#and it hurts. there's still love. but it hurts.

[sanemistar]

᧔o᧓ satoru x fem!reader, established relationship (married with a son), lots of fluff, i’m just so obsessed with dad gojo he’s living in my head rent free

you never expected to get a call from your son’s school on his very first day, you were pretty sure he was just fine before satoru had taken him to school this morning. you walked out of the house and quickly headed to your son’s school, worried about him.

the moment you arrived, you were shocked to see satoru was still there, with his arms tightly clinging onto his son’s body as he sobbed against his ears, refusing to let go until you had to intervene and pull him away.

“mrs gojo, we’re very sorry to call you so suddenly. but as you can see, mr gojo has been like this for the past 30 minutes, and classes have already started.” the principal said and you politely bowed your head, you grabbed your husband’s head and forcefully made him bow in apology

“let’s go to class now, baby. listen to your teachers and be a good boy, okay? if you do well today, mommy will get you a treat.” your son nodded obediently and you kissed his forehead before dragging satoru, and walking out of the school.

“toru, i can’t believe you would cling to your son like that. you could’ve made him miss his classes.” you scolded your husband, who was still sulking about leaving his son alone. his head drooped down in discouragement.

you knew your husband was so clingy, which was why you were skeptical about letting him take your son on his first day of school when he asked you to this morning. but he begged you so much with his irresistible puppy eyes so you couldn’t say no. if you knew he’d act like that, you wouldn’t agree to it in the first place.

“but babe, what if he gets scared or hurt when i’m not there to protect him?” he tried justifying his actions, you were aware of his good intentions and his fear was reasonable considering the fact that it’s a completely new environment from home, and you too wished you wouldn’t have to leave him. but it was bound to happen anyway and you had to brace yourself for it.

you sighed and patted satoru’s head, your fingers running through his soft, white locks in soothing motions. you couldn't stay mad at him any longer.

"i understand how you feel. it was hard leaving him there, i miss him already. but toru, it's a part of his growing up process. one day he's going to grow up and have his own life, so until then, let's protect him together while he explores life." you said with a smile, entwining your hand with his as he grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it softly.

“not only is my wife beautiful, but she’s also very wise. i love you, y/n.” satoru murmured gently before leaning in to leave a sweet kiss on your forehead.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Fun Sized

Dark!Fairy!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You save a tiny fairy. Gojo Satoru decides that you and him belong together, regardless of how little he is and how little you think of him. 

(Warnings: Yandere, not many warnings in this one ngl)

The fae are a dangerous bunch. You've heard more than enough stories to be spooked. Sirens will sing beautiful songs before dragging you into the depths. Dragons will burn you to a crisp before a second's thought. Nagas would make sure you were alive until the very end as they feast on your organs. Centaurs would use their powerful legs to stomp yours to mere twigs. Driders would suck your blood until there's nothing left but a husk of your body. 

You've never heard anything about fairies. They didn't live in your region. Their lands were high in the mountains, where humans rarely traveled. Also, they were so tiny, according to the books. The biggest seemed to be barely the size of your hand. They were harmless, you concluded. Harmless to humans. Harmless to you. 

He had been harmless. At first, you thought it was a cluster of leaves in the stream, but as the current drew it closer, you noticed tiny arms and a tiny face. He was unconscious; you didn't even know if the poor thing was alive. 

The Fae are a dangerous bunch, but saving one tiny fairy couldn't hurt, right? 

Your guest quickly proved to be a bigger hassle than you initially thought. 

When you brought him to your cottage, he laid in a basket of warm linen, asleep for hours near the warm fireplace. The blueberry pie was still hot when you turned around and caught him staring at you. 

It was silent for a while, and then you said: 

"Do you like sweets?" 

That's how your tentative friendship with the other kind started. Gojo Satoru (you later learned his name) was a boisterous thing. He did in fact like sweets, which helped bribe his friendship. You're surprised that he ate so much despite his stature. Did all faires have black holes for stomachs? 

He healed up rather quickly. At first, you were afraid that his wings had crumbled due to the prolonged exposure to water. But after stuffing himself full of the blueberry syrup, he smiled widely before flitting out your window. 

You thought that would be the end of it, but then he just came coming back. 

Apparently, your baking skills left an impact on the small creature. He didn't visit often, but when he did, you would always make sure you had something. Whether it be cookies, brownies, or that blueberry pie he was so fond of. Anything was good enough for Gojo's taste palette. 

"In the fae lands," Gojo said when you prodded, "sweets are too sweet. Yours is just enough."  You weren't too sure what he meant by that, but you took it as a compliment. You were sure the fae wasn't something who'd give praises so easily. 

It's not like you were upset at providing food for your tiny friend. Quite the contrary. You loved it when Gojo visited. You found him fascinating, the way he could fly miles and miles above your head. How tiny he was. The amount of times you had to hold yourself back from squishing him between your fingers because of how cute he was scared you. 

And you hoped you were fascinating enough to entertain Gojo. You had to be; you don't know why else he'd keep coming back. Even after gobbling down your cooking, he'd lounge around your home, entertaining you with his stories. You learned of the other magical creatures he was in contact with, the students he taught, and how fond he was of them. You don't know why he was so open about sharing his personal life with you, in the stories fae hated humanity, but you would never complain. 

It doesn't click as to why Gojo's so invested in you until he comes out and says it himself. 

"Instead of me coming back and forth like this, why don't you just come live with me?" He says, "I would cut down my flying time by a lot." 

You stare at him in amusement, sure he's joking. "I'm not sure how I'd fit in your house." You tease. "I'd probably crush all your furniture." 

"I can make my house bigger." He announces. "Don't worry 'bout it, just say yes." 

You stare at him, slowly realizing that he isn't as amused. He's still smiling, but there's no joke. 

"No," you finally say, "I'm not doing that." 

He cocks his head surprised as though he's never had someone reject him before. 

"What?" He asks, "Why not?"

"Well." You clear your throat. "For one, I'm human, and you're a fairie. I don't think Fae would appreciate a human wandering around in their lands." 

"Who cares about all that?" Gojo waves his hands around. "You'll be with me, anyways. It'd be fine." 

"I don't get why you're so fixated on the human realm." His mouth turns into a sneer. "It's all so boring. Nothing ever happens. And our magic is much more advanced than yours." It's true. You can't disagree with that. Satoru didn't wear clothes made out of leaves or vines, unlike the common fairy stereotype. His clothing looked much more advanced compared to your loose cotton dresses. A black shirt with intricate buttons and long sleeves. Along with black trousers. You wonder what material could make his suit so shiny. 

You laugh at his disgust. At that time, you saw Gojo as a tiny child clutching their mother's skirts, a cute puppy. You hadn't yet taken Gojo Satoru as the threat he was. 

"It's because I am human." You say, not offended by his remarks. "So I like being near other humans." 

He groans as though your logic makes no sense. "Yuji and the others ask about you all the time, though. They've been dying to meet you." 

"You talk to your students about the giant that cooks for you? I'm flattered." 

"You're dodging," he warns. You roll your eyes. 

"Satoru, I'm not coming to live with you. It'd be too much of a hassle." You finally say. "Besides, you're not my type." 

"I'm everyone's type." He argues. 

"Not mine." You smile, and then you make your first blunder. 

"I like my men a little taller." 

He stiffens, and you know you said the wrong thing. Your smile fades as does the cheery energy in your cottage. He says nothing, but he's zipping out your window before you can apologize. 

He doesn't return for the longest time. You count the weeks. Guilt weighs on your shoulders, heavy and burdensome. Every day you bake something even tastier than the day before. Not even that is enough to coax him back. 

You think you've lost him forever, when he returns on one sweltering summer evening. 

"Hi." You blink. He's watching you, sitting idly on the window, kicking his tiny feet. 

"Hi." He smiles. 

You're happy enough to grab him with one fist and hugging him to your chest, but as always, you stop yourself. Instead, a shy smile rests on your face. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I really am...will you accept an apology pie?" 

He grins wider, and you relax. 

He eats, and you're grateful. Something you once cherished in your life has finally come back to you. You might not return Gojo's feelings, but you still care for him. You'd rather die than ever hurt him again. 

"No, you're right." Gojo surprisingly concedes when you apologize for the third time. "We're too different. It'd never work out. Not as the way you are, right now." 

You nod, grateful he's so understanding. "Exactly." 

He's finishing up when he announces he brought you a gift. 

"I've been working on it for the past few weeks," he cheerily says. "It took a while, but it's finally safe for human consumption." 

He takes out a tiny glass bottle filled with something swirling and blue. When he asks you to bring a glass of water, you acquiesce. To your astonishment, when the elixer is poured, the entire water becomes a swirling mass of a color comparable to none other than galaxies. You're so mesmerized by the color, it's enough to stump your voice. 

"For you!" He declares. "You've always been cooking for me; thought I might return the favor, just this once." 

"What is it?" You ask, amazed by the color. You admire the glance, unaware of the glint in Gojo's eye. 

"It's kinda like the wine you have in the mortal realms, but a little less poignant." He gives when you glance at him. "Go on, tell me what you think?" 

You're too trusting, and so you make your second blunder. 

Once you start, you can't seem to stop. The taste is otherworldly, addicting. You drink and drink, not wasting a single drop. You're breathing heavily once the cup detaches from your lips. 

"Amazing." You say before looking at him. His eyes are too wide, but you're too distracted by the taste still on your tongue. "Seriously, what was that? Can I make it here?" 

He scratches the back of his head. "Not really, the ingredients are pretty hard to find." He shrugs. "Besides, it's supposed to be a one-time use." 

Your eyebrows twist, and then the world sinks. 

You're falling. You think you are. You don't really know. Everything feels like it's stretching. The walls of your tiny little cottage get higher and higher and higher. The floor gets more and more warped. You're sinking, sinking through the air. When you scream, nothing comes out. You feel like you're choking because you can't breathe, and then your vision grows black. 

The next time you open your eyes. It's still dark, and to your horror, you realize you're buried underneath something. 

You panic, clawing and tearing your way out. The material gives away easily. It's fabric. Cotton. But there was so much, an undying ocean of fabric. You lift yourself up from the pile and that's when you realize you're completely naked. 

The mountain of cotton you just climbed to the top of was your old dress. 

Everything was gigantic—the table, the chairs. The windows seemed endless. The ceiling looked miles above you, and you know what happened, but your brain can't formulate it because it can't be—it just can't be.

There's a flutter of wings. You always thought he was so quiet before. Now, he's all you can hear. Immediately, you wrap your body with the cloth. It's hard to keep still; your body is buzzing with nerves and you still can't understand. You have to force yourself to look at him.

You don't know why you expected shock, guilt, something other than the pure manic glee on his face. Satoru towers above you, head tilted. He bends down, cupping your trembling face in his hand because he's big enough to do that now. 

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more adorable." He coos. 

You can see him now. His skin isn't pale, it's borderline translucent. His canines are sharp and pointy. And his eyes. Oh God you've never seen eyes so terrifying before—an endless mass of blue, threatening to swallow you whole. 

He wasn't a cute little fairy. He was anything but that. 

"Gojo..." You start, heart squeezing. "What did you do.." 

You know. He knows. That's why he ignores your question entirely. 

"I'm surprised it worked." He says, mainly talking to himself. "Shoko said it might be a dud, and she was so sure of it, that I mostly believed her." 

"But now look at you!" He roughly pinches your cheek. "You're the perfect size now." 

"Stop." You blubber, pushing his hand off of you. "Don't touch me. Change me back. Change me back." 

He frowns. "Why would I do that? You being human-sized was always such a hassle. Lumbering around. Way too loud. Don't get me wrong, I adore you either way." He proclaims like it's something benevolent. "But this has its charm."

He leans forward, and you scuddle backward in fear. His grin widens. 

"So, am I tall enough for you, now?" 

[pellucid-constellations]

Lessons in Care

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: A small injury

a/n: Consider this a small gift to make up for me disappearing for a month <3 This is part of the line cook au, but as I've mentioned, nothing is really in order so read however you want :) The rest of this AU can be found in my masterlist right there ⬇ love you <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Like this?” You shook the pan a little harder, the handle's weight tweaking your wrist at an odd angle. 

“Almost. Try not to hold your elbow so close to your body. It won’t flip right.” 

You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes. “This is so hard.” 

“I believe in you,” Azriel teased, an amused upturn of his eyes as he watched you struggle. 

“Why is this pan so heavy? It’s literally like 40 pounds.” 

“It’s cast iron, baby.” 

“That’s stupid.” 

Azriel barked out a laugh, red tinting his cheeks as if he hadn’t expected the sound to leave his lips. Your mouth quirked up in a small smile despite your struggle. You shot your gaze to the side to try and catch the sweet expression that still lingered on Azriel’s face.

“Would you like me to do it?” Azriel posed after clearing his throat. 

“Of course not. I came early so you could teach me.” 

“I could teach you another time. You have class soon.” 

“Why do you want me to fail?” 

“I don’t—” 

“You totally do. You want me unable to cook for myself so I’ll always have to rely on you, and then I’ll never be able to leave you.” 

Azriel laughed again, a quiet, rumbling sound. “You caught me. Now hand that over before you hurt yourself.” 

You groaned and turned slightly to evade your boyfriend’s reach. “Az, I’m serious. Teach me how to flip these stupid eggs right now.” 

“Okay, okay. Just let me help.” 

The feel of Azriel’s hand lightly sliding over yours startled you. You jumped and your fingers twitched, the sudden motion sending the tips of your fingers too far forward until a simmering pain shot through your skin. You flung the pan back on the burner instantly, its contents splattering along the stove and into the open flame. It burned a bright orange and then settled as you held your hand close to your chest. 

You hissed a breath through your teeth and Azriel’s hands were on you. 

“Shit, baby, let me see, yeah?” he stressed, mindlessly turning the burner off without taking his eyes off you. He tugged your hand at your chest with gentle fingers. “Let me see.” 

You released the tight grip on your fingers and rested them in Azriel’s open palm. “I was just surprised. I don’t think it’s that bad.” 

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he examined your burn. He tsked, pulling you gently by your wrist over to the sink. “It’s going to blister.” 

Cool water rushed from the pipes and soothed your skin. Azriel held your wrist in a soft grip and turned your hand slowly, back and forth in a repetitive motion. 

“I don’t think so, Az. It’s not that bad.” 

Azriel shook his head. “That pan was pretty hot—I’d be surprised if it didn’t.” He looked up at you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You offered a gentle smile and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You didn’t scare me.” You raised your brow playfully. “You just made me nervous. A cute guy like you holding my hand—reaching over to help me to cook. Made me all jumpy.” 

Azriel breathed out a disbelieving scoff. “I’ve done far worse than just hold your hand.” 

“Scandalous!” you proclaimed, affronted. “How can you say such things at work, Azriel? You’ll be fired.” 

“I can only hope,” Azriel grumbled. 

Azriel directed you to keep your hand under the water as he dug through a cabinet for the first-aid kit despite your protests. You truly felt that you were fine and didn’t even need a bandaid, but it was easy to forget the multitude of scars that littered Azriel’s hands and how they contrasted with your completely unmarred skin. 

That was purposeful, meaningful—Azriel worked hard so you wouldn't have to. Azriel found peace in keeping you safe and happy. 

So you let him fuss. 

“Okay, let me see again, baby,” Azriel requested, flipping the water off and reaching for your hand. Your skin stung as it met the air beyond the sink, but Azriel’s caring touch was like a balm. 

He dried your fingers with a towel and uncapped a spray bottle, coating your burn with too much of the medication before grabbing a set of gauze and tape. You stared at the materials in exasperation. Azriel didn’t notice the expression and continued to admisinister care as if you’d been in a fire.

“Az, I love you so much, but I don’t need all of that. It’s a small burn. I’ve probably done worse with my curling iron.” 

Your boyfriend only hummed and continued his work. “I don’t want it to scar. It blistered already.” 

“Yes, but—” 

“Almost done.”

You let him work. A few moments of silence passed. Azriel kept his gaze hard and his brow set in a harsh line. 

That wouldn’t do. 

Once your finger was fully wrapped and protected from everything Azriel could fear, you puckered your lips in contemplation and shook your head. 

“Still hurts really bad,” you admitted, leaning back against the counter. Azriel followed your movements, leaving little space between you. 

“What?” he questioned, a tinge of panic in his tone. “That should’ve numbed it. How bad does it hurt?” 

“Really, really bad. Like my whole hand is on fire, actually.”

Azriel—who had yet to release your fingers—stared down at them in startled befuddlement. He turned them one way and then another as if that would answer his questioning gaze, and then looked back up to meet your eyes in a way that was almost pleading. 

“I’m sorry, maybe I should—”

“You have to kiss it,” you revealed, not wanting the sad expression to linger on his face any longer. “Duh.” 

Azriel let out a breath that bordered on relief, but most of it seemed founded in exasperation. He shook his head and brought your fingers up to his lips all the same, smiling to himself as he began to kiss each of your fingertips. Even the ones that clearly weren’t burnt. He flipped your hand over and kissed the knuckles, too, capturing your eyes as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. 

“‘M sorry you got hurt,” he mumbled with his lips against the back of your hand. “Told you you shouldn’t try cooking, baby.” 

The warm feeling that had begun to seep into your chest paled in comparison to the offended scoff that echoed in the empty kitchen. Azriel’s poorly concealed, devious smile was hidden in the kisses he started pressing into your palm, and although it would have fit the sound you let out, you didn’t pull away. 

“Azriel, you are just asking for me to—” 

“The hell is going on in here?” The kitchen door smacked against the frame as Cassian made his entrance. “Someone get hurt?” 

Azriel dropped your hand just as soon as Cassian had spotted him pressed against you, clearing his throat and turning to the disheveled first-aid kit on the counter. You brought your knuckles up to your mouth to hide your laugh at Azriel’s expense, his face flushing in vulnerability. 

“Oh, I see what was going on. You were romancing your girl, weren’t you, Az? Well, don’t let me interrupt. You came in early and everything,” Cassian teased, his hands raised in surrender. 

“We were just finishing up,” you countered, a laugh trickling through. “I have to get to class, Cass. You can start your shift.” 

“Uh huh,” Cassian smiled, raising his brows and then lowering them when he caught your hand reaching for your backpack. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” Azriel interrupted. He took your bag from you and slung it over his shoulder, pressing a nonchalant kiss to your head that you knew was actually not nonchalant. “I’m going to take her to school. Cover for me for 20?” 

“Sure, man.” 

“Az, I was going to take the bus you don’t have to—” 

“C’mon, baby.” 

“But I don’t even have my helmet for your bike.”

“I always bring your helmet.”

[roanniom]

For the Road

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk

You lie in the quiet of dawn, cool rays of a hesitant sunrise filtering through the curtains, as Eddie plays with your fingers.

“I don’t want to go on tour.”

His words are so soft you almost don’t hear them muffled against your neck. It’s the first either of you have spoken since you’d woken up in each other’s arms. Distress pricks your throat.

“Why not? You’re going to have so much fun and the crowds are gonna be sick.” Your tone is cheery. You want the best for your man, even if that means feigning excitement in the face of his imminent departure.

Eddie shifts in bed in order to look at you.

“You won’t be there.”

In spite of the stubble that’s accumulated on his face over night, his crumpled expression leaves him looking boyish. Your heart aches.

“I will be there, silly. You know I’m coming to London to meet up with you.”

“Yeah, at the end of the tour,” he groans, burying his face back against your neck. The laugh you let out in response is genuine. You don’t want him to be hurting, but his petulance is endearing in this context. Plus, you secretly like knowing you aren’t the only one dreading your separation.

“I’ll just be a phone call away, you know.”

“Promise?”

You tap him till he looks up at you again so he can see your outstretched pinky. Grinning, he hooks his larger one around yours.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Eddie Munson,” you reply.

“And thinking impure thoughts about me?” Eddie asks hopefully, a wolfish grin lighting up his features. You slide your free hand down his chest and under the covers.

“I only think impure thoughts about you, babe.” You go to press against what you assumed would be his half aroused member only to find it fully rigid under your palm. You intake breath sharply with a laugh. “You’re already hard?”

“What do you expect? Your hand is on my dick.” Eddie says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world.

“Yeah, for like two seconds,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“What can I say? That’s all it takes—fuuuck.”

Eddie trails off into a groan as you wrap your hand around his length in earnest under the waistband of his boxers.

It’s only a few minutes before he’s panting, head tossed back and wavy hair sprayed out against the pillows.

“Oh fuck, just like that, baby.” His voice is low. Gruff with lust and leftover sleep. “You’ve got the magic touch, you know that?”

You hum in response. You’re too focused on the “task at hand” to let him really distract you with his praise. You’re stationed between his thighs, one hand gripping the base of his cock while the other fists up and down, squeezing and twisting over the mushroom head with a flourish each time.

Each time the tip is exposed, you flick your tongue over it, rewarded with his deep moans.

If Eddie was going to be on the road, you were going to be leaving him with plenty of material for his daydreams.

When you start bobbing up and down, taking him deeper in your mouth, that’s when his hips start bucking.

“Princess, it’s - shit - morning. You know I can’t…fuck. Can’t last long in the morning.” He attempts to push you off but you just look up with a grin, your hands still working him expertly.

“Oh I know.”

“I haven’t gotten you yet,” he practically whines, reaching to squeeze at your breast through your sleep shirt.

“I’ll sit on your face later. Right now I want you to cum, ok baby?” you ask before dropping back down to take him all the way down your throat without further warning.

Eddie gasps and his whole body jerks.

“Holy fucking…oh god. Yes ma’am.”

~*~

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I hope you enjoyed this little blurb as I get back into posting! Please let me know what you think! I’ve been gone a long time and would love to hear from you guys

[luveline]

pls spencer and bombshell reader where she like sacrifices herself for him or does something outrageous for him. i love your weiting!! 💝

You don’t have any other choice, Spencer’s on the other roof being held in a chokehold by the UnSub —rational thinking goes out the window. He sees your face and, though he’s starting to look a little blue, gestures wildly for you to not do what you’re thinking. 

You jump. 

You take the landing hard —you ran hard, jumped harder, cringing as the grit of the rooftop tears through your shoulder. You roll into it. In one moment you’re standing, and then you’re knocking the assailant off of your boyfriend just before he falls unconscious. 

You forget everything you’re supposed to remember, flipping the UnSub without care onto his front, yanking his arms back, and cuffing him tightly. He’s a serial child murderer, so it’s kinder than he deserves. 

“Stay down,” you warn, cuffs so tight you can see the perp’s hand changing colour. You’ll have to fix that soon, but you have more important matters at hand. “Spencer?” 

His answer is hoarse, “Yeah.”

You leave the UnSub where he’s laid down and rush to Spencer. You drop to your knees beside him, alarmed that he’s still curled up and gasping. “Hey, hey, what can I do?” 

He grabs your arm and sucks in another breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“Why did you do that?” he asks. 

“What?” 

“What did you do to your arm? Does it hurt?” 

Spencer can barely breathe and he’s asking you if you’re okay. You can see the spots in his eyes. Fuck, he scared you. 

“I’m fine,” you say softly, holding him by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?” 

Your shoulder stings like you’d landed on glass and there’s an ache in your bones from the impact, but the source of your racing pulse is the look on his face, as though he might still pass out. You cringe at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it’s Morgan and Hotch making their way across the gravel top to help you. You turn back to Spencer in relief. 

He takes another huge breath. “Good job,” you say quietly, but saccharinely, rubbing his poor chest. “Do you want to sit up?” 

“I can’t.” 

“Okay. Alright. Just take a breath.” 

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” he croaks, putting his hand over your heart. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Just breathe.” He says your name like a secret. “Just breathe.” 

Of course. He’s lying on the ground panting for his life and he’s telling you to calm down. 

Morgan has the UnSub up and moving. Hotch kneels beside you both, face lined with poorly concealed stress. “You okay?” he asks. “Spencer?” 

“She jumped across the roof.” 

“Spencer.” You’re half wounded, half humoured. 

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you both. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. Spencer almost got choked out.” 

Hotch looks as though he might give in and rub his face, but he pats your arm instead. “Okay. Reid, can you stand up?” 

“Tell her she can’t– can’t jump across rooftops,” Spencer says, suddenly full of indignation as he pushes up onto his elbows. He looks like he’s been hung upside down and shook. 

“Well, clearly I can.” 

“L/N shouldn’t be jumping across rooftops for any reason, but you’re both…” Hotch smiles wryly. “I almost said unharmed.” 

Spencer flops down onto his back. When he speaks, he sounds in a strange place, close to tears and laughing alike, “You have to look at her arm.” 

“I think you both need to see a medic, but first, why don’t we all calm down. Let’s regain our senses, and prevent any further unnecessary pain.” 

Spencer gives your leg an uncharacteristic whack. He’s so messed up from the chokehold that it’s more like a stroke, but you feel the tap for what it is. He’s saying Don’t do that to me again. 

“He really was gonna kill you,” you say, sorry. 

“I had it.” 

“Respectfully, baby, you did not.” 

[bunnis-monsters]

Vampire that doesn’t want to drink your blood… but does it anyways.

He finds himself disgusting, viewing you as his meal, nearly drooling at the thought of sinking his fangs into your neck. The fact he has to hold himself back from killing you every time he feeds leaves him in a state of self hatred.

What if he can’t control himself one day, what if he hurts the only good thing that’s ever come into his life? You give him your entire heart and trust him with your life… and he still has thoughts of draining you completely.

Hunger, every living being experiences it, but he isn’t alive anymore. Does he even deserve to call himself your lover when he notices you grow weaker after each feeding?

He knows for a fact one day these feedings will lead to your death.

But even still, even through the pain and exhaustion, you still bare your neck for him when he comes, that same soft smile on your face.

“Come, my darling. I want you to eat well.”

And how can he deny you? This is an act of pure love, all you want is to make your lover doesn’t go hungry.

So he puts aside his feelings and drinks from you, letting your love sink into his flesh as he holds you close.

He won’t lose you… he’ll find a way to make this work. You’re his beloved after all, and just like you want him to eat…

He wants you to live.

———————

SFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @peachesdabunny @misswonderfrojustice @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @zyettemoon1800 @kassandra-hawthorne @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @readeryn68 @danielle143 @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @hammerhead96-blog @bubblez-blop @snugglyshoji @wanderlustingcastaway @amberexe2 @swasti8854 @an-ever-angry-bi @nenggie

[vividxpages]

｡° ✮୨ৎ "lay it all on me" - Jace Velaryon x f!Reader ୨ৎ✮° ｡

words: 2100

summary: With the Queen and your betrothed Jacaerys’ delayed arrival, you are left in charge of the day’s council meeting. When one of the lords starts to speak of a possible bedding ceremony for your upcoming wedding, your thoughts begin to spiral badly…

warnings: the lords in Rhaenyra’s council being perverts and dicks, talks of misogynistic traditions and predatory behavior of men, sexism and misogyny, panic attacks, Jacaerys being a protective betrothed, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, crying, hopeful ending

a/n: I cooked this up so quickly, but I was very inspired yesterday - thank you so much to the anon who sparked a conversation about bedding ceremonies in my asks and with it, my inspiration for this idea! <3 this is for you :*

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

When the messenger arrived at the council room and announced the delayed arrival of the Queen and her son, you had been optimistic for a moment.

Jacaerys and you, a team ever since your shared childhood and since recently betrothed with the blessings of his mother and family, had led council meetings like this together before and you were no stranger to the strategies and logistics of the war and Rhaenyra’s efforts in it. You just had not done it by yourself before.

You nodded in thanks to the messenger and turned back to the assembly of Rhaenyra’s lords around the table with a polite smile. It was only a matter of time until her and Jace would make their return from the dragon’s caves and until then, you’d do your best to begin today’s conversation.

“Well then, my lords.” You nodded to yourself and took a deep breath, looking into the round with openness. “I believe we’ll continue where we’ve left off yesterday? Is there any news yet of Daemon’s stay at Harrenhal? We could-“

“There is another matter of importance we thought we could discuss with you, my princess.” One of the lords interrupted you, a cool smile on his face as you leaned back in your seat. You cocked an eyebrow at him to continue despite your sentence being left unfinished. “Since the wedding with the prince Jacaerys will occur in the upcoming months, it would be wise to discuss the bedding ceremony sooner rather than later.”

Something in you went very, very still.

You blinked at him before you looked into the other men’s faces. They seemed to be in agreement of this rapid topic change. “The…bedding ceremony?”

“Yes, it is of grand importance to ensure the consummation of marriage between two newly-weds.” He explained to you, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his old mouth. “It’s an old tradition and the lords and I believe it is best to follow it with the young and lovely union of the prince and you.”

You swallowed against the dryness in your throat, your hands suddenly clammy with unsureness. “I have not talked to Jace about such a thing. The Queen hasn’t spoken to me about it either. That’s…-What if me and Jacaerys are against it?”

A few of them chuckled as if you had made a good jest.

“My princess, is it not really a matter of choice, if you understand.” One of them explained to you before he suddenly turned away from you and addressed the others: “The wedding will be held here at Dragonstone as we know and I thought of a crowd of perhaps a dozen, mostly members of the family and this council, of course. After the celebrations, the prince will lead his bride away in the company of the Queen’s loyal and trusted advisors and then, the marriage will be consummated in a room large enough for the ceremony.”

You opened your mouth to object, but found your voice had simply vanished.

“Will there be sheets as proof in the morning?”

“I would actively support it.”

“There are clothes here at Dragonstone suited for such a ceremony, I am sure we will have them before the wedding takes place.”

“A purity test accomplished by a maester might be sufficient beforehand as well-“

You felt yourself drifting away from the conversation, one that circled around you and yet did not include you at all. Staring at the table in front of you, you felt your breath quicken as a distant howl swept through your mind, drowning out their voices as they went on and on.

In your mind, you saw yourself being led into a fully lit room. The dress you wore was thin and barely hiding your body, your arms protectively crossed in front of yourself as you shivered. The bed chamber was crowded all the way back to the tapestry of the walls with men regarding you coolly. Their hunger for the curves barely hidden underneath your dress was evident in their eyes, yet you had to walk on until you reached the middle of the room. Jacaerys was waiting, his own expression blank and without any emotion for you as he took your hand and led you to bed. There were a thousand eyes on you and you felt numb, your body screaming in protest, your mind begging you to shout at them to leave as Jace mechanically began to kiss your neck-

The wide doors of the hall opened and the men seated around you abruptly stood, their wrinkly hands brushing over their attires. The Queen was here.

You remained in your seat, your mind having drawn itself back to a hidden part in yourself, blankly staring at the fidgeting hands in your lap. When you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, the touch so familiar it could’ve been your own, you closed your eyes for just a moment. Jacaerys had come with her.

“What is going on?” Rhaenyra demanded to know, walking around the big table as she took in your uncharacteristic quiet state.

When your betrothed raised your hand to his lips in greeting, you looked up and bit your lip at Jace’s worried expression. The taste of iron coated your lips and only now you realized you had bitten your lip so badly, it had started to bleed. The pain was almost a relief.

“Are you alright?” Jace murmured, his hand delicately cupping your cheek and making you shudder. Your eyes were glassy, your cheeks red from shame and suddenly, a strong urge to cry shot through you, so intense you barely could fight it. “What is it, my love?”

You shook your head, avoiding his searching gaze.

The shame burned hotly through you and you wanted to shrink into your seat until you could escape these old devils. One of them, who had started this whole discussion about the ceremony in the first place, cleared his throat. “Your Grace, we were discussing possible arrangements for the wedding of the prince and his betrothed. There have been no mentions of the traditional bedding ceremony yet and the lords and myself were worried that-“

Rhaenyra frowned with a disgusted curl of her lips. “A bedding ceremony? There hasn’t been a tradition like this in my generation. Why would we burden the next with such an old piece of the past?”

You could sense Jace tensing beside you, his face dark as he stared at the lord. Would he look at you like this too, when the happiest day of your life would end with having to sleep with each other in front of dozens? Your chest hurt as you struggled to breathe normally.

“The princess has expressed similar concerns, but there are ways…There could be a thin veil draped over the sides of the bed.” Another suggested generously and you felt your stomach turn itself over. “Of course, it cannot shield the pair fully from the observer’s eyes. They have to be in sight, so it can be assured that she’s-“

“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Jace cut him off, close to snarling as he flexed his hand on the hilt of his sword. He remained by your side, his stance protective of you and intimidating. “Neither my mother or myself have been consulted about this before and the fact that you’ve preyed on an opportunity to bring it up in front of the princess is close to treason. And yet you’ve dared to speak of such inappropriate matters in front of my betrothed, your future Queen? I could have you hanged by the cliffs of Dragonstone for such perverted behavior.”

“My prince, with all respect, it simply is tradition. It has to be guaranteed that on the night of her wedding, the bride is a maiden-“

The sound of your chair screeching over the floor broke through the room as you stood up. The sound of your own breath was too loud in your eyes, the lump in your throat only growing by the second. “If you would excuse me, Your Grace, I’m not feeling well.”

Jacaerys stood with you, but as he reached for your hand, you had already slipped away and quickly made your escape towards the wide doors, trying to breathe against the numbing panic in your lungs.

You blindly walked down the long corridor, ignoring the questioning looks of the guards standing on the sides. Would they be there as well, to witness yours and Jace’s union, eyes on your naked body when Jace had to deflower you in front of an audience?

You choked on a sob, the tears running freely down your cheeks now, the pain in your chest only expanding from keeping it inside for so long. You had never experienced a panic like this before, a powerful tide washing all rational thoughts away and sending your brain into overdrive.

Behind you, quick footsteps were approaching and before you knew it, Jacaerys had overtaken you and blocked your path, taking your upset state in with wide eyes. Your bottom lip wobbled dangerously and you came to a halt, noting how far and fast you had walked away from the council room.

“My love…” Jacaerys mumbled quietly and stepped closer and somewhere inside of you, a dam burst and he caught you as you fell into his arms, your body wrecked with heartbreaking and breathless sobs. He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you against his chest and letting you cry, his own heart aching at the stress vibrating through your body.

“I don’t want them to see…” You sniffled miserably against his shoulder, his arms tightening protectively around your waist, one of his hands resting on the back of your head and stroking your hair. “I want our wedding night to be ours, I don’t want them in the room with us, I don’t want any of it.”

“I’m not going to allow it.” He assured you calmly, suppressing his own anger for the sake of your peace of mind. Later, he’d had time to rage and forge the feeling into action, but now the only thing that mattered was you. “They have no right to make these rules for us. You and I decide, together, okay?”

You nodded, your anxiety slowly beginning to ebb away and leaving the council room and its members behind you.

“I am so sorry I was not there with you.” Jacaerys regretfully whispered against your temple, soothingly stroking your back as you rested your tear-streaked face against his neck. “I am not going to let this slide. And I am serious, my love, I promise you; there will be no bedding ceremony, I’m not going to let them expose you like this.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your eyes still shimmering with worried tears. “And what if we have to? I can’t do this, Jace, I would rather die-“

He gently shushed you and gently rested his forehead against yours, willing you to take big and deep breaths with him until you were breathing in sync and your shivering stopped. “We don’t have to do anything. You and I, we’ll be king and queen someday and I will not accept any disrespect towards you, not today or when we’re married, alright?”

You nodded slowly, exhaling deeply as you allowed yourself to sink against him, letting yourself be held and gently swayed from side to side. Slowly but surely, your heart stopped hurting and the clouds in your mind dissolved until you only felt him.

“Alright.” You whispered back after a while and his lips on yours, featherlight and oh so gently, were a relief after such moments of stress. When you separated and looked into each other’s eyes, you added quietly: “I want this, with you. All of it. I want our first time together to be special and a memory we’ll cherish forever.”

“And it will be, I promise.” He soothed you. “These old pathetic men will do good to remember their place before I’ll unleash Vermax on them.” He added jokingly and even managed to make you giggle a little bit at the mental image. “You know how Vermax adores you, he’ll eat them in one piece and spit them out, because they’re disgusting.”

You snorted tiredly and nuzzled his neck in affection, not ready to separate yourself from him just yet.

“My mother will deal with them.” Jace promised you darkly, a revengeful shimmer in his fierce eyes as he wiped the last of your tears away with his thumb. “And when she’s done with them, I will make sure as well they’ll remember who they answer to, my queen.”

He would deal with this.

And after he had put those foul men in their place, he’d make sure you’d be the happiest you could be and your wedding would be perfect and just the way the two of you had imagined for so long…

my taglist: @princesschimchim1325 @cecestea @jacesvelaryons @princessvelaryon @diannnnsss

[lavandulawrites]

Cares

Yandere Kinich x reader

This idea came to me when suddenly and I just had to write it down asap

Synopsis: Ajaw has finally found someone he considers his friend. He is however not the only one. The normally arrogant dragon, finds it fascinating how Kinich is spiralled deep into love and obsession.

Masterlist

Warnings: written in Ajaw’s point of view, Ajaw sees reader as both a friend and a motherly figure, murder, dismembering, Kinich is both down bad and insane, Ajaw cares (?!), drugging, abduction

Word count: 1058

Ajaw found the black haired man to be extremely annoying. He rarely showed any signs of hurt by his remarks and he put him in timeout way too often. He was in other words stupid and a sorry excuse of a man. Ajaw could feel himself greying in anger at the thought of his dismissal. You however, were different. You were kind (nauseating so) and you always brought Ajaw tasty snacks (as he deserved naturally). You entertained him in various means, unlike a certain useless man.

You were the only human Ajaw tolerated. And he made it known to you. For that’s how kind the Almighty Dragonlord was. To both his dismay and his curiosity, he was not the only one who thought highly of you. Oh, far from it.

Ajaw tried to stay out of human concerns as much as possible (it was after all offensive to his greatness to be a associated with humans), but he found it fascinating how much Kinich cared for you. He would always bring you food if you had forgotten to bring any, put on sunscreen for you (Ajaw found it gross how Kinich’s face reddened at the feel of your skin, he could sometimes swear he could see him wetting his lips like a hungry dog. Disgusting), take you on picnics and buy you gifts. The great dragon never got such nice things from him, even when he had been on his best behaviour.

When Kinich had managed to persuade you to try bungee jumping with him, Ajaw had for the first time in his life not had the desire to cut the rope and let you fall straight down with a splat. It was a weird feeling.

Conflict always seemed to rise whenever you were conversing with someone who wasn’t Ajaw nor Kinich. Ajaw was only offended that you speared another human your time instead of bringing him snacks, but Kinich was seething. His jaw was clenched so hard Ajaw could almost hear his teeth breaking in half. His fist tight causing the veins on his arms to stand out like a sore thumb. He clearly always intimidated the stranger enough that he or she left in a hurry. Had Ajaw not been as strong and amazing as he was, he would himself have been frightened.

Your naivety and kindness was something that clearly troubled his servant. He always worried about you and always came up with poor excuses to see you (be it meeting you or watching from the shadows). Normally would Ajaw not help him, no he would rather have sabotaged him, but since it was you he lend him his hand. You were clearly rather weak compared to the raven haired man and himself. Shorter than Kinich and not a fighter. Which was something the hazel eyed man seemed to appreciate.

Following you around became an everyday occurrence and Ajaw for once helped Kinich. When Kinich asked him for his help to orchestra a dangerous situation where he would come in and save the day, he didn’t think twice before agreeing.

He still wanted his body, but it was no longer his main focus. It was a strange shift in his behaviour, but not unwelcome. It was nice to have a friend after all.

Months had passed and both him and Kinich had gotten closer to you. It was clear as day to Ajaw that the ancient name bearer was head over heels. Especially when he caught him sniffing some clothes he had stolen from you. Ajaw never let that go and tormented him with it whenever he saw fit.

It was a lazy sunny afternoon when Kinich came barging into their home. His eyes were blown wide in rage and his limbs shaking. Ajaw was an expert in recognising blood thirst and Kinich oozed of it.

“The fuck are you barging in for, you useless fool?!” the dragon trumped his foot angrily on the air.

“Shut up, Ajaw. I need your help.”

“Don’t talk to the Almighty Dragonlord like that!! I should teach you a lesson! And why on earth should I help you?” he crossed his arms and raised a brow.

“It’s regarding [Name]” he didn’t need to say more for Ajaw to agree to help.

The forest was thick and dark. Mist covered the ground as far as they could see. Kinich had swung his claymore without his help and already ended the puny man’s life. That was he got for being a treat to your well being he had said. Ajaw had to agree.

Kinich dragged the body through the forest creating a bloody trail behind them. The metallic scent hung heavy in the air causing Ajaw to bare his teeth. Such an awful smell.

The man was as useless in death as he was alive. Heavy he was too, judging by the laboured breathing of the normally strong man.

The body was thrown on a makeshift table of old wooden planks. Thin fingers ran over the many knifes and cleavers in the worn knife roll. It was obvious to the yellow dragon that this wasn’t the first time Kinich had dismembered someone. It was a mystery just how many he had slain in the name of protecting you.

With a giddy smile, Ajaw watched as he lifted the sharp cleaver and started working. The bald easily cut through the flesh. With furrowed brows he worked around the bones with the precision of the most talented butcher. It was an eerie sight; the black haired drenched in blood.

After about an hour or so, he was finished. “Do you know of a good place to dispose of this?” he asked the dragon.

He watched through his sunglasses of your struggle. It was fascinating how you thought you could overpower the taller man in your drugged state. Kinich was clearly irritated which made the sight even more entertaining. It had been so fast. Before you know it you were drugged by the juice Kinich had so kindly offered you and brought home to the two of them. Not that Ajaw was on to complain. He found your company enjoyable and he even cared for you.

He couldn’t wait to see how this would unfold. What would happen first? Would you accept your fate or would Kinich finally, properly snap?

Only time would tell.

[maskedbyghost]

lets continue our talk about situationship!Simon, where this bitch grovels for monthssss

_______________________________________________

situationship!simon starts sending you text messages. before you could expect something like "you up?" or "come to my office.", but after you broke things off with him, simon started sending you heartfelt text messages, apologizing for his past behavior. “i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he texted one night. “i realize now how much i hurt you, and i’m truly sorry, love. i understand if you need space, but i wanted you to know how much i regret everything.”

along with his messages, simon started sending you small but meaningful gifts. he remembered how you’d joked about his tea obsession once and that you’d mentioned you only liked chamomile. to your surprise, he found the best brand of chamomile tea and even packed it in a nice box before delivering it to your room.

he even started to open up more. during a late-night phone call, where you could clearly hear that he was drunk, simon said that he started seeing a therapist. “i’m workin on understandin my issues and changin for the better. i want to be better, not just for you love, but for myself. i hope you can see that i’m tryin to change.”

when you asked him to stop calling you love, he refused. “i can’t help it. you’re mine in a way no one else could be, and i don’t want to pretend otherwise.”

as simon keeps showing up with gifts and heartfelt messages, you can’t help but wonder if he’s being real or if he’s just trying to win you back before breaking your heart again.

you still go on dates with other people, and simon is tormented every time he sees you leaving the base in those pretty dresses—dresses he wishes were just for him. he follows you, quietly lurking in the corners of the restaurants or bars where you’re out with your dates. oddly enough, most of the guys you go out with either get transferred to another base or stop calling you after just one date, and you’re doing your best not to blame simon for it. but you know it's him. and he is not sorry at all.

almost every day, simon texts you, asking you out on dates and planning special things for the who of you. all you have to do is say yes, but each time, you refuse. it breaks his heart every time, but it also makes him more determined to try even harder. he knows he deserves this treatment from you.

back when you and simon used to train together on base, it was a special routine you both enjoyed. now, you’ve started asking other guys to help you with exercises, and it drives him wild with jealousy. watching their hands on you makes him see red. after your training sessions with them, simon invites these guys to spar with him. it quickly becomes clear that he’s using these sparring matches as a chance to take out his frustration and anger, landing a few extra hits just to make his point.

despite everything, you still won’t budge, and it’s only making simon more frustrated. the truth is, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to resist him. his persistence is wearing you down, and the more he pushes, the more you find yourself struggling to stay strong.

simon invites you to one of his therapy sessions, saying his therapist thinks it would be helpful for him and his progress. during the session, he opens up about his struggles and insecurities, laying everything bare. as he talks, you start to feel sympathy for him. it’s clear he’s determined to change and work on himself, and you see how genuine his efforts are.

one night, you were preparing tea in the kitchen when a girl you know from the base asked for simon’s number. she mentioned she was interested in him, which made you jealous. you snapped at her, making it clear that he would never be interested in a girl like her. simon overheard the whole thing and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. it was clear you still had feelings for him, and he took a bit of satisfaction in that.

later that night he sent one simple message to you: "that's my girl. i belong to you, and you only."

after that message, simon stepped up his game. he started sending you lots of sweet texts and little gifts, and even took care of some of your paperwork. it was hard to ignore how much he was trying, and you found it tougher to resist him as he kept showing you how much he cared.

a few months after managing to ignore simon as best as you could, you caught a nasty cold and were stuck in your room. you only texted price to let him know you needed a few days off because you were sick, and got back in your bed trying to sleep that cold off. a few hours later, as you were still trying to fall asleep, you heard your door open. simon walked in, carrying a bunch of bags, a worried look on his face.

“i came as soon as I could,” simon said, worry in his voice. “i brought you soup and medicine.”

simon didn’t leave your side for days. he only went back to his room to grab more clothes and shower. he was insistent on helping you with everything, even assisting you with your showers in the most respectful way possible of course. he’d sit in a chair next to your bed, and you felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was giving up for you. you even tried to convince him to go get some rest, but despite your protests, he somehow ended up in your bed, gently spooning you as you slept.

simon would whisper sweet things in your hair, thinking you were asleep. you heard every word as he softly talked about how much he missed you, how sorry he was for everything, and how he wanted to make things right. even though you were sick and exhausted, his words touched you deeply.

once you were feeling better, you found simon sitting alone in a common room, lost in thought. you approached him quietly and gently kissed the side of his face. with a soft smile, you whispered, “take me on that date you promised.”

_______________________________________________

@daydreamerwoah

[pinejayy]

╰➤Riding Them || One Piece

featuring: kid, killer, law, smoker and crocodile.

a/n: first time writing for smoker!! so I hope I do good! both smoker and crocodile was suggested by @walmartmihawk

summary: riding these beautiful one piece men because I’m whore when it comes to anime men. 😩😩

warnings: nsfw!! riding,, grinding,, teasing,, kid being kid.

✦•·················• 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃!! •·················•✦

Eustass Kid

This man loves to dominate you at any given moment so when you suggested you ride him he was like "HELL NO!! I'M NOT LETTING YOU TAKE CHARGE DURING SEX!" But after some whining and moaning he finally gave in, he didn't want to hear your bitching.

You weren't aware with this new position he would feel much bigger, So when Kid saw your face reaction he couldn't help but laugh at you. "Aw? What's wrong you little Brat? To much?" He would mock you, but Kid would give you time to adjust to this new position. And once time has time passed by you would move your hips slightly, making him groan softly.

You’ve just awakened something in Kid, for once he doesn’t mind being on his back. But he’ll still find a way to take charge of this new sex position. “That’s right babe. Keep riding my cock.” He would groan out, using his metal arm to wrap around your waist, matching his brutal pace.

This bastard loves to twist your nipples as your riding him, the way your chest bounces makes his dick twitch inside of you. And expect him to slap your ass. Making you cry out in pain. “KID!” You would moan out. To which he grip your waist and lean up. “It’s Captain.”

“That’s right you Brat, keep riding. You wanted to ride this dick! Now keep riding…” He loves to dirty talk you whenever you ride him. He still wants to be in charge despite him being on his back. “You dirty bitch, that’s right…right there. You make me feel so good.”

Killer

This man was eating spaghetti when you suddenly told him you wanted to ride him. “Hey Killer. Do you think tonight I could ride you?” And the poor man was coughing up spaghetti. “You wanna ride me?” And to which you would nod, giving him an innocent look and of course he could never say no to you.

So when it comes to the bedroom, Killer would be so gentle with you because this is a new position for you and he doesn’t want to hurt you. So this would involve a heated makeout session, him preparing you with his fingers.

Killer is so gentle, he can tell your nervous so he traces small circles along your hips. And help you aline yourself to his needy cock. He’ll give you time to adjust. “You’re doing a good job Princess…so good.” He would moan softly. Throwing his head back. Feeling your walls clench around him.

Loves watching the way your body moves against his, the way your hips snap back and fourth against his. God you’re perfect in his eyes. He loves to praise you whenever you’re riding him. So expect a lot of sweet comments coming form his mouth. “So good…good job princess. Keep going I got you.” “You’re doing a good job, you take me so well.” And he loves to lean in and share a deep kiss with you. Both tongues fighting for dominance. “You make me feel so good Princess, this pussy is so good.”

One time you told him to leave the mask on. “Leave the mask on.” And of course he would leave the mask on. But he’s a panting and moaning mess under that mask.

One time you guys were so loud to the point where Kid was banging on the door. “WILL YOU GUYS KEEP IT DOWN! NO NEED TO RUB IT THAT YOUR BOTH GETTING LAID!” To which you guys would laugh. “Someone is jealous.”

Law

This man loves it whenever you ride him, especially after a long day of work. Especially if he’s sitting on his chair. First it’ll start off with you walking into his office and locking the door and he’ll be too busy with work to notice you so you wiggle your way to his lap and stay there. And he’ll grumble under his breath. “Go away. I’m busy.”

But of course you catch his attention when he feels you grinding against his leg. “Need to ride your cock again…please.” Of course this would catch his attention. “Work for it then. I’m very busy.” And to which you would start dry humping his leg, moaning under your breath. “You’re mean…but I guess your leg will do. I don’t need your…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Law started attacking your lips against his. Already stripping you from your clothes and pulling down his pants, just enough for his dick to spring out.

The room was filled with muffed moans as he was exploring your mouth with his tongue. Mumbling against your lips. “You love riding me huh? Such a dirty little princess. You need to learn your lesson from interrupting me from my work.” He hissed against your lips. Biting on your lower lip.

Law gets needy and quite aggressive whenever you’re riding him. This either could include him holding your hips in place and he fucks you as he pleases or him encouraging you to move even more. “That’s right. Keep moving Princess. Finish what you started.” He would tease, his deadly fingers would find their way to your clit.

Once you guys are done, he’ll give you a moment so you can catch your breath before he pushes you against his desk, not caring about his books or paperwork. “We’re not done yet. I need to put you in your place.”

(inspired one shot)

Smoker

Please ride this man!! He goes crazy whenever you suggest to ride him!! After a long day of hunting pirates he needs to let out some steam and sometimes he’s too tried so yes pleased ride him! His favorite place is of course his office…besides the bedroom but office sex drives any man mad.

And he can be very demanding, so whenever he needs to let out some steam he’ll call for you in his office. “Make sure you lock the door.” He told you, as he watches you walk in. To which you quickly obeyed. “Long day?” You asked softly, and he nodded. “Need to let out some steam. So please be a dear and strip.” He demanded. To which you quickly listened to his orders.

He was already removing his bottoms before he suggested you to come closer. “Come, take a seat on your favorite chair.” He patted on his lap. You already felt the pool between your legs grow even more. Sitting down on his lap and slowly sliding down his cock. Making his groan. “I needed this…stupid pirates are giving me a headache.”

Even when you’re riding his doesn’t drop the cigar. So he could be sitting on his chair and while you’re riding away. He watch the beautiful sight. The way your chest moves, the way your mouth hangs open, soft moans escaping your lips while he’s blowing the smoke in the air. “Fuck..” He groans, grabbing a handful of your ass.

After a good riding, your legs would feel weak and of course this bastard is going to tease you. “What is my dick that good that your legs are feeling weak? Just wait until we get home.”

Sir Crocodile

This man appreciates a good riding, dealing with Mihawk and Buggy gets him so riled up. Especially Buggy….he can’t stand that stupid Clown. So he could be in his office working on some paper work and you would appear. Before you could lean in and kiss your lover he would grab you and force you down on his lap. Capturing your lips against his. And you would feel his cock pressed against your clothed bottoms. “Ride me..”

This would lead into him ripping your clothes off, and if you whine about it he’ll shush you. “Shh I’ll buy you more clothes, I just need to feel you.” He mumbled, guiding your pussy to his hard cock. Slowly he helped you down to his length. Moaning as he feels your walls around him. “So tight…feels so good dear.”

He loves tracing your skin with his hook, especially putting close to your neck as your. He loves watching your eyes widen as he brings the hook closer to you. But!! He’ll never ever hurt you with it! He wouldn’t even forgive himself if he were to hurt your precious skin with his hook.

You can tell when he’s so riled up with the way he moves his hips so desperately against yours. “The stupid clown has gotten you riled up again?” You moan softly, as you bury your face against his neck. Breathing in his scent. “Yes, stupid clown is at it again…”

One time Mihawk walked in on you guys, he didn’t even bother to knock but once he saw the slight he was instantly disgusted. “Save your gross activities for later on.” He mumbled and left. And this other time Buggy also walked in on you guys and he immediately yelled. “OMG! I’M SO SORRY! AHAAH OH GOD MY EYES.”

[tender-rosiey]

maybe jelly — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: gojo getting jealous? 👁️👁️

you arrive at jujutsu high, as you prepare for your guest lecture. you’ve given these talks before, but this time, something feels a little different—satoru is acting strange.

not that he’s ever normal, but today he seems extra…dramatic.

“you’re going to kill it, babe,” satoru says, draping his arm over your shoulders as you walk toward the classroom. his blindfold hides his eyes, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze, more focused than usual.

“you okay?” you ask, glancing at him with a teasing grin. “you seem a little... off.”

“me? off? never,” he replies, lips pulling into his trademark smirk. “just making sure no one gets too cozy with my brilliant wife. gotta make sure these kids remember you’re taken.”

you roll your eyes playfully, “I think everybody and their mother know that, satoru.”

time passes by, and now, you stand at the front of the lecture hall at jujutsu high, wrapping up your talk.

the students seem genuinely engaged, and one in particular, a young sorcerer named ren, is practically bouncing with enthusiasm, asking follow-up questions.

“and how did you manage to seal that curse without any physical confrontation?” ren asks, his voice brimming with admiration and curiosity.

before you could respond, satoru appears at your side with his usual confidence, his presence instantly commanding attention, “well, she is the wife of the gojo satoru. kinda comes with the territory,” he interjects, flashing his signature grin.

you shoot him an exasperated look, “I’m pretty sure my skills had something to do with it.”

satoru leans in close, nuzzling against your cheek affectionately before pulling back slightly. “oh, of course, sweetheart. you’re amazing, but it doesn’t hurt to be married to the strongest sorcerer around, right?”

ren blinks, clearly caught off guard by the interaction.

he glances between you and satoru, his expression a mix of confusion and awe. “I wasn’t aware you were married,” he mutters, his gaze flickering between you and satoru as if trying to process this new information.

you smile and give satoru a jab into his ribs that he takes like a champ, “yeah, he likes to remind people. it’s kind of his thing.”

satoru, never one to miss an opportunity to make a grand statement, leans down and places a soft kiss on the top of your head.

his arm slips casually around your waist, “just keeping things clear. y'know, in case anyone forgets that I get the honor of calling you mine.”

ren tries to steer the conversation back to his question, “so, about the sealing technique…”

satoru cuts him off again, stepping slightly in front of you with a playful yet firm stance.

“hey, hey, let’s not bombard her with too many questions now. she’s been on her feet alllll day, talking about all the cool stuff she’s done and showing everybody just how badass she is.”

you roll your eyes but can’t suppress a small smile. stepping around him to face ren again, you continue, “ignore him. the technique I used requires focusing on—”

satoru clears his throat dramatically, pulling you back to his side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, eyes boring into the poor boy even through his blindfold.

“you know what I think? I think my lovely wife deserves a break. maybe some alone time with her handsome, strong, and incredibly talented husband?”

you raise an eyebrow at him, your tone teasing. “handsome and humble, I see.”

satoru’s grin widens, and he leans down to whisper in your ear, “I can be both when it comes to you.”

you are about to retort back, but then you remember that ren is still here.

you turn to the boy with a smile and assure him, “anyway, ren, if you want to chat more about techniques, we can catch up later. after my husband gets over himself,” you hiss at the man who raises his hands in surrender.

ren, now visibly flustered and unsure, mumbled, “uh, I’ll… catch up with you later then. thanks for the talk!”

ren dashes out the room, slamming the door behind him. you tap your feet against the ground for a few minutes, before you elbow satoru again.

he stays standing up, chest puffed out and a big grin plastered on his face. you deadpan as you stare at your husband, “you really couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

satoru shrugs nonchalantly, still holding you close. he hums, giving you a kiss on the forehead, “what can I say? I don’t like sharing. besides, you are the wife of the strongest sorcerer; it’s important to make sure that’s clear.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile helplessly at your husband. your fingers find their way through his hair making him instantly melt. you giggle at your puddle of a husband, “you’re so lucky I love you.”

he tilts his head slightly, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “I love you more, soooooooooooo—”

“oh my god, I get it,” you laugh as you try to push him off. he resists with a whine as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder. you yield and let the silence fill the room.

he hums softly as you both sway mindlessly.

“but y’know,” you pull back slightly, smiling up at him, “you really do like to make an impression.”

he chuckles, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and mischief, “just doing my part to ensure everyone knows how lucky I am and how lucky they should feel to be in the presence of my extraordinary wife.”

he intertwines your left hands together and raises them slightly, showing off the rings. the sun makes them shine quite brightly, and it makes you sigh with a smile and satoru let out a huff of laughter.

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[ohtobeleah]

If Logan is one thing, it's protective. and not in a "You're mine and can't do anything for yourself" Toxic way. He's protective in an "I'll literally do anything and everything for you, come hell or high water, I'd throw my over-extended life on the line to keep you safe."

I could see the two of you getting in some sort of car accident. He was the one driving. Something he always insists on doing. You don't often fight him on matters like who does what and when. You enjoy the journey just as much as getting to the destination with Logan in all aspects of life. Just being in each other's presence is enough for you most of the time.

"Y/n?" Logan growls as he comes to. Hell if the impact was enough to rattle him, it had to be enough to be a cause for concern for you. "Honey?" He looks over to where you're slumped in the passenger seat. Not only had you been wearing your seatbelt, but with an instinct to keep you safe, keep you protected from harm's way, Logan had flung his arm across your chest to keep you back against the seat.

"Fuck, Honey, hey--?" Logans reaches over, groaning as he moves. there's shattered glass fragments and twisted aluminium all around you. "I've got you," He taps your cheek softly, trying his best to coax you out of your unconscious state. "I'm here, wake up for me?" Logan seems to be asking questions when in reality it's more of a statement. he needs you to wake up, he needs you to be alright. without you? Logan isn't sure if he could keep living.

"Don't do this to me, please?" He nearly cries as your head lulls to the side, blood dripping from your nose, and your mouth. "I love you," He admits softly while trying to assess the damage done from the impact. You're his girl, why would someone try and take you away from him like this? Had he not been through enough loss? enough hurt?

"Did you just say you love me, Lo?" You mumble as your eyelids flicker. Logan lets out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding in. "That's kinda sweet, I'm telling your boyfriend." Logan knew you were referring to Wade, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that you were still here with him.

"You're hearing things," Logan replied as a smile crept across his aging face. The salt and pepper beard prevalent on his cheeks is speckled blood. "Don't scare me like that ever again, you hear me?"

"You're the one who's driving," You look across to where Logan is sitting, the pair of you still trapped in a twisted mess. "And I think it's time for you to wake up now." You stare at him a little more seriously than what you'd just been. Logan feels himself slipping back to reality...only to wake up on your lounge, alone.

"Ahhh!" Logan wakes with an audible gasp as his claws eject from between his knuckles. It's something he's become accustomed to. Waking in the middle of the night from nightmares that haunt him from his past. But these ones were new to him. The fear of losing you had begun to creep into his subconscious.

He's sweating, shaking from a heightened level of adrenaline and fear. But your voice cuts through it all.

"You were dreaming again," You speak up from where you're perched on the kitchen bench. Just sitting, drinking a cup of tea. Watching the man who'd stayed the night sleep on your couch because he refused to stay in your bed. "Kept calling my name out, I saw your uh--claws and thought perhaps keeping a safe distance would be practical."

"Come here," Logan sighs in frustration on two fronts. One, from his utterly confronting nightmare. Two, you somehow manage to sneak up on him like no one else can. "Please?" So that's what you do. You pad over in your underwear and perch yourself on Logan's lap. "What happened Lo?" You coo as your fingers card through his locks.

"I don't know what I'd ever do if I lost you, Honey." He replies sincerely, softly. It's a nice juxtaposition to his normal brooding self.

"Good thing I don't have any plans on going anywhere anytime soon, huh?" You whisper through a smile as you gently press your lips against Logans. He accepts the gesture and goes with the flow. Leaning back against the couch as you deepen the kiss. "Come to bed with me?"

"You know I can't--" Logan whispers into your mouth. "But can you stay here for a few minutes?" He counters your offer with his own. "Please?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Lo." You remind him, kissing him gently and ever so slow as Logan melts against you. And for as protective as Logan is, for the first time, someone was just as willing to be his safeguard in return. "You're safe with me."

You keep him safe from himself.

Ilya

[tainbocuailnge]

dolls by design cannot move without someone external to them moving their limbs, so even if a living doll character can move on their own, they still implicitly have this relationship to others where they not only cannot resist being touched (and by extension controlled), they cannot do anything at all otherwise. dynamics of power and control are often eroticised, and doll joints immediately mark a character as slotting into this kind of dynamic, similar to how maid outfits are sexy to some people because of the dynamic of servitude they signify. this is the main point that the vast majority of self proclaimed doll enjoyers seem to latch onto, doll joints as visual shorthand for a dynamic of dependency that may or may not be sexual.

dolls exist to entertain someone and be loved by them, their sole purpose is quite literally to look pretty for their owner. this too is a popular erotic dynamic even when no dolls are involved. dolls are artificial creations, so a doll inherently exists the way it does because someone wanted it to. in some cases this is extended into its reverse: a doll does not exist without someone wanting it to, therefore, the doll is wanted because it exists. the very fact that the doll exists implies a fascination with either the doll itself or the one it's made to look like, because without this fascination it wouldn't exist to begin with. the doll exists to be loved, so you desire it by virtue of its existence, and this gives it a certain power over you despite its powerless nature. the most common cursed doll in media is one that is resentful over being abandoned. the desire for another is inherent to dolls and this is, obviously, erotic.

in my experience this is usually the angle when you're dealing with a sorcerer that made themselves a doll body or something like that. the tension between the doll and the force that moves it is resolved by having these be the same entity, so they're a doll to signify fascination instead, be it from or towards the one inhabiting the doll.

dolls are often associated with being fragile and delicate, especially the ball jointed type that living doll characters will usually invoke. they have to be touched in order to act, but cannot be touched without risk of breaking this precious delicate object. this tension of a body that both invites and discourages being touched is also erotic.

a doll's body is implicitly delicate, but it is also a body that can be repaired or replaced when it breaks. you can completely dismantle a doll without actually harming it, and in fact dismantling it is necessary to fix it in case it does break. a sentient doll's body would logically have to experience itself differently than a human flesh body. since you can open up and pull apart a doll in various ways without actually hurting it, there are naturally various ways to touch it erotically that you could never do with a living person, and because the doll by definition exists for you, this touch can be as painful or pleasurable for the doll as your proclivities dictate. for some reason fucking nobody on pixiv seems to agree with me on this point but this is a big one for me personally, the unique ways of interacting with doll bodies as extension and expression of the way a doll's body inherently has a complex and contradictory relationship with being touched. we're talking about a body made of gaps, go stick something in those for fucks sake.

a doll allowing itself to be taken apart to be repaired (or to have freak sex) is an incredible display of trust similar to that of robots letting you poke around their circuitry. it's an emotional intimacy that's only possible with this kind of artificial partner. the capacity for and necessity of occasionally being completely taken apart and reassembled to continue functioning, of exposing yourself entirely and putting your trust in someone's deft hands, is obviously erotic.

a doll cannot exist independently, and while its purpose is to be loved, it's rare for it to be thought of as an independent actor by anyone other than children. also, if the doll /isn't/ loved it becomes completely helpless, because it needs someone else to move it, be it literally or metaphorically. a living doll character will, sooner or later and thematically if not directly, have to contend with the fact that this is a horrifically stunted existence for a sentient being to have. a doll cannot meaningfully resist anything that is done to it, and its only blessing is that it has a body that can endure this. you can violate dolls both physically and emotionally in ways far more invasive than with a real person, and depending on your angle their very existence as a doll is a violation in itself, something that lends itself well to the overlap between horror and eroticism. this is another favourite of mine that I barely see reflected in what other people are cooking up in my field of vision.

even if a particular doll character doesn't tick any of these boxes regarding characterisation or relationships, the fact that they have doll joints anyway is a constant reminder of these associations, and this contrast is alluring in itself. independence does not come naturally to a doll, so a doll that acts freely is fighting a constant battle against its own nature. this is hot and extremely underutilized.

being denied agency because the material reality of your body makes you dependent on the goodwill of others is an experience many real people can relate to for a wide range of reasons, so living dolls are useful abstractions to explore these experiences and reframe these limitations as something that makes you desirable. unfortunately this leads to most of the dollposting on this site being really boring to me because its all like "what if i was cute and loved and didn't have to think for myself" instead of the horrific violation and unique physical experience parts that i'm personally interested in, but it's undeniably a major contributing factor to general doll enjoyment.

the presence of doll joints on a character invokes a relationship to the body and the people around them that lends itself well to various popular erotic dynamics, and which marks them as object of desire not entirely unlike how a womb tattoo marks someone as primed for fucking except for people who can't get off without metaphors. im sure for a lot of people it's really not any deeper than "it looks nice :)" and that's fair, I'm a pretentious elitist who thinks most people producing doll fetish stuff are boring about it though. stop drawing regular sex with more lines and stick your fingers in there NOW

[luvsupa]

tags: gojo x fem!reader, ex relationship, fluff, angst, takes place after battle w sukuna (he wins), sad ending, mentions of blood, gojo’s lowkey depressed w.c: 1k

a/n: sorry this just came out of nowhere </3

“satoru?” you call out, squinting through the bustling sidewalks of downtown tokyo, trying to confirm if it’s really him. he turns at the sound of your voice, removing one of his earbuds, his heart flipping as he sees you—this isn’t a dream. you’re really here.

it’s been a little over a year since you two broke up. despite the deep love you shared, the relationship was suffocating. you couldn’t stand watching him come home exhausted and scarred, sometimes with blood on his clothes from the dangerous missions. it hurt too much to see him treated like a weapon instead of the person he is. you begged him to leave jujutsu tech, pleading with him day and night to escape the pain that you couldn’t bear to witness.

but the final straw was that night—when he came home, slashes across his body, his clothes torn and bloodied. watching him limp from your shared apartment to the bathroom made your heart shatter. “i’m okay,” he reassured you, but you knew he was on the verge of passing out, desperately hiding his pain from you. he couldn’t let you, his sweet sweet baby, see him in this state.

“‘toru, it’s either you leave that company or i’m leaving,” you cried, your heart clenching at the thought. his identity was tied to saving non-cursed users, but without that, who was he? he stared at you in silence, and you already knew his answer. you packed your things, his tear-filled eyes followed you from the bathroom, silently apologizing for the pain he couldn’t escape.

seeing him now, you can’t help but smile, even as the memories flood back. he looks healthier, but the scars on his face are constant reminders of his battles. “i—how are you?” he stutters, still in shock.

“g-good. how’ve you been?” you reply, your heart sinking at how tired he looks.

“pretty good too,” he says, scratching the back of his head, revealing the scars on his hands. “wanna grab some coffee? there’s a shop down the street.” your eyes widen, and you nod, a mix of excitement and dread swirling inside you.

as you walk side by side, the energy between you feels familiar yet fragile. you chat about the beauty of the night, pointing out flashy sports cars.

inside the café, you sit across from each other, getting a good view of the outside. he returns with two coffees, and you thank him for paying, though you’d always insist on paying- he declined, he never let you pay for anything when you were together.

“have you left yet?” you ask, your voice trembling as you prepare for the inevitable conversation.

“heh, does it look like I’ve left?” he jokes, gesturing to his tired eyes. you wrap your hands around your cup, feeling the warmth seep into your cold fingers. silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words.

“i miss yo—”

“i have a girlfriend.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut. a girlfriend? your heart drops as your expression falters. why does it hurt so much?

“y-yeah, i’m seeing someone too,” you blurt out, hating yourself for the lie. the laughter that follows feels hollow, and he can see right through you.

“baby, you’re such a bad liar—” he catches himself, the pet name easily slipping past his lips. both of you stare at each other widened eyes as he mistakenly slipped up by calling you baby. he really didn’t mean to! suddenly, the air is thick with tension. you both giggle awkwardly, but inside, it tears at you—how much you miss hearing him call you that.

“if i were your girlfriend, i’d kill you for catching up with your ex and calling her baby,” you joke, but his expression remains serious. not a smile nor a chuckle, making your heart race. have you upset him?

“i mean, you were my girl,” he says, and your mind spins. my girl. you can’t help but pout, taking a sip of your coffee, your gaze drifting outside to the busy streets.

just then, his phone buzzes loudly, drawing your attention. you catch a glimpse of “A♡” on the screen. gojo’s expression shifts as he reads the message, a sadness settling over him. he has to cut your time short. you silently whine as the two of you rise from your chairs, cleaning up any mess as you both head out to leave in opposite directions.

but he stops you. his warm hands enveloping yours. “w-when can i see you again?” he stutters, his voice laced with desperation. your heart races, wanting to cry, to leap into his arms and confess your love, but that’s not an option.

“i’ll see you around, ‘toru,” you say, forcing a warm smile. rising on your tiptoes, you place a soft kiss on his cheek as he blushed hard. he tenses, the longing evident in his eyes as he fights the urge to pull you close, hugging you and kissing you as if you were his again.

“and treat your girlfriend nice,” you add, turning to walk away. each step feels heavier as a lump forms in your throat, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.

“will do,” he calls after you, trying to sound upbeat. but as he walks away, his eyes glisten, filled with unfallen tears. oh, how he misses you.

[acediscowlng]

thinking about how both edwin and charles refer to edwin getting sent to hell as a technicality or a clerical error and like. it's not. that's not what happened. edwin was sacrificed. hell had a mechanism for accepting innocent souls. edwin ending up in hell wasn't a loophole or a mistake someone made along the way. it was a system that was working exactly the way it was intended.

and thinking about the idea of hell and the idea of forgiveness and the idea that you only stay in hell if you feel like you belong there. and how edwin says that he was never meant to be in hell to begin with but still building up a case for himself to prove it because him not deserving hell might not be immediately obvious

thinking about how edwin died because of a hate crime, how he died being made to feel that there is something fundamentally wrong with him and getting sent to hell right after. and thinking about how edwin saying "if you punish yourself, everywhere becomes hell" and over a century of repression and supressing the parts of himself that got him killed, that got him sent to hell in the first place. and thinking about how when the night nurse looked at edwin's file, it didn't know if he belonged in hell or somewhere else either because edwin didn't know because edwin knows that he never did anything to deserve hell but he didn't get sent to hell because of anything he did but because of what he is and maybe there's a difference and maybe he believes that he never did anything wrong but maybe some part of him believes that he, personally, is wrong

and thinking about forgiveness and salvation and how people actually get out of hell, and how edwin forgave simon because they were two queer kids in the same shitty situation both in life and in death and it didn't matter how simon hurt edwin because he still needed to understand that being gay was not a punishment, and thinking about simon getting out of hell right after

and thinking about edwin confessing his love for charles on the steps of hell and getting to leave right after and how hell is something you make for yourself and how edwin escaped the first time but he never forgave himself for what he is and not something hecdid maybe hell still had a hold on him after all those years and it wasn't until he let himself be honest about it and be gay and love boys and allowed himself to actively choose to be the person he is and deciding that that person is someone who is allowed to feel and love and that that kind of love was not a punishment and thinking about how edwin escaped hell by not just allowing himself to love but leaving behind all the ways he was punishing himself for it

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

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