#‘I don’t know if you can tell but I lost two pounds. you probably can’t tell’

[boomerang109]

im gonna kill her

[gojorgeous]

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!” 

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 

~

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 

“Yeah. Long day at work.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 

“So, what’s your technique” 

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 

“Bet I could find out.” 

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines. 

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He��s got you. It’s over. 

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 

Your lips part. “You knew?” 

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 

But you have one thing on him. 

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 

You freeze. He notices. 

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @fushironi, @enchantedsylveon, @keiva1000, @complexivelovely, @httpstoyosi, @bbyxxm, @6kabuki.

link: 1k followers event

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[rebelfell]

Evidently never gonna be done with thoughts of these two... 18+, MDNI 4.8k

older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson

cw: unprotected piv, finishing inside

cont'd from here, index here

The ride back to the house is silent.

No music playing. No words being said. Just the rumble of his van’s engine and the spin of its tires making the floor vibrate underneath your feet. Eddie’s hands keep tensing, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel never loosening as he navigates the deserted, winding backroads.

The trip that seemed to take only minutes on the way now stretches on interminably. Like when you wake up from a dream and the elasticized time snaps abruptly back in place and you realize your alarm has been going off for over an hour and now you’re definitely late for work.

You swallow thickly as you stare out the window at the blur of trees whipping past, your fingers twisting in your lap as you pick at the skin around your thumbnail. You rack your brain for some words, any words, that might be helpful. That might somehow fix this mess you’ve made.

But there isn’t a lot left to say after the lake.

Eddie, don’t, you can’t say stuff like that.

Why not? It’s the truth, it’s how I feel, I—

Because this can’t go anywhere! I’m leaving, I’m going back to—

Then I’ll leave too! I’ll go with you, I’ll go wherever you go, I just want to be with you.

Stop it, you don’t know what you’re saying.

He tries to tell you he does mean it. He means it more than he’s ever meant anything in his whole life. He doesn’t care about Hawkins or his stupid community college classes or his handful of odd jobs he could do literally anywhere. He’ll pick up and move. He’ll work. He’ll take care of you.

He’ll do anything so long as this doesn’t end.

What about Steve?

You stare at him plainly, certain you’ve delivered a death blow. And his face does flicker, if only for a moment, as the guilt that’s been festering in his gut for months finally shows through. And even as he shakes his head as determinately as he can, the waver in his voice is unmistakable.

I’ll…I’ll explain it to him.

Explain what? That we fucked on every available surface in his house?

Eddie shrank at your harsh words, not ready for the anger that flashed in your eyes, nor the vitriol that rose in your voice when you so crassly described the best summer of his life.

No! Well…yeah, but—I don’t know, I’ll figure it out!

Okay, and then what? We date? You practically spat the word out. Show up for Christmas dinner at your best friend’s house? Sit across the table from him as his aunt’s…as my…

You can’t even say the word “boyfriend”—it feels so juvenile, so high-school.

The argument drags on until the deep, brilliant midnight blue sky begins to tinge gray with the arrival of a cold and sickly dawn. Eddie probably would have kept going until the sun rose, until it hung in the middle of the sky, until it had set and come back up all over again. But you told him as calmly as you could that you had to go back. 

It was time.

His van practically crawls to a stop in the driveway, the screech of his brakes mixing with the soft tweets of birds just beginning to stir. He shifts it into park and reaches up to grab the keys and cut the ignition, but you lay your hand on top of his to stop him.

“I don’t think you should stay,” you tell him, forcing back the wobble in your voice.

And the way he looks at you when you say it makes you feel like you’ve been stabbed. His face crumples, his brow pinching together, his mouth contorted in an ugly shape more snarl than frown.

“Don’t do this…” he says, gritting out the words through a clenched jaw. “Please.”

And it’s not the sort of begging you’re used to hearing out of him. It’s not an eager plea for you to kiss him or touch him, nor a cheeky request to fuck you somewhere you could get caught. This is real begging. It’s him clawing at you from behind a chain link fence, a lost puppy who wants only for you to take him home from the pound.

Not asking for anything but you.

“Eddie, we can’t—”

He reaches out for you, his hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, his touch somehow soft and tender despite the rigid tension you can see in his arms, in his back, in his shoulders.

“We can do anything we want,” he whispers.

His breath is warm on your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He really believes it. And god do you want to believe it too. But…

“I’m sorry.”

Tears brim along your lashline as you wedge your fingers under his to wrench them from your face, rushing to get out of the van before he can stop you. Your footsteps thud on the concrete as you retreat inside the house and lean on the door in the foyer until you hear him backing down the driveway and the glow of his headlights has disappeared completely from view.

You drift back upstairs, heading for your sister’s room that has lain untouched since they left. Past all the places you and he defiled this summer. Past your bed with its rumpled sheets that still smell of Camels and cologne. Past the guest room where Eddie barely slept, lying awake at night thinking of you instead. Past the answering machine and its flashing red light that signals a new message has been left, one you’ll listen to in the morning with bleary bloodshot eyes.

It’s your sister letting you know they’ve changed their flight. They’ll be home tomorrow.

Which is now today.

Having John and Viv back in the house is an adjustment.

Upon playing their message, you and Steve did a sweep of every room trying to get it back up to his mother’s impeccable standards you’d let slide since your arrival…in more ways than one.

You don’t see much of Steve’s father, which feels normal because you never do. Even after all the deals he closed this summer, he somehow only has to work more now that he’s home. Most mornings, he’s up and headed to the office before the rest of the world has hit the first snooze on their alarms. And some nights he stays until long after the rest of the house has gone to bed.

It gives you and your sister lots of time to talk. Well, it gives her time to talk. And the one thing she simply can’t seem to stop talking about is how incredible the yard looks.

She keeps looking out the windows and sighing wistfully as she stares at the haven Eddie has created. She starts to take her morning coffee, her afternoon tea, her evening glass of port out on the patio just to marvel at the perennials just beginning to flower. She’s beyond thrilled.

And you’re…fine. At least you can pretend like you are. Most days.

It’s easy to slip back into the state of numbness that was your home base after everything with your ex. But with him, you had just felt mad. There was no guilt or remorse eating away at your insides. No bottomless pit of doubt in your stomach, no needling thoughts of regret gnawing at you constantly. No part of you left wondering if you’d made a terrible mistake.

Or rather, another one.

What’s really not helping is Viv going out of her way to berate you about how you’re going about this all wrong. She’s quick to scold you for moping around the house, asking if this is what you’ve done all summer. She’s adamant you should be getting back out there—back on the bike or the horse or whatever other tired ass cliche you preferred.

It’s during one of these rants that the phone rings and mercifully cuts her off. Steve is calling. He left his lunch at home and he’s wondering if someone can bring it to him. Vivian grins.

“Your aunt would love to. She was just saying she needed to get out of the house.”

And she’s not wrong, even if it’s her and not the house you need a break from.

But as you make the turn into Family Video’s lot, your stomach drops at the sight of the brown and white van parked out front. Eddie’s long frame leans on the hood, unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth, his hands resting on the hips of a girl he’s got pressed up against him, his fingers toying with the frilled hem of a baby pink top that flashes the bare skin of her lower back.

Your neck is as stiff as death as you walk past, keeping your eyes glued to the door in front of you, trying to ignore the breathy laugh that floats on the air and punctures your brain. You yank on the handle a little too hard, the silver bell overhead even louder in your already ringing ears.

Steve lets out a loud groan of relief when he sees you, or rather when he sees his lunch, and he tears into it right there on the sales floor. He’s the only one on today and the store is deserted— everyone likely at the pool or out enjoying the last few weeks of freedom and warm weather.

Or going for a gold medal in tonsil hockey.

You fold your arms across your chest and lean on the counter, sneaking a glance over your shoulder you know you’ll regret. Most of the display going on outside is obscured by the decals and posters on the windows, but you can still see plenty.

Eddie’s head dips to whisper something in that girl’s ear and you feel about as tall as the crumbs scattering from Steve’s sandwich.

As he chews, your nephew’s gaze follows yours out the window. His brows raise as Eddie grins and he starts to run his hands down the curve of her spine, slipping them snugly into the back pockets of her jeans. Unable to see the grimace on your face, Steve just nods approvingly.

“About time,” he sighs as he rips off another bite. “He’s been like…catatonic lately.”

The sourness in your stomach only curdles further until you mutter out a goodbye to Steve and turn to make your escape. But the very moment that you do, that girl is taking Eddie by the hand and pulling him along behind her into the store. You and she nearly collide at the door, close enough you can smell the sickly sweet peach lip gloss she’s wearing.

“Oh! Sorry, ma’am,” she says, blithely smiling as she floats over to the new releases.

Behind her, Eddie stands staunchly in the doorway. He takes up the entire exit, his dark clothes seemingly absorbing all the light in the room as you lift your chin to look him in the eye.

You expect to find contempt. Something callous and unfeeling. More than merely smug, you’re sure he will be dripping with arrogance and condescension. Because he’s got every right to be, doesn’t he? You really think I cared about you? Don’t you see how fast I can replace you?

But when you do look at him, there is only pain etched into his features. He holds your gaze for no more than a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. You think that all of civilization could be crumbling into ruin around you and you would never know because you can’t stand to tear your eyes away from his. And you don’t, until he drops his head and turns sideways to let you pass.

His cologne stings in your nostrils as you do, and your arm brushes the edge of his denim vest. And you don’t make it but a block away before you have to pull off onto a side street and cry.

For the next two weeks, the sky is permanently gray.

Dark and mottled clouds roll in sometime that evening and suddenly even the smallest sliver of sunshine becomes as precious as real gold. Their coverage is dense and the air becomes thick and muggy with humidity that only gets more oppressive, yet never gets any closer to breaking.

Every day, the house seems to get smaller. It’s like you’re a rat in a maze and the scientists who are studying you keep removing portions of it until you’ve been boxed in with no escape. But the idea of going out, the thought of running into Eddie again, is too much for you to bear the risk.

The only thing that brings you any sort of solace is that the school year will start soon and you’ll have work to distract you again. Truthfully, the only reason you have yet to extract yourself from Hawkins is because your new housing—a little craftsman you’re going to rent from the head of your department at the university—won’t be ready for you to move in until the end of August.

But the looming threat of your departure somehow only encourages Vivian.

You should have known something was up the moment she said she wanted to have a “family dinner” to celebrate your last night. You should have known when you came into your room and found a bag from her favorite department store sitting on your bed containing a sundress far too floral for your taste. It might as well have had a post-it on it that said “Wear Me” like your mother used to put on your school clothes when she laid them out for you in the morning.

If you were smart, you might have thrown it out the window. Or maybe even climbed through it yourself and scaled down the trellis to make a run for it. Instead, you put it on. And your feet are like lead on the steps as you come down to find your sister bustling around the dining room.

Your brow furrows as you count four place settings. “I thought Steve had a date,” you say.

“He does,” she hums, shooting you a sidelong glance. “And so do you.”

“Viv, no. Please don’t do this—”

“I haven’t done anything!”

She throws her hands up and smiles, but all the faux innocence in the world can’t disguise that glint of mischief in her eyes. You open your mouth to protest, but you’re cut off by the doorbell.

“That must be him,” she titters, flapping a napkin behind you to shoo you into the foyer. “Go on, now, don’t keep him waiting!”

Eddie parks his van down the street from Steve’s house, under the cover of some tree branches that hang low over the road. He smokes two cigarettes down to the filters and debates on a third as he tries to summon the courage to get out of the car. Every part of his body seems to be at odds with him, unwilling to settle until he finally kicks open the door and gets out.

His feet carry him forward in long, determined strides but they falter when he sees a car he isn’t expecting sitting in the driveway. It’s a cruiser. One Eddie found himself pulled over by on more than a few occasions, being scrutinized by the giant hulking man now ringing the doorbell.

Hopper.

He’s not in uniform. In fact, he’s more dressed up than Eddie has ever seen him, all trussed up in a sport coat over a button down that he’s actually buttoned. Shit, is his shirttail tucked in?

“Munson?” he says in surprise. “What brings you here?”

But before Eddie can answer, the door is opening and it's you on the other side. Eyes widening when they land on him and then blinking furiously when you realize Hopper is there as well.

“Um…hi.”

It’s hard to say who looks more uncomfortable as you step aside so Hopper can come in and you exchange some stilted pleasantries. You remember him from high-school and you aren’t all that surprised the town’s terminal bachelor is the one your sister has decided to foist upon you.

What is surprising is that Eddie is here. And his eyes are searing into you, while you have yet to fully acknowledge him. In all honesty, you're not entirely convinced he isn’t a hallucination. Only when Viv appears and glides into the chaos like a parade float do you actually believe it.

“I thought that was you, Chief. So glad you could make it—Oh, Eddie!” 

Her eyes fall on the boy still hovering in the doorway, her hand coming up to her chest. 

“I’m so sorry, dear, but Steve’s already left for his date. Wait right here, though, I have some money for you for all that work you did.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

Eddie takes a hurried step forward, his white sneakers finally breaching the threshold. Vivian is already gone, though, rushing up the stairs. Leaving you alone. With both of them.

“Hey…Hop. John’s in the den, if you want a drink,” you tell him, pointing the way.

With a terse nod and a gruff sound you presume is him answering in the affirmative, Hopper heads down the hall and leaves you and Eddie to your uncomfortable hovering. He leans on the narrow table in the entryway, staring at his own hand as he traces the edge of the wood with his finger, the rest of his hand closed in a fist. He won’t look at you now. Won’t lift his chin an inch.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper.

Eddie just shrugs, staring now at his sneakers he’s scuffing against the oriental rug under his feet. His mouth parts slightly, but no words come out. His chest rises with the breath he draws, but he swallows his non-response when he hears Vivian at the top of the stairs.

“Here you go, dear,” she says, handing over the envelope full of cash with his name written on it that’s been sitting on her bureau for weeks now.

His head shakes. “You really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense! You did such beautiful work out there, it was so wonderful to come home to. You ought to think about going into landscaping.”

Vivian just about forces the envelope into his hands and he mutters out a thank you, tapping his fingers on it and making furtive glances towards the door as she whirls around to you.

“You two met, right?” she asks. “He must have been here all the time working.”

“Y-yeah, yes, we—”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, stuffing the money into his back pocket and reaching for the doorknob in one motion. Still not looking you in the eye. “I’ll, um…I’m sorry to disturb you…”

He goes to leave, one foot already out the door when she suddenly stops and looks back over his shoulder. You feel your breath catch, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours.

“Have a good night,” he says quietly. And then he’s gone.

The door doesn’t slam. He doesn’t even shut it particularly hard. Still, you can’t help but flinch as it closes soundly behind him. There’s something so final about it, but it doesn’t feel like enough after everything that’s happened—it doesn’t feel right for it to end with something so hollow.

Vivian just smiles and loops her arm with yours.

“Ready to go find the boys?”

You walk Hopper to the door after dinner, more or less coerced into it by your sister.

There’s a slight scuffle as you try and figure out how to say goodnight to one another. He winds up reaching out a hand as big as a bear’s paw and clumsily pats your shoulder, almost like he is one, when he seemingly can’t decide between hugging you or shaking your hand. 

Chuckling through it the best you can, you keep the same fake smile you’ve worn all night firmly plastered in place until the door closes with him on the other side. And you stand there for a minute, not too keen on going back in the kitchen for your impending cross-examination.

But then your eyes land on the vase sitting on the table in the entryway. More specifically, on the folded piece of paper tucked behind it with only a ripped edge peeking out. 

You reach for it, flashing back to a ringed finger tracing the edge of that table, fist clenched around something, and your hands shake as you unfold it to read Eddie’s note scrawled inside.

I’m parked down the street.

It’s just starting to rain as you hurry down the driveway, skulking through shadows as you walk along the quiet street. In the distance, you can hear the rumble of the approaching storm as fat raindrops hit the top of your head and slide down your scalp through the forest of your roots.

A pitch black sky overhead matches the road under your feet, scantly lit by a lone streetlight. The wind picks up as you look around for Eddie’s van and just when you’re starting to think he must have left already, you spot him on the side of the road under the cover of some trees.

At first all you can see is the glowing orange dot at the end of his cigarette, but his face steadily comes into view as you approach the driver’s side door. A blatant attempt to avoid what you know will happen if you climb in the passenger seat.

The rain starts to fall a little harder as he rolls his window down. It soaks the ground at your feet, clouds of steam rising from the pavement. The air is thick and heavy, like standing in a bowl of soup. It has your shoulders sagging with the weight and your lungs struggling to draw breath.

At least that’s what you let yourself believe.

“How was your date?” Eddie asks with a bitter laugh that does little to disguise his disgust. You shake your head, pushing back a wet piece of hair clinging to your cheek.

“It wasn’t a…It was just dinner.”

The hurt in your voice makes his eyes round and soften, cheeks hollowing as he takes a long drag. Seemingly breathing in as deeply as he can to steady his own frayed nerves.

“I was afraid you might have left already,” he says.

“No,” you tell him, eyes falling to your feet. “Not ‘til tomorrow.”

He nods.

“I, uh—I know I shouldn’t just show up like this. But I wanted to tell you…” His jaw is clenched, bottom lip shaking almost imperceptibly, corners of his mouth turning downwards as he stubs out his smoke. “I need you to know that I don’t regret it. Any of it.”

He lifts his gaze to meet yours on the last words, brown eyes like twin black holes that hold all the mysteries of the universe. There’s a terrifying vastness to them, a depth you’ve only barely scratched the surface of. Your lips press together and you pinch your eyes shut as your hand creeps up to rest on the door, fingers curling around it as raindrops splash on the interior.

The thunder only gets louder as the storm nears, the rain now falling in a rapid patter. Here it is, you tell yourself. This is what you knew was coming. This is where you knew you’d end up.

“I don’t regret it either,” you say, raising your voice over the sound of the rain, forcing down the tremble in it. “And I…I’ll never forget it.”

You can only hold his gaze for a second before you have to look away. And as you do, you give the door a tight squeeze, wishing it was his hand instead.

“Bye, Eddie.”

Your feet carry you away like you’re on autopilot.

You’re barely conscious of the steps you take or the direction you head in as the rain ramps up to a downpour and fully soaks through your clothes. Your head is spinning and foggy, unable to register much of anything until one sound breaks through—the creak of the van door swinging open and slamming shut, followed by the splashing of water under sneakers.

The solid weight of his hand on your shoulder makes you start as he turns you towards him, the rain falling harder and the wind blowing faster all around. The trees overhead whip back and forth in a frenzy, their branches dipping low and their leaves swirling wildly in the air.

“Eddie, someone could see—”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to wrench you closer, pulling you into his body, both of your faces splattered with rain, barely able to see anything beyond each other.

“Let them,” he breathes out before his lips slam into yours.

The sound of the storm is only magnified inside of Eddie’s van, every drop of rain on the metal roof practically deafening as you climb through the rear and your bodies slide against the floor. The carpet inside is rough and scratchy, the fibers imbedded with decades worth of dirt and crumbs and tobacco and weed particles, but you can’t find the will within you to care.

All you can think about, all you can focus on, is him.

His kiss is harsh and punishing, lips mashing rough against yours, teeth clacking as he devours you. Aggressive and bruising in a way that, deep down, you know you deserve. 

Your wet clothes cleave to your bodies as you struggle to drag them off, steadfast in their refusal despite your feverish attempts. Eddie’s jeans and boxers only make it to the middle of his thighs before he’s pushing inside of you and a strangled moan releases from his throat.

The stretch makes you writhe, the stinging pain quickly becoming an afterthought as your need for him overrides everything else. You fist his wet shirt in your hands, rivulets of water trickling down your forearms as you clutch it tight to pull his body as close to yours as it can get.

Adrenaline races in your veins as he begins to thrust and you realize it’s the first time he’s taken you bare, the velvet of his skin dragging against your walls with nothing to separate you.

He fucks you fast and hard, your legs kicking up to wrap around his waist, your ass burning from the friction, your muscles tightening and tensing with every move. His whole body is quaking as he drives himself inside, the van rocking, teetering like it’s about to tip over the edge of a cliff.

He fucks you like it’s the last time he’ll get to, because he’s pretty sure it will be.

“Let me come in you,” he groans in your ear, more command than request. “Want to fill you up, want you to feel every…fucking…drop…”

The words are grunted out in time with his thrusts, his hips pushing deeper with every heaving breath, his cock twitching inside you as your walls pulse and tighten around him.

“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god!”

Your fingers weave into his wet curls, twisting them in your grasp at the root, tugging his head up and holding him there so you can stare into his eyes, your own vision strained in the dark.

Lightning flashes through the windshield, followed instantly by a clap of thunder. So close it could have struck right outside. For an instant, the van is illuminated and you see his face fully—eyes wide and wild, hair half-dried in damp coils, tattoos stark against pale skin that glows white.

It only lasts a second, but it shows you everything you need to see.

“Come, Eddie,” you gasp as the lightning dissipates and the whole van rattles from the force. “Want you to come for me, come in me—”

And he does. As fast and hard as the lightning strike, Eddie’s cock bursts with rope after rope of his release spurting inside of you, your center tingling as the feeling of it spreads throughout your body. The noise he makes in your ear is ungodly. It pours out from deep in his throat, guttural and resonant as the echoing claps of thunder. He drops all of his weight onto you, shaking from the force of his orgasm as you’re flattened between him and the floor.

“It’s okay,” you coo softly, your fingers loosening your grip on his hair to stroke it instead, nails dragging soft and slow against his scalp.

He shivers at your gentle and soothing touch, inhaling shaky breaths of you with his face pressed to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Safe and dark and warm.

“I love you,” he says, his voice cracking in a dry sob as his tears slide off his cheeks to mix with the rainwater and sweat on your skin. Your throat clenches as you swallow, still trying to force down the words that have sat heavy in the center of your chest for weeks now, fighting to be said.

Finally, finally, finally, they make it out.

“I love you too.”

prev│next

[oddballwriter]

The Sweetest Thing

Summary: Your hobby of baking causes an issue for the boys. Not because of anything with you, it's a matter of control with themselves.

Warnings: Nothing really.

Author’s Snip: I bake as a hobby and while making brownies earlier I thought this up.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 816

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction (you can join the taglist, just ask)

It was a problem. Not for you. You were just acting out your hobby of baking and there was nothing wrong with that at all. The problem was with the boys and the fact that they couldn’t resist eating whatever you baked. Whether it be brownies, cookies, cupcakes, bonbons, pies, anything.

You wouldn’t call yourself a top baker, but the boys always sang your praises and wanted the first taste every time. But you seem to always have something freshly baked and fresh out the oven.

Steven was the least likely to tell you no when you offered him a piece of what you’ve made, always having the subconscious intuition to start baking so that when it was all ready it could be pair with his tea. And it would be nice to have something with his tea. And you always go through the trouble of using a vegan recipe.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t.” Steven says to himself as you offer him a few cookies you just finished, “I can’t be eating so much sugar all the time.” he warns himself. “Just one won’t hurt.” Steven excuses.

But one turns into two, and then an extra third that he didn't realize he was eating until he was just about done with it.

"So much for 'just one'." Steven scolds himself.

"At least I know that they were good," you remark.

"Thank you for letting me try them though, love. They were delicious. But next time I'll just grab one and leave the rest of the container alone." Steven says.

It's worse when Marc just got done working out. Gained some muscle, shed a good amount of calories. But then he walks in and the flat smells like a damn bakery. Out of all of the days and times that you could have baked, you chose the day that Marc goes to the gym and the time he comes home. And you're there smiling at him.

"What's for dessert this time?" Marc asks as he walks over to you and kisses you on the cheek. "You giggle, "Cinnamon rolls, I found an easy-to-follow recipe a few days ago and wanted to give it a try." you explain.

Marc sighs, "Why do you always have to make something to make me regain all the calories I just lost?" he questions. "You don't have to eat them today if you don't want to." you say, "Plus, they aren't done yet. They need to be done baking and I need to make the frosting." you add.

"You can have one once they're complete and cooled down." you offer him. "That's the issue. If you're the one who made them then I'll get up eating more than one." Marc explains.

"Sometimes having a little bit of a little snack pouch is okay as long as you're healthy." you half-joke.

Jake hardly does anything about it though. He couldn't care less if he gained a pound or two if it meant getting to enjoy your baking. Matter of fact he's right there when you bake. Arms wrapped around your body while you measure and mix, but he hardly really helps in your opinion.

"Are you just going to hold me the whole time or are you going to do something?" you question playfully. "I help by licking the spoons and bowls." Jake replies.

You huff in amusement before picking up the teaspoon that you used a second ago, "Then do me a favor and 'clean' this for me." you request as you hand it to him. Jake takes it and gives it one lick before trying to spit in an immediate reaction. "What the hell was that?" Jake exclaims. "I used that for the vanilla extract." you say simply.

"That was mean." Jake says with a fake pout. "You saw me use it a second ago, I don't know how you fell for that." you laugh.

"I just like watching you work, I don't pay attention to what exactly you're putting in. You could poison it right in front of me and I probably won't catch it at first." Jake says before he slightly changes the subject.

"Speaking of watching you bake. I would love to help you open up a little bakery and have a little section where I can watch you make everything." Jake mentions as he holds you closer and kisses your neck. "I don't think I'm that much of a baker that I could have a business." you comment.

"I'd disagree. I think once someone gets a taste of what you make then they'd be flocking for a single piece." Jake says.

"Jake I use recipes I find online and then write down if I like them." you mention.

"Well then maybe it's time that you experiment with making your own." Jake fires back, "I can taste test for you while you try to nail it." he suggests.

[graysturns]

𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕖 | 𝕞.𝕤.

3.7k+ words

note: this had me crying! please listen to will he by joji on repeat to feel what i felt okay? okay love u guys bye

warnings: toxic relationship, weed use, alcohol consumption, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem recieving).

lightly proofread

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

“you need to fucking relax. you get so worked up over nothing and now you’re bitching and whining at me over something that has nothing to do with me!” matt yells in my direction while sifting through his hamper.

“do you really think that’s okay? some girl whispering in your ear like that? it’s obvious she had an ulterior motive. and that way she put her hand on your chest, you didn’t even try to stop her! and now you won’t tell me what she was say-“

“why can’t you drop this? it was loud and i couldn’t hear her so she leaned into me. what the fuck was i supposed to do?” he interrupts.

“i don’t know, maybe establish a boundary? you always do this. it’s like i don’t matter to you. behind closed doors it’s ‘i love you baby, i can’t live without you, you’re my whole life’, it’s like i’m dating two different people!” i mock him.

“you’re such a fucking simp when it’s the two of us but god forbid another person is around. you forget i exist!” i continue.

“you already know i don’t like pda. no one needs to know the personal details of our relationship. i’m sorry you feel that way but that’s just how i am. you’re always trying to change me.” he huffs before throwing a hoodie down on his bed.

“matt, i’m not trying to change you. i just need to know that you love me. it hurts me that you’re so indifferent towards me at times. i need to know you feel the same way i do.” i choke out, tears forming in my eyes.

suddenly, his phone buzzes. i barely see the instagram message notification before he quickly grabs it and shoves it back in his pocket.

he lowers his head before bringing a hand up to his mouth, starting to bite his nails.

“what was that?” i stare back at him.

“it was nothing.”

“so, why are you being fucking weird?”

“i’m not being weird.”

“fuck this.” i grab my bag from his chair and walk to the door of his bedroom.

“where are you going?”

“matthew, i can’t be with you. i need — no i deserve — someone who loves me the way i should be loved. it feels like i embarrass you. you think i haven’t seen the models you follow? you’re so weird about your phone these days and i don’t have the energy to ignore it anymore. i’m not enough for you, but there’s probably someone out there praying for someone like me, someone who would kiss the ground i walk on, and appreciate me for who i am. you’re not him, but i’m going to find him. have a good fucking life matt.”

he stands at the foot of the bed, arms limp and slack-jawed.

i raise my eyebrows at him, awaiting some sort of response, but he rolls his eyes before turning around, focusing on his laundry once again.

“leave then, ungrateful bitch!” he scoffs as i slam the door behind me.

-two months later-

my head is pounding from the loud music blaring all around me and the amount of shots I’ve taken, which i’ve now lost track of. i feel like shit but i need something, anything to keep my mind off matt.

a pair of hands grabs my waist as i’m dancing and leads me toward their groin. normally i’d turn around and berate the man who felt like he had the right to put his hands on me, but i really need some fucking attention.

i don’t even turn to look at him before i press my back against his chest and move my hips in circles.

i can feel him move my hair to the side and start to kiss up my neck.

gross.

i continue to move against him, focusing on the music playing loudly. i feel high and drunk at the same time and everything is so fuzzy. i feel like nothing matters anymore. i’m so numb.

i turn around and face the man. he’s tall and blonde, with blue eyes just like matt’s.

“do you wanna get out of here?” i blurt out without a second thought.

he smirks before taking my hand and leading me out the door.

matt’s pov

i lean out my window, one hand tightly gripping the sill while my other brings the joint back up to my lips, sucking the thin white smoke. i exhale through my nostrils, shutting my eyes tightly.

thirty minutes ago, a mutual friend of ours posted a snap story of her downing shots. there were multiple men all around her, watching her drown herself in liquor. she wore a tight little dress that showed off all my favorite parts of her. my blood boiled at the thought of them ravishing her with their eyes.

that particular friend group is notorious for bar-hopping, and leaving behind whoever isn’t paying attention. i can’t stand the thought of her being stranded there, unaware of her surroundings, vulnerable and an easy target for anyone waiting to take advantage of her.

i press my palms into my eyes, trying to push the thought of her away.

she isn’t my problem anymore.

a sharp sizzling noise brings my hands back down when i notice one strand of my hair is smoking, the joint still between my pointer and middle finger.

“fuck.” i press the joint into the small ashtray she made me, when we went on a date to the pottery studio.

“fuck!” i yell out the window, wanting to throw the small ceramic out onto the street, but i can’t.

i’m such an idiot. she’s the only thing i’ve ever cared about, and now she’s out there, probably fucking someone new. but there’s nothing i can do about it, she isn’t mine anymore.

i stand up and shut the window, grabbing a hoodie from the chair and throwing it on before heading out to my car.

the drive is short and quiet. i pull up to the outside of her apartment building and park underneath a tree, far enough away to remain unnoticed but close enough to watch.

about twenty minutes pass by, and my nails are bitten to nubs, when a silver car pulls into the spot right in front of her door. i watch as she stumbles out, dragging some tall, frat-boyish idiot out behind her. she sloppily waves goodbye at the car as it zooms away.

i feel my ears heat up as she stumbles in to her apartment, bringing him inside with her.

it takes everything in me not to bust in there and rip him off of her. my mind runs wild thinking of what he could be doing to her in there.

reader’s pov

we exit the car and i wave goodbye to the nice man who dropped us off. i fumble with my keys a little before going inside.

“welcome to my home!” i throw my hands up and giggle.

“wow, it’s very.. cute.” he stands with his hands in his pockets, looking around at the stuffed animals on my couch.

i grab his hand and lead him up the stairs to my bedroom. “i don’t normally do this, but i just need to fuck and you seem like the kinda guy whose down.. for that kinda thing.” i slur my words as we enter my bedroom.

“yeah i’m so down, i think you’re really hot.” he chuckles before eyeing me up and down.

i roll my eyes internally before slipping my dress off and kicking it aside.

“okay let’s do it!” i clasp my hands together and giggle softly.

he smirks before pushing me onto the bed. “what a little slut, giving it up for a guy you just met at the club, and you’re not even wearing underwear, i love it.” he bites his lip before getting down on his knees.

he places a kiss on my navel before harshly sucking on my clit, with no warning.

i yelp out in pain, and not the good kind.

i can’t stop thinking of matt, how good he is at this, how i miss his tongue on my skin.

he begins to lick my outer folds, before slamming a finger into my cervix.

“fuck!”

“what’s wrong?” he looks at me bewildered.

“i’m not even wet, dude? have you ever eaten pussy in your life?”

he nods quickly before traveling up to my breast, and massages it slowly before biting down harshly on my left nipple.

“ow! oh my god, what is happening to me right now?” i blurt out.

matt was always so gentle.

he has a sad look in his eyes, and i begin to feel sorry for him.

“no, look, i’m sorry. come here,” i gesture at him to get on the bed and hover over me.

“i have lube on the nightstand, it’s okay,” i reach over and grab it, pumping some on my hand before spreading it around my clit and folds.

he pulls his shirt and pants off, before pulling his cock out and teasing the head on me, still in his boxers.

i look down and see them bunched around his knees and get the biggest ick.

before he enters me, i stop him with a hand on his chest.

“i’m not on birth control, you need a condom.” i lie to his face.

i always let matt finish inside me.

he smirks at me again, “that’s okay, i can pull out.”

“okay, no. i’m sorry this isn’t working out.” i roll out from under him and open my bedroom door.

“i think you should go.” i lower my gaze.

“no i can do better! i promise!” he pleads.

“get the fuck out man! now! go! go! leave!”

he quickly grabs his things and pulls up his boxers before tripping.

oh my god. i’ve never been so disgusted in my life. i cover my face in embarrassment.

matt would never give me this much second-hand embarrassment.

he stands, knees shaking and running down the stairs with his clothes bunched up in his arms. the door slams and i let out a sigh.

i feel disgusting.

after crying on my bed for a good five minutes, i look in the mirror and see a splotchy, nude mess. there’s mascara on my cheeks and my hair is a birds nest atop my head.

i need a shower.

in the bathroom, i turn the shower on high heat and step underneath the running water.

i wash my hair and face, then proceed to scrub my skin raw everywhere he touched me. my skin is red and burning by the time i exit the shower but i can still feel his grimy hands on me.

with a plush towel, i pat myself down before wrapping my hair up and going back into my bedroom to blow dry my hair.

halfway through, i hear my phone ding from the nightstand, where i had hooked it up to charge. i slowly walk over and peek at the screen.

it’s matt.

matt’s pov

my knuckles turn white from the grip i’ve got on the steering wheel. the windows are down, allowing the cool air to come in, helping me control my breathing.

a door slams and i jerk my head in the direction of her apartment. i chuckle slightly at the scene before me.

the same man, is now outside, standing in his underwear with all his belongings bundled up under his arm. not even five minutes after he had gone inside. his cheeks burn a bright red as he drops everything to quickly get dressed.

that bad, huh?

i snap a picture quickly and try to keep myself from laughing out loud.

this may be her first time trying to get back out there, but i can’t imagine how difficult it’d be for her to allow a man back in her bed after she’s had me.

i roll my windows up so i can watch him without being noticed. he’s scrambling to do something on his phone, shaking and crying.

how pathetic.

i can’t imagine how she’s feeling, probably sad, angry, maybe even missing me.

i decide to wait another twenty minutes. in the meantime, the mystery man is sat up against the wall crying into his hands.

finally, a car comes and he practically jumps in. they drive away pretty quickly.

i pull my phone out and shoot her a quick text. i miss her so bad, and i think she may be upset enough to actually hear me out.

thirty seconds pass and her name is on my screen, vibrating.

i slowly slide the answer button before bringing it up to my ear.

“hey baby,” i breathe out.

“uh.. hey,” she whispers.

“can we talk?”

“yeah i think that would be good.. can you come over now?”

“i’m already outside, sweetheart” i chuckle before pulling my key from the ignition.

reader’s pov

my heart is beating out of my chest.

he’s outside.

how long has he been out there?

did he see him?

fuck.

fuck!

there’s a small knock at the door, i quickly grab my robe from the hook of my bedroom door and slide it on, then run down the stairs.

i open the door to see matt, with his hair all fluffy and stubble on his jaw.

“hi matty,” i let out meekly, opening the door wider to let him in.

he smiles and follows me inside, shutting the door before grabbing my wrist and pulling me into a tight hug.

i feel my body relax into his warm plush hoodie, letting go of all the stress built up inside me. i wrap my legs around his waist and he carries me to the couch, covered in all the stuffies he had bought me. he takes a seat, and leans his head on my shoulder, exhaling softly into my neck. i twist my body so i’m on my side, laying between his legs, my head in the spot where his neck and shoulder meet, his hold on me still firm.

“baby,” he rubs small circles on my thigh.

“hm?” i look up at him through my lashes.

“i’m sorry. for everything. i took you for granted, and i shouldn’t have. you mean the world to me.” he sighs.

“you did. you hurt me a lot matt.”

“that girl, she was flirting with me and she kept messaging me, but nothing ever happened, i ignored all her messages but she wouldn’t sto-“

“i don’t want to talk about her right now, please.” tears threaten to spill over.

“i know, i know, i’m sorry. i just really need you to know i was never unloyal. i was just in a rough spot and i took it out on you. i didn’t know how to handle my emotions.”

i nod softly.

“and i’m sorry for calling you those names. and cursing at you. i hate myself for disrespecting you. these last two months have been absolute hell for me. i can’t get you out of my head, sweetheart.”

i nod again.

“i’m sorry for not showing you off, you’re the most beautiful woman on this planet, and i hate the thought of anyone looking at what’s mine and-and trying to pick you apart to get to me. i like keeping you my secret, that way you’re safe from the world around us.”

i raise an eyebrow at him.

“but that doesn’t mean i’m not going to do it. you’re worth so much more than you know to me. you deserve to be showered with love and adoration. you deserve everything, baby.”

i sit up slightly. “what does this mean, matt?”

he runs a hand through his fluffy hair before resting it on my hip. “it means i want to be with you, i can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. i’m ready to be the man you need me to be, if you’ll let me.” he looks at me with hopeful, bloodshot eyes.

i lean in and kiss him softly, resting my hand on his jaw.

he kisses me back with urgency before i pull away.

a tear slips down his face, breaking my heart into a million pieces.

“matty no,” i cry out and swipe it away, kissing him again.

“i love you. i need you back, please. if i need to get on my knees right here, i will.”

“please don’t get on your knees, you’re gonna make me cry.” i give him a small smile before curling up in his chest.

he wraps his arms around me and kisses my head. “can we go to bed, please?”

“of course,” i stand, grabbing his hand and pulling him up from his spot on the couch, leading him up the stairs.

he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, grabbing my hips and pressing his head against my abdomen, kissing me sweetly over my robe.

i bend down to his level and press my forehead against his, our noses touching.

“matt, i love you more than anything.” i whisper into his lips.

he grabs me and places me on his lap, so i’m straddling him, before he kisses me passionately.

“i missed this, so so much.” he sighs.

he lies back and kisses me with so much love, i feel my heart pounding through my chest.

i undo the tie at the front of the robe and start to pull it off my shoulders, leaving me bare.

“no, we don’t have to, i don’t want to make you feel pressured.” he grabs a hold of my elbow.

“no matt, i need this, please.” i plead at him with my eyes.

“you don’t have to ask me again, sweetheart,” he smiles before kissing my nose and flips us over, so i’m on my back.

he travels down to the valley of my breasts, leaving sweet, tender kisses along the way, then, a kiss on each of my hardened nipples. he takes the left one in his mouth and sucks softly while his free hand caresses the other, circling my nipple with his thumb.

he’s so gentle.

he focuses his mouth on the other for a minute, before traveling down to my glistening bundle of nerves.

“you’re so wet for me already, baby,” he gasps before running a finger up to my clit, collecting my arousal on his fingertip.

he pops it in his mouth, his eyes rolling back at the taste of me. i clench my legs together in desperation.

running his hand along the hem of his hoodie, he pulls it off, along with his sweatpants and boxers. his cock springs up, and i’m so happy to see him.

matt lies on his stomach, propped up by his elbows, before diving his face into my throbbing cunt.

he teases by moving his tongue in circles around the clit, then lays his tongue flat, making me shake uncontrollably under his touch.

oh, how i missed that tongue.

i squeeze his head with my thighs from the pleasure he’s giving me and he chuckles, his hot breath tickling my clit. he starts to place soft kitten licks on my sensitive spot before running a finger around the ‘u’ shape of my entrance, then slowly pushing it in.

i let out a loud moan. “matt! i need you please,”

“patience baby, i’m just getting started.” he starts to fuck my hole with his tongue, and i let out a scream.

“i can’t, i can’t wait!” i sit up and grab his hand, pulling him up towards me.

he smiles cheekily then positions himself at my entrance, teasing me up and down. i grab the back of his head and press our foreheads together, kissing him roughly.

“fuck me matt, i need you to fuck me.” i pull my knees up to my chest, opening my legs wide for him to enter.

first, he puts the tip in, and pulls it back out. then he thrusts forward, agonizingly slow.

his face contorts in pleasure, as if it were his first time.

then he picks up the pace, swinging his hips against me, groaning and praising my body.

i’m clawing at his back, desperate for his cock to go further inside me.

“matty please, deeper,” i whine.

“patience baby, patience.” he rolls his hips, causing me to let out a long string of curses.

i start to buck up my hips, wanting more.

“i said be patient baby. fuck,” he flips me around and pulls my hips up, so my face is buried in the pillows, before ramming into me from behind. i let out another scream, this time muffled by the pillows.

he grabs onto my hair and pulls my head back, slamming into me over and over again. i can feel the tip deep inside me, rearranging and disrupting whatever organs in its way.

the sounds of his groans and skin slapping make me feel fuzzy and light, i can feel my orgasm creeping up on me.

“matt, i’m gonna-“

“i know sweetheart, hold it for me, i’m almost there.” he bring his hand down to where we meet and rubs circles around my clit, causing me to clench around him.

my legs start to shake uncontrollably as i finish on his dick, and his thrusts slow down as he fills me up with cum.

matt came inside me. and it felt so good.

he pulls out and watches intently as it drips down my leg, then reaches over to the nightstand to grab a tissue. he wipes up my leg and around my pussy and throws the tissue at the waste bin in the corner, then falls beside me, pulling me into his arms.

he pulls the comforter out from underneath us and covers me, then reaches over to turn the lamp off. i snuggle into him, nuzzling my face into his neck.

“i’m so happy you’re back, i was dying without you.” i whisper into his neck.

“believe me, i know.” he kisses my head.

i close my eyes and start to drift off before he asks, “who was that guy that left here, crying?”

i widen my mouth in embarrassment. “fuck matt, you know about that?”

“yeah, i was uh, gathering up the courage to talk to you, and i saw him there. who was he?” he trails off.

“he was nobody. a disappointment, a distraction.”

“did you fuck him? before we uh, you know?” he asks with sad eyes.

i kiss him sweetly. “no baby, all he did was remind me how much i needed you.”

he sighs in satisfaction and pulls me closer. “i’m never letting you go again.”

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

this is probably my favorite thing. i love it. hope you guys love it too 🤍

comment on this post to be added to my tag list! :)

tags??:

@imwetforyourmom @anonymouslyachrisgirl @junnniiieee07

[dirtyvulture]

Darkest Knight - Part 4

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You meet a pretty woman in a bar...

Word count: 3787

AN: Please enjoy the long-awaited finale!

Click here for Part 3!

Natasha tears after you, light-headed from the sudden change in emotions. She can barely keep up with you down the hall until you suddenly screech to a halt, holding your arm out to block her from going further.

“Y/N–”

“Shh,” you hiss, your hands clenching into fists, the silver, razor-sharp claws bursting out of your knuckles. “Wait here.” You slip silently around the corner and Natasha holds her breath in wait. She hears a man cuss, then the muted blast of a gun, and she cringes when she sees splinters fly from the wall. There’s a few thuds and cut off screams and you suddenly pop back, blood on your hands and the front of your shirt.

“I definitely ruined the professor’s curtains,” you say with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go the other way. Stay close. They’re only here for you.”

Natasha hates being reminded that she is the reason for this chaos and bloodshed, but she knows it’s the truth and you probably didn’t mean to remind her so brashly. She grabs onto the back of your shirt, tailing you closely, her heart beating in her throat. 

“We need to find Storm. Or Jean. Or anyone, really,” you explain, not sure why there hadn’t been a better plan for this inevitable scenario. But you follow your nose, although the air is now muddled with unfamiliar scents. You’re careful to use all your senses to stay on high alert, but it seems like the Red Room agents have learned a thing or two from your past encounters.

A thick white smoke fills the second floor of the mansion and you grope behind you for Natasha’s hand in desperation. You duck into a room.

“Get the windows open,” you tell Natasha. “As wide as you can.”

“Are we going to jump?” she asks fearfully.

“No. But Storm can get a nice breeze in here to push out the smoke.”

Natasha doesn’t question you further but struggles to open the stiff latches of the old windows. You come over to help her, waving plumes of smoke towards the open screens.

“Let’s keep moving.” You make your way through two more rooms uninterrupted. Outside, the sky has taken an ominous gray tone and a powerful wind rips through the trees. “Hey Nat, we should–”

But the moment you turn around and see Natasha being held at gunpoint by a Widow you lose all control. Four male soldiers funnel into the room, blasting lead slugs into your chest and stomach. You don’t even have to unleash your claws as you slump to the ground with a loud thump, your arms accidentally pinning underneath you. You wheeze raggedly, your body pounding in agony. 

“Y/N!” Natasha screams as the Widow drags her out of the room.

Blood leaks out of your mouth as you try to push yourself up, but your body is too weak to cooperate. The three soldiers run up to you, punching and kicking every inch of you they can reach. You curl into a ball as best as you can, humiliated by your inability to fight back. And you’ve lost Natasha. 

“This is for Antonov!” one of the soldiers shouts as he stomps on your head, leaving an imprint of his boot on your cheek. Pain rattles in your head and you can’t even breathe, trying to wait for a break, but they don’t let up.

“You’re a fucking mutant, aren’t you?” Someone grabs your hair and wrenches your head back. You spit a spray of blood and saliva in defense and he leaps back, cursing and kicking. You hear a shotgun reload again, squirming on the floor to free your arms. “Stop moving so I can put you down like the animal you are.” 

You’re not sure how well you’ll take another gunshot at this close range, but you’re about to find out. You close your eyes and brace yourself.

Suddenly, you hear four different screams and feel an immense heat singing the back of your neck. You crack your eyes open to see familiar red laser beams sweep across the room, knocking the soldiers into the walls. Scott stands in the doorway, shoving his glasses back on as he surveys the damage.

“Y/N, are you okay?” You feel Jean’s hands on your back as she helps you up.

“Nat,” you groan. “Where’s Nat?” 

“I thought she was with you,” Scott says.

“No,” you grunt. “They took her.” As you stand, the pain in your gut is more obvious than ever and you almost crumple back to the ground, but Scott comes forward to steady you. 

“We’ll find her,” he says, and despite the differences the two of you have always had, you know you can count on him.

“Go find her,” you say, clutching at your stomach as you feel one of the slugs trying to push its way out of your body. “I’ll catch up.”

“We’re not going to leave you, Y/N,” Jean says.

As frustrating as it is that your teammates won’t leave you, you know they’re coming from a good place. “Okay,” you resign, taking your first unsteady step. “Let’s go.”

***********************************************************************

Natasha feels totally helpless as the Widow drags her away from you. Out in the hall, a group of them swarm her, handcuffing her hands behind her back and forcing her to walk with a hunch, facing the floor as if she doesn’t already know the surroundings. The Widows form a diamond around her, like they would a prisoner, and she wants to laugh at the irony.

“I know none of you have any control over what you’re doing, but please don’t do this–” she starts.

“Shut up, traitor,” a Widow says in Russian, thumping Natasha hard on the back of her head. “Dreykov is waiting at home to kill you himself.”

“After he has some fun with her first,” another one adds and a chuckle spreads through the group as dread turns Natasha’s stomach into knots. 

They force her down a staircase, kicking open a door and dragging her outside. The weather is violent, a complete 180 from how it had been when they had just been watching the students take off in vans. Natasha had been curious how exactly Ororo’s powers worked, but it was obvious they were in full effect now. The wind picked up in great gusts that had the Widows ducking down to their knees, unable to stand at full height without being bowled over. Natasha dropped to her stomach, curling up as the wind spun around them.

“Hey, she’s one of ours!” She hears a man with a Russian accent boom. Fearing a fight will break out between the Widows and the Wolf Spiders, she hunkers into a tight ball and hopes they don’t try tearing her in half. But then she hears the Widows scream and scatter, and peeks up to see Peter, the enormous man she had met previously, his entire body covered in a coating of metal, effortlessly picking up the Widows and throwing them far out into the driveway. Kitty is here too and Natasha swears she’s seeing things when she blinks and Kitty dives through a Widow, turning around and slamming the confused spy onto the ground.

There’s another young man here that Natasha doesn’t immediately recognize. He drops to his knees and splays his hand on the ground, shooting out crackling beams of ice that encase the soldiers’ and stop them in their tracks. 

“We got you, Nat!” Marie is suddenly by Natasha’s side and helps her up. A Widow staggers towards them, but Marie strips off her glove with her teeth and grabs onto the Widow’s exposed hand with her own. The Widow freezes and gasps, tensing up like a board and flopping back onto the ground. “Bobby, over here!”

The boy who could make ice appear out of thin air jogs over and Natasha guesses this must be Marie’s boyfriend. He shadows her and Marie protectively, freezing any of the soldiers that get too close to them.

“Thank you, thank you,” Natasha says, impressed and a little shocked by the powers of these teenagers. Marie and Bobby lead her back into the mansion while Peter and Kitty handle the rest of the Widows. “Have you seen Y/N?” she asks Marie, panic filling her when she thinks about the last time she saw you.

Marie shakes her head. “Don’t worry about Y/N. She’ll be fine. Besides, she told us that we were supposed to protect you at all costs.”

Natasha wants to cry when she hears this. She can’t think of anything she’s done in her life to deserve someone like you. 

Peter and Kitty rush back into the mansion and shut the door. 

“Nat, turn around,” Kitty instructs and Natasha obeys with some confusion. She feels Kitty wrap her hands around the handcuffs and push down; suddenly there is a clatter and Natasha feels her wrists completely freed.

“How did you–”

Kitty waves her off. “All part of being a superhero,”  she says with a wink. 

“We have to move. They’ll find another way in,” Peter says, moving large pieces of furniture in front of the doors.

“Well, they did just get their asses handed to them by a bunch of teenagers, so maybe that’ll make them think twice–” Kitty says.

“We can’t hold them off forever, so what do we do now?” Bobby asks.

“You’ve all done enough.” Everyone whips around to see Professor Xavier roll into the hall, closely accompanied by Ororo. “I see the Danger Room training has been of great use,” Professor Xavier notes. “Excellent job, everyone.”

There is a loud crash from the top of the staircase. Natasha’s heart leaps when she sees you again at the top, although Jean’s arm is around your waist to help you down the steps and a feral pulse of jealousy shoots through her. Natasha runs over and takes the stairs two at a time to push Jean out of the way and take her place next to you.

“I’m fine, Nat, I’m fine,” you insist as she surveys you for any injuries. While you’ve mostly recovered, you are secretly enjoying the doting, even though it’s not really the time for it. You let Natasha help you to the bottom of the stairs, feeling Jean’s cold gaze on your backs but for once relishing in her jealousy. 

“Maybe I should just give myself up,” Natasha says suddenly, her fingers tightening in your side.

“No!” you respond. “Absolutely not.” You would fight the Red Room agents until your entire body gave out if you had to. 

“No one is going anywhere,” Professor Xavier says, and you relax a little when he takes control. 

“But Professor–” Scott starts, and you’re going to smack him upside the head if he suggests that Natasha sacrifice herself. 

“One moment. No one move.”

Natasha presses closer to you and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in anticipation. You can smell the blood, sweat, and fear as the Red Room soldiers traverse through the empty halls in search of your group. They’ll be bursting in any minute. 

“Y/N,” Natasha whimpers and you quiet her by holding her closer to your body.

“Watch,” you tell her just in time as everyone hears the clamor of armed men and women run into the foyer. But they all freeze mid-movement, guns raised but trigger fingers straight. You can move freely and you leave Natasha to walk up to one, staring down the barrel of his shotgun with a smirk. “Not so cocky now, are we?” you say, even though you know he can’t hear you. Purely out of spite, you release your claws and slash his gun in half.

“Y/N!” Scott admonishes.

“Sorry, it slipped,” you respond.

Professor Xavier’s eyes are screwed shut, his concentration deep as he holds all the Red Room soldiers still. “You will return where you came from,” he says. “You will tell your leader that Natasha Romanoff was not here. You will look elsewhere and you will forget everything you saw here today.”

Natasha feels like she’s in a trance herself as she listens to the professor’s calm voice wash over her. She sees the glazed looks in the Wolf Spiders’ and Widows’ eyes. What kind of power does the professor have to control them like this? She shudders at the thought of what he could do if he wasn’t on their side.

“Now go.” With Professor Xavier’s final words, the Red Room soldiers snap out of their stupor. 

The soldier holding half a gun stares at it in pure shock, then looks back at your face.

“You heard the man,” you snap and he drops the remainder of his gun, spinning around, frantically searching for an exit. There is a stampede as they funnel out the windows and front door that Peter has wrenched open once more. All of you wait until the last Widow darts across the driveway, retreating to their armored tanks and peeling away.

“Couldn’t have done that from the beginning, Professor?” you comment as all of you crowd in the double doorways to watch them flee. The sky brightens back up courtesy of Storm, the sudden winds and darkness earlier drifting away.

“You were all getting a little too comfortable around here,” Professor Xavier teases. “Now Marie, if you’d be so kind as to get the cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink, I think Y/N has some curtains to clean–”

“Oh hell,” you mutter, as everyone laughs. 

***********************************************************************

Life at the school quickly returns to normal the following week. Any damage done by the X-Men or the Red Room agents is quickly repaired and the students are none the wiser of the true reason for their impromptu weekend getaway. And once everything is settled and well, you and Natasha can finally pick back up where you had left off.

She has you pinned to the bed, her lips frantic and demanding on yours, as her fingers make quick work of the buttons on your shirt. Your head spins as you’re overwhelmed by her scent and taste, jogging your hips up to show her how desperate you are for her. You’re not usually one to beg, but you absolutely mean it when you say you’ll do anything for Natasha Romanoff.

She yanks open your shirt and flattens her palms on your chest, pushing you down harder into the mattress as she leaves a hot trail of kisses across your face and down your neck. The marks she leaves there heal almost instantly and she grumbles in frustration.

“What’s wrong, Nat?” you ask, squeezing her sides.

“You heal too fast,” she says, her cheeks tinging pink.

“It’s okay. Everyone here knows I’m yours.” You hear her heartbeat pick up when you say this. 

“Mine?” she says.

“All yours, darling.”

Gone is the shy, hesitant demeanor the first time you and her were in bed. Natasha takes the lead with a stunning amount of confidence, removing her own shirt and tossing it somewhere in the corner of your room. You swallow hard when you see her exposed flesh, marred with a few faded scars that you want to trace and kiss. 

“It’s okay,” she whispers, so quietly you’re not even sure if you heard correctly or you were imagining it. “You can touch me.”

But you hesitate, reminded of the damage you’ve caused and the lives you’ve taken with your bare hands. Natasha is too pure for you and you’re afraid to ruin her by keeping her in your life. And no matter how much you like her, you don’t know if it’s the right choice to stick around with her.

“Y/N,” Natasha says. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” you reply, your hands frozen to where they are on her waist. “Are you sure you want to…be with me?” You hate how nervous you sound, but you’ve never been around someone who’s given you so many butterflies before.

“Of course.” Natasha grabs onto your hands with hers, interlacing your fingers together. “You’re the first person who showed me I was worthy of being comfortable and safe and…loved.” Your heart beats harder. “I only want to be with you because I trust you and I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Nat…” It takes a lot to get you emotional, and now you feel yourself embarrassingly getting choked up. 

“I love you,” she says, her own voice choking. “And I want to show you how much I love you.”

If you had any doubts before, you don’t now. Both of you remove the remainder of your clothing and you moan when Natasha rests her bare center on your abs and rocks back and forth. The heat against your skin is intoxicating, almost as much as the smell, and you’re tempted to ask her to sit on your face until her legs are shaking. 

But Natasha seems to be taking the lead with some other plans, grabbing your hands again and bringing them to her breasts.

“I said it was okay if you touched me,” she reminds you with a wink. 

“O-Okay,” you stammer, can’t remembering the last time you were this flustered in bed with someone. But the moment is so intimate and exciting, you don’t want to be the one to mess it up. Natasha looks down at you and surveys your body in what you can only describe as lust, and you are secretly thrilled you can make her just as happy as she makes you. You roll your fingers over her nipples until they stiffen and she pants at the attention, her arousal heightening. She holds onto your forearms, squeezing them experimentally as if she can feel your claws housed there, then she leans forward and to grasp onto your biceps. 

An added effect of the metal on your bones meant you were carrying around an additional 200 pounds of weight. While your rapid healing prevented you from completely tearing apart each time you moved, it also kept you in peak physical condition, something Natasha seemed very appreciative of right now. 

Natasha grinds harder on your stomach, the stickiness of her center more apparent than ever, and you can’t deny yourself any longer. You let go of her breasts to put your hands firmly on her hips again. 

“Scoot back, babe. I want to feel you,” you say, delighting in her increased heartbeat. With your hands as guidance, Natasha shimmies her body back until her center is almost above yours. You bend her left leg across your stomach so she can sit at a more comfortable angle. The moment she lowers herself and her heat touches yours, you feel like you’re going to melt into the mattress.

“Oh fuck,” Natasha moans, her arms shaking as she braces herself on your abs and thigh.

“Does that feel good?” you ask, pushing her hips in a gentle rocking motion. You wonder if Natasha can feel the way you’re throbbing against her the way she is against you. The stimulation is so incredible, you’re worried you won’t last much longer and then the moment will be over. 

Natasha can only nod as she tries moving her hips faster, but you force her to slow down and savor the moment.

“F-Fuck, Y/N,” she pants, digging her nails harder into your skin.

“Look at me. Hold my hand,” you demand, offering her one of your own and she squeezes it tightly, shifting her eyes to yours with a little bit of nervousness, but mostly trust and love. “It’s okay,” you assure her. “I got you.”

“Thank you,” she whispers back. You roll your hips to match her rhythm, all your thoughts and worries quietly drifting from your head as you focus on your moment with Natasha. You separate your legs a little wider so she can press her center harder against yours, her wetness and yours creating a slick surface for her to ride on, your entire body buzzing with a rush of adrenaline and endorphins. 

“Just like that,” you guide. “That’s my good girl.” Natasha looks so perfect sitting atop of you, riding you with determination to satisfy you. Your clit throbs when Natasha brushes against it and you can tell she’s close from the way her breathing becomes more and more uneven. But you don’t even care about your own release anymore. You just want her to feel good. 

“I…I think I’m gonna–” But Natasha can’t even get the words out as she cums, in too much ecstasy to even vocalize the pleasure you’ve brought her. You keep moving your hips, so turned on by Natasha’s reaction that it sends you to your own peak. The bliss is so overwhelming you go limp on the bed, and when you finally calm down, you find Natasha curled up on your chest, her face tucked into the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around her, almost crushing her against you and she whispers for you to hold her closer.

***********************************************************************

“This is nice,” Natasha says as the two of you stand on the balcony. A strange game of volleyball is going on with one student duplicating himself to play on both sides, and another with an enormous pair of what she can only describe as angel wings, flies high into the air for a deadly spike. 

“Yeah, it is,” you agree, tightening your arms around her waist from behind. 

“I know they aren’t looking for me, per se, but I know this bubble of safety won’t last forever,” she says.

“Nat, I told you, you’ll always be safe with me.”

“I know.” She turns around in your arms to look at you. “That’s why I want you to come with me.” You tilt your head in confusion. “We’re going to find where the Red Room is, and take them down from the inside.”

“No one knows where the Red Room is,” you say, not realizing how dumb it sounds when you remember the kind of people you have on your side. “I mean, I’m sure the professor could pull some strings and…” You pause. “That’s way too dangerous, Nat.”

“Will you come with me?”

You think it’s a silly idea to track and take down an entire organization infamous for producing deadly spies and soldiers. But you know how important this is to Natasha. Maybe you could even talk some of the others into coming for backup, but you know her mind is already set, whether or not you accompany her.

“Of course I will.” You kiss her in confirmation, loving the way she seems to melt in your arms every time you touch her. “Whenever you’re ready.”

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

AN: A happy ending as promised!

I would absolutely love to continue writing this AU, so maybe I'll come by soon with something. Thanks for reading! Please leave likes, comments, and reblogs! 🥰

Update: I wrote a one-shot sequel to this fic, which you can find here. Happy reading!

[ugotcooneycrossed]

if i find you in this lifetime (it better be the right time)

alessia russo x reader

w/c: ~1.8k

part 3 of 'what can i do'

pt1: what can i do / pt2: so you feel it too?

a/n: girlie pop decided to break hearts so im mending them- enjoy😭

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

Watching her leave hurts- it’s a deep aching that settles low in your stomach and pushes up into your chest and you suddenly feel ill- like you can’t breathe without her here.

The thought that you’ve lost Alessia forever- your person- your sun, stars, and moon- your world. It’s enough to send a wave of nausea all over you again.

It’s not her leaving that hurts, no- what hurts more, is the silence that comes after- it’s radio silent between you two for a while.

In all your time knowing her, you’ve never not talked to each other- whether it be a quick good morning text, or a long conversation during nights before games, where you’re both too nervous to sleep. You always talk.

But now? Now, you’re too afraid to text her to ask if she’s okay, or that you’re sorry and you wish you could take it all back, that you never should have said anything. Because you would rather keep on lying than tell her the truth.

You give her the time she asks for- you wait for her to text you first. She doesn’t though.

Not a single call, text, voice memo- hell, you’d take a letter in the mail at this point- but nothing ever comes.

Suddenly it feels like you’re thirteen again- just having confessed to your best friend you found girls pretty- and then experiencing the most soul shattering heartbreak a thirteen-year-old can feel.

This time though- it feels about ten times as worse.

Knowing she had loved you too- knowing that she was just waiting for you to say something.

You wish you would’ve said something sooner- or nothing at all, you don’t know anymore.

You can’t think. You can’t feel- without her.

When you think of Alessia you’re reminded of home- it’s the only way you can explain it.

The way her smile send a wave a warmth through your body- till you feel your heart swells with love.

The way her touch causes your skin to heat up- goose-bumps trailing after her fingertips.

Maybe it's the way Alessia always seems to catch your eye in a crowded room. Maybe, it's the way she always personally seeks you out in a crowd. Maybe even, it's the way she gently links your arms together- no matter where, or how far you're walking.

Maybe it's just her.

Something about her makes you crazy- it makes your heart beat a thousand times faster, and stop in your chest all at the same time.

She’s your everything.

You can only hope that you’re hers too

She’s your everything.

And now you have nothing.

-

Your saving grace comes in the form of Ella- and not Leah and it leaves you confused, if not a bit hopeful.

I mean if her best friend’s coming to speak to you, it might be something good.

“Hey (y/n).”

Ella on her part- doesn’t let any emotions show, her voice is even and she looks at her feet when she speaks.

“Um hey Ella. How’s-“

“She’s fine. Can I come in?”

You step aside to let her in- looking behind her, craning your neck in hopes that Alessia just might be lurking somewhere behind her.

She’s not.

“Look- I just came here to tell you that she’s fine, she just needs more time.”

“More time? I mean, how much more are we talking, I feel like I’m drowning here Tooney.”

“How do you think she feels?” 

You swallow down the lump in your throat- stepping away from the other girl. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and you want to curl up and scream.

“Right.”

It’s the only word you can muster, and you whisper it- looking down at the ground to avoid Ella’s eyes.

Ella looks around your apartment and suddenly you feel insecure- there’s tissues scattered everywhere and probably a concerning amount of take out boxes piled in the kitchen.

“Just some advice yeah? Talk to her- well, let her talk first, but just talk to her. I shouldn’t really be saying anything but, she loves you, and I know you love her too.”

“Thanks, Tooney.”

 “Yeah of course.”

Ella nods her head at you, and shuffles closer to your front door- she keeps her hand on the handle and you watch an internal battle play out on her face.

“Maybe give her a call?”

Ella leaves after that.

You’re left alone in your apartment once again- but instead of a deep heart ache that settles in your chest, it’s a glimmer of hope.

-

You don’t call Alessia- you put off the task for a while, still too nervous to even look at her caller ID without panicking.

Instead, you focus on cleaning your apartment- getting rid of the tissues and take away boxes, you’re just glad Tooney couldn’t see in your fridge, if she did, she would’ve seen the extra dessert you ordered Alessia- her favourite from the place you always order from when she comes ‘round.

You know- just in case.

The sun has long gone down by the time you’re done cleaning and you settle into bed after- only now looking at your phone.

Missed Call from ‘lessi love’

Your heart sinks in your chest and you drop your phone in your panic to call her back. All this time waiting for anything and you miss her call by three minutes. Idiot! You open the phone app and your finger hovers over the call button- should you? What if she’s mad, you missed her call?

In your time spiralling over what to do. You get a text from her shortly after.

lessi love to ‘You’

-> hey- I know you’re probably busy and want nothing to do with me anymore, but I’d really like to talk

You to ‘lessi love’

-> lessi I would love to talk

lessi love to ‘You’

-> mine? tomorrow?

You to ‘lessi love’

-> i’ll be there

-

You’re scared of a lot of things in this life.

Spiders.

Snakes.

Birds flying at you when you walk under trees.

And the one girl you’ve truly loved in this world not loving you back.

You’ve had some pretty tough days- and Alessia, has stuck by your side through them all.

She’s been there when you were at your lowest- she’s been there even on the worst kind of days.

The worst day though? Was watching her walk out of your apartment crying.

A million scenarios ran through your head- but her leaving? It never crossed your mind.  

Because how dare you love her- the way she deserves to be loved.

It sounds ridiculous to be so enthralled by someone- so hypnotised by just one person.

You know.

You’ve come to terms with it now though- even if Alessia decides she doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

You’d be okay with that.

You have had the time of your life with her, and you cannot possibly wait your whole life for her- no matter how tempting that sounds.

 -

You feel like a creep- pacing outside Alessia’s apartment, you wipe your hands nervously on your pants and smooth your hair out over again and again.

You must look like a complete and utter fool right now.

The door swings open and you stumble over your feet to stand still.

Alessia looks- well, she looks tired, she’s got bags under her eyes and when she speaks, her voice is hoarse.

“Hey (y/n).”

“Hi Lessi.”

You whisper- eyes softening and face warming up again.

Your resolve to ‘play it cool’ disappears and your chest fills with anxiety again.

You both stand apart from each other- just staring at one another.

Alessia raises her arms up and takes a small step forward.

“Can I have a hug? Please?”

Alessia’s voice cracks and she sounds like she wants to cry again- you must take a while to respond because you watch her face fall, and arms slowly drop again.

Before you can think you dive towards the other girl- arms slotting right under her arms and gripping her shoulders. Her strong arms find their home on you, and she wraps her arms around you.

You both stand in her doorway- just hugging, holding each other so tight.

“I missed you so, so much.”

Alessia whispers into you, and you feel tears wet your neck- you sniffle, tears now rolling down your face too.

“I missed you too­- so, so much, I was going crazy without you.”

“We should probably go inside.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you make a move to leave and it sends Alessia giggling.

You smile- missing her laugh.

“Okay seriously- let’s go inside.”

Alessia pulls out of the hug first- grabbing your hand instinctively and leading you inside. She pulls you gently to her couch and pushes you down to sit.

Alessia sits tentatively next to you.

A thick silence falls between you and you suck in a breath.

“I-“

You laugh again- both trying to speak at the same time.

“Let me go first- please.”

You nod at her, closing your eyes.

“Look- I’m sorry I completely ignored you for a week. I just- I really needed to think. (y/n)- I think, I think I have always loved you, it just took me a while to get it. And when I did I was scared- like so, so scared. I never wanted to lose you. So, I just pretended. And waited, and waited for you to say something- but you never did. I waited for your love- but the more I waited, the more unattainable you seemed. I tried to forget about you I swear- I love you so much and I never wanted to lose you. I’d rather be just your friend than anything else.”

You reach out to hold her hand- and she gladly accepts.

“Less- I have loved you since the moment I met you, you’re the most important person in my life. I thought you were happy with him- so I never wanted to ruin that for you. I’m in love with everything about you. This week has been the worst week of my life. I never want to go without you again. You’re my everything, I have never loved anyone the way I love you­- I don’t want us to just be friends.”

You’re panting now- chest heaving.

Alessia smiles at you and links your pinkies together.

“You’re my person too- you’re the only one who understands.”

“Does this make us girlfriends?”

“I hope you’re going to ask me properly (y/n).”

“Right. Alessia Russo, will you be my girlfriend?”

You make a dramatic show of getting down on one knee and holding her hand- one hand over your heart, smiling like a lunatic.

“Of course, you weirdo.”

-

“I kind of want desert- you know, from that place I like.”

“Umm we should go back to mine then- I missed you so much that I ordered one every night- in case you’d show up, there’s still one in the fridge.”

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 33

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Ophelia Riorson)

A/N: Little bit of a shorter part today, but I've not had the time to work on a one shot fic this week. I will probably only be posting Lost Sister for the next bit. I'm very close to the end of the Fourth Wing part and I really want to smash it out and then focus on Dahlia and one shots before moving into Ophelia's story for Iron Flame. So get ready for all the Lost Sister! The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

“So she has a book that might help?” I ask as I stand in front of Garrick and Xaden at the leadership table, which is surprisingly empty at the moment

”I think so. It was some book of Fables her father left her and it had some cryptic note in it for her. From what I saw on the pages it talks about some ancient kingdom and a Great War amongst brothers to control magic. I’d place money on it being a good starting point for your signet after what Carr and Melgren have let slip.” He says as his gaze drifts to Violet who sits with our squad.

”So go get us this book then.” Garrick says teasingly, as if its the easiest thing in the world.

Xaden shakes his head at him as he rolls his eyes at him, his gaze still focused on Violet.

”It’s not that easy.” He mumbles as he picks up his fork and stabs at his breakfast.

”Maybe if you just admitted-” Garrick starts before Xaden gives him a pointed look.

I open my mind to Xaden and feel the mix of anger and… oh god. Fucking mated dragons again. This phrase was becoming a normal part of my vocabulary with these two. The anger had come from Garrick’s words, but as I reach out towards Violet I know exactly where the other feelings were coming from.

”So that’s what the new armoire was for.” I tease as Xaden shifts his eyes to me, a silent warning to shut up, probably knowing I can read his emotions right now.

”Oh you should have seen the mess.” Garrick adds, joining in on the teasing.

I feel Xaden’s anger and annoyance flair at Garrick’s words. He knew exactly how to push Xaden’s buttons.

“Can you two just shut up?” He asks in an attempt at a commanding tone.

”And where would be the fun in that?” Garrick muses as Xaden returns to his food.

Xaden barely takes two bites of his food before he’s choking and spluttering on it, Garrick pounding on his back before grabbing some water. I turn around to see the entire quadrant staring at Xaden, but over at our squad table Violet is grinning at Xaden and I know instantly she was the cause of Xaden’s choking. Fucking mated dragons. I turn away, leaving a still slightly choking Xaden and a laughing Garrick behind, to find the one person I need to see before the day ends. I catch a glimpse of pink hair disappearing through the doors leading to formation. I rush down the dais stairs, pushing through a small crowd of cadets also heading to formation. Breaking through the crowd, I spot the pink hair disappearing around a corner.

"Imogen!" I call out, managing to catch her attention as she turns to look.

”You’re up to something.” She tells me as I catch up to her, falling into step as we walk to the Rotunda.

”Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I say shyly, already being called out.

She just shakes her head and laugh. “You are. You get the same look in your eye that Xaden does.”

I go to object but the look she gives me has me shutting my mouth. She’s probably right.

”Fine, you’re right. But you can’t tell anyone. Think you can find me some hair dye?”

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books @side-angel @wolfbc97 @just-an-ace-elf

[meiissblog]

Lost feelings 💙~ Gojo x Fembodied Y/N (collage AU)

AN:

I got this idea from @kyuuppi I hope I did your idea justice 🥲 💕

Scenario:

~ Lost feelings💙~

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

NSFW 18+ only

•A LOT OF ORAL (male giving and some male receiving 👀) • sixty-nine • face sitting• Friends with benefits?/ unrequited love (On both sides• fingering•squirting•overstimulation•

——————————————————————

Y/n POV:

“So y/n can you answer a question for me?”. “Weird way to ask a question Toru-”. You sit in Gojo’s apartment it was the end of a lazy weekend for the two of you. hanging out with your best friend like you usually do.

It is getting late you look at your watch 11:00 a.m., the next train home will be departing soon, and you have some classes in the morning. You sigh as you stretch out on Gojo’s massive couch. “-Go ahead ask away but Make it quick”.

“Do you like getting eaten out from the front or from the back?”. You blink your eyes in disbelief those words just slid out of this mouth so casually, that your heart starts to pound so hard you can hear it in your ears.

“You mean having my pussy eaten out right?”. “Yeah”. Shit.. “well… umm..”. “Y/n, have you never been eaten out before?”. I itch my head out of nervousness, looking away from Gojo. “N-no not really”.

“You mean none of your boyfriends have done it for you?”. “Nope, that’s something guys do normally? For their girlfriends?”. Gojo faces Palms. “If they’re decent then yes y/n, damn I knew you were dating assholes but what the fuck”. “I don’t know what to tell you toru, it’s not like having sex was something enjoyable in general I just kinda wanted it to be over with— but - anyways”. Shit, I’m saying too much. I think to myself as I sit back on the arm of the couch. picking up my phone and looking at it out of nervousness. I still feel Gojo’s eyes on me, I know he’s just going to ask me another question.

“Did you suck them off?”. I sigh “Yes, does that matter?”. “Yeah, so they want pleasure from you, but yet they can’t give any back pretty lacking”. “Oh, well it’s not like I’m missing anything worthwhile anyways”.

Gojo POV:

My eyes trail up y/n’s legs those leggings dangerously transparent, why the hell would she wear those things in public? Just then she crosses her leg over her knee as she pretends to stare at her phone. My eyes trail between her legs. I bite my lip slightly, should I? I mean I’ve been dreaming about teasing, tasting, and fucking her for years. -

- Right now would be the perfect opportunity to open the door. Before I decide to talk myself out of it like I had plenty of times before, I get up walking over to y/n.

I lay my hands on her outer thighs, she looks up at me with a questioning look. “Toru what is it? I have to leave-“. “Do you want to know what it’s like?”. “What it’s like to what?”. “to Have your pussy eaten?”. My heart starts to slightly pound as thoughts race through my mind. Great job dumbass what if she says no? Do I just play it off as a joke? - “Y-you want to eat me out? B-but why?”. So no immediate no, this is a good sign. I sign in relief. “What kind of person would I be if I let my best friend go without feeling real pleasure?”. She looks off, I can tell she’s thinking my anxiety slightly kicks in I’ve never felt so nervous -

-when it comes to sex, usually I don’t have to say much to get someone to do anything with me. but doing things with her feels different, it feels more real probably because I’m so in love with her.

“F-fine… I mean,- but don’t think I’m going to have some magical reaction or something”.

I laugh a bit, “No need to be nervous y/n”. y/n puts her phone down as I kneel on the couch in front of her legs. I reach behind me grabbing a couch pillow. “Put this behind your back and Lift your hips”. her face goes a little red as she grabs the pillow from me putting it behind her back.

After she gets comfortable, she lifts her hips. I quickly slip off her leggings and underwear discarding them onto the floor.

I feel my cock get hard while staring at her pretty pussy fuck.., I didn’t imagine it would be this cute.

I open her legs leaning down, “W-wait umm please hurry I need to leave soon”. She’s not going anywhere after this I smirk to myself.

I open up her slit with my forefingers while also gently reveal her little clit, I smirk again as my eyes wander over to her already-wet pussy. “You’re wet, y/n getting excited thinking about my tongue?”. “N-no..”. “You can be honest y/n, don’t be shy”. I lean down attaching my lips to her clit softly sucking on it, while also gliding my tongue against it. I look up her hand covers her mouth and her eyes are shut tightly.

Her expression shoots straight to my cock. I’m glad I’m wearing sweatpants right now, if I was wearing jeans I’d have to take them off from how hard I’ve gotten-. “Y/n uncover your mouth, I want to hear you. It’s okay if you’re loud I don’t mind I just want to hear your voice”. I sounded a bit more desperate there than I meant to, but she didn’t seem to notice. “O-oh fuck gojo”. She grabs the back of my head, with her right hand. Shoving my face into her farther. I am assuming unintentionally, but still, I moan a bit. As I start to suck and lick her clit more.

As much as I want to tease her until she cries, it’s too cruel to do that on her first orgasm. So I’ll let her have this first one without teasing.

I continue to suck lapping at her clit aggressively as her hips start to wiggle trying to get away. I quickly grab her hip and her grip gets slightly tighter on my hair as I suck her hard. “I’m cumming! Gojo I’m cumming fuck!!”. She slightly shoves herself into my mouth as I take her first orgasm of the night. She Groans in satisfaction, her grip on my hair relaxing. I immediately lick up her slick tasting her for the first time. Fuck, she tastes so good. I look up at her, her eyes covered with her arm. I can tell she’s fucked out already. I wipe off my chin with my hand.

“How was it y/n? Too good?”. “S-shut up Toru”. I smile victorious. “Do you want more y/n? Your little hole down here, won’t stop leaking even after having an orgasm”. I lick it as it comes out of her. “S-sure if you want to”. “Perfect, here get up”. “Okay”. Y/n stands up as I lay down on the couch. “Sit on my face”.

Y/n POV:

“W-what?!”. “I mean It sit on my face, here I’ll position you”. Gojo positions me so my pussy is right over his face.

I blush hard. “W-won’t I smother you? Is this safe?”. “That's kinda the point y/n, I want to be smothered by your pussy, so please lay it on me and use me to get off, I’ll tap you when I need air don’t worry”. “O-okay if you’re sure”. I hover myself above Gojo’s mouth as he sticks out his tongue he lightly licks some circles into my clit. “Y/n you can do it sit on me, I’ll be fine”. I lower myself.

his tongue going inside of me as his nose rubs against my clit. “G-Gojo -”. I moan as his tongue wiggles inside of me expertly. His hands hold my hips motioning me to move my hips slightly. It’s like he’s fucking me with his tongue. I tilt my head to the side as I register this new pleasurable sensation within my head. I’m slightly surprised and thrown off when his hand taps me.

I immediately lift my hips off of him, I cover my mouth in embarrassment. When I see his entire chin covered with my arousal as he breathes heavily. He looks up at me with an authoritative gaze. “Look at me while I eat you out y/n”. I nod kinda shocked by his tone, as his hands lower me to his mouth once again. I moan locking eyes with him as I hear lewd slurps, as he uses his tongue to tease me like before. As his nose still ever so often hitting my clit. “Gojo… I’m cumming early this time shit - it’s too good”. He playfully smacks my ass, as he unashamedly slurps up my arousal. His lips smack as he goes faster making me cum for the second within 20 minutes. Fuck, I have been missing out, haven’t I? I get off of him.

When I notice how strained his sweatpants have become. Did I turn Gojo on? N-no- don’t be stupid y/n your best friend would never get hard over you, it’s probably just a natural reaction he’d have after eating out any other girl.

You feel a slight ping in your heart as you think that, but why?

You turn around rubbing his hips “Can I touch you as well Satoru? This looks painful”. “This is meant to be about you y/n”. “I understand, but what best friend would I be if I let you sit here and suffer?”. “Alright, go ahead”. I pull down his sweatpants when his massive pale-colored cock springs out. I’m kinda shocked by the size I mean damn, he’s bigger than most of my boyfriends combined no wonder why girls like him so much.

I touch his cock, taking some of his Newley-produced precum from the tip as I start to stroke him. But I’m surprised by the sudden movement below me. “Y/n move your leg to the other side of me”. “O-okay..”. I move my leg so I’m now laying on top of him my butt in his face. I feel him lean up, slightly his long fat finger tracing my now abused slit.

I freeze, as his finger goes to my still-enlarged clit, circling it lightly with his finger. My body twitches. He’s going to lick me again, I’m going to go insane.

I play around with the tip of his cock lightly running my tongue against it and tasting his precum for the first time. “Fuck y/n, don’t tease, I let you cum once without teasing”. His voice sounded kinda whiny. I laugh a bit “You’re right sorry”. I take his cock putting it in my mouth properly sucking on it.

As one of his fingers enters me,

I close my eyes nervously. Remembering back to when my last ex tried fingering me, I had to pretend to orgasm to make him stop.

I stop myself. This is Gojo, not your ex get it together y/n! gojo wouldn’t make you feel bad. I go back to concreting on Gojo’s dick when a second finger enters me. I moan slightly his fingers are so big... I feel his fingers move inside of me fucking me. this isn’t bad it feels really good.

I Pay little attention as I take Gojo’s cock out of my mouth, stoking it again. But this time more aggressively. When I feel Gojo’s fingers curl into something inside of me.

“I found it”. He mutters, almost sounding proud of himself. His fingers slam into that spot multiple times. I lose my consideration for a second, My toes curling at the completely new sensation.

My pussy, making all new sounds I’ve never heard before. I moan without restraint probably sounding like a girl in a porno flick. As I continue to lazily stoke Gojo’s cock as I grope my left breast using my other hand. “they must’ve never done this either it’s so easy to make you cum, those men were idiots, and so undeserving of such a goddess of a woman”. I would usually side-eye him for such a strange comment, but my mind was being utterly wrecked.

My back arches a bit more as his thrusts get stronger and I bite my lip. I decide to go back to sucking Gojo’s cock his moans get louder as well. “Y/n I’m cumming -“. I hum, continuing to suck him off. Until he suddenly cums into my mouth, his fingers stopping within me. I moan, swallowing his cum as his fingers move more aggressively, as his thumb rubs my clit. G-gojo.. something’s coming.. it’s fine y/n let go-”. I gasp. My hands and my feet curl as my eyes see stars as I cum squirting for the first time.

He fingers me through my orgasm. “So sexy..”. He leans up licking my pussy directly slurping up my cum as my whole body tingles. When his tongue runs across my clit. “A-ahhh! S-so sensitive”. My eyes start to tear, and my hips wiggle as he overstimulates me by sucking on my clit again. “G-gojo d-don’t”.

He ignores me, grabbing my hips again and sucking on my clit harshly until tears come out of my eyes. My whole body shakes, as I squeal with no regard for the neighbors. Gojo is most definitely going to get a noise complaint. He steals another orgasm from me making it my fourth one for the night. This continues for hours gojo bringing me to orgasm after orgasm, I lost count at nine.

I and Gojo, are now completely naked. Gojo cleans me up using his tongue, from yet another orgasm. I’m leaning against the wall while one of my legs is up in the air when my knees buckle from under me.

Gojo catches me with ease, his naked body squishing against mine. I want to react but.. I just have no energy. I close my eyes and fall asleep.

Gojo POV:

I sit there perplexed, by how fast she fell asleep, I sigh to myself bringing her to my bed.

I lay her down, as I also get in covering us both when I hold her stoking her hair. I hope one day you’ll find a guy, who treats you like he should y/n. You deserve nothing but the best. I admire her face for a few moments before I fall asleep.

MASTERLIST

[joeshiestyslover]

i love u

pairing: lsu!fratboy!joe burrow x volleyballplayer!reader

summary: sometimes all you need to forgive your ex is two nosy best friends

warnings: language, angst, sad joe, some fluff at the end

a/n: y’all part 2 of i hate u is finally here!!! i’m so sorry i haven’t been active! hope y’all enjoy 🫶🫶

lowercase intended

masterlist part one

the past few weeks have been complete and total hell for you. you can’t even look at joe without feeling the urge to break down and cry. you try to avoid him and his teammates at all costs, including ja’marr. you’ve been sitting on the opposite side of the room, not wanting to tell him about what happened with his best friend, but be probably already knows.

ever since that night with your ex-boyfriend, you’ve been completely self isolating. when every you’re not in class or at volleyball practice, you’re in your dorm room. eve has felt so guilty because she was basically the reason you and joe got into the argument in the first place, but you constantly assure her it wasn’t her fault. you love eve, but if there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s getting into your business. she’s been begging you to talk joe ever since you told him to get the fuck out of your room, and you tell her no every time. little do you know, her and ja’marr have been plotting for the past week to get you and joe to get back together, at the very least stand each other. 

you are walking out of your econ class when you think you hear someone calling your name. you ignore it, thinking it’s your imagination until you feel a tap on your shoulder. you turn around, and behind you stands ja’marr; your eyes widen. “hey y/n. can we talk?” he asks you. “umm yeah sure.” you reply to him , not having the energy to argue. ja’marr leads you down the hallway so you’re both outside a storage closet. “so, why did you want to talk to me?” you question, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets. “i’m sorry.” he tells you. “for what?” you ask him, confused. “for this.” ja’marr then shoves you into the closet you were just standing in front of. before you’re able to push against the door, it’s slammed shut and locked from the outside. “ja’marr let me out you dumbass! what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you begin to pound your fist on the door, but you get no response. he probably walked away, but why would he lock you in here in the first place, you think. 

you stand there for a bit before your thoughts are interrupted by the door opening. you think it’s ja’marr or someone else saving you from being trapped, but you notice another person being pushed into the closet to join you. as the door closes, you hear a, “what the hell?! let me out!” oh no. your heart drops as you hear the voice of the guy you’ve been avoiding for the past two weeks. “shit.” you whisper to yourself. 

“y/n?” joe asks you, somehow hearing your voice. “joe” you reply to him coldly. “did you get locked in here too?” he inquires. “no, i just decided to chill out in here for a few hours!” you exclaim sarcastically. joe lets out a sigh, hopefully he’s finally given up at starting a conversation with you as if you’re best buds. 

“y/n” joe speaks up again. you ignore him, not wanting a replay of a few weeks ago. “y/n please say something, anything.” he pleads. “i have nothing to say to you. i’ve already said everything i needed to.” you cross your arms over your chest, not even looking him in the eye. “okay fine then i’ll talk.” you continue to avoid his eye line. “i will never stop telling you how sorry i am for what i did. i was a stupid and an asshole. i lost sight of myself and i became someone that i didn’t like. you never deserved that. i hate myself for how i ended it with you. i’m so, so sorry.” you don’t know what to say because you really wanna forgive him, but you don’t know if you can. he hurt you more than anyone else has in your life. how do you even begin to forgive someone for that?

“joe, i understand that you feel sorry now, but you didn’t feel sorry when it first happened. you seemed to be having the time of your life, partying and hooking up with random girls while i was at home crying my eyes out every night wondering why you didn’t want me anymore. tell me, was it easy for you to forget me?” “trust me, there was never a moment where you weren’t on my mind. i thought i did what was right at first, but as time went on, i realized that i had made the biggest mistake of my life. i tried to text you, call you, and even dm you on instagram, but you blocked me, which i completely understand by the way.” joe tells you, starting to become desperate. 

“you still hurt me joe. you made me feel as if i did something wrong, like i wasn’t enough for you. i thought that you left me for someone better.” you tell him while looking at your shoes. “it’s not your fault. it has never been your fault. stop beating yourself up over something i did. i promise you i found no one else that was better than you because there is no one better. i will never find anyone i love more than you. you are truly the most amazing and the most beautiful girl i have ever met. you’re it for me y/n.” “really?” you ask him, becoming more open to the idea of forgiving him. “i promise. i love you y/n, i never stopped.” you’re finally able to look him in the eyes. “oh joe, i never stopped loving you either, but i won’t forgive except under one condition.” “anything.” you replies, hope beginning to gleam in his eyes. “you never, ever pull shit like this again. if you do, don’t expect another chance.” you state. “done. i promise i won’t break your heart again.” he begins to step closer to you. “will you kiss me now?” you ask, looking up at the blue eyes you fell in love with when you were six. joe smiles and leans his head down while cupping the sides of your face. you close your eyes and wait until joe’s lips meet yours.

you two stay like this for a while before you hear the door open. you and joe both look towards the open door and see ja’marr and eve with shit eating grins on their faces. “i told you it would work!” eve turns towards ja’marr. “you guys planned this?!” you yell at the both of them. “well yeah. we had to get you both to make up somehow, you guys were fucking miserable! and we need our quarterback to actually make plays, you know.” ja’marr tells the two of you. “i’m sorry we had to do it like this but we were desperate.” “i hate how you did it, but thank you.” joe says, looking at you lovingly. you look back at him and give him a quick peck on the lips. “awww!” you hear ja’marr and eve exclaim. “shut up.” you and joe tell your friends before letting out a loud laugh. you start to feel like your old self again. it’s as if nothing changed, and you couldn’t be happier.

[pushhhhun]

Lovers

Laura and I had been married for two years before we decided to start our family. We wanted two very similar in age so in order to preserve our bodies we each decided to carry one. I was two weeks over due and she was two weeks from her due date. Being two weeks over due I have been experiencing Braxton hicks for a whole week. Laura came over to me in bed and started playing with my folds, I immediately grabbed her and pulled her in for a kiss moaning into her mouth. Our bellies were rubbing together as we moved. I couldn’t take it anymore I had to have her. I grabbed my strap from the nightstand and put it on. What are you doing she said, you are too big for that, but I don’t care if I don’t have her right now I will lose it. With our bellies being so big we had to get creative with positions. I laid her on the workout bench tummy down and I mounted her. Fuck I whimper as I slide in. Oh god oh god I missed this she groans out. My Braxton hicks are getting stronger by the moment but I’m getting used to them now. As I’m behind her driving my strap in and out I am reaching down as much as I can to stroke her hips and belly. We are a combination of moans which probably why she didn’t hear my water break while I was driving into her. Finally I thought I am going to fuck her till she comes and then I will go and have her baby. I am getting lost in the pleasure which is probably why I don’t feel her belly tighten. I lean down to pull her into a kiss when she moans the baby is coming. How did you know I ask, I was just about to tell her it was time. She let out a long moan and replied I want you to fuck me until I’m about to push. Oh god she’s in labor too? Now I can’t tell her I’m laboring because it will only freak her out. I can hold it in, I will fuck my baby out of her then deliver hers. I didn’t stop pounding her even as I felt my baby descending and my dilation reaching 10cm. You can wait you can hold it in. She reaches behind her still face down grabs onto my leg and moans into the bench oh god it’s coming now. I need to pushhh Laura groans, as she bears down slightly and accidentally lets out a little push I feel it. It’s too late I can’t stop it and I can’t move. Oh God I have to deliver and I have to deliver now. I flip her over on back and stick the strap back in. What are you doing take it out I need to push. You can wait, I groan as I get completely on top of her. While in her as deep as I can get my legs begin to spread and I begin to bear down. I cum from fucking her and the baby’s head slides out. Oh my god the head is out I scream. Laura yells I’m pushing as she bears down as hard as she can but with no available. We both know the baby won’t be able to come out until I remove the strap. However I am locked in place with the baby’s head out so there is nothing to do but wait for it to come all the way out. I moan and push as she kisses me and plays with one of my tits. I put one hand on her tummy and one on her breast while I push her baby out. The second it’s out she uses her legs to slide me out and begins to push. I hold my baby and watch my wife in aw. My baby latches onto my nipple and I am able to keep her in one arm. I use the other arm to stroke my wife’s belly and folds. She finally pushes our second child out and we cuddle as a family in disbelief in what has just happened.

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 22

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 22.

“I told you that trick shot idea was stupid!” Rory couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard.

“Eventually—” they started to argue.

He shook his head. “No, you did not get it to work eventually. You just sprayed a ton of bullets and managed to hit the target with one.”

“It was more than one!” They waved an arm back in the direction of their target practice. “You know you’re impressed.”

He was tired in the best way, in a way he hadn’t been in longer than he could remember. He was worn out just from having fun. They’d both done trick shots, competed in distance shots, and even done a bit of dueling. “I did so much better than you! I at least nicked the target every time.”

“What should I name it?”

Rory shook his head. He couldn’t believe they were still pretending their backwards shot was worth a damn. “Just admit you can’t do it, Stardust.”

They clucked their tongue in disapproval. “Don’t be sour just because you lost more duels.”

He held up an arm. “Okay, okay, I will admit you won more duels if you admit you can’t do that backwards shot.”

“Never,” they answered instantly. “You wouldn’t even try to be helpful!”

“I’m not wearing sunglasses to help you!” he said for the hundredth time.

They caught his arm. “Let’s just do a few more tries.”

He smiled and shook his head, no matter how tempting that sounded. “No. Even if we weren’t out of paint cartridges, we are definitely out of time.”

Stardust sulked.

“Trust me, you want to be out of here before the sun sets. This moon gets icy at night.” And they were both sweaty and covered in paint. He chanced a glance at them as they walked toward the ship. They were dripping in pink and green. “And really, at this point, I’m not sure if we could tell new paint shots from the old. You are covered. Although, I don’t hate that shade of green in your hair…” He reached out, rolling one paint-soaked lock around his gloved fingers.

They swatted his hand away. “You’re one to talk.”

“What? My hair? Oh shit… Did you have to use so much neon orange?”

“Orange is better than green. This shit might stain…”

“At least neither of us wore the jacket… We’d look like pirates in it if it was covered in all this shit.” And if that stained, it really would be ruined. No one but a pirate wanted to be mistaken for a pirate.

The gravel crunched and shifted under their boots. The wind had turned cold and the shadows long. It was going to feel great to get a hot shower and back into the steady hum of space.

“Cosmic…” they said, voice low, just as he noticed something was off.

He didn’t miss a step and neither did they, still walking that straight line toward their ship. “Fuck.” A figure was leaning against the canyon wall far off to the right, not even hiding. They wore gear for combat and a full mask, their riffle in their arms.

“To the right…” they said.

“Yeah, I see it… Just keep walking toward the ship.”

His heart pounded. They didn’t have any live ammo. They didn’t even have any paint rounds left. “There’s another one to the left,” he said, voice still low and steps measured. And there would probably be a third at the ship if this crew had the time to set up this trap…

“Who do you think they are?” Stardust asked and he heard the strain in their voice—trying to be casual when they too had to have realized how screwed they were.

“Probably bounty hunters… If we can get to the ship…” Two mercs stepped out of the shadows ahead of them and one continued right into their path. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” Rory exhaled under his breath. “Okay, so that makes four. They must have been waiting for us to come back…” he said the obvious to fill the space. This was bad. There was too much distance and open ground. If he had bullets…

“I don’t suppose you have any live ammo left on you?” It seemed worth asking even when he knew the answer.

They shook their head.

“Keep walking. Straight toward the merc in our way. When we reach him, you make a run for the ship. Don’t look back. Don’t stop. Just run for the ship and get inside.”

“What?” The surprise in their voice was a gut punch to his senses. “I-I can’t get in without the co—”

Rory scoffed. “Oh, bullshit, I know you know the code to the door. Why are you arguing? Run. They won’t shoot you if they’re after that bounty.” Stardust was still wanted alive. He checked often just to make sure.

The shooters on their sides aimed, guns humming with life.

Stardust still wasn’t running, keeping slow step at his side. He was about to push them when they suddenly jerked to the side, in front of him and up close. For one delirious second he thought they were going to do their stupid trick shot… but they had no ammo and they weren’t even facing him. Their back pushed up to his chest and their arms spread.

Rory ground his teeth. “Stardust…what the fuck are you doing? Move!” He grabbed at their jacket, smearing paint, and tried to drag them to the side. The ground shifted loudly underfoot in that little skirmish. It seemed to confuse the mercs too.

“You said it yourself. They won’t kill me,” Stardust argued.

His heart twisted in his chest, until it felt like it was literally clogging his throat. “That doesn’t mean they won’t shoot you on accident if you act like a human shield!”

“Just keep walking forward but keep me in the way,” they said, like there was any chance in hell he’d do that.

“This isn’t a fucking game. Run,” he practically hissed in their ear, trying to shove them to the side. Why? Why wasn’t he considering it? Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew this wasn’t the worst idea. The mercs wouldn’t risk shooting a Solinoh. He might be able to use them to get closer. But he couldn’t.

“If I move they’ll shoot you!” they snapped.

Rory was afraid those words and the sound of their voice breaking under the strain of emotion would be echoing in his head for the rest of time. They shouldn’t sound like that. They should have left him standing there and saved their own skin. “So what if they shoot at me?” he yelled and shoved them away from him. “Run for the ship and the guns.”

They stumbled forward, paused for a second and then mumbled, “Okay,” before bolting forward, not at the ship, but at the merc.

“What? No—”

Stardust, unarmed and covered in paint, rushing a fully armed mercenary was enough to surprise everyone standing in that valley. The merc dropped his rifle to swing on the strap around his chest when he reached out to grab the primer coming at him. They twisted sideways, grabbing his sleeve to pull him forward. They used his weight and momentum to unbalance him, press into his side and grabbing his sidearm off his belt. Instead of firing it, Stardust tossed it high over their head.

Rory Atilla had brought down a corporation transport with nothing but mining explosives when he was a teen. He had chased off pirates from his parents’ farm with a nail gun. He had gotten onto a ship and escaped his burning homeworld and been on adventure every day since. But when he darted forward, dropping to his knees to dodge bullets and slide on gravel, arm out to catch that loaded weapon, he thought this might be the best moment of his life.

All the best moments were right on the edge of being the worst.

His heart pounded in his throat, not for the thunderclaps of gunfire or bullets skirting his body, but because in his periphery he saw his Stardust grapple a merc twice their size and go down.

He twisted to the side and shot twice at one of the attackers, having to turn to find the others before he could even see if the one to the right had dropped or not.

“Stardust!” he called through the storm of gunfire, needing the confirmation of their voice but not getting it.

Something hit his chest hard enough to push him back a step just as he was standing but it wasn’t enough to stop him from shooting back, emptying the pistol and dropping the two mercs to the left.

His legs shook when he started forward again. It had all happened in a matter of seconds, from that first shot to this moment. But it only took a second to die.

Stardust was on their back in the gravel under the big merc, grabbing at his arms and shoulders, and kicking at the ground while he slammed his heavy fist down into their face.

Rory closed the distance, ears ringing. Why had they done it? Why had they taken the risk? Why put themself in danger? “Get the fuck off them!” he heard himself roar when he threw his shoulder into the other man, tackling him off of the primer.

The wind screamed through the valley, the sun dropping lower with every second.

He punched him, practically climbing him to stay on top in a mess of a grapple. He had to get this done. He had to make sure Stardust was okay. Were they up? Had they still been moving after that last punch?

Why hadn’t they left?

The merc fisted one hand in the front of Rory’s jacket while the other pulled a big knife.

Rory already had his hands on the man’s rifle, twisting it against the strap to push the nozzle into his stomach. He held the trigger down and a volley of shots competed rang out.

As soon as the man collapsed, Rory unclipped the rifle and put a few more bullets in him before making a quick turn to see if anyone else was standing.

No one was.

Not even his primer.

[hopelessromantic5]

This is heavily based on a grumpy/sunshine skit that I’m obsessed with on tiktok. She deserves the credit for all of it, I just plugged our two favorite idiots into the empty spots.

Link to the video:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Wdm2VH/

“Your car is outside but you can’t text me back?” Arthur yells out before his feet are over the threshold of the front door. “So how was it? You have to tell me, is that his real hair or a wig to persuade cheap losers into buying ten pound shots?”

He froze as soon as he lifted his head and saw a face in the kitchen that was certainly not Merlin.

“Oh…” is what he gets out in response. “Sorry.”

The man, Gwaine, he’s assuming, simply grins back and shakes his luscious head of hair.

“No worries.” He chuckles. “It’s all natural, I’m afraid.” Then he tugs on one of the strands as if to demonstrate that it won’t come off.

Arthur is trying to find an excuse to walk back out the door he just entered but Gwaine stops him with

“Wait, I know you.” Smiling in good nature.

Arthur just looks at him.

“You come in with Merls sometimes,” the pieces seem to be clicking for him as he continues. Arthur was stuck on ‘Merls’?

“Oh! You work the corporate joint, that’s why we don’t see you much.”

Arthur can barely shrug.

“Yeah, it keeps me on the clock pretty late, don’t always get to join lads night.”

“Shame.” Gwaine mirrors his shrug. “You want a drink?”

“Nah, it’s a little late for me, mate.” Awkwardly he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and begged desperately for an out.

Thankfully, Merlin reappeared from the hallway at that second.

“I’ll take one!”

“There he is.” Gwaine smiled as he set about making the drink.

“I see you’ve met my flatmate.” Merlin smiles softly at him for a split second before turning his attention back to his date.

Arthur is suddenly very warm. And feeling asphyxiated by his tie.

“Yeah, we’ve seen each other around.”

Arthur is discovering that Gwaine probably doesn’t have a conniving bone in his body, which only makes him that much more irritated at how…irritated he is. Gwaine isn’t even an asshole. He’s just himself, and Arthur doesn’t know why he’s so angry.

Or maybe he does.

“That was fast.” Merlin said peering down at the martini glass Gwaine placed in front of him.

“Is this one mine?”

“Of course, go for it.” Gwaine encourages him.

As soon as Merlin takes a sip, Arthur knows by the look on his face, that he doesn’t like it.

The Pendragon heir scans the counter and finds exactly why.

Before he can catch his mouth, he blurts out

“You hate gin.”

“What?” Merlin turns impossibly innocent. “No, I don’t.”

“Hey, it’s not everyone’s drink of choice. I will not be offended in the slightest if you-“

“I don’t, though. I like it.” Merlin cuts him off.

“You’re a terrible liar, too. I always try to get him to taste a Negroni or something with a little more flavor and he always says ‘I can’t drink this shit, it tastes like rubbing alcohol.’”

“Well, that’s when you make it. When he makes it, it’s actually good.” Merlin tips his head back and downs the rest of the martini.

When he’s finished, still holding Arthur’s gaze, unwavering, he sets the glass down on the marble countertop and requests,

“Another, please.”

Gwaine, still smiling as ever, is happy to oblige.

“Comin right up.”

Arthur is a little lost, Merlin’s eyes on him and Gwaine standing there looking at him like he knows, but he doesn’t know, he can’t know.

There’s nothing to know.

In a panic, he pretends his phone is ringing, still unable to tear his eyes away from Merlin’s unmerciful face until the last second.

“I’m…um..getting a call. So I’m just gonna…” and then without grabbing his keys or his coat, he leaves out the front door.

Cold, September air knocking the awareness back into him.

What the hell is going on with him today?

[chickensarentcheap]

Sneak Peek :)

@tragiclyhip @thebejeweledwatercat @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @kmc1989

@themaradwrites @munstysmind @ninjasawakenedmystar @asirensrage @alisbackalleybbq

@mrsmungus @residentdormouse

(I know I'm missing people lol. Please remind me if you're on my tag list?)

“Look, I’ve been there, okay.  I don’t know how much you actually know about me, but I was married and it was a disaster.   My ex-husband was a complete and utter prick.  A monster. There’s no other way to describe him.  He was abusive in every way a person can be.  And when things fell apart…”  Carrying the mugs and pot of tea to the island, she sets them on the granite and takes a seat across from Mia. “...I swore ‘never again’. I told myself that I was perfectly okay with spending the rest of my life single and dying a crazy cat lady.”

“Well, something came along and changed everything.”

“Something came along, alright." She fills both mugs with tea, sliding once across the countertop.   “All six foot three, two hundred pounds of it.  I probably would have been able to resist had not been for the blue eyes and the accent.  I guess what I’m trying to say is that if I can get past all of my ex husband’s shit and trust someone against, anyone can get.  Jesus…”  Sighing heavily, she sips at her drink. “...that sounded really insensitive, didn’t it. Considering what you went through…” 

“No. It didn’t.   At least not to me.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like. It’s my worst nightmare; something happening to Millie.  And I’m so sorry; that your son got sick and you lost him and your husband didn’t bother to stick around and…” She chews nervously on her bottom lip. “It wasn’t fair.  To any of you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.  It’s been a while; since I talked about it. About him.”

“I know what Tyler did was wrong.  And I’m not trying to make excuses for him.  He’d be the first person to tell you that I’ve always held him accountable for what he did; I’ve always let him know it was a horrible, stupid decision he made.”

“Tough love.”

“A little, I guess.  But it wasn’t malicious.  It wasn’t intentional.  He didn’t do it to hurt you or your son.   He was scared; he didn’t know how to handle what was happening and he couldn’t deal with seeing his boy suffer.  God, I DO sound like  I’m making excuses for him.”

[theoddcatlady]

Nearly lost my temper at work yesterday

For a bit of background, I work at an insurance company. I’m not exactly changing the world, but it pays well and it’s usually pretty chill. Except for yesterday, which I just really need to rant about. It was a bunch of little things that stacked up to my… almost explosion.

The water cooler was dripping nonstop. Citrix servers had gone down and that was the main program I use for work. I had a pounding headache from the bright lights in the office and my skin was all dried out from the artificial air. And for fuck’s sake, Barbara would just not leave me alone.

I’m not a people person. I can answer the phone and be amicable enough, but I’ve never been like BFF’s with my coworkers at… any of my jobs. Most of my coworkers get I’m here to do my job and get paid. Barbara though, good god. She just doesn’t get the hint. And I can’t exactly mouth off to her because she’s been with the company for like two decades so if she complains I’m the one in trouble… not like she’s done work for the last five years, but I digress.

“So is this your boyfriend, Ellie?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek as Barbara plucked one of the pictures in my cubicle up, cooing and aww’ing. I hated being called Ellie. “He’s so cute!”

“Andrew is my brother, actually. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” One of the only other people I can tolerate in this world. I grabbed the picture and not so gently snatched it back, setting it down. The vein in my forehead probably popped out another good inch as I saw that Barbara had left a greasy thumbprint on the glass. I’d need to clean it when she was gone.

“Oh!” Barbara cocked her head to the side. “You don’t look alike!”

“I’m adopted.” Desperately I stared at my computer, willing Citrix to get its shit together so I could tell Barbara I was busy working. I was not going to be that lucky.

“You know, I have a son about your age.” Barbara started fiddling with the other things in my space, my notepad, the pens. “He just broke up with his girlfriend, and I was wondering, I bet the two of you would love to have coffee together…”

“I’m sorta preoccupied with other things at the moment than dating. And I hate coffee. I’m more of a tea person.” Jesus Christ, I was at the point where I was begging the clock to speed up. Even with the systems down, I still wasn’t allowed to leave until four. Just in case they came back on, even though they never had in the past. I wouldn’t mind getting paid to sit on my ass and do nothing if fucking Barbara would leave me alone.

“At your age?”

Oh, here we go. I rolled my eyes as Barbara tutted her tongue at me. “You need to get on that, honey, otherwise you’re going to be unmarried at thirty! After that it’s all downhill, not to mention how this could effect your future children- is something wrong with your arm?”

Shit. I hid my hand under my desk. “No!” I spared a glance and almost starting cussing. Of all times to start shedding, this was not a good time. “Bathroom emergency, move it!”

I shoved past Barbara, accidentally pushing her to the ground in my haste. I heard her snap after me but I didn’t care. I scooted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me.

I held my hand in front of me to see more skin start to flake off, revealing the putrid muscle and flesh underneath. Fuck me. Today had to be that bad, huh?

My brother used to call it my ‘zombie mode’ to make me grumpy, but it’s not really like that. I keep my sanity, but I just start rotting and falling apart at the seams. It’s been like this since I was a kid, though I do tend to rot quicker when I’m having a shitty day, so Barbara can get fucked.

There’s really only one way to speed up the process so my skin grows back normal and healthy, and it sucks.

I sent Andrew a text, telling him to come pick me up as soon as he could and to bring my large coat. He knew what I meant. With a sigh, I double checked the lock before I pulled my shirt off, bra following onto the floor. Where the underwire was pressing against me the skin was already starting to come off. I gritted my teeth, grabbed on, and yanked.

It doesn’t hurt, not when my skin’s already dead. Sometimes a bit of the live skin comes with it and oh that hurts like tearing a hangnail, but it’s hardly lethal.

Pus and blood spattered into the sink as I ripped more and more of my skin away, both lumps I once called breasts slapped on the ground with a wet sound. I could see tumorous, bulbous growths starting to form in the fat. With most of the skin on my torso gone, I moved onto my arm. I groaned with relief as I finally scratched away at the sore, ripping away more skin and flesh.

I had skinned my entire upper body and was finally starting to feel relief when I heard a timid knock at the door.

“Sweetie? Ellie? Are you okay?”

Barbara’s voice made my blood boil, but right now she was exactly what I needed. I cleared my throat before approaching the door. “Sorry, Barb, I… I threw up. Everywhere. On my clothes, on the sink. It looks like a horror film in here. I called my brother to come get me, but could you please bring me stuff to clean up? I am not leaving this for Willis to clean up tonight, he’ll probably quit.”

“Oh, of course, sweetie! Don’t worry about work, I’ll handle it.”

She even was nice enough to cover her eyes as she handed me the cleaning supplies through the crack in the door. I scrubbed that floor and counter spotless, filling a garbage bag with bloody paper towels and gore so that no one would assume I butchered someone in the bathroom.

My brother gave me my trench coat when he came to pick me up and acted like he was helping me out of the building as he escorted me, in reality he was making sure I wasn’t bleeding over everything.

Now I’m home, enjoying a few seasons of Friends as I heal up. Andrew is a coroner and if I didn’t have him, I probably would’ve lost my mind and eaten Barbara on a bad day years ago. Whenever I’m done ‘shedding’, he brings me home a few human body parts so I can eat. I usually add them to whatever junk I’m eating, but Barbara was nice enough to bring me some chicken noodle soup. Now it’s chicken noodle soup plus a kidney, but hey, what can you do.

Whoa, feels good to get my shitty yesterday off my chest. Thank god it’s Friday.

[sabraeal]

In Plain Sight, Chapter 7

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2023, Day 4: Rejection

Silence falls so thick over the line that even the fuzz from Obi’s side blots out; a total eclipse of sound. It doesn’t click, not the way it does when a call’s been lost-- or worse, severed completely from the other end-- but Shirayuki’s heart pounds so loud in her ears that she can’t trust whether or not she would have heard it if it did. Maybe she’s just been standing here for minutes, holding onto a call long over while paperwork’s churning to make her into someone else’s problem, someone who knows how to deal with a girl who can’t—

“Sorry, Miss.” The word breathlessly fans into static; she’s so happy to hear him that she forgets to flinch. “Connection must have gotten dropped there. Who is this fiancé of yours?”

“You.”

“Ahh...so I did hear that right,” he mutters wearily. “And you’re sure that it’s...? I mean, your neighbors, they think I’m...?”

“Martha-- Mrs Kino, I mean-- she talked to the movers--” Obi groans, a really, terribly distracting noise-- “and she said that they said that when they were hired, it was a man on the phone. And since I don’t have a job lined up, she assumed...?”

Someone had to be paying for it. Not many people would jump to Uncle Sam.

“Right, right.” A sigh fizzles over the phone. “You’ve got a real nosy neighbor there, Miss.”

“I’m sorry.” The mattress at her back is the perfect firmness, but at times like these she wishes it were enough to swallow her whole. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No, no. It’s not your fault.” At least this time he sounds amused as well as put out. “That’s just how they make ‘em out here in the greatest state in the union. It’s not like we send you out into the world with top class espionage skills so you can trick the grandma next door.”

No, but she doubts Agent Anda would be pleased to know she tripped right out of the starting gate. “I know, but still. I’ve become a real handful, and I’m sure you’d rather be--”

“Trust me, Miss.” She feels rather than hears the drop in his voice, hitting the register that makes every hair stand up on end. A shiver courses down her spine, and it’s strange that it feels so...good. “Handling you is the highlight of my day. I just always thought I’d be taken out to dinner first. You know, before any marriage proposals.”

“Oh.” She probably shouldn’t be so breathless on what’s, ostensibly, a professional phone call. “Right. Did you want--?”

“Is that all your neighbor knows?”

She blinks. “Um...?”

“That there was a man who hired the movers,” he clarifies, the distant sound of clacking keys filling the silence his voice doesn’t. “I helped you into the house on the first day, did she indicate that I must be your husband, or...?”

“Uh, I don’t...think so?” Though Martha Kino seems like the exact sort of woman who might sit on that sort of information, if only to pull it out as a cute story at a baby shower. “I told them I moved in on my own. You’re supposed to be on a business trip.”

It’s luck and the last shred of her common sense that manages to swallow, and a very good kisser too. It’s bad enough that she can’t forget his stint as Hot Airport Boyfriend, but him knowing she can’t? What pride she has shrivels just thinking about it.

“Right. Right, okay.” His voice gains solid footing now, picking up speed as he tells her, “Don’t worry, Miss. Just let me handle it. I know the perfect husband material.”

*

The sun’s still up when Shirayuki jolts awake, her mouth dry and sticky and tasting like something might have crawled in and died. A terrible beat drums right behind her temples; when she levers up to her elbows, it pounds loud enough her head swims.

Ah, right, water. She needs to hydrate. Because she drank her weight in margaritas at lunch. Aspen may have a face that could be committed to stained glass, radiant halo and all, but those cocktails of hers— well, if any of the folk around here held with the idea that demons could come to you in the guise of an angel, two drinks of that stuff would be proof positive. It’s been years since she’s had anything but a single glass of the fruitiest, most mixed drink at the bar, and yet she’d been tempted into not just one of those margaritas, but—

Shirayuki blinks against the throbbing behind her eyes. Two, wasn’t it? One when she first sat down, another when the sweet tea was just a little too sweet for her tastes. Enough to flirt with her limits, but not dip over-- at least, not at the backyard barbecues back home, or lab happy hours. But maybe now that the humidity could take the Feels Like temperature over three digits, her well-known tipping point has inched itself a little closer to the starting line.

It’d be the best explanation for how terrible her mouth tastes. Shirayuki had never been much of a drinker, not even in her grad school days, but there’s been at least a morning or two where she’s woken up after just one drink too many, and well, it has a flavor just like this. But with only a pre-dinner nap, she can’t have earned this one, not when she couldn’t have possibly had anymore, not after—

Oh god, she told all of them that she had a fiancé. Not just any fiancé, of course, oh not, but a tall, tanned, expert kisser, and she…

Here. Aspen’s angel smile bares teeth. Looks like you might need one of these for the road.

Ah, well. That would definitely explain that. At least it’s nothing a good, carb-heavy dinner couldn’t fix, once the room stopped sloshing at the edges.

With a groan, Shirayuki drags herself upright, wincing at the light leaking through the edges of the blind. Can’t have been sleeping for long if it’s still that bright—

Something slips from the folds of her sheets, clattering onto the floor. Ah, her phone. Of course. Because she’d gotten in the door, and Obi’s sixth sense for trouble must have tingled. He’d called in just to check in, and she…

Shirayuki blinks down at her pillow, at the damp patch where she must have drooled, and— and she doesn’t remember ending the call. Only that one moment she was talking, and the next she was waking up, this foul taste in her mouth. Which could only mean that he— no, that she—

She’d just fallen asleep, mid-call. Like she was some— some small child who wandered off to nap. Oh, she can just imagine the way he’ll grin the next time she sees him, all his long limbs folded over her counter, saying something like, at your size I’m not surprised you need a little nap to make it through the day. And he’ll look at her all sly, all casual, like he wants her to circle the whole of the kitchen to step on his toes, to bunch his shirt in her fists and tell him just what someone her size can do. He’ll look at her like an invitation because—

Oh god, because he’s supposed to. That’s how fiancés look when they’re in their lover’s house. Like they belong.

Her head crashes into the cradle of her palms. Less than a week ago, Shirayuki couldn’t even see the appeal of a kiss, and now here she is, thinking about putting her hands on some— some stranger in hopes he might bend down and let her figure out whether her first try was some fluke, or— or something else. Something almost as terrifying as being hustled out of her home in the dead of night and told that if she wanted to live to see thirty, she’d need to be someone else.

It’s…a lot. Too much. And now he’s her fiancé on top of it all, because she’s never bothered to learn that real life doesn’t give extra credit just for choosing to make it harder.

A sigh slips from her as she crouches, just enough to rescue her phone from where it’s skittered under the bedskirt, and— ah, not the best idea. Not when she’s clearly a few hours out from her last sip of something non-alcoholic. But she’s come too far to turn back now. Oma didn’t raise a quitter.

She didn’t raise a lightweight either, but that’s apparently what she’s got; Shirayuki gets to her knees, trying to get her hand around the edge of the case, and ugh, her stomach rolls up toward her throat, bile burning in the back of her throat, and—

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. The case beats a soft tattoo against her fingers, muffled but where the screen’s pressed to the floor, and when she flips the screen up, Sugar Daddy blazes across her notifications. meet here @ 11

Sitting back on her heels— ugh, bleh, that position’s not much better— Shirayuki squints into the glare. She can’t possibly be reading that right. Eleven? Tonight? It’s about the mission, she’s sure, it’s just—

It would look bad, wouldn’t it? A young woman slipping out of her house that close to midnight while her partner’s out of town? Reads much less like a professional business meeting, and more like a, er, well, booty call.

Gears churn as she thumbs through to her messages, trying to make teeth catch. It just— it doesn’t make sense. Leaving so late will only put grist in the rumor mill, reaching its peak when her prodigal  fiancé arrives, seemingly none the wiser. Unless, of course, he’s relying on that— on the neighbors thinking there’s a third wheel to their bicycle, one that can be disastrously revealed at the most dramatically appropriate moment, and he can go straight back to being her handler, and she can be—

Ah, her messages are finally open. And there’s Obi’s, right at the top— the only, besides a few utilities and some spam— and his latest is already bold in the preview. It unfurls when she swipes over it, mostly just her inquiry into her kitchenware, but the last line is still meet here @ 11. Just that. And, well…

“A link?” Her head tilts, but that does nothing to clarify the context. When she clicks, the map app opens, pointing her straight toward a— “Panera?”

Well, he had said he would like to get taken out to dinner first. She just thought Agent Obi might have higher standard. “Are those even open that late?”

Maybe they are for government employees. Or maybe they keep someone on staff there, just for these sorts of clandestine conversations, the kind that can’t happen over phone lines or during regular business hours. Or—

Her eyes flick up, a reflex more than a conscious thought, catching the time at the corner of the screen. 9:23, it reads, and there’s something about it that makes her take a second glance. The light pouring in from her windows, maybe, too bright for evening, even this far into spring. Or possibly the taste in her mouth, too strong to be from only a few hours of sleep. Whatever it is, her gaze lingers this time, squinting at where the number crouch in the corner, and—

“AM?” she squeaks, stumbling to her feet. “I’ve slept all day?”

With a wild sweep of her arm, she opens the blinds, the bright light of day filtering through, and oh, ah— there’s Mrs Kino, tending her garden. She looks up, a smile wrinkling the corners of her eyes, and waves.

“Haah…” Shirayuki sighs, weakly waving back. “I think…I need to get in the shower.”

*

It’s just lunch.

That’s what she tells herself as the spray pelts her back, water blurring her vision as she hastily scrapes a razor up her leg. It’s just a professional, business lunch at a chain restaurant. Not even a true sit-down experience, but…fast casual, the sort of thing that might make a nice date in undergrad, when you don’t have the time or the resources to do much besides look at each other for an hour.

Certainly nothing that she needs to put herself out for, she thinks as she skims lotion up her thighs, spreading the scent of passionflower and hibiscus far past any decent hemline. Not that she’s worried about that— hemlines and what might go past them. No, it’s just…it had been a while since she shaved, and if you shave, then you have to hydrate, and if she’s going to pamper herself, well, her nicest moisturizer is a good start.

Because it’s not a date. It’s not even coffee. Not that she would have coffee, she reminds herself, flicking through her dresses. Caffeine gives her the jitters, and the last thing she needs is to make her hands any more unsteady, or her stomach any more unsettled. There’s no reason to worry about how so many of her nicer clothes fall more on the work-appropriate side of the fashion scale rather than, er…play appropriate. This is all just a…a preliminary meeting to go over the details of this whole situation. An exchange of information before he commits to this whole…fake engagement.

So there’s no need to look cute, she insists, tugging at her most stubborn flyaways in the rearview mirror. After all, then he might think she’s trying to impress him. And if he thinks she wants to impress him, he might assume that she’s attracted to him. That maybe she’s angling to repeat that kiss in the airport, the one that had sent static through every limb of her body, the one she can’t possibly forget—

And that would be ridiculous. Shirayuki doesn’t do attraction, at least not the way other people do. She doesn’t just look at someone and decide they might be nice to touch, or that maybe she wouldn’t mind if they leaned close enough for her to catch a hint of their natural scent, or quiver just at the idea that he might close the space between them, brushing his lips over hers as gently as he had the first time, swallowing her gasp whole as he coaxes her to—

Ah! She claps a hand to her cheek, glass door jingling shut behind her. Not even the air conditioning helps cool her flush. The last thing she needs is Obi to see her like this, flushed and trembling just from the thought of him. Which is good since, with a quick scan of the shop, Shirayuki knows…

He’s not here.

*

There’s an explanation for this, she’s sure. He could be late, for one; Obi doesn’t strike her as the sort of person who feels the need to be fifteen minutes early to be on time. So it makes sense that he could simply be lagging few minutes behind, caught up in a traffic snarl or running a little after schedule because he wanted to catch the last few minutes of a show. He could even be in his car right now, tangled up in the tail end of a story on NPR, just wanting to hear whether or not the girl on antimalarials ever regained her memory, or if that illegally adopted baby from Korea ever actually found his parents.

There, a half-dozen reasons right off the top of her head for him to be elsewhere. And still, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s been, well, stood up.

“Ah, excuse me?”

She blinks. Oh, she’s standing right in front of the door.

“Sorry,” she blurts out, barely thinking. A shuffle scoots her clear of the vestibule. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

“Hah, no, that’s not…” The man beside her huffs out a laugh, shoving a hand through a mop of blond so pale she’s only ever seen it on kids under three. 

“You must be Shirayuki.”

That gets her attention. “Who…?”

There’s nothing about that boyish face that says mobster, but that doesn’t mean much, when she hasn’t seen any outside of The Departed. Still, there’s no snake tattoo crawling up his wrist— one of the sure signs of one of Umihebi’s men, according to Agent Anda— his nice button down only baring milky pale skin up to the elbow. And there’s no malice in his smile, only teeth so white she swears they sparkle, and eyes that crinkle at the corners, so dark a blue she almost mistakes them for black.

“Sorry, I’m doing this all backwards. I’m Zen.” He thrusts out a hand, palm refreshingly cool against hers. “Zen Wisteria. And I believe I’m your” —his smile hooks up at one side, as bashful as the little bounce he does on his toes— “future husband.”

Shirayuki blinks at him. What had Obi said on the phone yesterday? I know the perfect husband material.

“Excuse me,” she murmurs tightly. “But I think I’d like your badge number.”