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1-800-kami · 8 months

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R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)

content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)

author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)

tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

everything’s been hazy.

you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.

you can’t even bring yourself to move.

so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?

why did gojo lie to you?

another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?

you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.

you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.

you think you can barely even call him gojo now.

the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.

you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.

“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”

“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”

there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.

satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”

your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.

i’ll wait an eternity for you

i’ll always choose you over anything

you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.

a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.

“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”

his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.

now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.

you didn’t come to school today.

there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.

one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.

he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.

gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.

it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls.

he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip.

however, this time was different.

this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”

he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.

maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out.

gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.

“gojo-san?”

he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“

“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“

“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”

he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”

“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.

gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.

she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”

gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”

the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”

she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”

“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”

“i’m sorry-”

“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.

“...my friend told me to record it…”

he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”

“uhm, yes.”

“so you still have the video?”

“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”

“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”

she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.

she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”

gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.

you miss him.

you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.

you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.

you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.

the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin.

you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.

“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”

your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.

“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”

you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.

he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”

he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.

the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.

..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.

holy shit.

tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.

“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”

“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”

“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?

“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”

he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too.

you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long.

you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"

“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”

gojo can’t let you go.

you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.

god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”

his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”

“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now.

he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”

“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”

his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.

everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.

“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”

“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”

“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”

he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”

“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”

and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”

“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”

“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.

he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.

satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”

“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”

“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”

gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover.

“angel, are you with me?”

“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.

when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”

“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”

“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”

you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you.

satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.

“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”

“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.

you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.

“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”

“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.

the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.

and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.

you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”

for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.

for everything that you have done to love me.

it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”

thanks for reading <3 -kami.

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kirrafoster · 5 months

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help out an interracial t4t couple?

hi i already made a post about this but it has suggestive photos of my gf to advertise her OF and not everyone is comfy reblogging that which i get.

okay you can read more in detail on the actual gfm but basically we got kicked out! this is not the first time ivy’s dad has kicked us out, but we got manipulated into staying last time. he’s trying to get us to stay again and we aren’t falling for it, so he gave us an ultimatum: be out by december 31st or stay. we obviously can’t stay in a situation this volatile so december 31st it is.

i’m a troubled teen industry survivor with really severe ptsd and i’m unable to keep a job because of the way that interacts with my autism. i deal with daily flashbacks and have frequent shutdowns and periods of speech loss. my legs are very damaged from my time in the troubled teen industry which makes walking painful for me. i know it sounds like such a sob story, im sorry.

ivy and i have decided to put both of our transitions on hold to save money to move. i’m completely out of testosterone, and she’s out of all her hormones as well. she’s working double time and i’m trying to relearn how to draw to maybe make commissions.

https://gofund.me/9c5fa6cc

TGANK YOU I LOVE YOU

EDIT: we signed a lease today and will be moving in on monday. we are pausing donations and i’ll turn reblogs off on this post and the onlyfans post! thank u all so much i love you

#yellin

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spookykoolkat · 8 months

Text

the red j.m. | chapter three

CHAPTER THREE: PROTECTON

series masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter | next chapter

pairings: older!joel miller x plus sized!younger!reader

chapter summary: it's been three weeks since you decided to stay in jackson and you realized that your hatred and irritation caused by the man who let you live under his roof may be more than just that.

warnings: age gap (joel is 57, reader is turning 26), inappropriate thoughts, creepy joel if you squint, fluff/nicer joel, and a small breakthrough with joel, MDNI!

wc: 5k

na: HELLOOOOOO omg okay here is the third chapter of the red, my new passion project that i'm currently in love with. i have so many more one shots and ideas that i'm writing, including a request i hope to finish up before next week! i hope everyone is loving this series so far and i hope that you show ur love by reblogging, sharing you thoughts in a comment and liking :P i hope u luv this just as much as i do and hope y'all look forward to more chapters to come! (and oneshots and fics and stuff LOL) ps all love to my plus size girls i love u guys.

THREE WEEKS LATER

YOU

as the days went on, you found yourself falling into the routine of the world you live in now. you decided to stay, and it’s something you hadn’t second guessed either. part of it was nice, living somewhat normally, as normal as you could given the circumstances. It almost felt like a weight off of your shoulders. you could actually get rest most nights without the threat, some nights still being nerve wracking.

it was your anxiety that kept you awake, your thoughts of depression and paranoia created a difficult defeat. It was hard. and you struggled, just not in front of anyone. your father wasn’t the best father, but one piece of advice you took from him was to never let anyone feel like they have to take care of you, always handle your issues alone because quote unquote, they’ll just throw it back in your face.

the deal was, you get a job while you take a few classes in order to take patrol routes, and the job was the local clothing store that did trades and fixer uppers. you didn’t know much about sewing or making clothes, you just remembered watching your mother sew holes back up after you skinned your knee trying to get away.

ellie attended school, doing the best to get the education she needed before deciding what her role will be in this society. yours is being a merchant apparently, but you complied. it was money, at least whatever was comparable to money, and you needed it to get your own place. living with joel and ellie was fine, but you realized it was just you and joel most of the time. ellie managed to make her own space in the garage and joel let her, helped her even. he figured it’d be nice to have two different spaces for one another.

he felt the same about you. but didn’t ever tell you of course. he figured you already had enough on your plate for him not to breathe down your neck until you leave. you saw it anyways though because joel could not help the way his face said more than he needed.

he was used to being alone, until he met tess, then he got used to having someone there and accommodated to living with another person. he hadn’t gotten used to you yet. in the kitchen wearing shorts and a long shirt as you made breakfast, for the three of you until joel would say that ellie was already gone. he would eat his plate quickly, saying a quick thank you and not saying any words as he does the dishes you just made.

you would tell him you could wash them, that he didn’t have to, but he insisted you didn’t. not with his words of course, he’d just rush to do them before you could finish your plate. you didn’t know what to make of him yet.

“i got your plate, you’re gonna be late for work,” he would say, taking your cup and plate to the sink to wash. he’d always be right though, you were going to be late on days you cooked in the mornings. but he just seemed to want to be out of your way and as far away as possible from you. you even asked tommy how to go about living with his brother.

“best advice i can give you is to just do your own thing. he won’t pay no mind to you, like livin’ with a damn cat i tell ya,” he said playfully, but something in you made you believe it wholeheartedly. he truly was like a cat. quiet, reserved, does his own thing, and takes care of himself. you figured, how hard could it be? until actually living with him. now, you’re kind of bothered by the lack of interactions. you were here, you might as well get to know the people around you but he didn’t make it that simple. you didn’t either at first, so you’re patient.

but then you got in your head. you don’t need to let anyone in, you aren’t here to make friends or share dark secrets. being here made you gain small hope, but it didn’t last once you started thinking again. there wasn’t a way for you to have people in your life and keep them safe at the same time. you realized that everything you had to fight for and protect, you failed.

but you weren’t the only one still adjusting and battling themselves. joel put up a wall between him and everyone he’s ever interacted with. it was for his safety, and now ellie’s.

sometimes he’d be surprised by you in the wide living room with a book in your hands after work. it wasn’t that rare you constantly met him in the living room after his shift was up, because by the time he was coming back home you were getting up for work. sometimes vice versa, and sometimes, very rarely, would you and joel be leaving the house at the same time. but still, after almost a month of being in joel’s presence there wasn’t more than 20 words exchanged each day.

joel didn’t bother to get to know you, he didn’t ask you about anything and didn’t even ask you about your plans to stay or not. he just didn’t want you asking questions either. plus, he figured everything he knew about you was all that he needed to know.

you would think joel would like to know who was living under his roof, but truth be told he hardly knows the people he calls neighbors. to him it wasn’t his priority to meet new people and indulge in normal life activities like watching a movie or going to the bar they hold in the town. he molded perfectly into the role he and others gave him, which was to protect and hunt. to do his part to contribute to the new making of jackson’s society. in joel’s mind, he wasn’t in jackson to make buddies and go on dates, and he wasn't prowling for anyone either.

his mind was on survival, and calculating if every decision he makes will heighten the chances of him and ellie, now you, surviving. he wasn’t interested in the get togethers people invited him to, he couldn’t care for the annual small pot luck they have in jackson, all he cared about was making sure jackson stayed safe, that all three of you stayed safe.

so, he put off making friends and love, and focused on ellie. he didn’t need anyone else knowing him and his life anymore than they already do, and he didn’t need a stranger trying to pry his deepest and darkest secrets out of him.

the thing is, you wanted to know him. even if you were still unsure of him, jackson, yourself─you could admit that he did his part in making you nervous, drawing you to something. you still had a dislike for him though. you couldn’t tell which feeling overpowered which.

jackson was bigger than you thought.. there were at least two or three subdivisions of houses, a school, a church, one bar, one clothing store, one hardware supply, and a small park that was really two swings and an aluminum slide. maria told you as she gave the tour that it took a while to build up, but with time came something amazing. something the QZ or the fireflies could never achieve, it was peaceful. everyone relied on each other, everyone trusted each other. except for three people—the three people who live under joel’s roof. that’s what the three of you bonded the most over, the fact that you all have trust issues.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

you noticed joel a lot more over the weeks. he was a grumpy man, a man who if he could, he’d get a newspaper with his coffee—straight black, and read outside on his patio as the sun rose. by himself, alone. how he wanted. and you understood of course, you know how it is to want your solitude. but, you also couldn’t help how eager you were to talk to him. surprised at every small good morning, or have a good day you get once and while from him.

he was sharp and cold with most people, offering a hand to compensate, and helping those who need it. joel realized after a while it’s better to make acquaintances rather than enemies in such a tight knit community, a community that relies on the people within. he couldn’t break that cycle, so he was friendly with those who he got to know.

you noticed how much stuff he would bring back on his patrolling days. a box full of female hygiene products, a box full of new clothes, or more ammo. you watched from the window as he looked around to see if anyone was looking, and would go to the shed he built that was in the backyard of the house. you wondered what he was doing to get all of these things, but you never brought it up to anyone.

It wasn’t your business.

you didn’t bother to pry, and to be your usual curious self and ask him about it. you knew he’d shut the conversation down before it even started, and it wasn’t worth it to you. you did make a mental note to bring it up to him eventually.

a small part of you liked him though. despite the mystery, the coldness, the selfishness, the rudeness, you actually liked joel because he reminded you of you. a small part would be an understatement. you always seemed to be looking for joel. whether it was downstairs, in ellie’s space, or in public. constantly wondering where he was, or if he was looking at you. whether you realized it now or not, his presence brought a certain comfort to you.

you volunteered in the kitchen serving dinner from time to time, and when you did you fought hard to not stare at the miller brothers walking in with ellie. but, ellie didn’t make it hard to acknowledge their presence and notice them.. joel would just nod in your direction, you’d give a small nod back and get back to making plates. you practically fought yourself to not glance over at him, just to make sure he was still sitting in his usual seat next to ellie. and when you lost, you’d look up to his seat just to see his eyes peering over his cup at you.

It was an odd dynamic that left you wanting more from him. you wanted to learn more about him when he had moments of vulnerability, which was only twice over the course of your stay.you only knew he was from austin and was a contractor before everything started. you wanted to pry more, to know him, to know what makes him smile and laugh. and if you were going to learn about joel, it wasn't going to be through ellie or tommy, or even maria.

you wanted the accomplishment of getting to finally know joel all by yourself, it seemed like a challenge to you. everyone talked, people would ask you where you stayed here in jackson when a local notices that you’re a new face and would end up looking like they saw a ghost when the words, ‘i’m a friend of tommy’s, i’m stayin’ with his brother,’ came out of your mouth. he had a reputation obviously, but you didn’t know the extent. everyone knew joel miller and the little girl, and joel knew you’d get wind of the things people have said and feel about him.

he just hoped that that’s all you got wind of.

you were so confused at this new and sudden urge to be around someone all of the time, but it’s happening with joel even if you never act on it. you weren't going to force yourself around someone just because you wanted him near.

you wanted him to be the one to break first. to talk to you first and ask about you, even act like you exist a little more than he did now. you needed him to feel this way about you, and more. you weren’t going to get hurt, and you weren’t going to let it happen by the commune’s biggest asshole.

but then you would come back to reality. you realized joel miller had absolutely zero interest in you. not as a friend, not as a person━to you, he saw you as a temporary thing. and you would remember that the feeling of close proximity to joel and knowing who he was wasn’t going to make your life easier. It was a constant battle with yourself, fighting your vulnerability and settling for being the second hard ass in jackson.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13TH, 2024.

YOU

it was late at night when joel came home from his interchanging shifts with other people in jackson. you were humming to yourself as you washed the pile of dishes that were stacked when joel walked in. with everyone trying to get settled, it was hectic. finding a new balance with being the new addition to the home, getting into a regular flow of things. so when you got home from work, you cleaned up as much as you could without moving things around even though you were desperate to. as long as you were here, this still wasn’t your house to mess with.

you stayed in places here and there, a shelter in waco, texas when your parents traveled there for safety from the QZ, a stranger’s underground hideout the first two years of it, many more people’s homes and abandoned buildings and escaping from QZ’s around the states.but you never failed to tidy things up while you stayed, you couldn’t shake it. you respected your surroundings and were grateful for the people who did extend their hand to you, even if they hurt you and made you regret not killing them.

joel walked in with a hard face and an unhappy sigh, looking towards the open kitchen and seeing you in a long sleeve shirt that’s risen on one side where your waistband carries the old walkman, your hair in a lazy put together bun—a part of him couldn’t look away if he wanted to. still trying to get used to this.

he had to be honest, he found it hard living in the same space as you. he noticed you getting a bit more hopeful these days, not looking as angry as he does every day, and talking more. not to him, but he watched from afar. always had an eye on you even when he wasn’t around. he made sure tommy looked after you, maria, he even made ellie make sure you were okay. making sure you weren’t completely out of your mind. not more than usual, at least.

he had something for you. he didn’t know if it was true, if he could be this far gone that he couldn’t stand to be around you because he wanted to take care of you in ways you would’ve never thought of? he hated that you made him feel like he wanted to protect you. he also hated the fact that you could never make him hate you.

you didn’t notice him of course, you continued to scrub and wash as he came up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder to tell you he was home, sending you to flinch and sigh. you removed your headphones and let them rest on your neck as you turn the knob of the sink.

“fuck!,” you said, putting a wet hand to your forehead as you tried to breathe in, “why are you always doin’ that? asshole.”

“watch your mouth,” he tried and you had to stifle a laugh as he plucked a beer can from the fridge and left the kitchen area to sit in the living room. it was always a little funny to see him irritated because of you, you couldn’t lie to yourself.

“bite me.” you spit, putting your headphones back on and rolling your eyes.

joel felt so wrong. your responses shouldn’t leave him wanting to hear more of your sharpness. he shouldn’t be curious as to what you sounded like when you laughed hard enough. he shouldn’t want to watch your every movement.

you were lost, confused, trying to find your way and here he was watching you like a creep from his spot on the couch. he would’ve loved to turn on a tv right now, ignore his instincts and feelings and turn into whatever show was on. all he has now is a dull radio ellie traded with the neighbors for, and he decided to put that on instead. it was a bit rare to find music, good music even.

by the time he found a soft 60s song, you were done and wiping up the area before drying your arms. you decided to grab a beer yourself, cringing at the dark bottle, and making your way to sit on the couch across from joel. he watched as you lifted the hem of your shirt to wrap around the cap of the bottle, twisting it off successfully. he couldn’t help but notice the exposed skin that was pressing into your black shorts.

“i uh, never thanked you or tommy. for saving me, bringing me here. i’m just, it’s a lot to get used to. i still don’t know if i’ll stay,” you broke the silence and took a swig of the beer, downing it quickly.

“don’t thank me, thank tommy.” he said coldly and looked at the burning wood in the fireplace against the wall. It was silent for a bit while joel’s eyes wandered from you to a nearby window, watching the snow fall. you couldn’t help but think about it, and before you knew it the words were coming out of your mouth.

“why did you want to leave me there?” you looked to him with the beer in your lap, sitting criss crossed on the couch and your fingertips tapping at the sweating beverage. he looked to you once and looked down and around, sighing.

“it ain’t personal. tommy and maria, they don’t take people in like that. it shocked me, is all. i just didn’t trust ya,” he admitted and drank his beer, getting comfortable.

“do you trust me now?” you asked and he kept his gaze on the floor. you didn’t expect a different response from him.

you kind of sat there, stilled and quietly listening to the music that comes from the radio. he doesn’t watch you anymore, he just drinks his beer until he finishes and lays there with his forearm over his eyes. a part of it feels normal, like coming home from a long day at work and cracking open a beer, going to sleep after and repeat.

“I’m trying, you know. trying to get my own place here, and work and make connections so I’ll be out of your hair.” you defended even though there was just silence. you felt bad, imposing on a man who clearly wants to be left alone. but he could be less of an asshole.

“I’m not tryna rush you out of here.” is all he says and you notice for the first time you’re actually having a conversation with joel miller. or the equivalent to a conversation.

“It feels like you don’t want me here. I’d ask tommy and maria for a room but, they’re a married couple and she looks like she’s about to pop. feels wrong to invade their space like that.” you said and drank your coldish beer, not enjoying the foam it created.

he sighs, sitting up from his slumped position and looking at you while your eyes are on the bottle in your lap. he didn’t speak immediately, so when his eyes trailed over you and your bare legs you could feel the heat from his gaze. It made you squirm a bit, your legs pressing together again as he makes your stomach flutter. you couldn’t help but look at the hand that grips his bottle.

“It ain’t that either. you’re just,” he sighed again, half lying, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows, “you’re unpredictable, is all. don’t ever know what that mind of yours is thinking, if you’re thinkin’ of hurtin’ yourself or if this is all a trap still.” he confesses and you form your lips into a straight line.

you stay silent for a moment, before meeting his gaze. “I don’t want to hurt myself, joel. or you, or ellie. I have no reason to. I just, when you found me i was alone. and i like being alone, don’t get me wrong. but it gets… scary. depressing. I mean I’ve lost everyone, i’ve killed anyone i ever loved because of those fucking things. I had no one who cared if i was alive or dead anymore, and it just got to me.”

“and i know everyone’s gone through the same thing nd more, it’s just,” you huffed and moved your eyes down to your bottle, “I’ve prided myself in being alone, that i don’t need anyone.I’ve shut everyone out and been so mean to everyone. but for what?” you asked rhetorically.

you thought about it a lot. what was the point of trying to kill everyone before they killed you first? what life are you living if you aren’t trying to make the best of it? these were questions you asked yourself daily, thinking about how many people you’ve scared off because you felt they were too good for you. too kind, too caring, everything you wanted and needed you sabotaged because in your eyes, you’d rather get the blow over sooner than later.

“your protection. and it works, it’s jus’ lonely.” he said, stealing the words from your mouth.

“It’s lonely.” you repeat after him.

for a moment, you felt yourself warming up to joel, understanding him more than you thought you would. solitude was something the two of you appreciated, but were tired of. having joel and ellie around made you feel less alone, like there were other people who understood how you felt. it’s why you liked talking to ellie so much, she reminds you of yourself when you were younger. she made you feel like maybe there was a chance to make things better for her, like joel wanted. you understood why he didn’t want to throw her in the world of being a protector at so young, she was just a kid. she deserved a chance to be just that. someone like that, someone who has fought and protected themselves and other people for so long, deserves a chance to be the ones being protected.

“where were you when it happened?” you asked, a new song coming on the radio. you figured maybe now that there was conversation happening, you could try to squeeze your way into his mind even if it’s for thirty seconds.

“bailin’ my brother out of jail. you remember?” he asked.

“yeah, i was like, playing with my dog. then it was like explosions and crashes and cars. it didn’t take my dad long to start boarding up the windows and doors. but yeah, i remember.” you said and he shook his head, wanting to say something but holding back. he paused, then spoke.

“I’m sorry about your family.” he said and you gave a tight smile, thanking him.

“I’m sure they’d be proud of you. survivin’ this long. It ain’t for the weak.” he said and that you agree on. you would’ve never made it had you been softer, or allowed yourself to be scared. you couldn’t be though. the two of you sat in silence as the static poured through the song, comfortable, together. he broke the silence first.

“I found some old cassette tapes in the house when we first got here, if you want them. ain’t got much use for em.” he said, standing up as your eyes followed him. you grew a smile, and he was watching you find joy in little things like old music.

“yeah, yeah of course.” you said and set the half empty beer bottle on the coffee table, standing and following him to where the cassette tapes presumably are. he ends up leading you upstairs, hitting left at the corner where you turned right all of the time, your doors were down the hall, directly across from each other.

“I stored em’ in case. I kept everything i found in here, never know when i’ll need it.” he said, and you smiled. he was actually being a softie right now, as soft as he’d get you supposed.

you appreciated it. more than he knew because you didn’t know how often he’d get this gentle.to a lot of people, this was just an act of kindness. but joel miller is not kind, and you wondered why he was being so nice to you all of the sudden. even if he was being snappy and short with you, he was trusting you to be in his solitary area, at least that’s the way you saw it.

he looked disarmed even though you knew he had a gun pressed into his back, and he looked comfortable. at ease, like he wasn’t expecting impending doom for once.

“It’s called being a hoarder, joel.” he narrowed his eyes on you before going into his nightstand and taking out around five tapes. Donna Summer. Beastie Boys. The Fugees. Bob Dylan. Prince.

“I love Prince.” you said with a small smile as you grabbed the tapes from him, looking through and inspecting them. you remembered your mother playing his 1999 album throughout the house when you were a small kid. It gave you a bit of nostalgia, and warmed your heart at the distant thought of your mother. It meant more to you than it meant to joel, and he could see it. joel was actually enjoying the fact that you appreciated this niche gesture for you.

“thank you, joel. I think Queen and Etta James will be grateful for a break.” you joked and the corner of his mouth tugged softly into a resistant smile. still better than no smile. joel glanced at the clock and noticed the big hand hit one, remembering how tired he was all of the sudden. or maybe more so acknowledging the fact that this is the most you and he have talked in a bit.

“you know you can ask me for anything, right? I mean, you know,” he struggled with the words but with your encouraging eyes, he had no problem continuing, “I’ll do what i can for the two of ya,” he said somewhat kindly, referring to ellie as well.

you wondered now what he truly thought of you. if he still saw you as a burden, a threat, or just someone he lives with. you also noticed he wasn’t too good at expressing his feelings, he wasn’t a visibly emotional person. maybe he really was just too desensitized to everything around him.

“I don’t want to be a bother, i’ve been okay.” you said as you held the tapes with grip.

“you don’t bother me,” he confessed, “anything you need, a’right?” he said with sure eyes, needing confirmation back from you. now you really couldn’t get a read on him. this was what sucked the most to you. you didn’t want to say it, but he was so bipolar with you. with everyone you saw him interact with, he was just short tempered and selfish. it never changed, he was mean to everyone and anyone who was near.

but with you, he just avoided you. and when he would come near, he was either angry or neutral. it was confusing to say the least, whenever the time came for the two of you to engage, it was always a surprise at which way the conversation led. It’s like you were able to get a read on him when he interacted with anyone else but yourself.

“yeah, anything.” you noticed you were more breathless than you intended to sound, so you cleared your throat, and averted his eyes.

you realized you stood in his room with a t-shirt as a dress basically, alone with the door shut. It made you nervous, and as your eyes examined the room just to fall on his bed, it made you wonder what it would feel like to be next to him as he slept. you bet it felt warm, cozy, safe. safe in his arms, held away from the world. but then you felt crazy. you don’t even know the guy and you’re thinking about sleeping with him? what happened to collectively hating joel miller?!

you didn’t notice the way he was looking at you until your eyes worked their way up to his, a small blush forming on your face as he basically caught you checking him out. but he didn’t look like he noticed, he seemed too dazed by you to notice you were even looking at him.

“I should go to bed. thank you again for these, joel.” you smiled sleepily, breaking the small silence. his gaze went back to normal, you seemingly saw the darkness in his eyes fade as his eyes locked on yours again. he looked softer.

“yeah, me too, and you’re welcome. I’ll see you in the mornin’,” he trailed off, you just nodded and awkwardly shifted out of the room, releasing a breath you were holding. you finally felt like you could breathe again, like the weight of his gaze was suffocating you.

that night you fell asleep with your headphones on, listening to Protection by Donna Summer, and thinking of joel.

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

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hi! I saw you reblog a post saying you wanted requests for a fanfic? I love your writing and I think it would be really cool if you wrote this 👉👈🥺💕 lol 💖💕 a fanfic I've always wanted to read would be a Trafalgar Law x Succubus!Reader, where the reader ate the succubus no mi but is a virgin and gets flustered easily and uses her aphrodisiac pheromones to basically order people about. but Law gets caught in it by accident during a fight and instead of listening to her orders (since he doesn't listen to people's orders, he is a Captain after all) he follows his lust and Rooms them out of the battlefield. thus causing them to both confess during the NSFW deed and ending with them both cuddling but reader is flustered and Law is embarrassed by the way he acted (but doesn't regret it lol). bonus part being the crew going "fucking finally, jfc...but couldn't they have picked a better time??" 🤣🤣

hiiiii thank u for being patient, this def was a a journey to write! i rewrote it so many times ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა but i like it! i hope you enjoy <3

4.8k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni, a lil angst, a bit of fluff if you're a professional pretender; features cute things like oral (f receiving), fingering, other stuff, etc. law is obviously battling her devil fruit to see who's the bigger menace in her life.

a mantra that was instilled in you years and years ago — one that sits on your mind all day and night — is that your devil fruit power is a curse. your mother tells you as much when she sees how easily people are captivated by you; and while you don’t always mean to, you manage to compel others with ease. her envy knows no bounds, and you develop a complex and irreparable relationship with her. because the sea is a much more accepting and freeing place, you leave home sooner than necessary; despite the grief that marinates deep inside of your mother’s polarized emotions, a small part of her refuses to let you go. but, when she remembers the fury that accompanies her jealousy, she sends you off with a few flippant and melancholic words.

you don’t initially intend on engaging in a life of piracy, but it turns out that the sea is also a terrifying and selfish beast — traveling alone isn’t exactly the smartest idea, nor has it been easy, but you do eventually make it to an island that is well-known for its trading port. maybe you’ll find refuge there.

the main part of the town is vibrant, lively, and full of tourists. the townspeople are direct and loud, but also good-natured and amiable. the weather is tolerable, a little hot, but nothing you can’t handle. you love the way the sun warms your skin, and you’re sure that the onlookers gawking at you love it too. the townspeople aren’t exactly against pirates visiting — money is money, essentially — but given the proximity of the nearest naval base, most pirates know to avoid the island if they can.

law, unfortunately, is too stubborn to care about things like that; and since the polar tang is a submarine, he takes a few precautions to avoid detection. because of his notoriety, he opts to stay on board, sending bepo and a few others onto the island to gather supplies in his stead. it’s a relatively simple mission, one he knows they’ll execute without issue, but a sinking feeling swirls around his stomach. something will happen, he’s sure of it; he just hopes it’s not something life-threatening.

you’re in the middle of shopping, the owner of the boutique bringing you various outfits to try on; she’s enthralled, overly eager, and just a tad too obvious with her attraction — you didn’t even really try, your powers just get easier to use as time goes on. it’s only after you’ve succeeded in convincing the woman to let you have the clothes for free, that you walk out of the boutique with a sly smile on your face, a few strands of hair gliding against your cheek as the wind blows. you don’t normally try to compel others for petty things like that, but you really don’t have the money to buy anything right now.

the bags weigh heavily on your arms, but you refuse to let any residual guilt rob you of your indulgences. you spot a small group of pirates, talking amongst themselves, attracting more attention than they probably mean to. you figure they’re not anyone of importance, but something tells you to stay put; it’s then that you notice the familiar insignia, that you craft a plan. it’s dangerous for you to use your powers like that, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right? you know that infiltrating a pirate crew like theirs is the best way to survive in this sort of world.

letting out a soft sigh, you walk towards them and remind yourself to channel the sultry siren your mother painted you as; it’s not a confidence issue, it’s more that you’re usually afraid someone will see through your rouse, that they’ll know you’re not as experienced as they assume you are. it never bothered you until you grew older, but you’re definitely not equipped to deal with anyone who can withstand the impossibly irresistible pheromones you intentionally emit.

it’s bepo that falls victim first, the others soon after; he’s stuttering and blushing, and you can’t help but smile sweetly at that. you’re usually the one who can’t handle the straight-forward reactions of most, even though you hide it behind a well-crafted poker face, so it’s a nice change to see it in action.

“let me join your crew,” you say softly, voice melodic, the lilt thick like honey, drizzling over them repeatedly, until they’re so enamored all they can do is say yes simultaneously.

he anticipated a small margin of error, but not to this extent.

“walk me through this again,” he says through clenched teeth, fingers pinching the space between his eyes, his anger bubbling as he leans against the wall. he tries to keep his voice steady, doing his best to stop himself from fighting each one of them for their stupidity, but it gets increasingly difficult with each passing second. his dark aura shocks them into silence, so he fixes his eyes on bepo.

“w-well, captain, i’m not really sure how it happened.” which is the truth, he doesn’t; all he remembers is feeling very light and full at the same time; a fuzzy haze slowing his reactions, which is what gave you the perfect opening. in hindsight, you do feel a little bad; the crew seems decent, more or less, and you don’t intend on staying long, nor do you intend on using your powers on them like that. but, law doesn’t believe that. he thinks you’re much more manipulative than you want to admit; why else, despite his mumbled protests, he begrudgingly agrees to you joining them.

an 80 day probationary period is in effect for you, of course. if you violate any of the rules he’s established, he’ll kick you out without question — and that will be the lightest punishment you’ll receive on board the polar tang.

you have no choice but to follow through with his ridiculousness, hating that his hawkish gaze his absolutely unbearable, your face heating painfully as you try to avoid looking his way. he thinks the demureness you’re exhibiting is an act, so he stalks over towards you, his strides careful and measured. for some reason, your brain is stuck, so you don’t move; instead your mouth parts, your words sitting at the back of your throat, unable to come up any further.

“everyone,” he says loud enough for crew members that were still in the room, “out.” without needing to be told twice, they dissipate; you curse their cowardice, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you try to convince yourself to keep it together. he’s just one person, you tell yourself, the words a fast-acting form of relief, until you remember that he’s also an incredibly strong, infamous pirate captain.

still there’s really no reason for you to cower in his presence, right?

it’s painfully obvious that you’re childish and that you’re not used to being told no; law can tell from the way you’re fluttering your lashes at him. it won’t work, it won’t work — it won’t work. it’s what he tells himself as his jaw clenches, what he keeps telling himself when he grabs your face, holding you still, forcing you to look at him. it’s not necessary, there’s no way to avoid him when he’s that close to you.

“they’re gullible idiots,” his voice is low, the words cutting into you sharply, “but i’m not. try that shit again, and you’ll live to regret it.” he lets you go quickly, as if his hand was burned from the contact — and maybe it was, since your body can’t seem to cool off. throat dry, you place your hands on your cheeks, pressing against them gently, as if you have to remind yourself that yes that just happened. if you think you’ll have an easy time being a member of his crew, you’re horribly mistaken.

law heads back to his office, fuming — slamming the metal door behind him, the noise ricocheting fiercely around the room. he’s blinded by a severe bout of irritation that stems from his inability to come to terms with the fact that he finds you attractive. he decides that the best way to deal with you, is to simply act as if you don’t affect him; he’s very good at suppressing his desires, has a talent for lying about the things he truly wants — this will be a piece of cake.

hopefully.

the first few weeks are tricky; you get used to the swing of things rather quickly, bonding with the other crew members, gaining a bit more control of your power — much to their amusement and horror — and using it against enemy pirates whenever possible. but you find that you’re finding less of a reason to stop commanding people each time. law notices this, of course, pulling you aside to remind you of what he told you when you first arrived.

you do your best to act aloof, but his presence always throws you off; every time you walk past one another or whenever he touches you like that — no matter how brief it is — you’re stuck in a confusing loop, thoughts muddled, self-preservation completely out of the window as a sickeningly sweet warmth creeps into your chest. and, because you don’t know how to deal with those complicated feelings, you spark an argument that distracts him from staring at you like that — like he’s very close to figuring you out, a lucrative goal for a man as insistent and inquisitive as him.

you don’t like that; don’t like the way he’s always stoic, rude, mean — but not necessarily in a way that causes actual distress — or the way he seems to active avoid being near you whenever possible. you almost ask if you’ve done something to offend him, but that would mean having a conversation with him alone — and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep sane, you might accidentally blurt out something weird or personal. not that it would be the first time. he always seems to bring that out in you; the compulsion to bare yourself to him, in more ways than one, grows with each interaction.

try as they might, your crew mates cannot find a way to bring you two together — it’s hilarious, wholly too obvious, that law likes you more than he can stomach. it’s why he always seems to be annoyed with you, why he has a habit of ordering you around more than he does the others, and why he absolutely cannot be in your presence for longer than a few minutes at a time. the urge to touch you, to see more of those bashful reactions — where you can’t seem to talk in complete sentences, fidget with your hands, drop things, trip over flat surfaces — they overwhelm him, so he keeps his distance.

which is harder than he originally thought. still, he perseveres, much to the chagrin of his crew; they’re tired of whatever game of cat and mouse the two of you are playing, at times wanting to lock the two of you into a room just so you can figure it out.

they never do, of course — they have a little more tact than that.

it doesn’t mean that they don’t make comments disguised as jokes whenever they can, which annoys you because you’re very certain that law isn’t into you the way you’re into him. if he was, then he wouldn’t cut you off whenever you have the upper hand in the numerous fights you have, he wouldn’t get in your face and throw you off, he wouldn’t look at you as if he was close to shoving you against a wall and—

you stop those thoughts before you get ahead of yourself like you tend to do these days, and instead focus on not fucking anything up.

but, as fate is rarely on your side when you need it to be, you make the one mistake that you promised you wouldn’t make. it’s in the middle of a battle with an enemy group that wasn’t necessarily strong, but they were persistent and outnumbered your crew. you fight as hard as you can, until you decide to put your devil fruit to work; that familiar sensation fills your body, where you feel time slow down, where you can possibly command a group of people within specific parameters. it’s meant to trip them up, to make them retreat and stop fighting altogether. you’ve been careful, but this time you overestimate, and you didn’t expect law to head in that direction, but he does.

it tickles, really, he almost doesn’t feel it; your voice rings loudly in his ears, forcing him to pause and ignore the battle. he gives you a sharp look, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, the shock on your face gives you away. a rookie mistake, you’ll realize later on.

“wait, law, i’m… fuck, i’m so sorry.” you can’t take it back, once a command is said, they’re to follow it through no matter what. you’re sure he’s ready to cut your head off, but he just keeps staring at you — with the same sort of look he gives you whenever you’re saying something you know will set him off. you don’t know if that means he’s thinking things over, or if he’s already decided your fate. not one for predictability when he’s rattled, law doesn’t actually know what possesses him, but before he knows it, he’s teleported both of you away from the battlefield. it’s irrational, whatever compelled him; and he’s pissed about it.

why are you always serving as the worst kind of distraction for him? he’s a captain of a pirate group, he doesn’t have time for distractions — and, really, he doesn’t have time for you either. yet here he is, with you in his room, on the mostly empty polar tang, completely ignoring the fact that he left his crew to fend for themselves.

he’s sure that if he doesn’t act now, he’ll fall apart at the seams; before you can ask him why, he kisses you. the question vanishes from your mouth, swallowed entirely by him as his tongue caresses yours, a feverish feeling taking hold of you as you grab onto the front of his shirt — almost as if it’s a lifeline and you’re desperate not to float away.

there are plenty of things he wants to tell you, but can’t at the moment; he’s much too invested in exploring your mouth thoroughly, in his hands roaming along your body, grabbing on your ass firmly — a move that leaves you breathless and panting. a fog hovers around you, making it nearly impossible to think rationally. you know you should slow down, probably talk things out with him. if he hadn’t come into your attack range, he wouldn’t be this affected right now.

you pull away from him, eyes widening, as you look at him half in a daze and half concerned.

“we should s-stop,” you manage to say, swallowing hard as you place your palms on his chest and give him a light push. he watches you, eyes darkening, churning with an unbridled lust that might actually take his life if he doesn’t find a way to take care of it soon. “you don’t really want me, it’s just my devil f—”

law sighs loudly, effectively cutting you off, which only makes you snap your mouth shut and glare at him. you’re so embarrassed; it’s bad enough that he only wants you because you’re devil fruit power is difficult to resist, but now he’s making it hard to talk and explain things. you feel your heart sit heavily in your chest, heartbeat loud enough to put you on edge.

“you’re mistaken, y/n,” he starts, voice low and husky, as he pushes you onto his bed roughly.

again, you’re at a loss for words; your brain attempts several times to get back on track, but law is climbing on top of the bed and hovering over you, making everything complicated and maddening. his body heat makes you want to press closer to him, but you refrain, and find the words to articulate yourself properly.

“what do you mean?”

he lets another sigh slip before chuckling darkly, a sly smile tugging on his lips as he brushes his thumb against your lip.

“your power doesn’t affect me.” his explanation is so simple, you almost don’t believe him. your face must reflect that sentiment, because he clarifies. “there’s no one who can tell me what the fuck to do without my say so.” which isn’t entirely true, but you don’t point that out, since law will only follow someone else’s command if it aligns with his own interests.

“so this whole time?” you’ve been worrying yourself to death, thinking he was in danger around you, when he was completely fine. he doesn’t answer you — and why should he? it’s not actually important. he also doesn’t want to talk, he’s pissed about a lot of things. for one, he was distracted while fighting and you’re the cause of that distraction; he took the opportunity because he knew his crew could handle themselves without issue. besides, this is a rare time where he’ll be able to have you to himself without interruption.

his mouth is on yours again, giving you a long, lingering kiss, one that sends a jolt of arousal that rapidly spreads a warmth through your body all the way down to your toes. you can’t believe it’s happening; you’ve dreamt of this moment, but you never expected it to actually come true. it’s a little less gentle and romantic than you’d like, but nonetheless you’re just as excited to be able to touch and kiss him like this.

law doesn’t bother with niceties, he yanks your clothes off impatiently and you do the same for him. limbs tangled with his, hands sifting through his hair, grabbing onto the short strands when law’s mouth makes a treacherous descent down your body. he trails kisses on various spots on your neck, your breasts, stomach — tongue licking, teeth biting, the marks a pleasant reminder of this moment that you’re sharing with him. your back arches as your soft whimpering turns into moaning once his lips ghost along the inner part of your thigh. he caresses the skin, running his tongue up higher until he reaches your pussy.

you open your mouth to tell him — that you’ve never done this before, that while you have a basic idea of the mechanics, you don’t actually know. perceptive as ever, law simply shoots you a knowing look before gliding his tongue against your slit. you shiver at his touch, stammering over your words as you softly call out his name, legs spreading to give him more room. as someone who relishes in having control over himself, situations, and the lives of others, he’s acting rather impulsively right now.

he busies himself by burying his face in between your thighs, tongue parting your moist folds, arousal trickling onto his chin. his cock stiffens and if he wasn’t so invested in eating your pussy, he’d probably be stroking himself. your hips buck up against his face, your moans getting louder when he slips his tongue inside of your tight entrance, desperately wanting to taste you even more. he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s been holding himself back for so long, or because he just wants you — or both, perhaps.

whichever it is, it’s the driving force behind him swapping his tongue for his finger; he slides one inside of you slowly, tongue flicking against your clit before circling around it slowly, his finger sliding in and out of you slowly. your plush walls squeeze around him, especially when he starts sucking on your clit; you beg him to give you more, wanting him to command your body in a way that only he can. you’re not even exactly sure of what that is, but you’re so tired of not knowing; law slips another finger inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion.

you roll your hips against his hand, a breathy moan flying out of your mouth when he picks up the pace, scissoring his fingers inside of your needy cunt, your wetness gliding down his fingers and palm. you don’t think you can feel hotter until his tongue bullies your clit again, merciless with each stroke, his wrist angling as his fingers fuck you faster. “oh…fuck, yes, please don’t stop…” you’ll beg if you have to, that’s how deep your depravity goes, apparently.

it’s when he sucks on your clit that your orgasm takes you by surprise; you cum hard, thighs and hips shaking, pussy dripping as law laps it all up. you almost want to push him away, but you know damn well that a man like law has an insatiable way about him.

and you’re right, he does.

he gives you a heated look, tongue gliding along his lips as his hand wraps around his hardened length. you look up at him through your thick lashes, breath uneven as you watch pre-cum spill out from his slit, the thick head of his cock a tempting, devilish thing that rubs against your pussy almost possessively. another shiver ripples through your body, nipples hard, a different unfamiliar ache passing between your legs.

“i don’t think you’re aware of just how much you affect me,” he says, another bout of irritation rising within him, although this one is tame and much more manageable.

you roll your eyes at him, squirm underneath his hold, but offer back a slick retort in response. “i thought you said i don’t affect you.” you wonder if he’s just been playing with you this whole time.

law nudges his tip inside of you, bit by bit, slow and tortuous, the pain barely noticeable as he plays with your nipples, his teeth tugging on them, mouth sucking forcefully — like he’d rather do nothing but taste every part of your body. “you’re not listening,” he says before thrusting into you fully, burying his length into your pussy without remorse, eyes softening briefly as he watches you. “i said that your power doesn’t affect me.”

there’s a distinction there.

you don’t know what to say, but you do feel foolish — for thinking he didn’t want you, for thinking that the only reason he could possibly want you is because you compelled him. he pulls his hips back and snaps them against yours roughly, and you moan his name over and over, until all you can think about is the way law’s thick cock fills you up, of the way your pussy fits so snugly around him — something that makes him want to fuck you until you’re both too tired to move.

“i…,” you lick your lips, voice soft, panting lightly as your hips move in tandem with his, legs wrapping around his waist, holding him closer to you, wanting him to go deeper. “i… like you. a lot.” probably more than a lot, but he doesn’t need to know that. he doesn’t know why you’re telling him that, it was obvious from the way you reacted to him kissing you that you felt the same way as he did. it might’ve taken him some time, but law’s like that — always wants to put in work to ensure that he comes to an appropriate conclusion before acting.

you rake your nails down his arms as his hips jerk against yours roughly, his pace picking up, his thrusts deeper and graceful. the way his balls slap against you, makes you burn all over again; you’re not sure if it’s out of shame because the sound is turning you on even more, or if it’s because you realize that you’ve been missing out on so much. still, you’re quite happy that it’s law you’re being intimate like this with; you’re not naive enough to believe the universe paired you together intentionally, but the idea is a comforting one.

he kisses you sloppily, groaning as he gives you open-mouthed kisses. before you know it, law pulls out and flips you onto your stomach. you’re in such a daze that you comply right away, he admires the shape of your ass, the width of your hips, the curves along the rest of your body; law drops a kiss onto the middle of your back. it’s much too intimate for his taste, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it.

after letting out a very audible moan, his voice is harsh, full of lust, when he mutters, “fuck,” under his breath, sliding his cock inside your pussy and enjoying the sweet sensation all over again. if he had to choose between fighting alongside his crew against a weak, annoying pirate group, and fucking you — he’d choose you time and time again. it’s a troubling thought, but he won’t revisit it anytime soon. for now, he’s focused solely on making sure you cum again.

leaning closer, chest barely touching you as his hips bump against your ass, burrowing his cock deeply inside of you. your hips move on their own, meeting his hasty thrusts with vigor, wanting to him to fuck you hard enough that you’ll feel it for days — and if you had more time on your hands, he probably would. but that’ll have to wait for another day. law presses a kiss against your jaw, heart thudding, making him feel uneasy, but he swallows that down and focuses on the way you’re squeezing around his cock tight enough to incapacitate a weaker man.

he whispers filthy, impractical things, like “if you keep clenching around me like that, i won’t last much longer” and, “you’re taking me so well”, and also, “your pussy is so greedy, sucking me in like that.” the last one takes you by surprise, to the point that you’re too bashful to respond, which, for some unknowable reason, strikes him as adorable. and if he was in a better state of mind, he’d retract that statement; but it hangs around his head, taunting him with each thrust of his hips, reminding him that having feelings like that is dangerous and that someone like you could compromise everything he’s worked hard for.

but, he’s tired of that sort of paranoia dictating how his life should go; he ignores those pesky thoughts and presses a kiss on your shoulder. maybe it’s because your pussy finally tapped out, or maybe it’s because that gesture alone practically incapacitates you — your heart and head full of silly notions — but another orgasm finds you, leaving you a sweaty, panting mess, voice plenty hoarse from how loud you were.

his own orgasm is close by; law gives you short, frenzied thrusts, calling out your name tenderly, making your whole body flush with awareness, pussy clenching around him again when he teeters over the edge, cumming thickly inside you. because of the forcefulness of his thrusts, you’re bucking your hips against him again, body sensitive but craving more of him. you don’t know if it’s the devil fruit, or just him but you can’t get enough. and while law would love to indulge you, he knows that the rest of the crew will be back sometime soon — and he’d rather avoid the awkward conversation that will inevitably happen when they find out.

he collapses onto the bed next to you, arm wrapping around you lazily as you press closely to him. you can barely look at him — and you don’t know what to say, either; there are too many thoughts buzzing through you, but thankfully he won’t press you for details. a sense of clarity that tends to hit post-orgasm settles inside of him, clearing some of the fog from his head. it’s with great embarrassment that he realizes he actually abandoned the crew to come fuck you; highly impractical, unethical, and plain wrong. does he regret it? no, absolutely not. but, still, he’s been with his crew for so long, they deserve much better than that. he doesn’t get much time to stew, as there’s a loud banging on his door.

assuming the worst, law quickly puts his pants on and rushes to open the door. the crew is mostly gathered outside of the room, and it’s bepo who chastises law for being rash and for not coming back sooner.

“did you lose?”

bepo shakes his head quickly, mouth opening to offer a rebuttal, but law sucks his teeth, annoyance filling his head again as he slams the door in their faces. like he said previously, a bunch of idiots. you try not to laugh, but the situation is pretty fucking funny.

unbeknownst to the both of you, your crew mates took bets on how long it would take before the two of you finally hooked up, raucous cheering further pissing law off as he makes his way back to his bed, the reality of him having to deal with them and their insufferable comments later on just makes him groan loudly.

he really does have terrible timing.

#it's finally doneee #i feel like i say that a lot; i'm such a slow writer lmaooo #fic request #one piece imagine #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law x y/n #law smut #law is a mess...i know...it's just his thing™#ottersdeservelove

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souglias · 2 years

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The Weightless Word That Anchors You To His Side [Sougo] [Kamui]

c/w: blood, injury, violence, tons of swearing, slight spoilers for Mitsuba arc

Cross-posted on ao3

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOUGO!! This is my offering to you, mister super sadist. Meanwhile, @goldenlaquer HI uh it's me the anon who asked if I could write the Kamui idea. The Kamui fic is my offering to u, thank u for feeding me so much tasty gintama content. I will not shut up about 'Who Runs The World? Sadists' and 'All The World's A Stage'. I hope this is good enough for u (and if it is can we be friends :"> okay but on a serious note, no pressure!!) Lastly, shoutout to @divinavulpes and @pen-observing for listening to me scream about how much I suffered while writing these and helping me for the Kamui fic <3

Thank u for all the likes and reblogs on my first gintama fic <3

[Sougo]

How fleeting anything beautiful is.

The maple leaves that cling onto their branches as winter starts to exhale its frost into the landscape. They all fall onto the ground at the end of autumn, no matter how much they try. When humans step on them, cracks run across their coloured bodies and are long forgotten.

His sister who was at the peak of health, yet it declined abruptly months after he left for Edo. She’s undergone countless treatments and swallowed thousands of pills. But she still left even before she had a single grey streak in her pale brown hair.

Sougo doesn’t see anything as beautiful anymore. A pair of dirt-tinted glasses he wears to view the world. Everything is shit and ugly, especially you. He makes sure he smears more mud on his dirt-tinted glasses when he looks at you.

You're just supposed to be a housekeeper who happened to take up the job opening at the Shinsengumi for the summer holiday. (Matsudaira finally decided someone needed to clean after a whole army of his men, especially with all the tamakin* lurking around.)

It's all good until Sougo bumps into you with a tray of cold soba. The soba spills all over your apron, bits of the soup staining your shirt.

With a deadpan voice, he comments, “You should keep your eyes on the path in front, mx housekeeper. Now you have to pay for another bowl of soba for me.”

You admit you weren’t paying too much attention to your surroundings and only focusing on cleaning. But the monotone of his voice ticks you off.

Pursing your lips, you attempt to be careful not to let anything too sharp out of your mouth. “I’m so sorry, I was just too focused on trying to make this place clean.”

He doesn’t break eye contact with you for a few seconds and you think he’s already going to send in a request to fire you. Instead, he holds out an open palm. You raise an eyebrow at him and it prompts him to brush his thumb against his fingertips as he mouths “money”. Scoffing under your breath, you shove your hand into your pocket and give him whatever change you have. You don’t check if it’s enough and storm off.

(It wasn't.)

Aside from cleaning, you help some of the men tidy their rooms if they request it. Your job scope does not include any of the men’s rooms because Kondo said that the men should all be responsible for their own spaces. But you don’t mind the extra work since you often finish the required tasks early.

It is all good until Sougo asks you to clean his room with a bunch of insults.

“Are you a pushover? You’re not paid to clean my room but you do it when I ask you anyway?”

You narrow your eyes at him before you turn back to wipe the shelf with a cloth. “I’m trying to be generous to a slob who has a dusty space for a room.”

He clenches his jaw because you’re right with all the layers of dust on the sliding doors and shelves.

“Generosity? Don’t kid with me, I know there won’t be any more of such shit as more time passes. You’ll laze around or leave for home early before you’re dismissed eventually.”

How wrong you prove him to be.

You help him to replace the yellowed and slightly tattered paper over his sliding door. You help Hijikata sweep up the ashes lying around in his room. You stash some different flavoured bread in Yamazaki’s cupboard so he doesn’t have to snack on anpan even on his off days. All with their permission, of course.

When they thank you in their ways, you give Sougo a look that says “how’s that, you sadistic bitch?”

Sougo snickers at you when Hijikata passes you a bowl of ramen with a mountain of mayo as thanks, filled with amusement. You force the whole bowl of ramen down your throat because you’re worried the demon vice-chief of the Shinsengumi was going to punish you for rejecting his gift.

He laughs at your face that’s gradually turning green and pokes at your queasy stomach.

(Not long later, you suppose you get the last laugh. You throw up all over him and you smirk at him while you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, albeit weakly.)

As time passes, the amount of tasks for you reduces and you’re finding it hard not to laze around. Whenever you see Sougo within your view, you wipe over the top of an already clean table a second time. The second time, you do it a little more slowly too.

When you lie in their backyard to admire the azure blue sky, Sougo’s voice bounces around the walls of your mind. Lazing around, are you?

It makes you immediately jump up to find something to do. You spit a 'tch' out of your mouth, frustrated at how you're letting a mere captain influence your actions.

Eventually, you find yourself peeking through the windows of their dojo and watching them train. You pick up a branch and try to imitate whatever you see being taught. Engrossed in your new “skill”, you forget to be on the lookout for the super sadist. The one time you forget to check if you’re within his line of sight, Sougo catches you.

“Slacking off, are you? Or are you practising some ‘special’ sword techniques to swat a fly that intrudes into our compound?”

You drop the branch, fumbling for an excuse.

“I’m already done with my work today. Besides, I could use some self-defence skills with a stick.”

He mocks you, “Please, [name]. What kind of world do you think we live in? Look, your footwork is already all wrong. You can’t just stand with your feet shoulder apart, you need to have your dominant foot forward too.”

The two of you have an impromptu session behind the dojo, him correcting your posture first. You can tell midway he decides to go spartan on you because you think he’s already asked you to swing this stupid branch 50 times. After possibly the 100th time, you start swinging the branch at him.

As he dodges your strikes, he comments, “You’re already as good as me when I was 7.”

“Is that a compliment?”

He just scoffs and tells you to think what you like to think. Right after that, he whacks your side with the wooden sword he pulls from his hip and you tumble to the ground.

(He grins as he watches you clutch your side, face contorted with pain. You swear you will defeat him one day. Perhaps you will since you start showing up to the dojo to train and you’re improving fast.)

Towards the end of summer, you start helping out in the kitchen too. On a particular day, you head out to the market to help the canteen chefs replenish their stocks. Hijikata asks you to help him get a bottle of mayonnaise from the supermarket.

A bunch of ruffians bump into you as you’re carrying bags of food back. You hear the eggs crack in one of the bags that dropped. They stare daggers at you, but you glare back at them. The guy with a red afro, who you suppose is the leader, stomps up to you. His face hovering right in front of yours.

“Hey, apologise.”

“Why? You should apologise.”

He barks out a laugh, “What a feisty kid! You wanna die or something?”

You’re about to open your mouth when a hand grabs the red afro man’s face. Whoever's behind you shoves the man away from you, causing the ruffian to pinch his nose in agony. A monotonous voice replies, “Sorry, this housekeeper is a fucking cockroach, hanging around dirty corners. I don’t think it’s a good idea to put your face so close to them.”

Sougo pulls you backwards, your back colliding with his chest. He raises his unsheathed sword and points the metal tip between the afro man’s eyes. His voice comes out low, a snarl of a vicious dog.

“Leave.”

They turn tail and run. You hop out of his grasp, fanning your burning face.

You mutter thanks as Sougo picks up the bags you’ve dropped. Sougo tilts his body towards you, his free hand cupped around his ear. “What’s that? I couldn’t hear you?”

It’s your turn to scoff and you walk forward without replying to him. On the way back, the back of your hand bumps into his way too many times.

(Sougo doesn’t see non-samurai talk back often. Maybe you’re secretly one.)

With you, Sougo forgets for a while he’s not allowed to see anything as beautiful. That’s his fatal mistake.

He only remembers he shouldn't when he sees your body leaning limply on the wall behind you, head hanging forward. It only slaps him in the face when he sees streaks of red all over your body as if the perpetrator took your body for a canvas and your blood for paint. A sickening halo of crimson starts to pool on the ground beneath you. He notices you holding a metal rod with a splotch of blood on its edge.

Sougo hears swords being unsheathed behind him. He immediately identifies them as remnants of a malicious yakuza that the Shinsengumi attempted to wipe out months ago. They start making threats that Sougo knows are empty. He makes easy work of them, unaware of the beast that his enemies see in his eyes. As he cuts them down, he notices that one of the opponents already has a bleeding wound on his head.

An amused laugh spills out of his lips.

The moment the last opponent falls to their knees, he rushes to your side. Your pulse is weak and your breathing is shallow. His breathing starts becoming erratic. He pulls out his phone. It's out of battery.

He peels off his jacket and drapes it around you. Following that, he lifts you up his back. He ignores the cuts and gashes that cry out with agony when he stands up. He piggy-backs you out of the abandoned warehouse and towards the nearest hospital.

Fuck this shit, he should have made sure his metaphorical shit-filled glasses rested securely on the bridge of his nose. Hell, he should have gotten goggles instead.

Anything mesmerising isn’t for him to keep.

His white shirt feels paper-thin today. He feels the fabric with your blood plaster onto his back.

He curses under his breath, “For fucks sake, [name]. You’re supposed to be a cockroach. If a meteorite didn’t wipe you out, this wouldn’t kill you.”

Sougo thinks he heard a weak hum in your chest.

“Stay with me, idiot. This is an order from the Captain of the 1st Division of the Shinsengumi.”

(You’re not even one of his men.)

Even with your face right beside his ear, he strains to hear your inhales and exhales. It’s hard to hear with his feet that drag themselves across the concrete.

“Is it that hard for you to stay? Did you have a death wish you told no one about?”

Unconsciously, he grits his teeth. Why did his phone have to run out of battery right at this crucial time? He should have charged it this morning. It’s your fault. It’s always because you charge it for him but you weren’t there to charge it this morning.

He feels like he’s clutching his sister’s hand beside her death bed again.

“Stay.”

It comes out like a whimper of an abandoned puppy. He hates how pathetic he sounds, but it doesn’t matter anymore. There’s no one left to listen to him. You’re slowly moving further from his grasp.

“I will.”

Your words almost get carried away by the wind. There’s a sudden push in the muscles of his legs and every part of him goes into overdrive.

He makes it to the hospital in time. You almost don’t make it, but you make it. By your bedside, his hands wish to hold yours. But there’s no urgency, no desperation for him to clutch onto your hand like he’s trying to keep your life in his grasp.

After that, he makes sure he puts on a pair of dirt-smeared glasses.

(Sometimes, when he’s feeling less of a coward, he’ll look at you through the gaps between the smears. Sometimes, he’ll remember you’re a cockroach and that you’ll show up yourself on the surface of his glasses.)

[Kamui]

Ever since you were kids, you have done everything for Kamui. Silently. So when he asked you to join the Harusame with him, you followed him without asking for anything in return.

There were many instances where you regretted joining the Harusame. But you’re thankful that you’re no longer looking out for Kamui alone. Housen mentored Kamui and you’re glad there’s someone much stronger than you he could approach. While you belong to the Yato clan too, you think (and deep down you know) that you’re no longer able to keep up with his strength. You stop sparring with him because a part of you screams that he’s going to toss you out of his squad for potentially losing to him. Due to there being other matters concerning Kamui that you have to attend to, you’re grateful that Abuto is there to clean up Kamui’s mess when you can’t.

You’re aware he has no interest in romance and he’s unlikely to ever look at you the same way you look at him. (And you look at him silently for it.) Even so, you think you can stay with him forever, status quo. It’s not as if you could find guys elsewhere because once you’re in the Harusame, there’s no way out. You can’t imagine being with all the other cluck-faced amantos in the Harusame either.

But it gives you some solace that he cares about you in some way. In the middle of wolfing down his meals, he’d stop abruptly and ask you if you’d like a bit of something he thought tasted good. He’d pull a piece of lint that’s clinging onto your hair. He even once brought back a squashed piece of manju (a poor bystander that suffered collateral damage from one of his fights) when you stayed behind to watch the ship during his visit to Yoshiwara.

He gave you the umbrella you use in fights now. He also gave you your first-ever umbrella.

You still keep it because he gave it to you. You still keep it because it was his first umbrella too. Now, it stands in the corner of your room, beside the much larger one you use now.

“Hey, why are you walking in the rain on your own?”

You sniffle, watching the vermillion-haired boy’s reflection from the puddles beneath you.

“I don’t have one. My parents left me and I have to keep my money for food.”

“Where did your parents go?”

You don’t answer him and you pick up your pace discreetly. He keeps up and continues to pester you, even making an off-handed comment on how rude you were to ignore him.

You keep your eyes fixed on the ground, unsure what the fuck is this kid’s problem. The adults barely even bat an eyelash at you when you needed them and this kid just tries to barge in to find out more about you.

Suddenly, the rain stops. No wait, it didn’t. You still see ripples on the puddles ahead of you and the sound of droplets hitting the ground. You look up to see Kamui stand close next to you, tilting the umbrella to favour your side.

“You can have mine then. But in return, you have to be my friend. Makes up for not answering my questions too.”

When you reach your door, he shoves the umbrella handle into your hand and sprints off into the downpour.

A few days later, he comes back to your place with a slight cough. He comes back again the next day. And the next…

The problem you have is that no one seems to be able to reign in his lust for battle. He doesn’t care for you enough to do that. He probably cares the same way a group member would care about another useful group member in the project.

(He still asks you why you keep that worn umbrella, especially when you’re no longer using it. You don’t tell him it’s the only gift from him that came from him when strength was not all that was in his head. It’s a gift from the Kamui who had space for both you and his ambitions in his heart.)

Abuto says that you’re their best bet in persuading him to learn how to pull the brakes, but you haven’t so far. It makes you want to launch yourself into space and run away from this godforsaken crime syndicate. When he returns to you with blood-soaked sleeves, you don’t know how much longer the dam of your tears will hold. You pray with your entire being, to whoever’s still listening to you, that they're all blood shed by the enemy before he undresses for you to treat him. You pray in silence.

Of course, some of it is blood shed by the enemy. But the bloom of red on one side of his shoulder is a gunshot with a bullet you have to pull out before it closes at godspeed. A crimson river flows down his forearm and you have to stitch his skin up.

Even after umpteen times, you still feel the heat in your cheeks when you examine his toned and refined body. But the cuts and splatters of dirty blood make your worry curl its witch-like fingers around your windpipe, making you forget about how he's shirtless.

Kamui says there’s no real need to patch him up. But even if he’s not hurting, you are. The Yato are meant to fight, but you wish for once, he’d stop throwing himself into battles as if nobody values his life.

You lock up all your lamenting and tuck it in the deepest corner of your mind. It’s not like he’ll value what you say to him. You continue to stick by his side as if there’s super glue between you two.

But even with time, super glue can be worn down. You feel something in your heart snap when he walks into your room with the head of a spear lodged in his back that he couldn’t pull out. That dumb smile still on his face. What the hell are his subordinates doing letting him walk around without removing it?

Ever since you were kids, you did everything for Kamui silently. You give him the last piece of manju you wanted for yourself without protest. You bandage up his cut-littered arms, holding back your tears when you think about the bullies so he wouldn’t hear your sobs. You spar with him after a long day, biting back whimpers when his wooden rod grazes against your skin.

But this time you tell him to fuck off. The smile on his face falls a little. In Kamui’s mind, you never swear. You make it a rule not to look at him until you’re out of his sight.

“You having a bad day?”

You ignore him, grabbing your shawl and draping it over your shoulders. He’s standing in the middle of the door, blocking your way. You shove him off with your shoulder and see him flinch at the corner of your eye. You dig your nails into your palm.

Kamui grabs your wrist with an iron grip.

“Where are you going?”

You try to pry your wrist out, but his grip tightens.

“I’m leaving the Harusame.”

There’s no delay in his question. “Why?”

“I’m done with you.”

Kamui clenches his jaw, trying to keep that grin plastered on his face. He tastes metal on his tongue. Your fingers find their way to your shirt and you crumple a portion in your fists. He chuckles with his mouth closed, the forced laugh thrumming about haphazardly in his chest. Instead of relieving the tension, he feels the echoes of his laugh suffocate him.

“Fight me. If you win, I’ll let you go.”

As you try to take a step forward, he jokes with a feigned spring in his voice, “It’s an order by the way. Can you believe I’m using my authority right now?”

You bite your lip to push down the lump in your throat, but the tears come flowing out anyway. He’s always talking about how your potential is wasted. You’re leaving and this is probably all he’s thinking about. Make full use of [name] before they go.

“Go ahead and kill me then. I’m done. I’m fucking done watching you waste yourself away on the battlefield. I’m done feeling like I’m the one who got stabbed when it’s you.”

You start to choke on your words and sob. In between sobs, you scream, “I’m sick of wondering when you’ll stop showing up to get yourself patched up.”

You heave and exhale, the frustration rendering you unable to form words for a while.

“I joined you because you asked, but you don’t even care about me because you can’t do the basic thing of taking care of yourself.”

(Oh, how he means the world to you, too. But you’re probably just a pawn in his whole scheme of getting strong. Silence still follows you here because you zip your mouth when the thought pops in your mind. Maybe silence is a curse because you wish you dared to say that.)

When you regain your composure, you say, “I’ll get executed by the Harusame for leaving anyway, so you can have the honour of killing me in a spar before they do.”

You think your bones are on the verge of cracking like your heart.

“You’re being fucking unfair, Kamui. Let go. I’ll fight you, that’s what you want, right?”

It’s one of the rare times Kamui stays silent. Should you be grateful you’ve witnessed him shut his mouth before your death or should you desire him to answer you? You throw your fist towards his face. He stops it with his palm, a loud boom reverberating.

“Stay.”

The word drops out of his mouth like a pin falling off a table. You almost miss it with the noise and the whirring of the engine that kept you up for many nights when you first joined. You almost miss it with how raspy his voice is. The word clinks against the ground and its echoes roar over the machinery in your ears. It holds your feet down like a boulder that you can’t kick off or lift. Unconsciously, his grip on your wrist loosens.

The other hand that blocked your fist holds onto your shoulder. His touch is still rough as if it only knows how to make someone keel over, but you can feel him hold his strength back.

You mutter, “How do you expect me to stay in this shithole when you don’t make it any better?”

You hear Kamui inhale as if he’s about to say something, but stops as he chokes on his words. He falls to the ground on his knees. You crouch down to his level and look him in the eye.

Whatever light that was left in his eyes is snuffed out. He’s dropped the pretentious smile he always wears and in its place, a bittersweet curl of his lips.

“You’re the only one left to protect.”

You don’t move for a moment, your mouth slightly parted.

The man in front of you is no longer the bloodthirsty captain of the 7th division. He’s the boy who sat by your side after yet another heavy downpour. The same boy staring into the distance (not even the horizon but instead into another rundown building) with dejected eyes, telling you he wishes he could have protected his sister from the bullies.

You slide your wrist out of his grip and he abruptly looks up, expecting you to walk away from him. Instead, you embrace him in a hug.

You whisper, “Will everything end when you reach the top of the world?”

Kamui’s arms circle your body tentatively. After much hesitation, his palm rests on your back while his arms go lax. He only nods, but it’s timid. You hover your fingers over his wounds on the back, over the wound with the spear.

“And when will that be?”

He doesn’t have an answer for you. He thinks of a couple of answers. When you guys rise to the top of the Harusame? When he defeats that silver-haired samurai down on Earth?

He doesn’t answer you.

Maybe you’re asking too much from him all at once. After all, you’ve never asked anything much from him before.

“Pick your fights, will you? The ones that are just slightly more challenging. This is the last time I’m pulling a spear out of your body.”

#okita sougo x reader #okita sougo imagines #kamui x reader #kamui imagines #okita sougo #kamui #gintama kamui #gintama x reader #gintama imagines #gintama writing #gintama #souglia.s #I cannot believe I wrote 2k for each of them #the word count was so unplanned #going to pass out for 12 hours now #and then try to do a single person party for sougo when I wake up

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ghostiiess · 6 months

Text

[NSB HEADCANONS] - traveling with him!

pov: you traveling with kane to japan :)

warnings: none

type: wholesome

member: kane ratan from nsb

REBLOGS AND LIKES ARE VERY APPRECIATED!

I’m sorry if i made any mistakes :’) im tired lol

This man would be soooo excited!!

« Y/N!! WE’RE GOING TO JAPAN, LETS GOOOO!! »

(More under the cut!)

All the sushi, all the beautiful stores, all the animes, the culture… ITS SO BEAUTIFUL

I don’t blame him for getting excited for this travelling…

I don’t think it’s his first time getting on plane, so i think he wouldn’t be that stressed or nervous about taking it? Idk?

For this headcanon, let’s say he isn’t, okay? Because i genuinely don’t know if he like taking the planes or not 😭

So, you guys were waiting at the airport

He would talk to you times to times while playing games on his phone or texting the members (yes bc u r travelling with him alone in this hc)

He would share his AirPods with you and play soft anime music to calm you down if you’re scared of taking the plane or something like that

He would be sooo comforting

This headcanon isn’t about comforting you if you’re scared to take the plane, but just know this man would be such a comfort :(

You know in plane, we can bring a bag (carry-on), so i think Kane would be the type to put a lot of stuff in it 😭

Like candies or bottle of water haha

He would even bring an hoodie for you if you’re cold

We all deserve a Kane in our life 🫶🏻

He would give you words of affirmations like « hey, you got this! » or « i am here with you, everything’s going to be okay »

He would give you chewing gum so your ears do not hurt when the plane is taking off (it doesn’t really hurt, it’s just not fun)

Ofc, if you are not scared the plane, just know this man would still hold your hand

« I’m not scared?!! I juste want to hold your hand!! »

Hungry? This man would be like « here’s the plane menu »

And don’t ever think to use your money

This man will not accept that

« I can pay! »

« I know you can too, but i want to pay »

« Let me pay!!! It’s my treat, alright? »

Btw, just so you know, you are taking the first class

You know the one where you can have intimate cabin (no, it won’t turn into 18+, dw), more fancier drinks and food, wifi…

Well, he would book this one for you!!

« You had to try that at least one time in your life, baby »

This man loves to spoil you, what can i say?

He would literally do an anime night (more like anime flight lol) with you ON THE PLANE

And he would also make you teach Japanese if you’re not fluent or something like that

« Your prononciation is perfect! »

« Do you know how to say ‘thank you’ in Japanese? »

Taking plane with Kane would be amazing

And really fun!!

No because his taste in anime is already so good, his presence is so fun and he’s like so funny and so cool, like what do you want more?

It’s the perfect trip 😎

Please, enjoy this trip to the fullest, this man loves you very much and always want to see you smile and laugh!

Taglist! (Open! Send an ask if you’d like to be in it!) : @nsb-rkive @kentisbaby @firebenderwolf @hyuneee0 @yawnzzznnn @ghostyycat7

Bold can’t be tagged.

#ghostiiess #nsb #northstarboys #north star boys #headcanon #headcanons #nsbheadcanons #nsb x female reader #nsb x reader #northstarboys x reader #northstarboys x you #nsb x you #kane ratan #kaneratan #please reblog #reblogs really help

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andydrysdalerogers · 6 months

Text

Sliding Into Home ~ Oh Captain! My Captain!

Pairing: MLB!Frank Adler x Abigail Hernandez (OFC)

Synopsis:

After a trade from Boston to Los Angeles, first baseman Frank Adler would seem to have it all. Money, women, an amazing niece, yes Frank should have it all. Except for one thing. One thing that left after a mistake five years ago. Los Angeles should be the chance to start over. Except she is supposed to be in Boston. Not his new medical director.

* A Frank Adler AU x Major League Baseball Story**

Warning: ANGST (i can't stress this enough), second chances, cheating, S~M~U~T!!, slow burn, drug use, abandonment issues, betrayal, domestic violence (i may have missed some), flashbacks

Dividers by me

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: The One With The World Series

Sliding Into Home Master List Main Masterlist

The bus ride from Camden Yards to the hotel is a quiet one. Frank sat next to Johnny, who was almost deathly still. He never said a word as he walked off, the Boston players running onto the field. The locker room was quiet, showers and dressing done without a word to each other. They gathered their belongings, made sure the uniforms were placed in the bins for the support staff to clean and walked onto the bus.

The Dodgers manager, Dave Roberts, walked to the front after the team had pulled into the hotel. “Men, we’ll have a debrief in the morning. This is just how the game goes. I don’t blame anyone, and you shouldn’t either. They just had magic tonight. Get some sleep. We’ll meet at 9 AM and the flight is at noon.”

Dave patted each player as they exited. Their families were waiting for them, lined in their gear, solemn and quiet. Frank sees Abby and Katie standing together, Mary in Scott’s arms, Marco wrapped around Susie. Frank blocks Johnny’s exit, allowing the rest of the team to exit. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Torch, Turner is a beast at bat. There was a 50/50 chance he was going to connect. It could have been anyone.”

“But it was me. I let the team down, the city down, fuck, even my girlfriend and family.”

“Johnny, no one is going to see it that way.”

Johnny leaned back against his seat. “I knew going for my heater was a bad idea. But he missed it the first time. “

“You can’t beat yourself up with what ifs. Let’s get you to your girl and she can give you sympathy sex. It's better than victory sex sometimes.” Frank got up and got off the bus.

“Hey Frank,” he turned back to Johnny. “Thanks.”

“It’s what best friends are for.” Frank climbed down and Mary immediately ran into his arms. He held her tight as he felt her cry a little bit. “You ok Nugget?”

Mary leaned back. “Shouldn't I be asking you that?”

Frank shrugged. “Probably but I think he needs this hug more than me.” He looked back at Johnny who was just now getting off the bus. Mary ran to him and jumped up for a hug. Johnny’s reaction time was quick as he dropped his bag in time to catch her. Frank walked over to Abby and Katie.

“Is he ok?” Katie’s lower lip trembled.

“He’ll be ok. Just needs some time and a few hugs.” Frank kissed her cheek. “Take care of him.”

She nodded and walked over to Johnny and Mary. Frank turned back to his wife. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring the trophy home like i promised.”

Abby shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to make it up to me another way.” She reached up on her tiptoes. “I am so unbelievably proud of you Frank Adler. You played your best and that’s all that matters.” She kissed him softly as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Can I take you to bed Cricket? Lose myself inside you?”

She gave him a soft smile. “Always Frankie.”

After greeting everyone else and heading up to the rooms, Frank watched his wife get ready for bed. She carefully brushed out her hair and removed her jewelry before taking off the jersey with his name on the back. She stripped out of the leggings and was just in her bra and panties. He could see that she was studying herself in the mirror when Frank saw it. He got up and walked behind her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” She looked back at him confused.

“Oh sweetheart.” He placed his warm hands around her middle. Framing the slight swell of her belly. “Here is our baby.”

Abby stared at the mirror. The belly wasn’t there this morning. “It’s our baby.”

“I don’t care that I lost. I won everything I ever wanted.” He moved her hair to the side so he could kiss her neck. He let his fingers skate over his sensitive skin as he kissed and licked the spot behind her ear. “You are the most beautiful woman. Strong and amazing, growing my baby.” He dipped his hand inside her panties, eliciting a moan from his wife. “Shh, Cricket. Hmm, so wet love.”

“Frankie, please don’t tease,” Abby whimpered.

He let his finger slip in and moved slowly back and forth, listening to his wife mewl at the sensations. “Do you still love me even if I didn’t win?”

“Of course...shit... fuck,” Abby stuttered as Frank added another finger. She gripped his forearms to keep from falling. He was wrecking her, a little at a time.

“C’mon Cricket, use your words,” Frank gently taunted. “Be a good girl for me.”

“I love you, Frankie,” she breathed out. “So proud of you making it this far.”

“Good girl,” he whispered in her ear as he pressed down on her sensitive clit. Abby almost doubled over but Frank held her to his chest.

“Frankie, please,” she begged. He scooped her up and placed her on the bed. He undid the bra and threw it across the room. He pulled down her panties and held them to his nose, inhaling the scent. Abby almost cummed at the motion and let out a whimper.

“What should it be Cricket? Should I taste you first or should I just fuck you until you can’t walk anymore?” Frank slotted in between her legs, his erection straining in his boxer briefs.

“I... I...”

“Ok then,” Frank sighed. He stood up and removed his boxers, his cock bobbing up. “Dealer’s choice it is.” He climbs next to Abby and turned her to the side. He lifted her leg to curl around his hip to open her. “I don’t want to hurt Peanut, but I also don’t want to take you hard Cricket,” he told her gently. He gripped his cock and teased between her legs, notching at her clit.

“Frankie, I can’t... please.”

“Anything for you Cricket.” He slid slowly, stretching her open slowly. From this angle, she could feel everything and her back bowed. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her close. “Talk to me Cricket.”

“So deep Frankie, I can feel you everywhere.”

“God, you feel so good Cricket. My beautiful girl.” He rocked his hips, sliding in and out. He took his time, skating his fingers over her skin, gently pinching her nipples. Her breathing changed and he knew she was getting close. “Ready to come for me Cricket?” She nodded against his chest. “Come baby, you know that my good girl always goes first.”

Frank lowered a hand to her clit and rubbed gently. The sensations were like lighting up her body.

“Frankie,” she cried as her head tossed back onto his chest and the world imploded, blinding her in white light.

‘Fuck Cricket, so tight, so good, fuck,’ as he followed her into space, losing himself in the stars he sees in his eyes. He slowed, and stopped, staying inside her. He could feel water land on his arm. ‘Cricket?’

‘I’m sorry, Frankie. I just... I wish you had won and,’ she sucked in a breath, ‘and you were happy and then we did this and it feels so good and I don’t deserve you and...”

“Whoa, baby, stop.” Frank gently slipped out and turned Abby to face him. “Cricket, its one World Series. Hopefully there will be others.” He wiped the tears falling. “My Cricket, the hormones getting to you?” She nodded and he chuckled. “Everything is going to be ok. Sleep sweetheart.” He adjusted her so she slept on his chest. He loved that she was so passionate about his career. But now is time for him to focus on her and Peanut.

Six weeks later...

Frank ran into the clinic, running late from an endorsement meeting. “Hi, sorry, I’m looking for Abigail Adler?”

“We just took her back. Follow me,” a nurse said, buzzing him through the door. Frank pulled off his coat, the beginning of December bringing a cold front in. The nurse knocked and waited for acknowledgement before opening the door. Sitting on the exam table was a very unhappy, pregnant Abby with her arms crossed.

“Cricket, I am so sorry.” Frank went to her side. “The meeting ran long and then I got caught in the school traffic and I'm sorry.”

“I told you I could have rescheduled to avoid this, Frankie." Abby huffed as she turned her head away from him.

“I know Cricket. But you were so excited to see the baby and find out the gender and everything and I didn’t want you to miss it.” Frank uses his finger to make Abby look at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you excited?” she asked in a small voice

“Are you kidding?” Frank kissed her nose. “Steve said I was giving off excited vibrations today and it was driving him nuts.”

“Hello, hello,” the doctor came in. “Mr. And Dr. Adler, nice to see you again.”

“Hey Dr. Montgomery,” Frank said. “How’s it going?”

“Busy, as always but I know we are excited today to see, what was it you called your baby again Frank?”

“Look, that is not my best moment,” Frank said. “We call baby Peanut now.”

Dr. Montgomery and Abby laughed as Frank blushed slightly. “Well, let’s take a look at Peanut. Abby, shirt under your breast and pants slightly down. This will be cold.” She squirted some gel and grabbed the wand. “Do we want to know the gender?”

“We do. We have our last team dinner of the year tonight,” Frank said. Gonna do a gender reveal.”

“Sounds fun. Is someone planning the surprise for you?”

“Yeah, Susie and Katie are waiting for us to hand it over,” Abby explained.

“Alright so no pronouns.” Dr. Montgomery moved the wand around. “Well, here is Peanut,” she said. “Just taking some measurements but they are looking perfect. Right size and weight for 21 weeks. Here is their head and it looks like they are sucking on a thumb.”

Frank and Abby grinned at each other as Dr. Montgomery flipped on the audio. Their baby’s heart beat was loud and rapid. “Whoa,” Frank said. “I’m still not used to that. It's so fast.”

“Yeah, in the womb, the baby's heart is pumping so fast because the blood circulates quickly,” Dr. Montgomery explains. “But everything looks good. Abby, your weight is good, and your levels are great. I’ll print some pictures for you and put the gender into an envelope.” She handed a towel to Abby. “I want to see you in four weeks.”

“Thanks Doc,” Frank said.

“I was sorry to see you lose the World Series Frank, but I know, next year is our year.” She patted his back. “See you guys later.”

Frank took Abby’s hand, and they picked up the envelope and pictures. “Peanut is cute, just like their mama.”

“Shut up Frankie,” she replied with a smile. “Ready for the dinner?”

“Yeah, Phelps and Roberts said they have a couple of year end announcements and then just the dinner.”

“Well, I have to head back to the office,” Abby said. “I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah, Nugget and I are gonna work on the nursery. Scott said they delivered the crib and dresser.”

“What color?”

“What part of surprise did you not understand Cricket?” A couple of weeks after the season ended, Frank asked Abby if he could decorate and set up the nursery. He had promised that it would be gender neutral.

Abby pouted. “Fine. I love you.”

“Love you too Cricket.”

A couple of hours later, Frank was getting Mary ready to go when he called up the stairs. “Cricket! We’re gonna be late!”

“Patience is a virtue,” she called back down.

“Not right now, it isn’t.”

“Alright, alright!” She walked down the stairs and Frank stopped. You know that saying that women glow when they are pregnant? Frank understood that saying now. Abby glowed as she walked toward in a cream colored sweater dress and brown boots. Her bump was on display, her hair was in her curls and just held back with a cream headband.

“Wow,” Frank breathed. “Cricket, you look beautiful.”

Abby blushed. “Thanks Frankie.” He helped her into her coat, and they headed to the restaurant.

The dinner was fun, the last time the team would together until spring training. Some may leave and some retire. As desert was being prepared, Todd Phelps and Dave Roberts stood in the middle of the room. It falls silent as Todd raises his hand.

“Alright team, it was a heartbreaking end to the season. But it has been one of the best seasons the Dodgers have ever had.” Applause breaks out around the room. “Not only did we have two Golden Glove winners in Storm and Betts, we also have our league MVP and golden Glove winner, Frank Adler.” More applause and cheers for Frank, who flushed from the attention.

“We are so proud of this team,” Dave continued. “We know that there may be some changes that could happen. But there are a couple of things we are certain off, our captains for next year. We have four men that we are bestowing this honor to. Mookie Betts, Will Smith, Johnny Storm and Frank Adler.”

Frank sat stunned as Mary jumped in his lap and Abby kissed his cheek. Johnny looked blankly as Katie cheered and hugged him.

“Johnny,” Dave says, “I know you think the loss was your fault, but it wasn’t. Management does not blame you, the team doesn’t blame you. You have been a professional, sitting through media, taking blame that wasn’t yours. That’s the kind of leadership we are looking for in our organization and the perfect example we want to set.”

The team cheered and congratulated their new captains as Katie and Susie set up the gender reveal. Katie whistled to get everyone’s attention again. “We have one more surprise to finish. Mr. And Mrs. Alder, Miss Mary, we need you up here.” The family moved to the front. An elaborate box was set up with a string to open it. “On the count of three, pull the string and we’ll find out if we a boy or a girl joining our Dodger family. Ready?”

The whole room joined the count down.

“THREE!”

“TWO!”

“ONE!”

Oh, you thought I wouldn't give one more cliffhanger? See you for the finale!

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

Gross | Sierra Six x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: can i get an order of uhhhh six x m!reader with a side of uhhhh

"You are so motherfucking fine"

i hAVE MORE BUT THANK U

summary: Six finally has some time to put aside to be with the people that actually matter in his life.

tws: swearing

word count: 640

Six was taking a little time off, he had stopped working for a while so that he could spend time with those who mattered most; Claire, his little sister - and you, his boyfriend. He needed to relax, to have some time to himself and to actually be present, and to just forget about everything else for a while; he had brought home enough money that a little break wasn’t going to put much of a dent in things, at least.

So here he was, looking at Claire’s phone as she showed him video after video; most of them didn’t make much sense, ones of dogs with silly filters or doing stupid things, but others made him smile - like the ones of snakes partaking in natural behaviours while some funny audio played with it. He looked up when you came in, though, holding a bag of shopping and smiling at them both.

“(Y/n), you won’t believe this!” Claire all but shouted as she chased you into the kitchen, bouncing on her heels while you started to put the shopping away.

You looked down at her, tilting your head to the side as you raised a brow. “What won’t I believe?”

“I got Six to smile!” She was so proud, but also highly amused as she gave you a smug look. “I actually got him to smile!”

You tried not to laugh, shaking your head as you bent down to put the beans and peas in the cupboard. “How’d you manage that?”

“She showed me some videos of snakes,” Six grumbled, taking out the fridge stuff and putting it away.

You shot him a look, taking a couple of seconds to admire him; baggy grey jogging bottoms, soft black hoodie that he stole from you, his hair a mess and a couple of grey hairs starting to become visible in his beard.

Claire tapped your arm, making you jump a little before she spoke up, “why are you looking at Six like that?”

“‘Cause he looks like a dick,” you joked, which she seemed happy enough with as she wandered off with her phone to go and sit back down. You heard music not long after and shook your head, putting away the rest of the shopping.

You could feel Six watching you when you bent over to put some of it in one of the cupboards, which made you smile until he came up behind you and grabbed your waist. He waited until you stood upright, a little smile on his lips, and when you turned around, he gently pressed his forehead to yours.

“You are so motherfucking fine,” you muttered, cupping his face with both hands and pushing him back just enough so that you could kiss him.

It was gentle, and sweet, soft and tender as he leaned into you with every little touch, smiling when you grinned against his lips upon pulling away, only to bring him back in for a second round; it was always the little moments that made it for you and Six, even if it was just a couple of little kisses in the kitchen while he was off of work. Even if it was the first proper kiss you had shared for months.

Neither of you heard Claire walk in, not until she very loudly aired her disgust. “You guys are so gross!”

You laughed, pressing your forehead into Six’s shoulder as you clung onto his hoodie, letting him put his hand between your shoulder blades as he grinned and shook his head.

“We’re allowed to have a little boyfriend time, Claire.”

“We eat here, though,” she shook her head, frowning. “Can’t you guys be gross somewhere else?”

“In a minute,” you told her with a broad grin and a soft laugh. “We’ll go be gross somewhere else in a minute, alright?”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it.

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spookysmujer · 2 years

Text

Home, O. Diaz

Summary: A timeline on how you and Oscar started your family. From when you were able to leave Freeridge to welcoming your first born.

warnings: mentions of violence, protective!Oscar, c u t e shet 🥺

word count: 1.2K

a/n: Damn, 3 fics in one day? Tryna give y’all content! All I wanted to see for our favorite santo was a happily ever after, TJY for fanfic! I still refuse to acknowledge szn 4. Can’t convince me any of it happenend 👀 SEND IN REQUESTS! As always: follow, heart, comment, reblog, turn on notifs! thank you babes!

anonymously requested!

(gif belongs to @van-eck ✨)

There are piles of boxes, both opened and unopened, that lay around in your new home. Far away from Freeridge and its endless trouble. You sigh with content as you look around at the space that is yours. Your eyes close for a moment to send a silent prayer of thanks for having made it here.

A pair of hands on your hips make you jump but you ease as Oscar’s breathy laugh is felt on your neck, “You okay, mamas?”

“More than okay.” You enjoy his embrace before turning to face him. His once bald head now flourishes with dark curls. A fitting change for a new hope. You were excited to see what this new endeavor could bring you.

You had anticipated hardships with the new adventure together. It isn’t exactly easier to find work with a felony. Oscar struggled for a bit but eventually landed a job at a diner. Though you both saved enough money to hold you over for a couple of months, he wanted to get settled sooner than later.

Oscar wanted to give you a chance to try college like you’ve always wanted. You got to attend part time as you picked up a job at one of the offices at the college. You were happy with it.

Months roll on by and though you two have not openly spoken about starting a family, you find yourself taking pregnancy tests every now and then. A family is something you both wanted.

There is a day where Oscar comes across an empty box of pregnancy tests in the trash outside. It makes his heart hammer. The two of you had spoken of creating a mix of both you and him but that seemed like it was just a dream then.

“Hey, what’s this?” Oscar walks into the house, eyes still glued to the box. You’re sitting on the counter, staring at the test in your hand: positive.

When Oscar comes into view, your eyes are filled with tears. They spill over as you extend your hand for him to see. He looks worried but looks down at the positive test. He steps forward and leans against the counter beside you.

You wipe your face, the shock wearing off. You’re pregnant! It’s actually happening. These past 3 months you’ve only ever gotten negatives. Even after tracking your cycles and taking ovulation tests, nothing happened. Not until now.

“Oscar… babe… say something please.” Your voice is a little shaky as you watch him.

He sets the test down on the sink and turns to look into the mirror, releasing a breath that he had been holding it in since you handed him the test. “You’re pregnant. You’re hav– we’re having a baby?”

You smile and slip off the counter to hold onto him. He looks at you and gives you a hundred watt smile, you’re suddenly lifted off the ground and spun in a circle. You squeal at his sudden excitement. Your legs wrap around his torso as he moves you to your bedroom.

Oscar lays you down and climbs on you. “I didn’t even realize we had been trying.”

“I know… I should have mentioned that I have been on the lookout but I didn’t want to make such a big deal of it. Positive pregnancy tests usually happen better when you aren’t so focused on it. And well, I have been taking tests for a while. I should have told you.” You apologize but he shakes his head quickly.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, then places a chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t be, mi amor. You are giving me a gift. Thank you. I’m gonna be a papa!”

Oscar moves off you and stands, jumping in excitement. You scoot up to lean against the headboard, laughing at how silly he looks but you eventually stand and jump with him. He quickly stops and stills you. You look at him, worried.

“Mamas, please. You are carrying precious cargo. Mi preciosa.” He drops to his knees to press kisses to your non-existent bump.

After booking an appointment to confirm the pregnancy, you were launched on the journey of creating a human. You were not expecting all that is to come with it, such as the worry wart papa to be.

Oscar has always been cautious with you. You were a dainty flower in his desert and he would never let anything happen to you when you lived in Freeridge. There is more ease living in Pasadena but now that you are pregnant, protective Spooky is back.

He never lets anyone get too close. He watches what you eat and asks you to be mindful when inhaling 5 tacos for lunch almost everyday. He knew you could take care of yourself but couldn’t help with stepping in. You didn’t mind it, it’s the cutest thing.

When you go shopping, he carries all the bags. Even sometimes when you do laundry, he's in a hurry to grab it from you. Oscar made sure to get grip mats for the shower to avoid any falls. He moves all the things you usually need to a reachable area so you won’t have to climb.

Oscar also loves to remind you to take your prenatals. Keep up with hydration and sleep.

“I’m just going to read one more chapter and jot down some notes.” You yawn as he closes your laptop and pulls your chair back. Your sleepy eyes open as he takes your hand. You groan as you stand with your swollen belly. There is no fighting it at this point, he guides you to bed and wishes you a peaceful sleep.

There weren’t many peaceful sleeps left as you approached your due date.

It feels as if you just took that test only a few weeks ago. You watched as your belly grew, your hormones and craves in addition. You thought it would feel like forever until you would meet your little one. But that moment came by in a flash.

On a spring morning, you welcome a little girl. Your hearts were overfilled with joy. A little girl that looks so much like her dad especially with all that dark hair. The moment she is placed in your arms… every worry, every doubt is gone. Only she matters.

“Tú eres muy bonita, hm? Y mucho pelo!” Oscar holds his daughter closely to him as she looks up at him. Your big eyes are prominent on her features. She is so intrigued. The doctors mention that she is putting a face to a voice that she's been hearing all this time.

Oscar is always besides her whenever he can. You relish the idea that this little girl will have the best papa ever.

After a couple days in the hospital, your little girl passes every test and is given the OK to go home. You couldn’t help but giggle at how cautiously Oscar drove home. He used to give you heart attacks driving his impala at high speeds.

“Bienvenido a casa, mi amor.” He says to her as he pulls out the carseat and helps you out. You both look to your house and down to the sleeping little love. She moves a little but settles. “Let’s start this forever with the three of us.”

You nod and kiss Oscar deeply before entering your home. Forever used to be something that scared you but not anymore. Forever is looking pretty great.

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

a place called home

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Request by @dora-wolfram-blog: Hi <3 so happy to see your requests are open! How about ex Avenger reader who can manipulate the forces of nature and she comes to help Sam? (Idk maybe calling fish from the sea so his family can sell and earn enough money for the boat?) There she meets Bucky who she briefly met after endgame and they get to know each other? Domestic stuff is my weak spot so thank you so much luv u <3

word count: 1.206 words.

warnings/tags: none. bucky being a gentleman and sam a pain in the ass as always.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Saying that Bucky and you were friends wasn’t something exactly. You fought together a couple of times before you retired from superhero life. Like many of them, the war had finished and you chose calm over being a private agent. More or less like the ex-soldier, with the difference that he went to New York and you didn’t be able to find a home until Sam made you a call. He was quite the opposite of Bucky for you, connecting since the very first second you met. After he told you about his sister’s financial trouble, he offered you a roof to sleep under in exchange for your powers to control the tide and promote the movement of fish stocks. Of course, it was a hit, and you finally found peace in Delacroix. A celebration was inevitable, it was part of Wilsons’ DNA, but you weren’t expecting Bucky to show up with Sam; although he told you in your last call that they were working together. Or something like that.

As soon as your eyes laid on him among the crowd, you knew he had changed after more than six months without seeing each other. You couldn't help but feel happy for Bucky when you saw him smiling for the first time. He had a beautiful and innocent smile, seeming like a new man. Renovated, with want to live, enjoying playing with kids and talking to old men about war stories.

You had placed your back against an oak column, away from the crowd but close enough to check on everyone, in case they need help with anything. A beer was resting against your lips, doubting on continuing drinking, lost in your thoughts. There was something about Bucky going from one side to another, laughing unworried, that had fully captivated your attention. You weren't able to stop looking at him, chuckling when you saw one of Sam's nieces putting a magnet with the form of a crab on his left arm.

“I have that teen-in-love's face on camera”.

You frowned at Redwing some inches away from your face. As a response, you tried to slap it down. But your friend was faster than you controlling that thing.

“He looks good, uh?”

“Oh, shut up…” You replied by clicking your tongue and rolling your eyes, having a sip from your drink to put your eyes away to the sea.

“He asked if you'd be here… Just saying”.

“Shut up, Samuel!” You implored, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

As the night went on and the guests started to leave, Sarah asked you to take Jim and Jody home while she stayed there cleaning with his brother about the business. You were exhausted too, and she noticed it. And after saying your goodbyes, you headed to the parking where your car was stationed, carrying the younger Wilson onto your arms —peacefully sleeping— as his big brother was yawning loudly. At that point, you realized that it was going to be a tough mission to put them in the car.

“Wait! Lemme help”.

The male voice coming from behind you made you turn around and before you could react, Bucky was taking Jody from your arms to his. You smirked softly in response, looking for the key in the right pocket of your jacket to unlock the car. The soldier tucked the younger in the back seat, placing the belt around him as Jim occupied the other side of the SUV.

“It's been good to see you”. You said after closing the door, staying outside in front of him.

“Same”. He replied, not knowing what else to say.

Puckering your lips and clapping the key on your palm, you nodded with your chin, feeling the nerves running through your veins. “Good night, Bucky”.

“Good night, (Y/N)”.

You gave him your back, sighing inappreciably, to open the pilot's place and came in.

“He— Hey, wait”.

“Uh?”

“Sam told me… you were tired. I might give you a ride back home. I can wait for him there”. The offering made you glance towards him, already sitting in your car but with a leg rest on the ground. “If you want, I mean…”

Of course he did (...). That son of a bitch had the audacity to push you onto the other. You bit your inner cheek, landing your eyes on the wheel. Yes, you were tired. You woke up at five to sail with Sarah, then you organized the party and cooked for it. You hadn't had a single second of rest during the whole day. And Sam took advantage of it, feeling like he was some kind of Cupido. And you had to recognize that it was also very considerate coming from Bucky.

“I'd appreciate it… actually”. You ended up agreeing, stepping out to give him the keys and ceding your seat.

The ride was silent between the two of you, hearing some quiet indie music playing on the radio while you fought against your brain to stay awake. Luckily, it didn't take him too long to reach Sarah's house —although you were barely keeping your eyes open at this point. Again, he helped you with the kids, walking indoors and following you to their respective rooms. You tucked Jim and Jody on their beds, making sure they were comfy before placing a kiss on their foreheads and wishing them a good night. Bucky had rested his back against the wall, in front of the elder’s room, just waiting for you. And you could swear that you saw him briefly smirking because of the tenderness in your actions.

After closing the last door, you waved your head to urge him to follow you downstairs to the living room. With an exhausted sigh escaping your lips, you let your body fall on the sofa, curling on a side of it to give Bucky some space. You couldn’t help but yawn, turning on the TV by using the control remote.

“It’s good to have a home to come back”.

“Yeah… After all the shitty situations we’ve been through… We deserved a rest, don’t you think?” You replied grabbing a cushion from the floor, using it as a pillow over the armrest. “Sorry, I… I’m deadly tired…”

“Come here, that will hurt when you wake up”.

Bucky didn’t hesitate on beckoning to his arms, taking off his boots heel against heel to place both legs over the coffee table. You didn’t resist, knowing it would be comfier by his way. Sitting up, you lied to the opposite side, being wrapped instantly and snuggled against his warm body. Shameless, you rest your head on his right forearm, practically laying over his lap. But you felt good. You felt like it was a good reward after a long day, rolling down your eyelids and focusing on the caresses in your hair you didn’t know you needed.

For a moment, your mind wandered and fantasized about this last hour being part of your real life. Putting your kids to sleep and then cuddle with your husband till falling asleep. Smell Bucky’s strong and edgy scent. Your hands scratching his back. His fingertips stroking your scalp. Your legs laced (...)

Oh, God, Sam. What did you do?

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ravixen · 3 years

Note

sorry for not reading guidelines properly! may i request the falling asleep on their lap for 97 line + wonwoo and soonyoung? thank u again!

svt + falling asleep in their lap (pt. 2)

➔ reaction || requested

➔ 714 words ➔ notes: fluff ; no problem haha it happens. this prompt is super cute — i was hoping someone would request a continuation. pls reblog if you liked! it helps with my visibility. let me tell you, it's so hard to write 13 unique reactions, especially when they're on the long side because i try to make them all equal in word count for fairness.

SOONYOUNG: you're helping him finish up a puzzle. or you were supposed to, but then you leaned your head against his shoulder with an insistent "i'm not tired!" and well. he knows it'll be more comfortable for you to sleep in bed or stretched out on the couch, but you're so cute in his arms like this, so he scoots closer to the table, careful to avoid bumping you. one arm curled around your back to keep you in place, the other quickly flipping over puzzle pieces — he bet vernon that he'd complete this by today, and both his pride and his lunch money are on the line. if you're still asleep by the time he finishes (because he will. don't underestimate a concentrated soonyoung), he'll adjust you in his lap, rest his cheek against your head, and take a nap, too. how often does he get the chance to hold you like this?

WONWOO: he laughs to himself once he realizes you're asleep. it's kind of heart-warming? it's not like you're in a particularly comfortable position — he's sitting at the kitchen table, your legs hooked over one of the chair arms, his hands securing you against his chest. despite that, you managed to tuck your head against his collar and fall asleep while he brainstorms lyrics. it means a lot, this small action, because you feel safe with him. you trust him to not let you fall. as much as he loves having you in his arms, you're going to have a hell of a cramp in your neck when you wake up, so he calls your name, straightening his spine until you're no longer cradled against him. when you blink up at him, eyes still hazy, he's tempted to just let you stay there.

SEOKMIN: similar to what i wrote in this reaction, he's so used to you in his lap for something as mundane as scrolling through social media that it doesn't occur to him that you've fallen asleep until he realizes that the same audio has been playing on repeat. "hey, y/n?" no response. he ducks down to check your face, and you're knocked out, breaths slow and soft against his cheek. that explains why you're leaning against him so heavily. i don't think he's the type to ease you off his lap. he'd make sure to turn off your phone and put it to the side, but otherwise, unless he has to get up for something, he prefers to keep you with him. but tbh, he'll probably forget you're there again, try to get up, and then have to catch you, which wakes you up lmfao it's so sweet how comfortable he is with you, though.

MINGYU: he asks you a few times if you can get up because he has to use the bathroom, but you don't move. this would normally be fine because you'd say no to his request and he'd sigh, pretending to be inconvenienced but holding you tighter. this time, though, he really needs to get up, so he calls your name a few times before deciding to tilt you back. and you're asleep, of course. he's even more conflicted. he doesn't want to wake you up because you might not fall back asleep — you look so peaceful right now, and being the one to disrupt that almost makes him reconsider, but he gently scoots out from under you, leaning you against the couch cushions. if you're still asleep when he's back, he'll move your head to his shoulder instead.

MINGHAO: he knows you're going to fall asleep eventually. when you come up to him, too tired to even attempt a smile, he just opens his arms and lets you settle in his lap while he watches some choreo videos. the music is low, loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough to disturb you as you thread your fingers with his. his other hand smooths over your head, your hair, your arm, your back. up and down again until your breathing evens out and your grip on him loosens. once you wake up, he'll ask you about what made you so exhausted, but for now, he's happy to provide you quiet comfort, his presence a balm to your frayed thoughts.

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pinksabre · 3 years

Text

pochoir en couleurs

Sharon hosts an exclusive art auction. You go home with wet thighs and an original from 1934.

pairing: sharon carter x fem!reader warnings: soft!dom sharon, oral/fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex in a bathroom, mirrors, dirty talk, daddy kink (brief) but like as a joke, reference to r as girlfriend, reference to sharon as boyfriend, sharon lowkey being ur sugar daddy, getting caught (kind of), kinda angsty a bit toward the end?? a/n: first fic on this blog!! woooo ty for reading <;3 Please like and reblog if u enjoy read it on ao3 | blog navi

4.5k words. smut. minors, do NOT interact.

Like most nightlife venues in Madripoor, the ambiance in this glamorized warehouse is lively and seductive, aided by the low, colored lights painting the cinder block walls. The sultry setting is uninterrupted despite the art pieces on display, each one accompanied by a single, white light to illuminate it. Nearly all of Madripoor’s elite are in attendance, gracefully roaming as they examine pieces and subtly place their bids on whatever catches their eye.

You lean back against the bar table, smiling as the bartender slides you the drink you ordered. Taking a long sip, you turn back to the crowd to search for her. For a moment, she’s hard to find though it’s only due to the muted, navy blue pantsuit she wears. Had the room been well-lit, she would have stood out starkly amongst the avant-garde fashion of the bidders.

She’s working too hard.

You snort at the thought, watching Sharon spin, her dirty blonde hair flaring wildly as she searches for her assistant. Instead, her eyes find yours, and she flashes you a smirk. You lift your drink in greeting.

Beside you, the bartender leans forward on his elbows.

“Is she, like, the owner of this place? Or all this shit?”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, downing the rest of your drink before placing it in front of him. He refills it silently, and you thank him under your breath. He speaks up again.

“Do you know her? She seems important. I bet she’s filthy rich, but she’s smart, hidin’ it like that. Not wearing anything too flashy. Though I’m pretty sure that’s a custom Chanel—”

“She’s just the middleman,” you lie sharply.

His mouth falls shut. His eyes tell you he doesn’t quite believe you, but you raise your brows in challenge, daring him to say more. Not many know about Sharon’s status in Madripoor, and you’ll be damned before you let this man talk himself into even speculating about it.

You decide to break the tense moment.

“That’s what I heard, at least. The Power Broker lets her make a profit to keep the supply coming, but he makes all the big sales. Lets people run their own small businesses, I guess.”

The bartender shrugs, placated for the time being. You’re both silent after that.

Finally, after what’s felt like hours, Sharon makes a short speech announcing that all the bids are in, and to “relax, sit tight, and enjoy the party while the committee verifies the results.”

The music starts bumping animatedly as she walks off the stage. After speaking with someone briefly, she tucks a leather folio under her arm and makes her way over to you. Shamelessly, you trail your eyes over her figure. She strides confidently, watching you make a show of very obviously checking her out.

“Full service starts now, Hugo,” she says to the bartender who nods and drops behind the bar to retrieve ingredients for whatever drinks he anticipates making. She turns to you, nodding at the empty glass by your arm. “Got your drink early, did you?”

“Hugo was kind enough to sneak me something after the rush earlier,” you reply. Hugo rises with a grin at your comment then turns around to settle into his shift and start appeasing the long line of customers.

Sharon smiles. “How’s your night going?”

“It’s alright. I put in a bid with my own money, you know,” you chirp, reaching to grab her hand and squeeze her fingers tenderly; she returns the gesture.

“Oh, yeah? How much?”

“Two hundred.”

When you turn away, her eyes hungrily roam the expanse of your back, bared by the green silk dress you chose for tonight’s event. She spots a knot at the back of your neck, following the thin lines of fabric elegantly dripping down, before settling her gaze on the small of your back. She tells herself that she only moves closer to accommodate the crowd growing behind her, but it doesn’t explain the way her throat has run dry.

“Two hundred? Like two hundred grand?” She clarifies, snapping out of her reverie when you face her again, shaking your head.

Her eyes move up from your waist to where you’re now holding a new glass full of water. You simper at her as you drink, and she stares at you, unimpressed.

“What?” You laugh. You feel a droplet run across your lower lip, so you catch it with your thumb. Sharon closely tracks the movement. “Having such a Big Boss Boyfriend gets you reaching-across-the-bar-for-whatever-you-want privileges.”

“I’m sure it does.” It’s an absent-minded mutter, her eyes still focused on the way you touch your mouth. But she springs to attention again. “How much?”

“Just two hundred, flat,” you pout at her. When she barks out a laugh, you bite your lip provocatively and slide into her space, eyes sparkling. “I was hoping you could pull some strings…”

“Was that your plan?” She mocks your deepening pout with a purse of her lips and giggles at your responding huff. “It was that Miró piece, wasn’t it? The blue and black one? It’s actually pretty cheap.”

Your imagination runs wild for a few moments, purposely forgetting your pathetically small bid and instead letting yourself picture the painting in your apartment. You could put it at the end of the hallway or in the kitchen…

It’s Sharon's turn to interrupt your thoughts. She places her hands on your hips, her fingers eagerly pinching the silk.

“Should Daddy buy it for you?”

A blazing blush rushes to your cheeks, and you choke on a sip of water. She snickers then makes sure no one is really watching both of you before pulling you in to plant a kiss on your chin.

“I can swing it if you want,” she whispers.

You nod, clearing your throat, and she raises her eyebrows at your nonverbal response.

“Tell me.”

Her voice is deep, gaze equally dark, and you feel the sharp, tiny pricks of her fingernails threatening to dig into your hips through your dress. The sensation makes heat start to pool enticingly in your belly.

“I want it,” you gasp, breathless at the sudden change in energy.

She hums in satisfied acknowledgment. It’s hard to hear her over the music blaring from what’s now become the dancefloor, but you really don’t care since she’s tilting her face to kiss you.

You’re about to capture her lips with your own when you’re rudely interrupted by the phone in her blazer pocket vibrating insistently. She sighs, annoyed, and pulls away from you to read something on the screen.

“The restroom in the lounge. Five minutes,” she says, snapping her burner flip phone closed with a sharp click!

“What?”

Her eyes glint with erotic promise. “I’ll give it to you.”

She’s gone before you can process the fact that she’s most definitely not talking about the painting anymore. At the realization, you jump into action. You retrieve whatever loose bills you can find in your purse and hastily put them under the empty glass. Shouting out a quick thanks to Hugo, who waves you off in a friendly goodbye, you set out to your destination.

You weave through the crowd to the back of the warehouse where the lights are significantly dimmer to draw attention away from the two dark, heavy-looking doors with sturdy, intricately carved golden handles. Each one is manned by a muscly guard, whose head is constantly turning to monitor the crowd and occasionally let in those with appropriate identification for access to the exclusive lounge.

You try not to move too quickly, entirely too aware of your heels against the floor as the cracked concrete becomes shiny porcelain tile. The effort leaves you winded, and when you get close enough, the guards none-too-subtly size you up.

“You got a pass?” The one who asks moves his body to stand between you and the doors.

It’s an intimidation tactic, and while you’d normally scoff and brush it off, you’re more preoccupied with thoughts of what Sharon has planned for you rather than standing up to a guy who's really just doing his job.

“Yeah. Just a sec—”

Apparently, you’re taking too long rummaging through your purse for the metal card Sharon had given you a few weeks ago that upped your security clearance because the man impatiently crosses his arms, flexing his biceps menacingly.

“No pass, no entry,” he says gruffly.

“I know,” you grit, fighting the zipper on your cardholder. Why is it that you can only find old lunch receipts?

“She’s with me.”

The voice silences your frantic inner monologue, and you feel static in your ears, body heating up further at the warm touch of Sharon’s fingertips on your back. Electricity sparks.

That must have been five minutes. She’s punctual. It’s sexy.

The guard nods, apologetically avoiding your eyes when he lets the both of you through the doors.

Here, the music is slower and only in the background, chatter filling the room instead. The lights are brighter than in the warehouse, beautifully flooding the space with golden hues while waiters walk through the crowd, offering bites of fancy food and flutes of expensive champagne. You recognize a few of the bidders from earlier and other famous Madripoor socialites, all of them pleasantly making small talk and lounging on the several luxurious velvet couches.

Sharon expertly guides you through.

The both of you are tensely silent; she only slows her pace when someone stops her for a greeting or to congratulate her on the gallery. She’s polite but succinct, thanking them and continuing to push you forward. You try to ignore the way this gentle display of dominance and social aptitude makes your cheeks warm and your core tingle.

“Sharon!”

The shrill voice brings her to a startled stop.

You start to turn your head, but she gives you a small nudge with a short, “around the corner. I’ll be there in a minute.”

You obey and continue your trajectory, only through your periphery seeing her greet an older woman wearing a bold, hot pink feather scarf with a hug. Over her shoulder, Sharon juts her chin out at you, and you nod, entering the single stall bathroom and locking the door behind you.

Intense, unflattering white lights make your eyes hurt for a few seconds, but you adjust quickly. With a breath, you set your purse next to the sink and look at yourself in the mirror.

Despite the abundant, harsh lighting, your pupils are blown out completely, black nearly swallowing the tiny leftover ring of iris. Sharon already has you like this, and she hasn’t even touched you properly.

You loosen the silk knot at the back of your neck, in turn drooping the neckline and tastefully exposing more of your décolletage. Making a small pop! with your lips, you notice you’ve lost a little shine of color since your time at the bar. You’re in the middle of your reapplication when keys jingle, the knob turns, and the door opens.

Sharon’s wide, blocky heels echo loudly as you watch her strut towards you through the reflection in the mirror. She wraps an arm around your waist and lands a kiss on your shoulder then runs her nose up the side of your neck, inhaling deeply. You clumsily close the tube of lipstick when her tongue soothes a nip to your jaw. Her nails scratch up your back, leaving fiery trails in their wake, and you exhale a shaky breath. She chuckles seductively and sponges a wet kiss under your ear.

“I want to make you cum.”

God. You’re turned on beyond belief. Has it really been less than ten minutes since the two of you were at the bar together?

Your face morphs into an agonized expression at her words, and you drop your head back to grant her more room. She moves quickly, mouth claiming territory as it maps out the skin while the hand on your back drops to give your ass a squeeze. A mewl leaves your mouth involuntarily. She presses her body to your side, crowding you against the porcelain of the sink.

“Is that what you want?” She asks hotly. She makes eye contact through the mirror. “You want me to fuck you right here? With all of Madripoor’s finest just outside?”

With the way you’re dripping between your thighs for her, you’d do anything.

“Yes,” you pant, belly swooping in arousal when a cocky smirk spreads on her lips. Her forearm lifts, and you see it in front of you before she cradles your chin, angling your head.

The kiss is messy. Your tongues are introduced shortly after your lips greet each other. Her hand on your face pulls you closer to deepen the kiss. It’s hard to breathe after a few moments, and you pull back with a gasp when her teeth sink into the plush of your lower lip.

Sharon opens her eyes and bores them into yours. With another hard, chaste kiss to your mouth, she grabs hold of your hips and spins you so that your back is to the mirror. You rest your palms on the countertop behind you, and Sharon moves with you, crowding you again, her body hot and heavy on you.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet,” she hisses, nose against yours. “This bathroom isn’t well insulated. You can practically hear everything from outside.”

“What, you haven’t remodeled it yet?” You quip breathily, and she grins with a shake of her head.

When her tongue falls to your collarbones, you tilt your head, staring at the ceiling and feeling your body burn with desire. She tugs on the falling neckline of your dress, sucking kisses on your sternum then exposing your cleavage to bite at the underside of your breast. A lick to the stinging skin forces you to stifle a whine, cradling the back of her head, and she hums, eyes fluttering to look up at you with a heated stare.

“Sharon,” you plead in a whisper. Your panties are uncomfortably wet now, pussy throbbing in want.

She shushes you, and you let her go as she lowers herself, knees against white floor tile. You look down at her, and the sight makes something in your groin twist deliciously. She touches your ankles lightly, tracing the straps of your heels before dragging her nails up your calves, pulling along the dress. When your black seamless underwear comes into view, she groans quietly in appreciation.

“Hold this,” she instructs, and you grab the bunched up fabric of your dress, holding it above your hips.

She kisses over your clit through the mesh. You hold your breath. With dark eyes and a devilish smile, her fingers slip over and under the waistband, tugging them down. You move your feet to accommodate her, and her hands find your legs again. Her thumbs dig into the meat of your upper inner thighs, spreading you open.

“Is this for me?” She sings.

You’re unable to speak, not when she’s so close to where your body is begging for her, but it’s no matter. You know she’s not really asking.

It happens slowly. Her mouth opens, her pink tongue peeks out then wetly licks at your clit. The first few passes are light, tasting you, but then she scoots forward, and you part your thighs further so she can nuzzle closer between them. Gaining confidence, her tongue pushes more assertively, the tip of her nose pressing into the skin above your slit.

Your chest rises and falls, warmth aching in your abdomen, trying to keep your whimpers at bay as she continues. Though you’re no stranger to Sharon putting her mouth on you, you’re reminded of just how good she is every time.

She pulls away from you for a breath, replacing her tongue with the pad of her thumb to draw tight little circles. It keeps your body interested as she observes you.

A light sweat has broken out on your chest, making your skin shine under the bathroom lights. Your lips are swollen and lightly bitten from before, jaw slack with pleasure.

She can’t wait to get you out of that dress and bent over the edge of her bed later.

“You��re so gorgeous,” she whispers up at you. “So pretty when you let me taste you.”

The praise only contributes to your building orgasm, and your fingers curl harder into the silk, panting when her mouth returns to your cunt. She licks further down, the appendage dipping into your entrance, and it makes your thighs close around her head for a second. She tuts, pinching your ass in reprimand, and her tongue presses deeper. The coil in your abdomen tightens; you’re fighting a losing battle to keep quiet.

She moves back, a string of your wetness connecting you to her lower lip, to lean in again. This time, she suckles your clit between her lips, drawing it out to play so that the tip of her tongue cradles the bundle of nerves, and she can swathe heavily over it. She doesn’t stop, and your breath comes faster. You shift the fabric you’re holding to one hand, the other lowering to tangle itself in her hair. Your shoulders slump forward, and Sharon pushes you harder against the countertop to hold you steady.

You gasp, head snapping back to look at the ceiling unseeingly. You blink rapidly and try to find stability through the myriad of tantalizing sensations. When she hums against you, the buzz it shoots through you makes your knees buckle.

You cum with a muffled whine. She works you through it generously and ends contact with your clit when you push her head away. It takes you a few moments to catch your breath, and she rubs your thighs soothingly.

“Good?” She asks smugly, rising from her position.

“So good,” you laugh quietly in agreement, letting your dress drop and hooking your fingers into the belt loops of her pants to tug her close. You kiss her, tasting yourself off her mouth, and she moans as she reciprocates passionately.

“I’m not done yet,” she breathes, hot breath over your lips. “Wanna make you cum again before we have to go back out there.”

Your core clenches, excited, as if you didn’t just have a more-than-satisfying orgasm.

“What about you?”

She’s turning you around again, and you are briefly disoriented. You face the mirror now, and her eyes are piercing as she looks at you over your shoulder.

“Another time,” she says with finality.

Her lips peck your back feverishly, lifting your dress again, and her palms grope at your ass, squeezing and pulling at the skin. She straightens up and rests her chin on your shoulder. When her fingertips touch your damp entrance, you meet her eyes in the mirror again. She rubs the area, feeling your core pulse, and lifts her eyebrows expectantly.

“Please,” you sigh, too horny to resist begging when your pussy is aching to be filled.

Her two middle fingers slide into you, and you lean forward over the sink, back arching. She watches you carefully. Her pace starts slowly and gently, stretching your silky walls, but you’re already sensitive and responsive to her touch due to your previous orgasm. Her finger pads rub that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

“Oh, f-fuck.”

You’re already closer than you thought you’d be. Her fingers thrust faster, and your knuckles whiten with your tight grip against the sink.

“You’re so wet,” she murmurs in your ear. “Listen to that pussy. You’re soaked.”

Filthy, wet noises come from between your legs as she works you harder. You can’t stop the loud groan that punches out of your chest.

“Ooh, they probably heard that,” she teases liltingly.

Humiliation burns in your stomach, and you press your lips together tightly, unsuccessfully attempting to save face.

“Don’t you want them to know?” She whispers conspiratorially, lips smoldering against the back of your ear. “You want them to know that your Big Boss Boyfriend is fingerfucking you in here?”

You can’t answer her, shaky whimpers tumbling out of your mouth. You feel like you’re on fire; your temples are damp with moisture and flyaway hairs stick to them. She bites your earlobe, and you jump when her other hand lowers in front of you to rub your clit over your dress.

“Madripoor’s big, bad Power Broker,” Sharon coos. “Rigs auctions to get her girlfriend world-class art. Makes her cum in unrenovated bathrooms.”

You giggle breathlessly at that, and she beams at you. The distraction is short-lived as her fingers move harder and faster over your clit. Your cunt clenches.

“I’m getting close,” you cry desperately. Your body is screaming for release.

In the mirror, she stares at you, and you at her. You’re a mess, sticky and hot, trembling in her grasp. She, on the other hand, still looks professional. Her slacks are creased from her earlier kneeling, but other than that the only features that reveal her sinful actions are the flush on her cheeks and the crimped hair on her scalp from where you clutched it.

“Do it,” she puffs, breath fanning over your neck. “I want you to cum like this.”

Your eyes roll back, and Sharon laughs dirtily.

Her fingers had slowed their thrusting, focusing on steadily petting at your g-spot. It makes all the difference. You heave, ears ringing with your impending orgasm.

You're climbing so high, tummy coiling so tightly that you can’t believe you haven’t fallen over the edge yet. The silk of your dress scratches lightly over your clit as Sharon continues stimulating you. It almost hurts now, how close you are. If you could just—

“Cum for me,” she growls.

Oh.

There it is.

You choke on your moan, nearly collapsing over the sink as your arms give out but Sharon is there to keep you upright. Her ministrations don’t ease, forcing the orgasm tearing through your body to its completion. It’s a long, hard one, and you try to twist away, sobs blubbering from your lips.

Eventually, the orgasm ebbs away as its thunderous waves recede. You shudder, gasping for air. She pulls her fingers out of you, the back of your dress falls, and she cups your core in the front, palming it.

You realize she’s been talking you through it as well, murmuring sweet encouragement. You turn your head, and your forehead falls upon hers. Your breathing is still heavy, and through half-lidded eyes, you watch her slide her digits, dripping with you, into her mouth. Both of you groan together with the last of your arousal.

“You okay?” She asks softly after a few moments, lovingly concerned.

You nod. Your voice is shot; you hadn’t even made much noise, not till the end at least, but the effort to keep quiet was enough to strain your throat. You close your eyes, and she lets you rest for a bit. Her fingertips glide soothingly up and down your back.

After you’ve come down fully, you start to really feel your body again. Your legs feel stiff and sore, exerted in their effort to keep you standing. The balls of your feet hurt, heavy in your heels, and you break into goosebumps, the cold air fanning over your sweaty skin. You try to quench your thirst by swallowing excess spit. With a deep breath, you roll your head back, making a quiet, satisfied sound.

Your eyes flutter open at a giggle you hear to your right.

“Phew! That was hot!” Sharon wiggles her eyebrows at you. You snort, and she smiles with a kiss to your nose.

You let her tend to you some more. She smoothes the rogue hairs at your hairline, styling them so that you look a little less fucked out. She fixes the top of your dress then shakes out any wrinkles that accumulated at your hips and pelvis. When she deems you decent, she clicks her tongue approvingly.

She washes her hands in the sink. You blush. She shakes them dry.

“So,” she starts conversationally. “The Miró. It’s all yours, baby.”

You had forgotten all about the painting. Victorious joy makes you grunt happily.

“Ugh, you’re the best.”

She grins, running her fingers through her hair and dusting off her suit, then hands you your bag. She looks you over one more time, but her face reddens in embarrassment.

“Maybe you should hold it like this,” she mutters bashfully, adjusting your hands so that you hold the purse in front of you, covering the wet stain on your crotch.

Both of you awkwardly shuffle out of the restroom, hoping no one noticed you entering and exiting together.

Sharon links her arm through yours, and you calmly walk through the lounge. It’s sparsely populated now, small groups of individuals largely ignore the two of you. You’re reaching the doors to get back to the main warehouse, from where you vaguely hear auction results being announced through a crackling microphone, when the same older woman from earlier blocks your path.

She smirks knowingly, and Sharon stiffens at your side.

“Have any fun tonight, Ms. Carter?”

Sharon doesn’t speak, merely offering the woman a truncated smile in hopes of mollifying her. It’s enough confirmation though, and the woman flicks her uninterested gaze to you.

“Congratulations on the Miró piece. I’m surprised it went over six times the original price. You must have paid a pretty penny for it,” she sneers, entertaining what fun she’s making of the both of you. When you say nothing, the woman takes her leave with a chortle, flicking her silver hair over her shoulder dramatically. “Have a good rest of your night, ladies.”

You deflate with an anxious purse of your lips. Sharon’s shoulders relax minutely.

“I think she knows,” you whisper, dread beating threateningly in your chest.

What she knows, you’re not sure: Sharon being the Power Broker, Sharon fixing the auction; the former is clearly the worst option, but neither choice makes your anxiety falter. Sharon breathes out a sigh. Five years worth of hiding only heightens the infinite tiredness in her eyes, and yet she handles it with as much strength and grace as she can muster. She takes your hands in hers and brings them up to her face, kissing your knuckles.

“Let’s go home.”

Later that night, when the both of you are in bed, warm and limbs tangled, feeling sated and exquisitely exhausted, you allow yourself to forget all of the danger that surrounds the life you’ve made with Sharon.

Above your bed hangs Cahiers d'art II in its surrealist glory.

♡ ♡ ♡

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astrohnova · 3 years

Text

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ransom hugh drysdale thrombey x latina!camgirl!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 2.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 Ransom and you have a complicated relationship. But his fucking makes it simple.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 +18 ONLY. IF YOU’RE A MINOR, i’ll kick your ass and also block u. insults, explicit language, smut (sex toy use, filmed sex, filmed masturbation, dumbification, breeding kink, squirting mention, spit play, blowjob, rough sex (all consented tho) creampie, daddy kink, "bitch", "whore", "cumslut", "slut"), use of spanish phrases without translation. WHEN IN DOUBT, DON’T READ. THAT’S IT.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

I’m new at writing so if I should add more tags let me know. Also, english is not my first language so it might be a little weirdly worded so just let me know and i’ll change whatever’s wrong. I’m sorry

If you reblog and leave me some feedback I’ll kiss your mouth. With tongue.

The new lingerie set you’d bought made you feel savage. You knew it was something that your followers would enjoy. You decided to appear soft and delicate today, a good girl. So you turned your camera on, and while you were waiting for your payers to come in, you were sucking a lollipop endearingly, to gradually rile up the people watching you.

The candles you had lit along with the perfume you had spread in the room, with the soft music sounding in the background set the ambient, and your hand was gloved sending goosebumps through every part of skin you caressed. You were just fueling every sense, aislating yourself from the real world. You put the lollipop down and laided your back onto the headboard of your bed, with the computer at your feet, your clothed pussy in the first plane for your followers to admire and the clothed hand making it’s way there.

You’ve bought this glove recently, it was a sex toy. Made of black latex and a different head on each of your fingers, along with different textures that would let you see the stars. You even put a vibrator inside the middle one, just touching the point of your middle finger. Every head was different and enticing. And the vibrations between your thighs, so close to you sensible cunt left you gasping. Your lips and eyes stand out from the mask that you had on your face, sensual and with the same color as your underwear.

You looked straight to the camera when you grazed the vibrator contained by the latex over your pussy, while you gasped and then moaned, laying your head back. You could hear the sound of subscriptions coming in, and you suggestively moaned before pulling your panties to the side with your uncovered hand and brushing the vibrator on your clit, whining lightly. Then you put one of your fingers inside of you, and moaned directly to the camera, while you rubbed soft circles on your clit with your thumb, your belly contracting gently, your nipples hardening.

You took your finger off and brought it to your lips. And before you kept the show going, you said “Thank you for the gift, I’m enjoying myself so much. I hope you get off too”. You inserted two fingers in your pussy and moaned out loud.

📷

He was watching you going down the street, completely mesmerized. Just like the other men and women seeing you. He was smoking, but the smoke got into his eyes, for not being careful; his whole attention was on you. He threw the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it.

“Que hermosa, mamita.” A cute man complimented you, and you smiled and winked.

“Gracias mi amor. So pretty yourself.” You complemented and left him with his mouth open. But compliments were responded to, and he was a beautiful man.

You were walking with so much confidence and all eyes were naturally attracted to your presence, in that dress that hugged you perfectly, in those heels that took you some time to accustom to but now you walked like on a runway. And those striking stockings that you were wearing. You really were feeling yourself, that’s what a good night of orgasms and money gets you, really. You had earned so much, just had a few video requests that you had to fulfill and this month's cuota would be filled. And with this new job you had landed, things were starting to get off for you and your family

He was about to kill all the tigers that were stomping in your way, looking at you the way he did. Thinking the same things that he did, incited by that fucking dress, that gracefullness of your soul, and the barm coat that flew with the wind as you ate the wole street up. He was meeting you on this old cozy bar, after seeing that video of you yesterday he was riled up and just needed to be inside your warm pussy this cold afternoon, maybe with the coffee that you were gonna drink while you argued still stained on your mouth, that he was going to pry from your willing mouth as you gasped against him, with your mixed spit going down your chin from the sloppy kisses that he loves, and your breathy whines that had him rubbing his crotch against your stomach. And he couldn’t wait to see if you were wearing the lingerie that he had bought you, with that color that highlighted your skin undertone and got his dick leaking precum. Last night you were glorious, and today you were a walking goddess.

“Hola, imbécil.”

“Now that’s not very nice, especially after all the money I gave you last night.”

“Mhhm. Others gave me more, papito.”

“That so?”

“It is.”

“I got something more that they can’t give you. And you’re driving me feral, walking like that towards me, flirting with other guys. I thought I made it clear that you were mine.”

“And I thought I made it clear that I was my own. Especially after last night, did you see me get myself off that hard? And after the video endend I got so fucking happy, so fucking horny with all the comments, the views, the pictures that I got that I went to sleep humping my pillow.”

“Pictures?”

“Oh yes, I got so many pictures of so many pretty cocks daddy”

“You were thinking of other cocks, slut?” He questioned, grabbing you by your arm and putting you against a wall as you laughed.

“Not only thinking, papi, I found this hot guy that was just drooling for me, and he made me drool for him so much. The sheets were so messy that I had to change them after he left.” He gripped your throat harder, just growling furiously.

“Fucking bitch, I’m gonna stuff my cock so deep than your throat to make you regret everything you just said.”

“But daddy, I haven’t told you the best part yet!” You bite your lip, seeing his predatory eyes that wanted to devour you entirely. And you kept going without remorse. “The mattress was so wet too. You never reached that, did you? You want me to think that I’m yours but I got others treating me better.” You pouted, all that you were saying was true and seeing this look in his eyes was such a sight. You almost whined from his look alone.

He grabbed you by the arm and took you to his car, getting on it just right before you on the driver’s side. Wildly driving back to his place to get you fucking stuffed

“You’re driving me insane, bitch. Did you fucking curse me?”

“I did, every dick that enters this sweet pussy, plastic or meat, gets obsessed.”

“Don’t talk like that, making me more horny.”

“I’m sure your hand can help you, guapo.”

“My hand? Are you kidding me? You put that dress on, that looks more like a fucking t-shirt, to come see me and then you leave me with my hand? No, fucking whore You’re giving me your mouth. I have to wipe that smug smile and that boy’s taste off your lips. So suck, vicious little bitch.” So you did, with the loudest and a porn-like moan you quickly undid his briefs pulling his cock out, sucking the tip first.

“Daddy, the lollipop yesterday got me thinking so much about your cock. I couldn’t wait to taste you like this again.” He grabbed you by the hair at the red light, roughly pulling you up to met his face, yours pleasure filled, with drool over your chin, the same that had dirtied his pants.

“You fucking slut, were you just drilling me up to make me get rough on you?”

“No daddy, I did fuck the boy. That was yesterday morning, and then yesterday night I found a little time to think about you.”

“Yeah? Now all you're gonna have in your head and your mouth is me.” He shoved his cock deep into you, and when you gagged he pushed himself further and kept you there. “”Breathe, make this nice for me. I know you can do it.” You could, you enjoyed this so much, your paties were drenched. And what would he do when he notices you weren't wearing the pair he bought for you. Hopefully, break you. You started moving your hips, moving some friction in your pussy, and tastefully wiggling your ass for Ransom to admire.

“That’s right, cumslut. I'll make your ass fire up later too.”

📷

You screamed sensually when he hit your ass. You were on all fours, head down ass up, exposed to Ransom. He was filming your glistening pussy and your delicious ass that bounced on his torso asking for more pain. Delicious pain.

“I’m gonna break you with my cock baby. But after you ask nicely. Your followers want to know what a whore you are.”

“Such a whore! I want your dick papi, you fuck me so good. I want you to leave me braindead, drooling, filled. Please, please, please papi. Cogeme, fuck me. Te tengo muchas ganas.” You whined so hard, so annoyingly empty and desperate.

“What a good girl, making daddy so happy. Here you go, cunt.” He put one hand on your ass and thrusted into you aggressively. He positioned the camera to capture your joy filled face and his hips slamming in you. He didn’t stop nor slowed down, and started rubbing your clit to make you man loader, and you started to move back against him.

“You’re such a greedy little girl, you want all of me. ‘Cmon, give it to me now.”

“Ah!” You opened your mouth in a silent scream when you came, wetting him with your fluids.

And he quickly turned you around, on your back with your legs spread to search for his own high. But you were so sensible you started to close your legs and tried to squirm away from him. But he grabbed your face and spit on your cheek.

“Don’t you fucking dare pushe me away. You take it. Open your fucking legs. Open them wide.” You did, and he used you like a doll, with your mind swimming in pleasure, in his gorans in your ears and his hair caressing your face. He came, pushing himself against you and spilling into the condom. He moved away from you and grabbed the camera, turning it off. Then you were gonna edit the video a little bit, cropping some parts to upload to twitter and the full part you were gonna send it to your special subscribers. You gathered yourself, going to the bathroom to wash yourself a little bit, and coming with a cigarette in your mouth, already lit. You threw yourself on the bed.

“We… We have to stop doing this.” Ransom turned himself to you, taking the cigarette out of your hand and smoking it.

“Baby, you say that everytime. And then you do shit like today.”

“I know. But it’s different now, Hugh.”

“What the fuck you calling me that for?”

“‘Cause I got a new job. Lisa’s personal assistant. And I don’t intend to be higher than all the employees you ask to call you that and then go ahead and disrespect them.”

“You don’t have to work for shit, baby. I’ll pay everything for you. You just keep making those videos and the rest is on me”

“What? Like a sugar daddy? No jodás.” You grabbed another cigarette for yourself, so this dipshit wouldn’t take it away from you

“I mean it baby, I can give you the world, just let me”

“I already have the world papito, and I got it all on my own.” He hummed, and his eyes lit up when you called him ‘daddy’ in spanish, in this intimacy. With your body still displayed for him, through which he roamed his eyes in.

“Papito?” He repeated with an accent. “Maybe I can make a mama out of you....” He burned the cigarette out and took yours off too.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You complained in a moan when he turned you around, on your belly with your hands by your head and his entire muscular, heavy and warm body sprayed out on you. He then pushed deep into you.

“Get off me, Ransom.” You complained in a gasp.

“But I’m so deep ‘side you... I just have to get this shit off me to fill you up.“ He still had his condom on, but he hurriedly got it off and dived inside you again.

“What?! Don’t you dare. Get. The hell. Off.”

“Don’t lie to me princess, you want me to fill this pussy. You’ll be a fucking queen, in my arms, being spoiled with my money. I’ll take care of you and all the kids you’re gonna give me.”

“Ransom…” Your accent was spilling, and your resistance was getting away from you, his words and promises stained in your brain. “Fucking dick.”

“Nobody takes me like you, gripping me like that. You’re just a whore for me, ain’t you? Want all of me.”

“Ah, Ransom, you’re so deep.” You whined, your belly contracting.

“What do you want, honey? I wanna hear you beg for it”

“I-- Please Ransom. Please, please, please llename. Por favor, papi!” You moaned when he started pushing into you again. Last round had been intense and you had little break, so naturally you didn’t last long. You came screaming Ransom’s name, free to do so without a camera in front of you. And he was so close too, his mind winded up with getting you pregnant, with images of your belly full, your tasty breasts with all the milk he was gonna drink. He was goraning so much, your pussy grabbing him so hard, pushing him farther inside of you.

“Are you gonna be a good mama for me?”

“The best, daddy! Just please, please fill me.” And he did, with the loudest groan. To then turn you around and start admiring your tits, your body, getting inside your head with compliments of the mommy you were gonna be. And all the videos you were gonna make with your horniness, with your huge titis and that round belly. How he wanted to cover you in cum and get it on camera to show that you were his, cause getting you pregnant just wasn’t enough. And after that, he went down to eat his leaking cum out of you and prepared you for the next round.

#ransom drysdale smut #ransom drydale x you #ransom thrombey x reader #knives out smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans image #latina!reader

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myriadimagines · 3 years

Text

Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Amy Santiago

Warnings: theft, threats of violence

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case.

Part One: Chips and Orange Soda

Word Count: 2,319

A/N: the second part to my submission for @locke-writes‘ writing challenge!! admittedly it gets kind of into an ethical dilemma that i didnt mean to go into and that’s unnecessarily deep but you’ll see what i mean ajskdhas but anyway disclaimer again!! not in law enforcement!!! this is not accurate when it comes to crimes!!! i really hope the reveal/ending isn’t too disappointing and that u guys still enjoyed the story!!! it does get a little more serious in this part but i still hope it’s in character/tone with the show!!

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

Jake is careful to open up the door of the bodega, which is all bordered up with tape as the shattered glass has yet to be replaced. The inside looks better at least, no longer sectioned off with police tape, and business seems to be going on as usual, with customers in between the aisles and some at the counter. Jake resists the urge to grab a snack for himself, and he glances around the room, frowning as he realises there’s no sight of you.

Jake finally approaches a young man manning the cash register. “Hey man, is y/n in?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry dude, they don’t work Tuesdays.”

Jake smacks the side of his head, remembering how you mentioned it to him. He moves to exit the store when he notices the live security footage playing on the screen behind the counter. Pointing it out, Jake says, “Hey, looks like you got your cameras working again.”

The man looks over his shoulder, before turning back to Jake with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

Jake frowns slightly, his hand falling to his side. “y/n told me that your cameras were down last week.”

The man remains confused, staring at Jake as if he’s speaking another language. Slowly, he finally responds, “Nah, they’ve been working fine. I don’t know what y/n’s talking about.”

Something inside of Jake’s stomach twists, and he frowns. Despite how hard he’s been trying to defend you, he can’t help but admit to himself that you’re not making it easy. He digs through his pockets, pulling out an old receipt, and he grins to himself as he flips it over and finds your number on the other side. Pulling out his phone, he cringes slightly at his 6% battery level, and he hopes he has enough to make a call.

Dialling in your number, he raises the phone to his ear. It rings a few times before someone finally picks up the phone. Taking in a deep breath, Jake says, “y/n? It’s Jake, the detective from last week. We… we need to talk.”

—

Jake paces around the briefing room, shaking his head as he tries to piece everything together. After coming back to the precinct following his failed attempt to find you at the bodega, Jake had filled up a corkboard with pictures and other small pieces of evidence he and Rosa were able to gather, although it was looking rather sparse. Your lie about the security cameras definitely presents as an obstacle, but he tries not to think the worst of it. He hasn’t told Rosa yet, who had gone out to meet with the forensics team again, fearing what her reaction would be towards you. Maybe you were mistaken, maybe the robbers managed to figure out a way to wipe the footage. But something about the situation doesn’t sit right with Jake, and he lets out a defeated sigh.

“Hey, Jake,” Amy peeks her head inside, knocking at the door, and Jake looks up. She gestures back to the bullpen as she continues, “You’ve got someone here to see you. Sounds like they’ve got some information on the bodega robberies.”

Jake perks up, rushing past Amy out of the room. His eyes widen as he sees you linger by his desk, nervously glancing around the room. He nods as a thank you to Amy before making his way over to you, and he greets, “Hey, y/n, thanks for coming in. How have you been doing?”

You meet Jake’s gaze, and you can’t help but soften at his tone. He seems to genuinely care, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Nodding, you reassure him, “I’m okay. I’m… I’m glad you reached out, actually. There are some things that I need to tell you about. Can we go for a walk?”

Jake hesitates. He knows that he should probably bring you to the interrogation room instead, but he finds himself nodding. He grabs his leather jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and he nods towards the elevator as he remarks, “Sure. Let’s go.”

—

You and Jake make your way through the streets of Brooklyn, finding yourself at a nearby local park. You can’t help but smile at the sight of children running around, squealing at one another as they chase each other in some sort of game, but you can’t ignore the pit in your stomach, the gnawing guilt that has plagued you ever since your first interaction with Jake.

You finally happen upon an empty bench in a quiet corner of the park and you silently take a seat. Jake sits beside you, and your breath begins to tremble. Jake patiently waits for you, eyes wide with concern as he finds himself shifting closer to you, subconsciously wanting to comfort you despite not knowing what’s to come.

“I… I haven’t told you everything that I know about the bodega.” you finally confess, and Jake takes in a deep breath. He nods slowly, silently urging you to continue, and you look up to meet his gaze as you continue, “I know who did it. And the other robberies, too.”

Jake stares at you, and you can tell it’s clearly a lot of information to take in. He presses his lips together, trying to process all this, before he quietly asks, “You’re trying to protect someone, aren’t you?”

Your expression crumples, and your shoulders slump as you bury your face in your hands. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t cry, but as the overwhelming reality of the situation begins to sink in, you’re suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Jake’s expression falls, and despite knowing that the two of you are practically strangers, he wraps an arm around you, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm as he tries to soothe you.

“It feels like I’ve been trying to protect him all my life, but I- I feel like I can’t, anymore.” you manage to say through sobs, and Jake frowns, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Gulping, you finally reveal, “My brother.”

Jake sucks in a sharp breath. He’s all too familiar himself with broken homes, with strained familial relationships. You’re almost afraid to look at him, but Jake’s expression is one of understanding, of sympathy. He gently reassures you, “Take all the time you need, alright?”

You nod, trying to compose yourself the best you can. You fold your hands into your lap, perhaps a poor attempt at stopping them from shaking, and you manage to hold your tears back long enough for you to begin explaining, “It was always just me and my brother, you know? My single mom had to raise us, but we barely saw her because she was always working. But my brother and I always had each other’s backs, and I thought it would be that way forever.”

You’re distracted as a pair of kids dart past you, and Jake notices the bittersweet smile that appears on your face as you watch them. Quietly, he prompts, “When did you feel like things started to go wrong?”

“I mean, my brother was always a rowdy kid, always getting into trouble, but it just kept getting worse and worse. I’d try to bail him out, but there was only so much I could do.” you continue. “As we got older, I started seeing him less and less. He’d show up whenever he needed help, but that was it. Until he showed up the night before the bodega robbery.”

“He came to see you?” Jake’s eyes widen in alarm, and you nod. You can feel a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach as you think back to that night, and you uneasily run your hands through your hair.

“I didn’t know he had robbed those other bodegas. But he came around asking for me to let him and his friend in, basically. Asked me for the key. I told him no, that I could just lend him money, and he… he got angry.” your voice shakes slightly as you stare off at some point in the distance. “We’ve had our fights, obviously, but this was different. I was almost scared of him.”

You screw your eyes shut as you remember seeing the smashed in front door, the fear swallowing you whole as you worried what might happen next. Jake doesn’t try to prompt you further, knowing how difficult this must be for you, and he lets out a soft sigh as he wishes that you didn’t have to go through such a thing.

“I don’t want him to go to jail. I just want him to be okay.” you can feel your words getting caught in your throat as you struggle to continue speaking. “But he doesn’t even feel like my brother anymore. That night was just… I- I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“What about the cameras?” Jake quietly asks.

“That was me.” you sigh, nervously wringing your hands together. “I couldn’t sleep that night, so eventually, I… I just got up and went to see if he had really done it. Part of me still had hope that maybe he didn’t. When I saw the door broken in it just… crushed me. I almost feel like he did it on purpose, to scare me. But I still wanted to protect him, so I… I went in to delete the security footage, and rushed out before anyone could see me.”

Jake leans back onto the bench. This is it, he realises. With your revelations, it seems as though the case is solved. But seeing the heartbreak on your face doesn’t make the solved case as satisfying as it usually is.

“I just feel like I’ve failed him.” your shoulders slump, your voice barely audible. “He’s my family I have, and I just… I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“Hey, you didn’t fail him, y/n,” Jake gently insists, and to your surprise, he reaches out to take your hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’ve been an awesome sibling, better than he deserves, really. But he chose to do this, and that’s not on you.”

You nod, trying your best to believe him, and from the earnest expression on Jake’s face, you feel like you could. You manage to muster up a smile, and Jake smiles back at you. Nodding back in the direction of the precinct, Jake tells you, “I do need you to need you to come back to the precinct to make a statement. But you’ve really helped us, y/n, and you did the right thing.”

A part of you has doubts, but you try your best to take comfort in Jake’s words. Jake gets to his feet, and you stand up with him, and Jake offers you a small smile that reassures you that everything will be okay.

—

You bump the cash machine closed with your elbow as you count out some change. Sliding it over to the customer alongside their bag of snacks, you politely smile at them before they step aside to leave. You wave the next customer in line forward, only to realise it’s Jake standing before you, and your eyes widen as he offers you a sheepish grin. He steps up to the counter, placing down a bag of chips and a bottle of orange soda, and you exchange a knowing smile as you lean forward, “Hey, Jake. Did… did everything go alright?”

“We got him and his buddy.” Jake confirms, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “They tried to give us the slip, but I chased after them.”

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Jake quickly corrects himself, “Okay, Rosa chased after them, but that doesn’t matter.”

You laugh, and Jake snorts with you before continuing, “There’ll be a trial, obviously. I’ll give you more updates when I hear them.”

You nod, before sliding Jake’s stuff back to him. You don’t even bother ringing his purchase up as you tell him, “It’s on the house.”

“What? No.” Jake hurriedly searches through his pockets for some change. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do.” you insist. Jake offers you some cash, but you shake your head. “Seriously, Jake, thank you, for everything.”

You reach out, closing Jake’s hand, and your gaze lingers on one another as your hand remains on his. He smiles, and Jake feels like his heart might beat out of his chest as you smile back at him. Before he can stop himself, he blurts, “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime?”

You blink at him in surprise, and Jake winces as he worries he might’ve blown it. Stammering, he continues, “It’s, uh, my way of saying thank you. For helping us solve the case. And for the snacks.”

Jake watches as a smile spreads across your face, and you chew on your lip as if trying to contain your happiness. “Is this a date?”

Jake grins at you. “It can be.”

“Just tell me when and where.” you nod excitedly, and Jake beams at you. “I’d love to go out with you, Jake.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jake claps his hands together. He scoops up his snacks, backing away as he continues, “Hey, I’ve got to run back to the precinct, but I’ll text you, okay?”

“Got it.” you nod, grinning from ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch Jake clumsily try to open the door, but he stops himself.

“Oh! By the way,” Jake spins around on his heel. “Do you guys sell batteries?”

“Um,” you glance over your shoulder at the inventory behind you. “We’ve got some. What kind do you need?”

“It’s for a clock.” Jake sighs, and you raise an eyebrow at his reaction. “It’s… a long story.”

tag list: @myfriendmagislit / @thedamagedcne / @real-fbi / @writinqss / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @dontjudgemepeepswrites / @hauntedpocdreamer / @locke-writes / @lgbtonystarks / @fangirlsarah16 / @kittensanddarkclouds / @randomfandomimagine / @ofthedewthesunlight / @bravelittlesunflower / @gothicwidowsworld / @halfofwhatisayismeaningless / @amirahiddleston / @interwebseriesfan24

#reader x jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #b99 imagine #b99 #b99 one shot #jake peralta #jake peralta one shot #imagine #imagines #reader insert #oneshot #one shot

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