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tacticaldiary · 7 months

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A Fighting Chance

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

Part 2, Masterlist,

"What're those?"

"Papers."

Ghost pauses halfway through opening the document, glancing up at the curtness of her voice. "Papers? She doesn't meet his eyes, gaze fixed on the table of the little booth they're sitting in.

The ice in her drink is long gone, watering down her coffee into something that tastes as bitter as her heart.

It had taken months for her to finally make this decision. Days of talking with her lawyer, crying alone at night and coming to the gruelling acceptance that this was for the best. It was best for both of them.

There's not many things that unsettle Simon. He's had blood stain his hands; his own, his comrades, and his enemies. Had almost any injury you could think of marring his skin, been prodded and ripped into, been the one on the opposite end of the knife.

But as he slides out the documents, turns them over, Simon's never felt more apprehensive.

He stills, reading the first few lines, clenching his jaw. "What is this?"

"I want a divorce."

And something in him crumbles at her defeated tone. Like she's already decided. Like he doesn't even have a chance to ask why or talk it through.

"No." He says tightly, putting them down and crossing his arms.

Her gaze shoots to his. "You can't just say that."

"I did. I won't sign them."

"I want this." She argues, and Simon swallows back the lump in his throat at how utterly tired she looks.

"I don't."

She's the light of his life, the one good, untouched piece of joy he gets to see. Something other than the bloodshed and violence he lives in.

"Simon," She says, shoulders sagging forward. "I can't do this anymore."

"This isn't the solution, love." He feels like his skin is crawling, the beginnings of unfamiliar panic clawing at his chest when she doesn't react to the pet name.

Doesn't smile, doesn't flush that beautiful red, doesn't squirm.

When she doesn't respond again, tight-lipped and clammed up and so determined to not look at him, he asks the question burning a hole through his tongue.

"Why?"

Deep down he knows. Knew this was coming but that part of him is buried under the thudding of his heart, and the rush of blood in his ears. Everything feels deathly still and moving too fast at the same time.

"Why?" She repeats, something in her stirring at the question. Her brow furrows and she switches from a cautious indifference to disbelief and frustration quicker than Simon can process. "Are you serious?" She huffs out an incredulous laugh. "You're away for months at a time and I'm supposed to what? Wait for you at our doorstep and wag my tail all happy when you finally come back to me?" Her grip tightens on her drink.

"Even when you are home, it's never about us. Never about me and you. You lock yourself in your study with your work, don't talk to me unless you come out for dinner or lunch. When was the last time we went out?" She demands. "When was the last time we went on a date? The last time we slept at the same time in the same bed?"

Simon clenches his jaw but says nothing, at a loss for words. It only encourages her to keep going, spewing thoughts that have been boiling over for the past few years.

"You barely look at me when we're home, I had to drag you out of the house to get here! You left halfway through our anniversary dinner last year because work called you in. Sometimes...sometimes I feel like you're only with me because it's easier than leaving and starting over, and that fucking hurts. It hurts when you can't bear to spend five minutes with me away from work. I've been telling you this for ages but you just...you don't listen to me." She leans forward, drink completely forgotten and hits the final nail in the coffin.

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

"I never even know if you're coming home to me." Her voice cracks, and she hugs her middle, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "So yes, Simon, I want to separate. I'm not happy, not like I was when I met you." A sheen of tears she refuses to let fall.

"You can focus on work like you love to, and I can...I can move on."

It was so good when they started out. She found him endearing, dry humour and brooding and all. It was special, those first few years, and she'll always care about him but this...this waiting, this hurting, laying in bed at night alone and cold and crying...it wasn't right. It wasn't what she wanted and she wouldn't force Simon to want it when he clearly didn't want to.

"Fucking hell, I love you." Simon says quickly, stumbling over what to say. He reaches out for her hand on the table, but she pulls it away before he can grab it. It stings more than he can convey, makes the reality crashes down onto him.

He's about to lose her.

Because he couldn't fucking bear to pull himself out of being 'Ghost'.

It was always a rough couple of weeks during his leave. The adjustment to civilian life was a slow one for him, but that's not really an excuse at all.

"I don't think you do."

Simon blinks at her like she's slapped him. "You...you don't think so?" He repeats, running a hand through his hair. She nods, one nod, quick and so sure that it makes his chest ache.

Fuck. He's absolutely messed up.

"Everything's finalised on my end." She says. "You just need to sign them." Her voice is soft, almost like she's coaxing him.

If there's one thing he knows, it's that he's not touching those fucking papers. He's not losing someone he loves again.

"I'll take time off." He says, the intensity of his gaze makes a shiver run down her spine. "We can work through it, yeah? You can't spring this on me and not give me a chance to protest."

She shakes her head, "You're only taking time off because I'm upset." She tries to explain. "What do you think is going to happen? We spend a month together doing what we used to, and when everything's a little more stable you leave again. Distance yourself. Shut me out. Then we're back to square one."

"Won't happen." He says like he hasn't been doing it for the past few years already. "You...I can't lose you, darling." He leans forward. "Let me make it better. Give me a few months-"

"Simon-"

"A week."

"A week?" Her eyes widen. "A week to...what, prove that you'll change?"

"One week."

She worries her lip between her teeth, considering. One week wasn't a long time, but hope was dangerous in a situation like this.

"I'm not letting you go over something like this." Simon says. "I can't."

"This isn't about you." She crosses her arms. "You really think you can turn just...reverse the past few years in a week?" Maybe it's foolish of her to want him to say yes, to fight for her and realise that she's been hurting, but goddamn doesn't a small part of her scream at him to do it anyway.

"Not trying to reverse it." He folds his arms, and she can see the tense line of his shoulders as he takes in the situation, gears turning in his head as he plans how he's going to work his way out of a situation so precious and daunting as this.

Part of him didn't think it would ever come to this. Yes, he can be cold and aloof but Simon thought she knew that he loved her through it all. No matter what.

When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?

Fuck if that doesn't tear through his chest more painfully than any caliber bullet ever could.

He takes her in quietly for a moment.

The woman he fell in love with. The person that gave him a reason to keep going, a motive to feel anything other than the cold efficientness of loading a gun and firing. Soft touches and warm smiles, something so at odds with the rough life he's used to.

Sitting there in front of him, she looks more beautiful than he remembers, and it only proves to make his stomach sink like a stone at the notion of seeding any doubt about his feelings in her heart.

A right fucking bastard he was for it.

"I'm sorry." He breathes out, much softer than the gruff voice he's been using with her. "I'll do better. Just give me a chance, yeah?"

For one horrible moment, Simon thinks she'll decline. That she'll slide over the papers again and demand he sign them.

But she considers his words for a moment before nodding once.

And it's all he needs.

A fighting chance.

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Part 2

(11/10/2023)

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emphistic · 8 days

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Can I request reader being really sick and baby Yuji being really worried about her while Sukuna is trying to take care of her?

A/N: hope the ppl who voted for this in the poll are happy 😡😡 — i feel betrayed because yall didnt choose the other one

If someone who personally knew the three of you walked in right now, they would probably laugh at the current sight. Others would be surprised or confused. But little Yuuji was neither of those things. He was utterly adorably worried and concerned — for you. His little heart couldn't comprehend that you were only sick and would eventually recover. In other words, Yuuji is scared you'll die and never come back.

Then, who will tell him bedtime stories?

Then, who will kiss him goodnight and good morning?

Then, who will hold his hand while walking?

Then, who will coddle and pamper him?

Then, who will?

These were all questions Yuuji could not and would not like to answer.

But Sukuna — being way older than his brother — knew better, and he knew this was nothing too serious. But again, Yuuji couldn't comprehend that.

“Don't make me say it again, sweetheart. Now, open,” Sukuna held out the medicine for you to drink.

“Nuh uh,” you crossed your arms over your chest, backing up into the pillows behind you on the bed. You tried to stifle a cough, but you failed.

“I will pry open your mouth and shove this down your throat. Now, drink.”

You groaned, yet still obeyed. The fluid felt hot and cold simultaneously as you swallowed it.

Sukuna ruffled your hair, “See? Wasn't so bad, was it?” He retrieved the now empty cup from your hands and left the bedroom, probably walking to the kitchen to wash it, you assumed.

Yuuji turned to look at you with big glittery eyes. “I—I don't wan’ you to die. I don't wan’ you to go . . . like Grandpa.” Yuuji’s bottom lip trembled, he didn't want to cry — not in front of you, at least. He wanted to appear manly, brave, just like his brother.

You were quite taken aback at this, did he seriously think a cold could kill you? “Yuuji, come here,” you said, your tone soft.

Yuuji instantly crawled into bed — not without struggling a bit at first — and snuggled into your side, holding onto your hoodie with a white-knuckled grip.

“I will never ever leave you, Yuuji. So don't you worry your cute little head off about it, okay?” You booped him on the nose, emitting a squeal from the boy before he curled up impossibly closer to your body. You wiped away his tears.

“Y’know, I'm not going to die anytime soon. You can't get rid of me that easily.”

Yuuji fervently nodded, not fully believing you but still hopeful, nevertheless. “Yay!”

Yuuji was sad that you wouldn't be able to drive him to school that morning, but he knew you were tired. Plus, he overheard his older brother telling you that sleeping would be good for you, and the boy only wanted the best for you. So Yuuji accepted the fact, though still a little upset about it.

But when he came home from school, Yuuji ran straight to your side, where you were sitting on the couch.

“Y/N!” Yuuji jumped into your lap and gave you the biggest big bear hug a toddler could possibly give.

“Hi there, Yuuji,” you replied, before coughing. “Did you have fun at school?”

“Yeah! It was so fun.” You let him ramble and babble to you about his day, while running your fingers through his pink locks.

“That sounds like you had a really good day, Yuuji.”

“It would have been better if you were there with me, though,” Yuuji mumbled into your shirt.

You giggled at the boy, “Sorry about that, Yuuji.”

“‘tis okay!”

Yuuji snuggled into your sweater, enjoying the warmth from your body. He almost fell asleep from your massaging his scalp, but then he remembered something and gasped, jumping off of your lap.

You raised a brow, albeit not bothering to ask — your throat felt itchy. You unpaused the TV and continued watching your show. Halfway through, Sukuna decided to join you on the couch, pulling you into his side and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Feeling any better?”

“Sorta.” You coughed. “My throat kinda hurts, though.”

You rested your head on Sukuna's shoulder as the both of you watched the actors on the screen, occasionally making small talk here and there.

Minutes later, a screaming, hollering, laughing little Yuuji ran into the living room, making both your heads whip towards him.

“It is I! Dr. Yuuji Itadori! Don't worry, Y/N. I am here to help you not be . . . um, sick — anymore!” Yuuji climbed onto the couch and inserted himself in between you and Sukuna.

Yuuji was dressed in a white doctor’s coat, and had a stethoscope hanging around his neck. A toy thermometer was also in his hand.

Quickly discarding the thermometer, throwing it aside — onto a protesting Sukuna’s lap — Yuuji put the back of his palm against your forehead. And though he didn't understand what he was doing, he attempted to copy his brother, who he had seen frequently do that in order to check you for a fever.

Speaking of said brother, Sukuna got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen.

“Hmmmm!” Yuuji pulled a clipboard out of his pocket and messily scribbled down illegible words onto the sheet of paper. Then, he placed his clipboard down and grabbed ahold of his stethoscope, pressing it onto your heart and listening to it beat.

Out of the blue, a hand roughly pushed the doctor aside, and Yuuji fell off of the couch and onto the carpet. “Out of my way, pipsqueak. Y/N needs her medicine.”

“‘Kunaaaa,” Yuuji whined from the floor. “She was getting her check-up.”

You covered your mouth, muffling your giggles. “Yeah, babe. You interrupted Dr. Yuuji.”

Sukuna grimaced, scrunching up his face. “Doctor? Since when?”

“Since he was born, silly! Yuuji is a prodigy, isn't that right, sweetie?” You picked up the toddler and set him onto his lap, he immediately went to rub his face in your chest.

A muffled ‘yes’ came out from him, though he didn't even know what he was agreeing to.

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside

#sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff

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dovesndecay · 1 month

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Welp, we're more than halfway through the month, and I have $106.89 out of the $900 I need to pay March's bills, $600 of which goes towards the cost of our vehicle. The $400 car payment was due on the 12th, and $200 insurance is due on the 23th.

If you can, and only if you can, any and all support (boosts, donations, wishlist-gifts, etc) seriously means so much to me. I really struggle with doing this each month, and the regularity with which people have turned out to support me and my family has genuinely been so wonderful.

I'm disabled, and can't work, and never expected that I would rely so heavily on the kindness and support of total strangers. Thank you for making that experience a little easier to bear.

Ways To Help:

Reblog! (Seriously, this helps so much.)

Support my creative endeavors! I have a Patreon and a photography print shop!

Personal Wishlists live here -- stuff I personally need/want that I can't afford/justify.

Household Wishlist -- things for the household, not just me. (Groceries, accessibility needs, etc)

Of course, as always, direct donations are always the best and fastest way to help:

PayPal | (link)

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ETA: This post has been locked and a new post has been made.

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revasserium · 4 months

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hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

#opla #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece netflix #one piece fluff #sanji opla #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #opla x reader #opla x you #opla fluff #x reader #floofy floof floof #scheduled post

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

Note

Hey, can you do something with where the reader is pregnant in mafia stucky and Bucky and Steve are super protective about her?

Xoxo

Our Little Bean // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you for your request, this has been requested quite a few times by many people so I hope you do enjoy!

Important note for readers: I'm currently working within maternity services within the UK so the pregnancy side of this is all based on a UK perspective but it's set in the US so apologies if anything is different over there. Also, the signs and symptoms are based on my bestie's pregnancy so thank you for letting me use these!

ALSO: I'm sorry if I don't do any more pregnancy/baby fics, I wanted to just do this one and return to the normal trio we had before.

Tags: 18+ readers only, unplanned pregnancy, fluff (LOTS!), comfort, soft steve/bucky, protectiveness, pregnancy kink, pet names, pregnancy symptoms discussed in detail, crying, family/domestic fluff, tooth-rotting goodness!

Words: 6.9k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Your nausea never seemed to settle, barely being able to keep down dry toast or sips of water and then there was the immense exhaustion, finding yourself to be lucky if you were awake for an hour before falling asleep again. This, paired with the dizzy spells and dull aches in your temples, it was safe to say that you were done with feeling unwell and you definitely blamed Sam Wilson for this. He’d turned up to work last week feeling unwell, slightly different symptoms to yours as he had a head cold but ill nonetheless and now, here you were, collapsed onto the couch in the living room, under a mount of blankets.

It wasn’t all bad however as Bucky had stayed home to look after you and he was doing a good job of it too, but he and Steve were always extra attentive when you were unwell and had been taking it in turns to stay home, with Steve having stayed with you yesterday.

Bucky today had helped you wash, changed into fresh pyjamas and then carried downstairs, tucking you into your little fort before sitting on the floor and reading the book you were halfway through reading. You were too tired to read and didn’t want to keep your eyes open so Bucky offered, which was hilarious to hear him trying to read along and then asking questions as to the type of books you’ve been reading.

“So who is this Rhysand guy? Just some hotshot king or something?” he asked, lowering the book to look at your resting face. You smiled tiredly at his question, opening one eye to look into his confused expression, he was already invested in your book, even though he had started more than halfway through.

“Something like that”, you replied, voice croaking from needing water which he was quick to notice, lifting the glass with the straw to your mouth and you hummed your thanks, taking a sip and closing your eye once more.

You fell back to sleep again and woke to be carried, noticing that it was dark outside with another day passing as Steve carried you up the stairs, having returned home from work. Your arms were trapped into the blanket cocooned you were being carried in so you nuzzled your face into his neck to let him know you were awake.

Steve tilted his head, kissing the top of yours as he placed you into the centre of your shared bed, “think you’re up for eating some chicken noodle soup?”

“Did you make it?”, your voice was full of hope as you blinked open your eyes to look up at him but made no attempt to move just yet.

“Of course, only the best for you”. Steve left to retrieve your soup, giving you time for another quick snooze, before he was back and shaking your shoulders. With his help, you untangled yourself from the soft blankets and attempted to sit up but were hit with a wave of dizziness, having to stop and close your eyes to get your bearings straight before it subsided and you could sit up properly. Steve was looking at you with a knowing glance as he sat on the edge of the bed, a warm noodle soup bowl in his lap that he began to spoon-feed you - something he insisted on. “You know I’m going to call the doctor, right?”

You release a frustrated huff, you didn’t need the doctor, “It’s fine though, it’ll pass. Sam said it took him 4 days before he started to feel better and I’m only on day 3”.

“Baby, you’re on day 4 and you said this all yesterday and it’s only getting worse”, he stated everything matter-of-factly but you were still shocked that you’d somehow missed an entire day. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to see a doctor and there was no use arguing with Steve when it came to your health.

So after you’d finished half a bowl of the soup before feeling queasy, Steve excused himself to call his doctor who just so happened to be a close family friend. Of course, you had fallen asleep before the Doctor arrived and being rudely awakened made you feel even more groggy and unwell as Steve whispered, “Sorry honey, but Doctor Banner’s here to check you over”.

Steve excused himself so the Doctor could check you over properly without feeling pressured by the mafia boss in the room. Doctor Banner put you at ease though with his warming personality and you’d met him on a few occasions anyway when Steve or Bucky were more injured through an event with work, but you’d never had him look after you before.

The two of you ran through the general list, ‘When did you start feeling like this?’, ‘What are your symptoms?’, before he began doing your vital signs, temperature and blood pressure, all just normal procedures.

“Could you be pregnant?” he casually asked as he velcroed the blood pressure cuff from your arm.

Frowning you answered, “Um no…no, I’m on birth control, so I shouldn’t be”.

“Do you mind if we do a quick test just to tick it off of the list? All you need to do is pee in this cup and I’ll dip a test strip into it”.

You wobbled to the toilet on unsteady feet, realising this is probably the first time you’d properly walked in days because the boys insisted on carrying you everywhere. As you used the toilet, you didn’t think anything of the test, leaving the cup on the side for the doctor and returning back to bed, wondering if he’s going to give you some antibiotics or just see how you get on over the next few days.

After a few minutes, your eyes were closed but you could hear the Doctor returning so you asked, “So, do you think it’s just the flu like I said-”

“It’s not the flu, your test was positive”.

Your eyes snap open to look at him, sitting up and feeling dizzy but ignoring it, “what? What do you mean it’s positive?”

Doctor Bruce held up the little white strip that had two purple lines on it. You looked between the test and his face as he calmly smiled, “You’re pregnant”.

“What if the test is wrong? Can we do it again?” Thankfully he didn’t fight you on this and gave you the packet of tests, you grabbed two and stumbled back to the bathroom. Both strips gave the exact result and now it felt like your heart was coming out of your mouth it was pounding so hard and loudly in your ears.

“Take a deep breath for me”, Doctor Banner calmly instructed as he placed a steady hand on your back in case you needed extra support. You took a few deep breaths, not even realising that you had been holding your breath. Gripping onto the bathroom side, you began to feel dizzy again so he helped you back to bed waiting until you were settled before continuing.

“This explains your symptoms, I’d say you were in your early stages of pregnancy so we’ll book an appointment with the midwife tomorrow and sort out things like a scan. You may feel that your symptoms get worse over the next few weeks and if they do, you can always call me back but otherwise, stay rested and take it easy”.

You were only half listening. Midwife? Scans? Symptoms getting worse? There was so much for your brain to process. There was an actual baby inside of your body right now, a part of you and… who? Your anxiety was increasing with each second as you tried to let the words sink in as the Doctor packed his stuff away. Did you want to have a baby right now? You had always wanted kids but were you even ready at this stage of your life but then again… was anyone ready for a baby when they were accidentally knocked up?

Then the knocked-up by who question echoed through your thoughts. You obviously didn’t know if the baby was Steve's or Bucky’s, so would they be upset about this? If it was planned at least there could be some way you could arrange who to have sex with to know for sure but now… you were all in the dark about the paternity. You didn’t care if it was Steve or Bucky, you were always a trio in every sense of the word but now that this was your reality, would they be pissed off? And were they even ready for kids? The business took so much of their time and was still very dangerous but this was bound to happen eventually as you all wanted children.

Bucky and Steve had always been very open that they wanted kids, especially Bucky with his affection name for you being ‘mama’, he often would talk about his fantasy of seeing you barefoot and pregnant with his kid. So, at least you knew they were on the same page about wanting to have children but now it was the stress of is now the right time and who was the father of the baby?

You were vaguely aware of the Doctor bidding his farewells, “I’ll speak to you tomorrow and I’ll let you tell your partners the good news”. You offered a half-assed wave to him as he left, before staring at your hands in your lap, completely petrified for the next few minutes.

Steve and Bucky wandered in a few beats later, sitting on either side of you on the bed but you couldn’t look them in the eye, trying desperately to hold it together.

“Everything ok, Doll? The Doc didn’t tell us what was wrong, just said you would explain”, Bucky asked, stroking a finger down your arm to try and soothe you but it was enough to make you break.

You burst into tears, hiding your face in your hands.

“Honey? What is it? Talk to us”, Steve encouraged, attempting to pull your hands away from your face but you held them there tightly so instead, he pulled your body into his lap, your legs over his thighs so that you could hide your face into his chest, the sobs building in intensity and everything was just so overwhelming. You were excited, scared, relieved but nervous, it was a lot to handle.

Steve and Bucky encouraged you to talk to them both, becoming more unsettled with your increasing hysterics. It took a few minutes to calm down, and it helped as Bucky held both your hands, rubbing circles into your skin and Steve wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close to his body. You decided it was better to just tell them than keep it to yourself any longer.

With your face still pressed into Steve’s face, you whispered “I’m pregnant”, however, it was so muffled and quiet that neither man heard you.

“What was that sweetheart?”, Steve asked, trying to pull you away enough that both men could see your tear-stained face.

The words sounded strange coming from your mouth as you kept your head hanging lowly, mumbling, “I’m pregnant”.

You knew that they had heard this time by the way both completely froze, not even breathing as they processed the news. Bucky finally whispered, “What?”

You still couldn’t look at him, scared you’d see disappointment or anger in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked in such a faint voice you were shocked it was even from him.

Nodding your head at his question you explained, “We checked a couple of times, he thinks I’m still in my early pregnancy but-ah!”

You jumped as Bucky all but tackled you and Steve, his lips kissing every part of your face that he could reach and when he pulled back enough to cup your cheeks, you took in the glowing grin on his face, his eyes twinkling with love as he shouted, “you’re pregnant! We’re having a baby!”

Steve then seemed to snap out of his initial shock and his arms tightened and lifted your body further up so he could kiss your face just as happily as Bucky before nuzzling into your neck, breathing you in, “I love you so much sweetheart, I can’t believe it! Wait, why were you crying, are you not excited?”

He relaxed his hold on you so that they could both see you properly and you had room to look at them both. “I... I am excited! I just wasn’t sure how you would both react as I don’t know which of you is the dad-”

Bucky leans across and kisses your lips quickly cutting off your sentence, the grin still broad across his face, “I don’t fucking care, if the baby has my genes or Steve’s, we’re all in this together, remember? That’s what we’ve agreed on”.

“So you aren’t upset?” you wanted to clarify.

“Fuck no hot mama… and you’re actually going to be a mama! This little bean is ours, all of ours!”

You were crying again with relief, “you really mean that?”

His eyes softened, kissing the corner of your mouth, “Of course I do”.

“We both mean it, I… I can’t believe it, I’ve always wanted to be a Dad”, Steve admitted, kissing your temple and as you looked up, you could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears which only made you smile and cry harder.

Steve made the move first, lowering his hand over your abdomen, resting over your stomach where there was no bump yet but knowing there was something growing inside you, he couldn’t help the relieved gasp. Bucky was quick to cover his hand and yours on the top so the three of you were feeling where the baby would be. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents!”

The next few days were a whirlwind of excitement and unimaginable joy whilst also still feeling relatively unwell, especially feeling more exhausted as you wanted to buy every pregnancy book and read them all but soon fell asleep with it open in your lap.

Then there was Steve and Bucky who could not contain their excitement, going above and beyond for you, especially with you still feeling ill. They would cook and feed you, if you were too tired, refill your glasses of water, constantly ask if you were comfortable and more than happy to fetch another pillow if needed. Not only this, but their levels of affection had increased massively, whispering their love for you at any opportunity, holding your hands, and lots of kisses, it was so nice to feel this level of love when going through such a life-changing experience.

Both of them had been just as motivated to read about pregnancy, birth, babies, and the whole lot from A to Z, they researched everything that was possible and then gave you the rundown on what your bodily changes would be including what you couldn’t eat, vowing to not eat the same items until you could which you didn’t seem necessary but appreciated the gesture.

Then there was the excitement of going to the Midwife’s appointment and it all became so much more real again, especially being able to book the ultrasound scan. This was where you found out that you were 8 weeks and 3 days and the entire world seemed to pause around the three of you as you watched your baby's tiny heartbeat on the screen.

To say you all cried was an understatement, all of you not taking your eyes off of the scan picture that was provided, the little bean was so tiny, only just being able to tell the outline of its arms and legs. Now it felt official. You, Steve and Bucky were going to have a baby.

Many things changed including protection that increased tenfold. Security around your home doubled and you had not only Sam Wilson as your bodyguard but also Natasha. Not only this but if you attending the business or in public, Steve and Bucky would crowd around you, almost like a human shield, their overprotective instincts on overdrive, even from people who were just at the check-outs in stores. Sam and Natasha were confused by the sudden dynamic intensity and it was hard to keep it all a secret but you had all decided to wait just a little while longer and continue with your unknown illness excuse just until the baby had grown a little bit bigger.

This was something else that you had to get used to with adjusting to the many bodily changes you were going through to adapt to growing this baby. A few days following the scan, you’d come downstairs to Steve cooking you scrambled eggs which were your usual favourite breakfast but as soon as you smelt those cooking eggs, you were gagging and rushing to the toilet, throwing up violently.

Your eyes were watering as you finally stopped emptying your stomach but still gagging as you could smell the lingering eggs in the air. A warm hand rubbed circles over your back, Steve’s apologetic voice came from behind you, “Sorry, baby. No more eggs”.

This was the first instance of vomiting and it wasn’t just eggs, as every single day you would be throwing up and then feeling extremely tired afterwards that you weren’t able to do much throughout the day but be with your head in the toilet or lying in bed. The boys were almost glued to your side during this time, worried that you weren’t keeping enough food or drinks down and even had to call Doctor Banner back just to check you weren’t too dehydrated.

Thankfully you hadn’t needed to go into hospital as your vomiting subsided but the nausea remained for a while.

“You sure she’s ok? She’s looking a little peaky,” Sam commented to Steve one day as he came to help guard the house and was having his lunch with you all but he took one look at you and knew something wasn’t right, even as you forced the sandwich into your mouth, making sure to still eat for you and baby… not that Sam knew about the baby.

“Yeah, she’s fine Sam, thanks for checking though and we appreciate the extra hours you’re doing”, Steve responded with a thankful grip on his friend's shoulder.

“It’s no problem man, just worried for her that’s all, don’t really understand what’s going on with you all, especially with the extra security and whatnot and I feel like I’ve hardly spoken to her for a few weeks now. Just want you to know I’m always here if you ever need anything”.

You felt guilty when Steve later told you what Sam had said, feeling bad that you were keeping it secret but it was only for a few more weeks.

Luckily, you had found the special trick to help your nausea as suggested by a friend: lavender! After sitting with a bag of dried lavender for a couple of hours and not feeling nauseous, Steve and Bucky were quick to fill the entire house with lavender-scented items including candles and sprays, even having some in the car and it helped to settle your nausea massively.

But, as soon as one symptom passed, another would be replacing the uncomfortable feeling. The next was your breasts becoming incredibly painful and sore, even if you accidentally knocked them when putting on a bra or rolling over in your sleep, it was agony. Your boyfriends were even more careful with you during this phase, getting ice to hold against them during particularly painful moments and being careful to give you enough room when asleep.

A couple of weeks later was the first day you noticed the little bean kicking, at first it felt like maybe gas, almost like there were butterflies fluttering in your tummy but then you finally realised what it was. The feeling grew stronger with each day as well as the size of your growing stomach which was something Steve and Bucky were going absolutely feral for. They would take pictures each week to show your progression and would constantly be placing their hands on your stomach, even if the bump wasn’t that noticeable just yet.

The midwife recommended talking to the baby at one point so every night, you would sit with a shirt off and Steve and Bucky would lie on either side of you, taking it in turns to tell stories, sing their favourite songs and lay sweet kisses along the growing bump. One day, Bucky was telling the little bean about the time he and Steve snuck into a movie theatre when the skin under his cheek poked out as the baby kicked him in the face. Bucky sat up with excitement, it being the first time he had properly felt the baby move as he cooed, “there's our strong baby, good job little bean!”

“You hit the right dad as well”, Steve joked causing Bucky to smack him in the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to Dad, listen to Pops, I’m right here to make everything’s ok”, Bucky continued to speak sweetly to your stomach.

Your heart swelled at the difference in names that he had seemed to pick, “is that what you’d like to be called?” you asked them both, stroking a finger across each of their cheeks, feeling the stubble beneath.

“It’s perfect”, Steve beamed, kissing your stomach again.

Now it was your 20-week scan, Baby was so much bigger, you couldn’t believe the difference those weeks had made since the last scan. Now it was really starting to look like a baby with longer limbs and you were even able to find out the gender, however, you had wanted to wait to find out, liking the thought of it being announced at the birth.

With these beautiful new prints of the scans, you finally wanted to tell people, beginning with your closest friends.

It was a casual lunchtime meal at the office. You sat at the large table in between Steve and Bucky, with Sam and Natasha sitting opposite, all idly talking and eating the take-out that Steve had bought. However you had opted for a different meal: 4 packs of salt and vinegar chips and a tub of tomatoes - both were your latest cravings.

Sam eyed your food wearily, “Interesting mix you’ve got there, boss lady?”

Your only response was smiling with your cheeks full of tomatoes as Bucky placed his hand over your thigh. You knew he wanted to put his hand on your stomach but you hadn’t told either of the people across the table just yet and even though your bump was starting to become noticeable now, you were trying to hide it behind baggy shirts but even that was becoming difficult. You were in desperate need of some new trousers as well as the button was digging into your skin as you shifted uncomfortably, looking at each of your boys, feeling antsy with excitement as well.

“Can we tell them? I really need to take off my trousers, I’m feeling really claustrophobic”.

Sam frowned at your random sentence, confused by what you meant however it was Natasha’s reaction that sparked your interest as she smirked, leaning back in her chair with a tilt of the head. You looked at her with a gaped-open mouth, pointing your finger at her, “You already know! Who told her?” you asked, looking between Bucky and Steve.

“Wasn’t me”, they both responded at the same time, holding up their hands as you eyed them both suspiciously.

Natasha leaned forward in her chair, “did you really think that I wouldn’t notice? I’m offended Sugar, it’s in my job description to be observant. In fact, you should be asking if Sam is right to keep this job if he can’t notice something this obvious”, she teased the man sitting next to her who still looked just as confused as before.

You laugh at Sam’s reaction, looking to Steve who handed you the sealed cards. You happily took them, standing from your chair and feeling Bucky’s hand on your lower back to help and then walked around the table, giving them both a card each. It wasn’t anything special or elaborate, but it had a picture of the latest scan with the statement: “Update to your job title; bodyguard & uncle/auntie”.

You’d never heard the high-pitched tone from Sam ever before as he quickly stood, his chair squeaking across the floor as he shouted, “What?!” He turned to you, looking between you, the picture and Steve and Bucky, “Really?!”

You pulled the back of your shirt so the material was tight to your front, showing off your growing bump, grinning as he shouted “Congratulations!”, before pulling you into a huge hug, careful of your belly but rocking the two of you on the spot a few times and kissing your temple, “I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle again!”

Sam was then pushed aside, giving room for Natasha, “Move it, Wilson, I want to meet my niece or nephew”, Sam didn’t mind being moved as he rushed around to embrace Steve and Bucky.

Natasha hugged you tightly, and you were able to ask, “How long have you known?”

“A couple of weeks, you aren’t as subtle as you think at hiding things. I mean, you’ve hardly been awake enough to have a conversation, this is the most lively I’ve seen you in nearly a month. And that's without the new obsessive protecting from Steve and Bucky, how they’re always touching you and the weird food you’re eating, it’s more noticeable than you think it is”. She pulls back to put her hands on your growing bump, “how many weeks are you?”

“20 weeks and 5 days, I can feel the little bean moving more with each day, I feel so big already and I’m not even showing that much considering I’m only halfway through my pregnancy”. Natasha grinned hearing this, looking at your little bump. “Now you both know, I can take off my pants without being judged”, you groaned as you undid your jeans button, utter relief when they were completely removed from your body and felt free, your shirt was long enough that it stopped mid-thigh so you weren’t too unmodest.

Bucky had snuck behind you, his arms wrapping around to rest on your stomach as he kissed your cheek. Natasha smiled watching the embrace as she remarked, “Guess you got what you wanted all along Barnes, now you can call her mama and she actually is one”.

“Mmm absolutely”, Bucky nuzzled into your neck, the sensation making you laugh as it tickled, turning to shy away from his attack but he only held you tighter until you melted into his arms.

Steve and Sam joined your little gathering and Sam jokingly asked, “So if the baby’s a boy, can we name him Sam?”

You were so thankful for the news being out, especially as this meant that you could go baby clothes shopping with Sam and Natasha, finding little outfits that you could surprise your boyfriends with. It was one of the only things you were able to do for them to show your appreciation as they did so much for you throughout your pregnancy.

Your cravings continued to become stronger with each day and often found yourself waking in the middle of the night to find something to quench the craving for something acidic and sour taste you needed so desperately it felt like your world was going to end if you didn’t eat it right then and there. On multiple occasions, Steve or Bucky would come downstairs in the early hours of the morning to find you sitting on the kitchen floor, your belly round and exposed, hating feeling material against your skin, and a scattering of different foods surrounding you, a happy smile on your face.

“You ok down there beautiful?” they would ask with grins that matched yours and with your heightened emotions you would be crying before long, reaching for them to come and sit with you which they would do eagerly, pulling your body in between there legs and kissing away your tears, “don’t cry pretty girl, I’ve got you”.

If you ever run out of your favourite cravings, they would drive to the store and you were buzzing to go along for the ride in the middle of the night, fully awake and ready for the night time adventure only to fall asleep before getting to the store.

Entering into the third trimester, your belly was round and heavy, things for sure were becoming more difficult for you as the little bean grew. There were small excitements still like attending antenatal classes with your boyfriends who were taking their role as dad and pops very seriously, you’d never seen them concentrate so hard before.

“You’re doing the boss face again”, you whispered to Steve as he correctly wrapped the baby doll in a blanket. Steve's features softened immediately as he sheepishly looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m just trying to concentrate”, he mumbled, eyes returning to looking at the doll, his fingers trembling slightly as he continued wrapping steadily.

Reaching across you grabbed his hands, keeping your voice low to keep the conversation between the two of you, “I’m scared too, but you’re going to be a great dad, Steve, you’ll be ok”.

This was a little pep talk you needed to have with both Bucky and Steve on numerous occasions as they began panicking that this was actually happening and whilst you reminded them there was nothing they could do to take back the growing baby in your belly, it was ok to have nerves, but everything would come to them with time, they needed to stay strong, especially as you were also sort of beginning to lose it.

Your body was really changing to accommodate the growing little bean. Your hands and feet were swollen until your shoes couldn’t fit anymore and god…the heartburn was excruciating, and nearly as painful as the kicks to the ribs. There was never a moment where you weren’t out of breath, even standing to pour cereal into a bowl took all of your energy and you’d be sighing in relief as you sat down. Your hips hurt, your back was in agony, and the pregnancy fun had well and truly finished.

This was where the boys really shined through as they would massage your hands and feet, they would be more then happy to cook or grab anything for you, picking things off of the ground, finding clothes that might fit and then there were their compliments which was one thing keeping you going.

Steve and Bucky could not get enough of seeing you pregnant, “you’re glowing honey, pregnancy suits you so much, my love”. You never felt like you were glowing and would describe yourself instead as a huge, hungry, tired monster but the way the boys looked at you, put those negative thoughts to the back of your mind.

From the moment you woke up to the second sleep would invade your consciousness, they would remind you of their love, needing you to fully comprehend how much they appreciated you growing their baby, you were doing so much for them, putting your body through it, for all of you, for the little bean.

Their words definitely helped when you began to feel needier in more than one way as your hormones caused your arousal to be one-minute non-existence and the next feeling nearly overwhelmed with how badly you needed to touch them and be touched. Thankfully with how obsessed they were with you during your pregnancy, they were more than happy to deliver. Hands would be all over, their lips leaving words of affirmation against your warm skin, being careful not to be to rough and more than happy if you wanted to take control and do whatever you wanted to them.

You had to be honest and say you never felt more loved up before. Even with the gang still in full operation, they were able to look after you as their number one priority, even through your emotional breakdowns, or weird pregnancy habits that had you thinking you were slightly insane but they never judged once.

For example, towards the end of your pregnancy, you had a completely immense craving to chew on your bath sponge every time you sat in the large bathtub. So when one day Steve walked in with a freshly warmed-up towel and caught you mid-chew with staring eyes, you expected his reaction to being anything but a soft smile, “You having fun in there, baby?”

Pulling the sponge out of your mouth slowly you nervously answered, “I uh… I don’t really know how to explain…”

Steve held up a hand, “You don’t have to explain anything, whatever makes you happy and I think I’ve read in a book that sometimes pregnant women can have cravings like this, whatever makes you happy”.

As your due date closened, you sat in the centre of the large bed, watching Bucky shuffle his way through your clothes, trying to find the right things to pack for your hospital bag. “What about this?” he asked, holding up a pair of your normal jeans.

“They haven’t fit me in four months, Bucky”, you laughed, shaking your head. “I need pyjamas or baggy shirts, things that can be easily taken on and off, maybe you should just leave Steve to do it”, you suggested whilst holding out your arms.

Bucky shrugged, dropping the jeans and jumping onto the bed, making you squeal with the bed moving up and down before he had his hands against your bump, kissing the tip of your nose. “Not long until we meet you little bean”, he was rewarded with a kick against his metal palm that had you wincing. “Hello baby, I love feeling you kick so much but be gentle to Mama she’s doing such a good job with keeping you safe”, he leaned down to kiss your belly as your fingers delved into his hair.

“It’s ready!”, Steve shouted from another room, catching both of your attention. Bucky jumped up first and then helped you to stand, keeping his hand on your lower back as you wobbled to the spare room that Steve and Bucky had been decorating as the nursery. It was something you had left them in charge of organising, not having the energy over the last nine months to even think about decorating and Steve and Bucky were more than excited to take on the job and so far had kept it secret from your prying eyes.

As you looked around the room, tears swelled in your eyes instantly, reaching to hold onto Steve and Bucky, praising, “It’s perfect!”. There was a beautiful baby cot, pictures of the three of you surrounding the ultrasound scan photograph on the wall, a painting you knew Steve had done, and a rocking chair in the corner that Bucky had claimed as his for the night feeds he’d volunteered himself for.

Now it was all just a waiting game.

“You’re doing it again”, Bucky commented from where he stood in the entryway to your home having returned from the office a few days later.

“No, I’m not, I’m just cleaning-”.

“Nesting… You’re nesting, Doll”, Bucky reminded you, taking away the cloth from your hands and throwing it to the side so he could hold your shoulders and kiss your temple. “Go and rest, you’ve only got a few days left!”

You roll your eyes as you leaned into his warmth, your bump touching him first as you hugged around his chest, “Bucky most babies aren’t born on their due dates you know, I just want to make sure everything is perfect around the house and ready”.

“Everything IS perfect, please just rest”. You relented to him, feeling tired already from the ten minutes of standing, moving to sit on the couch when a period cramp suddenly began in your lower abdomen, causing you to scrunch your face up in pain, especially as it was followed by a large kick to the ribs.

“Woah, are you ok?” Bucky asked, his hand cupping your cheek.

“Yeah, probably Braxton hicks or something, it’s fine”, you say, finally sitting down and putting your feet on the small table. Bucky didn’t seem convinced and continued to be a mother hen throughout the rest of the night, even though the pains subsided after you had a nice warm bath.

As your due date came and went, you were becoming restless, needing the baby out, feeling overwhelmed with how big you felt, wanting to meet the baby and hating waiting around. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried everything either. Eating spicy foods, and going for walks, especially up and down the stairs which was incredibly uncomfortable with how low the little bean’s head was sitting in your pelvis. You’d even had sex a few times, Bucky was more than happy to hear that nipple stimulation could induce labour but still, nothing happened.

Those period cramps would come and go throughout these days as well, getting your hopes up before they disappeared and still, no signs that your labour was even happening.

On the fourth day following your due date, you awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to another period cramp that started in your lower back and spread around to your front. Even though this felt different, you didn’t want to wake the boys and get theirs or your hopes up as you tried to slide out of bed without waking them to use the bathroom for what felt like the tenth time that night.

“You ok, baby?” Steve asked, his eyes still closed but his hand reached for you in the darkness.

“Yeah I’m, ok, go back to sleep Steve”, you encouraged, touching the back of his hand before pushing yourself up and waddling to the toilet, using it and then realising just how wide awake you were and the dull ache of the pains still lingered so you decided to run a warm bath. During the time that it was filling up, you had another pain which took longer to subside but this was always how it started with the intensity increasing but after the bath, it usually stopped.

However, even as you let the warm water settle over your body, easing your muscles but the pains continued but at least the little bean was lovely and happy as he or she gave you a powerful kick to your ribs. The next pain had you gritting your teeth, eyes clenching closed as you held onto the side of the tub, waiting for it to pass but this pain lasted for nearly a full minute, and you decided maybe it was time to take some pain relief.

Standing and awkwardly climbing out of the bath, you dried your body and picked up your night dress to pull over your head when another pain came and took your breath away, your stomach hardening and causing you to moan lowly, bending over to blow the pain away.

“Honey?” Steve shouted from the bathroom having heard your moan as he waited for you to come back to bed. You couldn’t answer him as the pain consumed you, and he was rushing to be by your side, Bucky following closely behind him. Steve rubbed your back slowly as your pain finally began to ease so that you could look up at them both.

“Wow, that one was strong”.

“You ok? Can we get you anything?” Bucky asked, stepping forward with worry etched on his face.

“I’m ok.... I think… I don’t want to get my hopes up that this isn’t contractions but fuck, it hurt like hell”, you muttered, bending over to pick up your dress from the floor and then a trickle of clear liquid dripped down the inside of your leg. All three of you noticed as you tentatively looked up, “Is it bad that I can’t tell if I’ve just wet myself or if that’s my waters…”.

Neither of your worried boyfriends had time to answer as another painful wave came and had you doubling over, leaning your head against the sink. Steve was quick to grab you and let you lean against his strong body, remembering what he had learned from the antenatal appointments to help you through the pains, “That’s it baby, breath in and out, nice and slow”. It helped to listen and ground yourself through the pain as Bucky’s cold metal hand rubbed against your lower back, helping to ease the intense pressure from the baby.

The pain lasted for the same amount of time as the previous one and the clear liquid, which was definitely not urine, had gushed out more, forming a small puddle onto the floor. “Ok, I think it’s time we call someone”, you decided.

Bucky kissed the back of your head as he ran to get the phone and Steve helped you to pull your shirt on, his thumb brushing your chin as he sensed your anxieties, “You’re going to do amazing my love, we’ll be with you every step of the way”.

#mafia au #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky one shot #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #bucky fluff #steve rogers fluff #stucky one shot #stucky x reader #stucky fluff #mine*#stucky

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indecenthoney · 2 months

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"The Munchies"

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Have you ever had that one friend who acts like a completely different person after consuming alcohol? I sort of do. She's a tad bit on the shy side. Up until you present her with some candy. Her eyes would literally glow up at the sight. Not to mention, she becomes the clingiest, most loveable thing. I may be to blame for encouraging such behaviors, but how could I not? I could never ever get another reaction out of her if I wanted to. Completely deadpan, with a cold demeanor. It's enough to break a man's heart. Which brings me to my current situation. I may have a little crush on her. Or well a relatively big one. I've been meaning to ask her out in a good mood, but as I mentioned I could never really get that reaction. I wanted to find some way to help her relax a bit without needing the candies. I don't know. I wanted her to like me for me, you know?

"Hey... How long are you going to be working on that? It wouldn't kill you to take a break, you know? Uhuh... Dude! Let's hang out... This project isn't due till what... Two weeks from now... We can totally take our time... We're already halfway through... So let's go play something! Me? What does it look like I'm doing? I'm hugging you... I'm not going to stop hugging you until you follow me to play video games... I know you hate it... That's why I'm hugging you, silly... Either way, it's a win-win for me... Aw... and here I thought I'd get to hug you for an hour or two? Good choice... C'mon, I'll show you to my room..."

On my way to my room, I found her eye-ing out my kitchen. It was pretty obvious what her intentions were. I wasn't really sure either what snacks I had lying around in there, but I sent her off to my room to choose a game while I scrounged around for something for her to eat.

"Do you want something sweet? I thought so... I'll see what I can do... Uhuh... Just head down the hall, to the right... Make yourself comfortable!"

It was inevitable. Then again, I guess I'd rather give her what she wanted rather than see her disappointed. You should have seen me. I was a man on a mission trying to find those snacks. Eventually, I realized that there wasn't any lying around and I had to bear seeing her sad. Is it a reaction? Yes. Is it a good one? No. I took my time cleaning up and figuring out what to tell her. On my way down, I found myself stopping at the door after hearing some "noises". At first, I assumed it was something coming from the television. With my curiosity piqued, I barged in without a second thought. Unfortunately, this put me in a compromising situation. Okay, I know it's my house. But I should know better than to walk in without a warning. My friend was there. Of course, she was. Where else would she be? You know, I just didn't expect her to be on my pillow. Rubbing herself against it. I stood in shock as she mindlessly grinded herself not paying any mind to me. it was like she was in a sort of trance.

"Hey! W-woah... Uhm... What the fuck are you doing? Hahaha... uhm... F-fuck..."

I wasn't entirely sure what to do especially since there wasn't anything to play off on. She was grinding away. No response. But upon closer inspection, there were wrappers scattered on the floor and bed. The shy little thing got herself high from consuming the edibles placed on the tableside near my bed. I quickly rushed over to stop her. Placing my hands around her hips to keep her down. Only whimpers and tears were replaced with the sudden stop.

"H-hey... Shhh... Shhhh it's okay... I'm sorry... Ugh fuck... What am I supposed to do with you? Uhm... Let's see... H-hey! C'mon... It's okay... Why are you still crying? You can rub... It's okay... Stop crying, okay? I'm sorry for stopping you... "

After consuming this many brownies, I doubt she'd be able to speak. I'm surprised she was still even functioning at this point. I didn't expect her to have such a drastic personality change after a few brownies. She wouldn't stop crying. I soon realized her trying to move her hips faster. I guess the stimulation wasn't enough to satisfy her. Luckily, I had an idea. Not to fulfill my own selfish desires, but to help a friend out. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Leave her a whimpering sobby mess?

"I-it's okay... Just for a moment... Sit here... I know... I know it hurts... But we'll get it settled in a bit... You just have to be a good girl and listen, okay? That's it... Such a good girl... Does it feel good when I rub you there? Hm? I know it's hard to talk... Just nod your head... Yeah? Ah no... No moving your hips... If you wanna feel good then you'll have to listen, don't you? That's it... Nice and easy... Keep those legs spread for me, hun... Such a pretty lady... So needy... So wet... I'm only rubbing your clit and you're just leaking... Why don't we take these off, huh? We wouldn't want to ruin your panties more than we already have... Shhh... It's okay I'm just taking these off and we'll continue... I'll give a little more than just rubbing... I promise... Oh fuck... A literal bitch in heat... Gonna slide a finger in, okay? Oh? Well, don't you fit perfectly around my fingers... So tight... Mm... What pretty little noises you have... There's no need to be shy... It's okay to feel good..."

Slowly digging away into her deepest parts causing her to spasm. Choking on her moans as the pleasure increases. Her hands clasped around my forearm. A sign informing me that she's close to the edge. Slowing down my pace even more to keep from finishing too quickly. Soft slow strokes. My middle finger moving in and along her slit. A flick at her clit once at the top. Sending a shockwave of spasms throughout her body. I knew it was about time to give her a break. Running my fingers along her body; lifting her shirt. My hands finding their way up her bra. Running circles around her perky breasts. Pinching. Poking. Tugging.

"Hm? You're going to have to use your words... I'm not going to be able to understand you if all you do is moan and whimper... Please? You wanna cum? What's the magic word? Fine... In a bit... I'm still having my fun... Oh? Sensitive there, are we? Be good and I'll give you your reward... Pretty little thing... Does it feel good? Uhuh yeah? Sound so fucking stupid when I touch you here... Are you going to cum just from your nipples being played with? No cuz that would be pathetic, wouldn't it? Almost there, hun... Keep it up... You're doing such a good job for me..."

Hands appreciating every nook and cranny of her body. Tempting her but never really touching the place that needs it the most. Lips pressed. Tongues rolled. A dance of oral pleasure. The taste of brownies lingered on my tongue. How many wrappers were there? I wouldn't be surprised if I got high from tasting her lips. If it were my choice, I would spend an eternity in this bliss. However, she quickly made her needs known. Whimpers and tears once flood the room. Her inability to stay still grew restless as I toyed with her body. One final kiss and I was on my knees. Pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. The softness of her thighs welcomed my cheeks with each kiss. I start to salivate; eager to run my tongue along the drippy mess I've made. In my own trance, I started eating away at her. A different type of hunger had filled me. Something that couldn't be satiated so easily. I wanted her to quake my touch. Moan at the very thought of me. Get wet at every little word I mutter as I adore her perfection.

"Mmph... Fuck... you taste so good, hun... Mmm... I know... I know... I shouldn't talk with my mouth full... I can't help it... You're just too damn pretty right now..."

Her grip tightens; pulling my head into her. Her morality leaking between her legs as I lapped my tongue into her depths. A wave after wave of orgasms causes her to shake. Even with my tongue gently finding its way around her clit, it brings her to the edge over and over. I found pleasure in serving her. With cock in hand, I stroked myself to completion. Even then it was barely enough to fill that hunger. Grabbing her wrists I stood above her; pinning down her arms before placing my cock against the opening of her pussy. Feeling her squirm on the tip. Watching her eyes roll back as the length of cock disappears into her.

"Hey hey... Shush... You're doing such a great job... Mhm... I know you came... I'm sorry, sweetie... Just a little longer, you can take it... All you have to do is stay still and be pretty, okay? Can you do that for me, hun? Mhm... Good girl... Not a single thought behind those pretty eyes, huh? That's it... Cum as you please... I'm not stopping you..."

Hands pinned above her head as I rut into her in the most animalistic, primal way. Enjoying every bit of her reactions as I pump my cum back into her. Even as she drifts off to sleep, I found myself using her and using her. Satiating my hunger. I was unsure of how things would play out tomorrow, so I wanted to enjoy myself while it lasted. Making my mark. Filling her to the brim. I wore myself out. But even then, I wanted to use her. Finger the very holes I came in. Fucking her with my fingers to keep the cum from leaking. Never wanting this happiness to end.

"Oh! You're awake... What happened? Well... You kinda nodded off while I was looking for snacks... You okay? A dream? You were moving a lot during it... but I didn't wanna wake you from your nap... Sore? Hm... You're probably just hungry... Here... I found some brownies... It's really good... You should try some!"

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

Take a bite,

Honey

#cnc k!nk #cnc free use #corruption kink #degrading k1nk #intox cnc #intox kink #fr33use #free use cnc #humiliation kink #edging and denial #rap3 fantasy #somno fantasy #bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #cnc drugging #RisquéHoney

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leighsartworks216 · 5 months

Text

Not Tonight. Not To You. Never Again.

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader (can possibly be read as platonic)

Something something Astarion would kill anybody who tries to take your drink at a party something something

I started this while sitting in the car doing laundry, and I'm finishing this while very sleepy. It was half proofread, again bc I'm sleepy

THIS FIC CONTAINS THEMES OF DATE-RAPE DRUGGING AND SEXUAL ASSAULT

Warnings: drugging, references to sexual assault, swearing, blood, murder, slight protective Astarion, no actual assault happens, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,374

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You blinked as the world tilted on its axis, blurring at the edges of your vision, before it stood upright again, only slightly hazy. Had you really had that many drinks tonight? It didn't seem like it. Maybe this tavern's brew was stronger than you were used to?

"Everythin’ alright? You look a bit sick."

You look up at Karlach with a reassuring grin. You hated to worry any of your friends, but least of all the tiefling. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and you'd hate to see it crack. "I'm fine. Think I should head to bed - this stuff is stronger than I thought it would be."

She frowned. "Really?" She peered into her tankard, confused. "Seemed a bit weak to me."

You chuckle. It sounded distant. "Guess I'm a bit of a lightweight." You push your mug away and stand on shaky legs, using the table for support. "Goodnight, everyone."

Those who hear you bid you goodnight as well, some raising their ales in gratitude and others teasing you about not being able to hold your liquor. Astarion stares at you like he's studying you, brow pinched tight. You offer him a smile, before doing your best to stumble toward the stairs.

Halfway there, a waiter comes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and smiling brightly. You recognized him through the fog in your vision; he'd been the one to serve you drinks. "Need a hand there, hero?"

You laugh, world spinning once more as you allow yourself to lean into his support. "A hero that can't hold their liquor," you drawl. "Some hero, eh?"

He chuckles by your ear. He bears most of your weight as he helps you up each well-worn step, steering you toward your room. How'd he know which one was yours? "I hardly think it affects the world's view of you," he assures. "After all, you did save Faerûn."

"It-" Your body lurched forward, all of your limbs turning to lead. The world continued to swirl and wave and twist, until you couldn't distinguish up from down or left from right. Black spots began dotting your vision, blocking out some of the vertigo. Your stomach churned, your head ached. "'t wasn' jus' me..."

"C'mon, love. Your room is just here. Let's get you to bed."

A bedroom spun in your vision, but not for long. The last thing you saw was the waiter's grinning face as you fell to the floor, too weak to stand any longer and too dizzy to stay upright if you had.

Where....

........... Astarion.........?

"Tav?" Something cold touches your face. "Darling, wake up."

"Mmnf..."

"That's it. You're safe now."

You blinked open your eyes but winced at the light that greeted you. You heard a soft hiss.

"Is that better?"

You tried again, and were grateful to find it was no longer so bright. You looked around, trying to get a sense of your surroundings.

"You're in your room." Astarion sneered, glaring at something on the floor. "But we should move you to mine before you try sleeping again.”

“Mm? Why..?” You groan as you sit up. Your body feels so heavy, like it was made entirely of stone. Astarion helped you up with a hand to your back. You followed where his gaze had been. Laying face down on the floor, in a puddle of blood, was… the waiter? You blinked stupidly at the corpse. “What happened?”

Once he was sure you wouldn’t fall backwards, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Bastard drugged you. Gods know what he would have done to you if I hadn’t followed you up.”

Your brain was still slow, trying to piece together what had happened before this. You remember celebrating a battle won. You’d bought drinks for everyone, and… You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as bile rose to your throat. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped. “I-I thought the drinks were just strong, I-”

He carefully touches your arm. “It’s not your fault, love. No doubt he’d gotten good at tricking people.”

You shook your head, looking at him with wide, lost eyes. “What if he’d drugged you? Or Karlach or Shadowheart or- or-!”

He scoffed in disbelief, nose scrunching. “You just got drugged and nearly assaulted, and all you’re worried about is what could have happened if it’d been one of us? Darling, please, have a little perspective.”

You grimace as you glance back at the body. The sight of the blood or the corpse itself doesn’t bother you anymore. But the thought of what could have happened sat thick and unpleasant in your stomach. You grab his hand from your arm and hold it in your lap, fiddling with his long fingers to distract yourself. “How did you know to… To follow?”

“Well, for one, I trust Karlach knows when an ale is strong. Two, I’ve seen you hold your own against her in your little drinking games before. And three…” He curls his fingers around your hands, stopping your fiddling and rubbing a thumb along your knuckles. “I’ve seen men like him play this same game before. Too many times. I wasn’t going to risk it happening to you, too.”

A chill runs through your body. You lean forward to press your forehead against his neck. He hesitantly brings up a hand to run along your back, holding you to him. “Thank you,” you murmur. You bury your face further into him. “Gods, I can’t believe I…” You sigh, soft and shaky, dread overwhelming you as the reality of what happened sunk in. “Thank you, Astarion.”

“As much as I’d love to sit here all night, listening to you praise me over and over for the hero I am,” he teases, earning a quiet huff from you, “you need to sleep. And not here.” He gently pulls you away from him and stands from the bed, squeezing your hands before he lets go. “We’ll just tuck you in down the hall, I’ll go downstairs and scold the others for being too careless, inform the innkeeper of his employee’s exploits - perhaps even get paid for doing so - and then we can get the Hells out of here come first light.”

You chuckled softly. He helped you stand, an arm around your waist keeping you steady as he walked you around the body and out the door. “And if I want you to stay?”

He hums as though the thought never crossed his mind, before sighing overdramatically. “Then I’ll just have to get paid for my bold rescue in the morning. I suppose it can wait until then. I won’t be cleaning up that mess anyway.”

He unlocks his door at the end of the hall and guides you to the bed, setting you down on the edge. You clumsily kick your boots off and he sets them by the door, toeing his off right next to them. You plop back into the pillows, giving in to the weight in your bones. He huffs a laugh at how pathetic you look, but it’s far more endearing than he wishes to admit.

You do your best to get comfortable under the thick duvet the inn provided, sinking into the warmth it offered. He easily slithered in beside you, touching you almost pensively as you turn into him and cuddle close to his chest. You’re so warm. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, the other draped over your waist, keeping you close. Keeping you safe.

Even just thinking about what could have happened if he hadn’t had the good sense to follow fills him with rage. He should have torn that bastard apart, piece by piece, until he only knows pain and remorse for every single victim that came before. But you’re safe, and that’s what really matters, more than his own revenge.

You press your nose against his neck, hot breaths fanning across his skin. He could almost feel the brush of your lips as you murmured another thank you. Your arms slipped around his middle, wrapping around him so you were as close as possible. You muttered another thanks, and another, and another, until exhaustion overwhelmed you, and you fell asleep in his arms.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted

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moralesmilesanhour · 11 months

Note

My second time writing a request foe someone rlly nervous lol

Can you do a

reader x earth 42 miles

Where reader wants to buy things for themselves but miles keeps buying stuff for them like anything we look at or love next thing Yk he’s buying it?

I rlly hope you can understand this bc im not sure if it made sense 💀

-sincerely sorry miller

Oh don't be nervous I understand perfectly fine!! (Under the cut as usual)

"See you, Carol!" You wiped the sweat forming around your hairline as you untied your apron with haste. You had taken extra shifts at the diner this week for extra spending money, and it had you counting down the days until Friday.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, the bell jingled as you pushed open the glass door with a grunt.

Right next door to the run-down diner was a small clothing shop, one of the few that managed to stay open. You had made it a habit to check the window for the mannequin that had your jeans on: A flaired, denim number that was optimal for weekend block parties.

"Come Friday, you're mine, baby." You say to yourself with a hand on the plexiglass display.

"I thought I was already yours," a familiar voice nearly made you jump out of your skin.

Miles' footsteps could almost never be heard, you swore he was a ninja in his spare time.

"Don't fuckin scare me like that!" You whined, smacking his shoulder as an amused grin spread across his lips.

He ignored your outburst and pointed towards the mannequin. "You want that?"

You gave him a warning look. "I'm gonna go shopping this weekend. When I get paid."

"You didn't answer the question."

"No comment," you said, spinning on your heel to walk away with Miles' gentle laughter following behind you.

When you don't stop, he jogs after you and traps you in a bear hug.

"Fuck off, Miles!" You laughed, fake struggling to escape.

"Alright, tell me what I did."

"Nothing!"

He let you go and opted to walk next to you, his long legs making it easy to keep up with you.

"Okay look, whatever you're mad at me for, I got a surprise waiting for you," Miles poked his head in front of you as you both walked, twin braids dangling over his shoulder. "Come over?"

You sighed, "Fine."

He gently took your hand and started tugging you along, presumably in the direction of his mom's apartment. "Thank you."

Miles' brow furrowed as he fumbled with his keys a bit before quietly unlocking the door. He turned to you and placed his index finger over his lips, and you nodded in understanding.

The familiar smell of yellow rice and scented candles engulfed the both of you when you entered the empty apartment. Rio was at work, and Uncle Aaron was likely napping in the living room, as it was only the late afternoon.

"So, where's the surprise?" You whispered.

"My room. Been up there for about a week."

You rushed up the stairs as quietly as your feet could carry you to catch up to your boyfriend, who was already halfway there and glancing down at you with an impish grin. You roll your eyes playfully. Typical.

"Lemme take that," Miles stuck his hand out for your work bag as he removed his sneakers.

Deeply inhaling the cool air of his room, you let him take it off your shoulders. You were sure that thing was starting to leave a mark from carrying it on the same side every day.

Miles sat on his bed for a moment to rummage through his black knapsack, and produced a small, pink plastic bag no bigger than the hand that held it. This confirmed one of your suspicions, and you gave him a tired smile as he stood to place it gently in your palm. He was a funny sight, hands clasped together in anticipation like a parent at Christmas.

Inside the bag was a little white box, which held a small necklace cushioned in the middle. You recognized the teardrop pendant from the mall. You had practically dragged Miles along, looking bored and scrolling through his phone the entire time. Or so you thought.

Now, he looked about ready to run a marathon from here to Manhattan as you removed the delicate necklace, the silver chain catching the little light that Miles allowed into his room in shiny strips.

"Thank you baby, I love it," you bit your bottom lip, "It's just that-"

"I could put it on you?"

You sighed, and held out the necklace. "Of course."

He damn near snatched the piece of jewelry from you to unclasp it, rushing to get behind you.

"Miles, if you break it-"

"I won't, relax!"

The cool metal settled on your skin as he gently draped it around your neck, and fastened the clasp.

"How does it look?"

Miles moved your braids back and planted a kiss on your cheek. "Pretty."

"I know you know more words than that, sir," you teased, "try again."

"Alright, breathtaking. Stunning. Effervescent."

"Now you're trying too hard."

"I'm about to take this necklace back," he muttered, earning a short outburst of laughter from you.

When the laughter subsided, you turned to face him. He let your braids slide across his hands before they fell back at your shoulders.

"Miles, I need you to do something for me."

Worry settled over the boy's soft features. "Such as...?"

"Don't buy me them jeans," you said, arms crossed but still smiling.

His brows shot up. "Why, you don't like 'em anymore?"

"I do," you draped your arms around his neck, "which is why I've been saving up to get them myself."

You watched Miles' eyes dart back and forth in thought before settling back on you. He was silent, imploring you to explain further.

"If I wanted everything gifted to me, I wouldn't have gotten a job."

Miles nods, and something seems to slot into place for him.

"So no more surprise gifts?" He says, pouting exaggeratedly.

"For at least another two weeks."

Miles winced, taking a nervous glance at his knapsack, "Damn."

Following his line of sight, you noticed the white plastic bag poking out from it.

Your jaw drops, and you give him another good smack on the shoulder.

"You bought it, didn't you?"

He smiles tightly. "Hypo...thetically?"

"Miles!"

A/N: idk why the hell that took me so long to write but it was fun! Happy reading!

#miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #moralesanhour #miles g morales

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milfswriter · 6 months

Note

YOU ASKED FOR REQUESTS SO I HAVE ONEEEE

rhea comes backstage with a bunch of adrenaline and decides she wants to go back to the hotel to celebrate 🤭 (maybe sprinkle some overstim and handcuffs like she used for nxt)

CUFFS

Rhea Ripley x Reader Summary: Rhea retains her title against four other women, surely there has to be a celebration? Notes and warnings: handcuffs, overstim (slightly??), cunnilingus, strap on, daddy kink, Rhea's a little unhinged?, I have this weird creepy fascination with Rhea's tongue piercing and I'm not sorry, Idk what else. I think I lost my writing charm y'all so bear with me :(

@rhea-ripley these gifs aren’t helping man..🥵

You had the biggest smile on your face as you saw rhea's riptide landing on the three other women that were ready to do anything to even get a look at rhea's title.

Backstage was pretty busy, only few crew members were actually tuning in instead of running around to make sure nothing goes wrong. But you? oh you were staring at the screen like your life depended on it. There was no way any of them would kick out of that even if they weren't on the receiving end of the riptide.

and you were right, as the ref counted to three and her theme hit, you jumped with a scream. Rhea has been..worried, to say the least the past few days, though she tried keeping the 'brutal and fearless' facade but you saw right through her.

The possibility of her losing the title she'd been working for the past three years without even getting pinned ate her up.

Your smile widened as you saw her walking in after the four women who were glaring at you, her black latex gear adding to her absolute sexiness. When your eyes met, you saw your Demi, not Rhea..not Mami (well, maybe that..)..Demi.

she walked up to you, stopping when you met her halfway with a hard kiss to her mouth, almost dropping her title at the sudden action. "hey, champ" you whispered.

"I did it.." she whispered back, hugging her title to her chest and you nodded, "and I wanna celebrate" she bit your ear before walking past you to the showers of the arena.

----

Rhea could barely let go of you long enough to swipe the keycard on the hotel room door, pulling you back into a kiss as soon as she saw the green light indicating the door was opened and pushed you inside.

"f..fuck, Rhea.." you groaned, taking a fistful of her dark moist hair as she buried her face into your neck, her t-shirt hugging her biceps so perfectly you kept squeezing on them.

you were pushed on the cold, comfy hotel bed and closed your eyes, eliciting a tutt from your girlfriend, "don't fall asleep on me now, i thought you wanted to celebrate with me" she coaxed.

Your eyes opened and you spread your legs, inviting her between them with a hum as she still stood next to the bed, "I do..i was having a moment" you grinned.

Both of your suitcases were long forgotten at the door even as you heard the clank of both metal handles as they fell to the floor from their weight and flinched from the sudden sound, making her laugh.

Rhea's hands were all over you like she hadn't seen you in days. She lifted your 'SHE'S MY MAMI' t-shirt with a grin, sticking out her tongue and taking a long swipe from your lower belly to the hem of your bra, husking out a chuckle at the shiver of your body from her tongue piercing tickling your skin.

“S..stop..teasing!” You groaned as she reached your neck, husking out another chuckle in your ear, one of her hands landing next to your head while the other effortlessly unbuttoned your jeans, unzipping them ever so slowly while those piercing eyes

"What is it, bunny? thought you liked my piercing..at least that's what you said the last time it was in your pu-"

"okay, okay.." a huff escaped your mouth, cupping her face as she stared at you with that sly grin of hers, "i get it.." you whispered.

she shook her head, leaning down to kiss you almost too softly, "do you?" her kisses went back to your neck, "hm?"

you said nothing, almost too hazed as her kisses worked you to oblivion even though you weren't even 10 minutes in. She has that effect on you, "I don't think you do" you heard before your jeans were swiftly pulled off your legs, leaving you in your panties shivering from the cold.

She dangled your jeans in front of you before throwing it behind her and finally raising your right leg to get more view of your absolutely soaked panties as you perked up on your elbows with a grin as she ran her fingers up and down.

You were getting a bit cocky as she got on her knees in front of the bed, but all that went out the window she took a long stripe with her tongue through your panties, her tongue piercing making you shiver as it touched you in all the right ways. "oh~" you heard as you threw your head back.

As you looked at her, you saw her eyes rolling to the back of her head, licking her lips. and the fact that she still hadn't taken off her makeup from the PPV makes her look even more feral.

her hands swiftly ripped apart the fabric that stood between her and your pussy, that she's convinced was calling out for her with how wet you were.

she took another stripe and groaned one more time before taking your clit into her mouth, you couldn't remember ever being this sensitive because of her tongue piercing, but when she stuck her tongue out to show off your slick coating it, you discovered she changed the ball of her piercing to this metal, bigger one.

"huh.." you huffed out, of course she did. "you taste so good, princess" she groaned, and before you knew it, her nose was pushing onto your clit while her tongue was all the way between your pussy lips.

"oh god!" you threw your head back as her fingers scratched down your inner thighs, moaning against you.

your hands searched for something to grab before landing on her head and pulling on her hair, her tongue exploring your insides while you writhed under her.

Your legs were already shaking and wrapped around her neck, trapping her in as her tongue mercilessly ate you out.

“God I’m so close..” you whimpered, almost pulling out Rhea’s hair, who didn’t seem to mind at all and even looked up at you with a smirk. It was almost embarrassing how close you actually were considering the two of you had just gotten started

her smudged purple eyeshadow glistened as she kept staring at you, eating you out like her life depended on it. "can feel you holding back..let go, baby" she mumbled before drilling her tongue back into you. One swipe of her thumb over your clit sent you over to cloud nine with a scream and your legs wrapped around her head even tighter, making her tap your thigh gently so she could breathe.

"S..sorry" you let out with a chuckle and she grinned, crawling upwards to kiss you and you hummed at your own taste on her lips, "don't you worry, baby" she husked out.

It wasn't even a minute later when you heard the clanking of metal and gasped as you looked at her, "Rhea, don't you dar- oh!" you were cut off by her flipping you on your belly so effortlessly.

Before you could catch your breath, your arms were joined behind your back and you felt the cold metal of the handcuffs wrapping around your wrists, “what the fuck?!” You yelled, barely able to move.

Both of Rhea’s hand landed on your cheeks, “shut up” she growled, “now you’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock” you heard her zipper being undone, you should’ve known. Of course she was packing.

You turned your head with a grunt to look at her, seeing her lubing up the familiar black strap of her before spreading the rest of the lube in her hand on your pussy, inserting two fingers to make sure you’re all nice and ready before pushing her tip into you.

“Oh love, no amount of lube would be enough huh? You’re just so tight” she groaned, continuing to push in until her thighs made contact with your ass.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt her girthy strap filling you up, the ache of the handcuffs quickly forgotten as Rhea took hold of your wrists for balance before starting to pound into you in inhumane speed.

“D..don’t you lose that key, damn it!!” You yelled, making her thrust even harder to shut you up, “g..god..d..daddy” you began to slur your words.

She hummed in satisfaction, “that’s it..I don’t wanna hear anything other than ‘daddy’ as you come over and over again on my cock you hear me?” She growled, giving one particularly hard thrust to make sure you got it.

“Y…yeah..yes d..daddy” you gasped, you were still sensitive from your first orgasm yet she’s working you up so good your vision blurred.

Her breaths began to falter she continued pounding into you, “g..good..good girl” she whispered, the base of the strap touching her clit in all the right ways, “y..yeah..good girl”

Suddenly, her weight was entirely on top of you, not able to stay upright anymore. Her hips continued moving in and out and you were even closer to coming now that you could fear her lips and breath on your neck.

With one last thrust your legs shook under her as you gripped her hands that were still gripping your wrists from behind your back, the chain of the cuffs rattling around “g..god damn it!!” You yelled, your head falling on the bed as your orgasm washed over you.

Rhea kept going however, chasing her own orgasm that was ever so deliciously close. “R..Rhea..c..can’t” you whined but she shushed you.

“C..come on now, bunny..im so close..come with me. One more time, baby”

----

"Where did you even get those?" you grumbled, rubbing your wrists after Rhea uncuffed you.

"stole them from under the ring" she laughed, "you're lucky they had the keys attached to them cause I would've used them anyway" she said with a slap to your ass before getting up to fetch you some water.

This woman…

Taglist;

@ara-a-bird @jungwoospeach @neganwifey25-blog @yourmisosoup @cameronsdruthers @dementedtrashcat @1c4ntg3ty0u0ffmym1nd @sweety-jamieluvss @rebecca-quin @mega-met-44 @babybatlover @potatohead20 @charlieg1rl @marcelineormars

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley wwe

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year

Text

Ghost x Reader

NSFW, 18+, Shameless Smut, No Plot, Porn w/out Plot, Sex in the dark, Explicit, Graphic Language, Teasing, Touch-Starved Touching, Embarassing, First Time Together, Fingering, Sloppy Kisses, Somewhat Rough Sex, slightly Intimate, Ghost is a bit of a dom, Reader's a bit snarky, Slightly Proof Read, I'll fix what I miss later :)

First time writing a smut one-shot with zero plot sooooo here's my trial run. I'm a recovering former Catholic schoolgirl, bear with me. Enjoy. （。ˇ ⊖ˇ）♡

Word Count: 2.4k

Also I take requests, or I would like to, or I might just poll who I should write next. ヾ(´▽｀;)ゝ My other one-shot Soap | Price

You step into a dark bedroom, reaching over to flip on the light switch. That's when you feel Ghost's cold, gloved hand stop you halfway. Your hand, which is small in comparison to his own, can't help but be encompassed by his sudden grasp.

The door shuts behind you both, you and Ghost now standing in a nearly pitch-black bedroom. Alone.

"The lights stay off," Ghost orders.

The gravelly-like sound of his voice is deep in this empty room, soothing through your ears and sending a chill down your spine. You can just make out the large silhouette of his body, towering over you like a great, big shadow. Ready to devour you and leave you used.

And you wanted him to use you. To fill you with all he has to give. You've lusted for his touch since you first laid eyes on him. You longed to feel his strong grasp around your throat, his teeth against your skin, his cock buried deep in you. You always wondered what a man who brandishes a skull mask of all things would desire of you.

Your own hand could only suffice for so many nights. It was time for the real thing.

And you knew Ghost had wanted it too. He had wanted you bad. Not being able to have you until now only fueled his growing insatiable craving for you. His skin practically simmers from the rising arousal.

"No lights at all?" You pout.

"What's the matter?" The teasing tone to his voice lowers, as does his hand, as you feel his fingers trail up your arm. It leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before he's let it rest at the side of your jaw, taking a soft hold of your face. "You afraid of the dark?"

You feel his deep, olive eyes look you up and down hungrily through the darkness. Exploring every inch of your body. He could picture all the curves to you, his hands hardly able to keep away from reaching out. Envisioning your body shaking by the end of this, the anticipation having his blood rushing just thinking about it.

His thumb lightly trails over your lip, the glove of his thumb gently grazing it, faintly tugging. He parts them for himself, your tongue just slightly brushing against him. It makes a whimper leave your lips, as you start to playfully nip at the fabric of his glove with your teeth, coaxing something dark inside him.

"It's just us now, love," Ghost whispers. "I want these walls crumblin' down once I'm through with you."

You lift both your hands and let them dance delicately over his, your own hands so small it takes the two of them to even hold the entire thing. You tug at the fabric, removing the glove from his skin and revealing his bare knuckles to you. If not for the dark which surrounded them.

Unable to truly see him for youself, you let your touch fill that yearning to look upon him. You let the glove fall to the floor, as your hands take his again, your warmth clashing with the iciness of his own touch.

"Why don't you make that happen then," you taunt him.

You take his index finger and bring it to your lips, letting your tongue slowly swirl around it, as your saliva coats him, your breath making his skin shiver. You gently bob your head forward and suck his finger, taking your time getting it wet for him. Only just faintly being able to make out his mask in the dark.

You hear Ghost let out a heavy breath, before he's got you pressed flush against the door. He uses his large thigh between your legs and his other arm to box you in, his body pressing roughly against you, keeping you pinned against the door.

You were at a point of no return now. If this was what you wanted, then Ghost was prepared to give it to you, as he saw fit.

Ghost brings his free hand down, roughly pulling down the short little skirt you'd had your ass hanging out of all night, until you've felt the fabric hit your ankles below you. The second they hit the floor, Ghost plucks his finger from your lips, deciding to swap for a new pair to play with instead.

His fingers dip beneath your lace panties, letting those fall to your feet next, the chill of his hand making you jolt lightly, as you gasp. That's when he feels how dripping wet you had been this whole time. You coat the man's fingers in a matter of seconds, which he can't help but chuckle at.

"Fuckin' hell," he teases you. "Say less."

"Fuck you," you tease.

Ghost responds by bringing two wet fingers to your clit, massaging smooth circles against it, and sending a jolt of knee-wobbling pleasure through you. He gets the rhythm down damn near instantly, working a magic you should have only known he possessed. You can't help but moan to his touch, your head pressing back against the door as your body chases his fingers.

"You were saying?" Ghost teases you again. Only this time, before you've time to say something else, you feel his fingers make their way towards the entrance of your cunt, ghosting the hole purposefully, letting his hands grow damp with you. It makes the air catch in your throat.

His fingers slowly curve in, the warmth of your walls gripping tightly in retaliation. He pumps them in and out, going just a little deeper, each time they sank back in.

Pretty soon you've felt him go knuckle deep, his palm smacking roughly against your clit at each thrust. Each time left you throbbing with arousal, making you shake. The visceral, wet noises that came from your cunt paled in comparison to the moans you released alongside them.

The sensation was almost so overwhelming that your mind couldn't think straight. Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, as your voice took a mind of its own, letting Ghost know vocally just how much you enjoyed having his fingers roughly play with you like that.

Ghost would never forget these sweet sounds you made for him. They'll live in his mind 'til the day he dies, he's sure. As he'll be forever chasing after them now. Hearing you had been a newfound high

He eventually takes his hands from you, your fluids leaving a web-like trail on its exit out. In that brief moment, having found some composure over yourself, you let your hands raise up, until they've stopped at the edge of Ghost's balaclava.

You pause before attempting to lift it up, letting your fingers rest there, signaling to him what you wanted.

"Can I?" you ask.

Ghost pauses.

One of his hands meets your wrist, though it doesn't attempt to pull you away. Holding you there, instead. Hesitantly even.

Right now, he appeared but a dark figure you could only just make out, hellbent on seeing you at your most vulnerable. Ghost wouldn't let you see him. Not completely. And you would respect that. You could be happy with just the touch of him instead. The taste of him in your mouth could be enough.

Tonight at least.

When you see he won't stop you, you slowly begin to lift up his mask. You feel the fabric glide up the sides of his neck as he holds his breath. You bring it to the bridge of his nose, letting your fingers graze against his cheeks, and tracing the stubble of his defined jawline. Simply trying to feel a picture of him in to your mind.

The whole time, Ghost stands there frozen. Letting you touch him, not having let someone do so in such an intimate matter in quite some time now. Too long of a time. He's forgotten how bare it makes him feel. And yet, he didn't want you to stop.

You mirror his actions from before, letting your thumb brush against his bottom lip. You feel it quiver, and it makes you smile.

"Don't get shy now," you purr.

You flip that switch in him, and like a predator that's just caught its prey, his mouth is on yours, pressing against you so hard that his body nearly smashes you against the door. It releases a gasp out of you, one that Ghost uses to let his tongue take a quick swipe against yours, stealing a taste.

You chase his as it retreats, your lips following him organically. As though your mouths were two puzzle pieces; perfectly fitted for one another.

His kisses quickly turn starved, his tongue exploring every available inch your mouth provided to him, dominating you in every way. Letting you know that from here on out, your mouth belonged to him and him alone. Your lips. Your tongue. Your taste. You.

You belonged to him now.

You nip at his lip suddenly, giggling at the little gasp he lets out afterward. In response, Ghost brings his hands to the hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head, leaving you now bare before him, just as a silhouette in the dark to him as he were to you.

He brings his teeth to the groove between your neck, searing them deep and bringing a light hiss out of you. At the same time, his hands meet your breast, his finger gently rubbing against your nipples, as his palms massaged you gingerly.

His hands feel you as though he planned to sculpt a new woman out of you, and his lips trail down your neck as though they could help him memorize the taste your skin left lingering at every peck.

Your fingers grip at the back of his neck, pulling him in, clawing into what little skin he left bare for you to feel beneath his lifted mask. The sting your nails leave makes him throb almost painfully so.

Ghost pries his lips from you, letting his hands slide roughly down past your ass, before taking hold of your thighs. With one quick movement, he hoists you up, allowing your legs to straddle his waist. He then presses himself against you, grinding hard into you.

The sudden flood of ecstasy it washes over him brings a low, shaky breath out of him. One he wasn't too used to making. He continues grinding against you, keeping your back pressed against the wall and both his large hands gripped firmly beneath your ass, his hands moving you almost like you were his own personal doll.

And you submit.

You submit completely to him, keeping your hands wrapped around his neck, as the grinding of his hardening cock through his uniform re-erupts that lustful flood he'd pulled out of you only minutes ago.

Using the wall to help keep you upright, Ghost brings one of his hands down to the buckle of his pants, undoing them and allowing him to lower his them. Just enough for him to take hold of himself and uncover from his briefs.

It seems he's had enough of the teasing and the foreplay.

"You know we have a bed," you joke.

"I like to work on my feet," Ghost quips back.

You feel the head of his member begin to play at your folds, lightly spreading them apart, and preparing for what felt like would be something slightly larger than what you were used to. It makes the core of your groin quake with anticipation.

Ghost continues to tease himself against you, his breath growing shakier by the second, as precum began to slick between you. His hand on your ass tightens, and he brings himself to the center of your core once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

"Think you can take it?"

You swallow and then nod.

"Give it to me already."

As quickly as the words leave your mouth, Ghost lets himself thrust deeply into you, your walls just barely being able to take in the entire length of him. It sends a sharp sensation up your body, bubbling out into one of the loudest moans you've ever felt yourself let out. You feel it travel all the way up to your throat, making your heart race as though you'd just run a triathlon.

Once he saw you could take him, Ghost pumped deeper into you, pushing further and further in at every thrust, gliding in and out with ease. Soon you've taken him completely, feeling him smack against your cunt hard.

His lips find yours again, not wanting to waste another second away from you, as his fingers dig deep into your skin, forcing you to take all of him, as you willingly let him do what he wants with your body. He clearly knew what it wanted best.

He purposefully pulls back out slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him leave your pussy, and stopping just before his head can exit. He then comes back in sharply, earning that chilling moan from you every time. He could go all night listening to it.

"That's right, lovey," Ghost pants against your lips. "That's fuckin' beautiful."

Ghost picks up his speed, each pump growing faster. Eventually, the pace had increased so much that you stopped noticing the blood you were drawing at the back of his neck from digging into it so roughly. Just as you didn't notice the forming bruises on your ass from how hard Ghost had been holding you.

All you could feel was him inside you, giving you everything he had to give, and hitting that sweet spot every single time.

"I'm so close!" you gasp out. You slide your hands back over to his face, cradling his cheeks in your palms, letting him know you were looking him in his eyes. Somehow you felt you could see his right now. "Cum with me."

Ghost takes your lips one final time, getting one last good taste of you, as he feels your walls tighten around him, your body vibrating, as you moan into his lips.

The orgasm shakes you so hard that your body moved almost involuntarily. The mixture of warmth and tight compression is enough to finally get it out of him as well, as Ghost cums alongside you, his cock throbbing against the heat of your cunt.

He lets out a breathy moan, his forehead resting against yours, as you both fight to catch your breaths.

As the moments settled, and your heart rates began to rest, you both continued to let faint images of each other dance in your minds, as un-pronounced as when you first walked in.

"Maybe we can have a nightlight on next time," you joke.

Ghost is quiet for a second, still attempting to reassess himself. He clears his throat before speaking again.

"I'm up for that."

♡( •ॢ◡-ॢ)✧˖° ♡

#call of duty #modern warfare ii #mwii #ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #mw2022 #smut #Spotify

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retrievablememories · 4 months

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one of these nights | dpr ian

word count: 1.1k warnings: kissing. and some suggestiveness/sexual tension. a/n: finally conjured something up. hooray for me breaking a nearly 10 year dry streak of never completing a single fic of this guy?

i'm finding that i'm in no mood to write anything explicit lately (cherry bomb wore me out ok), so this will probably not be what a lot of folks are looking for, but… this was written more for my own self-indulgence than anything else. 🤓 please don’t jump me about a part 2, i don't know whether there will be one or not

divider from here

"i'm tired," you say, crossing your arms and leaning your weight against the brick wall behind you. you blink slowly, trying to placate some of your exhaustion and rest your eyes. it's not the most comfortable resting spot, but it's all you have for now until you're back in your heated apartment and in your own bed.

"it should only take him a minute to find his wallet," christian reassures you as he settles himself on the wall opposite to you, knowing how eager you are to get back home. he can't blame you, as the long night is beginning to catch up to him, too.

"i can't believe he lost it in the first place; who the hell does that?" your friend had dashed back in the direction of the restaurant once you all had gotten halfway down the block and he realized he didn't have his wallet. now you are just waiting for him to find it and come back, having ducked into this alleyway to try to get some shelter away from the winter breeze. you wouldn't have gone anywhere near this dim, narrow alley if you were with anyone else, but you trust christian to keep you safe if anything happens. it feels unusual but comforting to be able to trust someone in that way.

christian chuckles lightly and shakes his head. "y'know, i think he was a little too preoccupied flirting with the waitress to keep track of it."

despite your tiredness, you break into giggles at the remembrance of your friend's corny attempts at flirting with lines that seemed to come straight from a poorly-rated romcom.

even after your laughter dies down, your insides pleasantly warmed by the amusement, christian's eyes stay on you—intently watching. when you realize this, you meet his gaze again with a question beginning to form on your lips.

your eyes only have seconds to remain interlocked with each other's before christian is stepping forward in one long stride, his body heat filling your space and his lips capturing yours.

it's completely unexpected. what's more unexpected is the flash of scalding heat that it sends through your body, and the quiet, surprised moan it pulls from you. his lips are warm and unaffected by the cold of the outdoors. strands of his hair tickle your face, and his nose presses against your cheek, the solid metal of his nose ring disrupting the soft touch of his skin on yours.

there are the ghosts of his hands—one at your hip and the other somewhere between the nape of your neck and the side of your jaw—but neither one fully makes contact with your body, just brushing by like he's decided he can't touch you or it might overwhelm him. his mouth parts, and there is the tip of his tongue gliding across the seam of your lips. you are just about to invite him inside, but then there is nothing more.

the kiss ends before you can fully get your bearings within it. christian separates from you and a trail of spit is the only thing left connecting you both, which breaks when he backs away.

"maybe i shouldn't have done that," he says, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. "i'm sorry." you don't know what to say to that.

the unruly breeze is back, changing directions and flooding into the narrow alley, and it makes your lips even colder than they'd otherwise be from the new moisture on them. your entire nervous system feels like it's vibrating within your body—trembling with the desire for more. you want to cross those few feet of space and go to him, meld your bodies together, crush your lips against his, scratch your nails across his back over the smooth leather of his jacket.

you might even like it if he picked you up and pressed your back against that rough brick wall—if you wrapped your legs around him and squeezed his slender waist between your thighs—if you felt his fingertips sink into the flesh of your thighs while his tongue sunk into your mouth.

but your feet stay planted right where they are.

"sorry? you don't have to be sorry. but why did you do it?"

"i just wanted to—for a while now. that's pretty selfish of me, but...fuck." he flips a hand through his hair like he always does; he does it so frequently that sometimes it distracts you from the conversation at hand. in those moments, all you can really think about is the softness of his hair as it slides through your fingers, the few times you’ve touched it before.

now, all you can think about is grasping it more firmly and controlling his movements, bringing his mouth back to yours so you can taste him again.

lost in his thoughts, he bites his lip. the vibrating of your nerves intensifies.

"well, do it again. you could be selfish with me, christian."

there's an expectant pause as you both size each other up, a mutual understanding and desire developing in the silence. christian approaches you again, but slower this time, like he's trying to gauge if you're serious. in seconds, he's right in front of you and breathing your air and staring at you like he is hungry for something only you could give him.

quietly, you reiterate: “take whatever it is that you want. i want you to do that.”

“darling...” his voice sounds deceptively gentle, teasing even though he doesn’t mean for it to be. he whispers to you as if you’re a glass figurine that could disintegrate if he speaks too loudly, even as his tattooed hand presses against the brick beside your head, already enveloping you. leaning in, his eyes flicking down to your mouth and staying there, he says: “do you really want me to—”

"hey! i found it."

you abruptly turn away from christian, looking at your friend who's standing at the entrance of the alleyway and holding his wallet up with triumph. "what are you two doing?" your friend looks at you cluelessly, though realization immediately dawns on him with an embarrassed smile he tries to tamp down.

the moment is shattered; christian's expression breaks into an awkward smile that matches your friend's, and once again the space between you is wider than you'd like for it to be, his arm back at his side. "dude..."

you give a heavy sigh and roll your eyes, suddenly remembering how tired you are. "...nothing. let's go home."

#the title is a reference to the eagles song i suppose #dpr ian x reader #khh scenarios #khh imagines #dpr scenarios #christian yu imagines #christian yu scenarios #i'm irrationally paranoid about him accidentally running across any of this shit so IDK how to tag this

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papayatori · 2 months

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Don't Blink!(P4)

LN4 x fem!reader

Warnings: None

a/n, we're starting to get somewhere, oh how I love a good slow burn. ;-; (Also please bear with me, I know these aren't entirely accurate, I'm simply doing this for plot purposes, thanks!)

Why the hell had I decided to invite Lando over for breakfast. I don't know what came over me, whether it was some random confidence or those eyes of his that could drive me mad, I was pissed off at it.

Night owls don't do early breakfast. I know this from personal experience. I also know from personal experience that Lando is a morning person.

This is not okay.

My alarm blared multiple times that morning, I gave up after the fourth time, deciding that Lando was important enough to get out of bed for.

I did my normal morning routine, skin care, brushing my teeth, all of the necessities, before trudging into the kitchen to somehow find the will to not only continue living for the next few hours of the morning, but also find the will to cook breakfast.

I let out a long, exasperated and dramatic sigh before carrying on with my brave quests.

Halfway through the deep and ferocious battle known as making pancakes the right way, I heard a heavy knock on my door. My heart skipped a traitorous beat at the thought of who it could be.

Curse my silly feelings.

I wiped my hands on the kitchen towel I had on the bar and quickly went to open my door.

"Good morning, darling." He had one hand held out to me, the other behind his back. I accepted his hand and allowed him to kiss it the way he had the night before, though not without a growing red color in my cheeks. He pulled his other hand out from behind him, revealing the prettiest rose I had ever seen, and he handed it to me with an expression that was probably just as pretty. The top button of his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a small portion of his chest for all to see. It distracted me from the rose for a bit longer than I had planned.

"Thank you?" I said finally, in more of a question than a statement. "Why are you all fancy looking today, and what's with the rose?" He grinned, flashing his teeth.

"It's our second date."

I could've slapped myself in the head, but it wouldn't have done any good. I had forgotten that we had agreed it would be our second date, even if it was mostly a joke when I had offered.

When I didn't reply, he stepped past me, brushing his hand against mine as he did so, and walked into the kitchen.

"Pancakes?" He said, a smile growing further when he saw the huge mess in my kitchen. "I'm going to assume that's a yes."

"You would be assuming correctly, Lan. Pancakes are an art I've yet to master." "If I die because of your cooking, I'm taking you with me." He looked me dead in the eye as he said this, no hints to whether or not he was joking. I threw the kitchen towel at him with a laugh.

"I'm not that bad of a cook!" He eyed me suspiciously.

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you."

I rolled my eyes at him, wondering back to the task at hand.

Lando helped me finish prepping. He even helped me set the table, too. Not only did he look the part of a gentleman, but he also played the part very well. I couldn't help but think that we were a family right then. The way that we talked to one another, joked around like we had known each other for years. How he had helped me clean off the bar we would be eating on, since it was completely caked in flour from my small war earlier. Things just felt right at home. Lando was starting to feel like home, and I was starting to look forward to his visits.

"Y/n," He started, pulling me away from my pancakes. "Look at me." He hesitated a bit, reaching his hand up to touch my face. His thumb brushed the side of my cheek gently. This felt far more intimate than the two of us had ever been, and while I wasn't pushing him away, it was almost terrifying how dangerously fast my heart was beating due to his small action. "You had a bit of flour left on your face." He smiled, probably seeing the tint of my cheeks.

"Thanks." I stumbled, dropping my embarrassed gaze back to my pancakes.

...

Lando and I were playing a very dangerous game. Both of us were dancing around the thought of the other, neither of us decided to cross over the fine line between friendship and something more than that. We had spent all day together for the last week, and when we weren't around each other, we were texting each other or tweeting back and forth. Lando had discovered that I posted on Twitter quite a lot, and he never failed to reply to any of my pictures with something witty or stupid, all of which would make me giggle to myself. I had hated actually admitting the fact that I might think of him as something more than what we were, which was strange considering we had really only known each other for a weeks time, but nonetheless, I still felt that way.

You can't really tell your emotions no, can you?

He hadn't stopped on the formalities, either. He continued to kiss my hand when he met me at my door or out in public somewhere. Especially in crowds, he would sometimes squeeze my hand, knowing how nervous I got. All of his small gestures gave me butterflies and sent my pulse so high I though I might faint. My chest had started to ache when he wasn't around. I had started to feel empty after practices had started for the season, though that also meant the race was getting closer.

As we stood now, the race was two days away. It was now Thursday, Lan's second testing of the season. So far, he had come home with nothing short of success to boast about. He always got really excited when he talked about the car or the team. Those blue-green eyes of his would light up every time the topic was even brought up, inviting him to ramble for hours. Not that I minded, I personally find it quite enjoyable.

I heard frantic knocking at my door, knowing it was probably just Lando being overdramatic. I opened the door in a hurry, not willing to admit it to myself, but I was excited to see him.

"Hi" He said excitedly, doing a little wave before letting himself in. I'm assuming he had just gotten back from his practice. It was about that time and he was absolutely drenched in sweat. He went to sit down on the couch, but I held out my hand in denial.

"Lan, you're covered in sweat. You're not sitting on my couch like that." I covered my nose instinctively as I had started to notice.

"Aw, y/nnnn, c'mon. I'm tired." His bottom lip threatened to pop out at any moment, I knew it was only a matter of time before I eventually gave in to his pouting. I wouldn't give up that easily.

"Shower, go, I'll wash your clothes for you." It was his lucky day that I liked to wear oversized clothing. I dug through my closet trying to find one of my bigger shirts. With a triumphant smile, I brought Lan a pair of my larger sweatpants and a baggy shirt.

Hopefully this would do.

"Are you sure?" He asked, questioning my offer.

"Positive, you have no choice if you want to have our movie night tonight." I was practically shoving him into the bathroom at this point, trying to get him in as quick as possible before I was poisoned by the smell of his sweat. "I keep some of my dad's soap under the cabinet, feel free to help yourself." I heard some sort of grunt of approval from the other side of the door, and with my mission a success, I wandered back to my couch, admiring my handiwork.

"y/n 1, Lando 0."

A breath of fresh air hit me as Lando walked back into the main room. "May I sit now?" I looked up at him, his hair still damp and frizzy, curls sticking to his damp face. He could not have been more attractive. Especially since the shirt that I had thought would be big enough, turned out to be rather short, revealing a small portion of his abs to me. I had to look away, nodding my head slowly to his question.

A blush started creeping its way up my neck. I saw him give me a look out of my peripheral. "What's the matter with you?" He asked, as if absolutely oblivious to the obvious. "Just excited for the movies." I lied through my teeth, and if he had known better, he made no effort to say otherwise.

We both agreed on the spiderman movie; though, we had to watch the ones with Tom Holland in them. Well, Lando insisted we watched the ones with Tom Holland in them.

We joked around for the first movie, watching it but not really watching it. Every now and then we would bump into each other, moving ever so slightly and brushing shoulders or knees. Each touch was like fire to me, and it made me feel hotter than I should have. The room got warmer every time he looked at me, spoke to me. I was starting to realize that my feelings really didn't like being ignored, and I was eventually going to have to acknowledge them. The second movie was even harder to get through than the first. My eyes had started to grow heavy, and I knew that sleep was fast approaching. I felt a weight around my shoulders and looked over to find Lan's arm wrapped around me, his eyes focused on the TV. I liked this a bit too much, I decided. His warmth dug into me like poison, my eyelids threatening to fall with each passing second. I knew that if we sat here for much longer that I would be a goner.

My head fell down gently onto Lando's chest, I felt it tense slightly before letting up like he had before when we had hugged the first time. His chest shook with a soft chuckle. Though sleep had taken me, I felt a small kiss to my forehead, causing a smile to instinctively spread across my face.

"Goodnight, darling." y/n 1, Lando 1.

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lorelune · 9 months

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(a continuation of this piece)

"i was surprised that you were late today."

jing yuan says halfway through lunch. he speaks over the rim of his teacup. his lips are curled in an easy, gentle smile. his shoulders are relaxed, posture slack as he leans against his own bent leg.

he's barely touched his meal.

(you have a full bowl as well.)

"i got caught up with work." a lie. a blatant one. you're never late for lunches, and you always let jing yuan know if you even have an inkling of being a few minutes past your appointed time. you're careful about it. meticulous.

your visit to blade has made you careless. dulled you with a grief that is eating you alive.

jing yuan hums thoughtfully. you hope he won't press this. he's-- he's an unusually calm character when he wants to be. you're his lover-- dutifully, horribly reliable and loyal. he has no reason to doubt you.

(except, you'd spent the first half of the day in the shackling prison with its beau acratic hoops and horrors, all to see yingxing. to be heartbroken all over again.)

you thought it would bring you some closure. in retrospect, this was more wishful thinking. all its left you with is an hot, branding ache in your chest. a wound ripped open anew. it had already scarred over, albeit imperfectly healed.

(jing yuan never minded this. he could tell he carried things with you, he'd both told and shown you this. and truthfully, how could you not? being undying does not lend itself to happiness. it lends itself to an accumulation of sin that cannot be undone. cannot be lessened.)

"dear?" jing yuan asks, voice mirthful and sweet. "are you with me?"

"yes." you force yourself present. you hope your eyes aren't too puffy. "i am distracted. what did you say?"

"i asked you what kept you at work." jing yuan asks, so easy. so kind. "if lady fu is working you to hard, i am happy to arrange a few days off for you. is a vacation in order?"

"no, it's alright." you rush, stumble over your words. "i should've planned better is all. how is your lunch?"

jing yuan rests his chin on his palm, "i'm not very hungry today. i apologize, dearest."

"you don't need to apologize. it happens." you assure him. "i'll make you a meal tomorrow. just let me know what you're in the mood for."

"you spoil me."

"i simply treat you well." you tell him. you're grateful you're able to. that the general lets you close enough to cook for him and feed him morsels and lounge on his personal terrace in the artificial sun each day during noontime.

"you do." jing yuan says softly. reverent. he gets like this sometimes. moony and a little dumb about it. so genuine and earnest it breaks you.

(it makes your lie feel that much more sour.)

jing yuan opens his mouth to say more, but promptly redirects as yanqing arrives, swords floating around his back. he and the general talk, carouse for a moment. yanqing has had yet another day of sparring. that's good. that's nice.

(yingxing doesn't remember you. only you are burdened with this memory. will this feeling eat you alive? it's-- it feels worse than it did when you were younger. more naive. when things fell apart and you were burdened with standing by and watching the world you loved so much, with the people you loved so much fall apart. even jing yuan was away, making a name for himself. proving his worth.)

(you alone bear this.)

your chest aches.

jing yuan is at your side. you hadn't noticed him approach you so directly.

"dearest, walk with me?" jing yuan asks and offers you a hand to help you stand. yanqing is already tucking into his meal, waving goodbye.

the terrace is wide, and high above the rest of the luofu's structure. it's lush with plants. vining fruits, plump and ready to be picked curl along its railing. flowers bloom wide and bright.

(you wish you could focus on the beauty of it. how kind a place this is. how fortunate you are to have made it this far.)

"you're distracted today." jing yuan says, guiding you to a bench. his hand lays warm and firm on your shoulder. "are you sure the divination commission is giving you trouble?"

(no, the mutual past lover you both share is layers below you in the shackling prison. radiating an energy that feels astral and unholy. the kindness purged from him. yingxing really is dead, isn't he?)

"no, i promise." you give him a half-truth and a smile that you hope isn't as withered as you fear it is.

jing yuan looks pleasantly neutral. perhaps, if you were some foreign diplomatic or tourist you'd be charmed by such expression. the arbiter general of the luofu is known to be ruthless in battle with a lovely personal disposition. perhaps you'd see this moment as a reflection of that rumor.

you know, however, that in this moment jing yuan is frustrated. he will not treat you with the same firmness that he does his retainer or his subordinates, but you know the feeling is, perhaps, the same.

jing yuan doesn't like when you withhold information. he has always vocally appreciated your candor, with a sweet honesty that's disarming as it comes from a man who speaks in half-truths so frequently.

and now, you lie to him. your jaw is locked and your eyes still feel scratchy and swollen from your tears.

jing yuan begins to speak and you cut him off. grab his hand with a squeeze and pull yourself into his side.

"do you remember when you broke the first blade that yingxing made for you?" you ask.

jing yuan goes still for a moment. just a second of hesitation but you catch it. the feeling melts away as he laughs, tinged with melancholy. "i do. he was furious with me. and you had to collect new ore off-ship for a month for him to craft a replacement."

"i did." you whine with a laugh. "it was miserable. 'roid mining is awful. i was cleaning astradust from under my fingernails for weeks when i got back."

"but, you came back with the ore regardless."

"yes, and i never did again. no matter how much yingxing tried to bribe me."

"you were too busy entertaining the young lady fu to be his errand boy. i remember well."

"i probably could've made the time." you tell him. he knows this already. "i just didn't want to be away. i would've missed you both too much."

"is that why you so graciously eat with me each day?"

"i do that because i love you." you squeeze his hand. "and i enjoy your company. and want to be near you."

(you want to hold him until the last moment, however that takes shape.)

jing yuan hums. he fits you so your cheek presses against his collarbone, and his chin rests on the top of your hand. his arms wrap around your middle, squeezing and rubbing his thumbs over you. he holds you tightly to him.

"the feeling is mutual." jing yuan tells you, soft in a hushed voice only you get to hear.

you bear your weight into him. he catches you easily. holds you until yanqing calls for you both to stop being so 'gross' and to 'rate his form' on a new maneuveur he's been practicing.

jing yuan leads you once more, never fully pulling away from you. a hand on your waist, a palm over the small of your back. he puts you in his lap the moment yanqing excuses himself to flit about.

"you need to get back to the divination commission soon, don't you?" jing yuan asks, probing.

"i took the day off."

"you did, now?" jing yuan has already seen through you. this you know.

"yes." you tell him.

(you want to tell him more. you want to scream and beat the ground. perhaps you willl, later, in the privacy of your shared home.)

for now, you satiate the ache with the truth.

"i saw blade earlier. that's why i was late."

jing yuan squeezes you. it almost hurts as he curls over you.

"and?" jing yuan asks. there's a weakness in his voice that you seldom hear. "are you satisfied?"

"hardly." you tell him, turning his arms to wrap your legs around his waist. to drag him closer until your chest to chest and can hear the steady heartbeat thumping under his sternum. "i don't think i ever will be. i miss him too much. he's just gone."

"i know."

"it's awful, isn't it?"

"it simply is." jing yuan says. this is his way-- the way he has kept himself from being eaten alive by mara. you cannot be cannibalized by the thriving rot if you simply choose to let go of the awful, terrible things that would cleave another person in two. he look at the objective rationality of each situation-- this is why he is the longest-lived general. this is why he is a brilliant strategist, and a soft, grounding lover.

because, he reminds you that yingxing is dead, and any fondness you carry for the man known as blade is misplaced.

"do you not miss him?"

"of course." jing yuan kisses your temple. holds you tightly lest you plunge into the ground or float into the sky. "that does not change things though, does it?"

hope is a twisted thing, you think. in this instance, it's better to kill it. whatever mission yingxing-- no, blade has set out to complete should not concern you. there are greater crises. worse ills.

kinder realities that lay in front of you. at your feet. in your arms.

you nose into jing yuan's jaw. each shuddering breath he gives you, you savor. there's no use clinging, is there? but that doesn't mean you won't enjoy each moment you have with him. you'll be at his side until the divinations carve that that will no longer be possible. you will reminisce, however painful-- but aeons, you must refuse to let your past burden you.

so, you hold jing yuan like a lover does. cup his cheeks and kiss him until he's groaning against your lips, grinding you in his lap. he nips at your lips with a laugh as he pulls you flush to him. closer, closer, closer--

you will hold this in your cupped palms, as long as fate allows. perhaps, you both have earned that much.

#lore writes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #blade x reader #blade x you #OUCHIES #look never ask me for part two of something again #i will not heed you #but my whims carried me here and i will listen to her siren song

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theold-ultraviolence · 1 year

Note

Hello my loveeeeee

I come bearing Aemond thots

So we know Aemond is observant and a man of few words so in relation to his wife I think he would have sooo many feelings about just the littlest things he notices about her but he can't figure out how to say it I imagined he's tried to a couple times but it didn't come out right poor thing

So he started writing her letters almost daily even though they see eachother every day just so he can get his words out 🤍

Whispers Unsaid / Part II

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

A/N: CEE. When I tell you I've never ran to write a prompt THIS QUICKLY, I think I'm breaking a personal record here. This is the sweetest, most precious and unique concept ever and omg I hope I did it justice. Thank you for indulging me and for letting me explore more of Aemond!! Title is based on the song 'Hail to the King' by A7X, which is also the album that has been inspiring me when it comes to him. CW: suggestive language, no explicit content. Words: 2k.

“What are you doing, husband?”

You sigh from your spot on your shared bed, with an outstretched hand in search of his touch, only it lands beside you on the empty dent where the warmth of his form still lingers.

It’s late, and Aemond’s back is towards you, with his long hair cascading behind him like the silvery moonbeams that reflect on the ocean just outside of King’s Landing. Straight and stoic as always, he sits, illuminated by the triad of candles sitting on his desk as he’s calmly scribbling away on paper.

He stops as soon as he hears your quiet calling, and only turns halfway to grant you a little smirk. “Just some writing. Go back to sleep.”

“Just some writing, he says...”

He huffs out a quiet puff of air that’s just Aemond’s way of laughing, and you consider it a win.

At the beginning, the silence had unnerved you; it puzzled you, to be the one to take up the mantle between the two of you and prompt the conversation out of him for seldom did he utter a single word. It’s like Aegon had claimed all the bark upon being the first one to leave their mother’s womb and left no words to spare for Aemond or Helaena.

But in time, you learned that that’s just the kind of man that Aemond is, and it does not mean that he despises you, as you’d first believed as a newlywed, being one in need of affirmation to be at ease knowing their care is reciprocated.

Having been betrothed to Aemond had proved to be a blessing, despite it being a political arrangement. You’d grown too fond of him, too attached to his scent and the weight of his body against you. You’d often think about what would’ve become of you, hadn’t you been matched with someone as caring and devoted as he.

Albeit eternally silent.

So you made it your own little game, to try and pry a smile out of him with your quips, or a sigh of contentment with your caresses, anytime you could. This little laugh you treasure, as it’s a sound as rare as a King without a crown, or a Valyrian without a dragon

“May I enquire, your grace, if it’s something appropriate to share with your lady wife?”

You speak through a teasing smile and a giddy heart over the sight of his shoulders visibly relaxing and a dimple surfacing along the lines of his sharp jaw.

“Whispers unsaid, I believe,” he murmurs cryptically, and isn’t that the understatement of the era.

Everything that Aemond utters to you is restrained, often biting his tongue when he sees you changing into your dress in the morning, or walking down a stairwell while lifting up your skirt, like a proper princess. You wonder what he thinks of you, what passes through the intricate maze that is his mind, whenever he’s helping you put on a piece of jewelry, or tying up the laces of your slippers or squeezing your hand in his in a crowded room.

His gaze is the loudest, while his lips refrain from speaking.

And it is indeed far too late for either of you to be up, hence why your eyelids are dropping regardless of you aching to keep admiring Aemond, so you give up on coaxing the conversation out of him and ultimately mutter, “come back to bed, husband.”

“I’ll be there in a moment.”

You huff in a childlike manner, inching closer to his spot on the bed to absorb the remnants of his warmth, to inhale that characteristic scent that emanates from the crown of his head, imprinted on the pillow.

“You know I can’t sleep without you,” you dare confess. Only in the hour of the owl did you let these kinds of truths spill.

It’s true, you cannot. Not when your lives are marked by unrelenting stress, impending danger. He’s your anchor, at the end of the day. In his arms you seek the safety and softness that you need after so much endurance and you dread the moment he’ll be yanked away to war.

He nods and finally joins you, immediately cradling your face to his neck before his arms envelop you.

In a dreamy haze, you mumble, “one day you’ll have to tell me all about what you write…is it fiction? Is it prose? Are you writing about how you secretly despise your wife?” you yawn, making him humm amusedly before he’s lulling you to sleep by tracing his fingers all along your spine until you’re no longer conscious.

–

First you hear all the clattering noises about the room before you fully awaken, and the next thing you register is the lack of a firm body against your own under the covers.

Groggily, you call for his name, over and over again and louder each time until a pair of hands frame your face and thin lips tenderly plant themselves on your forehead.

“What’s going on?” you’re greeted first thing at dawn to a room bathed by shadows except for his sapphire eye, as bright as the sun.

“Off to clean up after Aegon’s messes, as always.”

“When will you be back?” one of your hands joins his atop your cheek as your brain tries to process what he’s saying, and you’re hit with the realization that he’ll be away from you for Gods know how long.

“I’ve no way of knowing. But I promise I’ll come back to you as soon as I’m able.”

“Promise me,” you plead, staring intently at his right eye and feeling the tiniest bit of relief when you see it twinkling with affection.

He nods before his touch leaves your face until he’s got a hold of your hand with both of his, depositing something right into it that he seals with one final kiss.

“If you need me, my lady, look under the dresser. There’s a chest there with something I think you might enjoy.”

You realize there’s a key dangling from a silver chain left in your open palm.

Before you can even question him, he gives you one last longing stare, and leaves out the door.

His last message doesn’t fully sink in as you’re more preoccupied with burying your head in your husband’s pillow.

And it isn’t until the end of this day – an excruciating one without his presence – that you kneel down to retrieve a heavy treasure chest made out of fine silver, which unlocks by the turn of the key that had been resting around your neck.

You bring it with you to the bed to study its contents, soon to realize that it contains piece after piece of paper, with dates inked on the corners, going back as far as the day you were officially married.

Your heart takes on a galloping beat as you read, as you go through each of Aemond’s secret letters to you.

“My lady, we are officially wed. I am eternally grateful to my mother and father for having agreed upon bethroding me to you. I’d had my eye on you for a long time. I’m almost certain they noticed for I’m not entirely discreet – aiding their final decision. I look to the fates that have been bestowed on the rest of my family and while I would have fulfilled my duty with honor, I am relieved and overjoyed that I get to be by your side until the end of our days. The only thing that frightens me is you becoming bored of my existence. I know I’m not the liveliest of princes, but I hope I can convey the affection that I hold for you in the best way that I can. You are the loveliest in the whole court – in the whole kingdom. I’m most fortunate to be yours.”

“Dear wife, you drive me wild. I wish there was a way to bottle up the sound of your laughter and your moans. It’s exquisite. I wish to keep it, turn it into an elixir to help me soothe the stress of my days if you are ever not around. Please, never stop whispering in my ear, never stop cutting your giggles short for fear of appearing childish. I yearn to hear you, I aim to please you, to make a home right in between your legs so you’ll always be pleased, and in turn, I’ll get to hear you. You hold utmost power over me, and you don’t even know it.”

“My darling, it’s the little things that make me adore you, so. The way your body elongates when you stretch out your limbs, first thing in the morning, and how the sun forms a halo around your hair as it peeks through our blinds. The way you lick your lips when I’m changing clothes after training, or when I step inside our rooms after a bath. It’s the intensity in your loving gaze, looking at me as if I still had both of my eyes – how you’ve never recoiled from the sapphire that replaces one of them. But I especially love the way your body curls around mine when we’re together in bed. I want to keep you that way, forever in my arms.”

Your heart swells with each letter and some even manage to heat you up from inside out, igniting a coiling around the pit of your stomach that has you all flustered like the young maiden you no longer were.

“Wife of mine, your beauty is truly sublime, at every hour of every day, no matter what garments you wear. Although I’m most keen on the kinds of dresses that are tight at the waist and make your breasts all plump and inviting. I both relish to show you off at court so that everyone can see that you’re mine, but loathe how the Watch Guards ogle at you. You’re mine, mine alone. Your every curve is mine to hold and fondle. Only I get to see what’s underneath. And that, my lady wife, is my preferred state to see you in. Naked before my eyes alone, sprawled on the bed with your legs opening up to welcome me in. It’s sublime, I repeat. How tightly you cling to me, how intensely do you pulse around my girth while your nails claw at my back. The day I lay on my deathbed, by Gods, I wish to see such a sight as I take my final breath.”

You’re poorly fanning yourself with your palm while walking a frantic circle around your room as you’re turning Aemond’s words around in your head.

So this is what goes through your love’s mind.

So this is what he’s been keeping from you.

There’s a whole universe contained in his mind that he can only let out through paper and ink. And now you’re even more desperate to have him here, to hold him and dote on him and compensate for all the words that fail to come out of his mouth when they're so eloquently handwritten.

On this night you don’t sleep. You’re up ‘till morrow comes and the air is crisp and you’ve gone through every single one of his letters – landmarks of your rather short time as a wedded couple, and pieces of the puzzle that used to be Aemond’s perception of you.

You’re still deeply immersed in your frenzy, for five more sunsets and sunrises until finally, you hear the lock of your bedchambers turning, and in comes your husband, bruised and battle-worn and perplexed for a second as you’re immediately on him, wrapping yourself tightly to him and peppering kisses on the corner of his lip until he catches them with his mouth.

“I love you, husband.” You exhale.

After a moment he replies, with the first full grin you see on his face without saying anything whatsoever.

Though that doesn’t trouble you anymore.

You simply return his key and eagerly lead him to his desk where he finds a brand new stack of the finest paper, blank and awaiting to receive his next stream of thoughts.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #female reader #reader insert fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #ewan mitchell #my writing

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enkas-illusion · 3 months

Text

Double Trouble

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Rating: SFW

Genre/Theme: Established relationship; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, suggestive, no smut, language.

Summary: Boyfriend!Satoru with a twin and they're exact copies of each other, down to their mannerism so they often switch places just to test how long it takes for you to figure out you're talking to the other one.

Author's Note: The one where he isn’t the only Honoured one. I hope you enjoy this one shot. Thank you for reading!

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Say Yes by Loco, Punch

Satoru Gojo was everything you could've asked for in a partner. He was kind, funny, intelligent, sexy, and had better emotional maturity than most men despite being somewhat of a nihilist in his own way – perfect was the word to describe him.

The only problem was that he was a bit too much to handle at times, or dare one say, a bit *too many, – meaning his mother gave birth to him and thought ‘he's perfect!’ so she popped another xerox copy 2 minutes later.

And thus were born Satoru and Soichiro, the most identical twins in the history of twins. The two not only shared the same face but had gained quite some notoriety among friends and family for sharing the same brain cell as well.

While you had no reason to complain about their flawless personalities, they'd taken a liking to mess with you each time they got together. One would think they'd go easy with the pranks if it's someone they love, right? Wrong! It meant the shit you had to endure was way worse than any other normal friend would have to.

On one such instance, Soichiro tagged along with Satoru after work and it wasn't until halfway through dinner that your instinct went off and you figured out it was the twin who was sitting next to you instead of your boyfriend as usual. Later that night, you'd warned Satoru about it, presenting a solid argument even he couldn't resist.

“You know I almost grabbed his thigh under the table tonight!”

“No, you didn't,” Satoru scoffed.

“Okay, maybe not. But it’s highly likely that I could've! Ummm… what if one day you return home and I greet you in some skimpy lingerie but instead of you, it’s your brother who sees me, all titties out???” You were grasping at straws really.

“Will you do that!?” His ears perked up.

“Not the point, Toru…”

“Hmm… okay fine, I won't let it get that far,” he assured you.

“But you'll still continue to tease me?” You huffed and he nodded his head, smiling innocently. You rolled your eyes at him, complaining about how he was the ‘worst’ while he simply gave you a bear hug and a few kisses to make it up to you.

~~~

So, even after being with Satoru for more than a year, you still did not know how to distinguish between the two. The only people to do so in a split-second were his parents. You had once sat the twins down to compare their faces for any tiny details you might’ve missed but you came up short regardless.

You could only tell the difference by instinct, after having a conversation with them – maybe you were more delusional than you'd like to admit but to you, Satoru's voice held a lot of love each time he called your name.

In an attempt to distinguish the two, you thought you'd successfully managed to get Satoru to dye his hair black with temporary colour last time you went to their family house, only to find out Soichiro had done the same and was waiting for you, waving his arm at you in the driveway with a victorious grin.

So when you don't find the twin greeting you like a devil inviting you to hell this time, you turn to your boyfriend who's undoing his seatbelt.

“Listen to me, Satoru,” you grab his collar to turn him to look at you as you speak in a serious tone, “Please don't fuck with me this time. One of these days, I might really embarrass myself due to your games.”

“I'm betting on it baby,” he grins as he gives you a quick peck before swiftly making his way out of the car to avoid your scolding. You were going to stay at his parents’ country house for a weekend and you could already tell it was going to be a long weekend.

You sigh as you grab your bag and he opens the door for you before pulling the bag out of your hand and holding his hand out for you. It's impossible to be annoyed at Satoru for long when he pulls shit like this.

When you enter the house, Satoru excuses himself to find his father and you make your way to the backyard garden where you guess his mother might be. You smile to yourself when your guess is right.

“How can I help?” You smile, making his mother turn to look at you. She gently puts the shovel down next to the plants she's depotting.

“Hello dear, you've arrived just in time… would you mind bringing the remaining pots? They’re near the window in the reading room,” she instructs and you nod as you make your way back inside.

You walk the long corridor before you reach your destination, making your way to the window where the pots were placed. You lift two in each hand, holding them with care, trying not to drop them or stain your t-shirt.

“Need some help?” you hear a voice and turn around to see the other twin at the door. The only reason you can tell it's Soichiro is because he's wearing a grey t-shirt and black sweatpants as opposed to your boyfriend who was wearing a purple hoodie and coal grey pants.

“Hey Sochi, could you pick the last one?” You motion your head in the direction of the last pot, “Gotta move it to the garden.”

He nods before picking up the pot and walking with you, back to the backyard garden.

“Did you arrive before us? I didn't see your car in the driveway,” you make conversation along the way.

“My car's out for servicing. I arrived with the mothership yesterday when she was in town shopping,” he explains.

“Hmm…” you nod as you stop near the area where the soil has been rooted out of the ground, “here.”

You motion to him to keep the pot down and he obeys as he leans down to place them there gently. You're busy looking around to find Mrs. Gojo when you hear him speak, “Anything else, princes–”

Your eyes widen as your head snaps back to look at him.

“SATORU!” you gasp at the nickname that accidentally slips out of your boyfriend's name, making you realise it's not his twin.

“Soichiro! Leave my poor girl alone,” the other blondie walks out wearing the exact same clothes. You look between the two as you stare in disbelief, not being able to tell who's who.

You're about to speak when you hear their mom's voice as she moves closer to you, pressing an arm gently around your shoulder, “Satoru… I'd expect you of all people to be nice to her,” shaking her head at the twin standing next to you.

You were right! The twin next to you is Satoru!

“No, it's okay! The best way to deal with them is to avoid both of them the entire weekend,” you give your boyfriend the fakest smile you can muster up as you walk hand in hand with his mother to fulfil your gardening duties.

As it's the only exact identical matching outfit the twins have, they don't mind wearing it all weekend. As the day progresses, you find yourself working your brain full time to notice any difference you can find, but the guys are relentless to the point where even their sleeves are rolled to the exact same length.

And of course, the whole day is spent the way you’d dreaded and almost predicted it’d be like. Later when you’re out on the porch having coffee and watching the sunset with your boyfriend, you notice Satoru has an insect bite on the side of his wrist.

“Toru?” you question, wanting to make sure you have the right twin next to you.

“Hmm?” he peels his eyes away from the pretty sunset to look at you.

“Kiss me?” you ask softly.

“Wha– is this a test?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You know what, nevermind… I just felt like it cause this is the first time we’ve been alone all d–” your words are cut off by his lips capturing yours. You smile into the kiss as Satoru cups your face, caressing your cheek.

Satoru check completed! You make a mental note to observe his wrist for the mark each time you interact with the twins.

After dinner when everyone's lazing around in the living room and watching whatever reality tv show is playing in the background, you excuse yourself to go to the washroom. Roaming around, you end up in Satoru's old bedroom. It's endearing seeing how you can still find pieces of his current personality, likes, hobbies and interests in bits, plastered everywhere around his room.

You find yourself craving some alone time with your boyfriend all of a sudden so you pull your phone out to text him to come up to his room. You only have to wait a few minutes before you hear a knock on the door.

“It's open,” you say as you place the book that you were holding back on the shelf. With a big grin, you extend your arm out to him and he takes it.

“Hello, darling,” he says in a playful tone and your eyes briefly glance at his wrist. No mark. It's Soichiro. He pulls you into a hug and pats your head.

Fine. If your boyfriend still wants to mess with you even when you’re needy for him, he's gonna get his payback. You decide at that moment – this switcharoo bullshit stops today.

You smile innocently at Soichiro as you pull away, your hands travel up to his chest to push him back till he falls on the bed.

You hop on top of him to straddle him but are careful enough to not actually make any sort of inappropriate contact, hovering above without closing the gap between your bodies. You simply wanted to push him enough to get him uncomfortable and to confess.

You can see the nervousness on his face as he clears his throat to come up with an excuse to get out of this situation without making it awkward, “T-the door’s open, let me–”

“It’s just us Toru… I doubt anyone’s gonna bother coming up to find us anyway,” you purr as you lean your body forward, placing your palms on the sides of his head to support your weight. You start feeling anxious too, you need him to break soon or you’d have to abandon the act, so you persist and whisper in his ear, “You look so sexy, I’ve been wanting to feel you inside me all day, Satoru.”

You cringe internally at your own words. But in that moment, you can see his face get paler than it usually is and you want to laugh at how nervous he looks when he hits his limit at your lewd comments.

“Wait, I’m no–” Soichiro pushes you by the shoulders as he begins in panic, another voice interrupts, pushing the half-open door forcefully, “Baby, wait!”

You feel a large arm hook around your waist to pull you away. As you stumble to your feet, breaking free from his hold, you turn around to see an annoyed Satoru, knitting his eyebrows as he looks at you. He looks more annoyed at himself than at you.

“Satoru?” you question as you bring up a hand to his cheek.

“Yes, baby?” he asks in that loving tone you’re so used to as he wraps his arms around your waist tighter.

You smile as you caress his cheek, trying hard to hold in your laughter, “What… A… Dumbass!”

You burst out laughing as you break free from his embrace and he stares at you in disbelief. You look from him to Soichiro, who’s already stood up from the bed as you hold your stomach, hurting from laughing so much, “That should teach you both!”

“Well then, I’m gonna go watch tv with the only two sensible people in this house,” you wave the baffled twins goodbye and turn around to leave the room. The very next second, you’re taken by surprise when you feel a hand grab your wrist to keep you from moving.

You turn around to see that your boyfriend seems… mad at you?

“Sochi, do you mind? I wanna talk to her alone,” Satoru motions his brother to leave the room.

“Yikes, just keep it quiet,” the twin chuckles in embarrassment as he walks out hastily. You hear the door close behind you before footsteps recede down the hallway.

You look at Satoru, expecting him to speak up. But your boyfriend simply grabs both of your wrists before twisting them behind your back and closes the distance between your bodies.

“Waitttt… is this Toru or Sochi? It is impossible to tell!” your words are dry and sarcastic as you giggle at him.

“Baby, I don’t think you’re in a position to be laughing at me right now,” he towers over you, his grip on your waists tightening.

“But here we are! I told you not to mess with me,” you chuckle as you try to wriggle your wrists out of his grip.

“And I’ve warned you not to press my buttons… or do I need to remind you again?” he grunts as he flips you around, walking you to the bed till your knees hit the edge of the bed, making you stumble on the mattress with him behind you. He brings a hand to the back of your head to press your face down into the mattress and you take this opportunity to try to hold him. He tsks at your movement before moving away from your completely.

You flip your body around to lie on your back and see what’s going on, only to find him rummaging through his closet. When Satoru turns around to walk back towards the bed, you notice two ties in his hands.

This isn’t how you’d expected your little prank to turn out but you definitely weren’t complaining. However, just as Satoru straddles you, grabbing your wrists, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“What?” he groans into the speaker.

“Mum’s calling you both downstairs,” you hear Soichiro’s voice on the other end.

You press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing as Satoru groans once again before cutting the call with a ‘be right there’.

“I think god sent a guardian angel disguised as your mom for me,” you chuckle as you sit up, making your way out from under him.

“You’re lucky,” Satoru grabs your jaw, “but don’t get ahead of yourself, guardian angel can't save you past her bedtime.”

You poke your tongue out to tease him, breaking free and springing out of the bed, mumbling a ‘whatever’, walking out towards the living room.

As you make your way back down the hall, you hear your boyfriend’s footsteps behind you. You smile to yourself as you begin to brew different ideas of riling him up further throughout the night.

~fin~

#jjk x you #erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jujutsukaisen x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo

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