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devildomwriter · 9 months ago

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They Find Your Oddly Specific Erotic Manga | Others X Reader

GN! Reader x Solomon, Simeon, Raphael, Mephistopheles, Barbatos, Diavolo | Warnings: Suggestive

Solomon

You groaned as Solomon set a heavy pile of books on the table in front of you.

“How many of those do you need me to read?”

“As many as possible.” He chuckled at your gloomy expression. “What, don’t you want to become more powerful?”

You nodded but sighed as you closed the book that actually entertained you, and placed it back on its shelf.

Solomon followed you with his eyes and noticed you’d rearranged your shelf from the last time he saw it.

“Oh, you organized it!” He exclaimed and grinned proudly. “Excellent. Now we can find space to put your new books.”

You blushed and shook your head, you didn’t need this man to find the books you strategically placed out of sight. If he read the title alone he’d never let you live it down.

“Ah, please don’t mess with those,” you pleaded but when he saw your shy expression he couldn’t help himself.

“Oh? What could my sweet apprentice be hiding from me?” He teased. “Don’t you know you should share everything with your master?”

He began looking over the books and even behind them.

You stood up quickly and outstretched your hand, reciting a spell you’d recently learned. “I call upon the earth itself to shackle the one who stands before me. Leave them bound and helpless. I am the sorcerer ___, obey me!”

Solomon looked shocked when shackles appeared from your bedroom floor and wrapped around him.

“Incredible! Job well done, ___.” He smiled but with a snap of his fingers, they dissipated. “Unfortunately I’ve long since mastered that spell, sorry. And now I’m more curious than ever what you could be hiding.”

You groaned and gave up, accepting your fate. You heard his chuckle and assumed he must’ve found the books you’d hidden. His laugh became louder and he wiped tears from his eyes.

“It’s no wonder you hid these!” He exclaimed, “These are oddly specific too, aren’t they?” He noted as you continued to hide your face.

“Virgin Witch,” he listed, “Master Sorcerer Is Obsessed With His Angelic Apprentice! That one’s relatable,” he admitted, making you blush further. “Oh I like the Looks of this one; Fighting Demons With My Handsome Master: I’ll Follow Him to the End of the World and into Bed! Oh, I wonder if you find that one relatable?” He prodded as he looked at your steaming face.

“You’re a jerk…” you mumbled and he laughed, unbothered.

“Ah, maybe I am? But I was going to find out eventually, right?” He shrugged and you finally looked up, brows furrowed angrily.

He shook his head, “Now what’s with that look? You’re the one reading these books.”

“Reading isn’t a crime.”

“Exactly! And that’s what I did just now, no?”

You sighed. There was no use arguing with someone given the title “Witty” by the master of time, Barbatos himself.

“Now that that’s in the open. How relatable do you find these to be?” He unbuttoned the top of his uniform and approached you with a wanton gaze, “…I’m dying to know. You’ll show me…won’t you?”

Simeon

Simeon sat on your bed, reading with you. You tried to meet up and have a relaxing day as often as you could. Given all the chaotic people in your life, it was nice to have company who didn’t need to talk to have fun with you. Simeon was content just being by your side.

He closed his book and sat up, petting your head before he got to his feet to shelve the book he’d just finished.

“Where did this one go again?”

“They’re categorized by genre,” you said, not looking away from your book.

He nodded and scanned the many shelves of books when his eyes crossed a peculiar title and he got a mischievous look in his eyes.

“____,” he questioned with an innocent smile, “what’s this?” He held up what was clearly an angel-based erotic manga.

You sat straight up, “oh shoot!” You exclaimed and he laughed and flipped through it.

“Can Angels Do This?” He read and noticed there were similar titles next to it.

You immediately regretted shelving the books by genre as he listed the other titles with amusement.

“Hell x Heaven…Heavenly Body…Angelic Whispers Bring Demons to Their Knees…Over-Cumming Writers Block…The Fallen Angel is Falling For Me!” He smirked, “that last one looks rather interesting…” he said with a curious gleam in his eyes.

You turned red and looked away, no longer focused on your book.

He walked over to you, book in hand. “I think I’ll read this one next,” he declared and you gave him a baffled look.

“W-What? Right next to me, too?” You stammered.

“Oh, are you embarrassed? Why would you be?” He grinned, knowing full well what he was doing.

He sat next to you on the bed again, closer than before, and began reading the erotica.

You couldn’t focus on your book and kept glancing to see what page he was on. He chuckled, stole your book, and set it aside.

“Wh— hey?” You complained but he laughed and scooted even closer to you.

“Hm? I’m sorry, I assumed you wanted to read this with me…that’s certainly what it looked like.”

You blushed and he continued to tease you, “Or were you staring at me for another reason?”

“No I-uh…um…” You hid your face in your hands and he frowned.

“I’m sorry did I go too far?” He asked with his hand behind his neck and head tilted slightly to appear more innocent.

“Well, it’s hard not to stare at you, to begin with…” you mumbled and it was his turn to blush. “But now you’re reading…that.”

“Well, you read it too didn’t you?”

“Y-yes but that’s different.”

“How is it different? Were you ashamed? Could that be because you bought this oddly specific manga with someone in mind?”

He knew he nailed it when you turned deep red and he pushed the hair out of your overheated face.

“Oh…so that is it, isn’t it?” He mused and when you met his eyes he couldn’t help but ask, “Wouldn’t you prefer a real angel over your books?”

Raphael

Raphael was an observant man. Almost too observant because he hadn’t been in your room for long when he noticed part of your bookshelf was hidden by framed pictures of you and your Devildom friends.

He couldn’t focus on the puzzle you’d invited him over for, and kept glancing at the shelf until you noticed his foot was quickly tapping on the floor, giving away his curiosity.

“Raphael? Is everything okay?” You asked, hoping he wouldn’t pry any further about the bookshelf.

“The bookshelf.” He stated, and you sighed. He titled his head curiously.

“Oh…those are just books an angel shouldn’t be looking at…” you admitted, hoping that would be the end of it, or he’d stop at a light scolding.

He gave you a look that made it clear he wasn’t just disappointed in your taste in books, but more so that you tried hiding it from him.

“I’m aware humans like that kind of thing. Why did you feel you needed to hide it from me?” He asked with a frown.

“Because I knew you’d give me your disappointed look.”

“Am I that predictable?” He asked and you nodded.

He appeared to be thinking it over and then abruptly stood up to investigate the shelf further. He understood you must mean books with inappropriate material but he wanted to be certain you didn’t mean demon-worshipping books as that was also something angels shouldn’t be reading.

You put your face in your hands and groaned. Nothing would stop Raphael and you weren’t looking forward to the scolding.

As expected there was a stunned silence from him for a minute before he turned to you, brows furrowed and placing a stack of books in front of you.

He sat back down facing you as if he were about to begin an interrogation.

“Cotton Candy My Angel…” he began listing. “Beastly Angel… The Words of an Angel Who Came From Heaven… I Want the Angel to Use His Spear on Me!” He looked puzzled by the last one and mumbled, “That’s oddly specific…”

You blushed and nodded. “Okay…you found the secret stash…let’s continue the puzzle.”

He didn’t drop it, as expected. “You understand angels can’t do this sort of thing with humans?” He questioned and you nodded but then shrugged.

“Well…I’m not technically human, am I?”

A nearly unnoticeable blush crossed his face and he remained silent, deciding how to respond to that. “Angels…don’t really do that with each other either…”

“As far as you know.”

“What?” His confused face made you chuckle. It was almost too cute for words.

“I said what I said.”

“What are you implying? What sort of things are you imagining?” He prodded.

You shrugged again, “I don’t know…what do you think I’m implying, Seraphim Raphael…”

His blush was now very noticeable as he stood up and put the books back on the shelf. He sat back in front of you and quickly began messing with the puzzle pieces.

Every so often you tapped his foot with yours and his blush would increase. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to ignore it for much longer.

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles looked around your room curiously. You’d invited him over to talk with you as he’d long been interested in interviewing the exchange student who’d made such a big splash in the Devildom and was particularly close to his idol, Lord Diavolo.

He looked at the tree and the lights you’d hung around it. He looked at the coffin-shaped bookshelf and the books on it when he noticed some were hidden behind the rest.

He glanced at the door to make sure you weren’t about to walk in and quickly walked to the bookshelf.

The books in front were normal, or at least normal for someone who’s just had the existence of demons confirmed to them.

Books like Paradise Lost, The Book of Enough, and the Screwtape Letters made him roll his eyes. He also observed the collection of magic books.

“They’ve gotten pretty far in their studies already…” he mumbled when you walked into the room with the tray of tea, iced water, and a giant pot of sugar for Mephistopheles to sweeten his tea as much as he liked.

He grinned and straightened up.

“Oh! Looking at my books?” You beamed and walked over to show him in more detail.

He nodded, glancing at the ones in the back. As you bent over to show him some on the bottom shelf he noticed the first part of a title and immediately took interest, pulling it out.

“Hm?” He hummed before turning red and trying to hide the book quickly before you noticed but instead, he knocked most of the books over.

He quickly used his body to shield you as the top shelf came out of place and fell.

“Ack!” You gasped in surprise, pinned beneath Mephistopheles who was bright red.

“Thank you!” You said, scooting away from him. “Why are you so red?” You questioned when you noticed your secret book stash all around you.

“I-uh-um—“ Mephistopheles stuttered looking around at the titles.

You blushed but decided to tease him. “What? Like you don’t have anything similar?”

He straightened his collar and began reading the titles since it appeared to him you didn’t mind.

“Reincarnated as the Villain: An Archdemon Fell in Love With Me…The Wealthiest Demon in the Land Bought Me!… The Lustful Whims of the Rich Demon Noble…” he eyed you, both of your faces red. “These are rather specific…though I suppose it means you aren’t afraid of us, which is…” he lost his train of thought, unable to focus as he rightfully assumed you had a thing for rich demons and had invited him to your room.

“Er-um…” he stuttered looking at you.

“Wh-Why don’t we proceed to the interview…the tea is getting cold too…” you suggested, desperate to fill the silence.

He nodded and looked away nervously, “Did you really invite me here…for an interview?” He questioned and you turned an even deeper shade of red.

“If so…then yes, let us proceed. If not…then what exactly did you have in mind? I suppose I could indulge you…as long as it remains a secret.”

Barbatos

“Oh my,” you hear Barbato’s chuckle as he helps tidy your room.

You were bent over a stack of old notebooks you found when you turned around and your eyes widened in horror.

He was looking at your forbidden bookshelf! You forgot he mentioned he was going to dust every surface in the room. Of course, that also meant the books you hid behind the more innocent ones.

Barbatos gave you an amused look and showed you the manga in his hand as you tried to stutter an excuse.

“My, my ___. Is this the sort of thing you like?”

“I-uh—“ Before you could answer him he began to pull each book out and setting them in a small pile on your desk.

“The Sadistic Butler…I Want to Train You and Break You: Black Butler’s Sadistic Service…” You turned redder as he read every title. Barbatos was the last person you needed to see these.

He continued, the amusement in his voice more evident with each title he read, “Lady and the Butler, Would You Care for a Butler?, The Sinful Evening Affair With a Butler…” he smiled at you, chuckling to himself. When he saw how flushed you were he bowed his head apologetically.

“My apologies, ___. I didn’t mean to be invasive,” he paused and tilted his head. “I do wonder though…did you start reading things like this before or after meeting me…?”

You blushed but gave him an honest answer. “uh…I’ve kinda always had a thing for butlers…and demons…”

His smile widened, “Oh?”

“B-But I didn’t start collecting until more recently…I guess?” You couldn’t meet his eyes. You were shocked with yourself you were admitting this and anxious about his reaction.

Barbatos instead finished dusting the shelf and your heart sank. No reaction was worse than anything at all.

“Um…” you said fidgeting, unable to get back to cleaning up.

He glanced your way as he shelved your books again. This team he quickly glimpsed through one and his face turned a dark pink.

“Oh my…no wonder you turned so red?” He surmised and you hid your face.

He put the book back in its place, set down his duster, and approached you as you sat at the end of your bed.

You looked up as he placed his hands on your shoulders. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar to you, a rare look across the demon’s face. His horns grew from his head and his tail from his spine, flicking back and forth.

“I think we’ve cleaned enough for now…how about I reward your hard work? I can take a guess as to what you’d most enjoy.” He said in a low voice, his hot breath against your ear.

You gave a small nod, and with your confirmation, he pushed you back into the bed.

Diavolo

It was bound to come out eventually, you just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Unfortunately for you, Diavolo was a very observant man so the moment he came into your room his eyes were scanning the premises.

“Make yourself at home,” you grinned and he nodded and thanked you.

You went to the kitchen quickly to grab some tea. Barbatos had taught you how to prepare it best for him.

When you recentered your room with tea you saw Diavolo stifling an amused laugh with a book in his hand.

You quickly set the tray of tea down and caught his attention.

“Oh, hehe, thank you,” he chuckled and instead of grabbing his tea, he went back to observing the books on your shelf.

That’s when you realize you made the grave mistake of not hiding the manga you most enjoyed.

“W-What’s so funny?” You asked nervously, knowing full well why he was so entertained.

“Oh, I’m just looking through to see what sort of manga you enjoy…I have to say it’s rather interesting…” he gave you a sly look and went back to laughing to himself.

He shelved the last book and skimmed over the rest.

“These always have such long titles…I honestly thought Levi was just describing the manga for the longest time, but it seems it’s like this in the human world too,” he noted.

He grinned, coming across another interesting title, “Ooh, what’s this one.”

You quickly darted to his side hoping he wouldn’t open up any of them. After all, they’d been wrapped when you bought them for a very good reason.

“Hey, uh-“ you quickly tried grabbing the manga but he held it over his head and laughed as you jumped to try and reach it, just to fall into his large chest.

Diavolo normally didn’t tease you to this degree so you knew he was very invested in this as he began reading aloud some of the titles on the shelf.

“Let’s see…oh here’s another good one! Reincarnated Into A Game World Where The Demon King Who Kidnapped Me Wants To Do Me All Night Long… oh look, this seems interesting too— The Reincarnated Saint Falls for the Demon Lord? When I Reincarnated I Was Doted on by the Demon King… oh look this one is even more to the point! Entwined at Twilight with a Demon: Again… And Again… He Can’t Be Stopped! AHAHAHAHA!” Diavolo’s laughter filled your room as you turned redder than his hair.

“___, I’m curious…you seem to have such a deep fascination with the ones involving Demon Kings in particular…” he grinned mischievously, “is there perhaps a reason for that?”

You blushed but wanted to fill the silence and blurted out what you were thinking before you fully realized what you were asked, “And if there was?”

He looks surprised for a moment but his eyes quickly glazed over with longing. “Then…maybe I’d have to do something about it, wouldn’t I?”

Your heart beat wildly as he set the book down and approached you with heavy steps.

“So, ___? Let’s say we bring one of your fascinating books to life?”

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me drabble #obey me writings #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me Raphael #obey me mephistopheles #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me mephistopheles x reader #obey me solomon x reader #obey me Raphael x reader #obey me Simeon x reader #obey me nsfwish #omnsfwish #omnsfw

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ariestrxsh · 5 months ago

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sub!virgin!matt x neighbor!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, mommy kink, handjob, oral (m!receiving), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, sexualization of religious imagery

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: matt and his dad get into an argument over dinner when he disagrees with the way you're being spoken to, prompting matt to do something a bit out of character.

please don't read this series if you're religious because it might really upset you. the whole basis for this story is that matt is a sweet christian virgin boy who has his innocence corrupted by his dommy mommy neighbor, so don't read if you're not into the plot !

dividers by @/anitalenia

(dedicated to the loml Jules (@submattenthusiast) 💖

Me & U

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

You and Matt were sitting side-by-side at his dining room table while his dad was on the other side of the kitchen, cleaning up a few things while the three of you waited for the lasagna to finish baking.

The mouth-watering scent of garlic and oregano drifted through the air accompanied by the smell of the apple cinnamon candle burning a few feet from you. It had been less than a week since they'd moved in, but their house finally looked lived in, and almost everything that was previously packed away in boxes was now given a place.

"You guys want anything to drink?" His dad asked as he peeked over at the two of you. "You got any beer?" You wondered aloud. "She's kidding, dad!" Matt blurted out, looking at you wide-eyed and gently nudging you with his leg under the table.

His dad let out a laugh. "Sorry, kid. I've only got soda, water, and milk," he relayed, swinging open the door of the fridge as he listed off the options. "I'll have a coke," Matt requested. "I'll have the same," you responded, smiling.

His dad brought over two cans of coke and placed them in front of each of you. "Lasagna's got about ten more minutes, so sit tight," his dad told you. You peered over at the blue-eyed boy next to you, your gaze lingering on his pink, pouty lips.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Matt innocently asked, reaching up to brush away whatever you were gawking at. "No. You're just so pretty. I can't stop looking at you," you whispered in a sultry voice. Your compliment colored his cheeks a shade of rosey pink.

"This shirt looks really good on you, too. It brings out your eyes," you commented, playing with the hem of the blue fabric. His breath hitched as your hand wandered south, slowly caressing his bulge over his pajama pants. His gaze darted over at you with his mouth hung open in shock and his eyebrows pinched together in a concerned expression.

"Please. Not in front of my dad. He'd be so mad if he found out," Matt softly whined. "Don't worry, baby. I'm not gonna let him find out. Just let me make you feel good," you purred into his ear, squeezing his erection through the cotton material.

Your eyes flickered over to Matt's dad, who was still in the kitchen with his back turned to the two of you as he loaded the dishwasher. You smirked back over at Matt as your fingers slithered into his waistband until you wrapped them firmly around his throbbing cock, setting it free from the restrictive fabric.

"Yes, mommy," he submitted to you, the words rolling off his tongue in a breathy moan. "Shhh," you held your finger up to your upturned lips. He nodded, relaxing into the chair and letting his stare drop to the movement of the red table cloth that was concealing your little secret.

"You're a naughty boy, aren't you? Letting me touch you under the table," you cooed, looking into his dreamy, blue eyes and his blissed out expression. He caught his bottom lip between his pearly-white teeth as he bit back a whimper, staring back at you. He weakly nodded, sinking into his pleasure.

His heart raced, worried the two of you would he caught, but a part of him liked the adrenaline rush. He could already feel the knot in his stomach taking form. "Naughty, naughty boy," you repeated softly in his ear as you brought him to the edge, knowing how much he loved being called that.

Just when it looked like he couldn't take much more, you slowed your movements to a stop. His dick throbbed in your grasp, silently begging you to keep going. "Please. So close," he whispered.

"Not yet. I wanna take my time," you cruelly responded, denying him relief. He shot you a desperate look that said, right now? You want to take your time right now? In this situation? But the only words that drifted from his pouty lips was a quiet, "You're crazy." He meant it as a compliment, of course, and you took it as such.

The sound of plates, coffee mugs, and silverware clanking around drowned out the sweet sounds he made. You flashed him a mischevious grin as you circled the sensitive tip with your thumb, intensifying his pleasure. His head gently fell back, and he emitted another soft whine.

"Dinner's ready," Matt's dad's voice broke through the sexual tension as he headed in your direction with two plates. Matt sat up in his chair, straightening his back and clearing his throat. He slowed his breathing, trying to be inconspicuous about what was being done to him under the table.

"Thanks, dad," he managed to squeak out. "Would you like to say the prayer before we dig in?" Matt's dad asked you as he sat across from you two with his own plate. "You know, I'll be honest, I don't pray much," you admitted to his dad.

"Can you show me how to, Matt? I know how hard you pray every night," you smirked over at the sweet, shy boy to your right as the images of him getting down on his knees flickered through your mind. He glanced over at you, wide-eyed while you continued slowly stroking his length beneath the table, every now and again brushing your thumb over his swollen head.

"I-I don't know. Maybe you could say the prayer, dad," Matt stammered, tightly gripping the seat of his chair. "Why don't you wanna say the prayer, Matt?" His father asked, furrowing his brow. "Yeah, what is it, Matt? You feel guilty about something?" You quietly mumbled beside him, only loud enough for him to hear.

"O-okay. I'll say the prayer," Matt agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat, interlocking his fingers, and lowering his gaze to the movement happening underneath the tablecloth. Matt's father lowered his head and closed his eyes, and you followed his lead, periodically peeling open an eye to peek over at Matt and the way he reacted to your touch.

"Lord," Matt said, wetting his lips. "Thank you, Lord, for providing for us," Matt started to pray, but quickly needed to bite back a whine. You watched as his dick print showed through the cloth, precum trickling from his tip and leaving a wet stain on the red fabric.

The sensation of your hand pumping his shaft while his cockhead rubbed against the silky material sent him into a blissful state that nearly made him forget what he was doing, but he quickly directed himself back to his train of thought.

"Thank you for blessing this food. May it s-strengthen and nourish our b-bodies," he managed to get through his sentence without sounding any more nervous than usual. "Thank you. In Jesus' name, amen," he hurried to finish the prayer. "Amen," you and Matt's dad said in unison.

Right as Matt's father was about to start eating, his phone started to ring. "I gotta take this. Excuse me," he apologetically pardoned himself as he picked up. "Hello?" His voice drifted off as he made his way to the other room.

"You almost let me get you off during the prayer, didn't you, naughty boy?" You purred, yanking on Matt's hair with your free hand and burying his face into your chest, his strangled moans dampened by your breasts. "Come on, Matt. You gotta hurry up. Cum for mommy," you whispered, raking through his hair with your fingers.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, looked up at you with his big, blue eyes and nodded, giving himself over to the desire that overtook him. His cock twitched in your grasp as you fervently pumped away, a sticky white fluid erupting from it and dousing your hand.

His whole body shivered, and he buried his face into your bosom like an embarrassed little boy. "That was amazing," you murmured, rustling his brown locks and kissing him on the forehead. "That felt so good," he told you, taking a napkin off the table to wipe himself off with.

"I need to go wash my hands," you chuckled, getting up from your seat and darting off over to the sink to clean off the evidence. You took Matt's dirty napkin with you and chucked it into the trash.

Humiliation tinted his pink cheeks as he called his breath back to him, his chest rising and falling with every labored inhale and exhale. "You're crazy, you know that?" Matt smirked at you, quickly tucking his dick back into his pants. "I know," you flashed him a cheeky smile and washed your hands.

As soon as you sat back down, Matt's dad came back in through the door. "Sorry about that. You guys didn't have to wait for me to start eating," he said, motioning towards your untouched plates. "Oh, we didn't mind," you replied, holding back a giggle, concealing the real reason why you hadn't started digging into your lasagna yet. Matt blushed, biting back a grin as he peered over at you, still trying to catch his breath.

"So, Matt tells me you like classic rock," Matt's dad started off, opening up conversation before taking a bite of his lasagna. "I do. Blue Öyster Cult, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, AC/DC, stuff like that," you responded.

"Is that the stuff your parents listen to?" He asked. "Oh, no. They hate it. That's why I started listening to it," you laughed. Matt's dad cleared his throat, glanced over at Matt, and turned his attention back to you.

"So, do you go to church?" Matt's dad asked, changing the subject and hoping you'd say something he liked. "God no. I don't really believe in that kind of thing, but you know, I'll always go if Matt invites me," you replied, reaching over and giving Matt's hand a comforting squeeze.

"Are you open to converting?" His father casually asked, shrugging his shoulders. "Honestly, I couldn't see myself converting, you know? My lifestyle and Christianity don't really agree," you replied with a mouth full of food. "Well, Matt here has always discussed wanting his future wife to be a woman of God," his dad casually mentioned. "Dad," Matt sharply interjected.

"What?" Matt's dad defensively asked. "That's not necessarily what I want. That's w-what y-you want," Matt stuttered, avoiding eye contact with his dad as he stabbed his lasagna with the prongs of his fork. "Where's this coming from, Matt?" His dad asked.

"J-just don't grill her about religion, dad. I like her despite that. D-don't put that kind of pressure on her," Matt said with a shaky voice. Matt's dad was taken aback. Matt wasn't usually the type to dissent from his dad, but he wasn't given much of a reason to until now.

"What's gotten into you, Matt?" His father asked, giving him a disappointed look and crossing his arms over his chest. "N-nothing," Matt replied, shaking his head.

"I think this girl is a bad influence on you," his dad replied, talking about you as if you weren't in the room. Your heart sank. "Ever since the two of you have been hanging out, there's something off about you, Matt. Something different. I don't know if I like it," Matt's dad said. Matt sat in silence, picking at his food but not eating any of it.

"What are your intentions with my son?" His dad asked, peering at you from across the table, setting down his silverware and interlocking his fingers to show you how serious he was.

The truth was, the first day you'd laid eyes on Matt, your intentions were simply to sleep with him, and your thought process didn't go much further than that. However, after getting to know him and spending time with him, the way you felt about him became more convoluted.

"I just want to make him happy," you shrugged, peering over at Matt who smiled back. You weren't sure what answer either of them were looking for, and to be honest, you hadn't pondered that question much yourself, so you were somewhat surprised at your own answer when it fell from your lips. Matt's dad remained unconvinced.

"If you wanna make him happy, maybe you should leave him alone and let him find a good Christian girl," his dad blurted out. You clenched your jaw. You felt a mix of anguish and rage as the words left his mouth.

"Are you serious, dad? You can't just say that to my girlfriend," Matt shot back, getting up from his chair and grabbing your hand. You and Matt hadn't discussed labels or anything, but the way he was standing up for you and referring to you as his girlfriend turned you on a bit.

"C'mon. You don't have to listen to this," Matt said to you as you both started to head towards his front door. "Where do you think you're going?" His dad called out after the two of you. "Out," Matt huffed without looking back, slamming the door shut behind him.

You and Matt stepped outside, feeling the cool air as it rushed over your hot skin. It was a testament to the ever-changing seasons, summer hanging on by a thread as autumn began to take its place. In the same way, the day was fading, the sun sinking low into the evening sky.

"Holy shit," you said in disbelief, completely stunned by the way Matt had spoken to his father. "I've never talked to him like that before," Matt whispered, glancing at you with a dazed look on his face.

"Did it feel good?" You wondered, your lips curling into a smile. "It did," Matt nodded after a long exhale. "C'mon. Let's go hide in my treehouse until he cools down," you suggested, grabbing Matt by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into your backyard.

"I'm really sorry he said all of that," Matt apologized to you once the two of you were perched side-by-side in your treehouse as you sprinkled weed into your rolling paper.

"Listen. You don't have to try to make me feel better. I wouldn't want my good little Christian son hanging out with a girl like me either," you snorted, flicking your lighter and feeling the warmth of the fire as you held it up to the end of your joint.

Matt watched as the flame engulfed the paper and lit up your facial features. The scent of marijuana filled the air. You blew out a plume of smoke and watched it dissipate against the pink and orange sky as the sun started to fade out of view.

"I'm scared to go home," Matt whispered, flashing you a look of vulnerability. "We can stay here as long as you want," you assured him, handing him the joint. He leaned his head against your shoulder as he took a puff and slowly exhaled, feeling the anxiety and worry float away with the smoke he blew out into the atmosphere.

"Can I ask you something?" You wondered, only realizing after you'd asked how redundant it was to ask if you could ask a question. "Sure," Matt timidly responded, passing the joint back to you.

"Did you mean it back there when you called me your girlfriend?" You asked, aimlessly ashing the joint off to the side. "I'm sorry. I know we haven't talked about it-" Matt started to say, but you cut him off. "I wanna be your girlfriend," you inserted.

"Y-you do?" Matt stammered, his pretty blue eyes raising to meet yours as a swarm of butterflies fluttered around in his stomach. You nodded and smiled. The two of you sat quietly for a few minutes, passing the joint back and forth until you felt the tension from earlier in the night leave your body.

"I just want to do something that'll make him mad," Matt told you, shaking his head as he replayed the way his father had spoken so brazenly to you. "How mad?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and handing the joint over again. He took it from you and took a long drag, the chery end crackling as he pulled from it.

"Something that'll really piss him off," Matt confessed to you. He'd never had this urge before, to purposefully do something his dad didn't want him to do out of pure spite. You took the joint back from Matt as your lips shifted into a smug grin.

"I bet it would piss him off if I got his innocent son high and fucked him in my treehouse, wouldn't it?" You cooed, your voice thick with lust. You held intense eye contact as you took one final drag from the joint and put it out.

"Oh, he'd be so mad if I knew I gave it up to a slut like you," he whispered, knowing how much you loved being called that. A flash of desire seeped into his expression. Your panties started to cling to your wet folds as you imagined corrupting the sweet boy beside you.

"Well, then let's make him livid," you seductively whispered, letting your fingertips crawl up his chest. He slowly nodded, his shaky breath growing shallow. You snaked your hand around his neck, firmly grasping it, not enough to choke him - just enough to excite him and test the waters.

You pressed your lips up against his, eliciting a soft moan from Matt as your tongue slipped into his mouth. You grew more aggressive in your touch, slightly squeezing your fingers around the boy's neck in a gesture of dominance as you bit down on his plump lips, leaving them tender and bruised once you were done. He was left with a warm, excited feeling as blood rushed to his cock.

"You know. The way you stood up for me back there? It was super hot. I wanted to knock everything off your kitchen table and fuck you on it," you whispered against his mouth, guiding him to lay back as you pinned him to the floor of your treehouse.

"Yeah? You liked that?" He asked, looking up at you wide-eyed, his chest heaving with every breath as he anticipated your next move. "I fucking loved it," you purred into his ear before you pulled back.

You started tugging down his pajama pants and his boxers, and his cock eagerly sprung out as you set him free. You could see precum was already drooling from his slit, and the cool breeze blowing over his tip made him shudder in delight. You grabbed ahold of it, firmly holding it in your grip, just barely unable to close your fist around its girth. Matt bit his lip as you did this.

"So big," you whispered, licking your lips and staring at it in the glow of the stringed lights that hugged the branches of your treehouse. "Really?" Matt asked, propping himself up on his elbows and peering down at the way your fingers were wrapped around it.

"Yeah, trust me. I've seen a lot. This one is big," you smirked up at him. "I didn't know," Matt replied, trying to hold back a grin, liking the idea that he had a big dick. You started gently working your hand up and down on Matt's length, coaxing a few moans from his lips.

You loved the idea of being the first person to ever touch Matt's most intimate places and to be the first to ever make him sound like that. You lowered your mouth and wrapped your lips around his sensitive head, saltiness filling your taste buds.

"Oh!" Matt softly moaned. His cock jerked at the unexpected sensation of your warm, soft tongue grazing the underside of his tip. You started lightly suckling on it, which drove Matt crazy. "Wow," Matt whispered, completely blown away by the feeling. You went slow and gentle, learning every vein and every ridge with your tongue.

"Your mouth.." Matt started to say, but his voice trailed off. "What is it, baby? Say it," you purred. "It feels sooo good," he whimpered, holding a strand of your hair out of the way. You hummed against his cock, slowly moving your mouth up and down on his length as you circled his tip your tongue.

"Mommy," he squealed, gripping the fabric of the back of your shirt until his fingers started to cramp up. You bobbed your head and up down faster, listening closely to the pretty sounds he made as he discovered for the first time how much he liked getting head.

He laid back and sank into the floorboards beneath him, giving himself over to your soft, velvety mouth. He entangled his fingers into your hair and gently pulled you further down onto his twitching cock. His tip tickled the back of your throat, and he started subtly bucking his hips up to get as much as he could out of the sensation of having his dick buried between your lips.

He curled his toes until they started going numb. A slew of needy moans and soft cries unfurled from his pink lips as he tossed his head back and screwed his eyes shut. You slowly slid back up his shaft, slipping him out of your mouth before he could finish.

"I knew you'd love that," you whispered, smiling up at him as you started undoing the button on your jeans. "I did, but you always stop when I'm so close," he replied, propping himself up on his arms again. That's when he noticed you slipping out of your pants. Then your panties. You took the lace garment and slingshot it in his direction.

"That's because I'm about to make you feel even better than I did with my mouth," you seductively responded, straddling him and hovering right over his pink tip. Matt peered down as you lined him up with your entrance and made his length disappear inside you. His jaw dropped, and his facial expression softened as you lowered yourself onto him.

"You're so wet," he whimpered as he felt you stretch around him. "It's all your fault," you replied, pulling your top off over your head and revealing your perfect tits to him before you grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them above his head. "So pretty," he whispered, staring at your breasts in the glow of the fairy lights strewn around the room.

Matt loved the way you took charge. He loved that you knew exactly what you wanted and that you unapologetically took it from him. The sensation of your cunt clenching around his cock as you started bouncing up and down on it had him seeing stars.

He knitted his eyebrows together, pleasure wrinkling his expression as he let his head fall back against the floor with a soft thump. A loud, satisfied "fuuuck," poured from his lips.

"Naughty boy. I've never heard you say that word before," you said in a breathy moan as you smirked. "Can't help it, mommy. Your pussy feels so fucking good," Matt whispered, watching the way your tits jiggled as you picked up speed.

You were shocked but turned on by the foul language he was using as you continued rolling your hips forward, finding your rhythm. "I wonder what your dad would think of you right now. I bet he'd be so mad that you're swearing," you maliciously smiled down at him, knowing that would probably be the least of his concerns.

He struggled against the way you restrained his wrists just to see what would happen, and his cock throbbed inside of you as you tightened your hold on them. "You like that?" You asked, feeling the way the sweet boy squirmed around beneath you. "Yes, mommy," a strangled moan fell from his lips.

"You're such a naughty boy, aren't you?" You asked, arching your back and angling his cock deep inside of you in a way that felt incredible for both of you. You released his wrists, and your hand flew to your clit, rubbing it in fast, tight circles.

You threw your head back as you approached your orgasm. Matt watched in awe as you fell apart on his cock, your whole body trembling as dopamine and oxytocin flooded your system. Your thighs were burning, and your knees ached from the hard wood beneath you, but you powered through.

You finished yourself off, your walls rhythmically throbbing around Matt's dick and sending him over the edge shortly after. "Oh fuck," he whimpered, feeling his cock tighten and twitch as you rode him wildly. His eyes rolled back into his head and his jaw fell open as he pumped you full of his cum.

He submitted to the earth-shattering pleasure that rippled through him and overpowered him, like being swallowed by a series of cascading waves, each one topping the last. You slowed the movement of your hips and came to a stop once you were sure you'd both finished.

The two of you gazed longingly into each other's eyes under the blanket of stars as your breaths slowly returned to both of you. Four days. Four days was all it took for him to fall in love with you. He'd known you for four days, and he had just crossed a line with you that he hadn't even crossed in his three-year-long relationship with May.

You leaned down while he was still inside of you, grabbed his jaw, and gave him a long, passionate kiss. Matt couldn't get enough of you. He loved your soft lips, your smooth skin, and the way you always tasted a bit like weed. You filled his senses, leaving him feeling almost delirious.

He chuckled against your mouth mid-kiss. "What is it?" You asked, caressing his flushed, pink face that was coated in a light layer of sweat. "I can't believe we just did that. That was the best orgasm I've ever had," Matt admitted.

"Me too," you said, nibbling on your bottom lip. "I thought you said you've had sex with a lot of people before," Matt gave you a skeptical look. "I have, but I don't know. This was just better for some reason," you confessed, shrugging a shoulder. You knew it was because this was the first time such deep feelings were involved, but you didn't want to say it out loud and risk sounding stupid.

You didn't have to say it. Matt understood. He bit back a smile. You peppered his face in light kisses, whispering praises to him about how good he felt and how much you loved him. He stared back at you with his glossy, bedroom eyes and his fucked out expression.

"If I ever have to move away again, I'm taking you with me."

Matt walked home late that night, the thirty feet from your treehouse to his front door, his mind flooded with thoughts of you, hoping he could just sneak in without alerting his dad. He quietly turned the knob, stepped inside, and shut it, making sure not to trigger the sound of the latch.

When Matt spun around, his dad was sitting at the kitchen table in the soft glow of the candle that was burning down to the wick. It was like he hadn't moved since Matt had left, as if he had been waiting for him to come home and scold him.

Matt swallowed the knot in his throat, his palms beginning to sweat. He was certain if his dad turned on a main light, he'd see his bloodshot eyes and his dilated pupils. Thankfully, he didn't. He kept it short and sweet. He let out a defeated sigh before he spoke.

"Son. I'm sorry. I had no right to talk to your friend that way," he started off. "Girlfriend," Matt corrected him. "I didn't even know you guys had made anything official yet. I feel like you don't tell me things anymore," his dad said in response.

"We just decided tonight," Matt muttered, avoiding direct eye contact with his dad. "Well, either way. I'm sorry. I understand if you're upset with me. Your girlfriend is welcome over whenever, and I'll apologize to her, too the next time I see her."

Matt narrowed his eyes and glanced over at his dad, wondering where the sudden change of heart had come from. "Just promise me, son, that you'll keep God at the forefront of your relationship and that you won't give into temptation," his dad asked of him.

Matt half-heartedly shrugged and hesitantly nodded. Matt's dad could see the resistance in his response, but he didn't want to pry. "Goodnight, dad," Matt replied before carrying his heavy feet across the kitchen and trudging up the stairs.

He didn't have the heart to tell his dad that he had been questioning things.

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yuujispunches · 6 days ago

Text

Babysitting emergency ~ R.S.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Summary: Sukuna is in charge of babysitting his little nephew for an evening, should be easy enough right? Turns out it isn’t so he finds himself knocking at his annoying neighbour’s door.

CW (content warning): cuteness overload, modern AU (no curses), ooc Sukuna (he’s kinda nice), Sukuna is an architect for literally mo reason, some light cursing.

AN: This is way too long because I got too into it hahahah but I think really like how this turned out 🤍 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’re any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of character I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

There were very few things that could rattle Sukuna Ryomen. Earthquakes, client meltdowns, the occasional burst pipe on-site, those were all things he could handle effortlessly. But standing in his living room in a faded black hoodie, sweatpants, and socks that hadn’t matched since 9 a.m., he was definitely rattled.

The source of his current crisis was none other than a pink-haired five-year-old named Yuji, his nephew.

The kid was adorable. When he was asleep. Awake? He was a human pinball, a juice-powered chaos gremlin with endless questions and zero fear.

“Uncle Suku, can I feed the fish again?” Yuji called, already climbing onto the kitchen counter.

“We don’t have a fish!” Sukuna snapped, catching a juice box midair. “That’s my garlic press!”

Yuji grinned, completely unbothered, as he jumped down and ran in circles around the coffee table, dragging what used to be a potted plant behind him like a leash.

It was only noon.

Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose. His sister had begged him, really begged him, to babysit while she and her husband attended a last-minute emergency at her office. He’d said yes because he was a responsible adult with a flexible work-from-home schedule and because, well, he wasn’t heartless.

But this? This was slowly turning into a war of attrition.

He tried distracting Yuji with cartoons. Didn’t work. Tried coloring. Yuji drew on the wall. Tried snacks. The living room now smelled like stale applesauce and childhood regrets.

Sukuna’s eye twitched as a toy firetruck zipped past him and hit the front door.

He needed backup. But not just any backup. His neighbor. He stared at the wall separating his apartment from hers.

You’d lived next door for about six months. Too cheerful. Too nosy. Always humming in the hallways and leaving little potted plants outside your door like this was some rom-com set instead of a downtown apartment building.

And you loved to get on his nerves.

Whenever he bumped into you in the hallway, it was like sparring with a cartoon character. You smiled too much. Talked too much. You once called his very expensive minimalist furniture “cold serial killer chic” and he still hadn’t forgiven you.

But Yuji liked you. A lot. And right now? Sukuna was desperate.

With a long-suffering sigh, he knocked on your door. It opened a few seconds later, revealing you in leggings, a hoodie, and fuzzy socks. You were holding a mug that said BITE ME in cheerful bubble letters.

Your eyes widened. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Brooding himself. Need to borrow a cup of angst?”

“Help me.” Sukuna said flatly.

You blinked. “Sorry, come again?”

He cleared his throat. “I said… Help. Me.” He said it like the mere act of those words leaving his lips physically hurt him. It probably did in fact.

You leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling. “Did you swallow a thumbtack, or did you actually just ask me for help?”

“Yuji.” He said simply, gesturing behind him. A loud crash followed.

Your smile widened. “Say no more.”

——————————————————————————

Fifteen minutes later, you were in his apartment, crouched on the carpet, helping Yuji build a pillow fort. The kid had immediately latched onto you like a magnet, and you? You looked completely at ease.

Sukuna watched, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

“Okay, Yuji, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to guard this pillow castle from the evil broccoli overlords.”

“Broccoli is gross!” Yuji shouted.

“Exactly!” You said solemnly. “They must be stopped.”

Yuji saluted you. “Yes, General!”

Sukuna felt like he’d stepped into an alternate universe. One were his heart did weird things when he saw you laughing at something his little nephew did. He wasn’t handling it well.

“How do you do that?” He asked finally.

You didn’t even look up. “Do what?”

“That. Handle him like you’re some sort of… tiny human whisperer.”

You shrugged. “It’s not that hard. He just wants to play. And not be barked at like he’s a military recruit.”

Sukuna scowled. “I wasn’t… Okay, maybe a little. But in my defense, he colored on my tax documents.”

You laughed. “Honestly? That’s kind of iconic.”

He groaned. “Of course you’d say that.”

Yuji popped up from behind the couch. “Uncle Suku, can she stay forever?”

He sputtered. “No.”

“Yes.” you said at the same time.

Yuji laughed, then returned to his fort.

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for stepping in.”

You waved him off. “I love this stuff. Chaos is my natural habitat.”

“I can tell.” He muttered, eyeing the glitter stuck to your sleeve.

You grinned. “Admit it. You’re relieved I came over.”

He looked away. “I… You’re not entirely useless, I guess.”

“A glowing review.” You said. “Should I write that on my resume?”

You ended up staying all afternoon. Sukuna tried to pretend he was annoyed by it, but the truth was… the apartment felt lighter with you in it. Your laughter made Yuji light up. Your presence calmed the room. You even helped him clean up after Yuji crashed for a nap on the couch, completely worn out from fort-building and broccoli slaying.

“You want tea?” He asked, half-grumbling.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering because you’re being polite, or because you’ve realized I’m delightful?”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m offering because you stopped him from destroying my apartment and my will to live. Tea is the least I can do.”

“Romantic.” You said dryly. “But sure.”

He handed you a mug and sat across from you at the table, eyes half-lidded, arms folded.

The silence was surprisingly… comfortable.

“I still don’t get why you hate me.” You said after a moment.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You kind of do.” You smirked.

He exhaled. “You’re loud.”

“And?”

“Too cheerful.”

“And?”

“You rearranged the mailboxes that one time.”

You laughed. “Because they were in the wrong order. You’re such a Virgo.”

“I’m a Scorpio.”

“That tracks too.”

He gave you a look, but the edge in his eyes was softened by something else. Amusement?

“Okay.” You said, sipping your tea. “Let’s lay it out. You’re grumpy and tense. I’m sunshine and rainbows. Opposites attract.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” You said with a shrug. “Is it working?”

Sukuna opened his mouth, then shut it. For the first time in years Ryomen Sukuna had been rendered speechless. The silence stretched for a bit.

Then he stood and walked to the sink, muttering, “You’re insufferable.”

You smiled behind your mug. Because you knew that in Sukuna language that wasn’t a no.

——————————————————————————

You came over again the next weekend.

This time, Sukuna asked. Not begged. Not pleaded. Just a text that read:

You busy? Yuji’s back. Bring sugar.

You arrived ten minutes later with cupcakes and a grin.

Over the next few weeks, it became a pattern. Sukuna watched Yuji during the day. You popped over to help when you could. The three of you became an oddly functional little trio.

You learned that Sukuna was surprisingly good at drawing. That he secretly loved cooking shows. That he kept extra fuzzy blankets but pretended they were for guests.

He learned that you used sarcasm as a shield. That your last relationship ended because someone told you to “stop being so much.” That you secretly worried you were too loud for quiet people like him.

He told you, one night while Yuji was snoring in the other room “You’re not too much. People just suck.”

You smiled so hard it hurt.

He noticed. He was utterly screwed.

——————————————————————————

The day it all changed, Yuji had just left with his mom, and the apartment was quiet again. You were helping Sukuna pack away the last of the kid’s toys.

You held up a plastic lightsaber. “I’m keeping this.”

“You literally didn’t buy it.”

“I earned it with emotional labor.”

Sukuna smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

You put the lightsaber down and looked at him.

He was closer than you thought. Still in his black hoodie, hair a little messy, he had red finger paint smudged on his left cheek and his eyes were dark and unreadable.

“I like you, you know?” You said softly.

He didn’t respond right away. Then he stepped forward. His hand found your waist.

And just like that he kissed you.

It was warm and slow and soft in a way that made your heart ache. No snark. No banter. Just the press of his lips on yours and the quiet hum of understanding between two people who had somehow, impossibly, become each other’s favorite chaos. When he pulled back, you blinked in shock, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

“Wow.” You whispered. “That was…”

“I should’ve done that weeks ago.” He said.

You smiled. “You absolutely should’ve.”

He hesitated, only for a moment, just enough to make you squirm a bit. “Wanna go out sometime? Like, a real date. No Legos involved.”

You looped your arms around his neck. “Only if you promise to let me win at Mario Kart.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then I’m in.” You beamed at him.

——————————————————————————

The first date was his idea. Which, honestly? Surprised both of you.

It started with a knock on your door, three days after the kiss. You opened it expecting mail or a neighbor with a Wi-Fi emergency. Instead, there was Sukuna, in a navy-blue jacket, holding a small paper bag and looking like he’d spent twenty minutes pacing before mustering the courage to ring your bell.

He cleared his throat. “Put on shoes. I’m taking you somewhere.”

You blinked. “Wow. So romantic. You didn’t even offer me a rose or tell me to pack a bag for a mysterious getaway.”

“I brought food.” He held up the bag like it was a peace treaty.

“What is it?”

“Gyoza from that place you like. The one with the sarcastic waiter.”

You smiled, grabbing your coat. “You’re lucky I’m easy.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “That’s debatable”, but his ears were pink.

——————————————————————————

The date started at a park. Sukuna led you to a quiet, tree-lined path, where you sat on a bench under the soft glow of streetlamps. The weather was cool, the sky cloudy, and for some reason, it felt oddly cinematic.

“You brought me to a park?” You teased. “What are we, eighty?”

“I considered a rooftop, but someone’s afraid of pigeons.”

“I was attacked once.” You said firmly. “They’re sky rats.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and handed you the gyoza bag. “Eat before you get even more dramatic.”

You bit into a dumpling, humming contentedly. “You know, I never expected you to be the ‘pack a picnic and stroll through the park’ kind of guy.”

“I’m not. But you like this kind of stuff.”

You paused mid-chew. He kept looking straight ahead, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You remembered I like this?”

He shrugged. “You talk a lot. Stuff sticks.”

Your chest tightened with that stupid, fluttery ache that happened every time he did something unexpectedly sweet.

And of course, being you, you couldn’t help but push a little. “So… is this your idea of boyfriend material?”

He gave you a dry look. “Don’t push it.”

“I dunno…” You teased, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully. “I might have to make you a Pinterest board.”

“If you do, I’ll set your phone on fire.”

You giggled, and for the first time that evening, he smiled. A real one. Small, lopsided, and rare as hell.

You didn't kiss that night. You both kind of wanted to, but something about it felt too… gentle. Like rushing would break it.

So instead, you walked home with him in silence, hands brushing occasionally. When you reached your door, he said, “Same time next week?”

You grinned. “Only if you bring dessert.”

——————————————————————————

By the third date, he was holding your hand.

By the fourth, he’d let you see his apartment’s second bedroom, the one filled with sketchbooks and drafting tables and old, half-finished models of buildings.

He told you, without looking at you. “I used to want to design theaters.”

You sat beside him on the floor, tracing your fingers over the paper. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Money. Clients want modern. Steel and glass. Emotionless. Easy to clean.”

You whispered, “But you wanted magic.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and said quietly. “Still do.”

That was the night he kissed you again. Not a maybe-kiss, not a I’ve-wanted-to-do-this-for-weeks kiss.

It was a you matter to me kiss.

And that’s when it started.

——————————————————————————

The relationship, if you could even call it that at first, was chaotic.

You were still neighbors. Still bickered like you were trying to win a verbal UFC match. But now he’d kiss you when you were mid-rant. Now you’d steal his hoodies like it was your God-given right. Now you sat on his kitchen counter and kicked your feet while he cooked, and he let you eat the last dumpling without pretending to fight you for it.

Yuji figured it out before either of you said anything.

One Saturday morning, while you were helping him build a pillow fort version 3.0, he looked up and said, “Are you Uncle Suku’s girlfriend now?”

You blinked. “Uh…”

Sukuna, from the other side of the room, said “Yuji.” In almost a warning tone.

“What?” The kid said, frowning. “She’s here all the time. And you kiss. That’s what girlfriends do.”

You covered your face with a pillow.

Sukuna walked over, ruffled Yuji’s hair, and said, “You’re too observant for your own good.”

Yuji beamed. “Does that mean I can call her Auntie?”

“No- ” You and Sukuna said at the same time.

Yuji pouted. “Lame.”

——————————————————————————

It was bumpy, of course. Sukuna didn’t exactly slide into domesticity. The first time you left your hairbrush in his bathroom, he stared at it like it was a live grenade.

“You’re moving in?”

You blinked. “It’s a brush, not a lease agreement.”

“I’m just saying, that’s how it starts. First the brush. Then you’re here every night. Then I wake up and there’s throw pillows on my bed.”

“God forbid you experience lumbar support.”

Eventually, though, he got used to it. You being there. Your humming in the morning. Your socks in his drawer. The way you curled up on his couch and tucked your feet under his thigh like you belonged there.

One night, after too much wine and too many old horror movies, you looked at him,flushed and sleepy, and said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

He froze.

You panicked. “I mean, not like in love in love. Not in a weird way. Just, like, casual love. Like a chill-”

He kissed you. Long. Firm. No hesitation.

When he pulled back, he said “I love you too. Ever since you knocked on my door with a batch of welcome cupcakes.”

You blinked. “You don’t say anything for ten minutes and then just- ?!”

“I was trying not to freak out, okay?” He snapped. “You caught me off guard.”

You snorted. “You? Mr. Stoic? Freaked out?”

He grumbled. “Shut up.”

But you didn’t.

You laughed, leaned into his chest, and said once again “I love you.”

And this time, he whispered it back immediately.

——————————————————————————

Dating Sukuna was like learning a new language.

He didn’t always say the right things. Sometimes he snapped when he meant to ask. Sometimes he shut down when he should’ve opened up. But he showed love in small, quiet gestures.

A thermos of your favorite tea on his counter when you were sick. An extra key on your keyring that you definitely hadn’t put there. A grumble of “Don’t be late” when you had a big meeting.

And you? You loved out loud. Sticky notes on his mirror. Spontaneous takeout at midnight. Kisses on the back of his neck while he worked on new sketches.

You argued, of course. Loudly. Often. Once about the right way to fold towels. Another time about whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie, which, by the way, you won. Once about the color of a shower curtain.

But the make-ups were always worth it.

Sometimes that meant soft apologies whispered under the covers. Sometimes it meant passionate, desperate kisses against the kitchen counter.

Sometimes it meant cuddling on the couch with Yuji between you, asleep, while the TV played forgotten cartoons in the background.

——————————————————————————

One night, months into the chaos, you were curled up on Sukuna’s bed, flipping through one of his sketchbooks. He was brushing his teeth, hair damp from the shower, wearing the gray sweatpants that absolutely should’ve been illegal.

You held up a sketch of a tiny theater with stained glass windows and velvet curtains.

“I love this one.”

He spat into the sink. “Old. From college.”

“Why didn’t you build it?”

He shrugged. “Too sentimental. No one wants that crap.”

You hesitated. “I do.”

He glanced at you in the mirror.

You closed the book. “I want all your sentimental crap. All of it. The weird sketches. The hoodie you never wear but won’t throw away. The grumpy texts. The yelling. The quiet. I want all of it.”

He turned. You waited.

Then, softly, he said, “You already have it.”

You smiled. “Even the hoodie?”

“Especially the hoodie.”

You laughed, and he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

——————————————————————————

Six months after the first kiss, you officially moved in. Not all at once, it started with your toiletries, then your sweaters, then somehow your cat, who terrorised Sukuna for the first week.

The building super made a joke about it one day in the hallway.“You two finally caved, huh?”

Sukuna just smirked, one hand on your lower back.

“Better than her breaking into my apartment every other night.”

You elbowed him. “I never broke in.”

“You climbed through the fire escape.”

“Once!”

“You brought tacos.” He conceded. “So I let it slide.”

——————————————————————————

One morning, while brushing your teeth beside him, you looked at him in the mirror and said, “You know I love you, right?”

He met your eyes. “I know.”

“And you… love me too?”

He leaned down, kissed your toothpaste-foamed cheek, and said “Unfortunately.”

You grinned.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

A slow-burn romance with yelling and laughter and pizza stains. A relationship built on bickering and babysitting and the most unhinged five-year-old matchmaker alive.

And somehow, against all odds? It worked.

——————————————————————————

You two had decided to keep your relationship to yourselves for a while, not that you were ashamed of it because you weren’t in the slightest. You just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of living in your own little bubble, but given that there was a five-years-old that was the embodiment of ADHD that knew… the secret was meant to come out rather sooner than later.

It happened at a family barbecue. A simple, innocent Sunday afternoon.

Sukuna’s sister had invited him, meaning, both of you to her house just outside the city because she wanted to thank you for “Not allowing her brother to throw Yuki out of the window”. It was a yearly tradition: kids running around, way too much food, and at least one uncle getting into an argument about lawn maintenance.

You didn’t expect much. Just decent grilled corn, a slightly-overcooked burger, and maybe a chance to mess with Sukuna’s head by being overly charming to his extended family.

You didn’t expect Yuji to completely detonate your secret relationship like a tiny pink-haired grenade.

——————————————————————————

“I told you.” Sukuna muttered as you got out of the car. “My family is nosy.”

You slipped on your sunglasses. “And I told you: I’m adorable. They’ll love me.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “You stole my last piece of cheesecake last night.”

“And yet you still let me wear your hoodie this morning. That’s love, baby.”

He made a noise that could’ve been a scoff or a suppressed laugh. You counted it as a win either way.

You walked into the backyard hand-in-hand, a detail you both completely forgot until it was too late. Music was playing, kids were screaming, and the smell of charcoal filled the air.

Sukuna’s sister came over first, grinning. “There he is! The brooding menace himself.” She said as she hugged the brooding tattooed man next to you. “And his emotional support ray of sunshine.” She beamed at you, as she embraced you.

She laughed as hugged you both. “It’s about time you brought her around again. Yuji hasn’t shut up about her.”

“Of course not.” You said. “I’m his favorite adult.”

“Excuse me?” Sukuna said.

“I don’t make him eat vegetables.”

“You bribed him with marshmallows to get him to brush his teeth.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

Sukuna muttered something about bad influences and childhood cavities, but his hand didn’t leave your lower back the whole time.

You tried to play it cool. Smile. Be casual. Only… it was hard to stay subtle when Yuji was running toward you at full speed, arms wide.

“AUNTIEEEE!”

Sukuna flinched like he’d been hit.

You bent down to scoop Yuji into a hug. “There’s my favorite little chaos goblin!”

“I missed you!” He said. “Uncle Suku was so boring last week. He wouldn’t let me use the hose indoors.”

“Because I’m not a psychopath.”

You whispered to Yuji “We’ll stage a mutiny later.”

He giggled and kissed your cheek loudly.

That was strike one.

——————————————————————————

Strike two came later when one of Sukuna’s cousins, a tall guy with a man bun and too many opinions about kombucha asked. “So, what’s your deal with the grump here? Just friends?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deflect with your usual “I’m his handler” joke, but Yuji beat you to it.

“They kiss a lot!” Exclaimed proudly, licking a popsicle. “Like, a lot a lot. I saw them one time on the couch and Uncle Suku said I had to pretend I didn’t.”

Dead silence. You blinked. Sukuna blinked.

The cousin blinked and grinned. “Ohhhh.”

You covered your face.

——————————————————————————

Strike three came barely a minute later when Yuji, still unaware of the social nuke he’d dropped, said to Sukuna’s mom, loudly. “Uncle Suku said he’s gonna marry her one day but he’s being a big chicken about it.”

Sukuna choked on his beer. You very, very calmly set down your lemonade before you dropped it.

Yuji looked up at his grandmother innocently. “Right, Ba-chan? He said he was gonna do it soon. With a ring and everything. Like on TV.”

The silence was now legendary. Sukuna’s mother turned slowly to her eldest son.

He coughed, red-faced, and muttered “Kids say weird things.”

“Oh no.” You said, barely holding back laughter. “Let’s hear more about this ring, chicken man.”

“I’m going to exile him.” Sukuna growled. “I swear to God.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t bring it up again that night.

He was flustered enough. You could tell by how much he was cleaning. Sukuna never cleaned while angry, only while thinking. While trying to process. And judging by how many times he rearranged his spice rack, he was practically having an existential crisis.

So you let it go, for about a week at least. Until you noticed him acting… weirder than usual.

You’d wake up and find him staring at you like he was trying to memorize every freckle on your face. He kept checking his coat pockets, muttering under his breath. He googled “best restaurants with rooftop views near me” and pretended he didn’t. He even said “I love you” first one night and then acted like he hadn’t.

You were no genius, but you could put two and two together. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Because this? Watching him unravel like a tightly wound spool of sarcasm and anxiety? This was fun.

——————————————————————————

The night it finally happened, he invited you to dinner. Which wasn’t weird. Except he was nervous. Weirdly nervous.

“You okay?” You asked, brushing lint off his shirt as he fiddled with his keys.

“Fine.”

“You look like you’re about to testify in court.”

He scowled. “Just get in the car.”

He took you to a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. Very fancy. Very romantic. Very not Sukuna.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Trying to get laid or trying to hide a body?”

“Shut up.”

The dinner was good. The wine was better. And you were just starting to feel that warm, fizzy buzz when Sukuna reached into his coat pocket.

Paused. Frowned. Checked the other pocket. Then the inside. Then his wallet.

“Everything okay?” You asked, eyeing him as if he had just grown a second head.

“I… I forgot something.”

You tilted your head. “What’d you forget?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair into a waiter. Then he mumbled “Be right back” and practically sprinted down the stairs.

You stared after him.

Okay you thought to yourself, So either he’s proposing or he just remembered he left the oven on.

——————————————————————————

Ten minutes later, he came back, flushed and out of breath, holding…

A tiny, slightly crumpled black velvet box.

You blinked. He sat down, still panting.

“Had to run to the car.” He muttered. “Was in the glovebox. Under your fuzzy socks.”

You stared at him. Then at the box. Then back at him.

“You kept a ring next to my socks?”

“I panicked!”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

He exhaled and pushed the box toward you, not opening it, not kneeling, just sliding it across the table like it was a cursed artifact.

“I was gonna do this right.” He said. “Fireworks. String lights. Maybe a cat in a tux.”

“A cat in a- ”

“But then Yuji opened his gob, and you started looking at me like you knew, and I started panicking every time you reached for a coffee mug like you might find it by accident- ”

You opened the box. Simple. Silver band. A small, round-cut diamond in a vintage setting. Elegant. Understated. So you.

You looked up, eyes glossy. “You picked this?”

He shrugged. “You said you liked rings that look like heirlooms. You were half-asleep. Probably don’t even remember saying it.”

Your chest ached. You stood, walked around the table, and sat on his lap, not caring that half the restaurant was now watching.

“You’re a mess.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And you’re a menace.” He said. “I think I’m about to have a heart attack, so can you please just put me out of my misery?”

“You didn’t actually ask, you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Will you marry me, even though I’m emotionally stunted and allergic to sentiment?”

You grinned. “Absolutely.”

He kissed you. Not gentle, not shy, but completely, hopelessly yours.

Applause broke out from a nearby table.

You flipped them off without breaking the kiss.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t tell Yuji until a week later.

He was on your shared couch, watching cartoons, shoveling goldfish crackers into his mouth. You sat beside him. Sukuna stood behind the couch, arms crossed, trying not to smile.

“Hey, champ.” You said. “Guess what?”

Yuji looked at you.

“We’re getting married.”

Yuji gasped. Loudly.

Then jumped up and screamed. “I WIN! I WIN! I TOLD YOU!”

You blinked. “Told who what?”

He pointed at Sukuna. “He said he wasn’t gonna do it until next year. But I said he was a big chicken and he was gonna do it this month! I win!”

Sukuna stared at his nephew like he was an ancient demon haunting his bloodline.

“Did you bet on my proposal timeline?” You asked.

Yuji looked smug. “I also bet with Ba-chan. She owes me ice cream.”

You howled with laughter.

Sukuna groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m being outsmarted by a five-year-old?”

You leaned into him, kissing his cheek. “Because you are.”

Neither of you would change a thing.

Tags: @noooo-onee @suna-yoshihara @hawkwithsocks @pickledsoda

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna fic #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen fluff #jjk au #jjk blog #sukuna oneshot

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vanesycho · 7 months ago

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rockstar gf!reader x bf!haechan headcanon | m.list

⌕word count:1k

warnings | nsfw, jerking off, dirty talk, eating out.

a/n | I hope you like it baby🤍 @ldh0000

enjoy reading！

★ He's your number one fan. He never fails to watch every one of your comebacks with a smile on his face and pride. Even though he doesn't show this pride to you most of the time. "Of course you did a good job. You're my girlfriend."

★ He likes to follow your style, he likes to dress the way you dress. Sometimes he doesn't hesitate to ask for your advice and loves to share his leather jacket with you.

★ He loves it when you go on stage with his jewelry. He gives you his own ring even though he knows it won't fit your finger, and when he sees you wearing it as a necklace in the next performance, he completely loses control.

★ Doing his makeup is one of his favorite activities. While you're sitting on his lap, his hand on your waist, he'll occasionally hold himself back from sticking his lips to yours while he examines your entire face. We can say that he completely inherited his obsession with using eyeliner from you and can't stop it now.

★ His social media accounts are full of you. Photos of you on stage, photos of you at home, photos of you working on a song in the studio... And the list goes on, he doesn't forget to write notes under each photo about how much he loves you. I wasn't lying when I said he's your number one fan...

★ It doesn't matter to him whether he's on the backstage or in the crowd, but he likes to shoot you from the front with his camera. Sometimes when you spot him in the crowd and walk up to him and look him in the eye while sing the lyrics, it literally melts him, and you know it very well.

★ He loves playing your guitar. Helping you with the notes while you hum the lyrics is his favorite thing, after a while you may find him getting carried away by your beauty and stop playing the guitar to look at you with admiration.

★ You know he loves singing your songs out loud and you are aware of how beautiful his voice is. So one day when you invite him to sing with you on stage, he looks at you in surprise and tries to make sure you are not joking. But after he accept, he realizes that it was the best decision he ever made. He approaches you when doesn’t care about the crowd, staring lovingly at every detail of your face, and he is captivated by the music and more so by you. When the music ends, he doesn’t forget to give you a small kiss on the lips before leaving the stage to you.

！Nsfw Content！

★ Fucking in backstage and in the studio... It’s a thousand times better than fucking in a bed. Well sometimes you can write inappropriate lyrics in your songs and it can turn Haechan on immediately. He likes to whisper dirty words in your ear while kissing your neck from behind. "I swear you were thinking of me while writing these. Why don't we do it again? I can give you new inspirations." You could almost say that fucking in the backstage has become a tradition. He knows how nervous you are to sing this every time a new song comes out, and he likes to get rid of that nervousness. While your fans are excitedly waiting for you to go on stage, they have no idea that Haechan is eating you out until you relieve your stress. "Just leave yourself to me, you don't have to do anything, baby. But if you really want to, you can help me out at the end of the night as a way to thank me."

★ Sometimes he tells you to sit on his lap while you write the lyrics, so he'll feel better because he'll be close to you. But when your hips are right next to his bulge, you can find him laying you on the table and fucking you. He just can't stay still, and everything you do makes him so much more excited. While you're on his lap, his hand wanders around your leg helplessly, his lips kissing your neck. "I don't think a little break would hurt anyone. Come on, is it more important the song you wrote for your fans or your boyfriend who's been waiting for you for hours with this bulge?"

★ Every time he sees you playing the guitar, he can't stop thinking about your beautiful fingers around his cock. When his eyes are actually on your face, he slowly moves down to see how your fingers move over the strings, and it makes him lean back and completely lose himself in the situation he's in. When you stop playing the guitar, he'll just whine. "Is it over? Please play it one more time. You know that's my favorite song." And fingers? Fingers. At the end of the day, he'll lean his head back and close his eyes while you're jerking him off, and he'll make a huge mess as he finally gets what he's dreamed of. "Oh sorry..I- keep going..Please..I'm still hard, fuck-"

★ He's definitely vocal and he's not afraid to show it. Sometimes it scares you to know that he can reach a higher note than you, but on the other hand, it's something you enjoy. Haechan is a big switch and he can do it both ways very well. When he’s on top he doesn’t hesitate to use his deep voice on you, he loves to tease you and for him listening to your moan with that beautiful voice of yours is the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard. “Yeah, that’s it..Don’t hide your beautiful voice from me, scream and shout as much as you want, I can see you doing it on stage, you can do it for me too, right?”. When he’s on bottom, things don’t change much. He’s still a naughty horny brat and that shows more when he’s on bottom. Sometimes he’ll turn you on before you go on stage and when he leaves you like that you have to sing with that wetness for hours and seeing him excitedly await the punishment he’ll receive from you at the end of the night reminds you of how naughty he is again. “You know I didn’t do this on purpose…I’m sorry baby, are you really going to punish me?” He’s been waiting for this moment for hours.

#nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 smut #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #haechan smut #haechan imagines #nct haechan #haechan headcanons #nct headcanons #nct dream headcanons #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #haechan hard thoughts #haechan hard hours

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mandoalorian · 20 days ago

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seven minutes in hell [bucky barnes x f!reader]

pairing: new avenger!bucky x f!reader

synopsis: what begun as a night of laughter turned into a powder keg. a drunken dare. a too-small space. a collision of bodies and buried feelings. you both said things you don’t mean—and things you do. but before you can face what’s unravelling between you and bucky, someone else finds you. and he’s not here to play games.

word count: 6500

rating/warnings: 18+ explicit content, female masturbation, enemies to lovers, mentions of alcohol, angst, forced close proximity, avengers tower fic, thunderbolts spoilers

masterlist

previous chapter | current | next chapter

The city was soaked in silver. Midnight rain streaked across street lamps and taxi roofs, painting Manhattan in slick, melancholy gold.

Bucky walked without a destination, only momentum. His hands were stuffed in his coat pockets, collar turned up, but the water still found its way in—slipping down the back of his neck, collecting beneath his metal arm, sticking his shirt to his skin. He welcomed it. The discomfort kept him grounded.

He couldn't get the image out of his head. Your mouth on Sam’s. The way your hands gripped him like he was something tethering you to the earth.

Of course, she likes Sam, Bucky thought bitterly. Who wouldn’t?

You hated Bucky. And maybe that’s what made it all worse—because something in him had started to hope that your fire wasn’t hate at all. That it was something hotter. Closer.

He didn’t know what stung more: the kiss, or the fact that he didn’t even blame you for it.

It was his fault. For getting too close when you were unconscious in the medbay. For spilling himself open in front of you, sharing his feelings and vulnerabilities and all of his ugly truths. For thinking that things might have been different.

The rain blurred the neon signs and billboards as he passed them, boots splashing in shallow puddles. The metal hand curled tight at his side. He remembered how it felt when it shielded your body, the weight of protecting you, the panic in his gut when you went down.

You nearly died for him. And then ran from him. Straight into Sam’s arms.

“Fuck,” he muttered aloud, voice swallowed by the downpour.

He kept walking. Not toward home, not toward the tower. He needed something strong, something to burn this ache out of his veins.

And he knew just where to find it.

The bar he found was half a dive, half a graveyard. No music. No televisions. Just the faint hum of neon and the occasional cough from a man hunched over a pint. It was the kind of place that didn’t ask for names or eye contact. The kind of place where ghosts could drink in peace.

Bucky slid into a booth in the back, rain dripping from his hair, soaking into his coat. The waitress, a girl with a lip ring and purple eyeliner smudged beneath tired eyes, dropped a whiskey in front of him without a word.

He didn’t thank her. Just wrapped his fingers around the glass and drank. It was sharp, smoky—burning his throat all the way down. He welcomed the sting.

The second drink came faster. The third even faster than that. He wasn’t talking. Wasn’t moving much, except to lift the glass. His phone sat on the table, screen down, but he kept glancing at it like it might speak first.

After the fourth drink, he gave in.

He picked it up, thumb hovering over a name in his call list.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.

Her contact photo: a perfectly poised smile, curled lips painted deep red. Always in control. Always camera-ready.

He stared at the screen for a long time. His vision swam slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the ache.

She would answer. She always did.

She’d probably offer to come over. Or send a car.

He imagined her voice: light, sweet like poison. “James, darling. Are you alone?”

He pressed his thumb down—

—and then pulled it back.

“No.”

It was a whisper. Maybe a prayer. Maybe a warning.

He turned the phone over, face-down again, as if the screen itself was too bright, too dangerous. Then he drained the rest of his whiskey and signaled for another.

By the time the flashbulbs hit, he barely noticed. Just a soft mechanical click, followed by another, and another. A pair of paparazzi across the bar—drawn in by the sight of ex-Congressman Barnes alone, disheveled, and clearly a little drunk. One of them had the nerve to get a little closer.

Bucky turned his head just slightly, eyes bloodshot but burning. “Take one more step,” he said, voice like gravel, “and I’ll shove that camera down your throat.”

Maybe it was Bucky’s threat, or the mechanical whirr of his fingers when he flexed them into a fist, but the man froze.

The other tugged him back by the arm, whispering something sharp. They both scurried out the door, back into the rain.

Bucky went back to drinking.

And he didn’t pick the phone up again.

────✪────

The rain hadn’t stopped. It tapped gently against the windowpane, streaking the glass in long, shimmering trails. Sam’s apartment was warm, dimly lit—soft light from the kitchen casting a quiet glow over the small living space. The air smelled like coffee and clean laundry.

You sat on his couch, knees pulled to your chest in an oversized hoodie—one of his. The same one he’d tossed you earlier, when you returned from the medbay soaked and trembling. It smelled like cedar and something familiar. Something safe.

Sam moved quietly around the kitchen, stirring a mug of tea. Not pushing. Not asking questions. Just… being there.

When he finally handed you the mug and took a seat beside you, there was a long silence. You sipped, not because you were thirsty, but because you didn’t know what else to do.

“I should say something,” you murmured, voice small.

He gave you a soft look. “Only if you want to.”

You nodded, eyes still on the tea. “About the kiss.”

“I know.”

You looked at him then. Really looked at him. Sam Wilson—your anchor in all this. Steady, patient, good. The kind of man who didn’t need to be loud to be strong.

“It wasn’t fair,” you said. “To you.”

“Wasn’t exactly one-sided,” he replied, offering a small, understanding smile. “But… I also know what that kiss meant. And what it didn’t.”

Your throat tightened. “I’m so confused, Sam.”

“I’d be more worried if you weren’t.” He leaned back slightly, arms folded as he studied you—not judgmental, just honest. “You’ve been through hell. That fight, the coma, whatever happened in your head… And then Bucky—he complicates things.”

You laughed once, bitter and low. “He ruins things.”

“No,” Sam said gently. “He complicates them. You ruin things when you run. And I don’t think you’ve ruined anything yet.”

You looked away, cheeks flushed, heart aching in a way that felt like guilt. “I don’t know what I want. I was with Shane for five years. And now suddenly, I’m not. I have this new job. I’m an Avenger. A new apartment and new friends. If I can even call you guys that. It’s just… it’s a lot.”

Sam nodded, taking a little time to process the weight of your words. After gentle consideration, he put a hand on your leg, comforting, grounding, even.

“That’s okay,” he said simply. “You don’t have to know right now. And if you need more time… you don’t have to come with us on missions. You can stay at the tower with Bob. For as long as you need. I told you this before but we’re family now, no matter what.”

“I just…” You sighed, rubbing your temples. “That word… ‘family’, it’s been so long since I had that.”

There was so much Sam didn’t know. You’d probably be comfortable telling him the truth if his best friend weren’t the man who killed your brother.

Were they even still friends? You found yourself wondering. Sam and Bucky certainly still had tension between them, and you probably didn’t make it any easier.

Sam reached over and rested a hand on yours. “Family is complicated, and we’re no exception. I’m just glad I don’t have to share a bathroom with Alexei.” You let out a small laugh before Sam continued. “This is your life, and you’re free now. I’ll always be here, but if you need space, I can do that too.”

There was nothing romantic in his tone. No pressure. No expectations. Just warmth. Just friendship. Just someone who wanted to see you whole.

Sam was perfect in person and on paper, and yet, you felt nothing. You didn’t feel the yearning or the longing or the dizzying haze of falling in love. You felt like there was something wrong with you. Sam was strong and handsome and kind, and he always did the right thing. And fuck— still, even after all of this, you were still consumed by Bucky Barnes. You cursed him and swallowed down the overbearing thoughts, the memories of him repeating in your head over and over like a broken record.

Was it really all revenge?

You gave Sam’s hand a small squeeze. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. “But when you do figure out what you want…”

“I’ll be honest,” you promised.

And for now, that was enough.

────✪────

The elevator doors hissed open, and Bucky stepped into the dimly lit Avengers Tower common room like a storm in a bottle.

His clothes were damp with rain, his expression unreadable. Not glassy-eyed drunk — no stumbling, no slurring. Just quiet. Tightly coiled. Off.

Yelena looked up from her seat on the armrest of Alexei’s chair, brows pinching. Ava paused mid-scroll on her tablet. Bob was standing by the window, arms crossed, tension sharp along his shoulders. John leaned over a table scattered with street maps and traffic cams, mid-strategy.

They had all stopped what they were doing the moment the doors opened.

“Where the hell have you been?” Yelena asked, voice even.

Bucky shrugged off his jacket, draping it neatly over the back of a chair. “Out.”

“Out where?” John pushed, standing upright now. “We’ve been running ops like she’s been kidnapped. You just vanished.”

“She’s fine,” Bucky replied flatly, pulling a hand through his wet hair. “She’s at Sam’s.”

Silence snapped across the room like a live wire.

“You knew?” Ava said slowly, rising to her feet. “You knew she was safe and didn’t say a damn thing?”

“Sorry,” Bucky replied, jaw tight. “I checked. That’s all.”

Bob stepped forward. “You could’ve told us that. We’ve been running surveillance for hours—”

“I said she’s fine,” Bucky snapped, louder now. “So drop it.”

“No,” Yelena said, standing. “We won’t. Because this isn’t about her being fine. This is about you pretending you don’t care when every single person in this room knows you do.”

A beat.

Bucky’s eyes flicked toward her — just once — before he scoffed, turning away.

“Don’t project your shit onto me.”

“Don’t insult our intelligence,” John cut in, arms crossed. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

Alexei added, calm and low, “You’re wounded, Bucky. Not stupid. But wounded men shouldn’t lead alone. Remember, we’re your family and we want to help you.”

“I’m not wounded,” Bucky bit out. “I’m focused. She’s fine. That’s what matters. You can all stop playing therapist and get back to whatever you were doing.”

Bob looked like he wanted to say something — really say something — but thought better of it.

“She was here,” he muttered instead. “Two hours ago. I stepped out, came back, and she was gone.”

“And I found her. So what exactly are you mad about?” Bucky snapped. “That I didn’t tell you fast enough? Or that I didn’t fall apart the way you expected me to?”

“You did fall apart,” Yelena said, taking a step toward him. “You just did it somewhere else. And now you’re pretending like it never happened.”

Bucky’s expression hardened. Ice over something molten. “We’re done here.”

He turned toward the hallway without another word.

No one followed. Not yet.

As the training room door slammed shut, Yelena exhaled slowly and looked back at the others.

“Well, he’s in love with her,” John said.

Alexei nodded. “And now he thinks he’s lost her.”

“Which is why he’s being an asshole,” Ava muttered.

“He always is when he’s scared,” Bob added, quiet.

They all stood in silence for a moment.

“They really need to talk it out,” Ava said, putting her tablet down on the coffee table. “Lena, maybe you can text Joaquin and ask if she’s still awake. We can head over to Sam’s place. Disguise it as another game night, but it’s covert. We go in, make sure she’s okay, have a few drinks and bring Brooding Barnes over.”

“He is not gonna want to see her,” John sighed. “But I’ll go and see if he can be persuaded.”

────✪────

The punching bag didn’t stand a chance.

Bucky’s fists crashed into it over and over again—measured, controlled, brutal. He didn’t need a sparring partner. He needed something to hit that wouldn’t talk back. Something that wouldn’t kiss someone else. Something that wouldn’t look at him like you used to.

He exhaled sharply, sweat dripping from his brow as the bag swung wildly on its chain. The training room was otherwise empty—just him, the hiss of his breath, the thud of impact, and the low hum of the building’s systems.

Until he heard the door slide open.

“Jesus,” came a voice behind him. “You trying to punch your way through the bag now?”

Bucky didn’t look. “Go away, Walker.”

“No can do,” John drawled. He strolled in with the same casual arrogance that always made Bucky’s fists itch. “We drew straws. I lost. You get me.” Bucky stiffened at John’s words. “I’m kidding,” John raised his hands in mock surrender. “I came because, I know something about how it feels to be… angry…”

Bucky ignored him, going right back into a set. Left hook. Right jab. Elbow. Left. Right. Crack. The bag groaned under the force.

“…Unloved…” John continued, almost hesitant with his words, like he was testing the waters.

That caught Bucky. He whipped around, facing John now. “What?”

“You know you’re allowed to stop punishing yourself, right?” John said, folding his arms.

Bucky paused, breathing hard. “What do you want?”

John shrugged. “We’re going to Sam’s. Games. Beer. Pizza. Actual human joy. We’re supposed to show up like we don’t all hate each other most of the time.”

“I’m busy.”

“With what?” John motioned at the bag. “Sweating out your self-loathing?”

Bucky finally turned again, this time only to glare at him.

John didn’t flinch. “Look, man. I get it. Sort of. You're brooding, dark, mysterious—whatever. But you’ve been walking around like someone pissed in your coffee.”

Bucky turned away again. “I’m not in the mood.”

“You never are,” John snapped. “But you used to show up anyway. Now it’s all late-night workouts and haunted stares. What gives?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s a lie and even Bob doesn’t believe it, and that guy thinks microwaves are spying on him.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose. He wasn’t about to admit anything, especially not to Walker. Not about you. Not about your kiss with Sam. Not about the ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away no matter how many reps he did.

John stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Look, man. You don’t have to talk about it. I’m not your shrink, and I’m not your friend. But you’re our leader. And whether you like it or not, people notice when you disappear.”

Silence.

“Yelena’s worried. So is Sam,” John added. “Alexei is devastated that his favourite Super Soldier has gone all soft. And her…”

Bucky’s fists clenched. He hated that even hearing your name—unspoken as it was—could make his pulse spike.

“I said I’m fine.”

“You’re not. But that’s your problem.” John took a step back. “All I’m saying is—come by. One beer. A few rounds of Mario Kart. Worst case scenario, you get to throw popcorn at me.”

Bucky finally looked over his shoulder. “Tempting.”

John smirked. “I know. You love me.”

“I hate you.”

“Whatever.”

With that, John turned and headed out, leaving the door open behind him. The silence in the room returned, thick and suffocating. Bucky looked back at the punching bag—his knuckles raw, his body aching—and for the first time all night, he didn’t throw another punch.

────✪────

You curled deeper into the couch, Sam’s oversized hoodie drowning your frame, the sleeves swallowed past your fingers. Rain tapped gently at the windows, and for once, the quiet was welcome. The ache in your body had dulled, replaced now by an uneasy restlessness you couldn’t shake.

Sam had made you tea. The mug sat on the coffee table, untouched. You were grateful he hadn’t pushed. He just let you rest, checked in occasionally, kept the world from creeping in too fast.

That peace shattered when a knock sounded at the door—short, purposeful, followed by a familiar voice.

“Open up, Wilson. We know she’s here.”

Yelena.

Sam groaned softly. “Told them you needed space.”

“Yeah, but they said it was party night,” Joaquin smirked, bringing a tray of beers out from the fridge and setting them on the counter.

“Uh— what?” Sam narrowed his eyes. Sam; ever so quick to get protective and defensive. You sensed a hint of annoyance towards Joaquin for agreeing to the New Avengers coming over, but it was completely washed away when you spoke.

You sat up quickly, heart leaping. “It’s okay.”

He gave you a quick look—searching, soft—before crossing the room to open the door.

Yelena marched in first, followed by Alexei, Bob, Ava, John, and—

Your breath caught.

Bucky.

They were all here.

Yelena beelined to you with no hesitation, pulling you into a firm hug. “I swear, if you ever do that again, I will kill you myself,” she said, voice tight despite the threat.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, forcing a smile.

One by one, the team poured in, relief etched on their faces. Even Ava cracked a grin. Bob lingered in the background, watchful, quiet, eyes flicking over you with something unreadable. Maybe concern. Maybe suspicion.

“I brought cookies,” Alexei announced proudly, holding up a crumpled paper bag. “They are a little wet. The rain, you know.”

Laughter bubbled in your throat for the first time in days.

Sam glanced toward the balcony and nodded subtly. “He’s out there. Maybe you should talk about what happened… back when— you know…”

You turned.

Bucky stood at the edge of the small balcony, hands gripping the railing, his broad back soaked by the misty rain. His hair was damp, curling at the ends. You hesitated before stepping toward him, pushing open the door and slipping outside.

He didn’t turn when you joined him. Just said, “You okay?”

“I’ve been worse.”

You watched the street below, cars rushing by, people bustling like nothing had happened. Like the world hadn’t stopped for you.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

“For what?”

“For coming.”

That made him glance at you, just briefly. “You saved my ass in that fight. Should be me thanking you.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess we’re even.”

Silence stretched between you—awkward, heavy.

Bucky looked away again. “You shouldn’t have run off like that.”

Your voice dipped low. “I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“I did.” It came too fast. Too sharp. Then he backtracked. “The team did.”

You turned toward him, watching the tension in his jaw, the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“I saw the press conference,” you said finally.

A beat. Bucky froze—just a flicker—and then nodded. “Yeah.”

“She kissed you.”

“She did.”

You waited, but he offered nothing more.

“I should get back inside,” you murmured.

“Wait.”

You paused.

Bucky’s eyes met yours, something guarded flickering behind them. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You nodded once, then slipped back inside.

He stayed out there, alone, letting the drizzle soak him through. Inside, laughter and warmth crackled like static. But all he could feel was the cold.

And the distance.

────✪────

The coffee table was cluttered with half-empty pizza boxes, open bags of chips, a bowl of jelly beans (Bob kept picking out only the red ones), and Alexei’s infamous cookies—soft, dense, and somehow always a little too moist. The fact they were saturated in rainwater meant they were more so mush than anything else now.

“You didn’t have to bring them,” Yelena muttered, eyeing the pile of cookies with disdain.

“I wanted to contribute!” Alexei said proudly, crossing his arms. “They are wet because I soak them in condensed milk for flavour. Definitely not because I dropped them in a puddle on the way here.”

“They taste like mud,” muttered Bob, who still popped one in his mouth anyway.

“I’m not even gonna ask how you know what mud tastes like.” Ava frowned, rubbing her temples.

You curled up at the edge of the couch, a pillow hugged to your chest. Bucky sat diagonally across from you, nursing a beer, quiet but present. He hadn’t said much since arriving, just offered everyone a tight nod before taking his usual shadowy spot.

Sam, meanwhile, was mid-laugh, leaned back with a bottle in hand. “Okay okay, it’s time. Truth or Dare, New Avengers edition. Let’s go.”

“Oh no,” murmured Joaquin, already sinking into the cushions.

“We’re adults,” Yelena said dryly.

“Exactly,” Sam smirked. “Which makes it way more dangerous.”

They went around the circle. Joaquin was dared to write a love poem about Bob’s freakishly small feet. Alexei had to do ten squats while holding Yelena. Yelena—unfazed—took a truth and confessed that her last online search was “how to flirt without sounding like a threat.” Bob got dared to kiss the TV screen when a shampoo commercial came on. And, there was a little too much tongue for John’s liking.

Laughter echoed off the walls. Even Bucky cracked a faint smirk. You glanced at him once—he was watching the group, not you, but his grip on the bottle tightened just slightly when he caught your eye.

Then it was Ava’s turn.

“Oh, I’ve got a good one,” she said, eyes glittering with mischief as she looked directly at you. “Dare.”

“Hit me,” you said with a teasing smile, already half-nervous.

“I dare you…” Ava dragged out the words, looking around the group for dramatic effect, “…to spend seven minutes in the closet.”

You laughed. “Okay, with who?”

She turned—slowly, deliberately—to Bucky.

The entire room went still.

You blinked.

Bucky’s jaw tightened.

“With Bucky,” Ava grinned.

A beer bottle clinked too loudly against the table. Bob let out a low whistle. Sam sat forward slightly, gaze shifting between the two of you. Even Yelena raised her brows, her mouth twitching with suppressed entertainment.

“No way,” you said, heartbeat skipping. “That’s not—”

“It’s the rules,” Ava said sweetly.

You looked at Bucky. He was staring at you, unreadable, then gave the slowest shrug you’d ever seen—like he wasn’t sure if he was agreeing or resigning.

The silence stretched, the group waiting. Sam looked like he was about to object, but then sat back.

Seven minutes. In a closet. With Bucky.

You stood up.

Bucky did too.

The team collectively leaned forward like they were watching a car about to crash.

Ava clapped her hands. “This is gonna be so good.”

The two of you walked to the hallway closet.

The door slammed shut behind you with a jarring clack, sealing you and Bucky inside the pitch-black closet.

You blinked into the darkness, heart already thudding.

“Real mature,” you muttered under your breath, shifting awkwardly and bumping into a cardboard box. “I hate all of them. Especially Ava. God, I feel like I’m sixteen again.”

“Me too,” came Bucky’s voice—low, rough, and right there.

“How long ago was that, 100 years ago?” You laughed, sarcasm dripping from your tongue.

“No… 94 years ago.” Bucky corrected, the humour not quite hitting the way it was intended.

“Right.” You froze. His body was practically pressed against yours.

Chest to chest.

Knee to thigh.

Warmth radiated off him in waves. Thick, suffocating heat that settled into the small of your back, the dip of your collarbone, the space between your thighs.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to give yourself some breathing room—but the closet was tiny, crammed full of half-folded coats and towers of supplies, and Bucky Barnes was built like a damn wall.

“Can you—back up?” you said, voice tight.

“I literally can’t move,” he said, deadpan. “Closet’s too small. You take up all the floor space.”

“You’re the size of a fridge, Bucky.”

He exhaled through his nose and adjusted slightly. His thigh brushed between yours—just a nudge—and your breath hitched before you could stop it.

You instinctively widened your stance a little, trying to make more room, but all that did was open space he naturally filled.

One subtle step forward and he was suddenly between your legs, pressed almost completely against you.

You slapped your hands to his chest. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re standing like—like—”

“It’s a closet,” he growled. “What do you want me to do, phase through the fucking wall? I’m not Ava.”

You tried to lean back, but a tower of boxes wobbled behind you. His arm snapped out instantly, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head, the other catching your waist.

You sucked in a breath as his fingers curled firmly at your hip, anchoring you. Your hoodie had ridden up slightly, and your shorts were paper-thin. His palm was warm. Wide. Calloused.

He noticed.

You felt the exact moment his thumb twitched—like he was trying not to notice the curve of your bare skin, the soft warmth radiating off you.

He didn’t let go.

You tried not to look down.

But his jean-clad thighs were thick and braced between yours. His muscles shifted with every breath. You were practically seated on his leg now. He had to bend his knees slightly just to fit in the space.

And you were warm. So warm. Too warm.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “What are you wearing?”

You glared into the dark. “Excuse me?”

“You’re basically naked.”

“I’m in shorts and a hoodie.”

“That hoodie barely covers anything, and I can feel everything.”

Your heart jackknifed in your chest.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snapped.

His voice dropped. “I’m not. Trust me, I’m trying really hard not to think about it.”

Too late. You felt it—the twitch of something hardening against your inner thigh.

Bucky shifted again, trying to adjust, and gritted out, “Fuck.”

You swallowed hard. “Are you serious?”

“You’re the one rubbing up on me.”

“You’re the one in my personal space!”

“There is no personal space!” he exploded.

“God, you’re such a child—”

“Oh, right, sorry I’m not the one making out with Sam—”

You reeled back, heart stuttering. “What?”

Shit. Shit.

He hadn’t meant to say that.

You gawked at him in the darkness, pulse pounding. “You—how did you—?”

His jaw clenched. “I came by… I saw it.”

Your stomach dropped.

“You followed me?” You asked in disbelief. But maybe you shouldn’t have been so surprised. After all, he was an ex-spy.

He snorted. “Please. I didn’t follow you. I was heading to Sam’s to check on you. Didn’t realise I was interrupting something. Got to admit, I never took Sam as the bedtime story type.”

Passive agressive much.

“Don’t start.”

“Why not?”

You shoved at his chest, but again, there was nowhere to go. His arm tightened around your waist instinctively, holding you steady.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because this closet was built for children, and I’m trying not to knock you over like a fucking bowling pin.”

“You are insufferable.”

He leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “And you’re a spoiled, entitled brat.”

You fisted at the material of his black t-shirt.

His voice dropped, rough. “Don’t push me.”

“Or what?” you hissed. “You’ll go all Winter Soldier on me?”

His jaw tightened. “That’s real cute. You gonna throw the past in my face every time I piss you off?”

“You piss me off constantly.”

“Feeling is mutual.” Bucky grumbled.

“I saved your goddamn life!” You said, exasperated.

“Then why won’t you say why?”

You pushed against his chest again, angry, flustered, and breathing far too fast.

“I did it because I had to!”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine!” you spat. “Why don’t we talk about your little press conference with Valentina, huh? The way she grabbed your face like a prize she’d just won?”

He stilled.

You could feel the heat between you thrumming, like the air was laced with static.

You were both furious. Flushed. Breathing heavily.

Your body rocked slightly with the effort of holding yourself still on his thigh, and he felt it. Every tiny movement. Every flicker of heat.

“I hate you.”

His head dipped just slightly. “Whatever.”

“Get out of my face.”

“I can’t,” he snapped. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“You’re suffocating me.”

“Then stop breathing so loud.”

You laughed, humourless. “Fuck you.”

His lips were so close to yours. “Not if you were the last person on Earth.”

Your hand fisted in the front of his shirt before you realised what you were doing. He stared down at your fingers, then up at you, eyes dark.

The air sizzled.

Your heartbeat thudded in your throat.

Your lips almost—almost—

His hand on your waist flexed again.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first. Maybe both of you.

Your noses nearly brushed. Your lips hovered a breath apart.

And then—

The door swung open.

“Seven minutes is up!” Alexei’s voice boomed as light flooded the space.

You and Bucky jerked apart. You stumbled out, pulse racing, face flushed, hands clenched. Bucky followed, jaw tight, eyes dark, not looking at anyone.

He stalked past the others and grabbed a beer from the counter without saying a word.

And you?

You stood there, breathless. Fuming. And absolutely burning.

The room felt stuffy.

Too many voices, too much noise, and him—lingering just out of reach, brooding by the window with his jaw clenched like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just pressed his body against yours for seven minutes of angry, blistering heat in the dark.

You couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” you said suddenly, rising from your spot on the couch. “Thank you, all of you—for coming to check on me. Seriously.”

Yelena looked up from her half-frosted cookie. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, just tired. Think I’m gonna shower, crash early.”

A chorus of half-drunken well-wishes followed you to the hallway, but you didn’t look back—not even at Bucky.

Especially not at Bucky.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind you like the seal of something sacred. You didn’t bother locking it—everyone knew better than to interrupt—but still, you felt like you were doing something secret. Something forbidden.

Water thundered from the showerhead, fogging the mirror and your thoughts.

You stripped off your hoodie, the fabric still clinging from the humid heat of the apartment and the way Bucky’s body had radiated against yours in that tiny closet. You stepped out of your shorts, left them puddled on the floor, and stepped into the shower like it was confession.

Warm water hit your skin like a release. But not enough. Not nearly enough.

Because you still felt him.

That closet had been too damn small. His thigh had been firm beneath you, slotted between your legs like it belonged there. You had tried to shift away, just to breathe, and instead found yourself practically straddling him. His breath had hitched when your hips brushed his. You had felt it—that growing pressure against your core, the slow throb of heat pooling low in your belly.

You closed your eyes and leaned into the tile, letting your hand trail slowly down your stomach.

God, the way he looked at you. Like you were fire and sin and something he couldn’t touch without burning. But he hadn’t moved away.

He’d grabbed your waist. Held you steady. Like you were his to anchor.

Your fingers slid lower, slick with steam and want.

You thought of his hands, calloused and sure. That metal arm—cold and unyielding. You imagined it wrapped around your throat, pinning you to the wall while his mouth bruised yours.

He’d be rough with you.

Not cruel—but desperate. Angry. Still mad from the fight, still bitter over what you didn’t say in the closet. He’d call you insufferable again, spit the word against your lips before kissing you so deep you forgot your name.

You gasped.

Your other hand gripped the bar for balance as your hips rocked into your touch, chasing the friction.

You thought of his voice—low, rough, vibrating through your bones when he was mad.

Thought of how he’d sound when he wasn’t mad.

How he’d groan your name when he finally gave in. How he’d hiss between his teeth when he felt your thighs tighten around his waist, when you raked your nails down his back, begging him not to stop—

It didn’t take long.

You came in shuddering waves, heat curling deep in your gut as your forehead pressed to the tile and water ran down your spine. Your breath caught in your chest.

But even as the pleasure washed through you, the ache didn’t fade.

Because it wasn’t enough.

It wouldn’t be enough.

Not until it was him.

And the worst part?

You didn’t even know if he wanted you back.

Not like that.

Not after Sam.

Not after Val.

You stood there for a while, dripping and silent, the water slowly going lukewarm. And when you finally turned the faucet off, you didn’t feel clean. You felt dirty. Haunted.

You emerged from the shower, hair wrapped in a towel and another bad idea.

Your skin was flushed from the water—and from the way you’d spent the last ten minutes—but you wore composure like a second layer, pretending you hadn’t just whispered Bucky’s name against your own wrist in the steam.

The apartment had quieted.

No more laughter. No Alexei cramming wet cookies into his pockets. No Ava demanding a Mario Kart rematch. No Yelena shouting about cheating over Cards Against Humanity.

Just… quiet.

You padded into the living room, half-expecting someone to still be there. But the couch was empty, the mugs cleared. Only a few candles flickered low. Joaquin’s door was closed—finally asleep.

Only Sam remained, standing by the window with a beer in hand, lit by the faint glow of city lights. He glanced over when he heard your steps and gave you a warm, tired smile.

“You good?” he asked.

You nodded, tucking damp hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Shower helped.”

He held out a fresh bottle of water for you, which you took gratefully, fingers brushing his.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said softly. “I mean, I know it was their idea… and Joaquin’s but… yeah, you were a good sport.”

Sam gave you a look you couldn’t quite read—part warmth, part worry, part something else entirely.

“You’ve been through hell,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay, y’know.”

You sank onto the arm of the couch, towel pulled tighter around your chest.

“I’m not pretending,” you said. “I just—I don’t know what I’m feeling half the time. My head’s all over the place.”

He sat beside you, keeping a careful distance.

“You don’t owe anyone answers. Not me. Not Bucky. Not the team.”

His name cracked like lightning in your ribcage.

You tried to hide it, but Sam saw.

His voice softened.

“Whatever’s going on between you two…”

“There’s nothing going on,” you said, too fast.

Sam didn’t argue. He just nodded once, slow.

“Okay.”

You stared at the water bottle in your hands, the label peeling beneath your thumb.

“Sam…” you started, then paused.

He turned toward you. “Yeah?”

“I—I wanted to say thank you. For the flowers.”

He blinked. “What flowers?”

You looked up. “The ones at the medbay. The red, white, and blue bouquet. It had your colours—I just assumed—”

Sam’s brows pulled together.

“I didn’t send flowers.”

Your stomach dipped.

“What?”

“I didn’t send flowers.” He repeated.

The bottle slipped slightly in your grip.

“No. They were there. Wrapped in white paper, hand-picked. No card. I thought—”

Your heart slammed once, then again, louder.

Your pulse stuttered.

Oh.

Bucky.

Of course.

He always did things without words. Always too proud to admit he cared. Always burying his feelings in silence and bruises and stupid, perfect flowers he’d never claim.

You stood suddenly, heart racing.

Sam frowned. “Hey, you okay?”

“I—I have to go,” you muttered, already heading for the door, towel forgotten, now tugging on your hoodie and some dry shorts as fast as your fingers would let you. “I just—thank you again. For everything.”

“Wait, what’s going on?”

But you didn’t stop.

Didn’t answer.

Didn’t even hear his question over the thunderbolts of your pulse as you yanked open the door and stepped barefoot into the hallway, chasing the ghost of something unspoken.

Because suddenly, it all made sense.

The flowers.

The look in his eyes.

The fight in the closet.

The way he held you like he didn’t want to let go.

The air outside bit colder than you expected. You didn’t even feel it.

You were running — barefoot, hoodie thrown over damp hair, shorts clinging to your thighs — chasing the man who’d haunted every thought since you left that damn closet.

You turned the corner at the end of the block and spotted him.

Bucky.

Leather jacket. Broad shoulders. That same broken posture he wore whenever the world got too loud. He was walking away — hands in his pockets, head bowed, already half-swallowed by the night.

“Bucky!” you called.

He didn’t stop.

“Bucky!” you tried again, louder, but a car rolled by, headlights washing you out, your voice swallowed by the city hum.

You pushed harder, bare feet slapping against the pavement. Your heart pounded so loud it drowned out your thoughts. You were seconds away. Inches.

Then—

A figure stepped directly into your path.

You slammed to a stop, stumbling back instinctively, breath caught in your throat.

He stepped forward with a smile — slow, predatory.

And your heart plummeted.

It was him.

Shane.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. But here he was, still cruel in the eyes. Still sharp in the jaw. Still able to freeze your veins in a heartbeat.

“Well, well,” he said, voice smooth as oil. “Look what I found.”

Your limbs locked. Your breath hitched. He stepped into your space like no time had passed.

“Hey, little Avenger,” he murmured. “Think you could run forever?”

────✪────

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no-phrogs-in-hats · 28 days ago

Text

Suburban Sunrises and City Sunsets !NSFW!

Avenger!Agatha x Avenger!Pregnant!Reader

Word count: 11,178

Content Warnings: MDNI; soft smut, pregnancy, morning sickness/vomiting, childbirth/c-section, needles/epidural

Summary: The nine months following you and Agatha finding out you're pregnant--also known as Agatha having a crisis and realizing you've turned into a suburban family.

A/N: Hiii!!! I absolutely loved writing this. Panicked, worried Agatha is always fun to write, plus pregnant reader really adds to it. This will probably be my last oneshot for a couple weeks unless I have some free time! The next one on my list is a Maya Mason x reader!!!

Read Part 1 here

Spotify playlist here

Ao3 here

Masterlist here

Tag list: @sweetmidnights @warpdrive-witch @katrina-3-37

You sit in the warm bath, clouds of bubbles up to your chest. Agatha sits on the edge of the tub, pouring some kind of floral scented bath oil as you sigh and flip through the packet of OB/GYNs and prenatal information the nurse gave you.

“What about Jen?” you huff, and toss the packet on the side table beside the tub, reaching into the bag of candy Agatha got for you. “She’s a midwife.”

Agatha recaps the bottle of bath oil. “She hasn’t been a midwife since 1925.” She sets the bottle on the table and crouches down beside you. “I’m not trusting her with you or our child.”

“She’s been wanting to get back into it,” you try to reason.

Agatha sighs. “Do you actually want Jennifer as your midwife?”

“I mean–I don’t know!” you groan. “I know Jen. I like Jen. It would be a little comforting to have someone that doesn’t see me as a statistic, and actually…” Your voice goes quiet. “Sees me–us–as a person and a child.”

Agatha smiles sadly and her hand runs through your hair. “Okay,” she says softly. “If it makes you more comfortable, Jen can be part of it–but I would like it if we had someone who hasn’t been out of practice for 105 years.”

You take her hand and press a kiss to it. “Thank you.”

“I’ll call the OB office by the Tower,” she says. “See if they can fit you in soon.”

You order in for dinner tonight–some vegan place where Agatha made sure every single ingredient is organic. She nagged the poor employee on the phone for almost ten minutes.

“So, every ingredient is organic?” she double checked. You heard the girl on the line mumble something and Agatha nodded, flipping over the menu that’s on the counter. “And the tofu? Is that pasteurized? Okay. And your sauces–? Well, excuse me for not wanting to give my pregnant wife a foodborne illness!”

Sitting at the kitchen table, Agatha unpacks the bag of food. “I called the OB office earlier. They have an ultrasound appointment available tomorrow, but it’s at nine in the morning.”

“When’s the next one?” You ask, opening your container that has a vegan grilled cheese.

“In two weeks,” Agatha sighs, and takes a seat to eat dinner.

“Alright,” you say. “I guess since it’s so close to the Tower, we might as well just go back.”

“Are you sure?”

You shrug. “Yeah. I mean, we’ve calmed down–” You pause, completely forgetting that Wanda guessed.

“What?” Agatha asks. “What’s wrong?”

Your voice is steady. “I forgot to tell you…Wanda knows.”

“How?” she gapes.

“She called me to check in right after you went into CVS,” you explain.”I didn’t tell her. She guessed it.” As you watch Agatha’s face contort into frustration, you lean forward, taking her hand. “It’s okay! Honey, it’s fine! She said she won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay,” she sighs. “It’s your place to tell, anyway. Not mine.”

“I’d like the coven to know first,” you say. “I guess Wanda’s part of the coven. She’s been to a few meetings. But I want to wait until after the first trimester…just get settled–out of the high-risk-for-miscarriage-zone, have a few ultrasound pictures to show them. When’s the next meeting?”

Agatha gets up, checking the calendar on the fridge. “Looks like March 7th–two weeks.”

You sit back in your chair, sighing. “Alright, yeah. We’ll tell them then.”

“And the rest?” Agatha asks, raising an eyebrow as she sits back down. “The team is gonna be suspicious sooner or later.”

You groan. “It’ll come out eventually.”

It’s like the nausea only appeared after learning that you’re pregnant. There’s a deep, unpleasant feeling in your stomach when you wake up in the morning. The sun is just barely above the horizon. Dark shadows are still cast across your bedroom ceiling, but you’re out of bed immediately, rushing to the bathroom.

Your heavy footsteps and rushing stir Agatha from sleep and she’s out of bed quickly. Hunched over the toilet and retching, you feel Agatha’s hand on your back as the other holds your hair back.

“Oh, god,” she mumbles, her voice still rough from sleep. Back in the bedroom, you can hear Agatha’s alarm go off for the doctor's appointment. “It’s okay, honey.”

She opens the bathroom closet and grabs a rag, running it under the tap. Agatha sits down on the floor beside you and when you sit up she gently wipes your mouth and nose.

“Thank you,” you sigh, sniffling and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Agatha kisses you on the forehead and stands up. “I’ll go get you the nausea meds.” After turning her alarm off, she goes downstairs and retrieves the medication. It helps, mostly. Your stomach has settled by the time you finish getting ready, but there’s still a twinge present. Despite your protests, Agatha makes you eat two pieces of toast.

The ride back to New York City is uneventful. Commuter traffic is always heavy, but you slept right through it, and you even slept through Agatha picking up her coffee order in a drive-thru. When outside of the OB/GYN office, she wakes you up with a gentle shake of your shoulder.

You blink against the bright sunlight and stretch before you look down at the cupholder. “Where the hell did you get coffee from?”

“I went through the Dunkin’ drive-thru,” she says, and reaches into the car door pocket. She holds out a baggie to you, “I didn’t wanna wake you up. You looked so peaceful. But I got you a donut if you get hungry.”

“Aww, thank you,” you say, eyes still heavy with sleep as you lean over to kiss her.

When you walk in, it’s much warmer than it is outside. Agatha’s hand is on your lower back as you check in at the front, and it doesn’t leave its position in the waiting room. There are a few other people there, and as you sit there, you have a weird feeling.

Across the room, a couple whispers to one another and looks at you and Agatha. You lean over subtly, “Are they talking about us?”

Agatha doesn’t even get to respond before they approach you. The woman is meek and soft-spoken, “I’m so sorry to bother, but are you two part of the Avengers?”

Shit.

“Um–no,” Agatha lies, politely smiling. “I guess we just look like them.”

You feel Agatha’s hand tighten on your back when the woman’s husband persists. “Are you sure? You guys look ve–”

“Sir, I’m just here for a pap smear,” you sigh, watching in delight as his face drops.

When your name is called, Agatha’s hand is in yours. Her thumb gently runs over your skin as you feel your heart race. Your vitals are taken along with your height and weight, and when you’re brought to the room you’re given a blanket and instructed to remove your pants.

“The sonographer will be in soon,” the woman tells you.

You remove your coat and pants. On the table, you get yourself situated, blanket over your legs as you lay back. You smile as you watch agatha fold your pants and drape your coat over a chair before straightening your shoes below. “Agatha, stop obsessing over my clothes,” you say. “Come here.”

She sighs and takes your hand as a knock sounds on the door. The sonographer enters, smiling way too brightly for it being nine-thirty in the morning. She introduces herself in a chipper voice and you can almost feel Agatha wanting to roll her eyes.

“I have to say,” the sonographer chirps, “this is the first Avenger we’ve had here.”

“Glad to be the first,” you muse.

Agatha, with her hand holding on tightly to yours, stares intently at the blank TV screen on the wall. She rocks side to side and only looks away after you say her name twice. “Hm? What?”

“You’re hurting my hand,” you say softly. “Relax, please.”

The gel on your lower belly is cold, but the gasp comes from Agatha. The TV screen lights up when the probe is placed on your belly and there, on the screen amidst the black and white coloring, is a small blob.

“It looks like you’re at around ten weeks,” the sonographer pipes up. “So just at the tail end of the first trimester. And if I turn up the volume here, we should be able to hear–there we go!”

Above you, Agatha stops breathing. The sound of your baby’s heartbeat is loud, and over top of it you can hear Agatha sniffle.

The sonographer turns her computer screen toward you, pointing at different areas. You turn your head, looking closely.

“Right here, you can see the arms and legs,” she says, pointing to them. She moves her finger to the tiny head just barely visibly. “And here, you can see their face–it’s not super prominent, but you can see it starting to form.”

As you watch the screen up close, he heartbeat loud and strong in your ears, you can’t help but wipe away tears.

The OB comes and goes. Your clothes are put back on. Ultrasound photos are in Agatha’s purse.

You’re back in the car, maybe five minutes from the Tower, and you’re quiet.

“I know I got you a donut,” Agatha says, “but do you wanna get breakfast at that one pla–What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” you sniffle, wiping away tears. “I know we were gonna see them today, but I didn’t think we’d hear the heartbeat! Oh, my god. And their little arms and legs–!”

“Yeah,” she says quietly, buckling in, “let’s go get breakfast.”

You sniffle again, wiping away your tears. “Okay.”

The coven meeting is held at your home in Westview. Wanda joins again, arriving with Billy and complaining about his driving skills.

In the kitchen, you and Agatha prepare tea, wine, and snacks while everyone waits in the basement. You can hear laughter drift up through the staircase as you cut slices of cheese and place them on a platter.

“How are we gonna tell them?” you mutter.

“I don’t know,” Agatha sighs. “I’m sure when you reject a glass of wine, they’ll catch on soon enough–that’s if Wanda holds her tongue.”

“Oh, be nice,” you hiss.

Agatha grins, “Not my forte, hon.”

So look at the cheese platter and pause. “Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the brie,” you say. “Brie’s my favorite. They’re gonna know something’s up.”

Agatha looks at you, knowing that you’re probably right, but not wanting to say it. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says, completely unconvincing.

You take everything downstairs to the coven, and with a little spell, trays of hors d'oeuvres, tea, and wine are floating around the table. Lilia sits beside you and when you take your seat you can feel her eyes narrow at you.

You look back at her, raising an eyebrow and watching as she looks you up and down.

“Something’s different,” Lilia says.

Damn her intuition.

“Like what?” you ask, and you feel Agatha’s hand rest on your thigh, clearly listening in on the conversation.

Lilia narrows her eyes more, finger at her mouth as she focuses on you. Her eyebrow twitches and you can see it in her face when she realizes. “Ah, yes,” she mutters to herself. “I know what it is.”

You curse under your breath and Agatha turns her head. “What?”

“Lilia knows,” you mumble behind a napkin, disguising it as wiping your mouth.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “I knew she’d find out just by looking at you.”

The meeting is in full swing. Multiple conversations are going on at once. Wanda and Agatha–despite bickering–are mentoring Billy, Jen and Alice are going over protection spells, and Lilia…is reading your tea leaves.

She rotates the cup in her hands, focusing on each shape and pattern she could interpret. “So, how far along are you?” she asks quietly.

You sigh and lean in close. “Almost thirteen weeks. We’re planning on telling the coven tonight, we just don’t know how.”

She hums, “Well, congratulations.”

Towards the end of the meeting, you hear your name called and when you look over Agatha has the cheese platter in hand. “Are you finished with the hors d’oeuvres?”

“Yeah, honey, thank you,” you say, stacking cups around the table to clean later.

“You’re not eating the brie?” Billy asks.

You’re so focused on the task at hand that you answer his question mindlessly. “No, I can’t have it, sweetheart.” And then you freeze. And agatha freezes. And you see Wanda and Lilia trying to hide their smiles.

Billy and Alice both look confused. “Why can’t you have it?” Billy asks.

You look at Jen who starts to connect the dots. There’s no way to dig yourself out of this. You look at Agatha and finally sigh. “I’m pregnant.”

Billy’s and Alice’s jaws drop.

“Oh, my god!”

“What?”

Shocked laughter reverberates around the room before hugs and congratulations come.

“That was the hardest secret secret I’ve ever kept,” Wanda sighs before hugging you. “I’m so happy for you.”

You run upstairs quickly and take out the ultrasound pictures from your nightstand. When you’re back downstairs, the coven has moved to the living room. “Here,” you say, letting them pass around the pictures. Agatha stands beside you, hand on your back as you continue talking. “That was a ten week ultrasound. It’s almost at 13 weeks. They said the due date is around September 10th.”

“You guys are the first ones to know, so don’t go running your mouths…Billy,” Agatha says, and then glares at him.

“I think it’s gonna be a girl,” Alice says, handing it to Jen.

“Mmm,” Jen looks at the picture, almost analyzing it from how focused she looks. “I think it’ll be a boy.”

“I’m not saying,” Lilia comments, looking at the ultrasound picture and smiling.

After they’re passed around, you take the pictures back and hugs and goodbyes are exchanged. Just before Jen’s able to leave, you pull her aside.

“I know you’ve been wanting to get back into obstetrics,” you say. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to be one of the midwives in the room. We have an obstetrician, so it wouldn’t be everything, but you know, just some extra help…”

Jen looks shocked. “Seriously?”

“You don’t have to!” you hurry. “But we–” You look at Agatha and then back at Jen. “I trust you.”

Jen glances at Agatha before smiling at you. “If you’re comfortable, yeah, I’d love to help you. Don’t stay up reading baby blogs, those are never helpful. I’ll get you some reliable info, okay?”

You hug her tightly. “Oh, thank you, Jen!”

After everyone’s left and the house is quiet, you move to the kitchen where the dishes from tonight’s meeting sit in the sink. You stand in front of the fridge, looking at all of the pictures and recipes and christmas cards from three months ago that hang from magnets. Arms wrap around your waist and the smell of Agatha's perfume calms you as her lips skim over your neck.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

You sigh, leaning into her touch as her hand splays over your stomach. “Trying to figure out where to put the ultrasound pictures.”

She hums behind you and then takes the roll of pictures from your hands. Her arms reach out on either side of your head, and you watch as she slips the pictures beneath the magnet that holds a picture of you and Agatha at the reception after your wedding.

“There,” she says simply, wrapping her arms back around you and placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Perfect.”

__________

The second trimester rolls in quickly. You’re feral. Absolutely feral. And Agatha loves it.

It starts with a single kiss in the morning. And then the raspy morning voice when Agatha says, “Good morning.”

You bite your lip, fingers running over her bare arms as she leans over you. Agatha eyes you suspiciously, “Why are you giving me that look?”

You sigh, eyes wandering over her body–the satin nightgown that clings to her curves, her blue eyes lit up in the morning sun, the stale perfume still lingering from the previous night.

“I just love how you sound in the morning.” You pull her down for a kiss. “And how you look, and…” You have no clue where you’re going with this and you start to ramble. “…It’s our wedding anniversary, and I’m overflowing with hormones and…”

She giggles as she kisses you again, her voice low and seductive, “And you want me to touch you?” Her hand sneaks under your shirt as she kisses you, but she pulls away quickly, brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Agatha pulls up your shirt, eyes wide as she looks at you. “You’re starting to show.”

“What?”

“You’re showing!”

Laying on your back, you tilt your chin to look down, and sure enough, there it is. “Oh, my god,” you mutter. You lay back, hands over your eyes. “We’re gonna have to tell them,” you huff.

Agatha’s hand rubs soothingly over your belly. “Your 20 week scan is in a couple weeks, hon. It’s gotta happen soon. Quite frankly, I was surprised they didn’t catch on when you declined the sushi they offered you.”

You drop your arms, smiling painfully up at her, “I know…I kind of liked just us knowing–aside from the coven. But everyone else is gonna make a big deal out of it.”

“Because it is a big deal,” Agatha says, pressing a kiss to your belly. “Sweetheart, you’re an Avenger. You can’t be training and doing missions. We’ve been lucky enough that Steve’s been taking ‘no’ as an answer for training recently. But sooner or later we’re going to be called for a mission, and we both know that Tony won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

You glare at her, “I hate you.”

“Only because I’m right,” Agatha smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can feel her hand drift higher, fingers wandering underneath your bunched up shirt and over your nipples. She leans in close, lips over yours as your heart races. “Would you hate me less if I give you what you want?”

“Maybe,” you tease. “I’ll be the judge of that after.”

Agatha kisses you softly, trailing her lips down your throat as her hand slips beneath your underwear. She moves back to your lips and your hands tighten their grasp on her shoulder and nightgown as her tongue moves with yours. You can feel her smile as her fingers tease you. “It’s not even nine in the morning and you’re already this wet for me?”

“It’s the hormones, I swear,” you huff, quickly pulling her back down to kiss you as she laughs.

Your head is thrown back into the pillows and your back is arched as her fingers work. She hovers over you, arm flexed, veins visible through the skin, and it turns you on even more. Agatha kisses you softly, “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are like this.”

A loud moan escapes you as her palm presses against your clit and she smiles. “You’re fucking beautiful,” she says, jaw clenched and fingers working faster. “You’re glowing. I did this to you, and everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Yes! Yes, yes!” Your hands grab at any part of her they can reach. Your lips press hard into hers and you breathe deeply. “Fuck, I’m all yours! And I want everybody to know!”

Your legs close around Agatha’s hand as you shake beneath her. You moan loudly into her mouth when she kisses you hard, fingers curling as you finish. Her kisses become softer and softer as you catch your breath.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I guess I don’t hate you as much.”

Agatha laughs and kisses you again. “What do you say we take a shower and then we can go out to brunch, and then…” She places her hand back on your belly. “..we go to the mall to look at maternity clothes?”

Before you can get out of bed, she stops you. “Wait! I almost forgot. I have an anniversary present for you.” She leans over to her nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling something out, and when she faces you again, she has her hands behind her back.

You eye her suspiciously as she smiles, and without a word, she hands you a pair of tiny yellow rain boots with duck faces on them. You gasp and sit up quickly, turning them in your hands. “They’re ducky boots!” You look up at her with tears in your eyes.

Agatha takes one in her hand and examines it. “They definitely won’t fit for like…a year,” she chuckles. “But when I saw them at the store I couldn’t help myself.”

You sigh and sniffle as you hold back tears. “I love you.”

The shirt you put on today is a lot more snug than it used to be, and when you actually take a look in the mirror, you’re showing more than you thought.

“How did you not realize?” Agatha asks, spitting her toothpaste into the sink.

You go into the closet, looking for a shirt or a dress that’s looser than what you have on right now, and more appropriate for brunch. “Well, I don’t–I’ve been wearing nothing but sweatpants and baggy, lazy clothes, and–leave me alone!”

You can hear Agatha snickering as you get defensive, and you step out in another outfit. “What about this one? Is it obvious?”

Agatha wipes toothpaste from her mouth and smiles. “Give me a twirl, princess.” When you do, she acts like she’s thinking hard, but you already know how she’ll answer. “Beautiful!” she says.

You sigh, “Okay, but is it obvious that I’m pregnant?”

“You know, most people say ‘thank you’ when called beautiful,” Agatha teases, pulling you into her by your waist as you roll your eyes and hold back a smile. She places a kiss on your forehead, “But no, it’s not obvious.”

The maternity store at the Westview mall is cute. It’s not super big, but they have a decent sized selection.

“Why are there so many dresses?” you huff. Agatha holds up a pair of maternity jeans and you make a disgusted look as she giggles. “Why can’t there be a luxury maternity clothes store?”

“For someone who grew up with very little money, you certainly are picky,” Agatha chuckles.

You shrug, looking through a rack of shirts. “What can I say? I’ve developed a taste for more than just White Star Line stewardess uniforms.”

You end up at the checkout counter with an armful of clothing. You get antsy as you look at the cashier, seeing the recognition of the both of you in her eyes. She smiles politely, making friendly conversation, but her eyes keep drifting to your belly. You uncross your arms quickly after realizing that they’ve pushed your blouse in, defining the bump that you were trying to hide.

“Do you have a rewards account with us?” the cashier asks.

“No,” Agatha says, going to put her card in the reader.

“Would you like to sign up?” the cashier continues. “It’s free, and you’ll earn points for your next purchase.”

Agatha huffs, “Okay, sure. Fine.”

You leave the store with three bags of clothes, Agatha carrying all of them.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry one?” you ask.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she snaps. You’re taken aback by her attitude, and while it normally wouldn’t affect you, she panics as she watches your eyes flood with tears. “Oh, my god! No! I am so sorry!”

You sniffle, trying to wipe them away, but they don’t stop. “No, don’t apologize! I’m not–!” You take in a heavy, shuddering breath and Agatha takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom.

When the door closes, she locks it, setting the bags on the tiled floor. Her thumbs come to your cheeks and wipe your tears.. “Hey! Hey, look at me!” You do and she kisses your forehead, resulting in even more tears. “Take some deep breaths! Sweetheart, I need you to calm down.”

You do as she says, breathing deeply through your nose and out your mouth. “Okay,” you whimper, repeating the breathing until your tears slow.

Agatha’s hands cup your cheeks and she looks you in the eyes, voice apologetic and soft, “I am so sorry for snapping at you. It was not directed at you one bit.”

“I know,” you sniffle. “I know. It’s okay.”

Agatha grabs a paper towel and wipes away the mascara that’s running down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Just, seeing how that cashier was looking at you–how uncomfortable you looked. It was pissing me off.”

She tosses the paper towel into the garbage can by the door and pulls you into her arms. Her hand holds the back of your head, thumb stroking along your hair as you sniffle into her shoulder. “ She recognized us. Im sure by the time we get back to the Tower, it’ll be all over the Facebook, or the Twitter, or whatever the fuck people use now.”

Your laugh is muffled and watery, and you sigh as it sinks in. “Yeah…” You’re quiet as she holds you, but you’re thinking. Thinking hard. “Agatha…I don’t think I wanna be an Avenger anymore.”

She pulls away quickly, shocked as she looks at you. “What do you mean? I thought you loved it.”

“I do. I do love it,” you say. “But…” Your eyes get watery again and you take a deep breath. “We have no privacy. We probably won’t even get to tell the rest of our…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. “Of our…family…that I’m pregnant, because a cashier at the maternity clothes store recognized us! We were at the OB’s office and someone tried to get it out of us!”

You let out a sob as she holds you tighter again. “Agatha, nothing we have is ours! I don’t want our child growing up surrounded by paparazzi. I want our baby to be ours!”

Agatha wipes away her own tears quietly and pulls away. Her hands gently hold your face, like if she held you tighter you’d shatter–and maybe some of that is true. Her eyes are soft and glassy with held back tears. “Okay,” she says, voice cracking. “If you want to, we’ll leave.”

“Maybe not permanently,” you sigh, and press a kiss to her wrist. “I do love what we do, and our kid’s gotta go to school at some point, and that leaves a lot of time open on our schedule. But just…for now…do our own thing.”

“Like, picking out baby clothes?” Agatha smiles softly, thumb stroking your temple. “Painting a nursery? Having me go out in my pajamas at three in the morning to the 24-hour gas station because suddenly you’re craving a very specific kind of ice cream that only they sell?”

You let out a teary laugh, voice quiet. “Yeah…”

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead. “Then we can do that.”

The drive back to New York City is quiet. You doze off about halfway through the drive with your hand in Agatha’s lap, and you’re woken up with a kiss to your palm.

“Wake up, buttercup, we’re here,” she says. “You can take a nap in your luxurious, unbelievably-expensive-bed.”

“Oh, what about the clothes?” You sit up quickly, rubbing your eyes.

“It’s okay,” she reassures you quietly. “I’ll put a concealment spell on the bags.”

You almost fall asleep standing up while on the elevator with Agatha. Your head bobs to the side, resting on her shoulder before you’re jolted awake by her. When in your room, you change into comfier clothes, removing your makeup and laying down on your side of the bed.

Agatha slides in beside you, hand brushing your hair back as you face her. “I love you,” she says quietly. “And no matter who gossips about us or invades our privacy, I won’t let them touch either of you.” Her hand settles on your waist. “Both of you are the most important things in my life, and if you want us to stop being Avengers for a few years, then that’s perfectly alright with me. I don’t want you stressing for any longer.”

“Okay,” you whisper, lip quivering.

“We can stay in New Jersey–which sucks, I know,” Agatha continues, and wipes a tear from your cheek. “We’ll come here for the weekend, or whenever the hell we feel like it.” She smiles as you let out a quiet laugh. “I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters to me right now.”

“I’m sorry I was too tired to do anything fun for our first anniversary,” you sigh, sleep heavy on your eyes.

“Honey, we spent today having brunch and picking out maternity clothes for you,” Agatha says. “You’re carrying our child. I could not ask for more today.”

When you wake up, it’s dark outside and you’re curled up in front of Agatha. Her arm holds you close to her, hand resting on your belly as she breathes softly against your neck. Your hand reaches out, blindly searching for your phone on the nightstand.

Your movements wake her and you can hear her groan behind you. “What time is it?”

After checking your phone you roll over and curl into Agatha. “Nine,” you mutter.

Agatha stretches, her arms wrapping around you. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” you mumble. “But you’re so warm, I don’t wanna get up.”

She hums before sitting up, ignoring your whining. “Come on, sleepy head. Let’s go turn food into a baby.”

The following morning doesn’t come with kisses, but with loud explosions in the dark of your blackout curtains. Your reflexes kick in and both you and Agatha are out of bed, robes on and out the bedroom door. You opt to take the stairs to the lounge and when you open the door, every resident of Stark Tower is there.

The floor-to-ceiling windows looking over Manhattan show what no one wants to see at nine in the morning: another fiery crisis to deal with and alien spaceships hovering over the city.

“Alright, everybody on the deck in ten minutes!” Tony commands.

As the team heads for the stairs, you look at Agatha and there’s only one thing in the look she gives you.

‘You’re staying here.’

You stay put as she follows but Tony looks back and huffs, “Come, on! Let’s go!”

“No,” Agatha says, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

Agatha’s response stops everyone in their tracks and you can see the frustration in Tony’s face border on anger. “Excuse me?” he says, whirling around to face her.

“No,” Agatha says more firmly. “She’s not going.”

“And why not?” Tony asks, nostrils flaring.

Agatha hesitates, “She’s not feeling well.”

“I don’t care if she has the damn flu!” Tony shouts. “All of New York City is under attack right now! She’s one of the most powerful people here–!”

“I said, she’s not going!” Agatha yells back, and you can see every eye in the room on the three of you. You make eye contact with Wanda and she looks like she’s about to intervene, but she stands back.

“Why?” Tony snaps. “How sick could she possibly be to not–!”

You can see it in Agatha’s face. She’s trying to hold her tongue, she’s trying to hold back from screaming, but in the end, it slips out. “She’s pregnant!”

The room falls quiet, and the only sound is the distant explosions. Agatha sighs, her hands rubbing her face tiredly. “Shit.”

Tony turns around to look at you, and it’s like he’s an angry father who just found out his teenage daughter is pregnant. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” you sigh, looking defeated.

“I–” Tony opens his mouth and closes it again, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Okay, both of you stay here–”

Agatha looks appalled. “What?”

“Both of you!” Tony snaps. “We’ll talk about this after.”

There’s a heavy silence as the room clears out, and when the doors to the stairs swing shut you take a heavy seat on the sofa. Agatha follows, arm immediately pulling you close as you drop your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “It shouldn’t have come out like that.”

You press a kiss to her shoulder and take her hand. “It’s okay. Like you said, it had to happen sooner or later.”

The day drags on and eventually, in the lounge, it’s only you, Agatha, and Tony. He’s on his third whiskey after dinner and he sits back, sighing. “So, what’s the plan?”

Mindless TV plays in front of you, your head on Agatha’s shoulder, but when he asks his question, you sit up. You can feel her arm tighten on your waist and you hesitate. “Well, the twenty week ultrasound is next wednesday…” He nods carefully and you fiddle with your fingers. “And–umm–we’re moving back to New Jersey. We’re gonna leave the team for a few years…but we’ll visit on weekends.”

“I figured,” Tony shrugs. “That house is pretty small, though. Nice backyard, but that second bedroom can’t even be called a bedroom.”

Agatha scoffs. “I’ve been trying to tell her that, but she won’t listen.”

“I’m not arguing about this,” you sigh. “I’m too tired for it.”

“You know, if you’d like, I could move you closer,” Tony suggests. “Doesn’t have to be in the city, but close enough that you don’t have to drive almost an hour to and from.”

You smile tiredly, “That’s a very nice offer, Tony, but we can’t ask you to do that. You’ve done so much already.”

He finishes the rest of his whiskey, and gets up, setting the glass down on the liquor cart. “Just think about it.” When he comes back over, his hands are on his hips. “We’re gonna miss having you around here. Both of you.”

“I’m having a baby, Tony. I’m not dying,” you deadpan.

“I’m happy for you, really,” he says. “You’ve done a lot for us, so I want to do everything I can to help you out–even if that means buying a brownstone for you in the Upper West Side.”

Wednesday morning you’re woken up by a flurry of kisses on your face.

“Good morning,” Agatha mutters, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Are you excited to find out what we’re having?”

You hum in amusement, “Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

“Are you serious?” Agatha asks, kissing you again. “This entire thing was a surprise.”

“Touché.” You swish your lips from side to side. “Alright, fine. But only because I’m too excited to go clothes shopping for them.”

Agatha kisses you on the forehead and smiles. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”

Once again, you’re on the table watching Agatha fold your clothes. The lights are dimmed when the sonographer comes in–this one is much less chipper than the previous one–and Agatha’s at your side immediately.

“So, are we wanting to find out the sex of the baby today?” the sonographer asks as she sets up her equipment.

Agatha squeezes your hand and you smile, “Yeah, when you’re having a baby at 149-years-old you don’t need any more surprises.”

The sonographer pauses for a moment and then a look of realization flashes across her face. “Right–witches, Avengers.” She lets out a breathy laugh. “Alright, now my favorite thing to ask: what do you think it’ll be?”

As she applies the gel to your belly you look up at Agatha, smiling. “What do you think it’ll be?”

You notice a brief flash of anxiety on her face before she answers, “A girl.”

“Alright, we’ll go with girl,” you say as the wand presses into your skin.

The heartbeat is strong and the sonographer points to various parts of the screen. “They are all curled up in there! Here’s the profile of it–you can see the little nose and–oh, looks like they’re yawning!”

You smile brightly and you hear a shaky breath from Agatha. Her free hand goes to your head, a comforting weight as she sits beside you.

“Alright,” the sonographer says, “a little pressure–we’re gonna move over here. There are the little feet, its legs, and you can see a hand right there.” As she goes along clicks can be heard when freezing the screen to take a picture. “And, if we move over here…it looks like…you are having…a girl!”

When you look over, Agatha’s smiling. But there’s more to it. Yes, there’s happiness, there’s excitement, but there’s something else there–relief. She presses a kiss to your forehead and sighs.

The appointment goes by quickly and soon, Agatha’s helping you into your newest pair of maternity pants. She slips the roll of ultrasound pictures into her purse and takes your hand, but when you’re back in the waiting room you freeze.

“Why the hell are you all here?”

A receptionist comes up to you, talking quietly, “I apologize, ma’am. I told them they can’t–”

“It’s okay,” you say, cutting her off with a polite smile. “Thank you.”

A whole group is standing there. Tony, Steve, Nat, Wanda, the whole coven, Billy and Peter, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and Loki.

“We wanna know what you’re having!” Steve smiles brightly, waiting for you to answer.

You and Agatha look at each other, and when your eyes meet you can see that you both have the same idea.

“A healthy baby,” you smile. You pull Agatha through the waiting room. “Come on, I’m craving that one lunch place a few blocks away.”

Before you can open the door, you’re stopped by them again. “Can we please know what you’re having?” Billy asks.

You look at all of them as Agatha opens the door for you. “A healthy baby,” you repeat. “That’s what we’re having. You can find out the sex in twenty weeks.”

You survive their endless pestering throughout the day, and now, you lay in bed with Agatha, talking into the dark–baby names, nursery themes, whose eyes the baby would get, what color magic. But there’s one thing on your mind.

“Agatha,” you say. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

“When the sonographer said it was a girl…” you start, thinking about how to word your question. “You looked relieved–like you didn’t want it to be a boy.”

“That’s not a question,” she mumbles into your collarbone.

“Agatha,” you sigh. “You know what I mean.”

She’s quiet, and you can tell she’s thinking hard. You hear her swallow and take a deep breath. “If…we had a boy…do you…” You can hear the wheels turning in her head, wondering if she should even ask it, if it’s even worth being vulnerable. “Do you think Nicky would feel like he was being replaced?”

Your stomach drops and you feel the hand she had on your belly recoil into herself. “Agatha,” you whisper, heart breaking. “Look at me.” You turn to face her and you can see the uncomfortable look on her face. “Nicky would never think he was being replaced. Do you think you’re replacing him?”

Agatha turns over to lay on her back, huffing in frustration. “I don’t–maybe? I mean, it was 300 years ago, I shouldn’t…even be thinking…”

“Agatha, you’re not replacing him,” you reassure her. You lean over her, forcing her to look you in the eyes. “Loving your daughter doesn’t mean loving Nicky any less, okay?” She nods slowly and you kiss her. “This isn’t going to be like last time. You can be happy, Agatha. You deserve to be happy.”

“Okay,” she mutters. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kiss her again, and when you pull away you sigh. “And do you know what I deserve? A pregnancy pillow.”

Agatha laughs and kisses you again, pulling you into her arms. “We’ll go out tomorrow to get you one. How about that?”

You’ve forgotten what life outside the city was like. You’re three weeks into living in Westview. It didn’t take long to move everything back to Westview–most of it was clothes, and even then, you were building a new wardrobe that actually fit you.

Your life is much quieter now–filled with lamaze classes, doctors appointments, and tea with the coven. It’s slow. Peaceful. You wake up, take your vitamins, Agatha makes you breakfast, and with it being spring, you’ll usually retire to the backyard to work in the garden. It’s pure, domestic bliss.

You stand in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. The list crinkles in your hand as you stand there, looking at the vast expanse of cereal options, and Agatha waits patiently beside you with the cart.

“So…” Agatha starts. “What cereal–?”

“I don’t know,” you say absentmindedly. “It just says cereal.”

Agatha swishes her lips, “Okay, well, while you decide what cereal you want, I’m going to get the frozens.”

You barely acknowledge her, only offering a quiet, “Mhm.”

You can barely remember your name–it’s like your brain is completely shutting itself off and refusing to remember anything. Just the other day, you were heating up leftovers in the microwave and you sat down on the couch, completely forgetting about them and dozing off. When Agatha got home an hour later, the TV was on, you were knocked out, and the leftovers were still in the microwave–cold again.

And when she woke you up to tell you, it led to tears.

And now, you’re in the cereal aisle with a half-complete grocery list and only a vague idea of what kind of cereal you want.

Agatha rounds the corner quickly, frozen foods in her arms. She drops them into the cart, clearly frustrated as she huffs, hands on her hips. “We have a problem.”

“Oh, hi,” you say. “Where’d you go?”

“Frozen food aisle,” she sighs. “We have a problem.” She leans against the cart, fingers tapping on the metal impatiently. “We’re in the suburbs.”

You look at her, confused. “Um…Yeah…?”

“No,” Agatha huffs. “I mean, we’re a suburban family. We’re grocery shopping at a Trader Joe’s.” She starts gesturing around her dramatically. “There are vitamin supplements in our cart. I was just in the frozen foods aisle and I was met with “hey neighbor”. I just ran into one of our neighbors. I don’t even know his name! We are not suburban people!”

“Agatha, honey. It’s okay,” you say softly.

Her jaw tenses and she purses her lips. “Do you know what we were doing, what, five months ago? Fucking in the Adirondacks.”

“Okay. Lower your voice, first of all,” you scoff, throwing whatever cereal boxes into the cart. “Second of all, yes. I know. The result is right in front of you. And, third…maybe it’s good.”

As you push the cart through the aisle she walks beside you. “Good?” she repeats, eyes wide.

“Yeah…” you shrug. You turn down the snack aisle and push a bag of animal crackers off the shelf and into the cart without stopping. “I mean you’re almost 356 years old and I’m 149. We’ve been through a lot—sinking ships, witch trials, like…a shit ton of wars. Maybe it’s good that things are slowing down.”

Agatha sighs, “Well can we slow down in a luxury apartment in Manhattan?”

“You actually wanna move to New York City? We’re about to have a baby in four months.”

“It doesn’t have to be midtown,” Agatha says, and puts a bag of veggie chips into the cart. “There’s Greenwich, the West Village—townhouses have more than one and a half bedrooms”

You pause and raise an eyebrow at her. “One and a half?”

“Oh please, that bedroom might as well be a storage room,” Agatha scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Besides, we haven’t started on the nursery yet. And Brownstones are nice.”

“Brownstones are expensive,” you counter.

“Tony told us that he’ll move us closer to the Tower.”

“What about backyards?” you ask. “I don’t wanna have to go to a park every time I want our kid to go outside.“

“I looked up some brownstones in the city. The backyards aren’t bad,” Agatha says, hand resting on your back.

You stop in the middle of the aisle, looking up at her with a hand on your hip. “You’ve already looked up new houses for us to move to?”

“They’re bigger!” Agatha says, exasperated. “There’s one with four rooms. We should move now instead of when we have more kids–”

“When?” You start grinning. “More? Our daughter hasn’t even been born yet.”

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. “Um–well–I mean–I quite like you in this state…”

“Oh, so you wanna keep me like this?” you tease. “Your perfect, pregnant little wife?”

“We’re getting off topic here,” she says, giving you a pointed look as you keep walking. “Just think about it. We’ve lived in the suburbs since 2026–me since 2023, no thanks to Wanda—and now we’re about to have a kid. Things are already going to change. Why not move now?”

“Okay fine,” you sigh. “You have some good points. I’ll think about it.”

It didn’t take much convincing later that night, which isn’t surprising considering the position you were in when she brought it up again–on your back, slick with sweat, and in her arms as you both laid in the post-sex bliss that she always brought you.

She called Tony the next morning, discussing each feature the new house needs to have–at least three bedrooms, a decent sized backyard, hardwood floors, a fireplace, renovated yet classy, she had more needs than you. They spent days with a realtor, discussing pricing and location and selling your current house, and then came the tours.

You and Agatha saw at least five houses in the span of two weeks: two in Greenwich, two in West Village, and one on the Upper East Side. You were in the Upper East Side townhouse for less than ten minutes before she turned it down, and by the time you’re reaching the third trimester, you’ve both decided on one in the West Village.

It’s cozy, with four bedrooms and hardwood floors from the original build. There are two fireplaces, one in the living room and one in yours and Agatha’s bedroom, and a nice backyard with a patio and room to run around in. And as Tony promised, he paid for it all–leading to you sobbing your ‘thank you’s.

By the time you’re completely moved in, you’re approaching your eighth month of pregnancy. Your ankles are swollen, you’re the size of a cantaloupe, and your back aches constantly. Agatha eventually has to sleep with ear plugs because of how loud you snore–and you cried when you found out–and every time you stand up, you feel like you’re going to lose balance.

After finishing the nursery, Agatha guides you in with her hands over your eyes. When she removes them, you’re met with elephants and soft greens and dusty pinks. The cream colored crib that you had picked out together sits against the far left wall and all of the furniture is placed exactly where you wanted it. And it’s perfect. It’s exactly as you imagined.

“Are you crying?” Agatha asks softly.

You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s good crying. I promise.” You hug Agatha tightly and kiss her. “Okay, my back is killing me. I need to sit down.”

You take a seat in the plush armchair that you chose specifically because it’s a rocking chair. When you lean back, hand on your belly, Agatha sits down on the small ottoman and takes your foot, fingers rubbing the pressure points as you sigh.

“How many people do we have coming to the baby shower?” you ask, resting your head on your hand as you stare at her with nothing but love in your eyes.

“Well,” Agatha starts, “there’s the coven, that’s five. Then there’s Tony, Nat, Steve, Clint, Bruce, Peter and Sam. And Thor and Loki said they might be able to come. So, possibly fourteen.”

You hum, thinking. “We’ll have to lock the door to this room. The only one who knows is Jen–and probably Lilia–and god knows someone will try to snoop around to find out.”

Thankfully, everyone who arrives at the baby shower gets what’s only on the registry–Agatha was very stern about it. But when Alice walks in, your jaw drops.

“You brought wine and premixed margaritas to my baby shower?” you gawk.

“Who brought wine?” Wanda perks up at the kitchen table. “I’ll get the cork screw.”

“Margaritas too!” Alice cheers, and joins Wanda in the kitchen with the rest of the coven.

Lilia pours herself a glass of red, “Agatha would you like a glass?”

“No, thank you,” Agatha says, hand rubbing your back as you cross your arms.

The coven stops and looks at her.

“What, are you pregnant too?” Jen scoffs.

“No,” Agatha pipes up. “I’m standing in solidarity with my wife.”

You’re beginning to regret having your baby shower in the third trimester. You’re exhausted, and by five o’clock you’re growing irritated because you and Agatha haven’t been able to take your daily walk, and on top of that you’re being continuously kicked in your ribs.

“Are you feeling okay?” Agatha comes to stand behind the couch, her hands running over your shoulders as she leans down to kiss your temple.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Just tired.”

Agatha glances around the room at everyone and lowers her voice so only you can hear. “Do you want me to kick everyone out?”

You giggle and shake your head. “No, you don’t have to kick everyone out.”

“Dammit,” Agatha groans. “I was really hoping you’d say yes.”

By seven, everyone is gone and it’s just the two of you. These have always been your favorite moments–the quiet nights spent in Agatha’s arms while something plays on the TV in the background, and the only other sound is her heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I know we got a pretty good amount today,” Agatha mutters, “but do you wanna go shopping for baby clothes tomorrow?”

Your hand fidgets with the wedding band on her ring finger. “Sure.”

When you pick up that first frilly, pink satin dress you want to cry–and a few tears do slip out. “It’s so cute,” you whimper, and throw it in the basket. “We’re gonna have the cutest baby ever.”

Agatha’s hand settles on your lower back as you continue through the store, gasping at every piece of clothing you see. “”Sweetheart, you can’t take home every single article of clothing you see. I know you’re nesting, but you’re going a bit overboard,” Agatha says. “She won’t even grow into any of this for at least three months.”

“Well, you know me,” you shrug, and look through a rack of clothes. “I like to be prepared.”

“One more dress,” Agatha sighs. “And that’s it.”

“One dress and two shirts,” you counter.

Agatha stares at you and then relents, “Fine. One dress and one shirt. And then I wanna get dinner after this, I’m starving.”

You’re a week overdue, and you’re miserable.

“Is there anything I can do for you, honey?” Agatha asks from the stove as she cooks breakfast.

You take a bite of an apple slice at the kitchen table and huff, “Oh, I dunno. Can you get this baby out of me? Or, you could apply my hemorrhoid cream for me, how about that?” Your words get louder as you go on. “Oh, maybe you could remove a couple ribs so that the soccer player I’m carrying has room to move!”

Agatha looks around awkwardly. “Well, I mean–I could apply the–”

“I was being facetious, Agatha,” you say, glaring at her. When she sets your plate in front of you, she presses a kiss to your forehead and you sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted. I can’t sleep, I need help putting on my shoes, and I’m the size of a fucking pumpkin.”

“How about we go to the nail salon today?” Agatha suggests. “You said you wanted to get a pedicure done, but we never had time.”

You sigh, “Yeah, alright.”

The fumes of the nail salon hit you stronger than ever before. You’re settled into the spa chair with Agatha right beside you, picking out a color for her toenails as the technicians set up their stations.

“I usually go for purple, but I’m thinking maybe pink this time,” Agatha murmurs, thinking to herself.

“I think pink would look cute,” you shrug. “What about orange for fall?”

“Mm…Maybe closer to Halloween,” she mutters, and looks over at you, smiling. “Yeah, I’ll go with pink.”

The nail technicians assigned to you and Agatha are engrossed in her stories. You lean back, relaxing as you listen to Agatha gossiping with the woman who starts to paint her toenails.

“I just think she should mind her own business, you know?” Agatha scoffs. “And then there was the time…”

She could talk for days and days and you would never get tired. But a low, dull ache begins to settle in your abdomen. Your face contorts into obvious discomfort as you adjust your position in the seat.

Agatha pauses her story and looks at you, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you wince. “I’m fine. Just uncomfortable–Oh!” Your hand squeezes the arm of the chair as dull ache tightens.

“That was not a Braxton Hicks,” she says, and the two techs look at you with concern.

“No, I’m fine! Finish the pedicure!” you insist, and while the tech continues to paint, Agatha doesn’t relax. Her jaw tightens and you can feel the warning look she's giving you.

When the tightening sensation returns you try your best to hide it, but when you know someone for almost 120 years, you pick up on their tells.

“Okay, no!” Agatha says sternly. “Come on, we’re going!”

“No!” you cry, and look at the tech in front of you. “Finish my nails! We have time!”

“You’re a week overdue, we’re going now!” Agatha says. She gives the tech assigned to you a sharp look. “Put the nail polish down, now!”

“Agatha, no! It needs to dry! Let him finish!” you beg, and another wave of pain crests through.

“Is it gel?”Agatha asks him quickly, and when he shakes his head, snaps her head back to you. “Put your flip-flops on, they can dry in the car, hon!”

With her own nails still wet, she gets down from the chair and slips her sandals on. She digs out her wallet from her purse and tosses a fifty on the chair before helping you down. Her arm goes around your waist as she rushes you out, all eyes on the both of you.

“Wait!” you cry, waddling towards the door with your hand in hers. “I don’t want to mess up my pedicure! Slow down!”

“Sweetheart, that is the least of my concerns!” she shoots back. When Agatha helps you into the car, she pulls out her phone and you can hear her on the phone with Jen as she rounds the car.

She starts the car quickly, and she has a complete disregard for the rules of the road.

“Agatha!” you shout, holding onto the dashboard. “Pull over! Now!” She does as you say and you turn to her, “Take a deep breath. Please. You’re more worried than I am and I’m the one in labor.”

She looks over, nostrils flared, jaw clenched, and knuckles white on the wheel. “Okay,” she croaks, and breathes deeply.

“Okay,” you repeat. “Are you okay?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” you say again, your own breath shaking. “Let’s go.”

This time, Agatha decides to follow the rules of the road. Her hand doesn’t leave yours once until you pull into the hospital parking lot. When she helps you out of the car, you snicker to yourself. “I bet you’re glad I nagged you to put the hospital bag in the car the other day.”

“Walk,” Agatha groans, and you giggle.

In the hospital room, you slip the gown on as Agatha watches, perched on the edge of the bed. “Give me a twirl, princess.”

You huff and give her a slow, cautious turn. “Good?”

“Perfect,” she smiles.

Agatha makes you as comfortable as possible in bed–pillows in between your legs, under your arms, cups of ice chips after cups of ice chips. As the hours pass, Jen arrives, helping with pain management and whatever the nurses can’t do for you.

Around four hours later, at 6pm, the whole coven plus Tony, Nat, and Steve, are in the room, despite you being doubled over on the bed, clutching on tightly to Agatha’s hand. You’re becoming irritated quickly, even with all the well-wishes and balloons and flowers.

“I don’t want them in here,” you groan, another contraction washing over you.

Agatha looks confused. “What?”

“Get them out of here!” you seethe.

“Oh, okay!” Agatha pauses. “Um…Even Jen?”

“Yes! Send them to the fucking waiting room!” you cry. “I only want you in here!”

Agatha ushers the group out of the room, and for once, apologizes to Jen.

“It’s not personal,” Jen says. “I understand. It’s okay.”

At midnight, you’re in the hallway of labor and delivery taking a walk when your water breaks, and you start crying because of how bad you feel. Agatha reassures you that you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re a complete mess.

She sits on the couch in the hospital room. Your forehead rests against her chest as you rock on a yoga ball, her hands massaging your lower back. Your hand tightens its grip on her arm as a strong, sharp pain rips through you.

It’s then that you finally decide to take the offer of an epidural–and you’ve never been more relieved. You sit on the edge of the bed, squeezing Agatha’s hand as the catheter is placed in your back, and after about twenty minutes, it starts to kick in.

“You should try and get some sleep,” Agatha murmurs, coming to sit back down beside you after dimming the room lights.

You hum, trying to keep your eyes open. “You should too.”

But there’s no chance in hell of that.

You’ve been asleep for maybe an hour when two nurses assigned to you enter the room and wake you. The older one washes her hands and slips on a pair of gloves and the younger goes over to the fetal heart monitor, analyzing the graph in comparison to your contractions. When the first nurse is finished checking your cervix, she joins the other nurse.

“What’s the matter?”

Agatha’s hearing seems to increase tenfold.

“Looks like the baby is having late decels,” the second nurse mutters.

“She’s only at four centimeters,” the older one whispers.

“How long has she been in labor?”

“About nine hours.”

“I’m sorry,” Agatha speaks up. “What’s the matter?”

The nurses turn toward you, the older one wearing a look that she’s rehearsed for these kinds of conversations. “The baby’s heart rate is dropping. It’s not too serious right n–”

“Not too serious?” Agatha repeats, her tone sharp. “Our child’s heart rate is dropping and you’re saying it’s not serious? I want a doctor in here right now.”

“Ma’am, I assure you–”

“I want a doctor in here!” Agatha shouts, standing up from her seat. “Now!”

Both of the nurses leave the room and Agatha lets out a frustrated sigh, sitting back down and taking your hand. Her other hand goes to your forehead, pushing back the flyaways sticky with sweat.

You lay there, eyes closed and trying to even out your breathing as you feel her thumb stroke along the back of your hand. Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, open when the doctor enters the room.

She reads the fetal monitor, analyzing every last bit of information on it. You watch her lips purse in thought and then she sighs. “You should have gotten me sooner,” she says to the nurses.

“What the hell is happening?” Agatha asks, eyes wide with panic.

“Your baby’s heart rate, for about the past hour, has been decreasing,” the doctor explains. “It’s not uncommon after receiving epidurals. Hypotension is seen a lot and your blood pressure has dropped a bit, and that usually ends up decreasing blood flow to the placenta. We’ll administer some fluids and have you lay on your side. But if it doesn’t change within an hour, maybe an hour and a half, we’re looking at a possible cesarean.”

Before the doctor can leave, Agatha gets out of the hospital recliner and lowers her voice. “If it’s possible, I’d like a nurse that actually knows what the hell they’re doing when caring for my wife.”

You watch the doctor nod and leave, and sure enough, fifteen minutes later, there’s a new night-shift nurse walking in with IV fluids. You lay on your side, facing Agatha while she holds your hand. With the bed rail down, and her reclining, it’s almost like you’re side-by-side in bed. Almost.

You doze off again, hand limp in Agatha’s. When the lights flicker on an hour later, the new nurse and the doctor are back. In the past hour you’ve barely dilated and you can see the worry in the doctor’s face.

She sighs after typing something on the computer. “Unfortunately, your baby’s heart rate hasn’t gone up. Your contractions aren’t doing what they’re doing, and the stress of that, combined with the hypotension is causing that. We will need to perform an emergency cesarean.”

“No,” you mumble, shaking your head. “No, I don’t want surgery.”

Agatha sighs, eyes heavy as she looks at you, “Sweetheart, I d–”

“It’s not optional,” the doctor says. “If we don’t deliver the baby as soon as possible, both you and the baby are at risk of injury.”

Your lips tremble and tears prick your eyes. “Okay,” you cry. “Alright.”

The clock on the operating room wall reads 4:03am.

Agatha sits beside you in the blue scrubs they had her change into, mask covering her mouth and nose, and blue hairnet containing the brunette mess of hair on her head. “I’m sorry it’s not going how you planned. You didn’t even want an epidural and now look where we are.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh as a nasal cannula is placed around your head. “You look hot in those scrubs, though.”

Agatha smiles, “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “You’d be a really hot surgeon. You sure you don’t wanna watch them slice into me?”

Agatha makes a gagging sound. “I think I’ll stay here.”

“Okay,” the surgeon says. “10-blade, please.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Her hand rests on the cap that holds your hair, thumb running soothingly over the soft skin of your forehead. “It’s okay,” she mutters behind the mask.

It takes the surgeon about two minutes to do the procedure. Agatha stands, eyes watering and watching as they pull your baby from the opening in your abdomen. But it’s quiet. Too quiet. And then there’s the dreadful sight and sound of doctors rushing around.

“I don’t hear crying,” you panic, tears starting to fall down your temples. “Why isn’t she crying? Agatha, what’s happening? Why isn’t–why isn’t she crying?”

And then you hear it. The piercing shriek that means life.

You watch Agatha exhale with relief above you and you yourself do the same as tears flood your eyes. Your daughter, tiny and squirming, is wrapped loosely in a blanket and handed to Agatha. She sits back down beside you on the stool, lowering her carefully so you can see her properly.

You crane your neck to press a kiss to her forehead, lips trembling and eyes watery. And as you look at her, you’re unable to form any thought that isn’t about her.

By the time you’re brought back to your room, the sun is rising. You’re exhausted, but the sight of your daughter in your arms makes you want to stay awake for as long as you can. Agatha sits beside you on the bed, shoes kicked off and completely relaxed. One arm is wrapped around you while the other reaches down, finger brushing against the soft cheek of your newborn daughter.

“What about ‘Daphne’?” you ask quietly, not wanting to wake the baby.

“‘Daphne’?” Agatha repeats.

You look down at your daughter, smiling softly. “It was the first name that came to mind when I saw her.”

Agatha smiles, watching as the baby looks up at you both, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as she gurgles. “Daphne it is then.”

At nine, Agatha receives a text. “Tony’s bringing breakfast for everyone. What would you like?”

“Everyone?” you repeat.

“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “You know they’re all coming to visit this morning.”

You chuckle, “Surprise me. I’m starving. I’ll eat anything.”

By ten in the morning, your room is filled with people and the smell of breakfast foods.

“Alright,” Tony says. “We’ve patiently waited. What is it?”

“It’s a healthy baby,” you shrug, and pop a grape into your mouth as you cradle her in one arm. You and Agatha giggle together as everyone groans, but you finally give in. “It’s a healthy baby girl,” you smile.

“You owe me fifty bucks, Rogers!” Tony says.

“Wanda owes me ten,” Nat comments.

Alice hands Billy a twenty from her pocket and you sit there in shock. “You were gambling on what sex our child would be?”

“You made us wait until they were born to find out,” Nat says, shoving a piece of pancake into her mouth. “What do you expect?”

“What’s her name?” Billy asks.

Agatha sits on the edge of the bed, a genuine smile on her face. “Her name is Daphne.”

As you sit in the hospital bed wearing the fuzzy pink robe Agatha brought you, you watch your family. You watch them talk, and hear them laugh. You think back to that day in the parking lot–crying as Agatha held you, panicking because you had no idea if this was something you truly wanted or thought you could do. You think back to every moment filled with anxiety, every late night conversation with Agatha, fears spoken in the dark.

But a weight in your arms grounds you. You look down at the tiny baby fast asleep in your arms. You look at the yellow crocheted blanket that Lilia made for her. The ducky boots that Agatha gave you on your anniversary. The frilly dresses, and the hair bows.

You questioned once if you were okay with this. But now, as you look around the room, you realize that you’re more than okay with this. You’re more than okay with the family you found, and with the woman you love, and more okay than ever with what the two of you created–your little Daphne.

#agatha all along #kathryn hahn #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #fanfiction #smut #agatha harkness smut

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yoditopascal · 10 months ago

Text

Like A Prayer (Part One)

summary: best friends with wade you’re always being dragged into something even when he’s not trying to, what are you to do when you find the fate of your timeline in the hands of yourself, your chaotic merc and an angry wolverine who’s hellbent on drinking himself to death?

content warning: romance, some angst, a little fluff, character deaths, canon-typical violence, smut, lots of cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug and alcohol use, reader insert but with no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, deadpool being deadpool, mentions of poor mental health (depression anxiety and ptsd mostly), scent marking, the honda odyssey scene needs a warning all on its own MINORS DNI

a/n: lots of wade in this one but no wolverine just yet!

tag list: @allmyn1ghts, @oscarissac2099

Masterlist//Next Chapter

Not Ok

Flashes of images invaded your mind. You were in a tank, arms restrained to your sides as the oxygen was slowly sucked out of the chamber, suffocating you. Your nails digging into the leather cushioning beneath you as you try to claw your way out.

Now you were strapped to a table, an array of needles embedded into your arms and legs as you were injected painfully with all kinds of different things you weren’t even sure of.

You startled awake before the sound of your alarm had a chance to rouse you from your sleep. Groggily you run a shaky hand over your face before rolling over to grab your phone checking the time. You still had about 3 hours before it was time to get up and get ready for work. Knowing you most likely weren’t going to go back to sleep, not that you wanted to anyways, you toss the covers off of you and head to the bathroom.

You turn the water of the shower on, waiting for it to heat up as you stand back up you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror, taking in your disheveled appearance you sigh as you lean over the sink.

There’s visible dark circles under your eyes from being torn from sleep countless times over the last few months. You were sure why the nightmares had started back up again, it had been years since you had been freed from the Weapon X program so why was it all coming back now?

Pulling your tank top over your head you quickly undressed and hopped into the shower. The water cascaded over you, the warmth a welcome relief. You closed your eyes, as you felt your tired muscles slowly start to relax under the soothing spray. Lathering up your soap on a loofa you quickly washed and dried yourself putting on ample amounts of makeup to hide your dark circles.

Once dressed you sat down at your little table in the kitchen and helped yourself to a bowl of cereal as you checked your phone again.

So much shit was happening in the world, genocides, corrupt politicians running for power, starving children. It was all you saw anytime you opened up anything and it was all too much. The world was going to complete shit

You lock your phone and check the time, you still had about an hour before work. Slipping on your shoes you grab your keys and your bag and head out the door nearly bumping into Wade who was munching on a bagel in the hallway.

“Jesus fuck Wade!” You said placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart. “You scared the shit outta me!”

“My bad pookie bear. Didn’t know you worked today.” He said with a shrug adjusting his wig as he did so.

“Almost every day this week.” You said with a sigh rubbing a hand down your tired face. You had been doing that a lot lately. “God I’m so tired.”

“I hear OnlyFans is really popping off right now.”Wade said but it was hard to tell if he was joking or not with his straight face.

“Yeah? So what, you and Vanessa can be my only subscribers?” You snorted with an exaggerated laugh.

“I know for a fact Colossus would pay top dollar for a sneak peak of your toes!”

The sound of your ex's name made you grimace. Not that you had any ill will towards him, you were both still good friends albeit a bit awkward now that you’ve dated for a short time, but you still didn’t want the thought of him anyway near anything sexual you did.

“Hard pass.”

“Suit yourself.” Wade said taking another bite from his bagel and you two walked down the hall together.

You start to rub at your forehead as you felt a headache coming on as you walked, another occurrence that had started to happen more and more often.

“More nightmares?” Wade asks, his voice laced with concern as he watched you.

“Yeah…but don’t worry about it Wade.” You could handle yourself, a few ibuprofen and you’d be fine.

He calls your name, as if to say it’s too late not to be worried about you, but you wave him off as you dig around in your backpack for a second before pulling out a small black envelope.

“Happy birthday by the way! You’re hard as fuck to shop for so I hope you like it.” You smile at him as you hold out the gift hoping to change the subject.

With an exaggerated gasp Wade tosses his bagel behind him and holds up his hands up in surprise before taking the envelope from you, and ripping it open. Inside were two tickets to a Celine Dion concert, one of his favorite artists.

“Oh my-!” He starts with a gasp “I didn’t even know she was touring!” He cried excitedly as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“Yeah I had to basically stalk Ticketmaster for those so you’re welcome.” You said returning the hug.

“Sugar booger! I love it!” He said releasing you.

“Now you just gotta figure out who to take with you.” You said as you bump shoulders with him. “Maybe Peter….oooor I don’t know maybe a certain someone we all know and love who works at a particular strip club that we like to visit on occasion?”

“Peanut…” Wade warned, you held up your hands in surrender. It was like a kid trying to get their divorced parents back together.

“Look, all I’m saying is it wouldn’t hurt to ask her.”

“I’ll think about it.” He says quietly as he stares out deep in thought.

With that the two of you part ways, wishing each other a good day at work, Wade heading for his bike where Peter was waiting and waving at you, and you heading toward the bus stop.

Work at the pet shop was the same as always, mundane and mind numbing but it paid the rent so who were you to complain about it. You had your fair share of zooted teens coming in to ask dumbass questions and waste your time as well as the occasional fish snob who complained about the size of your tanks but all of that was typical of a normal day and honestly made it go by quicker. By the time you realized what time it was it was time to clock out and head on home to help set up for Wade’s surprise party.

Once home you dropped off your bag and changed your clothes putting on a loose fitted t-shirt and jeans with a cardigan before heading over to Wade’s place with a bunch of drinks. You didn’t drink much but everytime Wade went out on a “business trip”, as he called them, back in his Deadpool days he’d bring you back a bottle of something.

Inside Wade and Blind Al’s apartment across the hall, many of your mutual friends were already busy at work setting up for the party. Colossus Ellie and Yukio were busy blowing up balloons and decorating while Dopinder Buck and Vanessa were busy setting up the food spread.

Looking around yourself you felt a small smile tug at the corner of your lips, all around you were the people you and Wade loved the most and you were incredibly lucky to have them in your lives after everything you all had been through over the years. A pang in your chest made you hold a hand over it and your smile dropped. Something still felt missing though and no matter how hard you thought about it you just couldn’t place what it was.

“How you doing sweetheart?” A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. Whipping around you were pulled into a tight hug by Blind Al.

“I’m doing alright.” You smiled weakly “How’d you know it was me?”

“I’m blind not deaf sweetheart,” she said “ain’t nobody else here sighing that hard but you and Wade and Wade’s not here yet.”

“Sorry.”

“Your dreams still giving you trouble?” She asks as she leads you further into the home.

“I wouldn’t say dreams, more like night terrors but yeah they are a little.” You say as you place the bag said booze you bought on the kitchen counter and follow Al to the living room where she seated herself comfortably in her recliner. “It’s nothing to worry about though.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter baby.”

For someone who was blind Al sure could see right through you sometimes.

“I’m probably just stressed is all.” You try to downplay the situation but Al wasn’t having it.

“It’s been months.” She says matter of factly.

“It’s been a stressful few months.”

“Look… I may not have been there when you and Wade went through what you went through in that program but it’s over now. It’s done and that Ajax guy can’t hurt you anymore.” She said resting a hand in her arm gently.

Al hadn’t been a part of the Weapon X program like you and Wade had been but that hadn’t stopped him from telling her in excruciating detail about all the horrible shit you both had gone through during it.

“I know Al I just-“ you start but stop not fully knowing how to describe what you felt. “I just wish I could switch my brain off, just hit the reset button and be done with it but I- can’t get the memories outta my head.”

“I know sweetheart it’s gonna take time but time ain’t gonna do shit if you don’t let people in to help you.”

You knew she was right but you’d be damned if you’d admit it out loud.

“When did this turn into a therapy session? I thought this was supposed to be a party.”

“Smart ass.” She said tapping you on the leg with her cane. “Go help Vanessa make the jungle juice before he gets home. I’m gonna go see if that dumbass has any Bolivian marching powder left in his stash.” With that she stood to her feet and went to her’s and Wade’s shared bedroom

“Oh Al come on! I thought you guys were done with that.” You called after her with a frown.

“Not till I’m dead babygirl.” She called back and if she could you think she’d wink at you.

Back in the kitchen you and Vanessa make quick work mixing and setting up the drink you bought making light conversation as you do so.

“So-“ she starts off but pauses as if deep in thought for a moment.

“So?” You ask curiously as you take a sip of the alcoholic punch taste testing to see if it needed anything.

“You uh seeing anybody new yet?” She asks.

You nearly choke on your drink in surprise.

“N-no I uh no I’m not.” You stuttered trying to compose yourself. “Are you?”

“Y-yeah there’s this guy. I met him at work, he’s kind.”

You could tell she was lying, but didn’t speak on it.

“Y’know, I hear Colossus has been talking about you to Ellie a lot lately.”

Here we go again you thought.

“Oh nah hard pass we tried that dance already didn’t really work out.” You waved her off, but she continued anyway.

“I’m just saying he’s a nice guy, and he’s big, like everywhere, and made of metal, that’s like totally your thing. Remember when we saw the Winter Soldier and you wouldn’t shut up about Bucky’s metal arm?”

Not she was calling you out.

“Just think about it hun, you're always stuck up in your apartment or at work, you’re lonely and I think a little human connection would do you some good.”

“Yeah alright I’ll think about it.” She smiles at you before caressing your cheek, like she was the big sister you never knew you had.

“But only if you think about giving Wade another chance too.” You slip in “Deal?”

She contemplates for a moment before she smiles back at you again. You knew she still had feelings for the man and so did he.

“Deal.”

Before either of you could change the topic of your conversation the front door opened up again, this time revealing Peter and Wade.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted as Dopinder Ellie and Yukio threw confetti into the air.

“Oh you guys!” Wade gasps dramatically. “You’re lucky I’m not armed!”

“If this was five years ago you’d all be dead.” He laughed as he went around hugging everyone.

The party went on without a hitch. Wade intermingling with everyone as he was passed around the room. You stayed in your own little corner as you watched sipping on your third drink for the evening. Parties weren’t really your thing but for Wade you’d endure them when you had to. Just as you were about to move to get yourself another drink you spotted Wade and Vanessa talking quietly amongst themselves in the kitchen hovering over the punch bowl. With a smile just glad they were finally talking to each other you thought it better not to disturb them for the time being.

Soon after however you all found yourselves piling into the kitchen as Wade called for everyone to come and cut the cake. Wade snapped a few pictures on Yukio’s Polaroid, making some cheesy speech about how lucky he was to be surrounded each and every person he ever loved in one room, something you rolled your eyes at even though you had found yourself thinking the same thing just earlier, before going to make a wish blowing out his birthday candles as he did so.

The party continued to progress throughout the night and the stuffiness of all the bodies in the room was starting to get to you. Excusing yourself from conversing with Buck and Peter you step out into the hallway for a moment to try and get some air. Your head felt like it was swimming, probably from all the alcohol and not enough food, and you were starting to feel nauseated as a pounding sound hammered through your skull. Eventually you decided to take a step outside to get some actual air to see if that would help.

After a handful of greedy gulps of the fresh night air you finally decide to return to the party before anyone came looking for you. Once inside your hallway you spotted Wade first, but he wasn’t alone this time. Surrounding him were at least 5 guys all dressed in black body armor and masks with weird electrical looking batons in their grasps. Immediately your defenses rose as you silently crept up behind them.

“Oh peanut, you came back! I’d offer to let you join in on the orgy but I don’t think this guy here’s down for sharing me.” Wade quips as he sucks on a breath mint leaning on his doorway. His comment drew most of the men’s attention towards you but not before he drew it back to himself. It seemed that they could care less that you were even there. “He’s got this whole hate sex, love 'em and leave' em vibe going for him right now.”

“Shut your mouth clown!” The guy in the front snaps as he goes to grab Wade by his toupee. Just as he grabs it an orange doorway opens up behind Wade and a pair of arms reach out pulling him inside causing his hair system to get ripped off.

“Wade!” You shout as you sprung into action, using all your weight you shove two of the guys causing the three of you to fall through the strange orange doorway just before it closed behind you.

#logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine imagine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #platonic deadpool x reader #logan x reader #logan x black reader #logan imagine #logan #hugh jackman #like a prayer

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Make You Mine 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, age gap, possible abuse, alcoholism, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father is strict but his authority is challenged by the boy in town and the man at his door.

Characters: Arvin Russell, Lee Bodecker

Note: dirty old man vs. nasty young man

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The radio blares as you enter the front room, a plate in each hand. You hand one to the sheriff as he smirks and offer the other to your father. He doesn’t look at you as he cups his chin and slumps. You’re not sure he’s even awake.

“Daddy,” you say.

He doesn’t answer. You set the dessert on the round table next to his chair. You back up as Bodecker catches your eye. You bite back a frown.

“I’ll get that rum,” you utter.

You retreat and hurry off to the kitchen. You find two short liquor glasses and pour the rum. You return to them and place one glass by your father before giving the other to the sheriff. He examines the dark liquor.

“Fine brand,” he drawls, “and a fine dessert. Hard to enjoy without a fine woman.” His blue eyes flick up to yours. The silver strands in his brown hair glimmer in the lamp light. “Where’s yours, then, baby?”

“Mine, sir?” You fold your hands and step back.

“You put all this work in, you should enjoy the fruits of your labour,” he tuts. “Ain’t that right, Jack?”

You father grumbles as he leans toward the radio. It’s got an arched top, one of the ones back from before the war. Your grandfather’s. You don’t dare touch it.

“Come on, then, you gotta have a bite,” he puts the drink down and lifts the plate off his lap, “here ya are, girl.”

He cuts into the pastry with his fork and chisels away a creamy bite. Your purse your lips as he offers it to you. You gulp.

“Sheriff, that’s for you. Really, dinner was more than enough--”

“Go on,” he hovers the fork, the cream about to drop. “I’m sharin’, like a gentleman.”

You nod and push your hands behind you. You ball them up tightly and bend forward. You're overly aware of his gaze as you close your lips around the tines and suck off the cream. You keep your mouth sealed as you pull back.

You chew thoroughly before you swallow. He chuckles and balances the plate on his thigh. He curls a finger to beckon you down, “come here, baby girl, you got something...”

You crinkle your brow but obey. Your father garbles senselessly as the commentators call an out. You wince as the sheriff drags his thumb across your lower lip.

“Made a mess,” he purrs and pushes against the center of your lips. “Best clean it up.”

He forces his way into your mouth and rubs your tongue, wiping the sweet cream on your tastebuds. He pets your chin before he pulls away. Your saliva glistens on his thumb. He puts it to his mouth and licks.

“You’re just as sweet, baby girl,” he winks.

You waver and look at the floor, “sheriff, there’s a real mess in the kitchen. I best clean it up.”

“You always do what’s best, don’t ya?” He teases. “Go on, then. Be a good girl.”

His words send chills over you. He's not saying anything wrong but his tone suggests otherwise. That look on his face too. You flit away, your breath constricting from the breath trapped inside.

You exhale as you enter the kitchen. You focus on cleaning up. You wash the dishes meticulously, hoping to waste the time until the sheriff leaves.

A sudden crash rings through from the front room. You wring the dishcloth and rush through the door. You’re daddy’s on the floor, his plate and glass around him. The radio continues to buzz.

Bodecker stands over him, hands on his hips.

“Told him to slow down,” he clucks.

“Daddy?” You scamper forward. The sheriff looks at you and lays a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t you worry, baby girl. I’ll get him. He just needa sleep this off.” He squeezes and rubs with his thumb, reluctantly letting you go. “You lead the way, huh?”

He bends and scoops up your daddy. You pout but can’t argue. You wouldn’t be able to move him on your own. You turn and guide the sheriff. You take him to the stairs and up to your father’s room. You open the door but stay outside. You’re not supposed to go in there.

You watch from the door as he lays your daddy on the mattress. You rub your palms together nervously. He grips his lower back as he steps back.

“Ah, sittin’ in that cruiser, no good on me,” he grits as he crosses the room. He shuts off the light as he gets to the door.

“Is he alright?” You ask as he closes you out.

“Should be,” he brushes his fingertips long your hip. “Don’t you worry. Seems you do too much of it.”

“Oh... uh,” you step away from him. He looks past you and heads down the hall.

He stops by your bedroom and spins back to you. You trip to keep from colliding with him. “This yours?” he taps on the door.

“Um, yes, sheriff.”

He spreads his hand on the wood, “really?”

He grabs the handle and twists. You don’t have a chance to stop before he struts inside. You gasp and follow him.

“Sheriff? What--”

“I’m just lookin’,” he says as he heads for the bed. “It’s nice. Got a lady’s touch, ain’t it?”

He admires the shelf clock. Your mom painted it. You teeter on your toes.

“I guess, but...”

“I’m gonna need the guest room,” he says. “Ain’t in no state to be drivin’. You got a heavy pour on ya, girl.” He turns and strides up to you. “That rum sure is strong.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, sheriff--”

“’Sides,” he stops before you, “should be sure your daddy makes it through the night. He’s a lush.”

You look away guiltily, “I’ll make up that spare bed.”

“You do that. I’ll clean up the mess he made.”

He dips his chin and squeezes past you, so close you feel a tug in your skirt. You wait until you hear him on the stairs before you move. You go to the linen cabinet and take out some new sheets.

You make up the bed, crawling over it to tug a corner tight. You don’t often have company. A whistle cuts through the air and you quickly back up off the bed, embarrassed at having your bum right up in the air. The sheriff leans in the doorway, grinning.

“That’s a nice skirt. Fits ya real good,” he purrs.

“Thank you, sheriff. All done,” you sniff and fix the collar of your blouse.

“Now, you hear anything, be sure to come get me. It’s a big house, ain’t it?”

“Yes, sheriff. I will.” You near the door but he doesn’t move.

“If’n ya scared, you can always bunk with me,” he raises his brows and licks his lips.

“I’m alright, sheriff. I hope you sleep well.”

“You too,” he finally moves, just inside the door frame. “Sweet dreams.”

“Yes, good night, sir,” you scurry out.

“I know I’ll be havin’ nice dreams,” he slithers.

🥧

You’re restless. Sleep doesn’t come easy as the winds whistle and the panes shake in the window frames. It’s more than that keeping you awake.

The sheriff’s just on the other side of that wall. Sleeping, but still there. It was only ever you and your daddy. Company feels strange.

You toss and turn. You roll around enough to agitate your bladder. You sigh. You won’t sleep with the urgency pressing. You get up and tiptoe to the door.

You go into the hall and creep down the bathroom. You close yourself in and flip on the light. The release is not much of a relief. You’re tense and uneasy. You wash your hands quickly and open the door. Your hand pauses before the light switch as a shadow greets you.

You yipe at the sheriff as he stands in only his white briefs and undershirt. He yawns and scours you with he droopy eyes. His lifts his head and bats away the sleepiness.

You hug yourself. Your nightgown feels thinner under his gaze. He presses his hand to his chest and hums.

“Funny runnin’ into ya. Lookin’ mighty scrumptious, ain’t ya?” He drawls.

You clasp your hands over the neckline of your nightie, “sheriff, I was just--”

“What was you doin’?” He leans in, his hand on the door frame. “Was you thinkin’ of something fun?”

“No, sir, just had to... go.”

“Mm, mm, mm,” he looms over you, “you wasn’t thinkin’ of openin’ my door, was ya? Sneakin’ into the bed, keepin’ warm?” His eyes drift down to your chest and the fabric bristles against your hard nipples, “cold in here.”

“No, sir, I wouldn’t--”

“You wouldn’t? Is it ‘cause you such a good girl, hm? You tellin’ me a girl like you ain’t been with no boys?”

“Sheriff?” You nearly shriek.

“Well, look ya, baby girl,” he growls and lumbers closer, backing you into the bathroom. “You’re mighty fine. Might fine.” He grabs your hips and pens you in. “Any man’d be lucky to get you.”

“Sheriff,” you whimper and push against his chest. “Please, I’m tired. I want to go back to bed.”

“Why? You gonna go hide and touch yourself? Gonna think of me?”

Is this a nightmare? It’s too distorted not to be.

“I don’t do that, sir.”

“You don’t?”

“N-no, sir, and I don’t want to talk about that--”

“You should,” he growls. “You should try it least once. Know what ya like.”

“Please,” your voice quavers. “You’re scarin’ me.”

“I’m scarin’ ya? How so, baby girl? You know I wouldn’t hurt ya.” He sucks his teeth. “I’d be real gentle.”

You nearly choke. Silence curdles as you stare at him in horror. You know what he means. He’d be gentle while he—while you--

You push him and elbow by him. Horror keeps you moving. You won’t look back. You can’t. He chuckles.

“Y’ain’t got now humour, you youngins,” he taunts.

You get to your door as the trickle of his stream hits the toilet water. The door is open, shining into the hallway. He’s so blatant, so unafraid, you can’t help but wonder what you did to encourage him.

🥧

You spend the rest of the night awake, watching the door. You don’t think Bodecker would let himself in but you also never expected him to corner you like he did. Each time you close your eyes, you see his. That shine in them; that darkness.

No, he wouldn’t do anything. He was just messing with you. Your daddy always says he has a strange sense of humour.

You can’t lay in bed all day. Even if you want to hide. After last night, you have to make sure your daddy is okay.

You make yourself get up and get dressed. You don’t hear the sheriff. You sneak to the bathroom to go through your usual routine then emerge at last, ready but not.

You go to your daddy’s door and knock. He doesn’t answer. You don’t expect he would. Especially after last night.

Hinges creak and you lock up. You knock again. You should just go in.

“Mmph, baby girl, you’re awake?” Bodecker says.

You turn, pressing your back to the door. “Just checking on daddy.”

“Such a good girl,” he is unkempt as he emerges.

Again, he has only his briefs and his undershirt. Now that it’s brighter, you’re agape to notice the tightness in his lower half, the tension of fabric draw over his... part. You keeps your eyes up. A shake of hair juts up and his eyes are puffy with fatigue.

“I’ll just have a look then go start breakfast,” you say.

“Now, now, baby girl,” he charges toward you, “you go and start now. I’ll see to the old man.” He drags his knuckles up and down your arm. “I dreamt of you.”

You blink, “you did?”

“Sure did, but don’t compare to the real thing. Can’t,” he grins. “You got bacon? I like bacon.”

“Yes, sheriff,” you gulp and back away. “Thanks uh... for checking him. But, er, he gets real mean in the mornings.”

“All the better I should deal with him.”

You sidle away, cautious. You turn at the stares and keep yourself from barreling down. You stop at the bottom to gather your wits. He’s not going to hurt you. He’s playing around.

You go into the kitchen and get started. Eggs, bacon, bread. You light the stove and a hear a thumping. You pause and listen to the house. You hope your daddy isn’t causing too much trouble for the sheriff.

That noise comes again. You only realise then it’s not upstairs, it’s the front door. You leave the pan on the burner and go into the entry way. You open the door sheepishly and peek out. It’s that man from the day before. The one that carried your bag. How’d he find you?

He says your name and smiles. His brown eyes are warm and deep. You blink at him.

“He-hello,” you murmur. “What, er... Arvin?”

“You remember. Yeah, I was just passin’ by and I saw the cruiser out front.”

“Huh? You mean—you need the police?” You ask.

“No, no, I can take care of myself. I was just... concerned. Thought maybe you were in need of help.”

“No, um, but... how... how did you know I'd be here?”

“Yesterday, when I walked ya. I could go until I was sure you were back safe,” he explains. “That’s all. Long as you’re good, I'm good.”

“Oh, uh...”

“Who’s that then?” Bodecker asks as he comes down the stairs heavily.

You wince and back up. You can’t close the door, that would be rude, but you don’t know that you should let the sheriff know that this man followed you home.

“Sheriff?” Arvin calls through. “That you?”

Bodecker sighs and comes down. You’re thankful he put his pants on at least. He grabs the door and rips it out of your grasp. You shuffle aside.

“Russell, whatcha botherin’ her for?”

“Not bothering, sir,” Arvin grins. “I was just confirming our planes. She’s comin’ with me to the soda shop this afternoon and I was making sure she don’t forget.”

The sheriff growls. “Is that so?”

“Sure it is,” Arvin sets his stance. “Gonna get her a cherry soda float. Right?”

He looks at you. You don’t know what to say or do. If you say no, then you have to explain that you led him back here. Plus you’d have to reject Arvin and he’s been so nice. If you say yes then... then you have to go out with him and you don’t know him very well.

“Yes,” you eke out. “Yes, I like cherry.”

“Well, it’s not even eight in the mornin’ so you be off, boy,” Bodecker swings the door shut and faces you. “Where’s that bacon at?”

#lee bodecker #arvin russell #dark arvin russell #dark lee bodecker #dark!arvin russell #dark!lee bodecker #arvin russell x reader #lee bodecker x reader #series #fic #make you mine #the devil all the time #dark fic #dark!fic

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months ago

Text

Cinderella

Zayne x gn!Reader

Believe it or not, I started this fic before his cat card came out. And then I saw the card and I simply had to finish this

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, married life, established relationship, food/cooking, kissing, implied sexual content

Word Count: 1, 431

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your body is weighed down by morning as you heave yourself to your feet, shivering all the while as the cold air of the room caresses your bare skin. You hurry to throw on the first thing you can find: Zayne’s shirt abandoned on the floor. As you start to button it up, you turn to look at the man himself, still fast asleep on his side of the bed.

His hair is tousled and unkempt, from your fingers and his pillow. His lips slightly parted with slow, even breaths. The blankets are up to his chest. Reddened marks trail from his exposed neck and down his body. You smile just thinking about his usual efforts to try hiding them when he has to go into work. It’s unlikely he’ll wear his turtleneck today, given he doesn’t have to go anywhere. And you’re going to love pulling down his collar to kiss right over them again.

Quietly, you pad your way to your dresser for some fresh underwear, collecting stray clothes as you go to dump them into the hamper. Then, you creep over to his side and carefully pull the blankets back up to his neck. The clock on his bedside table reads 9am. If you’re very lucky, he’ll sleep in until 10. He needs this rest.

You lean down and press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. He shifts slightly, his head turning as if he’s trying to chase your touch. Warmth floods your chest as you sneak out of the bedroom and so, so slowly close the door behind you.

The floor is cold under your feet as you make your way through the house. You make a detour to the entryway to steal Zayne’s own house slippers, left forgotten after you got home from dinner last night. It’s truly a miracle he found the patience to leave his shoes at the door. The slippers don’t fit you, but they protect your feet from the cold as you finally head into the kitchen to enact your devious plan to take care of your husband.

You work as quietly as you can to take down a pan and pull out a spatula. You grab a bowl and lay out all the ingredients you need to make pancakes. You also pull out some blueberries to drop into the batter once it’s all mixed together. With a drizzle of oil in the heated pan, you use a spoon to glob the batter into little piles. They spread out into little discs, almost but not quite touching each other.

You hum to yourself as you grab a couple of plates from the cabinet. You also grab his mug and get the coffee pot started on brewing some fresh, hot coffee. As it brews, you flip the pancakes over, exposing their golden brown deliciousness. They’re thick and fluffy, and you pull out some maple syrup from the fridge to set on the table. Once the pot is brewed, you fill the mug with coffee and top it off with some sugar, just how he likes it.

You lay the first few pancakes onto a plate, setting them in a cute little toppled-domino array, before globbing some more batter into the pan. You cover the bowl and set it in the fridge to finish at a later time. You consider the possibility of giving it to Xavier, but he’d need to use a stove to make them… Best not.

Once the next batch is done, you lay them onto your own plate and crack two eggs into the pan. Their liquid insides meet the heated metal with a pleasant sizzle. You turn down the heat a little, and watch as the eggs begin to cook.

“So that’s where my slippers went.”

You whirl around to the kitchen entrance. “Zayne! You can’t just sneak up on me like that!” you chastise.

He grins as he closes the distance between you. His hair is still a mess, but at least he took the time to pull on his robe. You lean up, and he meets you halfway for a soft kiss. It’s quick, just a little peck - but it’s sweet and tender and makes your heart leap with joy, even after you’ve been together for so long.

“You forgot your slippers in the bedroom.” He holds them up with one hand, where they dangle from two of his fingers.

You glance at the eggs quickly. “Yeah, well, I didn’t wanna risk waking up Sleeping Beauty,” you tease. You reach up to grab at his ear, but he easily ducks away. “You’re not even supposed to be up yet.” You then grab for your slippers, but he also pulls those out of your reach.

“I needed to find my Cinderella,” he teases back. “May I?” He gestures down to your feet, adorned in his slippers. You give him a suspicious look - it’s not often he’s so playful - but you nod, nonetheless. Your cheeks instantly grow warm as you watch him slowly kneel down in front of you, hazel green eyes locked to yours. He looks up at you like you are royalty meant to be worshipped.

You shift away from the stove enough to lean back against the marble countertop. It’s cold chill does nothing to tamp down the heated blood coursing through your veins. Zayne’s eyes slip shut as he pushes the dangling hem of his stolen shirt up to expose the skin of your thigh. His mouth immediately seeks it out, pressing featherlight kisses just below the line of your underwear and down your leg.

His fingers follow a similar pattern. They dance along your skin gracefully, almost tickling you as they travel to the back of your thigh, slowly gliding down all the way to your calf. His mouth stops at your knee. His hot breath fans over your bare skin, reverent and appreciative, exhaled from his nose, or from his mouth just as he goes in to leave another kiss.

His hand trails lower to your ankle. His thumb massages around the jutting bone, coaxing you to shift your weight and lift your foot up. With his other hand, he removes his slipper and sets it aside. His eyes open slightly to ensure he picks up the correct replacement; to watch as he slides the slipper tenderly onto your foot. “A perfect match,” he whispers.

You reach down to comb your fingers through his hair, detangling and smoothing it out so it sits normally on his head again. You can feel his grin. You’re tempted to grab his ear again just to mess with him.

He guides your foot back to solid ground. His lips find your other thigh, his hand finds your other ankle, and he helps you back onto one foot as he trades slippers once more. He meets your eyes again as he stands, and you feel like you can breathe again.

Suddenly reminded of what you were doing before this, you hurriedly flip the eggs over. “You almost made me burn breakfast,” you chide, but your face is so flushed, it doesn’t come across as seriously as you wish it did.

He unceremoniously slides his slippers onto his feet with a self-satisfied grin and a soft chuckle. His arms wrap around your waist, his chest to your back as he hugs you from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder with his head tilted to lean against yours. Your free hand finds one of his over your stomach. Fingers move in a familiar dance to tangle together. You trace the cool band on his ring finger. He watches the morning light catch on yours.

“Thank you, my love,” he hums, content.

You kiss his head. “Of course. I wanted to do something nice for your day off.” You have to let him go in order to transfer the eggs (slightly overcooked) to your plates. He automatically turns the stove off, watching to make sure you don’t accidentally burn yourself. “What do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

He steps away, arms slipping from your body, to move about the kitchen. While you grab the plates and carry them over to the table, he grabs his coffee and takes a careful sip of the hot liquid. It’s just as he likes it. He carries it over with a glass of fruit juice that he sets in front of your plate.

“Anything,” he responds at last. “As long as it’s with you.”

You chuckle. “Alright, then we’ll stay in bed all day.”

He smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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zosan-secondchances · 6 months ago

Text

The Pirate King of the North: Part 5

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19

Bepo

Captain! Captain!

Bepo, Penguin and Shachi tail Law as he stomps through the deck of the ship in a rush.

Bepo

CAPTAIN!!! Is the Pirate King seriously sailing with us?!

Penguin

I don’t think it’s a good idea. Did you see the townsquare? Have you not heard the stories?!

Law

Yes, yes and no. So everyone, stay out of his way. If there’s trouble, don’t deal with it by yourselves. Tell me or the swordsman.

Shachi

But which–

Law

The other, swordsman. Bepo, call everyone in for a briefing in five.

At that, Law vanishes inside the ship, leaving the trio to stand by idly at the doorway.

The three Heart Pirates hear a couple of thuds on the wooden deck. Nervously, they turn in unison to see who it was.

Zoro and Sanji stood by the edge, having just boarded the submarine. The swordsman had his arms crossed, looking at the distant water with his calm demeanor while the blonde waves at the trio with a cheerful smile across his face as a greeting.

The Heart Pirates’ cheeks flush pink. They give Sanji a shy wave in return. The Pirate King's smile clearly has infected them.

Shachi

He doesn't look that bad….

Penguin

Y–yeah…I don't know what the captain was talking about. He's not scary at all.

—

Bepo, Penguin and Shachi are in tears having just learned a small list of Sanji's most recent crimes from Law. The entire Heart Pirates crew sat on the round table in the ship’s galley with their two guests to discuss the mission ahead, but the doctor felt that introductions were in order first.

In truth, Law just wants his people to be extremely cautious of the most dangerous cargo that they’ve ever had on board. He wants to emphasize how serious the situation is so he nabbed Sanji’s file from the Marine base to share its contents to the entire crew.

Sanji sipped his tea calmly, quietly enjoying the conversation about himself, basking in all the attention and reactions that the Heart Pirates are giving him. He soaks it in, feeling smug about having his achievements read out to everyone.

Zoro sat next to him, finally able to enjoy a bottle of sake for himself. None of the information being relayed by Law is news to him, having been involved in more than half of Sanji’s escapades on the receiving end. He’d been trying to kill the man for more than a couple of decades after all.

Law

Did…did you guys already forget that he just slaughtered all those Marines?

Zoro

You're one to talk, Traffy. You did the same thing when he said he'd help you.

Law

Shut up….

Sanji turns his head towards the doctor.

Sanji

Did you really? That's a bit funny.

Bepo

But…but Captain, shouldn't he be detained then?

Sanji gives the polar bear an icy glare.

Bepo’s full body of fur stands on end. Penguin, Shachi and himself hug each other tighter, yelling out cries for help.

Law

There's no point. Detaining him is how we lose our ship. The Marines tried to cuff him and now their entrails are all over the place as a consequence. Just keep an eye on him and do what I told you earlier. Report anything suspicious, is that clear?

Heart Pirates

Yes, Captain!

With that, Law proceeds to brief everyone in the room about the plan to follow Corazon’s trail to Skypiea, and that the Pirate King will be assisting them during their journey and the next until they find Corazon or whoever’s behind the letters. The doctor announces that they will have to stop by Sabaody Archipelago first which is the closest place where they can get a decent portable bubble ship, unless they find an alternative way to safely transport people up in the sky that could withstand the terrifying knock up streams that lead up to it. He makes a point to thank Zoro for his insight as to what’s to be expected given that he’d been to the sky island already.

Zoro

Our former navigator should have a decent map drawn of the country already. At least the places where we've been to anyway, which was most of it. If you think that will help, I'll need a long-distant transponder snail to ask her for a copy. And potentially half a million Beri. She doesn't give away stuff for free, even to her own nakama.

Law

What the hell? I don't have that kind of money. Can’t you get a discount if you’re nakama?

Zoro

N–no…if I use that as an excuse she’ll probably just charge me more. Hey Curls, aren’t you king or something? You’d have the dough and some.

Sanji

Do you see large amounts of gold on me? I don’t carry that much treasure around, stupid. Unless you want me to be traced, I’d rather not withdraw Beri from a bank.

Law

We’ll have to do some fundraising in Sabaody then. Penguin, please show Zoro-ya our communications room after this briefing.

Penguin

Yes, Captain.

Law proceeds to lay out the plan, covering the less exciting details like the estimated duration of the voyage, food stock and potential jobs that they can do on the side for Beri. It will inevitably cost them more time than the doctor had anticipated, but they may not have any choice in the matter. He prays that they miraculously run into any one of Sanji’s contacts who just so happen to be carrying his gold around.

Sanji leans slightly towards Zoro and softly speaks so only he can hear him.

Sanji

Your navigator sounds like a smart lady, by the way. And the price is reasonable, given its rarity and how difficult it is to get to the island. The more I learn about your old crew, the more I wish I got to meet them.

Zoro gives a light-hearted chuckle then speaks just as quietly.

Zoro

Well, if you weren't such a murderous bastard, you might have actually gotten along with them.

Sanji

You think so? Do you think that I can meet them one day?

Zoro

Over my dead body.

After the briefing, the Heart Pirates return to their respective duties except for Penguin who waits for Zoro and Sanji at the door as ordered to take them to the communications room so the swordsman can contact his navigator friend.

On their way out, Sanji makes very brief eye contact with a large man that they call Jean Bart, who slightly nods his way, almost to a bow, before walking off in the opposite direction. Zoro makes a mental note of their interaction.

—

The trip to Sabaody Archipelago is going as smoothly as they had hoped, having only done a couple of stops here and there to stock up and stretch their legs. Zoro and Sanji quickly realise that it is absolutely necessary to go on long walks and exercise whenever they can given how often they get stuck indoors so the sub can dive deep in the water to avoid unwanted attention. Then there’s the matter of their sleeping arrangements.

The Polar Tang’s bunk rooms aren’t anything special. They’re small and cramped where the mattresses are contained in boxes similar to that of the Thousand Sunny Go except that it’s welded firmly against the wall instead of being suspended by ropes. Zoro and Sanji shared a room so the swordsman could keep an eye on him. He also insisted that he gets to keep the bottom bunk in case he finds a reason to skewer the curly brows above him for any reason.

Much to Zoro’s surprise, Sanji keeps to himself while in their shared room, only ever tearing his eyes away from the book that he’s reading to ask if he feels like doing an activity together, or to tell him where he wants to go so the swordsman can follow along. He’d even wake him up to make sure he knows where he’s going if he wants to wander around. Aside from that, Zoro notices that Sanji had taken a lot of liking to just quietly watch the view from their round window, especially when they go underwater.

The crew were extremely tense during the first three days of having Sanji on board but by the fifth day, they had invited him over for a game night on one of their few and precious days off. Zoro assumed that the Pirate King had somehow captured their hearts while he’s not looking.

None of the Heart Pirates had any real money in their name so Sanji proposed that they bargain with chores, volunteering to even take a few from each one to make himself useful in the ship while they’re travelling and to even the odds of the play.

Zoro sat at the furthest table in the mess hall, quietly enjoying a tankard of beer to himself while watching their game unfold into a messy havoc of drunken fun. He watches big smiles across everyone’s faces as the Pirate King tosses in another straight flush–his sixth in a row. The victim this time is the poor Clione who apparently has to fold clothes for two weeks.

After seeing the man melt into despair, Sanji opens the palms of his hands, revealing four extra cards that had been hiding in his sleeves. Everyone laughed at Clione, then at Sanji for confessing that he had been swapping cards around to his advantage. This means that the blonde has to take the laundry chore from Clione, and with a longer duration of four weeks for cheating. They joke about keeping the king as a chore boy, even after the mission is finished.

Sanji and the Heart Pirates were like that through the rest of night. It was as though the blonde’s just an ordinary human being who’s trying to have a good time with his friends. Zoro couldn’t help but smile to himself after seeing a particularly hearty grin from Sanji's face. He wonders what about the man that makes his smile so contagious.

Again, to Zoro’s surprise, the Pirate King stays true to his word and begins to spend most of his mornings folding laundry in their shared room. The Heart Pirates have taken to knocking on their door less formally, or just flat out shouting from the other side to ask if their clothes are ready for collection. Penguin had occasionally shown up just after showering, fully naked and exposed, desperately begging for a pair of his underpants because he'd forgotten to take one and a towel earlier. Sanji fusses over him like a mother hen, nagging him to be more organised next time, but proceeds to help the man anyway.

By the seventh day since setting sail, Zoro finds himself helping Sanji do laundry. They fall into a comfortable silence, which he didn’t realise was possible at all. Though sometimes they share a small banter, throw harmless snide comments, or offer to fetch each other stuff from the kitchen. There was no mention of their old life and how for two decades they had tried to relentlessly kill each other. Both are content enough to just focus on the now. It was peaceful and Zoro isn't about to question why and how this was the case.

During the afternoons, Sanji either visits the galley to catch up with whoever Heart Pirates are on break, or wanders to the library to borrow or read more books. The Polar Tang’s library is more of a shared study space but nevertheless, it’s the coziest part of the ship, given how almost every corner of the sub smells metallic or sterilisation chemicals. Most of the time, Zoro and Sanji are the only ones there given how busy everyone else is, except for Bepo who occassionally uses the nearby drafting table to chart their maps. As long as he keeps himself clean and his bottles checked, Zoro is allowed to drink in the room, away from delicate books, while Sanji delves into a variety of different topics like navigation, geography, Devil Fruits, marine life and a particularly cheap looking cooking-for-dummies book.

One lazy day, there was a knock on one of the bookshelves. Zoro and Sanji lift their heads to find Law and Bepo standing by.

Law

Zoro-ya, a word?

Zoro nods then gets up from the couch to approach the man. He notices that Bepo walks up to sit in his place happily. Him and the Pirate King share a book about deep sea fishes together. The swordsman assumes that the mink had been assigned to keep an eye on the blonde while he’s momentarily away.

Law leads him to his office, where he takes a seat then beckons the swordsman to sit at the other side of his desk. Zoro follows.

Law

I don’t think this changes anything with our mission, but I noticed something odd with the mad king’s file that you might find…interesting.

Law places the thick folder that he had stolen from the Marine base on the table–Sanji’s criminal record. Zoro takes it in his hand then flicks through the papers. He’d seen them all already. He’s a slaver who raids his competitors to steal their “stock” instead of acquiring them himself. He specialises in trading, particularly dangerous criminals–pirates and bandits alike–to sell them to bigger, badder, wealthier criminals to do their dirty work. Most of his clients and partners are corrupt politicians or individuals with private armies like Doflamingo who are in constant demand for troops. On top of that, Sanji has an endless list of serious offenses: arson, murder, stealing, a few kidnappings, warfare–the whole lot.

There’s also a simplified version of Zoro’s reports from when he actively sought out the Pirate King–it lists out where their fights had taken place, any surrounding casualties, and the conclusion of their encounter. The swordsman doesn’t particularly remember them to detail at the top of his head, but scanning through the papers relives old headache-inducing memories of their game of cat and mouse. So far they’ve been pretty even with who’s won and who didn’t.

Zoro makes a point to not kill his enemies. So every time he wins their fight, he hands Sanji over to the Marines to lock him out for life. And every time they try to transport him, he breaks out of his chains and leaves evidence of his carnage just like how he did on the island where they picked him up. Some time in the past, he’d somehow survived and killed his way out of Enies Lobby by himself before they could drag him inside the gates, making him the third person to ever break out of initial confinement after Nico Robin and Franky when his old Straw Hat crew went in to rescue them.

Zoro throws the folder back on the table. He shrugs his shoulders.

Zoro

Tell me something I don’t know.

Law leans over, then re-opens the folder, navigating to the part where the Marines have compiled copies of slave buyers’ proof of purchases and ownership records. He taps on the detailed breakdown list.

Law

He only sells other criminals.

Zoro

So? He’s still a slaver.

Law

They’re not worth a lot because they’re trouble.

Zoro

But they're plentiful. Plus he’s sold ones with Devil Fruit abilities.

Law

Which still isn’t as much as a fishman, a mermaid or a child by a long shot. They’re worth hundreds of thousands, depending who you talk to.

Zoro

So what’s your point?

Law pulls a small stack of papers from under the pile–a worryingly long list of individuals that were owned by other rival slavers. It’s a rundown of the people that they have on their inventory, referring to them as a sequence of numbers instead of their actual names. It has details of their age, race and gender.

Law

He’s acquired them, but not sold them. They just vanish when he gets a hold of them.

Zoro can feel his temper rising.

Zoro

You think he set them free? What, that he’s one of those doing-the-bad-thing-for-a-good-reason kind of person?

Law

I’m just saying…

Zoro

We don’t know what he does with them. For all we know, he saves the “best” ones for himself. Or he’s killed them.

Law

I suppose….

Zoro leans back on his seat, crossing his arms.

Zoro

He got to you too, didn’t he? Now you’re in love with him just like the rest of your crew and we’re barely at our first stop. He must have put the idea in your head somehow that he’s somewhat a decent man.

Law

I’m not saying he is, but I–

Zoro

He’s not. You don’t know him as well as I do. He’s probably just playing nice so he can make friends with you lot then control you somehow.

Law sighs in defeat, then takes a moment to find the right words.

Law

Zoro-ya, there’s usually more a person than meets the eye. You can’t ignore the fact that the World Government likes to hide things and embellish on some to make themselves look like gods. They’ve burnt down libraries and destroyed valuable parts of our history to make that happen. If I were you, I wouldn’t trust everything that the Celestial Dragons says.

And I think, deep inside, you know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen the way you look at him.

Zoro gives Law a deathly glare, as if warning him to choose his next words carefully.

Law stands.

Law

You might want to consider your stance with him by the time we find Corazon.

But just…at least think about what I said about the Celestial Dragons, alright? I really don’t have to care about you. But as the first mate of the Straw Hat pirates, you need to consider what’s best for your crew. He may not do things the conventional way, but I think the Pirate King of the North might be one of the best allies Luffy could have right now. Especially because you wouldn't want him fighting for the other side when the time comes.

Zoro’s brows shoot up.

Zoro

Luffy? What about Luffy needing allies?

Law

Has he not spoken to you?

Zoro

No…I threw all my transponder snails away, remember?

Law sighs.

Law

Luffy plans to take on Kaido.

—

The Polar Tang finally arrives at Sabaody Archipelago. As soon as they dock the submarine in the safest and quietest grove they could find, The Heart Pirates, Zoro and Sanji practically pass out on the green grass on the giant mangroves.

Sanji

Well, fuck my ass and call me Susan. That sun is immaculate and this grass is so soft.

Shachi

I haven't heard of that one before.

Bepo

Hey! Do you guys hear that?

Everyone listens intently. Bepo's ears twitch as he looks around, changing the angle of his head so he could determine the direction it's coming from.

Bepo

It sounds like a concert!! Or…a game show? Maybe a festival? Do you think we can check it out? I hope Uta is playing!

Penguin

I’d kill to see Soul King live.

Law finally catches up to them. He stands in the middle of the field where everyone sun bathed.

Law

You have a day. By tomorrow I want everyone focused on looking around for jobs and sourcing out a bubble ship that can fit at least ten people. I'll keep watch this round.

Everyone rejoiced at the news. They begin to stand to make most of the day.

Law

Except for you, Pirate King. You have to stay behind. Everyone knows your face, and they have giant snails here that can transmit videos.

Sanji

Hmm….

Zoro

Why did you have to tell him what to do? Now he's going to do the opposite.

Law rolls his eyes then begins to walk away.

Law

It's your job to keep an eye on him. Good luck. Call me on your den-den mushi if you need me. Don't throw it away this time.

Zoro audibly groans. He rolls onto his elbows then pushes himself up.

Zoro

Hey Curls, I’ve been meaning to ask, do you… want… to–?

Zoro looks up and finds that he's by himself in the field. He frantically searches around and sees Sanji and the rest of the Heart Pirates already running as fast as they can towards the city where the distant sounds of loud music blared loudly. Some split into groups and some wander off on their own.

Zoro

Son of a–WAIT!!!

—

In Sabao Dome, Sanji and a few of the Heart Pirates managed to sneak into the stadium, finding themselves right in the thick of a massive crowd close to the main stage. They’re all feeling young, giddy and especially adventurous after having consumed their fifth drink too quickly. Sanji was able to acquire himself a long hood to cover himself so he could continue his day out without any interruptions from the local Marines.

Sanji

Bepo, hold my beer.

Penguin

YES!!

Shachi

Do it, do it, do it!

Bepo

I don't know about this…Captain's going to kill us.

Bepo takes Sanji's cup regardless.

—

It took Zoro about two hours to track down the runaway Heart Pirates that had Sanji in tow. He held onto his own hood, trying his best to hide his identity while fighting through the crowd in the stadium as he approached them.

During his struggle, he learns from people’s discussions that the show is an annual event that is currently being recorded and broadcasted live. It's an open auction where any member of the public has a chance to bid and win a date with an eligible bachelor or bachelorette. All their proceeds would go towards charity so it’s always for a good cause. This year, they plan to expand the local school, improve facilities of the public hospital and if they’re lucky, rebuild some of the more run down areas in groves that have abandoned neighbourhoods.

The show presents the last stretch of eligible bachelorettes. The made up women walk through the runway to present themselves and the crowd roars in reaction. Paddles of different colours and numbers flash up in the air as the bidding begins for the first participant. An auctioneer in a fine tuxedo introduces them and begins taking bids, one bachelorette at a time.

By the time they're almost done with the last woman, Zoro finally joins the rest of the crew. They all yelp out in surprise.

Zoro

Oi!!!

Shachi

Ah, shit!

Zoro

Why the hell did you run from me?! And with him!!

Don't you DARE run now!

Bepo stops in his tracks, then turns to bow down apologetically to Zoro.

Bepo

…I'm so sorry…

Penguin and Shachi

SO WEAK!!!

Zoro

So?! Where the hell is he?

Penguin

Uh…

Shachi

He err…

Bepo

Well…

Zoro looked furiously at the other Heart Pirates. They shudder under his eye and hide behind the large polar bear.

The auctioneer slams the hammer several times against the lectern, congratulating a noble located on the second floor for winning the last date available for the show. Suddenly, he starts moving back through the curtains, looking like he was called urgently by someone from backstage.

Bepo

I really hope that means he's changed his mind.

Shachi

But…I kinda really wanted to see him.

Penguin

Me too.

Zoro

What are you on about?

The auctioneer returns to the stage with a wide smile on his face. He declares that he brings exciting news and tells everyone to not leave the stadium no matter what.

The lights go dim, and with a well built anticipation, he reveals the last minute surprise for the people of Sabao Dome, and for everyone watching live.

A spotlight focuses in the middle of the stage.

At the far end of the runway, in the darkness, everyone could see a mysterious figure step out of the curtains. The silhouette moved with grace and confidence, trailing behind a waterfall skirt that complemented the shape’s fluid movements. It walks towards the spotlight, then slows down as it nears the center stage. One agonisingly suspenseful step at a time, long slender legs appear under the light, revealing a lean figure in a long sparkling dress and matching coloured high heels. The figure takes another step, and everyone can see the person’s flat chest that links up to defined shoulder blades and slim but muscular arms. The swordsman can’t help but start to recognise the individual by the visible scars on their skin. The figure puts a hand on a hip, and with the other, flicks one side of their skirt before taking one final step to reveal their identity.

Zoro thinks that he’ll die right there and then–from the sight and from the whole idea of it. His jaw drops involuntarily, and the same goes to the rest of the Heart Pirates standing behind him.

Sanji opens his eyes behind gold-glittered lids. He runs his tongue across the top of his reddened lips, and slowly trails a splayed hand from his thigh, teasing the crowd with a sight of his skin near his center through slit of his dress, drags his hand to follow his curve up to his chest, then finally he lifts his hair to reveal his long inviting neck to the crowd. He leans slightly on the side where his hand is on his hip, and gives the broadcasting transmission snail a seductive kiss in the air and one of his classic winks. The video footage feeds through all available screens in the area and beyond.

To Zoro’s horror and excitement, the auctioneer announces.

Auctioneer

We proudly present…our final bachelor…THE PIRATE KING OF THE NORTH!!!

The crowd goes nuts. The screaming is so deafening that the swordsman hears ringing behind his ears. Poor Bepo had to push his sensitive ears down to put up with the uproar. They get stuck watching the events unfold in front of them, unable to move like sardines in a can. They feel the crowd push in further from outside as people try to squeeze themselves closer to the stage as the bidding war begins.

Zoro and the Heart Pirates had to risk losing their voices just to hear each other.

Zoro

THE MONEY’S NOT EVEN FOR US! DOES HE KNOW THIS?!

Penguin

HE DOES!! HE SAID HE’LL FISH OUT THE WEALTHIEST PERSON IN SABAODY, GO ON A DATE, THEN STEAL FROM THEM WHEN THEY BRING HIM HOME!

Shachi

BUT NO DATES UNTIL HE SEES THEM PAY THE CHARITY FIRST! THAT WAS THE PLAN!

Bepo

WHAT DID YOU SAY, ZORO?! DO YOU KNOW THAT THAT’S THE KING?! HOW DOES HE WALK LIKE THAT WITH THOSE HEELS, RIGHT?!

Zoro lets out a pained groan and attempts to fight the crowd to get to Sanji quickly. It’s too dangerous for him to use haki, or to simply jump up in the air as he’s afraid of knocking people out given how grossly clustered the dome had become. He barely makes any progress at all. He’d never seen this many people freak out over one man. And of course it had to be him.

Penguin

HEY SHACHI! LOOK I’M BIDDING BUT I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY! HAH!

Penguin awkwardly waves his coloured paddle up above his head.

Shachi

FOR CHORE BOY? HAH!

Bepo

Captain is going to kill us for real…. I’m sure this time.

The auctioneer starts taking bids, starting at a ridiculously high price of 100,000 Beri. This immediately cuts off half of the public but it doesn’t stop the wealthier citizens raising their paddles, all desperate to have but a few moments of their time with the Pirate King.

Zoro thought he’d hated the man before. Now he wants to personally strangle him in front of everyone. He continues to struggle through the crowd, effectively separating himself from the Heart Pirates.

Penguin

Swordsman! It’s not a good idea to split the party with a crowd this big!!

Zoro ignores the man and trudges on. He needs to drag Sanji’s ass out of there now.

The auctioneer continues to take bids.

300,000…

850,000…

1,100,000…

4,500,000…

The crowd goes quiet. It was an eerie feeling of having gone from extreme loudness down to nothing. Another spotlight shone on the crowd, focusing on a pompous-looking woman who is fanning herself with the bidding paddle, looking mighty proud that no one can top her high bid.

Suddenly, there was a sound of heavy doors opening, followed by a booming voice that filled the air.

Voice

ONE. BILLION. BERRI.

Everyone’s gaze collectively turns towards the source of sound. The spotlight travelled from the pompous woman towards the farthest back area of the stadium.

The crowd parts for a man in a white boiler suit and resin bubble over his head. He approaches the stage slowly–not on his feet, but by using a larger man underneath him as a mount. He gives the slave an agonising snap of his whip to make him go forward, pulling the chain that’s secured around his neck painfully.

Zoro

Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Zoro tries to squeeze through faster, but the crowd refuses to budge completely with most of them trying to bow down to the new arrival.

A Celestial Dragon is approaching, and Sanji can’t help but smile.

----------

This Sanji likes to look and feel fantastic.

Also, Bepo is love.

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bingbongsupremacy · 1 year ago

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Marry Me?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Warning: I haven't seen criminal minds in a bit so idk if the Spencer in this is 100 percent accurate

Summary: Spencer asks you to marry him at the most random time. Garcia does not approve.

*Not Proof Read* ABC List Criminal Minds

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

" That's horrifying. " I wrinkle my nose at the sight of the bloody decapitated woman in the photos lying scattered around the table. This is why I work with Garcia.

Sticky notes are messily pasted onto the photos, illegible scribbles covering them.

" It is. " Spencer agrees.

" Why did you call me in here? " I ask, confused why my boyfriend called me in if he isn't going to expand further on the topic.

Spencer picks up a large Manila folder and shuffles through the contents. " I think I might have figured out the pattern we were looking for. " He pulls out a small stack of papers, each with the name of a high school in the corner. " The Unsub is killing girls from the same high school. Each girl attended the school at a different year. It's like he's going down the line of years. If I'm right, he'll been picking a girl from 2002 next. "

I scan over one of the papers he hands me. " Shit, you're right. " Excitement fills my body. We've been working on this for hours. He figured it out! " Spencer, this is fucking amazing! You figured it out! We need to tell the others. "

" Yes. I also think I might know who the next potential victim is based on other patterns I picked up along the way. " Spencer rambles on. " I think he might be going after Piper Johnson next, the woman we saw on the news interview. We need to check if she's okay. By the way, do you want to get married? "

His words come out so fast it takes me a second to process.

" W-What? " My eyes widen. Did I hear correctly?

Spencer is looking at me his gaze steady. He looks serious. " I know it's a little random, but this case really had me thinking. We don't know how much time we have together. God forbid one of us gets hurt or worse. I don't want to waste any more time with you. I love you and I want to be with you. I'd be the happiest man on earth if you said yes. "

For a moment I forget we're surrounded by gruesome shit. All I can think about is Spencer and our future. All of our plans.

A large smile makes its way onto my face. " Of course I will, Spence. I love you. " I smash my face into his, our lips meeting and immediately sending shivers through my body.

" I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much. " His voice rumbles against my lips.

" You did not just fucking ask Y/N to marry you in a room surrounded by dead women. Spencer, what the fuck. " A surprised voice interrupts us.

Surprised, Spencer and I pull apart to find the owner.

Garcia stares at us, her mouth hung open in surprise. " And you accepted his proposal? Are you insane? Don't get me wrong, you guys are perfect for each other. This proposal was just...so...gory. " She glances at the pictures around the room. " I'll help you plan out a real proposal, alright? Let's press pause on this until tonight. I'll have it all ready by the time you guys get back. " She says confidently, taking on the task we didn't ask her to do.

" It's really not that big of a deal- " I begin.

" It'll be done by tonight. " She says sternly, holding her hand up to stop any argument. " Now, you go let the others know what's going on with the unsub. " She points at me. " You are staying here with me while we set everything up. "

She gently pulls me towards the door, snatching the pack of information out of Spencer's hand.

" But-! "

She doesn't let me finish, swiftly kicking me out of the room.

Behind her, Spencer stand watching me in surprise.

Garcia shuts the door in my face, leaving me standing on the other side alone.

This day has been so confusing.

#fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #x you #x female reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #fem reader #female reader #reader insert #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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moonydustx · 1 year ago

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Part 2 from this request (thank u again @cartoonykat )

Mihawk, Lucci and Crocodile x F!Reader.

In short: how they would react to F!Reader saying she was pregnant, how they would deal with the child.

(get ready to read, the stories are a little long)

PART 1 HERE - Luffy, Zoro and Ace x F! Reader

Warnings are placed individually in each history.

requests open | one piece masterlist

Mihawk

warnings: fluff. Mihawk and f!Reader are married and want to have children. Mentions of F! Reader be a cook. Very brief mention of abortion (but it was in the past). Content a little spicy, nothing detailed or explicit. Mihawk speaks Spanish a few times in this one (I just couldn't help it). Princesa: princess. Cariño: kind of "Sweetheart"

You had already arranged your sundress countless times, as well as your hair, as well as the entire dinner table. You couldn't sit still, anxious for your husband's arrival. Today you celebrated three years of marriage and you knew that after a long two months, he would return home. You knew his temperament well enough to know that there were high chances of finding him in a bad mood, he hated spending long periods away from the castle and this had been the longest time of all. Of course, your anxiety had nothing to do with the little box hidden in the kitchen.

"Cariño?" You heard his voice from downstairs and in a matter of minutes you already had him in your field of vision. His expression lit up when he saw you and lifted you into his arms. "How I missed you!"

"Me too darling." his hat fell back as you peppered kisses across his face. "My God, how can you stay away all this time?"

"Problems, cariño, a long list of problems." your feet touched the floor again after the long hug. "And what amazing smell is that?"

"Let's just say I used my free time to prepare something special for both of us."

"You should be resting. Last time we spoke, you weren't well." his smile faded, replaced by an alert tone.

"I promise I'm okay." You tried to make conversation just like the day he called you and said you didn't look well. You were talking through a den den mushi, how could he realize that?

"Just give me a few minutes and I'll meet you in the dining room." he asked and placed a quick kiss on your lips.

The minutes of waiting seemed like endless hours, just like dinner itself. You were willing to listen to him talk about how complicated the days at the Cross Guild were, about the news in the world outside your little dome or even how delicious the dough you had prepared was. Your fingers intertwined with his and despite the physical proximity, your mind wandered on how to get to the subject naturally. You had already tried a few times, you had already lost once without even knowing that you expected it, you wanted - and needed - this time to be special.

"Princesa?" he called you, looking towards the cup in front of you. "You didn't like the wine I chose?"

"It's one of my favorites actually."

"Yet it remains untouched." he observed, noticing your hands restlessly hitting the table. "Is something going on?"

"First, I'll get this." You took the wine cork. "Second, wait here for a while."

Twisting the small piece of cork between your fingers - the one you would make sure to keep, you reached for the small box in the kitchen and before long it was standing in front of Mihawk.

"To what do I owe the honor of being presented like this, out of nowhere?" he began to undo the bow, setting the wine glass aside and using both hands to undo the wrapping.

Inside, there were some pregnancy tests, in your desperation to know if it was correct, you took a much larger quantity than necessary. Next to them, a small hawk plush. You had searched the nearby town while picking up fresh items for dinner. At first your idea was to just talk to him, but the stuffed hawk with yellow eyes stole your attention.

"How could I not notice?" he murmured, as if a thought had been spoken aloud. "That means it worked…"

"If you talk about all sex without a condom, without any protection… Drac!"

He pulled you from the chair onto his lap. The hands on your back served as much support as your arms around his neck. Your laughter echoed throughout the castle while Mihawk almost sloppily distributed kisses to any part of your face that he could find.

"How long have you known?" he asked euphorically, a type of state that was rare to find in hawk-eyes.

"A few weeks ago. No, I would never tell you that on a phone call." you interrupted him before he could complain.

For a few minutes, the two of you remained there. Swears like "I love you" "You just made me the happiest man in the world" they were uttered and kisses spread across your face. His hands, accustomed to the weight and brutality of swords, touched you gently. Not like you were something about to break, but rather like something he valued so much. As if he wanted to record every moment of that moment in his memory through the drawings of his hands on your body. The yellowish eyes practically penetrated your soul as you watched Mihawk.

"May I know what's going on in your beautiful head, my princess?" Mihawk's nose caressed your neck, earning a smile from your lips.

"Now you know. It was a low blow to choose my favorite wine." you mumbled, adjusting yourself in his lap.

"No alcohol for you from now on."

"Not for a while now. God, I'd kill for a full glass right now."

"Maybe I have a little idea of how to satisfy that desire of yours."

"What do you say, hawk eyes." Your attentive eyes followed him as he brought the glass of wine to his mouth and slowly drank the drink, in silent provocation. "Are you capable of being so mean to your pregnant wife? I thought it was to satisfy my desire."

"Don't put it like that." He returned the cup to the immense table, his agile hands slid across the bare skin of your thighs. "I just want you to taste it in a new way."

The taste of wine invaded your lips when Mihawk trapped you in a kiss. His tongue opened space in you, eliciting a moan from you when you felt the much-desired taste invade your palate. In an improvised juggling act, without taking your lips off his, you adjusted yourself in Mihawk's lap. Before now your legs dangled around his body, looking for some kind of friction.

"Babe, I need you." you murmured against his lips and his hands held you even tighter, feeling his intimacy harden against yours. "Please, it's on my craving list too."

"Who knew what a little of the taste would do to you." his hands slid over your skin, he could clearly see your skin crawl. "It also seems like you're more sensitive, this is interesting."

"Why don't you take it off and find out?" you pulled his hands down to the hem of your dress.

"Do you want to take this upstairs?" he asked and instead of using words, you just took off the dress you were wearing, throwing it across the kitchen.

You didn't need to shout the news from the rooftops, that night it was enough for Mihawk that you screamed his name, that he valued the body that would be home to your two long-awaited baby. After eliciting screams, nectar and sweat from you unlike many other times when you spent hours caressing each other and talking, you remained awake for a short time. Then Mihawk could notice the small difference in your belly, how it seemed firmer and pointier, different from the last time he had ventured across your body.

"Sorry about the time out." he first made sure you were asleep and then leaned down to whisper against your skin. "I promise to make it up to you. Both of you."

You could notice the different way Mihawk looked at you and not that he didn't do it often, but it became more and more common to hear him say "You look amazing." "You are so beautiful." Soon after the discovery, you also discovered how your husband could go into hyperfocus and the time was to find a perfect home for you. It still hurt you to leave the castle behind, even if for a brief time, but he knew he had tasks to fulfill with the Cross Guild and because of that, he would need to spend more time away from your island home.

The small arranged mansion was also isolated and was a result of Crocodile's help. Despite having little contact with the main part of the island, it was much less minutes away than the old house. At least you would have space to redecorate the entire room to your liking.

"Woman, you really want to spare me from living a long life." Before your protests, you felt his arms wrap around you and take you off the ladder that you were balancing on to finish painting the room. "If this child turns out to be half as stubborn as you, I will be in big trouble."

"Baby, don't listen to your father's nonsense." you mumbled to your belly bump. "And you, did you manage to assemble the crib?"

"No." he practically whispered and as a way of irritating him, you pretended not to hear. "I'm going back to the city, I'm sure there must be something already done."

"You men, with your little swords, can't handle a new toy." You stood on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. "Let's switch tasks."

"You women and your kitchen knives." he grumbled, watching you leave and then return only to look at him with judgement. "Okay, I've been an asshole now."

The light shade of yellow had just finished filling the walls when a bang took the eagle eyes' attention. Hearing you swear, it only took seconds for him to be on the doorstep, watching you contemplate the collapsed crib.

"What were you saying about swords?" he teased but your furious look made him change his mind - he swore he saw something red shine in your iris. "Tomorrow we'll go to town together and get one ready, what do you think my love?"

"A great idea."

"And for now, how about a hot bath, some music and grape juice." well, at least that was the way he had found to prevent you from drinking wine.

"Can we include a massage in the package?" you took advantage of the fact that he was behind your body to lean on him.

"Whatever my dear wife wants."

The house was already ready, toys, clothes and gifts from the most different friends were piling up and by a pure coincidence of fate, Luna arrived into the world on a full moon night. You would carry it in your soul when Mihawk's eyes - golden when they touched the moonlight - met the small pair of irises identical to his.

"My little Luna, you chose the right day to come." he whispered, pacing the sleeping girl from side to side. "You are so perfect."

"Just like her daddy." you answered.

In other situations you would end up in two camps: Mihawk would play the opposite and say that the most beautiful thing in the relationship is you or on days when he was really in a good mood, he would say how lucky you were to have him. That night, he just smiled at your comment. Not a provocative smile like most of the ones he had given his entire life. It was one of those that made the hawk's eyes become just a detail on his illuminated face.

"Thank you my love." he replied to you. "Thank you for bringing me a little piece of heaven, of all this infinity above us. Mi preciosa Luna."

When little Luna wasn't within your reach, you didn't need to make an effort to find her, she would be in her father's shadow. Whether in the moments he took to read or even in some Cross Guild meetings. The other two men didn't seem to mind the little girl's presence, who was always busy with something.

"I think we can… Hey, what's this?" Buggy screamed as he saw the girl climb over him. "Mihawk!"

"Let the girl have some fun. That's what clowns are for, aren't they?" Crocodile responded in a gentle tone while Mihawk kept his eyes on Luna, who without hesitation pulled one of Buggy's ears and sat on the couch next to him.

"You little brat!" the clown made to take the ear from her hand in an almost brutal way as he felt her digging the almost non-existent fingers into the cartilage of the ear. "That hurts."

"I wouldn't want to have to remove your other ear, permanently." Mihawk spoke calmly, as if he had just commented on an everyday fact.

"Sorry to interrupt." You walked into the room, attracting looks, especially from a certain little girl who realized that your ear wasn't that interesting anymore.

"Mami!" Luna immediately started throwing her little arms towards you and even though she tried to at least hide it in these situations it was impossible not to see Mihawk's eyes light up.

"She just took down a Yonkou, I'll be saving a spot on the team for her." Crocodile laughed when he saw your dissatisfied face. "Okay, I guess I'll have to settle for just a single hawk's eye."

On the same day, after a few long hours of meeting between them, you thought that at least your husband would want to rest, to remove any idea of work from inside the house - despite his choice to have brought work into the house while the Luna was still small. Of all the places you expected to find yourself, you didn't expect to find Mihawk with little Luna on his lap, in front of them a large Cross Guild poster.

"Who's that?" Mihawk pointed at the figure.

"It's a crocodile." The word was slurred, but Luna said it anyway with a certain confidence. Again, the man asked, pointing to the next image. "The clown."

"And who is this?"

"Dada!" she cheered, making him laugh along and, consequently, you, happy with your little family.

Lucci

warnings: Lucci is a warning in itself. A lot of angst with a somewhat happy ending. F!Reader was also an agent, she had the fruit that transformed her into a kind of cat. Slightly troubled relationship between him and F!Reader. Completely based on the fact that Lucci is not a complete psychopath (I mean, egghead spoilers ahead: him asking for Kaku's life, how can we not love him? Besides the CP9 cover stories).

A few days had passed since the last time you and Lucci had seen each other in person. The voices demanding mission reports seemed distant as you watched him from the other side of the table and you had known him long enough to know that even though he seemed focused he was still able to see him glance casually in your direction and no one noticed.

You wished the brief meeting could have lasted longer, given you time to think more about what words to use, to fantasize that Lucci would be happy with the idea, but chills ran through your body just thinking about it.

"Hey, meow girl." Kaku nudged you with his shoulder, pulling you back to the real world. "I heard you got into trouble."

"You have no idea." You laughed heartily, pushing him back. "Call me meow girl again and I'll wring your huge neck."

"Hey, I'm just being nice."

"I bet you are, big guy." You pinched the tip of his nose, leaving him grumbling.

"Need to talk to you." Lucci's voice interrupted the two of you, stopping Kaku's laughter and complaints. The man just waved and walked away, leaving you and Lucci alone. "Not here."

He took the lead, his firm steps and serious posture didn't let anyone think anything other than that you - who followed him without the same grandeur - had gotten yourself into some kind of problem. The solid wooden door closed behind you as you noticed Rob Lucci walk through the space, filling two glasses of brandy and handing you one of them. The drink danced through your hands, but never reached your lips.

"You were restless today, pupils dilated, sweat on your face." He touched a temple, noticing the moisture. "What kind of problem did you encounter?"

"I'm pregnant." You ripped the band-aid off at once, with no time to let the thoughts flow through your mind.

The man took a few steps back, looking you up and down and then looking around the entire room. The small shot of brandy in his hand was downed in moments and he took the one you were holding from you, the liquid meeting the same fate.

"And what do I have to do with it?" you already knew his cold temper, but you didn't expect to hear such rude words.

"What do you have to do with this?" you snapped, approaching him. "What do you have to do with this? Use your fucking brain Lucci."

"What's wrong? How can you guarantee that this is my doing?" His tone dropped, becoming threatening. "I have nothing to do with this."

"I knew you could be an asshole, but after all this time?" you gave him a push Lucci didn't react, just letting his body move away.

"We had one night and that was it. This could be anyone's business."

The lie that came out of his lips hurt more than any blow you've ever taken in all these years fighting alongside him.

You threatened to push him, but this time he reacted by guiding your body to the wall and enclosing you in his arms. Your body contracted as you saw him punch the wall next to you and some pieces of concrete fall.

"Get out of here." his tone became a whisper and if it weren't for the argument you were already having, it was impossible to tell he was mad. "You get out of here and ask to leave Cipher Pol today. Ask or I'll throw you out."

How could you have been stupid to think that would lead anywhere? You thought Lucci could have changed something, all the times the two of you could have had some connection felt in vain.

Swallowing your tears and not giving any justification to anyone, a few days later you managed to free yourself from the organization. You knew they would keep an eye on you, but at least now you wouldn't be the target of Lucci's hatred.

A few months later you had already found a new home on your home island, a new spark of hope that everything would work out, even without him. That week you would be six months pregnant and you were already used to the affection and closeness of your neighbors and colleagues. What you weren't used to was strange noises in your house in the middle of the night.

Reluctantly - and against any recommendation from your doctor, you assumed the form that your devil fruit allowed. A completely black cat. You still remembered Kalifa's laugh when you two and Kaku acquired your fruits and she claimed it was curious that you also turned into a feline.

The image of the man you no longer imagined seeing in front of you was there, standing in your kitchen. You wanted to return to your human form and ask what it was about, you wanted to at least feel him again, but the hatred inside you spoke louder. Shooing away the pigeon that accompanied him, you jumped at Lucci, climbing up his suit with your fingernails.

"Stop this." Lucci tried to hold you back, but you kept throwing small kicks at him. Damn the time you trimmed your claws, the damage wouldn't be so great "Stop!"

Fatigue soon hit you and you returned to your human form, even so you continued attacking him, this time with weak slaps.

"You practically called me a bitch." you snapped, having your hands trapped by his. "You humiliated me and now you have the nerve to show up here."

"You need to calm down." you lunged at him, even though your hands were practically tied by his hands. "You're going to hurt yourself, sweetheart, please."

The calm tone of his words hit you before your brain even processed his arms trapping you in a tight hug. It took a few seconds before you actually gave up trying to free yourself.

"Calm down, please." he asked once again, pressing you against his body.

"You left me." hurt replaced the hatred in your voice, this time you were able to let go of him, now calmer.

Noticing that your clothes were gone with your transformation, you turned your back and went to your room, reaching for panties and a robe. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you closed your eyes, trying to regain the lost air and dealing with the weakness that took over your body.

"There are big differences between the anatomy of a cat and a human, even more so when they carry their kittens." Lucci leaned on the doorstep and realized that you still hadn't turned your attention to him. He soon bent down in front of you, taking one of your hands. "How can I help you?"

"You sent me away." the hurt was almost palpable in your voice. "My life was good here, I got a job even though I was pregnant, I started making friends. Why are you here after so long?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about you two." Lucci gave up and sat next to you. "That day I had to lie." he confessed and your attention quickly turned to Lucci. "I saw Yuro following us, him slightly pushing the door to hear us. He was interested in my position just like he was always interested in you. What do you think he would do when he connected the information?" The question remained in the air for some time, long enough for you to feel your heart soften a little. "That's why I asked you to leave, I didn't know how well the little act had worked."

"And how did you find me here?"

"I never lost sight of you." the answer was almost obvious to you, yet it was good to hear. "Besides, even if I wanted to, that annoying giraffe wouldn't leave me alone after I told him about the child." a light laugh dared to cross your lips. "I'm sorry for this."

"I know you meant well, Lucci, but it still hurts anyway." you made to touch his arm, but you flinched. "It doesn't mean that I don't miss you, that I don't want to see you."

"I figured that. As long as you accept me here, accept me in this child's life, I want to stay." he, contrary to what you had done, allowed his hand to touch your skin, turning your face towards him. "And what you want?"

"Can we just cuddle for a bit, please?"

Lucci opted to just pull you into his arms and drag you to the bed, laying down comfortably and allowing you to snuggle into him. Feeling a little wary of how you would react, his hand lightly touched the spot on the back of your neck that you loved being stroked. Surely your cat form would be purring. For a long time, it was the kind of physical contact you had.

The residents of the small village were initially surprised by the man's presence. He didn't stay for long and when he stayed on the island, he only left the house a few times and had a serious expression on his face, not allowing anyone to feel free to talk. And when it was extremely necessary, he preferred to use Hattori for that role.

The little child arrived into the world on a rainy night. Leo was an almost identical copy of his father, except for his eyes that were the same as yours. Lucci only returned to the island two days later and few things could surprise him more than finding you sitting on the bed with several blankets around your body, while you breastfed the little baby.

"Hey." you limited yourself to saying, not wanting to speak more or louder so as not to take away the child's peace.

"Are you cold?"

"I just need to keep the nest… the bed warm, make our little Leo comfortable." You looked at the little one, who was still focused on eating. "Want to see him?" You nodded to the space next to you on the bed.

Lucci got closer and could notice every feature of the baby it was like looking at a small version of him. Until the small eyes found the man's direction and he understood that everything bad that could exist in him, in Lucci, would be compensated by everything good he had in you. A strange feeling took over him, something like possession, like pride, something that if he needed to put into words he wouldn't be able to.

His hands first lowered the cover from your back and then lowered the strap of your shirt. Before you could complain, Lucci started distributing kisses and rubbing his face against your skin, in a strange affection that you gladly accepted. In anyone's eyes, it would be like seeing two cats taking care of their pup.

Lucci was right in his little mental gamble. Leo was a physical copy of him, but he had your personality. Cunning, agile, but kind, a soft heart that accepted anything. Well, almost anything.

"Daddy!" the boy shouted as soon as he saw Lucci enter the small yard after almost two months away. The man just bent down and allowed him to jump into his arms. When Leo was just a few centimeters away, Lucci watched the boy scream in horror and walk away. "Hattori!"

The pigeon landed on Lucci's shoulder and that was enough to explain the story. Ever since baby Leo woke up with the pigeon watching him, the now three-year-old boy was terrified of any bird and poor Hattori was included - and was the main reason.

"Son, I already told you. Hattori is good." you caught up to them, sitting on the floor so you were at Leo's level.

"No, it is not." he grumbled, hiding in the back of your neck. "Get him out of here."

"You need to get used to it." Lucci would once again try and knew he might fail. "Look at me."

"I don't want."

"Leo…" the warning tone caught the boy's attention, who just gave him space to see, not letting go of you. "Look, Hattori is a good friend."

Lucci let the pigeon land on his fingertips. Fulfilling the small unspoken agreement between the two, Hattori remained quiet, accepting Lucci to stroke his head.

"See? Your mom likes him too." Lucci passed the pigeon to your finger and more docilely you caught it.

"Come here." Lucci picked up the boy and whispered something in his ear, probably some promise to the boy. Leo, with his small trembling hand, stretched out his finger and let Hattori land. "See? He can be a great friend."

"He can?"

"Coo, yes sir Leo." As soon as the dove spoke, Leo screamed in fear again, letting the bird fly and throwing himself at you.

"Maybe that was too soon." Lucci commented, helping you stand with the boy on your lap.

That time, Lucci spent about a month with you and you were already suffering from the night he was leaving. Partly because of your longing, even if you hadn't gotten back into the relationship, you couldn't deny how you felt about him. In addition to suffering for little Leo. He admired his father, even though he didn't know what he actually did and even though he maintained a more serious behavior, you knew that Lucci adored the boy.

"Dad…" you watched Lucci put Leo to sleep, with the boy practically with his eyes closed. "You will return?"

"I promise you I will."

"What if I cry just this little bit." he pointed at the small space with his fingers. "Will you still love me?"

The question seemed to take him by surprise. You noticed that Lucci didn't respond immediately and you wondered how many memories were going through his head, of all the death, chaos and hatred that he had carried since childhood. You knew that it was difficult for Lucci to express - and even nurture feelings that were reserved for few people, the bond with you and Leo was unique.

"Absolutely," a rare light chuckle escaped him. "You're my best friend, remember?" Lucci finished covering the boy. "Now sleep."

You blew your little boy a kiss from a distance and closed the door to his room. Like something magnetic you followed Lucci to the small room of the house you two sort of shared.

"Need to talk to you."

"I'm listening." you crossed your arms, bracing yourself for something bad, something like "That was the last time I showed up."

"I'm leaving Cipher Pol." he took a small letter from his pocket. That seal was familiar and the last time you saw it was when you gave up.

"Explain this to me properly"

"Even on a mission in Water 7, being a shipwright wasn't that bad." as he spoke, you felt even more lost. "I've always had my goals. Little Leo wasn't one of them, but I can't ignore him."

"You know you don't have to do that. Our little arrangement has been working." you tried to argue, but Lucci was irreducible, as always.

"I don't really need it. I want it." he spoke firmly. "I'm just going to carry out this mission more."

"Something important?"

"I need to go to Egghead, deal with Vegapunk." he limited himself to speaking, not wanting to go into too many details. Despite asking, your mind was still stuck on the idea of having Lucci always there.

"Promise to come back." the words came out like an order. "Promise now Lucci, please."

Lucci just hung his face, trying to understand where that plea had come from. You always warned him to make promises to Leo, after all, life as an agent and director of CP0 wasn't the safest. Those words didn't usually come out of your mouth.

Ignoring the mix of sensations that accumulated in your chest, you practically threw yourself towards Lucci, taking his lips for yourself. His lack of reaction only lasted a few seconds and you only had to press your body against his for his hands to find your legs and lock them around his waist.

"I promise." he said amidst sighs and footsteps towards your room. "As long as you promise to come back to me, to be mine again."

"I promise."

Crocodile

warnings: angst, but with a happy ending. Crocodile and F!Reader are married, there are mentions of blood but nothing much. Mentions of Cross Guild because I absolutely love the existence of this trio.

Long years, long disputes and problems ago, Crocodile found you lost in Alabasta. Fleeing from a crew that chose to only use you, you found yourself without any direction and when demonstrating your skills to escape some thieves, he saw something interesting in you.

This interest lasted through the years, even into the fall of his reign in Alabasta, even into the time he was trapped in Impel Down, he knew that once he found you again, he wouldn't let something so good slip through his hands like sand in the wind.

That's how the small ring with green details found your hand, which you passed from Miss Honeymoon to his wife. Very little time had passed before you had to face the countless positive tests that piled up in front of you.

You tried to go back to bed in silence, the goal was not to wake Crocodile and over time, find the courage to bring the news to him. However, you failed miserably. As soon as the bathroom door opened, you found Crocodile waiting for you.

"You've been out of bed for a while. Is everything okay?" he asked, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"Y-Yes." Your voice betrayed you, giving away that at least something had happened in there and you knew Crocodile enough to know that he would turn everything over and discover your little secret. "Can we talk?"

"It's a little early for that, isn't it, my little one?" The serious expression on your face told him that the matter couldn't wait. Without asking, he took your hand and guided you back to the bed, placing you in a sitting position. "What happened?"

"I h-guess. I mean." you took a deep breath, the huge room seemed to compress next to you. "I'm pregnant."

Silence prevailed for a few seconds - it seemed like ages between the two of you. You looked for any reaction, for anything, but Crocodile was far away. It was just a physical form in front of you.

"Rest, there's still a long way to go before dawn." he just said, turning his back and heading towards the bathroom.

It didn't take long for you to see him leave, hair wet, steam everywhere, no more words left his lips and the first rays of sun appeared on the horizon when he disappeared from your field of vision. Almost two weeks passed like this, only essential words were exchanged between the two of you, Crocodile spent most of his hours away from home or locked in his office. According to Daz, the boss had problems to solve.

That was it, this would end the relationship that you two had worked so hard to achieve. Without saying anything, you packed your bags, even so you couldn't leave without at least looking at his face. Opening the office door without any kind of ceremony, the first thing that caught your attention was the blood that was staining him, only then did you notice the cut that he was finishing stitching.

"Crocodile!" You got closer, trying to touch the wound, but he pushed your hand away. "Are you okay?"

"It was just a superficial cut." he simply responded, finishing the last stitch and using gauze to cover the wound.

Despite your concern, you would not let your recent decision shake you. Crocodile watched with surprised eyes as you took off the ring you were wearing and with shaking hands left it on the table.

"What is this about?"

"Given the distance, the way you've been treating me, I don't think you were happy with the existence of a baby." You started, trying to make your voice steady. "But I am and it's okay that you don't want to have a child, but I do. I just don't want to have to deal with this indifference, this distance. You don't talk to me, you don't sleep in our bed…"

"Calm down darling, please." he asked, his unshaken tone quite contrary to the worried expression on his features.

He took your hand and gently made you circle the table, standing next to him. Crocodile then took three brown folders from a drawer, each of which had a name and a photo of a guy.

"Do you remember them?" you still remembered the faces, before settling on the new island, the two of you evaluated how the entire system worked.

"The three main leaders here on this island. This one is responsible for the bandits." You pointed to the first photo and then to the second. "This one was a pirate too, as I remember."

"And this one works in the slave trade." Crocodile took a pen and crossed out his photo, just as the first man's photo was also crossed out.

"And what does this have to do with what I told you just now?" you tried to move away from the table, but the hand on your waist stopped you.

"As we once talked about, I planned to calmly find a place for my business, maybe some partnerships…" he put the folders aside, turning his attention completely to you. "Now with this. With our baby on the way. I can't allow there to be threats of this level around."

"What do you mean by that, my dear?" the endearing word involuntarily escaped your lips, a clear sign that you couldn't help but have love for Crocodile, even with the hurt.

"I needed to speed up my business, exclude some of these faces." He held your face and pressed his forehead to yours. "I can only be happy with this news when I know you two are safe."

"Crocodile…"

"I'm going to be the happiest man on this island when I can walk around showing off my beautiful, shiny, pregnant wife, carrying my little one. I don't want our children to have to see the terror we've both experienced throughout this life."

"I thought you didn't want me anymore." you let your hands wrap around him and his found a similar path around your body.

"I'm a man of my word and when I said I want you for the rest of my life, I really meant it." His lips traced their way across your face. "Please give me just a few more days and I will allow myself to be happy with this news."

It took another week before you woke up in the middle of the night, feeling something you hadn't felt in time. The icy contrast of his hook revealed that Crocodile had accidentally slept in that position. Head and one hand resting on your belly, in a protective mode. Apparently, the day had finally come for him to allow himself to be happy.

The months that followed were calmer, with the full-time man being your shadow, even on the tireless afternoons of shopping you did, Crocodile was there. At least he considered himself lucky and rewarded, since your raging hormones acted in a somewhat pleasant way for him - which made Daz find the two of you in a vulnerable way in the kitchen.

The best doctors from across the island gathered in the grand mansion when Ella was born. An identical copy for you, much to Crocodile's happiness. You knew that Crocodile would dedicate himself to being a father, even if it didn't work out, however, you couldn't be more wrong. On many nights, the girl was only able to stop crying when she found her father, or afternoons became calmer when, while the two of you talked and made plans, little Ella was distracted by the piles of sand that her father was. capable of producing. Apart from the fact that he had decided to give a baby Bananawani as soon as she turned her first birthday or when he made a replica of the hook he had for the little girl, everything was going well in the relationship between the three of you.

Despite being your copy in terms of features, her personality was much more similar to her father - and she was extremely close to him. With a cunning capable of convincing everyone, it didn't take long for Ella to be able to soften even Daz's heart. There wasn't a thing the girl asked for that Crocodile's faithful partner wouldn't go after. Cross Guild mates were also victims of Ella. In this case, just one of them. Mihawk thought it was funny for someone so small to have such an irreverent stance as Crocodile, despite almost getting him expelled from the Cross Guild when he was caught letting Ella play - or at least try - to manipulate Yoru. As for Buggy, Ella preferred to keep her distance. One of the few things the girl couldn't deal with easily was the existence of clowns.

The scream of horror that crossed the corridor invaded your ears, as well as those of the other two men who were next to you. Recognizing the voice, you and Crocodile jumped to your feet, quickly heading to where you thought the source was. Arriving in the kitchen, Crocodile barely had time to balance himself when he saw Ella hugging his legs, looking for some kind of help.

"A monster daddy, a big monster." Crocodile picked her up and felt the girl's heart racing even with all the fabrics separating him from her skin. "He's right there."

"It's okay, sweetie." your voice reached her ears, which were practically the only possible point of contact. Her eyes were sunk into her father's shoulder, her small hands almost pierced the fabric of his overcoat.

"I have my suspicions about what this monster is." Mihawk, who you hadn't noticed following the two of you, spoke up. "And I agree with you Ella, it's a pretty ugly monster." the cynicism was clear in his voice.

"Look at your father, my little one." Crocodile asked and found two orbs damp with tears. "Was it a monster with an ugly, red nose?"

"You lizard, you don't talk about my nose." Buggy practically rolled out of the pantry, eliciting another scream from the girl who went back into hiding. "She who appeared out of nowhere here."

"He's harmless, Ella." you tried to catch her, but the girl refused to let go of her own father.

"She's in her house, she has the freedom to do whatever she wants." Crocodile's threatening tone didn't go unnoticed. "You know what awaits you, don't you, clown?"

"Hey, I didn't do anything." he grumbled, approaching you already knowing that Crocodile would scalp him soon. "Look here, pretty girl, Uncle Buggy is your friend."

"Everything is fine." you interrupted the clown, who only scared your daughter more. You knew that the two of them probably just bumped into each other in the kitchen, but little Ella's fear spoke louder in these moments. "You are not going to do anything." you muttered to Crocodile and turned to the clown in question. "And can you stop this, you're only scaring little Ella more."

"Let's get out of here, my little baby." your husband grumbled, turning his back and going in front, you couldn't make out exactly what he was saying, but he seemed to be trying to reassure Ella, who was just sniffling now.

The sniffles were replaced by a small laugh, when you looked to the side the reason made you laugh too. Mihawk had turned the blunt side of the sword and hit Buggy a few times, who grunted back.

"We don't scare little girls here, we only scare bad mariners." Mihawk repeated the gesture and you knew he wasn't using any of the full strength he had. "Don't scare little Ella."

The hawk's eyes blinked at the girl, who continued laughing - much to the reassurance of Crocodile, who was already thinking of methods to torture his fellow Cross Guild member. No one scared his little girl.

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #requests open #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #rob lucci #lucci x reader #lucci x you #crocodile x you #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader

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forbidden-sin-bin · 2 years ago

Text

Sex and Filthy Smut headcanons

(Eminem x F!Reader Hc’s and drabbles)

Rated: E for explicit… no wait, this needs an X rating for possibly being the filthiest thing I’m gonna write in my life. God save my soul (probably not but hey at least I asked)

Warnings: I mean… look at the title. Need I say more??? Smut. Sex. Lovemaking, Intercourse. Whatever the hell you wanna call it. The whole 10 yards is here. It’s porn, not gonna lie at all.

Tags/Keywords: Smut, Heavy Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, fluff, fluff and smut, Pre-established relationship, Sexual Content, Kink, Overstimulation, Dom/Sub, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Giving/Receiving, Healthy Relationships, Feel Good, Everything sinful under the sun is found here, Author is going to hell, anyone who reads this is coming with me

A/N: Yes yes, ain’t no fuckbuddies or friends with benefits headcanons here, sue me. There is NO angst or sadness here. None, zero, zilch. Those kinds of relationships almost NEVER end well 98% of the time. This is all about you and him ONLY. Give it up for romance y’all.

Not gonna lie, there might've been more I wanted to add to this hellfire list of headcanons but once you've seen how much stuff there is below I hope you'll forgive me for finally putting this out here.

I hope by reading this, will provide you with comfort and satisfaction.

VERY special thanks to @smutty-books for beta reading and feedback along with helping me with this monster of a list! Please check them out and show them some love! (Seriously thank you Smutty for the additional ideas and content. you made this Hc's list a million times better and twice as much content included.)

(WARNING: Past this point is VERY EXPLICIT CONTENT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.)

General HC's:

Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy ohhhhhh boy.

You want sum fuk? You got sum fuk and way more.

As long as you’re his s/o, congrats on your sex life being absolutely demolished and rebuilt by this man. You’ll probably never find a better person in the bedroom for the rest of your life. It literally doesn’t matter if he’s your boyfriend or your husband, sex is a staple activity in your relationship that you both enjoy.

Fast and rough? Slow and steady? Maybe a little bit of both? You bet he’ll be saying fuck yeah to all of those.

His sex drive has always been relatively quite high, even after all these years. Being 50 and counting ain’t gonna stop him anytime soon.

Can, and will, want to fuck you on any and every surface of the house.

Living room couch? Perfect spot for bouncing in his lap or to blow him hard.

Dining room table? He’ll have you either bent over and railing you from behind or sitting on top while he devours your dripping wet pussy.

Taking a shower? You’ll be saving water if you do it together… yeah. Definitely not because of at least a half dozen things you can do in there with soothing hot water pouring down your bodies.

In the studio?…

Okay maybe not the studio he’s gotta work without getting distracted and lord save you two if anyone finds a sliver of evidence that you two fucked in there-

Not a PDA guy much, which also extends to any sexual antics outside. He won’t be taking any risks getting the two of you caught lacking

As long as you two are in the house, it’s free game

His views and methods of sex vary depending on which era we’re talking about

If he were in his 1999’s/2000’s era, then yeah, absolute horndog. He’s constantly so busy and on the move, sex would be a quick trip and onto the next. It would’ve scratched the itch, but arguably wouldn’t have sated his appetite for long. If he ever had a chance to have a good, drawn out sex session, it’ll leave him looking like he had a serious hangover but he’ll be waking up so relaxed.

Him being quick to fuck around and quick to leave was his style pre-Relapse. It’s a common thing you see around music artists in general and he was no exception. That doesn’t mean he was closed off to finding an actual solid relationship, it just becomes that much harder to find someone genuine. Most of the time though, he was busy putting out albums and producing music with a 9 to 5 regimen.

Post-Relapse/Recovery Em had insane stamina due to the excessive amount of exercise he put in. Call me insane, but I have a feeling this may be the time where he had the least amount of sex drive-

NOW HOLD ON HEAR ME OUT

He was starting out his sobriety around this time, I’m no expert but I would have to think that he hasn’t fucked or hooked up with anyone since then cause sex may have been a risk or his body was recovering, therefore most likely putting sex as a low priority. That isn’t to say he wasn’t busting a nut oh no, he probably became best friends with his hands again.

The time between Rap God/Monster Era was slowly building back up his drive, transitioning him to the Revival/Present Day era where he’s back on his blue-balling bullshit. Mans been practically putting out mating calls in his music and in interviews I mean COME ON HAVE YOU SEEN IT

He’s wise enough to not be caught slipping with hoes cause he won’t be caught with those hoes. At all. He’s not a hoe fucker no more. You heard him.

Finding an actual healthy relationship with one person? Someone give it to him, now.

(Anyone who remembers that one shot in that Rainy Days behind the scenes video where he points the camera to his crotch and says “EVERYTHING is for sale.” If that isn’t a man in heat I dunno what is; And that’s just one example out of many lemme tell you)

THE POINT IS, HE CAN GO FOR ONE ROUND, OR MANY, MANY MORE.

He’s determined to make you feel good more than him, but he’ll absolutely be having fun with how you’re gonna come. He’ll love exploring your body, finding out every little spot that gives you shivers down your spine.

Oh yeah, did I mention that he's got a big dick? He's got a big dick.

Don't try to deny it when you can't help but glance at his crotch all the time. It might be bias, or it might be fact that you can see the bulge in his pants.

Dom/Sub Roles:

He’s a dom, no question about that. Most of the time he’s a soft dom, not overwhelmingly asserting himself over you but firm enough to have you listen to him. Of course, he’ll be praising you a ton if you’re doing good and listening. But if you’re acting a little bratty, a little petty… yeah, he’ll make you behave, let’s just leave it at that.

Enjoys having you bent over his knee while he fingers your pussy, making sure you’re all nice and ready for him to enjoy.

If you squirm too much, expect a light spanking and a firm reminder to behave.

Again, not over the top with his dominance, cause at the end of the day, he wants to take care of you, to make you feel comfortable and show you how much he loves you. So praising isn’t just a dom thing, it’s genuinely how he expresses his affection to you.

If you insist on it, he can go even harder as a dom, upping his antics and getting off on seeing you beg for relief. Punishments will be even meaner and if you slip up even just a little, looks like you’re gonna have to start all over. No amount of pleading, teary whines from you will get him to change the cold, hard look in his eyes as he’s watching you.

Absolutely insistent on a safe word, no matter the situation.

Marshall’s immediately shifting to a protective, nurturing caretaker the moment your safe word leaves your lips and making sure your needs are met, completely understanding and shushing any apologies that threaten to leave your mouth for ruining the moment. You come first and foremost.

Amazing with aftercare. Will make sure that you’re okay and well taken care of after a session, praising you lovingly as he holds you close. If it was particularly intense, he’ll be checking in on you for the next day or so whilst feeling quite proud of himself that he can reduce you to a begging, dripping mess yesterday night. But he's by far more proud of you for trusting him and letting him experience you in such a vulnerable position.

All it takes is for him to say: "Such a good girl" and you're all his. (Can't blame you honestly-)

He'll be using your petnames even outside of your passionate sessions, even if it's just coming home to greet you after a day of work or passing by each other in the house to do something, a quick: "Hey peaches" or "How's my babygirl?" never fails to want to leave you smiling shyly, even after a bad day.

While being a sub is not what he would usually do at all, it’s not impossible. Once he’s far into a relationship with you and fully comfortable, he might actually give in to your insistence.

He has a need to feel like he’s in control, like he’s leading; Being on the opposite end is a big deal for him, so if he ever subs it’s a huge fucking compliment and privilege that shows how much he trusts and loves you to bare himself to you.

He’ll definitely be grumbly about it tho, and probably trying to act all teasing at your attempt to dominate him. But once you get past that first phase and he lets himself relax and give into your control… he doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels so fucking secure with you.

When he fully gives in, he’s preening and leaning into your touch. He’ll be such a good boy under your lavish praise and having all of your attention on him.

It feels almost foreign, not being the one in charge and making all the decisions for once. But once he gets used to it, he'll be doing whatever he can to receive your approval.

Seeing him at your mercy, letting you take the reins, makes it your priority to see him come undone by your command, holy shit, it's fucking beautiful.

If he's up for being a little more bratty (not unlike he's been on his petty shit for decades as his core personality trait let's be real here) and expecting to be punished and/or your dominance be harsher, the thought of pushing you to your limits with how much you're willing to keep up with him makes him really, really excited on the inside.

It’s both of your secrets, so don’t fuck it up, a'ight?

Teasing/Body Parts:

Speaking of secrets… he’s incredibly private, but at the same time, don’t be surprised if he ends up writing lyrics that may or may not allude or be inspired by your sex lives. You swear this man will be the death of you, smug bastard.

If you’re ever turned on by listening to his music or his voice, it’ll be such a massive ego boost for him, holy shit. No need to feel embarrassed, cause he’s fucking flattered.

Even tho his residence is far from any neighbors (and definitely soundproof), he’s got a playlist for your ears to get aroused to.

Imagine Marshall whispering in your ear or talking in that low voice of his and well damn now you’re horny is an understatement of the goddamn century.

And it’s not just you! Marshall gets off hearing you moan like crazy, another sign that lets him know he’s doing a damn good job. Hearing you whimpering gets him going, but making you scream? Jackpot.

Unsurprisingly to a lot of y’all, but he loves tits. He loves ass for sure, but feeling your breasts is just- Yes.

Love fondling them, licking, biting, sucking, you name it.

Now do the same for him-

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN’S PECS

MAN’S GOT HUGE FUCKING HONKERS. HOLY SHIT.

(No wonder he’s such a titty guy-)

But seriously, play with his chest and he’ll be moaning and writhing under you. Music to your ears.

Rest assured your ass will not be forgotten or neglected. No fucking way he’ll ever leave any part of you un-worshipped. Even when you’re just passing each other around the house he’ll playfully slap or squeeze your ass with a smirk. Cheeky fucker.

May or may not prompt him to just throw you down and pin you against whatever furniture is closest and have his way with you right then and there.

Or it could be the other way around! You can't help but give his sexy behind a mischievous swat or grab, or his pecs. He'll probably pretend to be miffed but you'll be catching him returning the smirk you have on your face. Oh, by all means, have your way with him right then and there as well. Equal rights, equal sexy times.

Grabbing your backside and pulling you closer to him, pressed against his chest and his growing bulge in his pants oh sweet Jesus-

Will for sure spank you while you’re riding him or he’s railing you from behind, the sounds of skin slapping against skin while he sees your ass jiggle with every thrust is just so fucking hot

He wants to reach deep down, as far as his cock can reach, nothing in the house is safe from him pounding your pussy and giving you a creampie.

Speaking of that, He LOVES to come into you or on you. It gives him a feeling of claiming what's his. Anytime he sees his cum dripping outta you or running down your skin, Marshall’s ready to go again.

Or he could use a sex toy, making sure his cum stays inside and your pussy ready for him in a few.

Kinks

We’ve already covered the dom/sub parts, but there is SO much potential for other kinks that you and him can get into so let’s get right into it

Breeding Kink:

I mean how can we not start this off without mentioning that

Can, and will ram you harder and faster than a piston AND make sure you both cum multiple times

If you’re walking the next morning, that means he failed the assignment so now he’s boutta rectify that

Dirty talk is cranked to a hundred as he’s growling in your ear on how much of a slut you are for his seed, how he’ll fill you up and make sure your womb is carrying his baby, how gorgeous you would look with your belly swollen with your little creation, etc.

Even if he’s sure that he doesn’t want anymore kids (given his age or experience, which is understandable), imagine the baby fever he gets when he sees or imagines you with kids

He’s perfectly happy with just you and him, but the possibility of you, him, and maybe a little one you made together from your love? His pupils are dilating like a cat getting ready to pounce

Even if the possibilities are extremely unlikely, the mere thought of it and he’s giving you the 🥺 eyes. (Every time you see him make those eyes at you, it’s probably cause he’s feelin the breeding urge)

If you're not able to, that doesn't change a thing; he wants to make you feel like you're his no matter what, and you are! He loves you for you.

Obsessed with coming inside you after railing you into the mattress, filling you to the brim with his seed

Loves giving you a creampie and then watching it leak out of your pussy, might take the initiative to stuff his spilling cum back into you

Or he could just fuck you at multiple different times during the day like the stud he is

Hell he may as well just not pull out and you’ll both be falling asleep still connected

You'll be waking up with his member engorged and slowly thrusting in you while he nuzzles into you, taking in your scent, kissing your lips so softly until you both cum. After that he takes you to the shower and you both wash each other

Loves marking your skin with his mouth, letting anyone know that your his and his only

Your cunt and everything else is thoroughly satisfied every time the breeding kink comes on don’t you worry about that honey

Size Kink:

Hey don't judge his 5'7 ass. Marshall's got other big things minus his height; Big hands, big ears, HUGE CO-

If you're smaller than him: He praises you for taking him in so well, whispers words of encouragement with every inch he pushes into you until you can feel his tip brushing against your cervix. Doesn't want to overdo it in fear of hurting you, but with your insistence he'll be going all out in due time

If you're taller than him: He LOVES it. No cap you being taller or bigger than him is so fucking sexy. Makes him more eager to make you come and more confidence in exploring different ways to do so

Takes a hand in yours and guides you both to press against your stomach, feeling for his cock thrusting into you

Praises you constantly as he feels your walls stretch around him so perfectly

Once you feel like you can take all of him, all of his restraint is gone as he pounds your sopping wet cunt relentlessly

Body worshipping is a must regardless of size

Feral/Primal Kink:

You know how possessive he can be, and that still translates to the bedroom. Even when he knows you're his, he can't help but feel turned on by his possessiveness for you.

And when you're all his, he can go fucking. Crazy.

It's also the dom feeling in him as well, but he has a need to claim you: Not out of insecurity, but out of his desire to make sure you know how much he loves you.

Likes biting your ear as an affectionate gesture. Sometimes he enjoys lightly tugging as a playful gesture to get you riled up.

Marshall thinks the growling thing is dumb as hell but if you're into that he'll try to give you some throaty growls in your ear, but expect him to start cracking up at his attempts until he's used to it

He thinks he can't do it yet he doesn't realize the low rumble in his throat whenever he gets a jealous streak

Voice/Audio Kink:

Well, well, WELL. Someone's ego is about to be stroked harder than his cock for once

He’ll absolutely be moaning and grunting more often when you guys have sex

Jokingly asks if you want to put some music on before you start fucking though he probably cringes listening to his own music during sex

Definitely ruins the mood for him when he hears someone that collabed with him on one of his songs or if any of his lyrics mention things that he doesn't want to think about when horny

Whenever he asks what you're listening to and hears one of his songs, he can't help but inwardly smile or smirk with pride. "Good choice." He nods, keeping his face unreadable.

If he catches you listening to FACK he just starts dying with laughter and dying on the inside simultaneously

No but seriously, he's super fucking flattered knowing how much his music or just his voice turns you on

Whispers in your ear during sex, either praising, teasing, or telling you what to do

He'll be observing which tone provokes the biggest reaction out of you so he can remember it for future reference

(People working with him in the studio are gonna be wondering why he's so close to the mic while recording recently)

Might record something just for your ears to listen to when you guys are apart ;)

Sex Positions

Missionary:

Ah, the OG.

Ranging from being the most vanilla to literally breaking the bed and making the house shake. Most people’s go-to position and Marshall is no different.

He’s got full access to your face, neck, and breasts while he pounds you into the mattress, absolutely loves it and it’s no surprise.

Is eye contact a kink? He’ll be wanting to look you in the eyes no matter the pace you’re going. Additionally may often include forehead touching and/or nose nuzzling. Incredibly hot and intimate.

If he’s feeling extra curious or dominant, he might even push your legs back and over his shoulders to reach even deeper into you. (In other words, putting you in a mating press.) You ain’t walking for a few days after this. Catch his freaky ass all smug n shit.

Slow and intimate in this position is SO fulfilling. It’s like baring your souls to one another.

Going fast and rough is just straight up a joyride and a half. It feels carnal in the best way possible.

Overall you can’t fuck this up really. It’s missionary for crying out loud.

Doggystyle:

*clears throat* Ahem. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF

If you haven’t seen my fic Heat yet, it’s basically me writing smut for the first time in this position but taken to the next level. Should hint at a lot on what imma bout to say tbh

YES. HELL YES. PLEASE LET HIM RAM INTO YOU FROM BEHIND. HE’LL BE POUNDING INTO YOU SO FUCKING HARD

If you go face down on the bed, ass up? Holy shit

Expect bruises on your hips the next morning… also a very horny man ready to go again or to absolutely worship the fuck outta you for taking it so fucking amazingly

He'll be running a bath for you, being extra doting and attentive, the whole nine yards while also feeing that masculine satisfaction™ at the fact that he's able to get you to that state of bliss.

By far the most feral position. If he’s got a breeding kink I wish you luck on how many times you’re gonna come and he’s gonna come

If you’re also into taking it in the ass I respect you 👀 kinky motherfucker would love to explore some new ways to fuck

Pronebone is also basically the same as mentioned above, but it’s got that intimate feel, you get me? He’s closer to you whilst also able to attack your neck and shoulders, maybe even have a hot make out session with you while he continues to pound your pussy or ass raw.

As long as you love taking it from behind he’ll be on his knees for you. And on top of you.

Cowgirl/Reverse Cowgirl, You On Top:

Ride him. That’s all I gotta say.

He wants you to ride him. Fuck him silly. He’ll lose it.

It’s a perfect demonstration of him still being the dom. You may be on top, but he’s the one in control.

Might tease you by making you work hard for a reaction outta him. He’ll be pretending to be unimpressed or smug while you bounce in his lap but in reality he’s trying so hard not to break

Either that, or he won’t be holding back on how good you make him feel. Mouth open, quietly moaning, grabbing your ass or your hips.

If he can't take it anymore, he pulls you down to him and holds you tight while he starts bucking his hips, pounding up into you like a piston

Even once you both come he starts back up again before you've even calmed down

Oral (Giving and Receiving)/69:

I mean… are we really gonna question it? Yeah you better give this guy some head he is a slut for it

Give him a blowjob and he’ll be the happiest man alive

You watching his expressions as you’re sucking him off

Might take some practice to take all of him into your mouth cause this man is BIG

Even when he’s got loose sweatpants on you can still see his bulge AND IT’S NOT WHEN HE’S HARD AND HORNY. MARSHALL’S PACKING.

I wish you luck in trying to deepthroat this man

When it comes to oral, he definitely prefers receiving rather than giving

But don’t you DARE underestimate this man’s tongue cause holy fucking hell he’s feasting on your pussy

PLEASE let him suck on your clit while he’s eating you out. That man’s mouth is amazing in many ways for a reason

Imagine having to go out after and if anyone asks him if he wants anything to eat he just replies: “Nah I’m good. I had something earlier.” And then GIVING YOU THE SIDE EYE LOOK-

BEARD. BURN.

Let this man bury his face in between your thighs and imagine the friction of his beard brushing against your skin. If that doesn’t make you cum then him lapping you up will guaranteed

69 turns into a competition to see who can get the other to cum first, or a comforting session of tasting each other

Standing:

Y'all know he can do it pinning you against a wall. Thanks 8 Mile

As hot as it is, take care as not to have your head or back bang against it

Great for quickies but probably not for a long time; You gotta give his back a break lmao

Hugging your waist from behind tho :eyes:

Add a mirror on both opposite ends of the wall and you can watch him thrust into you

He's holding you real tight and close, making sure to hold you up so your legs won't buckle

Spooning:

Feelin real cozy

It can be lazy morning sex; Intimate and gentle as he places kisses behind your ear and buries his face into your neck while he does long, deep strokes in and out of your walls

Or it can be rough: Holding your thigh up while his hips violently thrust into you, only stilling when he comes after you

Another way is his cock slipping between your thighs and humping you eagerly, or his cock rutting against your ass

Push your hips back in time with his thrusts for deeper penetration or the sound of your skin slapping against each other

His hands clutching your hips or grabbing your breasts as he moans in your ear, feeling his cock twitching with his release

- - -

ALRIGHT TIME TO STOP HERE I’VE BEEN KEEPING THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS Anyways hope y’all enjoyed this and then some <3 I might come back to this and and more so who knows? If you enjoyed let me know your feedback and if you have any suggestions!

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