#Born ready to throw hands

[juliaqueendragon]

I love how Linda time and time again is the "there is good in everyone" and "all the villains are just misunderstood"-type until our character mentions Ydris then she turns into a professional hater.

[elizabethzoopzoop986]

I fear baby Akane

LOOK AT THOSE EYES HES STARING INTO MY SOUL

[northlight14]

Everything people need to know about my feelings towards Von Karma can be perfectly summed up by this one expression from Edgeworth in the anime…

[phantomdecibel]

“It’s set in the past! You have to acknowledge the prejudices of the time!” Sh. Shhhh. Shhh. Think about tgirl Penelope then maybe you’ll feel better.

“oh you have to acknowledge you can’t just do that–” sshhhhhhhhh. does that spark joy? ask yourself. does that spark joy? No, no it does not. shove it in the void microwave and move on. You know what sparks joy? faithful odys being head over heels for his trans wife. THAT sparks joy

ALTERNATIVELY:

[humanityinahandbag]

I'd like to tell you all a story about my grandmother.

My grandparents raised their children, four girls (one of them my mother), to be fighters. My aunts marched in Washington for women's rights with babies strapped to their chests and like to joke that all of the grandchildren who came from that line (including myself) were born with picket signs in their hands.

But it started with my grandparents. They fought hard for what they believed in. They marched against Vietnam. They marched for Martin Luther King. They marched for women's rights. They marched for a better future.

But let's talk specifically about my grandmother for a moment.

My grandmother unfortunately passed away in 2016. She had to watch the first Trump election and did so knowing that it would probably be the last election she'd ever see. And there is some argument there that she could have given in to fear and defeatism. She could have decided none of it was worth it, and she could have decided that fascism had won and the world was over.

But she did something else instead.

To give some context, my grandparents had friends who were Republicans. I say were, because they shifted from the normal Republican towards the MAGA Republican we see today. And despite a very clear message from my family about how we felt, they were more than ready to still come to the funeral as if everything was normal. Like their beliefs were normal. Like they were welcome to celebrate someone who had fought so hard for the rights of other people.

These were people who would have absolutely used their rhetoric to scream and shout if they were left out or disinvited.

And so my grandmother, even past her final moments, pulled the most brilliant, petty move I've ever seen.

She'd decided ahead of time that everyone who had known her was more than welcome to attend but that she wanted everyone attending the funeral to donate money. That was the requirement to be invited. And so everyone did just that. There was no talk about what the donations were for, just that they were appreciated. I want to say that the assumption was the money would help pay for funeral expenses and give the family some support while we grieved.

Except that wasn't the case.

Because in those final moments of the funeral, the rabbi stepped forward to thank everyone, and then very cheerfully announced;

"Arlene was so happy to know just how many people were coming to join us here today. She couldn't have been more proud of her family. And I'm sure she would have been elated to see just how much money you all gave today to Planned Parenthood."

When I say that the faces of those people are enshrined in my memory, I mean it. The anger, the devastation, the rage, the betrayal. It was an absolutely gorgeous display of true defeat at the hands of a boss ass old lady who literally fought with her last breath and threw up both middle fingers all the way out the door.

What I'm saying is this.

It is very easy to feel defeated. It is very easy to think that everything is over, and there's nothing left for us to do. It's very easy to say that fascism won, that fear won, that hate won.

But that's only true if you let it be true.

There is always more that we can do. There is a future that is still worth fighting for. And it's more than possible, even when it doesn't seem like it.

And fighting is going to look different every time.

Some days it will look like picket signs in our hands.

Some days it will look like spending time with friends and family and people you love and knowing that you have a community that supports you and your vision of a brighter future.

And some days, it's pulling absolute natural level 20 petty trickster shit even after you've left the world.

Because you can always make an impact and you can always add a little brightness to life, and if that means tricking a group of MAGA idiots into throwing their money behind Planned Parenthood in the middle of your own goddamn funeral then that's what it means.

Keep fighting. People have done it before you. People will continue to do it after you.

And enjoy the little victories.

(Even the petty ones)

[flowersforbucky]

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

[seafarersdream]

The Art of Braiding (Cregan Stark x Y/N)

In the harsh, unfamiliar North, Y/N Tully struggles to understand the strange customs that surround her. One of them, however, her new husband Cregan Stark knows all too well—and he’s not above using it to his advantage. The Wolf of the North, as it turns out, has a cheeky side.

*Inspired by the braiding traditions of the Vikings

TW // Strong language and profanities, possessiveness, non-consensual restraint.

“Bloody wind,” Y/N muttered under her breath, tugging her cloak tighter around her shoulders as another frigid gust swept through Winterfell’s courtyard. The North had its own bite, and it wasn’t just the cold. It was in everything—the stone walls, the silence, and even the people.

Especially the people.

Especially Cregan Stark.

Her husband.

That cold bastard. Honorable, sure, but colder than the winds battering against her face.

Y/N blew a strand of hair from her eyes, resisting the urge to curse her luck again. The riverlands were nothing like this. In Riverrun, there was warmth. Rivers that didn’t freeze over in the middle of freaking summer. Men who smiled, told bawdy jokes, laughed loud enough for the gods to hear. Here, everything was different. Even the laughter, when it happened at all, felt muted by the heavy weight of the Northern sky.

But this was her life now. A wife of the North. Lady Stark. By the gods, it was still strange to hear it. She knew the match had been made for peace and alliances—marriage between a Tully and a Stark was good for the realm, or so her father had said. But no one had prepared her for the rest of it. The weather. The silences.

And Cregan himself.

He was unlike any man she had known. Rivermen were warm, boisterous. Cregan was the opposite. He was distant, cold at times, the weight of Winterfell and the North resting on his broad shoulders. But he was fair, she’d give him that. And gods be damned if he wasn’t handsome. He had that Stark look, all strong jaw and piercing eyes. If only he’d smile a little more, maybe she’d feel less like she was wed to a block of ice.

Not that he wasn’t good to her. No, Cregan was kind in his way. Gentle in the nights they shared, even if he was quieter than she liked. He was a man of few words, unlike the men of her home, who’d fill the halls with stories and laughter. Still, he made sure she had everything she needed. He listened, even when he didn’t have much to say.

But gods, she missed warmth.

The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow caught her attention, and she glanced up to see him approaching. Cregan. He walked like he owned the place—because he did, of course—but it was more than that. There was a confidence in him, a certainty in his steps. He didn’t need to announce himself. The wind, the snow, the very stones of Winterfell seemed to bend to his will.

He came up beside her, his breath clouding the cold air. “Still not used to it?” His voice was a low rumble, almost lost to the wind.

Y/N snorted, rubbing her hands together. “Used to it? It’s like a gods-damned frozen hell up here.”

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You’ll learn. In time.”

She shot him a look. “And when exactly will that be? Because I’ve been waiting for weeks, Cregan, and I’m about ready to march back to the riverlands and throw myself into the water. Ice be damned.”

His brows arched just slightly, amusement flickering in his gray eyes. “The riverlands? You wouldn’t last a day without the North, now.”

Y/N scoffed, turning to him fully. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Stark. I was born by water, not ice. I think I’d manage just fine.”

He said nothing, but the smirk returned. Silence fell between them again, but this time it was… different. More comfortable, somehow. She studied him, wondering what was going on in that head of his. He always seemed to have something weighing on him, some unspoken burden of being a leader at such a young age.

Before she could press further, he stepped closer, reaching out. Her breath caught, not because of the cold this time, but because of the unexpected closeness. His hand brushed against her hair, fingers moving with surprising gentleness.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hold still,” he murmured, focused on her hair. His fingers deftly gathered strands, working them with a skill that surprised her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, confused, but she stayed quiet, feeling the tug and pull as he braided her hair. Her pulse quickened as his fingers brushed against her skin, the sensation at odds with the chill around them. There was an intimacy in the act, in the silence that hung between them. And yet, it was just a braid.

Wasn’t it?

“There,” he said after a moment, stepping back. She reached up instinctively, fingers touching the braid he’d woven. It felt tight, but not uncomfortably so. She had no idea what to make of it. “What… is this?”

Cregan shrugged, that infuriating smirk still lingering on his lips. “Just a braid.”

“Just a braid,” she echoed, unconvinced.

His eyes flickered, something unreadable in their depths. “You’ll see.”

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “What exactly does that mean, Lord Stark?”

But Cregan was already turning, heading toward the main hall without another word. Y/N stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. Just a braid? She huffed, shaking her head as she followed him inside. Northerners and their damn cryptic ways.

It wasn’t until they entered the hall that Y/N realized something was… off.

Eyes turned toward her. And not the usual fleeting glances. No, these were lingering, assessing stares. Several of the women whispered to each other, and a few of the men gave her respectful nods. She caught the eye of a servant who quickly dipped her head in what almost seemed like… deference?

Gods be good.

“Why is everyone looking at me like that?” she muttered under her breath, shooting a glare at one particularly nosy maid.

Cregan didn’t answer, his lips twitching as though he was trying very hard not to laugh. The bastard was enjoying this.

“What did you do?” she demanded, her voice sharper now.

Finally, he met her gaze, and there was that smirk again. “The braid.”

“What about the bloody braid?”

“It’s… a tradition,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the stone wall. “In the North, braids have meanings. Especially for women.”

Her stomach sank. “What kind of meaning?”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “A braid like that? It tells everyone that you’re… claimed.”

Y/N blinked, feeling her face heat despite the cold. “Claimed?” she echoed, her voice rising a pitch. “By whom exactly?”

Cregan’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “By me.”

Her mouth fell open. “You—what?! You did that on purpose? You—sly, stubborn—”

His laughter was a rare, low rumble that warmed the cold space between them. “You’ll get used to it, my lady.”

“Used to it?” Y/N fumed, her cheeks burning as the reality of what he’d done sunk in. “You can’t just—ugh!” She shoved at his chest, but it was like pushing a damn wall. “This is the North, Y/N. My North,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you are mine.”

A strange warmth bloomed in her chest, mixing with her frustration. The audacity. The nerve.

And yet…

Y/N's face burned hotter than the hearth fires in the Great Hall as Cregan’s words echoed in her ears: You are mine. Claimed. Oh, she was mortified.

She reached up, fingers fumbling to undo the braid that now seemed to burn against her scalp. “Absolutely not,” she muttered, her nails scraping against the tight weave as she tried to pull it apart. “I am not walking around Winterfell with everyone thinking—"

Before she could finish, Cregan’s hand shot out, closing around her wrist, firm but not rough. “What are you doing?”

She glared at him, teeth clenched. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m undoing this bloody braid before everyone in this hall assumes I’m some conquered—”

“You’re not,” he cut in, his voice low, but there was an edge to it. “And you won’t undo it.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the sudden command in his tone. “Excuse me?”

His eyes were intense, a storm brewing behind the calm gray. “The braid stays.”

She tried to yank her wrist out of his grip, but his hold was iron. Not painful, but resolute. “I didn’t agree to this—this.. this claiming nonsense,” she snapped, feeling a wave of embarrassment creep up her neck as she noticed more eyes turning their way.

Cregan leaned in slightly, his gaze unyielding. “In the North, it’s more than just words. It means something. You’re my wife. And you’ll wear that braid like it.”

Her heart pounded, heat flooding her chest. “I’ll wear what I damn well please—”

“Oi, Lady Stark!”

The loud shout from across the hall made Y/N freeze, her head whipping toward the source. One of the Northern men, a burly soldier with a wild grin on his face, pointed at her braid. “That’s a fine weave, my lady!” he hollered, winking.

The hall erupted into whistles, cheers, and hollers. Several of the men banged their fists on the tables, laughing and calling out words Y/N could barely make out. Some of the women were whispering behind their hands, giggling and exchanging knowing looks.

Y/N felt her face go crimson, her fingers still trapped in her hair, halfway through her attempt to undo the braid.

“Looks like the Warden’s laid his claim!” another man shouted, and more hoots followed.

Her stomach dropped. This was a nightmare. Mother save her, this is worse than a nightmare.

She tried again to pull at the braid, but Cregan’s hand didn’t budge from her wrist. “Cregan, I swear to the gods—”

His voice was maddeningly calm, but there was a cocky edge to it that made her blood boil. “You’ll leave it. And if you somehow forget, remember—we’ve got different gods, love. And mine? They’re backing me up.”

Y/N’s mouth opened to protest, but when she met his eyes, something in her faltered. He wasn’t just being possessive. There was something more there—something ancient, deep-rooted. A tradition that ran through his blood, through the very stones of Winterfell. She wasn’t just in his home. She was part of his world now.

But hell if she’d admit that to him.

“Cregan,” she hissed through clenched teeth, trying once more to yank her wrist free. “Everyone is staring!”

“And?” he asked, with that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “Let them.”

Her eyes widened. “You—this isn’t funny! They’re hooting at me like I’m some prize at the fair!”

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her pause. “You are no prize, Y/N,” he murmured, leaning close enough for his words to be for her ears only. “But you are mine. And in the North, we show it.”

Her breath caught at the warmth in his voice, even as her frustration grew. She had no idea what to say to that. What was she supposed to say? That she didn’t want to be claimed? That she didn’t want him? But the problem was… she did. And that was the most frustrating part.

The hall’s noise only grew louder. Some of the men had started clapping, whistling at them like they were some grand spectacle. Y/N wanted to sink into the stone floors.

“Let go of my wrist, Cregan,” she said, her voice quieter now, though it still carried her annoyance.

“Only if you stop trying to undo it,” he replied, his tone softening.

Y/N glared at him, her lips pressed into a tight line. But the heat of the stares, the teasing from the Northerners, was overwhelming. With a frustrated sigh, she dropped her hands from her hair.

“There,” she grumbled. “Now let go.”

He released her wrist, and immediately she wanted to punch him just a little bit. That cocky bastard.

“Was that so difficult?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“You know,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “you’re lucky you’re my husband, or I’d throw you from the Wall.”

He leaned in, that smirk still present but softer now. “I’d like to see you try, wife.”

The word ‘wife’ sent another ripple of warmth through her, and she cursed silently under her breath. Why did it have this effect on her? And why did he have to look at her like that, with those damned Stark eyes, all cold and piercing but somehow still full of heat?

She crossed her arms, trying to hide her embarrassment under a glare. “Don’t expect me to be all smiles and sweet words because you’ve won this little battle, Stark.”

Cregan chuckled softly, his breath warm in the cold hall. “Who said I needed sweet words? You’re a Tully. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t fighting me.”

Despite herself, Y/N felt the smallest hint of a smile tug at her lips. Damn him. He knew exactly how to pull her in, even when she wanted to stay mad.

The cheers and whistles finally started to die down, though the teasing looks from the men and women of Winterfell didn’t. She sighed, looking up at Cregan. “You’re going to owe me for this.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Owe you?”

“Yes,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “For the embarrassment. You’ll owe me.”

Cregan grinned, his cold facade cracking just enough to show the warmth beneath. “Fair enough, wife. I’ll owe you.” He paused, a glint of mischief in his eye. “But that braid stays.”

She rolled her eyes. But a small smile tugged at her lips.

As they finally made their way to the high table, Y/N couldn’t help but glance at the braid once more. The claiming. It was still ridiculous. Still infuriating.

But gods help her… it felt good—brutishly, maddeningly good—to be claimed like this. She was going insane, because part of her didn’t mind it half as much as she pretended to.

A treacherous part of her silently hoped that Cregan would braid her hair again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the next. For as long as they both lived.

[gremlingottoosilly]

mafia konig and reader during pregnancy become extremely sensitive, cry easily and get angry easily. like she would sob and throw a pillow at him just because he was the reason why she became like this 🥺

Oh, Konig is almost ready to quit the mafia business and go to a secluded farm in the middle of the Alps where he could raise goats with you until the end of times. You're just so...sensitive. And soft and vulnerable, and it absolutely destroyed him because he can't just leave you alone like this, lonely and crying, but he also can't bring you everywhere with him since you're in a very vulnerable and compromised state right now. He is trying his best to delegate the work to his right-hand men, but operating the biggest gang in the whole country isn't exactly 9 to 5. He sometimes has to leave you to tend to his business, and it always breaks your heart with just how easy the decision comes to him...or, at least, you think it's easy for him. You have no idea he is destroyed inside every time he has to leave you in that teary and vulnerable state. Konig is trying to pay for his transgressions with nice gifts and lavish outings, but it's not like he actually wants you to go outside without an army of bodyguards... He accepts your anger with dignity. Konig understands that you're angry at him for impregnating you and then working too much, so he lets you beat him and use everything in your power to hurt him. He knows you don't mean it - you're just hormonal, you just need to let go of some steam, and he was reading that pregnant women can become extremely horny, so...he tries to act as cuddly and clingy as possible whenever he is around, just so you could have your husband as a big and soft pillow. Konig tries his best to be the perfect husband for you - even though you're aggressive and horny at the same time, he just takes your every emotion and drinks it up. tries his best to be your perfect hubby, even if it's extremely hard. For example, like the time you asked him to be rough in bed again, and he obviously couldn't since you were pregnant, so you became angry and called him a pussy, then you started crying, and...the rest is history, actually. History of him finally convincing you to settle for a bit of edging and orgasm play as he was slowly fucking you until you were going crazy for some action, and then fells asleep in his arms. Don't even get him started at lactation...you'd be so teary, going to his office to ask him to help relief some pressure in your chest, so he actually spends too much time licking and sucking on your nipples, helping you get the milk out before the baby is born to take care of it...although, maybe, he won't let the baby take it away so easily.

[sleepymarimo]

❝ 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡! ❞

: ̗̀➛ first-time dad toji is not a fan of watching baby 'gumi get his first shot...

pairing: toji x afab!reader cw: needles! some cursing. majority fluff :) wc: 565

toji didn't do doctors.

he's never really gotten hurt to the point where he felt that it was necessary to go to one. hell, the first doctor's appointment he ever went to wasn't even for him; it was for you, his pregnant wife.

well, then pregnant wife. it's been around two months since baby megumi was born. now, he's back here to accompany you to this appointment.

he leans against the wall, watching as the doctor wipes down a patch of megumi's chubby thigh with an alcohol pad. you're cradling the infant in your lap, cooing at him and making sure he sits still for the patient pediatrician.

megumi, none the wiser, gazes at you with the smallest of smiles.

toji can see the worry in your eyes, but he doesn't really get it. doctors are supposed to make things better or something, so he just keeps a watchful eye.

the needle catches his attention a bit, but it's so small and thin that he figures it'll barely be noticed by his son.

following a swift countdown by the doctor, the needle pokes through the meat of megumi's thigh. it's in for such a short period of time, but the result is immediate.

a frown replaces the smile that was on his face.

the baby boy is still for a brief second, almost like his body is registering the sensation and trying to make sense of it. unfortunately, it only amounts to one thing: pain.

his black brows scrunch, tiny limbs laxly flailing around in an attempt to escape the offending stimuli. there's no sound, not yet, but 'gumi's mouth opens up wide as he takes in a big breath.

toji has heard the boy cry before, of course he has.

when he's hungry, when he needs a diaper change, when he just needs to, but the noise that comes out of megumi's mouth has him about ready to tear this doctor to shreds.

it's a shrill sound, primal in it's own right. it's a universal cry, one that toji discerns with ease.

his baby is in pain.

even though you're already holding megumi to your chest, even though the band-aid is already covering the puncture sight, toji decides that it's not enough.

he acts like you brought your baby here to cry on purpose when he reaches out and takes the little one in his arms.

"fuck, give 'em here." he demands, his large palm running up and down megumi's back. "'yer lettin' 'em do this to our kid?"

"it's a vaccine!" you defend, raising your hand to lightly craddle 'gumi's head. it's not like you enjoy seeing your baby cry, either!

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't need that shit. i didn't."

"yeah, and you can throw trucks." you retort, your eyes swimming with maternal worry as the infant continues to fuss. "he's just a baby..."

tiny fists bunch into the fabric of his shirt, those piercing cries seeming to bounce across the walls of the room. toji hates the sound, his paternal instincts on full display.

the baby seems to feel particularly safe in his father's hold, his whines quieting down to disgruntled babbles and grunts.

the doctor awkwardly speaks up, clearly not wanting to disrupt this family moment. "excuse me, but we're not quite done with the vaccines yet, mr. fushiguro..."

toji's glare is cold, almost challenging, his hold on megumi tightening just a bit. "the hell you just say?"

[wolviensabes]

Logan has a massive breeding kink. 18+ Minors DNI.

I wrote something kinda similar with the whole 'rut' thing, but this will focus more on the 'breeding' aspect. Possibly will write a deep fic about this at a later date, for now this is just a short little drabble. Wrote with both afab and amab, as an afab I am not super familiar with reactions for those born as amab, so I tried my best!

Warnings: Uh filthy breeding sex thoughts?? Don't read if it's not for you. I did not edit this I typed all of this in like ten minutes.

I don't care if you are afab or amab, or capable of actually being biologically 'bred' or not...and neither does Logan.

He is going to fuck you full of his seed, no matter what hole he is stretching.

A lot of my followers have come to me and said they are amab, and I want to give you guys some love too. Logan will throw you on the bed...or couch...or floor. He will tear your clothes off while leaving all those lovely bites on your neck and shoulder, trailing down your chest and abdomen, his rough and calloused hands feeling you as he finally reaches your pants. I hope you didn't pay much for them because they're in tatters as he grows too frustrated to unbutton them.

"Look at you, rock hard from the thought of my cock in your ass?" He teases you, watching you throb and twitch, your own sex felt swollen and leaked like crazy. This man knew just how to get you going. He likes to stoke you until you squirm, spitting on your dick as his hand works you. His thumb trails teasingly on the tip and he grins down at you as you whine for him. "Ah, gotta lube up my fingers to stretch ya...don't want me goin' in dry do you?" he teases, using your precum as lube on his fingers and circling your tight hole.

He leans down, spreading you and licks over you, his tongue prying and greedy. Once you seem wet enough, he will push one finger in. Two, maybe three. Curling them against that pretty little spot that makes pleasure jolt up your spine and make you a moaning mess. So desperate for an orgasm you try reaching for anything to grab onto.

When Logan does penetrate you, it is so intense and you feel like he splits you in half. It stings and burns, but it also feels so damn good you don't want him to stop. Ever. "Logan! Oh my god, please, move...please." Your voice wavers with begging pleasure, just as he likes to hear. It gets him going, so riled up and ready to fuck you until you can't take it.

His balls are so heavy and his stockpile of cum is huge. It doesn't matter if you're a dude, he will breed you. It was funny the first time it came up during sex, he rolled his eyes at your genuine concern telling him you can't get pregnant. He deadpans at you and scoffed, "Ya, I know that, bub...it's called fantasy for a reason. Just let me have this." he grumbled, though your concern to his words was pretty cute...and funny.

"Damn it...fuck." he snarled as his cock buried as far as it could in your ass, watching himself disappear inside you. "Takin' me so well aren't ya, pup...watchin' you squirm with my dick inside you 'bout makes me unload." he groaned and teased you, enjoying how your face blushed darkly and you mewl under your breath, biting your lip to keep yourself from sounding like you're in a fucking heat.

"M'gonna fill your tight little hole with all my seed, you're gonna be drooling it outta your greedy ass, swallowing and milkin' me already..." he spoke filthy words while he thrusted hard and fast, you felt so dizzy and lightheaded in the best way. It was incredible, such pleasure overtook your body and you felt yourself spasm as he teased your tip, your own orgasm hitting you like a freight train.

You sputtered cum onto your belly and chest, he laughs lowly, grunting like a feral animal in your ear. "Messy boy. Look what you did..." He leaned down and licked a stripe through the mess and kissed you, your own cum on his tongue and you tasted yourself on the messy kiss. His hips stutter into you and he grabs you tightly, curling around your body and pressing you until he exploded inside your ass. That delicious snarling cry from him, a guttural roar, and his repetitive thrusts fill you up with his spunk.

He goes until every last drop is inside you, and he settles with his hips against you. "You're gonna keep me in ya...even if I have to keep my dick inside you."

With your pleading whine and groan, you pressed back against his cock, still hard in your ass. It makes Logan give a small thrust back, chuckling at you. You were so needy, it made him so fucking happy seeing how much you needed him. "That's my good boy, ya need it...? Fine. I'll give ya another load."

Logan talks a bit more if there's a possibility of getting you pregnant, or if he's with an afab. He's a little more filthy with his words since he knows the risks involved.

"Yeah...you want me to cum inside ya? You wanna get pregnant with my babies? Nngh....I'm gonna fill that womb. I'm gonna make sure you are leakin'..." he snarls at you while he's completely buried in your stretched, swollen cunt.

Can you barely register his words? Yes. But you don't care. You want his cum, you want him to fuck you senseless...which he has been. You were no better than a bitch in heat for him and he fucking loved it.

"Gonna be so damn full, gonna get you pregnant," he groaned and grunted hard, his instincts flaring with the possibility of actually impregnating and breeding you. It drove his hips faster and harder into you, like he couldn't control himself or stop.

His hips thrust so hard into you, the impact on your plush ass began to grow sore, you knew that your backside would be bruised and it wasn't even from spanking. He continued to pound into you, he bent you in all sorts of ways, positions you didn't think you could bend in.

Your body was covered in love bites and dark bruises, your nipples swollen from his teasing and they had a sting that enhanced all your pleasure with every thrust.

"Damn, look at you writhing. Such a good thing for me, sweet girl," he laughed as his dick kissed your cervix over and over, precum coating your inner walls. "I'm gonna fill you, princess...make that pretty little womb full." his hips continued to snap into you, biting your neck as he let out muffled growls against your skin.

You feel yourself crying with nothing but the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm, what number is this? You don't know. All you know is the pad of his finger is playing with your precious bundle of nerves and you can barely feel anything besides the raging fire of your climax shooting through you.

When he does cum, it is so much it overflows out of you, the sheer amount of it is insane. Your eyes widen, feeling the hot seed filling your precious fertile womb. If you're ovulating don't even think about running. Logan will literally hunt you down and bend you over until he is completely empty.

Thanks for reading my filthy thoughts lol. Maybe I'll turn this into an actual fic one day.

Byee 🧡

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[maidragoste]

Hiiii!!!! I (18) was wondering if you could write a Jace x his mothers handmaiden reader, where they have a secret relationship 🤙🏼🤙🏼❤️❤️

anon, sorry for taking so long to write your request. I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading 🥰💖💖

btw it wasn't clarified so I didn't write reader as a low-born handmaiden (that is, the ones who clean the urinals and that) but as a high-born one.

likes, comments and REBLOGS are always greatly appreciated 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you tried to break free from Jacaerys's grip only for the prince to press your body even closer to his so you couldn't get out of bed. You turned to demand that your lover let you go but you remained silent, watching Jace's face. Even though he had his eyes closed you were sure by the lazy smile on his face that he was awake. He looked beautiful. He always looked beautiful but these moments only belonged to you. You wanted to wake up every day next to him but you couldn't. Your duty was to Princess Rhaenyra, you cannot allow yourself to be distracted. Besides, if she found out that you were having a secret relationship with her beloved son, she would throw you out and your family would be very disappointed in you for having wasted the opportunity that the princess gave you to choose you as one of her handmaidens. Not only that but your reputation would be ruined, if rumors spread that you no longer possess your virtue then it would be impossible for you to get a husband. You are a fool to continue with this romance, someday Jace will marry a girl from an even more important house than yours and you will have to sit silently watching everything. There is no happy ending to this.

���My prince, I have to go,” you said, hoping he would stop playing dumb and let you go.

“No,” he complained, lengthening the “o.” Your place is at my side” he moved his face closer to kiss you but you moved, he tried again but you avoided him again “What's wrong” he asked, letting you go so he could sit properly on the bed.

"It's late, I should go. At any moment your mother will wake up, I have duties to do” you responded without looking at him as you got up. You didn't even have a chance to look for your shoes when he tugged on your arm making you return to the bed. He turns you around so that you both face each other.

“What is wrong?” asked again the prince. “Talk to me, please, my lady,” he asked, looking at you with concern while gently taking your face in his hands.

“I think we should stop seeing each other, my prince.” The uncertainty in your voice was clear but still, your words were a dagger for Jacaerys.

“Why?” Your heart ached as you heard the confusion and anguish in his voice. “. I don't understand, yesterday we were fine”

“Yes, we were. But we won't always be. Someday you will have to get married and you will leave me. “I think the easiest thing for my heart is for us to finish our thing now,” you said, closing your eyes without being able to see the sadness in his eyes anymore. If you continued seeing him you were afraid you would go back on your decision.

Your heart skipped a beat when you stopped feeling Jacaerys's hands. You froze as you listened to him get out of bed and get dressed. You should take the opportunity to leave, it's probably what he wanted but you couldn't move. You really had finished everything.

You opened your eyes as you felt the prince's hands in your hair. Your heart raced as he carefully untangled the knots. Once he finished, he kissed your shoulder. “Finish getting ready so we can go talk to my mother.”

“We?” you repeated.

"Yes. I have no intention of marrying anyone but you,” Jacaerys said calmly as if his words wouldn't change your entire world.

“Jacaerys, marrying me is an idiotic move, my house is not that important, and the lords” your chatter was interrupted by the prince's lips capturing yours. You should be firmer and move away, but you can't, so you surrender to enjoying the taste of your lover's lips, feeling more loved than ever.

"I love you and if my mother wants me to be her heir, she will have to accept it," Jace declared and there was no room for argument in his voice. “You are the only wife I intend to take,” he promised before kissing you again.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog   @natashaobo @watercolorskyy  @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @yn-jackson

hotd masterlist

[navstuffs]

About Tradition and Responsibility

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x WifeF!Reader

Summary: You, a non-Jujutsu sorcerer, married the Gojo Satoru. After having your first child, the higher-ups demand to meet you and your first born son.

Warning tags: protective!Satoru, tiny angst if you squint, non-jujutsu sorcerer reader, no y/n usage

Author's Notes: hiii, i wrote this based on my own post, having one of my favorite tropes (protectiveness)! this might have a second part i haven't wrote yet, we shall see. enjoy your reading!

You keep your head down, trying to focus on the peaceful expression of the baby in your arms, your first newborn son, Kotaro. He is perfect, from his white curls to his tiny toes. You can't help but give him a small smile, your hands gripping his little body, promising silently to always protect him from any harm in the world. You feel so much love for your son that it is difficult to understand anyone who could find his existence wrong due to one ridiculous minuscule detail: when Kotaro opens his eyes, they are your eye color. Not your husband's vivid, ethereal blue eyes. 

Because of that, Kotaro Gojo is considered a waste of time—almost a mistake, but no one would dare say that in front of you or his father.

The door in front of you opens, and an older lady announces that the elders are ready to see you. You get up from the bench, bringing Kotaro closer to your chest. 

It is finally time to face your curses.

-x-

When Gojo Satoru decided to marry a non-jujutsu user, the higher-ups thought it was a joke. A good one especially coming from Gojo, who was known to do anything to piss off the hierarchy of the Jujutsu world, as if Satoru's whole existence wasn't on top of all that, as if any of those ancient and outdated men had anything to complain about the woman he chose as his wife.

However, when Gojo decided to proceed with this marriage, most were still shocked. They never thought Gojo would marry anyone, so soon, interest spiked in the mysterious woman he decided to marry. 

You wish you could tell your first meeting with the strongest sorcerer had been something glorious, but no. It was in your small candy shop, the one passed down to you by your parents from their parents. On a rainy day, that strange tall man with white bandages and white hair entered, sniffing the air like a hound dog. Gojo insisted on buying all the sweets you had on display, and instead of leaving, heard you explain how you made each of them, fascinated. 

After that day, Satoru started appearing daily, buying all the sweets on display by the end of the day. Gojo always mentioned he first fell in love with your cooking, but you didn't know when exactly you fell in love with him. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone understand those sudden chills around your body as if something had been watching you until Satoru entered the shop. He never found that weird at all. 

At first, Gojo kept you away as best as he could. You could sense curses with a chill in your body but couldn't see them (a blessing, for what Gojo described sometimes). And since you met your now-future-husband, as powerful as you could remotely grasp he was, Gojo was also the silliest and most annoying man you ever met. If you got upset with something he did for any reason, he would not leave you alone until you reassured him you weren't mad anymore. On top of that, Satoru was easily manipulated with sweets. Again, a big grown baby.

He never shared the consequences of what it meant to marry him. The letters started coming two months after the marriage, with your name on them, presenting themselves as chairpeople of the Jujutsu Sorcerers, and they were eager to meet you whenever you could. Gojo always told you to ignore those letters, throw them in the trash, and burn them if you wanted. 

Then Kotaro was born. It had been a normal pregnancy, with the usual sickness in the morning and mood swings, but at least your baby was born healthy. You couldn't be happier, and Gojo couldn't be happier. The baby not having the same blue eyes didn't concern your husband, reassuring you that everything was fine.

Until it wasn't: the letter that made you come into this meeting with the elders without your husband's knowledge had a clear underlying threat in those polite words: You were to bring Kotaro for them to look at, or they would be forced to bring you in. Gojo had shielded you from this for far too long.

As soon as you enter the oval room, you notice the covers: you can't see any faces, but you are sure all stares are on you and your baby. Kotaro rubs his face against your chest, and you bring him closer, shielding him from their judgmental glances.

"Come forward." A masculine voice demands.

You walk in the middle of the room and stop. No one speaks.

"You wanted to see me?" You ask, surprised your voice isn't trembling. You wonder if they can hear your heart exploding in your chest. 

"Yes. We never had the chance to meet with the wife of Gojo Satoru; he has kept you hidden for a long time."

"I am sure he had his reasons." 

"Not that it matters who Gojo Satoru decided to marry, but his decisions impact the Jujutsu World, wanting or not." An older voice speaks, clearly angry with your disobedience. 

"And who would stop him from making those decisions?" You question, trying to sound courteous but instead sounding resentful. Satoru has told you about these higher-ups: focused on their old ways, not allowing anything that disturbs their way. Only their way is correct. Tradition. Anything that breaks from the fine formal line should be eliminated. "No one can stop Gojo Satoru from doing what he wants. As his wife, I should be the first one to know."

Silence. You breathe deeply, part of you still fearful of what is about to come. They have yet to speak about Kotaro, so you dread the inevitable moment. Now, something deep inside of you screams you should have told Satoru. What if you walked straight into a trap?

"Your child." A third voice speaks, and the whole atmosphere of the room seems to change when he mentions your son. You grip Kotaro's small body again, ready for what will come. "He does not possess the same eyes as his father, as we can see."

"So? It is not like every single member of the clan was born with six eyes." You ask defiantly.

"Of course not," The man snickers. "But this is Gojo Satoru's son. Haven't you thought about the consequences of having a child with a man like that?"

"Satoru keeps us safe! And if he isn't here, I keep my child safe. Never underestimate the love a mother has for her child."

"There is no doubt in a mother's love for her child. There is also no doubt that some might carry a heavy hatred for Gojo Satoru. If, for some reason, you were caught vulnerable…"

"What? What are you talking about?" Your voice shakes a little, but you keep yourself steady. For Kotaro.

"Many curses and even sorcerers have hidden and disappeared because of Gojo. Many fear him. When your husband was born, he altered the balance of our world. If there is an even remote possibility Gojo can't defend himself or, even worse, if you get pregnant again and this baby comes with six eyes…we can't even imagine how bad it would be the repercussions." The tone of false concern disgusts you. Sensing your uneasiness, Kotaro starts whining, and you start rocking him. 

You are not stupid. Those men didn't care about you or your baby's safety. They wanted six eyes that they could control, nothing else, nothing more. You haven't given any proof that you are worthy of being married to Satoru.

You don't get to answer because the door behind you opens, and all eyes are directed to the man behind you. You don't even have to turn around, your sixth sense telling you: Satoru. And he is pissed. He takes a moment to analyze the room in front of him, seeing you in the middle with your son in his arms, crying. His son crying. Gojo walks in, no blindfold on, without asking for permission (not that anyone was waiting for one), and ignores everyone as he stops right before you.

His blue eyes scan you and Kotaro from the top of your head to the feet, concerned. 

"Are you okay? Is Kotaro okay?" Satoru asks in a gentle tone, ignoring anyone around. You nod, starting to form an apology, but he shakes his head, calming you. "There's nothing to apologize for. You did well. You always do well. Stand beside me, okay?"  

You nod as Satoru forms a shield between you and the higher-ups. Surprisingly, Kotaro has stopped whining, feeling his dad is close by. No one speaks, and everyone seems to be holding down their breaths.

"So," Satoru's tone is calm, "who cares to explain how my wife and son ended up here?"

No answer comes, and you can sense the fear over the room, which differs from your husband's posture. Those who don't know him might believe in Satoru's calm posture, but you and probably the rest of the elders knew this was only a façade. In Satoru's veins, there is only anger. The only reason any of those higher-ups are still alive is because of your and Kotaro's presence. Not because Satoru would hurt you or his son if he had to kill them, but because he didn't want to shock you or accidentally make you fear him. You had never seen him kill before.

You don't know yet what lengths he would go to protect you and his child.

"We were just worried about her well-being, that's all." Some brave higher-up answers and Gojo snickers.

"Oh? More worried than her husband then?"

"You know, we had to meet her eventually. You kept her away from our world, your world, for far too long."

"And she was fine until you brought her into this. My wife and my son are none of your concerns."

"Not if she births a child with six eyes. Then it is our concern." Your body tenses behind Gojo, immediately causing him to react back, his murderous energy filling the room. If you felt it, those elders felt it as well, silencing them.

Kotaro starts crying again, sensing the threatening energy in the room. You had never felt such a destructive sensation coming from your husband before, but you managed to grab Satoru's arm.

"'Toru? Kotaro is scared." And you are scared.

The energy instantly leaves, and Satoru turns around, worried. You tremble with fear, and Kotaro bawls, tears dropping from his eyes. He instantly places his black blindfold on his eyes before taking Kotaro from your arms and gently rocking him. 

"Can we leave, please?" You ask, and Satoru nods, grabbing your hand with his free one. Before turning around to leave, he announces in a frightening tone to the entire room, "If I ever hear any of you trying to make any sort of contact with my wife or son, I won't be so merciful."

With that, Gojo Satoru pulls you away from that horrible place you promised to never see again.

-x-

Satoru dismisses the driver who drove you there. Instead, he takes you to his car, finding Kiyotaka Ijichi with a nervous smile when he sees you. You manage to smile back, and Ijichi seems relieved that you and Kotaro are okay. The ride home is silent, and Satoru never lets go of your hand. Kotaro is in the other one, sleeping safely in his arms. You can't bear to look at your husband, too afraid of what you are about to see: disappointment? Anger? He would be right to feel like that. You endangered not only yourself but Kotaro in this whole situation.

After Ijichi leaves you at home, you gently take a sleepy Kotaro away from your husband's arms. Satoru had this enchantment with your son, making him feel calm and safe. Like mother like son, you guess. You place Kotaro gently on his mat, watching as he gets comfortable. How careless of you to put your son in such a dangerous situation.

"Do you want to talk about this?" Satoru whispers, and you shake your head.

"I am sorry." To Kotaro. To Satoru. To yourself. "I thought I could—"

Satoru slowly closes the proximity between you two. He waits, watching the tears flowing down your eyes, sitting at your side, and when you hide your face on his shoulders, his arms are around you, bringing you to his lap.

"You had no idea."

"I endangered our son! Do you know how serious that is?"

"You would never let them do anything to him."

"How would I even stop them, Satoru?"

"I don't know, but I know you. You would find a way." Satoru simply shrugs, which sounds to him like the most obvious answer, and you don't know if you laugh or cry or his hopes on you. "Which would involve bringing me there."

"Yes, bring my most dangerous weapon: Satoru Gojo." You two chuckle low so you don't wake up Kotaro.

"Nothing will ever happen to you or Kotaro. I won't allow it. Be sure of it."

"They said you have enemies…"

"Who wouldn't dare to lay a finger on one stray of Kotaro's hair. Or yours. Come on, you don't have some faith in me?"

Remembering the amount of energy you felt earlier, you feel a chill pass your body. "I do, 'Toru. I was crazy enough to marry you."

"And would you lose the chance to be the luckiest woman alive?"

"With the most pretentious husband ever." You roll your eyes, feeling happy inside. The earlier one may have scared you. But you know this Satoru, back to his usual pretentious self. 

You get more comfortable in Satoru's lap, your eyes never entirely leaving Kotaro. He looks so peaceful with his eyes closed like that; he is Satoru 100%, except for his eyes. What blame did he have? You vowed to protect and love him as soon as he came out of you, no matter what came after him. And by the looks on Satoru's face, he also does.

Slowly, you can feel your eyes getting heavy as you become more comfortable in Satoru's arms—like a mother, like son. 

"Rest, my love. I will take care of it all. I will never leave you, I promise."

[teapartyprincess4two]

Parenthood- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Mom!reader x Dad!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW headcannons

inspiration: request

warnings: some 18+ content, use of Y/n, established relationship, I didn’t name the children but Matt has a son and a daughter in this 👍🏻

summary: head cannons of dad!Matt.

Parenthood- C. Sturniolo (Chris’s Version)

—

☆SFW

From the moment Matt met you, he knew he wanted you to be the mother of his children. Both of your children were received with so much love and joy, but Matt still had to learn how to navigate being a boy dad and a girl dad.

☆ Your firstborn is a boy and Matt can’t contain the excitement he feels when he first finds out.

☆ He’s overprotective of you throughout the entire pregnancy, ready to take care of your every need.

☆ Your son is hyper, rambunctious, curious and a force to be reckoned with. He barges into the room with so much energy balled up into his small figure that he’s bouncing off the walls.

☆ When your daughter is born, she’s the complete opposite of your son. She’s calm, quiet, and docile.

☆ It takes Matt some time to adjust to having a baby girl, but as soon as he gets in the groove of it he can’t remember what life was like before having a daughter.

☆ Matt’s playing soccer outside with your son, playing pirates, boxing, and building elaborate Lego sets with him.

☆ “No dad! We’re pirates! We have to steal all the gold!” your son explains, adjusting his make-shift eyepatch.

☆ “I thought we were ninjas?!” Matt’s out of breath, running after a fast toddler was extremely tiring.

☆ “No! We just beat the ninjas! They tried sneaking onto the ship, remember?” Your son’s imagination was too fast for Matt to keep up with.

☆ “Argh matey,” Matt replies, ready to continue with the game.

☆ But when your daughter wants attention he’s playing dress up, attending a tea party, getting his nails and makeup done, and talking to all her stuffed animals.

☆ “Daddy Miss Twinkle is mad at you for eating her cookies!” your daughter whispers, almost like she’s gossiping.

☆ Matt has lost track over which stuffed animal is which, but he’s assuming Miss Twinkle is the unicorn across from him.

☆ “I’m sorry Miss Twinkle,” he apologizes, shaking the toy’s hand.

☆ “Dad that was Lady Unicorn. Miss Twinkle is the teddy bear in the pink dress,” your daughter slaps her forehead. “Oops,” he laughs, taking a fake sip of tea.

☆ Matt has learned to be silly, fatherhood softening him and allowing him to abandon all embarrassment.

☆ “What are you wearing?” you laugh, Matt’s serious face adding to the comedy of the situation.

☆ He’s fully decked out in a pizza costume, trying to make your children laugh. “I’m a piece of pizza,” he replies goofily, putting on his best Italian accent.

☆ “You’re so silly daddy,” your son giggles. In his eyes, Matt is the funniest person on the planet.

☆ Your daughter is not as amused, but she smiles nonetheless.

☆ Matt loves doing domestic things with his little family. He’ll randomly pull out a baking sheet, all the ingredients to make cookies, and throw on an apron.

☆ “You’re doing so good, baby,” he coos, watching as your daughter throws an entire, uncracked egg into the mixing bowl. He wasn’t going to use that batch, but the words of encouragement have her smiling.

☆ Children fight all the time, especially when they’re siblings, and your kids are no exception. The year age gap doesn’t help either, so you’ll often find your kids bickering over the smallest things.

☆ “It’s not your turn to play, though!” your son attempts to reason, yanking the controller out of his sisters hands.

☆ “You played all day bozo!” she replies, sticking her tongue out at him.

☆ Matt hears the fight from his room, reluctantly getting up from his comfortable spot on his bed and walking over to where his children are.

☆ “What’s going on?” he asks, arms crossed and a displeased look etched on his face.

☆ “She’s being so annoying, dad!” your son exclaims, and before Matt knows it his kids are pushing, slapping, and punching each other.

☆ “HEY! BEHAVE!” Matt pulls them off of each other, scolding them both without favoritism. He goes on to lecture them about the importance of siblings and doesn’t leave until they hug and make up.

☆ Matt’s entire camera roll is filled with videos and pictures of his kids. Kindergarten ceremonies, family vacations, first haircuts, candid photos; all of it is being documented by Matt at all times.

☆ If he’s ever away from home for a long time, he’s scrolling through his gallery and reminiscing on all his memories with his babies.

☆ Your son is obsessed with video games, something that he and Matt bond over. And although your daughter isn’t as invested, she’s still really good at them.

☆ Mortal Kombat is a game they all play and enjoy together.

☆ “Move over and watch the queen play,” your daughter jokes, taking the controller from Matt after watching him lose time and time again to her brother.

☆ “Yeah, you wish you could beat me,” your son scoffs, readying up for another round.

☆ Your daughter chooses a girly character, which has your son rolling his eyes, but as soon as the round begins he can’t get a single hit in.

☆ Matt is in shock at her level of expertise, she was using combos he didn’t even know about.

☆ “Okay my turn against you, babygirl,” Matt takes the controller from his son, ready to play all night long if he has to.

☆ Having teenagers is hard and tiring, Matt feels like he ages 10 years in just one day with the amount of stress his kids cause him.

☆ Your daughter’s brain is suddenly occupied with nothing but boys and your son is starting to take girls on dates.

☆ “That skirt is too short,” you warn your daughter.

☆ “It is not,” she fights back, genuinely finding nothing wrong with her provocative outfit.

☆ Matt doesn’t have to say anything, one stern look has her trudging back upstairs to change.

☆ “Dad can I borrow the car?” your son asks nervously, avoiding Matt’s eyes at all costs.

☆ “For?” Matt’s not stupid, he knows what teenagers do.

☆ “Nothing, just hanging with some friends,” your son replies, but it doesn’t take long for Matt to get the truth out of him.

☆ Overall, fatherhood has been extremely rewarding for Matt. He sees it in the way his children love and look out for each other and what a great mom you are.

☆ “I love you guys so much,” Matt gushes, pulling the three of you in for a group hug.

☆ “Dad stop being weird,” your son groans, your daughter seconds his statement, but they don’t pull away from the hug.

☆NSFW

Having two children can take up a lot of personal time, especially when your daughter needs you and your son needs Matt. There’s never really any time for you and Matt to just exist as a couple, but he works hard to make sure you feel special everyday.

☆ You’re cooking lunch, the pure domesticity of your actions being enough to turn Matt on.

☆ The kids are still at school and if he’s convincing enough, you’ll abandon whatever’s on the stove and let him please you.

☆ Sneaky arms are wrapping around your waist, rocking you back and forth to the beat of the music that plays lowly in the background.

☆ Matt’s lips find your neck, your head falling back onto his shoulder in pleasure.

☆ Before you know it, you’re bent over the kitchen counter and Matt’s balls deep in you. “Take it,” he grunts, his hands gripping your waist so tight there were sure to be bruises.

☆ The food on the stove burns and you end up ordering pizza.

☆ When the kids are old enough, you and Matt leave them at home alone while you run errands.

☆ Something as simple as a quick trip to the grocery store turns into heated, passionate car sex.

☆ The windows are foggy and the car rocks with each thrust, Matt’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you ride him in the front seat.

☆ “You’re so fucking sexy,” he grunts, falling more in love with you as you whimper out his name. It doesn’t take long for him to finish, a string of curse words falling from his lips.

☆ Most times you two just do it in the shower. It’s sweet and full of so much love.

☆ He’ll fuck you against the cold tile wall before scrubbing your back and washing your hair you.

☆ It’s the sweet moments like this that both of you cherish. “I love you so much,” he whispers, the warm water running down both your faces. “I love you too,” you reply with a smile, going in for a passionate kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: can I hear some commotion for dad Matt🎤

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[rosenclaws]

logan helps you study <3

a/n: full disclosure I'm ovulating and I legitimately can't focus on anything because I keep thinking of Logan and I have a midterm tmr so this is born so I can finally fucking focus. I can't stop looking at pictures of Hugh it is actually driving me insane

wc: 646

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, cockwarming, bent over a table, teasing logan, breast groping/nipple play, reader wears a skirt.

"Lo..." You shift uncomfortably on his lap.

Sweat forming on your brow as your hand shakes. You regret ever asking him for help studying. Though now that you think of it, you never asked for his help.

Logan found you at the dining room table. Eyes straining from looking at your laptop for the last 4 hours of your life. Books open, post its everywhere. You were ready to pull your fucking hair out. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he doesn't try and help his smart girl.

His idea of helping?

Having you sit on his fat cock while you study. Promising you the ride of your life when you're done going through the study guide. He got you to stand up, smacking your ass as you did and sat in your chair.

Unbuckling his jeans with a loud clank and pulled down his pants and boxers in one go. He spread his legs and pat his lap, winking as he stroked his cock. He leaned forward and stuffed his face in your cunt making you gasp.

Your hands gripped the table tightly as pulled your underwear harshly. Watching as your ass shook right in his face. The fabric of your panties rubbing against your clit roughly as he pulled and pulled until it snapped. You mark that as another pair of underwear Logan has ruined. He tosses the scraps somewhere in the room and grabs your hips to place you on his lap.

He smacked your thighs and smiled as he told you to open up. Notching his cock at your pussy and helping you take all of him until he's all the way inside.

This was so not fair.

"Yeah pretty girl?" Logan plays with the hem of your skirt, a smirk on his face as he feels you move on his lap.

"Don't know how much this is helping..." You mumble. He moves his hips and you bite your lip to suppress a moan.

"I don't know, seems to be working from here." He grins as he thrusts his hips upwards.

The tip of his cock burying itself deep inside of you. You let out a squeak as his hairy thighs rub against your ass. The grip on your pen gets tighter as you resist the urge to throw your books off the table and beg Logan to fuck you right here.

"Just a few more questions right?" He slips his hands under your shirt. Fingers trailing up and up until he's cupping your bra. Slowly pulling it down until your boobs pop out.

"Finish them and I'll give you everything you want baby." He purrs as his thumbs flick over your nipples.

It's the most tortuous 10 minutes of your life. Writing answers to questions you can't remember. Logan's cock is pulsing inside of you. His hands are meticulously tugging and playing with your nipples. Squeezing your tits in his rough, calloused hands. He's whispering dirty thoughts in your ear, no longer attempting to help you study. Instead growing impatient as you clench around his cock.

Finally you finish the last sentence. Slamming your computer closed and shoving all your books off the table. Logan stands up, shoving you until you're bending over the table. Cock still deep inside of you as he leans over and pins your body to the table with his super human strength.

Logan growls as he sets a harsh but slow pace. Dragging his cock along your tight walls, groaning when they don't seem to want him to leave.

"Pussy wants to keep me deep inside huh?" He chuckles darkly as he slams his hips into you.

"Hope you studied good baby," He buries his face in your neck. Inhaling your scent as he rubs his nose along your neck.

"Because tonight the only thing you're gonna remember is how to scream my name."

[thebestsetter]

He was born to be by your side. It was his greatest desire, what he was meant to do. It's like being next to you came naturally to him, and he can't even remember how his life was before he met you. But what he can remember are the days you both spent together. Ridiculous conversations that, somehow, made so much sense to the both of you. So random, but yet holding so much meaning.

You were both laughing so hard. Walking by the shore, hand in hand. The sunset painting the sky with red and orange. Beautiful. So, so beautiful.

"When we grow up, we'll have a house by the beach" you said, swinging your arms together

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

He grabs your sun hat and puts it on his head, earning a small "Hey!" from you.

"And then we'll buy a cotton candy machine and make lots of cotton candies." He completes your thought while taking the final bite of his popsickle. You clean the side of his mouth (which was all smudged from the cold treat) and smile.

"Yeah, we can do that too."

You used to talk about your future a lot. More than the average couple, actually. Sometimes, you both reunited at your favorite cafeteria just to talk about life. How it was gonna be. How was gonna be your life together.

"A caramello cappucino with apple pie and a mint and chocolate milkshake, please" you said, and just hearing his typical order coming out of your mouth made him smile. Somehow, knowing you memorized his order made him happier than he could put into words.

After he paid (of course, he can't let you pay for your snacks. What kind of man would he be?) you both went to sit on a table right beside a window (you always loved looking out a window while talking, and he knew that. He knew you like the back of his hand). And like you couldn't handle the sound of silence, you started talking (and he'd never complain about it: he loved hearing you talk)

"We can have 3 kids, how about that?"

"I don't like odd numbers. Why not 4?"

"4 is too much" you said, sticking your tongue out and frowning your eyebrows (you looked so cute) "We can have 2, if the problem is odd numbers"

"2 is too little" he argued, and then sighed jokingly "Okay, fine, we can have 3"

You smiled, taking a sip from your milkshake

"Maybe after the third one, we can consider having a fourth, if you'd like"

And you knew he wanted to. Of course he did. He wanted to form a big, happy family with you. He wanted his future to be by your side. He couldn't picture a future without you. Which is why it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

"What's your favorite color? Mines yellow"

It hurts. He hates this. He hates this shit so freaking much. His heart feels like it's breaking, and his lungs are gasping for air. He can't look at his date without feelong absolutely sick, like he could literally throw up at the very moment. He can't help but think of you. How you were already talking about how many kids you'd like, and now he's back on the "knowing each other stage". It was so strange not seeing you.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me"

He can't spend a single minute here anymore. He's on the verge of dying, he's sure. And as if his body already knows exactly what makes him feel better, his feet take him to your house without him realizing.

His hand hovers upon the door, ready to knock on it. Life without you is meaningless. He needs you. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much.

"HHAHAHA Stop it!! Love, I swear, tickle me one more time and I will... HAHAHAHA"

He lowers his hand and walks away.

He loves you, that's why he's letting you go. He needs to let you go for your own good. You need to get over him (even though he's sure he'll never get over you)

He can't do this to you. Not when your new boyfriend treats you so well. Not when he fucked everything up. Not when he was the reason why you two broke up. He doesn't deserve you. He always knew you were too good for him. But now, he's doing you this favour to repay you for all the times you helped him. He's not going to disturb you.

Well, back to the talking stage, it seems.

GOJO SATORU, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, CHOSO KAMO, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, TSUKISHIMA KEI, Kageyama Tobio, Oikawa Tooru, KUROO TETSURO, TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa Shota (kinda???), SHINSOU HITOSHI, RIN ITOSHI, SAE ITOSHI, BACHIRA MEGURU, Chigiri Hyoma, KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, REO MIKAGE + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: not proofread!!

Masterlist

[kenacoki]

Playing With Fire

//Pairing// Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

//Summary// You and Eddie have never gotten along ever since you’ve joined the 118. When the two of you are forced to quarantine together after a sudden exposure to a possible virus while on a call, there’s only so much that can happen.

//Request// Smut prompts #1, #7, #12, #14, and #15

//Word Count// 6.86k

//Warnings// MDNI (18+), smut (p in v), dirty talk

//Dividers// sister-lucifer

//a/n// This is my first time ever writing smut! If you guys have any constructive criticism feel free to let me know :)

It was another early start at work. The fire station was rather peaceful during these hours; a few members were just waking up after late-night calls, and a few others were just finishing up breakfast.

As you arrive and head up to the loft, you can just barely make out the figure of a person hunched over in a chair at the kitchen island.

Eddie Goddamn Diaz.

He was half-sleep in his seat, slumped over on one arm and sipping on a quickly cooling cup of coffee, his eyelids half closed.

He didn't notice your approaching steps into the room for a few seconds, only stirring into consciousness upon hearing you get closer. Quickly jerking into a more awake state, he turns his head to look at you as you enter the kitchen.

"Oh, it's you." He mumbles.

His voice was low and rough from the early hour as he spoke, his eyes still partly closed and the look on his groggy face suggested he hadn't even registered his words properly. He yawned and took another small sip from his cup, before looking at you again.

"What time is it?" He asked in his half-conscious state.

“Time for you to go back to sleep,” you grumble, turning on the coffee maker and popping in a (f/f) coffee pod. “God knows you need all the beauty sleep you can get.”

Eddie lets out a low scoff as he hears your words, slowly turning his head to look at you. His brown eyes were half-open still, but he had mustered enough energy to form an annoyed expression.

"Haha, very funny." He responded dryly. "Maybe you should worry about your own face before commenting on mine."

Eddie takes another weary sip from his coffee, now eyeing you from across the kitchen as you get your drink ready.

It's been like this for several months now between you two, constantly butting heads and getting into small arguments at every opportunity. Everyone at the station has gotten fed up with the constant fighting by this point, especially considering both of you have to work so closely on calls.

But despite this, there was a part of both of you that actually enjoyed the arguing.

Each time you argued, something in the back of both of your minds enjoyed it. The tension between you both heightened with each heated exchange, and the adrenaline it brought felt almost...

Thrilling.

He knew exactly how to push your buttons, and you knew how to get under his skin just as easily. It was almost a game to you both; to see who would snap first and give in.

But each time, nothing ever happened. The tension would rise and rise until someone was there to break up the argument, and both of you would be left to stew in the tension until the next time it happened.

It was like an endless cycle. You both knew the other's weaknesses and kept throwing little jabs at each other any chance you got.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if you were born an asshole, or if someone just hurt you so bad that—”

“Oh, here we go.” Eddie quickly cuts you off with a scoff, not letting you finish your jab at him. “I was wondering how long it would take you to start with your insults.”

He shifts in his seat, his muscles tensing just slightly in annoyance, "Can't you keep your mouth shut for more than two seconds?" Eddie retorted, an edge to his voice.

"And miss the chance to piss you off? Never." You spit with a smirk, leaning against the counter as you watch Eddie's tired expression.

Eddie lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand over his face tiredly as he grumbles softly.

"Te juro que no eras tan atractiva—” He grumbles, the irritation building up inside him.

“I literally have no idea what you’re saying, so that literally affects me none.”

Eddie’s eye twitches as he hears your response, his annoyance shifting into anger.

His grip on his coffee cup tightens, clearly trying with all his might not to lose his temper. It’s probably a miracle that he hasn’t thrown it at you yet.

The tension in the room is almost tangible, both of you on the verge of another argument, even despite Eddie’s tired state.

“I swear to god,” He starts, his voice growing harsher. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m gonna—“

“Is it even possible for you both to not argue for once in your lives?”

You both jump in surprise to find Chimney standing at the top of the loft stairs, a mix of amusement and irritation on his face.

He crosses his arms and leans against the railing of the loft, eyes flickering between the both of you.

“It’s not even 8 a.m. and yet, and you two are already arguing like an old married couple.” He jokingly teases, a knowing smirk on his face.

Eddie’s eyes harden at Chimney’s words, while you can’t help but scoff at the comment.

“We are not a married couple.” Eddie retorts immediately, while you respond simultaneously.

“Yeah, to be married couples actually have to like each other.”

Chimney just chuckles and shakes his head, “Could’ve fooled me.” He pushes himself off the railing and walks further on into the kitchen, moving towards the coffee machine.

You stand there stewing about chimneys comment when the alarm on the side of the station wall starts ringing.

“Medic Unit needed…unconscious woman at Jameson Park.”

Chimney grins as he pours his coffee, “You two are handing the ambulance today—Bobby’s orders, not mine.”

You and Eddie share a look, “Looks like our shift just got started.” He mutters under his breath.

His tired demeanor quickly fades as he starts to move out of his seat, setting his now empty coffee cup on the counter.

The two of you quickly make your way down the loft stairs to the main floor of the station, Chimney watching the both of you leave.

“Please don’t kill each other before anyone’s been rescued!” He calls out to you both jokingly.

Eddie just rolls his eyes, not even bothering to respond to Chimney. The two of you climb into the ambulance, you hop in the passenger seat as Eddie starts it up. Swiftly pulling out of the station and driving towards the park.

The drive to Jameson Park is done mostly in silence, with both of you far too focused on getting to the scene to start getting snappy with each other. You can feel the remaining tension from your earlier argument bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment though.

After a few minutes, the familiar area of the park comes into view. Eddie turns off the road and down into the park, the ambulance soon pulling up to the scene.

You immediately jump out, rushing over while Eddie quickly trails behind.

A small crowd of people gathered around a young woman sitting on a nearby park bench. She is sitting slumped over, looking dazed and confused.

Both of you quickly set to work, Eddie kneeling down in front of the woman to check her over while you start asking questions.

“What happened?” You ask the group, trying to get a general idea of the situation.

“We were just walking through the park, and suddenly she collapsed.” A young man in the crowd explains, his voice filled with worry. “She’s been kinda sick for the last few days, like uh a fever and some cramps but that—oh, and red eyes!”

You nod before glancing down at the woman.

“Are her pupils responsive?” You question, squatting down beside Eddie.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye as he checks the woman over

“They’re sluggish,” Eddie mutters, turning his gaze back to the young woman. “Ma’am, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”

The woman raises her head slowly, her gaze unfocused and confused. She looks around her surroundings, her body swaying slightly as she tries to focus her vision.

Finally, her eyes fall on Eddie, and she looks up at him, her voice rough and raspy as she speaks.

“Huh…w-where I am?”

Eddie’s brow creases together in concern as he continues to check her over. It’s clear that whatever’s wrong with her is serious, and you guys need to act quickly.

“You’re in Jameson Park. You’ve just had a fall.” He responds, his voice firm. “We’re here to help you, alright? What’s her vitals?”

“Fever’s getting pretty bad…” You mutter, checking her temperature. “Blood pressure is through the roof, pupils are fully dilated and she’s struggling to focus. We need to get her to a hospital ASAP.”

Eddie nods in agreement, his expression tense, “Alright, ma’am, we’re going to have to take you to the hospital, all right? We need to get you checked out and taken care of.”

The woman nods slightly in response, her body still swaying as she struggles to stay conscious.

“I, uh, don’t feel very good-” She manages to mutter, her voice slurred and weak.

You two get her safely secured on the stretcher and roll her towards the back of the ambulance.

“I’ll sit back here with her.” You swing the door open, climbing into the back as you carefully pull the stretcher inside.

“Alright, I’ll drive.” He responds with a nod, heading up to the driver’s seat and starting up the engine.

You sit back with the woman on the stretcher, both of you strapped in securely as you watch Eddie begin to drive.

Eddie’s driving is even more focused than usual, weaving through traffic smoothly as he heads to the nearest hospital.

The woman’s breathing starts to become more labored, as both her fever and her heart rate continue to rise. You look up as the IV drips, gently placing the oxygen mask over her face.

“We’re almost there, okay? The doctors will be ready to help you.”

Eddie glances into the rearview mirror, noticing her struggling. He bites his lip, his hands gripping the wheel a little tighter as he focuses on the road.

"How's she holding up back there?"

“How about you just work on getting us to the hospital.” You snip at him, more than a little stressed from the current situation.

Eddie glares back at you through the mirror, an annoyed look on his face at your tone.

"I was just asking a question." He responds, his voice strained. "No need to be bitchy about it."

“I’m not being bitchy.” You retort, gesturing towards the woman on the stretcher. “I’m just a little bit focused on our patient if you can’t tell.”

You huff and return your attention to the woman, the air in the ambulance growing increasingly tense.

Thankfully, you see the hospital come into view through the front windshield. A sigh of relief escapes you.

Eddie pulls up outside the entrance of the Hospital’s ER, quickly getting out of the driver’s seat and pulling the ambulance bay door open.

Together, both of you quickly rush the woman into the emergency room, a team of doctors and nurses instantly descending on her to take her in.

You and Eddie stand a few feet back from the action, watching as the hospital medical team takes the woman in and starts to treat her.

Both of you let out a collective sigh.

Eddie glances at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he struggles to hold back his comment. "So... you gonna apologize for earlier, or what?"

Surely he isn’t serious right now.

“And why should I?” you retort instantly, turning your gaze to look back at him. “Last time I checked, I didn’t have anything to apologize for.“

A mocking smile on your lips, your hand comes down on his shoulder as you start outside, “Don’t take everything to heart.”

Eddie scoffs, shrugging off your hand, his face hardening. “Are you kidding me right now?”

He steps closer to you, his voice low and pointed. “Why can’t you be professional for once and just answer a goddamn question without being a smartass?”

“Oh, so it's my fault you can't handle a simple answer?” You fire back, taking a step closer to him, your volume increasing. “And why should I be the one who has to be professional when you're always the one making snide jabs”

Eddie lets out a scoff, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah, because you’re always such a goddamn peach to work with.”

He moves even closer, practically towering over you now, irritation clear in his tone. “You’re the one who starts—”

“I am not arguing with you in the emergency bay of a hospital! Just, let’s go.” You storm past him, bumping his shoulder with yours as you climb into the passenger seat.

Eddie stands there for a moment, frustration and agitation written all over his face. He clenches his fists tightly, trying and failing to reign in his anger. After a moment, he lets out a huff and angrily stomps over to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a thud, slamming the door behind him.

The drive back to the station is done in complete silence, with both of you refusing to talk. The tension between you and Eddie is at an all-time high.

Finally, the station comes into view, and Eddie pulls the ambulance back into its space a bit more swiftly than necessary.

Both of you climb out of the ambulance, still refusing to even look at each other. The air between you is electric, full of anger and tension.

As you make your way towards the kitchen loft, you see Buck, Chimney, Hen, and Bobby standing around the island, watching you both with worried looks on their faces.

Bobby steps forward, his face etched with concern, "You two, can I speak with you for a moment?"

His tone is firm, making it clear that this isn’t a request. Both you and Eddie just glare, but neither of you argue, knowing he won’t take no for an answer.

He motions for you both to follow him, leading you to a secluded area away from the others. Both of you silently follow, clearly not wanting to talk but knowing you have no choice.

Bobby turns to face both of you, and his expression is serious, "Listen, I just got a call from the hospital.”

You and Eddie exchange a glance at that. Both of you shift in place, the tension still palpable, but now mixed with a bit of worry as well.

Bobby looks between the two of you, “The woman you brought in…it’s not looking good,” He continues, his voice serious. “They’re doing everything they can, but her condition is critical.”

Both you and Eddie go still at that, the tension in the air being replaced with a sense of worry and regret. Despite your argument, both of you clearly cared about the outcome. Both of you stay silent for a moment, struggling to find the right words.

“The CDC thinks she may have a new strain of Bird Flu.”

Both your eyes widen at that, the gravity of the situation suddenly hitting you full force.

Bird flu?

That’s…that’s a serious, possibly deadly virus.

You glance at Eddie, noticing his expression shift from anger to worry. Both of you stand there in silence, processing the information.

Bobby, noticing your reactions, continues, "The CDC requested blood work to be done on her to bring safe. Until we know for sure, everyone that came into contact with her during that call is going to quarantine as a precaution."

Both you and Eddie nod in understanding, the severity of the situation sinking in even more. If the woman does have Bird Flu, that means you and Eddie were directly exposed.

The tension in the air has shifted, now replaced with an uneasy feeling. Bobby looks between you two, "Until we know for sure what's going on, I need you two to be diligent. Watch for symptoms." He instructs, his voice serious.

“Now, that also means you two will be quarantined here—to minimize the risk of spreading.”

Your heart sinks at that. Being quarantined means being cooped up and separated from the world, unable to do anything except sit and wait. But to make matters worse, now you’re gonna be stuck with Eddie for god knows how long.

You glance at Eddie briefly, noticing the slight look of unease on his face as he registers the same thing.

Bobby continues, noticing your reactions, " I know this isn’t ideal, but this is for everyone's safety."

He pauses for a moment, looking around to make sure the coast is clear, "Listen, I know you two have uh, a complicated relationship. But I need you to set that aside right now." He lowers his voice even further as he says this.

Both you and Eddie shift uncomfortably, knowing exactly what he's referring to. Your argument from earlier is fresh in both of your minds, making the prospect of being stuck together even less appealing.

You nod in understanding, “How long are we going to be quarantined?” You ask, your voice laced with slight irritation.

Bobby winces slightly, knowing that the answer isn't going to be what you want to hear.

"I can't say for sure just yet," he replies, his tone sympathetic. "but hopefully just until the hospital gets her blood results back. I'll keep you both updated as much as I can."

You glance over at Eddie again, only to find his gaze already on you, the same resigned look on his face. He’s just as unhappy about this situation as you are.

“Alright then, come with me. There’s a room set up for you.” Bobby turns and begins to lead the way to the room that’s been prepared for your quarantine.

You and Eddie slowly follow behind Bobby, walking in complete, awkward silence.

As you two arrive at the room, you both give it once over. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do for the time being—

Wait.

Why the hell is there only one bed?!

Both your and Eddie’s eyes widen as you see the single bed in the room, leaving no other sleeping option.

Bobby winces at your reaction, his hand coming down on your shoulder. “Trust me, kid, I tried to find another solution, but this is all I could manage on short notice.”

You exchange a glance with Eddie, a mix of annoyance and trepidation on both of your faces.

You’ve gotta be joking.

“I know it's not ideal," Bobby says, his voice sympathetic. “But you'll have to make do."

He glances between the two of you, his expression turning a bit more stern. “I don’t want any fighting or arguing in there, you hear me? You two need to get along and work together until this quarantine is up.”

You and Eddie glare at each other for a moment before silently nodding, knowing that you don’t have a choice in the matter.

Bobby gives a satisfied nod, “Alright then, I'll let you two get settled in. I'll come check on you both soon.”

With that, he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The silence is deafening as both of you stand awkwardly on either side of the bed. The only sound is the hum of the air conditioning unit.

Eventually, you speak up, breaking the silence. “Hopefully we’re outta here before either of us get tired.”

Eddie lets out a huff, clearly still irritated about the situation, "Yeah, no kidding." He stands there for a moment, hands on his hips, looking around the small room.

You take a few steps of your own, trying to find something, anything to occupy yourself. You walk over to the window and pull out your phone. While leaning against the cold wall, you aimlessly scroll through your phone to try to pass the time.

Meanwhile, Eddie takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his face still showing his agitation. He’s clearly not happy about the situation either, but he’s restraining himself from saying anything. He rubs his hands over his tired face.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the tension in his shoulders. It's clear that he's fighting to keep his emotions in check, just like you are.

The silence between you both continues to stretch out, the only sound being the soft tapping of your fingers on the screen of your phone.

Tap…tap tap…tap

Tap tap…tap…tap tap

Tap—

“Oh my God! Do you even realize how loud you’re being?” Eddie spits out

You look up at his sudden outburst, taken slightly aback by his irritation. You hadn’t realized you were being loud with your phone.

“Wow…excuse me, for trying to amuse myself.” You retort back, your annoyance rising. “It’s not my fault there’s nothing to do in this damn room.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at your response, his agitation growing further. “It’s like you’re purposefully trying to piss me off.”

You scoff at that, feeling your own irritation spike. “Did you just hear yourself? You actually sound insane.”

Eddie lets out a bitter laugh, the sound laced with contempt. “I don’t know. You seem to find pleasure in annoying me at every turn.”

“You are one of the most sensitive—” You volley back, your own irritation flaring up.

“Sensitive? That’s rich coming from you.” Eddie shoots back, his voice rising in volume. “You’re the one who’s always losing their temper and lashing out like a child.”

You feel your anger, at least you think it’s anger—to be fair, you can’t really focus on much when Eddie’s looking at you like this—reach a breaking point.

“Speaking of child—don’t you have one you need to call to inform of your condition—or did that just slip your mind.”

Eddie goes still at the mention of Christopher, his expression turning instantly cold. His jaw clenches tightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

He stands up in one swift motion, towering over you. “You really want to bring him into this?” His voice is sharp, laced with warning.

“I’m just saying, you have more important priorities than arguing with me.” You click your phone off and set it by the window, giving Eddie your undivided attention.

Eddie’s gaze hardens even further, his eyes like a storm. “I don’t need you telling me how to handle my own goddamn life.”

He takes a step closer to you, his body tense with anger. “You have no idea what it’s like to be me, so don’t you lecture me about talking to my son.”

You don’t even get the chance to speak before he continues, “—And, wha-what gives you the right to tell me what I should do? You’re not my boss, and you’re damn sure not my keeper.” Eddie’s voice is seething now, his anger palpable in the air.

You glare up at him, “I’m not trying to be your damn keeper, Eddie. I’m just pointing out that you need to handle your own life before coming at mine!”

You jab a finger into his chest, pushing him back slightly. “And if you don’t want me ‘poking my nose’ into your life, maybe you should stop being so damn infuriating all the time!”

Eddie’s expression turns cold, his gaze fixated on you. He looks...

Dangerous.

“You want me to stop being infuriating?” He steps closer again, forcing you up against the wall. He cages you with his arms, his face just a few inches from yours.

Your heart is racing now, the intensity behind his brown eyes and the close proximity sending you into a frenzy. You’re hyperaware of everything:

The heat of his body…

The strain of his muscles…

The scent of his cologne…

He leans in further, his voice a mere whisper now. “Maybe you should find another way to shut me up.”

You can’t hold back anymore, the tension too high, “I’ll kiss you if that's what it takes to shut you up.”

Eddie goes completely still, the shock of your words washing over him. He stares at you intently, his eyes darkened and searching.

"Do it then." He challenges, his voice low, a mix of warning and need behind his words.

Your heart is racing even faster now, the challenge in his tone sends a thrill through you. You know this is a bad idea, horrible really, it’ll only lead to more trouble, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You don't wait for him to second guess himself. You surge forward, your own need and desire taking over. You grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull his face down to you. Your lips crash against his in a hungry, urgent kiss.

Eddie gasps in surprise at your sudden attack, but he quickly recovers and returns the kiss with equal fervor. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer to him, pressing you against the wall.

His mouth moves against yours with a mix of aggression and passion, his tongue slipping between yours to deepen the kiss.

The intensity between you both is like fire, burning up everything in its path. There's no more anger, no more animosity...just pure, unbridled desire.

Eddie's hands roam over your curves, seeking out every inch of skin he can find. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, tangling your fingers in his hair.

The kiss turns more frantic, more desperate. Your teeth nip at his bottom lip, and he groans in response, the sound sending heat straight to your core.

His hips press against yours, pinning you fully to the wall. His hands slide under your shirt, fingers tracing your skin.

You shiver at the feel of his calloused fingers against your bare skin. You gasp as his mouth leaves yours to trail down your neck instead, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down to your collarbone.

He sucks softly on your pulse point, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin. Your head falls back against the wall, a moan falls from your lips.

His hands continue to roam over your body, exploring every curve and dip. He seems determined to drive you completely crazy, and it's working.

His mouth moves back up your neck to your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “You wanted to shut me up,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. He nips at your earlobe, causing a wave of pleasure to shoot straight through you.

You whimper in response, your body thrumming with need and desire. “Yo-You’re an a-ass.” You manage to gasp out, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control.

But it’s a losing battle, you both know it.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, ya know? Someone should teach you what to do with it.” Eddie spits out, his fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt.

Your heart races at his words, the implication behind them clear. But your own stubbornness flares up, refusing to give him the upper hand.

You stare up at him, your gaze just as intense as his. “Oh yeah?” You retort, trying to sound defiant. “I’d like to see you try.”

Eddie's eyes darken even further, the challenge in your voice spurring him on.

He grabs the edge of your shirt and yanks it up, pulling it over your head in one quick motion. Your (f/c) laced bra sticks out like a sore thumb to him against your flushed complexion. His eyes roam over your newly exposed skin, appreciation clear in his gaze.

“I’m going to make you eat those words.” Eddie growls, his hands roaming over your exposed skin once again. His touch is everywhere—hot and needy.

He dips his head back down to your neck, his mouth working at your sensitive flesh. He sucks and nips at your skin, leaving behind a trail of marks that will no doubt be visible later.

You gasp and moan under his ministrations, your body responding to his touch with a ferocity that surprises even you. You arch your back, pushing yourself closer to him, wanting-needing more of his touch.

His mouth moves down to your chest, his lips and tongue trailing over your collarbone

He pushes your bra straps off your shoulders, his mouth following the movement of the fabric. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brush over your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric.

You let out another gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as your body trembles under his touch. “E-Eddie,” you gasp

“What happened to that attitude of yours?” Eddie teases in your ear, his voice low and rough. “Where’s that sharp tongue now?”

“Bite me.” You snip at him

“I mean, if you’re offering.”

True to his words, he sinks his teeth into the fleshy skin of your left breast. The sensation shoots right to your core as you gasp out in response. He soothes the bite with his tongue, before moving over and repeating the same action on the other.

His hands continue their exploration of your body, fingers trailing over your sides and hips before toying with the button on your pants.

Your breathing is coming in ragged gasps now, your body on fire under his touch. Every brush of his lips, every bite of his teeth, stoking the flames higher and higher.

He finally undoes the button and pulls your pants down, leaving you in just your underwear. His eyes roam hungrily over your exposed body. “God, you’re beautiful.” He mutters, his voice thick with honesty.

He presses his body against yours, the heat of his skin palpable against your own. You can feel his arousal pressing against you, the evidence of his own desire making your own need even more intense.

“I’m going to make you scream.” He promises, his voice a low, dangerous growl against your ear.

You can’t help but shiver at his words, your mind unable to form a coherent response. Your body is completely at his mercy now, every nerve ending on fire.

He captures your lips in another fierce, desperate kiss. His tongue slides between your lips, tasting and exploring.

He pushes one of his thighs between your legs, applying pressure against your heat. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips rolling against him involuntarily.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you tight as he continues to kiss you, his mouth moving over your face and neck.

Eddie spins you away from the wall and shoves you down onto the bed, his body following close behind. He towers over you, his eyes dark and intense as he looks down at you.

He reaches back and pulls off his own shirt and pants, revealing the toned muscles and tan skin underneath. He lowers himself down on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress.

You’re completely engulfed in him now. Surrounded by his warmth, his scent, his presence.

His hands roam over your body, his touch is rougher now, less restrained. He grabs your wrists, pinning them to the mattress above your head. His eyes are still dark, his expression filled with complete lust.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he mutters, voice low and dangerous. “Not by a long shot.”

He nips and bites his way down your neck, his tongue tracing the marks he left there. His hands move back down to your hips, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your underwear.

Eddie looks up at you. “Lift your hips.” He orders, his voice making you shiver.

You obey, lifting your hips as he instructs. He hooks his fingers into your underwear and slowly—achingly slow—pulls them down your legs.

He leans back down, his mouth trailing along your inner thighs. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them apart.

He positions himself between your legs, his eyes locked on yours. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive as it fans against your soaked center. “All mine.”

Eddie…Eddie dives in like a man who’s been starving.

He attacks you with his mouth, his tongue and lips claiming you with fervor. You cry out, arching your back as the sensation of his mouth causes your eyes to momentarily roll back.

His hands keep your thighs held firmly in place, his grip tight. “Oh god,” you gasp, your hands clenching onto the bed sheets. “Eddie, please! Ah, I can’t—”

“You can,” he mutters against your sensitive flesh. “You will.”

you can’t help but moan deliriously out as his teeth gently nip at your sensitive bud. Your body jerks at the sensation, your hips straining against his grip. “Ed—please. I need—” your voice trembles as you gasp out.

He pushes himself up, his body hovering over yours once again. “Tell me.” He orders. “Tell me what you need.”

You’re breathless, your mind reeling from his assault. You can hardly form a coherent thought, “Y-you,” you gasp out, looking up at him. “I need you. Now, please…please, Eddie…I can’t take it anymore.”

His expression becomes even darker, his eyes almost black with desire. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he growls out.

He moves quickly, pulling off his underwear as he leaves himself exposed to you. It’s not fair really—how it looks like Eddie was carved by Michelangelo himself. You feel your heart flutter in your chest at the sight of him.

He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locked with yours. “Look at me.” He says, his voice a low command.

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. His eyes are full of need, of desire, of a primal hunger that makes your body shiver. Not to mention his face is covered with your juices—that’s really, really hot.

“I’ve wanted you for so long. You’ve got no idea.” He mutters, his voice rough with desire. “You drive me crazy, you’re all I can think about. Even when I don’t want to.”

“Oh, fuck me.” You gasp out at Eddie’s admission

You hear him softly chuckle, his light stubble rubbing against your skin, “That’s the plan.”

He looks at you for a moment longer, his eyes dark and intense, before finally lowering his mouth to yours in a hungry kiss.

You respond immediately, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the fire and need coursing through your body.

You can feel him press against you, his body strained and tense. He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

His breathing is ragged as he looks down at you, “Promise me something.” He mutters, his eyes suddenly serious.

“Anything,” you breathe out, your body thrumming with need. “Just tell me.”

"Promise me you're mine," he growls out, his voice low and rough. "I want you to be mine, and no one else's." He pushes himself against you, his body barely restraining its own need.

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. You can see the raw emotion in his gaze—

“I’m yours,” you breathe out, your voice shaky. “I’m all yours, Eddie. No one else’s.”

His eyes flash with something that looks a lot like satisfaction at your words. “Good,” he mutters, his voice rough. “Because I didn’t plan on sharing.”

He wastes no time thrusting in, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as your walls flutter around him.

You gasp out at the sudden intrusion, your body arching up against his. “Oh god, Eddie,” you gasp, the pleasure shooting through your body. “Little warning next time.”

Next time…

He lets out a low groan, his own body taut with need. He buries his face in your neck, “You feel so good,” he mutters, his voice low. “Like you were made for me.”

His thrusts are deep and slow, but the need behind them is undeniable. He’s claiming you, marking you as his own, and it only intensifies the pleasure coursing through you.

“You’re mine,” he growls out, his grip on your hips tightening. “You hear me?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, your body quivering beneath him. “Yours, only yours, Eddie! Oh god, don’t stop!”

He doesn’t respond, his focus completely on you and the pleasure coursing through your body. He leans down and captures your mouth in another rough kiss.

His thrusts pick up speed, becoming rougher, harsher.

You moan into his mouth, your hands roaming over his body, before seeking refuge in his soft dark hair. Your body is on fire, your insides clenching and tightening with every movement he makes.

“Eddie! Ah, oh god…I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he mutters against your lips. “Not until I say.”

He changes the angle of his thrusts, hitting you in just the right spot. Your body jerks in response, a guttural moan escaping your lips as your hips roll against him. “Oh god, Eddie! Please, I can’t hold on much longer!” You gasp out, your body quivering with need. He looks down at you, his pupils dark and blown.

“A little longer,” he mutters, his voice strained. “I’m close, so close…Me vuelves loco, pero Dios, cuánto te amo.”

You have no relative idea what he said, but ho-ly shit…You think you’d pay money to hear Eddie speak like that again.

“Eddie!” you cry out, your body arching up against his.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and intense. “Let go,” he growls. “Let go, and say my name.”

You come apart, your body tightening and clenching around him as the pleasure engulfs you. “Eddie, Yes, yes, oh god, Eddie!” You moan out, your words becoming unintelligible as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body trembles underneath him, your vision going white.

Eddie’s close behind, his body tensing as he follows you over the edge, quickly pulling out and finishing your stomach.

“Ugh, fuck (y/n)…tan perfecto...todo mío.”

For a moment, it’s almost as if you two become one; your bodies, breaths, and heartbeat falling into an almost perfect synchronicity.

“God. you’re so good for me, look at how much you came.”

You lay underneath him, your body trembling and spent. He leans down and presses his forehead against yours, his body still trembling from his own release.

A few moments pass before he speaks, his voice rough. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes searching your face.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, your body still quaking from your climax. “That…that was…”

You can’t continue, your brain is too fried to form a coherent sentence.

He lets out a low chuckle at your response, pushing himself up to look down at you. “I take it I did alright?” he asks, a hint of cocky confidence in his voice.

“Shut up,” you playfully grumble, smacking his chest lightly.

He laughs at your response, his cocky smirk still firmly in place. “Oh come on, give me a little credit. You didn’t seem too disappointed.”

You roll your eyes at his arrogance, but you can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eddie’s phone light up.

He follows your gaze, his expression becoming a little more serious. “Hold on,” he murmurs, rolling and reaching over to grab his phone off the bedside table.

He looks down at it, his expression becoming even more serious as he reads whatever message he received.

“It’s Bobby.”

“Everything okay?” you ask, sitting up in the bed. The mention of Bobby’s name instantly puts you on alert.

“Yeah, it’s just—” he stops for a moment, his expression unreadable. “The girl we took to the hospital, her blood test came back negative. We’re uh, we’re good to go.”

“Oh…well that’s good, right?” You nervously start, rubbing your hands together anxiously. “We don’t have to stay in here anymore—”

“I just,” he stops abruptly, his brow furrowing in thought. “I don’t wanna go back to how we were.”

Your breath hitches at his words. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice quiet.

“I mean,” he looks up at you, his eyes dark and serious. “I want this. I want you. I don’t wanna just go back to pretending like nothing happened.”

Your heart leaps in your chest at his words, your (e/c) eyes widening in surprise. “You-you do?”

“I do,” he says, voice firm. “I’m all in. I want you. I don’t wanna keep running or pretending, or whatever the hell we’ve been doing. I wanna be with you, really be with you.”

Your heart clenches at his words, tears pricking at your eyes. “I…me too,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “I want that too. I want to be with you, in every way possible.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, the tension in his body easing slightly at your words. “Good,” he mutters, moving closer to you in the bed. He pulls you into his arms, his hands running soothingly up and down your back.

You lean into his touch, your body relaxing at the feel of his skin against yours. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you speak up. “Hey, Eddie?” you murmur, your voice soft.

“Yeah?” he responds, his hand still running soothingly over your back

“You don’t…you don’t think the others heard us…right?”