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perfctvelvet · 5 months ago

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can you do sabrina carpenter!!

Happy Fucking New Year; Sabrina Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Content: 2nd POV. Strangers, alcohol mention, semi-public (hooking-up in the bathroom of some rich person's house), making out, oral sex

No one wanted to be alone this New Years and you were no exception. The only problem was that your friend, the one who happens to the social butterfly brought you to a party where you don't know anyone here besides her. Everyone was dressed to the nines; shimmering dresses with make up to match and expensive suits. Having a friend who works in PR was an unexpected perk in her life, but having a friend who works in PR means when you're out they're always in networking mode. Coming here, to some random person's mega-mansion, was thrilling at first but the shine was beginning to dull immediately.

You had lost your friend somewhere in the fray of the fancy just less than an hour before midnight. Many people were here with partners, spouses, and lovers, and to you it seemed like you and your friend were the only single ones. You didn't let it get to you because you had her, but now she was gone. All you had was your too-small purse and a vodka soda you weren't a big fan of.

Just as the night couldn't get more painful, someone bumps into you. There was no love lost for the beverage that you spilled but now it was all over your dress. You may have been feeling alone, but your dress was the only thing you had. You got it one random day in the summer at the encouragement of your friend that she will give you a reason to wear it. You felt confident walking out of the car tonight and into the party. That was only two hours ago and oh how everything seemed to cave in.

"Fuck! I'm so, so sorry!"

This woman who bumped into you sounded sincere in her apologies. At first you thought you were being mocked, but the way she tried to wipe off your dress before it could stain seemed too real.

"I-It's okay."

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at her. Instead you were looking around you at the people who were beginning to look at the commotion. You were hoping to lock eyes with your friend so she could rescue you, but she was still nowhere to be found.

"Ugh! C'mon!"

Before you could register what was going on, you were being dragged away by the woman who ruined your dress. You were too relieved by being saved from the embarrassment to make a fuss. She lead you to one of the many guests bathroom in the house. She was bold, shutting the door behind you two and almost forcing you to sit on the counter. She grabbed one of the fancy, embroidered towels and wets it to continue her efforts to save your dress. Even though you appreciated her eagerness to fix her mistake, you can't help but be enamored and a little amused by the situation.

"It was just a vodka soda. Don't worry, it's not going to stain my dress."

It seems as if your voice is what gets to her. She slowly stops frantically wiping off the parts of your dress that is covered in vodka and looks up at you. She's stunning, so much so that you begin to lose your confidence.

"I hope I didn't take you away from whoever you cam here with." She finally puts the towel down and you get to hear her voice in a more relaxed state.

"No, no, I just came with a friend, but I lost her somewhere so I was just kind of by myself." You felt like a loser saying that out loud, but something lights up in the stranger's eyes at your confession.

"Glad I'm not the only one here feeling a little dejected."

"What do you mean?"

She points to the spot next to you, gesturing if she could sit beside you. There was plenty of space on the counter and she didn't have to ask, but you made space for her anyway.

"What was supposed to be a girls' night New Years Eve get together turned into us coming here, and just like you I have no clue where my friends with."

It wouldn't be shocking to either of them if their friends found someone gorgeous and well-off to talk to, but you were sure your friend was more concerned with making connections than the imminent countdown to the new year. You empathized with this woman, but still couldn't get over the shock that someone who looks like her was feeling the same loneliness tonight.

"I guess that's a common theme tonight. It's never really happened before so I think that's why it stings so much. I'm Y/n by the way."

"Sabrina," she sticks her hand out for you to take which you do. You two shake hands for a few seconds before breaking away. You felt like you had made a new friend tonight and you were a little proud of yourself. You were never the most sociable one in the room, so it's fitting that your main way of meeting new people is through an embarrassing moment.

"You said you came here with a friend? Just one? Are they a friend or a friend."

"Just a friend. We were roommates one year in college and I reached out to her when I moved out here to LA. She's always been primed for this kind of life, not me, so I needed her to guide me through the upsides and downs of living here."

"There are a lot of ups, like being invited to some rich ass dude's New Years Eve party. The downs would be the perpetual loneliness that seems like a requirement."

"I take it you've been in LA for years?"

"Almost two decades now. Feels like it's been a life time."

"Do you like it? I've only been here for two years and I'm still figuring out how I feel about it."

"Well, like you said, it has it's ups and downs. Some times there are more downs than ups, and vice versa. I would say right now that sitting in the bathroom of a boring party with a pretty girl who is being kind to me after I fucked up her dress is one of the ups."

You break eye contact with her to spare yourself the embarrassment. You feel a heat creep up your neck and beat you right in the face. You never learned how to take a compliment without completely crumbling. You already found Sabrina to be interesting and pretty, but now your heart was starting to beat out of your chest.

"And I hope this doesn't sound weird, but I'm kind of glad I literally ran into you. I saw you earlier in the party and I couldn't stop staring at you. I hope I don't sound like a creep."

"No, not at all! I'm just shocked to say the least."

What snapped you out of your shock was the sound of people cheering and getting rowdy outside of the bathroom. At first you feared someone was going to come in, ruining your solace. But then Sabrina checks her phone and sees that it's almost midnight.

"Two more minutes then it's 2024. I'll be honest, Y/n, I didn't expect to spend my last minutes of 2023 like this. I sort of feel like a klutz."

"Don't be sorry. Like I said my dress is fine, just a little sticky, but one wash it'll be alright."

The both of you end up getting distracted by the rowdiness outside the door. You were half tempted to get up and join them just to watch everyone ring in the New Year together, but you stay put. You notice how Sabrina isn't budging and you get the impression that she wants to stay with you in her last moments of 2023. Soon the start the countdown.

"10...9...8...7..."

In just a few seconds you feel fingers weave through yours and Sabrina grabbing your face. You let her control your body, turning your head to face her.

"6...5...4..."

It takes just seconds for your heart to flutter with an emotion you haven't felt in a long time.

"3...2...1...Happy New Year!"

Sabrina's lips meet yours on the very first syllable of "happy." For the first time in years you genuinely felt the meaning.

At first it felt innocent, just two lonely souls filling the void together, but Sabrina didn't want to pull away. She kissed you deeper, harder. The lust was radiating off of her and it was overwhelming. The last way you expected to bring in the new year was a bathroom hook-up, but surprisingly you weren't turned off to the idea. No one has ever come on this strong to you before and being in LA you were beginning to think you were a love repellant. This kiss left your breathless and starving for more. You grab onto Sabrina, unintentionally laying one hand on her breast in the process. Neither of you seemed to care as your tongues bumped against each other's. It was becoming a little sloppy, with Sabrina taking you there, but you enjoyed it. There is a hint of lemon on her tongue and you wondered why type of drinks a girl like Sabrina would drink. She was bold, yet refreshing.

Sabrina pulls away, panting and her lipstick smudged. She's looks a little messy now but she smiles regardless. She's so happy that you're receptive to her touch and that you seemed to enjoy the kiss too.

"Was that too much?" She wipes the edges of her mouth.

"I think we're beyond the point of worrying about what's too much now."

You're the one to lean in this time. You continue what Sabrina started, the blonde leaning into this time until she wraps her arms around your neck. You were at the point of no return and you wouldn't dare turn back. You wanted more; you wanted her.

"Do you think you can be quiet?" You ask her between kisses?

She hums affirmatively against your lips before you break the kiss. She moans breathlessly when your lips land on her neck. So much for being quiet because her moan fills the room. Of course the party outside still raged on as being in a whole new year put a new life into the party. The sound of the bass of the music thumped against the walls, but nothing could overtake the sound of Sabrina's sweet moans. You finally get between her legs, your knees pressed into the soft rug. She places her legs on your shoulders and you come face to face with her pussy. It didn't surprise you, but seeing her without panties made your face grow hot.

"I hope you don't mind, I left them at home," she says with a salacious tone.

You didn't mind at all, you were happy to have easier access to her wet pussy. You can't go another minute without it seeing what she tastes like. Sabrina whines when your face disappears between her legs under her dress. She pulls it up and catches the very moment your tongue meets her dripping sex. She moans so loud that she has to put her own hand over her mouth. You lick and lick and lick and somehow she's able to keep herself from screaming out in pleasure. It was like you knew her body and knew what buttons to press. She feels a rush run through her and she's on cloud nine. Never has a stranger made her so happy and feels so good. She moves her hand from her mouth and promises herself she'll be good and keep as quiet as possible. She knuckles turn white as she grips the edge of the counter.

"Oh Y/n that feels so fucking good," she whines. "I've been thinking about this all night."

The thought of someone being so turned on by you that they fantasized about it after seeing you once was astounding. You were shocked to have that power over someone, especially over someone so beautiful. You felt lucky, lucky to be invited here (the party and between Sabrina's legs). You pull away from her pussy and rub her clit.

"Did you want me so bad that you spilled a drink on me?"

Sabrina doesn't answer, just moans as she throws her head back in pleasure. You stop rubbing her clit to insert a finger into her pussy. When she feels your tongue back on her clit paired with the finger inside of her she almost cums. But she wants to savor the taste, feel this forever. She thinks she's strong enough to hold herself back, but your fingers are stronger than her will. You insert another one into her and her walls wrap warmly and tightly around the two. Your hitting the spot that makes her legs shake. Sabrina desperately wants to cry out loud, but she wouldn't dare risk getting caught and letting the moment end. She's so so close, tettering on that blissful edge. You kiss her inner thigh not once, or twice, but a few times. It makes her legs shake. She forgets about trying to hold back when she feels the 5th kiss pressed to her thigh.

She fears that you might get turned off by how hard she cums, but you enjoy it very much. She closes her eyes, bites her lip, and tosses her head back in ecstasy. A tear runs down her rosy cheek too. Her make-up is probably too fucked up for saving, but no one is going to care, so neither does she.

"Earth to Sabrina...you here with me?" You tease her. You're not sure if she likes that, but she just let you eat her out and finger, a little teasing is harmless in comparison.

She opens her eyes a few seconds later and a sweet, relaxed smile forms on her face.

"People are probably looking for us," you say to her when she finally looks down at you.

"Let them look."

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thehistoriccemetery · 9 months ago

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BG3: Reader is Kidnapped/Tortured

This one started as a Shadowheart oneshot, but I decided to expand it to include Lae’zel, Karlach, and Minthara as well.

Let me know your favorites! I’m looking to expand more of my stuff into one shots, so it’s good information to have!

Content Warning for torture (obviously)

Shadowheart

When the days adventuring party returns without you, her blood immediately runs cold. They didn’t just come back without and leave you out there right?

When they inform her that you’ve been taken by the cloister, her face goes pale.

It takes Karlach and Wyll on either side of her to get her eased down onto a bedroll and breathing regularly. You were gone.

And to make matters worse, Viconia DeVir had you in her grip. Even with her amnesia, she could recall just how cruel the woman was.

The party had made great strides in passively finding clues about the location of the House of Grief, but they were still yet to find it.

Finding it had now jumped from a passive priority to the single most important thing they could be doing.

Shadowheart spent most of that night weeping in frustration at her inability to remember. She had grown up there for gods sake. The past 40 years at least had been spent in that damned house.

In the end, it was actually Astarion who finally discovered the sanctuary’s location. It was decided that he and Shadowheart would be the two best suited to sneak in and retrieve you.

When they found you, you were lying on the house’s marble floor, chained up to rigs that came out of the ground. The chain around your neck only barely allowed you to sit up to look at your rescuers.

“Shadowheart? Shadowheart is that you?” You whispered into the dark room. You could only see two silhouettes, but the quaffed elven hair of Asterion and the pointy crown of Shadowheart gave it away.

You instinctively tried to rush towards her, only to be stopped by the strain of your restraints. It didn’t much matter though, because Shadowheart was at your side in a matter of seconds.

She stroke your cheek, paying special attention to cut that stretched across your face. She was quick to move around to other parts of your body, stopping to carefully examine each of your wounds. Your restraints left you unable to reach out to her in anyway.

“Shadowheart, please, you have to get out of here, now,” you nearly cry. “They’re looking for you.” Astarion joins the two of you on the ground, getting to work at picking the several locks that held you in place.

It takes her a moment to register what you were saying. Her first thought is an obvious refusal, she’s not going anywhere without you.

But then the implications of your words dawn on her. They took you because they couldn’t find her. All of this torture you’ve endured, you’ve done it to protect her.

“Please Shadowheart,” you beg. “I swear I didn’t tell them anything. You’ll be safe at camp, just please go.”

Her head spins with newly uncovered memories of the torture she inflicted before the Nautaloid. She remembers how the Sharrans go about getting information from people.

“Astarion, how are coming along on those locks?” she ignores your pleas in favor of getting you free. Your upper body is now free, but he seems to be having trouble with your ankles.

“Patience, darling,” he quips, nearly earning him a slap across the face from Shadowheart.

Within the minute the shackles drop from your ankles, leaving you free to stand up on shaking legs. Shadowheart gives you a quick healing spell before asking “do you think you can make it back?”

You nod, following her and Astarion back the way they came in.

You had never been more excited to see camp than you were in that moment. You laid down face first on the plush Elfsong mattress. You hadn’t slept at all the previous night, and being tortured really took it out of you.

Shadowheart sat on the bed next to you. The fact that you laid down on your stomach did not bode well for the condition of your back.

She tugged gently at the hem of your shirt. “Arms up, love,” she cooed. You whined and crossed your arms over your chest. You didn’t want to show her what they had done.

“If you truly will not show me, I will get Jaheira to look after you,” she reasoned. “But, please, let me take care of you.” The second part was more a plea than anything.

Reluctantly, you lifted your arms and allowed her to pull the shirt over your head.

She did her best to remain stoic. She had seen endless wounds like this. She had inflicted endless wounds like this. But against her will, a sob choked its way up her throat.

The same back she had spent so many nights tracing and trailing with kisses was now so raw and bloodied, she wondered for a moment if you had any skin left.

She used every last bit of energy healing the wounds. By the time she was done she had exhausted herself too much to even make it back to her own bed.

She spent the night curled up around your legs, resting her head on your lower back. Viconia was going pay for what she’d done, she’d make sure of it.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel isn’t the usually the tactical planning type, but when you’re captured by Vlaakith’s army, she realizes this isn’t a kick-down-the-front-door type of mission.

This does not, however, make her any more patient during the planning process. The githyanki could have you floating halfway through astral plane by now.

Luckily, the gith as a whole aren’t known for their subtleties, so you’re not hard to track down.

Protection is thankfully slim enough that the party can pretty much strong arm their way to you.

When Lae’zel finds you are bound by some magical device that was, as loathe as she was to admit it, beyond her level of expertise.

You were at least conscious, which was truly remarkable given your condition. All your clothes were torn and bloodied, but the most concerning and blatant wound came for the side of your head.

Almost the entire left side of your face was completely covered in dried blood, all leading back to the gash on the side of your head that was once your left ear.

Lae’zel cursed, pointlessly kicking the arcane barrier.

You could see her shouting at Gale. Presumably she was impatiently rambling about freeing you, but you couldn’t make out what she was saying through the barrier.

All you saw was a long dagger that she pulled from her belt before storming off in the direction of your now dead captors.

Lae’zel was still gone when the party finally figured out how lower the barrier around you.

You stumbled out onto your knees and immediately found yourself surrounded by the party’s healers.

Lae’zel came stomping back moments later, carrying a small wooden bucket she didn’t have before. Likely she just found it somewhere around the gith camp.

She dropped the bucket at your feet without a word, leaving you to examine the contents for yourself.

You looked down into the bucket to find a dozen or so fleshy green ears.

You look back up at her, not sure whether to be honored or disgusted.

The smug look on her face let you know that this was certainly a gift she was proud of, so honored it is.

“Thank you. It’s nice to have plenty of choices when it comes to choosing my replacement.”

Karlach

Karlach really does try to be tactical most of the time, but you’ve been taken by none other than Lord Gortash himself.

And the idea that you are gone and she is here, at camp, while the others make a plan of how to rescue you? She can hardly contain herself.

She paces around camp, leaving a thick line of charred wood beneath her as she walks the same path over and over again.

Chewing her nails isn’t usually a nervous habit of hers but at this point she’s liable to chew her fingers off.

She logically knows it would do no good to come out guns blazing when you’re probably locked up behind the entirety of the steel watch, but worry and adrenaline nearly get ahead of her.

It is Shadowheart and Halsin who finally pull her from her thoughts. They have a plan, and much to Karlach’s relief it involves her. She was terrified they might agree upon a stealthier approach and ask her to stay behind.

She would have done it, if it were truly what was best for you. She might have burned up the entirety of the Elfsong Tavern by the time you finally got back though.

Luckily, since Karlach was mistaken by the steel watch as a defective watcher, she was actually best equipped to break in.

The plan, in whole, ran pretty smoothly. At least until the moment Karlach actually set eyes on you, bruised up and unconscious in the middle of a cell.

All bets were off after that. There was one thing that mattered and it was having you, safe with her again.

The minute it took Astarion to pick the lock was the longest of her entire life. She was nearly burning hot enough to melt through the bars herself.

The moment the door popped open, she was beside you, on her knees pulling you into her chest.

Shadowheart whisper-shouted behind her, reminding her to watch your neck and be gentle with your head. She carefully situated her large hand to cradle your head.

She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe her own panicked heart. “Hey bub, it’s me. I came to rescue you. I… please wake up. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

When you didn’t ever stir, Karlach looked up at Halsin and Shadowheart, eyes brimming with tears and worry. “They aren’t waking up. Why aren’t they waking up?”

Halsin joined Karlach on the ground, leaning to put his head on your chest. “Their heart continues to beat and their lungs draw breath, but they are weak. We must get them to camp.”

There was an incredibly brief argument about who was best fit to carry you, given that your skin was already starting to redden from Karlach’s heat, but her bottom lip quivered at even the mention of you leaving her arms.

When they managed to get you back to the Elfsong, Karlach was reluctantly convinced to lay you down on your bed.

She winced when she saw the small burns starting to form on the side of your body she had held to her own. Your left cheek was already starting to blister. Maybe she should’ve let Halsin carry you after all.

The healers came by to try and figure what had happened to you. You had no visible injuries, aside from the minor burns, yet you were still unable to be stirred.

It was actually Minthara who suggested they may have inflicted mental torture rather than physical, similar to what was inflicted on her at Moonrise.

The idea made Karlach burst into uncontrolled sobs. “You think they may have been erased?!”

Minthara looked sympathetically down at Karlach, but didn’t have an answer for her.

The party collectively decided that the only thing they could do is wait and let you rest.

Afraid to burn you with the fire that courses through her veins, Karlach restrained herself from crawling into bed with you. Instead she knelt next to the bed, resting her head on the mattress and reaching up to stroke your body.

She couldn’t sleep at all that night, only stroke your burned cheek and cry softly into your mattress.

She started to talk to you, talking about all the things she’s like to do with you when all of this was over.

“Maybe we’ll get a little place in Lower City, next to the water so we can watch the sunsets with all the boats ‘n stuff floating out in the distance. Oh! And we can go on little picnics in Bloomridge Park, and feed our leftovers to all the stray cats and dogs. Oh who am I kidding we’re taking all of them home with us. We’re gonna have a whole farmhouse if you can’t stop me.”

When you finally do wake up, Karlach wraps her arms around in a hug so tight you nearly suffocate. She eventually settles to sit in your lap while you gently stroke her hair.

Gortash better start counting because his days are dangerously numbered.

Minthara

The moment Minthara finds out you’ve been taken by Orin, her heart nearly stops beating.

One moment it was you, the love of her life, standing before her. Then, through the breaking of necks and cracking of bones, she finds herself face to face with one of her few fears. Orin the Red.

How could she fall for this again? Her head spins with the thought of all the things Orin may be doing to you. She knows you could hold your own, but Orin had a way of breaking the unbreakable.

Sometimes, with how loyally she followed you, it was easy to forget that Minthara was used to being the one in charge. A lot had changed since you met her as the Nightwarden.

But it all comes back quickly as she barks out orders to the now leaderless party. They were marching on the Temple of Bhaal, now. Minthara was prepared to take on the god of murder himself if it meant saving you.

As tempting as it was to charge straight into the temple, it left you all with little hope of survival. She decided the party’s presence near the temple would be enough to lure Orin out, leaving her an open opportunity to slip in.

Orin’s tactless blood thirst made the plan go over all too well. She couldn’t resist the smell of fresh unspilled blood at her doorstep.

By the time Minthara got to you, you were weak but still painfully conscious. You were hanging over an alter like a sacrifice by meat hooks that cleaved into your skin.

You had been tortured in true Bhaalist fashion. While your body displayed clear evidence of the slicing and cleaving, your mind was even more clouded by the things you had been forced to do and endure. It made you even more sympathetic to Minthara’s past.

Minthara climbed onto the unholy alter and began to remove you from the cruel hooks. She ignored your weak protestations, refusing to even look you in the eyes.

She resisted any urge to comfort you, pushing all the softness from her mind until the mission was complete and you were safe. She did not speak, fearing she may distract herself for the task at hand.

She only allowed for a brief moment when she picked you up and felt your throw your arms around her neck. You curled into her stomach with a choked sob and cried “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you better than to think you are foolish. Orin is cunning, persistent, and full of deceit. I do not fault you for what has happened.”

Escaping the temple was easier than getting in. She wordlessly worked her way back to the Elfsong with the ease of someone who wasn’t carrying a bloodied body.

She did what she could to heal you herself, given that none of the others had returned yet. A mildly concerning tidbit that seemed not to faze Minthara in the slightest.

It wasn’t until she was positive you would be okay that she allowed herself to soften, running her hands through your blood crusted hair and gently cleaning you with a dampened rag.

She paid little mind to the rest of the party, who returned looking a little worse for wear. She was disappointed but not surprised to hear that they had failed to kill Orin.

She recruited Jaheira to assist in your healing. She trusted her more than Shadowheart. She never let go of your hand, even when you squeezed so hard you thought you may have broken her fingers as Jaheira patched wounds with a variety of burning liquids.

She laid next to you on the bed, resting her head gently against your stomach and allowing you to stroke her head. She wasn’t bothered by the filth and blood that covers nearly every inch of you.

“We will make her pay for what she’s done to you. What she’s done to us. We will match every scar she’s inflicted tenfold until not even Bhaal with recognizes his own blood,” she swears, placing a gentle kiss on your stomach.

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lovelivision · 6 months ago

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NEW JOB

pairing: gojo satoru/reader

wc: 7.1k

summary: starting a new job is always hard, especially when you're tasked with a glorified babysitting role for the most powerful sorcerer and his antics, but what happens when you somehow find yourself growing oddly attached to his weird behaviours and teasing nature

a/n; i am obsessing over this 2d man and i cannot be stopped, come near me and i'm infecting you with thoughts of him. anyways! new blog so i can write for jjk hehehhohoh (i wrote this in a single sitting because i'm mentally unwell)

warnings: 18+ only, smut, making out, dry humping, hickeys, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, big dick gojo (duh), creampie, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n, nicknames

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Why you were here, you had no clue… well you did, you just wish you didn’t have to be here but being forced to do this was putting it lightly. It’s frustrating because they act like you don’t have your own jobs to handle but now you’re being forced to be Gojo Satoru’s handler as well. This is going to be a much more taxing job than exorcising any curse, why he insisted on pissing off the higher ups is beyond you. Not that you’re completely innocent in those regards, mind you.

You’re sat waiting in Yaga’s office, waiting for a certain someone who treats showing up on time as optional. Looking at the clock behind Yaga, you see it’s bordering on 15 minutes since he was supposed to be here.

You deflate slightly with your quiet sigh, “Do I really need to be h–”

“–Yes,” is the only reply you get out of the man in front of you, eyes unreadable but based on the aura of the room, he’s beyond pissed.

Sinking further into your seat, you murmur about how annoying all of this is, it’s meant for Yaga to hear but he ignores you. Seeing Gojo is going to take years off your life, you’ve crossed paths with him many times in the past few years, he has a bad habit of interrupting your exorcisms, finishing them, and then getting on your nerves.

The door behind you slides open and shut loudly, making your heart lurch inside your chest, while you outwardly fight the urge to flinch. Gojo moves in behind you and leans down, “Didn’t scare you, did I?” There’s an annoying mirth in his tone as he carelessly rounds the seat and sits far too close to you.

You don’t spare him a glance, “No.”

He smiles at you knowingly but says nothing more, finally addressing Yaga, “What’s up?”

“You’re late,” Yaga takes in a deep breath, fighting the urge to yell at him.

Gojo’s smile grows, his words picked carefully to piss the pair of you off more, “Well, I know that part, I meant why am I being summoned here.”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, “Why is he only being informed of this now?” You ask, irritated with not only Gojo but the whole damn system. You were told nearly two weeks ago that this was happening, how hadn’t he been told until now.

Yaga looks at you like it should be fairly obvious why they waited and you guess it is, he’s blind-sided this way, he doesn’t have a chance to wriggle out of it when today is the official first day of your new job babysitting Gojo Satoru and his first-year students. Oh, this is just perfect for you and not foreboding at all.

Before you have a chance to speak again, Yaga says, almost like he’s delighting in how inconveniencing this will be for Gojo, that, “You now have a teaching assistant, Gojo. You will be monitored as well as your students and everything will be reported back to me.”

“Ah, a glorified babysitter, how lovely,” Gojo’s smile doesn’t drop but it does look more strained.

Yaga doesn’t take kindly to his tone, “Watch it, this is fully deserved and you know it.”

“I’ve done nothing,” he defends himself.

You scoff slightly at that and Gojo side eyes you, you make an active effort to avoid his gaze though and instead focus on what Yaga is saying, “After that stunt you pulled with faking Itadori’s death recently, you’re lucky to be getting off so easy.”

Gojo jabs his thumb in your direction, “So what’s her punishment for then?”

You finally look at him, “Excuse me?”

“Well, I don’t imagine this is something one signs up for, so what did you do to piss off the higher ups,” his smile is teasing and so is his tone.

You squint at his stupid blindfold before looking back at Yaga, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Yaga coughs at your statement but doesn’t let Gojo’s endless amusement at your suffering continue, “What may or may not have happened is none of your business Gojo–”

“–Ah, so something did happen then,” he elbows at your shoulder and you grumble at him.

Yaga completely ignores Gojo’s antics, “Your only concern is to be accommodating and keep her in the loop.”

He waves a hand easily, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” he brushes off the conversation with a sceptical nonchalance. His palms hit his knees as he pulls himself off the seat, “Is that all?”

Yaga pauses, watching him carefully for a moment before acquiescing, “Yes, that’s all, get out.”

“Come on, troublemaker, you have three adorable first years to meet!” his tone is too chipper and you don’t take kindly to his nickname for you but you stand from the seat and bow at Yaga before following behind him.

⸝⸝⸝

You are… uncomfortable, to say the least. The three first years sit in front of you, confused and waiting for some kind of explanation but Gojo just leans against the lectern, amused smile plastered on his face. You’re nervous, children can be so… scary, they were scary when you were their age and now you’re getting stage fright, in front of three people.

Gojo giggles behind you, granting some mercy… his version of mercy anyways, “We have a new addition to the class!”

“She’s… a student?” The one you recognise as Itadori tilts his head in question.

You can hear the glee drip from Gojo’s voice, “Well in some ways–”

“–No.” You cut him off abruptly, “I am… uhm, a teaching assistant… of sorts…”

The girl, very clearly unamused, questions further, “And what are you gonna be doing?”

You freeze up, you do know what you’re meant to be doing but you’re getting shy, you’ve never been good at being put on the spot.

Gojo finally moves from behind the lectern and places a hand on your shoulder, “She’s basically… my babysitter!” He announces, large smile on his face.

The students look… completely not shocked, like they expected something like this to happen at some point.

“I am here to help though! So, if you have questions or want someone to spar against or if Gojo is unavailable and you need help on a mission, I am here to be of service,” you smile lightly, trying to be kind. If you’re going to be here, you want to be of some use.

Itadori nods in thought, “So, are you strong?”

You feel warm in the face at the question, it’s not something you’ve ever been asked really. You think you are, you’re definitely capable but you’re nowhere near Gojo.

While deep in thought, Gojo replies for you, “Yes.” His reply is simple and leaves them all with more questions.

You throw a glance at Gojo before answering for yourself, “I am capable and willing to help.”

⸝⸝⸝

Your first introductions went better than you expected, you quite like them all, even the quiet one who’s always in a bad mood. Things would’ve gone better if Gojo didn’t delight in teasing you in front of them all, it’s embarrassing to be poked and prodded at for some kind of a reaction, you mean, isn’t he meant to be an adult for crying out loud.

It’s only been about a week and a bit into you ‘babysitting’ Gojo and you think he might be attempting to annoying you into quitting but that isn’t an option for you. The kids are sparring on the open field and Gojo is at your side, poking the side of your face with a mischievous smirk plastered on his. He’s been trying and failing to get a reaction out of you for the past 10 minutes.

“Gojo, is there something you want from me, or are you just waiting for me to try and smack you,” Turning your body, you face him completely, your hands on your hips.

He shoves his hand behind his back quickly, trying to play it off like he wasn’t just poking your cheek, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sighing you continue, “If you’re trying to annoy me into quitting, you’re going to find that awful difficult, I have to be here.”

“Quite the contrary, I like having you here, troublemaker,” he smiles, leaning against the tree behind him.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you grit out.

He hums lightly, “That’s just cause you’re not used to my love language.”

Raising a brow at him, you ask, “Your love language is being absurdly annoying?”

“Now you’re getting it,” he pokes you directly on your nose and you exhale sharply, twisting your lips to hide any hint of amusement. Turning back to the students you resume ignoring him, which he huffs dejectedly at, “If you’re gonna be watching over me for a while, you may as well get used to talking to me, I think I’m quite enjoyable.”

“Of course you would think that,” you retort.

“Ouch,” he grabs his chest, pretending to be wounded, he pushes off the tree and hangs an arm over both your shoulders, his weight pressing into you, “So… seriously, what did you do?” His head is turned to the side of yours, watching for your reactions.

You’re starting to feel uncomfortable at his proximity but apparently so are the others because Kugisaki turns and points at Gojo, yelling, “Don’t hang off her like that, perv!”

You stifle a laugh at her accusation, as Fushiguro rolls his eyes and grimaces.

Gojo calls out, “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?” He wraps both his arms around you and pokes his tongue out at them all.

You’re squished against him and it’s making you hot, “Gojo, if you don’t peel yourself off of me in the next few seconds I’m going to rip out your tongue.”

“I don’t think you would be able to, is the thing though,” he snickers down at you, he does release you though, taking a step back.

You feel beyond annoyed and as much as you know your fist won’t connect, you go to throw a powerful punch at him anyways. It predictably gets stopped by his infinity, never even making it close to his face.

“Oh wow, you tried to punch me!” He exclaims in faux hurt, his hand reaches up to yours and unfurls your fist, instead interlacing your fingers, “I was wondering how long it would take for you to crack and try and hit me.”

You sigh in defeat, “Gojo, please let go of my hand.”

“Tell me what you did and I just might,” he propositions.

The kids are yelling at Gojo from the field, cursing him out for being weird, which of course, he only finds hilarious.

“Gojo,” he hums at you in acknowledgement, “Do you think if I tried really hard, and willed it to happen, that me kicking you in the balls would connect?”

He pouts at your words, apparently holding out for a different response, “Oh, how you wound me.” He drops your hand with a sigh, “Can’t be that bad, tell meeeee,” he whinges slightly, attempting a new way of annoying you, clearly.

“You’re right, it’s not that bad, but it’s way more fun not to tell you at this point,” you smile brightly at him and his eyes widen in slight shock at the display.

He continues pouting, “Cruel…”

You just shrug at him in response.

⸝⸝⸝

Every time Gojo is around, he is trying to get you to tell him why you were assigned to be his handler. You don’t tell him, you just shrug or smile like you have no idea why, you understand why he likes to tease a bit now, seeing him so upset over something so small does brighten your day just a little bit.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve grown fond of his company, as well as the three kids. You thought this would be more hellish, and while on some occasions it is, you quite enjoy your day to days now. Filled with his teasing tone and stupid smile, you’re feeling comfortable with them all.

Your only complaint is that, while this is what you’re expected to be doing most of the time, the fact that sorcerers are hard to come by hangs true and you are still sent on solo missions on a whim. It’s only annoying because you’re expected to come and go easily, like fighting off first-grade or high-grade curses isn’t completely taxing.

Today you enter the classroom slightly later than usual, having been absent since the middle of yesterday, you didn’t even have time to sleep, you showered and came straight here. You mumble an offhanded good morning before collapsing into a chair in the corner of the front of the class.

“Look who decided to show back up,” Gojo chirps.

“Mmm, too loud… too much… so early,” you grumble back.

Itadori asks what no one else does, “Where did you go?”

You sigh into the air, “Ah, I had a job, it’s fine though, here now,” you smile lazily.

Gojo scrutinises you from behind his blindfold, he can tell you’re tired, hell, everyone could tell you’re tired. Your head is barely staying up, almost lolling to the side, looking for somewhere to rest so you can sleep.

“Maybe you should go home,” he comments, uncharacteristically serious.

You peek an eye open at him, they had fallen closed, when did they close? “Can’t.” you mutter out, “I’m needed here, so you don’t do anything stupid.”

“You aren’t going to be able to stop me if you’re asleep,” he retorts.

“No but it won’t look as bad if I am at least here,” you cover your mouth as you yawn.

He moves over to your corner and bends down, “If I promise to behave will you go home?”

“Probably not,” you smirk up at him, “I don’t think I’d believe you.”

Kugisaki groans, “Flirt on your own time!”

You bark a laugh at that, the back and forth you have with Gojo is not how you flirt and you imagine it’s not how he does either, “Yeah, Gojo. Go away.” You say, playing into it.

His smile is light as he turns away from you, “Fine but if you complain about a backache later from sleeping in that chair it’s not my fault.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep,” you counter.

⸝⸝⸝

You fell asleep.

You don’t know when exactly it happened, you just know it did… and that you’re embarrassed. When you startle awake in your seat, you can hear the distant noises of the students sparring and the breeze flowing through the – previously – closed windows.

“Hey, you’re up,” Gojo notices from his spot, lazing in the students desks.

You sit up a bit more, “How long–”

“–How long were you asleep?” He finishes for you, “A couple hours.”

“Why are you in here?” You ask, “Why aren’t you with the first-years?”

“The first-years are sparring with the second-years, they’re fine,” he too, sits up more, “I stayed cause I didn’t wanna leave you alone in here.”

You raise a brow at him, “That or you just didn’t wanna actually do your job today.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he laughs easily.

“Mhm, thought so,” standing up completely, you stretch out your limbs, joints aching from sleeping in the chair.

“I didn’t think you would also be doing solo missions while being here,” he comments from behind you.

“Well… you know how shorthanded we are,” you walk over to where he’s sitting, “Plus, me being here is almost as much as a punishment for me as it is for you,” you remind.

“That’s funny, I wouldn’t say I feel punished,” he says it like it means nothing, like his feelings aren’t lingering right under the surface.

Thinking on it, you agree, “I don’t much either, I’ve been having quite a bit of fun actually,” you laugh lightly.

Gojo’s world stands still for a moment, he’s been growing addicted to how you smile, the sound of your laugh. He’s lucky for the blindfold because nearly every time he looks at you he has hearts in his eyes.

Noticing his silent staring, you grow shy, rubbing the back of your neck, “Sorry for falling asleep, it won’t happen again.”

He recovers quickly, “No it won’t… because next time, you’re going to go home to sleep properly before showing back up here.”

“Whatever you say, Gojo,” you play it off, not taking him seriously.

“Call me Satoru.”

You’re a little shocked, feeling like you misheard him, you clarify, “I’m sorry, what?”

He gets up from where he’s sitting, “We’ve known each other for years now, call me Satoru.”

You don’t know if you should, it feels weird, like letting him into your life more than he already is and that’s a little much for post nap you, “Maybe…”

He chuckles, “Don’t force yourself, just know, you can if you want to…”

You nod at him, suddenly feeling incredibly bashful.

⸝⸝⸝

You’re cleaning… why are you cleaning? Because you somehow got conned into having Gojo over. Its honestly impressive of him, you have no idea how he convinced you to let him into your home. You barely can even recall the conversation, something about movies, he’s somehow got your favourite movie before the DVD or streaming release.

Anyways, now you’re scrabbling around your meagre apartment, attempting to clean it up to a high standard before you have a guest over. You have time, you have enough time to clean the main areas, yourself, your bedroom… wait, your bedroom (?). Brushing off the thought, you continue your tirade, it ends with just enough time for you to make yourself look presentable.

Knocks in the form of a carefree tune are thumped into your door and you know who it is instantly, even his knocking is distinctly him. Tugging your shirt on, you call out, “Just a sec!”

Pausing in front of the door, you smooth yourself out, like you weren’t just running around like an insane person a few minutes ago, and then you open the door. The sight of Gojo is shocking, it wasn’t what you were expecting… you’ve seen him in casual clothes before, but you think you’ve gotten too used to seeing him at the school.

You mumble out, “You look nice.”

His eyes light up behind his glasses, “Why thank you, you look nice as well.” He speaks lowly on his way past you.

You stand stunned for a little, not expecting his compliment to affect you so much. He’s already walked down the hall while you stood staring at where he once was. Closing the door, you start after him, meeting him in the lounge room.

“You ready?” He asks.

You nod your head, waiting for him to show how he accrued the movie.

“Ta da!” He shows the usb stick, presumedly holding the movie.

You sigh at his jovial display of piracy and grab the thumb drive off him. Gojo makes himself comfortable on the couch while you plug it into the tv.

“You have a cute apartment,” he hums, looking around from where he’s sitting.

Grabbing the remote, you switch through the tv’s sources and search for the content on the stick, “Thank you… I think.”

“It’s a compliment,” he affirms.

You flop down next to him on the couch, “We good to start? Or do you have more to say?”

“I always have more to say,” he grins.

“I’ve noticed,” you snark back, beginning the movie anyways.

It starts off good, the movie’s quality isn’t great but it’s good enough to enjoy the content of the film. That is… until the halfway mark and then the quality drops significantly and you can’t even tell what’s happening on screen anymore, everything fuzzy and words mumbled, almost robotic.

You suppress a smile, “Gojo… where did you get the movie?”

“…Online somewhere… I watched the first few minutes and it looked fiiine,” he’s whinging slightly, disappointed in the sudden quality drop.

You can’t help but laugh at his complete dismay, “It’s fine, Gojo, at least I got to see some of it?” You try looking on the bright side, “You’ll just have to buy me a real copy when it comes out.”

“Is that another invitation?” He teases.

You look over to him, “Another? I barely remember giving out this one.”

“That hurts, you know?” He pouts at you.

You can’t help the way your face breaks out in a smile, “It is.” He looks at you confused, “An invitation,” you finish.

His pout breaks into a large smile, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you liked me.”

“Ah, you’re beginning to grow on me,” you torment lightly.

He nods his head solemnly, “Knew I would.”

You scoff at him, only now realising how close he’s gotten to you, your knees touching, his face so close to your own. You go to look away from him, feeling self-conscious, but his hand reaches up and pulls your face back to continue the intense eye contact.

“If I kiss you right now, will you try and punch me again?” He jokes, trying to relieve the tension.

You find a place inside you that outweighs your anxiety, “Only one way for you to find out.”

He leans in that tiny bit more and captures your lips in his, the kiss tender and gentle, he’s searching, learning. He doesn’t want to scare you away, wanting to kiss you for so long and not willing to ruin it by spooking you now. It took him so long just to work up the courage to get inside your apartment, he doesn’t want you to pull back when you’ve finally stepped towards him.

He parts first, hesitant, if he keeps kissing you, it won’t stay innocent because he really wants to kiss you until you cry.

You repress a whine at the loss of him, “Wait…” You trail off, embarrassed by how badly you want him to keep kissing you.

“Yeah?” He presses, wanting to hear you ask him for it.

“Can… you kiss me again,” you ask, before adding, “please?”

It’s too good to be true, he’s dreaming… but even if that’s the case, he’s sure as hell not wasting this moment, “Anything for you~”

Leaning back in, he kisses you with more fervour, his lips more insistent, desperate. His one hand stays on your face, angling you so he can kiss you deeper, he wants more, more. The other hand reaches for your hip, tugging and pulling at the fat there, groping your skin greedily.

Your moans and whimpers muffle into his mouth, he swallows them down, licking into your mouth, silently asking for more. Which, you give, you think you’d give him the world right now if you could. His kisses are dizzying and full. You’ve not been kissed like this… ever and it’s overwhelming you in an embarrassing way.

Pulling back, you rush out, “Wait wait…”

Gojo freaks a little, “Shit– sorry, was it too much?”

You shake your head, “No, well…maybe, I’ve just… never been kissed like that before, I was feeling dizzy.”

He breathes a sigh of relief before targeting you with a teasing smile, an evil glint in his eyes, “I’m kissing you dumb, huh?”

You feel hot, everywhere, “I–”

Your defence is cut off with this lips back on yours, he’s drunk on your kisses and he’s not going to stop. Knowing that he’s overwhelming you with them only spurs him on, he wants you to be so stupid because of his lips, he thinks he couldn’t want anything more than that right now.

Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer; he lets it happen and falls into you, pressing your back into the couch. On instinct, your legs wrap around his waist, tugging him down into you more, desiring the proximity. His front presses into yours and you both moan into each other.

He trails kisses from your lips to the side of your face, down to your neck, his teeth nipping lightly, sucking into your skin, leaving marks behind, not really caring about how you’ll struggle to cover them tomorrow. You gasp into him and raise your hips, grinding into him without meaning to. The friction has him groaning into the skin of your neck.

His large hand grabs at the thickest part of your thigh, grabbing and pulling your covered cunt closer to his clothed dick. His hips dig down into yours, humping into you and trying to fight off the urge to cum in his pants at the minimal amount of stimulation.

He huffs against your sensitive skin, “Bet you’re so fucking wet, fuck–”

“Gojo–”

He cuts you off, “–Lemme… lemme touch you more, please.”

You nod at him, eyes glassy from how he kissed you, “Uh huh, do– do whatever you want~”

His hand is immediately leaving your thigh and reaching into the front of your pants, under your panties and through your dripping folds, a shiver running down his back as he groans deeply. He had a feeling you were wet but fuck– he wasn’t expecting this.

You sob a moan into the collar of his shirt where you’ve tucked your head, his fingers glide through your slick, teasing you, lightly grazing your clit.

His tone is light, “So eager~”

“Don’t t–tease, it’s unkind,” you try to chastise him.

He smiles at you, it’s dark but full, as a single finger probes at your entrance, slipping in carefully, aided fully by the amount of slick that gushes from your pussy, “So messy,” he hums, nosing the side of your face, giggling at the whimper you let out.

“Gojo–”

“–I think…” his finger slips to the hilt, pulling back before fucking back in, wet squelching sounding through your small apartment, “…I’ve earned Satoru, when I’m knuckles deep in your pretty, little cunt.”

If you thought you were hot before, you definitely were now, “Satoru, please.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” his cock jerks in his pants at the sound of you finally calling him by his name.

Your small gasps and sighs are setting his skin on fire, a light flush dusting his features, he still wants more from you, he wants to hear it all, he wants to feel it all, he wants to see it all. Deciding he’s had enough of your clothes, he slips his finger from deep in your cunt, which results in the prettiest, wrecked sound coming from you.

“Just a sec, need these off…” he tugs your pants down and off, leaving you in your panties, he hums in thought at you, “…These are cute,” he points out, looking at to the lacy garment decorating your lower half, “Expecting something to happen?”

You shake your head no, not loving the accusation that you planned this, “No, I just… didn’t have anything else…”

“Convenient,” he comments, taking notice of how completely ruined they are, wet from your arousal pooling in them. He pulls the side of them away from your skin, only to let it slap back against you, enjoying the way you squirm under him, “I think I’ll leave these on.”

He continues undressing you though, tugging off your shirt, your bra following along soon after. You feel so exposed compared to his fully dressed form. His cock strains against his pants though, sitting heavy against the zipper of his jeans. The sight makes you salivate but he takes no notice.

“I gotta get my mouth on you, pretty thing,” he murmurs more to himself than you, since you’re not really thinking at this point, only squirming under him and trying to rub your thighs together.

He shuffles down between your legs, spreading them apart further and tossing them over his shoulder. Drawing your panties to the side, he presses his face into your cunt, inhaling deeply, the act makes you jump and whinge out his name, shocked by the completely debauched display.

“Satoru~”

He doesn’t reply, not with words, he mumbles into your pussy and licks a long stipe from your hole to your clit before licking back down. His tongue pushing into your cunt with the desperation of a starved man. His nose presses against your clit and he moves his head side to side slightly, stimulating it.

You moan and whimper into the air, fingers finding purchase in his hair, needing something to tug onto while he eats you out in the messiest way possible. There is no finesse, he’s sloppily making out with your cunt, drinking down all the arousal that leaks from you eagerly.

Your thighs begin shaking beside his head and he holds you tighter, his head moving back and forth quickly, shaking it, trying to force your orgasm from you. The feeling of his blunt nails digging into your soft skin and the way he groans so unrestrained into your pussy has you cumming on his face very suddenly.

Your stomach twists as your cunt clenches around Gojo’s tongue, your mind lost in how good you feel. Not registering the sound of your moans or the sounds of his mouth lapping at you in the most lewd manner, it should be embarrassing how wet you are for him but you can’t seem to care when it feels this good.

He’s unrelenting, licking and mouthing at your sensitive pussy until you start twitching away from him and pulling on his hair harshly, wordlessly tell him it’s too much.

“Perfect,” he turns his face to the side and mumbles into your thigh, nipping at the skin, delighting in the way your body jerks, “Got an absolutely perfect cunt.” He says shamelessly.

“Gojo!”

He looks up at you through his lashes, “Ah, back to Gojo now?” he leans up and back onto his knees, tugging his shirt over his head and discarding it with the rest of your clothes, “No worries, I’ll fix that real soon.”

The sound of his belt clinking and zipper undoing brings you out of your thoughts, temporarily disarmed by the sudden exposure of his skin. He doesn’t bother taking them off completely, just shirking them down enough to free his painfully erect cock.

Your gaze gets lost in the sight of his dick, leaking thick globs of precum from the tip down his shaft. His hand tugging lazily at it, spreading his own mess everywhere, slicking it up for you. Wet sounds of his hand languidly fucking his cock makes your skin prick. How he’s going to fit you aren’t sure, the size of him is daunting.

He smiles when you look back in his eyes, “There she is.” He leans down over you, “I know I have a really nice dick but let’s try and stay focused, pretty, hmm?”

It’s condescending and egotistical of him to say but you can’t fight the shiver that runs down your spine at his words, “Gojo, you have a massive–”

“–Dick? Yeah I know,” he smiles cheekily at you.

You finish your previous interrupted statement, “I was gonna say ego.”

“Two things can be true at once,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You ready for this?”

“I don’t think I could ever be ready for this,” you retort.

“Way to boost a guys ego,” he chuckles at your comment.

You grab the side of his face, “Not that you need it.” You murmur before pulling him down for another kiss, missing the feel of his lips on yours.

He licks into your mouth straight away; you can taste yourself on his tongue. You feel like you could float away, not knowing how you’ve gone your whole life without being kissed like this. Your thighs are back on either side of his hips again, your need to be filled growing by the second.

Pulling back, he sits up so he can watch himself enter your tight pussy. He’s not denying himself this view, not when he’s imagined it so many times before. He rubs his cock through your folds a few times, relishing in your small jumps and moans. He needs it wet; it needs to be so fucking wet if he even dreams of fucking his cock all the way inside you.

“I’m gonna need you to relax for me and remember to breathe if you wanna take it all,” he says it so seriously, and if you hadn’t seen his dick you would’ve assumed he was just stroking his own ego for the sake of it.

You nod at him, “Got it, now please,” your hips wiggle slightly, enticing him.

“I got ya,” he smirks, pushing forward slightly.

The tip of him is a lot, your cunt stretching to take it, the ache dulled by the absolute messy state of your pussy and the thumb Gojo is pressing into your clit. He intakes a sharp breath at the snug fit of your cunt, his hips jerking forward mindlessly, a groan pulled from deep in him, while you whimper pathetically.

Your breath stutters and you’re struggling, grip on his cock impossibly tight, through gritted teeth, he reminds, “Hey, hey… breathe yeah? You gotta –fuck– you gotta breathe for me, pretty.”

Collecting yourself, you attempt to take deep breaths, they come out stuttered but the punishing grip you had on him eases, “Almost had me fucking cumming, geez…” he laughs lightly at it but he would’ve been beyond embarrassed if he came with only his tip inside of you, he’d never live it down.

“You can –hah– you can move,” you stammer out.

He double checks, “You sure?”

Your eyes are so wet and your voice is wrecked when you add, “Please.”

An evil smile takes its place on his face, “Why were you assigned to work with me?”

“Gojo, not now,” your words break off into a whine, you sound so pathetic, you do not have the upper hand here.

“Mmm? You want me to stuff you full? Tell me the reason,” he leans down slightly, cock slipping just that tiny bit more into you.

Ignoring him, your wrap your legs tighter around his waist and try fucking up onto him, it works for the one second that he lets it and then one of his large hands is reaching down and slamming your hips back into the couch cushions.

“Come on, pretty,” his breath wafts against the side of your face, his lips tickling your ear, “You really gonna waste time being stubborn?”

“You’re the stubborn one,” you argue.

He hums noncommittally, almost like you proved his point for him, “Come on, I can feel you fucking pulsing around me, just tell me what you did~”

“I– I… I didn’t listen to an order on a mission and almost got myself killed,” you pout out, breathing laboured.

He tsks at you, disapproving of your actions, “You really should be more careful,” he kisses beside your ear, “And listen to your seniors more.” It goes without saying that, that includes him. You suspect he’s mostly talking about himself; he has no respect for the current hierarchy.

“Gojo, you said you would–”

He tilts his head at you, “–I did but now knowing how reckless you were, I can’t help but want to punish you a bit more…”

Your waterline fills with tears at the frustration, your pussy fluttering on the barely two inches he has sat inside you, how he’s holding out so well you have no idea because you’re about to fucking cry.

Your voice is embarrassing to even your own ears, “Satoru, please, more.”

“Ah, well when you ask like that, how can I say no?” He’s acting as if he’s taking mercy on you and not like his dick didn’t twitch violently at you using his name again.

Slowly, he pushes into you, stopping every now and again to let you adjust and reminding you to just breathe through it. Something Gojo has realised is, your cunt is so reactive to him, the words he speaks, the hand he has on your hip, the kisses he presses into the side of your head, all of it has you spasming around him and every time you do, it feels like a gut punch to him.

It’s addictive and also world shattering, he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to last when he actually starts fucking into you. The little noises you make don’t help either, how on earth is he meant to last more than a minute inside you?

Eventually, he bottoms out, the both of you moaning at the relief, your legs nearly kick at the sensation of how deep inside you he is, “Satoru, move?”

He bites out, “Give me a second.” He’s fighting the primal urge to cum inside you right now.

You whine under him, hips twitching, using the minimal amount of space to grind your pelvis into his. Your pussy stutters around him at the stimulation on your clit and he groans loudly at it, his orgasm on the tip of his tongue.

He forces your hips down and still again, pinning you to the couch with his own, “You’re so impatient. Do you want this to be over now? You want me to cum after only being fully inside you for a minute?”

You shake your head at him, the feral look in his eyes making your stomach do flips, your pussy gushing around him.

He laughs dryly, “Fuck, I can’t do a single thing without turning you on more, huh?”

You look away from him, embarrassment reaching a new pique with that comment, “Not nice, Satoru.”

“Not a bad thing, pretty,” he noses your cheek, realising how he said it harshly without meaning it that way, “Huge compliment, knowing you react this way to me is fucking perfect but it also has me on the edge of finishing prematurely.”

Turning your head back to him, you look him in the eyes and he swears he sees heaven because you have tears trailing down your cheeks and your eyes are blown and wet and he’s gonna finish if he keeps looking at you. So, instead, he leans in and kisses you deep, getting lost in the taste and feel of your mouth.

The small reprieve helps and he begins thrusting his hips back and forth, his cock leaving and entering you with the most obscene noises he’s ever heard. It’s such a fucking mess, leaking out of you, down your thighs and onto your nice couch. And even if he really tried, he couldn’t give a fuck, not when your cunt is so slick and warm and wrapping around him like it was made for him.

The sounds you let out are cute but muffled against his mouth, he settles for swallowing them down but he’d really rather hear them loud and clear. You flutter around him so beautifully, everything you do is perfect to him and you laying here while he shoves you full of his fat cock is no different.

He pulls away from your lips to hear the noises you make for him, “Cute,” he comments offhandedly, not even sure if you hear the contents of his words. He only knows you hear his voice because your cunt clenches down on him at the sound.

You cry out to him, “S’toru~”

“Ah, you’re so fucking close aren’t you,” the smile on his face is huge and wolfish, excited to feel you cum all over him, looking forward to literally nothing else.

You try to verbalise it, “I– mm –mmph–”

“Go on, let yourself gush all over me, wanna fucking feel it, pretty,” his words are sharp against your ear.

His hips increase their pace, slamming down into you more forcefully, his pelvis grinding into your clit harshly. Your eyes cross into the back of your head, neck lolling back bonelessly, choppy, whimpered sounds leave you. Your fingers claw at his biceps, leaving behind angry marks. Gojo’s hands have a death grip on your hips, bruised marks will definitely be left behind in their wake.

A particularly sharp thrust and loud whine from Gojo has you cumming under him, your pussy gripping him tight as your cum leaks from you sloppily, his cock coated in it. Creamy ring left at the base of his cock as he continues thrusting mercilessly.

His abs pull taut, his resolve finally breaking now that he’d finally felt you finish on him, “Where you want it?”

“Inside, please Satoru,” your words are mumbled and breathy.

“Fuuuuuck.”

He’s lucky you said that because your words have him cumming on the spot, thick ropes of his cum being forced deep inside your little cunt. It leaks out around the base of him, even as he presses deep into you, his pelvis tight against yours, riding out his high by grinding into you slightly. The stimulation making your cunt jump around him as he hisses at the slight overstimulation he’s forcing himself into.

You both huff, gasping greedily for air after your intense highs, the room filled with nothing but silence and your haste breaths. Eventually, you both even out and lay there quietly, Gojo pressed against you with his cock still snug inside your pussy.

“Gojo, you’re heavy,” you tell him.

He laughs, “Right, sorry.”

Leaning back, he slowly pulls his dick from you, both hissing at it. His eyes are fixated on the way his cum slips from your hole, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight, obsessing over how hot it is that you took so much of him. He slips your panties back into place, letting them keep his cum inside you.

“You did so good,” he praises you suddenly.

It makes you feel bashful, “So did you…” you mumble out.

A loud laugh results from him, “Thank you,” he says, his eyes crinkled in a large smile.

Gojo cleans the pair of you up, tucking you carefully into your bed and holding you close as you fight to keep your eyes open, “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

“Do you want me to be?” He questions lightly, trying not to expect anything from you.

“…Yes, I’d like it a lot if you stayed, I think.” You admit shyly.

“Then I’ll be here,” he presses himself into you closer, enjoying the warmth radiating off of you.

You don’t think this was in your job description…

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojou x reader #gojou x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader smut #jjk x reader #visionwrites

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pickingupmymercedes · 7 months ago

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Whispered fairytale - Lewis Hamilton

request: "hi can i have a request about moments of fluff when reader's pregnant? with lewis of course <3" - anon

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: fluff, like a lot of it

wordcount: +2K

a/n: I am not sorry for the sighs I was letting out as I was writting this. You guys have been warned, it's dad Lewis after all.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Monaco shimmered beneath the fading sunlight, a familiar scenery for Lewis and Y/N. This time, however, the champagne flowed with a bittersweet undercurrent as nestled in a drawer, a positive pregnancy test hummed with a quiet revolution. No elaborate pronouncements, just a single pink line etching a new chapter onto their shared story.

Their path to parenthood hadn't been meticulously expected. Discussions about starting a family had danced between them, unspoken agreements carried on the wind of their non-stop lives. Lewis, now an eight-time champion, a feat achieved under the scarlet banner of Ferrari, still felt the fire to chase another title. Yet, amidst the celebrations at the end of season, a quiet voice whispered that perhaps, the timing might have been just right.

As the celebratory roar began to fade, replaced by the clinking of abandoned champagne flutes, Lewis found himself gazing at Y/N, her smile hesitant yet imbued with a radiant joy, although the reason behind it hadn’t been revealed.

Their planned racetrack of a future had morphed into a sprawling unknown, but as Y/N's hand met his, a quiet certainty bloomed within him. This unplanned detour wasn't a wrong turn. It was a victory lap of a different kind, perhaps the starting grid for their greatest adventure.

A Dream

Sunlight speared through the sliver of uncovered window, painting a warm stripe across Lewis's features. Y/N stirred beside him, the weight of sleep clinging to her eyelids. Disoriented for a moment, she blinked, the room slowly coming into focus. Lewis, sprawled on the plush white chaise lounge next to his driver’s room sofa, was the first thing that registered.

Except, he wasn't really by himself, not mentally anyway.

His gaze was fixed on a spot above her stomach, a soft, almost reverent smile playing on his lips. He spoke, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

"Alright, little one," he was saying, "I know you can't hear me yet, but listen up. This whole thing...it's a bit overwhelming, you know?" He chuckled, a nervous sound that tugged at Y/N's heart. "Honestly, I don't have a clue what I'm doing. But your mama here," he glanced at Y/N, his eyes warm, "she's a trooper. We'll figure it out, together. As a team."

The sight of Lewis, ever the composed champion, confessing his anxieties about fatherhood sent a wave of tenderness over Y/N. Carefully, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against the dark braids of his hair.

"Lewis," she croaked, her voice thick with sleep.

He turned, his smile widening as he met her gaze. "Hey there, beautiful.”

"Just getting to know the newest member of the team," he continued, his eyes flickering back to her stomach. "We were having a little chat."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, a soft sound that echoed in the quiet room. "It can’t really hear you" she said, her smile fading slightly. "It's still early days, remember?"

Lewis's smile softened. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her stomach. "I know," he said, his voice gentle. "But that doesn't mean I can't try, does it?"

Lewis, ever the believer in manifestation, ever the optimist. She scooted closer, making room for him on the sofa. He settled beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"How was your nap?" he asked, his lips brushing against her temple.

"Good," she mumbled, nuzzling closer to him. "But you woke me up with your…pep talk."

"Just some heart-to-heart, you know?!" he said with a wink. "With the little one, of course."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but a smile tugged at her lips. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. The surprise of the positive test, the initial shock, the overwhelming joy – it had all been a blur. Lewis, ever the supportive partner, had taken it all in stride. Sure, there were moments of worry, of panicked glances exchanged in stolen moments, but mostly, there was a quiet excitement that simmered between the couple.

Out of the blue, as it tended to be, a loud growl echoed in the quiet room. She winced, covering her eyes in shame. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, his voice laced with concern. "This little one needs some food, right?"

Y/N nodded, the growling easing down "Yeah," she mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Sorry, I..."

"Don't apologize," he said firmly. "This is all part of the journey. We're in this together."

His words held a quiet strength, a comforting confidence that calmed the churning in her stomach. It was more than just constantly being hungry; it was a reminder of the tiny miracle growing inside her.

They lay in silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic rise and fall of their breathing. Outside, the world buzzed with activity, the roar of the racetrack a distant rumble. But here, in this quiet haven, a different kind of race was about to begin – a race against time, against uncertainty, but most importantly, a race towards a future filled with the promise of a tiny miracle. And that little one, even though they were still just a whisper of a dream, was already so loved. More than Y/N could ever imagine.

Your scent

The crisp scent of Lewis's signature cologne, a heady mix of citrus and spice, usually sent a wave of warmth through Y/N. Today, however, it was the trigger for a rebellion in her stomach. A wave of nausea crashed over her, sending her scrambling out of bed towards the bathroom.

Lewis, stirred by the commotion, sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Y/N? You alright?" he called out, concern etching lines on his forehead.

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she mumbled, her voice weak. "Just a little…" she trailed off, the metallic tang of bile rising in her throat.

Lewis was by her side in an instant, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Morning sickness again?" he asked gently.

Y/N shook her head, forcing a weak smile. "Second trimester was supposed to be smooth sailing, they said" Her voice held a hint of sarcasm, even to her own ears.

Lewis chuckled softly. "Maybe smooth sailing is a bit optimistic," he admitted. "But hey, at least you're keeping food down" Y/N grimaced. That particular phase had been brutal. She rinsed her mouth in the sink, the minty freshness a welcome relief.

"Actually," she started hesitantly, Lewis's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Y/N hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Your cologne," she began, gesturing vaguely towards the bottle on the dresser "it's making me sick."

The surprise on Lewis's face was comical. He stared at the bottle, then back at Y/N, as if trying to process the information. This was the cologne he'd worn for years, his signature scent. It was practically an extension of him.

"My cologne?" he finally managed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "But it's…" he trailed off, searching for the right words. "It's me, Y/N. You love me, right?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. "Of course, I love you, silly," she said, reaching out to cup his face. "But right now, your child doesn’t really enjoy your 'you-ness'”

A slow grin spread across his face. "Alright, then” he declared, picking up the cologne bottle. "Operation: Find a pregnancy-safe scent it is."

Y/N watched, a smile playing on her lips, as Lewis rummaged through his extensive collection of grooming products. "How about this one?" Lewis asked, holding up a small, unassuming bottle with a label that read "Lavender Serenity."

Y/N wrinkled her nose playfully. "A bit too…serene for you, wouldn't you say?"

Lewis chuckled, tossing the bottle back onto the dresser. "Maybe. But hey, at least it won't make you puke."

Whoever they are

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/N's mother hoisted a heavy bag of groceries onto the kitchen counter. Lewis's dad, Anthony, hovered beside her, peering inside with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Alright" Anthony announced, brandishing a head of cabbage, "let's settle this once and for all. Boy or girl?"

Y/N chuckled, her belly, now a prominent dome beneath her maternity clothes, bouncing with laughter. "Lewis and I have already agreed, no peeking!"

Across the room, Lewis, ever the competitor, mirrored Y/N's amusement. "Besides," he added, winking at Anthony, "I have a feeling your cabbage test is about to be proven wildly inaccurate."

Anthony scoffed playfully. "Don't underestimate the power of tradition. Now, hand me that measuring tape."

As the pregnancy had unfolded everyone had made the bump a target to old wives' tales and lighthearted debate.

Y/N's mother, a firm believer in the "pregnancy glow" theory, insisted the baby was a girl based on Y/N's radiant complexion. Anthony, armed with his cabbage test (apparently, a high, round shape indicated a boy), remained stubbornly convinced otherwise.

Lewis, however, held a quiet confidence in his prediction of a girl. He couldn't explain it; it was just a feeling, a deep one that resonated within him.

The rest of the family, friends, and even Ferrari staff, seemed convinced it was a boy. The sheer volume of blue onesies and miniature race car toys accumulating in the nursery was a testament to that.

Despite the overwhelming "boy" camp, Y/N found herself drawn to Lewis's quiet certainty, her mother's unwavering belief and Leclerc’s claim that Lewis was a girl dad and he wouldn’t believe in anything else. There was a subtle shift in their preferences, a secret language of pink frilly socks and delicate stuffed animals tucked away in the corner of the nursery.

As the due date came ever closer the playful arguments gave way to a more sentimental atmosphere.

Anthony surprised everyone one evening by pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. "Girl or boy," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you're going to be incredible parents. And that little one," he patted Y/N's stomach gently, "they're already so loved."

A tear escaped Y/N's eye, mirroring the glistening in Lewis's. The truth was, the gender didn't matter. They were about to embark on the greatest adventure of their lives.

As Y/N snuggled against Lewis on the couch, just days before their little one arrived, her hand resting on her swollen belly, a wave of peace washed over her.

"You know," she whispered, "maybe the whole point isn't about knowing the gender."

Lewis turned to her, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe," Y/N continued, a smile gracing her lips, "the point is in the surprise. The joy of meeting them, whoever they are, for the very first time."

Lewis's smile mirrored hers. He squeezed her hand gently. "We're ready, whatever comes." he said, his voice filled with an unshakeable certainty.

Their shared ritual

Exhaustion clung to Y/N like a second skin. The past three months had been a parade of sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the constant, gnawing worry that comes with being a new parent.

But nestled in the crook of her arm, a tiny miracle slept soundly. Her daughter, in a quiet moment of shared hope, was a testament to the love that bloomed amidst the chaos.

She was a symphony of soft sighs and the occasional gurgle, her tiny fists clenched in a peaceful slumber. However, the moment Lewis's voice cut through the quiet of the room, her whole world seemed to shift.

"Hey there, my little champion," Lewis cooed, his voice a low murmur as he entered the nursery. The infant’s eyes, a pitch perfect copy of her dad’s brown ones, snapped open. A wide, gummy grin split her face, and a high-pitched squeal erupted from her tiny lungs.

Y/N watched the scene unfold with warmth washing over her. Lewis, ever the prodigy, had taken to parenthood like a natural. The same gentle persuasion he used on the racetrack was now employed to coax a smile from their daughter, his voice a soothing melody that calmed her fussy cries.

The transformation was remarkable. Y/N vividly recalled the first trimester, Lewis sheepishly confessing his anxieties about fatherhood to their unborn child. And throught the months a routine was created as every evening, he'd spend a quiet moment by Y/N's side, whispering words of encouragement and promises of love to the tiny bump.

"Alright, little one," Lewis would say, his voice barely above a whisper, "we're going to face whatever comes our way, as a team, okay?"

Those nightly pep talks, once a source of amusement for Y/N, now seemed almost prophetic. The kid, it seemed, recognized Lewis's voice as a source of comfort, a familiar sound that echoed the evenings spent nestled safely inside Y/N, bathed in the sound of his love.

Lewis, oblivious to the internal monologue playing in Y/N's head, scooped the baby into his arms, his face alight with a radiant joy. He bounced her gently, singing a silly, made-up song about a race car driver and a tiny princess. Captivated by her father's performance, the infant cooed and gurgled in response, her tiny hand reaching out to grab a lock of Lewis's dark braids.

Watching them together, a lump formed in Y/N's throat. The exhaustion that had threatened to consume her throughout the day had faded away, replaced by a fierce and overwhelming love. There, in the quiet sanctuary of the nursery, their team flourished – united by an invisible thread of shared love, a love story whispered before their daughter ever entered the world.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1

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cremedensada · 8 months ago

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Yandere fem demon who has been trying to tempt you to sinning. Dragging you to shops and boutiques, highly amused when you insist everything she's been trying to get you in has been pretty revealing.

Yandere demon who uses her body to further tempt you. A flirty look here, a lingering touch there - she's pulled out all the stops.

But why weren't you at the very least tempted? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy.

Yandere demon who, while busying herself with seducing a different human, finds herself cornered. It's fine, she's a demon anyway, she'll let these stupid humans think she's fragile and shit.

But you arrive just before she slits their throats - courageously demanding they leave her alone. Brave despite the croak in your voice, and the shaking of your hands. You successfully drew the assailants' interests, abandoning her in favor of you.

In a sudden surge of unnamed emotion, she uses her powers to kill the assailants swiftly before any of them could touch you.

Yandere demon who, cradled in your embrace, figures this is the time to get you. In a way, it's a perfect set up, isn't it? A damsel in distress (not really) being saved by a hero. It's only fair she rewards you for your deeds, right? Surely you would never turn down her offer.

Yandere demon who, before she can voice out her thanks, finds the words disappearing at the tip of her tongue. Looking at your terrified expression, panicked and blubbering out words of concern and apologies.

What were you apologizing for? You didn't know something like this would happen. She's used to this.

Yandere demon who gets stunned as you shouted in frustration when she voiced out her thoughts with nonchalance. Staring at you in awe and surprise as you, frustratedly, insisted how it's exactly the reason why you're sorry.

Why?

You know she's got a reputation, she's beautiful - of course that'll get people's attention. And some people aren't so nice with trying to get her attention on them.

You don't know she's a demon, or that she's befriended you just so she can doom you to sinning. But she did befriend you.

"I care about you. Do I need any more reasons to make sure you don't get hurt?"

A sudden spike in her heartbeat, a flush of her cheeks (demons are actually capable of blushing? Who knew - certainly not her). Touched by your declaration.

You have no clue what you've just made her feel.

Yandere demon who still takes you to boutiques, urging you to wear the clothes she picked out for you. They're less revealing now, but still stylish - which you appreciate. The clothes are nice, but you were never here for them anyway.

You aren't allowed to wear anything remotely revealing anymore. Not if she can help it. Every single inch of your skin is for her to see. Every single part of you is hers.

Constantly hanging around with you, arms linked and touching you. Your popularity spikes the more the two of you are seen together - simple cause and effect.

She kills the people showing open interest towards you - also simple cause and effect.

Yandere demon who abandoned her duties as a demon tempting mortals to sin, in favor of attending to you. For your affection. You care for her, remember? You made that declaration.

Yandere demon who, in a way, got her plans with you fulfilled. She's doomed you, as she intended. Not to eternal damnation - but to herself.

this is so all over the place but i needed to write her immediately. shes invading my thoughts get her out!!!!!

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere #tw yandere #yandere scenarios #gn reader #gender neutral reader #tw allusions to being cornered and almost assaulted??#female yandere

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 8 months ago

Note

Hi!! Can i request a hurt/comfort hotch x reader?

Reader is starting to feel lonely in the relationship cause for the past 2 months hotch has only been home for a week total and she really misses him. They haven’t had time to themselves cause even when hotch is in virginia he’s in the office and him getting called out on a case during his day off happens more often than the both of them want to. and even when they text and call it’s not the same.

anyway hotch comes home in the middle of the night after a case and he just finds reader on the sofa crying cause she just really misses her boyfriend and the two of them finally talk about it.

You have permission to break my heart with the angst and put it back together. I know its long and i have no clue if it made sense so im sorry😭😭 enjoy your day💕

༉‧₊˚. 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

― pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

― summary: you knew that being with aaron meant that his job came first, you just hadn't realized how badly it would actually affect you. now, your life and love is on the line.

― warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST!!! you have been warned!, thoughts of breaking up, established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, hints of depression.

― wc: 905

⋆ a/n: my first long fic back being angst LMAOOOO. i'm not going to lie, writing this kind of bummed me out a bit but that's how i knew it was going to be good LOL. but never fear, i got a few smutty things in the works, so keep a silly little eye out for that!! i love you guys so so much and thank you for your request!

masterlist | AO3

The room felt melancholic. Empty.

The sounds of laughter that had once bounced off of the walls of your home now rang silently, one of the only people that knew of the joy that once made your house a home was long gone on a case right now.

You don’t know what to do. How could you last like this? How could your relationship? How could Jack?

Jack, the precious little boy that you had taken under your wing even before you and Aaron had ever made it official. You knew he missed his father dearly, but with every large life milestone the boy had completed, Aaron had missed out on. It had gotten to the point where Jack doesn’t bother to ask you if he could call his dad to tell him about it, because nine times out of ten, he knew that Aaron wouldn’t answer.

So now as you sit here on the couch in the dark with your head in your hands, you can’t help but think that maybe this was it, that it was time to consider the very dreaded other option.

You tried your best to make your relationship with Aaron work, God did you try, but having to sit there and endure weeks of radio silence, of not knowing whether or not he was alive was excruciating. When he did have time to text or call you, every conversation was more and more distant.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, and your bottom lip trembled. You crossed your arms and placed them on your knees where you leaned on them, staring out into the abyss of your dimly lit living room. You had just put Jack to sleep, and you didn’t want to risk waking him up.

Your eyes solemnly scaled the walls where the pictures of your little family hung, frames upon frames of happy smiling faces.

What happened?

It was the fact you were absolutely drowning in your thoughts that you didn’t hear your front door unlock – something that your boyfriend would deeply frown upon.

Aaron wasn’t surprised to find the apartment quiet, what he was surprised to find was your silhouette illuminated by a single lamp. What really set off the alarms in his brain was your shivering shoulders, which could only mean one thing.

“Sweetheart?” His deep voice pierced the thin air hovering above you. You just shook your head, any happiness that would have left your mouth died in your throat, the words leaving you was, “We have to talk.”

You hated doing this, but who’s to say he won’t get called in tomorrow? No, you had to do this now.

Aaron felt his heart fall into his stomach as he made his way over towards you, gently sitting down on the cushion next to yours, almost as if he was afraid to scare you.

“Of course. Are you okay?” He inquired in concern. You just shook your head again. “This isn’t working, Aaron.” The pain lacing your voice was unmissable. “What?” He’s completely caught off guard, because this was the last thing he’d expected to come home to.

“I can’t do this anymore… unless – unless we can figure something out but even then I-” He rushes to grab your hand, and it lays limp and cold in his warm and calloused one. “Honey please, what’s wrong? Tell me what I can do.” Holy shit, he’s panicking.

“You’re never here anymore! I - I can’t remember the last time in the past two months that we’ve been able to have any alone time together! Most of the time you’re either gone in a whole different state or stuck in the office!” You couldn’t stop the word vomit from leaving, all kinds of emotions that had been kept dormant finally coming up to the surface.

You heaved out a deep breath, your body slumping in defeat. “Did you know that Jack learned how to ride a bike today?” You asked quietly. “No.” Aaron gulped, “I didn’t.”

A heavy silence settled between the two of you.

“What do you need me to do?” Finally, you looked at him.

There were unshed tears in your eyes, “What I want you to do, you can’t make it happen.” His eyebrows furrowed. “You want me to quit my job?”

“No,” You said with a disbelieving laugh. “I just want you to be there.”

“Who says I can’t do that?” His head tilts, his eyes boring into yours, desperately trying to read you. It was like his profiler skills didn’t exist. “Every time you’ve had a day off you’ve been called into the office one way or another.” Your tone is hopeless, like your situation can’t be helped.

With a harsh squeeze of your eyelids, the tears began to fall, but Aaron was quick to swipe them away.

“Honey, look at me,” He cups the side of your cheek, his thumb brushing away the liquid. Hesitantly you did, and you instantly fell victim to the warmness of his irises. “I will fix this, because I am not losing you. My behavior has been completely unacceptable, and I swear that I will be here for you and Jack more consistently, I promise.”

“How do I know if this won’t happen again?

“I’ll make sure of it.”

It was the finality in his voice that fizzled out the anxiety in your gut, setting your nerves at ease.

“Don’t make me regret this, Hotchner.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

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libraryofgage · 1 year ago

Text

Addams Family Steddie AU Part 3

Part One | Part Two

To preface, a bitch is sick rn so if you see any typos, no you didn't lol

"Robin, this is serious."

Steve can perfectly see Robin rolling her eyes through the phone as she says, "Oh, right, I'm so sorry your fiance-to-be is the perfect boyfriend who takes you on wonderful dates and romances you every single second you're together."

"I'm starting to think you're jealous."

"I'd only be jealous if Eddie had tits."

"He'd probably get some if I asked."

In the silence that follows, Steve can imagine Robin's scrunched face: her crinkled nose and curled lips and generally disgusted eyebrow furrow. He counts down from six in his head and then mouths along as Robin says, "I'd hang up if I weren't so invested in your love life."

"For someone so invested, you're not helping."

He hears a put-upon sigh through the speaker and returns it with a sigh of his own. Steve gives up on sitting properly and collapses back onto his bed, staring at the unmoving ceiling fan Hulyet is currently hanging from to nap.

"Fine, fine, what's the actual problem again?" Robin asks, her question followed by the sound of her shutting a book (one of her science textbooks based on the sound it makes when closing) so she can give Steve her full attention.

"Eddie is always planning our dates, and they're always really good, right? So I want to plan a date in return, but I have no clue how to plan something we'll both equally enjoy. In fact, I have no clue how Eddie plans our dates in the first place."

"Just start with something he likes and try to find something you'll like in it."

"Okay, say it again, but pretend I'm five."

Robin sighs again, and Steve hears the creaking of her bed as she collapses onto it. "Okay, the last date he planned, it was a hockey game, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, you like sports. Hockey is an obvious jump from there, but was Eddie also having fun at the game?"

Steve hums, reviewing their date from the week before. He hadn't expected Eddie to pull out hockey tickets, but he'd looked forward to it nonetheless. The game itself was fun, and the rink was cold enough that Steve had been able to scoot closer to Eddie and complain about being chilly.

Of course, Eddie's immediate response was to pull out a lighter, open it, and flick a flame to life while asking, "How big of a fire do you want, Stevie?"

For a brief moment, Steve had considered the question. But then he'd realized a fire would disrupt the hockey game, so they probably shouldn't start one.

After grabbing the lighter and stuffing it into his own pocket, Steve leaned closer and whispered, "Wouldn't you rather put your arm around me?" Eddie had lit up, and his smile was wide enough to make Steve feel blinded as he wrapped an arm around Steve's waist and pulled him closer.

It had been wonderful and romantic, right up until both of them got way too into the game and completely forgot about cuddling in favor of shouting at the players to hit harder and actually draw some blood to get the puck.

Steve smiles a little at the memory. "Yeah, he enjoyed the violence."

"Well, we all enjoy seeing buff people get a little bloody," Robin says, and Steve can see the way she's nodding like a wise man. "Anyway, he probably knew he'd enjoy the whole violence part of the sport. So, follow that formula."

"What formula are you seeing here?"

"Thing fiance-to-be likes plus a small part of it you could probably enjoy equals romance. If that's too hard, just get him a gift and plan the date around that."

Well, it sounds easy when she says it like that. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because I'm the genius here, obviously. Now go plan a date so you can tell me all about it later. And I expect details, Steven. Sordid details. If I'm not quivering in my bodice, what's the fucking point."

"You don't even have a bodice. And my name isn't Steven."

"I'll get one, and your name is whatever's comedically appropriate."

"I found a good website for bodices and corsets, actually. I can send it to you."

"What are you doing on that website, Steve?" Robin asks, her voice light and eager.

Steve smirks, pulling the phone away from his ear and saying, "Wouldn't you like to know," before quickly hanging up. The phone stays silent for three whole seconds before Robin immediately calls back, but Steve is too busy laughing to actually pick up.

Part of why the Munsons moved to Steve's neighborhood is the cemetery within walking distance. The cemetery is at the very back of the neighborhood, hidden from people who don't actually live there. The front of the cemetery is perfectly presentable. The gravestones are clean and new, and flowers decorate most graves while others hold pebbles and stones of various sizes and colors.

The back of the cemetery, however, is a Munson paradise. The grass gives way to brown, under-watered weeds and dirt, the faded gravestones are covered in moss and plants climbing them, and the trees are perpetually leafless and spindly to create the perfect horror movie atmosphere. It was like that even before the Munsons moved to the neighborhood, but Steve doesn't actually know why.

The back of the cemetery is where Steve leads Eddie, occasionally looking back to make sure the blindfold covering Eddie's eyes is still in place. "You know, I was expecting more than walking when you pulled out the blindfold," Eddie says, squeezing Steve's hand.

"We're almost there," Steve promises, looking around them until he spots the picnic blanket and pillows he'd laid down earlier in front of a blank gravestone. There's a small projector on the edge of the blanket, facing the wall of a mausoleum, with a DVD player connected to it.

Steve stops at the edge of the blanket, takes a deep breath, and moves to stand in front of Eddie. "Okay," he says, reaching up and carefully pulling off the blindfold.

When it comes off, Eddie looks straight at Steve, not sparing a glance at the set-up behind him. "Are you the surprise?" he asks, sliding his hands around Steve's hips and pulling him closer.

"I'm not much of a surprise," Steve points out.

"You're the best gift I could ask for," Eddie says, sealing the words with a kiss that would be too easy for Steve to get lost in.

And he almost does, but he pulls away before Eddie's tongue can get too far into his mouth. "No, wait, you haven't seen the actual surprise," he mumbles, putting a few inches between them and gesturing to the picnic blanket.

Eddie's eyes light up, and he pulls Steve to the blanket. He sits against the headstone and tugs Steve down next to him. "Movie date in a graveyard? Very romantic, sweetheart," Eddie says, leaning close and kissing Steve's jaw.

"Well, that's not the whole surprise," Steve replies, leaning his head on Eddie's shoulder. He hears a quiet hum from above him and adds, "This is our spot."

"What? Like a make-out spot? We gonna sneak out in the middle of the night to make out right here twice a week?"

"Only twice?" Steve asks, his voice teasing as he tilts his head back to see Eddie smile. He doesn't give Eddie the chance to answer, though. Instead, he takes Eddie's hand and plays with his engaged-to-be-engaged ring. "I mean, this is our spot. We're leaning on our gravestone."

A few seconds pass before Eddie seems to actually process the words. When he does, he straightens up, tugging Steve away from the gravestone with him so he can see it. "Is this...a couple's plot?" he asks, his eyes wide as he looks from the stone to Steve.

Steve flushes, heat rising in his cheeks as he looks away. He takes a deep breath, deciding to just verbalize his thought process when he'd bought the plot. "I figured, well, we wouldn't want to be apart even in death. So we'll be buried together, you know? Our corpses will be embracing as we rot for eternity, becoming skeletons and dust that will only know each other."

The words are followed by silence, making Steve wonder if he somehow fucked up with his gift. He braces himself and glances up at Eddie to ask if he doesn't like it only to be pushed back on the blanket. Steve blinks, his brain barely catching up as Eddie kisses him. This is, by far, the most desperate kiss Steve has ever received from Eddie. It's a kiss that's practically begging Steve to give Eddie permission to swallow him whole, tuck him securely into the marrow of his bones, and hold him there so they'll never be apart.

Steve is a little confused, but he's far more interested in kissing back, sliding his fingers into Eddie's hair and tugging playfully as he bites Eddie's tongue. A rough growl in response sends shivers down Steve's spine, goosebumps spreading across his arms as Eddie pushes his hands under Steve's shirt.

Surprisingly warm fingers trail across Steve's abdomen before Eddie's hands settle on his hips, his pinkies teasingly pushing past the waistband of his jeans. Steve sighs softly, relaxing at the familiar sensation as he hooks one of his legs over Eddie's waist, pulling him close until their hips and chests are flush against each other.

Eddie grins against Steve's lips, his left hand trailing down Steve's waist to rest on his thigh, holding it in place as he teasingly grinds their hips together. Steve jolts, a surprised, quiet moan escaping him as his hands start to tremble with adrenaline and...well, sheer horniness if he's being honest.

"Please tell me we can fuck on our future grave," Eddie says, his voice low and husky as he speaks against Steve's lips.

Steve groans, fully agreeable to the idea only to realize two very important things. One, he doesn't have any lube, and two, he was actually looking forward to watching movies with Eddie, which wouldn't really happen if they got too distracted. Plus, you know, the whole sex in public thing, but that's not as big of a deal. Who's going to be visiting the cemetery on a Wednesday?

But Steve doesn't want to completely dash Eddie's hopes and the sheer joy in his eyes at the idea, so he presses another kiss to his lips and promises, "Later, Eddie."

Despite his disappointed expression, Eddie doesn't argue. He just sits up, pulling Steve with him so he stays in his lap. "I'll hold you to that, sweetheart," he whispers, kissing down Steve's neck until he reaches the point where it meets his shoulder. He bites down there, causing Steve to inhale sharply as he licks and sucks a hickey onto his skin.

Steve shakily exhales, biting his bottom lip to keep himself grounded. When it feels like Eddie is about to start on another hickey, Steve uses his grip on his hair to pull him back. "Stevie," Eddie breathes, his eyes dark as he looks up at him, "you know what pulling does to me."

Steve snorts, kisses his cheek, and climbs off his lap. "Keep it in your pants for now, babe. I actually want to get to the other part of this date," he says, moving over to the projector.

"And what's that?" Eddie asks.

"Classic monster movies," Steve says, grinning at the excited gasp that comes from Eddie as he turns on the projector. Once it boots up, the mausoleum wall shows the opening menu for a Monster Movie Collection DVD. Steve puts on Frankenstein, making sure the movie actually starts and the opening credits begin rolling before climbing back into Eddie's lap.

"I love you so fucking much," Eddie says, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and hugging him close as he rests his chin on Steve's shoulder.

Steve grins, leaning back against him and idly playing with one of the rings on Eddie's fingers. "I love you, too. Now shut up and watch the movie. No more making out until at least this one is over."

"Yes, sir."

Steve can't help a soft laugh. He takes Eddie's hand, raises it to his lips, and playfully bites his palm before lacing their fingers together and focusing on the movie.

Tag List: @estrellami-1, @justforthedead89, @starman-jpg, @abstractnaturaldisaster, @sugartin, @ashwagandalf, @xjessicafaithx, If anyone else wants to be tagged in potential future parts, just let me know!

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family steddie #addams! eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #there's a reference to Addams Family Values in here #whoever notices it please know I love you #also #for anyone who was curious about that lol #this au has consumed me body and soul

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an-idyllic-novelist · 10 months ago

Text

Lucifer Morningstar with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warning: language, ooc, possible spoilers from the first season of the 2024 show.

Special thanks to @tonightwrites for helping me with this piece! Enjoy :)

All right, maybe he is moving a little bit fast in falling back in love again but…well, Lucifer will admit that he can’t help himself. That’s just who he is. He’s passionate by nature, and it shows in the super amazing ducks he has created and how he helps Charlie in rebuilding her hotel. Not to mention you were so cute!

Sure, you’re a little stoic and didn’t have a cellphone, and he did mistake you for a human, but that was okay! He thought it was amazing that you were able to grow almost anything in the hotel’s greenhouse! He had to see it to believe it; wire racks of pots in different shapes and sizes, all those flowers and fruits. There were even herbs nearly bundled up and labeled on a wooden table. It was all very meticulously, and everything was well taken care of. He couldn’t find a single sign of neglect. And a single person was responsible for it all? Holy shit.

Charlie did reassure him that you were very much dead and a sinner. Why you still looked like a human and had freaky skeletal prosthetics, she had absolutely no clue.

But the cherry on the top was how respectful you were towards him. I mean, when was the last time someone saluted and referred to him as His Majesty? And that look on the Radio Demon’s face when she curtsied to him, the king of Hell? Priceless.

He did appreciate your honesty, not even holding back when you said that you weren’t sure if a rubber ducky would look all right with the new fountain in the greenhouse. But you did anyway, carefully laying it on top of the water. You looked at for a long moment, expressionless and calm before turning to him and saying that his little creation gave the greenhouse…a more peaceful ambience.

You thanked him for his contribution, and went right to work, dressed in an apron with a watering can in your gloved hands. At least until the little maid Niffty came in with a big frown on her face, scolding you for trying to skip meals again. You looked at him for help…but unfortunately, he couldn’t help this time, gently pushing out of the greenhouse while Niffty tugged you by the hand.

You might say that you are used to not eating to accomplish your tasks, though that growling tummy disagrees~!

Whenever he had a moment, he made sure you took breaks and would spend time with you in the greenhouse so you wouldn’t be lonely. He’d tell you stories, share what else he created, and how he’s been wanting to connect with Charlie for so long…yet was so scared and unsure of what he could say to her. Especially after Lilith left Hell without saying a word seven years ago.

“The important thing is that you are here with her now and support her endeavors, Your Highness. I…did not have a family when I was alive…but I had friends. Friends who supported and loved me, for all the flaws I possessed.” You looked down at your hand, clenching it slowly into a fist. “It was because of them…that I understood many things about myself…and emotions I did not know I had. Grief. Gratitude. Empathy. Guilt. I was on fire, and I did not know it. But I killed many people during the Great War. I was a weapon. That will never change. However,” You then looked at him. “If I am able to accept that I cannot change the past, and find the courage to move forward…how can a sinner not be able to find redemption even if they are dead? I believe…in Charlie. What she is doing. You do too. And I am sure…she is grateful that you finally understand her.”

If he hadn’t already been in love with you, this would definitely be the moment when he realized how felt towards you. And Charlie, his sweet, smart little girl knew too.

That was probably why she pulled him aside one afternoon to privately speak in her office. She was obviously….a little freaked out. But he waited until she finished inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, eyes closed, clenching and unclenching her fists, whatever helped her calm down. She then looked him straight in the eye.

“Look Dad, I’m…happy that you’re happy. I mean, it’s really, really obvious that you like [First Name]. Now there’s nothing wrong with that, I’m okay!” She added quickly, waving her hands up and down frantically. “It’s…it’s been a long time since you and Mom split up, and I know you haven’t even thought about anyone else until now. Look,” She took in another deep breath. “I know how…enthusiastic you can get, but as the hotel’s founder and [First Name]’s friend slash employer…tone it down. The flirting, the dad jokes, and….the romance. I know, I know you love romance! But try to be considerate of [First Name], okay? She’s finally learning how to be a human and I don’t want her to feel pressured or uncomfortable or not understand what you’re doing because you’re moving too fast! She’s really, really oblivious! She doesn’t even know Alastor likes her!”

Lucifer stared at Charlie. “Wait…ARE YOU SERIOUS?! SHE-SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW -”

“Dad, please!”

“IS SHE REALLY THAT CLUELESS?!”

“Yes.”

To his dismay, you were. You had absolutely no idea that the Radio Demon was besotted with you. He tried to help you around the greenhouse too, invite you to listen to his broadcasts or walks around the nicer parks in the Pride Ring, all the boring stuff an old timer would think count as trying to be romantic. Nope. Nope, nope, this is not happening. Not on his watch!

He will win you over and promise Charlie that he won’t overdo it when he courted you. But could he at least show you how to make a super cool rubber ducky in his workshop, or take you out for a flight with you in his arms? That’s not overdoing it, right?

…

Maybe? Or should he take you out for some caramel apple pancakes?

Taglist

@alastorsgoldie

@food-theorys-blog

@sillypenguincats

@theunknowntravel3r

@vikkirosko

@nunezs-stuff

@lbcreations-blog

@imperfectbloodmoon

@crystalrose36

@nixie-writes

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@tired-of-life-86

@frompeach

@trecllllllll

@lanxianschoenheit

@riddle-simp

@22carolina08

@witch-of-the-writing-desk

@justamegafan

@vikkirosko

@chroniccorvus

@angelltheninth

@mary-v193

@chewbrry

@mmelionsblog

@ladymothbeth

@thatstonedwriter

@the-cat-queen-peasants

@anielly-2010

@victheauthor

@oucx

@satubby

@diamondzoey

@ladydoe8

@alyriaschoenheit

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #violet evergarden!reader #character!reader #fem!reader #lucifer #an idyllic novelist #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel

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star-girl69 · 10 months ago

Text

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

sypnosis: clarisse comforts you after a nightmare.

a/n: when luke in ep two said “we all get those super bad recurring nightmares” i don’t think he expected for me to screech and kick my feet and make fanfiction out of it. anyways, i hope you all enjoy!!

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex

warnings: nightmares obvi, mentions of death, mentions of violence, kissing, soft clarisse I NEEEEDDDDD YOUUUUU, pretty much cutesy tho, not proofread, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse always called you baby. She called you about every nickname under the sun, but she always came back to that one. That’s exactly how you ended up here in her bed.

You’re both not quite asleep yet, staring at the ceiling, listening to her siblings still shuffle around. Clarisse has the best bunk in the cabin, a single in the corner, and all the power and influence to make sure that no one snitches.

She only does this every once in a while, dragging you to her bed even while you worry about getting caught, calling you baby the entire time. She kisses your worries away and says that no one will care, no one will even notice.

It’s not like you’re doing anything bad, you’re just sleeping.

You recently got a new cabin mate, a very sweet boy who seems very scared and very young, but Gods does he snore extremely loud. You almost wonder if the healers should have a look at him- but he seems to have no clue that he snores.

You’ve dealt with snoring half-siblings for years, but none of them have been this bad before. It’s so loud you swear it sounds like a roaring truck.

And of course, Clarisse noticed. Clarisse noticed how hard it’s been to sleep lately, she noticed how you always seemed to reluctantly split up from her at the end of the day, she noticed the bags under your eyes.

As night continues to fall, Clarisse’s grip on you becoming looser as she slowly drifts off.

“Quiet, right?” she mumbles, kissing your forehead. You listen to her heartbeat. Much more comforting, much more rhythmic, much more her.

“Quiet,” you affirm.

“Good. I-I’ma fall asleep now. Night, baby,” she mutters, and you can feel her heartbeat slow and she’s out like a light.

Clarisse has always had this amazing ability to just knock out whenever and wherever. Even for a five minute power nap, she can lay her head on the table and be up and refreshed. Sometimes you even swear she closes her eyes and falls asleep standing.

You follow her.

It’s so quiet here, except for her breaths brushing against the top of your head, except for her heartbeat like a lullaby. It’s such a cold summer night, but you’re so warm in her arms.

Falling asleep is a lot like falling in love, because it’s all the same action of letting your guard down and letting something in. You fall asleep every night just like you fall in love with Clarisse every day.

—-

It’s cold. It’s so, so cold. There’s the ashes of a fire next to you, and you feel so startlingly alone, like you shouldn’t be alone.

You’re in the woods, but there’s sand on the ground instead of dirt and leaves. You’re in the woods, but there’s leaves on the trees even while you’re teeth chatter.

You stand up, bare feet sinking into the cold sand, your arms wrapping around yourself. You’re supposed to be warm in her bed. All your wearing is a t-shirt. It’s like you’re at the beach at night and you forgot the sun is the reason it’s hot.

There’s a whisper of a sound, like wind blowing, and the fire springs to life.

You gasp and jump back into a tree, the rough bark scratching at your back.

You look around but there’s nothing, no weapons, and the tree branches are too far up to rip one down. There’s no wood burning the fire, just ashes. But now that you look at it, the sand around the fire is covered in some sort of bubbling black liquid.

Only on one side, like it had been blown at it.

There’s some sort of slithering sound, like a snake, and talons dragging against a tree, like a knife.

It’s coming from above you.

You look up and barely have a second to realize a drakon is staring down at you, roaring right in your face, before it looks into your eyes and you can’t move. Can’t breathe.

You can’t do anything except for get swallowed whole.

—-

You jump up, blanket’s falling around you, gasping as you look around the dark room. But it’s not there, it’s not that weird place, it’s just the Ares cabin. It’s just Clarisse’s bed. It’s just Clarisse.

She shoots up right behind you, awake immediately.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you whisper, thanking the Gods none of her siblings have woken up to see you so shaken by a stupid nightmare. “Nothing, sorry.”

She looks out into the darkness like she’ll see something, but she doesn’t, of course, it’s all in your head. You know it’s all in your head, but you can’t help feeling like it’s real.

“It’s not nothing.”

You lay back down, pulling the blanket up to your chin. You stare at the wooden ceiling.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” you finally mumble.

“Y/N.” She always calls you baby, except for when she really wants to get your attention. “Tell me what happened.”

“Stupid nightmare. It was stupid. It’s all stupid and embarrassing.”

You can feel Clarisse visibly deflate. She settles back down next to you, laying on her side.

“It’s not stupid,” she whispers. “It’s normal. For demigods, at least.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

You press yourself closer to her and she lets you, she wraps her arms around you tight and folds herself around you. You feel shaky and uneasy, like there’s something under the bed, no matter how childish you know it is.

“Tell me what happened and I’ll tell you how I would have fixed it,” she says, her lips brushing your temple. She adds after a moment, “Or kill it. Was it a monster?”

“A drakon,” you whisper. She hums.

“Did it breathe fire? Spit acid? Have those creepy paralyzing eyes?”

“All of it.”

“Ooh,” she mumbles, like it’s a challenge. “I would… blind it with the electricity from my spear. And while it’s distracted, I’d stab it however many times you wanted.”

“I didn’t like that place either,” you whisper. “It was so cold. So dark, and it was like a forest was on the beach, cold sand.”

She doesn’t say anything.

Her hand travels up your body, tracing your face until she draws circles at your temple.

“I can’t protect you from what goes on in here. But I’ll always be out here, baby.”

“I know,” you say, and it’s true. “I know you will be.”

“So you won’t mind me telling you eight more times?”

“No,” you breathe, smiling.

“Good,” she kisses your temple. “I’ll always protect you. I’ll always protect you. I’ll always protect you. I’ll always-”

You shut her up by pressing a kiss to her lips. She smiles against you, slow and sweet, just you and her.

She drags herself up on the pillow, so her head is above yours, her arm under your head. Her other arm around your waist, hand splayed flat against your side.

“Sleep now, baby.”

“Clarisse.”

“I’m right here,” she says, like it’ll solve all the problems in the world. Yeah, the cabin’s burning down, yeah, there’s a tsunami coming towards you- but she’s right here. She’s right here. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby.”

And you believe her.

Clarisse always calls you baby. She whispers that name in your ear until you fall asleep.

—-

y/n, waking up: omg that was so scary

clarisse, fully ready to start attacking the air: WHERE THEY AT BABY WHERE THE DEMONS AT WHERE DO U SEE THEM

we love a gf who supports their slightly schizophrenic gf (me, i am the slightly schizophrenic gf)

—-

me after choosing a drakon (the monster that killed silena in the last olympian) as the monster that kills y/n in the dream 😊😊😊😊😊

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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hitlikehammers · 4 months ago

Text

Steddie S4 💚Secret Relationship🩶

because when cheerleaders start floating and folding like laundry, what do you do? you run to your boyfriend (duh)

Eddie doesn’t dump his van on purpose. He runs out of fucking gas.

Through the pounding of his heartbeat and the screeching echo of his own screams and the memory of the cracking, the snapping of, of—

Through all of it he hears a voice in his head: when the little stick points to ‘E’ it isn’t a fucking suggestion, man and the tone the voice is in, the recognizable combination of snark and concern and fondness, genuine fucking fondness—it doesn’t calm his pulse at all but it does ease his nerves just a little, just enough to realize: he gonna have to run the rest of the way.

Thankfully, he took backroads: enough tree cover that footsteps would be hard to track so any direction would be way too hard to find, not quick enough, not before they can, not before Steve can—

He starts the old girl one more time before she gives out entirely, but the fumes take him into the woods far enough to hide the van pointing the wrong way, and the ground’s hard enough here still that he doesn’t leave tread marks. Okay.

Okay. So…running.

The lucky thing is, Eddie knows these woods.

Or rather: Eddie knows that these woods will take him right to where he wanted to go anyway. They run up against the backyard of the exact house with the exact man he needs.

He doesn’t keep to a straight shot, but he doesn’t waste time either, his chest hurts too much, and it’s weird that his heartbeat’s no harder or faster for fucking sprinting, his lungs no closer to hyperventilation when he’s a smoker who doesn’t really do physical activity, at least not the kind that’d help him out, here—it’s weird, and probably concerning that when he gets to the sliding glass off the back deck his lungs are on fire and his chest is heaving but it doesn’t feel any different from the moment he watched her, watched her…

No different from then, to now.

He thinks he’s slapping the glass more than knocking, but he’s answered quicker than he would be if the sole resident of the property had actually been asleep so. At least there’s that.

“Eddie?”

Steve’s all question in his tone for a whole second before he’s grabbing Eddie, pulling him in, closing the door and locking it quick and then, and then—

Pulling Eddie straight into his chest and wrapping around him and Eddie fucking collapses, drops into that embrace because he needs it, now, and it’s come to mean safe and home and, and loved and he—

“Eds, baby, are you hurt?” Steve doesn’t peel him away where he burrows in further, but starts running palms down Eddie’s limbs, looking for wounds, for clues as Eddie shakes, trembles and gasps against him.

“What is it, what happened?” Steve tries to get him to breathe even as he asks, even when his hands finish searching, when Steve sees that his body at least is intact, unlike—

Fuck.

“Eds, come on, deep breath with me,” and Steve grabs one of Eddie’s hands and shoves it hard to his own chest, models the motion like Eddie’s never learned how on his own and it helps, it does help, and he knows he needs to, to tell Steve and—

“Did,” Eddie gets out a single word on a huff of air but Steve soothes him, praises the pathetic accomplishment, so Eddie tries again, just one word. One word at a time.

“The mall.”

Two words. And Steve’s steady breaths. He can do this. His hand’s held still by Steve’s while the rest of him’s still shaking but: he can do this.

For Chrissy.

“Before, the other times,” Eddie bites out and screws his eyes shut because he can see it either way, and he needs to kind of hide a little, even if it doesn’t change anything, if he’s gonna get it out, if he’s gonna say it and make it real so he can’t take it back:

“Did people ever…float?”

Steve’s hands still, and Eddie swears he can feel Steve’s heart trip for just a second before it starts beating a little harder but: never once, not once, does Steve breathing falter. It’s a steady throughline for Eddie to keep following even as his fear deepens because Steve’s still, tense against him now in a whole new way and Eddie tries, he tries so hard to lose himself in breathing, in Steve’s breathing, so deep he’d probably have missed it if he weren’t pressed so tight against that chest so as to hear the murmuring from inside more than out:

“Not yet,” Steve barely whispers as his hands start moving, stroking back and forth up and down Eddie’s spine; “have they started to?”

Eddie starts shaking a little harder. He’d been real fucking afraid of that.

It takes an hour, maybe closer to two, for Eddie to choke out the details. They’re bundled on the couch, Eddie with a water Steve insists he drink, and it probably makes sense because of how much he’s losing in fucking tears as he just, just sees her snapping in half and folding into, into—

It makes sense, needing hydration or whatever, but Eddie’s doesn’t trust himself not to sick up even a sip of it.

By the time he’s finished, he feels wrung out in ways he didn’t know were possible. Like the blood in him’s been squeezed out and he’s just a husk, but Steve.

Steve doesn’t stop holding the wrung-out husk of him. And that’s…that is something.

“That’s,” Steve finally starts, and his tone is different now from the placating soothing he’d kept up throughout Eddie’s recounting of the horrors, but the press of his lips to Eddie’s temple is still exactly the same.

Eddie feels something in him starting to ease, solely because of and solely possible for the way Steve holds to him, close and unwavering. He feels it before the words come out, the slight tension that hits Steve’s muscles and the dry catch of the breath in his chest before he speaks:

“Eddie,” and it’s a tone that Eddie doesn’t hear too often, but is still wholly familiar with for the most heartbreaking reasons, like when the nightmares had gotten too frequent and Eddie had been the one to cry when Steve clammed up and shook head to toe in Eddie’s arms because Steve was hurting that bad and wouldn’t tell him why, and how could Eddie help if Steve wouldn’t tell him why—

It’s the tone of voice that broke Steve’s NDA that night. It’s the tone of voice that finally explained why Steve went ramrod-still when a light flickered. It was the tone that explained, the first time they got high together, why Steve hadn’t smoked in months and why he was scared to try again and he wanted to face the fear of it but would Eddie, could Eddie just make sure, like—

It’s the same voice, now, so Eddie saves him the trouble, because that voice shatters Eddie’s heart to pieces, every time.

“It’s like Starcourt,” Eddie whispers, hoarse as hell and still watery, as if somehow unthinkably he’s got more tears to spare; “and like the tunnels, and the,” be swallows, and turns to look Steve in the eyes:

“The nail bat?”

The first time he saw that thing he was naive enough to think it was badass. After he learned what it was really for, he didn’t think it was less badass but. He actually processed the stains that wouldn’t come off as the wrong shade for being just rust.

“I think,” Steve breathes in deeper, the way that always hurts, and he looks so fucking apologetic when he exhales, as if it’s somehow his fucking fault:

“I think so.”

The words aren’t said like there’s any doubt in them, though, and maybe Eddie starts to spiral.

“They’re gonna think it was me,” he squeezes his eyes tight against the scene in his living room, that his uncle’s gonna find, fuck, fuck; “they’re gonna think I—”

And then Steve’s grabbing him above the elbow, spinning Eddie around to properly face him, then shaking Eddie just enough to demand his attention, as if the low growl that escapes him, that hits a note Eddie suspects both gods and devils raise up to take heed of:

“I am not gonna let anyone lay a fucking finger on you.”

And…and what’s Eddie even supposed to do, when Steve says it, when Steve uses that voice for him?

All he can seem to do is cover Steve’s hands so desperate, anchor that this man is for him, and close his eyes when Steve leans to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“There are people who clean this up,” Steve reaches to cradle Eddie’s head closer, to press lips behind his ear; “but they’re slow and they’re always too chickenshit to step in and take fucking responsibility while it’s all going down,” Steve’s tone is dry, so much judgement but his grip, his hold is somehow so comforting and firm at the very same time and Eddie thinks that’s why he feels safe, or almost, even as Steve eases him back, licks his lips, nods to himself and then kisses Eddie, full on the lips and hard, quick, before he pulls them both up to stand, links one hand in Eddie’s as he pulls him behind him as he walks through the house, quick and almost clinical:

“So here’s what we’re gonna do.”

The terms Steve lays out are…simple, if kinda terrifying not least for the fact that Steve has terms, because no one could think this up so quick on the spot under this kind of pressure, not to mention with the prompt of how to hide your boyfriend if he ends up wanted for murder, Jesus fuck—

“It was a plan to keep you safe, or us safe, or you and Wayne safe or,” and oh, oh Steve’s answering him, Eddie didn’t notice he was talking out loud. He can’t even blush for it, doesn’t think there’s enough blood to pool there when it’s still racing through his veins maybe not at top speed anymore, but: still making a sprint to the finish as they climb the stairs down instead of up, as Eddie follows Steve to a wall with a painting in the finished half of the basement, watches Steve lift the painting off its hanger and—

“You have a basement vault,” Eddie can…only state the obvious as he watches Steve go under the back of the frame of the painting and find a very evil-villain type of key, in this very evil-villain type of set up, and he blurts without thinking, save it’s kinda all he can think:

“Is one of your parents a serial killer?”

Steve at least snorts, at that.

“Probably closer to white collar criminal,” Steve shrugs as he swings open a pretty…small, ish, space behind the metal door, thicker than Eddie’d figured but definitely evil-villain style with it.

“It had a bunch of locked filing cabinets, like three safes, and the shelves went across this way,” Steve stretches his arms along the back of the vault and okay, yeah, less evil-villain, unless you count Reaganomics-style capitalism as a villain. Which Eddie does, but.

Not the point.

“Just all stacks of shit in folders that definitely seemed a hundred percent normal,” Steve deadpans, takes it in stride; Eddie’s always impressed with his boyfriend but fuck: he’s in goddamn awe of him in a whole new way, just now.

“When it became pretty clear they weren’t coming back any time soon, and even if they were, when,” Steve shrugs and crosses his arms, rolls his shoulders back in that way Eddie doesn’t think he even recognizes doing:

“When the end of the world started to be a recurring thing, I mean, that sure as shit beats out trying to hide your shady business dealings any day.”

He nods to himself, and glances toward Eddie, maybe for agreement or approval or moral support and Eddie’s got all that and more, hopes his own bobblehead-like nodding conveys as much. Steve smiles the tiniest bit and then dives back in, like all he needed was a little boost. A little tacit but undeniable love.

And…maybe that really was all Steve needed.

“It’s a tight squeeze, but,” he curls himself into the space, crouches to demonstrate; it’s not terrible, but it’s definitely the tight side of cozy; “needs must or whatever,” exactly, yes, right, and Eddie’s wiry; it’s more than fine.

“Essentials are all packed in for short term use,” he gestures at boxes of food, cans and an opener, firearms. Ammunition. Eddie swallows…harder than he should. He’s fired a gun before.

Just…one time at the air to scare off a coyote.

“I tried to get a plumber but,” Steve grimaces, forging on; “they said they’d need to dig the whole thing up and they can’t start until summer at the earliest,” more than implying that he was on the list and waiting for summer. This was…this was…

“You really went all in on this,” Eddie kinda marvels because…holy shit, you know?

Steve, because he’s Steve, just raises a brow and smirks a little.

“Well, duh.”

And Eddie grabs him, frames his face and just drinks him in before he kisses Steve so goddamn hard.

“God, I love you,” he breathes against Steve’s mouth as they start to pull away, linger just to taste each other on the exhale, before Steve pulls back, but reaches to keep Eddie’s hand in his, like a tether.

Eddie sure as fuck appreciates it.

“Key,” Steve holds up the fancy thing and taps the keyhole; “you lock it, then close it behind you,” and Eddie nods, seems straightforward enough; “I’m gonna put it with some of my keys upstairs, make it look innocent, but,” and Steve turns to him, gaze more serious than Eddie thinks he’s ever seen it.

“If you hear anything, you come down here. If you hear anyone but me, and I’ll call out and make sure you know if it’s safe, and that I’m alone, but if it’s anyone but just me,” and Steve squeezes his hand before letting go and maybe Eddie whimpers a little for the loss, but he tracks Steve with his eyes, almost unblinking.

“I want you to turn this here,” he points the key to the lock again; “hide the key under this part of the rug,” he lifts an area of carpet Eddie doesn’t think is meant to lift until he sees the concrete underneath and the groove that lets the key lie flat, unnoticeable; “then lock yourself in, and flip the deadbolt to make sure you’re safe,” Steve swings the door further open and toggles the deadbolt for demonstration; “so when it issafe, I’ll know from the keys upstairs where you are, and be down the second the coast is clear.”

Eddie nods, runs it through in his head—use key, hide key, climb into the vault, deadbolt the door, wait.

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Steve’s palms are holding his own.

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s breathing out, sounds pained but then he’s stroking Eddie’s hair, tangling with a sweat-stuck curl, drawing Eddie’s forehead to his own to steady him, or try to as he promises:

“Baby, I’ve got you.”

And Eddie breathes, does his best to nod and not dislodge them from each other but Steve feels it, knows him, and pulls them chest to chest, wraps Eddie close so he can hide alongside Steve’s neck, feel the stray pump of his pulse where Eddie can feel anything outside his own sudden ramp back up toward hyperventilating, Jesus fuck.

“Do you trust me?” Steve’s suddenly breathing right against Eddie’s ear, and pulling Eddie’s hand, palm flat to his chest, filling the need he knows Eddie holds for the anchor, the rhythm he can tie himself to.

“Never thought I’d trust anyone, ever, like I trust you,” Eddie answers, steadiest as he’s been so far, as soon as he finds his voice to manage it. Steve presses his hand to his chest tighter, somehow holds him closer.

“I am going to keep you safe,” Steve vows, kisses Eddie’s hair and breathes in deep before he asks, his heartbeat still steady under Eddie’s hand but…stronger somehow:

“You love me?”

It’s a statement spoken like a question. Both and neither.

The answer’s the same either way.

“More than life.”

Steve nods, kisses Eddie’s temple now and pulls back only enough to look him in the eye as he cups his jaw and nods, takes in Eddie’s certainty and—

“Then no matter what happens, you won’t leave this house.”

Eddie stiffens, feels his jaw drop a little because, because…

“But—”

“And you’ll do exactly what I say while you’re in it, if something goes entirely fucking haywire and anyone tries to come for you here.”

And Steve’s eyes hold him so steady, so steely, so sure: because Eddie does love him. More than life. And…

And this is why Steve demanded spoken proof of the thing they both know.

“Dirty pool, Harrington,” Eddie bites out against Steve’s neck again, because…he’s so tired. And he feels safe here, against the man he loves, like…really loves. He…he’ll give in, for this man. Nobody else.

“It’s been closed all winter, so, yeah,” Steve sighs exaggeratedly, his chest lifting with it high, still under Eddie’s hand; “pretty dirty pool out there.”

Eddie can’t help how he snorts.

“Motherfucker.”

“Nope,” Steve shakes his head, tone dramatically lamenting; “I’m a deeply committed monogamist,” and Steve reaches, draws Eddie’s face from its hiding place and brings him within kissing distance:

“And I’m deeply committed to you, so,” and fuck him, fuck him for the way he runs a thumb so delicate, so tenderly down Eddie’s bottom lip, looks at him so lovingly, as if his nerves aren’t already fried enough without Steve making him fucking weak in the goddamn knees.

“But you’re going out there—” Eddie puts up a protest he wishes rang clearer, more forcefully—but he’s drained, and he’s starting to feel it hard.

“We know what we’re doing,” Steve tells him, not unkindly, not dismissively—tries like hell for reassuring, even. “And it’s not that I don’t think you do, or can. It’s not that I doubt you, you know that,” and fuck all: Eddie does.

He’s a coward and a hypocrite in a lot of fucking ways but. Not this one.

“But if they tie you to Chrissy,” Steve says so soft, treads so careful; “I need you safe,” and he’s right, he’s fucking right because Eddie ran, he ran from her body, and he—

“Because I can’t do my part to help stop this if my heart’s not in it all the way.”

Eddie frowns at that; doesn’t understand.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Steve’s smile tightens, goes thin but his eyes never waver.

“Because it’d busy worrying only about you,” and he’s honest to a fucking fault, like it’s obvious too, which Eddie’s own heart’s tripping twice on in a row and hard, just to hear it said so plain and adamant. “If you’re out there, even with us, you’re vulnerable.”

“I can take care of—” Eddie starts, but Steve’s thumb’s back on his lip: dirty fucking pool.

“We don’t do that anymore,” Steve whispers, and it’s the first time his eyes look less than sure as he breathes out: “do we?”

And fuck, fuck: that’d been Eddie’s line. That’d been Eddie trying to soothe Steve, to learn his secrets in the first place in order to help, or at least try. They don’t…they don’t have to take care of themselves alone.

“Please, Eddie,” Steve whispers, too low and almost toneless for it, in order to count as begging. But.

Steve’s got him. His own words. His whole heart. Fuck.

“Okay.”

And Steve looks at him, studies him without breathing almost to the point of concern, like he’s looking for the lie but there isn’t one. Eddie…for Steve.

Eddie can do this for Steve. He will do this for Steve.

And he gets a hell of a kiss for it, so. His efforts don’t go unrewarded.

Steve takes his hand again and leads him back up the stairs, sets him in a chair and kisses his head, keeps him as close as he can when he can’t hold him full-on while he makes a phone call that Eddie only hears on the periphery, makes out, hate to call so late, Mrs. Byers, but I just found out that, yeah, she’s taken a turn, and I know you were, yeah, exactly, Claudia will be a mess and, no, no, I think there’s time, just, if you still wanted, I think it’s probably a good idea to try and get here? Sooner rather than later, yeah, then he’s hanging up and Eddie’s watching him almost desperate with wide eyes he can’t seem to close, and Jesus fuck , he’s losing it again, he can’t stop shaking—

“Eds.”

And Steve’s there, pulling Eddie up but he’s a puppet with his strings cut; he falls right back to the chair and Steve guides him down to it, settles him again before he bends, kneels and takes both his hands.

“We’re gonna get some rest, okay, even if it’s just cuddling in bed, even if we can’t get to actual sleep we’re gonna get some rest,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hands until he nods his understanding; “because I’m gonna go into work tomorrow like nothing’s wrong, okay?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide at that, not just for having to lose Steve at his side—he hates it but it makes sense, it makes the kind of sense that comes from absolute necessity—but he’s…what about Robin, or the kids, the people who know—

“You’re not gonna tell…”

“I’m not gonna risk it,” Steve answers immediately; “anyone could overhear and,” he shakes his hand and lifts Eddie’s hands to his lips:

“I’m not gonna risk you, understand?”

So Eddie follows him up the stairs, most of his weight on Steve so much that he may as well have been fucking carried, and neither of them sleep, but Eddie clings to Steve harder than he’s held on to anything, folded up small against his chest and it…it finally helps calm Eddie’s pulse a little, lets him soak Steve up like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

He’s already fucking terrified it will be.

But alarms go off, and sunrise comes, and Steve gets dressed and ready, stopping to drop kisses to Eddie head, his face, his neck as he goes from the bedroom to the en-suite and back while Eddie stays safe in bed, and it’s really the only thing that makes Eddie sit up, when Steve’s out of sight too long for doing his hair, it’s just to…to keep him, a little longer.

He gets out of bed and follows Steve around like a puppy, wouldn’t even deny it, couldn’t ever regret it, as Steve moves some of the food from upstairs down to the basement in case you feel more comfortable down there than in the dark up here because of course everything’s closed up tight and Eddie nods, grabs Steve and holds him close to his chest when it gets overwhelming, which is…a lot, he does it a lot of times, almost gets stuck in Steve’s work vest for fear of letting go.

For fear it’ll be the last time.

“Week, week and a half’s usually the most this shit ever takes,” Steve’s saying as he ties his shoes in the living room—where normally shoes aren’t allowed at all and the gesture of it, the automatic shift for Eddie’s sake almost makes him want to cry again, he’s so keyed up, so fucking anxious; “and honestly, it’s not even that long, most times—”

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice fucking shatters just around his name because…because this is happening, Steve is leaving, and Eddie’s, Eddie is…

“Depends on what act of the larger shitshow we’re walking into,” Steve tries to power through, but he grabs Eddie’s hand and holds it tight once his shoes are laced.

Eddie holds on harder.

“I will leave messages if I can, I’ll say they’re for my parents. Obviously they’re not.”

Because obviously.

“If I have any instructions, any things we learn to make you safe, I will call. So make sure you pay attention, but never answer.”

“Stevie,” and in being reduced to only being capable of speaking Steve’s name, apparently, Eddie comes to the immediate realization that it’s fitting. If he was left only one word in the world, it should only be the most important one.

“Don’t start to worry unless we’re gone, like, two weeks,” Steve squeezes his hand and makes to stand, makes to let go but—

“I’m worried now,” Eddie’s voice is a whine, more because he can’t control it to make it more or less—he clings to Steve’s hand in his own so hard he knows his nails have to be digging into Steve’s skin but Steve doesn’t flinch even once.

“I wanna watch your back,” Eddie whispers, staring at their hands, memorizing what it looks like: them. Together.

“You wanna watch me swing the bat,” Steve points out, tries to lighten the mood a little and goddamn him: it’s only a little, but it does fucking work.

A little.

“Also that, yes,” Eddie concedes but sobers quick, because it’s…it’s leaden, it’s so big and he is, he’s—

“I’m so scared and I’m not even the one who deserves to be.”

And Steve: Steve lifts Eddie’s hand to presses lips to his knuckles before pulling himself up and into Eddie’s chest to tilt his head and kiss him full-on.

“If there’s a next time,” Steve speaks so his lips drag against Eddie’s with every word he says; “we’re gonna get you ready for it, and you’ll be by my side, because I’m scared to let you out of my sight.”

And it’s only then that Steve pulls back, just to slam them chest to chest and wind his arms around Eddie, and Eddie’s response is to immediately do the same, until their lungs are fighting to press into each other like one entity—and Eddie wouldn’t protest, if they could. He wouldn’t think twice, if it was a choice.

“But this is the safest place this time, if they’re looking for you. If they want to,” and Steve’s voice gives out, or maybe he just can’t say it: doesn’t matter.

They both know what he means.

“You gotta stay here,” Steve breathes a little broken, and a whole lot desperate. “For me. Okay?”

And for anyone else, Eddie would fight it. Hell, Eddie a year ago would have fucking railed at least a little, still. But…not just for what he’s seen, and what he knows has got to be out there—Chrissy’s asshole of a boyfriend’s anger issues might pose more of a threat than the half-a-brain cops in this town since Hopper…well; since Hopper—but he will do it. No one will know he’s here. And no one will see hide or hair of him.

“For you,” Eddie agrees, but he can’t leave it just there; “if you do something for me.”

“Anything,” Steve’s quick to commit without even a hint as to what lies next. “So long as it keeps you here.”

And Eddie…never thought he could be loved like this. Never thought he could love like this.

He can’t fucking lose it.

“Be careful,” Eddie says, like those words hold the world, and they kinda fucking do. “Like, for real, okay? Come back to me. Come back for me. Please.”

“I will,” Steve vows, like, Eddie feels it kinda in his bones.

“Steve,” he still pushes a little, because Steve…he’s heard the stories. Hell, he knows how they got together, he has proof on his own end, no interdimensional monsters involved.

“No, no,” Steve nods, like he can read Eddie’s thoughts almost, or maybe his face gives him away. “I get it. I just, I can’t…not be—”

“You?” Eddie finishes for him, a little resigned but a lot proud, whole-ass in love. “I wouldn’t ask you to not be you. I love you, all of you. But—”

“But I get it,” Steve nods, eyes a little too bright. “I won’t leave you like that.”

Then he’s quiet, like he’s thinking something weighty over, but only for a second before he ducks his head, but still speaks more like he’s sure of the words than anything less:

“Kinda want, like, forever with you, or something, y’know?”

Eddie’s heart goes to his throat, and his breath catches before it can try to fight around the pounding, and Eddie processes the words, lets them sink in before he rasps, a little watery:

“You mean it?”

Steve licks his lips but doesn’t hesitate to nod. Eddie’s breath shakes so fucking much when he tries to get any air in.

“Me too,” he barely manages to whisper but his heart’s still in his throat; the words are saturated with it by default. “Have for,” he exhales, and his lips curve up with so much relief, so much fullness in his chest; “for a while.”

“Same,” Steve murmurs low, his gaze fucking sparkling; “the whole ‘falling fast’ thing I tend to do?” He chuckles a little. “You’ve been like,” and he airplanes one hand into the waiting ring of the other with a whoosh: supersonic. Faster than light.

Eddie feels…Eddie thinks he might fucking burst, he doesn’t know how you survive this…this. He’s never known it before. It feels…

It’s like magic, he thinks—but real.

“Stay here,” Steve’s leaning into him again, speaking straight into his open lips, directly down to his heart. “Be safe. Please. For me.”

Eddie seals it, his agreement, his devotion, his everything, by closing his mouth, catching Steve’s lower lip in a kiss before he turns the tables, does the talking straight up against Steve’s soul:

“Go out there. Be a hero. But be a safe hero. Please. For me.”

And Steve doesn’t hesitate to tip his head and cradle Eddie’s in a single second, both at once and bring them together to kiss full-on, to lick deep, to be sure in each other, with each other.

To taste the vows received and made in the heartbeats between them.

“Love you, babe,” Steve breathes into him, just before he moves back.

“Love you,” Eddie sighs, chest still heaving, heart still hammering, terrified but full: “so fucking much.”

“I love you more,” Steve volleys, playful, maybe a little tight edged but…the love wins out.

Always.

“I love you most,” Eddie tops him, the practiced exchange landing in his favor this time as Steve pouts before his grin turns sly.

“I love you mostest,” Steve counters, victory clear in his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a word,” Eddie huffs but it’s got no weight, doesn’t want any either.

“Is now,” Steve snips back through a smile that reminds Eddie why he’ll stay here, hiding; why Steve fights in the first place: at the end of the day, it’s this, isn’t it. It’s every shade and flavor of this.

“Then I love you more than even the mostest,” Eddie declares definitively before he kisses Steve hard, fast, commits it to memory and tattoos it on his ribs, before he leans his head to Steve’s and whispers:

“Robin’ll bitch if you’re late.”

And that’s how Steve pulls back, watches Eddie every second, goes through the garage so no one will see through the door, so he can keep their eyes locked as long as possible—

And then he’s gone.

<<< Part One ~or~ >>>want some more?

For @vegasol, who requested 'Secret Relationship' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth @grtwdsmwhr @eddie-munson-addict

divider credits here and here

ao3 link here ✨

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itslixtoyou · 1 year ago

Text

Revenge

Miguel O’Hara x fem reader

Fic type - NSFW/smut (Minors dni)❗️

Warnings - Miguel is possessive, oral sex, semi-public sex because there’s someone in the next room, Miguel is a little forceful, p in v sex, lmk if I missed any.

Summary - You tell Miguel about the guy who’s been flirting with you at work, so he invites him over to clarify how he feels of this man’s pathetic behavior; but not with his words. ;p

Word count - 1,800 words

Note - This is kind of short and sweet, I wrote it while I was in a mood lol.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Miguel’s voice sounded tired as he walked inside, one hand holding his phone up to his ear while the other closed the front door; locking it as well.

You glanced up to look at him from where you were sitting on the couch. He gave you a small grin while he made his way through the house, continuing his conversation as he set his stuff down on the floor next to you.

“Alright, thank you sir.” He spoke, placing his hand behind his neck. “Okay, I’ll let you know in the morning.” He glanced at you with his eyes strained, silently complaining about how he wished the call would end already.

Fortunately for him, his pleas were answered.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye.” He ended the call, sighing heavily afterward.

“Sorry, Cariño.” He smiled as he walked toward you, planting a kiss to the top of your head and taking a seat next to you on the sofa. “How did your meeting go?”

“It was good,” You motioned for him to lay his head on your lap; which he happily complied with. “It wasn’t as long this time so I got to leave early.” You started explaining, feeling him rest against your thighs.

“That’s good.” He slowly began circling your leg with his thumb, nuzzling his face against your soft skin.

“So, when I got there...” As you continued with your full report of the meeting, Miguel quickly began to tune you out. He didn’t mean to ignore you of course, but the minute you placed your fingers in his hair and began gently scratching at his scalp, he knew he couldn’t resist falling into his trance.

He closed his eyes to listen, not necessarily to the words you were blurting out, but to the sound of your voice.

What were you saying? Something about a co-worker? He didn’t care that much, all he was concerned with now was that soothing tone of yours and how it seemed to calm him, relaxing him after the stressful day he’s had.

“Mhmm,” he faked a response, reveling in your touch as you eagerly ranted on.

Coming home was always his favorite part of the day and the reason for that was right here, letting him rest on her lap. It was occasions like this that he enjoyed the most, fragments of time where he didn’t have to worry about a single thing. Though he had no clue as to the words you were speaking, his heart grew warm nonetheless.

That is, he wasn't listening, until something you said suddenly grabbed his attention.

“Wait what?” He quickly got up from your lap. “Say that again?”

“He asked me to have dinner with him.” You repeated your last sentence.

“Who did?!” He asked urgently.

“That new guy I was telling you about the other day. Apparently he didn’t know I was married.” You giggled at the miscommunication, however, your husband didn’t share in your giddiness.

Miguel was furious. He knew who this guy was. He’d been flirting with you from the day he got hired, but now he’d clearly decided to take it up a knotch.

How the hell could he not know you're married?! Did he not see the ring on your finger?

That’s when Miguel paused, remembering you hadn’t been wearing your wedding ring the past few days because you had to get it re-sized.

That must’ve been it! That must be the reason that little weasel thought he had a chance.

Since you were too preoccupied with your job, you didn’t talk much about your husband while at work anyways. If you did, it would’ve been with the employees you were close with, not someone you just met like this annoying new guy.

You probably hadn’t even talked about Miguel yet around him, and that’s why he thought he could creep his way into this marriage.

“What’d you tell him?”

You chuckled at his question; assuming you’d ever say anything besides “no.”

“I told him I have a husband obviously.”

Your hand swatted his shoulder lightly, telling him to knock it off with the newfound jealousy he was clearly feeling.

Except it wasn’t jealously he was experiencing, it was possession.

How dare this man pretend he even had the smallest chance with a woman like you, or that he could so easily replace the man you called your husband.

He shouldn’t even have the privilege to look your way, much less have the audacity to think you’d be interested in a bum like him.

This man was already an annoynace in your husband’s eyes, but now he crossed the line. And now he’d pay for it.

“Why don’t you invite him over for dinner?”

Your nose scrunched at his suggestion. “What?! Why?”

Miguel quickly leaned in to place a tender kiss to your cheek, pretending to have changed his attitude. “Just so he knows for sure that you’re married. Plus, we can set him up with one of the more desperate ladies in the office.”

You were confused at first. Why would Miguel want to have him over for dinner, he clearly despised the man? But while your husband placed a second kiss to your cheek, whispering about how “he’s got this” and “it’ll be fine,” you figured there was nothing to worry about.

After all, it’s just a dinner, nothing too terrible should come from it, right?

WRONG.

When your husband first asked you to leave the dinner table and follow him to the bedroom because he “needed help with something,” it’s safe to say you didn’t expect him to start making advances on you.

“Miggy!” You squealed as he pushed you down onto the mattress, assuming his position on top and trapping you beneath him. “What are you doing? We can’t do this now!”

“We’re doing it.” He answered with a stern tone, wasting no time in stripping you of the clothes that covered you.

He took a second to pause afterward, admiring your glorious body beneath him. He smirked gently at the sight, knowing this was a view only he had the privilege of seeing.

That little pervert still sitting at the kitchen table could never dream of observing something like this. Your figure was a work of art to put it lightly, every heavenly curve of your outline was nothing short of breathtaking.

And it was all Miguel’s.

He quickly adjusted his stance, spreading your legs widely and lowering his mouth to your cunt.

“Wait Miguel-”

“Hush querido,” he shushed you, leaning forward to spread you open and begin his revenge.

You tired to protest. It was beyond unsuitable to be doing this when your co-worker was unknowingly sitting in the room right next to you both. What if he heard?!

But you see, that’s exactly why your husband was doing this; He wanted him to hear. He wanted to prove to that filthy little urchin that he never had a chance with someone as astonishing as you.

That imbecile could never treasure you the way Miguel did, he’d never know how to make your back arch and your fingers tighten around the sheets the way Miguel does.

He’d barely even started, but just his tongue was enough to have your eyes rolling back and your lips spreading to moan his name. So much for trying to stop him.

You did try at least, but once he started lapping at you just the way he knew you liked it, your self control was all but gone.

Miguel knew every movement that made you shudder, every flick of his tongue that made your thighs squeeze against his head. He especially knew how much your pussy loved the feel of his cock plunged inisde you, how your eyes would well up with tears when he hit that sweet spot just right.

Miguel knew all these things that no one else did, especially not the man who was eating at his dinning table. The one who stupidly thought he could even come close to measuring up to your husband.

“Miguel! Nghh!” You moaned, trying to catch your breath as your husband reletnelesly paced inside you.

“Louder!” He demanded, making his thrusts deeper so you’d obey. “Louder hermosa, I want him to hear your voice.”

He gritted his teeth, grasping your thighs so he could nuzzle himself deeper inside you. Which quickly sent you over the edge.

“Ugh! Fuck!” Your legs trembled at his touch, feeling the way he was drinking you in; completing you.

“That feel good?” He cooed, placing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Who makes you feel this good, huh? Anyone else?”

You shook your head as a reply, but he didn’t like that answer.

“Say it! Who makes you feel this good? Anyone else?”

He repositioned himself, leaning backwards for a little head start before he slammed back inside you.

“Agh!” Your walls quickly clamped down on him, a blissful sensation washing over you in the process. “No- ugh!.. No one else Miguel- ahh.. only- o-only you!”

Your sentences were slurred and your breathing staggered. You were struggling to speak the words he commanded, but you got there eventually.

“That’s right. No one but me!” He boasted loudly, thrusting for the last time before he decided enough was enough and laid against your bare chest.

With how loud those sweet moans of yours were, there was no doubt that pathetic excuse of a man in the other room heard it. Miguel had made his point. He’d shown what a real man is capable of when it comes to pleasuring a woman the right way. He proved just how insignificant that little moron was. Also how idiotic he was for ever thinking he could even breathe your direction without compensation for it.

Looks like your new co-worker will be finding a job elsewhere, especially after the way he scurried out the front door once the two of you finally came back to that forgotten dinning table.

“No its fine, I just forgot I had plans! I should be going now!” The cretin was stuttering out excuses like there was no tomorrow. Going on about how he had a “family emergency” he had to get to immediately.

And Miguel had the greatest pleasure of hearing from you about how your little friend had decided to quit his new job unexpectedly the next day.

How odd. I wonder what made him decide something so suddenly?

Oh well, what a shame.

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