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creamflix · 9 days ago

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IF I WAS A BAD BITCH, I'D WANNA F★CK ME TOO! ( PART 2 ) ၄၃ gojo satoru x female reader x (female?!) gojo satoru

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. established relationship. threesome featuring m & f gojo. dom! gojo(s), sub reader. bisexual reader. lots of crack. slight hurt & angst with comfort, existential crisis. somewhat rapid scene change. making out. implied quickie. mentions and use of sex toys (suction vibrator). overstimulation. fingering (f. recieving). slight voyuerism & cucking. cum play/eating. (guided) hand job. face sitting (go lesbians!!). p in v (missionary). somewhat marathon sex.

thank you all so much for the love on the previous fic :") i'm so glad you all see my vision, which is why i find much happiness in letting you know we're making this a series - nothing too serious or story driven, just a bunch of porn with plot oneshots for your reading plesure. :D i wrote female gojo with @owwllly's version in mind, so please show them your love xx

dedicated as always to my pookie daph aka @curtins , my fav bi icon @sugoroo & my lovely taglist. now if you'll excuse me, i'm going to take a veeryyy long nap. ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3 ☆ series masterlist

morning, if you could even call it that, felt like stepping into the twilight zone.

the sunlight creeping through the windows was annoyingly cheerful considering the depraved antics of the night before, and you were dead sure your neighbors were contemplating a noise complaint.

yet, here you were, trying to make sense of the utter chaos that came with two versions of your boyfriend.

it started with a groping. a teasing squeeze to your ass that you didn’t even flinch at — classic satoru.

except, when you turned to glare at him, ready to smack that stupid smirk off his face, you were met with her instead, casually twirling her white hair around her fingers.

“oh, was that not me? so sorry,” fem-toru (you had to call her something) said with the most shit-eating grin known to mankind.

“what the hell, woman?!” gojo bellowed from across the room, instantly at your side and scooping you up like you were a damsel in distress. “she doesn’t get to touch what’s mine!”

“what are you gonna do, sue me?” she teased, leaning against the counter with a smug tilt to her head.

gojo growled, the real one — or, male one? whatever — already dragging you off toward the bathroom. “don’t wait up,” he called over his shoulder.

“ew, like i’d wanna hear that,” she called back, although her smirk said otherwise.

and that was just the beginning.

when you finally emerged from round… whatever that was, the war for coffee mugs was already in full swing.

“that’s my mug!” you groaned, snatching at the familiar blue ceramic, only for it to be pulled just out of reach by fem-toru.

“finders keepers, babe,” she quipped, taking a long sip with a completely unapologetic look.

“you’re not even supposed to be here!” you hissed, trying to snatch it back.

“it’s my house too,” male gojo chimed in unhelpfully, hogging the last clean mug himself.

“not your house —” you paused, narrowing your eyes at the two of them.

“i’m going to need so much therapy after this.”

“probably,” they both said in perfect unison, which was both creepy and infuriating.

and then there was the final straw.

“you don’t need to borrow my bras,” you snapped at fem-toru, watching in horror as she rooted through your drawer, holding up one of your lacy favorites.

“but they’re so cuuuteee!” she whined, shamelessly sliding the straps over her shoulders to model it. “plus, i don’t have anything in my size. talk to him about that,” she added, jerking her thumb toward her male counterpart.

“don’t drag me into this!” gojo groaned, holding his head as though he were already plagued by a migraine.

“both of you, out!” you barked, finally snapping under the weight of their collective nonsense.

but as you flopped back onto the bed after shoving both of them out of the room, you couldn’t help but smile. the chaos, the absurdity — it felt oddly right, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

...even if you had to figure out how to hide your lingerie from a certain someone.

⋆˙⟡ —

you could practically feel the ground begging to swallow you whole as your elderly neighbor — a sweet lady who baked cookies and fed stray cats — stood at your doorstep with an expression that bordered on scandalized and horrified.

"dear, i just wanted to make sure everything was... alright last night," she began, her voice trembling slightly, but it was hard to tell if it was from age or pure shock. "i thought maybe something had fallen. or —" she paused, wringing her hands, "someone had fallen... repeatedly."

before you could stammer out a half-baked apology, both gojos emerged from behind you like twin specters of your shame, looking every bit as debauched as you felt.

gojo, with his signature grin, leaned lazily against the doorframe, his messy hair and unbuttoned shirt doing absolutely nothing to help the situation. "oh, don’t worry, ma’am. just some, uh, vigorous... exercise," he chirped, flashing a dazzling smile that could melt glaciers but definitely not the horror etched into her face.

fem gojo popped her head out next, her wolf-cut disheveled and a hickey darkening her collarbone. "he means cardio," she added helpfully, as if that made it any better.

"cardio?" your neighbor echoed, clutching her chest as her eyes darted between the three of you.

"yeah! it's important to stay fit, ya know," fem gojo continued, placing a hand on your shoulder as if you needed moral support through this ordeal.

"and loud," male gojo added with a smirk.

you wanted to die.

"i-i see," your neighbor stammered, her gaze now firmly fixed on the floor as she shuffled back a step. "well, um, maybe next time you could... exercise a little quieter?"

"we’ll keep it down, promise!" fem gojo called after her as the door gently shut in your neighbor's retreating wake.

as soon as it clicked shut, you whirled around, smacking both gojos on their respective arms.

"are you kidding me? cardio?!"

"what?" male gojo grinned, rubbing his arm. "it’s technically not a lie."

"and honestly," fem-toru added with a wink, "for our age, we're doing amazing."

"you’re not even old," you hissed, burying your face in your hands.

"exactly," male gojo quipped, draping an arm around you. "so no excuses for round two."

fem-toru smirked, leaning in with a sultry whisper. "or round twelve. you’re practically a pro now."

you groaned. this was your life now.

⋆˙⟡ —

you were about two seconds away from flinging the carton of eggs in your hand when you felt her — fem gojo, femtoru, whatever her name was — sidling up behind you like a heat-seeking missile.

“what the — ?!” you whipped around, heart hammering in your chest, only for her to give you that infuriating, all-too-familiar smirk.

"miss me?" she purred, leaning in close enough that her outrageously large rack brushed against your shoulder.

"how the hell did you even get here?!" you hissed, glancing around the aisle nervously as a mom with two toddlers gave you a raised eyebrow before continuing down the cereal section.

she pouted dramatically, looping an arm around your waist as if you weren’t about to die of embarrassment. "what, you thought a lil’ lock and key could keep me away? puh-lease, babe. i invented escapism."

"you’re kidding me," you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"oh, and don’t worry about satoru," she added, resting her chin on your shoulder as if you weren’t vibrating with anxiety. "i tied him up real good before leaving. pretty sure he's still trying to figure out how to untangle his legs."

"you did what?!" your voice cracked, drawing the attention of an elderly man perusing the soup cans nearby.

"relax," she whispered, nuzzling her nose into your neck. "he’ll be here any second. y’know how he is — doesn’t like to be left out."

as if on cue, a loud crash came from the store's automatic doors, and there he was — your boyfriend, his hair still a mess, shirt misbuttoned, and his expression a cocktail of irritation and smug determination.

"sweetheart!" he called, jogging down the aisles with zero regard for the stares he was attracting. "fem-me tied me up with my own blindfold. again. can you believe that?"

"i absolutely can," you snapped, trying to suppress the migraine threatening to bloom.

"soooo clingy, aren’t we?" femtoru teased, pressing even closer to your back. "you couldn’t even let me have ten minutes alone with her, could you?"

"ten minutes alone, my ass!" he barked, glaring at his female counterpart. "you kidnapped her! again!"

“‘s not kidnappin’ when she enjoys my company,” she quipped, smirking as she leaned over to inspect the snack shelf, her cleavage doing things you’d rather not admit out loud.

"you are literally me," your boyfriend shot back, clearly nearing the end of his patience.

“and that’s why she likes me better,” fem gojo said sweetly, tossing a bag of chips into your cart with an infuriating wink.

“both of you need to shut up,” you hissed, grabbing the cart and storming toward the checkout. “and stop dragging me into your circus act every time i try to do something normal — like buying goddamn groceries!”

but, of course, they followed, bickering like siblings the entire time. and you? you contemplated whether life in a hermitage was really that bad.

⋆˙⟡ —

the moment you placed your items on the conveyor belt, you prayed for a quick, smooth transaction. but, of course, with them around, that was wishful thinking.

“hey, y/n,” jess greeted with her usual cheery smile, scanning your items. she was sweet — always polite, never overly invasive, but you could see the curiosity bubbling just beneath the surface as her gaze flicked between you and the two absolute menaces standing behind you.

“hey, jess,” you muttered, trying to focus on the beep of the scanner rather than the chaos looming behind you.

your boyfriend was already muttering to himself, his black glasses perched low on his nose as he glared daggers at his female counterpart.

“goddamn wolfcut copycat... walking around like she owns the place... like i don’t have patents on being hot and annoying —”

“what was that, lover boy?” fem gojo teased, scratching at the nape of her neck, her perfectly styled wolfcut catching the overhead lights just right. her bright blue eyes were unhidden, and they sparkled with amusement as she leaned against the counter like she belonged there.

“lover boy?” satoru spat, his tone dripping with disdain. “you’ve got some nerve calling me that when you’re standing there looking like a discount version of me with tits.”

“discount?!” femtoru gasped, clutching her chest in mock outrage. “excuse me, but these,” she motioned to her ample figure, “are luxury items, thank you very much. unlike your scrawny pecs.”

you buried your face in your hands as jess froze mid-scan, clearly fighting the urge to either laugh or run for her life.

“so, uh…” jess began cautiously, trying to salvage the small talk. “doing anything fun later today?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but fem gojo beat you to it.

“oh, just a casual threesome,” she said with a wicked grin, winking at the poor cashier.

you choked. satoru groaned. jess went so red you thought she might pass out.

“shut up,” satoru hissed, grabbing fem gojo by the collar and dragging her back. “don’t you dare embarrass her in public.”

“oh, ‘m sorry,” femtoru drawled, clearly not sorry at all. “did i strike a nerve, lover boy?”

“that’s it. when we get home, i’m locking you in the closet.”

“aww, das kinda freaky —”

“not like that!”

jess handed you your receipt with trembling hands, her polite smile firmly in place despite her obvious confusion. “have a nice day,” she said, her voice a little too high-pitched.

“yeah, thanks,” you muttered, grabbing your bags and speed-walking out of the store, your two walking headaches trailing behind you, still arguing like children.

as the automatic doors closed behind you, satoru grumbled, “this is why i don’t let you out in public.”

“oh, please,” fem gojo shot back, tossing her hair. “if anything, i made it better.”

you didn’t dignify that with a response. you just kept walking, silently wondering if there was a refund policy for boyfriends — and their alternate versions.

the walk back home was a blur of bickering, your thighs still trembling from the "little assistance" fem gojo had oh-so-graciously offered during your "quick trip" back home. satoru — male satoru, your actual boyfriend, not the ridiculous female menace still trailing after you — was muttering something about how he should’ve strangled her then and there between the bread aisle and frozen foods.

you, meanwhile, were trying to stay upright and hold onto the groceries without collapsing from sheer embarrassment and, well... exhaustion.

⋆˙⟡ —

it wasn’t uncommon for fem gojo to be her usual chaotic self — hell, the woman was a walking hurricane of snark, gropes, and unnecessary comments. she introduced herself as “your lady” to strangers whenever your boyfriend wasn’t around, thoroughly enjoying the chaos that title caused. it was all part of the act, the cocky smirk, the teasing eyes — but you were no fool.

you’d caught the cracks in her facade more than once.

like the way her gaze lingered when you and gojo were tangled together, not in lust but something softer, more intimate. she’d watch the two of you from the corner of the room, her smile dimming for just a second before snapping back into place.

or how she’d stand in front of the mirror when she thought no one was looking. her bright blue eyes would trace her reflection, not with admiration but with a quiet, unspoken question. who am i now?

it tugged at something deep in your chest. for all her antics, you couldn’t ignore the truth — this strange predicament had to be hitting her harder than either of you could imagine.

so, when she sauntered into your room one evening, catching you brushing your hair, you weren’t entirely surprised when she leaned against the doorframe, watching you silently.

“need something?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

“just admirin’ the view,” she said with a sly grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

you rolled your eyes but didn’t press her, focusing back on your reflection. she stepped closer, and before you knew it, her hands were on your shoulders, her breath warm against your ear.

“y’know,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual, “i think you’re wastin’ all that sweetness on him.”

“listen, if you’re about to ask for a kiss —”

she didn’t even let you finish before pressing her lips against yours, hands cradling your face as if her life depended on it. it was messy, desperate, and entirely uncalled for.

you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, staring at her wide-eyed. “okay, what was that?”

her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. she looked at you, then down at her hands as if she were trying to piece something together. finally, she sighed, leaning her forehead against yours.

“you and him,” she started, her voice barely above a whisper, “you make it look so easy. being... someone.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability. “‘toru...”

“don’t — don’t make this a thing,” she interrupted, laughing weakly. “’m not good at this. i just — wanna say thanks. for, y’know, not treatin’ me like some freak.”

her words hung heavy in the air, but before you could respond, she kissed you again. this time slower, deeper, her hands tangling in your hair as if trying to pour everything she couldn’t say into the kiss.

it was... a lot. but as her lips moved against yours, you decided to let her have this moment.

maybe it was what she needed — a way to feel grounded, even if just for a little while.

before you could even process what was happening, she had swept you off your feet — literally. in one fluid motion, her strong arms cradled you, and the next thing you knew, she was laying you down gently on the bed.

but this wasn’t like the usual antics you’d grown accustomed to. there was no teasing smirk, no biting sarcasm. her eyes, usually so sharp with mischief, were soft, almost glassy, her lips trembling like she was struggling to find the right words.

“please,” she whispered, voice breaking as she knelt beside you, hands hovering as if afraid to touch you too much. “lemme... lemme take care of you. just this once.”

it was so unlike her — so raw, so vulnerable — that it physically hurt to see her like this. this wasn’t the same brazen, overconfident fem gojo who pushed your buttons.

this was satoru, stripped bare of all the bravado.

your heart clenched as you reached for her, pulling her into a kiss, softer this time. you tangled your fingers in her snowy white hair, feeling her shudder against you.

“satoru,” you murmured, her name rolling off your tongue as naturally as breathing.

hearing her name — her name — from you seemed to break her entirely. she melted into you, her body caging yours as she kissed you like you were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

and maybe, for that moment, you were.

normally, she’d be cocky about this — the teasing smirks, the knowing winks, the flirty little comments about how lucky you were to have her. but now, as she pulls back from your lips, her face hidden in the crook of your neck, it hits you like a truck: she’s not about to kiss you again, or nip at your skin.

she’s crying.

satoru gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive — gender be damned — is crying.

you freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do, until you feel her body tremble against yours.

then the sound comes — soft, stuttering sobs that claw at your heart.

“satoru,” you whisper, threading your fingers gently through her wolfcut, your nails grazing her scalp in soothing motions. “hey, it’s okay. ’s okay.”

her arms tighten around you, her weight completely draped over you as though she’s trying to bury herself in you, seeking solace in the only safe haven she knows.

“’m sorry,” she chokes out, voice muffled and shaking. “i’m... ion even know what’s happenin’ to me.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” you murmur, pressing your lips softly to her temple. “you don’t always have to be strong, you know. not with me.”

her sobs grow heavier, and you hold her closer, shushing her gently.

“you’re okay, satoru,” you reassure her, even as your own throat tightens with emotion. “i’ve got you.”

she clings to you, her tears soaking into your skin as you run your fingers through her hair, murmuring soft words of comfort. for once, there’s no strongest, no cocky remarks, no facade. just satoru, raw and vulnerable, seeking the comfort she so rarely lets herself need.

⋆˙⟡ —

gojo was already halfway through the door, his trademark bravado in full force as he prepared to yell and drag his female counterpart off you. he was ready to reprimand her for trying to get into his girlfriend’s pants — again.

but then he froze.

the sight before him should’ve sent him into a fit of rage: her large frame draped over yours, her hands clutching you tightly, your fingers stroking her hair. it was intimate, far too intimate. but it wasn’t the position that stopped him. it was the sound.

soft, stuttering cries filled the room, muffled against your neck.

his jaw tightened as his eyes flicked to hers — those same brilliant blue orbs he saw every day in the mirror. but this time, they weren’t filled with mischief or lust.

they were red, puffy, glistening with tears. the same look he’s seen reflected back at himself during the rare moments he allowed himself to break.

it hit him like a punch to the gut.

for all her cocky remarks, her sly smirks, her shameless antics, he recognized what she was feeling. he knew it too well.

and when her tear-streaked face turned to meet his gaze, it wasn’t with her usual defiance or teasing. it was raw, filled with an unspoken plea he understood without words.

gojo swallowed thickly, his fists clenching at his sides. for a moment, he hated seeing himself like that — so exposed, so... human.

“you’re just like me,” he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible as his heart twisted in his chest.

and for the first time, he didn’t barge in, didn’t yell or tease. instead, he stood there, watching as you cradled the part of him he didn’t let anyone else see.

gojo stood there for a beat too long, debating whether to leave or join. he knew what fem-gojo was feeling — hell, it was his feelings, wasn’t it? — but addressing them? with words? that wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

he cleared his throat awkwardly, and both you and satoru turned your heads toward him.

"uh, hey," he started, scratching the back of his neck. "so, uh... group hug or what?"

you snorted, shaking your head. "get in here, you idiot."

“don’t call me that in front of her,” he grumbled, pointing at his counterpart, though he quickly shuffled over. fem-gojo raised her head slightly, glaring through her tears.

“you mean me? the better you?” she snarked, though her voice cracked halfway through.

gojo rolled his eyes but crawled onto the bed, situating himself next to the two of you. "yeah, better at crying, maybe."

"oh, like you don’t cry," she shot back, sniffing.

“never. not once. you’re a glitch in the matrix or sumn',” he said, pulling a face that immediately earned him a smack on the arm from you.

“satoru,” you warned.

“fine, fine.” he let out a long sigh, glancing at fem-gojo before finally reaching out, hesitantly patting her on the back. “there, there, uh... me?”

you burst out laughing despite yourself, covering your mouth with a hand as satoru shot you an exasperated look.

“don’t laugh! it's weird!” he protested, his hand still awkwardly rubbing her back in tiny, unsure circles.

fem-gojo let out a watery laugh through her sniffles, leaning her head back on your shoulder. "god, you’re pathetic."

“pathetic?! i’m not the one crying into someone else’s neck right now!”

“you’re literally crying on the inside right now,” she countered.

gojo froze, his hand stopping mid-pat. "...you shut up."

you rolled your eyes, tugging gojo closer so that he was sitting flush against fem-gojo. "look, you both are disasters. but you’re the same disaster, so maybe... i don’t know, figure it out together?"

satoru frowned, glancing at her again. his fingers twitched. "look, uh... you don’t have to... like, cry or whatever. i mean, i get it. i do."

“wow, deep,” she said, though her voice was softer.

he huffed, crossing his arms. "hey, it is deep! do you know how hard it is for me to open up like this?!”

“you call this opening up?” she muttered, but there was a flicker of a smile on her lips now.

“oh, don’t you start —”

you silenced him with a gentle nudge, smiling as you reached over to intertwine your fingers with his. "you’re doing great, babe."

he narrowed his eyes at you but eventually sighed, letting his head drop back against the headboard. "look, just... we’re the strongest, okay? we’ll get through... whatever this is. together. and maybe with mochi. lots of mochi."

fem-gojo finally let out a real laugh, her tears drying up as she wiped at her eyes. "god, you really are a loser."

“yeah, well, you’re stuck with me. literally.”

you couldn’t help but grin as you looked between them, the two most chaotic, emotionally constipated people in your life finally finding some common ground. even if it was over their mutual awkwardness.

"so... mochi, then?" you teased.

"go get some," they said in unison, both turning to you with the same expectant look.

"oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."

⋆˙⟡ —

you shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of daifuku mochi — the fancy ones he insisted on buying in bulk from that one upscale japanese market downtown. because of course he had to have the best mochi.

as you made your way back to the bedroom, tired and a little cranky, the sound of gojo’s voice drifted out into the hallway. at first, you thought nothing of it — probably just him and fem-gojo bickering again — but then the words registered.

“oh, and this one — this bad boy’s a classic,” gojo was saying, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “the first time we used it, she couldn’t walk for, like, two days.”

you stopped in your tracks.

“are you serious? that’s what you chose to bring up?” fem-gojo’s voice replied, though it sounded more amused than judgmental.

“hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” he shot back, and you heard a muffled sound, presumably the toy being held up for emphasis.

you slowly pushed the door open, and sure enough, there was gojo, sitting cross-legged on the bed with the most ridiculous grin plastered on his face. in one hand, he held your trusty pink wand vibrator, and in the other, a butt plug with a gem on the end — both of which he displayed like prized trophies.

fem-gojo was lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. “so what’s that one?” she asked, pointing at the silicone dildo beside him.

“oh, that? that’s the one we used during her birthday last year,” he said with a wistful sigh, holding it up like it was some kind of holy relic. “man, what a night. she screamed so loud that the neighbors banged on the wall.”

your face burned as you stumbled into the room, nearly dropping the bag of mochi. "what the hell are you two doing?!"

both heads turned toward you in unison, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“oh, hey, babe,” gojo said, waving the butt plug at you like it was a greeting. “we were just reminiscing.”

“yeah,” fem-gojo chimed in, smirking. “your man here is really sentimental, huh? ’s kinda cute.”

“sentimental?” you repeated, glaring at your boyfriend.

he shrugged, completely unfazed. “what? these are like, milestones in our relationship. you can’t just throw these memories away.”

“memories? memories?!” you groaned, setting the mochi down on the nightstand. “‘toru, do you hear yourself? you sound like a pervert!”

“oh, c’mooon, don’t be like that,” he pouted, leaning forward to grab the bag of mochi. “besides, you love me. and her, apparently.”

“barely,” you muttered, though the heat in your face betrayed you.

“aw, don’t be shy, babe,” fem-gojo teased, rolling onto her back and stretching languidly. “you know you’re lucky to have two of us.”

“lucky? my back says otherwise.”

the two of them burst into laughter, and you buried your face in your hands, wondering for the millionth time how you’d ended up in this situation.

and as if they could read your mind, gojo leaned over, patting the space next to him. “c’mere, don’t be mad. let’s eat some mochi and talk about that other toy we’ve been meaning to try.”

you groaned, flopping onto the bed in defeat. “i hate both of you.”

“lies,” they chorused, and you couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself.

⋆˙⟡ —

you were trying — really trying — to enjoy the packet of daifuku mochi as it made its way around the bed. the sweet bean paste was supposed to be a distraction, a way to ground yourself after everything that had transpired over the last 24 hours.

but no, peace wasn’t an option.

"ya know," gojo said through a mouthful of mochi, holding up the wand vibrator like it was a microphone, "this one’s underrated. it looks basic, but the power, babe. remember how —"

"we get it, ‘toru," you cut him off, your voice strained as you grabbed another mochi to shove into your mouth. maybe if you kept chewing, you wouldn’t have to participate in this conversation.

fem-gojo snickered, popping a mochi into her own mouth before leaning closer to you. “you’re bein’ shy, huh? don’t worry, sweetheart, we know how much you looovve this one.” she waggled her eyebrows, motioning at the very wand vibrator in question.

you could feel your face heating up to a level that could rival the sun. “can you two not talk about this right in front of me?”

“but why not?” gojo teased, sliding closer until his thigh was pressed against yours. “’s not like you’re embarrassed, are you? you’ve used all of these.”

"i will throw this entire bag of mochi at your head," you muttered, holding the packet threateningly.

“aw, don’t be like that, doll,” fem-gojo cooed, her voice sugary sweet, though the mischievous glint in her eyes said otherwise. “we’re just reminiscing. plus, you’re blushin’, which means you’re totally into it.”

you glared at her, cheeks practically burning. “i’m blushing because you two won’t shut up.”

but the truth? the truth was much worse. as much as you hated to admit it, their teasing was doing things to you. the way their voices dropped an octave when they reminisced, the heat in their gazes, the proximity — all of it made your thighs clench involuntarily.

and you prayed to every deity you could think of that they couldn’t tell.

unfortunately, subtlety wasn’t your strong suit, and these two were anything but oblivious.

fem-gojo leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “what’s wrong, sweetheart? ya squirmin’ a lot.”

you froze, eyes darting to gojo, who was already smirking. "you’re awfully quiet now," he remarked, his hand casually resting on your thigh. "something on your mind?"

"nothing," you squeaked, clenching the mochi packet in your hands like it was a lifeline.

"reaallly?" fem-gojo purred, her hand trailing dangerously close to the hem of your shorts. "’cuz babe, we can feel how worked up you are."

your breath hitched, and you cursed your body for betraying you. “you two are insufferable.”

gojo laughed, his hand sliding up your thigh to join his female counterpart. “nah, we’re just really good at reading you. isn’t that right, satoru?”

fem-gojo grinned wickedly, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “totally. we’re a team, after all.”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands as the heat pooling in your stomach became impossible to ignore.

“look at that,” gojo said, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “our girl’s shy, but she’s soaked.”

“think we should help her out?” fem-gojo added, her tone faux-innocent as her hand slipped higher.

you had shitty luck. definitely shitty luck. and as much as you hated to admit it, you weren’t about to stop them. not when their touch felt this good.

⋆˙⟡ —

you've always thought the saying keep your friends close, but your enemies closer was a decent piece of advice. practical, even.

apparently, the two white-haired nuisances misheard it as keep your girlfriend close, but her sex toys closer, because right now, they were parading around the room with the entire collection of your toys like salesmen at a bizarrely personal convention.

“this one,” fem gojo started, holding up the suction vibrator with a devious grin, “‘s a classic. compact, effective, and i know someone here loves how quick it can get her to cum.”

“oh, but this —” gojo’s voice cut in as she brandished the glass dildo, twirling it like a baton. “this is art. sleek, sexy, and cold in all the right ways. remember that night when —”

“nope!” you interrupted, your face heating up as you snatched a nearby pillow to throw at him. “we are not going there.”

“oh, babe, we’re just gettin’ started,” fem-gojo teased. “don’t forget this bad boy.” she held up the dual-ended strap-on, dangling it in front of you like it was a prized possession.

you groaned, sinking deeper into the mattress as your face burned hotter. “why do you even have that?”

fem-gojo grinned, plopping down next to you with the butt plug in hand. “because you’re adventurous. and we love that about you.”

"and let's not forget," gojo added, leaning over to waggle the remote-controlled egg vibrator like it was a trophy. "this one. great for public and private use. remember that restaurant trip?"

"i will actually scream," you muttered, dragging the blanket over your head as if it could shield you from their antics.

"awwww, don’t hide, sweetheart," fem-gojo cooed, tugging the blanket away. “we’re just brainstormin’ here. picking out what’ll make the day extra fun.”

“yeah,” gojo agreed, dropping the pile of toys onto the bed before climbing on top of you. “but honestly, we’ll probably just use all of them. right, satoru?”

fem-gojo smirked, crawling up beside you. “absolutely. variety’s the spice of life, after all.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could get a word out, your boyfriend had flipped you onto your stomach, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his hands pinned yours above your head.

“we’ll let you pick,” he murmured against your ear, his voice dripping with faux kindness.

“for, like, two seconds,” fem-gojo chimed in, her hands already tracing down your sides.

“and then we’ll do whatever we want,” they said in unison, their voices harmonizing in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

you were doomed. delightfully, utterly doomed.

you barely had a second to process what was happening. one minute, you were watching them bicker like overgrown children, and the next, the suction vibrator was pressed firmly against you, its unrelenting rhythm leaving your mind blank except for one resounding thought:

fuck! fuck! fuck!

your pleas — if you could even call them that — were an unintelligible mess. and to make things worse? they weren’t even listening.

“please — ah! — don’t stop!” you cried, your body trembling as the sensations overwhelmed you.

“oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” gojo drawled from his spot beside you, his grin sharp as ever. “we don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“yeah,” fem-gojo chimed in, her tone equally as sadistic as she pressed the toy down harder, watching your body jerk with morbid fascination. “you’re s’cute when you’re beggin’, though. keep going.”

you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as another orgasm crashed over you. your legs twitched, trying to close around the relentless toy, but fem-gojo tutted, holding you open with ease.

and then you noticed it — she wasn’t even paying full attention anymore.

“are you — are you seriously eating right now?” you managed to choke out between gasps, your glazed eyes flicking to her free hand, which was holding a piece of mochi.

“hm?” fem-gojo looked up mid-bite, her bright eyes wide with mock innocence. “what? girl’s gotta keep her energy up. besides, ya got him —” she nodded toward your boyfriend, who was leaning over you with the smuggest, most shit-eating grin ever — “to keep ya entertained.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whimpered, squirming as gojo replaced the suction vibrator with his fingers, curling them just right to draw out another cry from your lips.

“hey, i’m working here,” your boyfriend said, his tone dripping with faux exasperation as if he were the one being put through the wringer. “she’s just freeloading.”

“excuse me?” fem-gojo huffed, swallowing her bite dramatically. “i set this whole thing up. i’m the mastermind here!”

“yeah, yeah,” gojo muttered, his attention fully on you now as he leaned down to nip at your ear. “she’s not the one ruining you right now, though, is she?”

“as if you could do this without me,” fem-gojo shot back, shoving another piece of mochi into her mouth as she casually flicked the suction vibrator back on, earning a loud, desperate moan from you.

your head spun, torn between pleasure and sheer disbelief. and as another wave of a telltale orgasm built in your stomach, you realized with absolute certainty that surviving these two was going to take a miracle — or at least a lot more snacks to keep one of them distracted.

⋆˙⟡ —

you’d lost track of time, of everything really, as the relentless assault on your body continued.

it had only been — what? three orgasms ago? — when you thought you’d truly reached your limit, but nope. the suction vibrator was living up to its reputation, wringing every last shred of coherence out of you like a goddamn champion.

you whimpered, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as the toy finally stopped. for a brief, blissful second, you thought they were giving you a break.

but no, that hope was short-lived.

“geez, so sensitive,” fem-gojo cooed, tugging the vibrator out of you with an audible pop!, ignoring your weak whines and the way your hips tried to jerk away from her.

“don’t tell me you’re done already,” gojo added from his spot beside you, that familiar shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

you didn’t even have the energy to retort, your body trembling like a leaf. but what had you blinking back into reality was when fem-gojo — your filthy, depraved, down-bad excuse of a…girlfriend? partner? — brought the vibrator to her lips.

and licked it.

“oh my god,” you croaked, your voice hoarse as you stared in abject horror — and, god help you, a bit of arousal — as she practically drooled over the damn thing.

“what?” she said nonchalantly, swirling her tongue over the toy as if it were nothing. “gotta clean it, right?”

“clean it?” you echoed, your face flushing hotter by the second. “you’re — you’re disgusting!”

“am i?” she mused, licking a slow stripe along the edge before popping it out of her mouth with a smug grin. “taste just like mochi. sweet ‘n soft and sticky. good stuff.”

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as your boyfriend outright cackled beside you.

“she’s got a point,” gojo chimed in, leaning over to smirk at you. “you do have that ‘irresistible dessert’ vibe. maybe we should start calling you ‘mochi.’”

“don’t you dare,” you snapped, your voice muffled against your hands.

“mochi it is,” fem-gojo declared with an exaggeratedly serious tone, popping another piece of actual mochi into her mouth as if to punctuate her statement.

you peeked through your fingers to glare at them both, but the effect was ruined by the way your body was still trembling, and the flush across your skin wasn’t helping either.

“geez,” fem-gojo muttered, her tone too casual for comfort as she gestured toward you with the vibrator. “she even jiggles like mochi. see?”

your jaw dropped, and the absolute audacity of her words was almost enough to jolt you upright — if your body wasn’t completely boneless from the onslaught.

“you’re both insane,” you muttered weakly, your voice lacking any real conviction.

“and yet, here you are,” gojo teased, ruffling your hair like you weren’t on the verge of combusting from sheer embarrassment.

you barely had time to process the chaos unfolding before you — your mind still reeling, your body trembling, and your dignity somewhere in the corner, curled up and crying. fem-gojo, that snarky, insufferable piece of shit, was clearly having the time of her life.

“oh, don’t look so done, mochi baby,” she crooned, her wolfish grin flashing as she grabbed your wrist. “i’ve got a brilliant idea. let’s multitask.”

“what the —” you started, but your words were cut off by the smug gleam in her eyes.

she brought your hand up, guiding it to where your boyfriend sat, already hard and clearly ready for round...what even was it? five? six? you lost track.

“i’m doing what now?” you squawked, but your protest was weak, your voice cracking as she maneuvered your trembling fingers to wrap around his throbbing dick.

“helping your man out,” she quipped, her tone all too chipper as if this was the most normal thing in the world. “don’t tell me you’re too tired to give him a hand, literally.”

“‘toru—” you started to snap, but she cut you off, her free hand sliding down to your already overstimulated cunt, drawing a shocked gasp out of you.

“don’t mind me,” she purred, her lips brushing against your ear as her fingers moved with deliberate precision. “i’ll keep you occupied while you help him out. teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

you shot a desperate look at your boyfriend, who was leaning back, looking far too amused by the situation.

“don’t look at me like that, babe,” he said with a smirk, his blue eyes practically twinkling. “you heard her. teamwork.”

“you’re both the worst,” you groaned, your hand trembling as you tried to follow fem-gojo’s guidance.

your efforts were valiant — or at least you thought so — but your trembling hands weren’t exactly cooperating. and judging by the way your boyfriend’s brows furrowed and his smirk turned into a frown, he wasn’t impressed.

“really, baby?” he muttered, his voice low and edged with irritation. “‘s is the best you can do?”

you opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word out, he grabbed your hand, his much larger one wrapping around yours.

“here,” he muttered, his tone dripping with exasperation as he moved both your hands together. “lemme show you how it’s done.”

“oh, wooww, would ya look at that,” fem-gojo chimed in, her grin downright evil as her fingers continued their sinful work on you. “teamwork really does make the dream work.”

your brain was short-circuiting, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of your boyfriend guiding your hand and fem-gojo absolutely finger fucking the living soul out of you. the three of you moving together in this absurdly depraved display of coordination was — god, you didn’t even know anymore.

“you’re — insane,” you managed to gasp out, your voice breaking as you felt your body quiver under fem-gojo’s relentless ministrations.

“baby please, you love it,” she shot back, her voice smug as she nipped at your thigh.

your boyfriend groaned, his hand tightening around yours as he picked up the pace. “focus, babe,” he muttered, his tone commanding.

as if you had any focus left to give.

“therrre we go,” fem-gojo hummed, her voice dripping with amusement as she watched the scene unfold. “’s more like it. look at us, a well-oiled machine.”

you wanted to retort, to say something snarky in return, but all that came out was a broken moan as your boyfriend cums on your hand, his low moan filling the room as the two of you worked together to finish him off.

“teamwork,” fem-gojo teased again, her grin widening as she finally let up on you.

“you’re both awful,” you muttered weakly, collapsing onto the bed.

“and yet, here you are,” your boyfriend quipped, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“mochi baby,” fem-gojo added, and you groaned, throwing a pillow at her face.

⋆˙⟡ —

"wow, six times already, huh?" fem-gojo’s voice broke through the haze of post-orgasm bliss you were floating in, her tone laced with mockery as she leaned against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest. her blue eyes glinted, flicking between you and your boyfriend with the kind of irritation that only her oversized ego could muster.

"must be nice," she drawled, running a hand through her wolfcut in exaggerated frustration. "lover boy here gets to finish, you’re over there makin’ sounds like a damn opera singer, and me? nothing."

"don’t start," you groaned, flopping back onto the bed like a rag doll. your limbs felt like jelly, your body spent, and you were dangerously close to tapping out for the rest of the day.

“oh, don’t start?” she shot back, her eyebrow twitching. “you’re really gonna sit there, lookin’ all fucked out, and say that to me? after all my hard work, this is the thanks i get?”

your boyfriend chuckled, clearly enjoying her theatrics as he tucked himself back into his boxers. "yeah, babe, ’s kinda rude. i mean, she’s got a point."

"oh, shut up!" you snapped, glaring at him. "this is all your fault, you —"

but before you could finish, fem-gojo had already swung a leg over your waist, straddling you with the kind of confidence that only she could pull off.

"what — wait, hold on —" you stammered, wide-eyed as she leaned down, her face far too close to yours.

“nah, sweetheart," she interrupted, smirking as her fingers trailed down your tits. "you don’t get to say ‘hold on.’ not when you’ve been holdin’ out on me."

“what the hell does that even mean?” you hissed, your face heating up as her hands roamed.

“it means,” she purred, leaning closer until her lips brushed against your ear, “i’m gonna sit on your face now.”

“excuse me?!”

your boyfriend burst out laughing, his whole body shaking as he clutched his stomach. "oh my god, this is amazing. please, don’t stop. this is the best thing i’ve seen all day."

“you’re not helping!” you yelled at him, though your voice was quivering as fem-gojo settled herself further down on top of you.

"what’s the matter?" she teased, her grin widening as she reached to tilt your chin up. “don’t tell me you can’t take it. because after everythin’ i’ve seen today, i know for a fact that my pretty girl right here’s a champ.”

“satoru —”

“yeah?” they both replied in unison, and you wanted to scream.

“this is ridiculous," you muttered, though your resolve was already crumbling under her piercing gaze and the way her hands played over your skin.

“ridiculously sexy,” fem-gojo corrected, her smirk turning wicked.

and before you could argue, she shifted her weight, her thighs caging your head, and all you could think was, yea, this is how i die.

your boyfriend leaned back against the pillows, grinning like an idiot as he watched the scene unfold. “yeah, six times is definitely the charm. but hey, babe, looks like you’ve got a seventh in ya after all.”

it was like watching synchronized chaos — if that was even a thing. as if a switch flipped simultaneously in their shared, cursed braincell, both gojos moved in perfect unison, practically tearing at fem-gojo’s top like it offended their very existence. “c’mon, comrade,” your boyfriend cheered, his stupid grin widening as he yanked her shirt up and over her head. “it’s for the greater good.”

“greater good my ass, you’re just horny,” fem-gojo shot back, though she didn’t stop him. in fact, she raised her arms to make it easier, her ridiculously large tits out in the open in all its glory.

“damn right i am,” he quipped, and in the blink of an eye, he was stripped down to nothing but his insufferable confidence.

meanwhile, you were desperately trying to focus on your task. a monumental task. a task fit for a girlboss, because you were a determined woman.

and that task? eating out your insanely hot girlfriend slash partner.

you flattened your tongue against her cunt, trying to ignore the heat flooding your face as her thighs quivered around your head. her hips bucked slightly, and she let out a strangled moan that quickly turned into a string of curses.

“fuck — shit — holy hell, that’s — oh, goddamn it!” fem-gojo gasped, one hand fisting the sheets while the other tangled in your hair. “what the fuck, how — how are you even doing that — fuck — oh my god!”

her cussing was relentless, sharp, and varied enough to make a sailor blush. “shit — fuck me sideways — you’re gonna kill me, holy tits!”

“holy tits?” your boyfriend snorted.

“shut the fuck up, sator — aah! ” fem-gojo snapped, though her voice cracked as another moan escaped her lips.

but you couldn’t even laugh, because you were the one fighting for your life. with gojo gripping your hips like a lifeline, and his cock buried so deep inside you that your vision blurred, outright bruising your insides, it was nearly impossible to concentrate.

"fuck, babe," gojo groaned, his voice low and breathless in your ear. "you’re squeezin’ me so tight — feels so fuckin' good."

and as much as you hated to admit it, tears were streaming down your face, soaking fem-gojo’s thighs as your tongue continued its shaky assault.

“shit — babe, you cryin’?” gojo asked, though his smirk was audible even through the haze of his pleasure. “s that good?”

you wanted to slap him, but all you could do was moan as another thrust hit that sweet spot inside you, making your whole body shudder.

“don’t stop,” fem-gojo whimpered above you, her thighs trembling around your head. “holy fuck, don’t stop — don’t fucking stop — oh m’god, ‘m gonna — fuck!”

and before you could even process her loud, breathy cry, your own orgasm hit like a tidal wave, your walls clenching hard around gojo’s length as you squirted against him.

“oh, fucckkk yeah,” he groaned, his pace stuttering as he chased his own release.

you barely registered anything else, your body shaking with the aftershocks as fem-gojo slumped against the pillows, completely blissed out.

"looks like i win this round," gojo panted, his voice smug as he finally pulled out and collapsed next to you.

"win? win?" you croaked, your voice hoarse and shaky. "satoru, i am literally dying."

and fem-gojo, still catching her breath, managed a weak chuckle. “honestly, me too.”

your boyfriend, the absolute menace, is standing there like he’s giving the keynote address at some unhinged sex expo. with a dramatic sweep of his arm, he gestures to the array of sex toys — sorry, “tools of pleasure” — that he had haphazardly, or as he put it, “meticulously,” arranged while you weren’t looking.

“ladies,” he begins, the same devilish grin on his face that could charm or terrify depending on his mood. “i present to you the greatest hits of our collection: the deluxe rotating dildo 3000 — absolute game changer, might i add — this double-ended masterpiece that got us through valentine’s day last year, and this little number,” he wiggles the suction vibrator like it’s a winning lottery ticket, “for when you need to set a new personal record.”

“oh my god, satoru, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, face burning as you try to hide your mortification behind a pillow.

but fem gojo? oh, she’s eating this shit upp. literally. her blue eyes light up with the kind of crazed glee you’d associate with a sugar-high kid who just got the biggest lollipop at a carnival. it’s neuron activation at its finest, and suddenly you feel a chill crawl up your spine.

“i like this one,” she says, grabbing the double-ended toy with a smirk, spinning it in her hands like she’s about to challenge you to a duel.

“a woman of culture,” your boyfriend says approvingly, holding up a fist for her to bump.

she does, and it’s the single most terrifying moment of your life.

“guys, can we not —” you try to protest, but it’s too late.

“you know what,” fem gojo hums, her voice sultry as she tosses the toy aside, leaning in with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “i was gonna let you off easy after earlier, but…” her gaze flicks to your boyfriend, and the two exchange a look that screams trouble.

“but now,” she continues, her smirk widening, “i’m all charged up. and since my dear clone here is such a team player,”

“we gotta keep the momentum going,” gojo finishes, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to play a round of volleyball.

“no, you really don’t,” you argue, trying to scramble away, but fem gojo’s already got her strong arms around your waist, pulling you back into the fray.

“oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, her lips brushing against your ear, “we’re not stopping until we turn you into a puddle.”

and with that, your fate is sealed.

again.

467 notes · View notes

rxmxa · 1 month ago

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⊹₊⟡⋆ pluto in aquarius (future) observations ⊹₊⟡⋆

Disclaimer: This is not about my personal politics or literally "predicting the future." These are just my observations based on past and current trends regarding Pluto in Aquarius and its corresponding themes. TW: brief mention of death.

"I rebel; therefore I exist." – Albert Camus

⊹₊⟡⋆Pluto is going to be in Aquarius until January 2044. Last time this happened was over 200 years ago, during the American, French, and Industrial revolutions. aka huge times of change! If you look at what's happening now, you'll see that we’re already at the start of another big shift.

⊹₊⟡⋆We’re about to see marginalized groups—women, people of color, queer folks, the elderly— taking the spotlight in ways we’ve never seen before. What used to be radical is about to be the norm. People who’ve always been pushed to the outskirts of society (Aquarius vibes) are going to start shining bright (Leo energy), and it’s going to be everything.

⊹₊⟡⋆it’s not just people tho it’s places too. Look at South America! These countries are about to flip the script, improving their economies, boosting investments, and raising their standards of living, while we might see a downturn in the West (for example, an American passport isn't really being seen as the epitome of "luxury "or "succes" aka MY MOM lol telling me "when ur dad brought me to this country i thought it was gonna be different- better.. but i liked living by the beach more than this!) Its not gonna be like "oh you live in america! wow! cool!" its gonna be like "oh you live in america? that sucks :(" LMAOO (and Ik this is a comment sentiment already so no need to get IN MY ASS im just EMPHASIZING that its gonna be way more common and the commentary might feel more extreme in a sense as we see transformation in our infrastructure, government, and communities.

⊹₊⟡⋆ El Salvador is a prime example of this shift in international perspective (flipping the scripts). They’ve done a complete 180 under their current president in regards to their public presentation. I’m not saying I agree with his policies, im saying its wild to see how different the conversation around El Salvador is compared to just 5 or 10 years ago, especially when I hear other older latinos in my community talk about. The presidents mention of investing in bitcoin (aqua) is part of this shift too.

⊹₊⟡⋆Here’s the thing: Pluto doesn’t just destroy—it transforms. And transformation means becoming something you’ve never been before. As Pluto moves through Aquarius, people and places are going to break out of the boxes we’ve put them in. Labels will get flipped upside down, and what we used to think was impossible is going to become reality. It's not about "oh, this is so weird." It's about shit happening that your brain couldn't even fathom (its like those jokes about how if we time traveled and gave a pilgrim a taki they would die lmaooo, WE'RE ABOUT TO BE THE PILGRIMS! just shook and COUGHING!)

⊹₊⟡⋆Now, as these marginalized groups find their voice and power, we’re going to see new groups stepping up and demanding rights, and it’s probably going to feel strange at first. Think about how 200 years ago, people probably thought it was ridiculous for women to want jobs or for people of color to demand voting rights. Future generations are going to look back at us and wonder why we didn’t extend rights to other groups sooner.

⊹₊⟡⋆One group that might surprise us? Children. Look at how kids are plastered all over social media by their parents. There’s going to be more serious debate about consent and protections for kids—or maybe even the opposite (pluto can mean danger/death), with kids being put in more risky situations before they stand up for their own rights. I wouldn’t be shocked if kids started suing their parents for exploitation someday. Or a future where kids can somehow just represent themselves in court... stuff like that.

⊹₊⟡⋆These movements might sound far-fetched at first, but they’re going to gain traction. Expect a lot of Aquarius-Leo themes, like fights for children’s rights (Leo), technology and tech freedom (Aquarius), and creative expression (Leo). We’ll keep seeing these ai debates about what really counts as art continue to intensify.

⊹₊⟡⋆And on that note, Pluto in Aquarius is going to flip the job market upside down. It’s not going to be about the boring old “I’m responsible and always on time and blah blah” stuff anymore on applications. It’ll be all about what makes you stand out (Leo)—the niche interests you have and the creative talents that make you you. I’m talking about people listing shit like dream interpretation or crocheting blankets as their job skills. It’s going to be totally normal one day! Those unique talents (Leo) are going to help you get ahead in this new era (Aquarius).

⊹₊⟡⋆I was watching a video about how, during the Industrial Revolution, the uber-wealthy were obsessed with collecting porcelain (and apparently pineapples too, because they were hard to get domestically). We're going to see the same thing happening with different stuff today. The uber wealthy going to go to extremes to prove they’re nothing like ordinary people. (you've seen those posts about celebrity events looking like the capitol in the hunger games).

⊹₊⟡⋆(This reminds me of Kim Kardashian admitting she got a salmon sperm facial—like, what the fuck!) But it’s going to be stuff like that. It won’t be about collecting cars or purses anymore; it’ll be about who’s getting the latest futuristic tooth-remodeling, gum-cleansing beauty treatment! It’s going to be about hoarding rare, everyday objects that, in 15–20 years, won’t be so accessible to the public—things like natural foods, fresh water, handmade furniture, printed books, vintage electronics (that old nintendo might be useful one day $$)… even clean air! The uber-rich will also start securing homes in countries or places that won’t be as susceptible to the effects of global warming.

⊹₊⟡⋆Listen carefully to your friends with Aquarius placements if you don't have any yourself! Aqua placements are the trendsetters! They are ahead of the game and if you listen to when they're trying to put you on you are not gonna get left behind!

⊹₊⟡⋆I'll give you a great example. My best friend has an Aquarius moon conjunct her aqua Uranus in the 6th house. So you really know she's getting sudden flashes of insight (Uranus) that are ahead of the game and innovative (aqua) all about self care, hygiene, work, and daily routines (6th house). These insights are really based on her intuition and her emotions that she is very in tune with (the moon).

⊹₊⟡⋆The other day we were talking and she was telling me that she is really trying to transform her daily routines. She is making her own detergent, ice cream, soaps etc (she wants to avoid toxic chemicals and preservatives). She is focusing on eating natural foods and she talked about how she wants to cut artificial sugar out of her diet completely. I kind of laughed it off and was all like "cmon one treat wont hurt! its all about moderation" and then she was telling me how moderation is actually such a subjective word and that when she's 60+ she wants to be able to run and hike and lift weights and play with her grandkids and she was really yapping it up with me! it was very descriptive!

⊹₊⟡⋆Now ofc my first reaction is to be like this sounds extreme because usually when aqua placements share their vision it's going to sound farfetched and throw people off. It's always how it's been. (RIP Galileo !! our aqua sun-mercury conjunction king who was thrown in jail just bc he was trying to let the homies know the earth orbits the sun!! he's always the first example I think of when it comes to that aqua backlash lol). But ANYWAY, after I let it sit for a while, I was like you know what she's right? I should take initiative to really pay attention to what I'm eating.

⊹₊⟡⋆During Pluto in Aquarius it's going to be REALLY important to take care of yourself. Disease will never go away but Pluto in aqua is going to give us more innovative ways to take care of ourselves! Modern science and tech WILL find ways to extend our lifespan! But we need to be able to survive and get there in the first place.

⊹₊⟡⋆Especially as it continues to become more difficult to access fresh food and water. Let's not make it worse for ourselves by eating like shit + not investing in your own forms of healing, medicine, exercise, and routines. Health must be a big priority if you want to reap the rewards of the up and coming tech and option.

⊹₊⟡⋆For example, smallpox was a significant and deadly disease in the 18th century, causing widespread outbreaks across the globe. In 1796, during the last Pluto in Aquarius cycle, Edward Jenner made a groundbreaking discovery in the prevention of smallpox by developing the first successful smallpox vaccination using cowpox. This was a major leap forward in medical science, marking the birth of modern immunology. We are going to see advancements in healthcare! Procedures that could have formally taken a long time or been very expensive will become more accessible and less invasive during this cycle of Pluto in Aquarius! Focus on your health now so you can be at your best later!

⊹₊⟡⋆ And that's also another reason why the wealthy are going to go more extremes to prove they are "not like us." Because the shit that maybe 5-10 years ago would have seemed wild for someone who works at target or is a fucking teacher or anyone thats low income-middle class to get (like a nose job or botox, etc) would have been deemed inaccessible or only for the "elite" will be more acessible and cheaper to the public.

⊹₊⟡⋆the real expensive shit will be things and tools that most people still can't get or do. The new ways to show wealth and exclusivity will be through AI-driven personal enhancements, high-end space travel, and the cutting-edge medical treatments (nose jobs and botox and other stuff like that will be "old news" or “thats so last year” energy and therefore easier to get). Rich people will use these new technologies to set themselves apart, widening the gap between what most people think they can achieve and what the rich can achieve. The focus will move from traditional status symbols like designer clothes or expensive cars to more futuristic technologies that improve people's lives and show wealth by giving them access to a world of opportunities that most people can't afford.

⊹₊⟡⋆I dont wanna end on this note though LOL (theres always been disparities in wealth throughout history and there will be until we all die) but theres going to be power (pluto) in community (aqua). That's why it's really important you find yours where you share on an equal load, no one is feeling overworked or exploited, and you can use your creativity (leo) to succeed. think about how much stronger we are when we unite with people who share our values and aspirations.

⊹₊⟡⋆Real transformation (pluto) and empowerment are possible in these communities (aqua), where cooperation and creativity (leo) are encouraged. We may strike a balance between uniqueness and group power by embracing the energies of both Leo and Aquarius. It's about sharing your special talents and helping others develop as well. In a future not too far away, my bestie can help me with holistic medicine and give me some of her home made tooth paste lol and in turn I can help with making her a website or some digital art for her business. To build a network where everyone brings something useful to the table, we need to share our skills and resources.

⊹₊⟡⋆This kind of trade is going to be common with pluto in aqua (bartering our skills) and not only builds community, but it also supports a long-term way of life that puts working together ahead of competing for resources (which is also gonna be more common and which is why we have to stick with the homies bc people are already being INSANE). In this future, we depend less on big businesses and the government (aqua) and more on the skills and imagination (leo) of the people around us.

⊹₊⟡⋆ In order to improve not only yourself but also everyone in your community, consider how you might develop deep relationships, create networks of support for one another, and apply your skills. Real improvement and fulfillment can occur here. Invest in your hobbies and creativity. Write down your unique ideas. They are NOT stupid or silly or pointless, one day they can come in handy :)

⊹₊⟡⋆ love, ramona <3

#astro observations #astrology notes #astro notes #random astro #random astro note #rxmxa #mars #pluto #pluto in aquarius #aquarius uranus #pluto astrology #leo #leo observations #aquarius observations

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daydreaming-nerd · 9 months ago

Text

You Want a Baby? (Bat Boys x Female! Reader)

Based off of multiple resquests... and by all means request more of this shit. My Ruhn asks have been kind dry. Would hate for the frat pack to run a train on the reader...

AN: You guys I spent so much time on this I hope it lives up to expectation because this is my kind of thing.

Summary: It's the perfect storm, you're ovulating, all your mates happen to be home and they all want to see you pregnant with their child.

Warnings: Double penetration, breeding kink, size kink, possessive mates, Over stim, literally so many things I'm probably forgetting

Word count: 3738

It was that time of the month, well not THAT time.

Fae periods were a bitch, that much was true. But fae ovulating? It was a whole different thing. The need to be touched, to be filled, was excruciating. Ever since I had found my mates, three of them to be exact, it was like all those sensations had been heightened. Every time I ovulated, all three of my mates couldn't be present.

The first time Rhysand was meeting with Tarquin leaving only Cassian and Azriel to fuck me senseless. The next time around it was just Azriel to keep me sated. One of the most memorable times was last year when it was just Rhys and Cassian to help. However, I patiently waited for a day when all three mates would be here to take care of me, a day I secretly hoped would be today.

I woke up this morning to an empty bed and a note that said they had all gone to Windhaven to check on the Illyrian camps. I didn’t mind their absence too much until later that afternoon when I felt my body start to sweat with need. I went to the bathroom to strip off my clothes, leaving me only in the black lingerie that Azriel had bought me for solstice last year. I couldn’t help but admire myself, running my hands down my body. It wasn’t until then that I realized what was going on, I was ovulating.

The boys were in Windhaven which meant there was a possibility that they could all be here by tonight. But with the tensions in the Illyrian camps high, I knew it was most likely a long shot. So I spent the day dancing around the townhouse in nothing but my lingerie, loving the feeling of the fresh air on my skin. As the sky got darker I realized my mates weren’t likely to come home.

I made my way upstairs to our oversized bed and tossed myself on top of the covers. I tried to sleep and push all thoughts of Rhysand’s hands, Azriel’s tongue and, Cassian’s cock from my mind. I was unsuccessful, and ended up finding myself writing all over our shared bed, begging for any kind of friction the sheets offer me. That’s how the boys found me, squirming around our bed in nothing but my lingerie.

“Well, what do we have here?” Cassian drawled, leaning against the doorway.

I sat up straight, trying to act like I wasn’t about to reach a hand down my panties just seconds ago.

“I told you both,” Azriel said smugly, walking into the room with Rhysand in tow.

“Told them what?” I ask bringing my knees to my chest in a lame attempt to cover myself.

“I told them that you were ovulating today,” Azriel smirked. “I’ve been tracking your cycle since I got left out last time,” he looked to Cass and Rhys with a death glare.

“We got back from Windhaven a few hours and decided to get a drink at Rita’s,” Rhysand explained, stalling towards where I sat on the bed. “We were talking about you.”

“You were?” I ask, sensing the seriousness in Rhysand’s voice.

“Oh yes we were little one,” Cassian laughs.

“We were talking about how amazing you would look pregnant,” Rhysand explained, his voice like liquid sex.

“R-Really?” I say, not trusting my own voice.

“Yeah,” Cassain answered, taking a step toward me. “We think we're ready for a baby.”

“Only if you’re ready though,” Rhys assured me.

My heart skipped at their words. The idea of carrying any one of their children excited me. I couldn’t lie, I had been thinking about it since my last cycle.

“What do you think, little one? Gonna let us put a baby in you tonight?” Azriel drawled, leaving a kiss on the shell of my ear.

I couldn’t even speak, all the intelligent words leaving my brain. All I could think about was how feral the fae were when trying to conceive. My legs would’ve fallen apart if it wasn’t for my arms holding them together. I nodded my head, still unable to think.

A collective growl filled the room as Azriel grabbed my arms and stood me up in the center of the room, leaving me on display for each of my mates. They closed in on me instantly and I had to crane my neck up to meet each of their gazes. Cassian’s hand slid under the strap of my bra inspecting me thoroughly.

“Which one of you bought her this little set?” Cassian said, slipping the strap of my bra off my shoulder while Rhysand worked on the opposite strap.

“I did,” Azriel said, rubbing circles into my hips as he left open mouth kisses on my shoulders.

“Well thank you Az,” Rhys smirked, unclasping my bra.

My body felt like it was on fire from three sets of hands roaming up and down it. Even if I closed my eyes I could easily tell who touched me where. The sensation of it all had me tossing my head back on Azriel’s chest, trusting him to support my body. He grasped my hips tightly to keep my knees from buckling as Cassian and Rhys stared at my breasts now free of the tight black lingerie.

“Look at those perfect tits Az,” Rhysand drawled.

I felt Azriel’s large hand drift up my torso and to my neck pulling me against his body even more so I could feel his hard cock pressed up against my back. His hand on my throat gently pushed my head to look at him as he said back to Rhysand

“They are perfect,” he smirked, craning his neck down to capture my lips in his.

“And soon they’ll be full of milk,” Cassian pointed out with a smirk, swiping a calloused thumb over my nipple.

Rhysand bends his head down to take one of my aching nipples into his mouth sucking it taut. The gesture catches Cassian’s attention and he leans down to give the same treatment to the other side. The sensation has me arching my back aching to be closer to them. I feel Azriel’s hands grip my hips and yank me against his body again. His hand comes to grip my throat once more as he sticks his tongue down my throat earning a moan from me. I feel Cassian’s lips pull off my tit with a pop as he watches me and Azriel.

“Gods sometimes I forget how tiny she is,” Cassian drawls running his hands up and down my sides. “Look at her with Az she’s like half his size.”

Rhys stops his menstrations on my other breast to see what Cassian is talking about, “She’s practically half all our sizes Cass,” Rhys chuckles.

“Gods I just wanna toss her around like a little doll,” Cassian curses.

“Do it,” Azriel smirks, pulling his lips from mine. “You know how much she loves it.”

Cassian says nothing before picking me up by my hips effortlessly and tossing me onto the bed earning an excited squeal from me.

“Told you,” Azriel beamed with male pride.

Cassian stalked towards me with Rhys and Azriel hot on his heels and I started moving up the oversized bed towards the headboard.

“Oh no you don’t,” he smirks, grabbing my ankles and yanking me down the bed. I wait patiently watching Cassian untie the leathers of his pants, my mouth nearly falling open as his large cock springs out. “Come here baby,” he smiles and I eagerly sit up and lick the tip of his cock.

I looked up at him through my lashes donning my most innocent expression as I took as much of him as I could in my mouth. The rest I pumped with my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Azriel and Rhys fisting their cocks at the sight of me sucking Cassian off.

“Good fucking girl y/n,” Cassain moaned tossing his head back in ecstasy.

I reveled in the salty taste of him, the feeling of every single vein in his cock massaging my tongue. I would never get tired of this, of pleasing my mates. Cassian pulled me off him and pushed my upper half down on the mattress. My panties are ripped off and discarded somewhere in the room. There goes that set.

“Stop Cass, make sure she’s ready, I don’t want to tear her,” Rhysand tells Cassian, the voice of a High Lord making its appearance.

Cassian bends down to inspect my pussy, running a finger through my folds to find me absolutely drenched. “Oh she’s ready alright,” he smiles. “God baby your pussy is so fucking tiny. It’s a miracle you can take us so well.”

“Cass please,” I whine, nearly coming undone at his words.

Cassian starts pushing his cock in me and the stretch has me backing away from him subconsciously. He grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him, pinning me to the mattress. I had been their mate for a while now but every time they entered me I still felt the stretch. Cassian was right, I was half their size, was a miracle I could take them.

Cassian started trusting in me at a fast pace and the sound of our skin slapping filled the room. To my right and left Azriel and Rhys continued to stroke their cocks and as much as I longed to put them both in my mouth, Cassian had me in such a state of pleasure I couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Fuck Cass look at her belly,” Azriel practically moaned. Cassian’s eyes snapped to my stomach where he could see the bulge from his cock thrusting into me. I moaned at the sight.

“Yeah, you like that baby?” He smirks, leaning over to capture my lips in his. His pace speeds up and within seconds he’s cumming inside of me.

Cassian pushes his cock in me a couple of times, his attempt at burying his seed deep inside me. He pulls out soon after and I whine at the sudden emptiness.

“That’s the one that’s gonna get her pregnant,” Cassian beams with male pride, his cock already hardening.

“Pfft, you wish General.” Azriel scoffs positioning himself between my legs.

He pushes in slowly and I cry out at the stretch once more. Each glorious inch of him brings immense pain and pleasure.

“Shhh be a good girl and take it all,” Azriel coos until his hips are flush with mine. “That’s a girl.” he moans as he begins fucking me hard.

My mind goes to mush almost instantly and the moans coming out of my mouth are damn near feral. The need to be fucked and filled by each of my mates runs so deep in my veins. My hands claw and scrape and find Azriel’s forearms as he slams his hips into me, seeking out his own pleasure.

“Az please let me cum, I-I’m so c-close,” I mewl, each word hard to get out.

“Not yet baby, you don’t get to cum until we all have a load in that little pussy,” Rhysand drawls, pumping his cock. “Speaking of, step aside Az I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“No, I’m not done with her yet,” Azriel growls, his possessive side coming out.

“You think I can fit in there with you then?” Rhysand asks.

“Now this I gotta see,” Cassian jests.

The thought of two cocks fucking my pussy at once has my eyes glazing over and my mouth falling open like I’m in some sort of subspace.

“I can take it,” I choke out between Azriel’s thrusts.

“Pick her up Az,” Rhys says, his voice practically dripping with lust.

Azriel doesn’t stop his minstations as he wraps one of his arms around me, lifting me off the bed. My arms wrap around his neck as my forehead bumps his and he stares me down as he fucks me mid-air.

“Good girl,” he rasps, proud of how well I’m taking him.

The next thing I know he’s lying me down again, Rhysand’s warm chest replacing the mattress. His hands wander up and down my sides trying to soothe my nerves as Azriel stops moving.

“Alright little one take a deep breath for me,” Rhys instructs and I can feel him lining his cock up at my entrance.

I do as I’m told, taking the deepest gulp of air possible, excited for what comes next. The second I let my breath go I feel Rhys pushing his cock into me aside Azriel’s. The stretch is more than any I’ve ever felt before but the sounds escaping Rhys and Azriel’s mouths make it so worth it. Once Rhys is brushing my cervix along with Azriel tears prick my eyes and Cassian is kneeling before me in an instant.

“Shhh breathe baby,” Cassian coos, glancing down to where both his brothers' cocks are seated inside my pussy. “Fuck, you’re being such a good girl. Just gotta take two more loads and then we’ll let you cum alright?”

All I can muster is a shallow nod as Rhys and Azriel begin thrusting in tandem. The constant feeling of fullness has me feeling numb while feeling everything all at once. I arch my back further and Rhys runs a hand down my hip to hold me in place so that he doesn’t slip out. My eyes glance to Azriel who has his eyes fixated on the bulge in my stomach being made by both his and his High Lord’s cock. All the while, Cassian brushes the sweat and hair away from my brow whispering praises to me.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” Rhys groans, the vibrations of his chest skittering down my back.

“Me too,” Azriel moans and within seconds I feel his sperm coating my walls just like Cassian’s.

Azriel cumming triggers Rhys to cum as well and even though I can still feel Azriel, the load my High Lord put in me is equally as distinct.

“Holy fuck,” Azriel groans pulling out of me inspecting his work. My breaths are so ragged and my vision so blurred that I can barely make out Rhysand’s voice.

“Take her Cass,” he mutters, or so I think. My assumptions are proven right when I feel Cassian’s arms snake around me, pulling me off of Rhys’ cock.

I whimper at the loss of the fullness as Cassian lays me on top of his chest stroking my hair and kissing my brow. My body vibrates and my heart pounds with the need to cum.

“Poor baby, you wanna cum don’t you?” Cassian coos tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. My eyes are glassed over and my face looks fucked out but I’m still able to nod.

“Make her cum Cass, I want us each to get one more load in her before we’re done,” Rhysand says, already fisting his cock.

“Rhys I’m not sure, look at her. I don’t think she can take much more.” Cassian warns, placing me against the pillows and moving down my body.

“Do you want her pregnant or not?” Rhys snaps.

“Of course I do,” Cassian says. “Can you take three more loads baby?” he asks me.

“Of course she can,” Azriel says, his cock already at attention from seeing his fucked out mate.

“I-okay,” I sputter, still vibrating at the need to be touched. At this point, I was practically bucking my hips into Cassian’s face.

“You want me to lick your pretty clit?” Cassian smirks using one arm to pin my hips to the mattress and the other to spread my folds.

“Y-yes,” I beg.

Cassian chuckles, his eyes fixed on my cunt, “Looks like we made quite the mess of her little cunt,” he muses and both Rhysand and Azirel peer down to investigate.

“Shit Cass it’s spilling out,” Azriel curses.

“Don’t worry brother,” Cassian assures him, as he presses two fingers inside me, pushing the cum deep inside me. “She won’t waste it. Will you baby?” He smiles at me.

“No, I w-won’t,” I say, meaning every word my body still shaking.

“Cass lick her little clit or I will, the poor thing is shaking,” Rhys orders Cassian.

Cassian doesn’t waste a moment before lowering his mouth to my pussy and attacking my clit. It only took five kitten licks for me to orgasm harder than ever before. My back arches off the bed and the tension from my body pushes more of my mate’s cum out of my aching hole.

“Ah ah ah,” Cassian says, pushing two fingers into me again. “What did we say about wasting?”

“Cass it’s your turn,” Azriel bites close to spilling his load.

“Spread em’ baby,” Cassian smirks, spreading my legs for me anyway before burying himself inside of me.

“Oh gods Cass!” I cry out as he starts fucking me relentlessly chasing his own release.

“Fuck I love seeing that little bulge,” Cassian grins, placing a hand over where his cock hit my belly.

Seconds later he’s spilling his load into me, a sound coming from his mouth that I’ve never heard before. My vision nearly goes black, the only thing keeping me grounded is Cassian gripping my throat and pulling me up to kiss me as his second orgasm coats my walls.

“Who’s next?” Cassian asks, pulling out of me.

“Me,” Both Rhysand and Azriel say at the same time.

“Back off Az, you got to have her first last time,” Rhys growls.

Whenever I told people I had three mates they would usually joke about how territorial they would get over me. The irony was that my mates almost never had a problem sharing me, but tonight? Well, tonight was just one of those nights. When mates were trying to conceive they were practically feral, I was honestly surprised things had gone so smoothly till now.

“Yeah, and I literally had to share her pussy with you!” Azriel roars.

Cassain drags me up to lay my upper half on his chest so he can run a hand through my hair and whisper praises to me.

“I’m pulling rank, as your High Lord I’m going first,” Rhysand orders, nudging my entrance.

“Fuck off Rhys,” Azriel says continuing to fist his cock.

Rhys pushes his cock inside me with a groan as he bottoms out. My body shudders and on instinct, I move away from him but he grips my hips and brings me down his cock again fucking into me hard.

In my haze my head falls to the side, my cheek grazing Cassian’s abs, the very ones he let me rut on to get off a few weeks ago, and I meet Azriel. He looks glorious, pumping his cock while watching Rhysand fuck my hole. On instinct, I reach my tongue out and lap at the head of his cock catching his immediate attention.

“You wanna suck it baby?” He muses brushing his cock against my lips. I open my mouth wide, sticking my tongue out in response.

I know I’m so fucked out I can barely wrap my lips around him but Rhys pulling rank seemed like a dick move and I wanted to remedy it in any way I could. Azriel pushes his cock into my mouth letting out a guttural moan in the process.

“Good fucking girl,” Azriel moans and it spurs me on to suck him even harder as he fucks my mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Rhys roars cumming into me for the second time tonight. He knows better than to stay seated in me longer than necessary and pulls out as soon as possible. Azriel’s cock follows, his cock leaving my mouth with a bead of saliva dripping from it.

“Are you fucked out my love?” Azriel croons, grabbing my jaw to face him. It’s evident from my hazy eyes that I am.

“One more load sweetheart,” Rhys whispers, pressing a kiss to my brow. “You want a baby in your belly don’t you?”

“Uh huh,” I rasp still unable to form actual words.

“Open,” Azriel orders his grip on my jaw tightening.

Of all my mates Azriel was always the most dominant. I loved to test Rhys and Cassian, but when it came to Az? I knew it was in my best interest to be a good girl.

So just like I had a million times before I opened my mouth nice and wide for him. His hand gripped my jaw, keeping it open before he spit in my mouth.

“Now swallow,” he growled and I followed his orders once again. I opened my mouth to show him I had been a good girl and he rewarded me by pushing his cock inside me.

“What was that about Az?” Cassian laughed stroking my hair.

“Grounding her, if I’m gonna pump a load in her I want her to feel it,” Azriel groans. “We’ve done it before, haven't we baby?” he asks me and I nod enthusiastically.

Rhys wipes the sweat from my brow as Cassian presses a hand down where Azriel’s cock makes a bulge in my belly.

“She’s gonna cum Az,” Cassian informs his brother.

“Fuck I can feel it. Her tiny cunt is squeezing me so tight I can barely fuck her.” Azriel groans. “Ready baby?” Azriel asks me and I nod once more. “1…2…3…Fuckkk,” Azriel moans, spilling his seed into me.

Despite the haze that fills my head I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment knowing I did it. I gave each of my mates two orgasms the evidence dripping from my sore cunt, wait fuck.

“Waste!” is the only word I can get out as I feel all six loads of cum spilling out of me.

“Shh, it’s okay mate,” Azriel coos, pressing a kiss to my brow laying down on the side that wasn’t occupied by Rhys. “Cass plug her up,” Azriel continues.

Without warning, two of Cassian’s fingers slide into my pussy keeping their combined cum from leaking out.

“Get comfortable mate,” Cassian chuckles. “We’re gonna have to sleep like this.”

And sleep I do. With Cassian behind me, my head on Rhys’ chest, and Azriel using my stomach as a pillow I’m out within minutes. I don’t know what the future holds as far as children go, but I’d say this was a good first attempt at conceiving.

pregnant! Reader x bat boys Drabble

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

Note

maybe wheezie or even sarah needing rafe to pick them up from school or attend a back to school night. like the school calls rafe to pick up sarah after getting in a fight. or the teacher calls him in to discuss that wheezie struggling in math

thank you for the request!!! 🫶🏻🫂 i think rafe's always had a soft spot for wheezie so i did this one for her cause i personally can see their dynamic being really cute.

we're both older now - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Sitting in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. His hands were on the wheel, jaw clenched just enough for you to notice, but not enough to freak out.

It’s been months since rehab, and you swear, you’ve never seen him like this before—so focused, so... responsible. It’s kinda hot.

But that’s not what you’re here for. Not right now.

You’re headed to Wheezie’s school because, apparently, she’s been struggling with math. She didn’t want to tell Rafe because Ward’s rarely at home these days and she didn’t want to bother him. When you found out, you could’ve smacked her. You get it—Rafe’s been under a lot of pressure lately—but you don’t think she realizes how much he cares about her. That’s why you two are heading to a parent-teacher meeting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s not.

“I should’ve known something was off,” Rafe mutters, breaking the silence.

You look over at him. “You couldn’t have. Wheezie’s good at keeping stuff to herself.”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening on the wheel just a little. “I’m her brother. I should’ve noticed.”

You reach over, resting your hand on his arm. “You’re doing your best, baby. That matters.”

He lets out a breath, his tension easing under your touch. God, sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who used to pick fights at every chance he got just a few years ago. It’s been almost a year since his last relapse, but every day you see him fighting to be better—for himself, for you, for his sisters. And honestly? It does something to you, seeing him like this.

You pull into the school parking lot, and he parks the truck, turning off the engine. For a second, he just sits there, staring straight ahead. You know what he’s thinking. He’s wondering if he’s good enough to handle this, to handle all of it.

“You got this,” You say softly.

Together, you walk into the school, and after a quick conversation with the receptionist, you’re led to Wheezie’s teacher’s classroom. The room smells like dry-erase markers and stress, the kind you remember from my own high school days.

Except, this is a private school, completely different from what you were used to, and back then, you loved school. You were good at it too—really good, actually. Straight A’s, honors, full ride to a decent college…but life had other plans.

You look at Rafe as you wait for the teacher to start the meeting. He’s sitting up straight, listening intently, and your chest tightens a little.

The same guy who used to blow off any responsibility now sitting here, laser-focused, ready to step up for his little sister. The teacher starts talking about Wheezie’s grades, how she’s been falling behind in math, and you can see the guilt in his face. You squeeze his knee under the table, trying to ground him, but honestly? This was hitting a little too close to home for you, too.

“I can help her,” You hear yourself say before you’ve even really thought about it. Rafe turns to look at you, surprised, and you shrug like it’s no big deal.

The teacher blinks, probably not expecting the girlfriend to jump in with a solution. “What did you score on your final exams?”

You move in your seat, not expecting the question but not exactly shy about your answer either. "I got a 1600 on my SATs," You said, trying to sound casual about it, even though you could see Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up next to you.

The teacher’s eyes widen slightly. "That’s impressive," she says, "You must’ve had a lot of options for college."

You shrug again feeling that familiar feeling of bittersweet regret. "Yeah, I had a full ride to a few places.”

“And you didn’t go?”

The way she says says it—like she can’t imagine why you wouldn’t go—hurts a little.

"Yeah, well... life happened." You try to brush it off like it doesn’t bother you.

Rafe’s hand slides over to yours under the table, interlocking your fingers and giving you a gentle squeeze. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for you. To remind you that you made the right choices, even if they weren’t easy ones.

The meeting wraps up pretty quickly after that.

The teacher gives Rafe some advice on how to help Wheezie stay on track, and you both thank her before heading out of the classroom. As you walk down the hallway, he stays quiet for a bit, and you can’t really read what’s going through his head.

By the time you get back to the truck, he turns to you, his brow furrowed slightly, like he’s still processing everything. "You got a perfect score on your SATs?"

Three years into the relationship and he’s still learning things about you every day.

You let out a small laugh, brushing some hair behind your ear. "Yeah. It’s not a big deal."

"That’s kinda insane," he says, looking at you like he’s seeing a whole new side of you. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

You shrug for the millionth time today, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I don’t know. It just never came up. It’s not like it matters now, anyway.”

"It does matter." His voice is firm, and when you glance over, you can see how serious he looks. "You gave up a lot to help your sister. That’s not nothing."

Your throat tightens, and you have to swallow down the emotion rising inside you. The way Rafe says it, like he actually gets it, means more than he probably knows. "I just did what I had to do."

He nods slowly, like he understands that feeling all too well. "You didn’t have to offer to help Wheezie today. But you did.”

You don’t want to make a big deal out of it. "I want to help her. She deserves it."

Rafe doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with this soft, almost disbelieving expression. Like he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you’re still here, beside him, helping his family without a second thought.

"You’re amzing, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice low and warm in that way that makes your stomach flip.

You feel your cheeks heat up, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Stop."

"I mean it." He reaches over, cupping your face gently with his hand, thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. His eyes soften as they meet yours, filled with so much adoration it makes you want to hide. "I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really fucking grateful."

You bite your lip, glancing down at his other hand on your knee before looking back up at him.

"You’ve been working hard. For yourself, for us. I see that."

His jaw tightens just slightly, and he looks down, almost like he’s not sure how to take the compliment. But when his eyes meet yours again,

"I’m trying," he says quietly. "I’m trying to be better."

"And you are," you whisper. "Every day."

The months of hard work, the late nights when you’ve held him through his doubts, the mornings when he’s shown up for his family even when it was hard. It’s all there, between you, unspoken but understood.

Rafe leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Thank you," he whispers. "For everything."

You close your eyes, letting the moment settle around you. "I’ll always be here," you whisper back. "We’ve got this."

“I don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you.”

You swallow hard, trying not to let it hit you too deep. But it does. Because for all the mess you’ve been through—his ups and downs, his relapse, his constant fight to be better—it always comes back to you. To this.

“I’ll always have your back,” You remind him quietly. “You know that, right?”

He nods, like there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind. “I know. You’re really good with her," he says after a beat. "With Wheezie. And with Milo."

You smile, leaning back in your seat. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta look after the kids, right? Might as well be me."

Rafe’s lips twitch into another smile as he leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, "Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For sticking around,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. “Even when I didn’t make it easy.”

“You make it worth it, Rafe. You always have.”

Because seeing him like this—happy, strong, responsible, and healthy—it’s more than just him trying. It’s him becoming the person you always believed he could be, from day one on that stupid country club. And that? That’s something you’d stick around for any day.

When you and Rafe pull up to Tannyhill, the sun’s already setting. You grab your bag from the backseat, and he takes a deep breath, his hand hovering near yours like he needs to hold onto you just for a second longer. When you step into the house, you’re greeted by the usual stillness that fills the place. It’s huge, but it always feels too quiet.

Wheezie’s sitting at the kitchen island, hunched over her phone, clearly trying to distract herself. Her leg’s bouncing nervously under the stool, and you don’t even have to say anything to know that she’s been dreading this moment.

As soon as she sees the two of you, she freezes, eyes wide, "Hey," she greets, her voice shaky.

Rafe glances at you, and you give him a small nod. You know he’s trying to figure out how to handle this—he’s never really had to play the role of ‘responsible older brother’ before. But he’s doing it. He’s trying. And that’s what matters.

"Wheeze," Rafe starts, as he walks over to her, and you can see the panic rising in her eyes as she sits up straighter like she’s preparing for the worst. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

She bites her lip, glancing between the two of you. "I-I didn’t want to bother you," she mumbles, her voice small. "You’ve been dealing with a lot, and I thought— I don’t know. I thought I could handle it on my own."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s quiet for a second, and you can feel Wheezie’s anxiety practically buzzing out of her. She’s probably expecting him to yell, to go off on her, but instead, he takes a step forward and pulls her into a hug.

"You ever keep something like that from me again," he mutters into her hair, his tone firm but warm, "and you’re grounded."

Wheezie’s eyes go wide in shock, like she wasn’t expecting that at all. Her arms wrap around him a little awkwardly, but you can tell she’s relieved. She pulls back after a second, staring up at him with those big brown eyes of hers. "You’re not mad?"

Rafe shakes his head, but his expression is serious. "I’m not mad. I’m worried, Wheeze. I’m here, okay? I got you."

"I’m sorry," she whispers.

He sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at her. "Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again."

She nods quickly, and you step closer, offering her a small smile. "You’re not in trouble, Wheezie. I’m gonna help you with the math stuff, okay? I promise."

Wheezie looks over at you, clearly surprised, and then back at Rafe. "You’re… really not mad?"

Rafe rolls his eyes but in that big-brother way that’s full of affection.

"No, Wheeze, I’m not mad. But next time you’re struggling with something, tell me. That’s what I’m here for."

She nods, relief washing over her features. "Okay. I will."

Rafe reaches out and ruffles her hair, something so casual and brotherly it makes your heart swell.

"Good. Now go do whatever you do, and remember—grounded if you pull that shit again."

You slap his arm, “Will stop cursing in front of her?”

He shoots you a half-smirk, looking completely unbothered. "Please baby, she’s sixteen. You think she doesn’t curse?"

Wheezie lets out a small laugh, covering her mouth as if she’s trying to keep it together, but you can tell she’s relieved.

"Yeah, but maybe not in front of her big brother," you tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

Rafe shrugs, looking like he couldn’t care less. "If she’s smart enough to hide it from me, more power to her."

Wheezie giggles again, and you can’t help but smile. "Yeah, yeah," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him playfully. "You’re a great role model, Rafe Cameron."

He groans, “Please don’t use the full name.” The corners of his mouth tug up in a grin that makes your heart skip. “Alright, no more big brother lectures tonight. We’re good, yeah, Wheeze?”

Wheezie nods, still smiling. “Yeah, we’re good.”

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corroded-hellfire · 16 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/corroded-hellfire/743622480481107968/reading-ayw-things-has-me-thinking-about-eddie-and

I loved this request! To add on the baby fever, but this has a little bit of sadness, when baby Eliza looses that newborn baby scrunch, meaning that she's no more a newborn and she's growing. I was loosing it when my cousin did this (we're like 5 years apart)

For those unfamiliar with the newborn scrunch: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFYCP6t/

THE NEWBORN SCRUNCH! It is the cutest of cuteness. I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel when I someday have a baby and they stop doing this lol. Probably react like Reader, ngl 😂

Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Eddie, Eddie should get kneed in the balls for suggesting having another baby so soon after Reader giving birth

Words: 1.2k

“Well, good morning my little cutie pie.”

Eliza gazes up at you from her bassinet, her little legs kicking within the confines of her pink teddy bear footie pajamas.

“Morning, sweet pea.” Eddie comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder as he smiles down at your infant daughter.

“Ready to get up and start the day?” you ask, fighting back a yawn. Eliza has gotten on a more consistent sleep schedule, but you’re still nowhere close to your preferred eight hours. “Babe, can you grab an outfit for her?”

“Sure thing.” Eddie barely takes two steps towards the door to head across the hall to the nursery before hearing you whimper. He immediately spins back around and takes in the situation with wide eyes. “What? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

You’re still facing the bassinet, Eliza held out in front of you. Eddie can see the baby hanging from your grip, her eyes going over your shoulder to squint at her father.

Slowly, you turn to face him, hugging Eliza to your chest. Eddie sees the tears building up in your eyes and comes to your side.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks.

“S-She…” You sniffle and shake your head, unable to vocalize it. Her soft downy hair tickles your cheek as you cradle her. “She didn’t do the scrunch.”

Your husband’s face pinches up into a confused frown. His eyes slide to the left, then right, trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about.

“The…scrunch?” he asks.

“The scrunch!” you whine. “The newborn scrunch!”

By the petulant tone of your voice, Eddie is pretty sure that you would’ve stomped your foot on the ground like a child if you weren’t holding your baby. The look on his face clearly conveys that he has no idea what you’re talking about because you sigh and continue to explain without any further nudge.

“You know how when you pick her up her little legs pull up towards her chest? Like she’s curling in on herself?”

“Oh,” Eddie says as it dawns on him. “Yeah, yeah, now I know what you mean.”

“She didn’t do it when I picked her up.” The wobble in your voice is clear and noticeable even before Eddie sees your bottom lip trembling. “She’s not my newborn anymore.”

“Of course she is,” Eddie says, placing a hand on the middle of your back and rubbing soothing circles there. “She’s only six weeks old.”

“She's already six weeks old!” you cry, the tears finally falling free past the lash line.

“Aw, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckles, not unkindly, as he uses his thumb to wipe your tears away.

“S’not funny,” you mumble, gently resting your head against your daughter’s.

Strong, warm arms wrap around you from the side, and you’re pulled up against a solid frame. A few soft kisses are pressed to the side of your face.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” he coos. “I think it’s cute, though.”

“Cute that I’m emotional over our baby growing up?” Your voice is harsher than you intended, but Eddie knows you don’t mean any harm by it. All of your hormones are still out of whack from pregnancy and giving birth.

The end of her scrunch is just the first sign of her growing up. Suddenly you see her walking, saying her first words, going to her first day of pre-school, learning to ride a bike, having her first relationship, going to prom, graduating high school. The cherry on top is her packing up the car to head to college. More tears sting the back of your eyes at the thought. All of a sudden, her mere six weeks seem like a flash in the pan.

“I think you’re cute,” Eddie amends. “Eliza’s still our newborn, though. She’s going to get stronger, and her little habits and cues are going to change, but she still needs her Mommy and Daddy for everything. Hell, I don’t think the boys could survive without us, either.”

Logic doesn’t always help even out the emotions, but your husband’s attempt does break through the surface. With a soft sniffle, you nod your head in agreement. Of course, Eliza is still your newborn and completely dependent on you. It doesn’t mean that you won’t have the same emotional upheaval when she can hold her head up on her own for the first time, but it’s comforting right now.

Eddie has been doing a great job of letting you be a first-time mom and have all the emotions and experiences that go along with it, but sometimes his experience of having had two babies already helps ground you.

“You’re right.” You exhale a deep breath and nod your head. “But I am still going to miss the scrunch.”

“Guess we’ll just have to have another one then, huh? Since you’re going to miss the scrunch,” your husband teases.

Slowly, you turn your head and give him a playful glare. The doctor just gave you the okay to start having sex again. The thought of pushing another baby out of your poor aching body is enough to threaten Eddie with never having sex again.

“When you give birth, we can have all the babies you want,” you say.

Eddie laughs and presses a few kisses against your hair.

“Deal. Alright, let me go get her some clothes.” Eddie gives your side a loving squeeze before heading out into the hallway.

“Daddy’s right,” you say to Eliza as you gently rock her. “You’re still my new baby girl. I mean, look at these little fingers!” You offer her one of your index fingers and her fist instinctively curls around it. A smile grows on your face as you lift her small hand to your lips and press quick kisses against her knuckles.

“Babe?” Eddie says as he grabs onto the bedroom door frame and leans into the room. “Where’s her yellow polka dot onesie? The one with the pink buttons.”

“Hmm?” You look at Eddie over your shoulder before turning to face him properly. “Oh, I packed it away a few days ago. She doesn’t fit into it anymore.”

Eddie frowns as he lets go of the doorframe and takes a few stumbling steps into the room. His messy bedhead sways with the movement.

“What?”

“Yeah, the buttons wouldn’t stretch to snap shut anymore,” you tell him.

A harsh sigh makes you look up at your husband. He crosses his arms over his chest and it’s a frighteningly similar look to when Luke is told he can’t have cookies before dinner.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“That was my favorite outfit of hers,” Eddie huffs.

You try your best to hide a smile, but biting your lip can only do so much. Now you realize what Eddie meant when he called you “cute” moments ago. Your husband’s pouting is currently rivaling Eliza’s adorableness.

“It’s okay, Eds,” you tell him.

“How many clothes did you pack?” he asks, coming closer to you.

“A bunch of newborn ones that are too small now.”

“Eliza,” Eddie whines. He rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around you to grab her tiny foot. “Why you getting so big? Stop growing up.”

It’s impossible for you not to chuckle at his words. Oh, how the tables have turned.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #eddie munson imagine #AYW #AYWs #request

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andvys · 6 months ago

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eighteen ⭐︎ Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! smut smut smut, fluff, mentions of bullying, mentions of the upside down, unprotected sex, mentions of unrequited feelings

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve takes another step towards you, one that might change everything, hopefully for the better.

Word count: 9.7k+

Author's note: always a pleasure working with @hellfire--cult hehe. we're getting closer to the best scenes roe ♡

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

A shrill noise, distant ringing sounds through the house. You’re in and out of sleep as you try to register where the sound is coming from, you open your eyes to the bright lights coming from the TV in your living room, a groan falls from your lips and you squint your eyes when you feel the pain in your neck from the uncomfortable position you had fallen asleep in. You rub your tired eyes and turn your head to look at your best friend who is sleeping deeply on the other side of the couch, snoring loudly and completely unfazed by the flashing lights from the horror movie playing on your TV screen or the loud ringing of the telephone.

The obnoxious sound coming from the kitchen continues, forcing you to get up. You nearly trip over Eddie’s sneakers as you rush out of the living room and into the hallway, your mind is still sleeping, your eyes still tired, the ringing hurts your ears and you grab the receiver as soon as it’s in reach.

“Hello?” You grumble, leaning your head against the wall and closing your eyes again as you stand in the dark kitchen.

“Hey Blondie.”

The sweet sound of his voice fills your heart with life and your stomach with butterflies, your eyes shoot open and you instantly straighten your back.

“Steve?” Your voice only above a whisper as you hold the receiver a little tighter than before.

“Did I wake you, honey?” He murmurs, sending shivers down your spine with the raspiness in his voice. “I’m sorry if I did, I-I just wanted to hear your voice… I uh, I just dropped Robin off, we talked for a while.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes widen.

He wanted to hear your voice.

He called just to hear your voice.

He makes your heart swell in your chest just with a few simple words, words that hold so much meaning to you.

But then you remember what happened only a few hours back.

And just like that the swelling and the warmth in your heart fleets away and anxiousness fills it instead.

What did they talk about?

Robin didn’t seem quite fond of you when you left his car earlier, the tone in her voice and the glare that she directed at you were proof of that.

What if she talked some sense into him and told him to stop seeing you, that you are both going nowhere with this?

“Oh…” You mutter, not knowing what else to say.

You play with the cord, wrapping it around your finger as you start bouncing your knee, waiting for his next words.

“Are you okay?” You add in concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay. She uh, she won’t say anything so… we can still… if you want?” He asks and clears his throat to hide the shakiness in his voice but you caught it. “Because I wanna keep doing it.”

If you want?

You’d keep going with this for the rest of your life if he wanted it, no matter how badly it hurts to be nothing but a little secret, not having him at all, would hurt so much more.

Relief follows quickly, despite the anxiety that still lingers but something tells you that Robin won’t be as accepting of it as Eddie is.

“I want to keep seeing you too, Steve.”

You hear his breathing, the way it stutters, the way it always does before a smile appears on his face. It makes your own lips curl into a smile as your shoulders relax and you slump against the wall.

“Good,” he whispers and you hope that you aren’t mishearing the happiness in his voice.

“Good,” you repeat after him, unable to fight the smile off your face.

You want to ask how the conversation went, what she asked, what she wanted to know but you don’t want to ruin this moment between you.

You can leave it for another time, you can wait, just like you always do.

“Is Eddie still there?”

“Yeah, he passed out on the couch and I’m afraid he’ll wake up with a stiff neck tomorrow.”

Steve’s chuckle makes your stomach flutter again.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You nod with a smile on your face, “yeah.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come home with you,” he murmurs after a moment of silence.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, trying not to sigh, trying not to show how sad you are that he isn’t here with you. The nights you spent alone in your bed are long over. “You needed to talk to Robin…”

He is silent, for a long moment he says nothing and only breathes as he stands in his kitchen, the only source of light coming from the small lamp on the counter, he stares into nothing as he contemplates asking if he can come over because he doesn’t want to spend the night without you, he doesn’t want to go to sleep without the warmth of your body atop of his, your soft breathing on his skin and your hands holding onto him as you unknowingly cling to him in your sleep, he doesn’t want to miss it, not even for a single night.

“Steve?”

Your voice sounds like a blessing to his ears now, the emotions that rush through him are no longer confusing him.

“Yes?”

He waits for you to speak but you are hesitating, only your soft breathing sounds through the phone. He hopes that you’ll ask him to come, he hopes that he can wrap his arms around you tonight, after all.

“... Eddie ate your pringles.”

He raises his brows and tilts his head to the side, this is not what he wanted to hear but he can’t help but laugh.

“And your butterscotch ice cream too.”

He leans his head against the wall behind him, a smile of amusement appearing on his face.

“I had to hide your kitkat’s so he wouldn’t eat them too.”

He closes his eyes and listens to your voice, waiting for you to continue. You could talk about anything to him, literally anything – gossip, music, make-up, clothes and shoes, the weather or some random movie he has never seen, he’ll happily listen to you.

“But he found them…” You say with a giggle, “I don’t know where all that food is going! Did you see how many burgers he ate at Hopper’s?”

No, no he really didn’t pay attention to your best friend, he was too busy watching you.

“He might have a hole in his stomach.”

You chuckle, “he might, yeah, or he just gets the worst munchies after he gets high.”

“Yeah, speaking of, we haven’t done that in a while.”

The last time you got high together, you didn’t get the munchies, no, you got something entirely else, something much more satisfying. It started with slow kissing, soft touches and desperate moans, you made out and undressed each other, you marked his skin and he did the same to yours and left them in places only he could see, he sank to his knees and unraveled you with his tongue, he tore out the sweetest sighs and the prettiest moans from you and now that he thinks back to that moment, he can’t help but wonder what exactly he was high on, drugs or you?

“What, getting high? We should do that but we’ll have to buy new snacks first, Eddie ate all your favorite ones and I definitely need to stock up on chips and candy but whenever I get high I just want to eat pizza and pasta and uh… I should probably stop talking about food or else I’ll get hungry again,” you murmur the last part and place a hand on your stomach when you feel it grumbling.

He smiles fondly and an idea pops in his head.

"Pasta, huh?" He mumbles as he takes a look around his kitchen, “you’re staying with me tomorrow night, right?”

“...If you still want me to, yes.”

After his realization, he wouldn’t even mind you staying with him permanently and these thoughts swirl inside his head in full honesty.

“I do want you to,” he nods even though you aren’t there to see, “well, I promised that I’d cook for you, remember?”

Your cheeks heat up at his words and the permanent smile on your face grows bigger.

“Mhm.”

“Let me cook for you tomorrow night, Blondie.”

You bite your lip, unsuccessfully holding back the grin as giddiness rushes through your bones, making you unable to stand still.

“I won’t say no to that, Steve.”

Steve’s cheeks almost hurt from the grin on his lips as he heard the excitement in your voice, his own growing bigger and bigger as he already begins to count down the minutes until you’re back in his arms and here with him, hearing your voice isn’t enough, he needs to see you, to feel you, he needs you by his side.

But for now, this will have to do.

You both talk, not minding the late hour in the slightest as you both stand in your kitchen’s and giggle into your phones, feeling like teenagers all over again, each of you wearing lovesick smiles on your faces and happiness in your eyes, fluttering feelings in your hearts and in your stomachs – reactions and feelings now mutual and no longer one sided.

Your teenage self would stare in awe if she saw you now, the happiest smile would play on her lips, she might even be jumping around.

King Steve would be… surprised but maybe not unpleasantly so, there was more to him than he ever wanted to admit.

Steve knows it now.

When he hears your giggle, that sweet sound that lights up everything inside of him now, he knows.

He never wants to miss your laughter again, he never wants to miss your voice, he never wants to miss you. He doesn’t even want to hang up the phone, not even when you make the promise that you will call him again with the phone upstairs in your room, when your makeup is off and you’re comfortable under your warm covers.

And you, you rush out of the kitchen the moment you hang up the phone, with a fluttering heart and huge smile on your face, you make your way back into the living room, despite knowing you’ll be unsuccessful in waking your best friend and trying to get him into the guest room.

A part of you feels relieved to see him asleep though – you don’t need him to see your blushing face.

He is snoring into one of the pillows, his bangs covering his eyes, he is taking over the entire couch now, his knee angled weirdly as his arm hangs down, fingers grazing the carpet. You chuckle to yourself and step towards him, you lean down and wrap a gentle hand around his wrist, bringing his arm back up so he won’t deal with any soreness in the morning. You reach for a blanket and place it over his body before you turn off the TV.

And as you quickly make your way upstairs, rushing into your bathroom to brush your teeth and take your makeup off, Steve is already in bed, staring at the phone on his nightstand, waiting for your call.

With his arms tucked behind his head, the covers over his body, he feels warmth surrounding him as your smell lingers in his room, on the covers and the sheets, the pillow that is now yours – your side of the bed empty to his dismay, it almost feels weird to lay here without you when only months back, this was all he knew, an empty bed that he had never shared with anyone until you stepped into his life and came to steal his heart.

And he never wants to share it with anyone else again, only you.

The ringing of the phone doesn’t even last for two seconds before he picks it up and speaks your name into the receiver, earning a breathy chuckle from you.

“Missed me?”

He hears the rustling of your sheets and how you try to get comfortable in your bed – oh, how he wishes he was there with you.

“Mhmm thought you went to sleep without me,” he murmurs into the phone as he pulls at the cord of the telephone and turns on his side, sinking his face into your pillow and breathing in your scent.

“Without talking your ear off first? Never.” You joke.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head, “you can talk my ear off anytime, honey. Tell me about your day.”

“We spent half of the day together.”

“Exactly, half.” He says as a yawn escapes him and his eyes grow tired, lashes beginning to flutter. “And half of that day was spent listening to the teens bickering.”

“Okay, yeah you’re right,” you say with a smile on your face and sink deeper into the side that you don’t usually sleep on, you breathe in the cologne that lingers on your pillow and close your eyes as you start talking about anything that comes to mind, the movie you watched with Eddie, the shopping trip you went on with El and Max a few days back, the pretty necklace you saw in the small jewelry shop downtown, the flowers that started growing in your garden, your niece and how much you miss her.

A smile tugs at his lips and he feels calmness in his chest, your voice makes him feel safe, so safe that it lulls him into sleep only minutes later as he lies in bed surrounded by the smell of you and the sweetest sound in his ear.

And you don’t notice at first, continuing to ramble about something completely unimportant before you register the utter silence on the other line.

“Stevie?”

A light snore echoes, making you giggle when you realize that he had fallen asleep.

You hold the receiver tighter in your hand and hold the covers against your chest, closing your eyes and staying on the line, listening to his breathing. You wish you could be with him, lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat instead.

“Good night,” you whisper softly, though wishing you could say something else, something more.

Music plays in the background, some Tears for Fears song. The mouthwatering smell of food lingers in the air, making your stomach grumble in anticipation, you sip on your cold white wine as you watch him with a smile on your face and blushing cheeks.

He looks good, he always does but there is something more about him tonight, perhaps it’s the way he looks so sexy in his tight fitted black tank top and his Levi’s, arms sunkissed and his freckles and moles on full display for you, his hair messy yet styled perfectly or maybe it’s that slight rosy color in his cheeks along with the glowing in his eyes, the look of happiness deeply etched into his soft features or maybe it’s the fact that he is cooking for you.

All day you had been so nervous, you paced around the house and busied yourself with cleaning and organizing drawers and your closet, feeling as though you were waiting on a date when you don’t even know what it feels like to go on one. This isn’t a date, no matter how much it felt like it when you started preparing for the night, when you took your sweet time washing your hair and scrubbing your skin soft, shaving and moisturizing every part of your body, putting makeup on your face and curlers into your hair, you painted your nails his favorite color and put on a dress that you wished would make him swoon.

And it did, it does make him swoon, everything about you now does.

You nearly knocked him off his feet when you appeared on his doorstep in this pretty new outfit that shows off your beautiful body and your soft skin that he craves to feel on his constantly. For the first time, Steve didn’t want to rip it off of you and take you, he found himself wishing to take it off slowly, kiss every inch of you softly and feel you in a whole new way, and he told himself he would, that he would take his time with you tonight, though it felt hard to keep his hands to himself when you walked through the door, he wanted nothing more than to pull you against him and kiss you breathless but not yet, he told himself, not yet.

“It smells so good already,” you smile, watching how he stirs the sauce as you breathe in the smell of garlic and cheese.

“Just wait until you taste it,” he winks at you.

“So cocky,” you tease him with a chuckle, taking a sip of your wine before you step closer to him.

“Well, you always love my breakfasts, honey,” he murmurs, putting the spatula down and checking on the pasta before he turns his body to you, looking you up and down with a lick of his lips. He steps closer to you and reaches his hand out to touch your waist, tearing a shaky breath out of you.

You gulp. The smell of his cologne, the touch of his hand nearly cause your knees to buckle – it’s almost funny how your body still reacts like this, after everything you have done together, you still blush, you still swoon, your heart still flutters.

Steve bites his lip as his eyes look at your own, his hand reaches for the glass in your hand and he takes it from you, putting it down on the counter before he grabs your waist with both hands, taking you by surprise when he picks you up with ease, his lips curl into a smirk when a small gasp escapes you and you clasp your hands around his biceps, holding on tightly, even when he places you on the counter, you still hold onto him. He pushes your legs apart a little, letting his hands move from your waist to your thighs as he steps between them.

You suck in a sharp breath, your cheeks are burning under his gaze, your skin heating up beneath his palms as his fingers disappear underneath your dress.

His lashes kiss his skin as he keeps blinking, his hazel eyes gazing into yours so differently than usual and it drives your heart crazy.

But despite how bad you want to let yourself fall into delusions that there might be something other than lust in his eyes at this very moment, you have to remind yourself of what this is and what this isn’t supposed to be.

“Mhm, your breakfasts are very good,” you nod, “but who would’ve thought that Steve Harrington would ever cook dinner for me, a fancy one too.”

Steve chuckles, leaning much much closer and deciding to make your insides tingle even worse than before when he brings his hand up towards your face and tucking the fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

“Who would’ve thought that you would ever sit on my kitchen counter?” He teases, tilting his head to the side as his hand slips down your body and grabs at your hip. “I think your teenage self would gasp and glare at the you now.”

A giggle falls from your lips, you shake your head – he couldn’t be more wrong.

“Yeah, and King Steve would pour the wine over your head if he saw you cooking dinner for his number one enemy.”

Steve chuckles.

“Enemy,” he repeats after you as his eyes crinkle in amusement, “that’s cute.”

Does he know what his words do to you?

Does he know what his touch causes?

Does he know that your heart feels as though it will beat out of your chest after every small act of his?

Because something inside of you, tells you that he is starting to know. His touch is softer, his eyes are too.

“Cute?” You smirk and speak out confidently even though your palms grow sweaty and you suddenly feel shy beneath his gaze. “You think us being mean to each other was cute?”

Steve shakes his head at you and to your disappointment, he steps away and returns back to the stove that he turns off after checking on the pasta. He reaches for a towel and wraps it around the handles of the pot, taking it off the stove, he steps further away from you and towards the sink.

“No, you thinking that we were enemies is cute.”

You press your palms against the counter and tilt your head to the side, your hair that he just tucked behind your ear, falling back in front of your face. You squint your eyes at him as a curious smile appears on your lips. “Were we not?” You ask, wondering what he saw you as during one of your worst times in your life.

“I don’t think you’d be sitting here in this cute little dress if you were,” he smirks, winking at you before he turns away from you to drain the water from the pot, tilting his head back to avoid the steam.

And you are grateful that he isn’t looking at you right now, the heat in your cheeks worsens and you suddenly don’t know what to do with your hands.

You’re no stranger to Steve’s flirting, but it’s usually a little less intimate and under circumstances different from these, usually his flirty comments are there just to get in your pants – at least that’s what you think.

“So… what was I then?” You ask, trying to keep yourself together, trying not to show how nervous his behavior is making you today.

Steve places the pot back on the stove and he throws the towel over his shoulder and glances at you, a striking feeling cursing through him and catching him off guard. The evening sun is still high in the sky, shining through the windows and casting a golden glow over the kitchen and over you, kissing your beautiful skin and your shiny hair, the pretty color in your eyes glowing just like the rosy blush you put on your cheeks, the color matching your lipstick and the little dainty flowers on your dress, your lashes flutter every time you blink, your lips parting as you watch him with a cute look of curiosity in your features, your chest rises up and down softly, he can see the way your breathing stutters the longer you look at him though, it makes his lip twitch into a soft smile.

He feels the beat of his heart, the fluttering and the sensation that has him in a chokehold, you steal his breath away, all the goddamn time, even when you’re not near, just the thought of you, the reminder of your touch and the image of you beneath his body is enough to nearly sink him to his knees.

He stares at you, finding himself unable to look away and snap back.

You look angelic under this golden light and he can’t stop from drinking you in, his eyes taking in every spot on your face, every feature, every edge, every curve – features he once thought were so sharp and shadowed by meanness are actually nothing close to that.

You are soft, you are so gentle and vulnerable, nothing close to the girl he once thought you were.

You showed him a side of you only the closest ones get to see. He should’ve known it was there, even before knowing you.

He should’ve known when you jumped in to help fight against Vecna, when you were so protective over Max and Lucas, when you jumped in after him and saved him from the bats despite being a stranger of the horrors that waited for you on the other side, when you put a comforting hand on Eddie’s when he seemed anxious days and weeks after you were both released from the hospital, when he saw the sadness in your eyes after your fight during that one game night, when he saw how you treated your niece and the fourth of july – the night that changed everything.

You were always right there, right before his eyes, always in reach yet never close enough to actually see.

But now he sees you, the real you that you still try to bury underneath that rough exterior that is slowly crumbling, more and more, little by little.

“Steve?” Your unsure voice calls out to him, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the kitchen. You are staring at him, a flustered expression deep in your features as you look into his eyes.

He doesn’t shy away from you, from the fact that he’s been caught staring as he lost himself in his thoughts.

“Sorry… What? Got– I got a little lost there a bit.”

You clear your throat, surprised by his words, you straighten your back and blink.

“W-What were we… if we weren’t enemies?”

Steve watches the way your lips move, the way you shift on the counter and pull your hands on your lap where your dress rides up the slightest bit, the way your perfume makes him want to bury his face in your neck and inhale more of it, the way you seem to become prettier and prettier, each passing second.

He has to force himself to look away from you so he can come up with the right words. He cranes his neck and looks up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips.

“Well…”

What were you to each other?

What were you to him?

Steve truly never saw you as an enemy, he didn’t like you, he couldn’t stand you for reasons he only now begins to see and understand, but you were never once his enemy.

“I wanted to rip your hair out sometimes,” he jokes, making you chuckle, “but… I never wanted to make your life miserable. We weren’t in the same… groups or mindsets… but that never made us enemies.”

A surprised but soft chuckle escapes you as you look up at him, your eyes trailing from his face to his neck where the hickeys that you have left are so visible to you.

You believe him.

As mean as he could be, there was never an evil side to him that wanted people to suffer or feel bad. Though you did feel miserable because of him but it was never Steve’s fault, it was your own, only your heart was to blame. If it didn’t get so attached to him, if it wasn’t his from the moment you laid your cynical eyes on him, his actions and words wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest, you would’ve brushed them off, you would’ve brushed him off, but you couldn’t, you were done for.

But even if you could change it, if you could take your heart back and change your own feelings, you wouldn’t have done it, not even back then when you suffered nothing but sadness and heartache. Maybe you’re a masochist, or maybe just a hopeless romantic with too much hidden hope – hope that you yourself didn’t even want to admit to having, not until recently.

“Hmm,” you hum and hook your finger around his belt, pulling him closer and between your legs, “and what am I to you now?”

Your question catches him off guard once more, the look in your eyes so hopeful, though his own cannot see because the panic in him rises so quickly that it steals his breath away.

What are you to him?

What are you both to each other?

He wishes you were his, he wants you to be his, and after last night’s realization, after seeing what he’s been craving all along, he wants you to be his girl, his only, tonight and for always.

He doesn’t want this to be a short summer, he doesn’t want this to be a temporary relationship – he wants more, he wants a future, a future with you.

But what do you want?

What can he say to you when he only wants one thing?

Steve knows exactly what to say, but he can’t give you the truth now, can he?

He doesn’t want to ruin this, this night or this thing between you – he needs to find out more, he needs to be more sure before he risks something.

“You’re my… friend.”

You try not to flinch at that word, you try to hide the pain in your eyes and the physical reaction from the stab in your heart.

Of course this is what you are to him.

A friend.

“We’re friends,” he whispers.

And you don’t even notice just how forced his own words come out of his mouth, how his eyes shift and the excitement leaves his features for a moment, how he doesn’t seem fond of his own answer.

The bitterness on your tongue spreads and you have to reach for your glass of wine to take a sip and swallow it down.

Tension rises between you but only for a moment because you both refuse to let a few words ruin this night for you.

“Friends,” you nod and you too miss the way he flinches now, the way he scrunches his eyes as though pangs of pain hit him out of nowhere, the way he still places his hands on your thighs, the way a friend definitely shouldn’t.

But you aren’t really friends are you?

Because friends aren’t supposed to be this close and look at each other so longingly, they shouldn’t reach for one another the moment they’re close enough to touch, they shouldn’t meet up in secret to spend nights together and sit at dinner tables with each other, stare at one another with shiny eyes and giddy smiles as their hearts beat in sync through every emotion, they shouldn’t stare at each others lips and wait for the right moment to kiss, their fingers shouldn’t touch while they’re eating their dinner.

And they certainly shouldn’t do this.

Your lips are locked with his, you are kissing each other feverishly, your fingers are lost in his hair, his are digging into your sides as he pushes you towards his bed, not once did he break the kiss on the way up to the second floor, despite the giggles that threatened to escape when you both tripped a few times.

Your heart is beating strongly against your ribcage, your skin feels hotter than ever as moans echo through his room.

Steve’s lips mold against yours so perfectly, his hands hold you so tightly yet so gently and something feels so different today, feelings that are much more intense than usual are on overdrive tonight, something in the way he holds you feels so raw, so real.

When your head hits the pillows and his chest presses against yours as he hovers over you, you remove your hands from his hair and slip them down his chest, reaching for the hem of his shirt, though to your surprise, he grabs your hands, gently, he pins them down but not harshly, the tips of his fingers brushing against your palms and when he breaks the kiss, you look up in confusion, not understanding why he stopped you, why he slowed you down.

“What…?” You mumble.

Steve can’t help but smile at the cute frown on your face, your lips are puffy, your hair is a mess already.

He feels nervousness rushing through his body but more so, he feels anticipation.

“I want to try something new tonight,” he whispers before he presses another kiss to your lips, surprising you with the softness of it. “Is that okay?”

You nod and whisper a small ‘yes’ despite not knowing what he means by that.

“Do you trust me?” He asks as though he doesn’t hold your heart in the palm of his hand, as though you wouldn’t follow him blindly into anything.

You don’t know what this means, how far he will take things tonight, how rough he will get or what the new thing is that he seemingly feels desperate to try but you would say yes to anything when it comes to him.

“I do,” you say only above a whisper.

His lip twitches at that, his eyes lighten up and he wastes no time to connect his lips to yours again, closing his eyes and getting lost in it, in you.

He realizes just how intimate all of this is, this night, these touches, yours and his words, and it’s all he wished for, all that he ever wanted, all that he craved and longed for.

Before you, he saw a faceless woman by his side as he yearned for a deep connection, a kind of love he never experienced before, one that would not only bring him back to life but also consume him in every shape and form. He waited and waited, met new girls and took one after the other out, date after date and no future was still in sight until he had gotten so desperate that he had made peace with the fact that there was only one he had something real with – but even that was false, her love was never real, it was nothing but a delusion to him and he realized that his feelings weren’t real either, at least during his second try, they were only the result of desperation and loneliness.

And he knows, he knows that this might not be real either, that you might not feel the same, that you might never feel the same but he doesn’t really care, especially not in this moment, when your fingers dig into his hair again and your lips move with his so naturally, so softly, like it’s the only thing meant to be.

Your moans, your smell, your taste and your body beneath him makes him feel things he had never felt before. To feel you clinging to him and kissing him with so much passion makes his heart scream in joy, the heart that only beats for you now.

Your tongues meet as his fingers pull the straps of your dress down your arms, grazing your skin with his touch, pulling out whimpers from you that shoot straight through him, making everything feel so much hotter. His palm slips down your chest and your waist before it falls to your hip where your dress had already ridden up to, his hand disappears under it but instead of reaching for your panties to yank them down your legs the way he usually would do, he just lets it rest there for a moment, needing to feel your warm, bare skin underneath his hand.

Your chest rises up and down heavily, it’s pressed against his and he can feel how strongly your heart is beating, matching the pace of his own.

He feels how desperate you are getting as you grab at his hair harder than before, bucking your hips up to meet his and he grants you your wish, grinding his erection against your core, he makes you both moan in pleasure.

And when your lips break apart and you call out his name, Steve nearly crumbles.

He leans down to kiss your neck and you tilt your head to the side, almost immediately, welcoming him to mark your skin up with love bites, and he does, his lips meet your skin, over and over again, kissing softly and sucking gently, he then moves down to your collarbone, leaving no spot unkissed.

You pull your brows together so strongly, overwhelmed by his gentle touches and the feeling of his lips kissing you this way but you can only close your eyes and moan for him, savoring this very moment.

“Steve…” You whimper as you feel the hot sensation flushing through you and burning in your core.

He takes your dress off slowly, not quickly or desperately, he takes his time slipping it down your body. His large hand grabs at your hip, his fingers playing with the thin material of your panties as his lips are still latched onto your collarbone, that he pulls away from to take a look at you.

There you lie beneath him in nothing but your matching underwear, your eyes hooded and filled with emotions you usually hide, your puffy lips are parted, your cheeks are flushed, you furrow your brows in need as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

He sucks in a shaky breath as his heart skips several beats, your beauty, your soft skin, your smell, the look in your eyes all being too much for his poor heart.

He is so genuinely done for – there is nothing he wouldn’t do for you, all you have to do is look at him with these eyes and he’d do anything you’d ask him to.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, unable to hold himself back with words a friend shouldn’t say with such emotions.

He misses the way your eyes widen and fill with surprise as he pushes his hands under your back so he can unclasp your lilac colored bra, he throws the lace down on the floor where your dress is lying.

He kisses your chest and wraps his plush lips around your nipple, his hands slip down your stomach and he hooks his finger around your panties, removing them slowly.

You look down at him, your heart unable to find calmness as everything he does, drives you crazy tonight. A gasp tears from your parted lips when he slips his fingers through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he brings his digits up to your clit.

“S-Steve,” you moan as you bring your hand down to his hair, digging your fingers through it and gripping it tightly.

He meets your eyes and you watch how he kisses down your body, softly, gently, slowly and not tearing his eyes away from your face, he keeps looking, staring at you as his lips trail kisses down your chest, your stomach, your hip bones.

Is that what friends do?

Steve spreads your thighs and he lies down before you, he moves his palm from your knee to your hip, throwing one leg over his shoulder before he leans in closer to kiss your inner thighs, truly leaving no spot unkissed.

You swallow harshly, unable to figure out what to do with yourself when he handles you so carefully, so… lovingly, almost as though he could feel something other than lust for you.

You blink and stare in anticipation, breathy whines keep falling from your lips, the fluttering in your stomach growing stronger and stronger.

You lean on your elbows, not wanting to look away from him just yet. His hair is messy from your tugging, his cheeks are pink, his eyes dark and filled with something you cannot read.

He looks so pretty between your thighs.

Steve leans into you, licking his lips before he presses the tip of his tongue to your entrance, slipping it through your folds and bringing it up to your clit where he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking teasingly.

Your breath hitches in your throat, your brows furrowing even more than before as you grip his hair tightly.

He gives no time to react before he holds on tighter and begins to eat you out, hungrily yet softly. His movements are slow and sensual, his moans vibrate against you.

His name falls from your lips over and over again as your head sinks deeper into his pillows, everything about this brings you a pleasure you haven’t felt before, it’s so much more intense than usual.

“You always taste so good, baby,” he murmurs against you, nudging his nose against your clit as he slips his tongue into you, catching you off guard with his words and the sudden action.

His free hand slipping back up to your chest, he pinches your nipple and rolls it with his thumb before he grabs your breast.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe as you throw your hand over his, feeling out of control with your emotions when you slip your fingers through his and keep his hand there – right over your beating heart.

Steve moans approvingly, squeezing your hand as he deepens all his movements, adding his fingers as he continues on pleasuring you with his mouth – a kind of pleasure you both get lost in. Moans and whimpers echo through the room, you pant and breathe heavily as waves crash over your body and you get closer and closer to the edge he never fails to bring you to.

Watery eyes meet his soft ones, your fingers now molding together, your hips rising up to grind against his face as he unravels you. You see the way he is moving, the way his own hips grind against the mattress to find some sort of relief, his moans are just as desperate as yours.

His chin glistens with your slickness and he keeps moaning as though you’re the sweetest thing he ever tasted – and you are, you are the sweetest thing he ever tasted on his tongue, touching and feeling you this way burns everything in him and he can’t help but want more of it.

“You’re so close, I can feel it,” he murmurs against you, pressing kisses to your sensitive nub as his fingers curl deeply inside of you, the tips grazing that very spot that makes you whine his name so cutely.

You dig your nails into his skin as you still hold onto his hand, your other is still lost in his hair, gripping and tugging at it as the fire burns in your core, everything flutters inside of you. You blink through your tears and keep your eyes on him, watching the way he licks and sucks on your clit, the way he looks so content doing this.

You try to speak though your words get lost when he speeds up his movements, making you shut your eyes in pleasure as your jaw falls slack.

His long fingers slamming in and out of you, joined by his tongue again, he shakes his head from side to side, his nose nudging against your clit over and over again.

“Open your eyes,” he murmurs against you, his voice adding vibrations, “look at me, I want to see your eyes.”

You oblige, despite the tears that pool in your eyes, you do your best to grant him his wish.

“Just like that, good girl,” he hums and hits that spot inside of you, causing your whole body to tense up and your cries to fill the room. He doesn’t stop there, not even when your body falls limp and your heavy breathing along with the sensitive whimpers sounds through the room now.

Steve licks you through your high, moaning in delight and kissing your clit just to tease you, making you jerk and whimper.

“Please,” you whisper, looking at him with your teary, pleading eyes.

He pulls away but only to take his clothes off, finally, you were so lost in the pleasure you didn’t even notice just how much clothing was still on his body.

He tears his tank top off and throws it down on the floor, unbuckling his belt next and practically tearing down his jeans and boxers, letting his aching dick slap against his stomach, his tip red and leaking, his length twitching as it did the whole time he was eating you out, he nearly busted before, the sensation of it all tonight, being too overwhelming and it’s hard to keep himself together when he looks down at your pretty face and your bare body, your pussy glistening and so ready for him.

He could stare at you for hours but he feels so desperate to feel you, to be inside of you, he presses his palms against your knees and spreads them further apart, he settles in between them and leans down before you, looking deeply into your eyes after pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He isn’t blind or unaware of the way your breathing stutters in your throat, the way you gulp and stare in confusion as you stare into his eyes.

And then, you raise yourself up a little, propping yourself up on your elbow as you slip your hand down his stomach, making him breathe in harshly as his heart skips a beat. In lust, he watches the way you slip your own fingers through your slick folds, gathering your wetness before you bring your hand up to his cock, wrapping your hand around it, you start stroking him slowly, making him whimper at the feeling. He grips the sheets beneath you and watches the way your much smaller hand moves around him, the way you tease his slit with your thumb, making him shudder over you.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers, trying not to close his eyes but this drives him crazy, the intimacy of it all making it all feel so much better, “just like that, baby.”

A tiny noise, something close to a whimper falls from your lips thanks to the nickname he started giving you on occasions.

“That feels so good,” he moans as he continues to watch, finding it hard to control himself, “are you ready for me?” He asks as his eyes move up your body before they meet yours again.

You nod quickly and buck your hips up, teasing both him and yourself when you slide the crown of his dick through your sensitive folds before you guide him into your entrance. He instantly reaches for your hip, digging his fingers into your skin as he feels your warmth sucking him in, your wet walls gripping at him despite not being fully inside yet. He watches your face, the way it scrunches up in pleasure, the way your jaw falls slack and your eyes stay glued on him as you watch the way his cock disappears inside of you. He listens to your moans and feels the way you hold onto his shoulders tightly the moment he takes control.

“Steve!”

His heart could beat through his bones and rip through his skin at this moment and he wouldn’t care.

He needs more, he needs you closer, he pushes in deeper and deeper, splitting you open and making you both whimper. He stills once he’s fully inside, letting out a shaky breath when he feels you pulsating around him.

You breathe heavily, he can feel it, your chest is flush against his, he’s got you close, just like he wanted you.

“S-Steve,” you repeat his name in a whisper, feeling overwhelmed by your emotions, by all those feelings, by this and yet you want more, you crave more, you crave him. You muster up all your strength and wrap your legs around his waist.

“I know, baby,” he whispers, surprising you for yet another time this night when he moves both his hands up your body, one slipping from your shoulder to your wrist and then to your hand, lying his palm flat against yours, he cups your cheek with his other hand, sliding it across your jawline as he tilts your head up so he can see your eyes, so he can gaze into them.

You feel as though your frown might stay permanent on your face after tonight, but everything he does confuses you, even more so when slips his fingers through the gaps in yours and intertwines them together, holding your hand tighter than ever before as he leans his forehead against yours.

His breath mingles with yours, his nose nudges against yours and your lips touch but he doesn’t kiss you yet, he squeezes your hand as he pulls out and pushes back in, stealing your breath away.

Everything about this feels so deep, so intimate, you feel vulnerable tonight with the way he handles you so differently.

Tears of pleasure and love prickle in your eyes and you suddenly find it hard to keep your emotions down, especially when he closes his eyes and he kisses you as though it’s the only thing he is meant to do. His palm rests against your jawline as his fingers get lost in your hair. Your moans match his own as he starts rolling his hips, slowly and deeply.

Your hands cling to each other, your chests are pressed together, he slides in and out of you, his tip hitting and rubbing against the spot that tears out sounds from you that you never made with anyone else before.

As deep and hungry as the kiss is, you want to feel him closer, so after swallowing down the confusion and leaving the questions for another time, you bring him closer by sliding your free hand down his back, stroking his skin and grazing it with your nails, you grab his ass and dig your fingers into his skin, causing him to moan even louder as he thrusts deeper.

You feel the shudders that grip at your body, the hot waves and the fire that burns within you, your heart that threatens to burst at the way it fills with even more love for the man panting above you, moaning just for you, because of you.

Even when he breaks the kiss, he doesn’t move away from your lips, keeping his against yours as he opens his eyes again to look at you while his hips move faster and he fucks into you deeper.

Steve strokes the top of your hand with his thumb, his other hand still resting on your jaw, his dark eyes gazing into your own, he looks at you so differently and it makes you want to cry, you are too overwhelmed, too sensitive, too vulnerable to feel such hopeful feelings when you know damn well that you could lose this and him any moment but how can you not hope when he looks at you as though you’re something worth loving, when he whispers your name as though it comes from his heart, when he pecks your lips and nuzzles his nose to yours.

No words are spoken, your touches and the eye contact are enough tonight, everything he could speak with his words are written in his eyes.

But everything that lies on the tip of your tongue, threatens to spill the closer you get and the longer he looks at you this way.

I love you. I love you. I love you, you scream in your mind, not knowing that these words match the ones in his mind.

Tears slip down your cheeks, tears that Steve kisses away with his lips as he holds you tighter and pulls you closer as his hips meet yours and he thrusts in deeper, his hand only letting go of your jaw so he can slip it down your stomach and touch you between your thighs, he catches your moan in a feverish kiss as his fingers rub at your sensitive nub.

Your tongues clash together and your lips move sensually and roughly as he moves faster, making himself whimper in need.

This isn’t the first time that Steve discovers something with you, but this makes him live through something entirely new, he had never felt anything like this before, he had never felt his heart race so fastly in his chest, he had never felt this kind of heat, this kind of fire burning in his whole body, nearly overwhelming him and making him cry too.

His newfound feelings make this experience even more pleasurable, to hear your moans and to feel you clinging to his shaking body, to know that he is the one who is getting to touch you and feel you like this makes him feel… special.

He wants you, he wants you in every way possible.

He can feel his heart yearning for you, yearning for more with you, he can hear it screaming your name.

Steve loves you, god, he loves you so much that his feelings nearly crush him.

He wants you to know, he needs you to know but his fears hold him back and he swallows them down, begrudgingly so.

If only he knew that you would cry tears of joy if he told you those three little words.

If only you knew that this isn’t just sex, that this is something else, that he is making love to you.

When you both reach your peak and you come undone, gasping and crying out in pleasure, you keep kissing, you don’t stop, despite the lack of air in your lungs, you keep kissing, you keep moving, you want more and more, you don’t want this moment to end.

You can feel the shift of emotions, his touches feel so different than they did before, his hands and lips linger a little longer, his eyes look at you in a way that has your own skipping and fluttering.

He keeps his fingers entwined with yours, even when he is no longer inside of you and chasing after his high, even when the moment is long over, he keeps holding your hand, he pulls you on top of him now, covering your lower half with the thin covers.

And now it’s you who cups his cheek to kiss him, sliding your fingers down his jawline and moving your lips against his, nuzzling your nose against his just the way he did before.

Steve runs his finger up and down your spine, playing with your hair and stroking your soft skin, smiling into the kiss as he gets lost in the feeling of love, a kind of love he never felt before.

Sweat shines on Steve’s forehead, his hair clinging to his skin, his cheeks more flushed than before, he is humming into the kiss, feeling every happy emotion flushing through him as you make noises that leave his stomach with butterflies.

You break the kiss with a soft giggle as you watch him chasing after your lips.

He puckers his lips, begging for another kiss and how could you say no to him?

You lean in again, not bothering to tuck your hair away when it falls in front of your face. You kiss his lips, only shortly, but enough to satisfy him.

“Hmm, I might have to do this more often,” he murmurs and cups the back of your head when you lay your head on his chest.

“Do what?” You ask as you loosen your grip on his hand and lay your palm flat against his, taking in the sight of how much larger his is.

“Cook for you, you got all soft on me, Blondie,” he whispers and plays with your fingers, lacing them together with yours, making your heart flutter yet again.

Your lips part and you raise your brows as you look at him, “oh, I got soft on you?”

He is teasing you, you can see it, the way his lips tug into a smirk and his eyes flash with amusement.

“Mhmm,” he nods, “got all sweet and adorable on me tonight, I can’t even remember what it’s like to deal with your mean side – not that I don’t like your mean side, I clearly do, turns me on, if I’m being honest.”

A surprised giggle falls from your lips.

It makes his heart flutter now, his eyes crinkle as a bigger smile appears on his face.

“You’re kind of a dork, you know?” You whisper and rest your chin on his chest, gazing up at him, starry eyed. “I almost don’t remember your sassy side.”

“Sassy?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Mhmm, you’re sassy, Lego head.”

He chuckles softly, “Lego head, you haven’t used that in a while.”

You giggle again and reach your left hand up to touch his hair, brushing away the curls that are stuck to his forehead.

“It's certainly very unique," he snorts, making you laugh and his eyes only light up further at the sound.

You don’t see the way he looks at you, you never really do but the awestruck look in his eyes is so hard to miss.

“Can I ask you something?” He whispers as he rests his palm along your jaw, tucking your hair behind your ear as his hazel eyes trace your features.

“Of course,” you whisper back.

He blinks, taking a moment to speak up again, his cheeks still glowing pink underneath the golden light from the small lamp on his desk.

“What’d you think of me when we first met?” He murmurs, blushing. “When we were teens… I mean…”

His thumb grazes your bottom lip, he touches you so softly, so gently as he looks at you with patience.

Your heart jumps in your chest, panic spreading around it as you repeat the question in your mind.

Oh Steve, if only you knew, you think to yourself as you stare at him, taking him in and how he looks at you.

No one’s ever looked at you this way.

No one’s ever touched you this way.

No one’s ever made you feel emotions that probably kept you alive during your darkest days.

He deserves honesty, doesn’t he?

But he is scared of it, you can see it in his eyes, you know how ashamed he is of how he acted as a teenager, and you know how bad he feels when others remind him of his past, teasing and laughing in his face about King Steve.

If only he knew how much you have worshiped the ground he walked on from the moment you laid your eyes on him, how you never once thought badly of him, not even when he hurt you with cruel words.

‘I have loved you from the moment your hand touched mine when you brushed past me in the hallway for the very first time.’ Is what you should say but you can’t, despite the aching feeling in your chest, you cannot utter these words, no matter the shift between you both tonight and the hope he filled you with.

But he waits, he waits for you to answer his question and who are you to leave him waiting?

“Insufferable. And a douche.” At those words, Steve’s eyebrows fall in sadness, prompting you to smile sweetly at him. “But I knew you never meant it. I knew it wasn’t truly you…”

“Oh? And how would you know that?” He asks, his thumb going in circles in the small of your back as your eyes twinkle with love, with admiration, with devotion.

“Because I saw you.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington series #stranger things angst

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peachesofteal · 10 months ago

Text

The Pit

2/2

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.7k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dubious consent. Smut - M/M/F. Forced breeding and kink (but we're soft). Medical inaccuracies. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Misery inspired. Horror-ish. Whump. Caretaking. Imprisonment/kidnapping. Forced comfort. Addiction. Feelings of fear, panic, anxiety, hopelessness. Simon calls the shots.

It’s snowing.

The forest floor is covered in thick, white cotton, heavier than cement. It sticks to your clothes, your knees, soaking you to the bone. You slog through the snow; the forest grows longer. Taller. Trunks of trees enclosing you in a cold grave, a cage.

You have to try. You have to.

The moon illuminates your path, a swath of silver light refracting through weeping frozen branches, their backs bowed with the heft of the snow, cracking and shivering under their burdens.

They’ll snap eventually. They’ll break.

Just like you.

Wolves howl in the distance. It makes no difference; how close they are. You can’t take much more, newly healed leg already spent, lungs heaving for what little air there is in this elevation.

They circle. Blood-soaked maws snap at you, herd you closer and closer to the start, to where it all began, to where it continues to begin, again and again.

The house.

Your knees find ground.

You’d rather die now. Freeze in the snow. Or…

A jaw snaps. You hold out your hands. For freedom. For peace.

The last thing you see is the flash of pearlescent canine, ripping into your flesh.

“Shhh, jus’ a nightmare.” Simon’s thumb works across your brow, concern shining on his face in the dim lighting. You shiver, even in a room like a sauna.

“Did- did I wake you?” He shakes his head. Of course, you didn’t. He’s always awake. He’s always watching.

“Close your eyes.” He tucks you close, blazing heat from his massive, pillowy chest bleeding into your back, your ribcage expanding slowly. It’s rhythm, sick, twisted rhythm, syncing you together, your breathing evening out, steadying in his hold. He reaches for Johnny, who’s curled on his side, and strokes through some long, loved pieces of mohawk. Lips muss your hair. “Sleep, little dove.”

The floorboards in the hallway creak.

They talk to you, whisper about comings and goings, each spot singing a specific frequency just so, hitting the right pitch at the right time, a chorus of shifting weight echoed by hackneyed groaning.

The creaking is didactic in nature. It exists to teach you something, to plainly expose the things you should have been paying attention to all along: footsteps in the morning, in the evening, shuffles versus steps. Schedules, routines, things you didn’t pay close enough attention to, things you didn’t care enough to notice, all laid out very carefully in front of you. The weeping wood of the floor practically begged you to notice, but you were too distracted by the never-ending reminders of your agony, and the cups of tea that made you woozy. You were too busy craning your neck to catch a glimpse of the outside world beyond the window, too preoccupied with trying to stand on your own without vomiting all over the floor (again) to catch what the hallway was trying to say.

If you had listened, you would have stood a chance.

“Alright, here we go.” Johnny murmurs, an arm under your knees, another around your back. When he rises, cradling you into his chest like a child, you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood, desperate to tamp down the whimper that breaks free. “I know, I know. Almost there.” He soothes, lowering you to the couch where the pillows are all placed in very specific positions. One of the goes under your calf, another your knee, and they line the sides of your ribs for your arm to rest elevated, comfortably. He cups your cheek, warm thumb gently moving across your skin, sweet, molasses thick affection, like the cough syrup you used to swallow when you were young. “Do ye want some tea?” Yes. God yes, a thousand times yes. Yes, you want the tea. Yes, you want to fall into the bleak darkness of drugged sleep, the vat of unconscious swallowing you whole every time. You want the buzz of numbness, the shadow of an orphic, endless pit. You want to slink away from everything, from them, from whatever this is, from what’s happened to you.

“Yeah, I-“

“Johnny.” Simon says his name softly from the kitchen. “Let’s wait a bit on the tea.” His brow furrows, light venetian blue eyes tracking across your face. They catch the light just so, sparkling downward, sea foam, sea glass and ocean spray, all mixed together into kaleidoscopes spiraling outward from his pupils, and when he frowns, you swear they darken.

“She’s in pain.” He protests, straightening to full height. There’s something happening above your head, something he concedes to with a sigh, shoulders relaxing, a regretful glance cast your way. “I’ll get ye some naproxen, dove.” He promises with a kiss, and then you’re alone in the living room, unable to move, snuggled against the worn leather couch.

Your leg is in a cast. Paper and glue, you think, makeshift at best, and they both remind you of it all the time, how it’s not medical grade, how you can’t attempt to walk on it, how the bone is incredibly fragile, and will be, for a while. It’s in worse shape than your arm, which at least has a black brace on it, covered from elbow to wrist, immobilized with a dull ache, a pain consistently throbbing, but doesn’t make you cry. Not the way your leg does. Your leg screams with agony, still, pins and needles and buzz saws in your bones, a haunting torment keeping you awake at night, making you second guess your desire to live.

The tea helps though. The tea makes everything less, makes the pain round, instead of sharp, makes the fear feel farther away, instead of right on the tip of your tongue, like a monster on your doorstep.

Simon says your name, broad shoulders stationed in front of the fireplace, glass of water in one hand, two pills in another.

“Do you want to sit up?” You blink at him, and he kneels before you can answer, perching right next to your shoulders. “Open.” You give the pills a dubious glare, unsure, lips zipped tight. It could be the naproxen, but it could be something else.

After all, the tea is not just tea.

He sighs in the same exasperated sentiment, and then his thumb and forefinger are grasping your cheeks, cold shiver erupting down your spine at the contact, and he pushes your mouth ajar. “Don’t be like this, sweet girl. Thought you were going to be good today?” He’s referencing something you remember vaguely, a discussion from last night in the dark, a promise you made when the world was coated in sap and too far warm, sticky like the sweat clinging to your neck-

“Ye dinnae need to cry, little dove. Don’ we take such good care of ye?” Johnny cooed, eager. “Ye just need tae be good for us, and we’ll do everything else.” He was holding you tight, too tight against his skin, heat radiating from him like the sun.

“I don’t understand.” You moaned, unable to move or twist away, trapped in the cage of his arms, Simon sitting prim on the edge of the bed, one hand on your hip.

“You will, in time. By spring, we hope.” Simon told you, dark sympathy in his eyes, words stretching into a mixed-up sentence jumping around in your mind. By… spring? What does that mean? Johnny’s hands roamed over your skin beneath the blankets, stroking across your breast to delicately pinch at your nipple, before dipping further south, slipping into your folds without warning.

“Ah!” You gasped, tense, frozen beneath his touch.

“Shhh.” Simon pats your hip. “Let Johnny put you to sleep, dove. You’ll feel better after a rest.” Johnny’s fingers stuffed in your pussy, thumb dancing across your clit, would lull you into tea addled sleep, and warring emotions swirled in your head. Your desire for this, your acceptance of this, is sick.

You’re sick.

You think of the snow. The reflection on the floor in this room, crystallized shimmer on the ceiling. The sun has been out, and you’re dying, wilting, from not feeling it on your face.

“Tomorrow.” You croak, and Johnny pauses. “Tomorrow can I… can I go outside?”

“Will you be good?” Simon’s thumb rubs at a spot on the corner of your mouth, and you nod.

“Yes… I- fuck.” Johnny’s breath hitches, and your walls clench up tight, squeezing. Small explosions of light dance across your eyes, pain mixed with pleasure, peaks and valleys rolling through your muscles. “Fuck.” A big, scorching hand spreads across your lower belly, just beneath your navel, and pushes.

You come immediately. It’s overwhelming to keep yourself relaxed, to prevent the spike of pain from your injuries, but an orgasm dulls everything else, and you cry with its intensity.

You’re sick.

You don’t miss the way Simon’s hand lingers, how his eyes don’t leave that spot, how Johnny’s hand covers his, and they hold there, lost in their own world for a second.

“If you’re good, sweet girl. We’ll take you outside.” He whispers, arranging limbs and waists and feet to his liking.

You fall asleep dreaming of a blizzard.

The pills go down so easily.

And you suppose they help. For a while, anyway.

Enough time for Johnny to get you set up on the porch, zipped up in their clothes and propped up on a loveseat rocker.

You wonder if they sit out here in the spring. In the summer. Do they drink their tea and eat their biscuits and watch over their domain like kings? It’s so American, so southern, to envision, and you almost laugh at the idea of either of them swapping their black bitterness for something iced and sweet enough to rot the teeth right out of their head.

“Dove? Can ye look towards me?” Johnny sits half on his knee across from you, on another outdoor, plastic chair. He’s got his sketchbook and pencil in hand, excitement brimming from eyes to lips, like a child. Full of wistful bright light, the sun itself.

Simon’s sun, it would seem.

You’ve noticed it, how Simon is the earth, but Johnny is the sun. The whole world, revolving around one ball of light, one eager, wild Scot, a star, the only, in Simon’s sky.

He draws you with efficiency. Moving and directing you just so, not daring to jostle you or cause you discomfort, but still ensuring he gets the best light. The barely-there dew drops of dawn. The glisten of a million frozen crystals at your back.

He handles you like glass. He stares at you like you’re a doll, a fragile one, like you had when you were a girl.

In the quiet moments, which are many, you catch them staring at you. If they’ve brought you down to the living room, they lurk in the kitchen, murmuring to one another in voices too low for you to catch. If you’re in the bedroom, they curl around you like wolf pups, pawing and petting until you’re asleep.

You don’t understand.

They won’t even talk about it with you now. How you came to be here, how they’re insistent you’ll have to stay until spring, when the pass opens.

Their words are a sickness, infecting you, spreading through your system until they’ve touched every piece, inside and out.

It’s madness. The kind of madness that pushed you to the brink already, made you feel like you’re losing touch with reality, with yourself. The kind of insanity that nearly got you killed.

You test the weight. Just barely, just enough that it screams under the pressure.

If you could make it to the door.

If you could make it down the hall.

If you could get out.

You grit your teeth.

The house has been silent for hours. No creaking floorboards. No heavy footsteps. You close your eyes, hold your breath, listening one last time.

They must not be here.

They go out, every once and a while. Bring things back. You’re not sure where, or how.

You shuffle a step, dragging your foot. It’s more a hop, but you use the bed to offset the inevitable thump of your body weight, managing to make it to the end, fingers deathly tight on the wrought iron.

You can do it. You can.

It’s only three, four hops at most to the door. On one leg, in a weakened state, it’s harder than you thought, but when your fingers lay on the door handle, the release of relief in your chest is overwhelming.

Yes! Yes. You can do it. Just-

The knob does not turn. You pull, applying more force, trying to jiggle it, see if maybe it’s stubborn or just old. This cabin is certainly old. Even though it’s been hollowed out anew inside, the bones are ones of a hunting cabin. A long-forgotten place, now housing horrors anew.

You twist and tug again. Every time it doesn’t budge, you try a little harder, each metallic scrap and jangle louder than fireworks.

You tug and you fiddle. You close your eyes and push down the rising panic.

The truth comes rushing over you all at once.

It’s locked. It’s always locked. That’s why Simon ensures it’s shut completely, each time they come and go.

They never intended to take you home. They never are going to give you your phone, or theirs, they’re never going to get you back over the pass.

You’re locked in here. With them.

The tugging becomes something else, something wired and frenetic, until you’re jerking the door handle with all your might, shaking the frame, screaming. The motion destabilizes you, and your lack of strength does you no favors.

Before you can self-correct, you stumble. You fall, instinct forcing your bad leg down, and when you try to catch yourself, you howl so loud you think the mountain shakes.

Your head smacks the frame of the bed on your way down, and then… as always now, everything is dark.

The first time you open your eyes after, Simon is seated in the chair. The same one he was in when they brought you here, severe and terrifying. The room is spinning, and you’re just as nauseous as the first day you laid eyes on him.

“I- I’m sorry.” You croak, but he only shakes his head, rising from his seat without even giving you a second look.

For a fleeting moment, the indifference stings.

“You’ll wear that,” he motions to your foot from the end of the bed, the good one, and you peek down to see a metal shackle clamped around your ankle. “until you can be trusted again.”

Johnny crawls into bed with you at night. He cries, hot tears on his cheeks, and coos over the leg with the break in it, and then over the shackle.

“I told him, ye dinnae mean to be bad.” His fingers shake as he traces your cheek. “Ye just cannae help it. It’s not yer fault, I know dove. Ye dinnae know any better. We have to teach you.”

“Johnny-“ Please. Let me go. Help me.

They all die in your throat when he presses his wet face to your neck like a dog, rutting his hard cock into your hip.“Ye’ll be right as rain by spring, I told him. Gon’ be such a good mum for the bairn, I know ye will.”

The world fades away. The silence suffocates, and you pray to die.

You cry the rest of the night, even when he shucks your pants down and licks your pussy until you’re coming on his tongue. You cry until he falls asleep, and Simon returns, settling in his seat, watching you both.

“How do ye feel about chicken soup tonight?” Johnny draws you back to him, sweet boy smile on his face, and your stomach clenches involuntarily.

Stupid handsome Scot.

You’re sick.

“That’s fine.”

“But do ye like it?” He’s so eager, back straightening with interest, really trying to learn, trying to figure out what you like and dislike, what will earn him your good graces, and what won’t.

You shrug. “Sure, it’s… it’s good.” A thought occurs to you. “Where do you get the chicken?”

“We’ve got ‘em in the barn. Can’t roam in the winter but we keep ‘em warm in there. Along with some ducks. A goat.”

“Farm animals?” “Aye. How else we supposed to make sure you’re healthy?” He waggles his eyebrows. You try not to grimace. “Si slaughters ‘em fresh. Everything tastes better that way.” A soft light shines in his eyes, a wolf’s instinct, and the shudder trembling down your spine makes your hands shake. “Ye cold?” He clocks it immediately, as he he does with every other single thing.

When he gathers you into his arms to bring you inside, tucking you back into the couch, you don’t even argue. You just sit there. Like a doll. Theirs.

Night is the easiest. It’s simple, to give in to your body, let them take over, take control of the parts that have long betrayed you. You close your eyes as they touch you, kiss you, make you come.

You even enjoy it.

That’s the worst part. You like it, when there are hands and fingers and tongues all over your body, like you’re being worshipped, like you’re some sort of god.

You like it, when Johnny gets overexcited and Simon settles him, guides him with a hand on his cock to your entrance, whispering slow in his ear, encouraging him to take his time. You like it, when Johnny’s pulse flutters under his jaw, when Simon holds you steady, when they get lost in each other, in you- you can almost pretend it’s not real, it's some fantasy, from a book, something dark and delicious-

Not your reality.

Tonight, Simon holds you in his lap on the edge of the bed, broken leg lying flat, his elbow crooked under your good knee and wrenched upwards, nearly pressing against your chest. The angle is intense, and Johnny grunts, muscles flexing with every thrust,

“Ah- fuck.” You moan and twitch, locked inside a cage, a confinement, the arms of your captors… your saviors. Simon swirls the pad of a finger over your clit, mouth open on your cheek, teeth nipping over your skin. You clench, Johnny cursing, some bitten off dialect you’re not familiar with, Simon’s voice dripping with smirk.

“Good girl, squeeze our boy, jus’ like that.” He does it on purpose, the talking. Knows how it makes you gush, long ago figured out the way to make your pussy clamp down around whatever he’s got worked inside you, his cock, Johnny’s, fingers, tongues.

Together, you’re an orchestra. Johnny is the strings, the violin, the viola, a cello. He plucks so perfectly, a harmonious blend of beauty spills from his bow, rising in the air until the audience is on their feet. His music trembles. It quivers and cries, like the wail of grief.

Your grief.

You’re the piano. An entire world, nestled in one instrument, but you play off tune, broken and sharp, pitch all a mess- you don’t even belong here.

Simon is the maestro. He directs each note, each melodious ring exactly as he wants it, working the music up to a brilliant crescendo, and it comes crashing like the force of a wave breaking onto sand. He conducts you, Johnny, the day, and night. He orchestrates the flow, lyrical give and take evolving in the house, your captor status slipping farther and farther away each night you take them into your body.

He knows you like it. Knows he’s in the lead, knows they’re winning-

And he doesn’t let up.

“Harder.” He coaches, and Johnny obliges, mouth open in bliss, eyes nearly rolled backwards. His fingers clamp down on your hip, too close, and you hiss in fear, the preparation of pain.

Simon snarls, yanking it away, holding to him tight before discarding it in exchange for the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” Johnny pants. “Sorry, dove.” You want to tell him to fuck off, to tell him you hate them, you hate them both, but you're only able to give them a high pitched moan of pleasure. “I’m gon’ come.” He grunts, and Simon yanks him forward, lips smashing together, tongue snaking messily between teeth.

For too long, the three of you hold fast. Johnny’s reckless, furious thrusts shove you backwards, over and over again. “Pull out.” Simon commands, flat palm on his chest. “Do not, Johnny.” He pushes him away from you like a dog, shoving him backwards with a firm forearm, a piece of rebar turned flesh.

He comes all over your belly, splashing thick white splatter across the mound of your cunt, up past your navel, choking on gasps of breath as Simon heaps praise onto the two of you.

Later, after they’ve bathed you, given you another orgasm, and all are almost tucked in, you whisper in the flickering fire light.

“Can I… can I have some tea?” Simon starts. It’s small, barely visible, but you feel it, in your bones. The echo of him in the room.

He holds your head between two palms, and you wonder if he’ll crush your skull. Decide it was all too much trouble. You’re too sick, feeble in your mind, too weak to survive.

“To sleep?” He asks softly, eyes darting over your shoulder for a split second, heavy with worry.

“Please?” There’s something in his eyes you don’t understand, a whirling mist of hell and desperation, and then it clears, and he motions a go ahead to Johnny.

“Alright, dove.”

The tea settles you into silence. With it, you can exist. You can survive.

It numbs you from the inside out, and as time passes, you feel no pain. You’re tangled in a dark web, a viscous manner of thing weighing you down from all angles. You feel nothing, and days turn to weeks, weeks to a month. Soon, the world is thawing. Snow melt turns to river and mud, greenery fighting for its chance to sprout and survive. Your leg is healing.

Spring comes.

The day you roast a chicken is the day your life ends, for good.

It’s domestic, the act. An olive branch to Simon, who’s angry with you, again. Who’s frustrated, took himself outside to chop wood.

Johnny mopes inside the house.

“I hate it when the two of ye fight.”

“Well, if he wasn’t such a stubborn asshole.” You hold the wooden spoon like a wand before returning it to the cast iron, swirling it around in the mess of butter and onion. “Then there wouldn’t be an issue.” You swallow the sting of his earlier refusal. The quick rejection of your request.

All you wanted was to go on a walk. It’s a beautiful day.

Why must the leash be so tight?

“He’ll be happy ye’re cookin’ again.” Johnny grins wide, pretty face beaming over the counter, and you sigh.

Maybe.

You’re watching out the window when Johnny approaches him in the yard. You can’t make out anything their saying, but the body language paints enough of a picture.

Johnny is rigid, angry.

Simon is calm, placating.

Words are exchanged, brows shifting with sympathy, sweetness.

Johnny erupts with glee. He shines like the sun, and Simon smiles, a real, true smile.

They’re beautiful.

And you’re sick.

The three of you tangle together in the dark. It’s a sailor’s knot, thrice over, difficult to understand which piece is which, where one begins and the other ends.

Simon’s anger is long melted. A glacier, gone leaving only a gash in the rock behind.

It’s this gash, this quiet undercurrent, keeping you focused on the wrong thing, pliable in bed until you realize Johnny is murmuring something in your ear, two arms banded around your waist from where you lay on your back, atop his chest.

“We cannae wait,” His hand strokes over your belly with reverence. The words cut through the thick, heady haze, and you try to twist to look at him. “watch ye get big with our bairn, goin’ be such a good mum.”

“Wh-what?” you choke, tensing. They try to settle you, sweet words and mouths everywhere, but you cannot get away from the fear.

From them.

“You- ahh.” You’re on fire, a finger rubbing your clit, Simon’s width between your thighs. He spears you open on his cock, unrelenting, making you keen and cry, face wet with tears.

“Waited long enough,” He grunts. “Been wastin’ it for months.” He steals your whimpers, swallows them, takes them inside like you take him, like you’ll take him-

“- until you swell. Until you’re heavy, dove, round with us.”

Until you’re forever theirs.

It’s a snarled promise. A prayer. Your eyes find the ceiling, fire flickering in shadow across old texture, and you breathe.

He shoves your knees towards your chest, Johnny still lock tight around your ribs, tongue in the shell of your ear.

“Need to be still, cannae lose a single drop." His palm is searing beneath your navel, and he's practically singing, vibrating. “We love ye so much.”

They’re conducting Beethoven. Ode to Joy.

You’re playing Bach. Come, Sweet Death.

Simon comes in you for the first time, and you come too, clenching down around his cock as he praises you, holding onto him like you can’t let go. Like your body knows. Like you’re craving it.

“Good girl.” He croons, spooning whatever slips free back inside, shoving it deep, wet lips on your own. “Gotta keep me in, dove… jus’ like that, there you go.” You throb, squeezing again, pulsing for him. For the words.

You’re sick.

When they switch positions, and Johnny smiles at you over your knees, his canines shine nearly red in the fire light. Two predators, one prey.

Your heart cannot help but flutter.

Sick.

Eight months prior:

The bar is packed. Summer music festival, the banners say. The park is thriving, alive with melody, musical acts rotating on and off the stage, children running amuck with candies and balloons, families relaxing in lawn chairs.

An Americana tradition.

They sat there themselves, for a while. Watching. Burning desire growing hot under his collar every time he saw a mum and her bairn, a small, precious thing cradled close to a chest, an overexcited five-year-old having a catch with his Da.

Eventually, they retreated to the darkness, hiding away in the one bar in town, it’s small windows and dim light practically a calling card.

And what they found inside, well...

“Hey, what can I get you?” You’re perfect. Sweet and soft, like a dove. Kind faced; kind spoken. You make Johnny’s cock twitch just looking at you, and he pictures you on your back, legs spread wide, exposed for them to feast on. To fill. He can’t wait to taste you, hold you, kiss you, have all his firsts with you.

Will you fight them? Will you squirm? No, you'll be good. You'll be so good for them, their perfect, sweet girl. He knows it.

How did they get so lucky?

Simon tucks his ballcap lower.

“Sorry, there are a million people in here!” You half shout over the raucous noise. “You’ll have to speak up!”

“Just two beers.” His yank accent needs work, but it does fine when there’s one hundred other faces next to his. A sea of forgettable memories.

Just as intended.

Your fingers brush his when you deposit two drafts on the bar top, shooting off a total, and for a lingering second, he stares at you.

Simon caresses the back of his neck, thumb circling a loving touch into his skin.

A warning. A reminder.

Can’t make ourselves stand out. Cannot be remembered.

Johnny peeks at the name tag pinned above your breast, and files it away. Files everything away as they finish their pints, how you scrutinize the crowd, how you’re constantly working, looking for things to do, cleaning. Taking care of everything. The people at the bar, your coworkers.

His heart overflows with love. With warmth, and when they take their leave, he can’t help but look back one more, catching a glimpse of your profile, singing a silent goodbye.

See you soon, dove.

#peaches writes #the pit #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish

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majeoeje · 5 months ago

Text

Beating heart (part 2)

Laios x reader

The only right answer was you

Part 1

Is this truly the right decision? You dwelled. The scent of the sea lingered in the air, the sounds of footsteps and people around you was enough to drown you.

You were leaving everything with little money in your pockets. Your stolen dowry surely wouldn’t last that long, you thought. You hoped your parents would ever find it in their hearts to forgive you for what you’re doing. But mostly… you hoped your betrothed would not harbor revenge for you.

Imagining their kind faces turning malicious made you falter. Suddenly the eight hours of horse ride that you just endured felt more than reckless. Maybe you should go back after all.. maybe if you turned back now, they’d still accept you and take you in with open arms.

As you took a step back you were bumped into someone.

You groaned before giving them a short apology not really looking at them in the eye.

“I knew it was them!” You frozed, A familiar male voice filled your ears. Upon hearing that it was as if you were transported back to your home. Back when you weren’t promised to someone you barely know, back when beginning a family wasn’t what everyone expected of you, back when you could have dreams, back to that simple village, back home.

And then you turned around to see that it was some weird unkept guy you didn’t know

You thought maybe you had mistaken someone else for your long time best friend, but then another voice appeared

“Hey, you’re right!!” Said the female voice

You audibly gasped seeing the woman, she was still the same as ever! maybe you weren’t wrong after all. And upon closer inspection, there was no denying it.

“Laios! Falin!!” You gleamed, before you shared a meaningful hug with both the Touden siblings

You almost didn’t recognize Laios with his unkept appearance, his hair growing past his eyes while you could tell he hasn’t been eating enough let alone shower or shave in that matter. You were so glad that Falin didn’t succumb to such things, keeping her appearance squeeky clean.

“It’s been too long” you let go not before you gave them a final squeeze

"We're so happy to see you.. agh- heyy..." Falin protested, you couldn't contain yourself from messing with her short hair upon seeing her signature closed eyed red cheeks smile.

"Are you planning to sail to the island too?" Laios said. Despite his drastic change you noticed that the golden hue of his eyes had never changed. It brought you a sense of relieve somehow. Despite everything, he will always be Laios.

“Traveling together would be nice”

The tone of his voice was rather hopeful. As if he wanted you to come alongside them. And by his words alone you could change your mind.

You thought about how nice it would be to travel together. Maybe you could become adventurers? As hard labour as dungeon exploring is.. you were hoping you could have your chance in it. Maybe now you could have your own room and live however you like, And maybe you could finally see the monsters that Laios was always so excited to talk about.

Aghhhh- you were stupid. You cursed yourself for being so easily swayed by him. The fact that Laios of all people didn't even need to ask you back then horrifies you. How are you that excited to see someone?

This realization came late to say the least. Years of adventuring had gone by and now you’re here. In this very moment. Grumbling alone to yourself about your past recklessness, as your other party members just lets you relish in your own madness (they already know you had lost it so why bother)

It was during your intense thought process that you didn’t notice Laios’ hand inching closer to yours only to falter away.

He wanted to tell you that dinner was almost ready but why was it so difficult??

Hesitant he rarely was, especially with you. But something had changed since last night, it was as if the beat of your heart had ingrained itself in the back of his mind, with each closing distance with you only adding to the fire that was the tune of your heart. It slowly eats him alive, drowning him, suffocating and burning him away with its sounds.

Though it wasn’t until now as he mindlessly observed you that he noticed that the fast and loud beat that was replaying over and over wasn’t yours at all in this moment.

He brought his hand to the left of his chest finding it hard to believe that his heart would beat this loudly for you. Has he always felt this way?

“Oh- Laios!… i didn’t see you there buddy” you were surprised to see Laios seating next to you. He couldn’t be there the whole time could he?? (He was)

You waited for his reaction, but he could only sit there and stare at you like he just had a realization too.

“I think-“

“Dinner’s ready!” Said senshi unknowingly interrupting Laios, presenting another one of his delicious cooked meals. The smell alone could make you drool. It doesn’t matter if it’s a monster as long as it’s good right? You choose not to dwell on the deeper meaning, ignorance is bliss. Some would say.

“What is it that you’re going to say?” You say attention now shifting back to him.

Laios looked like he wanted to say something but he shook his head and retaliated.

“Let’s eat, we can’t have other’s waiting” he stood up before going ahead to where the others are. He didn’t really know what he wanted to say. If Senshi hadn’t interrupted him, he knows that his sentence would just falls short.

Around the campfire everyone ate soundly, maybe it was because the lack of monster trivia on Laios’ part. You can’t help but miss it

It was during this moment that he wonders what is it that he wanted to say? What is it that he discovered? He knew that it was realization and he knew it was about you. But that was about it.

Marcille felt like the tension was rather dry, so she thought she’d finally ask you a question that has been itching itself in her brain

“Was it true that you were betrothed?” She asked, Laios practically choked on his food, it’s not like he didn’t know this, but he never thought to pay any mind to your past betrothal.

“Well, it was a long time ago..”

you wave your hand around, it’s true that it wasn’t a big deal anymore in your life but it does bring a sense of nostalgia in your mind at the times before you ran away from the village

“What were they like?” Asked Marcille, you could by the shine in her eyes that she loved romance books

You hummed before putting your empty plate down

“They were sweet, lovely,caring,hard working and very very stubborn” you laughed. “I could go on and on about how they were but we won’t have enough time”

The way in which you describe your betrothed was as if you were fond of them. It made Laios a little weary somehow. Why was that? It’s not like he hasn’t met them… in fact they were a good friend of yours, despite not getting along that much with him.

“You know by how you described them it would seem that you loved them” chilchuck asked, a little suspicious

Laios awaited your answer practically on the edge of his seat. Well it was pretty clear that you didn’t considering you ran away and what not, Laios said to himself

“I did” the sound of your confirmation was accompanied with the sound of Laios’ wooden bowl falling to the dungeon floor. “How could i not?”

When everyone looked at him he tried his best to seem normal, laughing nervously and saying how his bowl just slipped past his hand suddenly before gingerly picking it up.

“Then why did you leave??” Marcille was basically starry eyed, hearing you talk about your love life was what she had been waiting for.

While Laios was lost in thought. Would you want to come back to your betrothed? If you did loved them then it wouldn’t be outrageous or even wrong to get married to them once all of this is over.. but you would still go one a some adventures with him and fin before you di right?

it’s just that by then Laios had realized that he didn’t want you to marry anyone. He didn’t want his adventures with you and Falin to be over just yet. Such thoughts of you to be wed with other people lingered on his mind and soured his appetite.

“It’s because I didn’t want that life yet you know? I just didn’t want to settle down when i haven’t at least tried to reach my dream”

Your answer was short, Marcille begged you for details but suddenly you drifted the conversation to Chilchuck’s children. Then suddenly her attention drifted away. You chuckled at her antics, you didn’t thought it as nosy really,it was quite endearing to you.

“Do you.. still love them?..” Laios suddenly asked, a little quiet, but not quiet enough for you not to hear, the tint of insecurity was more than evident in his voice yet you couldn’t be more than blind to it.

After a long while you finally thought about them once again. Those days you spent everyday was more than lovely. At the time, you enjoyed their company more than anyone… it would be a lie if you were to claim that you did not love them. But even though you were glad that now you were able to look back at the fond memories you had and appreciate them, you never once wish you would go back.

“No.. at least not anymore” you reminiced, bittersweet it was.

So many questions filled Laios’ head. What if that person were to look for you? Would you come back to them? How long were you in love? He wanted to ask one by one yet only one was able to spill out of him

“Would you ever want to settle down?” Asked Laios.

Your cheeks grew warm. It was a if… he was asking for you to settle down with him.

You mentally slapped yourself for such thoughts. For fuck’s sake that was your best friend you were thinking about! You knew him ever since you were all but 2.

You looked back a few summers back. Back when you were with someone who once used to be your soon to be spouse. Back when you planned a whole future with them knowing that you didn’t actually wanted those things before ultimately throwing everything all away. You remember all the pain, anguish and guilt you felt as you ran away. You never wanted to feel like that ever again.

But.. you thought that if it were with Laios.. it would be different. It somehow just sat right to you.

“I would like that”

You unconsciously smile, you were ashamed to say that you were excited about such ideas, like he meant what he said anyways. You then realize the gentle hold of his hand on yours, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your knuckles before carefully tracing down to one particular finger, perhaps someday where a wedding ring would be.

“I would also like that”

#laios touden x reader #gender neutral reader #delicious in dungeon laios #dungeon meshi #laios x you #dunmeshi laios #laios touden #laios x reader #laios dungeon meshi #laios my beloved #marcille dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi #dunmeshi x reader #senshi #marcille donato #senshi of izganda

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pastafossa · 2 months ago

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"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

As a reminder, if you'd like notifications when I post something, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he?

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door.

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring.

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional.

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless.

Asleep.

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him.

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he?

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused.

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh.

You were wearing his shirt.

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned.

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest.

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied.

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down.

Gentle.

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you.

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep.

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him.

God, your scent.

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you.

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt.

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids.

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe.

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit.

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips.

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too.

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?”

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you—even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him.

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it?

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter.

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours, ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat.

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again.

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan.

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken.

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets.

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep.

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more.

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep.

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both.

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep.

Satisfied with what he’d given you.

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist.

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.” “Mm.”

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hcsiqs · 4 months ago

Text

| i love you, im sorry

• pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

• summary: inspired by gracie abram’s i love you im sorry

• warnings: angst ?? mean!paige kinda…

I like to slam doors closed

Trust me, I know it's always about me

I love you, I'm sorry

“Paige, please,” you begged as tears fell from your eyes and you tried to get the blonde girl to look at you, but she refused. “Don’t just push me away!”

“Go y/n! I don’t need you anymore, ok?” she replied, hurt evident in her voice. She jerked her arm away from you.

She had just torn her ACL and wanted nothing to do with anyone, especially you. It seemed like everything you had been doing for the past few weeks set her off. She hated the way you tried to help her and the fact that it seemed you pitted her, even though you weren’t trying to. You just wanted to help her, that’s all you ever want to do.

“I’m just trying to be there for you,” your voice dropped into a softer voice as mascara stained your cheeks.

“Well I don’t need you to be here for me or whatever the fuck,” she ran her hands down her face.

“I wanna help because I love you P,” you tried reminding her that all of this came from your love for her, but she didn’t wanna hear it.

“I don’t love you anymore,” her voice broke as she her piercing blue eyes made contact with your own and you could see that she meant every word.

You bit your lip trying to hold back your sniffles as your lips curved into a frown without you even trying. Your arms crossed over your body as you let out a hushed, “Ok,” before packing all your things from her room into a bag and leaving without saying another word. That was the last time you talked to Paige junior year.

Two summers from now

We'll have been talking, but not all

that often, we're cool now

Paige had decided to stay an extra year at UConn due to her injury that she suffered from a few years prior. And you just so happened to also be staying at UConn to get your graduates degree.

Obviously going to the same school you two had bumped into each other and exchanged a few words, but nothing much, both always seeming to be in a rush to avoid the awkwardness.

You had decided on taking a few summer classes and as you were walking with your head down you found yourself run into a taller figure. When you stepped back you immediately recognized who it was.

“Paige,” you said with a tight lipped smile.

“Y/N,” she replied with the same smile before shooing her teammates off. “How’ve you been?” she asked awkwardly pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

“Good,” you nodded, “Staying busy, you?”

“Yeah, yeah, good,” she replied nodding her head while shoving her hands into her pockets. “You—uh—you look good,” her eyes scanned you up and down, something you had gotten used to when you were together.

“Thanks. You too,” you were trying to keep the interaction short and sweet, not wanting to get into anything. “I gotta go, but see you around?”

“For sure,” she nodded before you walked off and tried erasing the entire interaction from your brain.

It wasn’t like you had talked at all in the past two years. You had your civil interactions here and there but never had them for too long. And you wanted to keep it that way. You wanted it to just stay cool between the two of you. Not wanting to bring up y’all’s past.

You were the best but you were the worst

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first

You had just finished your fall semester finals, so you and your friends decided to celebrate and get rid of all the stress by going to Ted’s and getting drunk.

It just so happened to be the same night that the UConn women’s basketball team had won a hard game against one of the best schools, and they had all decided to out to celebrate.

And that’s how you found yourself staring down a certain blonde at the bar who was obviously flirting with another girl. You kept telling yourself that it shouldn’t bother you because you had broken up almost two years ago now, but you could shake the “I loved her first” from your brain as you watched the two.

So, you took another shot to try and distract yourself. The burning sensation trickled down your throat before walking past Paige, ‘accidentally’ hitting her arm.

And once you found yourself in the comfortable muffled silence of the bathroom the door swung open to reveal the tall blonde basketball player. “What’s your problem? You’ve been staring at me all fuckin night long.”

“Have not,” you slurred, rolling your eyes and turning away from her to look in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged from all the drinks you had taken and your mascara was messy under your eyes from continually rubbing them.

Paige moved closer to you, but not too close, almost scared that if she did you would run away and she would lose her chance. “Yeah. You have.”

“No,” you shook your head, meeting her gaze through the mirror.

“Dude, just fucking talk to me!”

“No! You don’t get to act like what happened is my fucking fault,” you raised your voice turning to the side to actually look at her up close. “You pushed me away, not the other way around.”

“I know and I regret it everyday. But every time I try to talk to you, you rush off!” Paige started moving her hands to represent her frustration with the situation.

“Why would I wanna talk to someone who is just going around flirting with random girls,” you snapped back before even realizing what you were saying. But as soon as the words left your mouth you immediately slammed your lips shut, afraid of what might come from them if you didn’t.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know, okay?” your hands found their way into your hair, brushing it back with your fingers.

A moment of silence fell between the both of you. Neither really knowing what to say in the moment.

“Forget what I said,” you shook your head, wanting to disappear from the entire moment.

“I miss you,” she confessed as you tried pushing past her to get out of the small room.

You felt as if your heart was gonna beat out of your chest at those words. The words you had been wanting to hear since your fight two years ago. The words you had fought to hear that same night but never did.

“I miss you too, P,” your drunken self admitted. Your glossy eyes meeting hers. It seemed like your heart had stopped in that moment and nothing existed but the two of you.

I love you, I'm sorry

allie’s corner

this is lowkey poop im sorry

#paige bueckers #wnba #uconn wbb #wnba basketball #wcbb #wcbb x reader #uconn wcbb #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers angst #angst #fanfic #fan fiction

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rynwritesreid · 8 months ago

Note

Okay, so i request a lot of smut but i’m gonna surprise you and request the most tooth rotting fluff you can write. Pregnant!reader x totally in love, acts of service!spencer. Do your thing 😉

A/N: I love all requests, but requests from my mutuals especially iluvreid, are my favourite. But sorry this took a long time, I am slowly getting through requests:)

Summary: it’s basically the request, but I’ve added in a little more detail about the pregnancy and yes I do believe Spencer Reid is a girl dad!

Content: pregnant!reader. I don’t think I have used pronouns in this, but Fem!reader just to be sure. Acts of service/loving!Spencer. Fluff. Mentions of morning sickness. Mentions of food. Heavy talk about pregnancy. Talk of Spencer been scared to be a dad, but reader reassures him.

Masterlist| requests are open| navigation

Spencer Reid had had both nightmares and dreams about becoming a dad. He did truly want to be one, but he also didn’t want to become like his dad or make his child suffer like he did while witnessing his mother’s mental health crisis.

But you had assured him that he would make an amazing father, and that all the stuff he was worrying about showed him that.

So, the day you showed him a positive pregnancy test, with a huge smile on your face, he knew he would have to put some of his fears aside because he had to take care of you.

 For the first few weeks, Spencer would always wake up before you. He would get some water and put into the fridge, making sure it was chilled for you. He would get some ginger biscuits out from the cupboard and start making you a cup of tea.

Once he had heard you wake up and shuffle your way to the bathroom he would come in shortly after you to make sure you were okay. His heart swelled with love and pride as he watched you, his hand resting protectively on your back as you leaned over the sink. The worry etched on his face softened as you turned to him with a tired smile, grateful for his silent support.

“Are you feeling okay today?” Spencer asked, concern evident in his voice.

“I don’t feel as sick today, just a little queasy and exhausted, that’s all.” You grinned, reaching out to hold his hand. "Thank you for taking care of me, Spencer. I appreciate it more than words can say."

Spencer squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always take care of you, Y/N. You and our little one mean everything to me." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back to let you finish up in the bathroom.

You and Spencer had discussed if you wanted to find out the gender of your baby when it came to the 22-week scan, and you both agreed you did. You didn’t care what gender the baby was going to be, but you believed Spencer would be the most amazing girl dad.

As you both sat in the waiting room, Spencer held your hand tightly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. The anticipation of finding out whether you were having a boy, or a girl was palpable in the air.

When your name was called, you both walked hand in hand to the examination room. The sonographer greeted you warmly and began the scan. You watched the screen anxiously, feeling your heart race with excitement.

Suddenly, the sonographer smiled and pointed to the screen. "Congratulations," she said, "It's a girl."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Spencer, whose face broke into a wide grin. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your lips before turning his attention back to the screen, his eyes filled with wonder and love.

"We're having a daughter," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“You’re going to make the most amazing dad, Spencer. You already make the most perfect husband.”

Spencer Reid's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he reached out to caress your cheek, overwhelmed with emotion. The reality of becoming a father to a little girl filled him with a mixture of joy and trepidation, but seeing the love and trust in your eyes gave him the strength he needed to embrace this new chapter of his life.

You had popped around six months, and Spencer couldn’t get enough. He loved putting his hand on the bump and feeling the baby kick. He loved talking to you about baby names, and being able to talk to the baby knowing it would recognise his voice soon enough.

He also loved been able to take care of you. Anytime you needed anything, he would offer to get it for you. Even before you had gotten pregnant, he was an act of services person, but now his acts of kindness and care had intensified. Spencer had become even more attentive and thoughtful, always ensuring you were comfortable and taken care of.

Spencer didn’t mind running out at odd hours to fetch your favourite ice cream flavour to giving you foot massages after a long day, Spencer made sure you were always comfortable and well taken care of. He had even offered to sleep in the spare bedroom, so you could have as much bed space as you wanted.

As your due date approached, Spencer's excitement and nerves reached new heights. He had meticulously prepared the nursery, painting the walls in a soft shade of lavender, and assembling the crib with precision. Every night, he would sit in the rocking chair, reading aloud to your growing belly with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.

“Do you think she’s going to be more of a Beethoven or a Mozart fan?” you teased, watching Spencer's face light up with a mixture of amusement and adoration.

“Oh, I think she’s going to be a Vivaldi fan. But I also know she’s probably going to be the only one who can beat me at chess.” Spencer smiled at the thought, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. The idea of sharing his passions and interests with his daughter filled him with an indescribable sense of joy.

“She’s going to be smart person ever. Probably even smarter than you, so of course she’ll be able to beat you at chess.”

Spencer chuckled at your playful banter, his heart overflowing with love for both you and the little girl growing inside you. He couldn't wait to meet her, to hold her in his arms and show her the world through his gentle, intelligent eyes.

“I think we should call her, Astrid Luna Reid.” You watched as Spencer's eyes widened with surprise before a soft smile spread across his face. "Astrid Luna Reid," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with a sense of wonder and warmth. "It's perfect. Our little star, our moonlight."

~join my taglist~

~taglist~

@purplepistachi0 @iluvreid @nomajdetective @evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @krokietino @julllliiia @xohoneybun @pleasantwitchgarden @bitchassbecky691 @queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @cham9ions @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @anna-belle-xd @beth-gallagher22 @firstunmannedflyingdeskset @waywardhunter95 @r-3dlips @keiva1000 @peppersapro @just-a-harmless-patato @spenxerslut @skulliecadaver-blog @svnfully @lover-of-books-and-tea @indigosamsblog @jem08 @ladylincoln

(Please note that if your name doesn’t appear it’s because your tag isnt working)

#spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid request #request

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stuiie · 27 days ago

Text

Happy Halloween - The Color of You

Words: 1084 Warnings: None Authors note: Since we're in the wrong season for TCOY, I put together this little one-shot for you! I’ve been super busy this weekend, so it's a bit short but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway!

You were late—catastrophically late—and you knew it as you sprinted down the sidewalk, trying your best to ignore the surprised stares from strangers. But it was impossible to avoid their looks with the bright yellow feathers sticking out in every direction. Still, you pressed on, making a heroic dash to Wanda and Natasha’s place, desperately hoping to blend into the Halloween crowd.

The second you burst through the door, you crashed right into Yelena, who took one look at you and exploded with laughter, doubling over as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Oh my god!” she choked, tears already forming at the corners of her eyes. “What… what are you supposed to be? A giant canary? Big Bird’s love child?” She gasped for air, holding her stomach as she shook with laughter.

You looked down, flushed with embarrassment, and tugged at the bright yellow costume. “It’s a duck costume,” you muttered, pulling the hood over your head a little more defensively. “Nat and Wanda wanted me to wear it,” you grumbled, making a small face as Yelena slid to the floor laughing hysterically. “Come on, it’s not that funny!”

“Oh, trust me Ducky, it’s even funnier than you think,” Yelena managed, practically rolling around with laughter. She pointed around the room where, of course, everyone was dressed in sleek, stylish, and effortlessly cool costumes. Even Yelena looked fierce in her assassin’s outfit complete with silver daggers. Meanwhile, you… looked like you’d waddled straight out of a children’s petting zoo, feeling the warm flush of embarrassment rise up your neck.

You were about to protest when you heard familiar footsteps approaching.

“What’s going on out here?” came Wanda’s voice, her tone as smooth and soothing as always. She stepped around the corner, her gorgeous sorceress costume catching the light, and froze the moment her eyes fell on you.

Oh no.

Wanda’s hand flew up to her mouth, her emerald eyes sparkling with amusement. A small smile curved her lips as she called out, “Natasha, you have to come see this!”

Seconds later, Natasha appeared, her dark, glittering assassin attire matching Yelena’s, every inch of her the picture of deadly elegance. When her gaze fell on you, her jaw dropped, then her lips slowly spread into an amused smile as her eyes flickered to Wanda who approached you.

“Look at you, my sweet little duckling. I could just eat you up,” Wanda cooed, stepping closer and brushing a few yellow feathers off your cheek. Her eyes danced with barely contained laughter, but she still softened her voice as if she were speaking to a precious little pet. “Aren’t you just the cutest little thing?”

Yelena was practically in tears now. You nudged her with your oversized webbed foot, trying to fight the rising blush in your cheeks. “It’s not funny,” you hissed, although even you had to admit you probably looked ridiculous.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Natasha chuckled, stepping closer with a glint in her eye. “You’re literally our little duckling now, all fluffy and bright!” She reached out and gave your cheek a playful pinch, and you batted her hand away with an indignant pout.

“Don’t act so surprised!” you protested, trying to salvage what little dignity you had left. “The note said I was supposed to wear this. It was signed by both of you!”

Natasha raised her eyebrows, exchanging a glance with Wanda, who was now biting her lip so hard she might’ve drawn blood. “Darling, what are you talking about?” Natasha said, inspecting the yellow fuzz with barely contained glee. “We didn’t send you that costume. But I must say, it’s quite a look on you.”

Wanda’s hand slid down to her hip as she eyed you, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Whoever sent it clearly knew how to pick the perfect look for you, sweetie,” she teased. “But I think we would have remembered if we had chosen something so… memorable.”

You narrowed your eyes, your mind racing through possible suspects. Just then, you heard the sound of heels clicking on the floor behind you, and you turned to find Val, dressed to the nines in a jet-black suit with a snakes for hair like Medusa. Her eyes practically gleamed as she took in the sight of you.

“Ah, there’s the little duckling,” came Val’s smooth, rich voice, laced with dark amusement. She leaned casually against the doorway, taking in your feathered costume with an expression of barely contained delight. Her eyes glinted wickedly, dark and amused, as she folded her arms and smiled. “I’ll be honest, I was betting you’d just wear something cute. But this?” She smirked, gesturing to the yellow fur. “This is adorable.”

You stared at her, feeling the flush creep back into your cheeks as the pieces fell into place. “Val…” you began, your tone a mix of accusation and mortification. She raised a brow, the corner of her mouth curling up even further. “This… this wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“Oh, darling,” Val cooed, tilting her head as her dark eyes sparkled with a wicked delight, “I could never resist such an opportunity. It’s Halloween, after all. And look at you, I just knew the sweet little duckling suit would look absolutely perfect on you. And judging by the reactions, I’d say I was right.”

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, Val, you’re absolutely wicked.”

Wanda leaned close, wrapping an arm around you and whispering with a playful smile, “She may be wicked, but our little duckling looks adorable.” She tapped your nose gently, her expression warm and affectionate. “And now everyone can see how cute you are.”

Mortified yet secretly touched, you let out a resigned sigh and accepted your new role as the group’s beloved duckling. With Wanda and Natasha linking their arms through yours, they led you deeper into the Halloween party, ignoring the amused glances from the other guests.

Across the room, Val raised her glass to you with a amused smirk, her dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. You shook your head with a rueful grin, flicking her off with a smile as she playfully snapped her teeth in response, her grin only widening.

And then, just as you were starting to relax, Natasha pulled you in for a soft, lingering kiss. Your heart fluttered, and you couldn’t help but smile against her lips, feeling the warmth of their affection settle around you like a cozy embrace as Wanda’s fingers trailed down your back.

Maybe being their little duckling wasn’t so bad… at least for one night.

#the color of you #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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heartilywrites · 4 months ago

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،، 𝓒loser ; G. Tomioka

request guide | masterlist

resume: in where your relationship with Giyuu seems to improve by day.

content warning: fluff ; comfort ; Giyuu Tomioka x fem!reader ; no breathing style mentioned ; r is a hashira tho ; no use of y/n ; not proofread yet, it's one in the morning and i was craving to do the fic, sorry for any mistakes-

wc: 2.1k

a/n: HI 👋🏼 this is my first fic for the kny fandom and im nervous about it– i hope you guys like it, if anyone would like to request any character please feel free to do so, i'm working on rqs for another fandom rn, but my brainrot for kny is strong too and i will 100% be writing for this fandom as well!!

“ I could be wrong, but the signals you send me... Baby, me too.

The sound of rocks being pressured by your feet announced your arrival to the butterfly estate. Your hand holding your side began to tremble while your mind was asking you to keep going, you were there, it was just a couple of steps away.

After a night fighting with a stubborn demon that had injured you below your chest, you assured the kakushi that was assigned to your help how you were able to walk to the estate. They fought with you, nonetheless, but were convinced to help you at least walk while resting upon them for support, by the time you were walking up the stairs your legs were feeling weaker and weaker with each step taken.

Shinobu was talking with the water hashira when your silhouette appeared on her view field. Trying to act as if nothing had happened to you, you straightened back up; in an attempt to greet them, your grip on the kakushi vanished and your legs finally gave in, tripping in front of Giyuu and, if it wasn’t by his fast reflexes, you almost hit the floor.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey, you guys! So good to see you, how've you been?” your voice asked, dragging words and feeling dizzy you hang into the man's arms that now were holding you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm so sorry!” the kakushi was quick to say, bowing before trying to take you back. “She has a deep cut in her left side, has been losing blood and didn’t want to be carried, we could've been here already hours ago.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “My legs work just fine.” you defended yourself quickly.

Giyuu's eyes moved from the slight embarrassed helper back to your face, blue orbs examined the tired traits and the small cuts on your skin.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Here, Tomioka, allow us to take her to a bed.” Shinobu talked, making the motion of move you from his grip, but the hashira was faster to take you in arms and walk to the community room.

A small complaint sound came from you by the sudden move. Your eyes tried to focus on the man and a weak smile met his gaze when he was laying you down with such care and caution, as if the most delicate of things he was handling.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sorry,” a hoarsely murmur you said, he frowned confused. “You got stained.” your hand pointed to Giyuu's uniform.

His eyes looked down at him first and then back at you, shaking his head a little bit. “I'll wash it off, worry about yourself first.”

The water hashira stayed for a bit while the healers helped you out, first he made sure that you were okay before leaving the estate once you were finally asleep knowing there were very capable hands taking care of you.

If you weren't half gone and also didn’t know any better, such interactions could've been interpreted in different tones, but it was Giyuu we're talking about, right? There couldn't be second intentions in his actions. You've known him since a couple of years now after becoming a hashira yourself, you knew he was the most reserved out of all in the group and it was hard to read him, but you'd try time and time again until you were able to know more about him.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Tomioka!” you called him when his presence was noticed, walking to him, weeks after the encounter at the butterfly estate, completely heal. Now you were in the Ubuyashiki estate waiting for the meeting to start. Ocean colored eyes met yours. “Udon and onigiris.”

Your hands extended a piece of cloth tied up at the very top so it would be easier to carry, inside there were two containers with the mentioned food.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I brought everyone home-made food,” you pointed behind with your head, referring to the other hashira. Everyone had theirs in their hands. Giyuu took the food in his own hands, you move closer to whisper in his ear. “I didn’t get them any onigiris, though. If they ask, don't say it was me.”

You turned back to keep talking to the love hashira after smiling at him, you may never know it, but Giyuu's ears got red by the action. His eyes looked down to the well wrapped food and a tiny smile appeared in his face before walking to his place when the master's voice called for attention, turning his expression back to serious.

If he was to be honest, the way you treat him made the water hashira feel good. He had that feeling of warmth in his chest when you always greeted him with a smile, even if he didn't reciprocate the expression. His face usually felt a bit warm when he hears you laugh at something he just said, his mind would think about you when you get send to missions, would you be okay alone? If you needed back up, would you send for him? Or for another hashira you trusted more? Would it be disrespectful if he followed you in case you needed help? He questioned always meeting his own scolding: You're a hashira for a reason, you're able to deal with anything alone. But nothing could shake his worries away.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What is it?” you asked after seeing a tiny box being left on your side of the table at lunch, days after.

The water hashira took again his chopsticks in his dominant hand. “Open it.” he pointed with the wood sticks.

Your hands were obedient to what he said, undoing swiftly the ribbon, you took the superior part of the box. Your gaze was met with a pastry, the same type of pastry you would get when a mission was set at the south from your location.

At first, you were confuse on how he knew about it, but then you remembered going on a mission trip with him to the south and talking about this place that made the best pastries, how you always bought at least one when traveling near and if your memory wasn't betraying you: you did take him there in the way back after being victorious. Your eyes sparkled with excitement and moved to him, you were met with an expectant Giyuu trying to get a good look at your expression for the gift he just got from last night's mission.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Thank you, Tomioka...” a big smile started to form in your face, feeling the same getting warmer. “I'm... This is– thank you, truly.” your mouth couldn’t make what you wanted to say, but he understood nonetheless with just the 'thank you's'.

You were sure he was hiding a smile with a big portion of noodles in his mouth.

There was this unspoken connection you two had that was getting stronger with each interaction and it was clear to the most attentive hashira in the group (so, everyone, but Sanemi, Obanai and Giyuu himself apparently), the first one to clearly approach you about it was the love hashira, a full-blown interrogation was made by Mitsuri to only you. She had intercepted you one day after training and pulled you aside to talk and made all the questions her mind could think of.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Since when are Tomioka and you so close? Have you already went out together? When did you finally realize he liked you? How did it happen? Did you tell him or did he tell you? Can I be your maid of honor?” where all asked on one breath, making you feel dizzy.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What are you talking about, Mitsuri?” furrowed eyebrows painted your face. “We're just friends... I think we're friends.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Please, I know you well enough and I've seen how Tomioka acts to connect dots.” her arms crossed on her chest, your eyes stayed on hers, blinking a little bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Wait... Oh my gods... You haven't told him you like him!?” she screamed in a whisper, making you shush her, your head moved saying no. “Then what are all those glances and stuff and and why is Tomioka looking happier than usual?”

You shrugged, slightly timid. “He may like someone, but I don’t really think it's me.”

Kanroji looked at you pouting before sighing, tired. “I need to do something about this.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “No, wait, you don't have to do anything.” you were so quick to intervene, shaking your head. “It's okay, Mitsuri, if he doesn't like me back then I'll have to move on.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Fine... whatever.” she took a breath in and after a big smile appeared on her face. “Want to go take lunch? Because I'm starving.” she changed the subject, tangling her arm with yours and walking while you laugh a little bit, amused by your friend.

After lunch, another session of training and one of gossips with Kanroji, you left her estate almost late at night making your way to yours with a lantern on your hand to see the way.

Close to the gates of your so called home, your wrist was grabbed. In a quick move you had slammed the foreign body on one of the walls, Giyuu showed a sly smirk when you recognized him and loosened your grip.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Didn't I tell you doing that type of things was a bad idea, Giyuu?” you asked, forcing your smile to stay unshown.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Did you?” his head tilted to one side, taking advantage of your distraction he turned the position the other way now making you be the one against the wall. His face got close to yours. “All that with one hand, I think it's impressive.”

One of his own hands took the lantern you were holding and left it on the floor next to you two. Under both the moonlight and the fire on the candle, his eyes looked darker than usual, but somehow you could distinguish that funny brightness you discovered he had when the relationship between the two started.

Both your arms rested on his shoulders and pull him as close as possible.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Well, I don’t know if you know, but I'm a hashira.” in a jokingly way was said, his eyebrows raised a little bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Are you now?” he asked the same way, making you nod. “Must be my lucky day, then, I've been looking for one beautiful hashira that it's said to live around here.”

His hands now met your waist, you smiled. “Yeah? I've heard she has a boyfriend, the water hashira guy.” your fingers were playing with a couple of dark locks.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I think I can take her from that guy, he doesn't seem too strong to me.” a small slap on his shoulder was your initial answer.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “If you keep saying things like that I will send you home, Tomioka, we talked about it.” you warned, serious enough for him to giggle a little bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Sorry, darling, you left it in silver platter.” he purred for a second, his lips brushed against yours for a second before stopping and look you in the eyes again. “Did you tell Mitsuri anything?”

You blinked surprised at the question, how did he know that the love hashira questioned about the relationship between the two of you? You were sure you were alone, or at least too nervous to notice him hide and listen.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Nope, she said she wanted to do something about it, but I stopped her.” you answered, he nodded. “How long do you think we can keep this a secret?”

In his throat, a sound of vibration was made as a thinking expression. “Maybe a couple more months, they think we just became close friends.”

You giggled back. “They don't think that, have you seen how Tengen is–.”

The comment was interrupted by his soft lips crashing completely into yours, claiming them in such a sweet and needy action that made you sigh happy. It was definitely a torture seeing him all day and not being able to kiss him like you wanted to or be by his side just holding his hand, but there was this bet you two made of how long the other hashira would take to notice before you even say anything and you were not about to lose against him.

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #giyuu tomioka #giyuu tomioka x reader #kny x reader #kny #tomioka #tomioka x reader #giyuu tomioka x y/n #giyuu tomioka fanfic #one shot

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