinking.

You didn’t break eye contact, how could you, she’s everything you could want.

And everything you’d want to devour.

You swiftly pulled her boxers down and put your hand onto her ass, now stuck in between her skin and the bed.

“Woah, someone’s desperate.”

You haven’t taken control in a while, it’s normally her doing the work.

“Nope, I’m just hungry for your moans… and that.”

Without any further thinking, you kissed her folds, revealing her wet insides slowing dripping on your lips.

“Fuck…”

“Mmm… i’m starving, Ellie.”

You spat on her clit and began licking in a circular pattern. Your damp nipples rested on her thighs, the hairs pricking your skin. You could easily be as assertive as she is, but she’s still your angel.

And she needed that heavenly orgasm.

Her abs poked out from leaning up from the bed, her moans vibrating in her croaky throat as she stroked your head. Her way of praising you. You loved her pubic hair tickling your nose and the smell of her sweat coming from her inner thighs that glided onto the top of your ear. Your hair was brushing onto her hips, adding more heat to the flame erupting inside you. Ellie gripped into your hair roughly with each tongue flick, and more so when your fingers entered her insides.

“Baby! Fuck fuck fuck! Ahhh!”

That’s exactly the chorus you wanted to hear. The sweet melody singing from each thrust you pushed, deeper and deeper. The blush tinging your rosy cheeks flushed onto the side of her pussy. The radiating sensation and her insides clenching your fingers only bought more raised howls of pleasure, echoing onto the walls.

“Jesus… baby goddamit.”

Her moans transformed into her catching her breath from all the cries she tried to keep in, but you bought it all out, and very easily you might add. It didn’t take Ellie too long until she was going to-

“FUCK i’m gonna fucking cum…. ugh…”

She was groaning now, her voice almost broken from the gasping moans. Sweat dripped down from the forehead as she abruptly clenched the sheets, holding them for dear life, making her toes crunch up, you nodded at her, not stopping for a second. You curled your fingers inside of her, focusing on her G-Spot that you could feel as your fingers also felt her cum flooding past, that was always a bonus when it came to taking control. Ellie’s eyes looked at your frazzled face, like a doe giving her all to the stag.

You have certainly given her some competition.

She had to cover her mouth with the hand, otherwise she might as well moan your house down. Her thighs were now covering your ears, clenching between your head, muffling the exasperating cries you heard that escape from her throat.

You slowed down gently, making the most of her sweet surrender. If you could capture a moment, you’d surely take a polaroid picture, but some things are best leaving an impression in your mind.

Oh, now you owned her. She can put you in her place, but it’s your moment of dominance, for now. Like a dog on a leash, you can pull her in the right direction.

A seductive, enchanting one.

“Huh…. God…. I’m speechless…”

She laid down, exhausted from it all.

“I thought I was going to make you cum tonight?”

You tutted and licked her juices, swallowing the thick excess down. Ah, there was your reward.

“Expect the unexpected, Ellie.”

You wrapped your body beside her.

“You’re all I’ve got, and i’m not letting you go.”

You lifted her chin up towards your dripping lips.

“I’m all yours.”

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 3

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. *This part contains two Doffy flashbacks with a graphic depiction of violence including blood, murder of an unnamed character, and the reader being sick, as well as implied sexual encounters. Doffy flashback sections are marked between these symbols ~🦩🦩🦩~ so you can skip past them if you'd like. The chapter begins with one of these graphic memories, but ends with some Hurt/Comfort & sweet fluff!

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 5768

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: You try to acclimate to life aboard this yellow submarine, but your past keeps tearing you apart. All that Doffy made you do feels like a stain on your soul, and you're afraid you'll never be clean.

Author's Note: This one gets really fucked up, but I hope the sweet ending makes up for it! 🖤 I have added the dead dove do not eat tag, so please heed the warnings, and do not read if they might be triggering for you.

Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Donquixote Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags To Be Added

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Another simple mission too much for you, Y/N?”

Doffy ducked a bit as he sauntered into the room, his voice making your enemy freeze with her sea prism stone blade to your throat.

“Young mast–”

Your target smirked at you, pressing the tip of the blade into your flesh, just enough to cut your words. 

“Are you good and scared,” she taunted, ignoring the powerful man at her back.

Is she fucking stupid? She has to know who he is.

Doffy grinned as he moved closer, until you saw yourself reflected in his sunglasses over your enemy’s head. Neither of the menacing figures before you moved or spoke for a moment, leaving your mind in chaos. 

I failed him again. He’s not helping me. Why would he? I’m worthless. 

The woman chuckled, showing no fear as the future king of the pirates towered over her. Until his large hand fisted her hair, lifting her until her toes barely touched the ground. A shocked cry left her lips, her satisfied smirk torn away as she struggled to free herself.

“You really can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

Humiliation poured over you, making you wish that the blade had cut you deeper. The prick of blood on your throat wasn’t nearly enough to drown your shame. 

The woman laughed, even as she struggled in Doffy’s grasp. She choked on that laughter as the blade in her hand flew toward her own neck, tugged by invisible strings. 

“Wait, you said–”

Those frantic eyes had tried to look toward the young master, but her words ended as a flood of red left her throat. Doffy laughed, watching your wide eyes while the woman thrashed. The blade clattered to the floor as a rain of bright, hot blood fell upon it. He took a step toward you, letting all that cherry red cascade down your chest as you stared into the woman’s dying eyes.

She reached for you, dragging her nails across your throat.

“You’re really gonna let this trash disrespect our family? Disrespect me,” Doffy questioned, as bile rose in your throat.

“N-No, I’m sorry young–”

“Finish it. Pick up the knife, and gut her.”

The woman was still struggling, still fighting, but you knew it wouldn’t be long. 

I have to prove myself. 

You couldn’t move. 

“Do it, Y/N,” Doffy threatened, his voice low as he shoved her closer. That hot blood poured over your face as he lifted her higher. 

You fell to your knees, somehow finding the blade through the red that had covered your eyes, spitting it out of your mouth as you used the wall to stand back up. 

“There you go. Prove you can do something right, Y/N.”

Blinking through the blood, you held the blade to the woman’s stomach, throwing up before you could pierce her flesh. 

Doffy dropped that lightly twitching body as you started to retch, stepping back to watch you cover your enemy in your own pathetic disgrace. 

Choking on sobs as your stomach emptied over the nearly dead form, you tried to wipe and hide your face. There was no way to hide from Doffy, his manic grin looming near as he crouched beside you. 

“Such a pathetic sight. To think that a member of my family could fail me like this,” he tutted, ripping your heart to shreds. 

“I’m so sorry, young master, I–”

Your fingers slipped in the blood and sick on the floor as you tried to push yourself up, until your body moved on its own. 

No. Not on its own. 

Doffy moved it, his fingers extending as he controlled you. A disgusting marionette, dripping with the evidence of shame. 

“So disappointing.”

The young master’s voice weighed you down, even as he held your body up. He directed your movements, forcing you to walk as though you were proud of the sticky failure on your skin. 

I’m nothing. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve his love. 

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Y/N, hey, you’re okay–” 

“I couldn’t do it, I’m too weak. I’m so sorry, young–”

Nausea tore through you, the fight to keep from being sick bringing you into the present. Into the mist. Law’s soothing voice was too full of concern, and you hated taking down your camouflage. Hated letting him see how weak you were. 

“Y/N, can I check your–”

Law’s fingers were on you as soon as you nodded, slipping along the cold sweat that coated your skin as he checked your temperature and pulse. 

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice hoarse as if you had been sick. 

His hands guided your trembling body as you sat up, your eyes caught on your own misty fingers. 

Pathetic. 

“Do you… wanna talk about it?”

A sharp laugh escaped you, flooding you with guilt. An apology died in your throat as you rubbed your hands over your arms, sliding through that layer of sweat. 

“Can I take a shower?”

~

The “Surgeon of Death” waited outside the bathroom for you. You thought he was trying to help you feel safe by not letting anyone else in, until you remembered the concern, the pity on his face. 

He’s making sure I don’t hurt myself. 

You couldn’t meet his eyes as he tried to speak to you on the way to the galley, but a tiny smile broke through your heavy shame from Law’s poor attempt at small talk. 

“Good morning, Y/N!” Penguin’s voice was too loud as he leaned close to grab breakfast at the counter. The stuffed penguin on his hat bobbed toward you while he spoke.

“Morning,” you greeted, with far less enthusiasm, only to be met with a small orchestra of cheerful voices calling to you, and their captain. 

“Hope you didn’t mind the captain on your floor last night. He used to snore like a–”

“Penguin,” Law commanded, voice low as he gripped his crew mate’s wrist. 

The man's friendly clap on your back had made your shoulders tense up, your jaw clenching as Doffy’s voice boomed through your mind. 

‘Only I’m allowed to touch my little doll,’ Doffy rasped, pinching your thighs almost too hard as you sat in his lap. You tried not to stare at the blood spreading across the marble floor. ‘I don’t like to share.’

“Sure, sorry captain, sorry Y/N…” Penguin took a step back, dipping his head at Law’s frown.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, your lying smile forming so easily on your face before he led you to a table in the corner, away from his happy crew.

I’m like mist, sucking the joy and beauty out of a sunny place.

“Why don’t we skip the interview today,” Law suggested, tapping his pretty fingers on the table.

“But, don’t you nee–”

“I need you to be okay,” he interrupted, reaching those fingers to touch your wrist gently, barely, before pulling away. “Besides, I have something else in mind.”

~ 

Moving through the metal halls felt like a dream, like you’d get lost, and keep walking for years before you woke up. Until he spun the wheel to open a heavy door, leading you into the largest room you’d seen on this underwater ship.

“How nostalgic,” you teased, nodding your head toward the wall of weapons in what was clearly a training room. 

“It’s been a while since you kicked my ass,” he said with a laugh, and you chewed your lip to fight your cheesy smile. He moved down the wall, pulling two daggers free before facing you. “Catch.”

“Wait,” you cried out, ready to move or mist away, but your body acted on its own. You caught the blade he’d thrown your way, gripping it as you smiled to yourself.

“I see you haven’t lost your reflexes,” he hummed, facing off with you.

“What if I had,” you scolded, your free hand on your hip. 

“I knew it couldn’t hurt you. But your enemies might not,” he mused. “Why didn’t you strike? I gave you an opening.”

“What are you–” you laughed, shaking your head at him. “I’m not a fighter anymore. Besides, I don’t want to be mauled by a bear when your crew finds out I tried to attack you.”

His scowl was so sharp, you almost missed his movement. The second blade flew toward you, spinning clear with the ringing of metal as you blocked it with the first dagger.

“What the fuck, Law?”

He ignored you as he pulled a sword from the wall, striding your way with death in his eyes. Your body slid into a stance it hadn’t felt in years, and you gritted your teeth. Barely escaping Law’s attack, you used the dagger to deflect his blade as you rolled away.

“Why are–”

His sword came down over your head, and you misted out of reach, your breath heavy as anger and fear started to build. 

“Law! Why–”

“Why do you keep saying you’re weak?”

You froze, unable to move as he plunged his sword through your chest, meeting nothing but mist.

“What happened to the girl that could kick my ass? Until I’d get her back, of course,” he grinned, offering his hand to help you up. Still frozen, you watched him sigh, dropping the sword as he sat down beside you. 

“Why do you keep saying that you’re weak,” he repeated softly, his gaze stripping you to the bone.

“Because I am weak.”

The words held nothing but truth, a truth you’d long since accepted. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he reprimanded, the insult bringing your eyes to his with a bit of shock and annoyance.

“Is that my doctor’s orders,” you growled, anger showing through your mask for the first time in ages. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you dug your nails into your shins, the comfort of the mild pain helping you stay grounded.  

“Yes,” he deadpanned, your lips parting as you glared. He didn’t drop that judgemental look on his face, and it was too fucking much.

You hid the need to squirm by standing, picking up the weapons to hang back on the wall. The weight of a useless life pushed your shoulders down, until a tattooed hand touched yours, taking one of the daggers from you while you stared at the floor. 

“When we were kids, you were just as strong of a fighter as I was. I don’t understand how that could change, Y/N,” he recalled, voice soft as he touched your chin. His eyes searched yours, as if you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. 

“I know you’re fierce. Pretty sure I’ve still got a few scars from you,” he laughed, that gentle sound making your eyes drift closed, a bittersweet smile on your lips. 

“I’m not fierce,” you confessed, shivering as your skin burned where his fingers still held your chin. “I couldn’t keep up. My powers are so... I kept failing, just like they said I would.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

You almost gaped at him again, but his hand on your chin kept your jaw from dropping. Pulling away, you crossed your arms, that irritation growing. 

“Your bedside manner is shit, you know that?”

“We’re not in bed right now,” he countered, his confident voice cut short by his own awkward cough as he continued. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not a fighter anymore, Law. I can help you with my memories, you don’t need to do all of this.” He ignored your movements as you gestured to the wall of weapons, falling back into that frown he’s so good at. 

“Get over it.”

“Excuse me?”

He thrust the handle of the dagger into your palm, leaning close. 

“Everyone has to pull their weight on this ship. You’re gonna shadow the crew until we find a job that suits you. You’re gonna sit with me for interviews. And you’re gonna train, just like everyone else,” he commanded, your breath catching as you felt the authority pouring off of him. His fingers were still wrapped around yours, pressing the handle of the blade into your skin.

“Do you under–”

Law grunted with more surprise than pain as your other fist connected with his face. He took a step back, scalding eyes raking over you while he rubbed his jaw, but you cut him off before he could speak. 

“Gotcha, with a capital ‘G,” you declared, moving your arms with the dagger to create a poor image of the letter ‘G.’

Everything else faded from your mind as Law started to laugh, holding himself up with his hands on his knees. You couldn’t help but join him, some good childhood memories finally filling the air between you. 

“Does he still do that,” he asked, still breathless as he fought the laughter.

“Lau G won’t stop doing that until he’s dead and gone.”

He leaned against the wall of weapons, shaking his head as he pulled up ancient memories.

“That old man trained both of us, Y/N. You were neck and neck with me, even though I’d never admit it back then.”

Your face grew hot, hopefully masked by the wheezing laughter you were still recovering from. But shame quickly followed the pride from his praise, so you turned away to stretch, avoiding his discerning eyes.

“Let’s start with hand to hand,” he ordered softly. You let him take the blade from you, meeting him on the mats in the center of the large, echoey room. Bouncing on your heels, you fought to keep yourself in the present. 

‘Can’t take care of a single mission. I’ve never had such a failure in my family before. What should I do with you?’

‘So misty, so flimsy! You’ll never be as strong as us. I bet the young master will throw you out soon.’

‘Why don’t you just focus on being pretty, dear. I heard the young master say that’s all you’re good for.’

“I won’t go easy on you," Law's threat broke through your foggy mind. He smirked, taunting you with a tilt to his head. “Kick my ass.”

Falling into a stance without a thought, you tried to be here, to be nothing but this. You couldn’t make the first move, getting annoyed as Law feinted, tapping you here or there until you finally fought back. 

There he was. That silly, angry boy with that wicked smirk. The smirk that you needed to kick off that pretty face. Two years of rivalry, two years of tiny, vicious preteens sparring daily, came flooding back as the sounds filled the training room. The sounds of fists and shins connecting with bodies, breaths and grunts, snarky remarks and laughter. 

It felt like no time had passed. 

Until you noticed that thought, and shame hit you just before Law tackled you, taking your breath as he rode your body to the ground. 

Coming back to yourself too late, he had you pinned, unable to work your arms or legs to get out of his grasp. 

“I know you can do better than that,” he teased, his black hair caught in the sweat on his forehead as he stared down at you. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you breathed, still winded with his weight on your body.

“With a capital ‘G,” he smirked, too much satisfaction on his face. He laughed as you squirmed harder, trying to free a hand to punch him with. 

Now you were satisfied, hearing him grunt as he struggled to keep you in place. You freed one arm, but before you could make contact, Law changed position. He caught your wrist, his breathing ragged as his face hovered even closer to yours. 

The air was different, shivers running through you as your bodies relaxed into each other. The struggle halted as you felt his breath on your lips. 

His eyes were wide as he took you in, his brows creasing just a bit. Your chest warmed at the memory of a childhood crush, and a quick peck of a kiss before he disappeared. That sweet memory fell apart when he pulled himself off of you, a slight frown on his lips before he turned away. 

Oh. 

“That’s, uh,” he started, walking away as he avoided your gaze, “that’s enough for today. Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll get your schedule for tomorrow. Good work, today.”

You held up a polite smile as sharp blades of ice seemed to carve into your empty chest. Wanting Law to kiss you seemed ridiculous. Selfish. You hadn’t realized that your stupid, absent heart was so delusional. And now you knew exactly why you shouldn’t think about him that way. 

He’s disgusted by me. I’ll always be tainted. Ruined. I’m lucky he hasn’t put me out of my misery yet. Why would Law want to touch trash like me?

The thoughts crashed into you, and the moment wouldn’t stop replaying. The press of him, his amber eyes, the sweat and breath mixing between you. 

And that frown as he pulled away. 

It played on a loop as you walked through the submarine, repeating through another shower, a nearly silent lunch in the galley, and the tour. Law guided you with a hand drawn map, labeled with the various stations, and the crew members you’d be shadowing. A detailed weekly schedule filled the back of the paper, and you let out a quiet laugh at his attention to detail.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, teacher,” you teased, breathing deep when he finally looked at you again. 

“It’s captain,” he corrected as he pointed to the schedule. “You’ll be with Ikkaku tomorrow morning, then if you’re up for it, I'd like to do another interview.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Just a twitch of his lips this time, but it was a relief. Until he left you in the galley with the crew, excusing himself to complete some “captain’s duties.”

He doesn’t even want to eat with me now. I probably make him sick.

“Hi, Y/N, you can sit with me! You know, if you want to…” Bepo trailed off, flipping from excited to glum in seconds. 

“Thank you, Bepo,” you agreed, donning your cheerful voice as you sat across from him. 

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” Penguin said as he sat beside you, still too close for comfort after years of Doffy’s rules. “The captain’s the only one that taught us any manners, but I guess I still need some practice.”

“It’s al–”

“Give her some space, you’re being a creep,” Shachi cut in, sitting across from Penguin as he pointed a fork his way. 

“I’m not a creep, you jerk–”

“The captain said to behave ourselves,” Bepo scolded, and you found a real smile on your lips as you saw the concern on his cute, furry face.

“Hey, you’re with me tomorrow, right?”

Ikkaku waved over the bear's shoulder, her dark brown curls making her instantly recognizable. You confirmed with a nod while the three boys at the table kept bickering. 

“Let’s go talk about it.”

Arguments and insults floated through the air, and you were grateful for the rescue as you joined the only other non-man on the ship. She smirked as she nodded her head toward her crew mates.

“Don’t mind the dumbasses, they’re harmless.”

“Thanks,” you laughed, your appetite returning as you watched Ikkaku take a large bite, rolling her eyes at Bepo’s table. 

Comfortable quiet sat with you, and you finally felt a moment of ease in your new world. Even with Law, you felt this energy of holding yourself up, of presenting yourself how you wanted him to see you. But this relaxed woman seemed friendly as she dug into her meal, without the pressure of a smile. She didn’t watch you, or force you into small talk, even when you followed her out of the galley to point out where you’d be working in the morning. 

“I’m ‘Weps,’ so I’ll be showing you how to spot and kill enemies. Hopefully we’ll always be bored,” she huffed, pointing vaguely toward her station before guiding you back to the barracks. 

“That’s you, right,” she asked, tapping on your door. “I’ll yell when it’s time to go.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, staring for a moment as she turned away. 

That small metal room seemed to amplify your worst thoughts, your loneliness echoing through the air like some torturous bell. You wished you had some sort of drug to knock yourself out. Instead, you curled on your side, trying not to think about how Law had cared enough to sleep on your floor last night, but could barely look at you after your near touch earlier. 

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Don’t get all misty-eyed. That man should have known better than to touch my pretty doll,” Doffy declared, crouching down to press his palm into the sticky red puddle.

The blood of an unlucky man. A friendly man that tried to help you stay balanced while you walked down a flight of stairs in too-high heels. 

“No one else will ever touch you,” Doffy breathed, pressing his bloody palm to your chest. He licked his lips as he dragged his fingers higher, painting your skin. 

Doffy loves me. He’ll be King. Kings have to do this. They have to enforce their–

Your deep breaths and calming thoughts halted as his sticky hand gripped your face, digging into your cheeks to tilt your face up to his.

No more misty eyes.

You felt pride for your lack of tears, and for the smile he gave before he smoothed the hair from your face.

“You’re so pretty when you listen to me,” he praised, his grin deepening when he heard your pleased hum. “You know I’ll have to kill you too, right? You're my doll now. Letting someone touch you with their grubby fingers, and defile my toy sounds like another failure, huh, misty eyes?”

A soft noise escaped your lips as you struggled to be strong for him. 

“Well,” he seethed, the veins in his forehead bulging as he shook your face in his bloody grip, “does my pretty doll have anything to say?”

“I-I’m yours, Doffy,” you promised, keeping your eyes dry as your body went loose, leaning into his hold. 

“My body belongs to you, young mast– Doffy. I’d rather die than let someone defile your property.”

A bruising kiss took your breath, and you whined for him as he laid you on the marble floor. That spill of red beside you had finally stopped flowing. 

“Don’t forget that, Y/N. I’m the only one that gets to defile my pretty doll. My disgusting, little toy. No one would want to touch you anyway. Not if they knew what you let me do to you.”

Doffy laughed as he proved it to you.

And you kept your eyes dry.

~🦩🦩🦩~

Last night, your mind had chosen memories over dreams. The lights and sounds of the sonar were lovely, yet too soothing, and Ikkaku caught you shaking yourself as you held in a yawn. 

“Come on,” she ordered as she pushed you out of the weapons room, leading you through the halls. You pressed your fingers into your brow, trying to alleviate some of the pressure, not realizing where she was taking you until she called through a familiar door.

“Captain, I need to report a crew member who’s unfit for duty.”

“Wait, what,” you cried out, cutting off your own yawn as she rolled her eyes at you. 

Law opened the door, his eyes narrowing on you before he looked at her.

“What’s your report?”

“Y/N was doing well with sonar, but she's clearly sleep deprived. There's no yawning at my weapons station, Captain.”

Ikkaku softened her report by flashing you a tiny smile, but your shoulders slumped in embarrassment. 

“Thank you for the report,” Law cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes as he focused on her. “We’ll try again tomorrow. You’re dismissed, Ikkaku.”

She patted your back as she passed, her gesture of comfort lost as your body tensed at the touch. 

With a shaky breath, you turned to him, staring at his tattooed arms that flexed as they crossed below his chest. 

I didn’t mind when he touched me.

That thought was bittersweet, the bitter turning to bile when you remembered him pulling away. 

“Come in,” he gestured into the office, and you stepped back into your memories. A shrine to Doffy, even if it was built of hate. 

“How much sleep did you get last night,” he spoke like a doctor, scrutinizing every movement as you sat down across his desk. 

“How would I know? There’s no clock in there.”

Somehow, his frown deepened, and you let out a heavy sigh. 

“Did you sleep at all?”

The touch of warmth in his voice filled the cold room, but you didn’t want it. You couldn’t truly have it. So you let the truth ring through your mind as you lied again.

All I am is the broken toy of the man he despises. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll be okay.”

Your eyes slid away, seeing nothing as you pretended to be fine. Yet, you blinked slowly when he stood, his chair scraping along the floor before he came to kneel beside you.

Time seemed fuzzy, but after a while you heard his voice, low and steady. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

Too tired and stuck for anything except for the faint quivering of your bottom lip, you stayed silent. 

“Is it…” he cleared his throat, flexing his hands before he went on. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he tried to cover his worry in a soothing tone as tears and small choked sounds left your throat. “We don’t need to–”

“Please.”

That tiny, pathetic word left your lips, and you felt sick for asking for anything. Sick for forcing him to take care of you. 

But you didn’t fight as he pulled the chair out, as he knelt to the side of your knees, as he touched long fingers to your cheek. 

“Is it alright if I hug you,” he asked again in a whisper. You were too weak to protect him from you, nodding slowly until you felt more of his touch. 

He pulled you gently forward, your arms limp as he wrapped his around your waist, letting your head rest on his shoulder. 

“You’re okay,” he soothed, sliding a palm between your shoulder blades. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Denials and arguments struggled to leave your lips, anger and fear fighting for control. 

But you were so tired. 

And Law felt so warm, so solid, his smell familiar, yet new. He squeezed you tighter as your breath sped up, holding you still, until you held him too.

He didn’t let go as you dripped hot tears onto his neck. He didn’t let go when you clung to him, digging your fingers into his arms and shoulders. He didn’t let go as your cries flipped from silent to pleading, as you begged for his forgiveness, or choked over the fears and shame you carried. 

Through every round of emotions, you would return to guilt and disgust.

“I’m sorry, Law, I’m sick. You shouldn't be... I’m sorry you have to touch me.”

“Why are you saying that,” he nearly growled, holding your head against him to keep you from leaving his grasp. 

You had no idea how long you’d made him care for you, how many tears you’d let stain his shirt. But however long it had been, you were finally able to speak some of it clearly. 

“You hate him,” you said, your feeble voice breaking between your haggard breaths, “and I’m his… I’m broken. I’m disgust–”

“Shut up.”

A surprised yelp stopped your words, the force of his grip catching your breath. 

Law’s fingers dug into your skin as he pressed you against him, almost to the point of pain, and your mind froze as you waited for him. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he declared, forcing the words through his teeth. “I don’t give a shit about what he did to you. I don’t care what he made you do. It wasn’t your fault, you hear me?”

There was anger in his words, but you knew it wasn’t for you. Still, you were stunned, feeling his heavy breaths beating against your chest. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he buried his face into your neck before pulling away. It was almost painful losing his warmth against you, but he took your hands in his. He seemed to be having more trouble meeting eyes than you were, and you started sinking into the chair while he cleared his throat a few times. 

“When I found out that you’d… That he’d… I should have saved you, Y/N. But I decided not to care about you so I could focus on my mission. I let him–”

“Stop,” you cried out, shaking your head against the guilt in his voice. “I wouldn’t have come with you before. I don’t even know when things started to change. But I would have betrayed you. I wanted to be… I’m glad you didn’t find me sooner, Law. I just wish–”

You cut yourself off, melting into his golden eyes. A stolen moment of peace amidst the guilt and pain. 

“What do you wish,” he asked, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands.

“... I don't think broken people get wishes.”

He gave a jaded laugh before standing, leaning against the desk while he rubbed his knees. 

“Will it help you sleep if I stay on your floor tonight?”

You smirked at his soft words, looking from his knees up to his face before responding. 

“I don’t know, old man. I don’t think it’ll be good for your joints.” The look on his face was perfect, and a real laugh left your raw throat, shaking your tired body. 

“We’re the same age,” he countered, eyes wide with that manic grin, “and disrespecting your captain is a punishable offense.”

“I see how it is,” you teased, lightly poking his side. “Still can’t come up with a good comeback, so you threaten me with violence? Looks like you haven’t changed a bit, you– Law!”

He’d grabbed your wrist before going to his knees again, those pretty fingers searching your ribs for the perfect spot. You writhed and laughed, and failed to fight him off as he tickled you, the way he used to when he couldn’t outsmart you. 

“Law, you–”

“Fuck, sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Law pressed himself against the desk, still on his knees with his hands held up, his eyes wide and worried as he looked at you. 

You cracked up, true, heavy laughter, until his lips curled into that evil little smirk. But you beat him to it, sliding to the ground to get him back, tickling and getting a good squirm out of him before you both attacked. 

He growled as he laughed, grappling you to the side of the chair until he had you pinned to the ground again. Neither of you could tickle the other as you fought for control or freedom. His cheeks were flushed as he laughed in your face, giving you a snarky, “nuh uh,” when you failed to break loose. 

His tongue pressed between his teeth as he gloated, that cocky grin fading as you melted into each other again. 

“I–I’m sorry,” he sighed, shifting his weight to leave. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you demanded, breathless, and aching for him to stay. “I want…”

You closed your eyes, guilt and shame sliding into your lungs again. 

His weight shifted, settling back where he was before. You bit your lip when you saw him staring at your mouth, and heat filled your body as you became hyper aware of every detail of his gorgeous face. 

“You want,” he rasped as he met your eyes, concern still pouring from his own.

Your words were choked by all those shitty feelings and doubts. 

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

His gentle voice eased the tension in your body, and you were grateful that he hadn’t moved. That he still touched you. 

He was still touching you even though you were broken.  

“I want you to kiss me.” 

~🖤🖤🖤~

You’d ordered the stupid boy to kiss you, your arms crossed as you tried to act like you didn’t care. He’d lost the bet, and had to do whatever you asked. 

“Ew, gross! I’m not doing that.”

Law stuck his tongue out, pretending to be sick.

“You lost the bet,” you scolded, punching his shoulder. “Want me to tell everyone you’re an oathbreaker?”

“Why do you wanna kiss me anyway? I’m sick,” he questioned, a hint of hurt in his voice as he gestured to the pale spots on his face. 

“I don’t care if you’re sick. I like you how you are.” The confession slipped out, and heat rushed to your face as you clamped your hands over your mouth.

“You like me,” he taunted, smirking as he poked your burning cheek. “Ha, you’re such a girl.”

“Am not,” you yelled, your hands going misty with embarrassment. 

“So, all I gotta do is kiss you, and we’ll be square?”

You nodded quickly, not sure if you should trust him. 

“Fine,” he complained, leaning in. 

You didn’t know what the big deal was about kissing. His lips were cold and scratchy when he pressed them against yours for a few seconds, then he scowled at you as he pulled away. 

“That was dumb,” he deadpanned, poking your side. 

“You’re dumb!”

He stuck his tongue out at you, and you chased Law down until he swore to never tell a soul. 

~🖤🖤🖤~

“Ew, gross,” Law grinned, your mouth falling open in shock. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he teased, moving his smug face closer to yours. “Kissing you sounds gross.”

“You fucking ass,” you seethed, struggling to get out of his grapple so you could punch him. “I can’t believe–”

He let out a needy sound as he crashed his lips onto yours, and you moaned against him. Your back arched when he released his hold on your arms to cradle your face. 

A sob of relief escaped you, and you felt like you’d lost your mind, your hands clawing at his back to pull him closer. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours. “I should–”

“No more ‘sorry's,” you ordered, “I just want you to kiss me.”

Law chuckled, his voice coming back in a wicked rasp. 

“Ew, gross.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Sorry about the gruesome, but I hope you enjoyed the wholesome Law with his childhood sweetheart. I adore this man 🥰

Note for the timeline: The childhood flashback occurred shortly before Cora took Law away, so both the reader and Law had known each other over 2 years, and were both between 12-13 yrs old. At the present time in the story, both the reader and Law are around 25 years old.

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 4

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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