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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 1 day

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What Attracts Them [1]

Alastor

Vulnerability. If there is any weakness or fault in your self-concept, Alastor will pick up on it and try to exploit it to garner a connection with you. He’s not particularly fond of approaching someone without an ulterior motive in mind or solely because he finds you mildly interesting -among other sinners, that is. He needs leverage and uses whatever he can pry or observe about you to his advantage. Need protection? He’ll offer to guard you. Need financial support. He’ll hand over any amount you desire. As long as you either sell your soul or initiate loyalty to him, Alastor will proudly proclaim you his (property).

Alastor is wildly addicted to dual-sided sinners. The pure joy he gets from seeing you go from being sweet, shy, and agreeable to bloodthirsty, witty, and downright stubborn gets him going. You don’t often get that way unless it’s to put someone in their place or to show how protective you are of him -even if he’s far more powerful than you in every way. Still, when you do, his grin stretches wider than usual, and he’ll constantly try to encourage your violent behavior out into the open after the fact.

He’s got a massive thing for motherly types. Partly because he is a momma’s boy but mostly because he is very prone to being taken care of, as much as he’ll deny needing anyone’s help. What overlord would willingly say they like having their ears petted, antlers touched, or hair messed with by the one they love? None. And he won't be the first. You can always do the simplest things too: helping Charlie around the hotel, giving angel advice (even if he doesn’t use it), or running around with Nifty trying to help her catch bugs strikes a nerve in the stag he can't ignore. Seeing you tend to others makes him incredibly hot-blooded. It gives him more motive and excuses to breed you later on.

Dancing. He loves to trot around his room late at night with you. Soft jazz or swing music playing from him keeps a smile on your face as he leads you through various steps, effortlessly twirling you around the room and addicted to hearing you giggle softly anytime he sweeps you off your feet. He was a phenomenal dancer while alive, and that fact hasn’t changed in death. You will either have to learn from him or already be light on your feet when Alastor decides to ask you for a dance.

Alastor doesn’t mind having a chaotic partner but values a higher level of ‘obedience’ from them. If you aren’t the type to make a deal with the stag and he can’t convince you to do so, he’ll settle for an almost toxic form of companionship. What he says goes, and if you put up a fight, he’s not above reinforcing his command. Physically or emotionally. No one has ever called the Radio Demon fair, and they’ll never have a chance to. He does enjoy your stubborn fits occasionally, though….they make it so much more fun for him when he has to break you into submission again.

Overprotectiveness. He’s got a bad habit of practically stalking you whenever you’re away from him, but you have quite a temper when he’s put in a vulnerable position. This doesn’t happen often, though. For instance, his brawl with Adam enraged you to want to skin the angel alive. Luckily, Nifty and Lucifer got to know him before you did. Alastor adores it when you hiss at sinners who stare at him a little too long and can’t help but smile wider when you flash him an innocent look right after. You’re smaller and much more prone to be hurt, but you’ll still claw someone’s eyes out for him…yeah he’s never going to let you go.

Alastor isn’t very touchy but delights in invading others' personal space, so having an overly clingy partner would annoy him. You learn he appreciates acts of service more than anything else and is pleased to see what you do for him—keeping his room and Radio Tower tidy even if they’re usually clean and straightening out his bow tie if it’s crooked, bringing him raw meat after a long day of running errands, or even slipping into his room at night to sleep even if he’s wide awake himself just because you ‘miss him.’ It's all so trivial, small things you get used to doing, but meaningful to him nonetheless. He returns the favor in the best ways he can think of. Praise, gifts, making you cum until you can't think straight… You're such a sweetheart, and he can't help showing you bits of gratitude.

Lucifer

A sucker for the cliche type of love. Running into you while on a stroll, seeing how clumsy you can be right off the bat, and feeling obligated to help poor little you make Lucifer giddy. You don’t mainly get why he’s so infatuated with you at first sight, but having the attention of Hell's King is flattering. Your friendliness is what pulls the devil in like a magnet at first. He wonders how you ended up in Hell even though you’re lovely and genuine. He finds kinship with those out of place because he fell from heaven for the same reason. In his opinion, you stand out amongst other sinners by being less of one.

Confidence. Whatever vanity you have, Lucifer drowns in it. Your looks, talents, and impression on others…if it’s all done with a sense of pride, he can’t get enough of it. His drug is seeing the smug look on your face when you make him beg for attention. When you want something from him and know you’ll get it if you ask, that glint in your eye sends the devil spiraling to his knees. You don’t have to be obnoxious about it either; quiet as a mouse hanging onto his arm as he walks about, he’ll, with a slight smirk of delight on your face when people stare at you, stroke his ego more than anything else could. You’re his prize, and he’s glad you’re proud.

Curiosity. You are asking him questions, getting him to talk, or even rambling about what’s on your mind, which comforts Lucifer. It reminds him of his time in heaven, being able to express his thoughts to those who’d listen, and you tend to do the same, which excites the fallen angel. He enjoys explaining things to you, deconstructing complex concepts to see your bright eyes light up with wonder, and the oh-so-sweet smile you give him during long, in-depth conversations eases his heart. The pure excitement on your face when he shows or explains something new to you is contagious. You’re too cut to be left clueless.

Touchiness. Lucifer is very prone to clingy behavior and sees nothing wrong with that. He likes your attention on him. Physical touch is his favored love language, and sharing it with you comes naturally. You often sit in his lap, play with his hair, pet his wings, and cuddle. He can’t get enough of it. He shudders when you’re all over him, pining for a kiss he can’t resist giving to you and whining for another right after he gives in. His hands never wholly leave you, and yours always find a way to bring him in close again.

Creativity. He’s drawn in by those who have an eye for the arts. It doesn’t matter what your interest maybe if it’s a form of expression for you; Lucifer tends to admire it. He’ll go as far as researching facts about the subject/hobbies to impress you with his knowledge and actively participate in the activity. You don’t mind him joining in, happily spending time with him more often, and appreciative that he puts so much effort into learning about something you love to do.

Reliance. Not in the sense that you’re utterly helpless without him but more so that he likes to be needed even for the most minor things. Being unable to help or fulfill another’s wishes irks Lucifer. He embodies pride, and feeling useless damages him a lot more than other things. He’s very attentive and soft-spoken even when agitated with you, and he genuinely does his best to do anything you ask of him. Once you become his, the world (alive or dead) is yours for the taking. He hates it when you brush him off to do something on your own, so you’re bound to let him tag along with whatever you do to keep him busy. He doesn't intrude if it's too severe of a boundary for you, but he can't help but want to take care of you with the utmost diligence.

Brattiness/Sassiness. Lucifer can't understand why he's attracted to a sharp tongue and an even colder attitude (which only occurs when you're upset with him), but he loves every second of it. Sometimes hell does or says things on purpose to piss you off and get your focus back on him. Other times, if you're already in a sour mood, he’ll suggest you take that anger out on him. He's noticed a pattern of you using stress as an excuse for him to fuck your brains out, and he's not mad about it. If making you break down into tears underneath, thanking him for fucking the bitchiness right of you after the edge of another high slowly wears off helps you in any way….Lucifer won't hesitate to participate. He wants to see you happy, but he loves the minor spats of aggression you have, like every other sinner in his domain. Though, you don't get very cutthroat as much as the majority does.

New filler posts because sometimes I have random ideas and need a break from writing a series. ❤️

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venusandsaturnsrings · 2 days

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you roll his hands between your own, playing with the metal joints connecting his fingers as he looms above you with a self-satisfied grin. rouge dusts your cheeks from the handful of drinks you’ve shared with the cowboy between flirtatious remarks and subtle physical intimacy. but now, he’s got you against the wall as he purrs something about how pretty you are in the dim and grungy bar lighting. you’re quickly giggling in response with one hand coming to rest on his chest as you bat your eyelashes playfully, telling him he’s a real sleaze for buttering up a taken women though you’re taken by him. boothills gently twirling your hair around, kissing the strands as sweet as his next words, “let me take you in another way.”

then you’re stumbling down an alleyway laughing as he expertly shoots bottles off ledges and kisses each bullet, for you, of course. the ground is wet beneath your shoes and you know very well scrubbing off the mud will prove to be a pain but you also know nothing cures pain quite like a single look at the cowboy who’s got you wrapped around his steel finger. he’s tugging you through winded pathways, twirling you under street lamps, and kissing you behind dumpsters like it’s the most romantic thing in the world and it really is when it’s him. he’s got you under one arm when he pulls you back into the dingy motel, the receptionist glaring at your three in the morning rowdiness but boothill has you convinced an extra hundred or so credits in the morning will patch that dented relationship.

you’re inside the room, back against the door as he plays with the hem of your shirt when your tipsy mind mumbles it playfully. it’s meant to be a joking jab at his protective yet playful demeanour, one that plays off of cheesy lines you’ve heard in bad adult movies or between a pair of lovers that’s a bit too hands on and slimy in public. it’s nothing tainted with malice or meant to slice open stitches made by inexperienced hands but, his reaction is immediate.

“c’mon, don’t play around with me daddy,” and he locks up before jolting away from you like a hot iron. it catches you off guard and all you can do is blink as boothill stands stiff and plainly hurt. you’re confused but stutter out an apology laced with hesitation and the delicacy of snow. but he stares. he stares and doesn’t speak a word for what may as well be hours in your formerly-tipsy-now-painfully-sober mind. then he swallows and turns around, headed for the crooked sliding door that leads to what can’t be an inspector approved balcony. he leaves the door open and you’re not sure you should follow till he takes of his hat and looks back, almost pleading.

there’s no chairs and you’re sat on the dirty wood next to him in silence. boothill moves to push back his hair uncharacteristically exposing both eyes when he finally looks your way, something heavy weighing in them. you’re pretty sure he’s going to ask to break up when he starts spilling apologies and faux curses. he sighs, and you think it’s coming, but then the story starts. you’d never heard about his life before the wanted posters and galaxy ranger status but he’s throwing it all on the table, every card, chip, and eye exposed, when he tells you he had a daughter. not one by blood but one he loved all the same, one he mourns for in words he’ll never be able to write and you try to understand. it’s not easy work but you’re pulling his head down onto your shoulder and he’s going through the motions of what should be crying but without the tears and you’re kissing his knuckles like he might disintegrate.

he doesn’t blame you. not even a little bit. but it’s sore and raw and he can’t help but feel; you’ll never tell him not to. though it’s not much, you pull boothill back in the room and promise a better future while making a mental note to commission an artisan for a decorative bullet with her name. you fall asleep together with clothes not even changed but hoping someday you’ll be able to ease all his pain.

tomorrows a new day and that’s where you’ll start. together.

#cw: suggestive #SMILESSS AT U GUYS #i mentioned this once upon a time but it’s a reoccurring thought #*smacks top of boothill* lots of trauma stored in this thang!! terabytes of it!!#he loved her he really did sobs sobs #boothill x reader #boothill x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you

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sorchathered · 16 hours

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It would’ve been you

Pairing- Bob Floyd x afab reader

Summary- you’d finally admitted your feelings to Bob, the only problem? He doesn’t remember any of it, and now he’s got a new girlfriend.

Warnings- angst, a little bit of smut, Bob being a dummy, reader also being a dummy.

A/N- Hey babies! Let’s celebrate me finally getting back to the states with a new fic I wrote (one of three) on my 14 hour flight last night, not beta read, fuck it we ball. 😂😂

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Bob’s new girlfriend was awful.

No really she was. Natasha had been sending you emails for weeks about how bad things had become, and until you’d stepped back on shore you had scarcely believed it yourself.

It had been twelve weeks since you left for your special detachment. Twelve weeks since you drunkenly fell into bed with your best friend Robert Floyd.

You’d had a party at you and your roommate Natasha’s, sort of a “good luck hope you don’t die” drunk fest as your front seater Jake Seresin liked to call it. Too many drinks were had and inhibitions were pretty much non existent by the end of the night, Bob offering to help you clean up which resulted in drunken confessions of love and hands roaming bodies until the early morning hours.

It has been perfect, messy, but perfect. You’d scarcely hoped he felt the same and had been holding a candle for him for an embarrassingly long time. When you woke that morning you were in a lavender haze of ooey gooey feels, sneaking out of your room to shower and pack your things as you thought about what might be in the future for the two of you when you made it back from the mission.

But when Bob woke up with the hangover of the century and didn’t remember a single bit of the night before? Everything went to shit. You were too embarrassed to tell him the truth, if he didn’t remember then maybe it didn’t mean what you thought it had meant, and maybe he hadn’t been ready to cross that line with you after all. So you bottled it all up, pushing forward with the mission and kept contact to a minimum. He never said it but he knew something was off, you never missed an email when he wrote and lately you’d all but ignored him entirely.

About 6 weeks into your deployment, Nat hit you with a bomb you never expected- Bob had started seeing someone. You let it all out in your bunk, cried until your tears could have floated the carrier you were on and then some. You should have said something, you knew that now, and it was too little too late.

When you made it back Nat was bursting at the seams to give you all the gossip, you weren’t ready to hear it but she was quite literally bouncing on her toes to give you the tea so you settled in after a shower and let her blab.

“She’s awful y/n!!! Some wannabe instagram influencer who is on her phone constantly and oh my god she is rude!! She puts on this sweet little angel vibe for Bob but as soon as he leaves the room she’s like Cruella de Vil with blonde hair. I’m totally convinced she only wants to be with him for the military girlfriend vibes, she posts all these pictures of them together and tags them with little stupid hashtags about how she’s a military girlfriend and blah blah blah.” She says with a scowl as she pretends to fake wretch and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Is he happy with her?” You ask quietly, too afraid to look in her eyes, she’s too perceptive for her own good though; she’s known something changed between the two of you but hadn’t been able to place it.

“Honestly? He looks miserable, he hasn’t seemed like himself since you blew out of the house the morning of your deployment without so much as a goodbye. I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask, but I think you two need to talk. He misses you.” She took your hand in hers and gave you a kind smile, she was a bulldog in her field but she was the kindest soul you’d ever met. “I miss him too Natty, I really do.”

Bob had really liked Lauren in the beginning, she seemed like such a sweet girl, her socials full of pictures of her rescuing dogs and going on adventures, he could really see a future for them. But then she started only wanting to hang out when he was at the bar with his navy friends, always on her phone posting pictures of him in uniform, and bragging on her tiktok about being a Navy pilot’s girlfriend when that wasn’t even really what he did and she never seemed to listen enough to actually care about getting to know him for who he was. It had become exhausting, and he couldn’t talk to the person he wanted to the most because it felt like you’d completely ghosted him over the past few weeks. Bob was at a loss, he didn’t know what had changed between the two of you but as soon as Natasha announced to the group chat everyone was going to dinner to celebrate you and Hangman making it home he only had one thing on his mind- corner you and find out what the hell he’d done to piss you off.

When he got to the Hard Deck that night everyone was already in full party mode, drinks and pizzas littered the back wall of the bar as everyone danced along to Rooster’s rendition of “Benny and the Jets” on the piano, you perched right by his side singing the harmony and bursting into giggles as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You were breathtaking, you always had been to Bob but he’d never had the courage to tell you how he felt, always burying it when the feelings bubbled up in his chest. He was glad he hadn’t brought Lauren with him, he couldn’t clear the air between the two of you with her around, and honestly he was still wondering if he even wanted to continue a relationship with her in the first place. He would unpack all of that later, the song had ended and you’d noticed he was staring at you, your skin flushing bright red at his gaze.

You knew he’d be here, but even after weeks away you weren’t sure you were ready to face him. Did he remember what happened? Did it change anything? It certainly had to you, how could it not? You’d admitted your deepest feelings for him and then had the best sex of your life, only for him to completely forget it ever happened. It was devastating, but there wasn’t any way to avoid him so better to just rip the bandaid off now and get it over with. You sat your empty beer down on a nearby table and made your way to where he was perched at the bar, ginger ale and peanuts occupying his hands as he looked you over with a nervous smile.

“Hey.” Oh god really? Hey? That’s all you could come up with? You cringed internally at the waver in your tone, you can be held responsible for millions of dollars of military tech but Bob Floyd is somehow the Achilles heel in your confidence? Jesus.

“Hi” he said softly and smiled back at you, “we’ve missed you around here, you didn’t answer any of my letters and I was starting to get worried about ya.” He fiddled with the top of the plastic cup holding the peanuts and tried to look anywhere but in your eyes, this was already the most awkward conversation he’d ever had and that was saying something for him.

“Look, Bob I don’t want to prolong this but I get it ok? We all do stupid things when we’re drunk and I won’t hold it against you. I heard you have a new girlfriend and I’ll respect that, I just…I need some time. I meant every word of what I said to you that night and if you just said it back to be kind-“

“Whoa hold on a minute, what are you talking about honey?” He thrust a hand out to catch yours and watched horror cross your face, what the hell had he done?!

“Oh-oh my god. You still don’t remember. Fuck, I- I’m sorry Bob I can’t do this right now.” You all but ran from him towards the back door and out into the night, you were fairly certain you were going to throw up or pass out. Maybe both.

Bob’s head was swimming, he stood up to follow you and had a moment flash behind his eyes. You beneath him, arms around his neck as the two of you ground into each other in your bed. He’d thought that had been a dream…it had been…right? The more he tried to think of it the more the memories came back, watching you come undone beneath him as you cried out your love for him, his hands tangled in your hair as he made the same confession. Natasha came up behind his rigid form to press a hand to his shoulder and he jerked back with a gasp, deep blue eyes wild and filled with panic. “Hey, whoah! Easy Bob, what’s going on?” She put both hands on his biceps as if to steady him but it couldn’t stop the room from spinning.

I-I’ve gotta get outta here Phoenix, did you see where y/n went? I royally screwed things up I have to see if I can fix it before it’s too late.”

She pointed towards the back door and he was bolting for it before she could say anything else, he couldn’t believe how much of a fool he’d been.

You were crouched in the sand a hundred feet or so from the bar, gasping in deep breaths as tears clouded your vision, head in your hands and body shaking. You should have just said something the morning after it happened, why didn’t you just tell him then? He still didn’t remember and if he didn’t remember then it must’ve not meant anything to him, now he was with someone else and your chance had all but evaporated. Had you completely lost him now? You didn’t know if you could bear not having him in your life, even if he wasn’t in love with you, losing your closest friend would be too much to bear.

“Y/n?” You heard him say softly behind you, he had always had an uncanny ability to sneak up on people and you supposed you should’ve known he’d come. He was the kindest person you knew, even if something made him uncomfortable he still worried about others. Selfless.

You swiped the tears away as best as you could before you stood and looked at him but it was no use, the second you locked eyes the tears were back.

“Robby, fuck I’m so sorry. I should’ve brought it up the morning after it happened but I-“

“I didn’t remember. And you thought it best to leave it be.”

“Y-yes” you said shakily, and you saw anger flash across his handsome features, a look you weren’t used to seeing from your beloved WSO.

“Damnit y/n! All that time wasted! If-if I’d’ve just known-“ he was shaking his head in frustration and you realized with a shock that he may not have remembered- but he meant what he said.

“Wait- wait, are you saying you meant it?” You said with a whisper, Bob looking at you incredulously like you’d grown three heads or something ridiculous.

“Is that what you’re worried about? That I didn’t… Jesus of course I meant it! How could I not? I think I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you and I feel cheated now! I’ve had you in my arms, kissed you, made love to you and I don’t remember it, but the worst part is knowing that you kept this from me. We could’ve been together this whole time! I’ve been pissing my time away with a girl who couldn’t give a rats ass about me and you’ve been right here all along.”

You were so sure he’d said it in a drunken mistake, braced for the worst that it wasn’t registering that he was telling you everything you wanted to hear, tears still spilling from your eyes as you blinked up at him, and a sound of frustration escaped his mouth as he yanked you into his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheeks, and you melted into him as it finally settled in that this was real.

He took your face in his hands as he tipped your head up to look at him, swiping the tears away with his thumbs while you tried to bring yourself back down from the meltdown.

“Damnit girl it’s always been you, I don’t know how you could’ve thought otherwise.”

You laughed out at your stupidity and leaned up into him as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Now listen, I want to do this right, so before I let myself drown in you like I want I have something I need to do. Stay right here, wait for me.” He kissed you again and released you, already missing his warmth you let out a whine.

He chuckled and swiped a loose curl behind your ear, “in order to make love to you like I want, I have to speak to Lauren. I want a clean slate for us baby, give me a few minutes and I promise after this I’m yours until you’re sick of me.”

“Never gonna happen” you said with a grin and he mirrored you with a brilliant smile of his own.

He had a renewed confidence he hadn’t felt in months as he made his way back inside to get his phone, passing Hangman by the dart board with his arm braced against the wall and a very familiar blonde haired woman shamelessly flirting with him.

Doing a double take he confirmed with a laugh that is was in fact his girlfriend trying to shoot her shot with Jake Seresin and oddly enough it didn’t even surprise him.

“Hey Seresin, glad to see your back.” He said with a smack on the golden haired aviators back, Jake cocking his head to the side with a smirk.

“Baby on Board! Good to see ya, glad to be back home. This is- uhh I’m sorry sugar I don’t know that I got your name” he said gesturing towards the girl and she looked at Bob like a deer in headlights.

“Lauren, her name is Lauren. By the way, whatever was going on with you and me? It’s over sweet pea. I think you two will be very happy together, you like TikTok right Hangman? She’s real big into all that influencer shit. Anyways, you two have a good night, I’ve got somewhere else to be.” He said as he walked off winking at Natasha as she cackled from her perch near the group.

He bounded out into the sand to find you right where he let you, lighter than air as he looped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to kiss you like he’d wanted. You gasped into his mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip and slid his tongue into your mouth to taste you. It was perfect, all your little sweet noises as you grasped at his collar and rubbed your body against his.

“Robby” you gasped out as his lips drifted down your jaw and to your neck and he felt lightheaded over all of it. “What’s on your mind baby” he said as he smiled against your skin and you shivered in his arms. “Take me home? I think- I think we need a do over. Want you so bad.” He couldn’t think of anything better, tossing you over his shoulders as you shrieked and giggled he carried you to the parking lot and placed you gently in the passenger seat of his old beat up truck.

“Let’s get you home sugar, we’ve got a lot of time to make up for, hope you weren’t planning on sleepin’ tonight, I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

You all but crawled into his lap in the bench seat as you ran your hands through his sandy blonde hair,

“I love you. Don’t you dare keep your hands to yourself, want you to love on me until we can’t move anymore, take me home and make me yours.”

And he did. Six months later when he put a ring on your finger it was a surprise to absolutely no one, he’d always pick on you for hiding the truth and you’d never let him live it down that he had forgotten making love to you in the first place. It seemed so silly now looking back on it, knowing you two were meant to be. He’d always been the one, and now he always would be.

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🏷️ tagging people who might be interested- @attapullman @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @roosterforme @seitmai @jessicab1991 @sebsxphia @fandom-princess-forevermore @nerdgirljen @lenafromthenordiccoven @sio-ina-bottle @sunsetsimpsblog @auroralightsthesky

If I missed anyone I’m sorry I’m running on three hours of sleep 😭

#top gun maverick #bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd smut

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taizi · 2 days

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okay just because we were talking about this - how do you think an asl reunion at alabasta would look like?

i hope its ok that i took this as an excuse to write an au no one asked for :')

read on ao3

A lot of the problems in Ace’s young life—most of them, if he was being honest—could be attributed to the shitty choices that adults around him made.

When Bluejam grabbed Luffy by the scruff, the business end of a pistol jammed painfully into the nape of his neck, he was talking a bunch of shit about how Sabo’s dad ripped him off. He was paid to kill Ace and Luffy but he’d been short-changed, and for a man who seemed to think he was entitled to a certain lot in life, it rankled.

“But that noble brat doesn’t make a bad ransom,” the man said, shaking a weepy Luffy in one meaty hand to shut him up, like Ace’s baby brother was nothing but a piece of dirty laundry. “If his family won’t buy him back, I’m sure someone will.”

Ace’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Whatever time Ace didn’t spend in the jungle he spent in the gutters and outskirts of the city, where every unwanted, street-sharpened child knew the risk a certain kind of stranger brought with them.

If Sabo ended up with a slaver, Ace would never get his brother back. Pieces of him, maybe. But not the same golden boy he was right now. Not the brave, proud, secretly soft-hearted person Ace loved so much. He’d come back different if he came back at all.

He had to compartmentalize. He couldn’t act rashly until he had Luffy back. His mind raced frantically, but he made sure it didn’t show on his face. He snatched Luffy up when Bluejam finally let him go and made his own body a wall between his brother and the men who had no compunctions about hurting him to prove a point.

They were left to spread gasoline throughout the terminal, while the pirates made their way back down to the beach. Not one of them lingered to make sure Ace and Luffy did as they were told, and Ace should have wondered about that. Should have wondered why they were making themselves scarce, why the city gates were barred, what all those fuel canisters are for, but his thoughts were too full of other things.

That was why, the second the coast was clear, he tossed his gasoline drum aside and seized Luffy by the arms. He stooped to look right into his eyes, trying to ignore the way his chest panged at how wide and red they were.

“I have to go get Sabo,” he said firmly. “You have to stay here.”

“Let me come!” Luffy cried immediately, predictably. “Don’t leave me behind!”

“It’ll be faster if you wait,” Ace snapped, because he didn’t want to say that Luffy was going nowhere near any ship bound for the slave market, because then he would have to explain why. Even without the Fruit that made him a special novelty in the Blues, Luffy would be snatched up by evil hands in a heartbeat. “You’re too little, you’ll just slow me down,” he said instead.

It wasn’t nice, and when Ace had time later, he would feel bad about the way Luffy’s lip trembled. But for now, it was important that he got his point across. Every second he lingered was another inch ahead Bluejam’s crew got. Ace’s world would literally end if their ship left port without him.

So he gave Luffy’s shoulders a push that propelled him back a step. Then he pointed in the direction of the treeline. He made his face mean and forbidding.

“I mean it, Luffy,” he said. “Go wait for me at home.”

Luffy finally tucked his chin in a miserable little nod. Ace gentled despite himself and reached out because there were two people he would always reach out for and one of them was right in front of him.

He flicked the brim of Luffy’s hat up enough that it fell off his head, and then ruffled his hair. A gesture so familiar and well-practiced it was like muscle memory to him now. Luffy didn’t smile, but it kept the tears at bay for a bit longer, and Ace left him with another firm point back at the jungle.

Ace was a child, doing his best to keep his tiny family together. He had a half-formed plan that he would sneak about Bluejam’s ship and find Sabo wherever he was and they would fight their way out and escape together and reunite with Luffy in time for a midnight dinner. He was a pragmatic youth, and was made wiser by the world than any ten-year-old should have been, but he was still only ten years old. He couldn’t have guessed what was going to happen.

He would piece it together later—that Bluejam had been commissioned by the kingdom to make sure the Gray Terminal burned down, a noble title he planned to come back to collect once he had auctioned off Outlook’s eldest son to the highest bidder—that Ace had chased after one brother and left the other alone in a place that was about to go up in flames.

When he climbed aboard the Blood Batako, he didn’t realize it would be the last time he saw Dawn Island for almost half a year.

He didn’t realize that Luffy would wait for him right there where Ace left him, even as the fire spread into walls of flames much taller than a scrawny seven year old—frightened and crying, little hands bunched in the front of his own shirt as he choked for each breath in the thick, acrid smoke. That Dadan would find him there and haul him away kicking weakly but not screaming, because there wasn’t enough oxygen left in his body to scream. That the asphyxiation, not the fire, is what nearly killed Luffy that night. That he would spend the next week in Foosha Village tended to by their only doctor and wake up with some of his memory intact, but not all. That he would recognize Makino, but wouldn’t know Dadan.

Ace had no way of knowing, when he and Sabo finally made their way home, well-traveled at the tender young age of freshly eleven, and relieved to see journey’s end for the time being, and looking forward to reuniting with a certain crybaby who had probably been miserable cooped up in Dadan’s country or at Party’s Bar without them, that Luffy will have been gone for months by then.

“A cruise ship docked further up the island,” Makino says fretfully, “and a little boy who worked in the kitchens came down here to play because he said he didn’t like the way the kingdom smelled. He and Luffy were fast friends. I had no idea Luffy was planning to leave with him until I found the note he left in his room, and by then they were long gone.”

It’s a good thing Sabo is there, because Ace’s head is just a roar of white noise. Sabo is the one who chokes out, “But—what—did—did you call Gramps? What did he say? Is he going to find him?”

“I don’t have his direct line. I’ve left a dozen messages with his office, but you know how he is,” Makino says, forgetting that they don’t, actually. “He hardly remembers that he has an office. And the number Dadan has for him is no good.”

“Why would Luffy wander off like that?” Sabo says, progressively getting louder. “Why wasn’t someone watching him?”

“He’s just been so restless since the fire,” Makino replies. “There wasn’t anything keeping him here anymore, and it seemed like he just needed one good excuse to leave.”

Sabo looks as gutted by that as Ace probably feels, hurt and confusion racing their way across his face. And Ace finally makes his contribution, in the form of a choked, “What do you mean?” which is when Makino realizes there’s something they still don’t know.

She sits them both down at a table and holds one of each of their hands in hers, and gently explains that while they were gone, the world as they knew it had changed forever, and the happy little boy who always ran to catch up to them wasn’t running after them anymore.

———

Ace still forms the Spades, and Sabo still falls in with the Revolutionary Army, and the only reason they don’t sail together the way they promised when they were young is because the ocean is awfully big. They have a lot of square footage to cover, and splitting up is the only way they could even hope to cover it all.

It doesn’t occur to either of them to give up at any point. As Sabo climbs ranks, as Ace gathers a crew, both their bounties increasing every day, they continue to search faithfully. Either they’ll find him one day, or they’ll simply spend the rest of their lives looking.

Masked Deuce says, “What about the cruise ship he left on? Did you track it down?”

“Boarded by pirates that same year,” Ace replies. “According to the official report, it sank in a storm.”

The loaded silence says everything Masked Deuce will not say. Ace doesn’t care what someone who has never met Luffy thinks about his odds of survival at sea. If Deuce knew Luffy, he would understand. Since he doesn’t, Ace’s first mate can believe his captain is delusional all he likes as long as it doesn’t keep him from doing his job.

Deuce turns out to be a better friend than Ace deserves. One day when Ace leaves his crew to party with some locals and sets off into town to distribute flyers and put his ear to the ground, he hears someone rumble something under their breath about a hopeless cause. He doesn’t even have time to turn around before Deuce has seemingly teleported across the bar and knocked the dissenter out cold.

“Anyone who shares his opinion is free to get their shit and leave,” he says calmly.

The only voices that rise up are ones who sound very offended that Deuce would lump them in with that guy, and Ace refuses to look as touched as he feels.

When he hears word of Red-Hair Shanks in nearby waters, he tracks the man down to a wintery island and leads his crew up a small mountain to meet him. In part, he wants to thank this man who saved his little brother all those years ago. But also…

“I heard about the fire,” Shanks said grimly. “And Makino kept me updated about little Anchor until he disappeared. I’ve got eyes out looking, too, Ace. The world is big, but not so big that we’ll never find him.”

It’s a relief to know that Luffy is so loved, that more than just his brothers care if he’s ever found. But in true Luffy fashion, he explodes onto the scene when he’s good and ready.

Ace is woken up by Deuce kicking the door of the captain’s quarters off its hinges and shoving a crinkled Wanted poster into Ace’s bleary face so that a toothy, stretching smile is the first thing he sees.

He accidentally sets half the room on fire, a slip-up the likes of which hasn’t happened since the first week after he ate his Fruit, and there’s a lot of screaming, and someone shoves a baby Den-Den at him so he can call Sabo. From the way his nakama were carrying on, you would think it was their long-lost brother in the paper.

“I was about to call,” Sabo says breathlessly in lieu of a hello after only barely half a ring. “You saw it?”

“I saw,” Ace replies. The newspaper is rattling noisily in his hands but he can’t get them to stop shaking. “He took down Arlong Park. There are all these witness statements from the villagers. They’re saying he did it all for his friend.”

“If anyone even thinks about coming for his bounty, I’m killing everyone on the Grand Line and then myself,” Sabo says. It takes knowing him as well as Ace knows him to be able to tell over the phone that he’s crying buckets.

“Get in line,” Ace says. If anyone so much as looks at Luffy wrong he’s burning this goddamn planet down. He can’t tear his eyes away from the poster for more than a few seconds at a time. At the urchin grin, the pencil-mark curve of a scar, this bright young man he’s never met who is so, so familiar.

“They’re calling him Straw Hat Luffy,” Deuce says. He’s a pillar of serenity in a sea of absolute chaos, leaning on Ace’s shoulder to read with him. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now I’ll finally get to meet him.”

Which turns out to be easier said than done, because Luffy and his merry band of lunatics won’t seem to stay in one fucking spot for longer than an hour. It takes weeks to finally track that cute little caravel down to a summer island about halfway through the Grand Line, and by that time Sabo has taken a leave of absence from the Army to join him. They’re close now. They’re so close.

Wait for me, Ace would beg him if he could, wondering if this was how Luffy felt all those times his big brothers ran ahead and left him behind.

———

Ace never knew how heavy a heart could be when he was a child, a half-feral, angry, touch-starved thing. But now his heart is full—now it bursts at the seams, spills through his ribcage, until there’s no part of him that isn’t touched by it—and it’s the heaviest thing he’s ever carried.

A precious burden. He’s twice the man he would have been without it. He will never, not one time in his life ever, entertain the idea of putting it down.

But gods, Ace thinks, it would be easier, so much easier, to rip the stupid thing out of his chest and walk around a hollow shell of someone once-loved than it would be to stand here for one more minute and look down at his baby brother looking up at him like he’s a total stranger.

“Who’s this guy?” a blond man behind Luffy mutters. With the touseled hair hanging in an artful curtain over half his face and the cigarette between his teeth and the well-cut linen suit that makes it very clear he never skips leg day, blondie gives off an air of Do Not Fuck With Me just by breathing in a way that reminds Ace of Sabo at that age.

The swordsman beside him, called Roronoa Zoro on his bounty poster, is scowling outright, gray eyes sharp, ready at any moment to leap over Luffy like a faithful hound and dig into Ace with his teeth the second he presents as danger.

It makes Ace feel kind of nostalgic, like he’s looking at an old photo of himself.

He tries to focus on the nostalgic feeling, because all the rest of his brain is drowning in guilt and grief.

Somehow, he wasn’t prepared for this moment. Years of searching, nearly half his life, and he’s finally standing in front of the person whose absence tore a hole clean out of his whole future, and he has no idea what to say.

You look well, springs to mind, because Luffy does. His hair and skin and eyes are all different shades of brown that gleam with good health under the desert sun. He’s still skinny, but not in the waifish, underfed way of all the Gray Terminal kids. He looks like he’s been eating well. It settles something in Ace’s heart in the one tiny corner of it that isn’t breaking.

I should have been there, is the next-most immediate thought, and it almost takes Ace’s knees out from under him. He should have been there to make sure Luffy ate well. He should have been there to save him from the fire, to help him recover from the smoke sickness, to hold him when he cried in his sleep and to take his hand when he wandered aimlessly around the village with no one to play with and nothing to look forward to.

I’m sorry I left you, is what it boils down to, what Ace has held close and carved into his heart over the years, hating himself, hating the child he was who thought he knew better, who thought he could conquer everything without losing anything. I never should have left you.

But Luffy doesn’t know him from any other person in this busy marketplace, his head tilting to one side like a curious little bird’s, and Ace can’t think of anything to say to him that he’ll understand.

He needs Sabo. He’s about to become a walking fire hazard, and he’s about to mess this whole thing up, this reunion that was almost a decade in the making. Luffy’s two friends are eyeing him with mounting suspicion the longer he stands there and stares at their captain, every line of their body still the way a predator’s body stills in preparation for a pounce. Luffy, for his part, is still engaged, but only barely. His interest is slipping away—there are too many sights and smells and things bustling all around for him to want to stand still for a gawking stranger that doesn’t even have anything exciting to say.

His little brother. Crybaby Luffy. The boy who crawled under Ace’s blanket when their treehouse quaked in a storm, who held Sabo’s hand when they stayed out too late and walked home through the jungle in the dark. He’s a pirate now, a Wanted person, with a crew and a ship all his own, and he got this far without them. The last time Ace saw him was that last night in the Gray Terminal, when Ace was being mean on purpose to make sure Luffy stayed away from certain danger.

It occurs to Ace, for the very first time, that Luffy doesn't need him anymore. That tiny seven year old grew up.

“I saw you in the paper,” he finally says, making a concentrated effort to sound like a human being. “You’re pretty cool.”

Luffy brightens immediately. “Yeah? Are you a pirate, too?”

“I am. Made a promise to my brothers when I was a kid that we’d sail the seas together one day.”

“Wow!” Luffy says, suitably impressed. “We made a promise like that, too.” He loops both his arms through one of Blondie’s and one of Roronoa’s. “We decided way back when we were little that we were gonna stick together and become the pirate king, and the greatest swordsman, and the man who discovers All Blue!”

So one of his two guard dogs must be the little kitchen boy from The Orbit who spirited Luffy away from Foosha. The other must have come along not much later if they were all children together. Ace wants to hear the story so badly he has to clench his jaw to keep from asking. He wants to hear about everything.

Instead, ignoring the way Roronoa’s hand closes around the hilt of one of his swords, Ace reaches out and flicks the brim of Luffy’s hat so that it slips backwards off his head. Luffy squawks, and tries to free his arms in time to catch it, and then freezes in place at the touch to his hair.

Ace ruffles it fondly, muscle memory that hasn’t corroded even after a decade, and says what he should have said the first time that sunshine child in a worn straw hat shared a wild, impossible wish;

“I hope I’m there to see it when all those dreams of yours come true.”

If he had stayed a second longer, he would have seen the way Luffy mirrored Ace’s touch with his own fingers, frozen in place.

Instead, Ace has officially reached his emotional threshold, and formally retreats to find his twin. They take turns being the stable one and Ace is calling dibs on being a basket case for the next month. Masked Deuce is just going to have to deal.

Sabo got back to their meeting spot first, an outdoor table outside a tavern that hasn’t yet opened for the day, and already has their map rolled out and pinned down at the corners by various junk from their luggage. He’s marking something down and calls over a distracted hello, and Ace bleakly replies, “I found him.”

His tone is all wrong for the remarkably momentous occasion he’s announcing, so it’s not really Sabo’s fault that it doesn’t click right away. Sabo says, “Found who?” and Ace just looks at him with all his helplessness and weariness plain on his face, and Sabo drags an ink mark all across Sandy Island on the map as he whirls around and says, “You found him?”

“It’s not going to be how we thought,” Ace says, trying to manage his brother’s expectations. They share everything, but Ace would keep this heartbreak to himself if he knew how. “It’s—I think we took too long.”

“What do you mean?” Sabo asks, hands clenching into fists and unclenching. The fountain pen is dripping ink, ruining the fine leather of his left glove.

“He didn’t know me. I knew he wouldn’t, not really, but he—he didn’t recognize me at all,” Ace tries to explain. He feels stupid and childish and ungrateful, but really he just has no idea what to do. Luffy doesn’t know him and doesn’t need him and how is he supposed to fill a place in that kid’s life that doesn’t exist anymore? “We’ll have to—to start over from scratch, but how? How are we supposed to make someone like Luffy care about people like us? He’s sunshine personified, and deserves to have everything he wants and the best this shitty world has to offer, and we’re just—two selfish idiots who couldn’t even take care of one little kid between the two of us.” The awful truth, delivered quietly: “Luffy doesn’t need us anymore. I can’t see why he’d want us around now.”

Sabo is watching him like something carved from marble. Ace would never tell him, because it would hurt his feelings in a way nothing else ever could, but there are times when Sabo looks every bit the nobleman his biological family wanted him to be. The line of his jaw and the fall of his hair and his deep set eyes are regal, especially when he’s focused, when he’s working through a problem, when he’s the last sane voice in a room and he’s waiting for the morons wasting his time to run out of breath.

And then his eyes flicker past Ace’s shoulder, and his expression transforms. The breath leaves him in a rush like it was punched out of him, his lips parting, blue eyes widening in a way that seems to shave whole years from his face.

Something causes him, impossibly, incongruously, to smile.

“Would you put money on that?” he asks.

“What? Yes,” Ace says, thrown off by the inappropriate lightness of his tone. He feels himself start to bristle defensively. “Are you even paying attention?”

“One of us has to,” Sabo says, only smiling wider, and Ace feels sparks falling off his fingers in sheer aggravation as he turns around to see what is so—

He has three seconds at most to take in the sight of Luffy hurtling up the hill at top speed. It’s been years and years, but three seconds is all he needs. His arms remember how to reach out and catch him.

“I waited where you left me, but you never came back!” Luffy shouts. “You can’t be mad! I waited and waited, and then I went out to find you instead! I didn’t remember you but I had to find you! I still don’t—I still don’t know some things—but I know it’s your fault for taking too long!”

Sabo lurches over and Luffy’s rubbery hug wraps around them both and Ace is too shell-shocked by the last minute to do anything but hug back.

Luffy shoves his face in Ace’s shoulder, and there’s a hot, wet smear of tears there. It gives away that Straw Hat Luffy, the pirate captain worth thirty million berries, is maybe not as grown-up as Ace had initially feared.

Sabo presses his face against the crown of Luffy’s head, too overcome to do anything but hold him. The regal young man from moments ago is long gone. The one standing here with them is that street-rat from Dawn who knew the best places to steal food from, who always made sure they never went hungry, who once shrugged off his fine winter coat at the market and traded it to a vendor for a pair of sturdy boots for Ace and thick woolen mittens for Luffy. He had shivered all the way home, where there was an extra coat in the treehouse he could use, until Luffy had the bright idea that they should all bundle into Ace’s oversized cloak together for warmth and whined until Ace agreed just to shut him up. That had been the most annoying hike up Mount Colubo in history. It’s a memory that Ace cherishes beyond reason.

Ace whispers, “Of course I’m not mad, Lu.” It’s been ages since he was that hostile, hateful little thing who would take a bite out of anything that dared to show its soft underbelly to him. He presses as close as he can, cheek to cheek with this piece of his family that’s gone missing for far too long, and adds, “You’ve never been obedient a day in your life. If I expected anything different, that’s on me.”

Luffy laughs, and it’s snotty and choked and pure music to Ace’s ears. The kid worms closer, makes himself smaller, and lets himself be held.

He doesn’t need his brothers. His shoulders are broad, and his arms are solid and strong. He’s already made a name for himself, and even now those two friends of his are lingering watchfully further down the road—far enough away to give the respectful illusion of privacy, near enough to make Ace and Sabo’s day a living hell if they try anything fishy. It’s probably been a long time since he’s needed someone to hold his hand or carry him home.

But if, by some insane, undeserved miracle, Luffy still wants them…

It’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s more than Ace has had in ten years.

What one piece? he thinks, arms full and aching. I’ve got it all right here.

#one piece #op #opfic #asl bros #portgas d ace #revolutionary sabo #monkey d luffy #my writing #prompt #wizardmafianinjapirate

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pink-tea · 1 day

Text

cute genes

☆ pairing: choi soobin x afab! reader

☆ smut

☆ word count: 3.2k

☆ sub! soobin, dom! reader, slightly dark content !!!, dubcon technically bc baby trapping, toxic behaviors (baby trapping is not okay you guys!!), riding, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, milking, use of the nicknames "angel" (extensive use) and "bunny", nipple play (like a lot)(both receiving), tit sucking, breeding kink

☆ soobin is worried that one day he'll have to choose between his relationship and his career. you make sure that he never has to

// heyyy...how's everybody doing? (´∀｀；)

you should be ashamed of what you’re about to do, for what you’ve been doing. throwing away the condoms and riling up your poor little boyfriend all day so that when you tell him not to cum, you know you’re setting him up for failure. his desperate cries of “please please please” doing nothing as you grind down on his pulsating cock.

“come on, angel. you can do better than this, can’t you?” you ask softly, raking your nails over his chest and hard nipples. he writhes underneath you at the touch, letting out weak noises as he shuts his eyes in a desperate attempt to concentrate. it prevents him from seeing your smug expression at his struggle, sighing contentedly as you grind your clit down into his pelvis.

“can’t,” he pants, bunny lips red and slick from all the foreplay and subconscious biting he does while trying to quiet himself down. “please, I really don’t think I can,” soobin whimpers, opening his glossy eyes to look up at you. you groan at the sight, the blonde so pretty and pathetic underneath you that it makes him cry out when you roughly grind your hips down again.

“you’re gonna cum already?” you ask, watching as he quickly nods, lashes fluttering when you don’t even stop your pace to talk to him. “but I’m not gonna cum yet,” you sigh, rotating your hips in a slow circle. you reach a hand down to card through soobin’s hair, pushing the sweaty bangs on his forehead out of the way. “you have to get punished if you don’t do what I tell you, you know this,” you patronize, grabbing a fistful of the strands so that you can lightly shake his head side to side.

he whines at both your words and the slightly disorienting feeling, desperate to please but so desperate for release after what you’ve already put him through. he recognizes the word punishment, and if he wasn’t crying already, he’s sure he would’ve teared up because he’s trying so hard to be good. it feels so unfair, and he doesn’t even know that it’s because you made sure it would be unfair for him.

knowing that he’s being set up for failure makes something inside you bask at the control. it’s bad that you’re lying to him; it’s even worse that you’re making such a big decision without even considering what he wants, but isn’t it for the better? he’s been growing so much as an idol, more and more of your shared time spent on rescheduled dates and rushed intimacy.

you know he’s been stressed; you can help with that. but you also know that lately he’s been growing less and less confident that he’ll be able to still be the love of your life, along with being a successful idol.

you’d never make soobin choose between you and his dream. instead, you decided to make sure that he wouldn’t be able to choose. your sweet boyfriend, sweet soobin who would probably condemn himself to the furthest circle of hell before he abandoned his girlfriend and child. sweet soobin, who wouldn’t think of leaving you or your kid because he’s just too good of a person to do it.

it just makes sense; it was the only other option besides forcing soobin to quit his true passion (which probably wouldn’t work in the first place), and you just didn’t have the heart to do it. besides, even if being pregnant would be a less than wonderful experience, you’d be able to do it if it were for soobin. you’d go through the weeks with only facetime calls and the texted ‘i love you’s for him and your future child.

imagining your baby with soobin’s bright eyes and adorable dimples makes your heart fond. knowing that he'd be forced to forever come back home to you makes you determined.

“don’t want a punishment, wanna be good,” soobin whimpers out from beneath you, causing you to sigh in mock pity. you let both your hands fall to hold his face, his cheeks wet with both dried and fresh tears. he’s always been a pretty crier.

“bad boys have to get their punishment,” you explain softly, not being able to stop the small smile on your lips when soobin only responds with a high-pitched and needy whine. “even if they’re trying to be good,” you hum, letting your hands trail down his neck as you continue the moment of your hips. “surely you’re not trying to get out of your punishment,” you suggest, adding a tiny mocking gasp to your words.

quickly, the blonde shakes his head. “n-no, would never!” he exclaims, eyes squeezed shut as your nails rake down his shoulders and slip to his collarbones. “wanna be good, wanna be really—” the words get caught in his throat the moment your hands trail down from the dip of his collarbones to his perky nipples.

the reaction is immediate. a sob of anguish is ripped from his throat, his back unintentionally arching as his hips thrust up to meet yours. "no, no, no, please,” he tries to plead, head thrown back, and the hands that somehow found themselves on your waist leave a bruising grip. you ignore his cries, rolling his sensitive nipples under the pads of your thumbs.

“if I didn’t know any better, i’d think you were about to cum, angel,” you say casually, only receiving a choked noise from soobin as he thrashes underneath you. it’s amusing, the way you bounce on top of him as a result of his desperate attempts to escape. he's so fucked-out that he doesn’t even realize that he’s working against his own interests, slamming harder and deeper into your warm cunt every time you come back down.

“[your name], please, i can’t—i can’t!” he doesn’t even manage to finish forming his words before he’s shaking underneath you, the hands on your waist holding you down firmly as he thrusts up one last time. a chorus of moans and whimpers make their way to your ears as you watch Soobin’s face. his eyes are shut tight, a few stray tears making their way past his pretty lashes from the force.

you feel him shoot warm ropes of cum inside you. it’s messy and gross, and it’s just the way you wanted it as you stop your ministrations on his nipples. tutting and shaking your head, you bring a hand up to tap his cheek.

soobin opens his eyes at the cue, his pathetic gaze pleading and apologetic as he stares at your faux frown. your brows furrow as you look down at him, sighing dramatically as you pull back to sit down properly on his now-softening cock. “look what you did…” you scold, already feeling the way his cum is trickling out of you to form a disgusting mix of fluids at the base of where the two of you meet.

“i’m sorry,” soobin chokes out, lips trembling as you smooth your fingers over adam’s apple.

“i know,” you respond simply, placing your hands back on his tits. He shudders as you resume playing with his nipples, letting out a whimper when you start to ride him without warning. his hands fall from your waist, and soobin’s embarrassed to think about how the way you’re using him like your own personal fuck toy is making his sensitive dick harden all over again.

“tell me what you’re thinking,” you breathe, soft pants leaving your lips as you adjust your pace to finally chase after your own orgasm rather than soobin’s. a strangled noise builds up in soobin’s throat at the sight of your tits bouncing, and the hand that you end up placing on his thigh for a better angle heats up his skin.

“sensitive,” he manages to say after a few moments, struggling to process the pleasure that leaves his spine tingling. his dick is hard again, struggling to keep up with how your pussy swallows him, uncaring of what he’s feeling as you grind your clit onto him for the friction. “m’ not gonna last,” he tries to warn you, voice climbing into a higher pitch when you abandon the bouncing to roll your hips back and forth.

“that’s okay, baby,” you reassure him, grabbing his hands and moving them so that his palms are full of your breasts. “you’re not supposed to,” you simper, groaning in satisfaction when Soobin obeys your silent demands and starts to play with your nipples. he swallows thickly, dick twitching inside of you as the flesh of your breast spills out between his fingers.

“i don’t wanna get punished,” he insists, thumbing over your nipples despite his conviction. you smile at his words, cooing softly as you place your palms back on his toned stomach. your shadow looms over him, and like this you’re given a clear view as to how soobin’s gaze seems transfixed on your breasts, the pervert.

“baby, your punishment’s already begun,” you inform him, voice sweet despite your intentions of milking him dry. this information finally snaps soobin out of his daze, brown eyes catching yours with an almost comical look of shock and dismay.

“but–”

“mm-mm, no buts,” you chastise, placing a hand over your boyfriend’s mouth to halt his complaints. “you get what you deserve, you take what I give you,” you remind him coldly. you can feel the way Soobin chokes on a tiny sob underneath your palm, his saliva slicking up your hand and no doubt making a mess out of his mouth as he struggles not to buck up into the overstimulating pleasure of your warm cunt.

“that’s it,” you praise as he goes pliant and silent underneath you, minus the whines and groans that get muffled. “you’re gonna let me milk your pretty little cock, since apparently all you’re good for is cumming inside and making a mess,” you tell him, removing your hand from his mouth and wiping the mess of saliva on the bed sheets next to you.

“not all I’m good for,” he whines in protest, making you hiss in pain when he accidentally squeezes your breasts too hard.

“yeah? what else are you good for?” you ask tauntingly, raking your nails down the expanse of his stomach and enjoying the small mewl that slips past his lips at the pain. “good at looking pretty and fucked out? good at laying down and letting me have my way with you?” you list off, endeared by the small glare soobin manages to give you through his teary eyes.

“all you have to be good at right now is taking your punishment and making me feel good. is that too much to ask for?” you huff, leaning down to brush your lips against his cute ones.

“is that too much, angel?” You ask, hands reaching up to hold on to his shoulders.

“no,” he groans in response, leaning up to capture your lips with his in a way that distracts you with fondness. normally a sweet kisser, soobin is messy. his saliva wets your lips as he barely manages to keep the two of you together, some of his own drool making its way down his chin. it’s adorably pathetic, the way it takes so much effort just to kiss you while you fuck him dumb.

“i'm already close again,” he whines pitifully into your mouth.

you don’t respond, sliding one of your hands back down to meanly grab one of his nipples and twist, and it’s all it takes before soobin cums with a cry. his hands fall off your chest, one grasping desperately at the pillow under his head while the other twists in your sheets. he’s hiccuping through each breath, and all you can think about is how you’d do anything to keep him all to yourself forever.

you hum in appreciation as you watch him—the way his eyes screw close and his nose scrunches as his back arches off the bed. his cum is still warm inside of you, and you wait for his body to stop shuddering and drop back down before you grip his shoulders and start to chase your own release.

soobin gasps in sensitivity at the movement, warm hands flying up to grab at your waist in a futile attempt to slow you down.

“wait, ’m sensitive, [your name] please, it hurts,” he cries, and it's all in vain as you do your best to milk him for a third.

you ride him with just a bit more desperation than usual. it’s already been too many weeks since you’ve been off birth control. you don’t even realize how hard you’re staring at soobin, as if you’re trying to memorize every detail of his face in the case that all your efforts go out the window and this is the last time you see him. that’s until another tear slips out of soobin’s eye, and you know that you’d never let that happen, idol career be damned.

cooing, you lean down and lick the tear off his cheek, your pretty little boyfriend whining at the wet sensation. “i thought i put your hands somewhere,” you comment offhandedly, watching soobin’s eyes flutter in confusion before his brain catches up to your intentions. with a small groan, soobin’s hands are back on your tits, and you laugh at the way his cock twitches in your cunt.

“think you can you give me one more?” you ask sweetly condescendingly, placing a wet kiss on the same cheek you’ve already defiled. soobin can only pout, giving you a quivering nod as his thumb covers your nipple, eyes fixated on it.

determinedly, you pick up your pace on soobin’s cock. he’s semi-hard, but he’s whimpering and whining and he’s twitching from overstimulation, despite the fact that he still makes a valiant effort to get hard again. his stamina was pretty decent, but you’re set on milking a third out of him.

“just—just go a little slower, please,” he begs, limbs growing heavy and he’s struggling to keep a solid grip on your tit as you bounce.

“if you have the mouth to complain, you might as well suck on them,” you scowl, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair just to hear soobin’s gasp when you yank his head up.

“can’t be a good little breeding bitch when all you do is complain instead of cum,” you add on, soobin whimpering at the harsh words. his lips are in a wobbly frown, and with much effort he lifts himself high enough to sloppily take your nipple into his mouth. he desperately kneads the other with his hand, and you let yourself moan at the disgusting visual of soobin’s drool running down his chin and onto your chest.

“so messy,” you comment, using both of your hands to keep soobin’s head up to your chest as you ride him. sometimes you pull the strands of his hair to see him jerk, guiding him to your other nipple as your thighs burn and your speed begins to slow.

he’s hard inside of you, and there’s an embarrassing amount of cum frothing at the entrance of your cunt. there’s fluids all over soobin’s cock and pelvis, and you can’t help the way you drag your clit through the wet filth as you slow your hips into a grind.

“angel,” you gasp, pulling Soobin off your nipple with a loud ‘pop’ so that he can look at you with his fucked-out gaze. he hums in acknowledgement, going pliant in your hold once your hands slide down to cup his face in both palms.

"help me cum,” you demand, and soobin only needs a few seconds before he’s wordlessly dragging a thumb over your clit as you pick up your pace. you lean down to kiss him, taking a lip between your teeth and tugging as his eyes threaten to flutter shut once more.

and it only takes a few more moments with the dizzying drag of soobin’s thumb over your puffy clit before you’re moaning into his mouth and riding through your orgasm. soobin answers you with his own soft moan, the noise breaking into a weak sob as your pussy clenches down on him. he cums inside of you for the third time with a weak pulse of his cock, giving you one more peck on the lips before he falls back onto the sheets tiredly.

you huff in amusement as you straddle him, catching your breath before you roll over to drop down next to him and let him slip out of you. there’s a wet squelch that follows, but you’re too busy trying to catch your breath before a cuddly soobin quickly begins to latch onto your side. your heart aches at the affection, and you turn to face him so that he can bury his face under your chin. his hair tickles your nose.

“good job, baby. took your punishment so well,” you praise softly, running your fingers through his hair to try and soothe the way you kept tugging on it earlier. soobin hums in contentment, an arm wrapping over your waist to tug you closer.

“you called me your breeding bitch,” he pouts into your shoulder, making you chuckle.

“you like it. maybe you’ll even get me pregnant,” you joke, dead serious. soobin snorts at the implication, still unaware of the fact that you two are actually trying with every time you fuck him into the mattress.

“maybe. we’d have cute kids,” he shrugs, and you hold onto him just a bit tighter.

“you think so?”

“'course,” Soobin yawns. “can’t go wrong with my genes,” he brags cheekily, and you give him a light smack on the shoulder that he whines about.

when you actually tell him around 4 weeks later that you’re pregnant, soobin swears that the world around him goes completely quiet. then he’s a stuttering, disbelieved, and stressed-out mess over the phone.

“what do you mean you're pregnant? i thought you were on birth control?” and you lie easily, telling him that this must’ve been one of those rare cases where the medication didn't work.

then there’s a long pause, and you’re worried that soobin might actually make you march up to a clinic and correct this mess of a situation before you’re met with the telltale hiccup of soobin’s ugly cry. you immediately hush him and reassure him that it’s alright, that everything will be fine.

soobin feels terrible; he feels so guilty that he hadn’t been mindful enough about cleaning up and showering after sex. he feels like he’s ruined your youth and that he’s burdened you with a child, even though the two of you aren’t even married yet. you tell him it’s ok, that you don’t blame him and that you’re willing to make this work. soobin promises to come see you as soon as he can and promises to faceTtme the moment he gets off work to properly talk about all that’s going to happen. he’s calmed down with your words and reassurance, but you can tell he’s still frazzled.

the last thing you say to him is “i love you," but before that, you can’t help but joke that, hey, at least our baby’s guaranteed to be cute with your genes.

#sub txt #dom reader #txt smut #txt x reader #sub idol #sub! soobin #sub choi soobin #guys im sorry for disappearing </3 #pt2 #i’m so sorry actually

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 days

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Dodgers Date

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!wife!reader

Summary: For your weekly date night, Tim takes you to a Dodgers game.

Warnings: incorrect descriptions of baseball (I can watch it but I can't speak it), pure fluff!!

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You’re on the couch with Kojo when Tim returns from work. He smiles at you, and his smile widens when you duck your chin at his unhindered attention. So far, you haven’t found a way to avoid getting shy around your husband. Which he takes full advantage of.

“Comfortable?” Tim asks after he changes.

“Me or Kojo?” you ask.

Tim shakes his head at your question and sits beside you. Kojo shifts so he’s lying between your side and Tim’s, and you lay your hand on his back. Tim leans over Kojo to kiss you quickly, then sits back and sets his hand on yours.

“What do you want to do this week?”

You furrow your brows and point out, “I thought you were picking this week.”

“You’re still okay with that?”

“As long as it’s not karaoke again.”

Tim’s head tips back as he laughs. It had started as a joke, an attempt to make you shy while you were still dating, but then you told him you’d never go out with him again unless he participated in the karaoke. He took a page from Lucy’s book and performed “Da Noise” by Flex and Flow. By the end of the song, you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, even if he did embarrass you.

“I promise, no more public performances,” Tim answers. “I have tickets behind home plate for the Dodgers’ game this week.”

You smile at his promise and lean toward him as he brushes his hand over your cheek.

“Would you like to go on a date with me to see the Dodgers win?” he proposes.

“I’d love to,” you answer softly. “But no foam fingers.”

“We need something to tell the grandkids,” he jokes.

You fall forward and rest your forehead against Tim’s shoulder. He rubs your back as he whispers an apology. Sometimes you don’t know which apologies are genuine, but it doesn’t matter because you love Tim. And weekly date nights are the highlight of your marriage.

When Tim texts you that he’s leaving work, you walk into your shared bedroom to get ready. Despite the ring on your finger, going on dates with Tim still makes you giddy, overwhelmingly happy, and occasionally shy. Life with Tim Bradford is never dull, and his insistence to keep your relationship alive and to never fall into monotony makes life fun, too. With the few minutes you have before Tim gets home, you change clothes – and maybe steal a Dodgers shirt from Tim’s side of the closet – then fix your hair the way you like. As you check your outfit in the bathroom mirror, Kojo walks in and approves by licking your hand.

“Thanks, buddy,” you murmur as you pet his head.

The front door opens as you put your shoes on, and you sit up quickly as Tim walks down the hall. He pauses in the bedroom doorway to look at you.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

You smile and thank him, then kiss him as he passes. He tells you about his day and asks about yours while he changes, but when he emerges in jeans and a Dodgers jersey, you fall silent.

“What?” Tim inquires. He looks down to check his clothes before he shrugs.

“Do you always have to look better than me?”

Tim takes your hands and pulls you to stand. He looks into your eyes as he asks, “When’s the last time we took you to the eye doctor?”

You try to pull your hands away after his bad joke, but he uses your linked hands to pull you closer. With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, Tim leads you to the door. He picks up your bag and opens the door for you, the picture of a perfect gentleman. As he helps you into the passenger seat of his truck, there’s a bouquet of white roses and blue carnations with a keepsake Dodgers ticket in place of a card.

“Thank you,” you tell Tim as you pull the cellophane-wrapped flowers into your lap. “They’re beautiful.”

Tim takes a picture of you holding the flowers without drawing your attention, then runs the flowers back inside so they don’t stay in his truck all night. When he returns and holds your hand over the console as he drives, you somehow fall more in love with him.

Your hand remains comfortable in Tim’s as he leads you through Dodger Stadium and to your seats behind home plate. Tim leaves you to go buy food and drinks, but you suspect he played the I’m an Army vet turned cop, could I jump the line? card because he’s back in under fifteen minutes. He passes you a foam finger with the Dodgers logo on it, and you groan before you set it aside.

“Have a little team spirit,” Tim chides playfully. “A pretty girl like you brings good luck, but your heart has to be in it.”

“Stop,” you request quietly.

Tim sits beside you and only smiles in reply. He passes you your drink and balances the food so you can reach it easily.

“How many innings?” you ask as you take a piece of popcorn from the overflowing bag.

“Nine,” Tim answers. “You know that.”

“Not in the game. I mean, how many innings until you forget I’m over here and just watch the game?”

You smile and Tim rolls his eyes. You’ve been on enough dates to know that it’s rare, but not impossible, for him to get so caught up in a game he forgets about you and the date you’re on. Tim doesn’t reply before the crowd cheers as the announcer welcomes everyone to Dodger Stadium.

By the time the game starts, Tim has his arm around your shoulders and the foam finger is waiting on your lap. The Dodgers are batting first, and you shift slightly so that Tim can stand and cheer whenever he wants. He tuts quietly and pulls you close again.

“I’m not forgetting about my date,” he says over the noise of the crowd.

“When are you going to tell your wife?” you reply boldly.

The woman sitting behind you gasps, and you immediately regret joking about that. Tim tries to hide his smile as he looks back to the field, but your eyes are on him. When Shoehei Ohtani steps up to bat, Tim joins the rest of the crowd in cheering. You look away from Tim long enough to see him bat, then watch Tim’s face light up as Shoehei runs to first base.

“Do you want this?” you ask Tim, raising the foam finger.

He looks at you quickly, and you sigh as you slide your hand into the opening. When you raise it, Tim cheers louder than before. This is one of your favorite date nights, you decide.

After the first half of the ninth inning, your voice is nearly gone from yelling alongside Tim, your foam finger is discarded beside you, and Tim’s arm is still wrapped around you. He took a picture with you between the last two innings (though he did have to explain to the woman behind you that you are his wife and were kidding earlier before she agreed to take the picture for you). As the game nears its conclusion, and you’re sure the Dodgers will win, you lean against Tim. His arm tightens around you, and he kisses your temple.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you,” he replies. “Are you having a good time?”

“With you, always.”

“The Dodgers win!” the announcer yells.

The crowd stands to cheer, and you jump up with Tim. He doesn’t celebrate the win for long, however, before he opts to kiss you instead. You’re aware of all the people who can see you, but at the moment, you don’t care. When he pulls back and the guy beside Tim congratulates him, that changes, and you duck your head behind Tim’s shoulder to hide your smile and warm cheeks.

“You ready to go?” Tim asks as the celebration continues.

“Whenever you are.”

Tim takes your hand and leads you through the stadium once more. In the privacy of his truck, under the fireworks and the dimmed parking lot lights, he kisses you again. Dating Tim will never get boring.

“Thank you,” Tim says as he pulls back but keeps his hand on your cheek.

“For what?” you inquire.

“Loving me. Helping the Dodgers win… maybe not in that order.”

You shake your head as Tim turns in his seat. His hand rests on your thigh while he drives, and you discuss your favorite moments from the game.

“Any ideas for next week?” Tim asks.

“Kojo and I were thinking a family trip to the pet store would be nice.”

“That’s not a date.”

“Everything’s a date with you, Bradford.”

Tim nods as he turns into the driveway. “Just because I love you.” He watches as your eyes drop and smiles to himself. “Pet store it is, Bradford.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #the rookie #fem!reader #requests #tim bradford fluff #hanna writes✯

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chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise · 1 day

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tangled

JJ Maybank x toddler!sister!reader

(REQUEST): thinking of baby sister maybank maybe being 1-2 and jj is really struggling with her hair, and he wants her hair out of her face but doesn’t know what to do. so sarah and kie step in

warning(s): N/A

a/n: thank you for the request, m'love. if i'm being honest i may rewrite this in the future because i have unfortunately had very little motivation to write this week. :( but even still i hope that you enjoy.

also, to everyone who has written me a request, i promise i'm working on them! they should all hopefully be finished by this week or the next.

“Ow!” Y/N squeaked, her plump digits failing to swat away JJ’s hands.

Her elder brother huffed, struggling to tame the toddler’s head of unruly curls. It was hard enough to pull all of the odds and ends of her hair into a ponytail far too small for his large fingers–let alone when she was intervening in the already troublesome process.

“I know, I know,” JJ said, instinctively jutting out one of his hands to keep a wriggling Y/N from jumping out of his lap. He just barely managed to foil yet another one of her escape attempts. “You’ve just gotta sit still for a minute, peanut. Almost done.”

Y/N continued to whine, squinting against the harsh sun whilst JJ fiddled around with an elastic band in several failed attempts to create a functioning ponytail. The task only got harder as time trekked on—Y/N was antsy to join Kie and Sarah up at the bow of the HMS Pogue, and the more she tried to squirm her way to freedom, the worse JJ’s makeshift ponytails became.

“Jesus, dude. What the Hell are you doin’ to our mini Pogue, huh?” John B teased from the helm after several minutes of Y/N’s aggravated complaints, tonguing his cheek in amusement.

JJ had managed to get a good chunk of Y/N’s hair held sturdily away from her face, but several of her thick curls still fell like a veil over her large blue eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, Jay. You’re a pro,” Pope laughed from behind him. JJ glared from behind the lenses of his shades.

“Ha-ha-fucking-ha. You ever tried to do this shit, man? It’s harder than it looks.”

The girls laughed as they caught a glimpse of JJ’s masterpiece. Y/N pouted, blonde curls spilling over her chubby face. “Need some help over there, Jay?” Kiara finally asked, taking pity on JJ who now wore a nearly identical pout to his baby sister.

The boy sighed, running a hand through his own hair. “Please.” He scooped up his sister and carefully set her down on her unstable feet. “She’s all yours.”

Y/N, content with her newfound freedom, barrelled over to where her favourite Pogues had been sitting all afternoon: lounging around as they tanned and took swigs from their respective beers. Sarah laughed as the young girl fell onto her legs, wasting no time in sitting the little firecracker between herself and Kie.

“Wow,” Sarah said, observing the elder Maybank’s work up close. It was worse than she thought. “JJ really did a number on you, huh?”

“Jay bad at hair!” Y/N accused, brows furrowed in annoyance as she pointed a crude finger at her big brother. JJ rolled his eyes.

“Did better than you could've, peanut.” Y/N stuck out her tongue in response, and the girls chuckled as JJ reciprocated her gesture.

“Don’t worry, Y/N/N. We’ll take care of it,” Kie said, carefully undoing JJ’s handiwork without so much of a wince from the toddler. Sarah dipped into her bag to find a hairbrush and the few extra elastics she always kept on hand. “Gonna make you look so pretty, bub.”

“Promise?” The little girl beamed up at her, and Kie lightly pinched at her cheek.

“Promise.”

It took an embarrassingly short period of time for Kie and Sarah to get Y/N’s hair in order, brushing it into two braided pigtails on either side of her small head. The smile never left Y/N’s face as they worked, efficient and gentle in their process—the complete opposite to JJ’s hectic routine.

“Alrighty,” Sarah declared as she manoeuvred the final hairband, twisting the elastic a few extra times around the toddler’s braid to keep it in place. “You’re all done, Y/N!”

“I look pretty?” Y/N asked, eyes shining with anticipation. Kiara tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“The prettiest.”

Y/N wasted no time in toddling back over to where JJ was now busy talking to the other two boys, her cheeks dimpled with pride. “Jay!” She cheered, bouncing with excitement. The blond looked down at her, a grin breaking out over his face as he caught sight of his baby sister’s new hairdo. “Pretty?”

JJ chuckled, lifting her back into his lap and pressing a sloppy kiss to her nose.

“Beautiful as ever, munchkin.” Y/N wrapped her small arms around his bronzed shoulders, and JJ gave another quick kiss to her temple. “What’d’ya say we get Kie and Sarah to do your hair all the time now, huh?”

He barely had enough time to complete his sentence as an empty beer can came flying at his shoulder, thrown by a now smirking Kiara.

“Oh you wish , Maybank!”

#obx #outer banks #the outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x sister reader #jj maybank x sister!reader #jj obx #jj outer banks #toddler!reader #sister!reader #jj maybank dialogue #outerbanks dialogue

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kel-lance · 3 days

Text

JJK Mafia Au (JJK x Reader) PART 4

(quick chapter//moving plot)

Warnings:

- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise:

Reader lives in a city where the two biggest gangs keep things line until the third gang showed up. That had nothing to do with you though, until dumb luck just happened to favor you one day. Basically You’re picked up and used by every dangerous criminal within the clans due to some alliances they had to create due to some members messing up the previous alliances. ((Almost everyone’s gonna have a turn 🤗)) ( i have 12 chapters planned out right now meaning after i write those ill still be writing more.)

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AN: Sorry for the long update i'm trying not to get evicted bc i was fired a while ago bc of a protest (surprise surprise big companies don't like or care about palestine or other places like it.) but i had to give away my cats and am still struggling i have my socials in my masterpost if you could help if not its okay ily, I hope you like it

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After the three took a break from you, Sukuna pushed Yuuji towards you. Todo just follows along, trying to make sure Sukuna doesn't kill Yuuji as they just don't know what Sukuna could be thinking at times like these.

You lay a top the bed, sheets strayed, your hair messy, your whole body sweaty and broken, you entirely were weak, and Yuuji couldn't stop saying sorry to your fucked out face. "Let's see what you got."

You didn't feel anything for a few minutes until Todo broke the silence. "You've got to do something, brother, you know I'll back you up."

Yuuji just continued to stand there. If he were to fight Sukuna with Todo on his back, he wouldn't know who else would fight with them. Todo would lose everything he already has and would blindly die for him, which he would never ask for. But if he were to go through with fucking you again for Sukuna's enjoyment, Todo would also have to add himself into the situation. This double edged sword was going to stab him either way, but which would hurt you less?

"Don't take too long..." The leader made motion that he was going to start walking towards you two. "NO." Yuuji covered you on the bed, staring off back at his older brother. Todo comes behind Yuuji, putting a hand on his shoulder before giving him a look, and sighing understandingly as he stripped off his shirt.

Todo and Yuuji's was almost awfully awkward at first. They just felt bad, not being able to tell if you were even conscious anymore and continuing to do to you what they were doing.

Really they weren’t allowed to stop until Sukuna was satisfied. Until Yuuji was sobbing, begging him to give you and everyone else a rest. He was asking what would it take to stop this?

The older brother taunts, “Maybe we’ll keep her til she births one of our children, or multiple if she can create sufficient and strong offspring. I don’t know, Yuuji, should I start a farm because of you? I heard the Zenin clan is somewhat similar…”

“Please, please, Sukuna what do you want?” He was breathless. “This has to stop, you can’t-.”

He stops his younger brother, “I have, I did, and I can continue this for as long as you both live. I think that may be the conclusion I’ll come to, don’t you think it would be fun to be an uncle?” His big hands caress your stomach, feigning tenderness to his soon to be child or “sibling’s” child.

- You go back to your room where you stay in for a week.

- A random night, someone breaks in and tries to kidnap you and you didn’t know who it was, obviously you weren’t going with them without an explanation.

-That caused you to fight back as your dealing with everything so far, you were getting pissed being treated like a doll. The person who broke in gets captured, just before he says “Yuuji’s waiting outside, trust me.”

- Sukuna's family come in trying to make sense of the situation and the others had captured the mystery guy

- That's not before he throws you to two female ninjas. They secure you quickly and run back to their master Toji.

- their clan/gang is super powerful, the twins you can guess are Maki and Mai, and Sukuna (the new head of one of the three big families that control the large part of the area, the head of the Kamo gang) had just kidnapped their son, even if he did happen to barge in.

- Megumi’s been friends w Yuuji since they were kids but they never shared that.

- they met bc they were fighting bc yuuji was taught to fight ppl who give them looks (Sukuna wanted him to protect the family name no matter what, and megumi just had that face… and when they realized that they were part of the other side they had to come to extremes before realizing they were different from their families.

- they knocked each other out senseless and somehow one was still alive, megumi sat with yuuji while he regained consciousness and they started to talk more. Battered and bloodied but Yuuji finding the humor in it while Megumi thinks enough to like his character and realizes he’s just a big strong idiot.

- Maki and Mai are close, as sisters should be and they both have their loves (nobara and momo) and we all have to go team up with the gojo clan in order to make sure this trade off is safe and megumi and yuuji aren’t dead

- because now yuuji is with you at the toji clan too, it was supposed to be just you getting captured and then yuuji leaves to live his own life but now he’s in front of toji saying it was his fault that megumi’s now with his brother (sukuna)

- Yuuji explains that he and his son were friends since childhood, he says everything and everyone's on edge bc toji does what he wants, whenever, whatever, really anything for money.

- He says he knows he doesn’t have money, but the only thing he does have was something they both risked their lives for, so toji gets curious and wants to try you out.

- Toji fucks you senseless, making you think the train ran on you were more merciful. He was trying every hole, every position, just dressing you up and doing whatever he could with you, you were actually at your limit with him, enough to bring you back enough to start fighting again. You were getting sick of it, actually you think you were getting sick.

His inconsideration was on par with Sukuna's, though Sukuna cared more about his new objects while Toji wants them to know their place and to leave when he tells them to. He had to know why they would do all that for you//how did you survive so long in that clan he just has to see how durable you are and he’s LOVING IT.

- He asks you what you’ve been through and you don’t respond so he hits you again and again but you don’t cry so he does it AGAIN and you flinch enough to stop him, and start taking off his pants. His only response was "e’s like "Oh so they already trained you."

- You suck his dick and he pulls you up to kiss him, by your neck and places you on his dick and fucks you in the air, using gravity to its full advantage, that was the start of it all before the days of relentless attention and use, you were more sore than any of them have put you in. The hitting, cuts, just the amount of violence he's integrated into your sessions felt like training again, but worse.

- He’s wondering if he could keep you as his slut but remembered that it would be stupid to start a war when his kid couldn’t keep it in his pants. He blames Megumi for having a cold heart compared to his father's icy one.

- Toji makes up his mind to help and plans to betray/kill the sukuna clan when they get megumi back bc he doesn’t care but doesn’t say that.

-He plans a meeting with the other clan the top three have been fighting over the position of this location for years and now and ofc they’re all on edge.

- Gojo comes to the meeting with his clan, they’re not worried bc they know some of their clan can befriend some of the others involved. No ones been dead so they have some sort of unspoken treaty to leave each other alone but they never asked much from the other ever.

- Gojo settles down with his group, smug and tired bc everyone needs them to fix other peoples' problems for them. The community relied on the Gojo Clan to protect them when they also work with the Kamo and Zenin gangs, the people outside are just as gullible. He sits down and asks what could big ol Toji need from him,

- “It’s Megumi”

- Gojo drops his smile. Their other unspoken alliance was when Megumi was beaten up at a really young age bc of his status and itadori happened to be there too (same elementary school). Gojo beats the fuck out of the people who targeted the kids/second to heir the clans, and left, but Megumi finds him and asks why would he help them.

- Gojo said he can’t have his competition get angry, his people are at stake. (referencing to the shifting power in-between the gangs that they didn't know about yet, and that his person was leaving his clan to join the other, he didn't know why he was doing anything anymore at that point but he couldn't let more powerless powerful children get hated on.) Megumi says thank you and takes Itadori back near his gang before disappearing back to his clan.

- Gojo actually has been in contact with his friend who's joined the other clan. That's how he knows what's usually going on with them to keep them rangled up and behaving as much as they could to not cause trouble or cause attention to groups like theirs.

Gojo and Geto were very young when they met, and since their lives were everything but normal, they were given the chance to take in more young bodies to add to their clan. They raised them together, but geto left.

Gojo begged for days for him to reconsider, they day he left he was inconsolable, especially since he took the twins too. Geto couldn't separate the girls, but he could separate himself from Gojo, in his head it's to help Gojo in the future because of the power he'll have.

Gojo didn't care about that, he didn't want help he just wanted Geto. That was all he needed, he had decided. He could have ruled the world and done it confidently if he had Geto by his side, but things don't go through when you're young, and now you're about to catch as many years he hadn't been able to get out.

- He's not nice at all when you're under his care. With Geto leaving at a critical age in learning, his feelings had been all over the place. He was completely disordered, his goals and morals and everything went awry, with the years he couldn't get himself out of the timestamp of when he knew happiness.

- So he asks you about Geto, his best friend, the only one that could make him feel real again. The one person who didn't do things for him because of his name and status, and yet left with the excuse of protecting Gojo from future evil. It was enough to drive the strongest insane.

- He asks you everything by torture, not too physical that anyone can see. WHen trading you back you should at least look and act like you're in the same condition, if not better than what you were when they traded you off. Just anything that Toji didn't already give you, Gojo would have mindless enjoyment from digging his fingers into the fatter parts of your belly, legs, and forearms.

- He’s only doing this to see Geto again. He just wants to pass the time until he can finally feel good again. He's strong, he's smart, he's beautiful, when would life be good to him instead of him making everyone else's lives better just by being there. It made him coky, it made him secretly weak willed to his own desires, so his processing was different than most.

- He asks u what he looked like and everything about him while fucking you. it was the closest he’s got rn. "I don't know's" made him reel back more, his strikes becoming almost boneshaking and shattering. He was making Toji seem gentle. Now that something he cares about is just a memory away, he just couldn't stop himself.

-You were so close to him, even if you never spoke to him, even if you never saw him in the maybe month you were staying at the Pink haired clan. But his aura seemed to have darkened when you mentioned twins. There were just so many either of you could have known but it just seemed to rile him up more. Seriously you would need a doctor and healing time after this. You couldn't let that happen again.

-There was nothing else to take from it, it was a hell you would only wish for the person already committing it. It made you miss the tenderness of Sukuna and the warmth of Toji, it didn't matter what they did or how you got there, anything sounded better than Gojo being without his favorite things. And you were barely part of it.

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sonderlysouls · 2 days

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-SICK LOVERS-

FEATURING ; Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi x reader, fluff, modern au, characters in ages 15-16.

SYPNOSIS ; In which, you’ve been one of Megumi’s closest & only friend since childhood. Now both of you are in highschool, a day goes by as you notice Megumi hasn’t answered your messages after not showing up to school. So you decide to go over to his house to see what’s going on.

NOTE ; This is short & I made it in less than an hour okay.. theirs probs things that don’t make sense but still enjoy :p

As time continued to pass, the day dragged on, no text from Megumi or a word heard from him since yesterday, the day proved to be uneventful and mundane without him.

You wondered why Megumi wasn’t here and why he hasn’t answered your messages—usually when he doesn’t show up to school he texts you from his house. So what’s so different this time ?

You soon enough found yourself outside Megumi’s house. The reasoning behind your distracted and overthinking mind, was the same reason you were in this position. After you knocked the door it seemed like you waited hours for some one to come and open it. Soon enough the door flew open, revealing a bright smiled Tsumiki.

Tsumiki welcomed you inside, closing the door quietly behind both of you. Once both of you were inside Tsumiki gave you a long tight hug after not seeing you around for some time.

“How have you been..? Is Megumi okay?” you asked, voice filled with worry as the words rolled off your tongue, hoping Megumi is okay and nothing bad had happened.

“Well Megumi hasn’t felt so good these past couple days..and today he ended up feeling worse..as for me I’m fine..if you want to see him, you can just don’t get to close to him or he might get you sick, and we don’t want that to happen.” Tsumiki said, making her way to Megumi’s room as you followed quietly behind her.

Soon enough both of you were right in front of Megumi’s door as Tsumiki’s hand made its way to the door knob, slowly opening the door. The girl made room for you to be able to enter, and you did. Tsumiki stood by the door. “He’s probably asleep, just give him a few gentle shakes, I’ll go finish up the tea I’m making him.” Tsumiki said as she made her way back to the kitchen.

You slowly made your way towards Megumi, the room was awfully quiet and peaceful, neat too. The boy was laying on his bed, blankets and pillows covering his body completely as his hair was a mess. You could only hear your foot steps and the sound of Megumi’s stuffed nose, as he took short & slow breaths.

“Megumi..?” you called out, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand gave his shoulder a gentle shake. The movements caused Megumi to scrunch up his face as he turned the opposite way from your body, not wanting to be interrupted in his rest.

You have Megumi another shake as his head slowly turned towards your direction, sleepy eyes meeting yours. “Hm..?” Megumi barely let out, his tone full of confusion as he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if you were actually in his room.

Without even letting him wake up fully from his slumber he suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around his neck, slightly squeezing his body onto her body as the warmth between both of you was all you felt. “I thought you were dead, dumbass.” you said in a playful tone as your arms were still around his neck, your face facing up to look at him. “I might as well be dead..my whole body hurts..and my throat feels like it was put on fire.” he responded, a cough interrupting him in between words.

“You had me worried all day in school, you didn’t answer my messages, plus the ones from yesterday when we did text a bit after school before you stopped responding.” you said, looking at him as you pulled away from the embrace you were both in. “M’ sorry I wasn’t already feeling good these past couple days..then yesterday after school my head hurt so bad so I took a nap—well I ended up falling asleep then today my whole body felt sore, I haven’t even opened my phone since the last time we messaged.” he said.

“Well good thing I know you are alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere.” you said as you gave him a light smile, before hugging him again, not remembering you might also get sick from hugging him.

The days went by as you would take time out of your evening to stop by his house. During these past few days your body started to feel more heavy. During school you would have a runny nose, making you have to keep spare tissues.

You made your way to Megumi’s house since your parents told you they would be out for the night. They even told you if you wanted to stay the night at Megumi’s house you could. By now, you’ve come to the conclusion that you had gotten sick, so you could just stay over at his house since you were sick & he was sick too.

“So your sick too? Wait I got you sick..see this is what you get for always hugging me knowing I’m sick.” megumi said, his voice a bit stern as if it sounded like he was scolding you for not being more careful. “I know but I’m staying over for the night. Either ways I’m sick now, oh well.” you said as you looked at him, both of you sitting in his bed. “Let’s sleep then, okay? I’m think I’m getting better but I’m still tired.” he said, his voice a bit dry. “Okay then.” you said as you watched Megumi make space for you in his bed, the room was dark, the only light coming from the blinded windows in his room. You slowly made your way next go Megumi as he laid the blanket over your bodies.

You guys were friends, but both of you cared deeply for each other and had a soft spot for one another. That’s what made your friendship pure, or something that soon enough could turn deeper than a friendship, but for now both of your were happy like this. Close to each other as the warmth created by your bodies comforted both of you.

Your eyes were gently closed, the sound of his & your breathing slowly was the only thing that made its way to your ears. Soon enough you felt the touch of someone, it was Megumi’s touch. He was carefully wrapping his arm around your waist. Bringing your body more closer to his slowly, making sure you wouldn’t wake up with the sudden movements.

Megumi had noticed that every time he was around you he felt different then when he was around other people, and he wasn’t dumb, he knew he had gained feelings for you. He was sure you also felt something back, which you did. The thing he wasn’t sure is when he would let you have the key to his heart; to tell you his feelings & for you to reciprocate those feelings back. But for now he was okay with this.

And slowly a garden bursts into bloom. The love between one another is a beautiful, fragment flower adorned with petals of passion, the connection like an intricate pattern of stems and tendrils that twist around each other, intertwining and becoming one. Every touch, every moment, is like a warm sun, nourishing and nurturing their love until it turns into a beautiful field of love.

— © sonderlysouls 2024. Please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my work.

#jjk #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x reader #modern au #jujutsu kaisen anime #new blog #sonderlysouls

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delicrieux · 2 days

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𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 8. year one: october 28th to 30th, 1972

pairing for this chapter—f!lestrange!reader x barty crouch jr. warnings for this chapter—sum swearing, implied underage drinking (not reader), being a bad friend word count—3.4k

your birthday has officially arrived, not without some notable oddities.

author's note: missed being a miserable tween. also who can tell that barty might have a crush on her? not me definitely

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

“so,” dorcas sounds, and the way she purposefully moves her head in your peripheries implies she will say something you won’t necessarily like, “your birthday is coming up,” a quick look from you, up and down – from the tips of her muddy boots to the wind-swept hair. a few snowflakes sit nestled between the curls, and her eyes crinkle with mischief, “are you having a party?”

you try your best to breeze through the clock tower courtyard unscathed, “no,” you state. lie. not exactly. it’s complicated, “what? why? have you heard something?”

she snorts, “nope, just asking. you seem to have a lot of friends.”

you suppose you are outstandingly popular. anyone approached is your friend upon a hello, but you only say such a thing to those worthy of your attention. most, of course, are in some even minuscule way related to your family. your immediate circle is just cousins. dorcas is, so far, the only one you’d never approach yourself, simply because she’s unremarkable and also a gryffindor.

somehow, still, you cannot shake her, and once the tremors of hysteria had melted into the hum-drum, you found yourself not wanting to do so, which unnerved you much more than her immediate presence at all times of the day. most times of the day. you try not to engage in public, especially in the sights of bartimus, marzipan, and matilda. barty you could still, perhaps, calm – a pointed look and a promise to tattle on some secret you’ve uncovered about him to his parents would make him malleable.

the girls, however, would propose a difficulty. they’re already proposing a difficulty. the odd stares you receive at times when dorcas waves at you, all with a good-natured smile that you feel, in those moments, you don’t entirely deserve.

hence, the haste. hence, you try to lose her, but she’s much more fit and much better at keeping up than her unsuspecting appearance might hint.

“yes, well,” you start, heat dousing your body and damp robes. the inside of the castle is warm this time of year as the elements grow increasingly unruly and cold. the dry air scratches at the back of your throat, and you inhale with a sniffle and a poorly masked cough, “i’m not planning anything.”

and you aren’t, truly, but that doesn’t mean no celebration will take place. in fact, based on what marzy and matilda are trying so hard to hide (and do such a honestly horrendous job, with all smug smiles and loud whispers and giggles a pitch too high), there’s an old classroom being transformed for a small gathering – forty people or so – to toast to your good health, mesmerizing beauty, unbridled potential, and immeasurable talent. you quite look forward to it, but you aren’t responsible for the invitations, as it’s supposed to be a surprise.

and even if you were, surely you couldn’t extend one to dorcas. a no name from a muggle family. she would be out of place.

more so, she would feel out of place. you doubt she’d be offered a warm welcome, and you couldn’t offer one to her either, not without being subjected to the potent glares and displeased remarks from those around you.

such a situation is not beneficial for anyone involved. thus, you are a good friend from sparing her of this ache, sparing the rest the discomfort, and sparing yourself a howler.

“i might throw a party for my birthday,” she says, stopping at the cross-roads where you must part – her for charms and you for potions. she fixes the strap of her book bag, bending somewhat under the weight, “will you come? if i decide to do one after all. ‘s quite far, still.”

“when is it?” you ask, somewhat impatient. your eyes scurry the interior, but no familiar faces as of yet.

“april,” ah, thank merlin, “april sixth.”

you shrug, but you don’t manage to meet her gaze, “maybe. if i’m not too busy. i’ll mark it on my calendar just in case.” april is still ways away, and by that time, you might figure out what to do with her.

she smiles, “i’ll hold you to it. don’t suppose you want anything?” you give her a puzzled look, “like, a gift.”

“oh, no,” you can’t imagine there’s anything she could give you that would please you and that would also be within her budget. once again, your endless compassion and big, open heart are on fervent display. if matilda and marzy knew (unpleasant details aside), they’d give you a standing ovation for your selflessness. it’s a bit vexing that dorcas doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. perhaps she’s a simpleton, “got nothing in mind.”

“okay, well, i’ll think of something then,” she says, one step back, “later!” and away.

you have no qualms with lying. you’ve done it your whole life. your first words, perhaps, were, too, some miniature lie. lying is no different than playing, and playing is no different from acting, and acting is lying, and so it’s really not a big deal. you don’t know any other way of being, and you quite enjoy having others bend to your smiles or your frowns. most go great lengths to appease you.

even now, you claim to have accidentally forgotten your quill, when in reality, you didn’t pack it on purpose. regulus, always having a spare, gives you his own, and makes you promise not to lose it. you complain that it’s uncomfortable in your hand, and that the colour is ugly, but in fact you do like the deep brown shade and firm edge of the feather.

bartimus sets up your cauldron because your wrist hurts from the frigid cold, and evan measures the ingredients – he’s much more precise and curious about potions, and he does it unprompted, almost as if it’s expected of him. it sort of is.

you have no qualms with lying, but you pause when bartimus asks, “what’s with that gryffindor following you around everywhere?”

your heart thumps, and the cool, damp potions classroom rises in temperature. all in all, it’s the most polite way he could have phrased the question, oddly mindful of professor slughorn’s all hearing ears lingering just close enough for him to behave himself.

“i’m blackmailing her,” is the only thing that comes to mind, and it does sound convincing. so convincing, in fact, your tone and look implies that he’s the stupid one to consider otherwise.

evan frowns, peering at you over the vapours emitting from his cauldron, “blackmailing her? why?”

you shrug, “because it’s fun.”

“seems awfully happy to be blackmailed, if you ask me,” regulus comments coolly.

“please, told her if someone was to catch a whiff of distress on her, then, well, she’ll certainly have something to be distressed about,” you move the ladle and mix your potion and thud-thud thud-thud thud-thud, “you’re a terrible extortionist if you can’t manage otherwise. rodolphus said he had all sorts of minions from other houses. can’t embarrass the family.”

“right,” barty raised a brow, “rabby’s embarrassment enough.”

you bristle at the words, true as they be. still, pride and blood are important, “your whole family tree’s in gryffindor. think before you speak, crouch.”

“sparks are flying,” he grins, “or is it just me?”

“as if i could ever look at your gaunt face and find anything appealing,” you snip, “you should learn some manners when speaking to your elders.”

“sincerest apologies, madam strange.”

“shut it, both of you,” evan grumbles, carefully dropping some powder into his mixture. it hisses and gurgles and a new set of fumes spew, “can’t concentrate with all this yapping.”

“woof,” barty sounds.

“dog,” you spit.

“bitch.”

you gasp and throw the nearest object your hand grabs, which is a (sadly) closed bottle of ink. he ducts just in time, but the impact makes the glass shatter, leaving a scary red splotch on the wall.

bartimus straightens as slughorn strides over to check on the disturbance. a brief explanation from evan is accepted without hassle, and the wreckage is handled by a flick of the professor’s wand. a disapproving look and a quick glance at regulus as a reprimand and everything goes back to normal, including barty and you, who is doing a masterful job of ignoring him and pretending your breathing hasn’t been affected in any way.

eventually class does wrap up and everyone leaves for the next lesson. you walk with evan and regulus, bartimus trotting a couple feet behind like a faithful hound, waiting to serve, ever the sycophant. you wonder if it's too late to beg matilda and marzy to revoke his invitation to your birthday party, because you know for a fact that he has one. possibly tossed it into a bin upon notice, but he had definitely, at the very least, seen it.

***

there’s a snow storm on your birthday, a harsh, miserable gust that rages across the landscape and traps everyone inside. so dense you can’t see out the windows, and so cold frost bleeds to water from glass pains and drips in rivulets on the tiles. it’s too early for such weather, but not entirely unheard of. when you were very little, rodolphus told you that mother and father found you in a heap of snow, warm and unharmed. now, of course, you have a technical understanding of how children are made, but shockingly, you had stoutly believed your brother till late last spring, till your first blood and that slightly uncomfortable but enlightening conversation with aunt greengrass.

matilda knew this already, by a few good months, which revealed why, at the time, she always seemed a bit snootier than usual, as if she had figured out something very important and negated to share. for the remaining spring and the whole of summer, the two of you had grown closer and left marzipan out – what could she, still but a child, understand about the woes of burgeoning adulthood? it had left her a bit desolate, and she had spent her holiday chasing sirius around, and as she smothers you in a tight hug with sleepy happy birthday whispered into your hair, you think you still haven’t forgiven her for it.

naturally, you have taken extra pains to make yourself prettier. your hair is glossier, and your uniform is tidier, and there’s a sheen of cherry lipbalm covering your mouth. narcissa, when she saw you, told you to wipe it off, and you did, only to reapply it when she wasn’t looking.

breakfast, the great hall’s polite congratulations, slytherin students that you almost recall the names of coming to wish you a joyous day. some revenclaws and marzipan’s brother come bearing chocolate toffies. it’s the same procedure as evan’s and matilda’s – the former’s birthday was just a few weeks into september, and matilda celebrated on october first.

you share the candies with the boys. evan takes one, regulus takes one, bartimus takes seven (to spite you, you believe), and you’re left with two. you offer one to marzipan, and she takes it with a smile, and offer one to matilda, who refuses, saying she’s on a diet. marzy’s expression crumbles, and she returns the treat, “never mind, not that hungry.”

“did you eat a strawberry?” bartimus asks, mouth full of toffies.

you frown, “what?”

“shit on your lips, what happened to table manners?”

“ignore him,” regulus interjects pointedly, “how are you feeling?” as in, how is it like to be twelve. bartimus’ birthday is just after sirius’, and so, regulus is the youngest of the present quartet, which leaves him naturally distressed.

evan scoffs, “’s no different.”

“i feel different,” you inform primly.

barty snorts, “don’t look different. still stupid.”

“hope you choke on that,” you glare. he snickers, the dolt, properly pleased to have ruffled your feathers. a quick communication between you and your pudding has you decided that you might despise bartimus crouch, or, more so, you despise the smug look he seems to fashion only when he’s pestered you into a foul mood.

briefly, you sweep the present crowd, and you spot dorcas sat among her friends, a table away. the sight alarms you somehow. perhaps it’s the picture of her happiness.

she must’ve felt you looking (such is the power of your gaze) because she perks up. twinkling brown eyes meet yours, and she waves with a grin, almost rising to approach, but your flash of an uncomfortable smile leaves her seated. when you glance around if anyone noticed, it’s only regulus that gives you a strange look, but says nothing.

sirius and his friends pass you as you tumble out the great hall. he, expectantly, walks right past, and it stings, but it stings even more when james calls your name much too cheerfully and says, “happy birthday!”

you walk past him as sirius had walked past you, without a moment of hesitation.

“you blackmailing him as well?” evan, surprisingly, asks.

you huff, “no, please hex him out of existence.”

“could be arranged,” barty says after an uncharacteristically thoughtful pause.

***

there’s definitely something more than punch being covertly served to the older students, but not like it matters much – you catch not a whiff of it, nor is any offered to you. suppose you are suspicious by the entirely inconspicuous clusters of people that exchange something and then part hurriedly with sour expressions that bleed into blushed faces and tipsy grins.

matilda, you note, is laughing ditzy with a second year slytherin. you suspect something nefarious, and make it clear with the slight narrow of your eyes. she cares not for it, which slights you, because it’s your birthday and you’re the most important person present.

speaking of, a pile of presents sits on a table, all expensive and neatly wrapped trinkets you possibly have no use for. still, the growing pile pleases you – once back in your dorm, it’ll be a challenge to go through it in a single night. you might just open a new one each day and have no gift-free evenings for the better part of the school year, but you are too impatient.

it’s all very pretty. the ceiling was enchanted to a deep, gleaming blue-violet, rippling along the dim, sparkling lights as though underwater. luminescent bubbles, a faint glittery mist, and floating incandescent jellyfish, translucent, yet you still raise your hand to touch one, feeling the slight coolness once it passes your fingers. you hadn’t asked who’s responsible for this display of magic, but you suspect it being narcissa.

when you smile at your ostentatious cake and count the flickering candles, you can only think of one wish – i wish sirius would come back to me. you inhale and then blow in one full swoop. the room drowns in cheers.

there’s faint music floating above your head, but nothing as interesting as to what sirius had made you listen to all those nights ago. you dance with evan, who seems much more awkward than you, and then with a few older students, with rabastan (unwillingly), and then with your girls. regulus had overtly refused your hand without explanation.

“it’s my birthday,” a demand. an excuse you can use only once a year, and you extort it fully.

he seems conflicted in the blue light, lastly, “fine. don’t step on my toes.”

dancing with regulus is different than dancing with sirius – regulus is shorter and younger, and his grip isn’t as firm, and he doesn’t once look you in the eye, and you’re a bit bored through most of it.

the night dwindles on, and you spot bartimus.

he catches you staring, and so he raises his cup, sat beside his older friends – a few second and third years that seem to be enthralled by his presence. it strikes you, strangely, how popular he seems to be. you don't like it.

and he's not exactly ugly, despite your claims. tallish, the tallest of your lot, a long neck, neat auburn hair, sharp eyes, maybe. not entirely horrid and twisted as he could have turned out to be or will turn out to be. he seems a bit older, but perhaps it's because he's always been lanky.

no, he is ugly, you think. the lights must've caught him funny, and maybe that's why it seems he's glowing, his pale skin shimmering a ghostly pallor in the enchanted darkness of your birthday celebration, that is yours and yours alone, and no one can steal the shine or the honour or the beauty away.

matilda joins his table, and you note, in great distaste, that she also looks very pretty, and the dress suits her much better than yours does you. all dresses are now suiting matilda better, because this is the body she was born in, and it makes sense that she will always have the upper hand and you will always be behind her, somehow.

you grow unsettled in a way that feels somewhat familiar, but nothing tangible enough to understand.

dorcas would probably laugh. your stomach swoops and then drops, and it feels like the jellyfish swim inside you. dorcas would definitely laugh and pull at matilda's ruffles. and sirius, sirius would laugh with her and he would comment on how the dress is awfully girly and in poor taste, and then you would tell him off, because he has no taste at all, but not in front of dorcas.

you glance at door. sirius isn't here. he was definitely invited, but, of course, he wouldn't attend.

of course. of course of course of course.

matilda, prettier and better, better, it's not fair, doesn't even look at you, not since she knows, of course, she must know you are watching. she can't not know. the parallels and the similarities are obvious in a way they aren't to you. briefly, you think of poisoning her. you could get away with it too. what's a birthday celebration without any diabolical scheming, anyway?

when matilda smiles at someone (bartimus), a creeping sensation crawls beneath your skin. there is definitely some vile deed being done here, but not any of yours, unfortunately. the gathering, you decide, must end, and everyone must leave disappointed and displeased to match your mood.

"punch?" marzipan manifests by your side. you startle, glance to her, note her boyish appearance in relation to matilda's ladylike one, and somehow, her expression manages to irritate you.

"got one," you show your glass for emphasis, "did you happen to notice a grimace on tilda, or are the effects of whatever substance they're pouring into these cups only visible to the sober?"

"not a sip," marzipan sighs, "i've tried asking a third year, said i'm too young," her misery brings you a slight bout of joy. marzipan will be twelve late february, and so, she will always be the odd one out, "did you want any?"

you shake your head, "no, not really. maybe. i dunno."

"doesn't seem like you're having fun," she notes. then, she softly grasps your upper arm and squeezes, "cheer up. it's your birthday."

your smile is terse. the tension has left you feeling sore, like you ran laps and took too hot of a bath and rolled into a very tight sleeping position. you feel a bit wrong.

regulus calls your name, and he drags you away easily and without question. you spare marzy a vaguely apologetic look, leaving her stranded in the middle of the room, all lonesome. she does, at that moment, look entirely pathetic, and maybe you are very tired, because somewhere deep down you feel a pang of something.

you are lead to the darkest corner and let go promptly. before you can complain, regulus pushes something into your hand and says, quietly yet seriously, “i won’t tell.”

he makes scarce afterward, and you’re left confused. truly, this celebration has become more trouble than it’s worth. all these emotions hidden behind an unmoving veneer. it cracks slightly when you take a closer look at your gift.

it’s a handmade card, glued and drawn poorly.

‘to my favourite (and only one i will associate) slytherin, happy birthday. i promise i’m better on the broom than i am at drawing, but i wanted to make you this card anyway. once the skies clear up, let’s go for a ride along the shoreline. i found some sights exploring. we could make a whole adventure out of it. know a perfect location to practice hexes. despite it all, i’m very glad i found you crying. -- your accomplice’

you hug the card without meaning to do it. you just do. you bring it close to your chest and lean your cheek, like it was something precious, and in a way, it is, because this is, by far, the most generous gift you have ever received.

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izvmimi · 1 day

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cw: angst.

“I know you’re probably sick of me calling, and I wish I could stop, but…” your voice pauses over the speakerphone and you swallow thickly. Your mouth is at once both dry and your throat wet with phlegm from crying and you resist the urge to sniffle, and make it obvious to him that you’re crying. But it’s moot at this point, isn’t it? You’re calling in the middle of the night, out of the blue, and it’s been months by now, and it’s obvious by the wobbling timbre of your voice that you’re not okay.

Never okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay. Breathing in deeply and pulling your legs to your chest, you let yourself sigh carefully to prevent a sob.

“I just… I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m reaching out to you again.”

There’s no answer from the other line, and there probably won’t be, and you let that realization hit you for the hundredth time in the past two weeks since the love you’ve been trying to stonewall came crashing right back into your heart and left it back in disarray, with you far too unequipped to pick up the pieces. Your hand runs through your hair anxiously and then your thumb goes to your mouth as you bite your nails.

You probably look a mess and you’re thankful he can’t see you. Tonight was a particularly bad night, where you’ve succumbed to your destructive tendencies and left your room a mess, and now have to sit in the center, clothes thrown haphazardly and papers, pictures,old gifts, torn up posters strewn all around the floor.

“I’m just sick of seeing you everywhere.”

That’s not something you can help, and even he can’t help it. You’ll have to live with that. The fact that he remains in the world not loving you and you remain in the world unable to move on.

“But I didn’t call today to argue with you yet again… I just… I just wish things had ended differently.”

Everything comes to an end and no one has infinite patience, no matter what they claim.

You bite your lip. You’re not saying anything groundbreaking; anyone with a brain would think that. You ended things horribly; difficult to make happy, combative, argumentative, demanding, closed off, just plain mean to someone who only wanted to love you.

If you could have released him without swiping at him, without wounds and scars a better person would have to soothe, perhaps you’d be a better person.

But you’re not.

“I wish I had appreciated you. Had known what to do with a love like yours.”

Rather than holding it so jealously you crushed it between your fingertips.

You take in a deep breath, and say it, once again, straight from your heart.

“I miss you.”

Someone who’s tasted kindness and freedom will never go back into bondage, no matter how much they love you.

You should correct that. You miss being loved by him, you miss being adored, you miss taking and taking and taking from someone who seemed to have limitless capacity to care.

But you don’t. After all, you’re the type to gorge yourself full when given the opportunity; eat as though tomorrow doesn’t exist.

“I wish I was different. Better to you.”

Your feet are suddenly freezing and you tuck them under you - in another world, he’d have even warmed your feet, massaged them and smiled, found you socks he bought himself and slipped them on with a reminder to treat yourself better.

To treat yourself well.

But you don’t know how to treat anyone well, not even yourself.

“I know I ruin everything good eventually, and I wish I hadn’t tried to ruin you too.”

Your chest is starting to ache again.

“I’m sorry.”

Tears come to your eyes for a moment and you can’t help but let out a sound as you try to blink them back before praying the receiver doesn’t pick up that pathetic sound.

“I’m sorry I’m so bold as to wish for you to come back.”

You raised your white flag just a little too late, turned around to see him no longer walking behind you, following you home like a loyal dog instead of trying desperately to reach into the abyss with no end that is your sorry excuse for a soul.

“I’m sorry I still love you.”

As if a warning from above to shut the fuck up, you sob and swallow wrong, choking on your own saliva. Hanging up as you try to recover your breath, you find yourself transitioning into a cry that doesn’t end until you’ve fallen asleep.

…

“Did someone call?” she asks. He’s been staring at his phone, laid on the surface of the bathroom sink, for the past 30 minutes, deciding whether or not he should bother listening to this message. He’s listened to every single one before this one, taken every expletive and excuse in stride, and perhaps he shouldn’t endure it again. In fact, by now it’s a mystery why he hasn’t blocked your number yet, but there’s that nagging sensation, the one that’s allowed you to hurt him for this long, that you’re a hurt soul that just wants to be heard, even if it’s not his job to bear the brunt of it every single time.

But as he looks at the voicemail, he can sense a sort of finality to it. He has the feeling after this one, you won’t call again, and yet.

“Mm. But it’s late, I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

She smiles and lets her hand rest gently on his cheek. He smiles and turns his head to kiss her palm, then gently lets his fingers close around her wrist to pull her away.

“Are you coming back to bed?”

She looks pretty in her soft lacey nightgown and even prettier out of it, he thinks for a moment. Of course he’s coming back to her. She’s home, even if he was temporarily lost.

Nodding, he tells her he’ll be there in a minute and she smiles. Too trusting to even worry about what her love is doing in the middle of the night that’s got him frowning so deeply; too explicitly loved and filled with gratitude to be anxious.

He sighs once she’s out of view and picks up the phone.

The voicemail is deleted.

Something inside him seems to rot and wither away, but he doesn’t wince. He takes another look towards the master bedroom where she awaits.

Then he blocks your number and goes back to sleep.

Should have done it a while ago but late is better than never.

#cw angst #mimi's notes

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wonijinjin · 3 days

Text

escapsim

author’s note: this is quite a sensitive topic and i am not entirely sure if i could convey the message of a situation like this, but i hope it turned out to be comforting for the ones who go through this, you are not alone.

synopsis: finding the escape from the grey everydays in the form of joshua hong.

word count: 0.7k | genre: hurt/comfort, a bit angsty | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of family issues (nothing graphic), bad mental health

it was one of those days again. when the arguments seemed never-ending, when you couldn’t focus on anything else, but the events happening in the morning; it wasn’t a pretty scene that was certain. you had spent every minute of your time putting up with your parents, trying to survive yet another day. you had one main goal today in this never ending evil circle; to have a sleepover with your boyfriend later after your usual date. he was your exit, your escape from this nightmare of a family others would never wish upon their worst enemies, he kept you going. you loved him more than anything, you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

“earth to you? hello?” joshua’s voice echoed in your ears when you looked up from your haze. “did you see something in your drink? you were staring at it like it was some kind of monster.” he chuckled, his eye smile making an appearance along with his wide smile. you were at the local coffee shop, sipping on some delicious bevareges. “sorry, i just got distracted shua.” you shyly admitted, your pout and bad mood evident to literally anyone looking at you. “what’s up darling? you seem to be a bit deflated today. like a balloon which got popped.” he noted, making a pointing gesture in the air with sound effects to prove his point. you stayed silent, a few stray tears welling up in your eyes. you didn’t like crying in front of him; you didn’t like to always remind him of the burden you carried along with you from your household. “awww baby, please don’t cry!” he cooed while standing up from his end of the table and coming over to hug your frame. “tell your sweet boyfriend what is the problem. i am sure whatever it is we can solve it.” he pleaded while patting your head rhythmically. “my parents fought again in the morning.” you sigh, feeling a big stone come off your chest with the words; it was great to be able to speak up about it. “oh baby, i am sorry.” he cradled your head in his arms. “i know things have been a bit chaotic and rough nowadays, i can see it taking a toll on you.” he whispered into your hair. “i am fine, really, it just gets tiring with time.” you reassured him, but he knew how much it hurt you on the inside. he never wanted you to lose your cheerful side, so he did his absolute best to help you in every way possible. “you know what? let’s spend the rest of the afternoon at my place darling.” he offered with a gentle hand reaching out for yours.

“i love you so much.” you confessed to joshua while making a cup of tea in his kitchen. “i love you too sweetheart. till the day this planet exists, i will always be here for you." he threw you a kiss from beside the counter, smirking mischievously. "do you want sugar or honey in the tea?” he asked while opening the cupboards and searching for the mentioned ingredients. “i think i will stick with honey.” you winked “pun intended.” his eyes lit up from laughing and he trapped you in his embrace in a swift motion; a bear hug for sadness. “good to see that your humour is still the same.” you looked at him fondly, kissing his cheek. "you always make me feel at ease, you know.” he poured out the remaining tea and grabbed your hand, initiating for you to move to the living room. "let go of every ounce of stress you have darling. you can always be yourself with me, and you can always tell me everything.” he made you lay down on the couch while he reached forward for a big blanket to cover the two of you after settling down himself. "which movie do you want to watch today?" he questioned while pulling you into his side. you only grinned at him, not saying anything. "don't tell me you want to watch what i think you want to..." he sighed; he knew your favourite comfort movie and how much you loved it, but for him it was getting a bit much. "you know exactly that i in fact want to watch that, shua!" you giggled upon seeing his distressed face. you appreciated him for not getting tired of the movie (or at least not saying that he was bored of it); he was the sweetest (as always) when you were feeling down. "fine, since you are in need of something happy i will agree on this for you darling." he smiled and grabbed the remote, putting the film on the tv immediately. “but next time i choose! deal?” he questioned playfully. “deal.” in moments like these, when he made you forget about your everyday worries, these were the times when you really realised how grateful you are for his presence in your life. you couldn't have wished for anybody else, but him as the escape from this cruel world.

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sonofatoasterwaffle · 16 hours

Text

still the one

Buck’s just arranged himself on the couch when Eddie comes out of the bathroom. He looks soft and tired and a little raw, his hair damp. It hurts to look at him so Buck doesn’t.

He knows he’s not good at keeping any of this inside. Though, he did try throughout the evening, because that seemed best for Christopher. Too bad that kid is smarter and more emotionally evolved than both of them and bailed for his room right after dinner. Their son had stacked the dishes in the sink before informing them that their “vibe was off” and that he’d be in his room doing homework until it was time to play Apex with his friends.

Thirteen is proving to be a fun age.

Eddie had tried again, then. “I never said you did something wrong—"

Buck had cut him off, because bullshit, and Eddie needs to stop repeating that. “It doesn’t matter that you said the words ‘you didn’t do anything wrong’ because you went on to describe exactly how you think I was wrong!”

And they were down the rabbit hole again.

But now it’s late. The dishes are done and the kitchen is clean and bags are packed for school and work tomorrow. They’ve gone through all the motions of getting ready for bed, both checking in on Christopher even though he insists he’s too old to be tucked in these days. And there’s nothing else to busy themselves with.

Buck’s stomach roils with feeling out of place and uncomfortable somewhere that’s always felt like home. They’re married now. Buck gave up the loft months ago. There’s nowhere to run. And Buck has nothing to say that isn’t ugly and twisted up and bleeding.

Eddie seems to have fewer qualms. “Do you need space?”

That… Buck wasn’t expecting. “What?”

Eddie sighs, takes a step closer. “From me. Do you need space from me tonight?”

Honestly, Buck doesn’t know what he needs. He just knows that he’s needy and clingy as a general rule and they’re already fighting and it feels sour and unwieldy in his chest to still want to be wrapped in Eddie’s arms despite all the unresolved things they said. He just knows he doesn’t want to make things worse. “I thought, uh… I assumed you might.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Come to bed?”

“Do you— are we—?” Buck’s not sure how to ask, but he’s definitely sure he can’t keep talking about this tonight.

Not without saying those strangled and hurt things that he doesn’t completely mean. Probably won’t mean at all come morning. Buck knows people say you and your partner shouldn’t go to bed angry. But continuing this uphill battle when he already feels exhausted and cornered and defensive like a scared animal sounds like hell.

Eddie answers the question even though Buck couldn’t ask. “Nah, I think we should table it. Talk tomorrow when we’ve had some time. Just…” he looks at the floor. “Could we maybe just be mad next to each other?”

The knot of tension in Buck’s stomach lessens just a little at the thought that Eddie still wants him. Even though they’re arguing. Even though it feels like they’re talking in circles and getting nowhere. There’s something in knowing that they have more work to do, but that they don’t have to do it all tonight. That there’s time and that maybe tomorrow it’ll feel better. Less raw. Easier to communicate.

“Yeah, okay.” Buck says finally, taking his pillow with him as he follows Eddie to his—their— bedroom.

Buck rounds to his side of the bed, tosses the covers back. Eddie always sleeps closest to the door. At first, Buck had thought maybe it was an anxiety thing. Needing to have an exit. Had even made jokes about it whenever they slept away from home and Eddie still picked the side closer to the door. “Just in case you need to make an escape?”

Eddie would chuckle, but say nothing, a slight blush rising in his cheeks.

Buck marked it down as just a little quirk of Eddie’s, thought little of it. Until they visited El Paso together for the first time last summer, and Ramon made a passing comment about how he always puts himself between Helena and the door, no matter where they’re sleeping. “Anything that comes through that door would have to go through me, first.” He’d said, half joking, kissing Helena’s cheek.

It had made Buck’s heart swell in his chest, and he’d caught Eddie’s eye just in time to see him blush again, offer a slightly sheepish grin.

Now, it makes Buck melt a little every time they get in bed.

He’s not a small man. In fact, he’s got a few inches on Eddie and definitely more bulk. But the fact that Eddie thinks about it like that. Like Buck is something precious to be protected? Buck can’t fault him for it. It’s romantic if a little traditional. It makes Buck feel secure.

Even tonight, the steady repetition of getting into bed on their respective sides settles something in Buck. He’s still upset. He still wishes Eddie would see it his way. He still needs to find a way to explain this to Eddie in a way that he’ll understand so they can figure out how to deal with it. But they get to take a break. They get to try again tomorrow.

They don’t get as close as they normally do, mindful of each other’s space tonight. Eddie’s facing away from him, arms pulled in when they’d usually start out sprawled over each other. But after Eddie turns off the lamp, after he settles into the mattress and pulls the covers over his shoulder, he reaches out with one foot, hooks an ankle over Buck’s calf. “I love you.”

That knot untangles just a little bit more. “Love you, too.” Buck replies, shifts the leg Eddie’s snagged a little closer to the middle of the bed. “See you in the morning.”

It’s a promise. An offered touch of legs under the blankets of his own. It’s not everything. But it’s enough.

Also on AO3

#buddie #fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #mentions of the Diaz parents #established relationship #married!buddie

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osamufication · 5 hours

Text

he's a pirate

pairing: pirate captain!atsumu x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

warnings: nsfw, porn with some plot, wax play, impact play, degradation, dom!atsumu, sub!reader, general threats of violence, a sprinkle of authority kink, reader is choked once, fluffy ending

a/n: for the love of FUCK this is not accurate or realistic wax play. please do NOT pour wax from random ass candles on any part of your body thank u

Isn’t this just perfect, you had to get caught didn’t you, you chastise yourself.

“Unhand me at once you pathetic, filthy pirate!” you screech at the wretched man holding your arms.

“You say pirate like it's a bad thing.”

You stop thrashing, directing your attention up to the quarter deck. There stands a tall young man with tufts of blonde hair sticking out from under his preposterous hat. He looks down at you and an amused smirk tugs at his lips. “We’re not all that bad.”

The man holding you shoves you down to the floor. You barely keep yourself from falling face first onto the deck.

You glare up at him, flipping your hair out of your face, “I’ll kill you.” you spit.

The man laughs. “We both know you’re not capable of killin’ me, love.” He walks up to the railing, leaning against it. “I’m much too handsome.”

“Give me a break.” you huff.

“We caught ‘er tryin’ to steal some of our supplies, capn’.”

“Oh? You’ve got some nerve sweetheart,” he chuckles darkly. The blonde makes his way around the railing and down the steps. You watch him carefully, trying to guess what he is playing at.

He stands before you, and unsheaths his sword. His expression is unreadable as he fits the tip of the blade beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You clench your jaw, trying to keep yourself from saying something idiotic.

“Do you know how I punish thieves, poppet?” His voice is sickeningly condescending.

You keep your mouth shut, refusing to give this moron the satisfaction of following along. By now, a small crowd of crew members had formed, all of them enjoying the free entertainment.

The captain rolls his eyes, looking around at the rest of his crew, “How should we punish her, eh boys?”

A mess of responses comes from the men.

“Throw ’er overboard!”

“Strip ‘er and tie ‘er to the mast!”

“Slit ‘er throat!”

You’re sure the fear is visible in your eyes. The captain looks quite amused by the whole ordeal.

“True, I usually just throw thieves overboard. But,” he leans down, his face a few mere inches away from yours. “I think I should handle yer punishment a little more... personally.” He turns to face his crew again, “I’ll handle this myself, get back to work ya morons.”

The crew disperses, groaning in disappointment. They were hoping for a much more entertaining conclusion. But you know this isn’t over for you.

He finally withdraws his blade and pulls you up to your feet, “Follow me love. Let’s discuss yer punishment in private.” he whispers into your ear.

As soon as the door of the captain’s quarter’s clicked shut he broke the silence.

“y/n.”

“Miya.” you growl. “I meant it when I said I’d kill you.”

“Tch, don’t be like that poppet-”

“Don't call me that.”

“Right. Forgot ya hated that name.” Atsumu sighs, “Love, I know I was a dick. I don’t expect ya to just let me back in, but please give me a chance.”

You sit down in a chair. “And why would I do that, Miya?”

He leans over you, hand on either arm of the chair, trapping you. “Ya know ya miss me. Us.”

You scrunch up your nose. “That’s awfully arrogant of you.”

He leans in further, nose bumping against yours. “C’mon love. At least stay the night, for old time’s sake.”

You don’t know what possesses you at that moment. This is the man that had left you behind, without so much as a proper warning. He told you in passing he wanted to leave one night and never return. The next day you had woken up to a cold bed and a missing ship.

You had every intention of chopping off his dick and shoving down his throat if you ever saw him again. But here you are, kissing him as though you still needed him with every fiber of your being.

He grazes your lips with his teeth, hands wandering your body freely.

“Fuck, I missed ya so much love.” Atsumu’s leg slips between your and bumps against your sensitive core. You whimper against his lips, hating how easily you slip into a submissive state for him.

Atsumu pulls away and boasts a dangerous smirk on his lips. “I’m supposed to be punishing ya darlin’, the men won’t believe I kept my word unless they hear some screamin’.”

He grips the front of your blouse, pulls you out of the chair and shoves you onto his bed. He climbs on top of you, easily tearing the fabric between his fingers. His eyes roll back when he’s greeted with the familiar sight of your bare breasts, barely biting back a groan as he eagerly gropes them. You wrap your legs around his waist, grinding up against his hardening cock. Atsumu kisses you sloppily, teeth roughly clashing against yours. You reach up to throw off his stupid hat and thread your fingers through his hair.

“This is,” you gasp as Atsumu drags his thumb around your nipple, “quite the punishment, Miya.”

In an instant, Atsumu ceases all movement. “You’ve forgotten who yer dealin’ with, princess.”

He unhooks your legs from around his waist and gets off the bed. You start to sit up, but Atsumu quickly shoves you back down, his massive hand wrapped almost entirely around your throat. “Did I tell you to fuckin’ move?”

“N-no,” you choke out.

He raises an eyebrow. “Ya seem to have forgotten your manners as well, what a damn shame.”

Before you can react, he releases your neck and slaps you across the face. The sound of the impact echoes throughout the room and rings in your ears.

Atsumu grips your face tightly and forces you to face him. “Let’s try again shall we?” He leans in, his lips ghosting over your own, so close that you can feel his hot breath mingling with yours.

“Did I give you permission to move?”

You swallow, trying to speak without trembling, “No, s-sir.”

There’s a satisfied glint in his eyes as he releases you. You make sure to stay perfectly still. Without a word of acknowledgement he walks over to his desk, shrugs off his coat, and removes the pistols you were mortified to realize you hadn’t detected.

From your spot on the bed you get a perfect view of the wonders his pants do for his ass. You're so distracted you don’t notice Atsumu lighting a candle before walking back over to the bedside.

“Clothes off.”

Once you’ve stripped bare, Atsumu lays you on your back and spreads your legs. Your cunt is already glistening from the heated kissing and grinding.

“You’re positively drenched, darlin’.”

He reaches over to grab the red candle from the table. He holds it over your stomach, before grinning again. “You’re not allowed to move, but screaming is highly encouraged.”

With that he tilts the candle, letting a drop of wax plop onto your stomach. You hiss and squirm, the heat almost unbearable for a moment. You’re ashamed to admit the sharp pain goes straight to your twitching pussy. Another drop falls a bit higher up your torso. It takes all your willpower to keep still.

To only make matters worse, as Atsumu drips the candle wax onto your breasts he uses his free hand to start teasing your clit. You mewl as he rubs up and down your slit, inserting a finger as wax lands on your hardened nipples. His fingers graze against that tender spot inside, you arch your back, grinding on his hand.

“F-fuck, right there!” you choke out. Your eyes are screwed shut, but you feel the drips of wax traveling further down your body.

“Yer movin’ again,” Atsumu leans forward, the candle flame licking the skin of your side, “Are ya this desperate for me? All that time on your own really did make ya a whore, hmm?”

You shake your head, “No, I didn-”

Before you can finish, Atsumu quickly removes his hand and slaps it against your cunt, hard. You can’t suppress the screech ripped from your throat.

He sits back between your thighs and sets the candle on the floor by the bed. He nods to your legs, “Grab ‘em and hold ‘em to yer chest. Now.”

You do as he says, feeling your face get hot again. Atsumu’s view must be entirely obscene. If someone were to walk in now, there would be no saving your dignity.

Atsumu’s eyes are dark and hungry, he hits your cunt again with more force than before. A loud and wet slap echoes in the room along with your shriek. You heave, trying to catch your breath.

He lowers his face between your legs and licks a stripe up, leaving a kiss on your clit. “Such a filthy little whore. Yer really enjoying this aren’t ya?”

You nod your head rapidly, “Y-yes sir, I am.”

“So ya haven’t learned yer lesson about stealin’ from me?”

Oh shit. That’s right.

“I, uh...”

Fuck, you can’t think straight with his tongue grazing against your soaked hole.

“No? Well I’ll have to really punish ya then.”

He holds the candle directly over your pussy, eyes gleaming.

“W-wait-” You’re interrupted by your own scream as the first drop of wax hits your clit with a plop!

“That’s what I like to hear, darlin’.” Atsumu’s face boasts a sadistic grin as he continues his assault on your cunt.

You keep screaming with each drop, the stinging only making you wetter than you already were. Your fingernails leave bright red crescents on your thighs as you grip them to your chest, using all your strength to stay still. There’s wax all over your swollen cunt and you’re sure it must look like an absolute mess.

“I think yer ready now.” Atsumu mumbles, undoing his pants and taking out his cock. He readjusts himself and teases your dripping pussy with his impossibly hard length. You whimper every time he slips just the head of his cock in.

“Fuckin’ hell, doll yer still so tight.” He groans, finally pushing all the way in.

Your vision is blurry from all the overwhelming sensations. Atsumu pulls out almost completely before ramming his hips back against yours. Your mouth drops open as he sets the brutal pace you were so familiar with from all those years ago. You whimper and whine with every wet slap of his cock drilling into you.

Without slowing his pace, Atsumu picks the candle back up. He grins down at you, tipping it over again and lands a particularly large glob of wax on your clit. Your scream is guttural, the feeling of Atsumu hitting your g-spot while the burning wax stimulates your swollen clit entirely overwhelming.

You start to feel a familiar tension in your stomach. Your cunt clenches around Atsumu’s cock, making him throw his head back, eyes screwed shut. He takes a ragged breath before looking you in the eyes and presses his thumb harshly against the wax on your clit.

“F-fuck! Sir, I’m cumming!” You scream, legs shake so violently you lose your grip on them. Before they can hit the bed Atsumu blows out the candle and throws it to the ground. He uses his free arm to hold them back up against you.

“That’s it darlin’, just like that, keep cumming for me.” Atsumu presses himself harder against you as his thrusts get sloppier. He groans loudly as he cums inside you, his grip on your legs loosening.

He lets out a ragged breath as his movements come to a stop and he helps you lower your sore legs to the bed.

He leans over you, his strong arms on either side of your head. He kisses you the way he did earlier, as loving as ever. He pulls away from your lips and presses his forehead to yours. You both stay there in comfortable silence for a moment.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you whisper, “I think we should clean up.”

Atsumu sighs, but reluctantly moves off of you. Dry wax on your body uncomfortably cracks with the movement.

You scrunch up your nose, how the hell are you going to get this off of you?

“Well then? How was that?” Atsumu asks.

“I suppose,” you turn your head to the captain, “that was satisfactory.”

Atsumu snorts, “Just satisfactory huh? I’ll go harder next time then, princess.”

You shiver, knowing full well he will keep his word. You also don’t fail to notice his choice of words.

Next time.

You watch as Atsumu stands up and starts pulling his pants back on. The thin sheen of sweat covering his back makes him almost glow in the sunlight shining through the window. He pulls his cotton tunic over his head and turns back to you, a soft look in his eyes. “Let’s get ya cleaned up shall we?”

He opens a cabinet to pull out a cloth and bottle. He places them on the bedside table before situating himself beside you. He douses the cloth with a thick liquid.

“What is that?” you ask, watching as he starts rubbing it into your skin and over the wax.

“Olive oil, it’ll get the wax right off of yer skin. I don’t wanna hurt ya or let ya rip the pieces off.” Atsumu dutifully works at your skin, slowly but surely getting all the wax off, and leaving you very oily instead.

“Miya?”

“I think we’re a bit past the formalities dontcha think?”

You smile sadly, “Atsumu, why are you here? You said you weren’t coming back.”

Atsumu sighs, “I know what I said. And I meant it when I said it, but I was an idiot.”

“Not surprised.”

“Watch it.” Atsumu pinches your leg playfully. “I didn’t realize that what I was looking for wasn’t on the other side of the world.”

He puts down the rag and walks over to his coat. You sit up against the headboard as he rumages for something in its pockets. He pulls out a little brown box with gold detailing around its borders. He circles the bed, taking a seat beside you. He meets your eyes, “Can’t believe I needed this thing to realize what I really wanted.”

You frown as he opens the box, expecting to see a giant diamond or aztec gold.

“A broken compass.” You say, unimpressed.

Atsumu groans, “I’m trying to be dramatic here and yer ruining my moment.” He takes a deep breath, “Yes, it's a compass. But it’s not broken, it points toward whatever it is you most desire.”

The needle spins back and forth for a split moment before picking a direction. You twist your head back to look behind you, “You want the rum on the table?”

“For fuck’s sake y/n and ya say I’m dense.” He runs a hand down his face. “It’s pointing at you.”

You freeze for a moment. He can’t possibly mean that.

“Atsumu I swear to god if you're messing with me...” your voice trails off.

Atsumu puts the compass down and takes hold of your hands, “I swear on my life, yer everything I want in this world. I’m fully prepared to sell the ship and stay with ya on dry land if that’s what ya want.”

You blink back tears, “There’s no need to be so dramatic.” You move over so he can take a seat beside you. “I don’t want you to give up sailing. I never did. All I wanted was for you to take me with you, to be with you.”

Atsumu shakes his head, “I was so fuckin’ stupid.”

You smile and curl up next to him, “Not as stupid as I am giving you a second chance. Don’t make me regret this.”

Atsumu drapes his arm around you, planting a kiss on your head, “I’ll make you a pirate queen, darlin’. Just you wait.”

You giggle, “So where are we headed, captain?”

Atsumu grabs the compass again. With his arm secured around you, the needle starts spinning again. It settles in the general direction of the island.

You raise a brow at him, challenging him to explain why the needle was pointing toward the village.

Atsumu grins like an idiot and reaches over you to snatch the bottle of rum. He rips out the cork with his teeth and spits it out to the floor. He takes a swig before holding it up to your lips, carefully pouring some into your mouth.

Taking the compass back into his hands it finally settles, pointing out to the open ocean.

You smile, “Looks like we have a heading. Any idea where it may be taking us?”

Atsumu is quiet for a moment, before turning back to you. In his eyes is a glimmer of adventure. Those are the eyes of a troublemaker you fell in love with oh so long ago.

“Ever heard of the fountain of youth?”

#link can write #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader smut #atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #pirate au #technically a repost of an old fic

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