#with a heaping side of sarcasm | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebunnednun · 5 months ago

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"EAT YER SOUP!" part.2

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Husband!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro hero!Wife!Reader

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Flirting , Wc: Long like his truama+, No ageless blogs!

Synopsis: A snowball fight escalates into a dramatic battle for the icy throne between the, "Snow Empress," and the, "Demon King," of class 1a and ending with you becoming sick and Katsuki taking care of his sweet little Wife.

Tons of romantic flirting, promises of fun and sexy times awaits. Reader has a quirk.

Ya like Jane Austen? You'll love this.

Part 2 of 2.

“Gotcha, Empress!”

Katsuki purrs as he yanks you out of the tube.

You barely have time to register what’s happening before instinct takes over.

Twisting in his grasp, you shoot a blast of snow from your palms directly into his face. He stumbles backward with a loud, disgruntled, “FUCK!,” releasing you just enough for you to lose your balance.

You feel the icy structure under your feet slip away, gravity pulling you toward the ground below. But then, just as suddenly, his hand shoots out again—hot, calloused fingers curling around your wrist, yanking you firmly back into his grasp.

“Damn it, lady!” Katsuki grunts, stumbling from the momentum. You both crash down together in a heap of tangled limbs inside the tube, the tight space forcing you into an awkward but oddly secure position.

Your head is tucked against his chest, and you realize with a startled flush that he’s holding you like you’re made of glass. His right hand cradles the back of your head, shielding it from the cold, unyielding surface of the plastic. His legs are splayed out, braced against the sides of the tube to cushion your fall, while his left arm is wrapped snugly around your waist, keeping you steady and close.

For a moment, neither of you says a word, the only sounds are the faint laughter and concerned murmurs of your friends outside, muffled by the igloo walls. It’s quiet in here—warm, even, despite the cold air trapped in the tube.

Then Katsuki shifts slightly, muttering a gruff, “Here.”

You tilt your head, trying to look up at him in the darkness. It’s hard to see much, but you catch a glimpse of something familiar—a flash of cherry red.

Your robe.

He’s got it wrapped around one of his hands, and with surprising gentleness, he drapes it over your shoulders, pulling it snugly around you. You blink, momentarily stunned.

“Is… Is this part of your plan to catch me?”

“Shut up,” he snaps, though there’s no heat in his voice. “You’re gonna get sick running around in your damn underwear like that.” You scoff lightly, though there’s a warmth blooming in your chest that has nothing to do with the robe. “I’m not going to get sick,” you argue. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Katsuki’s grip on you tightens just a fraction. “Yeah, well, ’m not the psycho who stripped down to their socks in the middle of a fight,” he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You grin, unable to resist teasing him.

“Did that bother you?”

His hand slides down to your hip, squeezing the soft spot there that you know he loves. “’s there to bother me?” he counters smoothly, though there’s a dangerous edge of possessiveness in his tone.

“At the end of the day, yer all mine.”

Your smile softens as you hum quietly, the tension in your body melting away. You dust some stray snow off his shoulder and settle your head more comfortably against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring thrum of his heartbeat.

“Hmm,” you murmur, snuggling into his warmth despite the awkward position. “So… what do we do now?”

Katsuki’s chest rumbles beneath your cheek as he exhales deeply. His fingers trace idle patterns on your lower back, the gesture so tender.

“We wait,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “Wait for you to stop acting like a crazy-ass queen, or wait for me to figure out how to kick your ass in here without breakin’ this damn tube.”

You laugh softly, the sound muffled against his chest. “Or,” you suggest, your tone playful, “We could just call it a truce.”

He snorts, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “A truce? After all that shit talk? Not a chance.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t make a move to push you away, and you don’t make any effort to pull back. Instead, you both lie there, tangled together in the confined space, the world outside forgotten.

It’s so nice.

The cold bites at your exposed skin, but it feels distant now—an afterthought, dulled by the warmth radiating from Katsuki. His touch is slow and deliberate, his hands heating slightly as they glide across your back, over the curve of your back, and along your arms. The sensation is heavenly, like stepping out of a steaming bath and being wrapped in a freshly-warmed towel, soft and comforting.

He’s done that for you before, countless times, but now it feels different. More intimate. The rough pads of his fingers, usually calloused from years of training, are surprisingly gentle as they trail over your skin, thawing the cold little by little.

You shiver, though not from the chill.

“Stay still, Empress,” Katsuki murmurs, his voice low and smooth, laced with a teasing edge. His warm breath ghosts over the top of your head, carrying the faint but familiar scent of mint and caramel. “Can’t have ya turnin’ into an ice cube on me.”

Before you can respond, you feel his lips press against the crown of your head, soft and lingering. It’s so tender, so unlike the fiery, brash public persona you’ve come to love, that your heart skips a beat.

Then, he tilts your head back, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail—your frozen cheeks, your trembling lips, the soft rise and fall of your breath. He leans in and brushes his lips against the tip of your frozen nose, the warmth of his mouth shocking against the cold.

“Such a pain in my ass,” he murmurs in that old tongue, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and affection.

“Running around half-naked, challenging me like you’ve got a chance.”

His words make you bristle, but before you can retort, he kisses your cheek, soft and warm, before trailing his lips down to your jawline. The gentle nips he delivers there make your breath hitch, and you feel the curve of his smirk against your skin.

“But damn, if you’re not the prettiest little thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he continues, his voice dropping into a husky whisper as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your jaw.

“Even when you’re being a stubborn, reckless brat.”

You scoff, but it comes out weaker than you’d like, especially when his lips skim over the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. His hands slide over your shoulders, his thumbs brushing along the bare skin exposed by your earlier stunt.

“You are mine,” he murmurs, his voice soft yet firm, a quiet declaration that sends a shiver down your spine. His breath fans against your collarbone as he plants another kiss there, and you can feel his smirk deepening.

“Every. Damn. Inch.”

Despite his teasing, there’s a reverence in his touch, a quiet adoration in the way his fingers trace the curve of your shoulder, the line of your neck. He’s worshiping you, in his own Katsuki way—praising you even as he mocks you.

“You really thought you could beat me with this little stunt?” he whispers, his warm lips brushing against the shell of your ear now, his tone equal parts amused and affectionate.

“Cute.”

You let out a soft huff, trying to maintain your composure despite the way he’s unraveling you with every kiss, every word. “I’m still standing, aren’t I?” you manage, your voice just as curt as his earlier tone.

His chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin. “Barely,” he shoots back, his lips finding the curve of your shoulder again. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Katsuki pauses for a moment, his hands stilling on your back as he tilts your head up to meet his gaze. His crimson eyes soften, and for just a moment, the teasing fades, replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“But you’re also a damn idiot,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I’m supposed to protect you, you know? Even from yourself.”

You blink up at him, stunned by the sudden tenderness in his voice. Before you can respond, he leans down and kisses you again, this time on your lips. It’s not fiery or rushed—it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment.

Like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t put into words into that one kiss.

When he finally pulls back, his smirk returns, though it’s softer now, less cocky. “There,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a near whisper. “All warmed up, Princess?”

You hum, leaning into him, your head resting against his chest once more. “For now,” you murmur, feeling his arms tighten around you.

The snow outside may be cold, but here, in his arms, you’ve never felt warmer.

You shift slightly in Katsuki's hold, your cheek pressed against his as his arms remain firmly wrapped around you. He’s warm, almost blazing against the cold, and it’s easy to let yourself sink into the security of his touch. But you’re not done with him yet. He wanted to play games earlier, and so can you.

Tilting your head up, you look at him, your expression softening as you press a cold kiss to the underside of his jaw. He stiffens slightly, the contrast of your chilled lips on his hot skin sending a shiver through him. You smirk at his reaction, your fingers brushing against the back of his neck as you plant another kiss along his jawline, slower this time.

“Why so grumpy, Suki?” you murmur against his skin, your voice low and teasing, just enough to tickle. “You’ve been rough with everyone all day. What’s gotten into you?”

His ruby eyes narrow as he glances down at you, suspicion flickering in his gaze. “Don’t start, Peach,” he warns, though his voice lacks its usual bite. You feign innocence, batting your lashes up at him as you press yourself closer, your fingers trailing along the edge of his collar.

“Start what?” you ask sweetly, your lips curving into a sly smile.

“I’m just worried about you, my scary Demon King. You’ve been acting so... mean.”

He snorts, his grip tightening slightly on your waist. “Yer playing dirty,” he mutters, his eyes flickering to your lips before snapping back to your gaze.

“Dirty?” you echo, gasping theatrically as you tilt your head to the side, your cold nose brushing against his cheek. “I’d never. I’m just trying to understand why my handsome grumpy husband has been acting like he’s got a stick up his—”

“Careful,” he growls, cutting you off, but there’s a hint of amusement in his tone now.

You grin, leaning up to whisper against his ear, your lips brushing against the shell.

“Oh, am I pressing your buttons? How unlike me.”

His breath hitches slightly, but he masks it with a scoff.

“You think yer so funny, don’t you?”

“I think you’re adorable,” you counter, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, your own sparkling with mischief.

“All this aggressive ‘playtime,’ and for what? Because you don’t know how to talk to your friends?”

That gets a reaction.

His eyes narrow, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“Let me guess,” you continue, your tone softening as your hand comes up to cup his cheek. “You want their company, but instead of asking like a normal person, you blow up and act like a big scary Demon King. But you’re not, Katsuki. Not really.”

His gaze hardens, but you press on, your thumb brushing against his lips. “Right now, I don’t see some fearsome tyrant ruling over his snowy kingdom. No,” you say, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a near whisper,

“I see a man who’s too afraid to ask for what he wants.”

His grip on you falters for a moment, and you can feel the tension in his body as your words sink in. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay, you know,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak. “You don’t have to keep shutting everyone out. They’re your friends, Katsuki. They love you. We love you.”

For a moment, he says nothing, his crimson eyes searching yours as if trying to find a way to argue. But instead of snapping back, he lets out a soft, frustrated sigh, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“Such a pain,” he mutters, his voice rough but quieter now.

You smile, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“And you love me for it,~” you tease, your voice light.

His lips twitch into a faint smirk, and he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. “Fuck yeah, I do,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one that melts away the cold and reminds you of the fire that’s always burning in him—passionate, intense, and fiercely loyal.

It’s a kiss that speaks of more than words ever could, and for now, it’s enough to distract you.

“Have either of you won yet?! This is supposed to be a timed competition!”

You both hear Iida’s voice echoing through the training grounds, a mixture of authority and exasperation as he shouts. Katsuki scoffs, his crimson eyes narrowing as he glares at the tube he’s stuck in. “Like hell I’m letting you ruin this,” he growls, his voice dripping with determination. Then his gaze flicks to you.

“What do you wanna do, huh?”

You smirk, a spark of mischief flashing across your face.

“I wanna see if you really think you can beat me.”

He barks a short laugh. “Tch, bring it on.”

Nodding, you crawl over him, careful not to get stuck yourself. Once you’re free, you reach down, grabbing onto his arms and tugging as hard as you can. He grits his teeth, curses flying out of his mouth, and with one final heave, there’s a loud pop! as he’s yanked free.

“’Bout damn time!” he snaps, but you’re already sprinting into the darkness, your laughter echoing in the icy air.

“Catch me if ya can, Dynamight!” you call over your shoulder, waving as you vanish into the snow.

Katsuki mutters a string of expletives, his boots crunching as he gives chase. You dive into the snow, letting it swallow you whole as you melt seamlessly into its icy embrace. Watching from your hidden vantage point, you see him searching for you, his eyes scanning the terrain.

Suddenly, you reappear, popping up a few feet in front of him.

“Hey, want to go for a swim?” you ask with a grin, your hands already glowing faintly.

“What the hell are you—” he starts, but then you flash your hands and a wave of icy energy radiates outward.

The snow around you begins to melt, transforming into water as ice walls rise up, trapping the two of you and a handful of benches. The area quickly fills like a giant tub, the cold breeze coming off the water enough to make everyone shiver.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Katsuki yells, his palms already sparking as he blasts at the ice walls, trying to escape. You dart through the water, grabbing onto his boots before he can blast his way out. “Oh no, you don’t!” you laugh, yanking him under.

The two of you wrestle in the frigid water, your punches landing on his chest with satisfying thuds. Of course, his solid frame doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, which only makes you more determined.

As you’re grappling, the sky above suddenly darkens, heavy clouds rolling in. Snowflakes begin to fall, thick and fast. But this snow… it’s not yours.

“What the…?” you mutter, glancing up.

Katsuki notices too, his expression shifting from irritation to confusion. “What’re you laughin’ about, dumbass?” he growls as you giggle.

“Looks like even nature’s on my side,” you taunt, sticking your tongue out at him. Katsuki’s lips twitch, and then he’s laughing too, a wild, competitive sound that echoes in the icy dome. He raises one gloved hand to cover the left side of his face as he mouths to you,

“I’ma play your ass like the drums when ‘m done!”

He charges at you, but you summon an army of snow creatures, their icy forms springing up around you like loyal soldiers.

“That’s cheating!” he roars, blasting through the nearest snowman with ease.

“Kiss my ass, Kats!~” you shout back, diving under the snow before he can grab you.

The chaos is exhilarating—snow flying everywhere, the water splashing wildly, your classmates shouting from the sidelines as they cheer you on. You’re so caught up in the fun that you don’t notice it at first—the loud, ominous crack that echoes through the arena.

It’s only when Katsuki freezes, his eyes darting to the ice dam behind you, that your stomach drops.

The structure is splintering, fractures snaking across its surface as water begins to seep through. Katsuki’s heat combined with the pressure of the water—it’s all too much.

“Shit,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Katsuki’s eyes lock onto yours, and he yells,

“MOVE!”

But you’re already spinning around, the sound of the ice giving way roaring in your ears as the dam begins to collapse. The massive wave of water surges forward, unstoppable and icy cold, pushing everything out and rushing a wall of ice straight toward you.

Suddenly, a burst of heat slams into your back. Before you can process what’s happening, a strong arm wraps around your waist and pulls you down, just as the dam bursts, water cascading like a tidal wave.

You brace for impact, but instead of icy water swallowing you whole, you feel warmth—familiar and searing—surrounding you. Katsuki is on top of you, shielding your body from the chaos with his own. His heat crackles in the air, steam rising as his explosions counter the freezing onslaught.

“Damn it,” he growls, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your ear.

“Are you tryin' to get yourself killed, you cracked nut?!”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, there’s another surge of heat—this time coming from behind you both. Katsuki rolls the two of you to the side just as a thick, fiery wall erupts, blocking the remaining water. Shoto stands there, his dual quirks in full display, steam curling off his hands as he pushes the wave back with calculated precision.

When the chaos subsides, you find yourself kinda laying on the cold, damp ground, still held Katsuki’s arms. He’s breathing hard, his hair plastered to his forehead, his crimson eyes blazing with frustration and something else.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, his hands still on your waist, as if he’s afraid to let go.

“You’re over reacting,” you shoot back, your voice laced with teasing, even though your heart is racing.

“OVER REACTING?!” His voice rises, and you can see his hands twitch, barely holding back an explosion.

“Ya almost got us both killed, and you think this is funny?!”

Shoto steps closer, crossing his arms as he surveys the scene. “You two seem to have a habit of turning simple fun into near-death experiences,” he comments dryly, a hint of amusement in his otherwise stoic tone. You glance at him with a grin.

“It’s called marriage, Sho. Look it up.” You see your brother smile but he tilts his head in that curious way leading you to follow his line of sight to the man pinned underneath you.

Katsuki is livid.

Not the kind of angry that makes him shout—no, this was the simmering, teeth-gritting kind of fury, the one that burned hotter than his explosions ever could. His chest rose and fell beneath you as his ruby-red eyes locked onto yours. His whole face was flushed—whether from the cold, the embarrassment of you straddling him in front of your classmates, or the adrenaline of saving you, you weren’t entirely sure. But one thing was crystal clear:

Ya mans is pisssssed!

“You—” His voice was low and guttural, barely above a growl. His hands gripped your waist instinctively, either to steady you or to hold you in place—probably both.

“You reckless little—”

“You’re welcome,” you cut in smoothly, leaning forward with a grin that you knew would only rile him up further. Your hands braced themselves on his broad shoulders as you tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? No thank-you for saving your ass from being bored?”

He scoffed, the sound laced with frustration as his fingers dug lightly into your sides. “My ass? You nearly drowned us both, you lunatic!”

“Drowned?” you echoed, laughing softly. “Please. You know water doesn’t bother me, and you wouldn’t drown if you tried. You’re too stubborn to die.”

“Not the point!” he barked, sitting up straighter so that your faces were mere inches apart. “You don’t think—”

“And you are simply thinking too much, Katsuki,” you shot back, pressing a ice cold finger against his cheek, just over the scrape from earlier.

“See? Perfect balance.”

His jaw clenched as you rubbed the spot absentmindedly, and for a moment, he just stared at you. His hands, still on your waist, twitched as though he was debating whether to shove you off or pull you closer. You could almost see the internal struggle playing out in his head, but before he could make a decision, Iida’s stern voice broke through the charged air.

“Midoriya! Shoji! Someone help me separate these two before they start another battle!”

The cacophony of voices surrounded you as Iida and Shoji rushed over, their hurried steps crunching against the frost-covered ground. Shoto, still exuding heat from his fire quirk, stood a few feet away with an unreadable expression. You and Katsuki sit tangled on the wet ground near the bleachers, your legs straddling over his hips as he tries to simultaneously catch his breath and glare daggers at everything and everyone around him. His crimson eyes darted to you, his cheeks flushed—not just from exertion or the cold but from the mortifyingly public position you’d landed in.

His voice was a low growl, barely audible over the commotion.

“Get off me, princess.”

But there wasn’t as much heat in his words as there usually was. You smirked, leaning forward just enough to invade his personal space. “But you look so comfy,” you teased, your hands braced against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, quick and strong.

“What’s wrong?~ Too flustered to admit I won?”

Before he could spit out one of his scathing remarks, Iida cleared his throat, his voice booming as he declared, “Both participants are officially out of bounds! However—” his hand gestured with the precision of a referee,

“Katsuki’s head crossed the line first, meaning the winner is our Empress!”

The collective cheers from your classmates rose into the frosty air. Izuku clapped his hands, his smile practically glowing. “You did it!” he exclaimed, his excitement infectious as he bounded closer.

Your classmates swarm the scene, a mix of laughter and concern. Mina is practically doubled over, wheezing from laughing too hard. Kirishima pats Shoto on the back, though he looks like he’s trying not to laugh himself.

“Yo, Bakugo,” Kaminari says with a grin, “You good there, man? Looks like she’s got you pinned.”

“Shut your damn mouth, Pikachu!” Katsuki roars, finally shoving you off his lap as he gets to his feet, his entire face red—not from the cold, but pure, unadulterated embarrassment.

The sound of your friends’ laughter and teasing chants pulls you out of your little bubble. Mina was cackling, Sero was nudging Kaminari and whispering something that made both of them grin, and Shoto stood nearby, arms crossed as Shinsou rested an elbow on him. His expression was as cool as ever, but his raised brow said: ‘Why is this fool touching me?’

“Looks like we’ve got an audience,” you said lightly, smirking as you slid off Katsuki’s lap (pity) and onto the ground beside him. He immediately stood, brushing snow and water from his clothes with a grumble, and shot a glare at anyone brave enough to look his way.

“And what the hell are you all looking at?!” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to send Kaminari and Sero scurrying off to pretend they hadn’t been watching. You stood as well, brushing yourself off and turning to address the group. With a playful grin, you held your hands up.

“Alright, alright, listen up! I’m calling it. Katsuki’s been properly defeated by yours truly!”

“Not a chance,” Katsuki growled, stepping closer so his shoulder brushed against yours.

“I wasn’t done with you yet.”

“Oh, I think you were,” you tease, glancing up at him with a cheeky smile. “And besides, Iida said your head crossed the line first. Therefore….” You pause for dramatic effect as you push your wet hair from your forehead.

“I win!”

You dust yourself off, standing and giving a dramatic bow to your friends. “And that, my dear friends, is how you win a fight against the mighty Katsuki Bakugou!”

“Win?! Like hell you did!” Katsuki snaps, but his protests are drowned out by the screams and laughter of your friends. The group cheered, and you saw Katsuki’s eye twitch, though he didn’t argue further. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, his scowl deepening as Izuku approached, beaming.

“Congratulations! That was incredible fighting, though! You two really—”

“Shut it, nerd,” Katsuki muttered, turning away, though his ears were still red. You reached up to give his cheek a teasing pat, earning a glare in return.

“Aww, don’t be so grumpy, Katsuki. Everyone’s just happy to see their favorite Demon King and Snow Empress putting on such a good show.”

“Keep calling me that, and you’re gonna wish you drowned,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly upward. As the group dispersed, laughing and chatting about the chaos you’d caused, Katsuki leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Next time, I’m not letting you get away with pulling that shit. Got it?”

You grinned, leaning up on your toes to press a quick, cold kiss to his lips before darting away.

“We’ll see, Suki. Better luck next time!”

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Crazy girl,” but when his eyes met yours, he didn’t deny it. Instead, he gave the smallest nod, as if to concede the point—begrudgingly, of course. You stood, brushing the snow from your clothes before holding your hands up to silence the crowd. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but the warmth of victory—and Katsuki’s heated gaze—kept you steady.

“Alright, alright, listen up!” you called, your voice carrying over the noise.

“While I know Katsuki’s... ‘methods’ today might have been a little much—”

“A little?” Shinsou interrupted, arching a brow from where he stood near the sidelines. You shot him a warning glare, an ice ball already forming in your hand.

“Don’t interrupt me, or else I shall make sure you end up in the ice next time,” you said, your tone deceptively sweet.

He wisely shut up, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. Turning back to the group, you continued,

“As I was saying, Katsuki just wanted to play with everyone. He’s not the best at showing it—” you glanced at him, and he scoffed, crossing his arms as if to deflect the attention—“But he privately expressed his regrets, and I think if he says he’s sorry, we should all forgive him. After all,” you added with a grin,

“He did save your Empress from the flood, didn’t he?”

There was a pause before Shoto, standing just behind you, said dryly,

“I think that’s letting him off easy, dear sister.”

You smiled, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Forgiveness is one of my virtues as your Empress, kind prince. Maybe you should try it.” Before Shoto could respond, Shinsou piped up again.

“Yeah? Where were those virtues when Katsuki nearly blew Shoto up earlier?”

Without missing a beat, you hurled the ice ball straight at his face, nailing him squarely in the forehead.

“I warned you not to try me, Hitoshi,” you clipped, your tone light but with enough edge to make him hold his hands up in surrender, albeit with a chuckle. The laughter subsided as your gaze softened. You turned toward Katsuki, instinctively reaching out to brush your fingers over the scrape on his cheek. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing again, his jaw tightening as he muttered, “I’m fine. Quit fussing.”

But he didn’t pull away.

The moment lingered, the group falling silent as they watched the two of you. Katsuki’s hand hovered near yours for a moment before he dropped it to his lap, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

“Well?” you prompted, raising a brow at him. “Don’t you have something to say?”

His glare swept over the group, daring anyone to speak before he finally muttered,

“Tch… Sorry.”

The reaction was immediate—cheers and laughter erupted, your classmates all grinning as they accepted his rare apology. Kirishima clapped him on the back, earning a string of curses in return, while Mina leaned into Sero, whispering loudly about how “cute” the whole thing was.

You grinned, raising your arms in victory. “See? All forgiven!”

Katsuki groaned, burying his face in his scarf. “Yer all idiots, ‘m fucking surrounded,” he muttered, though the faintest of smirks tugged at his lips. And just like that, the chaos returned, laughter and playful banter filling the air once more. Your husband might be grumpy, but you knew Kats wouldn’t have it any other way—

And neither would you.

Sato, Aoyama, and Tokoyami raise their voices dramatically, calling for cheers to echo across the snowy battlefield for, “The Snow Empress.” Your classmates burst into applause, whoops, and laughter as the victorious mood spreads. You wave to your ‘subjects’ with an exaggerated regal flair, their joyous energy lifting the weight of the icy battle you’d just survived.

A soft crown of snow builds itself upon your hair, the delicate flakes kissing your cheeks and remaining in perfect crystalline patterns on the bone. Ice glitters like tiny diamonds along your exposed neck as you fidget, pulling your cherry red robe tighter around your shoulders. The contrast of its vibrant hue against the snowy backdrop makes you appear otherworldly, even as you shift in place, your furry Juicy Couture baby pink boots sinking slightly into the frost beneath you.

You glance over at the bleachers where Shoto had folded your clothes neatly, retrieving them with careful hands. The snow glistens along the hem of your robe as you slip your white leggings back on, followed by the matching white sweater dress of your hero uniform. The soft fabric hugs you, a stark yet elegant complement to the winter wonderland surrounding you.

Katsuki watches, transfixed. His sharp vermillion eyes linger as your fingers tug at the chain tucked beneath your neckline, gently pulling it free. The glint of metal catches the light—your wedding ring. He sees the reverence in the way you slip it on, the tender care with which you give it a few deliberate turns to ensure it won’t accidentally fall off. It’s such a small act, but it anchors him, rooting him to the moment in a way that nothing else could.

You stretch, exhaling softly, and grab your scarf, gingerly wrapping it around your shoulders. The motion feels regal, every bit as graceful as you appear, your figure framed by the gentle cascade of snow. You look every inch a snow empress—fair, kind, just, and breathtakingly beautiful. Katsuki’s chest tightens as he watches you, his queen.

He doesn’t mind the biting cold, the flurry of snowflakes that dust his own hair, or even the distant sound of Class 1-A laughing and shouting as they play nearby. He doesn’t care about whatever apology he’s been made to give—it doesn’t matter, not when you’re here. As long as he has you, he thinks, everything else fades away.

You are his peace.

As everyone returns to playing in the snow, you feel Katsuki’s rough, calloused fingers slip into yours. He wordlessly pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders, the warmth and faint scent of burnt caramel enveloping you. Before you can thank him, he’s already tugging one of his gloves on your hand and adjusts it properly.

“Ya know somethin’,” you say softly, catching his attention. His crimson eyes dart to yours, confused but curious.

“‘Bout what?”

“About you speaking like you do in those romance novels you secretly read,” you tease, leaning closer. “I liked it. You should do it more often.” His ears turn red instantly, and his mouth opens to protest—but then he pauses, narrowing his eyes.

“…Really?”

“Mhm.”

You smile warmly, your voice dropping to a playful whisper.

“Truely, very sexy. I was so happy you indulged my games.”

Katsuki adjusts his scarf, clearly trying to cover his flustered expression. Without warning, he grabs your ungloved hand, shoves it deep into his warm pants pocket, and pulls you close enough that your noses nearly touch.

“‘Course I did,” he mutters, his voice gruff yet soft.

“Yer my wife. ‘m supposed to.”

You melt into his warmth, a contented smile spreading across your face as you snuggle against him. The moment feels peaceful—until you feel a gentle tug on your sleeve.

“Would you help me build a snowman?”

Shoto’s calm, steady voice cuts in. Katsuki scowls at him immediately, but before he can bark out a sarcastic retort, you nod, linking your other hand with Shoto’s.

“Of course! Let’s make the best snowman ever!” you declare, already feeling excitement bubbling up.

Shoto and Katsuki exchange a brief glance, and to your surprise, they share a small, almost imperceptible smile. Katsuki shakes his head and mutters something about how ridiculous this all is before letting you go. The three of you join the others, but as you kneel in the snow to start building, a strange sensation ripples through your body. You feel a tickle in your nose, but before you can react—

“Ack!-Achoo!”

A sudden burst of flame shoots out as you sneeze, singeing a patch of snow. At the same moment, Shoto lets out an equally loud sneeze, accidentally summoning a quick hailstorm that pelts everyone nearby. The two of you fall over, blinking rapidly at the chaos you’ve just caused. Kirishima jogs over, concern in his eyes as he asks,

“Are you guys okay?!”

You’re about to laugh it off when a heavy ominous aura rises behind you. Before you can turn around, you’re suddenly hoisted off the ground and tossed over Katsuki’s shoulder like a sack of flour.

“What the hell—?!” you yelp, flailing slightly.

With his other hand, Katsuki grabs the back of Shoto’s collar like he’s reprimanding a naughty puppy.

“THIS IS THE FUCKING SHIT I TALK ABOUT!” he yells, his voice echoing across the field.

Everyone bursts into laughter, even Shoto, who looks mildly dazed but surprisingly amused. Katsuki stomps away from the group with both of you in tow, ranting the whole way about,

“Fire quirks, Snow quirks, and dumbass pettiness that’ll kill someone one day.”

Through your laughter, you manage to gasp out,

“Katsuki! Put me down!”

“FUCK NO!”

—————

The soft hum of Divorce Court plays in the background as you sit curled up on the couch, surrounded by layers of blankets that feel like a protective cocoon. Beside you, a small trash bin is stuffed with tissues, the evidence of your persistent sneezes and sniffles. Two cups rest within arm’s reach on the side table—one filled with soda, the other with ice water—and the coffee table in front of you is covered with three bowls of chicken noodle soup, one spicy, one mild, and one piping hot. Despite the thoughtful variety, only two of them are fully eaten, the steam long since dissipated.

You yawn softly, snuggling deeper into your blankets, your eyes fluttering shut for just a moment—until a warm, familiar weight wraps around your shoulders. A pair of strong arms encircle you, and a kiss is pressed to the crown of your head, soft but deliberate.

You know that touch anywhere.

Before you can even lift your head, Katsuki hops clean over the couch, landing next to you with a thud that makes the floor groan.

“I hate when you do that,” you grumble, your voice hoarse from your cold. “Kills the sectional cushions.”

“Yeah? Couch’ll live,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back and pulling you closer to him despite your complaints. His rough hand rubs gentle circles on your legs back through the blankets, his warmth seeping into you as he glances down at the coffee table. His vermillion eyes narrow when he notices your mostly untouched bowl of soup.

The living room glowed with a warm, golden hue, the soft crackle of the fireplace filling the quiet. The walls were adorned with framed photos—snapshots of your wedding day, candid moments from family dinners, and Katsuki’s rare, begrudging smiles caught on camera.

Plants in mismatched pots thrived on the windowsills and shelves, trailing vines and vibrant leaves spilling into the cozy space. The large sectional couch, well-worn but plush, was draped in layers of soft throws and knitted blankets, a sign of countless movie nights and lazy Sundays. The shelves were cluttered with life—books with broken spines, small trinkets from vacations, and a few All Might figurines Katsuki swore were for ‘inspiration’. It was a home that had been built and filled with love, laughter, (and the occasional shouting match.)

Katsuki sat on his usual cushion, his nose and cheeks still pink from the biting cold he’d endured earlier, the evidence of your storm clinging faintly to his skin. His ash-blond hair was messy from raking his fingers through it too many times, and he was dressed in his usual "at-home" lounge wear, a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms, (fucking tasty as shit), loose sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and mismatched socks—one gray, one with orange stripes.

So why the fuck he was focused on the bowl was beyond you.

His expression was torn somewhere between irritation and concern as he stared down at you, buried under what looked like every blanket in the house.

“Ya didn’t eat it?” he asked, his voice gruff but quieter than usual. His crimson eyes flicked to the bowl of soup sitting on the coffee table, steam no longer rising from it. His frown deepened as he picked it up, inspecting it like it had personally betrayed him.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, retreating further under the fortress of blankets. “I just wasn’t in the mood.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, glaring at the soup as if it held the answers to all your problems. His hands glowed faintly as he warmed the bowl with practiced ease, steam curling up once more as he gave the soup a stir.

“You need to eat somethin’,” he said firmly, scooping up a spoonful and bringing it toward your face.

“Nooo,” you whined, burrowing deeper into the covers.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Stop bein’ a brat,” he growled, leaning closer and shoving the spoon just inches from your face.

“ ‘m not hungry!” Your voice was muffled, almost petulant, from beneath the layers.

Katsuki let out a long, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yer impossible.” He muttered under his breath, but his tone lacked any real bite. Still, he didn’t give up. He set the bowl in his lap and tugged at the edge of your blankets, peeling them back just enough to reveal your face. Your cheeks were pale, your lips slightly chapped, and your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. His gaze softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you.

“Just one bite,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost coaxing.

“C’mon, I made it just how you like it. For me, yeah?”

You peeked out from the blankets, meeting his crimson eyes. The warmth in his gaze was hard to ignore, but you still shook your head, stubborn to the end. Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed, shifting closer. “I didn’t wanna do this, but yer askin’ for it.”

He leaned down, brushing his nose lightly against yours, his breath warm on your face. You can see all his pretty freckles up close and you wanna kiss his eyelashes because damn it, the man looks so pretty. But, as if sensing your distraction, Katsuki raises one firm, very warm hand, up your leg, past your inner thighs and tummy, all the way to rest over your heart, the other hand still holding the bowl.

“Eat yer soup,” he murmured, his tone low, with a hint of something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Please.”

You blinked up at him, the sudden shift in his tone making your resolve waver. His lips ghosted over your forehead, a lingering kiss pressing heat into your skin, and then he smirked against your temple.

“C’mon, sweet princess,” he whispered, voice dripping with a mix of affection and mischief.

“Be good for your king. Just a bite.”

With a dramatic sigh, you finally gave in, parting your lips slightly. Katsuki grinned triumphantly, scooping up a spoonful of soup and gently feeding it to you. The warmth spread through your body instantly, soothing your throat and melting away a sliver of your stubbornness.

“There,” he whispers, his smirk widening. “See? Told ya ’s good,” he mutters, scooping another bite.

You hummed softly, too tired to argue as you leaned into him, and Katsuki couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped him. His queen—stubborn, infuriating, but his. And as long as you were safe and warm in his arms, he didn’t mind one bit.

“You’re so smug,” you tease, but this time, you don’t hide as he brings the spoon to your lips again.

“Damn right I am,” he replies, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before continuing his self-imposed mission of making sure you eat. You look up at Katsuki after swallowing another spoonful of soup, a playful glint in your tired eyes. “So,” you murmur, voice soft but teasing, “Did you have fun today?”

“Tch,” he grunts, leaning back slightly but keeping his legs planted firmly on the floor.

“I guess.”

You smile at his nonchalant tone, knowing full well he had a good time. “What was your favorite part, then?”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow slightly as he stares at you, but he doesn’t answer right away.

“Oh, I have to guess, huh?” you say with a mock sigh, tapping a finger against your chin dramatically. “Alright, was it the snowball fight? When Kaminari accidentally got a mouthful of slush because of you?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay, then it was when I got crowned the Snow Empress and made my beautiful kingdom?”

Another shake.

“Hmm, what about when we saw Kirishima try to eat one of the icicles and Shoto had to unfreeze his tongue?”

Katsuki snorts but still shakes his head no.

You list off a few more events; Shoto's sneeze hailstorm, your snowmen army, and even your little moment of chaos in the playground tube, but he remains silent, his smirk growing wider with each wrong guess.

“Alright, I give up!” you huff, throwing your hands up in exaggerated defeat.

“What was it?”

Instead of answering, Katsuki reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small bottle of medicine.

Your eyes go wide, and before he can say a word, you duck back into the blanket fortress.

“Nope! Not happening!”

“Oi!” Katsuki growls, his patience snapping. “Don’t start with this shit again!”

You hear the sound of the bottle hitting the coffee table and feel the cushions shift as he climbs onto the couch. A moment later, he’s straddling you, careful not to crush you under his weight as he traps you in place.

“Come out, or I swear—”

“No!” you yell, voice muffled by the blankets.

His rough hands reach down and start poking at your sides, tickling just enough to make you squirm. “You think you can hide from me, huh? You think I won’t win?” You squeal and try to wriggle away, but his hands follow you no matter where you twist or turn.

“And what’s this?” he says, his voice suddenly shifting into a dramatic, Shakespearean tone that makes you freeze. “Dost thou defy thy loyal knight? Thy loving husband who vows to protect thee from thine own stubbornness?”

You huff, peeking out just enough to glare at him. “You have some fucking nerve. Out here taking this too personally.” Katsuki glares back, though his tone stays playful.

“Damn right I am! Over my dead body am I not taking care of you, ya brat.” You pout, your lip jutting out slightly as you squint at him. Katsuki falters, his tough expression slipping just a bit as he fights the urge to grin.

“Don’t think yer off the hook,” he says, his voice gruff again. But his hand brushes lightly against your cheek, his thumb warm as it grazes your skin. “Now take the damn medicine, and I’ll let you sleep.”

“Promise?” you ask, your voice small but teasing.

He smirks, leaning down so his forehead almost touches yours. “Promise. But you pull this shit again, and I’m ticklin’ ya until you cry.”

With a reluctant sigh, you finally emerge from the blankets, and he holds up the medicine like a prize. You glare at him one last time before taking it, and he watches you with smug satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, planting a quick kiss on your forehead.

"Can you both not do that while I’m here?"

The monotone voice cuts through the cozy quiet of the room like a snowball hitting glass. You barely have time to blink before a heavy weight drops onto both you and Katsuki.

“Ugh!” Katsuki grunts, momentarily thrown off balance. He shifts to regain his footing on the couch, one hand bracing against the armrest while the other clamps around your waist to keep you steady.

You, however, are already reaching for the familiar intruder. “Shoto!” you gasp softly, pulling him closer and feeling the coolness of his skin beneath the blanket he dragged with him. “I thought you were sleeping on the chaise?”

Shoto huffs, his expression as stoic as ever, but there’s a slight pout in the way his brows knit together. It’s the look he always gets when he feels left out, though he’d never admit it outright.

“I was,” he replies flatly. “Until the two of you started… whatever this is.” His mismatched eyes glance pointedly at how close you and Katsuki are before settling back on you with a raised brow.

You sigh, brushing your hand across his forehead to check his temperature. His skin feels a little warmer than it should, and you frown. “Sho, you should be resting,” you say softly, your tone shifting to that familiar, soothing one you always use with him.

Katsuki, however, is not so gentle. “The hell is your problem?” he snaps, glaring at Shoto while trying to shove him off. “This is my damn house, and she’s my wife! Go cling to someone else, Half-and-Half!”

Shoto doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly and deadpans, “She’s also my twin sister. I have just as much a right to her attention as you do. More, actually. I’ve known her longer.”

Katsuki sputters, his eyes widening in outrage.

“You—! That’s not how this works, you icy little—”

“Enough,” you interrupt, shooting Katsuki a warning look before turning your attention back to Shoto. “Sho, you need to take your medicine.” Shoto grimaces, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I don’t desire to.”

“Shoto,” you say firmly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re not going to get better if you don’t take it.”

He doesn’t budge, crossing his arms over his chest like a stubborn child.

You sigh, your patience wearing thin. “Fine,” you say, glancing over at Katsuki with a small, mischievous smirk.

“I’ll just let Katsuki give you the medicine.”

Both men freeze.

Shoto turns his head slowly, his expression shifting from stubborn to wary as he locks eyes with Katsuki. The blond’s crimson gaze gleams with dangerous amusement, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You wouldn’t,” Shoto says, his voice low but edged with uncertainty.

“Oh, I absolutely would,” you reply sweetly, sitting back to watch the scene unfold.

For a moment, it’s a silent standoff. Shoto narrows his eyes, and Katsuki cracks his knuckles. Then, before either of you can react, Shoto grabs the bottle of medicine, pops the lid off, and tips it back in one smooth motion.

“Shotooo!” you yell, lunging forward as the bottle tips higher, a waterfall of liquid medicine pouring straight into his mouth. He pulls it away with a slight wince, the bitter taste evident in the way his nose scrunches.

“There,” he says flatly, handing you the now half-empty bottle. “Happy?”

Katsuki stares at him, his jaw hanging open in disbelief. “What the actual hell is wrong with you?”

You groan, placing the bottle on the table before grabbing Shoto’s face in both hands. “You’re supposed to take a measured dose, not half the bottle! Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“I didn’t want him to give it to me,” Shoto replies simply, casting a side-eye at Katsuki, who looks like he’s about to explode.

“You icy bastard—”

“Katsuki!” you snap, cutting him off before he can launch into another tirade. You shake your head, exasperated, and turn back to Shoto. “Next time, just let me handle it, okay?”

Shoto gives a small nod, looking mildly chastised but not entirely regretful. You sigh and wrap the blanket tighter around him, muttering something about stubborn men under your breath. Katsuki grumbles, crossing his arms as he watches you fuss over Shoto. “Unbelievable,” he mutters.

“Yea, but you love us,~” you tease, leaning back against him with a tired smile.

He huffs but doesn’t argue, pulling you closer while keeping one eye on Shoto.

You guide Katsuki to lay back against the center of the couch, his frame sinking into the plush cushions as his warmth radiates outward. He settles in with a low grumble, but the corner of his mouth twitches in a hint of a smile when you move to your usual spot, draping yourself across his chest. Your head comes to rest just over his heart, the steady, strong beat beneath you both grounding and soothing.

Shoto, ever observant and quietly calculating, watches the scene unfold from his perch at the edge of the couch. His mismatched eyes flick to the other side of Katsuki's chest, and after a moment of contemplation, he decides it’s the most practical place for him to claim. Without a word, he shifts closer and wraps an arm securely around your waist, resting his head against the opposite side of Katsuki's broad frame.

Katsuki tenses for a second, glancing down at the both of you with a furrowed brow. “What the hell is this?” he mutters, his voice gruff but lacking any real bite.

“Shh,” you whisper, your voice soft and teasing as you pat his chest. “Just let it happen.”

He grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘wonder twins’ but ultimately relents, his hand instinctively finding its way to rest on your back as he lets out a resigned sigh.

The room settles into a comfortable quiet, the only sounds are the faint hum of the television and the occasional rustle of snow outside. You begin to trace absentminded patterns along Katsuki’s arm, your fingers trailing over the defined muscles and the faded scars scattered across his skin. He doesn’t pull away, allowing you this small indulgence as his breathing evens out.

You lift his hand to your lips, brushing a series of soft kisses along each fingertip. His calloused skin feels rough against your mouth, a stark contrast to the gentleness of your actions. Katsuki watches you through hooded eyes, his expression unreadable but his heart thudding a little harder beneath your cheek.

When you glance up at him, he snorts softly. “Yer weird,” he mutters, but there’s no heat to the words.

“And yet, you married me,” you shoot back with a grin, placing one final kiss on his thumb before he captures your hand in his. He intertwines your fingers with his own, his grip firm but tender, and brings your joined hands to his lips. His mouth brushes over your knuckles, lingering there for just a moment before he lowers them back down to rest on his chest.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep without me,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in your ear. The timbre of it sends a shiver down your spine, and you glance up to find him staring at you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply softly, your smile warm as you press closer against him.

Shoto shifts beside you, his arm tightening slightly around your waist as he adjusts his position. He lets out a small, contented sigh, and you feel the tension in your body melt away as you relax fully into Katsuki’s frame. You toy with his hand a little longer, tracing the lines of his palm and pressing playful kisses along his knuckles while his free hand idly strokes your back. Eventually, his voice cuts through the quiet once more, softer this time.

“Yer somethin’ else, ya know that?”

“Mm,” you hum, already drifting on the edge of sleep. “And you love me for it.”

“Yes,” he admits quietly, his lips brushing against your hair as he adds, “Damn right I do.”

Shoto doesn’t say anything, but the slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth says enough. With you snugly sandwiched between them, the three of you find a peace that feels as natural as breathing. Katsuki's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm beneath your cheek, the weight of his hand resting comfortably against your back. He’s close to drifting off, but the small tug at his shirt is enough to make him stir.

He opens one eye, crimson and groggy, to glance down at you.

“What now?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from sleep. You tilt your head up, resting your chin on his chest as you look at him with a curious smile.

“You never told me what your favorite part of the day was.”

His brow furrows slightly, and he gives you a long, unreadable look. “Hah?”

“You know,” you continue, your voice soft as you idly trace circles on his chest. “We did a lot today. What was your favorite part?”

He closes his eye again and exhales deeply through his nose, as if debating whether or not to entertain your question. His hand tightens slightly on your back, a subtle gesture of affection even as he pretends to be annoyed.

“I’m serious,” you insist, nudging him lightly. “Come on, tell me!”

Katsuki cuts you off with a low, tired groan.

“You don’t shut up, do ya?”

“No, she doesn’t—Ow!”

You retracted your foot from a certain brother's shin and pout, tugging at his tank top again.

“Kat-su-ki.”

His eye cracks open once more, and he stares at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’s fighting a smile. Finally, he huffs out a breath and mutters, “Ya really wanna know?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes bright with anticipation as Katsuki looks you over.

You are his best friend, his partner, his whole damn world.

The one person who could understand him in ways no one else ever could. The one who had seen him at his worst—furious, frustrated, broken—and stood by him anyway, never flinching, never turning away. There wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do for you, no mountain he wouldn’t climb, no fight he wouldn’t take on if it meant keeping you safe and happy.

Katsuki had never thought of himself as the type to spoil anyone, but with you?

He couldn’t hold back. Whether it was remembering the exact brand of tea you liked, surprising you with that book you’d mentioned in passing, or drawing you a bath after a long day because he knew you loved the way it melted your stress away, he was always thinking of you.

And though he didn’t always say it with words, every little gesture, every thought, was his way of showing just how much he cherished you.

He loved the way your face lit up when he cooked your favorite meals, the way you leaned into his touch when he pulled you into his arms after a long day. He’d bite back his gruff words when you were upset, softening for you in ways he never would for anyone else. If you needed him, he was there—no questions, no hesitation.

He’d drop everything, no matter the time or place, just to see you smile again.

You are irreplaceable. No one could ever take your place in his heart. You are the one who makes him laugh until his sides hurt, who teases him just enough to keep him grounded, who has become the home he never knew he wanted. You aren’t just his wife; you were his best friend, his partner in crime, the only one who could tame his fiery temper with a look and melt his defenses with a smile.

Katsuki isn’t perfect, and he wouldn’t be the first to admit it, but for you, he tried. He tried to be softer, to show you just how much he adored you in every way he could. Because at the end of the day, you weren’t just the love of his life—

You are his everything.

“Suki?”

He shifts slightly beneath you, adjusting the arm draped over your back before he finally answers.

“Favorite part was you bein’ a pain in my ass.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?!”

He smirks now, the corner of his mouth pulling up as he looks at you with a lazy, smug expression. Hand trailing dangerously over that one spot on your back that he knew you loved.

“You heard me. You runnin’ around, causin’ chaos, laughin’ like an idiot… All of it. You’re a pain, but you’re my pain.”

Your cheeks flush, and you bury your face against his chest to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face. “You’re so dumb sometimes,” you mumble, your voice muffled against him. Kat snorts, clearly satisfied with himself as his hand slides up to rest against the back of your head.

“Yeah, but yer stuck with me.”

“And I love it,” you shoot back, your voice playful despite your embarrassment.

“Damn right you do,” he replies, his voice softening as he presses a kiss to the center of your lips.

In the quiet that follows, you glance over to see Shoto watching the two of you with an unimpressed expression.

“Could you save the mushy stuff for when I’m not here?”

Katsuki doesn’t even bother looking at him, choosing instead to pull you closer against his chest. “Shut it, Icy Hot. You’re lucky I didn’t kick your ass off this couch.”

Shoto sighs dramatically, but he doesn’t move from his spot curled against your side. You chuckle softly, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest as you let yourself relax fully into their embrace.

This, right here, was your favorite part of the day.

“I forgot my tea mug at the park.”

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!"

@willnetries, I HEARD SOMEONE CALL FOR DESSERT!!

This was my first time trying to write the whole of class 1a into a fic and I need to lay down.

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

My requests are free and open.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz,

Master lists in question: Katsuki's Sugar baby, Katsuki's Ex who secretly had his baby

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more Katsuki, Aizawa, and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too.

You can also tip me a coffee if you want. (Just made it, so excited! \(≧▽≦)/ <33)

Remember: Comments and likes, they really help. Don't be afraid to leave me a sexy little reblog too.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

158 notes · View notes

wheneclipsefalls · 1 year ago

Text

Grovel Part 2

Pairing: Aged Up Lo'ak x Fem Omatikaya Reader

Part 1

Summary: Lo'ak needs a plan. A plan that will bring you back to him.

Warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, lust, pinning, angst, past relationship, mentions of war, injury, etc.

“Stop whining.” Neteyam groaned, watching as Lo’ak secured another tie around the fabric’s base. The kelku was coming together nicely.

“I didn’t say anything.” Lo’ak all but huffed, lips turned downwards in the same fashion they had been since the celebration. He adjusted the straps of his loincloth, a trail of sweat racing down his spine. Oh how he already missed the refreshing waves of salt water.

“Your expectations were truly far too high, brother. What did you think she would do?”

Lo’ak shot him a seething look, one that warned against pushing it further, but brothers were immune to such limits.

“You’re lucky you made it out of there without injury. And now knowing what you did I can’t say I would have blamed her otherwise.”

“Yes Neteyam, I understand. Now can you shut up and help me lift the other end?” Lo’ak stomped past him, preparing the right side to be lifted. He didn’t wait for Neteyam to join him before using his own body weight to heave the heavy fabric into place. The younger Sully brother had been hyper fixated on his kelku since their arrival, even going as far as asking Kiri for advice on potential decoration.

This home had to be good enough to meet your fancy, an objective that he now understood to be much harder than originally anticipated.

“Mawey, baby brother. I am only trying to get your skxawng ass to understand.”

“Okay then fine!” The fabric was dropped to the floor in a heap. “Tell me what I should do. Since you know the ins and outs of wooing women, tell me how I am supposed to win her back.” His brows lifted, hands placed on his hips as he feigned bracing for his answer. Neteyam was not fazed by his younger brother’s outburst. After seeing Lo’ak’s restlessness the whole trip home in anticipation of seeing you, he was surprised the male was holding up as well as he was.

“I may just be a simple gentleman, bro, but I think an apology would be a good place to start.” He squeezed his brother’s shoulder, surprised when Lo’ak was too lost in thought to bother wrestling him off.

“I’ve tried. Everywhere I go she is avoiding me. I don’t even know where her kelku is or her routines. Otherwise-”

“Maybe I can help with that.”

Lo’ak sent him a skeptical look.

“What?” He deadpanned.

“She has a sister, right?” A completely rhetorical question that had Lo’ak knowing exactly where Neteyam was going with this. “Say the right words and maybe I can get some valuable help from Talu.”

“Wow. How did I deserve a brother like you?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone as he ran a hand over his face. It was no secret that Neteyam had taken a liking to Talu. The future Olo’eyktan was neither bashful nor shy when it came to playing the golden suitor.

Neteyam simply grinned before slapping him on the back and helping to hoist the kelku side once more.

You were impossible. So hard headed and stubborn that even knowing your route and home was not enough to get in a good apology. He was sure by now that Talu knew of his intentions with you, that giddy smile forever present whenever she announced his presence to you, but there was always an excuse to cut things short. Only a few minutes and you would be running off to aid at the healer’s tent or pick up the hunting gear you had left behind.

There was no end to the list of excuses you could formulate.

And it didn’t matter that neither himself nor Talu were fooled. You simply weren’t inclined to put more effort into hiding your disdain.

Lo’ak couldn’t remember you being this difficult before. When the two of you were younger you had handed your heart over to him on a silver platter. Of course your weird friendship had been full of teasing, pranks, and insults but that was only part of the fun. Once romance had been initiated, you took everything he gave with warmth and affection.

And he had ruined that.

He let out another sigh, trying to play it off when his mother gave him the side eye. His new bow was almost finished, surely the right weapon he would need to fetch an impressive kill. Perhaps he would use his spear too just in case. If he was going to win you over, it would need to be something extreme. Something that said all the words you would not let him get out.

At this point he was willing to take down a Palulukan if that is what it took.

He snorted at the thought. It may have been a few years since hunting on Omatikaya soil but he knew that thing would have him torn in two. Maybe then he would get your attention, whatever remained of his body finally being enough to crack your tough composure.

And then….

What started out as a ridiculously funny thought transformed into a new idea. A new plan. There was in fact one place that you could not run away from.

The healer’s tent had been slow in mid afternoon but luckily you were the only one on duty. When he walked through the tent flaps reverently, not bothering to hide the wince as his freshly torn up skin brushed the fabric, your lips parted. For a moment it seemed that concern swam in those beautiful eyes but then they were turning back into cold steel like that night at the festival.

“Kind of underestimated the swoop-”

He was cut off by your stern point to the space in front of you. He followed obediently but on the way he couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over your exquisite form. He had meant what he had said that first night. You were more beautiful than the day he last saw you, a goddess-like creature even his wildest dreams could not have imagined.

Today you wore a turquoise top made of small beads that were strung together to hang like vines. The color reminded him of the waters in Awa’atlu. Could that be your favorite color now? If so, he knew of so many places such gems and shells of that color. He could collect more for you. The beads mocked him, however, as their light weight cover just barely fell over your pretty nipples, one breath away from revealing the prize.

Hell, he was sure the right puff of air from his lips could push away those teasing beads.

As you began to work on applying ointment to his wounds Lo’ak forced himself to look away. However, he couldn’t find reason to not occasionally peak back and get a look at your pretty face. By Eywa, it was a true miracle that no one had snatched you up yet. Maybe he would thank the Great Mother for that gift at the Tree of Souls later.

At one point your diligence fell and strayed from the wounds to glance at him instead. He flashed a grin, one that didn’t match the state of his bloody back. You shoved his head to look forward roughly but he had already caught a glimpse of your rosy cheeks.

“You got injured how again?”

“Flying error, it’s been a while. Why?”

“No reason.”

Silence fell and Lo’ak had to keep himself from fumbling with his messy bun. You may be difficult now but one thing was still true. You always wore your heart on your sleeve.

“You don’t have to be worried, sevin-”

A sharp smack to the back of his head and Lo’ak couldn’t hide his surprised laugh.

“Damn, you’ve got a pretty good backhand.”

“Hush. I am trying to concentrate.”

It was sure to be a lie. His wounds were nothing in comparison to what you must have encountered during the war and with your experience you would have him healed and out in a few minutes. But then that meant he only had a very small window to squeeze this apology into.

“Don’t worry, I will behave.” He raised his hands in surrender but received only a little hum from you in response. “But while we’re here there is something I’ve been wanting to say.”

Lo’ak hissed when the ointment was applied harshly to his deepest cut. It was nothing he couldn’t handle after so many war wounds but it did manage to lose him a few seconds of precious time. Had that been your intent?

“When we were kids I was…an absolute skxawng.” No argument came from you and Lo’ak glanced back from the corner of his eye. “I was more than a skxawng actually. I was reckless and angry and I didn’t even think about how my actions would affect others. Especially you and-”

“I don’t care. It is done.” Without Talu’s presence there was no incentive to dampen the ice in your voice.

“Y/n,” He called your name softly, turning to grab your wrist and stop the movement. “I am sorry. I never should have hurt you like that. I knew better, especially….” He let out a deep sigh through his nose. “Especially considering how much I truly did love you.”

You yanked your wrist back as if his grip was red hot. Scrambling away slightly, he could see the control you had over the moment slipping. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to push it further, get you to accept his apology.

Unfortunately for him, Eywa must have decided that it was also the perfect time for the next healer to enter the tent.

“There were hardly any herbs left by the river. Next time we try the mountains instead.” Penyau said, the smile on her face slowly dropping once sensing the tension in the room.

“Great. Lo’ak needs patching up, sister.”

“Oh, well then-”

“No, no. Y/N is already on it-”

“I’m passing you over.”

“You truly don’t care to finish healing the Na’vi that was put under your care?” Not the angle he wanted to take, but he was panicking. So desperate to get a few more minutes with you that he had to stop himself from using his grandmother as a scapegoat to keep you here.

From the way your jaw clenched and tail curled he knew those cards would not have played well for him.

“Talu is waiting. I leave.” You gritted out. Not a second to make another attempt or ever apologize before you were past the threshold and leaving him in the dust. Or at least, leaving him with Penyau who looked confused but more than happy to assist him. The smile she gave, however, did not hold the same sweetness as yours.

Or at least the smile he remembered from all those years ago.

He prayed he would see it again soon.

A part of you wanted to insist upon staying home. Well no, all of you wanted to insist but if there was one thing you had learned from working with Mo’at is that there was no hope in defying her. If she saw it fit to bring you to the council meeting then that is exactly what you would have to do. Jake Sully was back as Olo’eyktan and with that came his sons’ attendance too. You were not foolish enough to hope otherwise, but there would surely be others there you could occupy your time with.

Even Tarsem had become a close friend of yours, as close as a clan member can dare to get to an Olo’eyktan, but conversation would be light and easy with him. If you were lucky perhaps you would be able to leave the meeting early as your sector of concern was far more narrow, giving you a chance to escape the inevitable small talk afterwards.

Luck, however, was not on your side. It seemed that Mo’at had deemed you her scribe for the meeting and that meant taking up every single detail presented. It was borderline impossible with the way Lo’ak’s eyes constantly strayed towards you. You’d think the male would have the decency to keep his staring at a minimum for public appearance.

Of course Lo’ak had never been afraid of attention.

That trait evidently had remained with him after all these years.

“Morning shift can circle northbound while overlapping with the afternoon watch.” Jake continued, using a twig to draw over their makeshift map in the dirt. It felt like he was speaking another language with the way your brain refused to concentrate. Jake might as well have switched into English with the rate you were comprehending.

“Lo’ak and Neteyam will be available by the end of the week once everything is settled in.”

You were so lost at this point it wasn’t even funny. Mo’at was going to have your head. As if sensing your confusion, the younger Sully brother said softly, “yes, for teaching.”

It didn’t clear things up much but Lo’ak had decided to start tying his hair back up into that damn bun again and you found yourself more dazed than in the beginning. Out of pure will power you resisted the urge to watch him dead on, unlike him. Watching those biceps stretch as he worked to wrestle those braids was still possible from your peripheral.

Another twist in your stomach.

Lo’ak relaxed backwards, long legs stretched out in front of him as Jake Sully continued his long speel. The meeting could have dragged on for centuries for all you knew and yet that twisting coil in your stomach never loosened. You felt like you were about to snap when the Olo’eyktan finally called for dismissal.

Up to your feet in a matter of seconds, Mo’at shot you a strange look. The tips of your ears burned as you tried to play it off and wait patiently for her. The meeting may have been over but that didn’t mean you were meant to leave her side. Most likely she would have other work for you to accomplish this afternoon and even if not it would be rude to not walk your Tsahik back to Home Tree.

“I’ve got it, grandmother.” Lo’ak easily switched Mo’at’s basket over to rest on his own hip. She gave him a nod and pat on the shoulder.

Swinging the netted bag of herbs and medicinals over your shoulder you focused primarily on the path ahead.

“Let me get that, sevin.” Lo’ak reached for your bag but with flaming cheeks you barely managed to deflect his advances and snap away.

The effort was pointless however when Mo’at gently grabbed the bag from your shoulder and handed it to him. An almost imperceivable smirk graced her lips at your perplexed expression but otherwise she remained silent. Slightly baffled and now avoiding Lo’ak’s unrelenting attention you veered to pick up the pace.

Now that he held your bag hostage there was no choice but to let him follow you both back to the healer’s tent. At least that’s what you thought until….

Mo’at let out a tired sigh and that was all it took for Lo’ak to insist she go home and get some rest. He assured her he would get the supplies back to the tent and walk you home safely, both actions that made you glare at him over her shoulder. The Tsahik, tired or not you couldn’t be sure, bid you farewell and gave her grandson another gentle squeeze to his shoulder.

The second she was out of sight you went for your bag. Lo’ak easily swiped away from your grabbing hands.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

Despite his warm smile he was only met with unspoken annoyance that seeped into the atmosphere’s tension. If he wanted to walk you home, fine, but you were going to get it done in record time. Without another word you scrambled up the nearest tree, deciding to take the overhead route to avoid traffic.

You could hear the clanking bags and basket as Lo’ak had to find ways to follow behind with only one arm to propel himself upwards. You secretly resented the way he managed just fine, despite the obstacle, long legs rushing over branches like they had only left the forest for a day.

“Is your plan to avoid me forever?”

Teeth grinding together you grabbed hold of another branch over head and propelled yourself up the next level. This time was more of a struggle, several vials almost falling out of the basket but that only earned him one concerned glance before you were striding forward once more.

“I meant what I said yesterday. I truly am sorry.”

“Yes, I heard you.” The tempo you set with your feet borderlined running. Lo’ak’s struggle became ever more apparent as the two of you scaled higher.

“Well yes I know that…shit!” A vial slipped from the basket, Lo’ak immediately lunged to catch it. You carried forward, trying not to think about how he almost lost the precious herbs that took you weeks to find and gather. “Got it!” He called but you were already several branches above.

With this head start you may just be able to outrun the Omatikaya prince and make it home safely.

Distant curses sounded from below followed by scrambling feet.

When will he ever give up?

It’s hard to say what Lo’ak did during his time with the Metkayina but you were surprised, and slightly displeased, to see how capable Lo’ak had grown in his tree climbing. Although, now he had found a way to shimmy himself up a trunk with only his muscular legs to aid. The sheer athleticism required to do such made your head spin and cheeks heat.

Straight home.

No detours.

“Y/N, wait up.”

He was closer than you would have liked, no doubt a result of your short attention span.

“Come on, sevin. Does your determination to ignore me really warrant all of this?”

Your temper was always an easy one to flare and when it came to Lo’ak Sully it seemed he had written the manual on how to light that flame. Turning on your heel, Lo’ak had to grind to a quick halt in order to avoid running into you again. It felt all too familiar to the celebration the other night so this time you spoke before he had a chance to get a word in.

“Maybe so, but what does it matter to you?!” Nostrils flaring and breathing heavily it was no longer possible to hide how fast the male had gotten under your skin.

“It’s admittedly more difficult to court a woman that won’t even let me be in her presence.”

The savage words on the tip of your tongue stuttered and your treacherous body rippled with excitement.

“You aren’t courting me.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fair. I technically have not initiated courting yet.”

“No Lo’ak, you will not court me. Ever.” Words like unbending steel the male’s eyes locked with your own and this time you found ways to not balk under his attention. When it seemed that nothing else was going to be said you turned on your heel once more.

And then Lo’ak finally spoke.

“I don’t see how you could stop me.” He murmured gruffly but the words immediately struck your temper like daggers. A bullseye shot.

“Lo’ak Te Sulli-”

“Sevin, just listen for two seconds!”

“Do not call me that!” Your voice hitched into a higher octave.

“I’m sorry I just-”

“NO!” Your shriek echoed over the branches. Heated venom coursed through your veins. “You push and push and push but I am sick of hearing it!” More words threatened to fly free but your heart was already pounding at your ribcage. Stay one more second and you were sure to find yourself saying much more than you ever cared to.

“I’m not going to give up.”

Those bubbling truths refused to be swallowed any more.

“You say that now, Lo’ak, but just wait. Soon you will grow tired of chasing after me and when you do there will be a plethora of women waiting at your beck and call. Just like before there will be another woman to entertain you where I could not.”

Lo’ak’s eyes blew wide and tail dropped to the floor but even then it would only be a few seconds before he made another pleaful attempt. And you couldn’t take any more of that. Those golden eyes covered by his signature two braids already beseeched your forgiveness far too easily.

“And once again you will go to her.”

He called your name as you left but you were already scrambling to safety.

It was going to take a grand gesture. One that would prove his loyalty to not only you but every Na’vi in the clan. Your forgiveness was not going to be an easy thing to win over but that was okay. Lo’ak had dealt with far worse for so much less. Enduring some verbal bashing and humbling circumstances was the least he could do to win the woman of his dreams.

And yet…it still hurt.

The way you shut him out, not letting him learn even a morsel about the girl he had been missing for years. How much time had he spent imagining your reunion? Perhaps all of his dreams and hopes had clouded his sense of reality because now he stood here with only a shattered fantasy left. He had fooled himself for too long, thinking the past could be something swept away with the turning of time.

He had wounded you too deep for that.

So much deeper than he had ever let himself accept.

With a heavy sigh Lo’ak commanded his heart to settle. Today he could not afford doubts to plague his mind. Everything from here on out had to be intentional, had to send a message. Your discerning eye would be sharper to him than any other potential suitor that would court a woman. Each move would be assessed and either take him closer or further away from holding you in his arms again.

He checked over the supplies one more time, finger slipping into the pouch attached to his loincloth. Everything was in place.

“We can’t be late.” He reminded Neteyam, messing with his bun until he was satisfied with the way it sat.

“Someone is eager.” Neteyam's lips curved upwards as he leisurely took another bite of yovo. “Usually I am the one rushing us out the door.”

“Things can change. I can be responsible too.” He shucked Neteyam’s bag over his own shoulder, ready to leave with or without his brother.

Neteyam rolled his eyes, heaving himself up from his seated position.

“Yes but what good is it without her here to watch you do so, baby brother?” His fingers barely touched Lo’ak’s braids before the younger brother was swooping away and swatting at his arm. The death glare sent his way only made a deep chuckle rise in Neteyam’s chest.

Neteyam’s jesting was all in good fun but Lo’ak was far from in the mood to look at things that way. Over and over your words from the other day had echoed in his head. Your tone was drenched in steel cold enmity but even that couldn’t mask the pain that was seated in your golden orbs. His own childhood recklessness had put him at this point and now it was all he could think about.

Setting things up for today’s lesson, however, had helped. It gave him an outlet, some way to use these swirling emotions and put them into something useful. Lo’ak Sully was not one to give up easily, no matter what you said.

Gun to head Lo’ak would not be able to recite a word of what his brother spoke as they walked to the lake’s edge. The pounding of his heart was far too loud and it seemed his attention didn’t matter anyways when Neteyam’s own was easily captured by your sister. Without so much as a goodbye, he stalked towards the female Na’vi and left him behind.

The rocks were littered with various warriors and clan members in his age group. His father had thought it would be best to keep it within a demographic that they could relate to, make these lessons more personal. And yet Lo’ak had never felt more out of place. At one point in time these people had been his peers but things had been so different then. A time that was hard to remember, like a distant dream.

Only the memories of you had not been tainted with the passing of time. He blamed all of those days at the reef where his head had been filled with thoughts of you. It was hard to forget the one his heart longed for. Even his fling with Tsireya could not erase the mark you had left on him.

He finally caught sight of where you were perched next to another warrior.

Your eyes only skimmed over him for a second before turning away.

You thought that it was only a matter of time or opportunity before he would be swept away and wooed by another. Perhaps if you were right things would be so much easier. And yet the tug of his heart always brought him back to you. His inability to move on was not from a lack of effort.

So many one night stands and summer flings only for every single one to feel hollow and robotic.

You couldn’t have known that, however, and it was Lo’ak’s job to find a way to prove it to you.

There were a million different excuses you could have conjured up to avoid these lessons. Some of them had almost slipped out this morning as Talu babbled on about how excited she was to see the eldest Sully son. However, you were mature enough to face the hard truths. Coping out now would be negligent to your duties as a useful clan member. If Olo’eyktan found it vital that the next generation learned about underwater diving then it was your responsibility to add those skills to your arsenal.

It had been a couple days of successfully avoiding Lo’ak and now it seemed such a shame to break the streak. You refused to let those pesky thoughts bother you today however. You were her for one purpose and one purpose only. Master the art of free-diving and return to your new found peace and quiet.

Naturally Lo’ak was greeted with quite the welcoming party, Na’vi females coaxing him over to hear about his travels. Rolling your eyes you prayed that Neteyam wouldn’t catch wind of your sour demeanor. All your worries were for not. His charming smile never strayed from your sister. Talu was skilled at putting up a calm front but you knew her well enough to sense that she was bubbling from the inside.

You were going to hear about this conversation all night.

Relief was temporarily found when the lessons started and instruction was finally given. The water was cool against your heated skin and you enjoyed the way it made your hair dance. Drill after drill you struggled to hold your breath longer. It felt as if your lungs were about to explode as you tried to suck in more air before plunging in again.

Lo’ak and Neteyam would demonstrate then invite the crowd to mimic while they inspected and instructed along the way. It helped that you were not the only Na’vi who had no natural inclination towards these talents. Many came up to the surface choking on water and pushing hair from their face. The lake looked more like an active river with the pulsing waves and splashes that emitted from every corner.

You had to give the brothers credit. No matter how ridiculous you all must have looked they never let themselves show visible signs of judgment or even laughter.

It was far too easy to find Lo’ak in the midst. Even underwater he moved with a grace and calm that seemed so unlike him. It felt as if the water swirled to make way for him. He moved in sync with the pulse of Na’vi-made waves, cresting over them like a dance. Muscular frame floating through the abyss, he was a work of art among flailing limbs.

He looked relaxed enough to fall asleep. His descent deeper was treated like an afternoon stroll. Your own dimming supply of air faded into the background as you found yourself swimming down after him. It was hard to keep up. Every long stroke of his was at least four of yours and still it felt as if that distance only grew with every passing second.

He reached the bottom with one last kick, fingers carting through the various stones that lay there. Your brows furrowed as his own expression remained unperturbed. Finally a small smile broke loose when he caught hold of one rock in particular. It shimmered even in the daylight and Lo’ak made quick work to tuck it into the pouch at his side.

The first convulsing of your empty lungs was what broke you out of the trance. Lo’ak and his rock hunting was completely forgotten as your body screamed for oxygen. Now your turn to flail helplessly, you clawed towards the surface. Your lips pressed together, trying to focus on not giving into the urge of letting water in.

How had you gotten so far down here in the first place?

The water’s surface looked so close and yet every kick only seemed to make it further away. It was an optical illusion that had your fear spiking with every second you couldn’t take in air. You hardly registered the strong arm that wrapped around your waist until your convulsing body was flying through the water.

It was a miracle your own legs didn’t tangle with Lo’ak’s as they kicked out, but he had both of your bodies plunging upwards at a speed you could barely register. It seemed that your lungs simply could not get enough oxygen when your head finally broke through the surface. Your lungs still convulsed and your throat seized at every gasping breath.

“Just breathe. Nice and slow.” His deep voice tickled at your ear. Na’vi parted as you were floated over to the nearest shore. “There you go. In and out.”

It seemed like a simple instruction but your body refused to snap out of panic mode. Fingernails digging into his forearms you tried to dislodge the residue water from your lungs. One arm under your back and another beneath your bent knees, Lo’ak easily carried your shaking body onto shore. He sat down, gently settling you between his parted legs while cooing encouragement.

“Just focus on one breath at a time. Come on, do it with me, sevin.” His chest inflated against your back before slowly exhaling. You followed his lead. “That’s it. Try to breathe from here.” He placed his palm against your diaphragm. Eager to diminish the embarrassment that was creeping in, you zeroed in on acing his request.

Breathing this way felt more physical, stretching your lungs to a point you didn’t know they could reach but every exhale brought your heart rate one further step down.

“Very good.”

The praise washed over you like a warm flame. Finally it felt as if your body was complying with your wishes, relaxing back against his chest. Your earlier fears of drowning were quickly reshaping to seem as nothing more than overreaction. Relief was sweet.

“Slow your heart.” Lo’ak purred, tucking his chin over your shoulder as he placed one hand over your collarbones. It was dangerously close to where your breasts rose and fell.

With one swipe of your cupped hand through the water you had successfully catapulted water at his face. You dislodged yourself from his snuggling before sending him a dirty look and stomping off.

Maybe that trick worked for him back with the Metkayina girls but you knew better than to fall for his charming traps.

“Sister!” Talu shouted, darting past the crowd. You could see in the distance Neteyam standing waist deep in the lake, right where your sister had left him. “By Eywa, are you alright?”

Talu wasted no time in turning you back and forth in order to scour for injuries. Although still winded you did your best to ease her concerns.

“Mawey, I am fine.” A sharp slap to the back of your head made you hiss in surprise.

“Then what were you thinking?! Diving down like that without any experience! That was not a part of the drill!” Her nose scrunched in the way it always did when giving you a scolding.

“I know I just was…checking something…” You trailed off, feeling the heat of his gaze upon the back of your neck.

“Neteyam says that you’re not supposed to dive like that even after a few weeks of training. We have to start with the shallow-”

“I know! I know!” Your groan only earned you another glare.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

It was not a new experience to see Talu worked up. With your parents gone she was used to taking over as your caretaker and protector, although you were far beyond the years of needing such things. Regardless she had a knack for worrying. Yet another reason you had elected to never tell her about your history with Lo’ak.

“I am sorry.” It was nothing more than a mumble against her shoulder when she pulled you close.

“Thank the Great Mother Lo’ak was there.” She sighed and from over her shoulder you could see where he was now directing another Na’vi female who struggled to make it across the space with one glide.

“Yes, very lucky.” You deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

It would have been rude to leave the lesson without joining in on the following social. Or at least that is what Talu claimed when you tried to retire early. Of course you had ulterior motives for expressing how tired you were but it was not a lie either. No matter how many times you had pushed yourself to suck in greater air, to make it one more stroke, you could never get past a certain threshold. Determination and anger had only swirled higher whenever you saw Lo’ak dance through the water.

The entire ordeal had left you feeling defeated. The sooner you could crack the code on diving the sooner you could retire from these lessons. There was no denying however, how good the fire’s glow felt against your wet skin. Everyone huddled in a circle around the fire. Talu was more than happy to accept the seat Neteyam had saved for her.

If it weren’t for the fear of looking over eager you were sure she would have already been snuggled up against him for warmth. Despite your animosity towards the younger Sully brother you were happy to see Talu courted by such an honorable warrior. He gave appreciation and chivalry freely, just in the way she deserved.

You opted to take a seat at the edge of the circle, sitting close to Panyau. There was great entertainment to be found in the way some of the females slumped in disappointment when Neteyam focused his attention primarily on Talu. It took a hand to your lips to mask your giggle when one female’s tail dropped after Neteyam rejected her offering of drink.

Lo’ak was not exempt from the same attention, although he strategically placed himself among other male clan members. Perhaps it was all in your head but it appeared that for once he was getting sick of the limelight. It didn’t last for long however because sooner or later the brothers were pressed to share stories from their time with the Metkayina.

“A full grown Na’vi and he’s never flown?” Matutke questioned in disbelief, many other Na’vi mirroring his same perplexed expression.

“Never. I swear I saw his soul transcend to Eywa at first lift off. Think I still have the mark from where he dug his nails into my shoulder.” Lo’ak grinned, sounding a chorus of laughter through the crowd.

“He cried almost as much as you did your first time, baby brother.” Neteyam quipped, reaching over to squeeze the back of Lo’ak’s neck. His younger brother glared and rolled his eyes as laughter rung through the forest but he surprisingly didn’t offer a comeback.

Conversation ebbed and flowed easily among the group, old friends connecting once more. You found yourself even becoming content to sit by the fire’s glow with such jovial interactions taking place. It was nice to take the backseat and enjoy some much needed rest. Even being around Lo’ak was bearable as it seemed he had finally given up on bugging you.

That is, until things took a turn.

It all started with one of the male’s, Pe’ku, teasing Lo’ak about the new gems and shells woven in his hair. Lo’ak had playfully glared at him as his friend yammered on about how it looked as if he had taken half the reef back with him.

You did your best at tuning out the conversation when one female jumped in to defend him, talking about how particularly pretty the blue gem in his hair was. Sleep threatened to take over as Lo’ak explained how rare these pieces were, having to dive down to the deepest depths to retrieve them. Eyes rolling and head resting on your bent knees, you prayed that Talu would be ready to leave soon.

The sudden oohs and aaahs when Lo’ak pulled something from his side pouch were like lullabies to your tired ears.

And then your tail peaked with awareness. The group had grown silent and the weight of many eyes bore down on you.

“Huh? What?” You stammered, head finally lifting to take in the scene with confusion. A few giggles laced the crowd and Lo’ak gave you a crooked smile.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” He asked gently.

“What? Why?” The sudden beam of attention surrounding you caused unease to settle.

Lo’ak gave a nervous laugh.

“Or I suppose I could ask here.” Tails and legs shifted out of the way as Lo’ak came to kneel before you. It was only then that you noticed the shimmering object in his right hand. “I started making this a few months ago, beginning when I first started to have hope of returning home.”

He laid the long necklace carefully over his thighs. These glimmering pieces were unlike anything you had ever seen and much like the blue piece in his hair, it danced under the fading streaks of the day’s light. However unlike the small piece in his hair these ones tarried among different colors. A kaleidoscope of rainbow that would never stay the same shade for long, prancing with every different bounce of light. Intricately woven into the shape of a bodice that reminded you much of the stretching branches that reached for the sun.

“It was the first time I had ever let myself imagine what it would be like to come back here. To see you again.”

The swirling gold specks in his eyes trapped your own wide eyed stare in a vice like grip.

“I thought about you every time I dove down to retrieve a piece. It was the only piece in Awa’atlu that held a flame to my memory of your beauty. Looking at the woman you have grown into today I see that it is greatly insufficient as a comparison.” A short laugh accompanied his last sentence.

The knot in your stomach flipped into acrobatics that had your heart pounding.

“For now this is all I have to offer as a courting gift. This and my vow.” The four fingered hand that rested on your thigh was warm, sending a jolt of electricity racing upwards. “Never will a day go by without my heart being full of love for you. Never a morning where I don’t ask myself what can be done to make you smile, to bring light into your life.To my dying breath I will protect you.”

It hit you then the specificity of this audience. At the sight of drooping females’ tails and piercing gazes of other males you realized that this was the mating pool. Your peers and potential suitors were all gathered here. And with them, every doe eyed female that had chased after Lo’ak since his return.

“I can not call you mine, at least not yet, but I do believe that Eywa has given me another chance to fight for that right. To fight for the honor it would be to reside by your side. So with my intentions clear and heart set I ask you to accept this first courting gift.”

The following silence was deafening. It felt as if every second ticking by was one step closer to the bomb in your chest exploding. The group enveloped you like quick sand, each lean closer tightening around you in a suffocating grip.

So when a small “yes” escaped your lips, you blamed it on the need to breathe. On the need to escape the borrading questions that would inevitably follow your rejection.

You were willing to blame it on anything.

Anything but the twinkle of excitement that struck you the second Lo’ak’s wide grin fell into place.

A/N: It has been so much fun to see y'all's reaction to this random little series I started. Please don't be shy! I love hearing your thoughts! It motivates me to keep writing<3

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @pandoraslovesworld @faintfill @rivatar @neteyamssyulang @mashiromochi @justcaptiannoodles @pocky444 @dayyzlol @kekunan @puddle-nerd @hazelwebsterboo2 @acerbicmoon @aesteticxsariana @haunting-venus @yawnetu @avatar4eva @baybaybear1 @nillikhyth @affinity101022 @tsireyasluvr @bambithewriter @delulumhaggy @kayfromthebay

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year ago

Note

"I'm competing for your attention again, aren't I?" w Art Donaldson 🙏

From the Domestic Bickering Prompt List

Sure thing!

Warnings: Established relationship, twice-divorced Art Donaldson, fluff, smooches

You've caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye two, maybe three times—but you've been so damn busy answering the usual questions that you've hardly had a chance to catch up with him. You're certain that he's been getting a healthy handful of them, too, along with a heap of sarcasm—

Will you have the ceremony on the court?

Will the bridal party be in tennis whites?

Third time's the charm, eh, Donaldson?

While you hadn't had any idea who Art was when you'd first met him, he'd been forthright with you about being twice divorced. He'd told you that his first wife had cheated on him, and his second wife had been a rebound.

"I wanna get married again," He'd admitted, "But I want this one to stick."

Now, you pass a nervous smile toward where Tashi Duncan and Patrick Zweig are in the corner of the party. They've been keeping to themselves for the most part, seeming to trade smiles and barbs between one another, and exchanged bland pleasantries with Art's family.

Art having such a close relationship with his ex-wife had unsettled you at first, but they had a child together. His bond with Patrick was just as obvious but admittedly a little more nebulous to you. But, they were important to Art, so you adjusted.

Patrick catches and holds your eye, raising his beer in a mock-toast and shooting you a wink. Tashi meets your gaze you next, her brow arched slightly as she gives you a nod. It's just enough and nearly too much all at once.

You're drawn into Art's mother's arm a moment later, giving you a squeeze as she coos over your engagement ring.

"You have to meet Alan and Edith—they're Art's godparents."

"Oh, I'd love to!"

"There you are."

You look up, doing a double-take at the sight of Art leaning in the doorway.

"Hey! Where did you put that bottle of wine that your mother brought?" You ask, scanning the crowded counter tops in Art's kitchen—well, it'll be your kitchen, too, once you're fully moved in.

"Can't that wait?"

"It must be in here somewhere."

"Honey."

"Can you check the dining room? Or—maybe we left it in the front hall?"

You hear Art sigh and expect to hear him leave, but when he doesn't budge, you turn your head to get a good look at him. His head is hanging, his thumb sliding over his left ring finger.

"...Art?"

"I'm competing for your attention again, aren't I?"

You purse your lips, rounding the counter toward him. When the two of you had begun dating, he hadn't been the only name on your dance card. When he'd told you that he wanted to be exclusive all of that had stopped, of course—but he'd made his dislike of sharing your attention very clear.

"You know it isn't the same," You remind him. "I'm not texting a Tinder fuckboy. I'm trying to find the gift that your mother very kindly brought us to make sure I stay on her good side."

"You don't need to worry about that. She loves you."

"I worry about it all the same."

"C'mere." Art reaches out, taking hold of your left hand and drawing you in. You smile as he raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the ring, and then to your knuckles. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to having to chase you down for a kiss."

"Is that what that pout's about?" You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips and grinning as he raises a hand to curl around your jaw.

"I wanna leave," Art murmurs.

"What?" You frown, drawing back to get a better look at him. "Why?"

"I'm sick of the party. I'm sick of this already," He thumbs your ring. "I wanna marry you tonight. Right now."

"Art!" You laugh, "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not kidding."

"You have to be. We haven't filed for a license yet—and we still have to arrange everything."

"We'll go to Vegas. If we leave right now, get tickets at the airport, we'll get there before the marriage license bureau closes. We can file online, on the way to the airport."

"...Art," You shake your head. "You're—Seriously?"

"Seriously." His eyes search yours. "I don't want to have to wait to call you my wife."

"We can't just leave everyone here."

"They're adults, they can see themselves out."

"It would be rude."

Art sighs, looking toward the busy patio. "Alright. We'll give everyone a very polite brush-off. And then can we fly to Vegas?"

"Won't your family be disappointed?"

"I don't care about that." He pauses, a wave of concern passing across his face. "Will you be disappointed?"

"What do you mean?"

"...I've done this a couple'a times. I can do without the big white wedding. But," His brows raise as he tips his head toward you, "If you want it, we'll have it."

You consider for a few moments, glancing toward the patio.

Tonight has been such a whirlwind. You've hardly had any time to catch a breath. The politics of wedding planning can be so nerve-wracking, and you'll have those little comments, those teases of third time's the charm hanging over your head. You'll have to invite Tashi and Patrick to the wedding, and where to seat them? With Art's other friends from the Academy? Will themed drinks be expected? Some hair-brained concoction called The Grand Slam, accompanied by a toothpick with a little tennis ball on the end?

There's press coverage to be had, too. Art may not be playing right now, but that doesn't mean he isn't news. You're not ready for those cameras, the questions, the months of speculation about your dress, about Tashi's attendance—

You look up at Art, resting your hand on his chest.

"I'm going to find the bottle of wine that your mom brought. We're going to finish this party like we planned...And pack when everyone leaves. We'll go to Vegas tomorrow."

The grin that breaks across Art's face is so bright and beautiful that you have no doubt you made the right decision. The crushing force of his kiss nearly bowls you into the opposite side of the door frame.

"I love you," He murmurs.

"I know, baby. I love you, too."

#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #asks #replies #anon #Domestic bickering #requests #prompts

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redflowersociety · 7 months ago

Text

HEADLOCK - [Mouthwashing]

Part 1 - Part 2

It is the year 40xx: almost twenty years since what took place on the pony express cargo ship. You currently work in a space station settled right outside the dwarf planet Haphestus. While reviewing recent data of nearby free-floating objects, an abnormally large mass is located: it’s a cargo ship.

A/N: Hi! I had the idea for a… fix-it au for Mouthwashing with the inclusion of self indulgent Jimmy who takes responsibility. Generally, this is hopefully going to explore all the crew members dynamics if they survived. Basically the entire plot of the game is changed around…. So only read if you’re up for that!!

The sound of a printer buzzing and squeaking pulled your attention off the letter in front of you, and subsequently, the soreness in your chest, if only for a moment. Blinking your burning vision back into focus, you grabbed the warm papers and shifted the letter to the side, replacing its spot in front of you with the fresh inked reports. You sorted through each paper by area code, your brain pulsating at sheer amount of numbers. You rubbed at your temple as you copied down the information into a more organized spreadsheet. Once you got that done, you placed the papers into their respective folders on the wall across the room. You stood up with the hand-written spreadsheet, and exited your office, making your way down the metal corridors.

For the past 5 years, you had been the secretary of the space station settled just outside of the dwarf planet Haphestus (named for being a colony full of factories.) Your job brought along many responsibilities: The safety of the planet you guarded, and of course, filing all the data from nearby space junk to send back down to the planet. Whenever people ask what the job is like, you make a point to explain to them just how engaging it is to do the latter, making no effort to hide your sarcasm.

After a shaky knock at the door, your captain gave the okay to enter her office. “ Mx. Harold!” She greeted you with her usual polite, empty cheeriness.

“Miss. Riley, hey. Here’s the space junk data,” you spoke with less enthusiasm than you meant to, which caused an immediate jolt of panic to shoot through your body. Your hands shook as you placed the sheets onto her desk, and you knew in your gut that she noticed.

“You alright, dear?” She leaned forward in her chair, sliding the papers to the side. Her gaze was so sharp, it was as if it was shooting a bullet hole right through your face.

“I-..I’m alright, sorry, I’m just tired, drank coffee.” You swallowed, taking small, hesitant steps towards the door.

“You can tell me if something is wrong, you know.” She started to stand. Smiling.

“I’m alright, thank you.” You nearly choked on those words, having been standing there without breathing in for a considerable number of seconds. You turned-

“Sit down with me.” She stopped hiding her commands underneath the guise of a kind request. You did as you were told. Miss Riley shifted through the spreadsheets as you sat across from her for what felt like hours. Eventually, her fingertip traced down to a particular column. “You really should be more careful.” She flipped the paper to you, pointing out your mistake. You took a closer look now, having simply been copying and sorting without much thought. The object reported from the scans was unusually big, obscenely sized, and was reported to have the mass of iron.

“…Miss Riley, I just copied what I saw on the scanner reports.” you stammered, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself.

As if upset with you for having brought the information to her, she groaned, leaning back in her chair and turning her gaze to the screen on her left. As if she had seen a ghost, her eyes went large and her mouth hung slightly agape.

“…Miss Riley?”

Exploring old, decrepit cargo ships was never part of your job description. But, considering there being no protocol put in place for such a circumstance, Miss Riley found no issue in making you do it anyways. the sound of metal scraping against itself, and whirring pistons behind you made you jump. The doors were closed. You were on this ship, and had no choice but to look around all alone. You used a test strip to test for breathable air, and once confirmed, took off your oxygen helmet. The damn thing was way too heavy to walk around with.

The bright flashlight in your hand did little to soothe you in the middle of this darkness. The sheer amount of dust getting kicked up with your every step assaulted your nose and made you sneeze more times than you could count. On top of that, it blurred all that was more than five feet in front of you. For a moment, you considered putting the helmet back on.

Stepping through metal corridors with exposed pipes and circuitry, an unusual foam coating the walls in patches; the scenery, the darkness, and the silence aside from your one footsteps, created an ambiance that brought shivers up your spine. you spent a while searching- coming across various rooms.

You had to pry your way in, as the lack of power in the ship meant not a single automatic door, but when you stumbled into the medbay, the first thing that hit you was the smell of iron and rot. blood stained bandages and browned sheets on the stretcher- pill bottles, some empty and some not so much. The labels all read as some outdated pain medication. What really caught your eye was the case left ajar on the crusted stretcher. You recognized the red rim and the outline of a pistol in the foam bottom. This was an empty gun box.

dread beginning to set in, you backed out of the room, sliding back through the half-open door and into the hall. You found yourself in a communal room. It was messy; blood splatters along the table and floor, and a giant broken screen by some dusty couches. “What the fuck happened here,” You wondered aloud.

In no rush, as the fear that gathered in your stomach threatened to paralyze you from the waist down, you headed back into the halls. Eventually, under the crack of a metal door, and through its shattered glass window, was a light blue glow that was jarring compared to the darkness of the rest of the scenery.

“Is this…” you had a feeling about the contents of this room based off that familiar glow. You pried your way inside, slipping yourself through the halfway opened slit you created. In front of you was the jarringly bright shine of 5 active cryopods. The ships power must have allocated to this single room…You were sure of it. You tapped swiftly on your wrist.

“Captain… there are people in here.”

#mouthwashing x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing #curly x reader #jimmy x reader #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #fix it #fix it fic #fix it au #fix it fanfiction #oh man oh man #Spotify #headlock

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areyoufuckingcrazy · 2 months ago

Text

Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader

The hangar ramp hissed open, and your boots hit the deck like you owned it. Technically, you didn't—but you were Plo Koon's former Padawan, still carrying his signature balance of unshakable calm and cutting sarcasm.

You tugged your hood down and grinned as you spotted two familiar figures on the bridge: Plo Koon, standing with serene patience, and Commander Wolffe beside him, looking like someone had just asked him to smile. Again.

"Master," you greeted with a playful bow. "Commander."

Without turning, Plo said, "You're late... again."

You smirked. "As long as I'm not late to my own funeral. You must know by now I consider this punctual."

Wolffe crossed his arms. "With your timing? It's a miracle you've not already had one."

You gave him a slow once-over. "Still charming as ever, I see. The scowl really brings out the war-torn veteran vibes. Very scarred and emotionally unavailable of you."

Wolffe didn't even flinch. "And you're still running your mouth like we've got time for it."

Before you could reply, Boost and Sinker passed behind him, lugging crates and throwing looks.

"Someone's in love," Boost sang under his breath.

"Poor Commander," Sinker added, "didn't stand a chance."

Wolffe didn't even turn around. "I can still reassign both of you to sewage detail."

You held back a laugh��barely.

"Are all your men like this now?" you asked your old Master.

Plo Koon gave a low hum. "Sassy. Grumpy. Aggressively loyal."

"So you picked them to remind you of me."

"I missed you," he said without missing a beat.

Your heart actually squeezed at that, but you covered it with, "Well, I hope you're ready, because if Commander Growl here is leading the op, I might die from sarcasm before I die from blaster fire."

Wolffe raised an eyebrow. "I don't babysit Jedi."

You stepped closer. "Good. I don't need a babysitter. I need someone who won't cry when I outrank him in sass."

He stared at you, deadpan. "You won't."

You stared back. "You sure?"

Pause.

"Unfortunately."

Plo Koon interrupted before one of you ended up biting the other. "We deploy in two hours. I expect both of you to survive long enough to get along."

You and Wolffe answered at the same time.

"No promises."

---

The landing zone was chaos.

Blaster fire lit the sky, droids rained from drop ships, and the ground was already smoking. You and Wolffe hit dirt side by side, crouched behind the smoldering wreckage of what used to be a tactical transport.

"Well," you said, deflecting a bolt with your saber, "this is cozy."

"You call this cozy?" Wolffe growled, firing a shot so clean it sent a super battle droid straight to the scrap heap.

You smirked. "I've had worse first dates."

He didn't look at you, just reloaded. "You're bleeding."

You glanced at your shoulder. Blaster graze. "A little paint off the speeder. I'm fine."

"You should patch it."

"Are you worried about me, Commander?"

"No. I just don't want to carry your dramatic ass off the battlefield."

"You mean you can't carry me."

"Try me."

Before you could sass him again, Boost's voice crackled through comms.

"Commanderrr, she's making that face again."

"You mean the one that says 'I flirt by mocking your trauma'?"

Sinker's voice joined in, deadpan: > "So... her default face."

"Copy that, shutting off comms now," Wolffe said dryly—and actually turned his comm off.

"Coward," you muttered, slashing through another droid.

But underneath all the banter, you were moving in sync. You ducked when he fired. He stepped when you struck. Like muscle memory. Like old training and shared violence. Like maybe, somehow, this shouldn't feel so... natural.

_ _ _

The op was a win. Barely.

You were bruised, bleeding, and parked on a cold medbay cot with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder. Wolffe was sitting across from you, helmet off, that glorious scar catching the sterile light.

You stared at it. Again.

"I can feel you looking at it," he grumbled, arms crossed.

"Can't help it. It's criminally hot."

He blinked. "It's a war wound."

"Exactly."

He shook his head. "You're weird."

"You're pretty," you shot back—mostly to see him flinch.

And oh, he flinched. Glared like you'd punched him in the stomach.

"I—what—don't—" he sputtered. "You can't just say things like that."

"You mean compliments?"

He looked genuinely appalled. "You take one like it's a threat!"

"Because they usually are! Last guy who called me beautiful tried to shoot me two hours later."

Wolffe rubbed his face. "We are so emotionally damaged."

You grinned. "You like it."

He muttered something about Jedi being a menace, and you stepped closer. Right into his space. Close enough to see the tension in his jaw—and the way he didn't move away.

"Wolffe," you said quietly. "You're allowed to like me. Even if I'm mouthy. Even if I scare you a little."

"You don't scare me."

You leaned in.

"Good."

Then you kissed him. And stars, he kissed you back.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle. It was the kind of kiss you gave a person when you both knew tomorrow might not come. Hard, real, desperate in that quiet, aching way soldiers kiss—the kind that says I know we're doomed, but just for tonight, pretend we're not.

When you finally pulled back, he was breathing a little heavier.

"...You're exhausting," he whispered.

"You love it."

"...Unfortunately."

From the next room, Boost called, "If you're done making out, the rest of us are bleeding."

Sinker added, "Bleeding and emotionally neglected."

Wolffe let his head thunk against your shoulder.

You just smiled. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Maker help me," he muttered.

But he didn't say no.

#clone trooper x reader #clone wars #clone x reader #clone trooper preferences #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars headcanons #tcw wolffe #commander wolffe fluff #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe

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marvel-redemption-omega · 1 year ago

Text

Adam x Bratty!fem!reader

Reader is afab/female, explicitly used

Established relationship; you're Adam's wife

Summary: Y/n has started popping off to everyone lately, but mostly to Lute and Adam, which has caused a few scenes. Sera warned them to get their act together before she has to intervene. Adam thinks he knows just the thing to reel Y/n back in.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY

Explicit content under the cut!

Warnings: Adam, lots of cursing, brief Dom!Lute, mentions of guitarspear if you squint, vague mentions of Lute x reader if you squint, Dom!Adam, Brat!reader, soft!Adam, BDSM/bondage, wing kink, thigh riding, edging, orgasm denial, slight praise kink?, you get used, idk what else you want me to say, there's some fluff in the midst; Adam fucks you senselessly into submission for being a brat, idk if there's more warnings. It's over 10k, I've lost track now.

Word count: 10,792

Make Me

(Not my gif, pulled from Google. If it's yours please lmk and I'll edit to credit!)

“The fuck you looking at, Saint Peter? Do I need to get Adam? Move,” you growl, shoving past the poor angel as you head towards the training grounds for the exterminators. Saint Peter looks after you, rubbing his wing where your own clipped his, sending a worried look after you before flying off to who knows where.

You slam open the doors, spreading your wings and launching yourself at the first exorcist you see. She is coming up to greet you, hand out for a handshake, when you grab it and fly up. Ignoring the startled scream from her, you try to keep steady as you twist, somersaulting a couple of times, and sling her towards a group of other exorcists headed right for you. They try to stop the one you sent flying at them, their wings tangling. You watch as they all plummet, hitting the ground with a harsh thud.

“Y/n!” Lute's voice has you turning to face your lieutenant. You smirk and bow your head slightly, wings twitching just the slightest as you hover and land before her.

“Lieutenant,” you grin, walking around her, wings partially folding behind you as you circle her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?” Sarcasm drips from your words. You rest your hands on your hips and watch as she turns with you, her eyes never leaving you.

“This isn't your normal behavior. What's gotten into you? Have you forgotten that we're all a team? We work together as one, and when you break that uniformity, it creates chaos,” Lute glares, voice cold as she approaches, her own wings stretching out. You know you're her subordinate, but you can't help taking the bait she's dropping. Her wings fully spread and you take the opportunity to taunt her.

“What's the matter? Don't like the fact I'm more brazen? I thought you said I needed to be more like you,” you snip, fully extending your wings as a show of defiance to her dominant display. Her eyes narrow and you both move quickly, flying towards each other. However, in your senseless agitation, you forget that Lute is your superior, in both ability and technicality. She easily gets the upper hand and wrestles you onto the ground, pinning your wings to your sides and you to the ground.

“You seem to be forgetting your place,” Lute warns, her tone sharp and hinting at something else you don't quite catch. The group of angels you sent in a heap arrive, all talking over one another to try and tell Lute what happened. She silences them with a look, not moving from atop her perch on you. “Hush! I saw what she did. Don't worry, Adam and I will be dealing with her,” she dismisses the group with a wave of her hand. Only once they're gone does she let you up, one hand gripping the base of one of your wings tightly, forcing you to back up to the side of the building as she extends her wings, making herself look bigger. You bite your tongue at the feel of her hand in your feathers, walking back until she has you pinned, your own wings shrinking and folding as best they can with a hand in the way.

“What now? You've got me alone? Why don't you just beat me and be done?” You snap, glaring at her boots. She steps into your space, forcing you to look at her. You press yourself back to the wall, irritation written on your face.

“You've got some nerve! You're lucky that you're one of the best I've trained. And you're even more lucky that Adam has a soft spot for you, otherwise I'd leave you broken on this fucking ground,” the lieutenant growls, twisting the hand she's got on your wing ever so slightly. Something crossed between a yelp and a moan escapes you as she pushes against you. “Since you think you can just barrel over anyone, you're going to be waking up extra early with me to do drills. We start tomorrow.” With that, she releases the hold on your wing, keeping hers flared behind her, before taking off. You hear her call for the ones training today. With a mocking snort, you take flight and leave the training grounds, deciding to be anywhere else but near Lute.

“Stupid Lute yelling at me. I didn't do anything. Why's she gotta take her anger out on me,” you grumble, landing back on the promenade. You know that's a lie, you're being a brat, but it's not your fault, you reason. You fold your wings, tucking them under your arms as a habit you adopted from Adam. “Fucking tell me I've gotta do early morning shit. Fuck her, she's not the boss of me,” you continue to rant to yourself, completely missing the golden winged angel. His eyes widen as he watches you storm by, none the wiser to his presence. He glowers before white wings cover his face, momentarily confusing him and turning him around.

“Whoa! Sera! I thought we agreed you wouldn't fucking sneak up on me again!” Adam says, looking up at the seraphim. She crosses her arms as she meets his eye.

“Adam, get your subordinate back in line. She is being rude to the other angels and if this behavior of hers continues, I will be forced to intervene. Saint Peter is not the first to have a complaint with Y/n and her behavior,” Sera warns, watching as Adam turns to watch you. Sure enough, you're shoving others aside, using your wings to try and create more space around you as you walk.

“Yeah yeah! I'll go get her! No need to jump down my throat, that's my job!” Adam dismisses Sera, crouching lightly as he spreads his wings. Sera grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“I'm serious, Adam. Reign Y/n back in or I will have to pull her from the extermination team and move her elsewhere. And if she doesn't calm down there, well, let's not let it get that far,” Sera releases him, turning to greet Emily who is flying up with two ice cream cones. Adam, unfortunately, loses sight of you in the time Sera is talking to him. He groans and heads to find Lute.

Lute is sparring with five exorcists at once, pointing out their flaws as she takes each one down. Adam, not particularly keen on getting a sprained wing again, waits out of the way until she notices him and dismisses them to work without her.

“Sir?” his lieutenant questions, wings folding behind her as she walks up to him.

“Have you seen Y/n? Sera's bitching ‘bout her. Something ‘bout she's being mean or some fucking shit. I wasn't really paying attention,” he admits, shrugging as they walk back out the training facility. Lute smirks at his typical behavior.

“Yeah. She came here earlier and assaulted some of the others. Sera is right though. Y/n was deliberately being disobedient,” she reluctantly agrees with the seraphim about you. To be fair, normally you'd go straight to Lute for a good, challenging spar, so to go after some of the younger and less experienced exorcists was a dick move on your part. Adam sighs and groans, glancing down at his lieutenant.

“Hey, Lute~”

“No.”

“What the hell, you don't even know what I was gonna fucking ask!”

“I know you. I don't need to know what you were going to ask.” Adam just stares at her for a moment, his mask switching to a deadpan expression. It quickly switches back to his usual, cocky smirk.

“Oh yeah? If you're so smart, what was it along the lines of then, Dangertits?”

“You were thinking of having me deal with Y/n instead of you, Sir.”

“Don't say it with such confidence. Bitch,” he throws in the last word as an afterthought, realizing she pegged him pretty well. She stopped and turned to face him, brow raised in question.

“So am I wrong?”

“Shut up. No. Let's just fucking go,” he grumbles, spreading his wings and flapping twice to get into the air. Lute smirks and follows silently. She might be his subordinate, but they both know she's right more often than not.

They finally find you at the local barbecue pit, in the reserved section. Reserved for him, Lute, and you. Lute looks up at Adam, wings folding behind her as she waits for his orders. “C'mon, Dangertits,” he mutters, making his way to you. You don't bother looking up when you're sandwiched between two bodies. The familiar touching of wings against yours immediately tells you it's Adam and Lute. You flip them off and continue eating your plate of ribs.

“Umm excuse the fuck outta you, Sugartits. You have some damn nerve acting like you're so fucking high and mighty all of a sudden. The fuck's got your panties in a twist?” Adam reaches over you and takes a rib, expertly dodging the fork you try to stab him with. Lute remains quiet, eyeing you as you glare at Adam, dropping the fork.

“None of your fucking business. And get your own damn plate of ribs, asshole,” you bite out, wings shifting in annoyance. Adam grins and reaches for another rib, holding your gaze while he does so.

“Fucking make me,” he retorts, grabbing the rib you start to reach for. Your eyes narrow, wings fluffing up fully behind you.

“You fucking absolute prick. What the hell is wrong with you?! I said to leave me the fuck alone. I was eating alone just fine until you two showed up,” you yell, drawing unwanted attention and eyes towards the three of you. You let your wings lift you from between your superiors, glaring down at them. “Stop fucking following me!” You leave the duo with your half eaten plate as well as the bill, hands clenched at your sides as you fly out the doors.

Emily finds you on a cloud, well away from everyone. She flies into your vision, giving you a warm smile. You can't help but return it. No matter how mad you were, Emily always seemed to make you want to smile and try to be happy for her sake. She was like a little sister to you after all. You gesture to another cloud beside the one you're on, letting your wings fluff out in contentment. Emily accepts your silent invitation. Heaven's sun warms your wings as you sit in peaceful silence with the young seraphim. It doesn't last long though. You feel Emily's eyes on you and you know she has something she wants to say.

“Everyone's worried about you, you know. Sera's worried that you're going to fall. Adam and Lute….they're worried something is wrong. Something like you don't want to be here, in Heaven, anymore. Saint Peter also said to let you know he wants to see you when you get the chance,” the seraphim rambles, one of her hands finding yours. You allow her to link your fingers, listening to her. Yeah, you have been a little shit lately, you know that. There was only one person who could help and he was still as clueless as ever. Adam. Well, that's not true. Lute could most definitely help too, you just preferred if it were Adam.

“I promise I'm fine, Em. You can tell Sera that I'll be okay. I'm just….going through something,” you grin, swinging your joined hands. “But, for you, I'll try and not cause any more trouble.” You mean every word. You don't want to give Sera a reason to cast you out. You actually like it here in Heaven. Hell, you even like your misogynistic, egotistical, dumbass husband. Why, you don't know, but there's just something about him that draws you in and keeps you coming back for more. He'd definitely say it was because he's the Original Dick.

“Eee! I know she'll be happy to hear that! I'm gonna go tell her you're okay! Okay? Bye!” Emily lurches forward to give you a hug before racing off to find her older sister. You let out a chuckle at the young seraphim's antics. For someone at least a millennia old, she still had a childish air about her. It was refreshing, a nice change of pace from her older sister, Sera.

Your peaceful mood doesn't last too long. You remember Lute telling you that you have to be up early for extra training due to your outburst earlier. Honestly, you know you can't blame anyone but yourself, but that doesn't mean that you like it. With a defeated sigh, you make your way back to your house.

You slam the door to your home, grumbling and cursing Lute and several other angels. In your anger, you completely miss two angels in your kitchen. Adam and Lute watch you pace in your living room, wings fluttering about. They have a silent conversation before Adam's smiling and Lute is trying her best not to, shaking her head. Finally, the light from your kitchen catches your eye.

“What the hell? I can't go out without running into you and now I can't even be in my own fucking place?!” You groan, feathers floating around you as your wings puff up in your annoyance. Adam smirks, lacing his fingers and folding his hands, resting his chin on them as he watches you.

“Babes, this is our house, not just yours,” he corrects you without hesitation, watching as you shake your feathers and fold your wings. Lute watches you both, only here to act as the middleman if needed to separate a fight. You turn your back to them and head back to the couch, falling face first onto it.

“Fuck off. I'm so sick of seeing your ugly mug,” you snarl, head turned to the side so they can hear you. Adam turns to Lute, nodding to the door. She gives him a look, but he shoos her as he gets up, making his way to you.

“Adam, I don't think-”

“Lute, just go. I can fucking handle this. I think I know just the fucking thing to correct her attitude,” a grin appears on Adam's mask, a ripple running through his wings as he pushes his chair back. You fluff your wings, letting them sprawl, one hanging off the back of the couch and the other dangling on the floor. Lute doesn't offer any further complaints, just opens the door and gives him a look before shutting it behind her.

“Go away, Adam,” you huff, feeling his presence hovering over you. You crack an eye open to see his face inches from your own, mask discarded somewhere. You yelp in surprise at the proximity, your wings flapping frantically to help you pull back and away from him. His grin widens as he slowly stalks towards you, his golden wings unfurling and shaking out behind him.

“You've been rather busy the last couple weeks huh? Been fucking with me and Lute and raising hell up here. Care to enlighten me as to why?” His gold eyes narrow as you search for a way around Adam or out of reach of him and his wings. You know he will use his wings to pull you close if you get too close.

“N-no. I haven't,” you lie poorly, slowly crawling backwards on the couch, and off the far side over the arm. You both stare at each other as your feet land on the cool hardwood flooring. A subtle flutter of his wings has you turning and darting down the hall, wings helping as you try to keep out of Adam's reach, hoping to get to the bedroom before he reaches you.

“You're such a shit liar,” he snorts at you, catching up to you quickly. You don't stop to see how close he is, you don't need to. You can feel his feathers brush against yours just before they fully envelope you.

“Adam!” You squeak out as his arms wrap you in a tight hug, face burying in the crook of your neck. Trying to steel your resolve and not break from such a small interaction, you use your wings to push against his, earning a chuckle from him.

“S'matter, Babe~? Need something?” His sharp teeth nip at your neck and it takes all of your willpower to not cave and moan at the sensation. The feel of his chin stubble combined with his teeth make your knees weak. Thankfully you have wings that help keep you balanced.

“Not from you,” you manage to scoff, still trying to get out of his grip, though your attempts are more feeble with each bite to your shoulders. In the small power scuffle, Adam has managed to walk you to your bedroom, nudging the door open fully with his wing.

“Mm, don't fucking be like that. I came all the way here from work just to help you,” he growls in your ear, voice dropping as he talks. You pause in your escape attempts, a chill running up your spine and through your wings. Adam doesn't miss the shaking of your feathers at his words, gold eyes glinting in the setting light filtering in through the window. He quickly takes advantage of your lack of fight, easily hefting you into his arms bridal style, letting your wings free of his hold. You blink up at him, arms instinctively going around his neck.

“Bullshit. Your head is too far up your own ass to care about me,” you sneer at him, grabbing his collar and pulling it tight so it comes close to choking him. He grins and leans his face closer to you, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“I'm gonna make you eat your fucking words, Babe,” he mutters. He tosses you onto the bed after breaking your hold on his collar. His wings stay spread, displaying his dominance to and over you.

You turn to him, on your knees, and spread your own wings in defiance. You grin smugly at him, crossing your arms as he makes no moves to change your mind. When he does move, you don't see him. He turns you around faster than you expect. It's easy to pin you, and when he moves to grab something from under the bed, he keeps you down with his wings. You struggle under him until you feel cold metal on your wings. A gasp escapes you as Adam moves to secure your wings so they stay flared out, the metal frame locking as he puts the spines of your wings into each arm. You try to pull away, only for the metal brace to force them to stay.

“A-Adam!” You whine, realizing what kind of hole you dug for yourself. He ignores you, making sure your wings are secure before rolling you onto your back.

“You want to show disrespect to your superiors? Don't worry, I'm going to remind you of your place,” he chuckles, moving to grab something from the nightstand.

You whimper. You know you're fucked. You pushed your luck, especially with Adam, and went overboard with your bratty attitude. But fuck if this isn't what you wanted. Adam had been ignoring you after all. He was always ‘too busy’ with work. Maybe you were jealous of the time he spent with Lute, not like you should be, you knew their relationship, but it did bug you sometimes. Especially when you're his wife. You're aware and more than ok with the swing style relationship you both share with Lute. It was something you accepted readily when you met her after a date with Adam. There was hardly ever one without the other, no matter which way you looked at it.

“You're going to be begging me to stop before I'm through with you. I'm going to make sure you don't forget where you belong for a long time,” Adam's voice brings you back to the present. You look up at him, not daring to move from where he rolled you. He's sitting beside you, hand on one of your knees, hiding something in his other hand. You prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze.

“Big talk coming from someone who's locked up my wings. What's the matter, Dickmaster? Can't put me in my place with my wings in the way?” You taunt, though there's no real bite to your words anymore. You know you're at his mercy now, but you still can't help yourself since he hasn't touched you aside from the love bites he gave you on the way to the bedroom. You watch as his hand freezes the small thumb circling on your knee. His head tilts and he pulls out a massage wand, twirling it a couple of times.

“Sounds like you need more than just this. On my knee, now!” He orders, setting the massager on the floor for now. You raise a brow at him and bat your lashes at him.

“Make. Me.”

A feral noise escapes your husband. You're dragged into his lap and stripped of your boots and pants with a snap of his fingers. His robe is also discarded from his snap, leaving him in dark jeans and a band tee shirt. Your wings try to move, but the bar keeps them locked in place. The most you're able to do is shift the feathers slightly.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The sting from Adam's hand connecting with your ass pulls a startled yelp from you. Your body shivers and goosebumps appear on your arms and legs. You try to kick and get out of his lap, but his hold on you tightens.

“Want to try that again, Bitch?”

“Y-yes… Make me, Dickmaster.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

You try to stifle your moan by biting your fist, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. You hear him tsk and see his shadow shaking his head at you.

“Nu-uh, that's not a good little bitch. What do we say?” He teases, grabbing your free hand and clicking something around it. You recognize the feel of the metal cuffs, even if it's been a few months since they've been used. He grabs the hand you're biting, and you willingly let him pull it above your head. He holds your hand there, your other being held in place by the chain connecting the cuffs.

“Fuck.”

“Getting warmer,” he chuckles, shifting so you're sitting on his lap. “You're going to ride my thigh until you tell me, but if you cum before I say so, I'll make sure you don't get to cum for the rest of the night. Understand, Bitch?” Your heartbeat feels like it's in your ears as you nod your head, wiggling your free hand to grab his shoulder. He lets you readjust yourself, the hand holding the empty cuff taps your free hand. “Gimme.” You immediately move your hand to his, letting him fix the cuff and click it around your wrist. He moves your hands so your arms are locked around his neck, hands resting on his shoulders with the lengthy chain. His own hands roam your body, pausing at your chest to grope your breasts through your top, one continuing south to rest on your hip after he gropes your ass. “Move,” he commands.

You tense slightly before realizing what he means. You lean forward, burying your face in his neck as you begin slowly grinding on his thigh. Still feeling a bit bratty, not having your fire extinguished just yet, you gently nip at Adam's neck before biting down hard at the junction between his collarbone and neck.

“Fuck!”

You smile as best you can with your teeth clamped against his neck, sucking on the skin until you're sure it's bruising. You feel Adam's wings curl around you, radiating warmth. Your wings block his from fully enveloping you, but you feel the warmth in your wings where they touch his own. Feeling proud about your mission to mark your husband, you let go of his neck with a loud pop. Adam's hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he forces you to move faster on his thigh.

“You have some damn nerve being such a brat, yanno that?” He doesn't give you time to answer. He's sucking and biting a trail of hickeys along both sides of your neck, to hell with what anyone says. Once satisfied with the number he's left on you, he lets your hips go, hands trailing up your back to your wings. Your breath hitches as his hands curl tightly into the small feathers closest to your back. “Gonna have to show you where you belong. Make you understand just what happens to a brat who doesn't behave.”

“Sounds fun,” you breathe, leaning your head on your arm to look up at him, grin on your face as your halo shifts to right itself. He tilts his head down at you, gold eyes alight with something you can't quite pinpoint.

“Always gotta have the last damn word, don't cha?” He grunts, grabbing the chain connecting the cuffs and yanking it over the back of his head, holding it above him to pull you close. He drops the chain as his hand moves to grip the back of your neck, tangling in the hair there. You open your mouth to say something else smart, but he quickly covers your mouth with his own, silencing you before you can get anything out. You try to refuse when he licks your lips in an attempt to get you to open your mouth to him. He growls and tugs the hand in your hair, earning a moan from you and giving him access. He massages your wings as you kiss, only pulling away when you gently tap his shoulder, your signal you need air.

You can't process anything. From Adam's hand in your feathers, you riding his thigh, and that kiss? You feel a bit tipsy. Wanting to keep riding the high that is Adam, you lean back in for another kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair. Sensing your keen interest, he obliges you as you pull him down for another sloppy kiss, teeth clacking and tongues dancing.

“Adam, please… Don't want to ride your thigh,” you manage to squeak out, head resting on his shoulders, hands gripping his hair tightly as you grind down on his thigh.

“What's that? You don't want to?” He repeats, letting his hand untangle from your hair and trail up and down your back. He grins, and you swear his face matches his mask. “Too bad. Brats don't get what they want,” he answers, gripping your hip to keep you moving. He rocks his leg, shifting it with you so it hits just right, causing you to squirm. You whine and try to pull away with no fire in your heart, stopped by his grip, wings, and the handcuff chain. You can feel how excited he is, but you know he'd hold off just to prove a point. With another whine, you push your forehead into his collarbone. He doesn't want me to cum but wants me to ride his thigh? Fine, I'll at least follow one rule, you think, gripping his shoulders to pick up your pace on his thigh. If he wants you to ride his thigh, fine, you can do that, but you're doing it on your terms, not his. “Whoa. Ok, Sugartits, now we're talking,” Adam murmurs above you. You try to ignore him, ignore the feel of his hands on you. You don't care about him right now. He's been so mean to you! He's been too busy for you. Fuck him! You're gonna use him. Yes, you love him, but fuck him, literally and figuratively.

So focused on your own pleasure, you don't hear Adam calling for you. You're shaking your head, ears filled with the sound of your own panting. You feel the way Adam moves his leg under you, the way your wings tug against the warming metal brace, the warmth of Adam and his wings, the way you're moving in and out of sync with Adam's leg, it makes your brain fuzzy. A whine is pulled from your lips as you feel that familiar spring coiling tightly in your stomach. When did it coil like that? Surely you're not already about to come undone? Your fingers dig into his shoulders and you bite on his shoulder as your body shakes slightly uncontrollably as you reach your orgasm. You feel a rumble from Adam's chest, his hands tightening harshly on your hips as he works you through your bliss, slowing you down as your body settles from the aftershocks of your release.

“Still disobedient, I see,” you hear his voice and give a faint nod as you release his neck. You smirk at the mark before leaning back to meet his eye, eyes half lidded in ecstasy.

“Fuck you,” you manage to grumble, using the chain against the back of his neck to pull him closer. He chuckles, denying you the kiss you desperately want, he holds you still on his lap, wings unfurling from around you both and folding to his sides. The cool air sends a shiver up your spine, the chill creeping over your bare lower half. You glare then pout at him as he laughs at your expression, hands running over your legs to bring some heat back.

“I told you already, brats don't get what they want,” he reiterates, bringing one hand down hard on your rear end, making you jump. He smiles mischievously and snaps, eyeing your now nude body on display for him, your wings still held firm in their restraint, giving him a complete view of you. You whine and rock against his leg, your first orgasm barely scratching the surface of your need. “Ah ah ah,” he chides, lifting you just enough to prevent you from achieving the friction you just tried to make. He holds you like it's effortless, and honestly, for him it probably is. Man's like eight feet tall, if not more. You whimper, leaning your forehead into his neck at the loss of all contact except where he's holding your thighs. Your hands pull together and you realize Adam is pulling the chain over his head so you aren't locking him in place.

“On your hands and knees.” You're deposited on the bed, the remaining warmth leaving you as Adam shuffles off the bed and waits for you, gold eyes glowing in the dark. You shift your weight, grumbling, until you're on your hands and knees as ordered. “You know better. Arch your back.”

The sound of buzzing piques your interest enough to listen, turning your head so your left ear is pressed to the soft sheets on the mattress. You feel your feathers ripple and a few smaller ones fall as they poof up against your will. Heat creeps up your face and you quickly bury it against the sheets with a groan. Adam's chuckle is faint, but you hear it as he shuffles around behind you. The bed dips under his weight, forcing you to shift and recover your position for any sliver of hope that he won't keep his word of denying you more orgasms.

“Aww s'matter, Babes? Embarrassed your wings are giving away how aroused you really are? Afraid I'm going to do exactly as I said?” His voice drops lower as he leans over you. You feel his scruff on the back of your neck, his breath hot as he places a few sloppy kisses there. You can't help the moan that slips, and he doesn't miss that you ball your hands into the sheets either. He shifts again and you yelp, the vibration setting not what you were expecting as he holds the massage wand to your inner thigh.

“Fuck,” you bite the sheets to try and mute yourself, still not wanting to give Adam the satisfaction of hearing your voice. He tuts, moving the massage wand closer where you want it.

“Hold this,” he mutters. He smacks your hand away and gives you a knowing look. “Not with your hands.” You roll your head to the side, pulling your shoulders closer as you shift to bring your arms back under you.

“You can't be serious, Adam!” You whine, glancing over your shoulder where he's patiently waiting for you to take the wand. His grin never wavers as you lock eyes, gold piercing through you. “Fuck, Adam, please!” You attempt to bargain, hands clawing at the bed when he shakes his head no. Your resolve is slowly breaking at his slow torture. You'd prefer his break-neck pace instead at this point. When he doesn't budge, you curse him out, eyes never leaving his own as you move your thighs together to hold the wand where he wants you to.

“Good girl,” he praises as he moves from the bed, humming to himself. You try to watch him to the best of your ability, but lose sight of him when he moves to your shared closet. You can hear him pushing clothes aside until he lets out an excited ‘aha’. You can only imagine what he found, considering that's where you kept the more sinful sex toys and equipment. The familiar feeling of leather being wrapped about your ankle startles you from your momentary bliss of the wand. You hum as you feel Adam's fingers easily pulling the restraint tight. He slips a finger between your ankle and the leather. “Too tight?” The question makes you shake your head. “Can't hear you, Angel,” he teases, looking over the curve of your ass, down your lovely arched back.

“No, not too tight,” you bite out, legs slightly numb from the high intensity of the toy he demanded you hold. You jump and let out a small yelp as his hand makes contact with your rear. You quickly squeeze your thighs back together to keep the massager from falling, knowing that would earn you more discipline. Without another word, he's moving to get the second leather brace around your other ankle. Now knowing what he's doing, you quickly answer when he asks if the second is too tight. Once you agree that you're ok and the leather is really not too tight, he nudges your knees apart, clicking a small metal rod onto both ankle braces. The wand lands on the bed with a soft thump.

“On your knees,” he orders. He grabs the wand and turns it off for the moment, setting it on the side of the bed. You push up onto your forearms before using them to propel yourself fully upright to your knees. A soft gasp escapes you as Adam wraps his hand around the front of your throat. You never felt him crawl onto the bed behind you, but you feel his warm chest and stomach pressing against your back, feel his breath against your neck. You try to swallow and calm yourself of the anticipation. He trails kisses from behind your ear down to your shoulders, his hand staying firmly around your neck, holding you against him. The cold clasp of metal doesn't startle you this time, but it does send a warmth spreading through your chest and to your core like wildfire. You feel Adam loop the leather band through the clasp, pulling the collar to rest snug against your throat. He checks once, twice, three times with his finger that the collar isn't choking you before turning you in his arms, maneuvering you so you can see him.

“Safeword?”

“Oh, uhh…kumquat!” You snicker as his grin falters at your words before returning as he throws his head back, howling with laughter. He nods, wiping a nonexistent tear away from his eye.

“Perfect. If I cross a line, you say cumquat, and I'll stop, understand?” You giggle a bit at his words, but nod along so he knows you understand. He fingers the d-ring on the collar before using it to pull you close to him. “I couldn't hear you, Pet, what was that?”

“Yessir!” You squeak, a bit baffled by the new nickname. He licks his lips, nodding and muttering something you don't quite catch. He doesn't give you an opportunity to ask what he plans to do before he kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Not like you're complaining. You try to move with him, but he has you stuck with your collar, his fingers still tangled in the ring on the front. You groan against him as he presses his lips harshly to your own. He nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away, panting slightly. You notice his hair is tousled more than usual.

While you're busy staring, you don't notice him undoing your handcuffs. He rubs the indents on your wrists before bringing them to his lips, leaving small kisses. Your heartbeat quickens slightly at the sight, loving Adam's sweet tendencies, you don't even know if he's aware of them. He drops your hands and meets your gaze, his eyes narrowing at you. You shy away slightly and drop your eyes to anywhere but his face, choosing the bed by his knee to be particularly interesting as heat floods your face.

“C'mere. Lay on your back and hang your head over the edge of the bed here. You're going to be a good little bitch and suck Daddy's cock,” he croons to you, one hand cradling your cheek. Your eyes widen a bit at his bold claim, but you nod along, nipping at his hand when he pulls it away. He quirks a brow but you just shrug and do as he told you, doing your best with both your legs and wings restrained. Once situated as comfortably as you can, you tip your head back to look at the shadow looming over you. He's got the wand in his hand again and you hum, hands reaching for Adam's clothed length. He's still in his shirt and jeans, so you tug at the belt loops, looking up at him expectantly. He rolls his eyes playfully and snaps, leaving himself bare to you. You, maybe a bit too eagerly, reach out for him, grabbing the back of his thighs and tugging him towards you. You hear his laughter, but you try to tune him out, desperate to start on him in hopes that he'd return the favor with his hands or the magic wand he has.

“Can I touch you?” You ask as he stands above you. The low glow from his wings and halo give you a small glimpse of his expression, a hesitant pause as he thinks over his words.

“Yes, I'll allow you to touch me. But, if you take your hands off me, there'll be consequences,” he grants you permission. You hum with a small smile, one hand going to the back of one of his thighs while the other grips his length. You give him a couple of strokes before opening your mouth and gently tugging his thigh to urge him forward. He doesn't need you to tell him twice, and moves so his shins hit the bed while you move to make sure you can take as much of his cock as possible.

The angle is a bit awkward for you, but you make the best of your situation as you feel Adam move and hear curses ring out. You hollow your cheeks, allowing him to fit farther down your throat as he pumps his hips. You hum, swirling your tongue around him, the metal barbell on your tongue adding a cooling sensation to Adam's heat. He groans at the feeling of it, dropping above you so he's leaning on his elbows on either side of you. You reach up to mess with his feathers, your other hand moving to fondle his balls. He curses and moans as you bob your head in sync with his movements. You let your hand fall from his sack, moving it to join in his wings. You bring your knees up and dig your heels into the bed, shifting yourself closer to the edge. Your gag reflex reacts at the sudden change, your throat constricting around Adam's cock, but you force yourself to choke through it, keeping yourself from gagging again.

“Ahh-fuck!” He curses, hips stuttering before he pushes himself up, pulling out of your mouth. “Up, on your front.” You whine as you're forced to let his wings go, but quickly do as he says, mimicking your first position with your back arched. He fists your hair, pulling you back to him. You lick your lips as he watches you take him back into your mouth. He grunts at the feel of your tongue running over him before he sets a brutish pace, hand so tightly wound in your hair you feel the subtle oncoming of a headache. You reach up and rest a hand on his hip for stability, the other going back to the base of his wings. You relax your throat and jaw as best you can, tears pricking your eyes and drool dripping down your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight when you feel a gentle vibration at your core. Adam has the wand pressed to you on a low setting, his other hand firmly locked in your hair. He runs the toy along your folds, resting it on your clit before circling it a few times. You moan around him when you feel him up the setting, circling the toy again. You try to lean back into it, but a tug on your hair makes you stop and turn your gaze up to look at Adam. He's got his head tipped back, mouth slightly open as he pistons his hips, roughly slamming his cock down your throat. You whine as you feel the wand turn off, before hearing it hit the floor. Adam's nowhere near close, but the way you're whining around him does make his dick twitch. You lurch forward, choking slightly, as he inserts a finger into you. You try to rock back into his hand in time with his hips, earning a hum of approval from your husband. He slips in a second finger, twisting and curling them as you rock between his hand and his own rhythm. The coil from earlier winds faster now, having already had one orgasm spurs on a second more quickly. As you start to move out of sync with him, hellbent on chasing your own release again, he withdraws his hand from you. He smirks at your pathetic whine against him, sticking his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them, never letting pausing or slowing in fucking your face.

“Fuck. Taste so good, Sugartits,” he praises, watching you squirm under his gaze. You narrow your eyes at him, tugging on his feathers. His body jerks and he groans as his hips falter in their pace, before stopping. You feel his release hit the back of your throat and you swallow, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, pulling off of him with a grin.

“Mm, right back at ya, Dickmaster,” you antagonize, sitting up on your knees to get closer to him. He growls, his smile twisting into a sneer.

“You just don't fucking learn, do you, Brat?” He yanks you to your feet by your hair, preening at the yelp he pulls from you. “That's ok. We have all fucking night and you're going to be fucking wrecked by the time I'm done with you.” You instinctively let go of his wing and hip as he pulls you into his chest, eyes holding you in place. You give him a lopsided grin as you pull your hands up to his chest, pressing your fingers into his skin.

“Of course not. It's gonna take more than a little bit to make up for ignoring me all month,” you snip back at him. He lets go of your hair and grips your cheeks between his fingers, squeezing lightly. You just smile as he holds your face close to his, his other snaking between you two to stroke his already half hard cock.

“Hmm. I'll have you in tears in a matter of minutes,” he finally replies, releasing your cheeks, and pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. You pout slightly but quickly try to hide it from him. You might have gotten lucky for back talking so far, but you knew you were going to eventually run out of luck if you hadn't already. Adam snaps, pointing to the bed. “On your back, now.” You scrunch your nose at his odd request, unable to read his expression. It takes some maneuvering as your ankles are still in the spreader bar and your wings are still in their own spreader arms, that Adam notices how difficult of a time you're having. He taps your hip, motioning for you to stop. You do so, watching him intently as he removes the bar holding your legs apart. He steps back once he's got it undone, allowing you to move freely. You murmur a soft thank you to him, a hand on his shoulder as you lower yourself onto your back much easier now. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed once you're settled, making you lift your head at him. He doesn't acknowledge you, simply replaces the bar and uses it to lift your legs over his head as he kneels at the foot of the bed.

Your face flushes as you realize Adam is about to eat you out, a rarity from him for sure. He flashes you a grin before kissing up your legs to your thighs. He nips and kisses your inner thigh before biting harshly. You let out a small whine, reacting to the pain by trying to yank your leg back. Of course the bar and Adam stop you from getting anywhere, and your leg twitches while you whimper, balling the sheet into your fists at your sides. Your muscle shakes, pain and ecstasy flooding you, quickly turning you into a panting mess. Adam presses a kiss to the bruise he's left, moving to your other thigh to leave a matching mark there. Your toes curl as his teeth sink into your flesh, a long whine pulled from you as your muscle tenses before relaxing under Adam's tongue.

“Adam, please! Don't tease,” you cry, reaching down to bury your fingers in his messy hair. He hums as he nips at your thigh, sucking another, smaller hickey.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he rumbles, breath tickling your leg. You can't help the small laugh that finds its way out as he hovers over your mound, staring at you intently. How can he be so calm right now, you think.

You lift your head, breath hitching as you watch as your husband slowly licks straight up your folds, never breaking eye contact. You feel your face heat up, and you drop your head back onto the bed, tugging gently on his hair. He lets out a chuckle, nuzzling your thighs before pulling you closer, arms wrapped under your thighs and on your back. He laps at you slowly, humming in contentment as you squirm under him, trying to grind down on his face. He dips his tongue inside, finally, and you arch your back, chancing a glance down at him again. His eyes are closed as he draws random patterns with his tongue. After a few minutes, he pulls back, sucking your clit into his mouth. You suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he hums against you, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine.

He wiggles one hand out from under you, snapping his fingers. The spreader bar, keeping your legs apart, disappears, and you feel his wings gently move your legs out to rest over his shoulders. You stretch one leg out, hooking the other around his neck. He presses a kiss to one of your hickeys, looking up at you. He covers your clit again, sucking harshly as he slips a finger in you, moving it slowly. A gasp leaves you, feeling your stomach tighten at the sudden intrusion. He wastes no time in adding a second finger, pumping and twisting them at just the right angle to make you squeak out his name. He slows his ministrations as he feels your pussy clench around his fingers. He picks up speed again before slowing down, repeating the cycle each time you squeeze his fingers.

“Adam, please, I'm so close,” you pant, hands loose in his hair. You gently stroke through the messy brown strands, eyes shut tight as you try to hold onto the edge of bliss.

His eyes glint with mirth and mischief. He pulls away fully, smiling softly at your cry of protest. “I know I said earlier that if you came before I told you, you wouldn't get to the rest of the night…but now, I'm thinking that was a bit harsh.” There's something in the way he says it that makes you not believe him. You don't know why, and you quirk your brow up at him in silent question, moving your stretched leg to cross the other so you lock Adam in place. He definitely just edged you, you've been on the receiving end of that trick one too many times, but something is different. He's up to something. “So, how about I let you cum,” he starts and you nod quickly, squirming to try and grind on him. He laughs and holds your hips down with practiced ease. His wings lightly trail on either side of your face, down your neck, to your hips softly. “You want to cum for me, Babe?” He asks, dipping his head to lick you teasingly. You don't answer, your brain fuzzy at what he's just offered you. When he nips at your stomach do you snap your eyes to his, nodding in response. “Can't hear you, Sweets.”

“Fuck me… God, yes! Adam, please, please, let me cum,” you beg, using your legs to pull your husband closer to where you want him. His eyes narrow, tongue delving back into your folds. He swirls his tongue, constantly changing his rhythm, licking, nipping, sucking, and lapping at you fervently. You squeeze your thighs, pulling Adam closer as a result. “Adam, please, please, please!” You beg, tears threatening to spill as you feel your stomach contract as you're brought closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“That's right, Sugartits. Cum for me. Cum on Dickmaster's tongue,” Adam praises, watching you as he turns his focus back to sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in and curling them. With a shout of his name, you feel a wave of bliss wash over you. Adam hums as he works you through your release, your legs squeezing his head with the aftershocks. Your gaze snaps down to his, eyes wide in realization. He's not had a change of heart, he's just twisting what he said before. You feel your stomach drop as he pulls back a little, giving your slightly over-stimulated clit a break. His tongue darts out, licking his chin. His smug grin tells you he's about to say something smart, like usual. “Damn, Babe, if I'd known all it would take to rile you up and make you this wet for me is to ignore you, I'd have done it sooner.” You want to hate him and his stupidly perfect face, but dammit if he isn't your idiot. You try to glare at him, but your heartbeat and panting leaves little room for anything other than flustered to show.

“Fuck you, Adam,” you manage to grumble, leaning your head back into the sheets, massaging his scalp. Honestly, you don't know which is the worse of two evils; being edged all night or being over-stimulated to the point of tears.

“In a bit, Babes,” he replies, scissoring his fingers in an attempt to bring you back to the edge. “Be a good girl and keep cuming for me.” He snaps with his free hand, watching as a sash ties your wrists together with a bow knot. You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head at his silly antics.

You've lost count how many orgasms Adam has pulled from you now. All you know is if he keeps the wand on you, you're not going to last much longer. You tug at the satin sashes holding your wrists together above your head, whining as you feel another orgasm wash over you. Your nose burns as the threat of tears forms behind your closed eyelids. “Adam,” your voice is hoarse as you call out to your husband, eyes opening to find him hovering above you, wand nowhere in sight. As a matter of fact, you don't even hear it anymore.

“Shh,” Adam cooes to you, pulling one of the loose ends of the sash, untying the bow and releasing your wrists from their binds. “Think you can do something for me? I know you've already done so much, been such a good girl,” he praises, pressing light kisses along your jaw. You whimper, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. You feel him shift above you, his wings curling around you both as he fists his cock. “Think you can take one more orgasm, Sweets?” He murmurs against your neck, rubbing the head of himself against your folds. You whine, tilting your head to give him more access.

“I-I don't know. ‘M sore,” you whisper back, letting one hand rest on his shoulder. Instinctively you intertwine your fingers with his as he moves his free hand to your own.

“Come on, just one more, Pretty Girl? One more for me?” He urges, gently squeezing your hand. When you squeeze his hand in reply, he quickly sinks down until your hips meet. You shift your hips, nearly purring with the stretch of him.

“Fuck, feel so full, so good, Dickmaster,” you return the praise, turning your head to look at your husband. His face flushes lightly and he glances away, a quiet ‘shut up’ coming from him. You smile at his reaction, moving your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, cradling it gently. He turns his head to press a soft kiss to your wrist, nuzzling your hand. “I love you, Adam, but for fuck's sake, please fucking move,” you groan, bucking your hips up into him. He chuckles at your renewed enthusiasm and pushes your intertwined hands into the mattress as he shifts his weight so he's evenly over you.

He obliges your demand, slowly pulling out before sinking fully back into you, finding a slow, methodical rhythm. You sigh in contentment as you roll your hips in time to meet his, a shudder running down your spine as he fills you over and over again. It's such a drastic change from the intensity of the last couple of hours. Adam's shift from Dominant to soft-Dominant is so fast that you swear you should have whiplash. His wings brush against your shoulders, your wings, your sides, and they're so warm! You shiver in pleasure under Adam, throwing yourself off rhythm. You feel his chest rumble with laughter as you try to match his pace again, eyes closed, brows knit in focus. You gasp when he angles just right, hitting deeper in you. You grip his hand tightly, moving the other to his shoulder again in an attempt to pull him closer.

“Shh. There's my good girl. Do you feel good? Like when I hit right there,” he emphasizes his words with a particular hard thrust, hitting your g-spot. You yelp, bucking against him as a result. “Yeah? There?” He slips his wings under you, leaning back and pulling you with him as he sits up. He takes care not to shift too much, keeping himself buried in you as he adjusts you in his lap. He gently pulls his hand out of your grasp, moving to hold your hips as he helps support you, helping rock you back and forth on him. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck while you bounce on him. You feel his hands under your thighs, lightly cupping your ass as he helps hold your weight when your legs start to give out. “Can my baby girl give me one more? Think you got one more for me?” He whispers into your hair, leaning his head against yours, bucking up into you as you still, leg muscles too abused to continue your movements. You nod against him, panting as you try to focus on the feeling of him; his smell, his warmth, his familiarity, it all invades your senses and fills you with peace.

Adam holds you steady in his lap as he starts to quicken his pace, losing his rhythm from before. He slips one hand between you both, thumb quickly finding your clit again. You shudder and cry at how sensitive you are, shaking your head against his neck, babbling nonsense. He mumbles soft reassurances in your ear, pulling you down as he thrusts up.

“C'mon, Sugar, cum for Dickmaster. Cum on the Original Dick,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers digging into your skin. You whimper as Adam hits your g-spot as he talks, giving you that final push over the edge. You cling to him, legs shaking as your body tries to calm while he's still pistoning into you. You feel his other hand move back to under you, helping support you. You dig your hands into the base of his wings, gently tugging and nipping at his ear. He lets out a strangled gasp as his pace falters, getting sloppy. “Gonna fill you up, Babe. Gonna fill you so fucking full,” he growls, biting down on a bruise from earlier, eliciting a mixed cry of pain and pleasure from you. You clench around him as he pulls you down hard, hips stuttering as he groans.

It's quiet, save for the panting coming from you both as you slowly come down from your highs. Adam rubs your hips, kissing the bruises on your neck as you slump on him, hand gently brushing his feathers from where you were gripping them. His wings unfurl from around you, taking their warmth, and causing goosebumps to once again overtake your skin.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips as he lays you down, pulling out with a grunt of dismay. You chuckle softly, eyes closing when he lays your head on your pillow. You feel him messing with the collar, can hear the clasp as he undoes it, but you can't be bothered to make a move to assist him. You hear him laugh as he pulls the clasp end, the leather warming your neck as it pulls across your bare skin. You feel the bed dip as he shifts down towards the foot, repeating the motions for both ankle braces that once held the spreader bar.

When he looks back at you, he notices the gentle rise and fall of your chest, signaling you're asleep. He sighs, heading to the bathroom to clean himself and get you a warm washcloth. He steps into the bathroom and grabs the gold washcloth, turning on the tap, waiting for it to warm up. Once he's satisfied with the temperature, he lets the cloth fully soak before wringing it out and returning to you after shutting off the tap. He tries to ask you if you'd be ok with him gently cleaning you. When you don't answer, he snorts out a laugh and gently nudges your legs apart, trying to be as gentle as possible. He tosses the rag into the hamper against the wall, climbing into bed beside you. He tugs you close, slightly surprised when you roll onto his chest. He hums and cradles your head, pressing a kiss to your crown and snapping a blanket over you both.

“Goodnight, sleep well, my Angel,” he says, wings spreading wide and curling them around you.

___________________________________________

(Oh, did you think it was done? Oh no, Sweetheart, there's more. 😘)

The sound of knocking rouses you from your slumber. You groan and nuzzle into the warmth below you, trying to ignore the sound, hoping if you don't answer, whoever it is will go away. The door opening has your eyes snapping open. You move to push yourself up, but two arms wrap around you, keeping you in place. You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. With your back to the door and being trapped under Adam's arms, you won't be able to fight back. A familiar shadow pushes open the cracked door, letting out a sigh at the sight of you. Lute pinches the bridge of her nose as she steps over to the bed, prying Adam's arms off you. She glances at you without a word, eyes trailing from your neck to your back. She crawls onto the bed, fingers quickly unlocking the brace holding your wings.

A gasp escapes you, eyes squeezing shut as you are finally able to move your wings. They're stiff as can be and they kind of hurt from being forced straight for the night. Lute sighs, holding out a hand for you. You take it hesitantly, but curiosity gets the better of you. You trust her, even if you're at your most vulnerable, and nude, in front of your lieutenant. She pulls you off the bed, towards the bathroom where she quickly starts a bath, getting the water set to the perfect temperature.

“Get in,” she orders quietly, sitting on the side of the tub. You blink, tilting your head as you obey her without question, the fire of the last month extinguished with last night's much needed treatment.

“Join me?” you ask, stepping over the side and sitting in the water with her help, wings folding close to your sides. She stares at you before nodding subtly. You watch as she strips and sets her clothes on the counter, grabbing two towels, resting them on the side of the tub.

“Turn around, I'll help you preen,” she offers, stepping into the large tub, sitting behind you. You turn your back to her, head slumping forward as she deftly runs her fingers through your feathers, straightening those that are crooked or twisted. You shudder as her hands work your feathers, and you can't help the whimper that you let out as she continues preening your wings for you. If she heard you, she doesn't say, so you don't mention it, trying to focus on anything else besides the feeling of your feathers being messed with. You grip the side of the tub when you feel her hands massaging the spines of your wings. The warmth from the water and the massage help make them feel a bit better.

“Thank you.” You know you don't have to say it, but you also know it's appreciated. “And, I'm sorry. For being a brat and for taking out my frustration on the other exorcists,” you start to ramble, eyes blurry as tears threatening to fall. Lute spins you around, gently cradling your chin in her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.

“You're good now? Not going to be trying to harm our exorcists?” When you nod in agreement, she gives you a small smile, a rare gesture she keeps reserved for those close to her. “Good. Once you're done here, meet me at the compound,” she continues, stepping out and wrapping one of the towels around herself. You deadpan.

“You mean I still gotta meet you for those morning trainings?” You whine, eyes following your superior. She sends you a wink, leaning over the side of the tub so she's at eye level.

“Absolutely. Just because you got off the hook easily with Adam, doesn't mean I'm not going to punish you too,” she chides playfully, pressing a swift peck to your lips as she slips her clothes back on. “I'll see you at the compound in twenty minutes.”

She's gone before you can protest. You drop your hands into the water, groaning as you realize just how much of a mess you've made with being a brat.

Fuck! I still have to go apologize to Saint Peter too, you sink into the water, not looking forward to your day.

Taglist: @miss-menhera @fizzy-fuzz @atttwoood

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chadillacboseman · 2 years ago

Note

OKAY OKAY OKAY

IDEA

WHAT IF THE READER IS PREGNANT WITH MAKAROV'S KID AND HE'S HELLA PROTECTIVE AND THEY'RE OUT AND ABOUT AND SOMEONE IS STUPID ENOUGH TO LIKE. GET ANGRY AT HER AND BECOMES THREATENING AND UNFORTUNATELY (not really) MAKAROV IS AROUND??

"Walk carefully," Makarov rests a protective hand on the small of your back, rough fingers massaging the fabric of your shirt as he guides you down the curb.

"I'm fine, V," you protest indignantly, "I'm pregnant, not frail."

Makarov grunts and his dark eyes find yours, "With my child, yes? I need to keep you safe."

"From the curb?"

He ignores your sarcasm, instead scanning the street for any threats, any faces he recognizes. The neighborhood is rough, littered with refuse and graffiti.

You bury yourself in your phone as you trot along beside him, thumb swiping past articles that didn't catch your eye. Perhaps if you'd been more observant-

You crash into something-no, someone, bouncing back a few inches as your phone clatters to the pavement and shatters on impact.

"Oh! I'm sorry-" you scramble to pick up your broken cell.

"Watch where you're going, bitch," a loud, slurred voice booms from the figure you had bumped into.

You look up into his face, stubbled with dark halos around his hate-filled eyes. He smells of whiskey, positively reeks of it, and he looks unsteady on his feet.

"Excuse me?" You straighten and instinctively place a hand on your stomach.

"I said-" the man moves his face closer to yours, "Watch where you're fucking going!"

It happens in a split second.

He shoves you, hard, and you stumble back, losing your footing and falling unceremoniously to the concrete, wincing at the unwelcome contact.

The man takes a step forward, his face a twisted visage of rage. Genuine terror takes root in your chest as you try to scramble backward and out of his reach.

In an instant, the man's head jerks violently to one side and a spattering of bright red blood showers from his temple, painting the ground at his feet.

You watch with wide eyes as he crumples in a heap and Makarov shakes his hand, ridding it of the crimson that smears his knuckles.

The man groans and tries to roll to his feet; blood rolls in thick, red rivulets down the side of his face. He's drunk and pain clearly isn't an issue.

If there's one thing Makarov loves, it's a challenge.

His foot connects with the drunkard's ribs, taking the air from his lungs and sending him back to the concrete once more.

"Stay down," Makarov snarls.

"Fuck you," the man spits through wheezing breaths. He attempts to get up once more, blood now staining his rumpled shirt.

Makarov hits him again, this time with his fist, connecting his sharp knuckles with the man's face with such force that it sends him toppling onto his back.

This time, he does stay down. But Makarov isn't satisfied- another kick lands, this time in the gut, and the man lets out a wet, heavy cough.

As the man lays in the street, Makarov comes to you, his face painted with concern, hands reaching for yours as he pulls you to your feet.

"Are you alright?" His eyes flick up and down your body, searching for injury.

"I'm okay," you pant, nerves still wrung taught like rubber bands, "thank you..."

Makarov waves a hand at you dismissively, his eyes still full of worry. Calloused fingers find the swell of your stomach and he runs a rough palm over the bump.

"Any time."

#makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader

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ayumigotabittoolonelyquitted · 2 months ago

Text

Brat taming /short ass smut/

Synopsis: You taught him that honesty isn’t optional—whether it’s a card game or in life. And after tonight, Gojo Satoru will think twice before ever cheating again.

Warning ⚠️ : smut , mdni, some graphic sexual details.(i swear this was made like a month ago and I m cringing so bad but tell me if you like this type of content 😭 I just fixed the grammer and yeah)

Pairs : gojo Satoru x reader

“Baby, do you seriously think I’d cheat… in a game of Uno?”

Gojo stared at you like you’d slapped him, hand dramatically on his chest like a heartbroken Victorian wife.

“Do you think I’d use my Six Eyes for something as trivial as Uno? Uno, baby? Uno?”

He gave you a look that screamed how dare you, his voice soaked in sarcasm so thick it made your skin crawl.

You raised a brow. He squinted one eye shut, trying (and failing) to look hurt while clearly fighting back a smug grin.

“This is the seventh time you’ve cheated this week.”

You said it flatly, not even trying to hide your irritation.

He grinned. That smug, shit-eating grin.

“Oh baby, maybe you just suck.”

You were supposed to be having the summer of your dreams.

A whole month with your long-distance boyfriend? Yes, please.

You had all these Pinterest-core fantasies in your head—beach days, road trips, hotel nights filled with love and late-night takeout.

And instead?

You were stuck playing Uno with this cheating bastard.

At first, you thought it was cute.

Then suspicious.

Then criminal.

You planned on kisses and cuddles. He planned on stacking +4s like a war criminal.

“Okay. Get up,” you said.

He blinked. “Huh?”

“I said. Get up.”

There was a shift in your tone that made his smile falter. Just a little.

And then, without warning—you shoved him. Hard.

He yelped, toppling back onto the bed in a heap. “Hey! Violence over Uno is CRAZY behavior!”

You ignored him, already making your way to the closet.

He tried to sneak off the bed. Rookie mistake.

You caught him.

Rope in hand.

“Oh hell no—baby, listen, we can TALK—”

Too late.

You straddled him, pinned him down, and tied his wrists to the bed frame with expert precision.

“Okay wait,” he laughed nervously, “this is hot and all but… we’re still mad about Uno, right? Like, that’s the plot here?”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

“You cheated,” you whispered. “And now I’m going to show you what it feels like.”

He could break free.

You knew that.

He knew that.

But he didn’t.

Because deep down, this was exactly what he wanted.

You slid your hair to the side and bit his neck—hard.

“A-ah—okay, wow—” he hissed, his muscles tensing.

You licked the mark you left.

“Problem?”

He shook his head, eyes wide.

You took your sweet time stripping him—each layer peeled off like it was a part of the punishment. When you finally yanked off his pants and boxers, his cock sprang free, already hard, leaking, twitching with anticipation.

“Seriously?” you scoffed. “You’re this worked up over losing?”

He bit his lip. “You’re literally tying me up and stripping me,what did you expect?”

You ignored him and dragged your fingers down his thighs.

He shuddered.

You wrapped your hand around his cock and stroked. Slowly. Methodically. He let out a breathy moan, hips twitching.

“Don’t cum,” you ordered.

He laughed. “I can last longer than that, come on—”

You squeezed a little tighter.

He whined.

Minutes passed.

You edged him mercilessly.

Every time he got close, you stopped.

He bucked his hips in frustration, the ropes pulling taut.

“Baby, please-just a little more, I’ll be good, I swear—”

“Oh? You’ll behave now? How cute.”

He whimpered as you leaned in, licking a long stripe up his shaft before pulling away at the very last second.

“I’m gonna go insane,” he muttered, breathless.

You kissed the corner of his mouth.

“That’s the point.”

“Y-you think this makes us even?” he gasped as you stroked him again. “Uno doesn’t justify war crimes-”

You slapped his thigh.

He gasped again.

Shut up.

“Oh my god,are you turned on right now?”

He gave you a sheepish, cock-dazed look.

“I think I like being punished.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you do.”

Eventually, you gave in.

(Kind of.)

You stroked him again, this time letting your thumb press down on his tip.

He moaned so loud, you were pretty sure your neighbors now knew his name.

“You gonna cum, pretty boy?”

“Y-yes—please, please, I’ll do anything—just let me—”

You let him.

His whole body arched, a broken sob of relief escaping his lips as he came hard, hips jerking, cum spilling over your hand in thick ropes.

“F-fuck… fuck, thank you…”

You licked your fingers slowly, eyes never leaving his.

But you weren’t done.

You untied him just long enough to flip him over and shove him onto his back.

And before he could even blink, you were grinding against his cock again, teasing your slick folds against his overstimulated length.

He whimpered.

“B-baby—again?”

“Oh, we’re just getting started.”

You slid down on him, slow and agonizing.

He screamed.

You moaned, clenching around him.

“F-fuck—I can’t—ah—”

“Yes you can,” you hissed, riding him hard.

You bounced on his cock like a woman on a mission—like his dick owed you money.

He was crying.

Legitimately.

Eyes wet, chest heaving, begging for mercy while simultaneously grinding up into you with reckless need.

“I—I’m sorry—I’ll never cheat again—I SWEAR-”

“You better not.”

You clenched down on him again and watched his soul leave his body.

“Y/n—baby—fuck, I’m gonna—”

You came together—again—his name a moan on your lips, his cock twitching inside you as he emptied himself with a guttural, desperate sound.

You collapsed on top of him, both of you drenched in sweat, your heartbeat matching his.

Silence.

“…so uh,” Gojo mumbled. “Wanna play Uno again?”

You grabbed a pillow and smacked him square in the face.

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cup1drul3z · 5 months ago

Text

★ — Between the lines - part 4

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, cheating, sex, dark themes, love triangle

A/N : very dark chapter.

previous part

THIS FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS SEX AND MENTIONS OF SELF HARM - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

You returned to school for the rest of the day, a bundle of nerves and tension. Sevika didn’t show up, and while part of you felt relief, another part couldn’t stop replaying your last conversation in your head. By the time you got home, you were emotionally drained, retreating to your room to nurse the ache in your chest.

Tears had come and gone, leaving you sprawled on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your phone sat on your chest, buzzing occasionally, but you refused to check it. Not now. Not when everything felt so overwhelming.

A sudden knock at your window shattered the quiet. You bolted upright, heart pounding as you turned toward the sound.

Sevika.

Sevika was at your window.

You screamed, flailing backward and tumbling off your bed in a graceless heap.

“Can you let me in? It’s raining,” Sevika called through the glass, her voice muffled but tinged with something softer than her usual tone. Her expression—was that guilt?—made her look uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Groaning, you pushed yourself up and stalked over to the window, sliding it open. “What the hell are you doing here?” you hissed.

She climbed inside with surprising ease, shaking off rain droplets as she straightened up. “I wanted to apologize about earlier,” she muttered, her eyes scanning you. “But you weren’t answering my texts.”

You crossed your arms, suddenly hyper-aware of your fuzzy pink pajama pants and the tank top you’d lazily thrown on. You wished you’d worn something a little less... ridiculous. “Gee, I wonder why,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

Sevika sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she avoided your gaze. After a moment, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a small baggie. “You want to smoke a joint?”

You stared at the bag, then at her, then back at the bag. You smirk softly

You both sat on the floor, backs against opposite sides of the room—yours against the edge of your bed, hers against the closet door. The air between you was hazy, not just from the joint you passed back and forth but from the unspoken weight of earlier conversations.

You took a puff, coughing softly as the smoke burned your throat. “So... what was that ‘she has everything’ shit earlier?” you asked, passing the joint to Sevika.

She took it effortlessly, her inhale smooth and measured compared to your awkward attempt. “I grew up poor,” she admitted, her tone neutral, like she was reading from a grocery list.

Guilt washed over you instantly, and you looked at her, unsure of what to say. Her eyes flicked to yours, and she smirked.

“Don’t worry, crybaby. I’m fine,” she teased, handing the joint back to you.

Your eyes narrowed, your embarrassment quickly turning into annoyance. “I feel sorrow not for your past but for your future,” you shot back, taking another puff, “because one day that mouth is going to get you a black eye.”

Sevika chuckled, rolling her eyes as she reached for the joint. “Fair enough.” A beat of silence settled between you, broken only by the faint crackle of the joint.

“And Vi?” You raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully.

She exhaled, her shoulders sinking slightly. “In freshman year... we were friends,” she muttered, her gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. “But I made the hockey team, and she didn’t.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion even though you already had a sinking feeling about where this was going. “I don’t understand.”

Sevika hesitated, her lips pressing into a tight line before continuing. “I don’t know if it was her exactly, but... there was this rumor that I was in a gang and smuggling drugs.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” you muttered, a soft laugh escaping despite yourself. You quickly clamped a hand over your mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“You can laugh. It’s fine,” she said, her voice lighter than her words. She passed the joint back to you, her expression unreadable. “It wasn’t true, obviously, but it got me temporarily kicked off the hockey team. It was this whole thing. There was a police investigation, they searched my room... you get the picture.”

You stared at her, stunned by how calmly she was recounting something so horrifying. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

She gave a small shrug, her voice softening. “By junior year, I realized I was being racially profiled for most of the police investagations”

Your chest tightened. “I’m so sorry, Sevika,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes scanning her face for any hint of emotion.

She smirked faintly, her walls coming back up. “Vi was right. You really are a sweetheart.”

Your face flushed, and you looked away, muttering, “Thanks.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the joint burning low between Sevika’s fingers. After a moment, she stubbed it out. “So... how’d you meet Vi, anyway?” she asked, her tone curious.

“First day of freshman year,” you said, smiling at the memory. “Vi had to retake Algebra 1, and we ended up in the same class.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk at your dorky face.

You stop smiling from embarrassment. “She started coming over to my house so I could tutor her. Eventually, I realized she was probably just pretending to need help to talk to me. But... I never called her out on it.”

Sevika took a moment, her smirk softening as she studied you. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Avoiding the conversation instead of telling you like a normal person” she grumbled

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down, fiddling with the frayed hem of your pajama pants. “I guess. It was kind of sweet, in a way.”

Sevika’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, the room falling into a quiet stillness. Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her voice lower now. “So... you really like her, huh?”

You looked up, startled by the shift in her tone. Her eyes bore into yours, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. “I—I mean, yeah. She’s my girlfriend,” you stammered, the words feeling heavier than they should.

Sevika nodded slowly, her gaze flicking to the floor, her expression unreadable. “She’s lucky, you know. You’re... a good person.”

There was something about the way she said it that made your heart skip. “Thanks,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You glanced at her, hoping to find some trace of the teasing, cocky Sevika you were used to, but instead, her expression was open—vulnerable, even.

“You’re too good for her,” Sevika muttered for the second time that day.

“What?” you asked, your brow furrowing.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Nothing. Forget it.”

You leaned forward, closing some of the distance between you. “No, tell me. What’s that supposed to mean? Ill stay this time” you joked trying to lighten the mood

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, she hesitated. Then, with a small sigh, she said, “You’re the kind of person who deserves... I don’t know. Someone who really gets you. Someone who doesn’t just show up when it’s convenient.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you weren’t entirely sure why. “Vi does get me,” you said, but even to your own ears, it sounded more like a defense than the truth.

Sevika leaned back, her shoulders pressing against the closet door. She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe you just think she does because it’s what you want to believe.”

“Why are you saying this?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out, brushing her fingers against your hand where it rested on the floor. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a jolt through you. “Because,” she said finally, her voice low and steady, “I care about you. And I don’t want to see you settle for someone who doesn’t deserve you.”

Your breath hitched, and you pulled your hand away, heart pounding. “Sevika... you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” she challenged, leaning closer. Her eyes locked with yours, the intensity in them making it impossible to look away. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid,” you lied, though the trembling in your hands gave you away.

“Yeah, you are,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “I see it. You’re scared because maybe... just maybe... I’m right.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The air between you felt heavy, charged with something unspoken. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, the space between you was gone. She was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off her, close enough to see the faint scar along her jawline.

“Sevika,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

She tilted her head, her gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. “Tell me to stop,” she said, her voice low and rough, like she was holding back everything she wanted to say.

But you didn’t tell her to stop. You couldn’t. Instead, you sat frozen, torn between a hundred different emotions, all of them warring for control. And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, she leaned in.

“Don’t leave any marks… please,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you leaned your head back, exposing the delicate curve of your neck. Her lips trailed downward, hot and deliberate, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You felt her smile against your skin before she pulled away just enough to meet your gaze.

“I guess…” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. Her hand rested on your waist, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of your shirt. “Can I take this off?” she asked, her tone softer now, more sincere. It wasn’t a demand—it was a question, one that made your chest tighten with both fear and something else, something warm and unfamiliar.

Your heart skipped. “Uh… can it stay on?” you managed to whisper, eyes dropping to her hands as if they held some kind of answer. She tilted her head, studying you for a moment, before nodding.

“Sure. Don’t worry,” she said, her smile soft but still carrying that edge of mischief that made your stomach flip. She slid down onto her knees, her hands moving to the hem of your pants. “These, though…” she trailed off, tugging lightly at the fabric.

You lifted your hips instinctively, letting her pull them down and off, leaving you in nothing but your shirt and panties. The cool air brushed against your bare thighs, and you shivered, not from the cold, but from the vulnerability of it all. She was looking at you. Really looking at you. And you? You were exposed. Every inch of you felt like an open book, waiting for her to read. Your cheeks burned as you turned your face away, unable to hold her gaze.

“Stop that,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. One hand reached up to tilt your chin back toward her. “Look at me.” When you hesitated, she added, quieter now, “You’re beautiful.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest. You weren’t used to this—any of this. Not the way she looked at you, not the way her hands felt against your skin, not the way her voice seemed to wrap around you, pulling you closer even when she wasn’t touching you. But then she did touch you, her fingers brushing over the inside of your thigh, and you gasped softly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed something—a faint mark on your skin. “What’s this?” she asked, her tone sharpening. Concern flickered across her face, but you shook your head quickly.

“Birthmark,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about it. The last thing you needed was for her to see the cracks in the facade you’d spent so long building.

She studied you for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, before nodding. “Alright,” she said, though her voice carried a hint of something else—something you couldn’t quite place. Her hands moved again, sliding your panties down and off, leaving you completely bare beneath your shirt.

Your breath caught, and you hesitated, your elbows propping you up as you tried to steady yourself. “Um… I’ve never really done this before…” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. It felt like a confession, like you were handing her a piece of yourself you hadn’t planned to give.

She paused, her hands stilling on your thighs. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. Her thumbs rubbed slow circles into your skin, grounding you, calming you.

You nodded, your breath quickening as you felt her tongue run over your sensitive clit. The sensation was electric, sending sparks shooting through your body. You gasped, bucking your hips involuntarily, but her hands steadied you, holding you in place.

“Oh fuck—” you moaned, arching your back as her tongue pressed harder, exploring every inch of you. Her fingers joined soon after, slipping inside you with ease, and the sound they made—wet and obscene—made your entire body flush with heat. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, could hear it every time she moved.

“Relax, I’ve got you,” she whispered against your folds, her breath hot and uneven. Her fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that made your vision blur. You threw your head back with a cry, your hands tangling in the sheets as pleasure surged through you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod—the thought repeated itself over and over in your mind, a mantra you couldn’t escape. Your legs trembled, your hips jerking uncontrollably as she worked you closer and closer to the edge. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, she pulled away, leaving you desperate and aching.

you whimpered, looking down at her, her eyes dark and hungry. Without a word, she replaced her fingers with her mouth, tongue thrusting deep inside you as she pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, dragging you under and pulling you apart. You cried out, your legs seizing as pleasure consumed you. She didn’t stop, didn’t let up, until every last shudder had left your body.

When she finally pulled away, you were a mess—breathless, boneless, and utterly wrecked. She climbed onto the bed beside you, her hand resting lightly on your thigh as she watched you come down from your high

You had been laying there for over an hour, your back pressed against Sevika's chest. The silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable; her hand rested on your waist, her thumb drawing slow circles against your skin. Still, your thoughts were far from calm. Guilt gnawed at you, twisting knots in your stomach as you questioned yourself—your choices, your morals, even who you were becoming.

The quiet was shattered by the sound of the front door opening. “I’m home! I brought you your baked salmon!” your mom called out. Both of you shot upright in a panic.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as Sevika scrambled off your bed, fumbling to her feet in a mad dash for the window. She tripped, landing on the floor before shooting you a sheepish look, which only made you snicker.

“Baked salmon?” Sevika teased, raising an eyebrow as she finally stood, brushing herself off.

“Shut up, bikergirl,” you shot back with a grin, holding the window open for her. She gave you a smirk before crawling out, landing lightly on the grass below. You watched her jog to her motorcycle, her figure disappearing into the twilight as the engine roared to life, speeding off into the neighborhood.

You let out a deep sigh and turned back to face your bedroom door just as your mom called for you again. “I’m coming!” you shouted, shaking your head as you tried to smooth out the mess Sevika had left behind—not just in your room, but in your head.

You jog down the stairs, stopping on the last step as you spot your mom kicking off her shoes. “So, how’d it go? Is he my new daddy?” you tease with a grin.

She shoots you a sharp look—not angry at you, but irritated nonetheless. “Oh god, what happened?” you ask, tilting your head as she heads straight for the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of wine.

“He was an asshole,” she muttered, pouring herself a glass and filling it nearly to the brim with white wine. “Sat on his phone the entire time. My love life is shit,” she huffed, taking a long sip.

You follow her into the kitchen and lean against the island, watching her as you let out a sigh. “You and me both.”

She quirks an eyebrow at you. “I thought you were dating that Violet girl?” she asks, her tone both curious and a little concerned.

You shrug, avoiding her gaze. “I thought that too…” you mutter, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Your mom studies you for a moment before sliding a white takeout box across the counter toward you. “Hopefully, this will cheer you up,” she says, her tone softer.

You give her a small smile, picking up the box. “Thanks, Mom,” you say, heading back upstairs.

Once back in your room, you set the takeout box on your dresser without opening it. Instead, you lower yourself onto the floor, your back against the edge of your bed. You rest your head against the mattress, staring at the wall as your thoughts spiral.

You sit on the floor, back pressed against the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the carpet. The thoughts in your head spiral faster and faster, suffocating you in their intensity. You mutter under your breath, “I’m a horrible person…” as your hands instinctively move to pick at your nails, the sharp pain grounding you for only a second before the storm in your chest grows stronger.

Your leg bounces uncontrollably, the rhythm erratic and desperate. The voice in your head—your voice, but crueler and louder—echoes: You’re no good anymore. You ruined everything. You’re a slut, a cheater.

The words sting, even as you whisper them aloud, knees pulled tightly to your chest as though curling into yourself could somehow stop the onslaught. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just—” your voice cracks, and your breathing turns shallow. The air around you feels heavier, like it’s being sucked out of the room.

You clutch your knees tighter, trying to keep yourself together, but your chest tightens painfully. You gasp, unable to pull in a full breath. “I can’t—” you whisper, your voice trembling. Tears blur your vision as you rock slightly, the only thing you can think to do to stop the chaos inside.

The insults keep coming, relentless and sharp, each one dragging you deeper into a pit of guilt and shame. “This is your fault. You’re disgusting. How could you—” The tears fall freely now, hot and stinging as they roll down your cheeks.

Your hands shake as you press your palms against your temples, trying to quiet the noise in your head. “Stop,” you whisper hoarsely. “Please just stop.” But it doesn’t. The silence of the room feels deafening, and every second stretches endlessly, each moment another battle to pull yourself out of the spiraling panic.

Your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, your chest rising and falling too quickly. Your vision blurs further, black dots creeping into the edges of your sight as the panic threatens to overwhelm you entirely.

You stare at the lighter sitting on your nightstand, its metallic surface gleaming faintly under the dim light of your room. It feels like it's mocking you, daring you, its presence weighing heavier with each passing second. Your eyes flicker to the door, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you listen for any sound, any sign that your mom might come up and interrupt this moment.

But it’s quiet. Too quiet.

Your gaze shifts back to the lighter, and the spiral of thoughts in your head tightens. You don’t deserve comfort. You don’t deserve forgiveness. You don’t deserve anything.

The voice in your head whispers cruelly: You need this. You deserve this.

You can feel your hands trembling as you sit up straighter, as if your body is moving on autopilot. The idea takes hold and refuses to let go, anchoring itself to the overwhelming guilt swirling in your chest. You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

And suddenly, you stand up. Your legs feel weak, your movements shaky, but the resolve builds in your mind. You reach for the lighter, gripping it tightly in your hand as if it’s the solution, the only way to silence the storm inside.

You hesitate for a moment, staring down at the small object in your palm. It’s so light, so insignificant, yet the weight of what it represents crushes you. Your thumb brushes against the flint wheel, and the sound of the lighter clicking echoes through the room.

A small flame flickers to life, dancing almost mockingly, its glow reflecting in your tear-filled eyes. It feels warm, deceptively comforting, but you know why you’ve lit it.

You glance back at the door again, the guilt and shame warring with the desperation in your heart. Your breathing is uneven, your hands trembling as the flame continues to burn, waiting.

taglist:

@vyvvycg @drinkdawudda @jiungmcvv @half-of-a-gay

#arcane #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika x reader #lesbian #vi x reader #vi arcane #wlw #league of legends #arcane s2 #sevika x you #sevika x y/n

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