#i will raise my hand so you know I want to speak and you will not make a little comment about it or I’ll take my raise hand and wack you

[euthymiya]

friendly reminder ft. scar

you might have helped your boyfriend escape his jail cell, but that still doesn’t mean you’re done being mad at him for flirting with another girl

contents: fem reader ; spoilers for main quest—mentions of rover and scar interactions, mentions of reader helping scar escape jail ; established relationship ; reader is part of the fractsidus ; reader and scar are both low key toxic in a way that almost balances each other out to be healthy LOL. they are in love, just in crazy ways ; reader is not rover. in fact, she’s rather jealous of rover and scar loves it ; hand jobs—his cock zipper LIVES ; cum eating ; reader sits on scar’s lap ; not proof read pretend there are no mistakes if you stumble across one

“you’re awfully affectionate today,” scar chuckles, relishing in the trail of your lips along his face. they map out the marks that permanently reside along his skin, trekking the familiar path from one to another as you meet each destination. “i take it that means i’ve been missed?”

“hardly,” you grumble. but your actions say otherwise as your lips find his neck, kissing along the path to his pulse point, biting down and making him shiver happily at the pain.

“oh, i’m sure that’s true,” he snorts, humming happily at the way your teeth graze his skin.

it’s sure to leave a mark—and it’s on purpose. you’re lips aren’t there to reward him, or to shower him in your usual fondness. this time, it’s a reminder. it’s to make sure he knows you’re the one—the only one who can touch him like this.

“i think you should be more affectionate,” you glower, lips pulling away from him to form a sweet, precious little pout. it warms his heart, enough that he doesn’t miss the press of them against his skin as much as he normally would now that he gets to see that perfect little curl of your mouth. “i rescued you out of prison, you know.”

scar is never shy with his affection—but that doesn’t always mean he’s generous with it. sometimes, he withholds. just to be teasing, just to make you ache for it, just to be a bit cruel. it’s never enough to go too far, but it’s just enough to let him have his fun.

you don’t usually mind it. not until he seems to be generous with someone else.

“well now,” he drawls his words, almost like he’s playing a sick, twisted game. you think he is, watching him narrow his eyes in amusement as he leans closer, hovering his lips just above yours as he says, “rescue is a bit of a strong word, don’t you think? of course, i’d be fine escaping on my own, but needing a little aid here and there holds no shame, hm?”

you pull back as he leans even closer, not letting him feel the satisfaction of your lips against his own, glaring at him as you huff. you’re thoroughly unimpressed, and you want it known. (of course, all things considered, it’s a rather soft glare—as aggravating as scar can be, he’s easier to love than he is to be infuriated with. you know he knows it too, if the smug tug of his lips speaks for anything. still, you’re not pleased, and you think he should be made abundantly aware regardless).

“i could’ve left you in there,” you purse your lips, “stuck in that cell with hardly enough food and water because of that girl you’re so interested in.”

“oh?” he quirks a brow with a gleam in his eyes—so excited, so enthused by the prospect of your bitterness as you sulk, “is that jealousy i see on that beautiful face? oh my, we can’t have that, can we, my dear?”

“oh, am i your dear? i distinctly remember you calling her that too,” you huff, pulling back from him as you cross your arms.

he stops you, arms wrapping around your back and pulling him up his lap to press against his chest, closer and closer and even closer, until his mouth is back to being millimeters away from yours, hot breath fanning over you and sending goosebumps along your skin. he’s evil, too—traces the raised bumps with a delicate finger along your arm, chuckling at the way you shiver slightly.

“oh, this simply won’t do,” he pouts theatrically, “i didn’t think you’d take that so personally, sweetheart. you understand, don’t you? i was just trying to earn her trust.”

“hmph,” you turn away from him, looking off to the side stubbornly as you add, “i didn’t realize you’d have to have a happy little date, as i recall it, in order to earn trust. is her trust really all you want?”

“why, of course,” he gasps, hands cupping your face to bring your gaze back on him, his palms squeezing your cheeks together as your lips slightly pucker from the action, “how could i ever have it in me to want someone else when i have such a precious sight right before me? hm?”

that’s the thing about scar. so nice when he wants to be, so good with words, so easy to drip saccharine promises from his tongue like honey—sweet enough to mask the lethal taste of venom. one drop is all it takes to kill you. one drop is all it takes to weaken you to be his prey.

but you like it. you like this sick, twisted little game he plays. you like him when he makes you want him so bad, you long for a girl you’ve never even met to drop dead for ever getting fractionally close to him—even if it was all under a facade.

scar is never shy about his affections, but he makes you work for them. makes you earn them as he dangles them over your head. but you’re just as stubborn as he is cruel, never scared to make him earn your affections just as much as he makes you earn his.

you hum in thought, hand trailing down to his crotch as you trace along the zipper over his cock. he’s already semi-hard, much to your satisfaction. he doesn’t have the shame to seem embarrassed by it, either—grinning wider as he stares into you with a darkened glint in his eyes.

“i should’ve left you in that jail cell,” you mutter.

he pouts, so theatric as he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. “don’t break my heart. i thought about you every second i was stuck in there, you know? it hurts my feelings when you say such cruel things.”

“oh does it?” you ask flatly, tracing the outline of his hardening erection through his pants. he hums and nods, letting out a soft, breathy moan as your palm at his clothed cock. “tell me something. would you kill her for me?”

“how extreme. that would be quite a shame,” he laughs, “she could be so useful, you know?”

you press the heel of your palm harder into him, earning a grunt as his hands grip your waist tightly with closed eyes. “would you?” you insist.

he opens his eyes to meet yours, dark with lust, sparkling with unyielding affection as he breathes, “of course. but you know that already, don’t you?”

you do. scar would kill anything—anyone. you like that. cherish it, even. blood would spill and life would drain before your love could die, and you like it that way. marvel in it. how satisfying it is, to have a man like him under your thumb, so intent to cross his already nonexistent lines just for you.

“good,” you finally smile, rewarding him with a proper kiss. he smiles himself against your mouth, letting you swallow his moans as your hand undoes the zipper over his crotch, pulling his hard, flushed cock free from its confinements as you slowly smear the precum along the swollen tip with your thumb.

he groans, biting your lip before he murmurs, “i missed this too in that cold little jail cell of mine. i missed how warm you always feel around me.”

your hand wraps around the thick girth, pumping the hot, velvety flesh as it twitches slightly in your hand. the filthy, squelching sound of your wet strokes mix with his low moans, a satisfying sound to your ears as you watch his face slack with pleasure, mouth parting to make the noises he knows inflate your ego.

scar is shameless enough to be loud, at least. it works both to your advantage and disadvantage at times. it’s certainly something you appreciate when you hear the proof of his pleasure, right there as the sounds bleed into you against your ear with hot breaths. but sometimes, when he takes you in not so hidden places, so risky and so dangerous of being caught, you appreciate his shamelessness a little less.

he’s never bothered by it, though. you think he’d love it, even, if anyone were to witness him fuck into you—so utterly careless of anything else other than having you as his.

his. because you do love being his, as difficult and infuriating as it might be.

“fuck, you always feel so good too,” he continues. he’s always so talkative, even when he’s dangerously at risk of cutting himself off with breathy, labored groans. you lean in, kissing along the scar of his left cheek as he whispers, “you feel that, don’t you? how hard i am just for you. what is there to be jealous of, sweetheart?”

“you should only be having dates with me,” you squeeze his cock tighter as you huff the words, stroking along his length quicker, earning a choked sound from him as he digs his fingers into your hips harder—it’s almost bruising. “the only one you should be calling my dear is me.”

“oh but you’re just so cute when you’re mad,” he pants through his laughs, closing his eyes and letting his forehead fall to your shoulder, humming before he bites into you as he muffles his sounds, “i can’t help myself. it’s nothing personal, okay? just a little good fun, that’s all.”

“i hate you,” you say petulantly.

you don’t. that’s why your other hand cards through his sweaty locks as his orgasm approaches quicker and quicker, the thick, pulsing cock in your hand twitching in your hold as he gasps, “oh now you’re really hurting my feelings. how can you say something so, so harsh?”

“i hate her too,” you say darkly.

he cums at that. like witnessing your jealousy gets him off, like hearing the pure hatred in your voice excites him until thick, hot ropes of cum release from his swollen tip, coating your hand as you stroke him through his high. he groans, a labored call of your name falling from his lips as he bucks into your fist.

you like the sound of your name on his lips. he sounds so good like that, strained from his own pleasure, so sickeningly smitten as he utters the syllables of your name like it’s his favorite word.

he says it so pretty. so sweetly. so affectionately.

one thing’s for certain—you know he’s never, ever said her name like this.

“look at you,” he coos once he’s done spilling into your hand, catching his breath as his head pulls way from your shoulder. your good hand is still in his hair, pulling it slightly to angle it up to meet your face as he grins and teases, “aren’t you lovely? rewarding me even when you’re mad at me.”

you bring your cum coated fingers to your lips, licking a stripe of his release off your hand before you reply, “just reminding you that no one could make you feel like this.”

“oh, sweetheart,” he tugs you closer, brushing your crotch against his still hardened cock as you gasp, “i could never, ever forget. don’t you worry, my dear.”

a) rover is cool and all but scar seems like he wants her so bad and it simultaneously is kind of hot but also kind of infuriating like you’re mine sir

b) a reader who’s low key crazy like him is the kind of trope i need. someone who will stab him and then kiss him, you feel me?

c) i need his cock zipper back i’m very mad they got rid of it. and i also need to see his cock too. i am, of course, disappointed as neither have happened so. :(

#writing tag #scar x reader #scar x you #scar smut #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves smut #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #wuwa smut

[cloudcountry]

HI HI AUBURN!!! can i request a reader who asks "do you like me or something?" with deuce, ace and any other characters you like...? 🩷🩷

SUMMARY: you call them out on their bullshit (lovingly <3)

COMMENTS: rubbing my hands together this is going to be so much fun.

update after i finished writing: this was fun. trey clover i love you please kiss me.

Deuce nearly hits his head on a doorway when you ask him that question on your way to your next class. His face is a bright flaming red, which you both know is an answer all on its own. He visibly panics, spewing jumbled sentences that sounds suspiciously like:

“Who told you,”

“No I don’t!”

“I mean, well, yeah I do, but only if you do,”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

“Okay bye!”

You grab him before he can sprint off, holding back giggles as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“It’s okay Deuce. I like you. I was just wondering if you felt the same.”

Ace nearly does a spit take before forcing out the fakest laugh you’ve ever heard.

“I’m sorry, what? Who would ever like you!? I mean, you’re the worst Prefect this campus has ever seen and you don’t even use magic!”

Ace can babble all he wants but ultimately, when your feelings are hurt by his verbal assault, he backtracks real fast. He didn’t know you were being serious and that you like him—now he feels like such an ass. He shouldn’t have done that during such a vulnerable moment and argh, Prefect just come over here. He’ll take you out to ice cream and do this right.

“What?” Idia shrieks, almost cracking his neck with how fast he whips around to face you.

His gaming chair squeaks as he spins, facing you sitting on his bed. You look curious, head slightly tilted and gaze imploring. His head is spinning with questions and denial, and they only get more frantic as you get up and walk over to him.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” you reassure him, a hesitant smile on your face, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s anything but.

Trey laughs, dragging a palm down his face in exasperation.

“Alright, who told you?” he turns to look at you, raising a suspicious eyebrow, “I didn’t think my friends could hold a secret for long, but I didn’t expect it to come out this fast.”

You open and close your mouth a few times before speaking.

“Nobody told me anything.”

You and Trey stare at each other as a few beats pass before he laughs again, harder this time, cheeks rapidly turning pink.

“Ah, I should have seen that coming.” he mumbles, shaking his head, “Well, uh...do you like me?”

#auburn's fics <3 #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade fluff #deuce x reader #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola fluff #twst ace x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud fluff #idia x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #trey clover fluff #trey x reader #gn reader

[beombear13]

Same Time

genre: smut

warnings: I don’t really know and it’s late so I’ll probably update this later. It is not proofread so you will see Sam in here cause I was half asleep😭

a/n: another late night post.. what am I doing? Enjoy! 1.8k!

You have two boyfriends: San and Wooyoung. Originally, it was you and San but he told you how desperate his best friend, Wooyoung, was for a good fuck. You were up for him, not because you wanted another man’s dick in your pussy, but because you wanted to help San and his friend.

After the supposed “one good fuck,” Wooyoung started coming over more.. and fucking you more. After many, and when I say many, I mean it, fucks, Wooyoung asked San to join the relationship.

After a lot of convincing from San and some minor convincing from Wooyoung, you agreed. And it turned out to be the best decision you ever made. Wooyoung was a great addition to your relationship.

He was nice, treated you right, fucked good, and cared for you. Yes, San did all of those, too, but it felt nice to get more and more. Call it greed if you want, who cares? It’s San and Wooyoung.

Tonight, the three of you were just sitting on the couch and watching TV after a long day of going out. Wooyoung’s head was lying on your lap while San was sitting beside you, his arm around you. You were playing with Wooyoung’s hair, too immersed in the show you were watching to know what Wooyoung was planning right in front of you.

Wooyoung looked up at San and San looked back down at him. They both smiled at each other. Wooyoung picked up his phone, texting San about his filthy plan.

Wooyoung: i have a plan

San: A plan for what, Woo?

Wooyoung: you’ll see. Follow my lead, k?

San: Whatever you say !

Wooyoung sat up, which really didn’t catch your attention. He moved a lot which was normal. He gave San a look to just wait. Wooyoung pressed his lips against yours, making you grunt in confusion and shock at the sudden movement.

You eventually melted into the kiss, getting rougher by the second. Wooyoung searched a little for San’s hand before San gave it to him. Wooyoung places San’s hand under your skirt. Just wearing panties since you took off your the shorts you had under them when you got home.

The little grunts you let out as San started to touch you through your panties made Wooyoung laugh into the kiss. Pushing your hips up to meet San’s made him just want to rip your clothes off. But he controlled himself. Instead he pushed your panties out of the way and pushed a finger into your already soaking wet pussy.

“Ooh. You’re already wet, baby? Just got started.” San raises an eyebrow and smiles at you. Wooyoung kissed down your jaw and nibbled on your neck. “You see this Wooyoung?” Wooyoung pulled away from your neck and looked at San as he pulled his finger out. It was covered in your wetness.

Wooyoung chuckled cockily, “are we that good, Y/N, huh?” Your breath was heavy as you looked into Wooyoung’s eyes. When you were about to speak, San plunged 2 fingers back in and rubbed your clit. You gasped out, furrowing your eyebrows. Wooyoung loved to watch your face change.

He shook his head as to how desperate you were. He returned to your neck, sucking more marks onto your skin. He went lower but was eventually met with the neckline of your cotton white shirt.

San roughly pulled up your shirt for Wooyoung, pinching your right nipple while slowing down his fingers. Wooyoung latched his mouth onto the other one, gently sucking. You desperately looked at San as the pleasure was become too much. He pecked your lips as he rolled your nipple between his fingers.

“I’m gonna- gonna cum, Woo. San, please. Let me c-cum.” You gasped out. They ignored your pleas. You threw your head back and rutted your hips to San’s fingers. “Please.” You squeaked out.

“San. Should we let her cum? Has she been good enough today?” Wooyoung spoke as he detached from your nipple, now rubbing it. San chuckled.

“I don’t know, Woo. What do you think? It was your plan.” San spoke, smirking to Wooyoung. They knew what they were doing. They were talking to add more length of not letting you cum. Trying to see if you can hold it long enough.

“I guess we can let her cum. It wont be the last. You know that don’t you, Y/N?” Wooyoung bit his lip at your state. You nodded repeatedly, about to cum.

“Y/N, baby, we’ve talked about this. You have to use your words.” San said. You moaned loudly as your stomach churned in pleasure. “Come on. Say it, Y/N. You can do it, we know you can.”

“Yes! Ah, yes! I-I know!” You squeaked out. The overwhelming pleasure causing you to let out a couple tears. You came all over San’s fingers. “A-ah!”

“Ah, good girl.” Wooyoung laughed at you while sitting up with his knees on the couch. “Don’t cry, baby. It’ll all be ok.” He licked his lips. San pointed down to your clothes as a way of asking if he should take them off. Wooyoung nodded.

San took off your shirt, exposing the rest of your chest. He then took off your skirt and panties in one swift movement. He threw them somewhere in the living room, probably landing on an another chair or the floor. But that doesn’t matter.

“You think you can give us one more?” San asked, finally getting the hint. Wooyoung bit his lip and smiled. San brushed the hair out of your face.

“Yes. I can give another one.” You spoke, calming yourself down and catching your breath. They gave you enough time to do so; playing with your hair, kissing your body gently. You nodded your head.

They didn’t waste a second, putting you on all fours. Your face was facing Wooyoung’s bulge and your pussy facing San’s. Wooyoung felt your face for a minute, caressing it gently. You smiled at him, turning around and seeing San unbuckle his belt. He looked up and smiled at you, finally taking the belt off and tossing it.

As you looked back, you were met with Wooyoung’s naked core. You looked up, gulping. He put his hand onto your head and rubbed it softly. “You ready, Y/N?” San asked.

“I’m ready. Same time.” You said. They smiled at each other. Usually, you would tell one of them to go first and then let the other one enter whatever side they were on a little after the other one. But, today, you were too worked up for that to not happen. You need both of the at the same time.

They looked at each other with shocked expressions. They both tend to be rough when you end up in this position, “are you sure?” Wooyoung asked. “You’ve taken it like that.” He reassured.

“I’m sure. Please, hurry. I need you both now.” You begged. They both looked at each other and San shrugged. Wooyoung nodded and counted down from 3. They both entered you at the same time.

You choked a moan on Wooyoung’s dick as San’s dick, who was bigger in length and girth, pushed into you as well. Wooyoung’s not small of course, but he’s smaller than San.

Tears were already forming and they just entered you. How you took this was beyond you, San, or Wooyoung. Even they were surprised. The moment they started to move their hips, which was slow for now, they were still shocked.

“God, you’re taking us like such a good girl. Maybe she was a good girl today, Woo.” San said, his hips gaining a quicker pace. Wooyoung was so deep in the pleasure that he almost missed what San said. His head was thrown back and his mouth agape.

“Y-yeah. Such a good girl for us, Y-y/n. Oh, fuck. Just like that. Oh, please.” He said whining loudly. San chuckled at him. He noticed Wooyoung’s hood speeding up as well.

Hearing the way you were choking on Wooyoung’s cock made him a little jealous. He missed the way your mouth felt around his cock. But he ignored his feelings, nonetheless. He knew once you were calmed down, he could come and get it when he wanted it or needed it.

Hot tears were spilling from your eyes are they were being pushed out by Wooyoung and San’s cock. Wooyoung’s cock fell out of your mouth as you moaned loudly when San’s tip roughly hit your cervix. “Fuck!”

Grabbing Wooyoung’s dick, you slipped it back into your mouth. He continued to suck like the good girl you were. You didn’t realize that doing what you did would make Wooyoung cum so quickly inside of your mouth, almost in the back of your throat.

The knot in your stomach tighten to the point it was unbearable. San’s finger rubbed your clit making your body tense and twitch. You soon came after that.

You slipped it out of your mouth and kissed his tip. You felt hot cum shoot into your pussy, moaning at the feeling. “Switch?” San asked, breathing heavy. Wooyoung smiled and nodded.

They both moved to each other’s places. They didn’t even count down before they both shoved their dick in each end. Choking again, you smiled around San’s cock. His was your favorite to get facefucked by or to suck off. Wooyoung’s was the nicest to get fucked by, most definitely.

“Ah- fuck.” You moaned out in a muffle. San grabbed the back of your head, pushing it back and forth from and to his core. Wooyoung groaned out as you clenched harshly around him.

“Keep doing that and I’ll cum right now, Y/N.” His heavy breathing made you clench again. “Mhm, please Y/N. Don’t do this.” He said with a whine. His hips moved faster than before. You ended up cumming quicker than before.

The overwhelming pleasure was getting to you, “too much, ah, fuck!” You shrieked about San’s dick. They both sped up, trying to finish.

“Hold on, Y/N. Please, let us finish.” San said as he was so close to his release. Moaning out loudly as he could barely take the overstimulation as well. “I’m cumming, shit.”

“Fuck, I’m cumming, too.” Wooyoung whimpered. His hips stuttered as he got closer and closer to his climax. He fucked his way through, and came inside of you. Shortly, San followed and he groaned as he came. He pulled watch, watching the cum drop down onto your face.

He wiped it away with his thumb. He looked up noticing Wooyoung watching the cum drip out of your abused pussy. Wooyoung bit his lip back and smiled at the mixture of all three of your guy’s cum.

“Woo.” San said. It quickly grabbed his attention. “Clean up.” He pointed to you. They both got up and went to get things to clean you up. They ran you a hot bath and got you some little snacks you like. And once you were done with that bath, they were already sitting on your bed, fresh out of the other shower.

You smiled and climbed in between them. They shared their snacks as well as they continued the show that they fucked you to.

#kpop #smut #ateez #wooyoung #choi san #san #jung wooyoung #ateez smut #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #ateez atiny #wooyoung smut #san smut #san ateez

[gglitch1dd]

So like how would reader an Izuku react if Toshinori got a girl pregnant when they're not married.

WHOAAAA Coming with the big guns, Anon??

That would be... wow. Poor Reader. Her heart might give out. Note: This is NOT CANON to the Midoriya Family World. NOT CANON.

I did something...

You stood in your bathroom, brushing your teeth, your husband standing beside you in his pyjama pants as you both got ready for bed. You heard a knock at the door and then peaking inside was your eldest son, Toshinori.

"Mom... dad..." He started with a hesitant look on his face as he stepped inside. Toshinori kept his hands behind him as he seemed shrunk into himself.

You glanced at your husband. Izuku looked to you, his eyes saying more than his expression, not wanting to show his own worry from his son's confession. "Hey buddy. What's up?" You leaned over the sink, spitting out toothpaste, before standing back up straight in your husband's oversized shirt.

Toshinori hesitated, his eyes anywhere but the both of you. "So lets say I..." He stopped speaking for a moment as he tried to get the words. Your eyebrows furrowed. Your seventeen year old son was one of many things but he was not a boy with little words. "So lets say I did something. Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically..." Your husband repeated.

"Yah. Hypothetically, lets say..." Toshinori stepped to the side as he seemed too anxious to say it. "I... I was with a girl one time."

You raised an eyebrow. "With a girl?" Your son nodded. "Doing what?"

He hesitated. Despite being well taller than you now and just hitting 6 foot, he sure looked pretty small right now. "Something I shouldn't have been doing when not married." Your husband let out a deep sigh as he brought his hand to his face. You looked up at Izuku confused as to why he was sighing. You tilted your head at Toshinori confused. "And lets say my actions... led to me..."

"You got an STD, didn't you?" Izuku asked. You whipped your head to look up at your husband in shock before turning to your son. Izuku sighed as he put his hand on the counter. "Toshinori, what did I tell you about wrapping it before you tap it?"

"Wait, I'm sorry." You stopped anyone from speaking as you tried to grapple your mind around this. "I'm sorry." You chuckled, finding this funny, making your son cringe. "Is he having sex!?" You asked motioning to your son. You looked to him wide eyed. "Are you having sex?!"

Toshinori hesitated before answering you. "No," He said looking away from you. You sighed in relief your shoulders falling. "Not currently." You looked to your son speechless. "And I didn't catch an STD. I... I gave her something."

"Who!?"

"Hina."

You tried taking deep breaths, trying to think about a way to tell your best friend that your son had probably given her daughter an STD. "Mina is going to kill me." You let out.

Izuku looked between the both of you. "Hold on. Toshinori, what did you give her?" He asked as he looked to his son. "Herpes? Syphilis?"

"A baby."

"A ba-" Instantly your husband stopped talking as you both froze. Izuku went slack jawed as he looked at his son with wide disbelieving green eyes. Toshinori shrunk back trying not to break down himself at the look on either of your expressions.

You suddenly felt like you couldn't feel your body. You moved to grab onto something, anything. Luckily the counter was there and you had to lean your entire body onto it. Izuku immediately moved to hold you in his arms, holding you as you tried to wrap your heads around this.

Your son. Your seventeen year old son in third year of high school, had gotten a girl pregnant.

You were speechless. Utterly humbled and speechless.

You took a deep breath as you tried not to faint at the news.

Izuku kept you up easily as he turned to look at his son. He opened his mouth to speak but realised he didn't have the words. He let out a deep sigh and you could see him age ten years older.

Toshinori opened his mouth. "I know it sounds bad-"

"No, it is. It is bad." Izuku interrupted him, not wanting to hear any excuses. "You got Sero Hina pregnant!?" He asked loudly. "You're telling me, you, Midoriya Toshinori, got a girl pregnant?"

Toshinori kept his mouth closed but nodded his head.

Izuku turned to you, easily moving you into his arms and marching right past his son to put you down on the cushioned chair in your room. You looked up at your husband, squeezing his hand in gratitude. Your son followed the both of you outside of the bathroom, switching off the light inside. You put a hand to your head as you took a moment to think.

Izuku started to pace as he put a hand to his chin, thinking to himself on how on earth this could happen. Where did the both of you go wrong? Izuku paused and turned to Toshinori, putting his hands together as he looked serious. "Were you wearing protection?"

"... No." Izuku let out a groan as he moved his hands over his face. "But!" Toshinori started again as he stepped forward. "But Hina told me she was on the pill so-"

"So you decided just to stick your dick in and call it a day, Toshinori?" Izuku asked rhetorically. You could see that your husband wasn't angry. You weren't angry. You were both just confused and disappointed, and your son could feel it. "Are you ready to be a father?"

"What!? No, of course not." Toshinori defended shaking his head like it was an obvious answer.

"Then why on earth would you have sex if you aren't willing to accept the consequences of your actions?" Izuku asked stepping forward closer to Toshinori. "

"I didn't think this would happen!" Toshinori shouted. Izuku walked over to where you were, leaning against the chair you were sitting in.

You closed your eyes for a second before opening them again. "She told you this?" He nodded his head. You took a moment to think. "What's her plan?"

Toshinori scratched the back of his head. "She can still finish third year but she wouldn't be allowed to do any of the internships with hero agencies until after the baby is born. She isn't... she isn't entirely sure what to do right now. She's telling Uncle Hanta and Aunty Mina today so..."

You took another moment to think before taking out a breath and looking up at Toshinori. "Toshinori." By the tone of your voice, he could tell that you were about to be frank and serious with him. He swallowed down hard but looked at you. "If she decides to keep this baby, you are going to work your freaking ass off to be the best goddamn father and partner to her. Do you understand me?"

He nodded his head. "Yes."

Your husband's eyes flicked over to your eldest son. "Yes who?"

Toshinori squeezed his eyes shut, realising his mistake. "Yes, ma'am."

"Do you have any feelings for her?"

Toshinori paused. He looked down not entirely sure by the look in his eyes. "I... I don't know." He answered honestly. "It kind of just happened cause I broke up with Satomi and Hina was there and she said she liked me and-"

"I don't care about logistics right now, just answer the question."

"I don't know."

"Well figure out." You shuffled to sit up straight. "Cause if you do, you should learn to love her cause I don't feel comfortable with you having a baby mama and not being married to her. That's not how we raised you and that's now how that child deserves to grow up without a solid family there."

Toshinori nodded his head. "Yes, ma'am."

Izuku folded his arms over his chest but motioned to Toshinori to leave. "Go to bed, Toshinori. Your mother and I need to talk about this."

He nodded his head. You could see the tears in his eyes, clearly feeling overwhelmed and like he just disappointed you both more than he had ever done before. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, baby." You said, letting him close the door behind him.

It was silent in your bedroom. You both looked at each other.

Suddenly you heard a phone vibrating. You looked beside you at your side table. It was your husband's. You picked it up and flashing there was a name you didn't want to talk to.

Sero Hanta.

Izuku aaw the name, he took a deep breath as he turned to look away from you. "Fuck."

-Glitch1d

#izuku midoriya x reader #mha x y/n #dilf midoriya #dilf izuku midoriya x reader #dilf izuku x reader #dilf izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #midoriya family shenanigan #midoriya family shenanigans

[babyyhoneyyy]

You’re too sweet for me H.S (pt.2)

Harry’s occasional hum or nod was what prompted her to continue speaking, and well, this was a good enough excuse for him to freely oogle her.

Watch how her mouth curved around each letter, how she bobbed her bare knee up and down, pressed her legs together, how her dress slipped higher every time she sat up, revealing the plush skin of her thighs. He didn’t mind a good eye-fuck from time-to-time, and Y/N was ever so oblivious to the thoughts swimming in his mind. He kept his fingers wrapped around his glass though. Didn’t touch her like she maybe hoped he did.

Because a sweet girl like Y/N would completely wither if Harry had his way with her.

Or,

Part two of the one where Y/N is a delectable little thing and Harry’s got a craving for something sweet.

Word count: 4K+

Content warning: mentions of blood and violence.

Harry’s ear might as well fall off.

Y/N was a chatty thing when she had a few drinks in her, coupled with the fact that Harry was listening to every word spilling from her cherry lips, trying to keep up with the mostly one-sided conversation she seemed to be having with herself. It appeared the motive with which she approached him was sort of… lost.

Her original plans of wooing Harry and luring him to her with her short, pink minidress forgotten as she went on and on about a failed business venture of a close friend of hers, fingers toying with the chipped wood of the bar. Harry’s occasional hum or nod was what prompted her to continue speaking, and well, this was a good enough excuse for him to freely oogle her.

Watch how her mouth curved around each letter, how she bobbed her bare knee up and down, pressed her legs together, how her dress slipped higher every time she sat up, revealing the plush skin of her thighs. He didn’t mind a good eye-fuck from time-to-time, and Y/N was ever so oblivious to the thoughts swimming in his mind. He kept his fingers wrapped around his glass though. Didn’t touch her like she maybe hoped he did.

Because a sweet girl like Y/N would completely wither if Harry had his way with her.

When she paused to sip on her drink, the pair was rudely interrupted by a hyena-like yelp; a grimy, rough palm slapping down on Y/N’s bare thigh. She jumped a bit, her drink dropped back on the table when the hand revealed a shorter, balding man, who bathed in the stench of sweat and cheap alcohol. “Sorry honey dropped my wallet,” he slurred, patting her thigh as he got back up from where bent down to the floor. He raked his eyes over Y/N’s figure, eyes not even trying to hide the way they were practically looking down her slinky dress and getting a peek at her chest.

It was safe to say that Y/N was horrified.

His hand on her was the last thing she wanted and she nearly socked him in the face when instead of walking away like a normal person, the man slipped her a crooked, yellow-toothed smile and let his hand travel further up her leg. Before she could though, another warmer hand batted him away, rather roughly as the drunken man stumbled backwards, eyebrows furrowed and nose snarled like he was about to burst.

But he didn’t; when he chanced a glance at Harry and his broad shoulders, he straightened his posture. “Fuck off,” Harry said dryly, not bothering to spare the man another look and instead finishing the last of his neat whiskey.

The man huffed and straightened his jacket, making eye contact with Y/N. He scoffed, “whatever. You weren’t that hot anyway.”

Y/N couldn’t care less.

Not when Harry merely narrowed his eyes at the man, which was somehow more than enough to send him scrambling back to the corner of the bar and cower away from the taller, green-eyed stranger.

“Sorry, um, I don’t know him,” Y/N started, feeling the need to apologise (honestly, when did she not?), “—Um. Sorry.” She exhaled.

Her apology left Harry pretty confused. His eyebrows were slightly raised, looking at Y/N like she had grown a second head.

Why the fuck was she apologising?

When he didn’t say anything, she took it as her que to continue, “I don’t, uh, I don’t usually do this— like, come out to bars and stuff so when people try to make a move it’s hard for me to react. Sor—”

“S’fine.”

”—ry.”

A beat passed.

She nodded. “Okay.”

Harry glanced at the clock behind her.

12:47AM.

He fished into his wallet and slapped two hundred dollar bills on the bar. Y/N’s eyes widened. “Go back to your friends,” he stood up from his seat, “it’s getting late.”

He was leaving.

As he turned around towards the door, Y/N quickly grabbed his wrist, “wait!” Harry looked at her, eyebrows furrowed in dubiety, “you can’t leave yet.”

He glanced down at where she gripped his skin tightly, except she didn’t shy away from his curious gaze— only opened up her palm so the tips of her fingers grazed the soft skin inside his hand, tracing circles. “I wanted to see if you would… if we could,” she tried to find the right words, but it was like he walked right into her head and took her ability to form coherent sentences when he looked at her like that, and smelled like that.

“Could what?”

She shook her head as if his voice snapped her out of a trance, shuffling closer so the toe of her heels kissed his, “listen, I think you’re cute—”

Oh.

“—and I came up to you because I wanted to… take you, uh, home. With me.”

Harry wasn’t expecting that.

Finally the motive with which she approached him graced her again and she looked up at him with hopeful eyes, the middle of her lip falling victim to the anxious gnawing of her teeth. Harry’s mouth quirked just barely. “You’re drunk, Y/N. Go home.”

“I’m drunk cause I can’t do this sober. I don’t do this, ever, but I saw you and— y’know.”

Her eagerness was just delicious. He wanted to swallow her whole; take her to his motorbike around the back and bend her over the seat. Slip her dress up and fuck her over the buzzing vehicle. Let its vibrations roll over her clit while he fisted her locks and cupped the back of her neck to force her to meet his eyes while he took her just like he wanted. Maybe that would finally shut her up.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he bottled up his thoughts and saved them for another rainy day. He stared at her for a beat longer.

“Go back to your friends,” he parroted, looking over her shoulder. Her eyebrows dropped in confusion, “but I—”

“I’ll see you around,” he cut her off. He felt her hand slipping from his, now an irresistible pout pushing out her bottom lip when the horror of his rejection dawned upon her and watched him walk away and out of the bar into the misty night.

Fuck, if that wasn’t the hardest thing he had to do.

No fight he’d ever won or job he finished felt as tough as a feat as that did, and he felt slightly stupid for letting her down like that as the cold dark cleared his head. A sweet thing offering herself to him on a silver platter. He should have taken the first opportunity he had to indulge her. But he didn’t.

She was untainted and saccharine, a petal he thought so delicate and rosey, and him a flicker of a worn-out lighter, turning into ash every creation of flora he dared to touch.

He’d be too much for her and he knew it.

-

Being rejected by someone sucked.

Y/N made the walk of shame to her friends with her shoulders slumped and feeling incredibly insecure. Suddenly, she didn’t feel cute in her dress and the makeup on her face started feeling heavy.

She felt like such a dumbass.

Of course Harry didn’t want to sleep with her; she was obviously not his type. She didn’t know what finally did it for him— the endless nervous chatter spilling from her mouth like an unattended faucet or the icky remark made by the man who tried to feel her up. God, she wanted to crawl into a hole and wither. It was all she thought about when her friends gassed her up, told her she was out of his league anyway and Harry wasn’t even that hot. Even Y/N, as naive as she is, could tell they were lying about that from a mile away.

He was much cuter than any guy she had ever been with. It was only the courage her drink lended her that made her think she could pull someone like him.

But of course she couldn’t live like this— she had to get over it.

And she did, when her friends pulled her to the dance floor and pressed her close, ran their hands along her curves and told her in her ear how hot she was. Y/N realised yeah, she was fucking hot.

So what if Harry didn’t want to sleep with her?

She could totally get over it; this didn’t have to be made into such a big deal.

At least that’s what she thought until Harry walked in a week later to the 24 hour ice cream shop she worked at at 2am, clad in the same leather jacket he was wearing at the bar the night he rejected her.

Her eyes widened and her first response was to flee the scene before he could see her, but luck was not on her side that cold night, and she ended up making eye contact with him the moment he walked in. The door creaked as he stepped in, flitting his eyes around the blue-lit space. It was then when he saw Y/N behind the counter in her pastel blue uniform, a cap on her head with little cow ears on it, a bell hanging off from one of them.

He didn’t wave at her or smile at her, merely glanced before walking over to the convenience side of the shop and grabbed a bottle of water.

Meanwhile Y/N was quite literally buzzing in her spot.

What does she say to him? Does she say anything to him at all? After he so blatantly rejected her, practically called her ugly and out of his league?

She pretended to look busy as she fiddled with the keys of the cash register and plucked random numbers on the handy calculator she kept by her side before Harry approached her and cleared his throat. He avoided her gaze, “just this please.”

He obviously recognised her.

Y/N wondered if he was going to address her and the night at the bar. When another second of silence passed as she took the bottle of water, she decided to address the elephant in the room. “Harry.” He looked up at the sound of his voice and only then did she notice the battered state of his face.

A cut across his plush bottom lip gashed his features, purple blooming under his eyes and marbling into shades of blue and green which spread across the smooth skin of his cheekbone.

So that’s why he didn’t meet her gaze. He looked like he had been hit like a piñata.

“Holy heck Harry, what the fuck happened to you?!” She gasped. She froze in her spot with the bottle hanging limply between her fingers and the scanner in the other hand.

He shrugged.

“S’nothing. I fell.”

“From where? The fucking roof?”

Harry’s jaw gritted and he rubbed the good side of his forehead in frustration, revealing his split knuckles. Before Y/N could stop herself, she was reaching over the counter and taking his wrist in her hand, “fucking hell, you were in a fight.” He tried to pull his hand away, but Y/N only held it in her warm palm and stepped around the counter so she was closer to him.

“I’ll take you to the hospital, come on.” She could ask Mel to cover the last hour of her shift if it meant getting Harry all fixed and not looking like he had been put through a paper shredder. When her grip loosened a tad, he pulled his hand away from her.

“I told you, I’m fine. Leave it.” Harry tried to reach into his wallet to pay for the water, but that only made matters worse when his jacket moved to reveal a deep, red stain at the bottom left of his white shirt, fuzzing at the edges like he’d left it unattended for a while too long. “Jesus Christ.” She then shoved his jacket out of the way and when Harry tried to step back, he winced and kinked his eyebrows in pain.

“I’m okay. It’s just a cut.” His lips pressed together and he reached for his water so he could leave, except Y/N snatched it before he could. “Just a cut, my ass. If you’re not going to listen to me and go to the hospital, I’m taking you to my apartment. I’ve got a good first aid kit that’ll hopefully prevent you from bleeding you’re fucking body weight out.”

Harry sighed in defeat.

She was a stubborn girl and she wasn’t going to let up, not when she went to the back and grabbed her keys, woke Mel up from her ‘10-minute nap’ and told her there’s been an emergency and she had to go home. When she walked back out, she half expected Harry to have taken the chance and left but he really must have been in severe pain, because he waited for her to lead him to her car in the dark parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” She asked.

“S’a bike. I’ll get it later.”

Of course he rode a bike. She could picture it so clearly; his forearms flexing as he gripped the handles tightly, jacket whipping in the air and curls rogue when he pulled his helmet off.

Him in a helmet.

God, she needed to keep herself in check. This was not the time to be making a move on the poor boy.

Thankfully she didn’t work too far from her place, and if she wasn’t working late at night, she would have walked to the store instead. After strapping Harry into the seat, she drove the rest of the way in silence, the soft crooning of the radio filling the scented space of her car. When they stopped at a light, she chanced a look at Harry.

“Are you okay?” The question was probably really dumb because he clearly was not okay, but Y/N felt the need to ask it when she took in the frown on his forehead and the way he rested a palm against the cut skin of his abdomen.

“Mhmm.”

He appeared tired and drowsy and Y/N hoped he wasn’t heading into unconscious territory with the amount of blood he seemed to be losing.

He was still so beautiful. Hair messy and falling over his forehead, jaw clenched and lips pretty and pink. The reflection of the green light on his side profile told her she needed to get moving, so she followed the familiar road home, teeth abusing the skin of her mouth and head trying to wrap around the unexpected turn of events the night took.

-

Y/N’s apartment was a mess when they walked in. Clothes were thrown about from when she hastily changed into her work uniform earlier in the evening and her dog Coco immediately ran to her feet when he heard the rattle of her keys behind the door. “Hi lovey,” she cooed, bending down to pet between his ears. Harry smiled softly from above.

He was itching to run his ringed fingers through the pup’s fur but one wrong move and he felt like he might pass out. Hell, just the walk to the store from the warehouse was enough to make him feel like death himself. He might not say it, but he was eternally grateful Y/N gave a shit about him and his state.

“Sorry about the mess,” she mumbled, picking up a rogue pair of shorts from the ground and setting them on the edge of the yellow couch. Harry hummed in response. He copied Y/N when she took her shoes off by the doorstep and kicked them next to hers, only the movement made him wince and hiss as a sharp jolt of pain went shooting across his abdomen. “Crap, sorry, the bathroom is just this way, follow me.”

If she was anyone else, he would have told her off for the constant apologising she was doing but he decided against it. She was already doing so much, bringing him to her home and tending to his wounds, surely she wouldn’t appreciate the man scolding her for her constant need for reassurance.

Her bathroom was quite tiny but clean, smelling faintly like vanilla and coconut body wash which was the scent that lingered in the air that night at the bar. “On the counter,” she commanded. Her lip was caught between her teeth as she shuffled around the numerous cabinets looking for the first aid kit and Harry took his time trying to lift his weight enough to have sat on the marble top.

Slowly but surely he was successful, and he parted his legs to allow her easy access when she stood up with the red kit in her hands. “Okay,” she exhaled, “I’m no nurse but I took a first aid course during my gap year and am pretty nifty with stitching if it comes to that. S’that okay with you?”

“Yes,” he said, “thank you.”

His voice was hoarse yet sincere, meeting her gaze when she stepped between the space he created for her. She sent him a soft smile. The first thing she decided to fix up was his knuckles. Taking his palm in hers, she slipped off his numerous rings— chunky and gold, weighing heavy in her hands. After setting them aside, she approached the skin with an alcohol pad, “this might sting.”

When she pressed the damp cloth to his skin, Harry clenched his jaw and gripped her waist tightly with his other hand. The contact made her very alert— she didn’t know when he extended his touch but she didn’t say anything; she figured it might be comforting for him, to have something to hold on to through the painful process.

Once his knuckles were bandaged, she moved to the cut on his lip.

She had to slightly crane her neck to see him, his eyes heavy on hers and watching her closely as she brought another alcohol pad to his mouth. This one she dabbled softly, but what caught her off guard was the quiet whimper that fell from his throat, eyebrows furrowed and his hand now near painfully digging into her ribs.

“Sorry, I know it hurts,” she pouted, rubbing some ointment onto the irritated gash and slipping her hand on top of his where it was on her waist. “Are you alright?” Y/N asked.

He exhaled a breath through his nose, “yeah. Sorry.” He took his hand away from her and the loss of contact was slightly disappointing for Y/N— she quite enjoyed his grip on her but she let it go, tending to his eyebrow the same way she was to his lip.

For the bruise on his cheekbones, she fetched a bag of peas and gave him two painkillers which ought to have soothed the pain just a tad. The last thing left was cut on his abdomen.

The pair was silent as Harry slowly took off his jacket and dropped it on the floor, his dirty white shirt following suit. When she caught sight of his skin Y/N almost gasped.

He was tanned and toned, inky grey swirls decorating his smooth skin all over his chest and arms. A moth (or was it a butterfly?) on his tummy wiggled with every breath he took, ferns peeking out from beneath his black jeans.

Right at the edge of the seam was the long gash, slicing horizontally across his abdomen with dried blood bordering it. There was no time to oogle him though, as Harry flinched when his torso stretched a little and Y/N got right back to work.

She started by cleaning the blood off with a wet towel as much as she could, the only thought in her head being how he even got in this state in the first place. No matter how much she wanted it, it wasn’t her place to ask. So, she kept her mouth shut and warned him about the alcohol she was going to apply to the wound before she did.

Harry immediately went for her waist again, thumb nestled beneath her ribs and digging in deep when she gently swiped the alcohol soaked cloth over his wound. Harry didn’t meet her face, eyes screwed shut as she nursed him to health.

When it was all clean, Y/N assessed it and came to the conclusion that it probably did not require stitches, the cut itself not too deep as she bandaged it up and stepped back to admire her work. “There you go. All fixed up.”

Harry sighed and slowly got off the counter. “Let me get you a shirt,” Y/N said. As she turned to leave the bathroom, Harry quickly grabbed her wrist and stopped her. The moment felt much like the one at the bar, except then, Y/N was the one with the hand wrapped around his wrist and pleading look in her eyes.

“Listen,” he started, “I just wanted to say thank you.” Her lips parted as she stared up at him, Harry still very much bare waist up and his fingers tickling the soft inside of her wrist. “You already said that silly. It’s fine. I couldn’t leave you to bleed out on the street.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No, Y/N, I mean it. You… thank you. For, um, not asking me anything about the bruises or the cuts. And for bringing me to your home.” His eyes were so sincere; tired and glittery as they peered down at her. “It’s fine, Harry. Let me get you a shirt.”

She quickly grabbed a large grey shirt she often sleeped in, heart racing as she made her way back to the bathroom where Harry was inspecting the bandaging job she did on his knuckles. “Do you… need my help putting it on?” Y/N asked.

He stared at her for a second, and Y/N was fully ready for him to narrow his eyes at her and tell her to leave him to his own privacy but he only murmured a soft ‘yes please,’ taking a seat on the covered toilet so she could easily slip the material over his head. When she did, his head popped out of the neck hole, hair tousled and falling over his forehead.

Without a second thought, she pushed the rogue strands back, the silence of the bathroom a comfortable blanket in the cold night air. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact, leaning further into her touch and fingers holding on to her hips as he revelled in the contact. Her touch eventually travelled further down the nape of his neck, thumbing at the scruff by his jaw.

When his eyes opened again, all she could read in them was how comfortable he was, pupils wide and droopy as his gaze flitted to her mouth, then her eyes again. It was like she was back in that trance-like state that she was from the night at the bar. It seemed impossible to look away from him, and the soft puff of his breath was suddenly much closer to her.

A couple inches more, and she could touch the pillow of her lips to his, finally revelling in the taste of his mouth she had been yearning for.

Before they could though, Coco’s loud yelp tore them from their moment, both of them jumping and putting space between their lips.

Harry cleared his throat and Y/N tried to calm the harsh racing and rise and fall of her chest. He rubbed the tip of his nose. ”I… uh— I should go.”

Coco barked again.

“That darn dog,” Y/N whispered with her lips pursed.

A beat passed.

Harry met her eyes again and the pair giggled simultaneously in the yellow warmth of the bathroom. When the laughter died down, Harry scratched the back of his neck. “Thanks again, Y/N. For everything.”

”It’s okay.” She bit down on her lip to keep her from smiling too big as he stood up from the seat, grabbing his discarded shirt and jacket from the cold tiles. “I’m gonna go. My friend lives just down the street. Should be okay for the night.”

“Mhmm.”

She walked him to her door, “I know it’s not my place or anything but… just be careful.” Harry put his shoes back on, a small smile playing on his lips. “I will.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” She expected him to leave after that, but he grabbed her hand with his good one, delivering a soft, grateful squeeze to it before he let it drop back to her side.

Her skin tingled where he touched it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Divider by @firefly-graphics

WOHOOO I hope you guys like this one !! the next part will have the steamy yummy smut !! LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE THIS PLEASE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG AND KISS :* mwuaaaahhhhh!!!!!!

#harry styles au #harry styles drabble #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #reblog #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #writing #babyyhoneyyy #one direction fanfiction #one direction #harry styles x reader #grumpy x sunshine #harry styles blurb #SLAYYY

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (21) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: changes are coming.

word count: 2,010

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: implied smut, sickness, pet name (petal), not proofread

“I never imaged that Coriolanus Snow would be the sort of man to wrap himself around his wife’s finger,” Clemensia said, stirring her spoon in the china teacup. The metal clinked against the porcelain. She lifted the spoon from the cup and set it on the plate before taking a long drink.

You had invited her and Livia, among some other young ladies of the ton, for tea. The rest of the ladies had broken off in their own conversations while you remained with your friends. It was nice to see them. Though you loved your Coryo, sometimes it was good to spend time away from him. It reminded you of how much you enjoyed his presence. 

“I never imagined him married. I sort of thought he’d live alone forever. He never cared much for chasing after girls at the Academy,” Livia admitted. Her face paled as though she realized who she was speaking to. You almost laughed at the scared, mouse-like expression. “I mean no offense, Your Majesty.”

You waved her off. “You can speak freely to me. I must admit, it is nice to hear that someone didn’t think my Coryo to be the marrying type.”

“Oooh, your Coryo,” Clemensia teased, brushing her elbow against yours. 

“Oh, hush,” you laughed. “I thought I was truly blind when he told me he’s wanted my hand since we were fourteen. At least now I can say I was not blind, but rather that he was terrible at communicating his feelings.”

Livia’s brows raised to her hairline. “Fourteen? Really?”

“He’d been asking my father for my hand since we were eighteen,” you added. “My father refused until Coryo made a name for himself.”

“And of course he would take that to mean he must be crowned King,” Clemensia said. “He was never anything but ambitious.”

Livia smiled and reached for your hand. She gave it a squeeze. “That is so romantic. A man who will take a kingdom so he can earn his love’s hand. People write stories about that sort of thing.”

“That sounds like the stories you would read, petal.“

All other conversation in the parlor had ceased. You didn’t have to turn in your seat to know that Coryo was behind you. His firm hands came to rest on his shoulders, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. A smile pulled at your lips. 

“Do you think all I read is romance?” you said. 

“Not all. But everyone needs something lighter after reading about history and politics all day,” Coryo said. His fingers trailed off the lace of your gown and to the exposed skin by your collarbone. A shiver ran down your spine. Why had you tortured yourself with this tea again? “Besides, you had to get the idea of a love match from somewhere.”

You watched as Clemensia leaned over to Livia. Her voice dropped to a stage-whisper as she said, “Aren’t they much cuter than her and Lord Plinth would ever be?”

Coryo’s fingers curled into your skin. It didn’t hurt, but it reminded you of how you and Coryo lost a friend. Even if Sejanus could leave the Peacekeepers and return to the Capitol, nothing would ever be the same. You couldn’t imagine a world where you all could be friends again. You reached up and took his hand, lifting it to your lips. He relaxed as you kissed his knuckles. 

“Much cuter,” Livia agreed. 

Clemensia’s eyes glinted with mischief as she turned her gaze to you and Coryo. “A shame he enlisted with the Peacekeepers. I wish he could see the two of you so sickeningly in love.”

“Perhaps that’s why he enlisted. Because he couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t the one making her so happy,” Livia mused. 

Oh, that was such a romantic way to think of it. If only they knew it was because he was so in love with you that he begged you to run away with him. If only they had seen the King so red with anger, how you had thought he would have killed his once-friend with his bare hands. If Livia was writing your story, she would make it seem like Sejanus peacefully stepped out of the picture. She wouldn’t make it seem like the betrayal it was. 

You lifted your chin to look at your husband. While his face was painted to look calm, you could see the anger swirling in his pale blue eyes. You kissed his knuckles again and said, “Why he left doesn’t matter. Not when I have such a wonderful husband by my side.”

Coryo’s tight-lipped smile turned genuine. “And with that, I must steal my wife away. We have important matters we must discuss.”

You held onto Coryo’s hand as you rose from your seat. He led you out of the ignore, the both of you ignoring Clemensia’s giggled “important matters, hm?”. Your heart beat hard in your chest as you walked down the hall. He wouldn’t harm you, you were sure of that, but you didn’t like when he let the anger simmer.

Coryo took you to the office and shut the door behind you. Once alone, he tugged you against his chest and pressed his lips against yours. A gasp escaped you, allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. Your arms wound their way around his shoulders. You hand tangled itself in his hair. Well, this certainly wasn’t what you expected, but you weren’t going to kick a gift horse in the mouth. 

“I would marry you again,” he grunted against your mouth. “I would marry you every day for the rest of my life.”

“What’s stopping you? You are King. The only person you let order you around is me, and I would never deprive myself of you again.”

Coryo pulled away. Before you could inquire why, he was sinking down on his knees. He pushed your skirts up, hooked one leg over his shoulder. His nose brushed against your clothed core, wet mouth pressing kisses. Coryo pulled down your undergarments and began to recite his vows. 

“I, Coriolanus Snow, take thee to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward…”

Your stomach churned as you ate breakfast. With every bite, it took tremendous effort to keep the food down. Even with a generous amount of water between bites, it doesn’t seem to help. Part of you wanted to believe it was because you would be meeting with the Electors for the first time since your engagement to Coryo. But you knew it wasn’t nerves. You had had a rare clear schedule two days prior when you found yourself knelt over a chamberpot, the remnants of lunch spilling out with no end in sight. 

“You don’t need to meet with the Electors if you are not feeling up to it,” Coryo said from the other end of the table. He had finished his own breakfast what felt like hours ago. In reality, it had only been a few minutes. Yet every effort to eat your own meal seemed to take eons. “I can meet them on my own, or we can reschedule. No one will fault you if they wish to live.”

The threat was meant to make you laugh, and you might have if the nausea didn’t overwhelm you. A Peacekeeper from the corner of the room raced over with a vessel for your vomit. You heaved until there was nothing left, barely noticing that Coryo had came around your side and was rubbing your back. 

“I take it back. You are not going,” he said. “They should be arriving soon, but I will inform them that we cannot take visitors at the moment.”

You lifted your head. Sweat beaded on your forehead, and you knew you looked as sick as you felt. Still, though, you argued, “I am fine now. I-I just need a moment to freshen up. Whatever sickness that was has passed. I am fine, Coryo.”

“Is that why you pretend I don’t know you have been sick every day this week?”

You had prayed he didn’t notice. A foolish thought, to be sure. But he never made a comment when you would slide out of bed or would excuse yourself from the office. 

“You never said anything.”

Coryo sighed. He ran a hand over your hair, careful not to mess up the delicate pinnings. “Nor did you. I thought you might have wanted space. If you do, I will continue to allow you it. But I will not let you go to meetings and make yourself worse. Go back to our chambers, take a bath, and I will have a physician sent up.”

“Coryo—”

He hushed you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Please, petal.”

You frowned, but conceded. When Coryo looked at you with that serious look in his eyes, it was hard to fight back. So you rose from your chair and retreated to your chambers. A lady’s maid was quick to help you out of your dress and undid your hair while another servant drew you a bath. Once in the bath, you tried to push your mind away from your sickness. It was easy to do until a servant came in to let you know the physician arrived. 

Rather reluctantly, you left your bath and slipped on a shift before letting the physician inside your chambers. You offered a tight-lipped smile as he gave a quick bow. 

“Thank you for your haste,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bed. The physician pulled the bench by your vanity over so he sat in front of you. “I am certain this will pass soon, but Coryo wanted to be certain.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said. “I am sure you would much rather return to your duties, so we can make this quick. Could you tell me your symptoms?”

You began to rattle them off, your heart sinking as you began to realize how much you had been sick over the last week. How had Coryo managed to stay silent this long? Did he realize how ill you had been? Judging by the on the physician’s face, you began to worry that you and Coryo had waited too long to do anything.

The door creaked open. Without really thinking of what you were doing, you stood up as Coryo entered the room. He nodded at the physician before coming to your side. You sat together. His hand instinctively took yours. 

“Is everything well?” Coryo asked.

“I will need to ask a few questions first, but I am certain all is well, Your Majesty,” the physician said.

“Ask away then,” Coryo said. 

The physical looked to you. “Forgive me for my bluntness, but when was your last courses?”

Your grip on Coryo’s hand tightened. When had that been? It felt like nearly a lifetime ago. How long ago had it been since you bled? You used to be so diligent about this. Your mother always stressed the importance of it. She would say it would be important when you were married, because that’s when you knew when you would have children. Children. Oh. 

You counted back the days and the weeks, your heart racing as you couldn’t pinpoint the exact time. “Right before the wedding,” you decided. “The day you threw the ball, Coryo.”

Coryo’s head snapped to yours. “That was nearly two months ago.”

The physician smiled. “Ah, well, then that’s likely what’s at issue. I have a few tests we can do to be certain, but I do believe we have found the source of your sickness, Your Majesty.”

Suddenly, you very much wanted to throw up again. Could it really be so soon? You tried to recall married couples that came before you. How long had it been for them? You wanted to say a lot longer. Certainly not a mere two months. 

“Congratulations,” the physician said. “Panem will rejoice when your babe arrives.”

You vomited on his shoes. 

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 7)

One evening, as you and Simon glided across the dance floor, lost in each other’s eyes, you couldn’t help but notice the envious glances and hushed whispers that followed in your wake. 

“How on earth did those two end up together?”  “By the look of it, the Duke should be proposing any day now.” “I think I deserve to be Duchess more than she does.”

“You know,” you say slowly as you twirl gracefully, “you’re making quite the spectacle of yourself, Simon. People are starting to talk.”

He chuckles, his grip tightening around your waist. “Let them talk.”

He has to bite his tongue to restrain himself from continuing with, I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I’m yours, you’re mine, and I’m not about to let anyone forget it. 

You smile, feeling a rush of affection and amusement. “You really don’t care, do you?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice. 

He shakes his head, a serious expression on his face. “Not in the slightest. As long as I have you, nothing else matters.” 

You laugh softly, leaning into him. “You’re incorrigible, Simon.” 

God, the way you make his name sound so pretty. He might faint. 

After the dance, Simon pulls you away from the crowd and onto a balcony, the soft hum of the party fading into the background. With the way his hands feel on you, you can’t seem to care that you’re unsupervised and alone with a man.

The cool night air is a welcome respite from the warmth of the ballroom. You shiver slightly, hugging yourself to keep warm. Immediately, Simon shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders to ward off the chill. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

He nods, his eyes lingering on your face. He loves the way your makeup highlights your features, the way you style your hair. He loves the way you stand up for yourself, the way you speak your mind without a care in the world. He loves the way you look so small compared to him, the way your dress accentuates your frame perfectly. He loves how passionate you are about the things you love, the way you make him feel. And— 

"You know," he begins, his voice low and intimate, "there was a time when I thought I would never be capable of feeling this way about anyone, let alone you."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Oh? And what way might that be, Simon?”

He smiles, a genuine, tender expression that warms you to your very core. "In love," he admits softly. "Completely and utterly in love."

For a moment, you're stunned into silence, your heart pounding in your chest. The sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability in his voice—it's everything you had hoped for, yet never dared to believe.

"You— you love me?" you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He nods solemnly, taking your hand in his. 

"With all my heart, every fiber of my being,” he replies, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "I know I've hurt you in the past, and I can never truly erase those mistakes. But I promise you, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you'll let me."

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them away, squeezing his hand tightly. "Oh, Simon," you breathe, "I never thought I'd hear you say those words. But now that I have, I love you too. Despite everything, I love you."

A radiant smile you’ve never seen from Simon spreads across his face, and he leans closer, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. Finding none, he whispers lowly, "May I kiss you?"

Your breath catches, heart racing at the proximity of his face to yours. You can see every lineament, every tiny wrinkle, every light freckle that dots his face. You notice the details of his scars, the way his nose is slightly crooked. He squeezes your hand, bringing you back. 

“You... you mustn’t,” you stammer, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s highly improper.”

Who are you kidding? You want this as much as he wants it. 

Simon doesn’t immediately release your hand. Instead, he turns it over and places a soft kiss on the inside of your covered wrist.

“You might cause a scandal,” you say weakly, your resolve thinning with each passing second. 

Simon chuckles, low and quiet. “A scandal, you say? Perhaps it’s time I gave the ton something truly scandalous to talk about.”

You swallow thickly, heat rushing up your neck. “And what, pray tell, do you have in mind?”

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Marry me.”

The world seems to stop as his words sink in. You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, searching for any hint of jest, but all you find is sincerity and love.

“Simon,” you breathe, your heart pounding. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been,” he replies, his gaze unwavering. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you every single day. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

A whirlwind of emotions sweeps through you—joy, love, and a hint of disbelief. You’ve always known that your relationship with Simon was special, but to hear him propose, to see the depth of his feelings laid bare, is almost overwhelming.

“Yes,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “Yes, I will marry you.”

The words have barely left your lips before Simon's expression transforms, an unrestrained joy lighting up his face. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth enveloping you entirely.

“May I kiss you?” 

You finally nod slightly, your eyes fluttering closed as anticipation builds. Simon cups your face gently with both of his rough, calloused hands, his touch hot and reassuring. He hesitates for just a heartbeat, savoring the moment, before he closes the distance between you. His lips brush against yours, tentative at first, then more assured as he feels you respond.

The kiss is tender at first, tentative, as if he's savoring every moment. You can feel the depth of his feelings in the way he kisses you, the way his hands cradle your face as if you are something precious and irreplaceable. It’s filled with the promise of all the unspoken words and emotions that have been building between you. It’s a kiss that feels like redemption, second chances, and the beginning of a future that you both long for.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss. He groans ever so quietly as you pull at him. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, a quickened rhythm that mirrors your own. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation, every worry and doubt melting away.

When you finally pull back, both of you breathless and slightly dazed, Simon rests his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed. "I've dreamed of this moment," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “For so long.”

You smile, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. 

"You're mine," he murmurs softly, his voice filled with wonder and certainty. "And I'm yours."

"Always," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness.

As you stand there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, you know that whatever the future holds, you’ll face it together. And that is more than enough.

part 6 < > part 8 (finale)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme #*ੈ✩ simon “ghost” riley

[annwrites]

we're home

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: you've finally reached california & found your happily ever after.

— tags: settling down, love, happiness

— tw: none

— word count: 1,092

— a/n: thank you all so much for the support. it has meant the world to me.

find my other posts concerning billy here

You lean over Billy’s chest with crossed arms, studying. You look at him. “Does it hurt?”

He glances up to you, shrugging his right shoulder slightly. “Not really.”

You roll your eyes. Tough guy.

He looks up to you again then. “Don’t tell me you’re ready to chicken out.”

You shift on your feet. “No.”

He smirks. “Good, ‘cus you promised me forever.”

The tattoo artists glances between the two of you with a raised brow, then continues. “The ink will be, if nothing else,” the man throws in.

Billy closes his eyes. “I know what I’ve got.” He smiles to himself, rubbing a thumb along his wedding band.

You glance down to your wrist, the name Billy written in small, delicate cursive across the width of it. You then glance across the car, to his bare chest—your name inked across his left pectoral. You smile to yourself at the sight.

It’d taken the better part of a day, but you’d finally made it. You were in California, sitting in a parking lot in Billy’s car, just looking out the windshield at the ocean in the distance. Something you’d never seen before. Never thought you’d set eyes on. You listen to the waves crash against the shore.

You turn in your seat, looking at your husband. Husband. He was your husband now. And you his wife. It still felt so strange to even think the words. But every time you did, you filled with warmth and happiness. And maybe your panties with a bit of wetness…

He rolls his head to the side, reaching up, gently running his knuckles along the soft skin of your cheek. “We’re here, baby. We’re home.”

You nod, leaning over, pressing your lips to his. When you pull away, there’s a gentle smile on his face.

“Do you remember that dream I told you I had? The one before…that day in Texas?”

You think back. That had been the morning he’d apparently realized that he was in love. With you. Something about making love in his car, wasn’t it?

You nod, smiling.

His caresses your cheek. “Want to help me make one more dream come true?”

“Daddy!” You clutch your pregnant stomach as your son’s hand slips out of yours, running in the direction of his father.

Billy drops his surfboard on the sand, smiling, picking up the four-year-old spitting image of him, tossing him in the air—your heart jumping nervously at the sight—then settling him against his hip.

When he sees you, he smiles, whistling. “Man, that is one hot mama.”

You roll your eyes, coming to stand in front of him as he lowers Warrant back to the sand. “Yeah, I feel hot. What is it that does it for you, huh? The big belly, swollen ankles, or the-”

He smirks. “Whole package, really, baby.”

He reaches out, cupping the back of your head, crushing his lips to yours, which taste pleasantly of salt water.

“Ew, what the hell dad?”

You pull away, looking down at Warrant, who’s staring up at the two of you from under a mop of blonde curls. You look at Billy then. “Do you see what you’ve taught him?”

He smirks, shrugging. “Going to punish me for it?”

You shake your head. “I should be spanking someone.”

He raises a brow. “Mm, pick me.”

He pulls you in again, kissing you, then moving his lips close to your ear. “You’re lucky I’ve already got you knocked up. Because if I didn’t?” He pulls back, staring down at you. “You’d be on your back right now getting bred.”

You flush, but tell yourself it’s only from the heat.

Warrant speaks up again. “So gross. Stop kissing.”

You both smile at each other.

Billy speaks, tenderly tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Trust me, kid, you could do a lot worse when it comes to parents.”

A few years after your daughter is born, Billy stops competing in surfing competitions, telling you it was time. You’d tried to encourage him otherwise, but he’d said he had more important things to think about now.

He still did it for recreation. Had even taught you shortly after arriving in California, which had involved a lot of cursing and you nearly drowning once or twice, but it had been fun while it lasted, until you told him you preferred watching. Unable to help himself, he’d of course made a filthy joke out of that comment.

Warrant loved it, however. Living on the beach gave them ample opportunity every day to get out in the water. And through that—teaching his son, watching him thrive on the waves—is how he realized that he wanted to do it full time: teaching, training. Particularly kids. You knew why: he saw himself in all of them. Young and full of passion for something so much larger than themselves, just needing someone else to show them the way.

He did mechanic work on the side for a bit of extra cash, but also because he still loved getting his hands dirty and messing around in a garage.

Speaking of which, he kept the Camaro. Took it out for a spin every now and again. Usually just the two of you in the front seats. Sometimes you’d sneak away just to screw in the backseat of it. It’s how your daughter had been conceived. Not that you hadn’t been trying.

A few years after Warrant was born, Billy had suggested that the two of you stop using protection. That ‘whatever happened, happened’. And during that time, you’d barely been able to keep him off of you. But you’d repaid the favor when you got pregnant again. Your hormones taking the driver’s seat for months. Billy didn’t complain once.

As for you? You were a full-time housewife. You and Billy had discussed it very early-on after coming to Cali. You had worked some to help with saving up enough to buy a house, but once you became pregnant, Billy made it clear that he’d never stop you from continuing to work if that’s what you wanted, but he ‘never wanted you to feel like you had to’. That he intended to keep that promise to take care of you. Both of you. All of you.

So, you settled into a daily, yet hectic life. But every time you felt overwhelmed—like maybe at times you had a bit more than you could handle—all you had to do was look at them, your family, and know: you had just exactly enough.

The End.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader) #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

[heavyhitterheaux]

Touch Me, Tease Me (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: Pure filth with a sprinkle of fluff 🥰

Synopsis: One thing that you can always do is help Jack relax and turn his bad mood around

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The time on your phone read 10:26 PM as you heard the front door open letting you know that your husband was back.

Urban had sent you a text about 45 minutes ago telling you that Jack was in a mood, but he couldn't figure out why and as much as he tried to get it out of him he couldn't. So, his next best option was to tell you in the hopes that you could get to the bottom of what was wrong and make him feel better. 

The bedroom door was open and Jack didn't even greet you as he walked in despite you speaking to him first.

“Hey babe.”

Instead, he simply slipped off his New Balances and laid on top of you with you letting out a yelp because you weren't expecting him to do so.

His head was on your chest as you wrapped your arms around him and he hugged you tighter.

“Hmm, smush? You wanna talk about it?” You asked him and he immediately shook his head no.

“Now you know we don't do that around here. We talk about how we're feeling so it doesn't cause a shitstorm later.” You said as you started playing in his hair.

Jack lifted his head to peek at you and you simply kissed his nose while giving him a small smile.

“So spill It.”

“I just missed my wife. I didn't want to do anything today.” He finally confessed as you pinched his cheek.

“You're so cute, but you're back now so you need to relax. Did you eat?”

“Yes. Urban made me.”

You made a note in the back of your mind to text him and thank him because knowing Jack and how busy he tends to get, it wouldn't be unlike him to forget to eat.

“Good and you aren't doing anything tomorrow so you can sleep.”

“Baby, we have six kids. What is sleep?” He asked while raising an eyebrow at you. 

“I… well I'll text Clay to see if he can take them out tomorrow so you can rest.”

“If you ask him he'll say yes. If I ask him, I'll have to go through my mom.”

“Jackman, you are so dramatic. Clay loves spending time with them.”

“Don't you remember last time? He dropped The triplets off 2 hours early.”

“Well yeah because they ate him out of a house and home.”

“They're going to summer camp because they can be fine all school year and the MINUTE that the last damn bell rings on the last day of school they act like we haven't fed them since birth. Talking about ‘daddy, I'm hungry’ when they ate less than 20 minutes ago. Fuck outta here. Need to start paying for groceries if they want to eat so damn much. In THIS economy!?”

You couldn't help but to bust out laughing, but you knew he was completely right.

“We'll worry about that when the time comes, but for now I need you to do something.” You replied as you played with his beard.

“What do you need babe?”

Before you answered him, you leaned forward to kiss him and he eagerly kissed you back.

“Get up, lock the door, and you need to lose your clothes. Now.”

Jack simply smirked before kissing you again and then he got up and made his way over to the door to lock it.

By the time he turned back around, you had lost all of your clothes and he was looking around dumbfounded.

“What the? How?”

“I literally wasn't wearing that much to begin with, now come on.” You laughed as you were now sitting on the edge of the bed and pulled him closer to you by the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Off now.” You told him as you tugged on them, but instead he slowly slipped his shirt off and threw it in the corner.

“You're teasing me and I don't think I like that very much.” 

All he did was smirk, but was caught off guard as you got his sweatpants and boxer briefs down in one swift motion and began stroking him.

“Shit, baby.”

“Do it again and I won't let you cum.”

Hearing this, Jack immediately put a hand around your neck stopping your movements. 

“It's honestly cute how you think you're in charge. You know better than that baby. I run this.”

“Hmm, we'll see.” You softly answered as he let go and you took him in your mouth, but suddenly had an idea.

You stopped and simply slid all the way up in the bed and Jack was looking at you confused.

“My dick isn't going to suck itself. What's going on, baby?” He asked as he was stroking himself and peering down at you.

“Sit in between my legs.”

From that moment forward, you knew he was at your mercy.

Kicking his sweatpants the rest of the way off, he did as he was told and his back was now leaning against your chest.

Your arms went around him as you leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“You always put me to sleep and now it's my turn to return the favor.”

All he did was lean his head back and you lightly kissed him while smirking.

You started kissing down his neck and snaked your hand around to continue stroking him. The precum was now leaking as you massaged the tip of his dick before continuing to move up and down the shaft.

“Oh fuck.” You heard Jack quietly say and he adjusted himself so that you would be able to have a better grip.

By now, he had simply closed his eyes and now had his head resting against your chest. He tried to move to the side to be able to put your pierced nipples in his mouth, but your movements immediately stopped.

“Stop moving, Jackman.”

“But…”

“Just be patient.”

He did as he was told as you continued pleasuring him because the last thing he wanted for you to do was stop again.

You lost count of how many love bites you left all over his neck, and knew that he wouldn't be complaining when the two of you were finished.

Soft moans and whimpers were leaving Jack's mouth every few seconds and you simply slowed down and quickly heard his protests.

“Baby, come on.”

“Hmm? What's wrong?” You asked, knowing exactly what the problem was.

“You know what you did. I was almost there.” He whined and you simply laughed to yourself.

“Now you know how it feels, huh?”

“Baby, let me fucking cum.” You heard as he tried to increase the pace of him moving in the palm of your hand.

“Or what?” You asked as you stopped completely.

He turned around to look at you and kissed the side of your mouth.

“Don't ask questions to the things you don't want the answer to. Your ass won't be able to walk tomorrow if you keep fucking playing with me.”

“Who said I wanted to walk tomorrow?”

Jack let out a light chuckle before turning back around.

“Famous last words.” He replied as he patted your thigh and knew that it was going to be a long night.

You spit in your hand before reaching back around and sped up the pace of you stroking him.

“Yes, baby. Keep fucking going. Be a good girl and make daddy cum.”

Not even a minute later, he released all over your hand and you kept stroking him as he rode out his high with you kissing him.

Between kisses you heard his moans and the stickiness between your thighs was becoming more evident and could no longer be ignored.

You two sat in silence as Jack got himself together before he flipped over to see you licking his cum off your hand making him get bricked up all over again.

“Mmm, tastes so good. And what were you saying about me not being in charge?” You asked as you looked at him hovering over top of you.

“Don't fucking start with me because we are nowhere near done.” He said as he slowly entered you.

“Oh shit.” You breathed out because you were caught off guard.

“Don't get scared now. Take this dick.” Jack said as he pounded into you and placed his hand around your neck.

“And if you're a good girl, I just might let you cum. Open your mouth.” 

Listening to instructions, you felt warm liquid hit the back of your throat.

“Swallow it.”

As you did, you smirked up at him which made him halt his movements and slide out of you.

“Turn around.”

Now on your knees with your head resting on your arms, you felt Jack's warm tongue as he started to eat you out from the back.

“Fuck, baby. It feels so good.”

A few minutes had passed and without warning, he abruptly stopped and slid into you.

“Arch that back and act like you want this.” You heard him say but not before there was a hard smack to your ass.

You did as you were told and knew that this wasn't stopping any time soon.

About an hour later, Jack was fast asleep on your chest as you played in his hair and you couldn't help but to laugh to yourself.

 

And as much shit as he talked, you still put his ass to sleep. 

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow smut #jack harlow fanfiction #jackman thomas harlow #Spotify

[hopelessromantic5]

Last one for the night.

Sorry for the content dump. 🫶

Regency AU clip. Arthur and Merlin inspired by Anthony Bridgerton and Kate Sharma.

Arthur’s father, The Viscount, decided he had let Arthur ‘pursue fanciful whims’ long enough.

He wanted Arthur to find a wife this season.

Oh, joy.

It was for this reason, Arthur went for an early morning ride, to let out his overwhelming frustration and to get out of that blasted house with his siblings, more specifically, his elder sister and her eyes full of pity.

Morgana knew that Arthur wanted to hold out for love, the kind of love their own parents shared. Arthur felt it his duty to find someone who would one day become Viscountess, have his children and help him continue his family’s long-standing reputation.

The only problem, which isn’t really a problem, more of an inconvenience, was that Arthur didn’t like women, in the slightest. Romantically speaking, that is.

He found this out the hard way when his college mates tried to throw him into a room full of naked women.

Arthur was…curious. But nothing beyond that, women were a complete mystery to him so he was really just in awe of their natural bodies and how objectively beautiful they were.

But it did nothing. No part of him stirred or got excited. That’s when he started to become uncomfortable, because he’d always known, deep down, in a place no one ever sees.

He left rather quickly.

Thankfully, his friends had disappeared by then.

The ride led him farther into the woods than he usually went, but he knew his way around them.

He slowed his horse to a trot as he went lost in his thoughts.

That was quickly interrupted when he heard galloping approaching. Very fast.

Before he could think twice, the horse and the person riding it, raced just past Arthur, causing his own mare to stumble a bit.

Well, I’ve got to see what this is about.

That was the only thought to cross his mind before turning the other direction, taking off as fast as he could.

He spotted the horse and rider immediately. Arthur rode harder and urged the animal below him to follow.

He had almost caught up, when a branch that seemed to come from nowhere caught Arthur’s jacket and caused him to pull back on the reigns, involuntarily.

He slowed to a stop, laughing hysterically.

That was fun.

“You’re laughing a lot for someone who lost.” The voice was deep.

Arthur hadn’t realized the horse in front of him also slowed and stopped, unwilling to turn the opposite direction and face him.

Arthur took the stranger in, finally. All he could see was a blue cloak with the hood pulled up, hiding all identity.

The skilled hands gripping the reigns wore gloves.

“To be fair, we never agreed on a stopping point and that limb was interference, divinely guided as it may have been.”

“Oh, divinely guided, was it?” The man snickered, but it was closer to a giggle.

Arthur couldn’t read the stranger very well when he could not see him.

He took matters into his own hands and rode past the other man, then spun to see the horse-whisperer directly, face to face.

“Oh.”

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting.

But it was not to have his breath stolen.

He could not even see all of the man’s face, but what peaked out from under the hood was pale flawless skin and perfect pink lips.

Hooded eyes pointed to the ground between their two steeds.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who won.” Arthur quipped.

The man finally raised him eyes in a glare that didn’t hold much heat behind it.

God, those eyes.

Blue like the ice that forms from dripping water on the window sills. The lightest clearest parts of the ocean. Pure and endless.

Wow.

Arthur had never been struck by a person’s beauty before.

“You’re a complete stranger, what if you have ill intentions, or try to rob me blind?”

Arthur threw his head back in a laugh at this.

“You aren’t that inattentive. My intentions are pure, you have my word. I am a gentleman.” Arthur smirked at the blue eyed wonder. He got a small smile in return.

“Well, I have to be getting back.”

No.

Arthur’s whole body practically howled the word. He’s not unable to control himself.

“Will I see you again?”

The man was already turning around to return from the way they came.

“Perhaps you will, my lord.”

Arthur sputters.

“How did you know I was-“

“I’m not that inattentive.” The man called over his shoulder before tapping the side of his boot on the horses flank and taking off into the trees.

Well, that was truly something.

#merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin and arthur #merthur fic #from the drafts #bbc merlin #regency au #Bridgerton inspo #kanthony

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

So this is a bit of a continuation of this blurb bc I decided that I’m going to make a little AU based on weird girl reader. Rafe calls you “batty” or “bats” and you’re so beautiful, like an angel, but there’s just something a little off about you. You’re always asking Rafe weird, borderline morbid questions out of nowhere and sometimes you look at him like you’re going to rip his throat open and drink his blood. But he still loves you more than anything!! No warnings really, just weird girl being weird girl but still 18+MNDI!!

“Hey Rafe, Rafey wake up…” You shake his shoulder and when that doesn’t work you resort to tapping his cheek with the pad of your finger. “Raaafe”

“Baby? The fuck you waking me up for?” Rafe stirs, his eyes squinting as they adjust to the dark room. He practically jumps when he turns his head to see you sitting over with wide eyes as you play with the ends of your hair, a borderline wicked smile plastered in your face. “Oh hell no, you’re not about to ask me some weird ass shit in the middle of the night. Go to bed.”

“But, I wasn’t even going to ask you a question. Well maybe it’s kind of a question.” You push your bottom lip out into a pout and he groans, knowing you won’t let him go back to sleep until you get whatever it is off your chest.

“Fine. What is it?” Rafe raises an eyebrow at you expectantly and you practically sigh in relief.

“I was really just wondering if you died would you leave me your heart? Like, in your will you could put that so before they cremate or bury you, speaking of, what do want done with your body when you die?” The tension leaves your body as you sigh and continue to give him that unabashed wide eyed stare. “Anyways, basically what I’m asking is that if you died before me would you make sure they give me your heart?

“Jesus Christ, bats, you really woke me up to ask me that?” Rafe groans and runs his hands down his face.

“I mean, yeah. I was having a hard time sleeping and I was just thinking about how if you died I’d want a physical piece of you, is all.” Your eyes drop as play with the hem of your little nightgown and Rafe can tell you’re about to get upset so he leans up on his elbow so he can gently grip onto your chin, tilting your face so you’re looking at him again.

“Baby doll, if that’s what you really want then yeah, you can have my heart. You already do anyways.” You let out a squeal before a fit of giggles takes over. You launch yourself at Rafe, wrapping your arms around his neck and causing him to fall flat on the bed again with you on top of him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you daddy.” You nuzzle into his neck, running your nose along the smooth skin before sinking your teeth into it.

“Alright, alright, you got your answer. Now let’s go back to fuckin’ sleep.” Rafe’s hand grips onto the back of your head, he smooths your hair down and places a kiss on your forehead. He wraps one arm around your waist to maneuver you onto your side with your head on his chest. “I love you, lil’ weirdo.”

“I love you too, daddy.” You hum as you nuzzle your cheek against his chest, drifting off within minutes.

#Weird girl!reader #Dolly writes #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe concepts #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine

[tomura-complex]

ღ A helpful dose of assistance ღ

Pairing: Employee!Tomura X CEO!Reader Synopsis: Tomura gets a raise after many years of hard work meeting you, his boss. The promotion sends him to a higher position becoming your personal assistant. And with this whole new job comes new responsibilities. Warning: cunnilingus, p in v sex, oral (F recieving), creampie, office sex, kinda power dynamics, fluff at the end

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Tomura was working really hard for the last two years. Working overtime and… quite isolating himself from everyone. Always looking formal and spending most of his break time working. The time of the year comes along again. Promoting. You thought about one person to promote. You are the CEO and every statistic spoke to itself. Tomura was the best. He deserves a promotion. You called him in your office before the end of the shift. “Tomura, nice to see you.” You smiled at him and saw his confused and… scared face. He looks so nervous. “Sit down, I have something to tell you.” You smile at him and he nervously sits down in front of you. “I went through the data and the statistics. And it speaks to itself. You did an amazing job here and I’m really happy.” You smile at him. “Are you firing me?” He mumbles and you stare at him confused. “No! Of course not. I… I’m promoting you for a better position. You will be my assistant.” You beam at him and he looks at you slightly confused but then relieved. “Thank you so much Miss.” You smile at him. You give him all the instructions. He will be your first assistant.

Weeks flew by and he finally got comfortable with his new job. You are quite routine based. He knocks on your office door and walks inside, placing a cup of coffee on your table. Today is different. You are exhausted since you came to work and irritated. “Do you need help with anything?” He mumbles and hands you your planner for today. “No, not really Tomu. It’s okay. Oh and please don’t forget to call the radio for the interview. We need to plan it for next week on Tuesday.” You smile at him, but he feels that the smile isn’t genuine. Something naggs you in your head. Tomura silently leaves your office and starts working. But the thought of you always lingers in his mind. He spends so much time with you. Your body, your attitude, your everything. You are always on his mind. Maybe it is not healthy. You are the CEO, his boss, he shouldn’t think of you this way.

The time flew by and he is recently taking notes from a meeting that you lead. Everyone can sense that you are irritated. The meeting ends and everyone leaves. You huff and start looking through your phone. Then you groan and tuck the phone away. Something is definitely going on. “Um. Your shift ends in half an hour.” Tomura tries to lighten the mood. You look at him and smile at him. That smile. That beautiful caring smile. “Tomu, I’m sorry but… Can you get me a coffee please?” You mumbled and he nodded. He hands you the notes and then leaves for your coffee. You sat down in the office and groaned. You need a savior. You need a D. A proper and passionate fuck. It was so long. Since you started the firm. You never found the time for anyone and you can feel that your body needs it. Your pussy throbs the whole day and it’s annoying you want to cry. You whimper and lay your head on the table. This is so bad. You don’t know what to do. You don’t hear Tomu walk in and place your coffee down. “You okay?” He whispers and you look at him with tears in your eyes you didn’t know were there. “What’s wrong?” He said worried. You sat up and rub your eyes. “OH um Nothing I.” You mumbled and then sigh. “I have such a primitive problem. It’s stupid.” You mumble and he looks at you. Then he kneels before you. “What is wrong. It won’t be stupid. I won’t laugh.” He promises and you blush. Your whole face is red and you cover it in your hands. “I need to make out.” You whisper into your hands and Tomura looks at you confused. “What?” You chuckle. “No, It’s really stupid. Thank you for the coffee.” You mumble, totally mortified. Why did you say it? In front of him. He stands up and silently leaves. He heard you. He heard you clearly. You were irritated because of this? He sits down by his desk and notices his tent in his pants. He gulps and tries to stop thinking about you and your… perfect cleavage. The phone rings and he takes it. “Good evening, We have got a delivery for Miss Y/n L/n.” Tomura quickly answers it and goes to pick it up. 

Tomura walks into your office with a package. “I have a package for you.” He mumbles and gives it to you. You look at it and almost choke on your coffee. “Thank you so much Tomu. Um. You can leave.” You smile at him. When he closed the door, you quickly opened the box. It’s your new two toys. You send it to the wrong address. Thank god that Tomura didn’t see it. You  pick up the tentacle dildo and look at it. It’s beautiful. So long and… The design is great. You gulp and hide it. You don’t know if you can wait till the night. You really need it. Tomura barges in and walks to you with a paper. You quickly stand up and push the box out of the way. “We just got an important message from our biggest partner. They want us to-” The box hit the floor and the plastic filling scatters all over the floor. “I’m really sorry Miss.” He says and hands you the papers then kneels down grabbing the box. You look at the paper and groan. It is not important. It was just a notice, nothing important. He is still nervous in his position. Then you realize it. The box. You quickly kneel down, but it is late. Tomura is already holding it in his hands. A tentacle dildo and a bullet vibrator. You blush madly and look at him, noticing his raging boner. “Ah, this is so inappropriate. I’m really sorry.” You mumble and quickly grab it and hide it in the box and under your desk. Tomura can’t help but look at your thighs. Those big silk thighs. He gulps and bears himself with every courage he has. “I. I heard you before.” He whispers quickly and closes his eyes. Ready for anything. Even for you firing him. “Ugh, I’m really sorry. I’m just.” You sighed. “I’m really desperate, you know. It has been so long and… I’m the one working and every guy is like oh, you are a strong woman, you can be independent. And other things. Nothing helps me now and my body is on fire all day. I don’t even know what to do anymore. No one ever made time for me-” “I will make time for you.” He says and kisses you. The kiss is firm, but also sweet and caring. You pull away and look into his eyes. “I’m your assistant. I will help you with everything.” He whispers with lustful eyes. You look at the clock. It’s 6 pm. Everyone should have left already. “Will this be our secret?” You whisper and he smirks. “Our little secret. Whatever you need, boss.” He whispers and kisses you passionately. He grabs your hips and sits you on your desk.

This is going to end up badly. He is your assistant… Thoughts quickly left your head when he started kissing you on your neck. You started unbuttoning your shirt. Tomura kneels down and unstraps your heels. He looks at you with hunger in your eyes and kisses your feet. “You must be so swollen and tired.” He whispers and starts to massage your foot. “Ugh, fuck it. Come with me.” You mumble and stand up. You grabbed the box, your bag and quickly drag him out of the office. “Let’s continue in my apartment, shall we?” You mumble. Tomura smiles and grabs his things. “Perfect plan boss.” He smiles and walks you to your car.

The ride home was pretty quick. But you couldn’t help it. Your body couldn't handle it. You and Tomura got into your apartment and locked your door. His kisses travel from your neck to your shoulders and to your breasts. You fall with him on your bed and start to undress. Both of your clothes fall on the floor. You blush. He looks so stunning. Lean, but toned body, visible V-line and a small happy trail from black hair. And then his dick. Only slightly trimmed, slightly hairly, quite big, pretty large and veiny. His balls heavy. You gulp and look into his eyes. He looks at you and then at your breasts. Two perfect big mounds. He grabs them and smirks. They are spilling out of his hands. His hands travel down your tummy and his fingers hook under your panties. Lace black panties. Perfect. He slips them down and throws them on the floor. He kisses your thighs and slowly nears your hand. Your fingers in his hair stop him. He looks at you confused. “Please. I need you. I need all of you. I can’t wait.” You whine out and he chuckles. “So needy.” He smirks and slowly sinks his tip in your core. You whimper and wiggle your hips. You slowly feel him sink into you, filling you to the brim. You moan and relax. Finally. You look at him and then at the place where he enters you. He grabs you and lays you down in the center of the bed between pillows. “I shall treat you like a real princess.” He smiles at you and you giggle. You grab his cheek and he leans closer. You look into his beautiful dark eyes and kiss him. His lips were rough, but so sweet. “I wanted this.” He smiles. “I wanted you for so long.” He sighs and you smile. You grab his tie and lower his face to yours. “Then be a good assistant and fuck me properly.” You grin at him and he grins at you. He firmly grips your shoulders and starts pounding into you. You mewl out and throw your head back. You were missing this. He looks at you and smiles. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest. He starts ramming into you with full force, his balls slamming against your ass. You moan out grabbing his hand. You can feel your climax coming. Maybe it is too much? “T-tomu.” You moan out and he whines. “That’s it. Say it. Say it louder.” He grins and kisses you. Then he starts kissing your breasts. “Tomu… I can’t. Oh, Tomu.” You moan and close your eyes. Maybe it is too much. Then it hits you. The sudden wave of your orgasm. You moan out in his arms, feeling his hands holding you. In his embrace. He quickly pulls away and comes on your tummy. He huffs and looks at you. “Sorry… for not lasting longer.” He mumbles. You chuckle and let him lay down beside you. “Thank you so much.” You smile and cuddle into him.

The next week was amazing. Everyone felt your happy aura. You beamed at everyone and helped everyone. The meetings were more productive. But the biggest change is the smile that was on your face when you looked at Tomura. That honest smile with… love in your eyes. Tomu always brought you coffee. Three times in a day and lunch. But everytime he stays for a little longer. Making you feel happy and satisfied. It was one of those times. Tomura brought you coffee ten minutes ago and now, you are resting in your chair, eyes closed and enjoying the feeling of Tomu’s skillful tongue. You look at your planner. Just two more hours and you are finally done. You hum happily and look at Tomura. He is enjoying it so much down there. Kneeling on the carpet in his clothes that are too tight for his liking, focusing everything on the little bundle of nerves that was glistening with his spit. He huffs and pulls away smiling at you. “I… I thought about something…” He mumbled kissing your pearl. Your fingers entangled in his beautiful hair. “What is it?” You mused. He looks at you. His eyes are sparkling and wide. Just this one look and something just snapped. Something inside of you. “Can it wait a little longer?” You huff and he looks at you and then nods. You quickly sit down on your desk and he stands up. He quickly unbuckles his belt and frees his painfully throbbing dick. His left hand grabs your hips and his right hand helps his cock to nudge at your heated center. His dick slowly sinks right into you. You whimper and look at the door. “Don’t worry. No one will come in.” He whispers and kisses you passionately. You moan into his mouth and kiss him back. His hips start moving, his pelvis brushing against yours. He grins and holds your beautiful silk legs, pulling them to his chest and hugging your legs. You quietly moan out. Oh how you loved your service, your personal assistant. You grab his tie and hold him close, kissing his lips. This happened too many times. Files scattered around the floor, coffee almost spilled, the smell of the sex everywhere and the picture of him above you. Sweaty, but confident about his work. His pace sped up and became sloppy. His thumb encircled your clit, steadying at the perfect pace that has you speechless. You mewl out and come on the spot, squirting a little. And then you felt it. His cock pumps you full of his white seed, making you feel full. He huffs and slowly pulls out, quickly covering your fluttering hole with your black panties. Your eyes slowly close and he helps you sit on your chair. He held before you your coffee and you slowly drank it. “Feeling better?” He smiles and you nod while arranging your businesswoman dress. “What did you want to tell me?” You smile at him, watching him trying to look formal again. He looks at you and tries to look confident. “I… I want to ask if you would like to go on a date with me? To a restaurant… or to get a coffee… A warm coffee.” He mumbles and looks away feeling stressed. He wanted to tell you this for so long. The hookups were amazing, truly, but since the first time, he caught feelings for you. “Of course. I… Of course I will go out with you. That is so amazing.” You smile at him and stand up, holding his hands. He smiles at you. “That’s great! If you want, we can go to dinner together. Wherever. It’s up to you.” He beams at you. “So we will meet out of your office at 17:05?” He smiles and you nod. He beams and leaves to his desk.

You look at your work and smile. So it’s the first official date… It will be nice and pretty. And you can’t catch feelings for him. Because you had caught them long ago… 

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading this oneshot, it makes me really happy that someone enjoys my writing!

#bnha shigaraki #my hero academia shigaraki #mha shigaraki #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura x reader #shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #employeeshigaraki

[ivrmmx]

Hybrid! Heeseung

Chapter 5: Me or him?

Pairings: Hybrid!Heeseung X reader. Hybrid! Riki X reader

Summary: Who will you choose now? You don’t want to hurt either of them. It’s either one or the other, or maybe just both?

Warnings: As expected: Jealousy from both hybrids. Fighting. Kissing. Suggestive behavior and words. Can be angsty. Reader will eventually have to share a bed with both hybrids. Licking. Purring. Pet names. Manipulation. Accusations. Smut?

You were lost. So lost that words wouldn’t come out of your mouth.

“Please Princess..” Heeseung says with a begging tone. “Baby, come on.. you adopted me for a reason right?” Riki tries convincing you too.

“I.. do I have to choose?..” you say in a low voice while your head hangs low staring at the floor. “Yes.” Says Riki. “No.” Says Heeseung. Both hybrids stare at each other with pure tension, “You’re stressing her out, Riki.” Heeseung says trying to make Riki shut up and give up already. “Don’t act like an Angel, Heeseung” Riki squints and glares at the hamster.

“Cant I just choose both?” You break their tension, both staring at you. “Yes, but.. he lied out you and tried to gaslight me. Do you really want him?” Heeseung stares into your eyes. Before you can even reply, Riki speaks, “Don’t you ever get tired of running your goddamn mouth? Shut the hell up.” He snaps at Heeseung.

You look at Riki and shake your head, he exhales then nods. “I’ll just choose both, okay?” You say with a low tone. They both nod.

-

-

-

After a while, you’re sitting between them both on the couch while watching a movie. No words. No one talks. Just tension. And of course, their hands on either one of your thighs. Riki glares at Heeseung before making his hand higher up my thigh. Heeseung does the exact same thing. You close your eyes kinda nervous, but open them when you feel lips on the left side on your neck, which is where Heeseung is sitting.

You turn to look at him, “what’s wrong?” You raise an eyebrow. “Nothing, princess. Is it wrong for me to love you and touch you? Hm?” You were about to reply, but Riki tightens his grip on your thigh. Riki grabs your chin, turns your head to face him, and kisses you. He pulls you closer until your bodies are touching. You can’t move. You don’t know why. But something felt off.. really off.

Heeseung’s eyes widen and pulls you away from his again and let’s go of you after a couple of seconds. “You fucking asshole. How could you?!” Heeseung growls raising his voice at Riki. “What? You mad that now I also claimed her? Don’t be selfish.” Riki smirked. What? How did he also claim me? I though a hybrid could only claim a human if they had intercourse. You think to yourself.

You look at Riki confused and shocked at the same time. “What’s wrong, baby? Did you not know that a hybrid could also claim you by rubbing their body on yours?” Riki tilted his head. Heeseung was livid. He wanted to kill Riki but couldn’t, he couldn’t because he was too heart broken and couldn’t even hurt your feelings by doing so. “Heeseung.. I didn’t know. I thought a hybrid could only claim by breeding?..” you look at him with sorry eyes.

“Oh don’t tell me.” Riki smirks and scoffs. “He also told you that claiming could only be done by breeding? I told you he manipulates everyone. He probably manipulated you just to feel you and use you for his pleasure.” Riki holds onto you trying to fully claim you again as he starts purring into your neck.

Before he can fully claim you, Heeseung pulls you back into his arms and hugs you tightly. You hug him back, making Riki feels jealous. “I’m sorry, I lied to you..” Heeseung whispers kissing your head softly. “It’s okay..” you reassure him. “Baby, come on. You can’t just forgive him that easily!” Riki whines. “Riki please stop being rude.” You snap back. Riki’s ears and tail lower down. He obviously feels bad. “Sorry..” he whispers. “It’s okay..” You reach your hand out for him. Once he grabs your hand, you pull him into a hug while still hugging Heeseung.

You all three end up working it out. But later on you all get tired and go to bed. Sadly, none of them want to sleep alone so what do you do? Let them both sleep in your bed.

One hugs you from behind (Heeseung). The other is in the front (Riki). They both wont stop kissing you and cuddling you! And yeah, they do become and little touchy. Like, Heeseung would constantly pass his hands over you breasts and Riki would place or run his hands on your ass.

“Hey..! What are you two doing with your hands?” You say in a cute but angry voice. They both giggle and continue what they were doing, technically ignoring you. You couldn’t help, but let them continue. It felt good, also like you could just orgasm just from that.

“Aww, is our owner liking that?~” Heeseung uses that seductive, teasing voice. “S-shut up.” You suddenly feel Riki’s tongue on your neck making you moan slightly, he also purrs against your neck. “you taste good” Riki says against your neck. You smile at how cute he’s being right now. “Shh shh, just sleep..” You rub his back and caress his hair as he is tired. But Heeseung is most definitely not.

Once Riki falls asleep, in your arms, Heeseung now wants to play a game if ‘can you keep quiet?’.

He slides his hand inside your pants..

Yes I’m edging y’all😛

I did try to not makes this a Riki smut because that feels kinda weird. But I’ll do a Heeseung smut pt.2 ‼️

🐹🎀

#enhypen #lee heesung x reader #hybrid #enhypen heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #heeseung smut #yang jungwon #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #niki fluff #angst #niki x reader

[kokoch4n3l]

ˏˋ main yahaan hoon ࿐ྂ "I'm in the lights of your eyes, you see me wherever you look"

summary: in which you meet Sano Manjiro a month before your wedding and fall in love. you didn't realize you fell in love with him till the pre-wedding rituals began.

pairing(s): bonten!mikey x desi!reader

notes: title translates to 'I'm here'. a purely self-indulgent fic based on Veer-Zaara(2004)'s song Main Yahaan Hoon if Veer was a gang leader and was actually at the wedding instead of Zaara hallucinating him. line dividers by rookthornesartistry heart divider by cafekitsune

warnings: infidelity, cheating, arranged marriages, implied emotionally absent parents, emotional blackmail, suggestive themes, implied oral(f), manjiro carries reader, slightly open ending

word count: 5690

Your father was a politician, businessman and just well very rich. You’re his only daughter so he spoils you rotten. Giving you all the things you can ever want. He was a good man, your mother a great person too. However, it wasn’t a very emotionally fulfilling relationship. You were okay with it though. Jewels and clothes sated the ache in your heart even if it was temporary. You got engaged almost as soon as you turned of age. The man was just a little bit older and also a politician like your father. Arranged marriages were common in your culture and you had never dated before anyway. It’s about a month before the wedding you meet Sano Manjiro. You aren’t sure what he does but he’s also really rich like your father. He has a few close business associates and they all have matching full moon hanafuda tattoos. Sanzu Haruchiyo let you trace his tattoo for some reason after seeing your fascination with it. 

Bonten were business associates of your father. You weren’t sure exactly for what but you also couldn't care less. They were all pretty fun people. You made them watch Bollywood movies with you and do a whole bunch of other things and they did it without any complaint and seemed to enjoy it as well. They were all cool and then there was Sano Manjiro… 

Sano Manjiro was different from the rest. He had a quiet intensity about him, a presence that demanded attention without a single word. You noticed his eyes first—dark, deep, and endlessly contemplative. He was always observing, absorbing everything around him with a sharp, discerning gaze. Despite his quiet demeanour, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. At first, you thought he wouldn’t be putting up with your childish games but he proved you wrong. When you called him a stupid idiot he didn’t get mad but instead, he smiled. He was amused. For some reason, it surprised you because he didn’t seem like the type to smile or just show any kind of emotion in general. 

Your father, of course, invites them all to your wedding. It was all fine but you don’t want to marry your fiancé. He was nice at first but there was something about him that put you off. You didn’t like that man. You sit in your father’s office in your engagement outfit while music echoes from the bottom floor of the mansion to the top. A white lengha with intricate embroidery adorns your figure with a full-sleeve blouse along with a diamond necklace gifted by your future mother-in-law and a matching tikka in the same style resting in the center of your forehead. Your dupatta is draped over your head and right now it feels too heavy. Although you and your fiancé were already engaged, your mother-in-law insisted on having a flashy ceremony to kick start the wedding week.  “You’re my only child… Hence, I’ve pampered you and given you freedom” Your father says, his hands clasped behind his back and using his businessman voice “I haven’t raised you like a girl but like a boy”

There is a lump in your throat. You know if you speak you’ll cry. Your father walks toward you. “Usually the mother has to explain to her daughters about her duties. But since I think of you as my son, I’ll explain your duties to you”

You look up at him. You’re sitting in his chair the same way you would when you were a child. But unlike back then, your bare feet press flat against the hardwood floor. “You already know that your grandfather was a respected politician. But he died a few days before he could attain success. Since that day, as his heir, I’ve been trying to take his party to great heights but I’ve been unsuccessful so far” He says and you know already what he will say next “But with the help of your finacé’s father, I can attain that success”

You don’t feel too good. The lump in your throat gets bigger and you desperately try to swallow it. Your father turns your back to you, staring at your family picture. “Soon you’ll get married into their family. It’s your duty…” He pauses and turns to look at you again “...to understand the importance of this relationship. Spread happiness, whether the times are good or bad and strengthen the bond of every relationship and to protect the honour of both families at all costs. A small mistake or a bit of carelessness from your end could ruin everything… I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.”

He knows, he knows, he knows. Your father had a feeling you no longer wished to marry the man you were betrothed to. You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper out a pitiful “yes.”

“Is there anything you wish to say?”

You simply shake your head no. You couldn’t. You had to marry this man even if you didn’t want to. Your father was practically begging you without actually begging. He smiles. “Come here”

You stand up, your anklets jingle with each step you take. “It’s been so long since I saw my daughter smile,” He says as you now stand in front of him “I hope you haven’t left it in Japan”

You smile weakly. How were you to tell him you did? How do you tell your father you left your heart in Japan? He pulls you in for a hug and a single tear runs down your cheek. 

You did not wish to marry the man you were promised to but you didn’t want to break your father’s heart either. 

Your father leads you down the large marble staircase, the railing covered with flowers and the entire bottom floor decorated lavishly. The vibrant colours and festive sounds of the pre-wedding celebration fill the air, yet your heart feels heavy with an unspoken sorrow. As you descend the staircase, your eyes scan the crowd, seeking a familiar face—a face that brought unexpected joy and confusion to your life. In the midst of the lively guests, you spot Sano Manjiro standing quietly at the edge of the room with his associates. He is dressed in beige slacks and a silk back button-up shirt, his presence commanding even in the bustling environment. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the noise around you fades. His gaze, deep and inscrutable, seems to reach into the very depths of your soul. The rituals proceed with the grandeur expected of such an event. The music, the dancing, the laughter—all blend into a blur as your mind drifts back to the times spent with Manjiro and his associates. The times when you could be yourself when you laughed genuinely and felt a connection beyond words. Sanzu Haruchiyo, always mischievous yet kind, had once teased you about your fascination with their tattoos. “Do you want one too?” he joked, letting you trace the lines of the intricate hanafuda design. 

You had laughed, but deep down, there was something about those moments that felt more real than anything else in your life. As you and your fiancé exchange rings, you feel Manjiro’s eyes on you, a silent support that gives you strength. The night progresses, and you find yourself stealing glances at him, your heart aching with an unspoken truth. You didn’t want this arranged marriage. You wanted something more, something that only he seemed to understand. 

It feels stupid though. It’s probably a simple infatuation but oh you had never felt this way in your life before and even as your fiancé slides the engagement ring onto your finger, the only thing that goes through your mind is Manjiro.

You sit alone in your room late at night on your bed, too lazy to sit at your dresser. Your dupatta was carelessly discarded at the foot of your bed as soon as you entered your room, too lazy to even remove your lengha and get in bed. The day had been tiring. You start to remove your jewelry, starting with the large diamond necklace that felt way too heavy. It’s as you are taking off the tikka from your forehead that someone enters. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. The air shifts, and the familiar, intense presence washes over you. It’s Manjiro. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. He steps closer, his movements silent on the plush carpet. He doesn’t say anything else, just stands there, watching as you fumble with the clasp of your tikka. Your fingers tremble, and the delicate piece slips from your grasp, falling onto your lap. “Let me,” he offers, reaching out. His hands are gentle but firm as he takes over, carefully removing the tikka and setting it aside. 

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, melting the anxiety and sorrow that had been weighing you down. “Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a question in his gaze, an unspoken query that you can’t quite decipher. The silence between you is heavy with words left unsaid, emotions unacknowledged. “Why did you come here?” you ask, needing to break the silence, to understand why he’s here, why he makes you feel the way you do.

“I needed to see you,” he replies simply, his gaze steady. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His concern touches you deeply, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You blink them back, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. Manjiro sits down next to you, being careful to not sit on your skirt. He reaches over and starts to remove your earrings. Despite his fingers being calloused and rough, his hands are gentle. He touches you like the slightest touch might break you. Each brush of his fingers against your skin feels like a promise, unspoken but powerful. You sit there, letting him help you, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. The weight of the day's events begins to lift, replaced by the warmth of his presence. When he's done, he sets the earrings aside and meets your gaze again. His eyes are filled with something you can't quite name, something that makes your heart beat faster. “Let’s get this off, hm?” Manjiro’s hand reaches around you and tugs the strings on the back of your blouse free

Your breath catches, but you nod, trusting him implicitly. The fabric loosens, and you feel the pressure on your chest easing. He helps you out of the heavy, ornate lengha, his movements were careful, his eyes never straying where they shouldn't. This was wrong. So wrong. You were a damn cheater. But as Manjiro unzips your blouse and pulls it off your arms, you can’t find yourself to care. “‘Jiro…” Your breath is shaky as he lowers your bare body down

“Don’t worry” he whispers, a heavy hand cupping your cheek so tenderly

Something in your head tells you it’s been years since this man was tender to anyone. Your breath hitches at the touch of his roughened palm against your cheek, a stark contrast to the softness in his gaze. Manjiro's thumb gently brushes away a stray tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that seems to pierce through your very soul. "I shouldn't be here" you murmur, your voice barely audible, a mix of fear and yearning.

It was a little stupid you were even saying that since it was your own room. "But you want me here" he counters softly, not a question, but a statement of truth.

The words hang between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. Your heart beats wildly, torn between duty and desire. You don’t reply, unable to deny the truth in his statement. Manjiro’s presence is intoxicating, a dangerous allure that you find impossible to resist. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me to leave, and I will," he whispers, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his words. "But if you want me to stay…"

You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. The choice is yours, and you know what your heart wants. "Stay" you breathe, barely more than a whisper, but enough for him to hear and without missing a beat he slides your engagement ring off your finger

Manjiro doesn’t take your virginity that night. Instead, he calls you a good girl for saving yourself for after marriage and then gets down between your legs and ravishes you. 

 The next morning was the Haldi ceremony. In the ceremony turmeric paste would be smeared on your face and oil on your hair. It was more of a fun kind of thing anyway and during all the weddings you have attended in the past, all the guests would end up getting the turmeric paste all over themselves while playing around with it. You were wearing a yellow salwar kameez with flowers embroidered on the top and your dupatta was bright pink. You sit on the ground by the pool while your cousins hold up a heavier more embroidered dupatta over top of you like shielding you from the sky. “Don’t put too much” You warn your dad as he smears some of the turmeric paste on your cheek

There is oil dripping down your forehead from when your cousin decided he wanted to be funny and poured the entire bowl on your head. Tumeric paste is smeared on your feet, arms, cheeks and nose. The vibrant colours of the ceremony blur together, a swirl of yellow and pink, laughter echoing around you. Yet, despite the cheerful chaos, your mind is elsewhere, drifting back to the previous night. Manjiro's touch lingers on your skin like a haunting melody, one you cannot shake off no matter how hard you try. Your father's laughter brings you back to the present, his smile wide as he steps aside for the next relative to apply the turmeric paste.

As the ceremony continues, you feel a pair of eyes on you. You glance up and catch a glimpse of Manjiro standing a little away from the festivities, his usual quiet intensity softened by a hint of something tender. He stands apart from his associates, watching you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The noise of the ceremony fades, replaced by the silent conversation happening between your gazes. Your heart beats faster as you remember his whispered promises from the night before. His words, his touch—they haunt you, make you question everything you thought you knew about your life and your impending marriage. You know it's reckless, dangerous even, to let yourself feel this way. But you can't help it. Not when his presence brings you a sense of peace and belonging you’ve never felt before. “This stuff smells weird” Koko comments as he crouches in front of you and smells the turmeric paste on his fingers before smearing it on your cheek “Are you sure this is safe for your skin?”

“Of course it is” you reassure with a smile

The rest of Bonten does the same. Finally, it’s Manjiro’s turn. He crouches down in front of you, an unknown emotion swirling in his eyes. Without a word, he takes the yellow paste and smears some on your right cheek then the left. His touch is gentle, yet it sends shivers down your spine, the same way it did the night before. The world around you seems to disappear as he smooths the paste over your skin, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence between you is filled with unspoken words, emotions too raw to be expressed in the midst of the celebration. Your heart pounds in your chest as his fingers linger on your skin, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, his voice so low only you can hear. 

His words are simple, but the intensity behind them makes your breath hitch. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the noise of the celebration. 

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks, mixing with the turmeric paste. He offers you a small, almost shy smile, and for a moment, you see a vulnerability in him that he usually keeps hidden. You bring your hand up and smear the paste on his cheek too, making him laugh. His laughter is a rare sound, rich and deep, and it reverberates through you, filling your heart with warmth. You can't help but smile in response, your fingers lingering on his cheek for a moment longer than necessary. The world around you resumes its chaotic pace, but the connection between you and Manjiro remains, a silent promise amidst the noise and colour of the celebration.

As the Haldi ceremony continues, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of your engagement ring, now conspicuously absent from your finger, feels like a liberation and a burden all at once. You glance at Manjiro again, finding comfort in his steady gaze. It’s as if he understands the turmoil within you without needing to ask.

As the ceremony comes to an end and the guests start to leave, you struggle to pick your dupatta off one of the chairs with your turmeric-covered hands. “Damn it” you mutter and look around for someone to help you

“Here you go” Rindo picks up your dupatta for you

You sigh in relief. “Thank you. Can you help me go up to my room?”

It was going to be a task going up to your room while covered in turmeric paste so you needed help. Rindo nods and offers you his arm, guiding you carefully through the crowd and up the stairs. The turmeric paste makes everything slippery, and you're grateful for his steady presence. As you make your way to your room, you can feel Manjiro's eyes on you, a silent promise of his support and understanding. Once inside your room, Rindo helps you sit on the edge of your bed, his touch careful and respectful. “Do you need anything else?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shake your head, offering him a grateful smile, your eyes lingering for a moment of the front of his throat where the full moon hanafuda tattoo it etched then you look back up at his eyes. “No, thank you. I’ll manage from here.”

Rindo nods and leaves, closing the door softly behind him. You sit there for a moment, the events of the day and the night before swirling in your mind. You know you need to wash off the turmeric paste, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Manjiro. Eventually, you stand and make your way to the bathroom. The warm water washes away the turmeric, leaving your skin tingling and fresh. 

Later that night was the mendhi ceremony. Your hands are covered in intricate designs of flowers and swirls made with henna all the way up to your elbows and your feet with the same. “Ma~” you whine to your mother who was too busy talking to her sister to feed you 

Your mother laughs, a twinkle in her eye as she waves you off, engrossed in her conversation. You sigh, looking at the plate of food in front of you, and then at your hands, which are still wet with henna. The intricate designs are beautiful, but they make it impossible for you to eat on your own. You glance around the room, hoping to find someone to help you. Your eyes meet Manjiro’s from across the room. He’s standing with his associates, but his gaze is fixed on you, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. Before you can beckon him over, he starts to walk towards you, effortlessly weaving through the crowd. He kneels down next to you, his presence a comforting weight. “Need some help?” he asks, his voice low and warm.

You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yes, please. I can’t eat with this on.”

Manjiro picks up the spoon and gently lifts a small portion of food to your lips. His movements are careful, and deliberate, as if this simple act holds profound significance. You open your mouth, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. As he feeds you, you catch the subtle smirk on his face, and you can't help but smile back. “This is quite the look for you,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Covered in henna and unable to eat by yourself.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, your voice playful. “This is supposed to be a special time, you know?”

“It is,” he agrees, his tone softening. “And you look beautiful.”

The sincerity in his words makes your heart skip a beat. You chew and swallow, the taste of the food mingling with the warmth spreading through your chest. Manjiro continues to feed you, the moment intimate despite the bustling celebration around you. Each spoonful feels like a silent promise, a shared secret that binds you closer together. “Food is spicy…” He murmurs 

“You don’t like spicy food?” you ask him

He shakes his head no. “I like the sweets though… After you get married bring me some in Japan?” You laugh softly, the sound mingling with the music and chatter in the room. “Of course,” you promise, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of sharing such a simple pleasure with him. “I’ll bring you all the sweets you want.”

Manjiro's smile widens, a rare glimpse of genuine happiness on his usually stoic face. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, his gaze steady on yours. “But only if you promise to come back soon.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you find yourself nodding before you can even think. “I promise,” you say, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

The rest of the mendhi ceremony passes in a blur of laughter and music, but the memory of that moment with Manjiro lingers, a silent promise of things to come. As the night draws to a close, you find yourself reluctant to leave his side, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment. 

It’s as you lay in bed and stare at your henna-stained hands, searching for your fiancé’s name among the intricate designs. But as you scan the patterns, your heart sinks, and a furrow forms on your brow. The once-clear inscription has been smeared beyond recognition, lost amidst the swirls of henna. A mix of emotions washes over you—relief, guilt, and a pang of sadness. Relief because it feels like a sign, a small reprieve from the impending marriage you’re dreading. Guilt because you know you shouldn’t feel relieved, and shouldn’t be hoping for a way out of a commitment you made. And sadness because despite everything, there’s a part of you that still longs for the simplicity of what could have been. You trace the faint outlines of the henna design, your mind swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The bond between you and Manjiro grows stronger with each passing moment, a silent promise of a future you never dared to imagine. But the reality of your situation weighs heavily on your shoulders, reminding you of the duty and obligations that bind you to your fiancé and your family.

With a heavy sigh, you curl your fingers into fists. The events of the day replay in your mind—the stolen moments with Manjiro, the whispered promises, the shared laughter. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—you’re falling for him, and there’s no turning back.

The next night is the ladies' sangeet. It’s the last thing left and the next morning is the wedding. You sit with all your female relatives as they sing and dance to old folk songs. You sit among them, a forced smile plastered on your face, your mind drifting to thoughts of the impending wedding. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation that feels suffocating. When no one is looking, you stand up and hed to the backyard where most your male relatives are, drinking away as usual. You can see Ran has unfortunately been cornered by one of your drunk uncles and is explaining Punjabi politics to him. Ran looks at you for help but you just grin and shake your head. You spot Manjiro walking over to you and you smile at him. “Hi” You say as you walk through the garden together, you anklets jingling with each step you take. 

"Hi," Manjiro replies, his voice low and warm, a stark contrast to the chaos of the sangeet unfolding behind you. His presence brings a sense of calm, a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere of obligation and expectation.

You walk through the garden together, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm light over the flowers and foliage. The air is filled with the sweet scent of jasmine and roses, a stark contrast to the heavy perfume of the crowded hall. You feel a weight lift off your shoulders with each step, the knot of anxiety in your chest slowly unravelling in his presence. "Having fun?" Manjiro asks, his gaze steady on yours. 

There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. You shake your head, a wry smile playing on your lips. "Not exactly," you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I feel like I'm suffocating in there."

Manjiro nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I can imagine," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper “Japanese weddings are not this… festive or colourful. Must be a little overwhelming” 

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "It's not just that," you confess, your voice tinged with frustration. "It's the weight of expectation, the pressure to conform to tradition and duty." You pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "I feel like I'm being suffocated by it all."

Manjiro listens in silence, his gaze unwavering as he takes in your words. There's a depth to his understanding, a sense of empathy that makes you feel seen in a way you haven't felt in a long time. "I know what it's like to feel trapped," he says finally, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "To feel like you're living a life that's not your own."

His words strike a chord within you, resonating with the turmoil you've been feeling. "Do you ever wish things were different?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes. "All the time," he admits, his voice filled with honesty and you watch his hand come up to touch the full moon hanafuda tattoo on the back of his neck "But sometimes, we have to make the best of the hand we're dealt." 

You nod in understanding, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart as you take in the vulnerability in Manjiro's words. His admission resonates with your own feelings of frustration and longing, the desire for a life beyond the confines of duty and expectation. "But that doesn't mean we have to give up hope," you say softly "We can still fight for what we want, for the freedom to live our lives on our own terms."

Manjiro's gaze meets yours, a flicker of something akin to hope dancing in his eyes. "And what do you want?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper, as if afraid to voice the question aloud.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your desires heavy on your shoulders. “I… I don’t know yet”

And Manjiro simply smiles at your answer and says “well clock is ticking… better hurry up and figure it out” then turns to go back to where he was sitting with your father, other business partners and relatives 

As Manjiro walks away, leaving you alone in the tranquil garden, his words linger in the air, a gentle reminder of the urgency of your situation. The weight of expectation and duty presses down on you once more. You watch Manjiro's retreating figure, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing stirring within you. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—your heart is leading you towards him, towards a life of freedom and possibility.

You turn back towards the bustling sangeet, the music and laughter spilling out into the night air. Tomorrow is the wedding, the final culmination of weeks of preparation and anticipation. But as you rejoin the festivities, your mind is elsewhere, filled with thoughts of the man who has captured your heart and the future that awaits.

As the night wears on and the sangeet draws to a close, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, apprehension, and a simmering sense of rebellion— something you shouldn’t be feeling. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation. But tonight, in the quiet solitude of the garden, you allow yourself to dream of a different future, one where you're free to follow your heart, no matter where it leads.

As the first light of dawn breaks over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the garden, you feel a sense of anticipation stirring within you. In a few hours, you’ll be married. It’s scary. So scary and you feel sick. You sit in a yellow kameez and white salwar, fingers trembling as you put on the naath, hooking it to your nose and fixing the chain over your ear to see how you look in it. The cool metal of the jewellery rests over your lips that you’ve bitten raw. Your makeup lays untouched, face bare. You need to start getting ready. 

It’s the early hours of the morning, not many are awake except the servants who are getting the house ready. Your deep red wedding lengha is draped over your bed and seems to be mocking you. Your fingers linger on the intricate embroidery of the deep red lehenga, but the touch brings you no joy, only a sense of resignation. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, the naath adorning your face, you can't help but feel a sense of disconnect. The woman staring back at you seems like a stranger, a mere shell of the person you once were. The weight of the impending marriage hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you with its inevitability. It’s suffocating, and overwhelming, and you find it hard to breathe.

But then, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a sense of determination takes root within you. You refuse to let fear dictate your future, to surrender to the expectations of others. You may not know what lies ahead, but you know one thing for certain—you can't go through with this marriage. Your father may love you and only want the best for you but you are not a pawn in his plan to rule the world. 

Gathering your courage, you make a decision—to follow your heart, no matter the consequences. It won't be easy, and there will be challenges ahead, but you refuse to let fear hold you back any longer.

As you slip out of your room after grabbing your yellow dupatta, the quiet of the early morning enveloping you like a comforting embrace, you feel a sense of liberation wash over you. It’s just as you make it past the hall, your anklets unfortunately still jingling with each step(you probably should have taken them off), you come face to face with Manjiro, Sanzu and Rindo. “Hm? And where do you think you’re going?” Manjiro asks and his hand comes up and lifts the naath up then lets it fall back in place resting over your upper lip 

You freeze, caught off guard by the unexpected encounter. For a moment, you're at a loss for words, your mind racing to come up with an explanation. But as you meet Manjiro's gaze, you see something in his eyes—a flicker of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil raging within you. "I..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I don’t want to get married"

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your confession. You expect judgment, condemnation, but instead, there's only silence. Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Hm?”

You let out a shaky breath, henna-covered hands clenching at your sides. “You asked me last night what I wanted and this is what I want…”

There is a moment of silence. Manjiro looks back at Sanzu and nods and the latter pulls out his phone, frantically typing away texts. “C’mon then” Manjiro says and sweeps you off your feet in the same way the male leads in Bollywood movies would

You aren’t sure how things will turn out but as Manjiro carries you down the marble staircase and into a car, you don’t think about anything else. Just him. Manjiro’s arms feel solid and reassuring around you as he carries you down the marble staircase, the weight of your decision becoming lighter with each step. The early morning light filters through the windows, casting a golden hue over everything, as if the world itself is blessing your choice.

As he sets you down into the backseat of a car Manjiro brushes a strand of your hair away from your face then kisses your forehead. “I’m here” he whispers

end notes: at the end, when Sanzu is on his phone, he's texting Koko to post a bunch of evidence of corruption that reader's fiancé’s family has done. Now MIkey could have done that before but he wanted it to be reader's choice so.... yeah. Hope you enjoyed it loll.

#tokyo revengers #mikey sano #mikey x reader #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers fandom #tokyo revengers x reader #sano manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #kanto manji gang #tokyo revengers angst #bonten #bonten!mikey #bonten mikey #bonten x reader

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

They’re finishing up another session of looking into Tom Riddle’s past, Albus trying to lead the boy to an understanding of Horcruxes and the challenging task ahead of him. He wishes he had more time, but alas, his impulsivity and hubris have left his days numbered, so he is doing what he can.

Harry had reacted oddly during today's trip into the pensieve. It is more imperative than ever that Harry stick to the path Albus has made for him. So, to ensure the boy is not taking the wrong message from these memories, Albus looks into Harry’s eyes, into his mind, and sees–

–hands, gripping his limbs, dragging him down

Choking him, pulling his hair, tugging at his skin

Digging in, ripping through flesh, pulling him apart

Always wanting more, more, more than he can give–

–and stumbles back, horrified.

Harry is looking back at him, face blank aside from a brow furrowed in vague concern. “Are you alright, sir?”

Albus stares. “My boy, I feel I should be the one asking you that.”

“Of course, sir,” Harry says with a small smile, but his eyes are empty, and Albus is crushed to realise he has no idea when that happened.

—

In his dreams, Harry finds himself on a raised platform before the shrieking magical masses, demanding his life, his hope, his future.

He takes a deep bow, lowers his head and finds it on a chopping block. The executioner’s blade sings down and all is darkness, but he can still hear the cheers.

—

He’s fine; really, he is. Except, sometimes–

He misjudges the distance between one step and the next descending a staircase and the floor falls out from under him and he’s suspended from the ceiling by his neck, choking his air off and snapping his spine in an instant–

He’s speaking with Ron and between one breath and another, thousands of spiders come pouring out of his sleeves, his collar, curling up over his face and eyes and hair, spilling into his mouth and ears, covering him in a mass of constantly moving, segmented limbs.

(He knows this is only in his mind because Ron doesn’t have a nervous breakdown in front of him.)–

He blinks in class to moisten his dry eyes and feels thousands of quill points digging into him all over his body in the span of his eyes closing and reopening–

He’s staring into the middle distance, only to come back to the thought of his wrists snapping like dry kindling, and how can he take notes with broken wrists?–

He trips and falls to the ground, and suddenly he’s being held down by a foot on his chest, until they can drive stakes through his legs, his arms, holding him immobile so they can shove one through his chest – piercing the skin, the layers of muscle and organ, punching through the ribs. On the right side, because they want him in pain, not dead, not yet–

–except for when he’s not.

—

Sleep is a reprieve, but only in the sense that he knows, retrospectively, he wasn’t aware of his mind cannibalising itself for the time he was unconscious. Sleep isn’t restful – it feels more like an extended blink. He closed his eyes, and now they’re open, and it’s time to get up and go through the motions for another eighteen hours.

He drifts through the days, quiet and clear-eyed because he can’t let them know he’s a walking corpse, an empty husk dragging itself around, leaving a trail of blood and viscera behind it that only he can see.

He laughs less, talks less, but he’s present, and he can tell the people around him are just happy he’s less angry and volatile than he was last year. He catches the relieved exhales every time he doesn’t react to a comment that would’ve gotten an argument, an explosive reaction, something ugly out of him last year. They think it’s because he’s handling his negative feelings better.

He supposes they’re right, in a way. It’s easier to manage emotional responses when he can’t feel any.

—

He looks at the lake sometimes and considers it. One time, he even gets as far as saying goodbye to Hedwig and walking to the edge, water up to his ankles. But he just doesn’t care enough to keep walking, to let the water close over his head.

So he feels, distantly, a little silly and melodramatic, and walks into the Great Hall for a dinner he’ll barely pick at.

Hermione scolds him for tracking water through the Entrance Hall, and he apologises with a thin smile.

—

He begins to hear the whispers in his mind when he lays in bed, sleepless and staring at the canopy. The Dark Lord has somehow noticed his waning mental state and has swooped in to take advantage. Absently, Harry wonders what took him so long.

And he knows it’s not for his benefit. Voldemort’s offering him a poisoned apple because Harry’s death would give the man something he desperately wants, has wanted for decades beyond the sixteen years Harry’s existence has troubled him.

But Harry can’t pretend it doesn’t feel good to have someone acknowledge the fact that he’s fallen apart, a doll with its stuffing pulled out and hastily pushed back inside with black, thickly threaded sutures holding it in, which everyone else refuses to notice.

Acknowledge, and offer to do something, anything, about it.

It’s so appealing to have someone offer to take the weight of living off his shoulders.

And one day, probably sooner than later, he’ll take the out and embrace his end with arms thrown wide and bone-deep relief.

But not just yet.

#harry potter #tw depression #tw suicidal ideation #harry's going through it #harrymort #if you squint #disturbing imagery

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Found my way back to you

A/N: Something for our CACW broken and sad boi Tony? Written for @fandom-free-bingo Here ya go. Special mention to @nicoline1998enilocin for proofreading, love you girl 💛 Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger! F! Reader (our reader has Falcon-like abilities and Red Wing as well)

Warnings: Angst, hurt comfort.

Word count: 4.3k ish

Square filled: “Please don’t go.”

Fandom Free Bingo Masterlist

.

“Please don’t go.”

You weren’t sure you heard it at first as the voice seemed fainter than a whisper. Collecting your forgotten phone from the conference table, you were almost out the door when you heard him speak. Tony Stark sat at the far end of the table, nursing a glass of whiskey, his eyes downcast and shoulders drooped. There was a pleading in his voice that you couldn’t turn down.

Ever since Pepper left him for good, Tony had been heading towards a steady downfall of self-destruction. He was never one to talk but the team knew it, you knew it. You silently prayed that he would seek help and not be so stubborn for once. But you knew better than to push your teammate.

“What happened today, Tony?” Grabbing the nearest chair, you slid into it and waited for Tony to speak. You frowned as he took in a deep breath, as if preparing himself to relive whatever he was about to say.

“I met a lady named Miriam Sharpe today at MIT. She had a son, Charles Spencer. Great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia. He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” he raised his eyes to meet yours finally, guilt and regret swimming in them, almost drowning his soul with it. Pressing your lips in a thin line, you remained silent. How does one process this kind of information anyway?

“He would have been working at Intel come fall. And now…She blames me, Y/N. And she’s right. I blame myself. I created Ultron. It’s my fault.” his voice was so low, you had to strain to hear. You could see his guilty conscience eating him alive, and your heart broke for the man.

“It’s not all your fault, Tony. We all share responsibility for what happened in Sokovia. Could we have done without the blood-thirsty artificial intelligence that threatened an extinction-level genocide? Sure. But you have to stop blaming yourself for Ultron. We got him, he’s gone. The world is safe again, the Avengers made sure of that. You made sure of that, remember?” you reached out to place your hand over his, he didn’t resist, instead he gave you a small nod indicating he understood your point before offering you a small but grateful smile. Your words provided him comfort, temporary though, yet he was battling a world of obsessive thoughts on the inside.

Excusing yourself, you headed out the room once more, only for Tony to grab your attention once again.

“The world is only safe until the next big threat, Y/N. And then what? Another conference where I meet another parent of yet another child that didn’t deserve to die? We need to be kept in check.” he muttered assertively, downing the rest of his glass before heading out the door himself. Leaving you to ponder over his words that somehow rang true the more you gave it a thought.

.

“So you’re really going to leave huh?” Clint Barton knocked on your door softly before he made his way to your room, followed closely by Natasha Romanov.

“Yep. I’m really leaving.”

You were packing the last of your suitcases, cramming one of the many photo frames that held a picture of you with the team. A Midgardian suit-clad Thor stood tallest brandishing his humongous glass of beer, right next to Steve, Nat and Clint; Tony had decided to go for dramatics as he laid down in front of all of you, his suit jacket discarded as he laughed pointing at Bruce who had just spilled his drink down his shirt - all thanks to Red Wing - your trusted device that you secretly used for a jump scare. It was worth it. Taken at one of Stark’s parties, everybody looked happy, less frown lines, less stress. Good old days, you thought.

“That was a good night.” Clint chuckled, pointing at the picture and making you nod in agreement.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Natasha pulled you in for a hug, making you tear up in the process. She didn’t try and convince you to stay, she was probably the only one who truly understood why you chose to step away, even if she didn’t agree with the decision.

“I’ll miss you too, Nat. More than you know. You too Legolas. Don’t die on us.” you chuckled after hugging Clint. The nickname Tony gave just sort of stuck around, and it irritated Clint the most which is why you always chose to call him that. Both of them were the closest thing to family around here for you.

“I feel like I’m probably gonna be the only one who miraculously survives, Y/L,N.”

“Seriously though, be careful you guys. I have a feeling this is not going to end well.” you added, zipping up the last of your bags. Saying their final goodbyes, they left you alone.

Your room was now empty, all packed up into boxes, the space looked smaller somehow, even though it wasn’t. It was time for you to start a new chapter of your life and close this one. It came with unfinished business but you chose to move on. Whatever moving on from a superhero life meant.

.

“Please don’t go.”

Those three words rang in your ears months after they were uttered. As much as your heart wrenched, you had to leave, it was time.

The Sokovia Accords lay on the polished oak table, bringing dreadful silence across the room. It was hard to believe what your world had come to, and yet here it was. A choice. A choice that nobody benefitted from, except maybe the government. The accords meant that the Avengers would no longer function as an independent association, instead, the government would control and track their moves and influence their decisions. Not signing them would be considered as retirement, so there was no easy way out of it.

Did you agree with them? Absolutely not. Was it necessary? Probably. What shocked you most was that Tony Stark had agreed to comply, in fact he was coaxing each and every one to sign the papers. You knew what was about to happen. And you knew where you stood.

It didn’t make sense for you to stay anymore.

So you left. Retired as the government had you call it. And Tony tried to stop you, once. He assumed you would fight by his side no matter what. And for a brief moment, so did you. You wanted to be by his side, however, what Thaddeus Ross had asked of you was simply unacceptable. You could never live with your freedom taken away from you like that. It wasn’t regulation, it was manipulation and you couldn’t believe Tony for siding with it. It broke your heart.

And so with that broken heart, you fled town. Bought yourself a country home and a small farm with animals, you made a good life for yourself. A life so distinctly different from the one you previously had. No fights, no aliens dropping from the skies, no threats, but no Avengers either. And more importantly, no Tony.

It came as a huge shock the day King T’Chaka was killed in Vienna, and the terrorist later identified as The Winter Soldier only was going to make matters worse, you knew that.

A part of you felt guilty for leaving, while another part was relieved to be away from it all. The constant tug of war gave you several sleepless nights. The main cause for those was the fact that you left without saying goodbye to Tony. You wondered if he hated you for it. He probably did. The two of you were…complicated to say the least. The nature of your relationship was never clear, it came with baggage, one you were more than willing to carry before you were presented with the Accords. There wasn’t much left to say when Tony Stark became spokesperson for regulating and controlling the Avengers under the government’s shadow. Arguments seemed futile when the man was determined on what needed to be done to keep the team in check.

.

An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That's dead. Forever. - Helmut Zemo

Tony Stark was a man left wounded by many battles, some he drew upon himself, others he didn’t. The Sokovia Accords had caused a schism in the Avengers, a public feud with Steve Rogers and those he trusted at an airport in Germany. He had now the burden of involving a child in the fight, and the fact that he almost lost his best friend. Rhodey was built an exoskeleton to aid him in walking after he recovered, that was the least Tony could do. Although James never blamed him for anything, deep down it cut him that he was responsible for most of mayhem caused.

And then there was you.

You had left the team, left him without a goodbye. Disappeared one night without a trace. Tony felt abandoned by the one person he had hoped would never leave, and yet you had. He had had many sleepless nights thinking about you, hoping that one day maybe out of the blue you would come back and explain yourself.

And now you were gone.

.

Tony,

I’m glad you’re back at the compound. I don’t like the idea of you rattling around a mansion all by yourself. We all need family.

The Avengers are yours, maybe even more so than mine. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith is in people, I guess. Individuals. And, I’m happy to say that for the most part, they haven’t let me down. Which is why I can’t let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn’t.

I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I’m sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand.

I wish we agreed on the accords, I really do. I know you’re doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do. That’s all any of us should do.

So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us—if you need me—I’ll be there. The team may be scattered for now but I believe if and when the time comes, we will assemble as one. And it’s probably not my place to say this but, Y/N stepping down certainly does not mean she’s no longer with the team. She is out doing what she always dreamt of, living a normal life. Something all of us wish for every now and then. I hope you guys work it out someday. Take care, Tony.

Tony stared at the letter after reading it for the fourth time, the flip phone that came with it still in his hands. His mind invariably wandered to the last bit of Steve’s message. You.

Over the past few years, Tony had come to realize how integral you were, not just to the team and your contribution but to his life too. He had on many occasions found himself seeking you out for a chat, it always made his heavy heart just a little lighter. From the moment you joined the Avengers, you had intrigued Tony Stark. He admired you for your abilities, you were more capable than you were given credit for, you were compassionate, kind and a team player. You never said much but whenever you did, you always knew the right things to say, especially to Tony.

He recalled many occasions where you had leant a listening ear when he had wanted to rant, provided a logical solution when things seemed to get out of hand. He would never forget the comfort you provided when Pepper left him. You were there, holding his hand, hugging him tight when he asked to be left alone, knowing how much he needed a human touch. He didn’t fight it, instead he had let himself be held by you, by arms that provided safety, touches that soothed him and words that rendered all the uncertainties silent.

And yet you had left the compound without a word, or maybe without a conversation with him. It angered and worried him in equal parts.

The more he thought about it, the clearer the picture became of your possible whereabouts. One particular conversation stood out indicating where he might find you, memories of that evening brought a smile to his face as he recalled.

“Farm animals, definitely. I will get myself an alpaca, call her Ms Brain.”

“Are you serious?” you giggled, looking at Tony incredulously. The man was always full of surprises. You were lying on your backs on the compound lawn, it had been a particularly eventful day. Tony found you out here all by yourself, staring up at the gray sky. Getting him to lie down with you wasn’t easy but you managed, bribing him with his favorite whiskey later.

“What about you, Y/L/N?”

“Hmm..Let’s see. I want a huge backyard where I will grow my veggie garden, make the most delicious foods, and have a cat since I’ve always wanted one. Somewhere peaceful and quiet, away from the city, of course. Some place that’ll show me actual stars instead of these twinkling airplane lights, you know?” you murmured, chuckling as a plane flew right above, its red lights mixing with the gray smoke and clouds before it disappeared, effectively making its point.

Tony remained silent, turning his head towards you so he could see your face, your eyes still focused on the sky, he gazed at you fondly. Admiring you for having the courage to dream of a different life so freely, something he used to be able to do but now it all seemed too far off.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Y/N?” Tony murmured, reaching his pinky finger out to entwine with yours.

“I’m just picturing you on a farm with Ms. Brain on a leash.” You smiled looking down at your hands.

“Do you think about running away from it all?”

“All the time.” Tony replied promptly, turning his body to face you as you did the same.

“What stops you from doing it then?”

As if on cue, his phone rang, disturbing the quiet of the moment. He murmured a ‘that’ under his breath before sitting up to answer it, thereby ending your little heart-to-heart.

.

It was a lovely spring morning when you awoke. Your usual wake up call was meowing his way up your bed, demanding to be fed. Once the cat had his fill, you made yourself a cup of coffee and breakfast and went about your day.

Your life out here was simple, just the way you wanted it to be. Your savings had bought you a decent sized house with a large enough backyard garden for you to grow your veggies - something you always dreamt of having. The difference was so stark, it took you a while to adjust to this new life. But eventually you did. The peace and quiet it brought you was indescribable. But that didn’t mean you didn’t miss your Avenger life. To be more specific you missed the team, mostly Tony Stark.

You felt horrible for leaving without notice, especially after finding out about the fight that took place in Germany. You often found yourself wondering how he was dealing with everything. Did he have anybody by his side? You knew the answer to that. Did he get back with Pepper Potts? You didn’t want to find out the answer to that.

As evening rolled by, you poured yourself a glass of wine and got started on dinner, hearing a sharp knocking sound on your door right after. Frowning, you wiped your hands on a napkin and went to open it. You weren’t expecting anyone.

On the other side of the door stood the man you least expected to find, and yet the same man you were hoping to find all this time.

Tony Stark.

He wasn’t the Tony Stark you recognized. No. He seemed different, and not in a good way. His face was still the same, handsome, striking and yet it lacked the usual charisma. There were several bruises decorated all over his face, some healed, others on their way but definitely promised to leave a permanent mark. Words had escaped your vocabulary as you stood there dumbfounded, until he cleared his throat.

“Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re um, you’re here.”

He gave you a nod, grateful that you stepped out of the way to let him in, still trying to process. Red Wing flew in after him, having scanned him for being a potential threat. It was a habit you couldn’t shake off, even in retirement, you were prepared for the unexpected.

“You turned Red Wing into a bellboy? You should’ve left with Dum-E, he would’ve been the perfect lawn mower.”

He made you chuckle, immediately reminding you of the Tony you had missed all these months. A part of you was relieved to see him, your heart beating with excitement now that there seemed a possibility that he was here to see you.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

He shook his head in a no, explaining he had had too much coffee before, his trembling fingers spoke for themselves. Wordlessly, you made your way towards the kitchen, putting on a kettle of water to make him a cup of chamomile tea instead.

“Will you stay for dinner? I was only just getting started.” you offered, taking his noncommittal shrug as a yes.

He seemed to be busy digesting your new home, the surroundings that now glowed under the light of the setting sun. Your cat jumped out from his hiding spot, greeting Tony by walking between his legs, rubbing his scent over him, already claiming the man as his.

“He’s never that friendly with anyone.” you pointed out, smiling a little when Tony bent down to scratch him behind his ears, causing a cat to purr in appreciation. You brought him a cup of piping hot tea which he accepted wordlessly, taking a seat on your couch where you joined him. Several moments of silence passed where you watched him blow on the hot liquid before taking a small sip.

“You left without saying goodbye to me.”

Tony’s words fell on your ears but cut right through your heart. You should’ve been prepared for this to come up.

“Would you have stopped me from going, Tony?”

“No. Probably. I–I would’ve wanted you to stay and fight back, Y/N.”

You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at the thought.

“Fight you, you mean? You know I was never going to sign those Accords. I was not going to fight by your side, Tony. You knew that.” your voice shook as you spoke, getting up from your seat and heading back to your kitchen, you put some distance between the two of you.

“Then you should’ve fought me! Anything was better than leaving unannounced, Y/N.”

His words made you turn around, his eyes shone under the candlelight, burning with embers of unanswered questions. You stood quiet, your breathing shallow now.

“Clearly I didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Is that what you think? You’re wrong, Tony. It’s because you meant the most to me, Tony. I couldn’t say goodbye to you because if I had, I wouldn’t have survived. And I couldn’t stay. So forgive me for running away, alright? I took the easiest choice at hand because the alternative was just too damn difficult.” you had a few tears strayed down your cheek by the time you finished, your heart now pounding wildly against your ears as you stood gripping the dining chair so tight your knuckles had turned white.

Tony sat still for a while, his brain comprehending your words before a hint of a smile made its way on his face, a sense of temporary relief - something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something inside of him had led him here, the longing to see your face, questions that needed answers, the loneliness he felt that only grew more and more once everything that could go wrong went wrong. And yet, as he sat here after finding you, his heart felt lighter. Like he had made the right choice in what felt like forever.

“You haven’t asked why I am here.” he murmured, turning his attention back to the cup of tea in his hands.

“Wasn’t it to donate Dum-E to be my trusted lawn mower?” you jested, taking a seat on the chair you were previously clutching.

“I found out it wasn’t a car accident that killed my parents. They were murdered. By James Buchanan Barnes.” Tony stared ahead, gripping the cup tightly in his hands as he spoke.

“Oh my God, Tony…”

“And Rogers knew. He knew, Y/N.” he whispered, the anguish and hurt in his voice evident. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The Avengers having a difference of opinion was one thing, but this piece of information was enough to cause a definitive crack, you knew that.

“It wasn’t Barnes, Tony. It was the Winter Soldier, he was being controlled.”

“They’re still dead.”

That made you understand he wasn’t looking for a logical explanation, at least not now. What he needed was comfort. Without another word, you made your way back over to the couch, placing your hand on Tony’s back to let him know you were there for him.

“I almost lost Rhodey. I saw him fall to his death from the sky, Y/N. I couldn’t make it to him in time. And now our team is scattered. Gone. All because I–”

“Because of the Accords, and a difference of opinion, Tony.” you shifted closer, placing the cup away to grab his hands in yours.

“But I signed them. I failed.” his words broke your heart, unshed tears now made their way into his eyes as he tried his best not to break down in front of you.

“Hey, it’s okay, Tony. We’ll figure it out, like we always do, right? It’s okay, come here.”

Wrapping him in a hug, you held him close to you as he broke down, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable. He held onto the light sweater you wore like you would disappear in his grasp, shoulders burdened heavy now shaking in silent tears as months, maybe years of pent up and unaddressed feelings resurfaced.

“Shh. You’re okay, Tony. Let it out, I’ve got you.” You carded your fingers through his hair softly, blinking your own tears away.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Tony. I should have been there for the team, for you. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head slightly, the movement a little difficult with his head safely tucked against your chest. After his tears subsided, you clasped his hand and led him upstairs to draw him a bath.

Tony Stark hadn’t known what it felt to have someone else care for him in a long time. He didn’t allow himself to be vulnerable the way he had now, because for the first time in forever, he knew felt safe. Safe enough to show his scars, his wounds. As you wordlessly undressed him, your eyes scanned the bruises littered across his skin, old scars and new. Your fingers traced them delicately before you nudged him to step inside the tub while you sat out. He needed this more than you at that moment.

The warm water healed his sore muscles, the ache that had settled deep within them slowly slipped out as your hands massaged the knots away. There was no way he could express how thankful he was for you in words. He chose to express it all with a kiss instead.

Right after you were done washing his hair, he held your hand to pull you closer to the edge of the tub, his gaze lowered as his face inched closer to yours.

As your lips met, you felt yourself melt against him. There was still a lot to work through but for now, you let yourself be lost in Tony Stark. All of him. You let him consume your senses. He was all that mattered.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Hmm?”

Your question seemed irrelevant, you probably guessed it had been a while since the man got a good night’s rest. Now that you were out in your backyard, lying on a soft blanket you’d brought out to watch the night sky. Tony held on to your hand, placing it right over his chest where his arc reactor once was.

Several stars twinkled in the inky black sky, a visual you had missed in the city life. You remembered the nights you laid out here alone, rethinking past choices. You were content then, but you only understood peace now. There was no one else you would rather be here with than Tony.

His heart was beating steadily against your hand, his breath calm, features relaxed. This was the Tony you knew and loved.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I found my way back to you.”

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