#I’m done for the day and I should leave the house but now it’s already 6 so | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.

and then satoru wins.

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.

and then you remember.

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do.

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.

his breath hitches.

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort.

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow.

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.

finally, for once, you’re enough.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #geto angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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shadowwfoxx · 5 months ago

Text

Eddie's Vest

18+

(reader x steve harrington)

You and Steve were currently in his car on the way to his house. Today was probably one of the scariest days of your life. With Steve getting dragged underwater and almost killed by a demon bat, it was safe to say today made the top 3 most scariest days of your life. The roads were quiet, practically no one else around. You kept glancing over at Steve making sure he was ok.

You had offered to drive due to his injuries, however, he was more worried about your “severe” injuries (a few scratches). His eyebrows were furrowed as he was focusing on the road. He had one hand on the wheel, while his other arm was bent, leaving his elbow to rest where the window was rolled down. The shadows from the moon brought out how toned and muscular they were. You move your eyes further down to his chest.

His chest hair was exposed because of the vest Eddie left him (which you’ll thank him later for). That vest had been distracting you all day. Constantly catching glances and staring for too long. You really couldn’t help it, he just looked insanely hot doing anything with it on. The big white bandage on his stomach brought you back from your ogling. Steve felt your stare, knowing already what you were looking at. He turned to you.

“Hey,” He said as he put his hand on your bare thigh. You look away quickly, looking down at your fingers. “I’m gonna be just fine ok, don’t worry.” He said softly. His big brown eyes going between your face and the road.

You bite your lip as you shake your head. “I should’ve done more to stop you, you should have never swam down there by yourself.” Now feeling angry at yourself and Steve for being so stubborn.

“I’m still here baby I-“

You snap your head to look at him. “What if something horrible happened to you? Huh? What then?” Your tone was firm and loud. Your look was half angry and half sad. Your emotions are all over the place at this point. Steve notices your look.

You both know that you wouldn’t have been able to stop him. He understands your concern and worries for him, but someone had to do it. You both stare at each other for a bit before Steve sighs and looks back at the road, too tired to feed into your lecture. You huff at his silence before looking out your window. You move your legs to face the car door, shrugging Steve’s hand off in the process.

“Seriously babe? Can we not do this right now” Steve says. You can hear the slight irritation in his voice. You both know there is no hatred around the words and actions, rather this lecture is out of pure love. You love Steve and Steve loves you. Had anything happened to him today, you would never be able to forgive yourself.

Your anger towards yourself is being taken out on him. Not to mention your fear of what’s to come with battling the Upside Down. You’re so focused on your thoughts that you don’t even feel the tears escape your eyes. Your sniffling caught Steve’s attention. As he looks over at you, his face softens.

“Oh baby don’t cry.” His voice is soft and comforting. He grabs one of your hands and brings it towards his face. He brings it to his lips and gives the back of your hand a few sweet kisses before he rubs your hand on the side of his face.

You peer out the window, noticing Steve turning to pull into an empty parking lot. He parks the car and lets go of your hand. He then pushes his seat back, away from the steering wheel.

Steve reaches his hand over to pet your hair before putting it behind your ear. You finally turn your head to face him, your lip trembling, your eyes a little red. Your face breaks his heart.

“Please let me hold you.” He begs. That was enough for you to climb over the middle and straddle him, being very cautious of his injury. You wrap your arms around his neck, immediately sighing in relief. Steve immediately wraps his big arms around your shoulders and lower back. You two have not stopped for a second during this chaos to even give each other a much-needed hug. You both fell into a long and comfortable silence, matching each other’s breathing patterns.

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” He says in almost a whisper. He rubs your back soothingly.

“It was so scary,” you’re voice cracks.

“I know baby, I know.” He says as he hugs you tighter. He presses a kiss on your shoulder.

“I don’t want any more people to get hurt, I just want it to be over with.” If anyone can understand your stress right now it’s Steve. He just wants to be able to live a normal life with you. Without these dangerous missions and having to constantly look over his shoulders. He knows how exhausted you are from having constant nightmares and how you let your overthinking thoughts take over. Steve grabs your face with his hands and moves your face to face his.

“I won’t let anything happen to you okay? We are gonna get through this.” You look away from his gaze with a slight pout. Steve brings you in for a kiss.

“Turn off that pretty brain of yours ok? Just relax for me.” He goes back in for a kiss, this time it’s longer and deeper. It’s the kinda kiss that can make you go dumb. The kiss starts to get faster, all that can be heard is heavy breathing. The energy in the car shifted so quickly. He pulls away and leans back against the seat while you lean the opposite way, your arms holding onto his knees to stabilize.

You both look at each other up and down. Steve now getting an idea of how to distract you from your thoughts. He leans up, wrapping his hand around your neck, and smashes your lips back into his making you whine. Steve moves down from your lips to your throat, kissing that spot that turns you into putty. You let out a breathy moan.

“I like that vest on you.” You say. Steve lets out a breathy laugh against your neck. “You look hot in it.”

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles against your neck. Steve’s hands move to your hips, grinding your hips against his cock that is now hard. Steve goes back to roughly making out with you. This goes on for a bit before Steve reaches a hand under your skirt and lace panties to feel you.

“You must really love this vest.” You’re practically soaking now. You moan at the contact finally getting some relief. You felt yourself getting wetter with each touch. He continues his circular motions before moving his fingers towards your wet opening. He starts off with one finger. The contact making you instinctively lift up.

“Relax for me baby,” He whispers in your ear. You lean yourself back into the position you were in before, making you feel more exposed to him even though your clothes are still on.

“Fuck your so wet.” He goes in with a second finger, thrusting them deeper and faster. You roll your head back, moaning. Steve’s other hand gripping at your hip to steady you. He then adds a third finger and uses his thumb to brush other your clit. This makes your hips buck up and grind against his hand.

“Oh fuck- Steve” you moan louder. You look down at where everything is happening. Your skirt drapes perfectly over the dirty scene below you. You bunch up the bottom of your skirt together and hold it up reveal the not so pure actions happening underneath it.

“Oh shit honey that’s so fucking hot” Steve chuckles, quickening the pace of his fingers. A squelching noise now echoes throughout his car. You clench around his fingers. So close to your climax. He brings the hand that was gripping your hip to your mouth. Steve rubs his thumb over your lips. You immediately wrap your lips around it, moaning as you swirl your tongue around it.

“Fuck baby come for me.” Steve says, eyes stuck on your mouth. You moan around his finger. He continues his fast and hard pace to help you ride out your high.

After you come down from your high, he removes his fingers and brings them to his lips. He moans at your taste. Now impatient, he quickly lifts his body to remove his pants and underwear. His hard cock slaps at his stomach. His tip was red, dripping with pre cum. You lift yourself up on your knees while Steve lines himself up with you. You lower yourself down on him, catching his tip before sinking down on him. You both gasp at the contact. There was barely any pain as Steve worked you up well. Once you’re fully seated on his cock, you take a minute to compose yourself.

“Fuck your so big.” You whine as you shove your face in the crook of his neck. You and Steve have had sex manyyyy times, but there’s no denying how heavy and big he always feels inside of you. Steve’s hands find their place on your hips squeezing tightly.

Once you get used to his size, you begin to lift up and sink back down. You go slow, still cautious of his injury. But Steve needs more. He loves how caring you are and how you’re trying not to hurt him but he can’t wait any longer. Steve reaches over to pull the lever of the seat to lower it more. He then plants his feet on a higher platform and starts thrusting up into you and hard.

“O-oh shhitt”. You let out a high pitch moan. Steve wraps his hand around your throat.

“Yea? You like when I fuck you hard like that? Fuck all of those bad thoughts out of that pretty head of yours? Hm?” He literally growls at you. You feel hot all over now. You brace yourself on the arm rest. Your mind goes completely blank now, only thing you can process is how good he’s fucking you.

“L-love it. I love it Stevie please.” You moan. Both of your eyes are hooded, completely fucked out as you stare into each other’s eyes. You feel his big, hairy thighs slapping a the back of yours. He starts hitting that sweet spot inside of you causing you to roll your eyes back. You clench hard around him.

“Oh fuck baby do that again-shit.” He says as he throws his head back. You clench around him again. He groans a bunch of curse words as he reaches under you to start giving attention to your clit.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna come please please-oh shit." You can’t even control what comes out of your mouth anymore. Whining and babbling pleads. Your mind feels like mush at this point. You’re overwhelmed with all of the different sensations.

“Yea you gonna make a mess all over my cock? Come on pretty girl come for me.” Your second orgasm hits you hard, legs jerking on either side of him. Your pussy milking around his cock, practically begging him to release inside of you. Steve’s thrust becomes sloppy, signaling he’s close.

“Please Steve fill me up, fill me up so deep please.” That pushes Steve over the edge. His grip around your body tightens, bringing you chest to chest. He fills your ear with groans as you feel his cum fill you up. He gave you one final thrust before stilling inside of you. You both relax against each other, taking a moment to catch your breaths. Steve is the first to break the silence.

“Remind me to thank Eddie for this vest.”

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harringtion x y/n #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington x you

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toournextadventure · 4 months ago

Text

a cold reunion

Summary: Astrid hasn't visited her mother's old house in a while. She wonders if someone new has moved in by now. Maybe it'll be a "ghost," like her mother claims used to live there. Ha. She would be so lucky.

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: mentions of death, Tim Burton style tones Pairing: Astrid Deetz x Reader A/N: I know absolutely nothing about this movie, only the original, so I'm just gonna have some fun with it

Being a Deetz was one of the most irritating parts of life. At least, it was in Astrid’s opinion. Even without her own uncommon interests, she was held to the standards of her mother. Because her mother was weird, everyone assumed she was too. Which she was, but it wasn’t fair she couldn’t make that statement for herself.

She used to have a friend. You had been new to town and hadn’t known anything about her mother. It led to a wonderful friendship. Her favourite classes were the ones you had together, and eventually, she invited you over outside of school. Everyone thought you were crazy to agree, but you never faltered.

Even her mother and grandmother liked you, saying you were a “good kid.” Astrid knew better, you were trouble. Always in detention or being scolded by teachers in the hallways. You were anything but a good kid when it came to following the rules. But she wouldn’t deny, you definitely sweet talked your way into her mother’s and grandmother’s good graces.

You had done the same to her, pulling her in until she didn’t want to leave. The first kiss had been under the bleachers at a football game; disgustingly cliche. You had tasted of the cigarettes you stole from your mom. A disgusting taste, but it was good on you.

But as soon as she really started to like you - a little more than like, she would admit - you disappeared. You hadn’t been at school that morning, and when she went to your mom’s work, she had said she didn’t know where you were. Said it was no surprise you left; you could do better than this town.

That had been two years ago. Your mom had left town not long after your disappearance. Everyone assumed she had done something to you; a suspicion that came from the simple fact that your mom was, as the town called it, “trailer trash.” She was a nice person, Astrid had always liked her. She didn’t blame the woman for leaving.

Even Astrid had left for college once school was over. What else was she going to do, stay put? No, she wanted to get started somewhere else. Somewhere she wouldn’t be saddled with the name Deetz like it was some kind of curse. She loved her mother more than she would ever care to admit. But she wanted to do something for herself.

It was winter break before she came back home.

“Leaving already?” Her mother called from the porch when she grabbed her bike and started walking it to the street. “You haven’t even been here for three hours.”

“I’m going to check on the house,” Astrid said with a shrug. “I heard the owners moved out.”

“They did, thank god,” her grandmother said. “They did that house no justice.”

Bold coming from you, Astrid thought but kept her mouth shut.

“Don’t stay out too late,” her mother said.

“Lydia dear, when you were her age, you were almost marrying a ghost,” her grandmother said. “Consider it karma.”

“Mom,” her mother sighed.

Astrid had already hopped on her bike and started down the street. The path to the old house was well-worn; everyone knew it. The old owners had tried their best to convince everyone the house wasn’t haunted, but most of the town didn’t believe it. At least none of the school kids. They had jumped at the opportunity to have a haunted house in town whether it was real or not.

You had always liked that old house. No one had ever fully convinced you that ghosts had lived there, but you liked the thrill of it. I don’t think they’re real, but what if? You had asked one night after sneaking in through her window. We should check it out one day. After you disappeared, she had avoided the house like the plague.

But Astrid knew the path by heart. Snow had been plowed from the streets, and the dutiful citizens had shoveled the bridge. When she approached said bridge, she slowed until she could get off the bike, walking it across instead of riding. Her mother had made it clear that under no circumstances was she to ride or drive over the bridge. It was a silly rule; she followed it anyway.

The house was more run down than usual. It shouldn’t have upset her as much as it did. After all, it wasn’t like she had really ever lived in the house anyway. But it was still part of everything she had known growing up. To see it practically falling apart was… well, it was nothing short of devastating.

Without taking her eyes off of the house, she propped her bike up by its kickstand and slowly made her way to the front door. Step by step, each stair creaked under her weight. The house was a little creepy. Maybe it would be best if she just didn’t go in. After all, the door was practically falling off the hinge, if she actually knocked it would-

-the door swung inwards.

And you were standing there in the doorway with your eyes wide. You looked like you had seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” Astrid asked quietly.

You exhaled harshly, shoulders sagging with the movement.

“Want some tea?”

—---

Astrid looked as beautiful as the day you had left. Well, no, you hadn’t exactly left but… no, that was something you would face later. For the moment, you were going to enjoy seeing her again. It hadn’t been long, but she had grown into her own. Beautiful as always, too.

And way too quiet for your liking.

“Chamomile okay?” You asked when the kettle was near screaming.

She nodded once, not removing her eyes from you. It was unsettling; you had used to love it. Astrid wasn’t like normal girls, and not in the “too cool for school” kind of way. It was more of an “I’ll be me whether anyone likes it or not” kind of way. If she wanted to be weird and goth then she would and no one could stop her!

But you didn’t like how she was looking at you.

You placed the teabag in the mug and slid it in front of her. The kettle was only seconds away from screaming when you pulled it off the stove. No need to burst anyone’s eardrums. There was no point in being careful with the scalding water as you poured it into her mug.

“You disappeared,” Astrid said while you were mid-pour.

“About that,” you hummed.

“Does your mom know?” She continued. “That you’re right back where you started?”

Your mom. Momma. She had been left all alone after… how had she fared? Were the townspeople nice to her? They had better be, or you would personally bring hell to every single one of them.

“What does she think happened to me?” You asked as you turned around and placed the kettle back on the stove. You didn’t turn back around.

“What everyone else thinks,” Astrid said, “that you ran off.”

“Was she okay?”

“Honestly?” She asked. “She said she was glad you got out of this little town. Said you were too good for it anyway.”

Well that… that almost hurt worse than knowing she never knew the truth. Your momma hadn’t been perfect, but she had done the best with what she had. Time and time again, she had told you in her drunken stupor that you were destined for great things. You had always taken it to heart.

You need to tell her.

“Hey, Astrid?” You asked with a weak voice.

She hummed for you to continue.

“Remember in school when we would say we didn’t believe in ghosts?”

“Yeah, why?”

With a sigh, you turned to look over your shoulder. Astrid’s head was tilted slightly in that way you always found cute. It didn’t click just yet. She just kept looking at you, waiting for you to continue. You raised your brows at her. She was almost there, you could tell by the slight crinkle in her nose, and- ah, there it was.

“You’re joking,” she said.

You gave her your best tight-lipped “white person” smile but otherwise didn’t answer.

“You saw one?” She asked.

Oh. Oh, no, she didn’t get it.

“Well, yes,” you said, turning your full body so you could lean back against the stove and look at her, “but that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are-” there it is “-oh.”

There was something in her eyes when realisation dawned. Her eyes, while a gorgeous dark brown, were usually so bright. So happy, even when she was trying to act like she didn’t care about the world around her. But this was different. Any brightness dimmed to practically nothing.

“How?” She asked.

You shrugged and looked away. “The football team pushed me off the bridge.”

It wasn’t a fond memory, that was for sure. The icy layer covering the river had been rather sharp. But even that hadn’t compared to the pain of inhaling freezing water deep into your lungs. From what you could remember, it was slow. A memory you didn’t enjoy having, but maybe one day it would go away.

“You were murdered?” Astrid asked incredulously; horrifically.

“I mean listen, it’s not too bad,” you attempted to play it off. “It got me out of taking winter finals, which we both know I would’ve failed.”

“But it’s-”

“-I know, Astrid,” you interrupted.

You liked Astrid. You would even go so far as to say you loved her, mostly probably. Were you young? Sure. A little stupid and naive? Absolutely. High school sweethearts? You would say so, yeah. But she instigated a little too much, and she wanted to know everything, but this just wasn’t really something you wanted to indulge her in. Not yet, anyway.

Astrid was quiet for a moment. The gears were turning in her head, you could practically smell the smoke coming off them. What was she thinking, you wondered. Was she dwelling on the fact that you had died, cold and slow and alone? You certainly hoped not, it wouldn’t change anything. You were dead, you were now a ghost, and long-distance relationships weren’t that hard any more thanks to technology, so you could both still make it work!

If she wanted, of course.

“I thought my mom said her ghosts were stuck in the house for, like, a century or something,” she said instead.

You laughed. That was much easier to answer. “I told their caseworker I’d take their place. You know, let them rest in peace, or whatever,” you waved your hands vaguely.

“Caseworker?”

“It’s a long story.”

“So you’re why the previous owners left?” She asked.

“Guilty as charged.” You wiggled your fingers in her direction and smiled.

For the first time all day, she smiled back. God, you missed her smile.

“If you really are a ghost,” she said with a tilt of her head, “how can you pick things up?”

“Ooh, we’re getting to the fun questions,” you said with a smile.

The look on Astrid’s face was perfect. Curious, distrusting. The best mix of emotions; you loved when she was uncertain. It was a more genuine look for her, instead of trying to act like she knew everything and always knew what to expect. Always made her look super cute, honestly.

You walked over to where she was sitting at the run-down table. She turned to keep facing you until you were standing directly in front of her. It was going to be a risk, but one you were very much willing to take. Worst case, you stay stuck in the stupid house forever. No different from your current predicament.

“Took me a few months to really get the hang of it,” you said. Her eyes sparkled again. “You just focus on what you want to touch,” she blushed, “and voila.”

Her blush vanished when you picked up the mug beside her. What you really wanted to do was touch her. Gods, you wanted to know if you could still feel her warmth, the softness of her skin. But it wasn’t time. No, she was probably still worried about the fact that you had… well, you know. Died.

“It took you months to figure out how to do that?” She asked with a cheeky smile.

“Shut up,” you huffed, placing the mug back on the table. “It wasn’t like I had much to work with.”

“Why didn’t you ask my mom’s old friends how to do it?” Astrid asked before leaning back against the table. “I’m sure they would’ve helped you.”

“Never actually had the pleasure of meeting them,” you said with a shrug. “I only got to meet the other guy.”

“The other guy?” She asked, looking away in thought for a moment before looking back at you. “Oh, you mean Beetlegeu-”

-you slapped your hand over her mouth before she could continue.

“Don’t say it,” you whispered.

She nodded once, and you pulled your hand away.

“Was he really that awful?” She asked, matching your tone.

“He was that annoying,” you grumbled. “God, I swore the guy would never shut up.”

Astrid did her little crooked smile and laugh. The one that you would always try your best to force out of her during class to get her in trouble. Wait, that sounded bad. You didn’t want her to get in trouble, you just would have enjoyed her presence in detention. With you.

“So what else did you take two years to learn?” Astrid asked. She leaned forward until she was so close you could smell her shampoo. “Anything exciting?”

Wait. Wait, this could be your chance. You might be able to do something about it, this could be your shot. Two years in limbo, sitting in a run down house that did nothing but remind you of Astrid with everything you saw. It was her family’s house. You couldn’t leave her even if you had wanted to.

“Well,” you said, “there is something I’ve been wanting to test out.” You looked up to meet her eyes. “May I?”

“Let’s see what you got, ghosty,” she said.

You nodded to yourself and focused. Focused on her body, more specifically her face. Her stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, smiling face. Day after day, you had been thinking of her, and you had hoped time and time again that somehow she would come back to the house.

One deep inhale, hold your breath. Your hands were shaking so badly you would have dropped everything had you been holding something in the first place. And yet, Astrid didn’t budge when you lifted your hands and placed them on either side of her face. Exhale.

Her body was absent of warmth. Astrid had never been an exceptionally warm individual to begin with but this was… different. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her that you couldn’t feel her. Sure, you could touch things, but you couldn’t feel any of it. It wasn’t something you could describe, except calling it surreal.

“May I?” You asked again.

You could feel her breath on your lips even as she nodded. It was all you needed to pull her into a kiss. There was still no warmth, but there was a… a comfort in it. In feeling her lips against yours again after so long. To feel her breath mix with yours, replacing everything you didn’t need but you so desperately craved.

Her hands attempted to settle on your hips but fell straight through. In turn, you felt her shoulders sag as she placed her hands on your knees instead. That was… not a nice feeling. Maybe you could learn to focus enough to let her feel you back. That was possible, right? Surely it was.

You pulled away slowly. If you could have stayed kissing her for the rest of your century in that hellhole, you would have. But unfortunately, Astrid still had to breathe, and you had to give her the space to do it. Earlier you had questioned if you had really loved her or if it was a puppy love?

Oh no. It was the real deal.

“You can’t leave at all?” Astrid asked. “Not even for an hour or so?”

“You mean the haunted house isn’t romantic?” You teased.

“What do you even do in here all day every day?” She asked.

Once again, she reached out to touch you. Somewhere, anyway. You looked down at where she was attempting to hold your hand. Maybe if you could focus really hard, it would work. As far as you knew, you couldn’t materialise. At least, you didn’t think you could. But if you really concentrated.

Her fingers slipped between yours and, for the first time in two years, you felt her squeeze your hand. Physical touch. Real physical touch.

“I, ah,” you stammered, looking down at where she was still holding your hand. “It’s in my contract to scare people.”

“Contract?” She asked. Your arm moved as she pulled you closer. Okay, maybe physical touch was a bit unfamiliar to you after so long, you would need to get used to it again.

“My caseworker says I have a quota to meet,” you said, finally looking back up to meet her eyes. “So many people each quarter, you know?”

“So you need people to scare?” She asked. “On a regular basis.”

There was a sparkle in her eye. Something dangerous; scandalous.

“You have something in mind?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

Her smile was vicious. And attractive.

—---

The house looked beautiful in the daylight. The paint was fresh, the inside was cosy, and when nighttime fell? Rumour had it the ghosts came out to play. That was why most people rented out the house; their own private haunting for a night. The listing said if you could survive the night, the stay was free. So far, no one had lasted long enough to even give it a good shot.

And as you stood at the end of the bed watching the young couple sprint down the stairs screaming, you knew they wouldn’t be the winners either.

You walked over to the window and watched as they threw their singular bag into their car and peeled out of the dirt driveway. It hadn’t even been any fun, they hadn’t given you any time to actually scare them. Hell, all you had done was stand at the bed! You hadn’t made any faces, hadn’t pulled any jumpscares, you had simply stood there.

Were you really that scary?

“Gone already?” Astrid asked in a sleepy voice as she walked to stand beside you at the window.

“Didn’t even stay long enough for me to have any fun,” you pouted.

“Well, you’ve hit your quota,” she said. She grabbed your arm and pulled it over her shoulder before tucking closer to your body. After a few months, you were finally starting to feel a bit of warmth from her.

At least, you thought you did.

“Your mom is coming by in the morning?” You asked.

She hummed her confirmation.

“Maybe I can try to scare her, then,” you said.

Astrid pulled you away from the window and started walking you toward your shared bedroom. Not that you really needed the sleep, but it was nice to be able to lay next to her. It was exhausting to keep a more physical form, but for her? You would do it all day every day.

“Good luck scaring her,” Astrid said as she pulled you onto the bed. “She practically grew up with ghosts.”

“I’ll scare your grandmother then,” you said softly, but she didn’t move.

Astrid was already asleep in your arms, just like you had always imagined. Maybe being dead really wasn’t as awful as everyone had always made it seem. After all, it got you your dream girl.

#astrid deetz x reader #astrid deetz imagine #jenna ortega x reader

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literaila · 4 months ago

Note

kid megumi and gojo definitely took bubble baths together while megumi washes his hair and satoru's just yapping about how much he loves reader

“megumi,” gojo says, not even bothering to knock on the door.

it’s the boys fault, really, for leaving it open in the first place.

megumi stills, brows furrowing as his hands stop foaming the soap in his hair. “gojo?” he asks, a bit disbelieving.

he might be going crazy—it’s not uncommon for sorcerers. and megumi barely thought he would make it to fourteen and here he is, so. he should probably tell someone about the hallucinations but—

“you got it,” gojo answers, predictably, sitting on the toilet seat. “i need to talk to you.”

megumi peaks his head around the shower curtain slowly, blinking a few times to make sure the man is really there.

but he is, grinning at the tiny bit of megumi he can see, tapping his fingers on his knees obnoxiously.

megumi points a hand towards the door. “this is an invasion of privacy.”

“megumi,” gojo gives him a bland look. “i’ve seen you naked.”

“that’s creepy.”

gojo sighs, hanging his head. “we’ve known each other for so long now, and you still don’t trust me.”

“you still haven’t given me a reason to. can’t this wait? or not happen? i don’t want to talk to you.”

yes, megumi is still hanging halfway out of the shower. yes, his hair is dripping water on the floor. no, he does not care—it’s gojo’s house anyway. he can fix the ruined floorboards.

“it’s about your mother.”

at that megumi blinks. “what’d you do?“

“i didn’t do anything.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” gojo scoffs, reaching out to pull his ear—which megumi expertly deflects (he almost slips and dies in the process). “am i crying on the floor right now?”

megumi considers it. then he recalls the last time you and gojo had a fight. he had to check gojo’s pulse every time he walked past the couch.

“good point. what is it?”

“as you know, her birthday is coming up—“

“are you serious?”

“megumi.” gojo’s eyes are dubious, his voice is disapproving. “your mothers birthday is very important.”

megumi rolls his eyes. “i know. i mean, are you seriously asking me about this right now? im in the shower. there’s shampoo in my hair.”

gojo nods very seriously. “it’s the only place she won’t hear.”

“she’s not even home.”

“she’s hidden cameras, megumi, i know it.”

“no she hasn’t.”

gojo pouts. “i want it to be a surprise. she always finds out about her gifts before i can give them to her.”

“that’s because you tell her.”

“the suspense is too much. i need you to buy her something for me and hide it so i don’t know what it is.”

he sounds absolutely serious, which might be the worst part of that request, actually.

and when has megumi ever done gojo a favor?

“gojo,” megumi gives him a little smirk, tilting his head. “i’m not doing that.”

gojo groans, falling onto the floor. “c’mon, megumi, we’re supposed to be friends.”

“you’re my teacher, if anything.”

“and your father,” he juts his chin, “favoritism is not cute.”

“good.”

megumi finally turns around. gojo was never going to leave, even if he’d attempted to tackle him out of the door.

and he’s used to this, anyway. there hasn’t been a day in seven years that he’s gotten some peace.

“okay,” gojo begins again, sounding like he’s won—which he hasn’t. “i was thinking some jewelry, but you know how picky she is. and besides, she’s too rough for something small. tsumiki is already getting her that chibi mug we saw in that corner store last weekend, and whatever you’re getting is off of the table too.”

“i’m not listening to this.”

“i could take her out to dinner, but that’s not a gift. and i do that anyway. maybe i should buy her a car—what kind do you think she’d like? something blue, like my eyes—“

megumi groans.

gojo pauses. “did you get soap in your eye?”

honestly, banging his head against the wall might be better than this. at least they have pain killers at the hospital.

megumi doesnt answer, no longer entertaining this, but gojo continues anyway.

“maybe we should re-do the bathroom, you know how she’s always saying that—“

god, when will it end?

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joelslastofus · 4 months ago

Text

[SUMMARY: Joel is protective of his alcoholic neighbors daughter.]

PART 3

Mention of Violence and blood. angst

“I see you with a mark again, I ain’t stayin’ back.” He warned you as you quietly walked inside and closed the door.

The next day you woke up realizing a slight bruise forming on your cheek from where your father had smacked you. You sighed wondering how the hell you were supposed to hide that from Joel when you suddenly heard glass break. Closing your eyes as you took a deep breath you heard the sound of more glass breaking. Your father was on a drinking binge like never before, you had no idea what to do.

Knowing Joel was at work you knew you wouldn’t be seen, you did your best sneaking out the front door. A walk into town would’ve done you some good, anything that meant you weren’t near your father.

After roaming around for most of the day and window shopping you got yourself something to eat. Sitting by a window by yourself you thought about how bad things had been lately with your father. This was just suppose to be a nice summer visit, part of you couldn’t wait to go back to your campus yet you knew you couldn’t leave without knowing he was in rehab and so you decided to wait the following semester to go back. Convincing a stubborn man anything was wrong with him wasn’t going to be an easy battle.

Walking towards your house you cursed at yourself when you noticed Joel’s truck pulling in his driveway. He should’ve already been home by now but of course with your luck he wasn’t already inside. He instantly looked up to see if the light in your room was on, he wondered if you were home. He hadn’t spoken to you since he called you the day before after Tommy told him what happened with your father.

Coming out of his truck he noticed you walking down the block with your head down. You knew he would stop you, you hoped that somehow the sun setting would make it harder for him to see the bruise forming.

“Hey, I called you earlier” you looked up hesitantly relieved to see he was still far enough to not notice.

“Yeah, uh sorry. I had a busy day” you smiled quickly just as you turned to your porch.

“Hang on a second” he some how caught up fast enough to take hold of your arm. You stood still before giving in and looking up at him.

His face changed instantly.

Although you didn’t know, of course he knew the truth of what happened to you yet he still didn’t expect to see evidence of what your father had done. He hadn’t spoken to Tommy after he got off the phone with you the night before but he more than ever he wanted to knock some sense into his brother. How could he have seen you in trouble and not done a thing?

“Look he’s never done this before” your quick attempt to defend your father’s actions only pissed him off.

“Where is he?” He asked as he turned your face slightly to the side to get a better look at the bruise.

“I-I don’t know, Joel. Look I’m fine ok-“

“Like hell you are” he snapped, anger fuming through him. He controlled himself when he noticed your reaction to his tone.

“Why didn’t cha call me?”

“For what? To hear you like this. We had a disagreement and-“

“A disagreement? Ya gotta be kidding me” he whispered looking behind him to make sure Sarah hadn’t come out.

“I’m gonna have him go to rehab, Joel. Just let me talk to him-“

“No. Not alone-“

“Joel” you whispered.

“Hey dad, everything ok?” Sarah’s voice startled the both of you making him turn back.

“Yeah, honey. I’ll be inside in a minute” he assured her.

“I’ll be fine, Joel. I’ll wait until he’s sober to talk. We should just…keep our distance for a bit. Go inside” you proceeded to walk up your front lawn as he took a step back with his hands on his hips.

“I see you with a mark again, I ain’t stayin’ back.” He warned you as you quietly walked inside and closed the door.

“You ok, dad?” Sarah asked as she walked in the house in front of Joel. She looked back noticing how he stayed looking out the window as he walked to the kitchen.

“Yeah, honey. Everything’s fine,” he responded without looking at her.

“Dad” her tone making him look down at her.

“Everything’s fine” he assured her before pulling her in and kissing her forehead just as Tommy walked in.

“Uh, sweetheart, why don’t cha finish up your homework while I have a word with uncle Tommy” Sarah nodded as she smiled to her uncle and walked into her room closing the door.

“What I do now big brother, leave a box of pizza on the counter?” The playful tone in Tommy’s voice only making Joel lose his patience. Without thinking he walked around the table and grabbed his brother by his collar and slammed him into the wall.

“Hey! Easy man!”

“How the hell could you not help her?!”

“What?!” Tommy asked confused.

“Y/n, her father hit her and you just turned away” he slammed him against the wall once again making Tommy wince. Sarah could hear her father upset but she knew better than to leave the room.

“I don’t know her like that, Joel! I don’t know what that man is on!”

“Ya ain’t gotta know a woman to help her dammit, she needed your help!”

“Why the hell do you ever care so much?!” Tommy yelled back. Joel stood silent, his lip quivering as he looked at his brother in disgust.

“We were raised better than that, you know better than that” Joel whispered.

“You ever see her in trouble again you stop what you’re doin’ and ya help her. Got it” he clenched his teeth together as Tommy quickly nodded. Joel released his brother roughly and walked into the room.

Weeks went by as Joel cautiously watched for any sign of any kind of disturbance. Some days your father was sober but most of the time he was drunk. A part time summer job kept you distracted for the time being. Talking to him about rehab seemed harder than you expected and so you delayed your approach.

One Saturday morning you woke up to music blaring loudly throughout the house. Your head throbbing you turned around and sighed just as a wave of nausea hit you like you had never felt before.

“What the hell” you whispered as you slowly got on your feet.

“Jesus Christ dad,” Rubbing your eyes you walked out into the living room to find no one was there.

“He would do this” you whispered to yourself as you turned to shut off the music. Just as you did your father’s voice made you jump.

“Hey, I was listening to that” he walked in with a beer in hand.

“Dad it’s my day off, I’m trying to sleep” you sighed walking into the kitchen.

“It’s the 15th already aren’t you suppose to be back at your campus?” He asked with irritation, clearly he wanted you gone.

“Dad I’m-“ you suddenly froze realizing he said it was the 15th.

“What day is it?” You asked running to your planner that sat at on the counter.

“The 15th, your classes are probably already started” he continued to talk as you opened your book and realized you were four days past your period being due. Your father continued to talk but somehow you zoned him out, you felt sick to your stomach.

This couldn’t be right.

Getting dressed and making your way to the door you ignored your father mumbling things you could barely understand. Your head not in the right place as you quickly made your way to your father’s car. The thought of being pregnant made you begin to hyperventilate as you slammed the car door. You had been taking your birth control strictly every day you couldn’t understand why this happened.

And if you were, this meant you had to tell Joel, the thought of what his reaction might be only making you panic more.

Grabbing what you needed from the pharmacy and getting back into the car you sped back home eager to take the test. So eager to run in and take the test, you never noticed Joel sitting on his porch as you pulled up. Joel had respected your request and kept his distance but he never stopped thinking of you or watching to make sure you were ok. Thankfully he never saw much of your father, Joel seeing him wouldn’t have done him any good. Just as you came out of the car Joel stood up and made his way towards you.

“Hey” Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat. You looked up to see him walking in your direction before he stopped right before you.

“I know ya told me to give you space but I just…I wanna make sure you’re alright” he whispered as you stood still holding the plastic bag that held your box of pregnancy tests.

“I know, Joel. I-“ just as you began to speak you both turned to the sound of your front door opening and your drunk father stepping out.

“Where’s my beers?” He asked in snotty tone as you looked at him confused. Joel flared his nostrils at the sight of your father for the first time since he learned that he put his hands on you.

“Dad, I didn’t get any. Please get inside” you spoke softly hoping he would listen.

“Come on, wheres my fucking beers…” he slurred as he came towards you. Joel instantly stepping before you as you tried to pull him back by his arm.

“It’s fine, Joel-“ your father suddenly yanked the bag you held.

“Give me my drinks-“

“Stop it!” You pulled back when the bag broke and out fell the very thing you didn’t want him to see.

“You’re good for nothing!” Your father waved his hand at you, too drunk to notice a thing and walked back inside. Joel stood still looking at the box on the ground as you stood silently. He didn’t say a word as he picked up the box before looking directly into your eyes.

“I’m not sure-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered coldly.

“Because I’m not sure, Joel” you lied. Deep down you knew it, you knew you were pregnant. Never had you been late before.

“I would’ve had you out of there a long time ago-“

“Look, Joel I…I don’t know anything yet and-“

“But cha think you are don’t ya” his response leaving you speechless. Looking down at your fingers you felt a knot in your throat as you held back tears.

“Well ya ain’t goin’ back in there with him that’s for sure”

“What?” You looked up at him confused.

“Joel, I can’t just leave. Look I was going to talk to him tomorrow about rehab it’s been hard to bring it up.”

“Let me talk to him” he insisted.

“No!” You grabbed the box out of his hands.

“This is my problem-“

“Not if you’re carrying my kid” he whispered low close to your face. Swallowing nervously you took a step back and turned to your house. Joel quietly watched feeling helpless, his breathing was heavy watching you close the door behind you. The anxiety he felt was an anxiety he wasn’t familiar with. Turning back to his house he slammed the door shut to find Tommy on the couch.

“You alright?”

“Mhm” he walked straight to his room slamming the door shut once again not wanting to speak. Talking wasn’t his thing when he was pissed like this and Tommy knew it.

Feeling so many mixed emotions you went up to your room and took one test out of the box. Your father was distracted screaming at the tv during a game and so you took advantage and went to the bathroom.

Minutes never felt so long like they did in this moment. Holding your breath you paced back and fourth until finally time was up. Taking slow steps towards the test that sat on the counter you hesitantly leaned forward to see two bright pink lines.

“Oh fuck!” You turned around quickly holding in your tears just as your father began to bang on the door.

“Hurry up, I gotta take a piss!” He yelled. Quickly you took hold of the test making sure there was no evidence of anything else and opened the door. Walking past him as fast as you could you made your way to your room and locked the door shut.

Joel sat on his bed looking down at the floor as he thought over the possibility of you being pregnant. None of this was suppose to happen, he never meant for things to quickly escalate the way they did but the feelings Joel knew he had for you, wasn’t a lie.

The next day Joel tried calling you but you ignored his call while you were at work. You knew you had to tell him, your conscience couldn’t let you lie to him.

Joel rushed home from work hoping to catch you out front but you had already been inside. Calling your phone repeatedly you muted it and threw it under your pillow.

“God dammit!” Joel hissed and walked inside. The unknown was driving him insane yet you felt you couldn’t face him just yet. Telling him you were pregnant would only make everything more real and you didn’t know how much of it you could handle.

That night you could barely got any sleep and in the morning you felt sick. Your father once again leaving a mess for you to pick up, you sighed as you found him passed out on the couch.

“Today we’ll have the talk, today it is” you whispered to yourself, you waited long enough to tell your dad about rehab. Picking up garbage from the floor made you sick to your stomach, quickly you turned and threw up in the garbage bag behind you.

With little to no energy in you, you picked up the garbage bags and dragged it outside. Joel noticed you just as he got out of his truck and paced quickly towards you.

“Gonna keep ignorin’ me” he called out as he walked towards you, the second you looked up he noticed how pail you were. His look of frustration quickly changed to concern.

“You alright, what’s the matter” he closed the distance between you two lifting your chin up with his index finger.

“I’m fine…it’s just…-“

“Just what?” He asked eagerly.

“It’s morning sickness, Joel.”

Although a part of him felt you were pregnant, it was still different to hear you confirm it.

“Well then you should be in bed dammit, not pickin’ up your father’s trash” he took the bags out of your hands and threw them into the bin.

“Well, I can’t leave the house dirty” you explained with a sigh.

“Where is he?” He looked towards your door hoping he wasn’t home.

“He asleep, on the couch. He’s out cold”

“You should be in bed”

“I have work”

“Quit, stay in bed. I don’t want cha like this out and about-“ you began to laugh with your hand on your chest.

“The hell is so funny?” He asked stepping forward.

“You, you expect me to just quit my job?”

“I’ll take care of ya” he insisted, you turned serious realizing he was serious.

“Joel, I’m not doing that. I need to work and help my father” you explained.

“I don’t want cha doin’ all this while you’re pregnant”

“I never said I was staying pregnant” you blurt out catching him off guard. He stood silent for a moment unsure with how to respond.

“What happened with us wasn’t suppose to happen, we should’ve never slept with each other. I appreciate the help you’ve given me while dealing with my father but that’s all it was suppose to be-you helping out a neighbor. Not me getting pregnant”

“I ain’t plan it to be this way if that’s what cha think, I was really just trynna make sure you were alright” he explained.

“Joel, I have to get back to my campus soon…I can’t…I can’t do this”

“I can help you” Tommy walked out the front door making Joel look behind him.

“We’ll talk later” you sighed as you walked off. He didn’t say a word and simply turned to Tommy who raised a brow wondering what was going on.

Just before you left to work your father woke up and he was sober. You knew this was it, it was now or never to speak to him about rehab.

He stood in the kitchen taking Tylenol as you placed your purse over your shoulder and hesitantly got his attention.

“Dad” he winced from the pain of his headache.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, um…about all of this…” your words catching his attention.

“Look I know I’ve been drinking a lot lately but I’m slowing down-“

“No you’re not.” You quickly disagreed.

“Dad you need to go to rehab” you blurt out as you squeezed your eyes shut worried about his reaction.

“Rehab?”

“Yes, there’s a program for three months I already looked into-“

“You signed me up?”

“Not yet” you whispered. You could see the hesitance in his eyes.

“You’re not yourself when you’re drunk, dad you hit me the other day and you’ve never done that before” he looked at you shocked. He had no idea how bad things had actually turned.

“If it makes you happy I’ll do it.” He finally agreed making you let out a breath of relief.

For the first time in a while you felt a huge weight off your shoulders.

At work your mind still wandered off thinking about Joel, thinking about your pregnancy and what was the right thing to do. With nausea and migraines through out the day, you couldn’t wait to get home and sleep.

On your way home Joel called you just as you reached your front lawn. Him asking if he could see you was something you weren’t sure was a good idea in this moment but you gave in.

“How ya feelin’?” He walked towards you with a look of concern.

“Just tired” you responded softly. You could tell he had a lot to say but didn’t know how to start.

“Listen, whatever you do…I’m here alright. I wanna be there for you”

“Oh, Joel” you smiled in relief.

“Thank you” support was all you truly wanted.

“My father is going to rehab, I spoke to him this morning” you looked towards your front door.

“Oh yeah?” Joel pressed his lips together, he didn’t trust it. His expression changed once you looked back up at him.

“Thank you for being there for me, Joel. I promise we will talk more about this.” you unexpectedly reached towards him and hugged him. Joel froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“I just want cha safe” he whispered.

“I am” you assured him before taking a step back not knowing that your father was at the window, watching the both of you behind the blinds.

“I’ll text you later” you spoke softly and left to your house.

Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you as you walked inside. Something left him unsettled, he didn’t trust a man who could put his hands on a woman, drunk or not. He walked backwards back to his driveway and began cleaning out his truck.

“Dad, I’m home” you called out as you walked to the kitchen to be caught off guard by a half empty bottle of whiskey. You sighed with disappointment as your father walked into the kitchen.

“Dad-“

“So this is what you do after I pay all that money for your tuition” his words confusing you.

“What?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, you and this guy-“

“What guy?!”

“Miller” Joel’s name made your heart stop.

“Dad, it’s not-“

“You sure?” He threw your left over box of pregnancy tests across the counter at you. You gasped, standing speechless as he made his way around the counter and cornered you against the wall.

“You pregnant, little girl?”

“I am not a little girl” you whispered.

“Are you pregnant?!” He slammed his hand on the counter beside you making you jump. Your silence was enough to give him an answer, he turned away throwing a large glass vase by the window. The sound of the glass shattering making Joel look up. Joel immediately walked towards your house trying to look through the windows but couldn’t see a thing. He began to call your name making your father’s eyes widen.

“Joel, I’m fine!” You yelled out but he could hear the fear in your voice.

“Open the door!” He wiggled the door knob to no avail. Your father angrily grabbed your face with his hand making you scream as Joel began running his shoulder into the door.

“You think you’re gonna act like a whore while I’m paying for your college and just throw it all away!” He yelled angrily.

“Dad! I’m not throwing it away!” You screamed in defense when the front door broke open. In ran Joel to see your father’s hand on you as you stood still.

“Let her go” he spoke with a threatening tone. Your father turned to him as he stumbled before reaching for his bottle of whiskey and taking another sip.

“You think I’m gonna let her keep that thing”

“Dad-“

“Shut up!” He roughly pulled you by your hair in front of him making Joel step forward. You screamed as he yanked your head back.

“You know what? You want her, you could have her” he threw you across the floor towards Joel. Joel quickly crouched down to you helping you up without taking his eyes off your father.

“You alright? You ok?” He asked just as Tommy walked in shocked to see his brother in the middle of everything.

“Joel, what’s goin’ on?”

“Take her inside” Joel instructed as he walked towards your father.

“Joel- no-“

“Make sure she’s ok, keep her inside and call a damn ambulance” Tommy did just as he was told and pulled you out of the house while you cried.

“What’s he gonna do?” You asked looking back. Tommy knew the damage his brother could do but didn’t say a word.

Your father laughed as he finished up his bottle of liquor.

“What are you gonna do asshole?” Joel waited for you to walk into his home before grabbing your father and head butting him hard. Blood instantly gushed from your father’s nose as he went down to the ground. Grabbing your father by his collar with his fist in the air, Joel wanted to do more but the man could barely defend himself at this point and he knew how much it would hurt you. Leaving him unconscious he took a step back with a deep breath. Hearing the ambulance close by he left the door open and walked out back to his house. Joel knew you would all be questioned once they arrived but he didn’t care.

“Is he ok? What happened?” You ran up to Joel desperately.

“You alright? You feel alright? I want em to check you before they leave.” He ignored your questions and unexpectedly placed his hand on your stomach making Tommy realize just what was going on. Sarah came out of the room confused when multiple ambulances came crashing into the street. Police cars pulled up as you looked out the window confused when a man beside your house walked out into the street. Cops instantly came out there cars and hid behind their doors aiming their guns.

“The hell is going on?” Tommy whispered when the man suddenly ran towards the cops. Gunshots went off making you jump as Joel quickly locked the door shut as you all watched in shock with what was happening.

“Oh my God!” You gasped, the man was shot at multiple times yet kept running. The rest of your neighbors peaking out their windows when finally the man was shot dead.

“Ladies and gentleman please stay inside, lock your doors. Do not come out until you’re told” an officer announced through a microphone.

“What’s happening, dad?” Sarah asked with wide worried eyes.

“I don’t know, baby.” Joel proceeded to close the windows not wanting his daughter to see anything else.

“What about my dad” you whispered but before he could respond more gunshots went off making you and Sarah jump and the lights went out…

Just like that it was the beginning of a massive disruption that would turn everyone’s world as they knew it upside down more than you already felt it was….

*tagging for some reason isn’t working for me but I’ll figure it out soon. No one’s name is coming up.*

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n

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mingis-orangejuice · 5 months ago

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Asking the L&Ds boys "What are we?" Part 1: Zayne

Summary: MC and her boy have been in a sort of situation-ship but MC wants to know why they haven't officially called her their girlfriend

a/n: This ended up being much longer than I thought so I'm making it into 4 parts (one for each boy) starting with Zayne. you can request who you want me to post next if you want

Genres/Warnings: angst, fluff, kinda slow burn

Word count: 635

Other parts: 2, 3, 4

You’re sitting in his office for your scheduled check-up. The bulk of the check-up was done and since you were his last patient that evening he asked you to wait for him to finish so he could drive you home. While he finished up some final notes on his computer you sat in the chair across from him mindlessly scrolling on social media while you waited. After a few minutes of silence, you hear a small knock on the door of the office.

“Come in” Zayne called as he looked up from his computer, you also turned around to see who it could be. A younger man in a lab coat similar to Zayne’s pokes his head in and starts talking

“Sorry to bother you Dr. Zayne… oh,” he stopped talking when he saw you sitting there looking up from your chair. “I didn’t realize your girlfriend was here, I’ll just ask you tomorrow, sorry again” Your heart skipped a beat at the word girlfriend.

The young doctor was about to leave when Zayne cut him off “It’s ok you’re already here now, you might as well just ask.

“Oh..uhh… ok” the young doctor awkwardly steps closer to Zaynes desk and hands him a few papers “Would you be able to sign these for me, since I’m shadowing you for my class I need you to sign them so I can get my class credit”

“Oh he must be a student,” you thought

Zayne takes them from him and quickly looks through all of them, signs on the dotted line and promptly hands them back to the student. “You did very well these past few weeks, I was glad to have you as my apprentice. I hope to see you someday as a doctor here at Akso” Zayne’s voice sounded so sincere and sweet that even the student blushed a little.

“Thank you, sir, I’ll try my hardest” the student does a deep bow and quickly leaves the room

After he left Zayne went back to finishing up his work, but instead of going back to your doom scrolling you looked up at Zayne. “Why didn’t you correct him?”

Zayne looks up over his computer screen “Huh? correct him on what?” Zayne questioned

“Just now when that student called me your girlfriend, you didn’t correct him.” you scooted your chair closer to his desk and looked him in the eye trying to read his expression

“Why would I correct him? Was he wrong, are you not my girlfriend?” the feigned ignorance in his voice made you lose your words for a second. Once you regain your composure you stand up and look down at Zayne whose lips have now curled up into a slight smirk “no thats not… well you … uh... you’ve never called me that before” you sit back down and look away after that sudden burst of confidence.

Zayne chuckles lightly. “Naturally, I assumed you already were, since every night we have dinner together, I’m the one you call when you’ve had a rough day, we spend hours on the phone together talking about nothing and you stay at my house so often that you even have your own designated closet space and a toothbrush. ”

You can still barely look at him “yeah but..”

“You’re right I should have corrected him,” he says with a mischievous grin

“What?!” you jump up from your seat worried that you accidentally messed up what you had with Zayne.

“Because at this point we’re basically married” he stands up, takes your hand and lightly kisses it. “But if you need to hear me say it I will” he looks up at your flustered expression, his smile gets even bigger and he looks you in the eye and says “Alright shall we get going, girlfriend?”

#love and deepspace #love and deep space #love & deepspace #lads #lnds #l&ds #zayne #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace headcanon #love and deepspace fics #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #love and deepspace mc #fan fiction #fluff #angst #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace angst

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

oml hiiii, i rushed here immediately when i saw your requests are open ive been in love with the idea of maybe ghost having a teenage niece (his older brothers daughter) who he basically raised when he wasn't on duty but like none of the 141 knows about it because he keeps her a secret. He's basically her father at this point cause the rest of the family was murdered when she was only a baby. Anyways, you can do whatever you want with this prompt or not if you don't want to. But like I can totally just imagine Soap just seeing them in a Tescos and absolutely losing his shit when seeing a teenager swinging from his Lieutenants arm.

if you choose not to do this prompt that's completely fine!!! thank you!!!

—Sole Survivor

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

When you were the only one to live, the sole survivor of that massacre, Simon knew he was in trouble.

He’d found you under the bed. The blood was still congealing over the wooden floors—whoever put you there, Tommy, his mother, Beth, or even his nephew, was all a mystery that no one would ever know the answer to. Yet, the larger question was how you, a baby, had managed to stay silent through it all.

Simon had picked you up with panicked breath and tears in his eyes as the sirens of the police had gotten closer, holding you to him as you blinked awake and yawned. The bodies of his family were strewn around the floor, broken and bent; murdered. But you. Little you.

Alive.

It would be best to leave you to be found by the authorities. To go somewhere far away from him and the future that was now stained into his soul—the pact of revenge and horror that would live through him like a brand. It was the right thing to do; the correct thing.

And then he remembers his mother’s eyes, and he’s already rushing to the back window while cradling your squirming body. The rest, of course, passed as the flow of time always did.

“I’m thinking we should have steak,” your voice pipes up as Simon grabs a bag of crisps from the shelf. Brown eyes blink down at you, balaclava tight to this face.

“You have steak money?” You were a teenager now, older and figuring life out one day at a time. He hadn’t told you the whole story, and he won’t until much later, but you know enough to a point that you were comfortable with.

You know your family loved you.

“You’re the one with the job,” he huffs at you as you utter under your breath.

“Exactly,” Simon grunts. “Eatin’ me out of house and home like I never feed you.”

“I,” you point a finger into the air, “am growing. Soon I’ll be just as tall as you, y’know that? I’ll be towering over everyone and giving them that same dead-eyed look that—” brown orbs level with you, unimpressed. You beam, punching his shoulder. “See! That one!”

“Fuckin’ piss off, would you?” Simon grumbles, moving down to the next aisle in his large and darkly-clothed glory. Your laugh trails after him, feet heavy on his heels. “Givin’ me a headache.”

You both walk around the Tesco, Simon getting strange looks while a beaming teenager walks beside him talking about supper, class, and anything in between. He offered short responses, sometimes sarcastic and sometimes serious—it depended, but the point was that he did answer you, no matter how pointless the conversation.

“I think I’m going to join a club this year,” you speak as you gaze at the items your Uncle puts in his basket. A gaze side-eyes you slowly.

“What, then?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, shoulder bumping into his arm and tilting your head. “Were you in any clubs?”

He grunts, shaking his head before a hand descends to your hair, ruffling it as you hiss in annoyance. “Never had time.” Simon hadn’t told you about his father or what he had done, and God help him if he ever uttered a word about it. That wasn’t something that mattered in your story, just his…he’d never place that weight on you willingly.

You frown as your uncle's arm loops your shoulders casually, keeping you to him as other people walk past you. Brown filters over posture and facial expressions—looking for the barest hint of ill-intent. When there’s nothing, and the forms move around you as easily as they had come, Simon’s attention leaves, and he continues on as if nothing had happened.

“Try Debate.” Your face turns to him, curious.

“Debate?” His eyes twinkle, and behind his face covering you immediately find the tell-tale twitch of a smirk.

“Argue so bloody well you could convince a rookie that a P890 can hold 10 rounds.”

You fight the shocked smile that pulls at your lips. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” Eyes swirl, and a hand squeezes your arm; jostling you slightly.

“It’s a compliment.”

“You’ve always been shit at those.” You get a firm glare and a grunt from above.

“Fuckin’ language.” Your lips mock his response, making fun of him before he sends a flick of his thumb and forefinger into your temple.

“Hey!” Simon chuckles lowly, walking closer to the front of the store to get ready to pay as you mutter. “Jerk.”

It was a surprise though, that when you had barreled onto your Uncle’s back for an impromptu piggyback ride as payback—which the man didn’t even flinch at, already used to your antics—that the wide eyes of a man with a mohawk met yours. Your head is atop your Uncles, resting there as the lady at the front gives you strange looks from behind the register as Simon places the items in front of her.

He was gobsmacked, this stranger with his hair all done up like that, and your eyes blink at the display of tags around his neck that mirror your guardians. Broad, yet not so like Simon, and muscled, also, not as much as Simon.

“Unc?” You ask, and the man below you hums in question, pulling out notes from his wallet absentmindedly. “Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”

Simon tenses under you, fingers freezing.

“With the what?” It wasn’t really shocking that no one knew about you besides Price—and the only reason he knew was that in the event something happened to him, Simon had made the Captain swear that you would be taken care of.

Imagine his horror when his brown eyes darted up only to find them meeting the cobalt blues of his Sergeant, the Scot's hand outstretched to a box of pancake mix with a pack of Irn Bru in the other.

There’s an immediate sinking feeling in Simon’s chest when Johnny awkwardly tips his fingers in a shocked greeting—eyes flashing up to your curious face before he thins his lips and blinks.

You wave enthusiastically back.

“Oh, bloody fuckin’ hell.”

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drak3n · 1 year ago

Text

TATTOO ARTIST/PIERCER!CHOSO

CONTENT WARNINGS: unestablished relationship, smut, public sex, mentions of body modifications, cunnilingus, implied blowjob at the end, choso has a prince albert-, tongue- and a vertical eyebrow piercing

sena’s note: i know there’s a lot of tattoo artist choso already but i folded — anywaysss up next is my man gojo 🖤

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who was very well-known for his talent despite being so young; who was always pretty gifted with his hands and used peoples’ skin like a canvas, gracing it with the prettiest designs, simple and small, or detailed and large

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who shared a studio with a few fellow tattoo artists and piercers, but had a goal of having his own studio someday

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who had just finished a 5h back piece on his last client and walked towards the front desk to retrieve his cigarettes and take a break, just for his hooded, brown eyes to set on you

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who saw you standing next to your friend and encouraging her to hand in her data sheet for her tattoo, and who watched as your friend was immediately guided into one of the rooms by a tattoo artist, just to leave you all by yourself

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who came back from smoking minutes later to see you sitting on one of the leather seats, flipping through pages of the shop’s magazine that showed many different designs of tattoos, and also piercings

“you want to get anything done?”

nearly flinching at the cold voice sounding a couple of feet away from you, your eyes met choso’s, who was leaning against the wall, revealing fully tattooed forearms through his loose-fitted t-shirt. he looked very… unique, to say the least.

“oh, no, i’m just waiting for a friend,” you smiled kindly, “she’s getting tattooed right now. think it’ll take some time.” you felt guilty that you stared at the man like he was some kind of alien. his features were just really captivating, the plethora of tattoos peeking out from his short sleeves and from the collar leaving little to the imagination that they continued even beneath that shirt.

his eyebrow tattoo shone under the light, but when he opened his mouth, your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of a tongue piercing.

you suddenly remembered what they said about guys with tongue piercings, and felt deeply ashamed about getting such thoughts about a hot stranger.

“come,” he invited you towards the room he usually worked in, “you’ll get bored here. you’ll get a piercing on the house.” he didn’t know why he offered that. maybe, just maybe it was because he didn’t want the other piercers and tattoo artists to charm you first.

at the end of the day, you left the studio with your freshly tattooed friend and a pierced nose.

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who hoped you’d walk in again, and whose shoulders nearly slumped in disappointment upon seeing your friend coming in by herself a few days later to get her tattoo checked, without your company

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who — totally on accident — saw that the studio had been tagged in multiple stories on instagram, one of which being yours, a spontaneous picture taken of your side profile that showcased the gem he had pierced into your cute nose

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who absolutely didn’t follow you after that, just to see mere minutes later that you did, and before he could stop himself, he followed you back

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who really wasn’t the best texter, which left you wondering if you should even try and talk to him at all; whose eyes went wide in surprise when you waltzed into the studio to get your thigh tattooed weeks later

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who showed you that same day how it felt to get eaten out by someone with a tongue piercing

“c—choso… fuck— what if someone—”

your hand clamped in front of your mouth to stifle a moan threatening to force itself out when the ball of metal on choso’s wet muscle bumped against your bundle of nerves. you were seated on the couch he’d previously tatted on, both of your bare legs thrown over his shoulders as he feasted on your delicious pussy.

“let them,” he spoke gruffly into your cunt as his tattooed hands dug into the underside of your thighs. he didn’t hide the smirk displaying on his lips at the way you drooled from the sensation of his piercing coolly gliding against your wet pussy lips.

“c’mon. use your words. i’ll let you cum if you do.”

“pleasepleaseplease let me cum… please choso.”

“cute. you want to feel what the piercing on my dick feels like?”

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who totally did make you beg on his thick dick adorned with a shiny prince albert piercing, and who couldn’t even be mad at you when you flashed him a tongue piercing you had gotten at another studio to surprise and make him see stars just like he’d done for you

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months ago

Text

undead or tired?

for @steddie-spooktober prompt ‘zombies’

rated t | 970 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, Steve has migraines, hurt/comfort, fluff, Eddie is a good boyfriend | also on ao3

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

“He’s been grumpy all day.”

“And his hair’s all greasy.”

“He told me I was being too loud and then stuck his head in the freezer.”

Eddie nods along to the kids’ complaints, but he already knows what the problem is. He sensed it earlier this morning when he stopped by Family Video to bring him the makeup for his Halloween costume.

Steve rounds the corner before Eddie can say anything else and he…

Well, he looks like a zombie.

“Is that the makeup?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Steve walks past him and sticks his head in the freezer. He sighs with relief and the kids look between him and Eddie.

“Everyone out,” Eddie waves his hands to shoo them away, hoping they’ll take the opportunity to leave the house altogether and go about their Halloween plans.

Eddie walks over and places his hand on Steve’s neck, squeezing the points of tension he knows are the root cause of the migraine. Steve’s knees nearly buckle as he groans in relief.

“When I said we should be zombies, I didn’t mean literally,” Eddie says softly, rubbing his fingers against the knots in Steve’s shoulders now. “You wanna get in bed?”

Steve shakes his head once. “Promised the kids.”

“I’ll take them, sweetheart. You should rest.”

“But I promised,” Steve turns his head, leaning his cheek against the edge of the freezer. His eyes are dull, bloodshot from the strain of keeping them open when he’s clearly exhausted. “S my job.”

“As long as the job gets done, you didn’t break your promise,” Eddie soothes. “C’mon.”

Eddie guides him back upstairs to his bed, tucking him in with a kiss on the forehead.

“Maybe next year we can be zombies?” Steve asks.

“You accomplished it just fine this year, baby. I’ll think of something better for next year.”

Steve’s asleep before Eddie even leaves the room. The moment he closes the door, El and Will are standing there in their costumes: the twins from The Shining. It’s creepy and a little too on the nose for Eddie.

“Jesus Christ!” He jumps, holding a hand over his heart. “You’re supposed to be…not here.”

“Is Steve okay?” Will asks.

“He’ll be fine. But he needs to sleep off the migraine so I’m in charge tonight.”

Will nods and makes his way downstairs, but El stays. She looks like she’s deep in thought, but she always kind of looks that way.

“Does he get migraines from being too tired?” She asks.

“Sometimes. Or stress. Or just because he’s had a lot of head injuries.”

El nods. “I think I can help.”

“How?” Eddie’s not doubting her, but sometimes she misjudges her powers a bit, thinks she’s capable of things she just isn’t.

El doesn’t answer, just brushes past him into the room. Steve’s asleep, doesn’t even budge at the sound of them coming in, so Eddie knows he’s exhausted. He’s usually a light sleeper, always ready to fight the moment he hears a bump in the night.

Eddie doesn’t stop her because he trusts her and he’s curious. She’d never hurt Steve, so whatever her plan is is worth a shot.

Her hand hovers over Steve’s forehead, then his neck, then his chest. Eddie watches with fascination as El’s brows wrinkle in concentration.

“Do they always start in his neck and shoulders?” She asks.

Eddie nods, then realizes she isn’t watching him. “Yes, yeah. Usually.”

She continues moving her hand until it rests on his shoulder.

And then she smiles and turns to Eddie.

“All better.”

She leaves the room without another word or even glance their direction.

Eddie looks between the door and Steve, still asleep in bed, but now without the crease in his forehead and tense jaw. He’s tempted to wake him up and ask, but there’s still dark circles under his eyes. He’s still tired regardless of the migraine.

He leaves the room as quietly as he can.

When he gets downstairs, the kids are all ready to go, waiting surprisingly patiently.

“Alright, I don’t have time to do my makeup, so we’re just gonna pretend I’m rockstar Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame. Top of the charts for the last year and guitar hero for all of eternity.” Eddie gestures to the front door. “My limo awaits.”

Max snorts, but doesn’t make a comment. They all shuffle to the door to head to the Hopper home, where Joyce has been preparing “the best Halloween party in Hawkins” for two days now. It probably will be the best, but the bar is pretty low. None of them would ever say that to Joyce, though.

“Wait!” Steve is running down the stairs, holding the bag of makeup he’d had in his room. “Someone do my makeup!”

“I thought you had a migraine?” Dustin asks.

“It’s better. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

Eddie rushes to grab the bag from him, not commenting on the fact that the makeup was only a small part of the costume. He applies the green and purple heavily, knows it’s not the best he can do. Steve’s still got natural dark circles under his eyes, so he’ll let that speak for itself.

“Scary enough?” Steve asks the kids as they watch Eddie put all the makeup away.

“You were scary enough before,” Mike jokes.

Will nudges him and shakes his head once.

“Alright, good enough answer. Let’s go!” Steve leads them to the front door, opens it, and scoots them out. “Eddie, c’mon!”

Eddie leans in to kiss him, his lips barely brushing against Steve’s painted lips.

“Better?”

“Mhm. Don’t know how it went away so fast,” Steve shrugs.

Eddie decides now probably isn’t the time to explain that El can apparently manipulate his migraines. Plenty of time tomorrow when he’s no longer a zombie.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #steddiespooktober #halloween #zombie #drabble #steddie events #established relationship #Steve Harrington has migraines #hurt/comfort #fluff

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verstappen-cult · 6 months ago

Text

LOVERBOY, M. VERSTAPPEN.

Just a typical evening / night with Max (and his frat brothers) in the early stages of your relationship.

Content. Major fluff & domestic Max.

A very long and hot shower and your skincare routine after the exhausting day of classes you just had, sounds like the perfect idea. But as you look down at the message displayed on the screen of your phone, you change route.

[17:45] Max: Wanna spend the night with me?

You’re going to have to leave early in the morning to have time to go to your apartment and change clothes before your first class of the day, but spending the night with Max is totally worth it.

The walk to the frat house is not long and in no time you’re standing in front of the door, slightly nervous. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been in the house and met most of his frat brothers a few times before; you always get nervous, hands shaking and butterflies erupting in your stomach just because you know you’ll be seeing him.

The door opens revealing one of the boys and Max’s best friend.

“How many times do we have to tell you,” He says as a greeting, grabbing your arm to get you into the house. “that you don’t need to knock? You’re basically one of us.”

“Hello to you too, Lando.” The boy winks and places a kiss on your forehead before going back to what he was doing before your arrival. “Max is not here yet.”

With just one look around you know that these boys haven’t cleaned the house in days, if not weeks. You remember Max told you about a party they had a few days ago, so you’re pretty sure they have not done anything besides lie around and go to classes.

You pick up a couple of empty pizza boxes near the entrance and follow Lando into the living room. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” He tries to smile with a slice of pizza in his mouth, hands busy playing FIFA.

“Something other than cold pizza?” Lando shakes his head, too concentrated on the game to pay attention to you trying to clean around. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Well, hello!” Alex enters the house, followed by George and Oscar.

“Sorry for the mess.” George gives you a shy smile and a pat on the shoulder, while Oscar waves at you as he plops down next to Lando.

“All right, I’ll make dinner.”

They all cheer as you walk into Max’s room at the end of the hallway.

You make quick work of getting rid of your clothes, changing them for Max’s shirt and sweatpants. You take a moment to breathe in, his scent filling your lungs and providing you a sense of calm.

You take a few minutes to just lie in bed and text Max to let him know that you’re in the house. If you’re right, he still has half an hour until his last class ends, so you’ll have plenty of time to clean around the house and make some dinner.

When you join the others, George and Alex are already tidying up and arguing with the two boys who keep playing, ignoring the “please help us” of their friends. You decide to let them be and escape to the kitchen.

You wash the dishes and get rid of a lot of bad food and empty alcohol bottles before looking in every cabinet for something to cook. There is a lot of alcohol and bags of chips, as expected, but you are lucky enough to find some pasta and frozen vegetables.

You didn’t notice when Charles and Dani got home, but now one is helping you cook while the other makes some drinks. Oscar grew tired of playing with Lando and is now sitting on the counter telling you all about something that happened during one of his lectures.

“You should come more often.” Dani says, pouring tequila on a glass. “I’m tired of eating pizza or chips.”

“You should learn how to cook, then.”

You immediately turn around, heart hammering in your chest.

And there they are; your favorite pair of blue eyes.

You want to run and jump into his arms, but feel shy with the boys around. However, Max doesn’t care about anything and simply wraps his arms around your waist from behind, placing a tender kiss on your cheek.

“Did they force you into this?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Of course not!” Oscar complaints, getting off the counter to remove the pasta from the heat, just to have something to do, really.

“I missed you.” Max whispers just for you to hear. It makes you blush furiously, a shiver running down your spine.

“Let’s eat, yes?”

You eat in the kitchen, next to Max who rests a hand on your thigh while he eats with the other. Some of the boys sit next to you two, others decide to eat standing, resting against the cabinets. It's a pleasant atmosphere, everyone chatting and joking, drinking the weird mix of liquor Dani was pouring a few moments ago.

Even though it is loud, you and Max are in your own little bubble, turning to face each other between bites of food and sharing shy smiles.

When the boys decide that it's time to play a drinking game, you and Max retire to his room.

Brushing your teeth takes longer than usual thanks to Max who doesn’t let you do anything, arms wrapped tightly around you as he kisses your face. He leaves you in the bathroom when you find a little bottle of face cleanser you left not so long ago.

When you enter his room, he’s sitting on the bed with a book in hand.

“I cleared a drawer.” Max says suddenly, not taking his eyes off the book.

You slowly turn around, frowning. “That’s… good?”

“For you.” He clarifies, finally putting his book aside and letting you see his tinted cheeks.

“A drawer for me?”

You can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face.

Max shrugs, dismissing the importance of his action with a wave of his hand, and goes back to reading. “You can leave some of your clothes here. And I can make space for you in the bathroom, so you can leave some of your skincare things, too.”

Your eyes light up as you turn around walking to his chest of drawers, pulling open the first one to see it completely clear. You want to scream and kiss him and pinch your arm to make sure you’re not dreaming. But all you do is slide the drawer back into place and walk back to the bed.

Max follows your every move with a flushed face.

You pull back the covers and slip underneath, Max immediately lifting his arm for you to curl up against him.

“Thank you. This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” You say, resting your head on his chest. You feel his sharp intake of breath and fight back a smirk. “You’re a big softie.”

You’re not looking at him, but know that he rolls his eyes. “Shut up or I’m going to place all my shirts back in the drawer.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He doesn’t say anything, but kisses the top of your head.

Max loves to read in bed. He said once, not so long ago, that he does it because it reminds him of the summers he used to spend with his mother as a kid. She loved to read to him, and it was Max’s favorite time of the day.

Watching him read calms you. Watching the way his lips move, repeating the words in silence, or when he’s too invested and makes comments about what is happening, but then remembers that you’re there and apologizes.

“Read to me?” You ask, feeling the exhaustion of the day take over you.

“Of course.” He whispers.

Max rests his hand on your upper arm, caressing your skin, as he begins reading. You don’t really pay attention to what he’s reading, you never do but you love hearing him. His voice is always gentle and calm, and lulls you into a restful slumber. You always wake up rested and energized; sleeping in Max’s arms has that effect.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #max verstappen fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #max verstappen imagine

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velocesainz · 8 months ago

Note

Hi, can you do an angsty fic inspired by “I gotta go my own way” from HSM2. If can either be Charles or Lando or Charlando and they fuck up or something and reader leaves them? Maybe hurt/no comfort? It’s okay if you don’t want to

A/n: this was a very interesting request and it took me quite a while to really get the plot line. Hope you enjoy!

One heart broke six hands bloody

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

Summary: Charles and Lando are in a relationship with reader and they slowly stop paying attention to her and missing important events. The last straw is when they miss your birthday.

Warnings: sad, angstyy, hurt

Pairing: Charles x Lando x reader

Reader pov:

It had been nearly five months since they started acting distant to me.

I don’t know why.

We were so good all together

It was like we completed each other

But recently they’ve really started to distance themselves and ignore me.

Constantly say they have meetings and leave home when I know they don’t drive I’m in contact with their teammates

Were they both cheating on me?

I woke up in our shared bed with nobody by my side.

I went on about my day realising they both had left for some sort of meeting with their respective teams

They returned home late at night completely wasted

“Where were you two? I’ve been worried sick! I called you both so many times, why didn’t you guys pick up?” I questioned

“Oh shut up mom.” Was all Lando said before they both left to go to bed

The next day was one I would usually be excited for but maybe not this year

My birthday

I would usually celebrate it with my two boyfriends but they seem to not want to spend time with me at all

I walked into the kitchen to see them scrolling on Charles’s giggling and whispering to Lando about something. They would do that with me too but I guess not anymore.

“Hey guys, what’s for breakfast?” I asked them seeing they had made their breakfast already

“Oh..we didn’t make you any. We thought you would do it yourself” Charles said

I sighed and went upstairs to get ready, my appetite knocked out by his words

I got dressed and left the house watching them not care

I hung out around Monaco since I had no friends here, just Charles and Lando

It started raining and I was freezing on my way back to our apartment. As I walked in I found them on their game not bothering to focus on anything but that and each other

“Hey I’m back” I announced as best as I could in my feverish voice due to the intense shivering

“Yea yea whatever just make us dinner” Lando said

What is up with them?

“You can do that yourself. In fact you guys should have done it for me at least today of all days”

They looked at me and asked “What are you talking about?”

I give up on these two

“It was my birthday today and you guys didn’t even bother to wish me or spend time with me. You both have been so secretive and distant from and it feels like you have fallen out of love. I’m leaving. I’m not dealing with this shit any longer”

I walked up to my bedroom and started packing the essentials

Charles pov

How did we not realise we were hurting our dearest so much?

We were ignoring her as we were going to propose to her and knew Lando wouldn’t keep his mouth shut if he started talking

We were so stressed about getting the perfect rings that we completely neglected y/n

Me and Lando looked at each other and chased after her to the bedroom to see her packing her things

“Cheri please don’t leave us we apologise for our horrible behaviour” I begged

“We were working on something very important and in that stress we completely neglected we’re extremely sorry” Lando said

“I don’t care for your explanations. My state of mind has not been good thanks to you two and I refuse to worsen it. I’m leaving and that’s final” she said

All our hearts were breaking as she said this. We ruined a beautiful relationship because we cared about materialistic things over our actual love for each other.

Now there was nothing we could do anymore.

She packed her bags and left the apartment telling us not to follow her and we’d broken her heart enough I’m sure she wouldn’t want to listen to us anymore.

One heart broke and left six hands bloody.

A/n: I’m sorry I took super long to finish this request. Hope you enjoyed and make sure to leave feedback! Kissies ✨

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dilfdemolisher · 1 year ago

Text

Sir

Summary - You have a sleepover with your friend Sarah Miller, who's been a bit of a shitty friend lately. So you take opportunity with her dad Joel who's dying to fuck you 18+ MINORS DNI

Content - JOEL MILLER IS A CREEP! HE’S A WEIRDO! If you don’t like it don’t read it. Sarah and the reader are above the age of 18, didn’t specify but reader is legal ofc, she kinda likes that he’s a creep (just like me fr), Joel being shocked that a pretty young girl wants to touch his predatory pp, titty smack:), hair pulling, oral/fingering (f receiving), unsafe p in v, blurred lines of consent, choking, noncon creampie, prob grammar/spelling errors, and worst of all…tuna melts (idk i feel if a food was a creep it would be a tuna melt)

Word count - 3969;)

Walking into the Miller home isn’t something unusual with Sarah Miller being one of your closest friends you feel comfortable just walking in, you know they leave their door open. The neighbourhood is filled with families and elders, there’s not much of a threat of a break-in.

“That you Hun?” Mr. Miller speaks up from the kitchen, walking out of the entrance to your right into the kitchen he's cutting celery. “I’m making some tuna melts if you want one?”

“Oh no, it’s me, sorry.” You say before questioning him. “Is Sarah in her room?” You ask, heading towards the staircase.

“No, she's been out all day with that boyfriend of hers.” He says with a sigh. “Why ya’ asking?”

“Oh we were gonna hang out is all.” Now this is awkward you think, trying not to express your disappointment that his daughter bailed on you right in front of him.

“Well shit, I’m sorry.” He sighs while grabbing pickles from the fridge to start cutting. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you one too?”

“Oh no you don’t have to do that.” You politely decline.

He stops his cutting to look towards you. “Have you eaten dinner yet?” He asks quizzically.

“No, I just don’t wanna bother you is all.”

“Well then sit, I insist I don’t want you leaving my house hungry Sweets, put something on the TV I’ll bring it out when it’s done”

Sweets that’s new

“Uhm well thank you sir.” You say a bit timidly, he looks up at you, corner of his mouth in a smirk. “Of course.”

————————————————————————

“Thank you.” You say as he hands you your plate. “Forensic Files nice.” He says as he sits down next to you. “I’m sorry ‘bout Sarah, I’m sure this isn’t your ideal evening.”

You nod and shrug. “It’s okay, if she's busy, she’s busy.”

He scoots himself closer before speaking again. “Say don’t ya’ got a boyfriend to keep yourself busy with? You’re a pretty one y’know, I think Sarah mentioned one.”

“Me? I don't, no.” You say sheepishly, taking a bite of your food and finally meeting his gaze after he doesn’t respond for a moment.

He’s looking at you intensely. Like you’re his prey, you think about scooting away from him before realizing you’re already snug against the arm of the couch. You’re stuck.

You took the final bite of your meal before looking at him and speaking. “Thank you for the food but I think I should get going before it’s late.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Nonsense, I texted Sarah and told her she forgot and she’s heading here right now.” He says in between bites.

“Oh, thank you.” You say.

You must have misread his intentions, you almost feel guilty for thinking he was being creepy. He was just trying to be polite, and make conversation until Sarah arrived because HE went out of his way to do something nice for you and have her come home. He wasn’t even trying to come onto you.

“Of course, gimme your plate. I'll clean up down here while you’re waiting, you can head to Sarah’s room if ya’ want.” He says while reaching for your plate.

“Thank you sir.”

He maintains eye contact while taking your plate, two of his fingers run along the base of your hand starting at your wrist to your fingertips as he grabs the plate, the same smirk as earlier creeping on his lips.

He says nothing as he walks away, you decide it’s best to head up into Sarah’s room.

————————————————————————

You're hot, your body slightly sticky from the heat trapped beneath the blankets created by you and Sarah in your sleep. Sarah's sleeping next to you, mouth open with a small spot of drool on her pillow.

It's fucking hot though and not much sounds better than a cold glass of water, but that takes a walk in past the door of your friend's father who has been flirting with you. Fuck.

In all fairness it's not that he’s unattractive, it's definitely not that. More so because it's very inappropriate. That's your friend's father, which you are a little tense with at the moment. You'd talked about her absence and she only partially apologized, more so excused. You know damn well it's gonna happen again but your tendency to give forgiveness when not earned pushed aside any confrontation that would be valid.

But no, it would be inappropriate to think about anything with her father, he’s old enough to be yours. And that's with the assumption he was flirting with you all along. But a glass of water does sound really fucking nice right now. Leaving Sarah's room with a wince as her door squeaks as it opens, your footsteps treading lightly to avoid more noises; noises you hope don't wake Mr. Miller up.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and make your way to the kitchen by using your recollection of the floorplan and the faint glow on the floor from the moonlight, though you figure it's best to turn the stove light if you wanna get water without any spilling accidents.

You hit the switch and face the sink to turn on the faucet and let it run cold while you grab your glass from the cupboard. You fill your glass and take a sip, savouring the feeling of the liquid pouring down your throat and cooling you down from the inside, you can't help but let out a small hum of satisfaction as the glass leaves your mouth.

“Ain't that a pretty sound.” A voice from behind you rings.

You jump, startled by the break of silence the water from your predominantly full cup splashes onto your shirt. Your white shirt. The worst of the damage is on the tops of your chest, but it doesn't stop the water from slowly migrating down further.

“I-“ You stand there speechless, aware of your sudden nudity and completely unsure of how to navigate this situation. You stay staring at him for several moments before realizing he's not meeting your eye contact, his eyes are lying somewhere else.

“Well that ain't good is it.” He says, with a…caring look on his face. A complete switch from the way he looked at you seconds earlier though, if there was better lighting you could almost swear his pupils aren't normally that dilated though.

“We need to getcha’ a new shirt don’t we?” He says before walking away, he reaches the first steps of the stairs before realizing you aren’t following him. “I know that can’t be comfortable honey.” He empathizes with a nod of his head leading upstairs. Taking the cue you start walking upstairs to head to Sarah’s room without much thought as if your body’s doing it for your father then your mind in your state of embarrassment.

You both walk to the stairs as he keeps one arm gripping the railing, you can’t help but admire as you eye his bicep and the way the fabric of the shirt tightens around it. Though any other thoughts are cut short as he lets go of the railing and heads to his door and opens it without entering, implying for you to enter.

“I need to get a shirt from Sarah’s room.” Say matter of fact, not completely sure of how to take this.

Because there is no fucking way Mr. Miller is inviting you into his room

“Get one from my room, you don’t wanna wake Sarah up do ya’?”

You shake your head and he opens the door wider. You walk in and feel his palm press across your back pushing you forward slightly before he lets go when you’re a few feet away and walks back and peeks his head out in the direction of Sarah’s room and closes the door.

You hear a click presumably from him locking it. You sit on the foot of his bed. He looks over at you, you see his chest rising up and down faster than it should be from just a walk up his staircase.

He starts to walk over to you, slowly as if not to scare you like he’s about to pounce before he stops his movements when you speak.

“What’s happening?” You ask because you’re a solid 90% sure Mr. Miller had just led you into his room to fuck you but the voice in your head that’s telling you he’d never do that even though you don’t him that well is loud, almost as loud and disruptive as the arousal you feel stirring in your tummy.

You shouldn't want fuck him, it's your friend's father. Your friend who has been a shitty friend lately to be fair, and if you wanted to get payback in a way without her ever knowing, having sex with her father is definitely a good way to do it. So fuck it.

Joel opens his mouth to respond to your question but quickly shuts it when he sees you grab the hem of your top and drag it off, completely exposing your chest to him. You pull your feet from the floor to the bed underneath your thighs, having you in kneeling a position on his bed.

You look at Joel to see his jaw slacked as if this is a surprise for him. Speculating he didn't think it was going to be like this, that you would be so on board to fuck him. It's quite the uncomfortable thought that he may have had his way with you whether you wanted it or not, but that's a thought you need to push to the side for now. What you do have, is a moment of confirmation in your brain, now you know for sure that Joel Miller is a creep. But at least he's a hot one.

He's still standing by the door staring at you looking fucking gobsmacked, you’re starting to question if you have gave the man a stroke. “Mr. Miller?”

“Mmhm.” He hums, he slowly walks towards you until he’s standing in front of you. You can help but take a deep breath, he looks so intimidating from this angle, much bigger than the man who takes your bags inside for you so you don't have to haul it all yourself, or the man that Sarah talks highly of. No this is a different man.

Though, still feel some semblance of the man you know as he brings his hand up to your cheek and strokes it, holding your face so delicately like he will break it and shatter you if he took a tighter grip on your face.

You look for a moment and become certain that he's not wearing anything under those sweatpants with the way you can see his dick starting to get hard so clearly.

You drag your fingers down from his stomach to the band of his pants. “Can I suck your cock?” You ask, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck.” He growls. He stays staring at you for a moment before murmuring, “Come ‘er.” And leans down to bring your face towards his.

His kiss is soft the same way he is with cradling your face. He pushes you on your back gently, you pull apart for a moment as he takes a moment to look at your face. He moves a piece of hair away from your face and pushes it behind your ear.

“Nuh-uh, I’m gonna make you feel good baby.” He whispers, his voice is quite like he's suddenly apprehensive about his voice being heard.

He continues kissing you again, the carefulness that he once had starts subsiding as he bites your bottom lip and becomes more passionate. He's putting his entire body into the kiss, showing how badly he wants you. You wrap your legs around his waist and grind up into him, giving some form of friction against your pussy for the time being.

His kisses become messy, you can feel the fucking spit around your mouth from his, he’s practically drooling for you and this point. His slobbery kisses leave your mouth as they meet your jaw and make their way down to your neck.

His kisses make their way higher briefly as he nibbles on your earlobe. “Gonna make this pretty pussy of yours feel so good baby.” He whispers before gravitating towards your collarbone. He starts where it meets your shoulders and gives gentle kisses to where it meets the other at your sternum, then trails lower towards your breasts.

His hand tracks lower towards the band of your sleep shorts as you feel his kisses get closer and closer to your nipple. He doesn't hook his fingers into the band though instead he slowly drags his fingers towards your covered clit.

“Please.” You whimper as his tongue licks around your nipple. “What do ya’ want, gotta say it.” He kitten licks your nipple then pulls his mouth away, he pulls his hand away from your core and slaps your tit with it. “Use your words or you ain't gettin’ anything, I'll just use this cunt and get what I want.”

Your eyes roll back into your skull as you get your first taste of the pleasure that your body's been begging for. “I bet you'd like that though, huh?” He says with a light chuckle. He's getting such amusement from how quickly you turn into putty that's just waiting to be moulded by his hands.

“Your mouth, please.” You whine. “Want you to use your mouth on me, h-however you want.”

Your pleading seemed to have worked because he finally wraps his lips around your nipple and takes it into his mouth. He uses both of his hands and massages your tits as looks up at you with those big brown eyes. He moves to tease the other breast with his tounge as you tangle your hand into his curls.

You give them a tug Joel releases a moan from his lips. “Want ya’ to tug on my hair real good m’kay baby? Lemme know that I’m making you feel good.”

“Okay.” You whisper, more to yourself than to him. You cannot believe that Sarah’s father is actually between your legs. He moves his head lower and lower until he shifts himself down to get comfortable between your legs and leaves one last kiss on your pelvis then takes your knees into his hands to spread your legs further.

Without asking further, he drags your shorts and underwear down in one pull and chucks them onto the floor. You realize how vulnerable you are looking at him fully dressed as you lay beneath completely nude.

Takes to fingers and drags them up and down along your seam, teasing you. “Please, plea- just touch me.”

You raise yourself onto your forearms to look at him, your eyes pleading for any kind of stimulation. You watch as drags down towards your messy hole, he breaches the tips of his two fingers inside you and then moves them up to your clit. He finally gives pressure to it as he moves his fingers in tight circles over the nerve.

You let out a gasp, relishing the feeling of his calloused fingertips rubbing your pussy. “Thank yo-you.”

“Such a good girl using her manners for me.” He drags his fingers down towards your hole again and takes his middle finger and pushes it into you.

You watch as he stares transfixed, he watches his finger plunge in and out of you.

He pulls his finger out to stick his thick ring finger in accompanied by a squelch of wetness being sounded out along with your breathy whimpers as he fucks you with his two fingers a bit faster.

“God yes!” You let a proper moan for the first time, the feeling of his fingers pounding into that spongy spot inside of you feels so fucking good you can’t bother to manage your noise level anymore.

You can see his filthy smirk in the low light of his bedroom and his eyes watching your hole suck up his fingers. His mouth finds your clit as he dances his tongue along you testing the waters to see what you like. He pulled out his fingers and moves down to give to your hole to give it a messy, but light kiss. His lips are covered in your arousal and continue his kisses along your outer lips before setting one final kiss onto your throbbing clit.

He finally gives you what you need as he eats you out, hiking your thighs onto his shoulders brings you closer and closer to the brink, he continues his frantic movements until your orgasm finds its way from your pussy up to your head making your brain fog up.

He takes his fingers that were once in you that are now covered in your dry cum to drag them around your pussy to gather more wetness before bringing them up to your mouth, in your post-orgasm state not fully realising what he’s asking of you, he pulls your jaw open with his other and shoves his fingers into your mouth until you get the memo and you suck your slick off of them for him.

“Good Girl.” He says with a light, almost endearing smack on your cheek before he moves away to pull his dick out and align himself with your hole.

Too soon you think, you need a couple of seconds to recover before getting fucked by him but when you even begin to mutter a “wait” he clamps his hand over your mouth and pushes himself inside.

“I said I need you to be quiet. What do I have to do to get that through your slutty little head huh?”

He growls as he removes his hand from your mouth pinching your cheeks together causing your lips to push out a pout and shakes your head side to side.

He moves his hand from your face to your throat, not squeezing but resting his hand there, his eyes bore into your soul as he finally starts to slide in and out of you.

There’s a dynamic shift in the room and he knows you feel it too, he’s no longer the sad older dad who you were doing a favour by letting him fuck you. No, the energy in the room is much more sinister. The pieces in your head start to click that it never depended on if you willingly offered to suck him off, he would have had you in the same position regardless.

He can see it too, he continues staring at your eyes so diligently just to see to the moment when it clicks that he’s the one in control.

It feels much more silent than it was before as you break eye contact and look up towards the ceiling, the white noise in your brain turns off as you become hyper-aware of your surroundings. The way the sheets move under you, the sound of your skin slapping against each other as he picks up his pace, you feel his hand start to tighten around your throat and you let out a moan. You curse yourself, no. You curse your body and its reactions towards him for making you feel this way.

You can’t help but let out breathy moans with each thrust he gives. You can tell he’s getting closer by his slightly faulting pacing and the way his eyes, so tightly screwed shut, are extenuating his crow's feet along his temples.

He opens his eyes to see you now studying his face, and you can feel him study yours, the fat on your face that comes with you he no longer has, your cheeks a splotchy red colour from your activity. And pupils so heavily dilated for a moment he thinks you're enjoying this as much as he is before he sees how empty they are and remembers his hand squeezing your throat.

Your eyes roll back as you feel your face finally get the blood flow it's been begging for as he releases it from his palms.

“Say my name.” He says, pounding into you so sloppily you know he's on the brink.

You mutter a Mr. Miller and look at him just to see prominent dissatisfaction laced all over his face.

“Joel, please Joel.” You whine in attempts to correct yourself and beg for your not sure what for.

“I said say my FUCKING name.” He demands in a much more aggressive tone than he's given you before, still pounding into you relentlessly.

You feel his hand return to your throat to choke you, like actually choke you. Your hands that remained glued to your sides reach at his wrists trying to pull them away.

He looks at your confusion and repeats himself again, over and over. Telling you to say his name. Until you eventually understand what he wants.

“Sir.” You attempt to speak but nothing comes out, just a wheeze as you try to expel the air from your lungs to give him what he wants before your lungs more than they already are and you can do nothing but stay silent.

He stays staring at you, watching you try to get the words out only to fail, he only seems to snap out of it when he feels your nails dig into his arm and remembers his ask, he was just too caught up in the pleasure of watching you panic and the fear drip out of pores that he forgot what he was doing.

You feel his hand release your neck. You finally breathe, travelled by some coughs, but finally you say it.

“Sir.”

“Say it again.”

“Sir.”

“Again.”

You keep saying the same word over and over as he also repeats things of his own, only his a bunch of garbled “shits” and “fucks” as he tows the line of orgasm until he finally cums.

He lets his body drop onto you leaving you squashed between him and the mattress as he comes inside of you.

He lays his head on your tits and feels around for your wrist and places it onto his hair. Your body, running on autopilot, starts playing with his hair as you assume it's what he wants.

You two lay together breathing in sync, his ear by your heart hearing it pump blood to the rest of your body. He looks up at you with such tenderness that it gives you whiplash from the man he was just moments ago.

“You did so good y’know, ya really did.” He grabs your hand from his hair, brings it towards his face and leaves a gentle kiss on your palm before getting himself with a sigh.

He tucks himself back into his sweats and asks if you wanna join him in the shower. You shake your head no and you see a flash of disappointment cross his face.

“You sure?.”

You let a “mmhm” and he leaves it at that. He heads towards the shower before turning back and bends down. You feel him examine your face once more for any emotion to gauge how you’re feeling, but you have none. You're empty.

He presses a delicate kiss to your forehead and walks back and stops at the door.

“I’m happy we got to have this night together.” He says with a smile then closes the bathroom door.

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding when you hear the shower start to run. You feel the breeze from the open window cover your naked frame as you feel his cum start to slide out of you.

You start to sit and figure you'll have to clean yourself up in the bathroom downstairs until you hear a knock at his door.

“Dad?”

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