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chuluoyi · 3 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/mongsanghwa in twitter!

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Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Western Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You are—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you, out of spite—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we amount to.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

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4K notes · View notes

hoshigray · 6 months

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Hey, can I request some Toji, please? 👉🏻👈🏻 having sex with him after an argument and silent treatment for several days, but not like wild fucking, but kinda intimate and passionate 😔 like imagine you finally make up after an argument and he missed you soooo much and he want to kiss everywhere, look you in the eyes and praise the hell out of you 🥺

Damn, I need soft Toji bad 😭 wish you a great day 🫶🏻

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: arguing!? make up sex!?!? with soft dom toji!!??? ahhhhhhh—

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: soft dom! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - implied argument + make-up sex - kissing/making out - Daddy kink - oral (m! + f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play - anvil/mating press + spooning positions - cockwarming - praise - unprotected sex - multiple orgasms - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, sweet baby, sweetie) - Toji being whipped + missing you, i'm so soft - itty bitty angst in beginning + fluff on SMUT on fluff - mention os spit/drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k

Toji didn’t like having arguments with you. They made you distant from him, pushed him away, and he’ll feel like utter shit until things subside after kissing and making up. And when the tension between you lasts for an entire week? Oh, that makes him experience a new gut-wrenching definition of guilt.

Avoiding him is a torture he doesn’t want from you — oh, he can’t stand it. When you use the shower in the morning after he uses it in the nighttime, when your eyes don’t acknowledge his existence, or when you sleep far into your side of the bed with your back to him while he’s in a state of unease trying to find sleep without your warmth on him.

A whole week of nothing but side glances and avoiding being in the same place as him, especially in your shared apartment. With every passing day, the pressure growing felt like you two were drifting apart — something Toji would never want between you. He already lost one love of his life; the mere thought of losing another was strong enough to have his stomach drop.

It drives him so fucking crazy, especially when you’re in the kitchen washing dishes, Megumi and Tsumiki are at a sleepover, and him on the living room couch, supposedly watching sports highlights. But he can’t; his thoughts are too occupied reflecting on you — missing you. God, did he miss you — so fucking much that he shuts the television off and walks to the kitchen with a purpose.

He brings you in with an embrace, spooking the daylights out of you that you almost jumped. You thank your stars you were done washing the dishes by the time he came around, or else he’d give you another thing to be mad about. “J-Jesus, Toji…! Scaring me like that, what are you—“

“I’m sorry.”

Two words — that’s all it takes to silence you, and your body stiffens in his hold. Toji takes this time to indulge in having you in his arms after such a break, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your abdomen and his face buried in the crook of your neck. The way your breath hitches at his lips on your shoulder, he kisses the skin exposed from your tank top. Fuck, you make him go insane.

“I don’t want us like this, baby,” he proceeds, sighing deeply when his hand creeps to your wet one to grasp. “Pushin’ you away from me like this, it’s drivin’ me crazy. Don’t avoid me because of dumb shit I did or said.” You were listening intently; the TV was off, so there’s no way you’d be ignorant enough to close him off. But you didn’t say anything yet, making the raven-haired man keep going. “This silent treatment, it’s fuckin’ with me; sleepin’ far on one side with y’r back to me, taking showers at different times, and not looking at me in the eye…” A kiss to the neck has you breathing cautiously. “Makes me think I’m losin’ you, and I don’t want that. So….I’m sorry.”

He can’t lie; the stillness between you two has him anxious, barely keeping it together and fighting the quiver of his fingers from showing. He nearly misses your signal — slapping his forearm wrapped around your stomach. Toji loosens his hold on you, and you turn around to face him. It feels like it’s been forever since the last time your eyes were on his for more than a second, and he freezes at the touch of your hands cupping his face.

“You’d never lose me, Toji,” you say to him in a whisper so the world doesn’t intervene with this moment. You bring your face to him to kiss the scar on his lip and return the hug. “And I’m sorry, too.”

There’s hesitance when he circles his arms around your waist again, but your frame on him gradually puts him at ease. “Sorry ‘bout what?”

You peer up at him with your chin on his chest. Goddamn, your beauty was unreal. “For not apologizing sooner.”

Toji hums with an aimless nod. “So,” he brings a hand to cup your cheek, and you lean to his touch. “Are we cool?” You nod with a smile. “Good.”

You repeat. “Good.”

A few seconds go by when his viridian orbs are locked in with yours before his face draws in close. “I missed you…”

Your eyes instinctively close. “I miss—Mmm.”

Your sentence is cut off at the contact of his lips on yours, asking for permission by laying himself onto you more and licking your bottom lip. With your hands enveloping his neck, you open your mouth to receive him. A moan slips out when he pushes his tongue gently, the hand on your cheek coming around to hold you by the back of your head.

The kiss gets hot and steamier with every peck, the hand on your waist slithering down to grope your ass hiding inside your leggings. You wail as your frame hits the sink, and Toji uses this to cage you into him. A strong leg comes in between yours, having you essentially ride him as you lovingly suck his tongue. And it gets intense when he slams his face to yours, taking in your sweet noises that poke him to make more.

Sounds of lips smacking together fill the kitchen space, and your hands find their way inside his sweatshirt to roam over his back. And Toji loves your touch on him; how he yearned to feel your fingers on his skin again.

Oxygen is needed to carry on, so he breaks the kiss for you both to breathe. Heavy pants are shared at the union of your foreheads pressing together. You huff prettily with hooded eyes up to him, unveiling a smile as your fingers play with the black strands on his nape.

“I missed you, too, Toji." You finally say to him, sealing the fate for what’s to happen into the night.

“Hahhh, fuck, keep suckin’ me like that, mama…Shit, I missed this.”

You two are now in the comfort of your shared bedroom, no longer acting like strangers in your bed. Hands and lips show no interest in being away from bodies; Toji, in particular, uses this time to get his calloused hands drunk on feeling your curves, dents, and skin.

And you’re on the same boat, placing soft kisses on whatever place you can find. His lips, his clavicle, sneaking inside his sweatshirt to tweak and lick his nipples before trailing down to the dent of his sweats. Pulling the pants down sprung out his hard-on, and you feverishly greet his cock with your mouth.

Toji gets lost in the sensation of your lips and tongue, gripping the sheets at his dick and being swallowed whole into your warm throat. Fuck, you were so good at this, using your hands to stroke him as you sucked his glans harshly while gingerly massaging his balls. Your humming on him feels so good that his hand goes to your head to steady himself.

“Fucking Christ,” he curses under his breath, and his hips jerk to create friction. He wants to come so bad, stuff your face with his dick, and pump his load into you. But no, not right now. He taps your cheek, and you bat your eyes at him. “Mmm, c’mon, sweetie. Let’s switch.”

You take out his cock from your mouth and a string of saliva sticks to you and his cockhead. “But you didn’t—“

“Don’t worry; I will later,” he squishes your cheeks, wiping spit from the corners of your lips. And he means that because being one with you is what he wants more than anything tonight.

But before that, he needs to have you be prepared for him. After all, it has been a week.

“—Ahhhh, ahhhh, Tojiii, I just came…!”

“There you go, baby,” his baritone voice rocked to your core, his tongue licking and sucking the skin of your inner thigh. “Keep makin’ a mess for me...”

He nestled between your legs, his mouth stuffed in the proximity of your cunt that’s been orally stimulated for the past few minutes now. All for the sake of prep, yet Toji missed being close to your vagina like this, sucking your slick with ease.

Fuck, your taste in his buds was nearly nostalgic. It all felt familiar — felt right. His tongue swirled around your labia to make you whimper, shoving it inside your entrance to essentially fuck you on his tongue, resulting in pretty screams as you grab tuffs of raven hair. And since you just came, your legs trembled with sensitivity, trying to close your legs to shield yourself.

But that’s not what’s happening tonight, not with Toji. His hands easily hold your legs by the back of your knees, exposing your beautiful, soapy chaos of a chasm to him for him to enjoy. His face is so crowded between your legs and folds that his nose bumps and presses to the hood of your clit. You cry at his hold on you, forced to take whatever his tongue gives you.

“Moohhh, hooohh, To’jiiiii,” you’re shrieking when he laps on your clitoris, and your frame jolts from the onslaught. “Stooohhhpp! I can’t…!”

“Yes, you can,” he removes himself from your slit, licking your essence plastered on his scarred lips. Toji rests his head on the thigh where his hand is massaging. A low chortle leaves him when you shake your head, sneaking his free hand to your cunt where his middle and forefinger insert efficiently. You gasp sharply, and his thick digits go to work. “Don’t tell Daddy you can’t, sweet baby; I need you to be all wet for me.”

The title he uses on himself has your walls twitch on him. “Hahhh, I’m wet enough…Ohoo!!”

“Aht, aht, none of that,” he coos while pressing a thumb on your clit, and you wail at him as he makes circles on your bud. “Gotta have you all ready for me…” The squelches of his fingers exploring your insides are hot to hear. Fucking Christ, Toji couldn’t get enough of you, trying to fight the urge to plunge his mouth back on your cunt when you smell too good to resist.

His eyes flickered back to your face when you shudder at the scrape of his blunt fingertips on your velvety texture. “D-Daddyyy, I’m gonna cummm…”

You make him snicker. “Yeah? You gonna cum?” He takes his tongue and runs an excruciatingly sluggish lick to your clit; it has you gripping the sheets. “Gonna make a mess on Daddy again, pretty thing?” You nod hastily with a chewed lip, fuck you looked so cute being desperate for him. He removes his finger with a deep sigh. “Mmm, ‘kay, stay still fr’ me, baby.”

You find that impossible as he descends back to your leaking slit to lick and suck like crazy, his hands on your hips to keep your writhing figure from escaping the older man sucking on your nectar. Christ, you tasted so good, his jaw wet from pushing his face further in to have more of you in his mouth as possible, chasing you to ride out another orgasm for him to drink on.

He’d make you cum for the second time that night. Something you know is essential as you’re soon bent on your back, your legs to the air supported by his shoulders, and constant wails fly out your slippery lips and bounce the walls of your bedroom. You can only thank the Lord that the kids are not home right now…

“Hmaahh! Nhhaahh!! Daddyyyy, Daddyy….! Too much, I’m ‘oo full—Oooo!”

“Hghh! Hhhshiiiit, this pussy…! Try’na milk me dry, huh, sweet thing…”

Clothes have long been discarded to the bedroom floor, and the ceiling lights turned off for the natural lighting of the moon to shower the space, Toji’s nude, powerful body on top of yours as he pistons his cock into you at an irregular pace. Sweat keeps the strands of his bangs sticking to his forehead, and hoarse grunts evade him with every dig of his dick venturing inside you.

The position helps him go deep into the places both you and he can’t reach, his fat girth stretching your entrance and the tip stimulating your G-spot with grazes to your vaginal walls. His jabs become more accurate when he adds his weight onto you, caging you between him and the mattress to have your chasm tighten around him more. You howl, clenching on his length at every scratch of your sensitive areas. And it doesn’t help the fact he drives himself down to the hilt, balls deep into your creamy cunt.

“Tahhh, ohhhh, good God,” your eyes shut, taking out the sense of seeing to indulge in the others. The many sensations coursing through your fatigued frame are borderline addicting — given the fact that this is the fourth time Toji’s making you come. You’re practically drowning in the scene; any more than this, you’re bound to turn into actual putty.

Toji taps your cheek to have you open your eyelids for him. “Hey, mama,” your heart skipped at his handsome, disheveled look. Emerald eyes capture your gaze, and the smirk on his face lifts the scar. “Watch how good y’re takin’ me.”

Your stare travels down to where your sex is joined with his, white fluids exiting out of you and making a ring around the base of his shaft. You can sense the come from the round prior trailing down to the crevice of your ass; so fucking dirty. It all looked so erotic and forbidden to the eyes, throbbing on him a lot more.

“Daddy, please—Mmmph!”

“What, sweetie,” his hips change to an intermittent rhythm, evoking more cries to escape your pretty lips. He examines every feature in your expression, admiring how sexy you look under his bow. “Tell Daddy what you want.”

It hurts to think, but you try to muster a response despite your head going through such a haze. “Let me c’mmm on you, pleaseee!”

“Good girl,” he stops moving his pelvis to maneuver, standing on his knees, removing your legs from his shoulder to lie them down. Toji then comes from behind you, scooping you to his side for your body to mush with his in for a cuddle. You gasp at him inserting his cock back in, humming at the stretch of his girth that fills you up and scrapes your upper wall.

Toji returns his pelvis in thrusting motions, and your head rests on his forearm. The push of his dick grinding against your velvety texture has you squeaking in high pitches, a hand finding purchase on his rocking hip.

“Fuck,” he observes you, looking so effortlessly gorgeous by his side — he missed this so fucking bad, having you near him like it’s where you belonged. The hand you’re resting on comes around to cup your breast, fondling the mound lovingly, which makes you arch to him more. His free hand brings your chin to him, “So fuckin’ beautiful fr’ me, baby…”

The kiss makes you clamp onto him tighter, and Toji reacts by dialing the speed. He trails his lips to your cheek and the crook of your neck to lay more kisses and suck on your skin. The hand on your breast squeezes it, occasionally pressing down on your nipple with his forefinger. Yet it doesn’t distract you from the constant stimulation of your G-spot, screaming and toes curling from the diligent strokes against the wall of your vagina.

Your brain turns into mush, spit coming down your agape lips, and your brows furrow while Toji squishes your cheeks. “Ohhh, Daddy, right thereeee, I’m so close…!”

“Me too, sweetie, a lil’ bit more…—Aiishh!” He can feel it, his length pulsating inside you when your orgasms climb together. He brings your mouth back to his, taking your delicious screams when your bodies lock in together to climax.

A few more harsh thrusts to your ass, and Toji spurts his load into you, sinking into the pleasurable sensation of your folds contracting around his girth. Your hand scratches his hip, muffled howls taken by him while the hand on your breast sneaks away to grasp your hand, fingers intertwining to seek connectedness.

Quivering bodies soon calm down when the wave of their finish is finally gone, and you two sigh deep into a passionate kiss. It breaks with a soft noise while he nibbles on your lip before letting go. “Toji,” you said his name in stifles, your hand caressing his sweaty cheek.

The older man huffs, placing his hot palm on your cheek to stroke in return. “Yeah, mama?”

“Sleep,” you demanded with a sigh, fatigued eyes and trenched brows. The single word has you both chuckling in the hot air between you before he kisses you gently one last time. Exhaustion takes over you both, Toji bringing the comforter to put around your bodies, laying his head on the pillows as you rest yours on his arm, your hand still held with his.

His free hand guides you to be pressed up against him, his cock still inside your creamy cunt. He’s comforted by the snug of your walls and the flesh of your body molding with his hot, sturdy frame. Sleepy green eyes go to the creek of the curtains covering the bedroom window. “Maybe we outta argue more often.”

He knew that would make you giggle; the faint rise and fall of your shoulder is highlighted by the moonlight creeping through the window. “Good night, Toji.” The way you said his name sounded like a spell, closing his eyes at the somnolent tone.

“Night, baby.”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

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samaraxmorgan · 18 days

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Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time He Sabotaged My Date”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: yandere(ish)!Sukuna, fluff but he’s kinda very toxic, stalking, fem implied reader (wearing a dress and heels), brief mention of a bomb (there aren’t any bombs present), narration is from Sukuna’s POV

Word Count: 1.78k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Whoever decided this dingy shithole is a decent place to take you on a date should be fucking shot.

Maybe it was wrong of Sukuna to eavesdrop on your private conversation this morning, but in his defense you were talking on the phone loud as hell in the middle of the living room. Should’ve been quieter when you were telling your friend about the date you had planned for tonight.

And maybe it’s weird that Sukuna secretly followed you here to keep an eye on you, but it’s not like he has nefarious intentions. He’s heard of this place and one, it’s fucking gross, and two, it’s got one hell of a reputation to say the least. Definitely the kind of place for someone to get murdered, he’s just watching out for your safety!

Oh christs sake, who is he fooling? No, he followed you here because he’ll be damned if you get a boyfriend.

He feels like a creep, sitting at the bar behind your table in a black hoodie and an old baseball cap, eyes fixed on the back of your head. The guy sitting across from you is so bland, yet for some reason you’re still giggling and twirling your hair around your finger as if you don’t know that you can do so much better.

There was no need for you to doll yourself up for this fuckin’ loser; you’ve got on a pretty red dress and stiletto heels, probably anticipating him to take you somewhere nice, decent, at least. But he brought you to some run down shithole restaurant that hasn’t been renovated since the 70’s and is definitely bearing several health code violations. It’s honestly embarrassing, Sukuna would take you somewhere so much nicer than this, he knows what you deserve.

He’s been sitting at the bar sipping on his drink for the last half hour, watching the way you prop your elbow onto the table, cross your legs in your seat, tap your heel against the leg of your chair, listening to you laugh and chat about your job. Meanwhile, mister nobody in front of you is chewing with his mouth open like some kind of ape, not realizing how much of a privilege he has by being able to treat you to dinner. Un-fucking-believable.

Finally the moment he’s been waiting for happens. Bland And Boring stands up from his seat and leaves you at the table to go use the restroom, so now it’s time for Sukuna to get this fool away from you. His eyes follow the man as he walks past the bar, not even trying to be discreet. He gives Sukuna a quick glance and nods his head politely, making his way towards the bathrooms near the front of the restaurant.

There’s no time to waste.

Sukuna stands from his seat at the bar, trailing behind your date and following him into the bathroom. As the door clicks shut behind him he realizes that it’s just the two of them. Perfect, no interruptions.

He walks up behind the man, watching him through the large mirror above the sinks. Now that he’s up close he can really see how pathetic this guy is, nervously looking up towards Sukuna as he absolutely towers above him, his stature menacing and the look in his eyes bordering on deadly.

“D-do you need some-”

“You should leave.” Your date jumps at the sound of Sukuna’s voice; dark, deep, and serious.

“Um… why?” His eyes flicker around the room, definitely praying to whatever god he believes in to come save him.

Sukuna is surprised he isn’t immediately obeying. Has he grown soft? Surely not, this guy just needs a little extra push.

So Sukuna says the first thing that comes into mind.

“I have a bomb.”

Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but god damn does it do the trick. The guy looks like he’s about to fucking piss himself, eyes widening in terror as he quickly nods his head and runs out of the restaurant.

Sukuna keeps a keen eye on him through the windows, watching him nearly leap into his car and hearing the tires screech as he speeds out of the parking lot. It seems you also had an eye on your date, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as you assumed that he just ditched you with the bill.

Now’s his time to shine.

He stuffs his hat into the front pocket of his hoodie and strides up behind you to your table, bending down to be eye level with you in the booth and putting on his best mildly surprised and kind of amused expression, “Well look at that.”

“Ugh, god.” You bury your face into your hands, “And here I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.”

He can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. It is his fault you’re in this situation, but I mean come on, that guy was no good for you anyway. “You sample the whole fuckin’ menu or something?”

You groan and roll your eyes, perfect, you took the bait, “I just got dine and dashed, asshole.”

Sukuna lets out a laugh as he flops down into the seat across from you, god if only you knew. A man would have to be a real idiot to stand you up, but he has to try and keep his act together, “Yeah? Guys are fuckin’ assholes, surprise.”

The pout on your face is too sweet, makes it hard for him to really feel bad, “I was really liking him too.”

Oh, he definitely doesn’t feel bad now. He pulls his card out of his wallet as the waitress approaches the table, handing it off to her nonchalantly as he continues the conversation, “Don’t know why you bother going on dates with these guys.”

You try to interject the waitress but she walks away before you can stop her, a defeated frown pulling down your lips, “What are you doing here anyway?”

He plops his elbow onto the table, shrugging his shoulders casually, “What? Am I not allowed to go to my favorite shitty restaurant?”

You perk up slightly, “Right? I saw a roach on the way in, I can’t believe he recommended this place.”

The waitress comes back and hands Sukuna his card, he quickly scribbles his signature on the receipt and stands from his seat at the booth, “Let’s get you out of here before you get ringworm or some shit, nasty fuckin’ place.”

Finally a smile creeps onto your face, lighting up the dreary atmosphere. You adjust your dress as you stand up and he can’t help but smirk at how good you look all dolled up, dark red dress hugging your figure as if you wore it for him. He leads you out of the restaurant, making sure to hold the door open for you since he noticed that your loser date let it slam in your face on your way in.

Droplets of rain were starting to sprinkle down, which is pretty unlucky considering it’s a ten minute walk back to the apartment. But that’s not a problem for Sukuna, if anything it’s a perfect opportunity. He catches the frown curling down your pouty lips as you fix your fingers through your nicely styled hair, probably trying to keep it from getting messed up, and without missing a beat he pulls his hoodie off, sliding it over your head and down your arms.

“I’m sure you spent hours dolling yourself up, would hate to ruin it.” His voice is smooth as butter, leaning down to eye level with you as he adjusts the hood to make sure your hair is covered.

A blush creeps onto your face, mumbling a quiet “Thank you” as you pull your arms through the sleeves. It honestly looks like you’re drowning in his massive hoodie, the sleeves too long for your arms that your fingers can’t even peek out and the hem at the bottom falling at your upper thighs.

Sukuna thought you looked good in that red dress, but god damn you look heavenly wearing his clothes. Why didn’t he do this sooner?

You both start to walk down the sidewalk to the apartment, the evening is quiet save for the muffled sounds of music and chatter coming from the bars and restaurants that you pass by. You’re walking right up against his side, your arm occasionally brushing against his and he can’t help but wonder if you’re getting closer on purpose.

Sukuna breaks the peaceful silence, “So was the food good at least?”

You look up towards him quizzically, squinting your eyes in a way that’s too fucking cute for him to handle, “Shouldn’t you be the expert?”

“Why t’fuck would I know? Never been there.”

“I thought that was your favorite shitty restaurant?”

Oops.

He got way too distracted looking into your pretty eyes. Lucky for him, he didn’t need to come up with an excuse to cover him because a loud snap rings through the air as you stumble forward. His arm quickly wraps around your waist to steady you before you can fall, holding you flush against him.

You look down at your feet and let out a loud groan of frustration, “Fucks sake, really?” You lift your foot up to inspect your shoe, your stiletto heel barely dangling by a thread as it snapped off from the sole.

Sukuna didn’t mean to laugh, but there was no containing it. You look up at him with an adorable angry face, cheeks burning red as you curse him out and it only makes him smile more. You’re just too damn cute when you’re pissed off.

“It’s not funny! These were expensive!”

“Yeah yeah, c’mere.” His arm stays wrapped around your waist as he leans down and hooks his other arm behind your knees, lifting you off the ground with ease as you squeal in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck to cling onto him.

Now he could bet that other guy wouldn’t do this for you, not just was he scrawny as all hell but he wouldn’t be nearly enough of a gentleman. Your arms tighten around the back of Sukuna’s neck as he starts walking to the apartment again, your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder as you slowly relax into his hold. He’s actually liking this a lot, silently considering purposely taking a wrong turn on the way home so he can hold you longer.

Hopefully after this you’ll stop going on stupid dates with worthless men, you’ve already got everything you could ever want right at home after all. Soon enough you’ll realize that you don’t need anyone but him.

A/N: This was SO FUN to write!! I love him he’s such an asshole askakksksk, I rlly liked the idea of doing a light hearted yandere part (even tho NOBODY asked for this skaksksk) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#once again I am writing Sukuna pov and I am NOT sorry about it #I think every time I write his POV I make him crazier askskams #my writing #nav ryomen sukuna #roommate Sukuna au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #Sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk modern au

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carriesthewind · 22 days

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I reread the IA's contemporaneous post justifying their "National Emergency Library", and one of the things that struck me is just how selfish it was.

(It was also full of falsehoods, ranging from exaggeration to outright lies, but that's another matter.)

While 2020 feels like it was several decades in the past, it was actually only a few years ago. And I remember March of 2020! I was there! And oh my god, is this post right in line with every other selfish, demanding asshole determined to make a global pandemic all about themselves!

First of all, there is the language of the post - it is a "tremendous and historic outage" that books are unavailable to patrons because libraries are closed for the pandemic. "Right now, today, there are 650 million books that tax-paying citizens have paid to access that are sitting on shelves in closed libraries, inaccessible to them."

Missing from this outrage is a recognition that, like. Librarians are people. They get sick, and die.

They did get sick, and died.

Libraries were closed not only to protect patrons and the public, but librarians too. Libraries were closed to protect people, human beings. Because generally speaking, even the most enthusiastic supporters of access to books and knowledge, prioritize lives over books.

The AI's post, however, reeks of an entitlement to things that *my* tax dollars paid for. Libraries and library collections aren't a public good. They're something *I* should be able to access anytime I want, damn the context or the consequences.

(Was it also a historic outrage when I had to wait several months to check out Nona the Ninth, because so many other people were checking it out?)

Second, as I said, I remember early 2020. And in spring and summer of 2020, there was more free content on the internet than before or since. So many people and so many institutions were bending over backwards to provide people with books and tv shows and music and podcasts and virtual tours and collections and just about anything that someone could figure out how to digitize. So many people were giving away books for free, or writing/recording new content to give away for free. I can't even remember how many times I heard or read someone telling their readers or listeners just to pay what they could, if they could. So many people and institutions were giving away so much, do so much, to provide access to knowledge and books and entertainment and information.

And in that moment, the IA decided to steal from people. When so many people, so many authors, were acting so selflessly, they decided that it wasn't good enough. And instead of giving away themselves, they decided to steal from authors and pat themselves on the back for "meet[ing] this unprecedented need," when they didn't even actually do anything themselves. Or maybe more accurately, the only thing they did was something irrelevant to the actual needs of the community, something they wanted to do anyway, something to try to use a pandemic as an excuse to advance their agenda.

Because third, there is zero concern for the population of patrons actually most impacted by the closure. The IA cares, to a fault, only about information being digitized.* But many people who use physical libraries, many of the people most impacted by their closure, are people who do not have access to the AI's so-called "open library." And people who could access digital books generally continued to have access to their library's e-book services, and to tons of other free content. The patrons who were actually in the most need are ignored as irrelevant.

*And I want to be clear - they care that information is digitized, not about digital access. "Access" means more than information being digitized and theoretically being able to be read.

It's so clear that IA didn't really care about the patrons of physical libraries. Instead, they saw a real problem, and instead of working toward any solutions, decided to use it as a prop to push their own agenda. (Again, while people were dying.)

It's just all so deeply selfish.

#internet archive #hatchette v internet archive

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tootiecakes234 · 9 months

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There is no such thing as being pissed and not sleeping in your shared bed with Katsuki at night.

You have gotten pissed at him several times and been too upset to sleep in the same bed as him.

To be honest you only did it because you KNEW how much he looked forward to holding you at night. He’d spilled his guts one night when he’d had one too many, about how much it calms him to be wrapped around you when he sleeps. Just knowing you’re safe and feeling your warmth mixed with his.

You’d never told him about that night and maybe it was a little toxic using that against him when he upsets you but🤷🏾‍♀️ oh damn well.

But it’s not like it ever does you much good anyways.

You guys had gotten into an argument, so you’d gone and showered, getting ready for bed. Kats was already in there laying down and it seemed like he was almost asleep already.

(Men being able to fall asleep 2 minutes after their heads hit a pillow will never not baffle me)

Anyways you grab your pillow from your side and try to sneak off toward the living room.

“Ya seriously doing this shit?” He grumbles at you.

“Im not going to sleep somewhere im not comfortable… so yes I am. Night” and you walked out of the room and closed the door.

You made yourself comfy on the couch and curled up. It took you a while to go to sleep because whether you wanted to admit it or not, you were always more comfy intertwined with him too. He’s like a weighted, heated blanket.

It feels like you had just closed your eyes when you were slightly jostled.

You already knew it was Katsuki picking you up and carrying you back to your bed.

“Put me down. ‘M not sleepin with you ass face.” You mumble but find yourself snuggling closer to him.

“Your insults suck when you’re half asleep.”

“Katsu-“

“Shut up. If you wanna fight more in the mornin that’s fine but not tonight.”

“Whatever” you didn’t have it in you to argue. Also it wouldn’t have done any good. He does this every time. Let’s you get just enough into your sleep that he knows you’ll be pliable when he comes to get you.

Sometimes you’d wake and sometimes not but either way the next morning you woke up in your bed.

He laid you down and buried you under the blankets before he slid in on his side. Not like he stayed over there.

You felt his arms wrapping around you and his legs tangling with your before you felt a kiss pressed to the back of your neck.

“ Exhausted and my body pillow wants to sleep on the couch,” and he let out this huge exaggerated yawn, “ Ridicuous”

Wow, so where you saw him as a blanket he saw you as a pillow. What a dork.

“ I love you, can’t wait to piss you off again tomorrow”, he said into your skin but you’d already drifted back off to sleep.

Katsuki Masterlist

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ichorai · 1 year

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snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly.

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow.

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence.

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard.

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best.

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him.

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto.

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you.

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!”

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air.

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view.

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless.

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples.

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense.

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained.

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.”

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression.

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!”

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out.

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence.

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur.

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him.

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier.

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal.

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip.

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face.

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.”

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!”

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?”

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago.

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips.

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?”

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite.

“Oka—mmph!”

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper.

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you.

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you.

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara #spider-man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv fanfiction

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httpwintersoldier · 11 months

Text

opla men hc || you tease them with a short skirt

ᴢᴏʀᴏ ; ᴍɪʜᴀᴡᴋ ; ʟᴜғғʏ ; sᴀɴᴊɪ ; sʜᴀɴᴋs ; ʙᴜɢɢʏ

ᴄᴡ: ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ

ᴢᴏʀᴏ

⤷ when zoro sees you parading around with that skirt hanging dangerously close to your ass cheeks, a whirlwind of emotions goes through him

⤷ he wants to stand behind you to cover you so no one else can see the way your ass revealed slightly when you walked, he wanted to lift it slightly and get a better look, he wanted to pick you up, carry you to his bedroom and fuck you senseless...

⤷ so many scenarios and all he could do was silently play the scenarios in his head over and over as he shamelessly stared at your ass

⤷ it all changed when zoro noticed you'd bend down only when he was watching, you'd sway your hips playfully and bounce back and forth jiggling your ass on purpose

⤷ you were teasing him

⤷ once zoro puts 2 and 2 together he just chuckles

⤷ the swordsman comes behind you, grips your waist and pulls your ass against his growing erection

⤷ "I'm gonna love to see this during the rest of the day, because I'm not fucking or touching you until you're on your knees, begging"

ᴍɪʜᴀᴡᴋ

⤷ the second you step out in the miniskirt mihawk smirks

⤷ he instantly knew what you were doing, and smirked - mihawk found it... amusing

⤷ the man loved to see how hard you tried to bend over and expose your ass, desperately trying to get a reaction out of him

⤷ mihawk enjoyed how hard you were working to get his attention

⤷ most of all, he did love the view - the way the skirt almost gave him a look of your pretty panties huggung your ass beautifully...

⤷ "once you've had enough of teasing me, do meet me in my room, it's my turn now"

ʟᴜғғʏ

⤷ luffy is oblivious to what you're trying to do, but either way he doesn't care because he was too focused blatantly staring at your ass

⤷ his eyes were glued to your rear, often brushing against the bits of your cheeks that peeked out of the small piece of fabric

⤷ luffy doesn't care who's watching, if he wants it he gets it, so if he wants to grab your ass, he will

⤷ you didn't think luffy would sneak his hands under your skirt and grab your ass, but he did, several times

⤷ it made it hard for you to maintain your composure, especially when he wrapped his arms around you and laid his head on your ass, sneeaking a couple bites in

⤷ he will get very protective, whiny and jealous if he sees other people looking as well though

⤷ "I think I wanna try some new stuff, y/n"

sᴀɴᴊɪ

⤷ he didn't even care that you were teasing him

⤷ sanji's hands were all over you the whole day, groaning in your ear and whispering praises and dirty things every time he passed by you

⤷ he would find any and every reason to come behind you and brush his crotch against your ass

⤷ would definitely pull you into a dark corner in the middle of the day and fuck you from the back against a wall while he covered your mouth so no one could hear you

⤷ sanji would cum on your panties and make you walk around with his cum sticking to your pussy

⤷ "how many rounds do you think you can handle, my love?"

sʜᴀɴᴋs

⤷ shanks loves it

⤷ he obviously knows what you're doing and you knew he'd catch on so you're not exactly discrete with your plans either

⤷ shanks would make little sexual comments here and there (and would praise you equally as much)

⤷ he wouldn't mind the constant boner throughout the day because he'd love the show you'd be putting on for him

⤷ the man would absolutely love to see the way your crotch squeezed in between your legs when you bent over (and he would definetily tug your panties to the side to "take a peek" while you bent down)

⤷ ass smacks the whole damn time

⤷ will be thinking of all the ways to fuck you at the end of the day and will make sure to whisper all of them to you

⤷ "I'm gonna fuck you for the exact ammount of time you've been teasing me for, how does that sound?"

ʙᴜɢɢʏ

⤷ oh buggy loves it

⤷ he doesn't even care that you're teasing him

⤷ buggy loves it when you put on a show for him and he loves it even more if you do it in front of others - he wants to show off how lucky he is, how he gets to fuck someone so beautiful and only he can do it

⤷ he would groan at the sight of you asscheeks and panties

⤷ buggy would beg you to sit on his lap while he was on his throne

⤷ the Captain would praise you constantly as he caressed your body and admired the way your ass sat against his cock

⤷ you'd end up riding him on the throne

⤷ and after he'd cum in you he would just wrap his arms around you and have you cockwarm him

⤷ "where can I find more of these pretty skirts? We need to get you some more..."

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fastandcarlos · 4 months

Text

Almost Lost You : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: things have been frosty between the two of you for some time, but when everything turns upside down, is charles really willing to lose you as a result of it all?

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“Where are you going?” You shouted across at Charles, finding yourself looking in disbelief as he began to pick up the red bag that was on the arm of the sofa, throwing the strap over his shoulder. “Are you seriously leaving right now?”

As you spoke again, Charles’ head snapped around to look at you, his shoulders dropping as he let go of a sigh. “I think it’s for the best if we just have a bit of space, I’ll see you down at the track.”

Truthfully neither of you could even remember what it was that you were fighting about anymore, you’d barely seen each other for weeks and the tension was building. What you had hoped would be a happy reunion had become a weekend of nightmares for you both. You were training in two separate countries, counting down the days until you could see each other again, and now it felt like Charles couldn’t get away from you quick enough.

“Have a good race,” he told you as he picked up his keys from the worktop.

The lack of emotion in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all weekend,” you soon found yourself muttering under your breath.

“What was that?” Charles questioned as he passed you by.

Your head shook as you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Nothing.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Your hand quickly grabbed at the wheel once again as you felt yourself going slightly wide into the turn, rushing to steady the car. Down the radio you could hear the frustrations of your team as yet again you found yourself on the verge of sending the car into the barriers.

“Y/N, get your head in the game,” you heard Tom, your race engineer tell you.

You didn’t give him a reply as you concentrated on what was ahead, knowing that you’d need another flying lap to be in with a chance of qualifying for Q3. You took things a little slower as you approached the start line, giving yourself a couple of laps to find yourself again.

“The tyres are pretty worn now, this is going to take a mammoth effort from you to qualify with how you’ve been driving so far this weekend,” Tom warned you as you left him know that you were ready to go.

“I can do it,” you assured him.

If you listened closely enough, you were sure you could hear a faint chuckle in the background of your radio. “Good luck.”

You found yourself with your foot down hard as you went over the start line, teeth gritted and hands firmly on the wheel, determined to silence anyone who doubted you back in the garage. Your lap started well, the corners that had proven tricky throughout the weekend were finally working with you instead of against you, with no other cars in the way to stop you reaching your target.

Back in the garage the excitement was starting to build, your team had begun to worry that something wasn’t quite right throughout your weekend, but now the pieces started to seem like they were fitting together. You didn’t dare tell anyone about your troubles with Charles, half of your team weren’t exactly approving of your decision to date a driver that drove for one of your closest rivals. Did you let that affect you? Of course not. You loved Charles. And he loved you. You thought.

“Damn.”

Silence descended amongst the garage in a split second, all hope was lost as several pairs of hands smacked onto people’s faces.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Tom yelled down the radio, “Y/N are you alright?”

The cameras tried their hardest to show something, but you found yourself in a car that was surrounded by smoke. In the blink of an eye you found yourself staring at the blue of the barrier at the side of the track, heart racing as pain scorched through your body.

Everything had been going so well until you found yourself going over a loose bit of debris over the track, cursing the stewards who must have missed it, your back wheel jammed over it leaving you with no control. The last thing you remembered was skidding over the gravel, scrunching your eyes shut as you found yourself going round and round before bracing for the impact of the almighty bang.

“Y/N, you good?” Tom repeated, still awaiting a response from you.

“I-I think so,” you stuttered, finding yourself unable to move, greeted by pain that you had never experienced before.

“Medical is on the way.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Back in the garage of Ferrari, a chorus of groans had captured Charles’ attention as he sat in his car letting his team know exactly what he needed from them in order to support him into Q3.

“What happened?” He asked around, unable to quite see through his visor towards the small television screen that was up in the corner of the garage.

Around him everyone met each others glances, no one wanted to be the one to break the news to Charles. They knew how much he adored you, how protective he was of you, and this would have tipped him over the edge. Luckily for them all though, Fred took a step towards the car and knelt down next to Charles. His presence was enough for Charles to know that something serious had clearly happened, removing his helmet out of respect for his boss.

“There’s been a pretty bad crash,” Fred began to tell him, watching as Charles nodded in reply, managing to figure that out all for himself. “The person involved has told their team they’re alright.”

“Who was involved?” Charles pushed as he watched the smoke on the screen start to disappear, the colours of the bar starting to emerge through the gaps.

“I’m sorry,” Fred whispered.

Charles didn’t need Fred to say anymore as the orange colours of your car became clear, your race number printed against the side of your car clear as day.

“Y/N.”

As Charles looked around the room, no one quite knew the right thing to say. He needed a moment to process, his eyes glued to the screen willing for you to get out of the car. There was no sign of movement from your car, filling Charles with dread. Perhaps things hadn’t been the best between you recently, but that never stopped him loving, caring, about you. The longer that time seemed to pass the more that Charles began to worry. Were you really okay? Was someone out there just trying to protect him?

“We’ll keep you updated throughout Q3 if we hear anything,” a voice suddenly told him, snapping Charles out of his daydream.

“You think I’m going out there?” He gasped in disbelief, shaking his head at the engineer beside hi.

“Charles, the car is super fast, pole is yours for the taking. You can’t let us down now, work has to come first,” he pleaded with him.

The engineer’s words struck a cord with Charles, the penny dropped as he realised what was going on around him. All this time work had been his priority, he had barely given you the time of day for so long all that he cared about was getting that car over the line first, no matter who he hurt along the way.

“I can’t do it.”

“You have to do it.”

“No. No I don’t,” Charles adamantly told them all, the sharp raise of his voice taking many by surprise. “Driving this car isn’t most important right now, making sure that Y/N is alright is.”

With that, Charles took the wheel off of his car, beginning to climb out of it. He could feel the disappointment of his team around him engulfing him, but he didn’t care. He could apologise for disappointing them one day, but right now he was holding onto the chance that he would be able to fix things with you.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“Are you alright?” The paramedic asked you, leaning over to make sure that you were strapped onto the bed securely.

The corners of your smile turned up slightly, “I’m as comfy as I can be having just gone over 200mph into a barrier.”

“I see you’ve still got your sense of humour,” he chuckled in response.

Your hands gripped either side of the bed as you felt the two paramedics begin to push you towards the ambulance that was waiting to take you away. Getting you out of the car was a much tougher job than anyone had imagined, the damage on your car was extensive, but nothing was more hurt than your pride. Every driver had crashed, most multiple times, but that never stopped you feeling as if you weren’t good enough.

Your body jolted as you were wheeled over the gravel, hearing several apologies come from the two men either side of you. You insisted that it was alright, biting down on your bottom lip to mask the throbbing that was taking it out of you all over your body.

“Wait!” A voice screeched across as you began to be raised up into the ambulance. “Don’t shut that door yet!”

You were far too sore to lift your head up to see who was making the noise, but you knew. You could almost feel your heart skip a beat as a familiar voice called out.

“Y/N?”

“Sir, are you alright?” One of the paramedics questioned, watching in confusion as a figure ran across the track in order to try and get to them before they shut the door.

“She’s my girlfriend, I just want to make sure that she’s alright.” Charles told them.

The paramedic looked down at you, nodding as you nodded back at him too, silently assuring him that it was alright, that Charles was with you.

As soon as he got silent permission from the paramedic, Charles took a hold of your hand, getting to look at you for the first time. You were pretty cut up and bruised, the sharp intake of breath that came from him as he studied you was enough to confirm that for you.

“Are you alright,” he whispered, brushing his fingertips gently over the back of your hand, treating you like the most fragile thing in the world.

Your head shook in reply to him, “everything hurts.”

“Oh baby.”

You had tried your hardest to hold back any sort of emotion since the moment you lost control, but as soon as you found Charles by your side, you couldn’t keep it together any longer. Before you knew it Charles’ spare hand was underneath your eyes to wipe away the tears that were falling. All that you had bubbled up from the race, the arguments, the fear of where things were going had finally reached the surface. And it killed Charles too.

“You’re in safe hands,” he whispered down to you, brushing your hair out of your face when he found a second to move away from your eyes. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your words cut through Charles like a knife, reality there to smack him in the face. What did you have to be sorry for? You were both responsible but Charles knew he had been so much worse.

“What have you got to be sorry for?”

“Everything,” you murmured, your voice shaky and unsteady, “but most of all being stupid enough to crash.”

The two of you were so lost in yourselves you had failed to realise that the ambulance was now shut and you were on your way to the hospital to get yourself checked out. On the other side of the vehicle Charles knew there would be many men dressed in red unhappy with him, but if he was honest, he just didn’t care.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Charles assured you, leaning down to press a kiss against the top of your head, “you couldn’t help what happened out there.”

“It’s not just what happened out there Charles.”

“We’ve not been in a good place, right?”

Your head nodded in agreement, pain still etched upon your face as you found yourself wriggling ever so slightly in an attempt to make yourself comfortable. Charles moved straight away, offering himself to try and help you settle again.

“Let’s not worry about that for now, let’s just see what’s going on with you.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After several hours in the hospital, specialists, doctors, friends all visiting you, you were finally starting your journey to mend. You had a fair few bruises, a fracture in your wrist but most of all you had a huge dent to your confidence which you knew you would get over.

Throughout it all, Charles never left your side, listening intently to everything that everyone had to say in order to know what he could do to look after you. Carlos had popped by and brought Charles something more comfortable to wear and the reassurance that the majority of the garage understood why he had chosen to do what he did.

And now you found yourselves alone.

The tension was nowhere near as bad as it was when the two of you woke in your hotel room that morning but you both knew there was plenty still to talk about. You pushed your body up on the bed so that you were sat up, feeling Charles press his hand to your back to make you lean forwards and placing a cushion behind you to rest on.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked as he pulled his chair closer towards you.

“I’ll get there,” you lightly joked, offering him a smile. “I’m alright.”

Your voice sounded convincing, but Charles knew you better than that. “I was so worried back in that garage, I really thought there was a chance that I was going to lose you.”

“I thought I was going to lose you too,” you suddenly admitted, taking Charles by surprise. “When you walked out this morning I thought maybe you’d given up.”

Charles’ head shook straight away, shuffling even further forwards and taking a hold of your hand. He went to speak but his breath was trapped in disbelief. The thought of walking out the door and not returning had never even crossed Charles’ mind no matter how angry he got. Knowing that that was what you thought he would do tore him apart, there was no chance that he was ever going to give up on you so easily.

“I love you,” he reminded you, saying those three little words that he knew meant the most to you. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a horrible boyfriend recently.”

“You haven’t-“

“-I have,” he interrupted, “you don’t need to make me feel better y/n.”

“Maybe we’ve both been a bit neglectful,” you suggested, refusing to let Charles take all the blame for what had happened.

You’d both been so wrapped up in work and making sure that you were on top that you’d forgotten all about the people that had helped you get there. You were each others biggest fans, even if you didn’t always show it.

“You know, there’s one good thing about all of this,” Charles mumbled, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. “Now that you’re injured I’ve got the perfect excuse to look after you and be a proper boyfriend to you.”

“Charles, you’ve always been a good boyfriend to me,” you corrected.

Charles laughed back at you, the familiar sound that you had missed so much.

“I’ll be an even better boyfriend then,” he smirked, standing up from where he sat and moving to the edge of your bed.

You shuffled across so that there was enough space for Charles to sit himself as close to you as he possibly could. It was the closest the two of you had been together for quite some time, and admittedly, you absolutely loved it.

“I love you,” he smiled, gently nudging against your side, “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” you replied, bumping him back too, “I love you too.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 reaction #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #formula one #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine

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a-b-riddle · 5 months

Text

Part 8

You had planned to spend Sunday morning nursing a hangover with Mere and Tabitha, but after last night’s events you had decided to catch up on organizing the shop while putting your phone on do not disturb.

You had turned your location services off in hopes that for a few hours the world would just leave you the fuck alone.

A few hours was all you were given before a tapping came on the front door of your shop around noon. Peering through the glass window, you spotted him.

He was holding a huge brown paper bag looking at little worse for wear since the last time he showed up. You debated on ignoring him. He had missed the early morning shower otherwise you really would have left him outside.

Bastard.

"John-" When you opened the door, he entered immediately. No doubt guessing you planned to slam the door immediately after telling him to fuck off.

He would have been right.

"Please," you say flatly before closing the door. "Do come in." After last night, after this week, the last thing you wanted to do was see anybody. Him, Johnny, Simon, Kyle, fucking Meredith or Tabitha. Why was it so hard for a person who had very few people in her life, all of which were on the skirts with her, to leave her alone for a single day?

"Well?" You asked when he said nothing. He cleared his throat, as if preparing himself for a long, drawn out speech.

Instead he handed you the bag, the smell hitting you. Warm and welcoming. Price was the only one out of the four who could cook a damn good meal, which made him extra picky when it came to eating out. “Wanted to check in.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do with them now. “Simon said you had a rough night.”

You scoffed at the understatement. "Yeah," you hated this. You didn't want to tell John about your shitty night with your even shittier friends. "It wasn't the best night out."

"So you know that bloke who got handsy or was he just some random prick?" Your mouth fell open in shock. You didn't expect Simon to be such a fucking gossip. And how fuckin' dare John for thinking he had any right to know who was grabbing your ass and your involvement to that person.

No. Fuck that.

"We're not doing this," you said putting the bag on an empty display table. Fuck. You need to go ahead and unbox that shipment in the back.

"What?" He asked, oblivious as to what he said that was wrong. You push heel of your hands into your eyes, trying to stop the headache that was threatening to form. "Some prick took a feel of ya' and I want to see if-"

"If what?" You cut in. "If I need some comfort at being utterly fucking humiliated at Simon going all caveman in front of everyone and dragging me outside like a child? Or do you want to finish want Simon start with almost killing him!"

"From what I heard, he didn't kill him," John's audacity to correct you as if Simon's restraint was remarkable baffled you. "There's something to be said about that."

"He held him by the neck in the air like a ragdoll. He choked him out in the middle of the pub."

"But," he held up a finger. "he didn't break his neck. He knew you'd be upset."

"You're not seriously defending him right now." You could feel your blood pressure rising. Your lid ready to blow like a fucking kettle.

"From what Simon said it didn't look like the attraction was mutual." That gave you pause. Simon told John it didn't look... mutual. Could Simon tell you were uncomfortable? Did he hear everything Percy said?

Where the fuck did Simon come from anyway?

why the fuck was he at the pub in the first place???

Your mouth hung open for several beats. Any longer and a bug could fly in. But fuck if it didn't feel like cold water had been dumped on you. Why and how did Simon think it wasn't mutual? Why did he care??? Why was he acting like he didn't?

"He-" You began, trying to think of what to ask only to simply screech out "What?" John held his hands up in surrender. Your kettle whistled. You were pissed. More pissed than John had ever seen you and it was still a miracle you hadn't hurled the take out at his head.

"All I'm saying is if he grabbed you without an invitation and Simon saw, the prick is lucky to be alive, much less still walking around with hands."

"Si-" you started. "He-" You clinched your fists so tightly your nails painfully cut into the palm of your hand. "UGH!" You stomped your foot. It was childish, but you didn't care. "I don't need him rescuing me goddamit! I don't need any of you pissing on my legs like a fucking dog and-" you didn't stop. You weren't sure how long you carried on verbally lashing John nor did you give a single flying fuck.

Fuck him. Fuck Simon. Fuck all of them. They didn't get to stalk you and relay information like gossiping fucking school girls. They didn't get to break your heart and believe that you would let them piece it back together. They didn't get to neglect you only to realize you knew your worth. Only giving a shit until you walked away.

You went on and on until your throat ached. You weren't sure what thoughts had left your lips. You weren't entirely sure all what you said. All you knew is that you didn't feel any better. The look on Price's fallen face didn't give you any relief. You took it out on him and you were still hurting.

"Why?" Your voice was hoarse and pleading. "Why won't you guys just fucking leave? You were barely staying in it when we were together? Why now?"

He took a tentative step forwarding. His hands started to reach out to touch your arms before falling back down at his side. He knew he had lost the right to touch you. To comfort you.

"I miss you, Dove." He confessed it as if it would somehow make it all better. "We miss you." You try not to let it phase you, but fuck you were made of flesh, not stone. No matter how angry furious disgusted absolutely devastated you were with everything that happened, with what they did and didn't do, you still, or at least had, loved them. That love didn't vanish over the span of a week. Lord know your broken heart hadn't. "We'll do better."

"It's not that simple." You shook your head, your palms covering your eyes as they began to prickle. You hoped the motion would come across as tired frustration, but John knew. It was your tell. You were close to crying. You always rubbed your face when you were upset.

"It is." He said, finally taking the chance to touch you. Even if it was just to hold your hands in his calloused ones. "We mucked things up, let us fix it. Give us at least the change to be better."

"How?" You asked. "Stop fucking yelling at me for a couple of months until something makes you blow your fucking lid and I'm left feeling like a little kid who's in trouble?" You were surprised not to see him flinch away, but the soft look in his eyes was enough to break your heart all over again. "Or Kyle actually showing up for dates? Johnny not treating me like a fuck buddy?"

"We haven't been good to you." He admits and you still don't feel better. Leaving them hasn't made you feel any better. Only angrier. Yelling at him didn't. Fucking Johnny and breaking his heart didn't. Maybe Mer had a point. Just not with Percy. "We all wanted you and slacked off in doing right by ya."

"So what?" You press. "You want to resume where we left off? I just take you all back and work through the fact of how shitty you all were and hope that you make it up to me?

"No," he shook his head. "Not like that."

"Then what?" You asked.

"I'm fighting for me and you. No one else." You didn't know what to say. The four of them had always been a part of the deal. All or nothing. I mean, the fact that you even entertained the idea of being with all of them was the reasoning that if one of them had went down on the field, three more were there to take care of you.

"If the others can get their own shit together great." He shrugged his shoulders. "If I can't and they can, that's fine too." He stared in your eyes and for a moment, you thought about the first time John apologized for getting angry. Not at you, just in front of you. How he had gotten on his knees and told you the last thing he wanted was for you to be afraid of him. To look at him the same way recruits looked at him. "But I think where we failed was all of us was expecting another one to pick up the slack."

That much was true. Where others failed, others thrived. Simon always stayed after sex, Johnny never raised his voice, John was insistent on going on dates, and Gaz was emotionally available... when he was around at least.

"I know I wasn't the man I needed to be. I wasn't the man you deserved. I took things out on you that weren't your fault. I spoke to you in a way that if any other man did, I would knock him right the fuck out." He shook his head before giving your hands a squeeze. "I'll do what I need to do to set things right between you and me. I'll put in the work to do whatever it takes to have you trust me again."

"It wasn't about not trusting you." You counter

"But it is now." He said. "You don't trust me to respect you; to show kindness, patience. And I know I have my own shit to sort out before even thinking about us being like we were. When things were good, I mean."

You don't know what to say, but you can't say he's right. You don't trust him. Not with your heart. Not anymore.

Moments of silence pass before John lets go of your hands and takes a quick survey of the boxes around you. Your background music of Van Morrison still playing softly from the speaker near your computer.

"You seem busy, so I'll let you get to it." He takes in a deep breath. You're expecting another spiel about how he promises to work on it. Just to give him a chance. You're actually worried you'll consider it. "I picked up your usual. Figured things haven't changed that much since we last went to our spot down by the river."

"Haven't been there in a minute."

"You wouldn't." He said. "Closed the place and moved shop. It's over by the park."

"The one with the asshole geese or the one where Johnny and I were flashed by that guy strung out?" That makes him laugh. You can't remember the last time John laughed. The way his eyes crinkled and his smile shifted his whole face into something entirely joyous.

You missed it.

"Asshole geese." He answered before turning and heading to the door. You didn't speak until the chime of the bell rang.

"What if the others don't?" You ask before he had the chance to close the door. "Get their shit together, I mean."

He turned, giving you that signature closed smile that makes him look like a quokka. You told him that once and he had to googling before arguing that he didn't look like the world's happiest rodent. "That's on them. I have my own work to do." His smile dropping into something softer. Something pleading and pitiful. "But, we still want this. We all still want this. Want you."

You shook your head. The threat of tears returning as you realized how wrong he was. Maybe he did. But not all of them. "Simon doesn't." you huffed, arms crossing over your chest. "He's made that much clear."

"That I don't believe." He shook his head. "Not for a minute."

"Believe it." You sucked in air through your nose as if trying to clear it. Price knew he had to leave. He knew he couldn't see you cry. He knew you wouldn't want him to even if he wanted to stay and make up for all the times he was the reasons behind your tears.

"I didn't do what I needed to and I'll do whatever it takes to get you back." He promises. "But if it came down to it... if you want to settle down and just chose one of us to have you, to keep you," he took in a deep breath. The next words like a knife twisting in his chest. "I wouldn't truly love you if I didn't tell you that Simon is the only one of us who deserves you."

"Why?" You knew in that moment Simon hadn't told John about that night. About his cruel words and your realization that he was right. There was never a true happily ever after with them.

"Because he's the only one willing to hide in the shadows and let you live your life," his smile now gone completely. "I'm sorry that I'm too selfish to do that."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #angst #angst with a happy ending #grovel

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sometimesanalice · 3 months

Text

That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass. A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission. “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

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