#where there's a breaking point and they both get kicked out/run away

[divine-draws]

cigar burns

[wcnderlnds]

battlefield | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: running into your ex boyfriend during the squid games was the last thing you expected ・❥・word count: 719 ・❥・warnings: uh... usual squid game stuff. ・❥・ authors note: this is a short one just to test the waters but im obsessed with this man after watching squid game 2 <333

There he was. The last person you’d ever expected to see in this place. Player 230. Choi Su-Bong or, as the world knew him as, Thanos. The bright purple hair had been easy to spot. The last few months had been spent avoiding him so why did fate want to throw you together in this place? Wherever the hell this place was. You still weren’t even sure but as you walked up the stairs to the first game, you didn’t really care. All you wanted to do was lay low and make sure that Thanos didn’t see you. A conversation with your ex boyfriend was the last thing you wanted.

Things had ended badly between the two of you when he’d lost all his money thanks to the crypto scam. It had changed him, turned him into someone you didn’t recognise anymore so when the arguments started and his behaviour became erratic, you knew you had to get out of there. So, you did. You left and had never looked back. All you wanted was enough money to get out of the city and far, far away. There was nothing here for you anymore. If you could win the games then you could finally start fresh somewhere.

Walking through the doors onto a floor of sand and brightly coloured walls, you heard the voice of Thanos talking to his friend. Instantly, you looked down at the ground, hoping he didn’t see you. Unfortunately for you, he had stood next to you. His eyes scanned your face before recognition lit his eyes up.

“Senorita!” He said in a sing-song voice, wide grin on his face as he outstretched his arms. “What are you doing here? Come on, give me a hug.”

“None of your business and no thanks,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m hurt,” he splayed his hand on his chest over his heart. As much as he was using his confident swagger to irritate you, deep inside he couldn’t be more glad to see you. “Not even going to give me a chance to talk, huh? That’s stone cold.”

As the rules of the game echoed through the speakers, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. His hand had raised to his friend to stop him from talking to him so he could get a proper look at you. When you had left, that had been the breaking point for him. Everything had gone downhill from there. For so long he’d been trying to seek you out, to apologise but he knew you’d been avoiding him. Your friends wouldn’t tell him where you were, your family had chewed him out the second he had showed up on their doorstep so, eventually, he’d given up. But, here you were.

As Player 456 shouted out about the game being a lie and that you were going to die, your head shot up. Surely he couldn’t be telling the truth, right? Red Light, Green Light was a children’s game. At most you were probably going to be out of the running for the cash if you were caught moving.

“He’s crazy,” Thanos said. It was his way of trying to comfort you. He had instantly noticed the slight panic in your eyes, the way you were rubbing your hands against your thighs. “Don’t listen to him.”

All you could do was nod but there was a gut feeling inside you telling you that maybe it wasn’t entirely all crazy talk. Something about this whole thing felt off. Your eyes caught some girl talking, her hands waving around then suddenly she was on the ground. Instantly, fear gripped you, your stomach dropping. The room around you started to spin – you were really going to die here.

“Hey, hey,” Thanos had reached out, his hand gripping yours as he stood in front of you, back to you. “Stay behind me. I won’t let anything happen to you. You hear me? Stay behind me.”

“But… what if…” The sheer panic in your voice made his heart clench.

“No. We’re both getting out of here alive, okay? Now, stay behind me.” His protective instinct had kicked in. Right now, he didn’t care if you hated him. All he cared about was making sure you survived this so maybe, just maybe, he could finally make things right.

[burgojo]

THE PRETTY RECKLESS. FUSHIGURO MEGUMI / M!READER

summary. "my parents aren't home" is a hell of a text to get from your reserved boyfriend. now you have to see what's going on, don't you?

wc. 7.4k

tags. smut | sub bottom megumi, top reader, they're both 20yo+, reader is described as big + fights like a brawler (to fit with megumi's shikigami [:), fingering, oral + rimming (megumi receiving), brief thigh fucking, size difference (skinny megumi (it's the gojo genes, it's out of my control)), belly bulge, multiple orgasms, untouched orgasms, doggy style, light mind break/humiliation. gojo makes an appearance at the end.

notes. ngl aging up characters feels a little strange to me? idk if i'll do it again lol

[ requested ]

Megumi is sore, tired, and cranky. Crankier than usual, anyway. His state wasn't helped by his boyfriend, who seemed to have limitless energy and always had a one-liner on hand, who had skipped him back home, planted a kiss on his lips at his doorstep, and promptly skedaddled before Satoru found them canoodling. His mood had soured immediately upon his departure.

His rush to get away was inconsequential, however, as Megumi later found a handwritten note on the kitchen counter regarding Satoru's cross-country midnight snack run.

Megumi's thumb hovers over the 'send' button on his phone.

Come over. Gojo's out.

He debates the idea.

His vices get the better of him.

His phone pings. I love it when you're rebellious! Be there in ten.

Ten minutes? Knowing you, you'd only need five. You liked him so much it was rather embarrassing, and he never hesitated to tell you so – all you did, however, was grin brightly at him and agree.

Regardless, this gives him a few minutes to kill. He'll clean up his room before you arrive.

Six minutes later, there's a soft knock on his balcony door. He glances up from where he sits on his bed, tugging his headphones down around his neck. Beyond the glass are the twinkling night lights of Tokyo, steel spires and reflective glass points jutting up into the black night sky. Unfortunately, he can't see any stars, but the little red lights blinking atop skyscrapers are calming enough.

He sets his laptop aside and rises to his feet. He slides open the door and glances up.

You grin down at him, stuck to the side of the building by the palm of your hand and the soles of your shoes. You look quite comfortable, crouched against the glassy surface, despite being thirty storeys up from being a pancake on the footpath.

"How's it hanging?" you greet with a wave. "All clear on the inside?"

"Mhm." He nods. "Come on in. Cold outside."

He turns, leaving the door open. You land on the balcony with nary a sound, kicking off your shoes and tucking them in the shadowy corner between his potted hosta plants. It was a space he made for you, as he shared a balcony with Satoru, and it wasn't visible beneath the broad hanging leaves unless you crouched down.

You slip inside and lock the door with a soft click, watching with a soft smile as Megumi taps away at his laptop, completing a section of his mission report. He doesn't like to leave paragraphs unfinished.

While he scowls at his screen, you dip into his bathroom to wash your hands and fix your hair. It gets windy after you clear the twentieth floor.

You waltz out, humming softly and shucking off your jacket. You toss it over his desk chair. "So, you called for me? What's on the itinerary tonight?"

He shuts his laptop, setting it aside. He wiggles his toes in his socks, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Dunno. Didn't think this far ahead."

"Nah, I don't believe that for a second. You're always thinking. 'The quiet ones have the loudest minds', right?"

He rolls his eyes but allows a small smile to tug at his lips. He leans back on his palms as you take a seat on his bed, draping yourself over his sheets. You prop yourself up on an elbow, and the twist of your body offers him a straight-through view down the gape of your baggy t-shirt. He stares, unabashed, as he replies.

"Mm... I'm definitely thinking of something right now."

Your grin turns sharp. You tilt your head. "Like you weren't thinking this the first time you texted me, Megumi. You have exactly two thoughts about me, and you're not calling me a loudmouthed idiot so I can only assume it's thought number two."

"You are a loudmouthed idiot." He allows you to scoot closer and slip his headphones off from around his neck, setting them next to his laptop on his bedside table. You hover over him as he settles back into his pillows with a soft sigh, spreading his thighs to fit you between them. He places his hands on your waist. "You going to put words in my mouth, now? Gonna guess what I'm thinking?"

You grin, rolling your hips against his. He sucks in a breath. "I could put a few things in your mouth... 'Words' aren't on the list."

"You're a dog," he mumbles, pale cheeks flushing. "Stupid."

"Oh, you like it," you say playfully, patting his cheek. "Getting shy, are we? C'mon, Megumi, don't clam up now! Tell me what you want from me. If I need to be, I can be quiet."

"Tsumiki's not here this week," he mutters, lifting his hands to your shoulders and tracing your collarbones. "No need."

"Well, all the better for me, huh? I get to pull as many pretty sounds out of you as I want and nobody can stop me." You tug on the bottom of his basketball shorts, sliding it up his leg. You sit up, pulling Megumi's thighs on top of yours.

He stares down at himself, his cheeks reddening. Christ. He swears one of your thighs is as big as his waist. He shudders out a breath as you tug your shirt over your head – grabbing it from the back of the neck in that Hollywood-jock way – and toss it aside carelessly, all too eager to put your hands on him.

"This is what you wanted, right?" you ask, tugging up his shirt to reveal his lean stomach. You place a hand against it, measuring the size, and Megumi twitches in his shorts. "Otherwise, shirt goes back on and I'm raiding your fridge."

He rolls his eyes, grabbing your hair and yanking you down to push his mouth against yours. You groan softly and he pulls at your belt, deftly undoing it with one hand. It eventually slips off the bed with a soft clink, but neither of you care.

"You can steal the juice after you fuck me, you walking stereotype," he mutters against your lips. "Unfortunately for you, no one here drinks."

"Damn," you say, not particularly disappointed. "Is it orange juice?"

"Yeah. The expensive, sustainably-produced kind with the pulp."

"That might be better than any vodka. Quick, strip for me. I wanna see what other fun stuff you have in the pantry. Do you have any square watermelons?"

Megumi kicks you in the hip, making you flinch and groan. "I'll break up with you if you're only with me to steal my food. You also can't eat square watermelons."

"Sorry, sorry," you wheeze, massaging the achy spot on your ribs. "Bad joke. I'm with you because I think you're cute – and hot."

He huffs, pulling his arms back and crossing them over his chest. "Uh-huh... You know, I'm not sure I'm in the mood anymore."

"What?" Your eyes widen. "Wait, Megumi, baby, I really am sorry! How do you take your apologies? Poached, fried, sunny-side-up?"

He gives you an unimpressed look, jade-green eyes boring into you. A brush of your hand over his shorts tells you he's not not into it, but you doubt your jokes are helping. You've got to get back onto his good side.

"I'll eat you out," you murmur, mustering up all the sincerity you can in your expression. "Wouldn't you like that? You'd shut me up, wrap your pretty legs 'round my head. Win-win, huh?"

He considers your proposition, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. You shift and inch your face closer to his pelvis, playing with the elastic band of his shorts. You cup his thighs, one in each palm, and Megumi ruffles his dark hair with a sigh and slumps back into the sheets.

"Yeah, fine. Whatever. Lube's in the drawer." He jerks his chin in its direction.

"Fuck yes," you breathe, scrambling over and digging around for it. The drawer also contains a notebook, an old high-school pencil case, and a worn copy of Tolkien's The Two Towers. Two highlighters and a pencil rattle around freely, and you don't doubt that he's done some light annotation work within the book's margins.

"This is another reason I love you," you say, pulling out the nondescript white tube. "Great taste in literature."

"Classic for a reason," he mutters, accepting your kiss. He tugs you back in for a deeper one, warm lips moulding so perfectly with yours. He hums softly and lifts his hips to help you shimmy off his shorts and underwear. His pretty pink cock twitches under your heavy gaze.

He rolls his hips against your thigh impatiently. "Well?" he prompts, lifting a brow. "Apologise away."

"Right, right." You uncap the tube and slather your fingers in a generous amount, pressing the tip of your middle finger against his taut hole. "I'll be gentle."

"I know."

You ease each knuckle into him, slow and steady. He clenches at the cold feeling. He's tight with just one finger, and you're honestly still surprised he manages to fit you at all.

"I have to prep you so much. Like a virgin," you mumble, breathy and awed. He clicks his tongue, his voice steady even as his hole flutters around your finger.

"Shut up, you're so embarrassing." He scowls. "Not my fault you're huge."

"Eh..." You shrug, working him open gently. "Am I big or are you small? Seriously. Puberty did nothing for you."

"I'm taller than Yuji. That's all I care about."

You chuckle, caressing his thigh. His hole, wet with lube, sucks you in eagerly. You chance a second finger, and his back arches as he grips the sheets, a staccato sound between a gasp and a groan escaping his throat.

"Tall and pretty," you hum, fucking your fingers into him. You scissor them when you sink in to the knuckle, brushing his prostate, and his cock twitches where it lays on his stomach. "Like a model."

"Ah, good. I'm your trophy boyfriend." His breath hitches as your fingers glide against that spot inside him. "Fuck. Less talking, more doing, babe. Want your mouth on me."

"Yes, dear," you reply teasingly, sinking out of his vision. Your hot breath fans his cock and his eyes flutter shut as your soft lips close around his tip, lapping at it gently. You hold it up with the vee of your fingers, your warm palm splayed across his stomach to keep him down. Your other hand works him open, slick sounds echoing off the walls of his room.

He's not generally a loud lover, which is a right shame because his moans are addictive. You just have to work hard for them. He exhales sharply, fingers digging into your scalp, as you take him in your mouth down to the base with ease. His thighs tense and he tosses his calves over the breadth of your shoulders, digging his heels into your bare back. You radiate warmth like a damn heater, and the room's already beginning to feel stuffy – or maybe that's just him.

You hum quietly around his cock, making his back arch with the vibrations. You press on his prostate at the same time and the pleasure bites its way right through him, sharp and sweet. He curses under his breath, tugging his shirt up around his chest to give you better access. You thank him by kissing his tip, flicking your tongue against the wet slit, and engulf him to the root.

He moans your name, reflexively tugging you further into him. "Shit—! Fuck, goddamn—"

You pop off for a breather, smirking as he instinctively pushes your face towards his cock. "Got any more swear words for me, baby?"

"Yeah, here's one. Fuck you."

"Eh." You waver a hand. "Technically, you already said that."

"Suck my dick."

"Good job! That's a new one," you hum, and oblige with a grin. You use the distraction to slip a third finger into Megumi and his back arches, hole clamping down around you. He struggles to relax – you can only fit them in to the second knuckle – and you pop off to coo softly, reaching for the lube and applying more. He squelches when you push them in and you press gentle circles into his hip, watching your fingers sink into him carefully.

"You're doin' great, Megumi," you murmur, and his heart skips a beat. "Sorry, I need to reposition. You – are coming with me."

He gasps when you tug him down his mattress by his ankle, closer to where you kneel at the foot of his bed. You part his thighs again and return your fingers to his hole, pumping them slowly. You blow cool air against his tight pink rim and he hisses softly, a complaint already rolling around in his mouth.

The words promptly die in his throat when you give his hole an experimental lick.

"Oh, fuck," he nearly whimpers, eyes screwed shut as you dip your tongue into his ass. His hand twists in the baby hairs at the nape of your neck and his hips jerk into your mouth.

You curl your fingers, pressing harshly on that sensitive bundle of nerves, and he jolts with a harsh gasp. You lave at his tightening pink hole and he digs his heels into your back as you flick your tongue against him, matching the pace of your fingers.

You're still gentle – just unrelenting. The slick sounds of your fingers filling his hole are filthy, and excess lube smears against his ass with a lewd shine. You bury your face in his ass and your other hand holds his leaking cock out of the way, flattening it against his stomach, and he can't help the jolt of pleasure that runs through him at the sight.

It's like his cock isn't even there anymore. You're so concentrated on eating him out that this little part of him has gone forgotten – not like it really matters, though, because holy shit, your mouth is incredible, quick and dextrous. You barely have to breathe. Guess all that talking really does help with other things.

He murmurs something, fisting the sheets until his knuckles go white. You can't hear him over the obscene sounds his slick asshole is making when you push your fingers into him.

"What was that, baby?"

He grunts softly as you jab his prostate. He shudders. His breaths are quick and shaky, his hands constantly switching from gripping the sheets to your head. He peels his eyes open, resolutely staring at his ceiling and not at you.

"I'm close," he whispers, body jerking as you shift the arm pinning his hips down. Your nails scrape over the underside of his cock. "Oh, shit, shit, shit – your tongue—"

He can almost feel you smirk as you double your efforts, fingers digging into his stomach to keep him from bucking up into you. Your fingers twist and curl, opening his tight ass up so nicely, and your tongue traces his twitching hole, lapping up his flavoured lube.

Then you slip your long tongue in with your fingers.

Megumi seizes, thighs clamping around your head, and you groan in pleasure as you feel him jolt and tremble under you, his cock spurting across your hand. Hot streaks of thick come spatter his stomach and it flexes as he gasps and pants, rocking your face into him and pulling on your hair so hard it almost hurts. You tug on his cock absently, smearing your palm with his release.

When he returns to his senses, he lets you go, legs falling limp like jelly to the bed. He shudders and shivers, gulping down breaths as his lashes flutter. His hair is extra messy, jutting out in every direction across the sheets.

You coo his name, eyes clouded with lust as you grin lazily between his legs. You rest your head on his inner thigh and he twitches, sensitive. With his eyes on you, you bring your come-sticky fingers to your mouth and wrap your lips around them, sucking them clean. A pearly droplet rolls down the side of your palm and you twist your wrist to lick it up, long scarlet tongue running from wrist to pinky. He shudders out a wanton sigh.

Despite the sight making his cock twitch with interest, his brow furrows. He needs to regain a sliver of dignity. "You're – You're such a pervert..."

"Says the one who loves getting his ass ate," you tease, running your tongue over your palm. Your other hand has disappeared out of sight, and he assumes being trapped in your jeans isn't fun. "You came because of it. You're such a nerd."

His frown deepens. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

You roll your eyes and grin, rising to your feet and shuffling onto his bed. You tug insistently on his shirt and he allows you to slip it off. "Agree to disagree?"

"I don't like agreeing with you about most things, generally."

"My god, you're such a bitch," you murmur, chuckling. You grab his thighs, pressing them together, and toss them over your shoulder, slotting yourself flush against his ass. He gasps, face pink. "Fine, back to basics. Are we dating?"

"Y-Yes." His palm is pressed against the thigh of your jeans for his own comfort, unused to being manhandled in such an open position.

"Do you think you can come again?"

"Yes."

"Want it hard?"

"Yes."

"See? Not so hard to agree with me."

"None of that is agreeing," he says in disbelief. "Those are yes-no questions. How did you even graduate from high school? Hey—!"

You shove your cock between his thighs, the hot tip gliding against his balls and settling against his base. You have both of his legs in one arm and you kiss his milky calf teasingly as you lean forward, gently fucking your cock into the space between his thighs. He's slim enough that a good portion of your dick peeks out from the top of his thighs, rubbing against his tight balls.

"D-Don't you dare come from this," he huffs, staring down at your thick cockhead as it pushes past his creamy thighs and slicks up the inner sides with pre. "I didn't tell you to come over just to have you bust like this. I want it inside."

"So demanding," you say impishly, rutting into him. "But alright. I like to spoil my princess."

He hums, ignoring the way his thighs twitch each time you rub up against them. He's still a little shaky from his high. "Good."

You lean down, making his breath hitch as you test his flexibility, and kiss his neck. You tug a pillow down for him. "Love you."

"I know, you big sap," he says, but there's less bite in it than usual. The corner of his mouth even curves up.

He sinks into the pillow below his head as you thrust into his thighs, eyes fluttering shut with a soft, preparing sigh. Your precome makes the glide smooth, and you press his pale thighs together. You pull away and tilt the head of your cock further down, pressing it to his tight hole. Gently, you push in.

Megumi's expression tightens and his body rolls and flexes, fingers twisting in the pillow. You soothe him with sweet words, and he nods in agreement, relaxing as best he can.

"Good, Megumi," you murmur, watching as he relaxes enough to fit a couple more inches. He flinches when your hot touch traces his cock. "Doing so well, baby. Just like that."

He lets out a shaky noise, nodding. He makes an aborted motion to brush his chest and you take note, reaching up with your spare hand to circle his nipple. He arches into your touch, his slick gummy insides rippling against your cock. You groan softly as he blushes dark, the sensitivities of his own body betraying him.

"S-Sorry," he whispers, his tight walls massaging your cock as you rock shallowly back and forth. "You're – big. Ah, hnn..."

"Nothing to forgive, baby. Tell me to pull out and I will, yeah?" You laugh softly despite yourself, squeezing the side of his thigh. "Stretching my little boyfriend... Kinda an ego boost. Nobody else can make you feel like this, right?"

"I've – hah – never had anybody else, you ass," he breathes, and you know he intends it to sound a little mean, a little disparaging, but he's so flushed and his voice trembles in the middle, and it's just cute. His fingers twitch before curling into balls, tugging at the pillow corners.

Your cock sinks in a little deeper. "Mmhm – my pretty little virgin. Takes cock like a champ, though, doesn't he? Such a good boy for me," you purr, distracting him with your words while you coat your cock in an extra smear of lube. You push back in and he lets out a sound startlingly close to a mewl, eyes rolling back briefly as your hips meet his ass.

"F-Fuck," he pants, open-mouthed. He looks and sounds absolutely wrecked, his hole scraping your shaft with each thrust. "So deep – ohh, fuck me, fuck me, c'mon—"

Your jeans zipper presses into his ass as you grind into him. Something about you being half-dressed makes his stomach flutter. Is it because it feels needy, like you couldn't even wait to undress him properly before taking him as yours? He gnaws on the inside of his cheek to keep back the dangerous noise that threatens to bubble out of him.

"You're so pretty when you're being fucked open," you chuckle, making him gasp. "Got a face like a model, body like a porn star... This tight little hole takes me so well, doesn't it? Stretches you nice and full. Drives me crazy, watching all this dick vanish inside you like that," you hum, huffing a laugh. "Like, where does it all go? Not all in my sweet little boyfriend, surely."

"I-Idiot," he gasps, covering his mouth to muffle his moan. "You're being so – so dramatic."

Humming thoughtfully, you lean forward, pushing his slim legs higher. His wet warmth hugs your cock tight, a slick little sleeve for you to enjoy. "Am I?"

You draw your hips back until only the tip rests inside him, then snap your hips forward and sink your entire length into him. He gawps, a few little gemstone tears glittering at the corners of his dark green eyes, and he scrabbles at your hips, fingernails catching in your belt loops and pockets but never really sticking. He lets out his first real moan of the night, sharp and breathy.

"Hnnnh..." He whimpers, eyes dazed as he gazes up at you. His throat bobs and his hair bounces as you fuck him with quick, deep strokes, dragging past his hot, swollen prostate with each thrust.

In a fit of desperation, he pulls at his own asscheeks, spreading himself open and begging wordlessly for more. It's hard to keep himself open with the lube making everything slick and warm, and he ends up clawing at himself as he pants, mewling softly as you tug his body down into yours and fuck him harder. Your skin slaps wetly, loud and lewd.

His cock throbs, twitching where it leaks a pool of pre onto his belly. "C-Close, 'm close," he keens, unable to bring himself to care about the degenerate way he's acting. Your cock knocks the breath out of his lungs, and he loves the way the rough denim of your jeans rubs his ass raw with every rolling grind. His fingers dig into the meat of his ass. "I – ah, hah – close – babe—"

"Yeah, me too," you huff, embarrassingly into the sight and sound of him falling apart. His asshole squelches as you fuck into him harder, rocking the mattress dangerously, and you brace against the bed, pinning his legs to your shoulder when they start to jolt and kick. His feet bob in the air and he greedily drinks in the way sweat shines on your skin and gathers in the dips of your muscles.

You're just so big. You're the close-up brawler to Megumi's ranged attacks, and you've been fighting side-by-side for so long that Megumi's rustier than he should be when it comes to serious threats shoving themselves in his face. It's so much easier to let you at 'em – and a lot more fun to watch you come trotting back to him to have the blood wiped off for you.

He feels so fucking tiny under you like this, gone dumb on your thick cock pounding him into the mattress. He can't get enough.

He comes first, barely about to stutter out your name before his orgasm slams into him, knocking the thoughts out of his head as he feels a sudden warmth flood his guts. His silky, gummy insides ripple and tighten, milking your cock with every aching hot throb, and you groan lowly, fucking him slow and deep through the sea of pleasure.

When you pull out, his hole clenches – and doesn't close. Thick white come dribbles down his ass, pooling around his twitching hips. The sight's enough to reignite the flame in your lower stomach.

You set Megumi's legs down as quickly and gently as you can, before rolling him over onto his stomach and tugging his hips up towards you. He gasps, barely about to get out a questioning huff before you're slamming back into him, fucking the come back into his hole.

He cries out – and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. His dark hair bounces as he jolts back and forth on your cock, his ass slapping against your hips.

How are you already hard? Sorcerer things, he supposes faintly, because his own cock is filling again. His sticky insides feel so good and sore, perfectly shaped to take your dick, and he clamps both hands over his mouth, falling forward onto the bed. The angle slants his hips up and you crush his prostate on the first thrust, making his toes curl and an embarrassing high-pitched noise to slip out between his fingers.

"Fuck, baby," you whisper, grabbing his wrists and pulling them away. You shift your grip to his upper arms and fold them back, using them as leverage to fuck into Megumi's quivering, dripping hole. "Wanna hear you. There we go. Be nice and loud f'me."

He shakes his head, screwing his eyes shut, as you tug his body backwards onto your lap, letting him feel your hot, pulsing cock resting against his walls. Fuck. The way he's forced to move with you when you do makes him weak in the knees. Good thing you're holding him up.

"Me-gu-mi," you tease, shifting your grasp on his arms. You fuck him lazily, strokes long and slow, and by the way his sigh quivers and his head droops, you know it's not what he wants. "I won't let you come before I hear your lovely voice."

The lean muscles of his shoulders and back flex as he tests the grip you have on him. Broad shoulders, little waist – a proper pretty boy. "H-Hurry up. Gojo might return soon."

"So?"

His head snaps back, a glare harsh on his flushed features. "Don't 'so?' me. Hurry the hell up or you're doing the walk of shame back to yours. Alone."

"You're so mean," you say breathily, grinning. "Love that about you."

He clicks his tongue. His dripping cock is aching to be attended to. "Yeah, well – shit!"

His cry is unobstructed and wonderfully clear. You lean down, taking a peek at his face, and it's almost enough to make you come on the spot. His swollen lips are parted, his blush dark and high on his sharp cheekbones, and his hair sticks to his temples. His eyes flicker towards you, his absurdly long lashes fluttering. His chest heaves.

"Th-That's a dirty trick," he stutters, chancing a glance down. His eyes squeeze shut as his throat bobs harshly.

You tease, "Like magic, huh?" You roll your hips forward in such a way that it has Megumi's chest constricting, as if halfway to tears. A bump protrudes from his flat stomach, a sight made even more obvious when he inhales, his panting breaths shallow but heavy as if he's run a marathon.

You lean back with a chuckle and set a hard, steady pace. Megumi tenses, legs shuffling weakly beneath himself, and can't swallow the embarrassed little sounds that slip out between his clenched teeth. Strings of those noises escape him and his fingers flex, balling into fists. He'll take his dignity to his grave if he must.

Well, that's your purpose, isn't it? To bring him to his little deaths?

"You feel real good like this, baby," you croon, voice low and sweet. He shudders, swallowing roughly, as your cock pistons in and out of his abused hole. Damn it – he can feel the filthy mix of lube and your come dripping down his thigh with each clap of your hips against his ass. "And you're so sensitive, aren't you? My cock hits all the good spots in you, doesn't it, nice 'n' deep... Doesn't it make you wanna let go?"

"I-It's – hah – It's humiliating," he hisses, even though he knows you're right. It's the same story that always goes like this: him refusing, him struggling, him getting devoured by his own lust and submitting like a crashing plane submitting to gravity.

"No, it's cute." You pound into him, merciless and unforgiving as you chase your high.

There's something addicting about being used like this, held in place like he weighs nothing to you. You fuck him like a toy, his come-slick insides gooey and hot, and it can't be his fault when he comes if he can't get away from you, can it? It can't be embarrassing when it's not his fault, and if half the pleasure comes from submitting, then that's not his fault, either.

You're mean. You're making him like this.

A soft, breathy moan escapes into the air.

At the sound of it, your grin takes on a dangerous edge. Megumi's ass is red and tender, the steel rivets of your jeans and the stiff zipper making him twitch and shudder as they scrape against his skin. Your hips quicken, the headboard rocking alarmingly close to the wall, and his mattress creaks as you yank him back to meet you halfway.

His pitiful cock swings between his thighs, dark red and throbbing. It looks painful. You have half a mind to relieve him – but he's so pretty when he comes untouched, and you must have a masochistic streak in you because watching him struggle and come from the smallest bit of friction pleases you like nothing else. His dick pulses with a spurt of clear pre and he inhales with a shaky whine, squeaking quietly and stiffening when you tug his arms further back, making the arch in his spine more pronounced.

His hips jerk. Every time his cock smacks his thigh he moans, warm wet insides rolling as he heaves around you. The bulge in his belly appears and disappears with your thrusts and Megumi's head is foggy. He scrabbles slightly in place, half of him wanting to run away while the other half can't get enough. Unable to choose a side, he can only kneel there, pierced on your cock, and sob out a wet whimper.

The sound is music to your ears. His gasps are whinier, more involved, and you can tell his control is slipping. He no longer gnaws on the inside of his lip to keep himself silent.

Arousal curls hot in your lower stomach. You cock throbs, leaking inside him, and he heaves out a shuddering moan, tilting his head back as his slippery walls squelch around you. His tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. He aches.

Megumi whimpers and barely has time to open his mouth. "C-Close—"

His expression tightens. His eyes roll back.

He seizes. Pleasure slams into him like a tidal wave. He lets out the sweetest whines as his hips twitch and he thrusts against air, creamy white come splattering his stomach in thick ropes.

His sudden vice-tight heat yanks you over the edge with him, surprising you. You gasp and groan as he keens, stuttering incoherently as his puffy hole milks your cock as if it was made for it. Your fingers tighten around his arms, your cock slamming deep inside him and flooding his stomach, and he has no strength to do anything but quiver and moan, hips still jolting erratically as come dribbles down his shaft and balls.

You tug him into your chest, hooking your chin over his shoulder and grinding into him as he rides out his high. You watch him with soft eyes, panting softly, as his hips slow. Eventually, he slumps against you, chest rising and falling breathlessly. A hand curls around the back of your neck and remains there, warm and shaky.

"Damn," he whispers, finally. Your cock twitches, the aftershocks of your high still buzzing along your nerves, and he lets out a deep exhale as the clarity sets in. "That was..."

"Good?" you offer, one big hand splayed gently across his chest. He nods, closing his eyes, and lets his head fall against your shoulder.

He licks his lips. "Grab me a glass, too, please."

"So presumptuous," you murmur, kissing his neck. You wrap a hand around his thigh, lifting him off your lap. He winces slightly, messy hole clamping around nothing, and sinks forward into his sheets, content and boneless. "Lemme clean you up first, yeah?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, burying his face into his pillows with closed eyes. He runs a hand through his hair and hums sleepily. "Thanks, sweetheart."

The pet name feels soft and warm falling from his lips. You kiss his shoulder again before dragging yourself reluctantly out of bed, and your fingers trail down the length of his arm as you pull away. He shifts his hand to let your touch linger as long as it can.

Clean-up is quiet. He's acquiescent, allowing you to manoeuvre his body how you need to. Sometimes you think he's fallen asleep, but then he'll shift to make it easier for you. Your Megumi was never so selfish as to leave you without some pillow talk.

"You know," you begin, breaking the silence, "I may have gotten too impatient."

"How so?"

"I didn't bring a spare set of clothes, and, well..." You gesture vaguely down at your stained jeans. "Oops, right?"

Megumi stares. He turns away and chuckles, nestling into his pillows. "You can steal some of mine while you wash yours. Whatever fits. You can grab your clothes in the morning."

You press a kiss to the back of his neck, making him laugh softly at the tickling feeling. "Ooh, I love a good sleepover. Thanks so much, Megumi."

He hums in response, and if he peeks while you strip and search his closet for his baggiest casual pieces, no one will ever know.

Later, Megumi watches from his place atop the kitchen counter as you pour two glasses of orange juice. His legs swing lazily off the edge, and he accepts the offered glass when you turn around. He downs half the thing in one go, exhaling afterwards in something like relief. You lift a brow, amusement tugging at your lips.

"What?" he mutters, shoving your shoulder as his cheeks glow pink. "You're tiring."

Your smile grows cocky as you fold your arms over your chest, raising the glass to your lips. "Nothing. I'm just... learning things."

"Oh, fuck off," he scoffs, sipping his glass at a more considered, moderate pace. His gaze follows you as you slip between his thighs, one of your hands resting on his thigh. "You already know what you do to me. You haven't learnt a thing tonight."

"I'm always learning about you," you say with mock seriousness, lifting a finger. The movement bunches up the sleeve of the navy zip-up hoodie around your bicep, straining ever-so-slightly – your voice brings Megumi back to the topic at hand.

"For example," you're saying, "you still have the tickets from our first date, which is downright adorable."

"You don't?"

"Not pinned up like you have do. I don't want them to fade, so they're very carefully tucked into an old notebook – from the same year we got together, of course." You tap your chin. "Doesn't Gojo tease you about it?"

"Given that he's been banned from my bedroom since I was fifteen, no, he doesn't." He presses his thumb and forefinger to his forehead, making a face. He ruffles his hair. "I really need to get on with the whole 'finding my own place' thing. We're just so central with this apartment, and honestly, with the way Gojo reacted when Tsumiki moved out for university, I'm not sure he won't just cry when I leave."

"Aw. You really care for him." You pinch his cheek. He pouts, pushing your hand away.

"Stop it. I want more juice."

He hands you his glass. You roll your eyes fondly, grinning as you reach over and grab the carton. You step closer, hooking your chin over his shoulder, and fill both glasses behind his back. He presses his cheek against your collarbone, one arm draped over your shoulders.

"We could always move in together," you offer. "You did mention it once or twice."

"Hm. I guess so."

"Why do you sound so surprised? You brought it up first."

"I dunno. Guess it feels like a big step. Feels a lot more weighty when it's not just a passing thought."

"We'll think about it some more. Honestly, with how you were acting earlier, I'm shocked that you're still awake," you tease, passing him his juice. "Maybe tomorrow you'll wake up and go, what the shit, that was a terrible post-sex idea, and clutch your head with second-hand embarrassment."

He huffs and levels you with a look. "It can't be that terrible. Rent is expensive. Roommates are always viable. We just have the option of sharing a bed – and that means more fun-money for plants."

Just as you set the carton aside, the front door beeps and clicks open. Megumi freezes and can't get away fast enough.

He locks eyes with that stupid black blindfold.

A wide, smug smile creeps over Satoru's face. He knocks the front door shut with a kick of his heel, and he practically skips out of his shoes.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here?" he drawls, a sizeable white bag hanging from his fingers. In his other hand is a soda drink with a colourful print on the sleeve. He gestures broadly with the cup. "YN! Haven't seen you in years! How've you been, huh? You know, if I didn't know that I was your absolute favourite teacher, it'd feel like you've been avoiding me. All your messages come through Ijichi! You can't spare a few minutes to pop by my office?"

He pouts, waiting expectantly with a hand on his hip. You feel like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uh," you say intelligently. You are suddenly aware that your shorts sit several centimetres too high to be reasonably called 'basketball shorts' any longer.

Megumi clears his throat, moving you aside to hop down from the counter. He stands in front of you, which gives you a few precious seconds to pull the sides of the zip-up hoodie closed over your bare chest.

"You're back early," he says, in lieu of anything else.

"I mean, it is—" he flicks his wrist and glances down "—two in the morning. Speaking of – you boys should be in bed. One of you, at least. I can't control kids who aren't my own!" He laughs to himself.

"Keep calling me a kid and I'll treat you like an old man, gramps," Megumi threatens. "Got the hair and humour for it, too."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Satoru replies breezily, tugging off his blindfold and wrapping it around his wrist the same way a girl would with hair ties. He steps forward, dumping his bag on the end of the counter and taking a loud sip from his drink. "You're just jelly that my hair does what I tell it to. Mm – actually, now that I think about it, I've got something else to say."

He takes three long strides forward and pushes Megumi aside to stare you down. You start, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Gojo," Megumi hisses, but goes ignored.

"Now, I can excuse bullying Megumi for his stick-in-the-mud personality, but I draw the line very firmly at breaking his heart." He stares up at you with a tilted head, blue eyes half-lidded and leisurely as he flicks his finger against your chest. It's a motion that looks frighteningly familiar, and you almost step back as he moves further into your space. His Infinity presses lightly against your skin, crackling with power, and you can see the slight shimmer of it pulsing from him. Despite the ease he uses it with, it feels as heavy as lead.

"Gojo, stop – I'm not a child."

"While I do feel a teeny bit insulted that Megumi would hide this," he gestures between the two of you, "from me, I get it. I mean, who's good enough for my itty bitty Megumi? Not a lot of people, I assure you. Most people are dicks. And when I kill things for a living, I could see how that'd make a kid nervous. Need I remind you of how good I am at my job?"

"No, sir," you squeak.

"Great. And, being that you were one of my students, I shouldn't have to mention just how much pain I can dish out."

"That's right, sir."

"Nor will I have to remind you of what happens when I do a little..." He flutters his fingers, mimicking a magician's flourish, and forms a tiny ball of Purple at the tips of his fingers. The pale glow illuminates his face from below.

His eyes bore into your skull. The air is sucked out of your lungs.

"Gojo!" Megumi yanks Satoru's arm down, dispersing his technique, and shoves himself between your bodies. He glares at him. "What is wrong with you? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm far too old for you to be playing 'protective dad' over. Legally, I could volunteer for the military, kill a man, and drink myself to death tomorrow if I so wanted. I should be allowed to choose my own partners."

Satoru eyes you for a moment longer, then glances down at Megumi and his whole look changes. He deactivates his Infinity, the air around you becoming ten times lighter, and pouts, ruffling Megumi's hair – Megumi grimaces.

"You are! I'm just exercising my right to do some light boyfriend-threatening," he whines. "I've always wanted to do that! And you know I wouldn't actually atomise you, don't you, YN? You're my favourite ex-student!"

"R-Right, sir..."

"I mean, I would still hunt you down like a dog if you ever hurt Megumi, but I'd make it quick!"

"Gojo," Megumi groans. "Please leave us alone."

Playfully, Satoru salutes, winking knowingly at Megumi. "Gotcha. Boyfriend stuff, right? I'll leave you two lovebirds alone, now." He skips away, waving a hand over his shoulder at the bag of snacks on the counter. "Have a peek, take what you want! Mostly, I went out for a walk. I just liked the colours of the packaging. Cheerio, kids!"

As he vanishes into his room and closes the door, Megumi sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. He turns to you, grabbing your hand. "Sorry... Maybe we should've just stayed in my room. Are you alright?"

"I'm, uh, not gonna lie," you chuckle nervously. "I wasn't expecting..." You flick your fingers.

He purses his lips, squeezing your hand. "Neither was I. He got serious with this, of all things? Ridiculous."

You wrap your arms around him – because having a black hole pressed against your throat was terrifying – and he rests his arms over your shoulders comfortably. You bury your nose in his hair and mumble, "You're the one running over to my place next time."

He nods against your shoulder. "Happily."

[fireinmoonshot]

more than a friend should | robert reynolds x fem!reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Fem!Reader Summary: Bob didn't quite count on himself being starstruck by seeing you in a dress for the first time. You didn't count on yourself forgetting how to breathe when you saw Bob in a suit. But when you both have to get through a black tie event, the only way to do it is by getting through it together. Warnings: Mentions of general mental health struggles, anxiety, being drained from social activities and exhaustion. A very brief mention of alcohol and drugs. Reader wears a dress. Very brief swearing. Word Count: 4.3k A/N: I got a request for this fic last week and I totally fell in love with the idea. It took me a while to write just because I really wanted it to be perfect and I'm so happy with how it turned out. It's my longest fic for Bob so far! I did not proof read it after I finished my final draft. It's 11:30pm and I am so tired, so let's hope there are no mistakes in there 😂 Thank you so much for the response on all my Bob fics up to this point – I'm so happy that so many people are enjoying them. I hope you'll enjoy this one too! 💗

Bob knows that he’s screwed the second he sees you walk out into the penthouse from your room where you’d been getting ready. He doesn’t even notice Mel walking out behind you.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, totally unaware that he wasn’t as quiet as he’d thought he was being.

Walker, stood right beside him, glances at him. “You all right, Bobby?”

Bob tears his gaze away from you and looks at Walker, eyes a little glazed over. It doesn’t last long, though – his ability to not look at you. Not two seconds later he finds you again. Walker watches the whole thing, eyebrows furrowed and confusion written all over his face.

Was something going on between you and Bob? He was surely reading the situation wrong. If there was some kind of romance going on between the two of you, he was obviously going to know about it.

“What do we all think?” Mel’s voice breaks both Bob and Walker out of their thoughts. She’s standing beside you, motioning to the dress that you’re wearing. 

You smooth the dress down with your hands and instantly miss the pockets of your suit. As a New Avenger, wearing dresses is not something you’re used to. You spend most of your time in your suit or clothes that are comfortable when you’re not working. This is the entire opposite.

“Mel helped me pick it out,” you explain.

“It’s cute,” Ava says, standing up from where she’d been sitting down to wait for everyone to get ready. You’re glad to see that she’s wearing a dress as well – it makes the stress of it a little better, knowing you don’t have to go through it all alone.

You thank her at the same time that you catch Bob staring at you. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice the suit he’s wearing – a big change from the clothes he usually wears around the Watch Tower. Bob is nearly always wearing some kind of sweatpants. To see him in something like a suit, so perfectly tailored to fit him, is a sight to behold.

He still looks like Bob, though. His hair is a little messy and his tie is crooked, which makes you smile a little. They could put him in a suit, but he was clearly not very happy about it.

“You look different,” you start, beginning to walk over to Bob. “I can’t believe they actually got you out of sweatpants for the night.”

Bob laughs a little, then almost chokes on his own breath as he notices your hands reaching up towards him. They find his tie and straighten it. He lets out a shaky breath as you place your hands on his chest, running them over the lapels of his suit jacket, before dropping them.

Ever since Bob had met you, he’d been fascinated by you. He loved watching you kick ass as an Avenger, but he liked seeing the non-Avenger side of you more. His crush on you had grown rather quickly once he’d caught you reading one of his favourite books. Then, you’d offered to start doing buddy reads with him and he’d fallen even harder.

It often made him smile – the fact that the world knew you as one thing, but to Bob you were something entirely different. That to him, there were parts of you that no one else got to see. That once a month, you and him would sit up late into the night discussing the book you’d read and end up falling asleep on the bean bags on his bedroom floor. That every morning, he’d often see you coming out of your bedroom, opposite his, and think about how cute you looked with your bed hair. Those were the kind of memories he held closer than ever.

“You do, too,” he nods, hoping that you couldn’t feel the way his heart is beating out of his chest when you had your hands on him. “You look really nice. I like this colour.”

The smile that appears on your face only makes Bob’s heart race faster. 

“You look handsome, Bob,” you complimented. You open your mouth, about to say something else, when Valentina enters the room and shatters the moment entirely. She has a habit of that.

“Where’s Yelena?” Val asks, turning around to look at everyone. You can see the way her eyes snag on you and Bob and how close you’re standing together, but her gaze doesn’t linger too long.

“I’m here,” Yelena answers, clearly irritated, as she walks into the penthouse from the hallway. “And before you say anything, Valentina, I am not going to change into a dress.”

Yelena is, unsurprisingly, going against the dress code and wearing a pant suit. You very clearly remember reading instructions on the invitation – women were to wear dresses, men to wear suits. Of course Yelena had taken that as a suggestion rather than a request. 

For a moment, Valentina just looks at Yelena, venom in her eyes, but then she shakes her head and looks away from her, clearly sensing that starting an argument with one of her Avengers right before you all leave for a black tie event is not the best course of action.

“Well, at least the rest of you look appropriate,” she sighs. “When we arrive, instead of you all walking in as a group, I want you to enter as pairs. It’ll look better, make you seem more human. And it’ll drag out the entrance so that we get more attention. One of you will have to go solo since there’s an odd number of you but–”

“I’ll do it,” Yelena raises her hand, cutting Val off. “I’m going to wait in the car.” 

Before anyone else can say anything, Yelena heads straight to the elevator and gets in, heading down to the car, waiting to take you all to the venue. You stifle a laugh, amused at how quickly Yelena had snagged the ‘entering solo’ opportunity. It’s understandable, though. You make eye contact with Ava, who just shrugs. The last thing either of you want is to walk in on the arm of a man, being made to look like a piece of eye candy to every other man in the room, but without Ava fighting Val with you, it’s clearly not going to be worth your time.

Valentina ignores Yelena’s exit. “Okay, Bucky and Alexei, you two are a pair,” she begins, pointing at the two of them and ignoring the way that Bucky groans and Alexei cheers, exclaiming something about the co-leaders. “Ava and Walker, you two… and that leaves you,” she points towards you, “and Bob. You two look cozy. Don’t get too cozy, though.”

You look at Bob and give him your best reassuring smile. Out of all of the other Avengers, you’re grateful that Val paired you with Bob. The two of you are more comfortable with each other than you are with any of the others. At least being on his arm means you have someone that you feel especially safe and relaxed around right by your side. 

Bob feels the same way. He’d much rather walk in with you beside him than alone, and he has to admit that he’d worried Val was going to make him be the one to go solo before Yelena had volunteered. He’s infinitely relieved that he doesn’t have to be. 

With that, Val starts to walk towards the elevator. Mel hurries after her, leaving the rest of you all standing in the room until she beckons you over from the elevator, telling you all to hurry up.

You stay close to Bob’s side as you walk towards the elevator. “You ready for this?” You ask, nudging his arm with your elbow gently.

Bob grimaces. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to things like this.”

“Me neither,” you flash him a grin. “But at least we’ll be together. If you feel nervous, you can just hold on tight to me, all right? And once we’re inside, we can find a corner and start discussing what book we’re going to read next. Sound like a plan?” 

The two of you step inside the elevator and Bucky reaches forward to press the Ground Floor button.

“Sounds like a plan,” Bob nods, smiling. 

––––

Bob takes you up on your offer pretty quickly once you arrive at the event. Your arm is wrapped around his but he’s the one holding you close. Your body is pressed up against his side. He’s putting all of his energy into focusing on the feeling of your touch so that he doesn’t start to spin out with anxiety over the fact that he’s here.

It’s almost like you can hear his thoughts, because only seconds later he hears you ask him if he’s okay. His head snaps towards you, breath hitching in his throat as he sees you already looking at him.

You have the most beautiful eyes, he thinks.

“Bob?” You say his name again.

Just hearing his name from your lips snaps him out of his head. “I don’t think I should be here,” he says, glancing away from you to have a quick look around the room. There are so many people in the room, probably hundreds, and they’re all staring at him. No – not him, all of you. “I can’t even control my powers. I’m not a proper Avenger like all of you. I should’ve just stayed home and given Val some excuse.”

You frown and tighten your grip on his arm just a little. “That’s not true, Bob. You deserve to be here as much as any of us do. We wouldn’t even be here without you,” you explain. “And, for the record, I’m glad you’re here. Who would I have entered with if you weren’t here?”

“I’m sure you would’ve entered with someone.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to enter with anyone but you.”

Bob looks back at you, not quite believing your words. “Really?”

“Really.” 

It’s a little more bearable once you’ve all entered the room and found a spot to stand, crowded around a small but very tall table in the corner of the room. There are still a lot of eyes on all of you, but thankfully the attention has died down a little since your entrance.

“Do you want me to let go?” You mutter, looking up at Bob. You’re still holding onto his arm, even though Ava and Walker had let go of each other the second the entrance was over. It was partially for you and partially for Bob that you hadn’t let go yet. 

You were just as nervous as he was. Events like this were not your idea of a good Saturday evening. If you’d had things your way, you’d be back at the Watch Tower, cooking something easy yet delicious for dinner and preparing to curl up on one of Bob’s bean bags all night to read with him.

“No,” Bob shakes his head. “Not yet. Please.”

You give him a small smile, reassuring him that you won’t let go, and let out a small breath of relief yourself. As long as you get to keep a hold of Bob, your anxiety will be able to be kept at a minimum. 

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Ava asks, crossing her arms over her chest and looking around the room. “You know what? I’m going to find some alcohol. Anyone else?”

Alexei is quick to agree and Walker offers to go with them, simply not wanting Ava to have to deal with Alexei and alcohol on her own. It leaves you, Bob, Yelena and Bucky standing around the table.

“You’ve been to plenty of things like this, Bucky,” you start. “Have any advice for the rest of us who’ve never done anything like this before?”

Bucky sighs and shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Just hope and pray that the night goes quickly.”

“That’s great advice,” Yelena deadpans.

He’s about to say something in response when Valentina appears out of nowhere, gliding towards the four of you with a grin on her face that none of you like the look of.

“Oh, here we go,” Yelena murmurs under her breath.

“Where are the rest of you? Actually, never mind… okay, Yelena and Bob, come with me. I have some investors I want you to meet,” she says, beckoning the two of them forward.

You share a look with Bob that says everything that words can’t at the moment. Only minutes earlier Bob had been asking you to not let go of him, and here you were being practically forced to. Maybe Valentina deemed this to be too cozy – and she’d told you not to be earlier. Maybe this was her way of punishing you both for going against her word. Or maybe she just wanted to flaunt Bob off to the investors.

That seemed like the most likely option.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You mutter, only loud enough for Bob to hear as you reluctantly let go of his arm and immediately cross your arms over your chest, not wanting to feel the cool air on them after having them wrapped up in Bob’s warmth. 

You watch as he and Yelena walk away, trying to push down the feeling in your stomach that has been growing more and more as you spend more time around Bob. It’s never going to end well for you, you know it. But still, the feeling lingers.

––––

Bob can’t remember the names of any of the people that Valentina have introduced him and Yelena to. He’s been standing here being talked at for ten minutes now and everything they’ve said has gone in one ear and out the other. He hasn’t even properly looked at their faces – all he can see is you over their shoulder, standing across the room with Bucky.

You look so beautiful in that dress. He should tell you later.

“While we’re here,” one of the investors speaks, “I want to introduce you to my daughter and a few of her friends she brought along tonight.” 

Bob is snapped out of his distraction as Yelena gently elbows him in the side. For the first time, he actually looks at the face of one of the men in front of him just as he’s beckoning his daughter forward. She’s followed by three other women, right behind her, all giggling and eyeing Bob up. 

“Ladies, this is Robert Reynolds. He’s also known as The Sentry,” Valentina introduces him to the girl and her friends. “He’s incredibly strong and you should see how fast he can move!”

Yelena barely restrains herself from putting her head into her hands. Instead, she lets out a small groan of “For fuck’s sake, Valentina” and shakes her head.

The girls all introduce themselves to Bob but their names don’t register with him like he knows that they should. He introduces himself in return, just to be kind, but just as Bob. Not The Sentry. He’s not that person and he hates the way that Valentina is using that side of him to gain attention from the investors. His hand  unknowingly clenches into a fist at his side.

“You’re much more handsome in person,” one of the girls says, stepping a little closer towards him. All Bob can think about is the fact that you had called him handsome tonight too.

“I can’t believe we’ve been living in the same city for so long now and we’ve never met before,” another adds. Bob knows why – he’s barely left the Watch Tower since he moved in. Why would he want to when the one thing he needs in New York is already there, right across the hall from him in your own bedroom?

He’s well aware that the girls are trying to flirt with him but he doesn’t even want to try and flirt back with them – not that he’s really any good at flirting. He’s had his fair share of flings over the years. He was pretty confident when he was high, but when he wasn’t, that confidence plummeted. He’s usually never turned down the attention of women before… but now that attention is the last thing he wants. 

Over their shoulders, he catches a glimpse of you again. Just seeing you makes his clenched fist loosen a little, especially when he sees you laughing at something that Bucky had said. He’s always loved the way you look when your laugh, the pure happiness that takes over your face. He stares at you for another few moments and then uses that time to continue to try and calm himself down. 

Despite the fact that you’re half way across the room, you’re helping him more than you know. 

––––

Watching Bob being flirted with all night was not a job for the weak – and you’d greatly over estimated your ability to deal with it.

You’d known what was happening almost instantly when you’d looked over and seen the group of girls giggling and getting a little too close to him. You hated that you felt relieved when you noticed that he wasn’t returning any of their advances.

You weren’t daft enough to think that you were the reason, but it made you feel good all the same. Just the thought that he mightn’t be interested in anyone at the moment was good enough for you – he’d been through so much in these last several months, you wouldn’t blame him if it were true.

Like Bucky had suggested, you spent most of the night hoping for the night to go quickly. There was only so much socialising one person could do, especially when they were out of their comfort zone, and you hit that point pretty quickly once Bucky had started introducing you to people he recognised from his time as a congressman. 

The worst part of the night was the fact that you had barely seen Bob at all. He’d spent most of the night being swept around the room by Val with Yelena, being introduced to everyone and barely even stopping for a break. The only contact you’d had with him since he’d been whisked away were brief moments of eye contact and shared smiled across the room.

It’s on the limo ride back to the Watch Tower that you finally get to talk to him again. Everyone else is either napping or not paying attention to the two of you, too exhausted from the night out, that you have no problem in shuffling over in your seat to get a little closer to him so no one overhears your conversation.

“So, our plan kinda backfired, huh?” You chuckle.

Bob looks over at you and laughs softly. “Yeah, it did.”

There had been no discussing what book you’d read next and absolutely no holding on tight to each other when you felt anxious. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, at least?” 

Bob scrunches up his nose a little and you can’t help but notice how adorable it makes him look. “I don’t remember much of it,” he admits. “I couldn’t think straight for a lot of it. Did you?”

It makes your heart hurt a little, hearing that he’d been so anxious that he couldn’t really remember any of the evening. It makes you even more mad at Valentina for subjecting him to all of that. It was going to result in him being utterly exhausted.

“I just missed you,” you admit – against your better judgement. It’s probably not the right thing to be saying to him, but it’s the truth. Your evening would have been better had he been in it.

“You did?” Bob raises his eyebrows, clearly a little surprised.

A thought enters his mind and he brushes it off instantly. Confess, his brain said. As if this was a good time to do it, in the middle of a limo packed full of all the other members of your team after a draining night out socialising – one that he’d likely be recovering from for at least a few days, judging by the exhaustion he could already feel creeping into his mind.

He shakes his head. This is not the time to tell you.

“I did,” you confirm. “I would’ve had a much better time discussing books in the corner with you rather than being introduced to all of the people Bucky knows in New York.”

Bob chuckles. “Okay, you make a fair point.”

By the time the limo stops at the Watch Tower, everyone in the car is either half asleep or dead on their feet. It’s late – almost 1 in the morning – and when you all reach the penthouse, everyone instantly disappears off to their bedrooms to recharge and sleep.

You and Bob walk side by side down the hallway before stopping outside of your bedroom doors, opposite each other. You rest your hand on the door handle of your room before turning to look at him. He looks exhausted, hair messier than it had been before you’d left, and his tie is crooked again. You smile as you notice it.

“Well, goodnight, Bob,” you murmur. “Sleep well, okay?”

Bob nods, but strangely he can’t find the words to say goodnight to you. It’s only when you turn around, putting your back to him, and start to turn your door handle that the words come – but not the ones he’d been meaning to say. 

“I like you,” Bob blurts out, and then immediately winces.

You turn around, your hand falling off the door handle and your eyes landing on him. Your heart starts to beat faster in your chest, though you refuse to get your hopes up. This isn’t a confession – just a tired man telling you he appreciates your friendship. “I like you too, Bob.” 

He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. Just through your words he can tell that you didn’t understand him. “I don’t mean it that way. I mean that I like you more than a friend should.”

You’re pretty sure your heart stops beating. “You like me as more than a friend?” A best friend, your mind tries to finish it. Like a sister. Not in a romantic sense. Don’t get your hopes up.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you all night. I was introduced to so many people and I can’t even remember their names because I was too focused on looking at you over their shoulders.”

“You were?”

“I was.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. This cannot be happening right now. Bob cannot be confessing to you in the hallway at 1 o’clock on a Sunday morning after you’d had to spend the whole night watching him from afar and wishing he was right beside you. You have to be dreaming. 

“I… I like you more than a friend should, too. Really.” The words aren’t hard for you to say because they’re the truth. Partially because you think you might be imagining everything.

Bob stares at you, dumbfounded. You aren’t just repeating his words back to him for the sake of it. You’re not doing it out of pity or fear of hurting his feelings. All he needs to know that is the look on your face. Your eyes tell him everything.

You’re suddenly hit with the urge to yawn and that simple thing rips you straight out of your dreamlike state and back to the present. You’re not actually dreaming. This is actually happening… but this is not the time to be making grand gestures of love. Not when both you and Bob are exhausted from the night out socialising. You don’t want to risk crossing any lines tonight.

“Listen, it’s late. I don’t think we should make any decisions without resting. We’re both exhausted. And it’ll be good to sleep on it,” you suggest. “We can sleep knowing that we like each other and when we’ve recharged our social batteries, we can look back at it with a fresh head.”

Bob nods. You’re right – of course you’re right. He is exhausted, so much so that he’s not even sure how he’s still conscious right now. Your timing was so off, he thinks, his brain starting to twist his thoughts, taking advantage of his exhaustion. You should’ve waited.

Unknowingly, he starts to twist his hands together in front of him – something he always tends to do when his head gets loud.

You notice, stepping forward and placing your hands on top of his. He stills instantly, looking up and meeting your eyes. The warmth of your skin on his instantly relaxes him and his heart stops racing so fast. You give his hands a gentle squeeze.

“Goodnight, Bob,” you say, voice soft.

He continues looking at you as you turn around and walk back across the hall to your room. You’re almost completely inside, about to shut the door behind you, when he finds his voice again.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” he calls out, being careful not to be too loud since the others are still in their rooms close by. 

You pause and meet his eyes. “Thank you, Bob.” 

“Goodnight, he hums, giving you a small smile.

 It takes all of his strength to not collapse back against the door to his own bedroom once you shut your door. His hands are still a little shaky, his breaths a little short, but despite the exhaustion and adrenaline running through his system, he can’t help the smile that makes its way onto his face. I like you more than a friend should. The two of you had never really been just friends. Deep down, Bob knew that.

No, he thinks, pushing back agains the parts of his brain that were still telling him that his timing had been off, that he should’ve waited, that maybe he shouldn’t have told you at all. My timing was perfect. 

[pucksandpower]

Don’t Let Go

Charles Leclerc x Bianchi!Reader

Summary: five times, spanning nearly three decades, that you and Charles held hands (a little treat for Valentine’s Day from me to you)

Warnings: mentions of Jules Bianchi’s death and depictions of labor

Based on this request

The Mediterranean sun bathes everything in warmth, and the beach is alive with laughter and the salty scent of the sea. Families dot the sand, umbrellas casting colorful spots of shade, and kids run along the shoreline, kicking up sprays of water that glint in the sunlight. You and Charles stand together, eyes wide with the thrill of the world around you, hands clasped tightly.

“Don’t let go, okay?” He says, giving your hand a little squeeze. His face is solemn, as if this is the most serious promise he’s ever made.

You nod with all the gravity a four-year-old can muster. “I won’t.”

And then his face breaks into a grin, eyes bright with excitement. “Look! Over there!” He points, and you both tilt your heads up to see a man spinning cotton candy onto a cone, a swirl of pastel pink and blue that looks like a cloud.

“Can we get some?” You ask, voice small and hopeful, like the entire day depends on this one piece of fluffy sugar.

Charles looks at you, then at the cotton candy man, then back at you. He lowers his voice, like he’s plotting something daring. “We’ll ask Maman, but … maybe we could sneak away?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, we’re not allowed.”

“Oh, fine,” he says with an exaggerated sigh, as if being five years old and following rules is already exhausting. “But if we did, you’d have to hold my hand the whole time.”

“I’m already holding your hand,” you remind him, swinging his arm a little.

He laughs, and then your parents call out, reminding you both to stay close, to not let go of each other.

“We’re not letting go!” Charles calls back, his hand still firmly in yours.

Together, you walk with your families through the crowded boardwalk, weaving around beach bags and coolers, dodging groups of older kids with towels slung over their shoulders. But then, in one sudden, disorienting moment, everything changes. A group of teenagers pushes through, their laughter loud and jarring, and somehow, in the confusion, Charles’ hand slips from yours.

He realizes it just a split second too late, his fingers grasping at air. He turns, panicked, eyes wide. “Y/N?” His voice is barely louder than a whisper, and in the noise of the crowd, it’s swallowed up.

You’re gone.

Charles stands there, frozen, heart pounding. He looks around frantically, calling your name again, louder this time. “Y/N!”

He sees nothing, only the sea of legs and sunburned shoulders and wide-brimmed hats. His heart races, and his chest feels tight. He can’t lose you — not like this. He bolts back to where your parents are, his voice high-pitched and breathless.

“Maman! Y/N … she … she’s gone!”

The look on his mother’s face goes from confusion to alarm in an instant. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“We were holding hands, but … but then-” He’s trying to explain, but the words feel sticky in his mouth, and he can barely get them out. “She’s gone! She’s not here!”

Your mother’s face pales as she clutches Charles’ arm, her eyes darting around. “Where did you last see her?”

“There!” He points back toward the spot by the cotton candy vendor, but it’s as if the place has transformed in the few seconds you’ve been gone. Nothing looks the same. Every face, every family, every child blends together into a blur.

The panic spreads, rippling through the small group of adults as they start scanning the crowd, calling your name with voices that tremble.

Charles stands rooted, clutching at his mother’s hand. It’s all his fault. He let go. He was supposed to keep you safe. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, feeling tears start to sting at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to …”

Your father places a hand on Charles’ shoulder, his voice calm but with an edge of urgency. “Stay with your mother, Charles. We’re going to find her, okay?”

But even as the adults scatter, scanning the faces in the crowd, calling your name with increasing desperation, Charles can’t just stand there. He looks up at his mother, his voice tiny. “I want to help.”

“Charles-”

“I have to help,” he insists, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Please. I promised I wouldn’t let go.”

There’s a pause, then a nod. His mother’s grip tightens on his shoulder, as if grounding him. “Stay close, mon chéri. We’ll find her.”

Together, they start moving through the crowd, calling your name. Charles’ voice cracks each time he says it, and with every passing minute, his chest feels heavier. He keeps glancing around, hoping to see your face, to see you waving back at him with that little smile. But all he sees are strangers.

The minutes stretch, dragging into what feels like hours. He begins to wonder if maybe you’re lost forever, that maybe this is his punishment for letting go, for letting his fingers slip from yours.

And then, in the distance, he catches sight of a cluster of people gathered near a lifeguard stand. His heart skips a beat. He grabs his mother’s hand, tugging her in that direction. “There! I think … I think I see her!”

They make their way through the crowd, weaving between the umbrellas and beach chairs. As they get closer, Charles’ heart beats faster, and he barely dares to breathe. And then, finally, he sees you.

You’re sitting on the edge of a bench, a scrape on your knee, a police officer crouched in front of you with a first-aid kit. Your eyes are red, and you look so small, clutching the edge of the bench like it’s your lifeline.

“Y/N!” Charles shouts, breaking into a run.

You look up, and the relief that washes over your face makes his heart soar. Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s running up to you, arms wrapping around you tightly. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

You sniff, burying your face in his shoulder, and for a moment, the two of you just cling to each other, letting the world fall away.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, though your voice wobbles a little.

Charles pulls back just enough to look at your scraped knee, his face scrunched up in worry. “Does it hurt?”

You nod, biting your lip. “A little.”

“I shouldn’t have let go,” he says, voice choked with guilt. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

You reach for his hand, holding it tightly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

But he shakes his head, and there’s a fierce determination in his eyes. “I’m never letting go again,” he says, as if the promise itself is enough to keep you safe.

The adults gather around, relieved but still shaken, fussing over you and asking if you’re alright. But for Charles, none of that matters. All he cares about is that you’re here, safe, with his hand in yours.

And this time, he’s never letting go.

***

The sky is a steely gray, heavy with clouds that seem to press down on the earth. There’s a chill in the air, one that makes the hairs on your arms stand up as you stand at the back of the chapel, your hand locked in Charles’. His grip is firm, steady, and you cling to it like it’s the only thing tethering you to the ground.

There’s a silence that fills the chapel, a thick, suffocating silence punctuated only by soft sobs and the occasional clearing of a throat. People fill the pews, faces somber, eyes red-rimmed. Friends, family, teammates — people who loved Jules, people who are hurting. But none of it quite feels real. Like you’re stuck in some strange dream that you can’t wake up from.

Charles squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that’s meant to be soothing. He leans in close, voice barely a whisper. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, eyes fixed on the casket at the front of the room, draped with flowers, a picture of Jules propped up beside it. “No,” you murmur. “I don’t … I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.”

Charles’ hand tightens around yours. “Me neither.”

The words hang between you, a shared understanding, a grief that you both carry but can’t seem to put into words. You look up at him, at the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes are fixed forward, like he’s afraid to let his emotions show. And yet his hand never leaves yours.

The service begins, a series of voices taking turns, sharing memories, stories that make people laugh, others that draw out quiet tears. You sit through it all, barely moving, your hand clenched in Charles’ so tightly that your fingers start to go numb. But you don’t let go. You can’t let go. Not now.

When it’s time for your parents to speak, you feel yourself tense, fighting back the tears that have been threatening to spill over all morning. Your mother’s voice cracks as she starts, her words halting, her grief so raw it’s like a wound ripped open. You stare down at your lap, feeling the weight of it all press down on your chest.

Charles leans over, voice low and soothing. “If you want to leave, just say the word, alright?”

You shake your head, blinking back tears. “No … I want to stay. I need to stay.”

He nods, pulling you closer, and you feel his arm around your shoulders, warm and steady. “Okay. I’m right here.”

The room blurs, faces and voices blending together. Your mind drifts, memories of Jules flashing through your mind, moments you thought you’d have forever but now feel so achingly out of reach. His laugh, the way he used to ruffle your hair, the way he’d tease you and then instantly apologize whenever he saw you starting to get annoyed. The last time you saw him, hugging him goodbye before he left for his race, the way he promised to bring you back a souvenir from Japan. And now he’s gone, and it feels impossible to wrap your head around.

You glance at Charles, who’s staring ahead, his expression stoic but his eyes filled with pain. He’s hurting, too. You know how close he was with Jules, how much he looked up to his godfather. And somehow, even in his own grief, he’s here, holding you up.

When the service ends, everyone slowly files out of the chapel, moving in a quiet procession to the gravesite. Charles doesn’t let go of your hand, guiding you through the crowd with a quiet determination, shielding you from the sympathetic looks and soft murmurs of condolences.

As you stand by the gravesite, surrounded by people but feeling more alone than ever, Charles keeps you grounded. You barely hear the words the priest is saying, barely register the people around you. All you can focus on is Charles’ hand in yours, his steady presence, the way he keeps glancing over at you, checking to make sure you’re okay.

And then, the moment comes. Charles takes a deep breath, his hand slipping from yours for the first time since you arrived at the chapel. He gives you a look, one that’s filled with so much understanding and pain and strength that it nearly breaks you all over again.

“I have to go,” he says softly, his voice choked.

You nod, even though you don’t want him to leave. “I know.”

He hesitates, looking at you like he wants to say something more, but the words seem to catch in his throat. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers. “I promise.”

And then he’s gone, moving to join the other men, their faces grim as they prepare to carry the casket. You watch as they lift it, your heart twisting with every step they take, each one a reminder of the finality of it all. It’s real now, in a way that it wasn’t before.

Jules is really gone.

You stand there, watching as they carry him to his final resting place, feeling like your heart is breaking into a million pieces. Tears blur your vision, and you quickly wipe them away, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no hiding from the pain.

When they lower the casket into the ground, you feel a fresh wave of grief wash over you. It’s like losing him all over again, like the wound has been ripped open and there’s no way to stop the bleeding. You cover your mouth, a sob escaping despite your best efforts.

And then, suddenly, Charles is there again, slipping his hand back into yours, pulling you close. His own eyes are red, his face streaked with tears he can no longer hold back. He wraps his arm around you, and for a moment, the two of you just stand there, clinging to each other, letting the grief wash over you.

You bury your face in his shoulder, letting yourself cry, letting yourself feel the full weight of it all. Charles holds you tightly, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

You don’t know how long you stand like that, lost in the pain, but eventually, the crowd starts to disperse, people offering quiet words of sympathy before leaving. You barely register any of it, your focus entirely on Charles, on the way he keeps holding you, grounding you.

When it’s just the two of you left by the gravesite, Charles finally pulls back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks at you, his expression soft but filled with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I don’t have the right words for this.”

You shake your head, your own voice barely a whisper. “There aren’t any right words.”

He nods, swallowing hard, and then, after a moment, he takes your hand again. “Do you want to sit? Or … walk?”

“Walk, I think,” you say, your voice shaky.

He leads you away from the gravesite, his hand still holding yours, and the two of you walk in silence for a while, the weight of the day pressing down on you like a physical thing. The cemetery is quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the wind, and you let the calmness settle over you, soothing some of the ache in your chest.

After a while, Charles speaks, his voice soft. “I miss him too, you know.”

You look up at him, surprised. “I know.”

He hesitates, looking down at his feet. “I looked up to him. He was … I don’t know. He was like a second big brother.”

You nod, understanding completely. “He was the best. He always made everything seem … possible.”

Charles smiles, a bittersweet expression that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. He did.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, letting the silence fill the space between you. And then Charles lets out a shaky breath, his hand tightening around yours. “I’m not going anywhere, you know. I’m here. For whatever you need.”

You feel a fresh wave of tears prick at your eyes, but this time, it’s not just from grief. There’s something else there, something warmer, something that feels like hope.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a gentle, comforting way. “We’ll get through this,” he says quietly. “Together.”

And somehow, standing there with Charles, his hand in yours, you believe him.

***

The paddock buzzes with energy — the sound of engines mixing with the hum of reporters and the fast-paced clatter of team members shuffling between garages. The air is thick with the scent of fuel, rubber, and anticipation. But for all the excitement and all the people around, Charles only seems to have eyes for you.

He’s been gripping your hand tightly since you both walked through the gates, his eyes flicking nervously over every inch of the bustling scene as if he’s trying to take it all in at once.

“You okay?” You ask, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, of course,” he says quickly, but his voice betrays him, a touch higher than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “Charles …”

“What? I am,” he insists, flashing you a grin that’s a little too bright, a little too quick. “I mean … you’re okay, right?” His tone shifts, softer, more concerned. “I know how you get sometimes with all the noise and people.”

You almost laugh but hold back, letting him keep up the charade. “I’m fine.”

He glances around, still keeping a firm grip on your hand as he leads you down the paddock walk. “I just don’t want you to be … I don’t know, uncomfortable or something. This place is … chaotic.”

You glance at him, taking in the way his jaw is clenched, his brows drawn together. “I think I’ll manage,” you say, your tone soft, teasing. “If anything, I think you might be the one who’s a little uncomfortable.”

His head jerks up, and he looks at you with wide eyes, feigning innocence. “Me? Uncomfortable? No, not at all.”

You smile, brushing a thumb over the back of his hand. “Good to know, because I’d hate for you to be nervous or anything.”

He clears his throat, casting a quick glance around as if looking for a way to escape the conversation. “Well, I’m not,” he says, his voice firm, though he still refuses to let go of your hand. “I’m just … making sure you’re okay.”

“Of course you are,” you say, unable to hold back your grin.

He leads you toward his team’s hospitality suite, and you can see the Alfa Romeo logo emblazoned on the side. He hesitates at the door, glancing at you as if he’s not sure if he should go in or not.

“I’ll be right here,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand again.

He nods, but instead of letting go, he steps closer, looking down at you with that soft, serious expression that makes your heart skip a beat. “Promise you won’t go anywhere?”

You tilt your head, amused. “Where would I even go?”

“I don’t know. Just … promise.”

“Promise.”

That seems to settle him, at least a little. He takes a deep breath, nodding to himself before pushing the door open and leading you inside. The room is a hive of activity — strategists and engineers clustered around screens, mechanics talking in low voices as they discuss parts and plans.

“Charles! You made it!” A tall man with a headset and clipboard hurries over, offering him a firm handshake. “Ready for your first big day?”

Charles nods, but his hand tightens around yours again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.”

The man’s eyes flicker to you, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Ah, and who do we have here?”

Charles glances at you, then back at the man, standing a little straighter. “This is Y/N,” he says, his voice filled with a quiet pride. “She’s … she’s here with me.”

“Ah, got it,” the man says, giving you a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Quite a day to be here, huh?”

You nod, giving a small smile. “It’s definitely … exciting.”

Charles looks at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, she’s a bit nervous, so … I thought it’d be good if she could stick around.”

You bite back a smile, deciding not to correct him. If he wants to pretend that you’re the one with nerves jangling out of control, you’ll let him. “You’re very thoughtful, Charles.”

He grins, looking relieved, as if your words have eased some hidden weight off his shoulders. “Well, someone’s got to keep you calm, right?”

The team member chuckles, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “You’re in good hands, then.”

As the man walks away, Charles pulls you closer, lowering his voice. “See? I told you I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

You roll your eyes but squeeze his hand, letting him believe his little fiction for now. He needs this, you can tell — needs you here, needs the quiet reassurance of your presence.

He leads you through the paddock, his grip on your hand never faltering. Every so often, he pauses to introduce you to someone, his voice filled with a quiet pride each time he says, “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

You smile and nod, feeling the warmth in his words, the way he seems to draw strength from saying them out loud. Each introduction, each little moment, seems to ease some of the tension in his shoulders.

Eventually, you make your way to the garage, where his car is waiting, sleek and gleaming under the bright lights. Charles stops in his tracks, his gaze fixed on the car, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and nerves.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You look up at him, watching the way his expression shifts, the excitement and fear flickering across his face. “You okay?”

He nods slowly, not taking his eyes off the car. “Yeah … yeah, I am.”

For a moment, he seems lost in thought, his hand loosening in yours as he stares at the car. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, he turns to you, his expression softening. “Can you stay right here? I just … need to check something real quick.”

“Of course,” you say, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go.

He steps forward, reaching out to touch the car, his fingers brushing over the cool metal. You watch as he takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling, and you can almost feel the weight of his emotions — this dream he’s been chasing for so long, finally within reach.

After a few minutes, he turns back to you, his face a little calmer, a little more settled. He walks over, taking your hand again without a word, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For being here. For … everything.”

You smile, leaning into him. “Always.”

He nods, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“You’d be fine, Charles,” you say, nudging him playfully. “But I’m glad you want me here.”

He chuckles, his fingers threading through yours. “I’d probably be a wreck without you.”

You both stand there for a moment, letting the quiet settle around you. And then, suddenly, one of his engineers approaches, clipboard in hand, looking a little flustered.

“Charles, we need you in the strategy meeting. Now.”

Charles tenses, his grip on your hand tightening. “Right … okay.”

The engineer hesitates, his gaze flickering to you. “It’s … it’s a closed meeting. I’m sorry, but your guest can’t come in.”

Charles’ face falls, a slight pout forming as he looks down at you, his expression almost pleading. “But … she’s with me.”

The team member shifts uncomfortably. “I understand, but it’s policy. Only team members and essential personnel.”

Charles’ pout deepens, his eyes fixed on the man. “But she’s … she’s my good luck charm. And besides, she’s nervous.”

You stifle a laugh, watching as Charles’ pout turns into a full-fledged puppy-dog look. It’s so endearing, and clearly, the team member is wavering.

“Please?” Charles says, his voice soft, almost childlike. “Just this once?”

The team member sighs, glancing between you and Charles before finally relenting. “Fine. But she has to sign a confidentiality agreement. A dozen of them, actually.”

Charles’ face lights up, and he turns to you, grinning. “See? You get to come with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, if I’m signing my life away…”

He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Thank you.”

Together, you follow the team member into the conference room, where a stack of paperwork awaits. Charles never lets go of your hand, even as you pick up the pen, signing each NDA with his fingers intertwined with yours.

As you finish the last signature, Charles looks at you, his eyes filled with a quiet, grateful warmth. “Now we’re ready,” he says softly, his voice steady, sure.

And as you walk into the meeting room together, hand in hand, you know that, no matter what happens out on the track, you’ll be by his side — just as you’ve always been.

***

The lights pulse in dizzying shades of blue and red, the music thrumming deep enough to shake the walls of the crowded club. The place is packed — friends, family, team members, strangers all shoulder to shoulder, all there for one reason: to celebrate Charles’ win at the Monaco Grand Prix. His first home victory. The energy is electric, and the night feels like a dream he’s been waiting his whole life to have.

Charles is beside you, his arm draped heavily around your shoulders, his hand gripping yours like he’ll lose himself if he lets go. His eyes are bright, and his laughter fills the air as he turns to you for the hundredth time tonight.

“Can you believe it?” He shouts over the music, eyes wide, dazed with disbelief and the effects of far too many celebratory drinks. “We did it! I did it!”

“You did, Charles!” You say, grinning up at him, matching his energy. “You won Monaco. Your home race!”

He lets out a roar of joy, pulling you close, swaying unsteadily as he laughs. “Home race!” He echoes, like he’s trying to savor the words, rolling them over his tongue. “Did you see it, though? Did you see it happen?”

“I saw it,” you assure him, laughing. “I think everyone saw it!”

He laughs, a sound so bright it’s almost childlike, and then he leans close, lowering his voice like he’s about to share a secret with you. “I really thought I’d never get it, you know? It’s Monaco. It’s just … Monaco.”

You squeeze his hand. “You deserved this one. More than anyone else.”

He tilts his head, considering your words, his gaze unfocused but sincere. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you say, your voice strong enough to cut through the noise, and he nods, satisfied, the smile on his face softer now, less manic.

But then someone calls his name from across the room, and Charles is yanked back into the whirlwind. He lifts his drink — something fizzy and definitely too strong — and waves it around with a cheer. The crowd erupts in applause, chanting his name like he’s royalty.

“Charles! Charles! Charles!”

He takes a deep gulp of his drink, wincing as he swallows, then laughs, shaking his head as if he can’t believe any of this is real. “All these people …” he mutters, glancing at you with a slightly drunken smile. “Do they even know me? Really?”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “I think they know you well enough to celebrate. Besides,” you tease, “I’m here. That should be enough, right?”

“More than enough,” he says, his gaze fixed on you, intense even in his inebriated state. “You’re … you’re the reason I’m even here.”

You laugh, brushing it off, but he shakes his head, suddenly serious.

“No, really.” His words are slurred but sincere. “You — remember all those times I thought I’d never make it? You were there. And now look at us. Monaco! My Monaco.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words, the affection that cuts through the chaos of the club. “I’m so proud of you.”

He grins, his face lighting up like he’s just won all over again. “Say that again.”

“I’m so proud of you, Charles.”

He beams, then tugs you closer, spinning you in a clumsy half-circle that nearly sends both of you toppling over. “You’re coming with me, always. Even if I’m-” He fumbles for words, laughing. “Even if I’m old and can’t drive anymore. You’re coming with me.”

“Wherever you go,” you say softly, humoring him as he wobbles, leaning his full weight against you.

“Wherever I go,” he repeats, nodding as if this is the most important promise he’s ever made. He glances down at your joined hands, lifting them for a moment as if to check they’re still there. Then, just as quickly, he clutches them to his chest. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?”

“You’ve told me,” you say, laughing. “Probably about fifty times tonight.”

“Then fifty-one,” he declares, raising your hand like he’s holding a trophy. “You’re my good luck charm!”

“Okay, Charles,” you say, glancing around at the curious looks people are starting to give you. “Maybe a little less shouting?”

He scoffs, his face scrunching up in indignation. “Shouting? I’m not shouting!” Then he laughs at himself, realizing he’s practically yelling.

You shake your head, laughing as he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “But really,” he murmurs, his voice dropping. “Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t have done any of this without you.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you feel your throat tighten, emotions welling up. But before you can respond, someone else is clapping him on the back, dragging him back into the raucous celebration. He goes willingly, laughing as he lifts his drink again, but he doesn’t let go of your hand — not for a second.

People congratulate him, hug him, raise their glasses in his honor, and through it all, he keeps glancing over at you, as if he’s checking to make sure you’re still there, that this night, this victory, isn’t a dream he’ll wake up from.

“Charles!” An old friend shouts, clinking his glass against Charles’. “How’s it feel to finally win your home race?”

Charles laughs, tipping his head back. “Feels amazing! Like … like nothing else!”

Another friend chimes in, “And you’ve got the best date to celebrate with, huh?” He winks at you, raising his glass.

Charles nods, his grin widening as he wraps an arm around you, his hand still holding yours. “The very best,” he says proudly, his words a little slurred. “Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, but you just smile, squeezing his hand. “I’m lucky to be here with you.”

He laughs, leaning in so close that his forehead brushes yours. “Not as lucky as me.”

And then, in one swift, impulsive move, he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. It’s sweet and almost innocent, and despite the noisy club, it feels like a quiet, private moment just between the two of you.

He looks at you, eyes soft, the drunken haze giving his expression a kind of unguarded warmth. “Promise me something?”

You nod. “Anything.”

“Promise you’ll be with me next year, too. For the next Monaco. And the next … and the one after that.”

You laugh, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I think I can manage that.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting closed as he rests his forehead against yours. “That’s all I need. Just you … and Monaco.”

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around him to keep him steady. “And maybe a bit of sleep.”

He groans, shaking his head. “Sleep? No, no … we have to … keep celebrating! I mean, it’s Monaco!”

But despite his protests, his eyelids are starting to droop, his body leaning more heavily against you.

“Charles,” you say gently, guiding him to a quieter corner of the club. “Maybe we can take a little break?”

He mumbles something incoherent, his head resting on your shoulder, his hand still holding yours in a loose but unbreakable grip. Even in his exhaustion, he refuses to let go, as if the victory, the night, everything will disappear if he loosens his hold.

“Just … five minutes,” he mutters, his voice soft. “Then … more dancing.”

You smile, brushing a gentle hand over his hair. “Five minutes.”

But as he drifts off, his breathing evening out, you know he won’t be getting up for any more dancing tonight. He’s given everything — his heart, his soul, his strength — to this race, and now, finally, he’s at peace.

You sit there with him, holding his hand, listening to the muffled thrum of the music, and you realize that, in his own way, he’s won more than just a race. He’s found a sense of belonging, of fulfillment, a piece of himself he’d been chasing for so long.

And as you sit together, the noise of the club fading into the background, you feel that same sense of peace. You’re here, with him, exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

The hospital room feels impossibly small, filled with sounds of beeping monitors, the hum of the fluorescent lights, and the murmured voices of nurses and doctors. But for you, it’s all a blur — just flashes of movement and noise as you lie there, clutching Charles’ hand like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

His grip is firm, steady. He’s been by your side since the contractions started hours ago, and now, with each excruciating wave of pain, he tightens his hold, murmuring to you softly, his words meant only for you.

“Breathe,” he says quietly, as if he can breathe for you. “You’re doing amazing.”

You grit your teeth, feeling another contraction start to build, a pressure so intense it’s as if your entire body is caught in its grip. “This doesn’t … feel amazing,” you manage to say, your voice strained.

Charles chuckles softly, though you can see the tension in his eyes, the worry that’s been there since you first squeezed his hand, hours ago. “I know,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “But you are. I promise.”

You close your eyes, focusing on his words, on the warmth of his hand in yours. For a moment, it distracts you, gives you something to hold onto in the midst of the pain. But then the contraction peaks, and you’re squeezing his hand so hard you hear him suck in a sharp breath.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, the pain so intense it’s blinding. “I’m so sorry … your hand-”

He just shakes his head, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “I’m fine,” he says, his voice gentle. “Just focus on you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t have to stay,” you say, half-laughing, half-crying as the contraction finally starts to ease. “You can go … take a break or something.”

His expression softens, and he leans in close, his eyes locked on yours. “Are you kidding? You think I’d leave you now?”

You shake your head, managing a breathless laugh. “I don’t know how you’re not terrified.”

“Oh, I am,” he admits with a grin, glancing at the nurse nearby, who raises an amused eyebrow. “But you’re stronger than me. I have to keep up.”

The nurse chuckles softly, patting you on the shoulder. “You’re in the home stretch now, almost there. Just a little longer.”

“A little longer,” you echo, glancing at Charles, trying to find the strength to keep going. “Okay … I can do that.”

He nods, his hand never loosening from yours. “Of course you can. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Another contraction hits, and the pain tears through you like fire. You can feel your grip on his hand tighten again, your nails digging into his skin. “I’m sorry,” you gasp, but it’s all you can manage. The pain is blinding, all-consuming.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away. “Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, his voice calm, steady. “You hold on as tight as you need to.”

“Charles …” Your voice is choked, and you can feel tears prickling at your eyes. “This … this is …”

“I know,” he whispers, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “But you’re doing it. You’re so close.”

The doctor speaks softly to you, offering encouragement, but all you can focus on is the feel of Charles’ hand in yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. He’s been there through everything — every fear, every doubt — and now, here he is again, steady, unwavering.

Another contraction builds, and this time it’s different. The pressure feels like it’s reaching its breaking point, like something’s about to give. You squeeze his hand harder than ever, and he leans in, his forehead resting against yours as he murmurs, “Just a little longer. You’ve got this.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the warmth of his breath, the feel of his hand, and push with everything you have. The room fills with noise — your own cries, the encouraging voices around you — and then, finally, there’s a new sound. A tiny, piercing wail that cuts through everything.

You open your eyes, gasping, and see the doctor holding a small, wriggling bundle. Charles’ hand is still in yours, his face pale, his eyes wide with something like awe as he stares at the baby. “Is that …”

“That’s your son,” the nurse says, beaming as she places the little bundle in your arms.

You’re exhausted, every muscle in your body aching, but as you look down at the tiny face, your heart swells with a love so fierce it’s almost painful. You glance up at Charles, tears shining in your eyes, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Look at him,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “Just … look.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek as you cradle the baby close, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. You glance down, realizing you’re still clutching his hand in a death grip. “I think … I nearly broke your hand,” you say, laughing softly, tears blurring your vision.

Charles laughs, glancing down at your intertwined fingers, his own knuckles white from the pressure. “I’d let you do it a thousand times over,” he says softly, his voice filled with all the love and pride in the world. “For this moment … I’d happily let you.”

[b3ach-bunn7]

C U GIRL

Bakugo loves his girlfriend

based off this texpost and @laffythefaffy request!

slight nsfw, fluff, prohero!bakugo

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

Bakugo didn’t believe in relationships.

Romantic ones, at least. Platonic ones he’d been convinced of, after the relentless nature of his classmates, but Bakugo could safely say that, at the age of twenty five, he had never been in love.

It didn’t depress him. He’d had experiences. He’d kissed and he’d fucked, and it felt good, and still he’d never had a girlfriend. His childhood was a mess of war and pain and death, and so there was no time for it then. And now, his days are filled with patrolling and missions and he doesn’t really have time for it either. Where is he supposed to meet one, anyway? The only time he goes out is when he gets dragged to the annoying 1-A meet-ups at the bar in Nagoya that are always far too loud for his liking. And Bakugo would rather keel over and die before he tried to flirt with someone in front of Denki.

But Bakugo was happy with his life. Content. Enough as a busy hero could be.

And then he met you.

He’d been patrolling that day. Quite possibly the worst part of his job. It’s more for publicity than safety, he thinks. Civilians like seeing a hero walking around and cruising the streets. It makes them feel protected and it makes his agency look good for looking out for the public. All it means for him though, is way too many people asking for interviews and pictures and the waste of a day at work.

And then he’d heard it. A loud crash and screams that echoed down the street and the sudden rush of civilians from the bookshop a small ways away. They scattered like ants and Bakugo pushed through them, breaking into a run.

Something, or someone, had crashed through the front door, glass scattered in sharp jagged pieces on the floor. That seemed to have been the extent of the damage. He ignores the clammer of a crowd behind him and steps inside, eyes scanning the shop for the source of the destruction. And he assumed the poorly dressed man standing in the middle of the place was the cause. It looked like a home-made costume that reminded him of Deku’s first ever costume, and the man wearing it looked just as weak as he had.

Bakugo sighed internally. They get a couple of guys like this every so often. People with too big dreams of fame or villainy or both, and a flashy enough quirk that they think some damage will get their name plastered on the six o’clock news. More often than not, it ends with Bakugo nearly blowing up their face and the next few years in prison.

Balugo kicked a fallen book. The man caught sight of him and stood straighter. It might have been a show of strength but Bakugo saw his hands quiver as he pointed them at the crying civilian next to him.

“Not a step closer, Dynamight! Or I’ll blow her brains out!” He yelled.

Considering the damage to the door and the way he’s wielding his hands like the weapon, Bakugo assumed this was a quirk attack. His eyes darted around to assess the situation. Other than fallen bookcases and the dust of a broken wall, there wasn’t too much damage. The place was pretty small anyway. There were four people in the room, including the villain, and judging by the fact they’re all on their feet he didn’t think they were injured. Even the one being held hostage looks fine, other than the flurry of tears falling down her face. She looks young, and Bakugo scowls.

“Let her go and I won’t have to blow your fucking hands off.” Bakugo demanded.

“No! I-I make the rules here!” It was sad, really. The kid was practically shivering. Definitely not villain material. 

Before Bakugo could do anything, like explode the sad fucker into the nearest juvenile detention centre, there’s a loud thud, and the man crumpled to the floor. Confusion flitted across his face and then he looked up and saw you. 

You, hobbling forward on one ankle, a hard-back dictionary in your hand, breathing heavily. Your clothes were wrinkled and your face flushed, chest heaving as you looked down at the man in front of you. The dictionary dropped to the floor and you cursed.

“Fuck. Did I kill him?” You mumbled, nudging his shoulder with your good foot.

You hadn’t killed him. Just knocked him out, he found after pressing his fingers against the man’s neck. He clicked on a pair of quirk cancelling cuffs and handed him off to the police, who had just arrived. He watched as they started talking to the other victims and he turned his attention to you.

“That was real fucking stupid. Don’t ever get involved in a fight like that.” He snapped.

You pouted. “I got him, though.”

Red eyes flicked down. You were looking worriedly at your ankle, hands holding you up on the counter beside you. He studied your face, the small crease of worry between your eyebrows. You suddenly glanced up at him. You gave him a small smile and he shook his head.

He crouched down, beckoning you with his hand. “Idiot. Show me your ankle.” 

You held your foot up gingerly, and Bakugo pressed his fingers against your bone, touching lighter when you wince slightly. Behind him, he could hear the commotion of paramedics checking on the other civilians, the blare of sirens from outside. Your fingers drum against the counter you're leaning on.

“Don’t think it’s broken. Just fractured.” He said, standing up again.

He saw you squeezing your wrist, stretching it out and wiggling your fingers. He nodded, gesturing at his own wrist.

“You fuck that up too?”

You laughed slightly. “No, I- I think I just hurt it when I smacked him with that book.” You shook it once. “I’ll be fine, though.”

“You got him good though. Nice swing.” 

The little comment surprised even him, and you laughed, out of shock more than anything else, and he allowed a small smile to ghost his own face. 

“Thanks. Your agency need any extra hands?” You teased and he rolled his eyes.

“Not one as dumb as you.” He drawled and you just grinned back.

He watched you glance behind you at the paramedics and back down at your ankle. You winced, pushing yourself up so that you could start the walk towards them, but he waved you off.

“Hold on.”

In one swift motion, his hands came up under your thighs, the other sweeping behind your back, and he lifted you up with ease. You made a sound of surprise in the back of your throat. Your hands wrapped around his neck and your body was warm against his.

“I’ll get you to the paramedics. They’ll fix you up.” He said.

And you were close enough that when you replied, a soft okay, he felt it rumble against his chest, could feel your fingers curl against the small of his neck. He felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach at your proximity. Not one he’s used to when he’s saving civilians.

He held you tighter as he bent over the door frame, making the disappointingly short journey to the bank of the closest open ambulance. A smiling woman came over and listened as Bakugo relayed your injuries, and you watched in keen interest as she used some healing quirk over your ankle.

Bakugo could’ve left. He should’ve left. He isn’t the type to sit and check up on the victims, he’d usually be back carrying on patrol, but. Bakugo lingered. He watched as the paramedic told you to take it easy for the next few days, and you beamed that smile at her he itched for you to aim at him. She wrapped a bandage around your ankle and you thanked her. And once the paramedic left, and your attention was back on him, he could appreciate you a little more. Outside, in the bright summer sun, your eyes shone, your skin glistening in the light as you rolled your ankle around.

“God. It must be nice to have a quirk that can just fix someone up like that.” You hummed. 

“You don’t got a quirk?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Nah. Don’t really need one when you’re running a book store, though.” 

Bakugo crossed his arms over his chest. He hoped you saw the bulge of his biceps that he definitely wasn’t trying to show off. “Right. You be more fucking careful next time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me? You’re the one who needed rescuing, if my dictionary wielding is anything to go by.”

He barked a laugh. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. But don’t worry. I’ll forgive you once you help me fix the store.” 

It was Bakugo’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “And who said I’m fucking doing that?” 

You didn’t bristle at his tone. Just flash those pearly whites up at him. “I’m going to have to send my workers home after that fiasco, so. I’d like an extra pair of hands. And I’d hope one of Japan's top Pro heroes would help a book owner in need.”

He rolled his eyes. “Suck up.”

But he did come back. After his shift was over, he stalked his way over the streets he’d just been patrolling and he helped you organise your shelves once more. It was unprofessional. There was probably some code or some rule in the Hero conduct that stated you definitely were not allowed to meet up with civilians you just saved and flirt with them as you alphabetised stacks of books and lifted heavy shelves.

But he did it anyway.

And then he started appearing at the shop more. It was on his patrol route, after all. And he was looking to start reading more as well. And the door to your office is rickety, and he knew how to fix that, so he had to come by again. 

And then he asked you to dinner one day and everything sort of went up from there.

So now he has a girlfriend. And a fiance soon, if things go well next week. And now that Bakugo has it, a person he can call his, he doesn’t know how he lived without it for so long. 

Bakugo doesn’t know how he spent so many years sleeping alone, when now he wakes up and his legs are tangled between yours and your head rests on his chest. You trace the scars that litter his body so gently, gentler than anyone has ever handled him. You know how to match Bakugo’s temper, but better how to calm him down when his flares too much. But it’s more than that. It’s the little things. You always make him lunch for work because you know how busy he gets, and you always leave his towel at the top of the pile because you know he gets up before you. Such small noncommittal things that make all the difference in the world because it shows that you care.

It makes him regret. He wishes he’d given these things a chance when he was younger. But he doesn’t need to think about that because he has you now. It also makes him appreciate patrolling a little more but nobody could beat that information out of him if they tried.

Bakugo sighs. The TV blares a movie he’s not paying attention to. He’d clicked the first thing that had come up in Netflix, some horror movie with an awfully predictable plot. He’s more focused on his phone, more precisely the clock, which tells him you’ll be home in about five minutes. 

Bakugo loves his days off. Any hero does. They are so far and few between that he has no choice but to enjoy them, the few days a month where he can do nothing and not worry about the fate of Japan for one day. What he likes most, though, is that he gets to see you. Before, days off consisted of sitting in his apartment alone or being dragged out to whatever activity Mina had organised for the day. Even then, the odds of them all being off was slim, and so he usually ended up doing the former. He didn’t mind it. Bakugo caught up on his hobbies, tried new recipes. The only perk is now, he gets to do it with you.

And like a miracle, he hears the jingle of your keys in the lock, and he can feel the tension in his shoulders drop. 

The door swings open and you walk in, calling out to let him know you’re home. He leans his head back on the couch until he can see you, and you grin up at him. You’re wearing an old pair of jeans and one of his hoodies, and you hang up your jacket, sighing heavily.

“Why was the store so busy? It’s Sunday.” You grumble, walking to the kitchen to drop off bags of groceries.

“Idiots like you who left their chores until the last minute.” He says, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Shut it. I nearly beat up this old lady in the fruit section. Trying to take my watermelon.” You mumble under your breath.

You slip off the hoodie, grabbing the t-shirt you’d left on the couch. You weren’t wearing anything underneath, and Bakugo got a beautiful eyeful right before you slip it on.

“Uh huh. You sure you need that shirt?” 

He tilts his head and you smile, pulling out the claw clip holding up your hair and scratching your scalp. You slip off your jeans, throwing them on the floor, and shuffle your way over to him.

“Yes. I’m cold.”

“I’ll warm you up.” 

You snort. You clamber onto his lap and Bakugo sits back, hands smoothing over your thighs as you lean your head on his shoulder. You smell like your sweet perfume and outside, and Bakugo lets a hand run up your back and into your hair.

“That’s cheesy. I could wear more layers.” You ponder and he tuts, hands moving down to slip beneath your shirt. 

It’s baggy and oversized, and covers far too much if you ask him. His hands are warm against your cool skin, and his fingers dance against your hips and up, past your waist and to your chest. You sit up, smile curving your lips and your own hands settle on his shoulders.

“So handsy. I was trying to tell you about my day, Suki.” You pout and he reaches up and kisses you.

“Go ahead. M’listening.” He nods, kissing your cheek and your jaw and down your neck.

Bakugo is selfish. He’s self-aware enough to admit that. He’s selfish with his work, the way he fought his way to the top, and still does. He’d improved on it in his growing age but he finds that when you’re involved he doesn’t give a shit. He wants every part of your, every breath, every noise that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours.

“So, of course I tried to be nice. I’m no animal.” 

He’s not paying as much attention as he should be. In his defence, it’s been far too long since he’s gotten a chance to be with you. He’s been far to busy, and the small hours you meet in bed before you both drift off into sleep is not enough. 

“Stop being nice. It’s your biggest weakness.” He raises an eyebrow.

You flick him squarely in the forehead and he scowls. “Ow.” 

“You need to start being nice, Mr Pro hero. But anyway, she started like, trying to tug it out my hands! And you know what old people are like. So entitled.”

Bakugo nods. You feel great under his hands but. He wants something more. 

“And so now I’m in this fruit aisle sort of shouting a little because I had the watermelon first, and- Katsuki, get out of my shirt!” You laugh as Bakugo slips his head beneath, kissing his way up your stomach.

“That’s- Your hair, it tickles.” You try to push him out but he groans.

“Piss off. Keep talking. Did you kick her ass?”

You sigh. “I- Okay, wait.” 

You quickly pull your shirt off. “Is this better?”

Bakugo grins, lazy and sharp. “Much.” 

Your hand reaches up and cards through his hair. He mumbles into your skin for you to continue, and kisses his way up to your chest.

“And this employee comes over. And he started trying to diffuse the tension, but then he started defending her! And saying I should ‘respect my elders’.” You huff.

Bakugo nods. He kisses across the valley of your breast, the soft skin that presses against the stubble of his jaw. 

“You want me to beat him up?” 

“Hm. I don’t think it will look good on your agency if you beat up Whole food workers.” You sigh.

Bakugo sucks a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing against it. You make a noise in the back of your throat. 

“And. And then I got kind of fed up. The employee had a really annoying voice.” 

Your eyes flutter shut a little when he moves to the other one. His hand comes up to grab the breast his mouth isn’t working on and you sigh.

“He. So I just gave her the watermelon. Cause it wasn’t really that serious.”

Bakugo nods. He lets go, breath cooling the air around your nipple and he glances up at you.

“You should’ve called me. I’d have blown that old hag to the nearest nursery home.” 

You giggle and he grins. His hand presses into the small of your back and pushes you closer. He diverts his attention from your tits and kisses you softly instead. At least it’s soft at first. But then you whine ever so slightly into his mouth and it’s all over after that. His lips almost devour yours, and he can feel your face heat as he nips at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to tangle against your own. Bakugo drags you closer but you huff. Your hand running through his hair pulls his head back and Bakugo frowns.

“The fuck?”

“How is it fair that I’m sitting in my underwear and you’re fully dressed?” 

“I was waiting for you to finish your story first.”

You smile warmly. Bakugo doesn’t know of anyone else who looks at him with so much love. You grab his face and squish his cheeks together.

“You’re so cute.” You coo.

“Shut up.”

“Okay, you made me too horny to finish my story. It was a stupid one, anyway. Can we go fuck now?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

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

bakugo kiss challenge go kiss me NOEOWWWW

ive been sooo lazy to write recently.. this took me ages to write and it's nnot even that long.. but i hope u all enjoy!

[moesthoughts]

jealous frat!boy lottie where she gets super sappy and possessive please! ty 💘💐

possessive frat lottie

your situationship lottie matthews becomes unusually clingy with you after a party at nat’s where you slept with another girl.

pairing ➥ frat lottie matthews x fem reader

warnings ➥ nsfw, jealousy issues, drug use, alcohol, college + no crash au, lowk toxic relationship

The party was good, the alcohol, the sex you had with shauna shipman was amazing. The only problem, the girl you have a situationship has major jealousy issues, even though she also sleeps with people behind your back.

Shauna just had to open her big mouth, right to Lottie’s face. You wanted to throw your phone out the window because of how much notifications came from just her.

➥ babe, you slept with shauna?

read

➥ i’m coming over, i’ll fuck you better than she ever will.

read

Of course lottie has to be better than anyone you’ll sleep with, she wants you to stay with her and only her, not screw around with some girl on a friday night.

She runs to your room, pushing past people who are in her way. She acts like she has zero time to get into your pants, like someone was going to replace her right away each waking second she’s not with you.

Lottie is already at your door, drumming her foot impatiently against the floor. She’s so angry at you because you actually thought you’d get away with sleeping with shauna behind her back, she’s also angry as shauna, for even thinking it was okay to do that. Sure. you’re just talking, she does the same thing to you, but that doesn’t matter.

Once you open the door she’s already on you, crashing her lips against yours, hungry. She kicks the door closed with her foot and pushes you towards your bed, pushing you onto the tough mattress. She doesn’t stop kissing you until she can’t breathe, she breaks it off, gasping for oxygen. You’re in the same boat, your lips already swollen, air being stole from your lungs.

Before you can even process what’s happening, she’s already working your clothes off, slipping your shirt over your head, un clipping your bra, hiking down your pants, leaving you only in your underwear. You fold at her touch, completely letting her take control. She gropes your chest, her lips back on yours forming a sloppy kiss.

The lewd noises coming from both of you could wake up anyone in the dormitory, Lottie whining into your lips as she rolls her hips against you, you whimpering due to the sensation. She releases herself from the kiss, and instantly latches onto your neck. Her hands smooth over the skin of your stomach, grabbing onto your hips.

Slowly she kisses her away down to your clothed core, her fingers curling under the fabric, desperate to taste you. She slides your panties down. Lottie looks as disheveled as you do, her wavy hair sticking to her forehead, her lips red, she looks desperate. You don’t know if you should feel bad or not for sleeping with Shauna after seeing how willing Lottie is to prove she’s better.

“you’ll see i’m better than her, I know you better, I can treat you so much more better.”

She rambles before pressing a kiss to your clit, savoring the noises coming from your mouth. She starts circling your bundle of nerves with her tongue, trying to pleasure you the best she can. Her arms are hooked around your thighs, keeping you in place as she eats you out, she adores the whimpers, moans any noises that come out of your mouth. She’s making you feel good, she can only treat you this well.

As soon as she starts tongue fucking you, you feel the knot in your stomach start to unravel. Lottie knows how to undo you so easily, she knows exactly where your weak points are. Suddenly, sex with shauna sucked in your heart, Lottie was treating you so well you’re starting to forget about friday night as a whole. As you approach orgasm, she slows down, you whine in protest.

“Say I’m the only one who can make you feel good, then you can cum.”

Lottie’s tone is serious, she flicks her tongue against your clit, and pulls her face away each time you try to grind into it, trying to desperately to reach your high.

“You’re the only one Lottie, only you. Now please.”

Lottie is satisfied, her fingers enter you instead, her tongue lapping your clit. Her pace is faster than earlier, wanting to bring you over the edge. She curls her fingers at just the right place and you cum, she licks up your slit, drinking in your juices. She leans over and kisses you, proud of herself for making a mess out of you.

“Round two with the strap?”

➛ After that night, you can’t get away from her. She’s always walking you to class, holding your hand or hooking her arm around yours, pleading with you to walk to hers.

➛ Wants sleepovers almost all week at her sorority, right where Shauna can see her kissing your cheek, how you cuddle into her, hear you ever so slightly at night when she’s fucking you so well.

➛ She spoils you with dates, things you look at in stores, matching anything, you name it and she will buy it for you. Flowers have been a constant recently.

➛ Lottie whispers the sweetest things in your ear, caressing your arm, combing her fingers through your hair. You aren’t used to this amount of affection from her.

➛ She mainly wants to make Shauna jealous, rub it in her face that she’s a better fuck than she’ll ever be. She basks in the glares she gets from the other woman.

➛ Suddenly you’re in pictures on her socials, soft launches, of course your face is never shown though.

➛ She holds onto your arm a little tighter everytime you and Shauna or some other girl speak, a sweet but jealous smile painting her face.

➛ Lottie just wants someone who only wants her and nobody else, she will do anything to prove she’s the only one to you.

these college aus are like my special interest rn THEYRE SO GOOD… im so happy to be writing for it too jealous lottie my love..

req me!

masterlist

[clandestineloki]

firefighter miguel ohara x reader (VERY NSFW)

A/N: ang sabi ko december matatapos hindi ko sinabi anong year 😇

cw: smut, creampie, rough sex, things get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

when you first moved into your tiny home, you had gotten most of your stuff into the house by yourself

and the last thing you needed to unload from ur dad's car was your night stand so you carried it since it wasnt so heavy

only you accidentally hit the doorknob with your elbow and it flew off 😭

so you're standing there pacing nervously because you just locked yourself out of your own house LMAO DUMBASS

but to your rescue comes none other than miguel

having just returned from a minor save in his whole firefighter getup (somebody's stove caught on fire in an apartment somewhere but nothing fatal thankfully)

miguel looks to the house on his left

and suddenly believes in angels.

aren't you the cutest lil damsel in distress :}

u're pacing back nd forth and he's trying so hard not to stare at your cute lil ass in those pretty peach shorts 😙

you see him and wave, "pls help, sir!! my door- like- uh- i dont know what happened please help me i have to get this inside huhu"

who is he to say no??

he cracks his knuckles and squares up, making you blush as he grunts and flexes his muscles.

BUT YOU DONT EXPECT HIM TO BREAK DOWN UR DOOR

KICKED IT RIGHT OFF THE HINGES

and strategically kicked it too bc both the door and the hinges were intact, the screws just came off

he brushes his hair back and raises an eyebrow at your wide eyes

too shocked to contradict, you take the nightstand into ur new bedroom and come back to ur porch with a glass of lemonade for him

he thanks you, smirking when you blush and look away.

fixes your door that quickly too like wow

a handyman! maybe u can switch that up and manhandl- *GUNSHOTS*

anyways

for the next week and a half you're out on your porch with ur fat little cat mochi, working on a crochet thing, it's a hobby you recently got into since you're waiting for your cable and internet to get hooked up

and the firetruck drives by and the firetruck guys are blasting music, having a laugh

but miguel oh he always makes it a point to subtly wave at you and wink

it always leaves you flustered bc a very attractive man is giving you attention??

but what if he does it to other girls?? but if he does it to other girls why did one of the truckies ruffle miguel's hair when he caught miguel doing that??

but you just leave it at that, maybe he just wants ur attention and when he has it he'll get fed up and find some other pretty girl :((

until mochi gets the genius idea to chase a screeching squirrel up the tree right between your house and miguel's

"OH MY GOD MOCHI!!!!" you yell. "mochi, please dont move!!"

miguel just got back from a boring day at work, wearing half the firefighter getup and a grey shirt.

his definition of fun is getting to show off why his nickname is "the spider". it's because he almost never uses ladders and climbs the houses with just some rope and his bare hands.

and today was just some fire drill at a high school nearby, and he's a little pissed that nobody was listening because the mic had terrible feedback.

"MOCHI BABY OH MY GOD STAY RIGHT THERE!!"

miguel's head perks up from his phone, brows furrowing when he hears you screaming. he rushes to the 3½ ft fence between your house and his to see you running to the large tree in your backyard.

"leave em', peaches," he sighed and leaned against the fence with his arms crossed. "cats naturally land on their feet, he'll come down in a second."

"NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!" you turn to him, panic clear in your voice. "HE'S BLIND!!"

"oh SHIT" miguel jumps over the fence and runs over to you. "where's the bastard?!"

you gasp at him. "ONLY I GET TO CALL HIM A BASTARD!" 

"fine, where is... it?"

"up there, MOCHI PLEASE DONT MOVE!! I'LL GET YOU BABY!"

"i wouldn't do that if i w-"

before miguel can stop you, you're already climbing the tree yourself. smirking, he lifts you off the trunk and into his arms, as if you were a cat yourself.

"peaches, you might wanna leave that to me," he chuckles riiiight up against your sensitive ear. "don't want your pretty little body getting all scratched up, mm?"

you whimper.

"miguel," you mumble, "p-put me down."

you squirm against him, but he growls and holds you closer.

"oh? and what if you're just going to do it again, mm? you gonna be a bad girl?" he asks, tracing his tongue over your earlobe, making you shiver and sink into his arms.

"m-miguel, what are you-"

"y'know bebita... you're terrible at pretending you don't look at me like you wanna fuck me..."

"wh-what?!"

the way he's carrying you reminds you an awful lot of this position you saw in porn. the full nelson. the tiny girl, all flushed and pleasure-dizzy, thighs quivering as she's pounded over and over, trapped in the thick veiny arms of her man as he subjects his little fucktoy to the roughest pounding until her brain is just as liquid as the sticky sweet potent cum leaking out of her -

"oh, look," miguel whispers, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts. mochi, despite his lack of eyesight, somehow finds his way down and glares straight through the two of you as if he can actually see the lewd way you're compromised in the arms of your handsome, secretly obsessed with you neighbor.

"there he is, the little furball," he sets you down, his hand lingering on your inner thigh a second too long as he pets the snobby little cat on his head. "your poor mami can't always save ya, y'know. i think she needs me around a lot more, hm?"

he turns to your flustered figure and smirks at your wide-eyed look. "i think you owe me a thank you."

"r-right..." you mumble, scratching the back of your neck nervously, still out of it. "th-thank you..."

to your downright embarrassment, he laughs at your pathetic attempt of speaking, and corners you against the fence.

"i think i need more than just a whisper, peaches," he drawls against your ear, one hand wandering under your shorts as he grins at the way you melt with just a little teasing.

"i'm real thirsty, bebita, so why don't you be a good girl and make me something to drink?"

which leads to right now: you're avoiding eye contact with miguel as he sits on your couch, patting at his forehead with a towel.

you're also avoiding eye contact with the very prominent bulge in his cargo pants.

you hand him a glass of ice, before turning to the fridge and looking through it.

"i-i have some orange juice, water, uh, pepsi if you want-"

"water."

you gulp. "o-okay," you take the pitcher and sit down next to him, and pouring into his glass slowly, staring at his hands because you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

"bebita."

you flinch as you realize you've been pouring too much. the glass is filled to the brim.

[what you don't know is that he wishes you were too]

"s-sorry..." you mumble, scooting away from him slowly. he grabs your wrist and leans into your ear.

"can't we stop dancing around each other like we don't know where this is going?" he growls.

"wait- let me put this down!" you gasp as he pulls you onto his lap roughly, the plastic pitcher in your hands slanting and getting droplets ice-cold water down your chest.

and you have no idea how much it sounds like a dirty little moan when you go, "ngh! miguel!"

before you can even blink, you find yourself pinned down on the couch, the pitcher clattering to the floor. but your heart stops as you come face-to-face with miguel's lustful expression, his dark eyes staring into yours.

"do you have any idea what i want to do to you?"

you whimper shyly, and he curses under his breath, instinctively grinding his hips up into yours, making your breath hitch at the feeling of that right up against your crotch.

"oh you're so fucking cute," he grumbles. "think i'm really gonna break you when i put it in here..."

he torturously drags his palms up and down your legs and grinning like a madman when you whine from the sensations.

"wanted to fuck you since the moment you got here," he whispers darkly, his long fingers hooking under the waistband of your shorts and underwear. "do a little housewarming n' give you a nice, big welcome all over the couch, the bed, the shower..."

his voice trails off into a breathy shit, baby as he sees your wet pussy clenching around nothin. he looks up at your doe-eyed expression and grins.

"you gotta use your voice, pretty," he teases. "as much as i like starin' at you i can't figure out what you want~"

"i want you..." you whisper. "i want you to fuck me, miguel."

and fuck you he does. he presses his lips to yours and pushes you into the meanest mating press. "dreamed about this for so long," he growled into the kiss as he pulled down his pants. "cute little thing like you got a guy like me jerking off every night--" he starts nipping at your jawline  "--ah, like a fuckin' teenager. why am i- fuck, y're so pretty- why am i so in love with you?"

he leans back to adore your flushed, needy state, and finally, finally pulls his dick out. you squeak as he rests over your bare stomach-- thick, veiny, and leaking all over you as if he can't wait a second longer.

when he pushes into you, god, the both of you feel heavenly. it takes all his strength to not plow into you like some ruthless beast. he just bites your neck, and rocks into you slowly as his thumb draws small circles on your clit, hoping to get you to adjust to his size.

it does way more than that, because within a few seconds, you're gasping and seizing under him, twitching helplessly as an orgasm washes over you, making your tight little pussy cream all over him sofucking good.

miguel's patience only lasts a few seconds after you come before his lust overrides him and he pounds you into the couch with every bit of his strength.

"miguel! miguel! oh, fuck- too much-"

you're screaming his name over and over, your walls clenching down on him as he hits the sweetest spots in you with every thrust of his hips. your nails run down his back as he fucks you like his life depends on it, and it hurts so good he can't bring himself to care about anything but you, you, you. cute, shy, innocent, cockdrunk little you.

he's addicted. and he's yours.

miguel feels himself getting close-- and knows you're getting close too, with the way your moans are getting breathier and your eyes are glossing over.

"fuck, i'm gonna fill you up so good, peaches," he groans. "cum with me, princess. make a mess for me~"

he swallows your moans of pleasure with a kiss, and fucks your through your orgasm as his tongue fucks your mouth. you whine and cry, and he spanks the side of your thigh, making you squeak and twitch under him. his thrusts get sloppy until his eyes roll back and he almost groans when he comes, thick, white cum filling you up like you're some kind of creamy pastry.

you shakily push at his chest, but he tsks at you, simply taking your wrists and pinning them to your side as he makes out sloppily, his hips moving slowly as he pushes more of his cum into you.

"take it all, peaches," he whispers hoarsely. "then i'm gonna clean it all out with my tongue~"

"miguel! that's nasty!" you whine, but he's got his mind set on it already, lifting you over his shoulder and heading to your bedroom.

he laughs, then sets you down on the bed, flipping you over with your ass sticking out. you gasp and shiver when you feel two of his thick fingers in your pussy.

"if you think that's nasty you'd faint if i told you what i wanna do with you on your kitchen counter, peaches."

[hhoneylemon]

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩

dick grayson x hero!reader

summary: dick temporarily loses his hearing after a patrol

genre: fluff/slight comfort

word count: 1.2k

it was all a blur.

one moment, you’re fighting beside him. the next, he’s alone and blinking himself awake. he faintly remembers getting hit in the back of the head so hard that he could taste the color yellow.

dick doesn’t hear them. he can sense them, however, thanks to all those years in the gig. he turns as the thugs approach, sending a kick to the stomach of the closest thug, waiting to see who else would charge at him.

he doesn’t have to wait long. he wastes no time in beating a few of them with his escrima sticks, breathing hard when he sends another to the ground with a kick. his lungs and throat hurts. he can’t hear his breaths.

after punching the final thug a few times, he finally remembers he wasn’t here alone. a feeling of dread settles in his gut. he opens his mouth, roughly demanding where you are. he doesn’t hear himself, nor the reply as the thugs mouth moves. he curses himself internally; hearing loss. a possible sign of a concussion.

he drags himself out of the general area of the warehouse, searching separate rooms. he deals with the few thugs he comes across, but there are no signs of you. he’s beginning to panic. swiftly incapacitating people turns into bashing peoples heads into walls and floors. he’s more rough than he should be, less careful than he knows you’d wish he was.

upon finally emerging from the warehouse, he’s shown signs of your existence. there are a few thugs scattered about, already dealt with. he darts around in the shadows, being careful while also looking for you.

he almost screams for joy when he sees you in a small battle with someone. he’s immediately by your side, helping defeat a few other thugs who looked like they were about to gang up on you. you give him a quick ‘hey!’ as you punch the next thug, though you’re confused when dick didn’t reply to your greeting like he usually would.

the moment everyone else is dealt with, his arms are around you and the side of his face is pressed against yours. he lets out a shuddery breath and you make a noise of confusion.

“d? babe, you okay?”

he can feel your jaw move, but he can’t hear you. he lets out a noise of frustration, pulling away. there’s a look of despair on his face. you frown, cupping his chin with a hand.

“what’s wrong?”

his eyebrows furrow. what did you say? he shakes his head and points to his ear.

“i can’t hear.”

you tilt your head, giving a ‘huh?’ he breathes deeply, tilting his head to kiss your thumb.

“my hearing’s gone. i got hit in the head.”

you make a sound of understanding, then nod when you register the situation. you give him another hug, squeezing him. he quickly hugs back, gulping nervously. if he never hears your voice again, he’ll be gravely upset.

taking his hand, you begin leading him to the street. you can walk home, for all you care. or find a building with a fire escape you can climb to hop from rooftop to rooftop, either is fine. a kiss is pressed to dick’s cheek as you walk.

the usual chatter that’s shared after a patrol or mission is gone, bringing a sense of melancholy. all you have to comfort you is dick’s spandex-covered hand, which squeezes yours and makes sure you don’t have more than a few inches between each other. there are people in the streets of blüdhaven that pause and take photos of the cities defenders, though you’re left alone.

you find a building with a fire escape, pulling your boyfriend to the alleyway. he lets you climb first, following swiftly after you. together, the two of you run and leap from roof to roof until you make it to your apartment complex. he drops to the fire escape stairs and you follow him until reaching your window. breaking into your own apartment, you both climb into the bedroom.

you both strip and change into sleepwear; he grabs his tank top and sweatpants, stretching his arms. turning, he’s surprised to see you already on the bed. he didn’t hear the creak of the bed springs. oh yeah.

dick climbs onto the bed with you, settling onto his knees and cupping your cheek before kissing you softly. you place a hand on his thigh, sighing softly. he flutters his eyes at you and you frown.

“you’re so pretty.”

he gives you a look of confusion. you smile.

the two of you climb under the sheets together. he drapes himself atop of you, pressing his face against your chest. his arms wrap around your midsection, your own loosely wrapping around his waist. you peck the crown of his head.

“love you, dick. goodnight.”

he says nothing, though you didn’t necessarily expect him to. you stay awake a bit longer than normal, a sense of worry nestled in your mind, though exhaustion knocks you out regardless. dick takes much longer than usual; he’s used to sleeping to your heartbeat or your breathing, maybe the sounds of cars and such interrupting. absolute silence is frightening to him.

when dick awakes in the morning, he’s on his back with his arms flung at his sides. the room is illuminated by sunlight, the bed cold from the lack of his partners body. he groans, rolling over to hide his face in his pillow.

he heard the creaking of the bed springs.

he’s up within seconds, running down the small hallway to the kitchen. he finds you pouring a mug of coffee. he can hear the small hums that escape you, the sound of the coffee splashing into the mug.

as you put the coffee pot back into the machine, dick’s on you. he turns you, picks you up and spins you, places you back on the ground and attacks your face with kisses.

“good morning to you too.”

you smile, your arms wrapping around his neck. a sound that could be mistaken for a sob escapes your boyfriend.

“your voice is the sweetest sound on earth, babe. i, oh gosh, i love you.”

you laugh as he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, then captures your lips. his lips move desperately, as if he’d also regained his sense of touch. you smile, reaching a hand up into his hair and getting tangled in a few curls.

“well, i love you too. could i have my coffee now?”

he reluctantly releases you, watching you move with a small smile on his face. the moment you turn back towards him with your mug, he’s back to you. he gives you space to move your arm so that you can take a sip, though his hands find your hips and give them gentle squeezes.

you’d be annoyed that you weren’t able to sit if his face weren’t so pretty. a light smile carved with his lips, pretty blue eyes framed by long eyelashes, tan skin highlighted by the rays of sun that managed to leak through the kitchen curtains. with a sigh, you lean in to kiss his lips. he happily kisses back. you lean back and give him a teasing smile.

“have you even said good morning to haley yet?”

dick’s face drops. he immediately spins and skids to the living room a few feet away.

“my baby!”

you chuckle to yourself, watching as he drops to the floor in front of her. he’s such a dork.

masterlist

[nobodysnowhere]

The Prefect can kick some NPC ass

A How-Too Guide to threatening people you don’t like

Summary: You see some idiot pick on Grim and you put him back in his place.

Cast: Riddle, Grim, gn reader

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“I didn’t expect that you need to keep so much in mind while taking care of a hedgehog. Those little guys are quite demanding aren’t they?”

“Well of course. Every animal has their own needs that need to be met so that they can live comfortably. Of course, it would take some effort to replicate the way they would live outside of captivity.” Riddle explains as he continues walking down the filled hallway towards the cafeteria.

During the breaks, the halls of the building are always lined with rude students who don’t care if they run you over, but since you’re with a Housewarden right now, the same students avoid you like the plague.

The conversation between the two of you flows easily until you hear a commotion from the courtyard.

You look outside of a window and find Grim angrily stomping and pointing at some student who has his magic pen ready for combat.

“Could you hold this for a second?” You ask Riddle hurriedly, before -without really thinking about it- shoving your bag into his hands, opening the second-floor window, and jumping out of it.

You only hear Riddle yell with worried confusion before you land on a tree branch and swing yourself onto the ground floor.

After safely landing on the floor you skillfully ignore Riddle’s frantic yells and the weird looks the surrounding students give you, to casually -or as casually as you can be- jogging up to where Grim and the student are.

“Have I missed anything?” You ask as you arrive at the scene of the fight.

“Henchman! That guy attacked me for no good reason! Tell him off!” Grim commands as he hops over to your side.

“Has he now?” you ask, giving the guy a chance to explain himself.

“So what if I did? That rat stood in my way so of course I would make the thing move.” he scoffs at you, giving you a once over and rolling his eyes as he recognizes you.

“You’re that Ramshackle Prefect, aren’t you? The one without any magic? What are you going to do? I’m practically quacking in my boots.”

You smile at him. Cautiously taking a step towards him before putting a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly, letting the fabric of his uniform bunch up from the force.

“I don’t need to do anything. All we need to do is wait for the very enraged Housewarden of Heartslabyul to show up.” you smile innocently at him.

“W-what?” he asks, uncertainty slipping into his tone. He tries to take a step back, but you don’t let him.

“Oh, have I forgotten to mention? Silly me, Riddle saw you casting a spell from right over there, and you and I both know that’s against the rules.” you gesture towards the window you just jumped out of, while talking down on him as if he were a small child.

“But I’m no Riddle. You’re free to go as long as you apologize to Grim.” you say as you point toward where Grim is standing, still gripping the guy's shoulder in a vice grip.

“Shit alright, just let me go already. I’m sorry for attacking your stupid rat!” he says as he continues to try and free himself.

You sigh knowing that this is probably the best you will get out of him. “Fine. You’re free to leave. But do remember. Next time I won’t be this lenient.” you let him go, even shoving him a little just because you can.

As he scampers away, figurative tail tucked between his legs, you make him trip over his own feet.

“Myah hah hah hah! And stay away from us next time. Great job Hench Human, I totally had everything under control, but I knew you could handle that swiftly as well.” Grim boastfully claims, as he jumps up onto your shoulder, giving it a praising pat.

“I’m impressed with how quickly you came up with that lie, you tricked him well.”

“Oh, I didn’t lie. Riddle probably is on his way down here after the stunt I pulled. Don’t worry though, I have everything under control.”

Grim looks at you appalled, he seems about to ask what kind of stunt you pulled, before said Housewarden shows up.

He angrily stomps up to you, still carrying your book bag, before stopping right in front of you.

“Prefect! What were you thinking?!? Jumping out of the second floor like that. You could have seriously injured yourself!” he huffs, scanning you for any injuries you might have given yourself with that stunt.

You realize that he seems more worried than mad, how sweet.

“Alright. First of all, we both know that isn’t the worst thing that, one has happened to me and two this wasn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened in this school, that probably belongs to either Rook or Jade.” you state in a matter of fact way, while taking you bag back with an appreciative nod.

“And also I saw Grim down here so it was only logical for me to do that.”

Riddle shakes his head in exasperation, he sighs once before deciding to let this topic rest, knowing full well this conversation would lead nowhere if he tried pursuing more answers.

“Just don’t get reckless with it. I don’t want to visit you in the nurses' office because of some broken bones and a concussion.”

“Will do Housewarden Riddle.” you smile and nod in agreement, knowing full well that nothing is going to change.

“Now… where did we stop? Oh right, so hedgehogs actually need to exercise daily to not go overweight? I know a certain someone that could learn a thing or two from them.”

“Hey!” you at Grim who’s still sitting on your shoulder. “I wasn’t talking about you? I meant the ghosts. They really need to watch their diets, but if you think I was talking about you then there might be something true about that statement.”

Grim grumbles on top of your shoulder as you continue to chat with Riddle, walking to the cafeteria uninterrupted.

[dilf-docs]

all the works listed below are mine. +18 (minors dni). reposting and/or translating is not allowed. requests are open!

All Roads Lead to Rome‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎3k

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

This Thing Upon Me, Howls Like A Beast ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎6k

professor!pedro pascal x younger fem!reader (AU)

to cover some social hours and as a favor to your recently fallen-ill friend, you become your research methodology professor's TA. but here's the catch: you've got history, and what you really mean is beef; good, pure, unadulterated loath.

Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎2k

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

Darlin', Can I Be Your Favorite? ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎5k

dbf!boxer pedro pascal x younger fem!reader (AU)

it should be simple. helping your dad's best friend to train for his upcoming match in his hometown, chile. but turns out, world-renowned boxer the viper isn't just a menace in the ring.

Where Art Thou, Why Not Uponeth Me? ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎5k

renaldo x younger fem!reader (based on snl 50)

he wasn't even your uncle anymore, having divorced your aunt about five years ago. but of course here he was, the life of the party, crashing your sister's wedding.

Light Up My Life (So Blind I Can't See) ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎5k

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

pedro pascal in cannes breaks the internet, only rivaled by the mystery figure next to him at the airport. oh, that's you. oh. well, that wasn't part of the plan. oops.

Call It What You Want‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader (a series)

you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

I'm Happy Where The Devils Are ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Pt. 2‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎7k

dbf!joel miller x younger fem!reader

something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

You're A Daydream, Stay A While ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 6k

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

you're jackson's designated bartender. well, your dad is, but after the arrival of a new face in town, maybe the inspiration to finally step up to your obligations kicks in.

Give Me Coffee, Utah Love ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 4k

sleazy!joel 'mullet' miller x younger fem!reader

on the run and looking for a fresh start, a cheap gasoline coffee and to-do list slipping from your bag later, you (have lost your mind and) consider this stranger's proposition.

Let The Lights Bleed All Over Me ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 4k

dark jackson!joel x younger!reader

you're known for your kindness and sunshine personality, but they make it impossible for joel to have you for himself. and one thing you know about joel miller, is he isn't a patient man.

I Can Fix Her (No Really I Can)‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 5k

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

jackson's loud mouthed spoiled princess has suddenly gone quiet. what or who could be behind such miracle?

From This Time, Unchained‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 8k

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

joel doesn't know why, of all the people in jackson, you've chosen him.

Atta Girl‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 4k

old jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

joel miller discovers the world, yes, the same world that has gone (been for a while) to shit, can still have surprises. like you, his sweet naive unexperienced girlfriend, being everything but that.

To The Devil I Know ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

dbf!joel miller x younger fem!reader (a series)

your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad.

Can We Hit It Now, Low-Down And Gritty? ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 6k

dieter bravo x younger fem!reader

the last thing you need is world-renowed asshole slash actor dieter bravo to yell at you for doing your job. he'll pay for that.

Tuyo Será, Y Tuyo Será ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 5k

javier peña x younger fem!reader

after an stressful day at the office, javi finds solace in your warm embrace: you, his informant, who he has yet to cross that line he always crosses, like a goddamn vice.

He Comes Alive At Midnight (Every Night) ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 6k

max phillips x younger fem!reader

everyone in your office is turning into vampires. literally. the unbelievable scenario only seems to get worst when you find out the one behind it all is your ex-boss, max phillips.

To Know You Is To Love You ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

harry castillo x younger fem!reader (a series)

the one where you, new york's top divorce lawyer, tries to break off a couple that isn't even married, and that may or may not involve a certain million dollar man whose name you'd said before in a shaky breath.

Snow At The Beach‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

harry castillo x younger fem!reader (a series)

Two New Yorkers who've never crossed paths in their bustling Manhattan lives find themselves caught in between the ice and that in their blue borrowed hearts.

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎6k

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

X Si Volvemos ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎1k

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

there are many things you and logan disagree in but not when it comes to things in bed.

A Pillar I Am Of Pride ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 3k

vander x younger fem!reader

you're too young, that's what he tells himself; that you could be one of his kids. but of course you have spent too much time with vi, and unfortunately for him, stubborn rhymes with your name: you just don't know when to quit.

The Rock N' Roll Got Harder and Softer‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎5k

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

common sense isn't really your strongest suit. so here you are, riding a stranger's bike on halloween night. hey, he saved you! with one hell of a costume, no doubt. because it has to be one, right?

Knockin' On Heaven's Door‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Pt. 2‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎4k

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

you're what people call a ray of sunshine, probably the most likeable person in the planet. so why is this hot idiot next door so mean to you?

Drunk In Love‎‎‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎3k

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

you don't exactly hate your job as bartender. well, sometimes, like when customers who can't take a no show up. your boyfriend decides to take matters into his hands, or better said, tentacles...

Sabor A Chocolate ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎2k

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

your boyfriend eddie and his symbiote pal just make sure you know how loved you are.

©dilf-docs all right reserved. last updated: april 29th, 2025 / cr: divider @kodaswrld

[straows]

Too perfect. p2

A/n: #willberewritten #donthatemeimhighasf

<part one

Your legs couldn’t carry you fast enough. Especially not from the prying eyes— gosh they followed you everywhere.

Tears couldn’t stop running down your cheeks, your mascara was running and you could hardly see where you were running.

Your mind was racing, alongside your heart and that constant burn in your throat wouldn’t stop— hell you just started crying harder when even one of the professors tried to approach you but you just side stepped them and kept running.

Fucking college hallways. Always a maze.

Rounding a corner, you bumped into the wall so hard it sent you flying back on your ass—

Wait. That wasn’t the ground that you fell on, you didn’t even fall. And it definitely wasn’t a wall you hit.

Blinking through the tears, little sniffles and occasional whimpers slipping past your lips, you slowly looked up at who you bumped into.

And there he was.

Tall, muscular in the way that you wanted nothing more than to have his biceps squeeze your face, and a look in his eye that had your knees weak.

“I’m so sorry—“

“Watch where you’re going.” Sukuna scoffed, glaring down at you, but not moving. “Why the hell are you crying anyway?”

“I-I—“ Remembering why you were running in the first place had the water works starting all over again. “Oh god,” tears fell down your face, looking pathetic as mascara ran down your pretty cheeks like a fucking river.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched, and he let out a sharp sigh through his nose, looking around as if he was about to do something illegal.

A strong arm wrapped around you, followed by another, and you were squished against his chest. Your face was buried in his pecs, hands stuffed between your chest and his abs, grabbing at his shirt.

And that moment— well it was illegal. Or rather, felt illegal. Because feeling so comfortable, so safe, in a strangers arms, rather, a stranger like Sukuna Ryomen— was something dangerous.

That moment changed a lot of things. Because after that moment, after you looked up from where you had your face hidden in his chest and your eyes met his, something definitely happened.

Because he walked you to your dorm that night. You exchanged numbers, and he told you,

“Get some sleep. I’ll see you around, crybaby.”

Of course, you didn’t really get that much sleep. Both torn up about the fact that the man you thought you were in love with basically ripped out your heart and pissed on it, but because a new connection formed, one that you weren’t sure about.

But it was a connection that had you crying, squealing, and kicking your feet too.

“—hello?! Girl. Are you even listening to me?” A friend of yours snapped her fingers in front of you, forcing you to blink out of your daze.

“Hm? Oh, sorry— I just zoned out.” You smiled awkwardly, tilting your head with a little laugh when she rolled her eyes but smiled at you fondly.

“It’s fine. But girl, he’s been staring at you for five minutes! I swear to god he hasn’t blinked!”

“Who?” Looking where she had pointed, your eyes immediately locked with his.

Narrow, red, and painfully sexy. You squirmed in your seat and looked down, cheeks burning a bit more as you pushed around the carrots you’d gotten for break. “Oh.”

And even as you peaked back up, they caught onto his again— and they held you there. His eyes were like something fierce.

“He wants that cookie.” Your friend grinned, laughing when your eyes widened and you had to break the eye contact with Sukuna.

“Stop it! No he does not. It’s been 9 days and he hasn’t even texted me.” You sighed, before biting into a carrot.

“So you counted the days?! Oh my god. Oh my god. So this is a sign then.” She slapped the carrot out of your hand and leaned forward. “I’m tired of seeing you mope around because of some fucking dork that took your presence for granted. That little fuck had heaven in his arms with you, and he gave it away.”

Your lips pressed together in a tight line and your jaw clenched as she called out your ‘moping.’ She wasn’t wrong after all.

“So, that means you’re going to the party with me tonight.” She leaned away with a smile when you snapped your neck to look at her.

“What? No. Nono. I know what happens at those parties! You guys do like— drinking and stuff.” You her off, but she just caught your hand.

“Look me in the eye and then read my lips— I don’t give a fuck. You will be drinking with us! It’s your hot girl summer and baby you are a tall glass of water that every guy in here wants to drink.”

“Ew don’t say it like that.” Your nose scrunched.

“Mm whatever, im picking your clothes. I’m also picking your alcohol.” She smiled in victory when you just sighed and rolled your eyes. “Good.”

She stopped by your dorm that night. Scheming and planning like the little minx she was— walking in with a black dress that would hardly cover your ass. Two little thin spaghetti straps holding it to the hanger. And a pair of black heels with the red coating the underneath in her other hand. “Time for me to work my magic.”

By the time she was done— you looked like something out of a Playboy magazine. The dress fit you like a glove and the heels made your legs look even better, hell you even liked feeling taller.

The dress, the heels, the makeup. It all gave you a new feeling of confidence, one you’d been needing.

Walking into that party, your friend looking just as good, you felt good. Fuck— you felt great. Especially when you started throwing back shots.

That liquid courage hit you like a fucking brick. The party was massive, people filled the two story house, filled the pool, filled the front and back yard. Kegs everywhere and the second floor smelled like a certain fragrant plant, music so loud that the walls shook. It was proof that when the rich guys came together to throw a rager— it was a rager for sure.

“1… 2… 3… go!” Tilting your head back, you swallowed the violent burn of vodka as it poured down your throat.

“Fuck.” Swallowing repeatedly, your hand went to your chest. You felt dizzy. You were drunk. Fuck you could feel it, the way you stumbled, the way you felt, but you couldn’t stop.

Besides. Why would you want too? Especially when you feel a warmth against your back that had your breath catching.

Glancing to the side, you were met with a tatted bicep, two thick black out bands went around both of his biceps, a thick black band went around his wrist as well.

And oh god.

You wanted to bite on them.

His hand gripped the table, his other one followed as he had you pinned to the table.

And usually this would be really creepy.

But with the way you could feel his abs against your back and the natural bulge in his pants against you, you wanted to literally eat the man behind you.

Maybe it was the vodka talking.

“And just what are we celebrating? That’s your fourth shot, crybaby.” His voice, oh his voice.

“Just- uh- oh my.” It was hard to talk, your breath caught in your throat and you could hardly breathe. He smelled really good too.

Sukuna couldn’t help but grin, knowing he had this effect on you. Because you had him in just as much of a chokehold.

“Why don’t you do one with me?” His nose just barely brushed against your shoulder, just for his lips to press in a soft kiss under your ear.

Slowly, you nodded, “yeah ok,” reaching forward, you poured two more shots. Before turning slowly, now facing him, back pressed against the table, his hands bracketing your hips. “Didn’t take you for a vodka man…” you spoke softly, the music loud but Sukuna still heard you.

“Im full of surprises.” His voice was deep and rough, and it had little shocks shooting down your spine.

Sukuna took one of the shot glasses, before raising his glass a bit, “salud.” Before downing it, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time.

And holy fuck.

You wanted this man’s baby’s.

Swallowing down the vodka, you sat down the glass.

The tension was so thick you swear to god if it wasn’t for the fact that so many people were around y’all you’d jump him.

“So… you uh— come here often?”

Sukuna had to fight off the brief smirk that tried to rise. “You’re cute.”

“Think so?” You smiled, head tilting as you reached forward, lightly, just barely, tugged it forward.

It was his turn to will himself not to take you right there. His jaw clenched and he inhaled sharply. “Yeah. Cute. Among other things.”

“Other things?” You quirked a brow.

“Other things,” his hands moved from the table behind you, to rest on your hips instead, pulling you close. “I could show you…”

“Show me?” With how close your faces were, he could even feel the heat coming off your face to his.

“Yeah. Show you.” He leaned forward a little bit more, his lips just barely brushing over yours before pulling you away.

“I’m gonna regret this.” You murmured, before letting him lead you to up a spare room upstairs.

And the moment he got you in that bedroom, his hands were everywhere, mouth glued to yours. You were no better, practically ripping his shirt off.

After that, it was pretty fuzzy. And as much as you want to remember, you can’t. But you could fill in the dots.

Seeing as your whole body felt like you fought fifteen groan men and lost everytime— and for the fact that a very naked, very sexy, and equally as marked up Sukuna lay beside you.

God he slept like a fucking corpse. One hand under his head and the other on his stomach. Barely moving except for breathing.

Huh. Usually people were supposed to cuddle, right? Have cute moments and after care.

Did he even—

You looked under the blankets, and noticed that you had cum on your thighs, stomach and down bellow. Your nose scrunched in disgust, “oh god.”

Immediately, you hobbled out of bed and immediately got to wiping yourself down as best as you could, seeing as you weren’t at your dorm right now and couldn’t shower.

Staring in the mirror, you looked rough. Really rough. Ugly hickies and bite marks littered your neck, waist, tits and thighs. “Did he try to eat me? What the fuck?” You mumbled to yourself.

Usually you thought bite marks were sexy.

You just felt gross. And the hangover didn’t help.

Slipping back on the dress, heels in hand, you just walked out of the bedroom. Left the house filled to the brim with hungover and passed out people.

The walk to the dorm didn’t take long. It was kind of nice to take in the fresh early morning air. And the moment you got back to your dorm, you made a B-line for the shower.

Clean, scrubbed head to toe and the entire everything shower complete, you slipped on an oversized hoodie and granny panties that almost went to your belly button, you slipped into bed and crashed.

You didn’t text Sukuna back when he texted you a rough version of good morning and asked where you were.

Hell, you tried to avoid him in class too. You didn’t feel good with him, even if he wasn’t hot and the sex was good. Afterwards the alcohol left and you weren’t squirting buckets, the post nut clarity hit you hard. You felt dirty.

Mainly because, and deep down you know, you were still in love with him.

That bastard.

He was miserable. Utterly fucking lost with you. After you left him stranded in the hallway, an unbearable and deepening pit forming in his heart as he watched you run off.

Satoru Gojo was a pitiful man with you. He needed you. He loved you. He loves you.

And knowing that he fucked up any chance with you, was hell. And not talking with you for nine days, hell you didn’t even look at him in the hallways! It was all hell. He’d know. He’d already experienced heaven, and that was when he had you.

So looking at you now? And you were actually looking at him? He felt like he was going to fucking combust.

Why was he looking at you like that? It had your heart thudding like nothing Sukuna had you feeling.

You hated that you still loved him, still felt everything towards him. And that made it all the harder to look away from him.

taglist @disilluzions @satorusblueinfinite @jaemdonuts @zeunys @satorugooner @tartartagliaboo @smolgojo @realalpacorn @pandanojams @uluvlillypad @totallygyomeiswife

[villainbait]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: Explicit | 18+ Tags: angry sylus, playful struggling, teasing, dirty talk, smut, fingering, mc/reader is a brat, punishment, overstimulation if you squint Summary: You had almost cost Sylus something important tonight and for once, he's pissed. Word Count: 1.3k

The door to Onychinus’s base had barely clicked shut behind you before Sylus has you hoisted over his shoulder, his long strides taking you swiftly down the hallway towards his bedroom. Your heart flip flops uneasily in your stomach when you realize where he’s headed, and you start to struggle in earnest. His demeanor had completely changed the moment you arrived home, though the walk there had been more tense than usual.

“Wha- hey! Sylus, put me down!” You’re suddenly squirming in his grip, your fists drumming uselessly against his back and you lose a heel in the process; the forgotten ornament left behind on the floor. You only stop fighting when his hand slides under the slit in your dress to keep you from falling, and you forget how to breathe as you feel the heat of it between your thighs. Infuriatingly, Sylus hasn’t said a single word and it starts to sink in that you might have gone too far earlier tonight. 

It had started out as a simple game under the table at some business dinner he had made you go to. You were bored and he looked so good sitting across from you, but he wasn’t giving you any attention at all. Instead, he was talking to some other woman who kept touching him with increasingly lingering touches that made you reconsider what the definition of assault was. Worse, Sylus seemed to preen under her attention, his honeyed smile blinding in the soft ambience of the room. Jealousy had begun to eat at you and you were half-convinced he was doing it on purpose, but then you had the perfect idea of how to get back at him. 

It was time for you to play a little game of your own, kicking off your heel discreetly under the table and running your stocking covered foot underneath the tailored leg of his pants. He managed to keep his composure, his slight flinch of surprise only noticeable to you. When he turned to look at you you were already engaged in conversation with one of your own dinner mates, pretending to be oblivious. His eyes narrowed as your foot slid higher with every pass, coming dangerously close to a part of him that was quickly becoming uncooperative despite the ugly hag he was attempting to extract intel from. 

You had almost ruined it all and for once, Sylus was angry. 

He dumps you unceremoniously onto the bed and you try to scramble away but he’s on you faster than you can move. He captures and stretches your wrists over your head easily with one hand, his knee sliding between your thighs as he pushes you into the soft mattress. He slides between your thighs and his hips press against yours, trapping you. The warmth of his anger is radiating off him and you can feel how hot and hard he is despite how angry he looks. Had your antics earlier really affected him that much? 

You whine and futilely struggle against him until he looms over you and quells your struggles with a piercing gaze.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” His voice was low and dangerous, making you tense with anticipated dread. Oh, Sylus was furious. Still, you’d gone this far, you weren’t going to back down now. 

“Only that I didn’t finish the job.” You jut your lower lip out petulantly and his scoff is pure exasperation.

“Fiesty, kitten.” He almost smiles, but then he’s serious again.

“Did you really think I would enjoy the attention of that woman with you sitting across from me?” You refused to look at him and stared at the canopy above his bed, but nodded. “Really?” He murmured, a soft hint of incredulity creeping into his voice. The movement of him sliding against your core left you both gasping as the friction made you dizzy with need. 

“You’re the only one who does this to me.” He leans closer and draws your gaze to his, his lips inches from yours. “Only you.” 

He doesn’t kiss you. You haven’t earned that and Sylus won’t reward you for your bad behavior, so his lips skate along your jaw and down your throat, sending a shiver down your spine. Sylus will have you a begging, needy mess by the end of the night and you know it, suddenly a little nervous. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out quietly, but his derisive chuckle against your pulse told you it was too late for an apology–or too soon. His words confirmed it, his hot breath fanning across your skin. 

“Try being more sincere, and I might consider forgiving you sweetie.” The pet name drips condescension and you want to smack him, instantly regretting your words. You feel the punishing set of teeth against your throat with a sharp suddenness that leaves you gasping. Your back arches into him as your hands curl around the one that has you pinned, your nails digging into his skin. His mouth felt so good against your frantic pulse and you felt a little dizzy as he soothes the fresh imprint of his teeth with his lips. He peppers your throat in kisses and deliciously teasing love bites, taking his time until you’re writhing underneath him and softly pleading for him to touch you more.

He loves seeing you like this, flushed and wanting, eager for him to do whatever he wants to you. He’s ready to explode from all of the teasing from earlier and he grinds his hips roughly against yours, chuckling softly against your collarbone when you curse him between your gasps of pleasure. It’s been a long time since he's had you underneath him like this and Sylus isn’t known for being patient. But for you? He’d wait for a lifetime. In some lifetimes, he had.

However, tonight you need to be taught a lesson about what happens when you tease him too much and jeopardize his meeting. He almost lost valuable intel tonight, something important enough that if he had fumbled in obtaining it, a lot of people could’ve died; including you.  

His free hand slides between your bodies and he’s satisfied to find the front of your panties soaked. His fingers toy with the lacy edge and he has a thoughtful look on his face.

“Sylus, please.” You whine, brushing yourself against his knuckles shamelessly. It makes Sylus chuckle and he pushes them aside, his fingers gliding over your slick folds. One digit dips between them to glide over your clit and it’s agony. Before you can beg, Sylus slides two fingers deep inside of you and curls them over that sensitive spot he knows so well. He brings you to orgasm with a quickness that has your back bowed off the bed, his skillful fingers wringing the pleasure from your body. He does it again without letting you recover and you weakly ask him to wait, pushing against his hand that trapped your own. 

“Wait, please–” 

He withdraws his fingers and they glisten with proof of how much Sylus affected you, strands of your arousal clinging obscenely to them. His eyes never leave yours as he slides them into his mouth to taste you, his gaze heavy lidded with desire. He pulls them past his lips with a wet pop and his lips brush your ear, his breath fanning against your heated skin.

“Why? They went in so easily, kitten.” He purred into your ear. “Did you want it that much? I would’ve given it to you, you know.” He pushes a few strands of hair out sticking to your face and strokes soft fingertips along your temple and jaw. “All you had to do was ask, but you continue to insist on being stubborn.” He leans back and his lips twist into a sour expression. You know you’re in trouble and you want to take it back, but you also know conceding now will make the consequences worse. Sylus would prey on any weakness you showed now, and you could see it in the way he stared down at you. His smirk was dangerous and you whimpered.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” 

[sukunas-wife]

baby yuji who is super clingy to his dad and would rather be with him than his mom until mama has to leave to see a relative (or for some reason) and misses her so much that he makes trouble for daddy sukuna

Not sure if I wanted to do Modern day or Heian Era, but I really like the thought of

Yuji clinging to one of Sukuna’s arms while he just goes about his day sighing with a dead look and lifting his arm to bring Yuji to eye level just to make sure he’s still there. So that’s it, Heian Era it is, I’ll need to start adding that to when requests are submitted 🥹

Ryomen Yuji Sukuna loved clinging to his daddy’s side. Something the King of Curses was not used to but grew fond of in the course of days. He’s not a gentle beast and much less a soft man, but the way Yuji would cry when he entered the room, his little hands pushing him away from your chest and reaching out for him? He loved, it made him swell with pride that his son knew he was the one, he was the all powerful one and wanted to be by his side.

Many times you’d walk in on Sukuna speaking aimlessly to Yuji who was laying on his chest, one of Sukuna’s large hands almost covering him entirely. Two arms crossed behind his head, and his forth hands waved around aimlessly accentuating his points. “Hey are you listening brat…” Yuji’s little round eyes kept slowly opening and closing, doing his best to stay awake listening to whatever was happening. He let out a coo before his head fell completely against his dad’s chest and he fell asleep, little fists on his dads chest. Sukuna let out a long sigh, “mm, sleep then.”

Sukuna heard your hushed laugh and he looked at you, standing there in the doorway of your shared room. You quietly made your way over to him sitting beside him and brushing his hair out of his face. He grabbed your wrist, pulling it to his lips, and biting over your pulse point lightly. “Do you want to hold him or should I lay him down?” Sukuna let your hand slip from his before he pulled you down with him, “Leave him with me.”

Time crawled on and soon he was sleeping in the middle of your bed, his little pillow wedged between both your pillow and Sukuna’s. You could bear it but Sukuna was a menace to his own son. He’d bundle him up and throw him on his other side so he could hold you, Yuji would cry and punch his dads back with his little fists and wouldn’t stop until Sukuna would put him back in the middle. You’d smile fondly as Yuji would stand half laying on his Sukuna’s chest, and poking his face. It was funny watching how Yuji would try to touch his extra eyes and Sukuna would just hold him up in the air so he’d kick and laugh. That’s when he’d get his kisses in, and Yuji would fight harder because you were getting his dad’s attention instead of him.

Yuji did love you, he liked to hold your hand and go outside with you, he liked to follow you around and for some reason he always got clingier when you had to use the bathroom, it was “fun” using the restroom and there he was laughing and saying “hehe poopie” He loved sitting with you and drinking milk while you had tea and snacks. He learned your routine and Sukuna became curious one day when he was wrestling him around why he started kicking and trying to break free, “lemme go daddy I gonna go.” He was confused and offended, but curious why was his son running off so suddenly. He followed just to find you there sitting at a tea table outside under the plum blossoms. The soft look on your face was enough to lore Sukuna in to join you, that was until he saw the little hands pop up from behind the table in exaggerated motions like he was storytelling. “Mhmm, so you’re just like him then?” You were talking to Yuji who was exaggerating a story of how he was just wrestling with his father. His other hand was holding a sweet to his mouth where he was laid back on your lap, Sukuna was tempted to leave until you signalled him over. “I need to go to my family home soon. My only sister is getting married and my Father and Mother are requesting everyone to be there.” He sighed, he hated that overgrown village you came from. You didn’t come from a poverty stricken home but you weren’t bathing in lavishness as you were now.

“I’ll see you in 3 weeks. I love you.” Your lips met Sukuna’s in a kiss before Yuji was wedging himself in between both of you, “Bye mommy luf you.” He hugged your leg smiling up at you, you put a hand on his head rubbing his hair before kneeling down to hug him kissing his face all over and he laughed. “I love you too Yu.” Sukuna looked displeased when you finally left your home. Yuji was quick to pull on his hand to take him to wherever, everything was normal while Sukuna went about his business, Yuji lingering around until tea time came.

He got excited and started to run out into the garden where he’d always find you waiting. He stopped, The Plum blossom tree was there… but you weren’t.. no tea, no cake.. no “…mommy?…” the tears welling up in his eyes when he laid on the grass crying where the table would’ve been. Sukuna found him and rolled him over onto his side. He was red from crying, “Why do you cry?” Yuji was sniffling, tears and boogies running down his face. “ere’s no mommy.”

Sukuna sighed, picking him up by the scruff of his shirt, “stop crying she told you bye this morning, remember? She said she was leaving and you didn’t even try to go with her.”

“SHE'S NOT COMING BACK!?” Yuji started screaming and kicking while dangling in the air, “MOOMMMYYYY”

This was how Sukuna spent the rest of the first day. Yuji crying and kicking and fussing because all of a sudden he wanted to be with his mommy.

“…Lord Sukuna, forgive me but don’t you think the young prince should be consoled or at least fed?” It was one of your ladies in waiting who had stayed behind. She had the bravery to talk to Sukuna in a respectful and appropriate way which is why you decided to ask her to stay. You knew if anything happened she’d be the most reliable woman considering she was also older in age.

Sukuna didn’t bother a quick glance, “He’ll be fine, bring him here.”

There he sat holding Yuji and patting his back, “Your mother is coming back Yuji, she wouldn’t abandon you with such ease.” Yuji sniffled holding onto his dads open robes with a tight grip, “she’s comin back?” His little teary eyes moved his heart, “Yes, she’s coming back now you need to eat or you won't be here when she comes back.” Yuji sniffled with a wobbly lip. “Wan noodles” Sukuna huffed hoping he wouldn’t have to eat noodles every day you were gone just to appease the boy, “then you’ll get noodles, but you will eat them all.”

They sat at the large table, Sukuna wasn’t eating but rather watching Yuji. How the boy kept pathetically using his hashi and dropping noodles. Until he gave up and out them down only to use the broth spoon to burn himself with the liquid before spitting it out. Sukuna was amassed but intervened when Yuji threw the spoon down aggravated, “I hate it.”

“What’s wrong now?” “Mommy always helps me with my hashi and blows on my spoon…” he looked up at his father with a desperate pleading look, Sukuna swallowed and pulled Yuji’s chair closer to his side along with his bowl of noodles, “Fine.” Yuji perked up with a little laugh “eheh.”

Yuji was busy the rest of the day following his dad and playing his own little games to remember why he was crying. That was until night time came and you weren’t there to tuck him in. He laid on your side of the bed, it was so cold without you there. There was so much space. He let out silent tears and the occasional sniffle until Sukuna finally came into the room. It was past the time you would lay Yuji down so he expected him to be asleep already. It wasn’t shocking to see him crying considering you would be there with him wrestling him down to bed while he persisted he should be with his daddy. So Sukuna laid down pulling Yuji into his side, Yuji hurried his face against his dads side holding on tight, it made Sukuna’s heart waver in a way, ‘he makes it feel as if she’s dead..’ His hand ran up and down Yuji’s small back, mumbling a story until Yuji fell asleep in his hold.

The next day was just as bad, and so was the third. During the day he was fine, until tea time came along and you weren’t there to receive him, he’d run back crying to his dad, and even when Sukuna ordered to have a tea table set up the way you would it never pleased Yuji, the teapot would just sit there full, getting cold. The sweets weren’t as sweet and the sun wasn’t the same sun that kept him warm while he slept in your lap.

The week passed, and finally one morning Sukuna woke up with Yuji drooling on his arm. He still cried himself to sleep, missing you and calling out for you. He yawned, getting a weird smell and leaned down sniffing before he understood, Yuji was the source of the smell, his smelly brat. Yuji yawned slowly, pushing himself up, and looking around before falling down against his fathers arm to sleep again. Sukuna let him sleep a little longer so he could sleep a little longer also.

Finally it was mid day when he woke up yawning again and then he woke up stretching, his bones popping as he sat up. Yuji let out a yawn/scream while he stretched trying to mimic the sound his father made when he stretched. Sukuna sat there for a minute, “You need a bath.” Yuji looked at his dad in disbelief, “No!”

That’s how Sukuna ended up sitting on a stool, sleeves tied back, watching Yuji pout at him with sad eyes, “T’s cold..” “URAUME BRING HOT WATER DAMN IT” there went Uraume in a rush to keep Lord Sukuna from becoming upset. Sukuna kept scrubbing Yuji down, who kept whining when Sukuna would move his head around to get him cleaned up. Finally Uraume came back with water that was hot enough the young prince wouldn’t complain. “Tank you ‘ume” Yuji didn’t look at Uraume, instead kicking over the cold water bucket from his smaller stool.

Uraume stifled a snicker, “It’ll be a long few weeks Yuji, but you’ll live.” Yuji hummed, swinging his feet, “yeah I know.”

The day passed slowly after Sukuna wrapped Yuji in clean clothes and sat him out under the sun to dry and warm up. He was busy with his devices during the day leaving the boy to follow him around or play with his own things in his room. Night came quickly and it was no surprise to find Yuji in his room passed out on the bed again. Sukuna did his best to gently move him over only for Yuji to wake up and take hold of his arm.

He was woken up in the middle of the night by Yuji crying “don’t leave me too.” He was holding on tight to his chest and crying, snot dripping onto his chest while he tried to calm him down. “What is now?” He was too disoriented to process what was happening until Yuji started crying harder and trying to explain what happened in his dream. His dad left him in the middle of the night saying he was useless and didn’t love him anymore. And that he was leaving like his mother had. Sukuna was confused, but held him close, rubbing his back, “shh shh shh, I’m not leaving, forget your silly little dreams. I've told you before, that as long as I live I will be here with you.” Yuji sniffled, his tears drying up, and he held on tight to his dad, nodding his head forcing his eyes closed.

Which led to Yuji clinging to Sukuna’s arm that morning, and all day. It was funny to see the “King of Curses” With his arms crossed over his chest and Yuji just hanging there. It was a sight when Sukuan was speaking, making hand motions just to see Yuji being shaken around unintentionally with ease.

The only downside to this was that it lasted all week, meaning in battle Sukuna would take a strong hold of Yuji bringing him to eye level or holding him up higher to assure he was there or constantly in line of sight and out of harm's way.

It had been a long two weeks… “what of another week?” Yuji stood on his dad’s back while he laid face down on his bed, “‘m tall.”

The third week passed slowly with a mix of emotions, Yuji still cried for you at night but would fall asleep faster once his dad would start to smother him into his side. Then the day came when Sukuna needed to tend to business but knowing he couldn’t leave Yuji he took him along. It just happened to be within the hour you made it home. You didn’t expect a greeting party but it was best this way, at least you could actually find a way to rest before having to face Sukuna and tell him everything and how your parents were pushing for you to have a wedding ceremony in your family home.

”Lady y/n! You’ve returned,” Your lady in waiting bowed to you, “Lord Sukuna and the Prince just left. Do you require assistance?” You waved her off, “I’d really just like to sit down with a cup of tea please.” She gave you a soft smile as you followed her through the house and outside. Your little tea table was set up, “I knew you would return today I just hadn’t known when, rest and I’ll steep some tea.” She bowed when you nodded with a smile, “Thank you very much.”

You sat on the cushion feeling relief in your feet as you slipped your shoes off. The sun felt warm and comfortable under the plum blossoms, unlike the cursed heat of your family’s home where they refused to have more than just a few trees. The breeze was soothing as you reclined back against the base of the tree. The smile on your face was soft, thinking about your sister’s wedding. It was chaotic, everyone was happy despite the threat of the wedding being cancelled twice. The comments of how you should’ve married someone so you could also have a wedding in your family home, but now you had decided to go off and marry a curse and live secluded. The comments didn’t bother you, rolling your eyes and always answering with crude comments to match their own.

You laughed to yourself shaking your head as your lady in waiting returned. You talked with her sipping tea, until she left you to sit in peace. You sat there for another hour getting ready to get up and wait for your husbands return until you heard the scream “MMmmoommmmyyyy!!!” You saw a glimpse of his teary eyes and snotty nose when he hugged your legs rubbing his face into the bright red fabric of your robes. You looked down at him, rubbing a hand on his back and the other through his hair, “aw, did my little Yuji miss me?” You looked up at Sukuna who looked visibly relieved, you didn’t miss the faint smile on his lips. Looking back at Yuji he was holding his arms up, you squatted to pick him up and he hugged your neck. Laying his head on your shoulder he sniffled when you placed your hand on the back of his head kissing his forehead whispering to him and he smiled, “missed you mommy.” He turned his head quickly burying his face against your shoulder. You didn’t stop rubbing your hand up and down his back while you carried him in. He didn’t move his face from your shoulder after becoming embarrassed when Sukuna began to tell you everything that happened while you were away.

That night Yuji didn’t let you go, he stuck to your side all night wanting to feel you hugging him again. You weren’t away but Sukuna was aware how frequently Yuji would wake up, his little chubby hand reaching up to just graze your face before he’d yawn and curl up against you to sleep again. He wanted to make sure you were really there with them.

Tag List: soft tag are now called squishy babies :p

@sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks @bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd

@simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @cyder-puff

Wanna support my shop 🤍

[crushmeeren]

࿐ second part of installment number one for my kinktober series! enjoy my little bats! click here for Bakugou’s version.

࿐ Good fucking lord, this is much longer than I intended it to be, but it’s worth the read, I promise.

࿐ master list link ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ knotting, breeding, scent kink, biting/marking, fighting as foreplay, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of blood, slightly possessive behavior by Hoshina.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Mating runs are boring and common where you come from. You’ve taken part in more than you can count, yet no one has been able to catch you and the thrill’s worn off. You’re on the verge of giving up completely when someone new joins your pack. It startles you when you realize that you’re about to be in for the mating run of your life.

⇣ ⇣ ༄ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ༄ ⇣ ⇣

You often speak to the moon, but she never talks back.

You let out another long, spiritless howl. Hoping for some kind of answer as to why you’re here in the middle of another mating run where nobody seems capable of catching you. At this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been pursued. Yet no alpha is up to your caliber.

Sure, your pack mates tease you for your high standards, but you’re confident in who you are and what you want. How could you be expected to settle for somebody less than what you deserve? No run of the mill wolf is what you’re searching for. You huff in frustration, seeing as how it’s the closest thing you can muster to a sigh while you’re covered in thick fur.

Shifting your weight from paw to paw, you stare up at the full moon, enthralled by the beauty of it as you debate whether or not to leave your peaceful resting spot here by the creek.

You’re on the verge of throwing in the towel and returning to the starting site when the crunch of a branch nearby catches your attention. Your ears twitch, perking up fully at the noise. The soft padding of sneaky paws cut through the babbling of the water, a strong smell of freshly fallen rain and bergamot hitting your nose.

Reno, you recognize, tail beginning to swish happily. Your long time friend has made somewhat of a ritual out of seeking you out at the end of a mating run. Usually it’s when you come home, meeting you halfway as a wolf to help you blow off steam by wrestling.

This time though, Reno isn’t participating in a run and he isn’t waiting near the town for you. He’s just recently joined the pack’s patrol, and Narumi has trusted him with the responsibility of keeping an eye on your territory while many wolves are otherwise occupied during the run.

You turn your focus to the tree line and bark happily when a large snowy white wolf breaks through. You raise to all fours, bounding over to the wolf you consider a brother. Once you get closer, Reno drops his front half to the floor, spine curving and displaying his desire to rough house. He growls playfully, sneezing once or twice to show he intends no harm.

You respond in kind, slowly stalking towards him and you lower your head between your shoulders. You both freeze as you creep up right beside him. It’s tense for a few seconds and then the two of you are snapping half heartedly at each other’s muzzles. You nip teasingly at his scruff before backing off a few steps and lifting your paw to strike his shoulder.

Reno rumbles in irritation, launching himself forward and erasing the few feet that remains between you. You collide roughly and the force sends you both tumbling to the floor. Reno manages to get his teeth into your shoulder, trying to get you to admit defeat. You use all four of your legs to kick at him, hind paws digging into a sensitive area on his ribs and he releases you with a yelp.

You roll away and stand abruptly, not wasting a second before pouncing on him and forcing him onto his back. You lock your jaws around his throat and apply enough pressure to pin him in place. He squirms petulantly, but a warning growl from you has him giving up with a whine that reminds you of a tea kettle going off. Reno slumps and bares his vulnerable belly.

You pull away, panting to catch your breath and lean down to lick his cheek affectionately. You start to nibble gently at the side of his face to convey that you’re glad to see him. Reno licks your muzzle a few times and then rolls to get out from underneath you, opting to plop down into a seated position instead.

You’re about to shift back to speak with him in person when an ear splitting, agonized howl cuts through the happy atmosphere you’d been basking in.

A chilly shot of adrenaline spikes your blood, causing your heart to thunder against your rib cage. Reno’s eyes are wide and alert when you turn to him in alarm.

He’s sprinting in the direction of the howl at a break neck pace before you can blink, kicking up dirt as he goes. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, chest clenching tight with fear as Reno disappears from sight.

Your strong survival instinct pushes you to start racing back towards town, not keen on sticking around to see what kind of situation would result in a noise as gut wrenching as the one you heard.

Your steps falter when you recall just how distraught the unknown wolf sounded, almost as if you could feel the desperation in it. The echo of it replays in your mind for the entirety of your run.

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

It’s chaotic once you arrive.

You reach the clearing where all mating runs begin, noticing several other pack members have started to return, forced to cut their nights short as well. The mounting tension in the air causes you to shift too quickly, joints protesting loudly as you rush through it.

Your night vision allows you to locate the robe you’d left behind, finding it crumpled in a small pile near the tree line. Anxiously you tug it over your shoulder and tie the belt, searching the area until your gaze lands on the familiar mess of hair that belongs to your other dear friend, Narumi Gen.

“Gen!”

The man’s head whips around, eyes widening when he realizes who’s calling for him. Narumi stalks towards you, face pinched in anger out of reflex and concealing the concern that’s simmering just below the surface.

“Are you alright?” Narumi places a heavy hand on your shoulder, scanning your body to check for any obvious signs of injury.

You nod, gripping the hems of your sleeves. “I’m fine, but Reno is still out there.”

Narumi curses loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. They flash open seemingly even more furious than before.

“Goddammit, I told that fuckin’ pup to wait and call out for us if he came across a shitstorm. I knew I shouldn’t have assigned him to patrol tonight!”

As the leader of your packs defense, he’s responsible for everyone on his team, and Reno hasn’t been a part of it for long. He’s younger than you both, still wet behind the ears when it comes to situations like this, and Narumi’s clear desperation about Reno makes panic start to well up in the back of your throat.

“What the hell is going on out there Gen? You’ve got to go get him!” Your adrenaline turns up another notch and now you’re unable to stand still, fingers curling and uncurling restlessly at your sides.

Narumi’s expression turns stormy, jaw clenching when he glances at the forest. “I’m heading out there now with Kafka and some of the others. Someone out there was calling out for help, but we don’t know if it’s real or if there’s rogues nearby trying to sneak in under our noses. Go back to town, I’ll bring Reno home.”

Your gut twists sourly at the thought of leaving Reno out there while you sit in the safety of your home. You’re aware you would be useless in battle, but you have a decent amount of medical knowledge stored in your mind. At least enough to be able to tell whether someone could be helped in the field or if they need to be taken straight to your mother. She is the town’s doctor, after all.

“No, no fucking way Gen. I’m waiting here for you. I’ll be able to help if he’s hurt.”

Narumi sneers, obviously wanting to argue, but then Kafka calls out frantically for him to hurry and he knows he can’t waste anymore time fighting.

“Fine. Plant your stubborn ass right here and wait. Don’t move a fuckin’ muscle.”

You roll your eyes, but you slip your arms around his waist in a hug anyways. “Be careful Gen.”

Narumi’s reply is to hug you back a tad tighter.

Then he’s vanishing, shifting as he turns into a massive black and white wolf, confidently leading the others to where Reno must be waiting.

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

You wait.

And wait.

And wait some fucking more.

The sun starts breaking over the horizon when you finally catch the familiar scents of your pack mates. Reno’s rain mixed with bergamot and Narumi’s spicy cinnamon stand out the most.

Your shoulders sag with relief, too distracted by the fact that maybe your friends are okay to realize there’s an unfamiliar hint of vanilla and honey mixed amongst them. Not too mention the metallic tang of blood is overpowering close to everything else. The scent is so strong your spine stiffens and your stomach rolls.

“What if Reno was hurt?”

“What if it’s coming from Gen or Kafka?”

Some of your fear is abated when the three step into sight, but your head jerks in surprise when you notice Reno is carrying a naked man. One who must be a stranger because you’ve never seen him before.

And he currently is more wound than person.

You scramble to your feet and rush over to meet them halfway. The dark purple haired man is unconscious in Reno’s arms, and your brain freezes when you take note of the gaping laceration that stretches vertically down the middle of his sternum. It looks like someone tried to rip his heart out, and the thought makes you sick.

Thankfully, whoever did this, doesn’t seem to have cut deep enough to kill him. You’re fairly certain it’s only a layer of muscle that’s exposed, no vital organs or bones. You glance over the rest of his body to assess all his injuries.

Scratches cover his upper chest, his neck and his arms. There’s a steadily bleeding gash that cuts straight through his left eyebrow and you think one of his ribs is broken. His right eye is swollen shut, and there’s a split in his lower lip. He seems to be unscathed below the waist.

You can figure out how this happened to him later, but he desperately needs much more medical attention than you currently can provide.

“Get him to my mother, now. I’ll run ahead to warn her.”

Reno nods once, and before anyone else speaks you turn and sprint in the direction of your town. It’s takes at least ten minutes when you’re running at a decent pace, but you make it there in five. You burst through the clinic door, unintentionally scaring your mother and making her jump about a foot into the air.

You frantically explain everything that’s happened, doing your very best to describe all the injuries to her with your limited knowledge of medical terms. Her expression shifts into something you only see when she’s working life or death situations, and she immediately instructs you on what to get ready for the strangers arrival.

Reno rushes in shortly after, carefully placing the wolf on the cot your mother instructs him to use. It’s all a blur, but you watch her work a miracle, as she normally does, and help to the best of your ability.

Each time you take in the sight of the strangers badly beaten up face, your heart clenches in a way you’ve never experienced before.

And for the life of you, you can’t figure out why.

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

Once again, you find yourself waiting. It’s as much of a nightmare now as it had been earlier.

You’d been shoved out the door and into the waiting area as soon as your father had turned up to help. You’d struggled not to protest it, an overwhelming urge to protect, to help him screaming at the rational side of your brain.

But you’d forced yourself to obey and sat outside chewing on your fingernails for what seemed like days. The only time you’d convinced yourself to leave was to run home to find a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to cover up with.

Anyone who’d come in to try and sneak a glimpse of the newcomer was abruptly shooed away by you. Of course, you’d helped the ones who needed actual simple medical attention. Now you’ve taken up space in one of the waiting chairs, gnawing on your bottom lip while you stare at the floor lost in thought.

The door to the back creaks open slowly, revealing your mother and you shoot to your feet already halfway to her before she’s able to get two words out.

“Is he alright? Has he woken up? What happened to him?” Your rapid fire questions have your mother smiling comfortingly. She gives you a reassuring squeeze on the arm, turning to walk back through the door without checking to see if you’re following.

“Take a deep breath honey, he’s going to be just fine. The laceration to his chest was the worst of it, and we managed to stop the bleeding and stitch him up. Since the broken rib didn’t pierce his lung, it will have to heal on its own. We cleaned the rest of his wounds but he hasn’t woken up since. The severity of it all has taken it’s toll on him.”

Words fail you as she fills in the blanks for you, a fierce sense of relief uncurling your shoulders when she confirms he’ll be okay. You trail behind as you enter the room, eyes landing on the still unconscious form of the stranger. You notice a soft pair of athletic shorts peaking out of the blanket that’s been pulled up to his waist. At least he’s got clothes on now.

The closer you get the more it shocks you to find there was a strikingly handsome face hiding underneath all the blood. You try to ignore the swarm of butterflies in your gut and focus on the present. You shake your head softly to yourself. You don’t even know this man’s name, or if he’s dangerous.

“When he will wake up?”

Before you realize what you’re doing, your fingers have moved on their own to delicately trace the stitches that decorate his eyebrow. You snatch your hand back as if you were burned when you catch yourself, face blazing.

If your mother notices the uncharacteristic moment, she doesn’t comment on it.

“I’m not sure baby, it’s only been a few hours. Let’s give him some time before we jump to any conclusions. Assuming he’s also a wolf, his regeneration should kick in soon and speed up the recovery process. With that being said, be careful when you’re here. If he wakes up, come get somebody so you aren’t alone. At least until we learn his intentions.”

You swallow drily, lips pressing into a line as she leaves to go gather more bandages.

Your mother had said when you’re here, not if. As though she has no doubt about finding you rooted to his side.

You pull a chair up next to his bed and settle in to wait.

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

Your mother was right.

The next few days sees you spending almost all of your free time in the clinic. You’d taken to washing the stranger’s hair, cleaning his face and changing his bandages a few times a day.

He appears to be healing well, according to your mother. The scratches have begun fading to faint pink lines and the laceration down his sternum has lost it’s stitches, already scabbing over nicely.

Reno had visited the first day and you’d hugged him tight, playfully bumping your forehead with his as you tell him what an idiot he was for going out there alone. He only laughs, returning the hug just as tightly.

He let you know that he hadn’t gotten any more information than you because the stranger was already knocked out cold when he showed up. Narumi had appeared not long after, chewing him out and ordering him to watch the guy while he and Kafka searched the area.

They’d come up with nothing but a scent trail that ended at the edge of your territory. They chose not to go any further in case the threat had moved closer to town.

Even as the puzzle remained a mystery, you continued to care for the unfairly attractive man. A sick sense of self satisfaction continuing to build inside you as you watched him heal with your help.

Narumi stopped by on the third day, eyeing the sleeping stranger wearily before you hugged him the same way you had done to Reno. He’d laughed and reminded you that “nothing could take him down.” Narumi wasn’t able to offer much else in terms of information either, but he did make you promise to find him once the stranger woke up.

The next morning you arrive bright and early to check over the man you’ve oddly become attached to. You carefully carry a sterile bowl filled with warm water and a wash cloth over to his cot, ringing it out and sitting next to him to clean his face like you normally do when he starts to stir lightly.

Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze with your hand hovering mid air as he groans softly, eyes fluttering open just enough to allow you to see purple irises. His confused gaze lands on you, squinting as he focuses intently.

“Where am I?” He asks, voice hoarse from spending so long silent. You blink a few times, recovering and bringing your hand back to your lap. You try to calm your racing pulse.

“You’re safe, you’re in my town’s clinic. One of my pack mates found you in the forest after you’d been knocked out.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “I thought I was in heaven.”

You tilt your head, thoroughly confused. “You thought…. what?”

“In heaven,” he says as if it’s obvious. “Ya know, because you must be an angel.” The silence that stretches between you is borderline deafening as you process what he’s saying.

Is he… joking? At a time like this?

Your question is answered when he’s no longer able to hold in his laughter, sending himself into a wheezing coughing fit and you start to giggle from the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

The man settles back down with a wince, eyes widening and fingers reaching down briefly to trace the new, large scab on his sternum. You study him curiously, giving him time to process. He rests his head back on the pillow, shifting to stare at you serenely.

You wonder if he’s a bit insane to be so calm waking up in a foreign place, surrounded by strangers.

“I’m Soshiro, Hoshina Soshiro,” he croaks.

Soshiro, you think, testing how it sounds in your head. You like it a bit too much. You let your gaze trace the sharp features of his jaw, the ironically cat like slope of his eyes and he smiles just enough to show off his canines. A low heat slams into your belly, slithering up the back of your neck and burning the tips of your ears.

He raises his good eyebrow and waits for your response, prompting you to clear your throat and glance at the floor awkwardly before providing him with your name.

Once Soshiro assures you he won’t go anywhere, you run to the training area to fetch Narumi just as you promised and stop to alert your mother as well.

The three of you, and your pack leader Mina, gather around his bed as Narumi interrogates him a bit too harshly for your taste. You glare at Narumi but he ignores you. Not that it matters, because Soshiro answers all his questions with an easy smile. You notice then that Soshiro squints quite often, eyes only open wide when he’s serious.

His pretty purple eyes are on display now, somber as he lays out all the details of what he can remember from being attacked. You have to look away from the intensity of his stare when he glances at you. Soshiro’s vanilla honey sent sours as he speaks, and suddenly you’re aching to do anything in your power to make him smell sweet again.

Soshiro reluctantly admits to being the alpha and leader of a rogue pack. But he assures that they were only rogues because they had nowhere else to turn so they ended up sticking together. There were only four them, and they were just passing through the area when things rapidly went south.

They’d stumbled across a group of about eight other rogues who were dead set on not allowing them to pass by peacefully. Soshiro’s the one who took on eight wolves, by himself, so his pack mates could escape.

He’d been distracted for a split second and that’s all it took for one of the rogue wolves to land a solid hit on him. A different one tore into his chest and that’s when he instinctively let out a howl that cried for help. He assumes hearing Reno’s approach is what scared them off, but he’s unsure because he passed out from blood loss at that point.

Soshiro’s face screams exhausted once he’s finished retelling the story, and your mother takes it upon herself to cut off the questioning and demand everyone allow him to rest. Mina pulls your mother away and speaks to her quietly in another room, and Narumi leaves with a stone cold expression and not another word.

You, however, remain in place.

Soshiro’s frowning softly, brows pinched together in concentration as he stares out the window. His hands clench into fists at his sides and you act impulsively.

Gingerly, as if trying to avoid spooking an animal, you uncurl his hand and lace your fingers together. You concentrate on pushing out your own scent and purr when his features smooth out. His lips tug into a grateful smile and he squeezes your hand, thumb running over your knuckles.

You may not know much about Soshiro yet, but something you are certain of, is that he’s strong. He’s brave. He’s selfless and bubbly and he put his life on the line so his pack mates could have a chance to live.

You may have finally found someone worthy of being your mate.

And it excites you like no other.

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

It takes close to a full month for Soshiro to completely recover.

You’d occupied nearly all his time during it though, not that he was complaining. By week two you even had him up and out of bed, taking him on a tour to learn the town and meet some of the others. Soshiro, you find, is incredibly playful and quite friendly. You find it endearing just how well liked he’s become.

Your pack leader Mina has even stopped by the clinic a few times, offering him a place in your pack in exchange for joining Narumi’s squad. She says it’s because we need as many skilled members for protection as possible, but you have a sneaking suspicion she’s got a soft spot for Soshiro due to his situation. She’d suffered something similar in the past.

You selfishly cross your fingers that he’ll agree to stay even if it means he’ll have to give up his old pack in order to do so. It wasn’t difficult for you to come to the conclusion that you have feelings for the man, but you’ve decided to keep your cards close to your chest for now.

All in all, Soshiro’s healthy again, and that matters first and foremost to you. A scar on his eyebrow and one that stretches the length of his sternum are thankfully all that remains as evidence of his attack.

The day after he’s officially released, Soshiro requests you bring him to the place where Narumi trains his squad. You’d brought him by there multiple times before on your walks and he’d always had this longing, wistful expression as he watched them spar.

The two of you stroll towards Soshiro’s desired location, even if you’re a bit weary about it, and you happily listen to Soshiro chatter along the way.

“I bet I can beat Narumi,” Soshiro says out of nowhere, his scent reeking of confidence. You stare at him as if he’s grown two heads.

“As in, win a sparing match against him?”

“Exactly!” Soshiro grins brightly at you and the warmth of it infects you enough that you can’t help but smile back.

“What makes you say that? Not that I’m doubting your skills, but Narumi has always been one of the strongest members of our pack.”

Soshiro taps his chin in fake contemplation, humming playfully. “I guess you’ll just have to see and find out. After all, I’ll be fighting to impress someone.”

Heat burrows into your cheeks and hopeful butterflies flood your stomach at the implication in his words. Unsure of how to respond, you nod, biting the inside of your cheek. When you risk a glance at Soshiro, he’s already staring at you, the corners of his squinty eyes crinkling even more as his smile grows.

As you continue to walk you stare straight ahead, and somehow you muster up enough confidence to intertwine your hand with Soshiro’s. His scent turns even sweeter, and his chest rumbles with satisfaction.

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

Much to Soshiro’s dismay, Narumi wasn’t in the training area.

However, you did get the pleasure of seeing him put Kafka and Reno on their backs, several times. It settled something inside you that had been agitated for quite some time.

In your eyes, Soshiro is the strongest. Even without beating Narumi in a fight.

Another couple months pass by swiftly and Soshiro has made quite the place for himself within your pack. He’s adjusted impressively well. Narumi has, much to his reluctance, even made Soshiro his second in command. That was mostly due to Mina’s insistence though. There’s some sort of strange rivalry between Soshiro and Narumi that you don’t understand, but it’s friendly enough.

You spend an ungodly amount of time with Soshiro, and the more you’re together the more you’re certain he’s the one you want. The two of you haven’t said the words aloud, but you can tell he wants the same.

Currently, you find yourself lounging on his couch, sprawled between his legs like a lazy cat and pillowing your head on his firm chest. You’ve got a hand pushed up under his t-shirt, fingers rhythmically tracing the scar on his sternum.

A movie plays in the background, but you’re entirely fixated on the way Soshiro’s warm chest rises and falls gently with each breath he takes. The slow, steady sound of his heartbeat lures you closer to taking a nap.

Soshiro’s honey vanilla scent clouds the air and it doesn’t help you stay awake in the slightest. His slender fingers card through your hair, pausing to affectionately scratch near the base of your skull and you vibrate with a satisfied purr. The thick sensation of contentment is what you blame for loosening your tongue.

You mumble softly. “Soshiro?”

“Mm?” He replies sleepily.

“Are you going to catch me?”

Soshiro doesn’t miss a beat, sliding his hand down to possessively cup the back of your neck, thumb digging into the muscle under your jaw.

“Oh baby,” he starts sweetly. “I’ve already caught you. But, if you mean to ask am I going to hunt you down? Am I going to pin you to the forest floor and make you present for me like the good omega I know you are?” He squeezes your neck once. “Am I going to have my way with you and knot you? Scar your pretty little neck with my bite?” He trails the pads of his fingers over the side of your throat. “I’m offended you even have to ask.”

You shove your burning face into his chest, voice muffled by his shirt. “What makes you think you’ll get to me first?”

The nonchalant way Soshiro speaks causes goosebumps to cover your arms, as if there’s not a single chance he won’t be the one to catch you.

“Ah, well that’s because I’ll rip whoever else tries to shreds.” He tangles his fingers through the hair on the back of your skull and pulls until you’re forced to lift your head and see him. His eyes are wide open, dark gaze solely focused on you. “Seems like a good plan, right?”

You try to nod, hair still caught in his fist. Soshiro drags you up for a kiss and you think you might tear someone apart if it means Soshiro wins you in the end.

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

“Omegas! As always, you have five minutes to create some distance before the Alphas follow. Your individual run ends when you’re caught or once the sun rises, everyone understand?”

A quiet murmur of confirmation trickles through the crowd as Mina finishes going over the rules. The moon is high in the sky and you’re restless as you listen to this speech for the hundredth time.

You can feel Soshiro practically burning holes into the side of your head, and when you peak over at him, you flush hotly at the intense look on his face. He flashes you a small smile and wiggles his fingers in acknowledgment. You return the gesture before starting to slip off your robe along with the other omegas.

The fabric drops to the grass and a suffocating wave of vanilla honey hits you like a truck. You glance over at Soshiro in surprise and his face has gone pink, jaw clenched tightly as he drags wide eyes up and down your bare figure. Your toes curl into the grass and then Mina is signaling for you all to start running.

You smile coyly at Soshiro, sending him a wink and then you take off running. You shift seamlessly into a wolf, shaking your fur out and leaping through the tree line. You head in the direction of an area you know well, a place near the edge of your territory that overlooks a cliff. It’s quite far, but it’s beautiful, and you’re hoping you can make it there before Soshiro takes you down.

Branches snag your fur as you run, but you pay the pain no mind. It’s nonexistent with all the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You distantly hear the shrill siren that announces the Alphas can begin their hunt and your pulse skyrockets.

You stop only once or twice to brush up against the trunk of a tree or a branch, just to leave behind some of your scent for Soshiro to track. It dawns on you that you’re starting to get about halfway to your destination when you hear a playful howl break through the otherwise quiet forest.

It kicks your ass into gear because you know it’s Soshiro. And fuck, it’s closer than you anticipated.

Your muscles begin to burn from the hardcore pace you’re being forced to keep up. Your ribs expand rapidly as you pant to try and keep enough oxygen running through your lungs.

A crunching noise to the left of you has you glancing that direction, and your steps falter in shock when you see glimpses of deep purple fur rushing through the trees like a blur. He’s only about twenty feet from where you’re currently running.

A giddy sensation makes you yip. You knew were right to choose Soshiro, but having it validated in front of your eyes makes you feel elated.

You abruptly change direction, turning right and sprinting like a bullet train towards a clearing you know is close. A furious snarl echoes from somewhere behind you and you’d laugh if you could.

You dig your claws into the dirt to generate more momentum, and it propels you into the clearing and towards the small creek you’ve often visited. The thundering of paws closes in again, but you’re still thinking you can outrun him when Soshiro slams into you so harshly you fly off your feet and splash into the water.

A bright pain flares in your shoulder as you land and all you can think is “just how fucking fast is he?”, before you scramble to your feet, fur soaking and hanging heavily with water. You realize you can’t even waste a second with your mate chasing you, and you launch yourself back into a run before Soshiro’s teeth can sink into your leg.

Water flies off your fur in every direction as you close in on the cliff side. You buzz with energy as you glide through the maze of trees as fast as your legs can carry you. You get the vague sense that Soshiro’s just been playing with you until now, because all of a sudden he’s rapidly gaining ground on you and the fear that you won’t make it prickles at the back of your head.

Just as you’re certain your legs will finally give out you burst through the tress, having to pump the breaks and skid to a stop before you fly over the edge of the cliff. You spin around, lungs positively burning for air, to see Soshiro stalking towards you, head lowered as he hunts you down.

It occurs to you that the easily overlooked flaw in your plan was that you’re now trapped with nowhere to go. That is, unless you feel like taking a nose dive. You know you’re not fast enough to slip past Soshiro, and so you steady yourself, growling at him half heartedly. You’ll have to take him head on.

Soshiro pounces first and you leap towards him simultaneously, colliding painfully and knocking your heads together as you try to snap at his throat. Soshiro backs off a couple steps before throwing his body weight into his next movement and barrels into your shoulder, sending you crashing to the floor.

You go down with a yelp, landing on your side and sliding a few inches. Before you can even consider retaliating, Soshiro’s jaw locks around your throat, applying enough pressure to pinch the skin but not enough to puncture. He rumbles lowly with a warning and you respond with a whimper, sagging with defeat.

Soshiro drags the moment out, and then he pulls away by a few feet to allow you to shift and shed your wolf, settling on his haunches as he watches you flop onto your back, panting and heaving to catch your breath.

He huffs in amusement and you glare halfheartedly at him. In the next moment Soshiro’s human again, sitting on his knees. He’s sweaty and flushed pink all the way to his nipples, grinning with an infuriating amount of self satisfaction.

You push up into a sitting position, shoving at his chest before he can speak. Now that he’s caught you, your adrenaline has morphed into an arousal that burns so viscerally you think your blood will boil. You physically cannot waste any more time not being locked on his knot.

Soshiro, much to your dismay, snatches your wrist and doesn’t budge an inch.

“Ah ah, I don’t think so princess. You’re not calling the shots tonight.” You try to pull your wrist free, whining childishly but Soshiro wraps his fingers around your throat and slams you back onto the ground, rattling your brain and a tearing a loud groan from your chest. Your pussy aches to be filled, and the blatant display of strength makes it worse.

“C’mon Soshiro, you caught me, just like I knew you would. Now mate me,” You demand impatiently, throat bobbing against his palm as you swallow. You grip his wrist with a hiss when he squeezes again, eyes flickering down to where Soshiro’s cock stands fully hard and proud.

“Such a bossy little mate, you’re so adorable,” he coos, releasing your throat and pushing your thigh open with one hand so he can settle snug in between your legs. You push your lower lip out but then Soshiro’s thick cock twitches against your inner thigh and that wipes away all traces of your pout.

“Soshiro, please,” you beg, squirming and tilting your hips up to try and catch the head of his cock. He moans, lids fluttering when your pussy glides along his shaft, drooling all over him and he brings a hand up to squeeze your tit roughly. Your back arches into his palm and your nails dig into the dirt below.

Your mate trails his hand down your sternum with an appreciative hum and warmth pools in low your belly. You want him so badly you’re willing to fight him over it. Your gums ache dully, the urge to sink your teeth into his neck and claim him consuming you.

Soshiro’s thumb finds your swollen clit and he rubs slow, deliberate circles into it, sending waves of pleasure throughout your pelvis. It’s more of a tease than anything else at this point.

“That’s what you wanted, right baby?” He teases, dragging his thumb down to part the soft lips of your pussy, a rumble rattling his chest at what he finds. “God, you look so fucking gorgeous under me like this, I can’t wait to see you split open on my knot.”

Your clit twitches and Soshiro grins slyly.

“Why are you teasing me? You said you would give me what I want!” You’re aware sound like a little kid who hasn’t gotten the treat they asked for, but dammit, you just want Soshiro to fulfill his promise!

“And I’m not going back on my word baby girl, just appreciating the moment.” He bites into his bottom lip, gaze heavy lidded as he stares down at you.

Soshiro presses his thumb into the base of his cock, angling it just so and then he’s pushing inside you. Your breath hitches, toes already starting curl at just how good it is. The stretch is nothing short of perfect, and when he pulls his hips back as if to test the waters, the drag makes you shiver in anticipation.

Apparently satisfied, Soshiro grips the backs of your knees and shoves them towards your chest, folding you into a mating press. He shifts his weight, readjusts his knees and you hold his forearms to ground yourself. You throw your head backwards, crying out his name loudly when he starts to fuck you in earnest.

Soshiro laughs breathlessly as you beg him not to stop, sweat beading on his temple and rolling down to his jaw.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not stopping until you’re limping out of here.” The threat has your pussy fluttering, and Soshiro whines at the sensation, curling his hips the next time he thrusts in.

You all but scream when his cock strikes your g-spot dead on, the ruthless motions of his hips jostling you and scratching your back against the rocks underneath you each time. You don’t even get the chance to warn him before you’re cumming so hard your vision whites out.

“Oh fuck yes. God baby just like that. Give it to me my sweet little mate, cum on my fucking cock.” Soshiro sounds on the edge of feral when he speaks, voice fucked out and breathy.

Soshiro’s knot starts to swell, begging to pop inside your pussy and he lets your legs fall to his lithe hips, sweaty fingers slipping against your skin as he grips your waist and tugs you back onto his cock as he pushes forward.

“Soshiro, baby, please give me your knot, let me fucking have it!” You beg desperately, dragging your nails along his forearms to leave angry pink lines. Soshiro’s cock twitches violently, and he leans down to shove his face into the crook of your neck with a husky moan, licking your scent gland.

“You’re going to look so cute swollen with my pups,” he says with a whine, snapping his hips shallowly yet urgently. You groan in agreement and wind your arms around his neck.

Soshiro pants hotly against your collarbone, breath hitching as he readjusts his grip on your hips and shoves his knot inside you. His cock twitches, stuffing you enough that some of his cum manages to sneak out past his knot.

Razor sharp teeth sink into your neck and you let out a wail so loud you wonder if every other wolf in the forest can hear and just know Soshiro is rearranging your guts. Your mates scent explodes and you’re delirious with the need to claim him, pushing roughly at his shoulders to get him to let go.

His jaw unclenches and you relish in the slick sensation of his teeth sliding free from your neck. You growl, grabbing the hair at the base of his skull and wrench his head back.

Soshiro complies with a whimper, your blood staining his lips and trickling down his chin. The sight drives you fucking insane and you tear into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Sweet vanilla honey bursts across your tongue when you pierce his mating gland, and the metallic tinge of blood doesn’t deter you in the slightest.

Your mate squirms in your punishing grip, and you growl harshly, clamping down harder. He whines long and low, nails sinking into the dirt next to your head.

When the wolf in the back of your mind is truly satiated, you release Soshiro and he gasps, cock kicking inside you again. Your head falls back to the ground, chest heaving as you try to calm down, each one of your senses on high alert. Soshiro snakes his arms under your back, holding you close as he rolls the two of you until you can relax on his chest.

You go willingly, straddling his waist and pressing your face into his throat with a deep inhale. His scent is now a mixture of the two of yours. Your purr, slipping your arms around his neck and he sighs happily. The two of you bask in the high you’re on, slowly coming back down to earth when Soshiro speaks abruptly.

“Thank you.” You raise your head up to peer down at him curiously. “For saving me, I mean. I’m not sure if I ever said so, but I’m grateful it was you by my side while I recovered,” he says sincerely.

Affection blooms in your chest. “I should be thanking you. I thought I would never find a worthy mate, but when you showed up I knew I was lucky.”

Soshiro giggles. “I think that should be the other way around. I’m the lucky one. I love you though, you know that right?”

The grin you wear splits your face apart. “I love you too Soshiro. You’re stuck with me forever now though, you know that right?”

He strains his neck to reach up and plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I’m aware, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[kjiscrawlingbackformore]

Bullshit

Mari Ibarra x Reader (some brief Nat x reader)

Summary: Mari hates how close you’ve gotten to Natalie.

A/N: This is just a lil one shot for my girl Mari. 😔 love you forever angel💔

It was fucking cold. Your hands were buried in the pockets of your jean jacket. And it wasn’t doing anything for you. You groaned, you were from Florida…Hollywood, Florida.

You used to joke about not being built for the winter. Like the cold. But when you were thrust into Wiskayok, New Jersey, it was something that became a fact. And the butt end of a running joke amongst your friends.

You would rather die than endure the cold.

And this is how you knew God was a comedian. Because. What. The Hell. A plane crash? A plane crash WHERE? Where the hell were you? The woods of fucking Antartica? You started calling this shithole Narnia. The way it felt like the white fucking witch turned the place into an ice palace.

More than that. You didn’t even like soccer. Never had. You just joined the damn team because of Mari. She was your closest friend at Wiskayok. You transferred there at the end of Sophomore year. Your dad got a promotion, had to move. You did this every three years, so it wasn’t necessarily new.

The idea of packing up and leaving. Never placing roots. But you started memorizing the places you lived. It made you feel like a local quicker, easier to adapt. If you start to get good with directions, you’ll pretend you’ve been there longer than you have. It makes being there bearable, makes leaving more memorable.

You had it down to a science. You didn’t make too many friends, one or two. Easier to say goodbye to when there's not a lot. Maybe a fling here or there, no big loves. That would fuck you up. And you needed easy.

It all needed to be easy to navigate. When you told Mari this drunk at a party in the corner of some guy’s kitchen. She gave you this look. Like you were just speaking in a different language. And as quickly as you finished, she scoffed big and loud.

“You are fucking crazy, that’s like…I don’t know…sad as shit?” She says, taking a sip. “I was on board with all of that until the no big loves part. Love is like the whole point.”

You roll your eyes, “Love is the whole point?” You repeat teasing, “What are you, Celine Dion?”

“Shut up! You know what I mean. You just said the most miserable nonsense. Like what happens if you fall in love with someone? What then?”

“I don’t fall in love with people.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“That’s bullshit. Everyone has fallen in love.”

“Not me.”

Mari leaned in closer to your face. Eyes are intense and searching. You feel heat rush to your face. You shift away, but she mirrors it by moving closer until she is a breath away from you. Eyes scanning your face like she was trying to find something.

“Mari?”

Her eyes flit to your lips, and you are starting to wonder if the alcohol from the night is beginning to kick in. She licks her lips, and for a split second, you’re wondering…what would it be like to kiss her. Are her lips soft? They look soft. Would she enjoy it…if we kissed? Has…has Mari always been this pretty? Your eyes are now locked on her lips, and Mari notices and breaks out into a wide smile.

“Buuuullshiiiiiit.” She slurs, before leaning in to kiss you. She misses your lips and lands on the corner of your mouth.

A testament to how drunk she is. And with the way your heart is racing out of your chest at the small action, maybe you are too. You pull away, chuckling, your hands on both sides of her face. Giving her a chance to back out. Or come to her sense.

Instead, she is pouting, “Wait one….second. Don’t move.”

She tries again, this time kissing you firmly on your lips. With intention. Her hands are on your shoulders to help steady her. She tastes of cheap beer and smoke. And from the way she bites your lip and pulls you close, you know she won’t remember this. She’s kissing you too passionately, too intensely, too sloppily, for it to be conscious.

But you know you will remember. Fuck. The way your stomach is knotted inside you, the way you can still smell the faintest whiff of her cherry bomb perfume. The way she is kissing you like you’re going to die tomorrow.

You kissed her back, hard and with hunger. Letting yourself get lost in someone you considered safe-ish. Safe enough to befriend and share your thoughts unfiltered. Someone who knew you relatively the best in this small town.

Yeah, you remembered that kiss.

Mari did not.

Which was okay. Because, quite frankly…you didn't know what to do with a kiss like that. A kiss that you kept thinking about way too often. A kiss that would often make your eyes unconsciously flicker to her lips when she was ranting about something stupid. A kiss that made you unfortunately puddy in her hands to all her damn whims.

Including trying out for that fucking soccer team.

You stood in the cold, watching all those damn assholes you called your teammates do their chores. Or try to get warm, or do whatever you do in this hell hole.

Irony was you called Wiskayok a hell hole. Like often. Your mom would give you a pointed look whenever you said hell because of it. Now it was like fucking paradise in your mind.

Your hands shoved into your jacket, eyes flickering to the sky. The snow floated down like it was magic. And when you were little, you used to think it was.

Now it felt like a curse.

Winter was like the impending death count starting its drumroll. Who will kick the can first? It was a sick joke. But these fucking girls were insane. You felt fucking insane. You hated it. The only semblance of normalcy was-

“Sup dickwad.” Mari greeted you with a wide grin.

Mari.

In a sea of tension, weird cult behavior, and bipolar mood swings, Mari’s sense of self being in tact has been your sanity. Because thank god she hasn’t fucking changed. She has stayed her annoying, goofy, beautiful, and quietly kind self. And you were so thankful she was here.

“Hey,” You greeted with a sigh.

Mari notices your hands in your pockets, and gives you a concerned look. “Cold?”

You scoff, “What gave it away?”

She rolls her eyes, and motions for you to give her your hands. “Yeah don’t be an ass about it.”

You wordlessly show her your trembling blue hands. She frowns and rubs her hands together quickly, before holding onto yours. Her hands aren’t nearly warm enough against your freezing ones. Despite that, it sends heat rushing throughout your body, and a lingering fluttery feeling in your chest. You gasp, and Mari just gives you a grin.

“See, just have to speak up about what you need.” She mumbles to you, her hands tightly holding onto yours.

You smile, “Yeah…my bad.”

After a beat, she lets go of your hands. “Heard you’re next on hunting rotation.”

You shrug, “Yeah, we’ll head out in a few. Waiting for the snow to lighten up.”

Mari doesn’t say anything for a beat too long but her eyes shift from you to something behind you. You frown and wave your hand around her face. “Dude, are you good? What are you even thinking about?” You ask, trying to follow her eyesight to see what’s bothering her.

“Yeah so I heard Nat likes you.” Mari blurted out.

You freeze, “What?”

You spin from behind you, where the girls are all scattered around the campsite. Your eyes scour to find Natalie. Once they find her, she’s sitting near her tent, cleaning out the gun. Blonde hair was beginning to outgrow into her dark roots. Dark eyes focused and hung low. Lip tucked under her teeth in concentration.

“That doesn’t mean go fucking look at her! You’re so fucking obvious!!” Mari hisses, twisting you back around to face her again.

You give her a wide-eyed look, “Well-okay you can’t blame me for that. You can’t tell me someone has a crush on me and expect me not to want to see-”

“Do you like her?”

The question throws you for a loop. You pause, face scrunching in confusion. “Huh?”

“Well? Do you?”

“…Where is this coming from?” You ask carefully, not understanding. You narrow your eyes, trying to read her face.

Mari swallows hard before shrugging casually. “I’m just curious.”

You can tell she is trying to be casual, but her tone comes out harsh. Harsh enough to make you flinch. “Why are you saying it like that?” You question hesitantly.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re mad about it.”

“I’m not mad.”

You stare at her. Eyebrows raised, lips parted, and hands crossed across your chest. This felt like having a conversation with a two-year-old. You nod and give her an unconvinced look. “No, but you are. You’re doing that thing you do when you’re mad.”

“Just answer the fucking question.” Mari’s voice rises.

“Oh my God-you are mad.” You whispered, a pit of fear beginning to set in your stomach.

“No I’m not!” She denied, her face hot.

You lift your hands up in surrender. ”Okay! Not mad, got it. Why is it important if I like Nat or not?” You questioned softly.

“It doesn’t matter-I just-well do you?”

“I mean…I don’t know I never thought about it. I mean, she is…like hot. In an alt bad girl kind of way.” You turn your back to look at Natalie again, but Mari is stopping you and twisting you back to face her.

“You think she’s hot? She is sooo not hot. If anything she’s like an alt loser.” She objects, with a something in her tone that is trying too hard.

You scoff, “Mari…don’t fucking start. Yes she is hot.”

“No she isn’t. She isn’t a real bad girl. So what she wears leather no big deal-”

“Mari-”

“And big whoop she smokes? Literally we all do-”

You grab Mari’s shoulders effectively stopping her ramble. “Mari…are you jealous?”

Mari frowns, “N-no.”

You grin “Holy shit. You SO are!”

Mari rolls her eyes, and starts to walk away but you grab her hand and pull her into you. “Aww Mari, nooo come back. Come on, you’re beautiful too.”

“Beautiful? You just called Natalie hot. And I get beautiful?”

You look around, not a lot of the girls were around. But still you started tugging Mari away from everyone a little deeper into the woods. Mari frowns trying not very hard to untangle her hand from yours.

“Where are you taking me you freak??” Mari groans.

You roll your eyes. “Oh chill the fuck out Mari. I’m not Lottie, I’m not going to bring you to some weird ass ritual site to pray.”

That shuts her up. Because she did go to one of those. And when she told you, well you were fucking pissed. You argued about how dangerous it could’ve been or how in the grand scheme of it all fucking insane that is???? Mari had never seen your face get so red.

She kinda liked how protective you were of her.

It made you kinda…hot? It made her want to do more, see how far you’d be willing to go. What you’d do if she forced your hand to intervene. Would you protect her? Would you want her?

So Mari had locked into the sub cult happening amongst the girls. Half because what if that shit is real, other half because she wanted to see what you would do. Wanted to see if you would care.

You brought her not too far from camp, but far enough where no one will be able to hear. You let go of her hand and take a step back, arms on your hips. Mari already missed the warmth your hand on hers gave.

“Alright Mari, why the fuck are you jealous of Nat? Is it because we’re spending a lot of time together?” You ask, with a surprising amount of softness.

Mari flinches, she didn’t expect to be confronted with the truth. Of course she was bothered. In a strange turn of events, her getting closer to Lottie, pushed you to get closer to Nat. You being one of the hunters was badass (and kinda hot).

But then you started talking to Mari less and Nat more. When you were all together you would whisper inside jokes to the blonde, and your eyes would light up when she chuckled. Hell when they hunted Nat, you were the one that held back Tai, shoved Gen to the ground, and yelled to Nat to fucking run.

It was Mari that had to wash your face, Tai had knocked you out with her elbows. When Mari begged you to talk to her. Explain why you would be so reckless and stupid. You wouldnt. You didn’t even look her in the eyes.

Just mumbled “She’s our friend…we can’t just…she deserves to go back home with us.”

Natalie was softer with you after that. Mari noticed it. How could she not? Especially when Natalie would fucking run the pads of her fingers to the bruising and cut on your face. (The face Mari cleaned and patched up)

Or the way you let Natalie rest her head on your shoulder. Or how your hand found hers, when you felt anxious. How Natalie would whisper stuff in your ear to make you laugh.

And even when they made Natalie leader. You were the one that kissed her on the cheek and said you’d follow her anywhere. The memory left a bitter taste in Mari’s mouth. It made her want to punch something-

“Mari?” You call out again.

Mari eyes snap open, she is looking at you and the concern on your face. A frown deepening on her own lips. “I’m not jealous.” She lies.

You groan, “Okay fine. Not jealous. Why are you upset then?” You question, and when Mari opens her mouth to object you stop her, “AND don’t fucking stand there and say ‘I’m not upset.’ Yes you fucking are. Your left eye is twitching and you got the frown on your face. The one you had when you found out your older brother stole your Selena CD to give to his girlfriend for Valentine’s day.”

Despite her frustration and annoyance, Mari chuckled at the memory. The memory you know. She can’t help the frown that slips, because you really know her best.

And then she shook her head and sighed. Not knowing how to explain herself. So she shrugged, “I don’t like Natalie. Never have.”

Another lie.

“Okay…I don’t really like your friendship with Lottie-but I understand we have friends outside of each other-“

“-Yeah that’s the thing. I don’t like that. I don’t like that you have someone besides me.” Mari cuts to it. Her voice rising.

“You-you don’t like me having friends?” You repeat slowly and bit in disbelief.

“No I don’t.” Mari deadpans, and then after a beat. “I should be your person. I’ve always been your person since you fucking got to that shitty little town. Sure you had other rando friends. But it was me and you for the most part. So yeah fuck Natalie. So what she’s the leader? And you go hunting with her and you have this special little bond- well fuck that. We have a special little bond. And I’m hot too and also-“

In a last ditch effort to stop this rant you step closer to her and reach your hands out to gently grab her face. Thumbs caressing the apples of her cheeks. Hot to the touch. Which shuts her up quickly. Eyes wide, face flushed, mouth open.

You chuckle a little at the sight of her. “Feel free to stop this if you hate it.” You mumbled, before leaning closer and pressing your lips firmly on hers.

Her lips are chapped and cold. And she’s frozen in place, hands to her sides. Your heart drops because fuck what if this wasn’t what you should’ve done.

But then when you pull away she closes the gap and kisses you back hard. Her hands grabbing your jacket and fisting it to tug you even closer. You moan in surprise and that makes her smile into your lips. It’s all consuming and you feel Mari start to lead as she walks you backwards until you’re against a fucking tree.

Your eyes widen. “Not jealous, huh? That’s such bullshit” You tease, pulling away from her lips.

Mari frowns, “Shut up.” slamming her lips back against yours. She bites your bottom lip and uses your tiny gasp as the means to slide her tongue into your mouth. She fights for dominance and you let her have it.

One thing you’ve learned being her friend is to never fight an angry Latina. You never win, even if you’re right, even if you technically could win. You never win. So you let her take over, you let her kiss along your neck. You let her bite and suck, and mark you up.

Mari could always do what she wanted with you.

And when she pulls away, she has this satisfied look on her face. Your eyes are dilated, your hair tussled, lips red and swollen. Your neck? Screams someone marked me. I belong to someone. And you did.

“This means you’re mine. I’m yours, you’re mine. No one else gets to do this. Okay?” Mari says firmly with all the seriousness in the world.

You swallow hard and nod. “Wait are you saying we’re…like dating?”

Mari frowns “Well duh. Damn and you say I’m slow.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay rude, also I didn’t even know you liked girls.”

“Yeah? Well…I like you. I have for like a really long time-and I’m not going to lose you because the leather loser that you think is hot sweeps you away or worse-“

You kiss the corner of her mouth tenderly. To stop her angry rambling. Which it does, very quickly. “Yeah yeah.” you mumble.

You keep kissing all around her face and you can feel her melt under you. Her hand holding your waist tighter.

“You can’t just kiss me every time you want me to shut up.” She says with a strained voice.

You smile, “Hmm can’t I?”

You press your lips on hers firmly, before pulling away. “Okay, I’m yours.”

Mari nods, a goofy smile stretching onto her face. Eyes brightening, cheeks red. “Hell yeah, you are.”