#best block knife set
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offermart0 · 12 days ago
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HENCKELS Premium Quality 15-Piece Knife Set with Block, Razor-Sharp, German Engineered Knife Informed by over 100 Years of Masterful Knife Making, Lightweight and Strong, Dishwasher Safe
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houseofknivesaustralia · 9 months ago
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Where Can You Find the Ultimate Blades? Explore the World of Knife Shops!
In today's diverse market, the quest for the perfect knife is both exciting and challenging. Whether you're a chef, outdoor enthusiast, or collector, finding the right blade can elevate your experience to new heights. Have you ever wondered where to explore the world of knives and find the perfect one for your needs?
Welcome to the realm of knife shop, where craftsmanship meets functionality. These establishments are not just stores; they're gateways to a world of precision and artistry. A knife shop is more than a retail space – it's a curated haven for enthusiasts and professionals alike.
At a knife shop, you encounter an array of blades, each with its unique purpose and design. From chef's knives that glide through ingredients effortlessly to tactical knives built for rugged adventures, the choices are endless. But where can you find a knife shop that goes beyond just selling knives?
Our knife shop is a destination where passion for blades converges with unparalleled expertise. Whether you're a seasoned chef or a novice in the culinary arts, our collection caters to all. Every blade tells a story, crafted with precision and dedication by skilled artisans.
What sets our knife shop apart is not just the products but the experience. Imagine stepping into a space where the air is charged with the essence of fine steel, where each blade has a purpose, and the staff are connoisseurs in the art of knives. This is what defines our knife shop – a haven for those who appreciate the importance of a well-crafted blade.
So, where can you find a knife shop that transcends the ordinary, offering a curated selection that caters to your unique needs? The answer lies within our doors, where knives aren't just tools but extensions of your passion and style.
Ready to embark on a journey through the world of blades? Whether you're a seasoned pro or just starting, our knife shop welcomes you to explore, experience, and elevate your cutting-edge lifestyle. The perfect knife awaits – are you ready to find yours?
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mostly-imagines · 8 months ago
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Banished
jason todd x fem!reader
aka jason misses his girlfriend
warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)
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Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.
Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes and Tim sits atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.
Damian trudges past them to the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.
He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”
Jason just grunts.
He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.
It’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He wouldn’t mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stay behind. A lose-lose for Jason.
“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.
Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”
Jason kept his head down as he blindly reached for the spoon in his cereal and chucked it at Tim’s head.
Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”
“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.
Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”
“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.
Damian pauses.
“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.
“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.
“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.
Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”
It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.
Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.
He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.
Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.
He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.
And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.
And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.
Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.
But you could.
Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.
He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.
He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.
And he watches Jason.
As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.
He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.
He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.
The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.
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✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨
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niennanir · 1 year ago
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Listen to your elders
So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.
So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.
But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?
In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.
Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download
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Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 
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No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.
Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife
You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.
Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:
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use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.
Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.
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Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.
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You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.
Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour
In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock
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Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)
Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.
Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine
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Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.
Voila:
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I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.
The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.
If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 
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southernsmokebbq · 1 year ago
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andypantsx3 · 7 months ago
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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖𝑖
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𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan��until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 3 of 4
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Then
“I want to climb trees, this is so boring,” Touya complained, face down on the sofa.
You flung a piece of plastic pizza at him, laughing when it bounced off his back. Touya turned to give you the evil eye, daggers in his gaze.
“Keigo and Rumi will be here soon, can you just wait?” you asked.
On your other side, Shouto made an unhappy grunt, leaning out from behind you to give Touya a narrow-eyed little gaze. “Y/N is busy. Do not interrupt,” he said primly.
Touya grunted. “Y/N isn’t yours, you little shit. Y/N is my friend.”
Shouto puffed up next to you, little hand gripping your shirt. “Y/N is mine, Touya.” His mismatched gaze was intense where it fixed on his older brother, like he was trying to set him on fire with his eyeballs.
You shifted in between them with years of long practice, blocking their line of sight. Brothers.
“I really want to play house, if only someone would stop arguing and play with me,” you said, making sure to sound extra pathetic. That always got Shouto.
As expected, he immediately abandoned Touya, patting you as if to reassure you. “Of course I will play with you, Y/N,” he pronounced solemnly, like he was declaring some oath of office.
You snorted, turning back to Shouto’s kitchen playset with him. It had been Touya’s first, several years ago when you first visited the Todoroki house. Back then he still deigned to play with it, bossing you around like the alpha of the house, though you didn’t quite think he was going to grow up as one. Then you’d gotten too old for it, preferring video games or board games or ranging around the neighborhood, up to little good.
Today was a rare day that Keigo was permitted to come out and run around the neighborhood with you, but you had to wait for him to get here first with Rumi. And so you’d allowed Shouto to drag you over to the kitchen set while you waited, he its final owner.
“What shall I make you, Mr. Todoroki?” you asked Shouto, shifting the little plastic frying pan around on the wooden stove top. “I make a mean sliced banana. Or a sandwich, or chicken.”
Shouto moved to sit next to you, peering at his options. “I want to make it with you.”
You smiled. “You don’t want me to cook it for you?”
Shouto shook that mop of scarlet and white hair. “I want to do it together.”
You laughed. “Alright, then how about you cut up the veggies for our sides and our sandwich, and I’ll cook the chicken.”
Shouto laid out a myriad of plastic vegetables on the counter, levering his plastic knife through the velcro in their center with great concentration. You tried not to reach out and pinch his cheek for how cute he was. You didn’t understand how Touya got so annoyed with all his younger siblings when they were this sweet.
You got to work frying your plastic pile of chicken, laying it out on fake plates across the carpet when you were done. Shouto carefully placed the sliced vegetables next to it, and then the two of you bent over the pieces of a sandwich, layering in the plastic onion, tomato, lettuce, and bread.
“Shall we make you up a plate, Touya?” you asked. Touya just flashed you a rude gesture from the couch.
“This is only for you,” Shouto insisted, pushing your plate at you. You grinned down at him, passing over the fake cutlery.
“Well thank you, chef Shouto. I am honored to be worthy enough of your cooking,” you said.
Shouto’s little cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed. He pretended to take a bite out of his sandwich, and then a swig out of his fake bottle of milk.
“So, how was work?” he asked, out of nowhere.
You blinked at him, then startled into another laugh. Oh, so he wanted to play real house, like you were married. So funny.
You pretended to take a thoughtful bite of your own meal. “Very busy and tiring,” you said. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”
Shouto scooted a little bit closer to you, pushing some of his fake veggies at you, their velcro innards rolling. “You need to eat a lot to keep your energy,” he pronounced. “Until I can make enough money that you do not have to work so hard.”
You grinned. So he thought he was going to be the breadwinner, huh? Not super traditional for an omega, but times were changing. You couldn’t imagine an alpha who wouldn’t want to provide for sweet little Shouto, though, so that was something he and his life mate were going to have to negotiate.
“We’re already rich, idiot,” Touya said from the couch. “Mom said we all have an inheritance.”
Shouto’s eyebrow twitched, like he was annoyed Touya was intruding on this private domestic discussion.
“Then you can have my inheritance,” he insisted to you, though you knew he had absolutely no idea what that meant.
You pretended to think on this.
“What if I use some of it to open my bookstore, and then pay you back the profits?” you asked.
Touya thought your dream of a bookstore was stupid, so you anticipated his annoyed grunt from the couch. But you still liked the idea of it. Ever since you were little, you’d wanted to own one of the brick-faced shops right along the waterfront, somewhere you could walk to from your house. You’d pile it high with thousands of books and plants and string-lights and have all your friends come over after hours to hang out.
You didn’t want to leave your hometown like so many people did. You wanted to make a home right here on the coast, where you could watch over your mom and hang out with Shouto and Touya and Keigo and Rumi.
Though these days you’d become aware that starting a business required upfront money first. Hopefully you would figure out how to get some by the time you graduated highschool. But the Todoroki inheritance would work nicely for your fantasy bookstore.
“You do not have to pay me back the profits,” Shouto insisted. “If we are married.”
You laughed. “Right, right. Then they’re our profits.”
“This is sickening,” Touya said, his voice muffled into a pillow.
You wiggled your eyebrows at Shouto, considering saying something that would bait Touya, but then the doorbell rang. Touya shot up off the couch, rushing over to let in his saviors.
“Looks like Keigo and Rumi are here,” you told Shouto. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”
Some tiny flicker crossed Shouto’s serious little face, something like annoyance, which you so rarely saw on him. “I want to make it together again.”
You nodded, patting his fluff of multicolored hair. “Yeah, we’ll do it again. Next time we’ll even do dessert, okay?”
Shouto looked momentarily appeased. “And you’ll eat it all. So you have energy.”
You laughed, yanking on one of the strands of his hair fondly. “Absolutely. You take such good care of me, Shouto.”
A pleased little smile turned the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand on your knee as you heard Keigo and Rumi spill into the house, the rustle of Rumi and Touya immediately tussling.
“I will take good care of you always,” Shouto said seriously. “You have my word.”
“I trust it,” you said. And you knew he meant it.
Todoroki Shouto was such a sweet boy, and he was going to make someone a very good not-pretend husband one day. You waved to him as Rumi looped a nut-brown arm over your neck, pulling you outside.
These days, you’d been aware that life was not going to be as stable as you’d always assumed it would be as you grew up. But you hoped you’d still be around to see Shouto grow up too, married and happy like that with his own real life partner some day.
You wondered where you would be when that finally happened.
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Now
The next few days proved a test of your resolution to be normal about Shouto.
Everywhere you went, it seemed like Shouto was there—or maybe you were the problem, finding yourself drawn to wherever he was.
You took meals at the Todoroki house a couple more times, eating them out of house and home like you had as a teen—Shouto always stopping by too to eat something on his way on or off a shift. Twice your morning runs had taken you by the fire station, only to see a pair of mismatched eyes tracking you curiously from the engine bay, burning hot on your back as you quickly scurried away, feeling insane.
Shouto joined Touya when he met you and Rumi and Keigo for drinks one evening, Touya looking just as chagrined to have his baby brother tagging along as he had when you were kids.
“Shouto-duty,” he’d growled, the same as when you were little and he was charged with Shouto’s care. Shouto’s face had gone carefully blank, the paragon of innocence, and you’d laughed as he angled himself into the booth across from you.
Of course you’d quickly shut up when he’d pressed his calf up against yours, his long legs unfurling under the table. You’d quickly jerked your leg aside to make space for him, but he stretched out further, an ankle pressing to yours. He didn’t seem to mind, although it made your face warm for some reason.
Shouto had been good company, and had patiently endured Rumi’s hair ruffling and Keigo’s incessant teasing. He’d even walked you home at the end of the evening, like a protective alpha, even though you were not an omega and could damn well take care of yourself. And he’d lingered as you’d unlocked the door, smiling his tiny, careful little smile, and looking almost like he was waiting for something.
You’d bitten out a strangled good night and quickly barricaded yourself inside the house, lest you do something stupid.
That had the unfortunate effect of making you feel even more like a girl returning home from a date, however, and your mother had been almost beside herself with glee when she���d caught a hint of Shouto’s scent as you’d jerked the door closed behind you.
“An alpha?” she’d prompted again, abandoning her soap opera to lean over the couch arm eagerly.
“It’s just Shouto,” you’d explained hastily, waving your arms, a little loose with the drinks you’d had. “It’s not anything.”
Your mother’s eyebrows had gone up. “I thought he was your child bride.”
You hissed, shushing her, casting a stricken glance at the open window. You hoped Shouto had turned around immediately and gotten out of hearing range or you were going to have to kill your own mother.
“He is like my orderly, helping me off the shuttle back into the retirement home,” you said, turning and emphatically shedding your jacket and shoes, effectively ending the conversation.
But that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d seen Shouto a million times more since then, culminating in a final sighting the night before the run.
You’d ducked out to the grocery, intent on gathering up a day’s worth of supplies for the run. For most people it was over within a few hours—omegas had a thirty minute head start but usually went no further than a mile out, the ritual no longer the strict test of a mate it might have been back before things like showers and wifi and nine-to-fives were invented. But you always went to the coast, a hike of at least an hour or two, and you needed to stay up your tree for at least a few more while the more daring omegas who’d come out around you were summarily hunted down and properly bedded.
With the hike back accounted for, it usually took up most of the day, and you’d long learned your time was best spent with a book, a few bottles of water, and several snacks on hand.
You recognized Shouto’s distinctive mop of hair and broad shoulders as soon as you turned onto the produce aisle. He’d seemed somehow to sense you already—though betas were notoriously harder to scent than omegas—mismatched eyes already pinned to you as you rounded the corner.
You startled, your basket jerking in your grip.
“Hi Shouto,” you said, sidling up to him.
Shouto watched you approach, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” he intoned, peering curiously into your basket. A long-fingered, elegant hand reached out to touch the snacks you’d gathered there, everything but the apple you’d been targeting when you’d turned into this aisle.
“For the run?” Shouto guessed, eyes darting back up to catch yours.
You could feel your face flushing in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of your participation. “Yes,” you said, dredging up a grin. You were happy to see him. “With any luck, and a heaping dollop of guilt, hopefully my last ever. I’m going all out.”
Something flickered behind Shouto’s eyes, a sort of glint you’d never seen before. For some reason the hair on the back of your neck raised. Maybe an alpha thing.
“With any luck,” he repeated, his voice rich, strangely deep.
You wiggled your basket of snacks at him. “What about you? Making preparations for the big day?”
Shouto’s eyes followed the basket as you dropped it back down to your side. “Yes. I was hoping to make something, for after.”
Your eyebrows shot up, a wave of helpless affection for him rising in you. “For your life mate? To take them home to?”
Shouto nodded, his scarlet and white strands falling into his eyes. He was so, so good.
You couldn’t help but reach out and pinch him, right on his rib cage. “You are too pure to be related to your family.”
Shouto blinked, eyelashes fluttering. His gaze was a little darker where it caught yours again. “I would not be so sure.”
You took a step back, slightly startled by this assertion. Another flush heated your cheeks, and you pinched him again for good measure. “Respect your elders’ opinions, brat.”
Shouto’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, catching your fingers in his before you could do too much damage. Your heart hammered to a stop in your chest, your hand suddenly burning beneath his.
“Let me make you something,” he said, his tone dipping low again.
A surprised breath escaped you. “Like lunch? For tomorrow?”
Shouto watched you for a long moment before answering. “That, as well.”
“Oh, then you meant like, for dinner tonight?” You frowned, wracking your brain for his meaning, and coming up short.
That wry little smile played about Shouto’s mouth again. “Yes, dinner tonight, too.”
You squinted at him, unclear what he was trying to do here. “Touya says you’re a shit cook and that’s why you come eat all Rei’s cooking.”
Shouto’s face went pointedly blank. “I am passable.”
“I’ve heard conflicting reports.”
“Then perhaps you can help me.” Shouto’s fingers curled around yours more tightly. “I will purchase, and you direct the operation.”
Your mind suddenly flickered back, catching the wisp of an afternoon years ago, bent over Shouto’s fake plastic cookware, a tiny, round-faced Shouto insisting he’d provide for you. Cooking together, you directing Shouto to cut the plastic veggies along their velcro strips while you diligently fried your plastic chicken. Your heart swelled.
“In the interest of you not food poisoning your life mate your first night together, I’m willing to show you a thing or two,” you said, peering up at him, feeling slightly giddy.
Shouto’s mouth quirked. “I will watch carefully.”
You grinned. “Alright. What are we thinking for meals then?”
It turned out Shouto already had a plan in mind—fried chicken karaage, with marinated vegetable sides, and for lunch some jam-packed wanpaku sandwiches to keep your energy up out in the preserve tomorrow. He made a second pass through the snack aisle, seeming to pull in doubles or triples of everything you’d collected in your basket so far. Then he even snuck in two pieces of chocolate cake in the bakery section, crowned with little dollops of fresh whipped cream.
Shouto dumped your entire basket into his as well, holding you off with a strong arm when you made a grab for it, and ignored your protests all the way through checkout.
“Shouto, that’s my lunch, I should pay,” you insisted, getting a little hot in the face again when he was easily able to fend you off with one arm despite your genuine efforts. God, that was—you needed to not think about that.
“I once promised to take good care of you,” Shouto said, leading the way out of the store. You followed, realizing you had no idea where he lived now.
“You were a baby. You also promised me your entire inheritance,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Plus starting tomorrow you are going to have a life mate to provide for.”
Shouto turned to look down at you, eyes dragging down your face. “I will.”
“Okay then we’re agreed,” you said, digging around in your bag for his change. Shouto’s stride lengthened, however, like he was trying to dodge you. You hurried after him, swearing like Touya, and found yourself all but chasing him towards the waterfront, suddenly freezing when Shouto turned onto one of the shop-lined streets, stopping just before a familiar little brick building.
“Shouto—you live above this?” you asked, creeping forward to look in through the window.
The shop stood empty, as it had the day you’d graduated high school, but you could see it was well-maintained, new flooring installed in a warm light wood and windows shined to crystal clarity. “I used to be obsessed with this place, this is where I thought my bookshop was going to be!” you said, unsure if you were talking to Shouto or yourself.
The soft clink of Shouto’s key paused in the door. “I know,” he said. “I remember you telling me.”
You turned back to him, smiling. “That was a million years ago and you were like, barely out of the womb.”
Shouto’s eyes pinned you with an alarming intensity, grey and blue points burning through you. “I remember everything you have ever told me.”
Your breath wooshed out of you, leaving you startlingly vulnerable. You desperately scrambled for verbal cover. “I—you are so full of it. You weren’t even speaking words yet when I met you.”
Shouto’s mouth quirked again, and he gestured you inside. You followed behind him, trying not to admire the way his broad shoulders filled up the breadth of the stairwell, the way his thighs bunched in his jeans as he took the stairs.
No. That way lay danger.
Shouto’s apartment had the same lovely blonde wood across the floors as the shop downstairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the coast where you imagined you could see the sun come up over the water in the mornings. The rest of the apartment was modern in style, though strangely minimalist, as though Shouto hadn’t filled it with very many of his own things.
“My life mate will need room,” he explained, unloading the groceries on the counter.
Your heart twisted at that, and you purposefully set about drinking in your fill of Shouto’s space before someone else filled it in for him. You admired the large, cushiony couch, chosen as if Shouto had imagined a thousand nights cuddled up on it with someone else, what appeared to be a super old but working fireplace, and the neatly arranged rows of hanging copper pots, which you could tell almost never got used.
It smelled like him, his alpha scent everywhere, like sweet campfire smoke on a cold breeze. It made you want to curl up in here and never leave.
“It’s amazing, Shouto. Your mate is going to just die over this,” you said, totally charmed.
You tried hard to ignore the little tinge of jealousy souring your gut.
Shouto’s gaze flashed up to yours, his long fingers arranging the groceries neatly on his countertops. “I would prefer if no one died,” he said solemnly.
You laughed. “You know what I mean.”
“I had hoped you would like it,” Shouto said, something pleased in his deep tone.
“I love it. You’ll have to invite me back over next time I’m in town,” you said.
Shouto’s fingers hesitated over a tomato, and a small, shy sort of smile pulled at his mouth as he peered down at it. “Perhaps even sooner.”
You blinked, mystified. You weren’t going to have time before you left for the city again, not with the run tomorrow, and definitely not if Shouto spent the traditional several days curled up here with his life mate afterwards.
“Yeah sometime,” you said vaguely, trying not to think too hard on it.
You had sort of enjoyed being Shouto’s favorite when you were kids, your time and attention prioritized even above Touya’s. But Shouto was all grown up now and it was time for him to have a new favorite—you probably hadn’t been his since you’d graduated and disappeared into the city to generate parental support money. It had been years.
“Anyway let’s get this stuff prepped, sous-chef Shouto,” you said, coming around the counter to his side. “I’m thinking the old plan of attack—you slice the veggies, I’ll fry the chicken?”
Shouto’s mouth pulled in a wider smile than you’d seen in a long time, a heart-stoppingly handsome flash of white. You gripped the counter carefully.
“I’d like that,” he said.
He set himself up with a knife and a cutting board, and set you up with a few small bowls for breading, flour, and egg. You noticed he sliced his vegetables a little more dexterously than the velcro veggies of years past—though certainly not expertly. The two of you worked in easy tandem as you whisked the egg, then laid all your chicken pieces out as you waited for the pot on the stove to warm.
The peace was only broken when Shouto suddenly leaned over you, bringing with him a puff of that delicious campfire scent. Your breath reflexively seized in your lungs as you froze, hyperaware of him as his hand went to the side of your hip. He gently pulled you out of range of one of his drawers, moving you like you were an expected piece of his kitchen—like his life mate he was long-used to dancing around, pressing close enough that you could feel the heat of him.
Something like electricity spiked across all of your nerve endings. You tried not to shiver with the feeling of Shouto’s soft exhale over your shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand on your hip as he slid open one of his drawers.
It took you a few moments to recover enough that you realized he’d been pulling out plastic wrap. He hadn’t been curled over your back just for the intimacy of it—god, you were such a fucking creep.
You peeled yourself out of Shouto’s hands and beat a hasty retreat to his fridge, scrounging around for the ingredients you’d need to make the vegetable seasonings. The warm kabocha and fried chicken were going to make perfect leftovers for Shouto and his mate to scarf down after a windy run along the coast tomorrow.
Maybe you’d try to make something similar when you made it back to your mom’s tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, you didn’t really want to be reminded of Shouto stuffed up back here with someone else.
A frown pulled at your mouth, and you pinched your thigh, gathering yourself back together. What Shouto did with his own life mate was none of your business. You needed to remember that.
When Shouto finished cutting up the vegetables you helped him arrange everything into two enormous sandwiches, then covered in plastic wrap and stowed in his fridge to set. He watched you carefully as you fried the chicken, hovering closely behind you like a tall, handsome shadow. You fought against some strange impulse to lean back against his chest, watching the chicken burble in the oil with an intense focus. Shouto didn’t seem to mind the sudden quiet, smiling a small half-smile when you turned back to him.
When it seemed ready, you fished the chicken out, setting it on paper towels to absorb the excess. Shouto followed you, taking hold of your face as you turned back to him.
You froze for the second time, pulse racing, as his fingers came up to brush along your cheek, just under your eye. The touch was gentle but firm, and his gaze swept over you assessingly. He seemed to linger for a long moment—until he came away with flour across his thumb.
A weird sense of disappointment twisted your gut as Shouto looked it over. How embarrassing.
“Oh, thanks,” you managed to say, swiping at your face yourself.
Shouto’s mouth quirked softly. “As I said, I did once promise to take care of you.”
Your face went warmer, and you deliberately did not think about how much you liked that. The only person taking care of you was you, and it was going to have to be that way for the foreseeable future. Flour was only flour.
“Again, you were a baby. You needed taking care of more than me,” you accused.
Shouto shifted closer, an intent look settling over his features. “I am not a child any longer.”
That much was upsettingly clear these days. But that was beside the point.
“Neither of us are,” you agreed. “And I assure you, other than the occasional flour mishap, I am excellent at taking care of myself now. You on the other hand, with all these unused pots…”
Shouto’s eyes lingered on your face. To your horror he absently brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue barely flicking out to lick the flour—and that ended the discussion immediately.
Your face immediately flamed, overcome with shit you absolutely should not be thinking, and you shooed him away to fetch plates. Shouto let himself be shooed, looking contemplative.
When he returned with plates, you busied yourself serving up two large portions of rice, followed by crispy golden fried chicken, cucumber salad, and soft, steaming kabocha. It all looked excellent, if you did say so yourself, practically Michelin-starred compared to the plastic meal you’d made together all those years ago.
Shouto led you over to the coffee table and you both took positions on the floor, your back against his couch.
“This reminds me so much of when we were little,” you said, grinning. “Except the couch is mercifully devoid of any complaining.”
The indent at the side of Shouto’s mouth deepened. “I prefer the lack of Touya as well.”
You laughed, biting into your chicken, pleased when it tasted as good as it looked. Hopefully Shouto’s life mate was going to love it. Shouto looked like he liked it too, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his cheekbones as he chewed. Your stomach flipped.
“So how was work?” you asked Shouto, flipping the script on him from when he was younger.
An electric blue eye cut sideways towards you, like he remembered too.
“Very busy and tiring,” he repeated, almost an exact parroting of your words, if you remembered correctly. “I could not wait to come home.”
“You really do remember a lot,” you said, impressed.
Shouto took a mouthful of squash, chewing neatly. Was it normal to look that pretty when eating?
“As I said,” he said, something slightly smug in his voice.
You rolled your eyes—Todorokis—and took your own mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully.
“You’re so similar and yet so different,” you informed him when you’d finished. “I’m sad I missed you graduating school, and the academy. You’ve really grown up into an amazing person, Sho.”
Shouto’s chopsticks wavered over his plate, and a pink flush stained his cheeks.
“I had always wanted you to think so, when we were younger,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on his plate.
You smiled. “You were so cute. I was always going to think so. Even when I thought you were going to grow up an omega and had no idea what career you might have wanted. You were just good, I think.”
The tip of Shouto’s ear went red, almost matching the left side of his hair.
You couldn’t help but continue, warmed by how much the praise clearly meant to him. “Touya was my best friend but I liked spending the time with you, even though you were that much younger. I am sorry I haven’t been able to stick around and spend more of it with you.”
Shouto took a deliberate bite of rice, like he was calming himself.
“Your job in the city,” he said, when he finished. “Do you like it?”
You shook your head, snorting. “It’s fine. If I had a say I’d be running that storefront just below us, but my job is at least guaranteed money for mom. I don’t mind, though I do regret not coming back here enough.”
Shouto seemed to take a moment to think on this. “But you would quit it, if you could,” he said.
You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But like I said, it’s not so bad. And it’s pretty good money for a single income if I do say so myself.”
Shouto turned to watch you. “It would be easier if you had your life mate,” he said.
You paused, considering the weight of this statement. “Well yeah. But as you know, not everyone finds theirs. And as a beta I’m sort of stuck waiting for my life mate to find me—I’ve sometimes wondered if any of those alphas I hid up a tree from were actually it, all those years ago. But something tells me no. So I’m doing my own thing in the meantime.”
“Do you hope to find your life mate, this time?” Shouto asked, pinning you with an intense look. He’d abandoned his food it seemed, watching you with singular focus. It was slightly unnerving.
You wondered how best to answer without making him pity you.
“I’ve always hoped, but I’ve never counted on it,” you said. “But one thing is for certain—I wouldn’t accept just anyone. I’m not going to end up like my parents did.”
Shouto’s fingers shifted on the table top, and he seemed to be holding them out to you. You carefully placed your hand in his, gratified when his hand closed over yours, thumb smoothing your skin.
“You are not,” Shouto said, sounding sure. “You will have a life mate who has cared for you and will care for you his whole life.”
He sounded like he meant it. He was so sweet all these years later.
You flushed, embarrassed by his declaration. “Okay. I’ll—trust you on that.”
Shouto looked satisfied, letting your hand go so you could return to your food. You both scarfed down the rest of your meals, like the two of you were storing up enough energy for tomorrow, and then Shouto pressed a slice of chocolate cake on you, too, insistent.
He watched you eat it with the supervisory focus of a mother—or an alpha with his omega, a thought that you immediately put back out of mind.
You let him feed you too much, happy for the extra time in his company, laughing and chatting and reliving shared memories. You insisted on helping him with the dishes, too, washing everything as he packed up the leftovers, and then sorted out your prepared sandwich and the snacks he’d purchased for you. He didn’t let you out of his sight even as he did so, moving in front of you to block your access to your bag when you remembered you owed him money.
Shouto kept hold of it on the way to the door, too, so you couldn’t dig out cash and fling it before running out—he really did know too much about you after all these years.
Once he surrendered your bag to you, he leaned forward, fingers finding the side of your face again, cupping it and turning it up to his.
You went perfectly, embarrassingly still in his hold, breath coming short. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, and a private little smile pulled at his mouth.
“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised, his tone rich and dark, like the chocolate cake you’d just had.
You barely resisted a shiver, having to manually kickstart your lungs again, breathing in and out deliberately.
“Only if your life mate goes so far,” you said. “I hope for your sake they keep things easy.”
Shouto’s smile widened a bit. “They will not.”
You tried not to be too irritated at whoever it was. Only an idiot would make it so hard for an alpha like Todoroki Shouto.
“Well then, good luck,” you told him. “I’ll be on the lookout for you from my tree. And I’ll have snacks if you need them.” You rattled your bag.
Shouto’s eyes roved over your face, something warm in his gaze. “You will see me,” he said. “Though I do not plan to need any luck.”
Okay that was—he was not allowed to be that confident. That damn omega had no idea how lucky they were.
It took everything you had to wrench yourself away from him, only the knowledge that he was meant for someone else carrying you away. You made yourself salute him, smiling. Then you bid him good night, promising to text him when you got in, and scurried off to your mother’s house, trying to put yourself on the right track again.
You scolded yourself as you readied for bed, dropping a kiss on your mother’s head as you passed her asleep on the couch. You would not be a weenie about this. You were, at least, glad that Shouto was going to find his happiness tomorrow.
Even if you envied them even more tonight after seeing the life Shouto had built for them to share. Even if you wished, despite all odds, that you could find a life mate to share yours, too.
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buckyalpine · 13 days ago
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SOO much fluff with my random thoughts. We love a meet cute featuring a sweet uncle Bucky. Imagine working at a daycare, surrounded by the cutest little ones everyday. You know you shouldn't have favourites but you can't help but fall especially in love with three year old Jamie and his mop of brown hair, his sweet blue eyes absolutely stealing your heart. He'd recently been babbling and talking your ear off about getting to stay at his Uncle's house since his parents were going away on vacation.
"We have the same name" He stated proudly while mushing up some playdoh between his tiny fingers, "Mama said I gets to stay with him for two whole weeks"
"I hope you have the best time, bub" You smile at his excited ramblings, giving his hair a ruffle before making your way to cut up some fruit for snack time.
-
You arrived at the daycare center just in time for their lunch for the afternoon shift, setting your things down and getting to work grabbing napkins and laying them on the tables. The littles ones all lined up to wash their hands before getting their lunch boxes out, most quite self-sufficient with opening their containers without assistance.
You heard a frustrated grunt, looking over your shoulder to find a very determined Jamie with his brows knitted together attempting to open his lunch to no avail. He finally gave up, toddling over to you, the growl of his belly making a clear statement.
He was hungry.
"Can you open this please?" He holds his thermos with two hands, smiling when you take it from him, patiently waiting for you to open it. You try to unscrew the lid, frowning when it doesn't budge even when you try with all your might. You tie a rubber band around the top to give it some grip but it stays locked in place, unmoving after you ran it under hot water and ridiculing you when you tried to pry it open with a butter knife.
"What is your uncle, a super soldier?" You huffed, trying to open the little lunch thermos one more time but there was no point; it was sealed shut. "I don't think I can open this for you, bub, he closed it extra tight"
"Uncle Jamie made me mac and cheese" his little face melted into a sad pout, his belly rumbling again.
"I'm sorry baby, how about sharing half a grilled cheese with me, hm?" You cooed, toasting your own lunch in the panini press and putting it on a plate for him. "We need the avengers to open this, let's see if uncle Jamie can open this when he picks you up"
He happily nibbled on the sandwich, licking up the crumbs, putting away his thermos and making his way over to play with some blocks. When it was hometime, you got everyone ready, sending them on their way while Jamie remained, waiting patiently for his uncle to arrive while sitting on the playground, hugging onto his stuffy in the meantime.
"Ms. y/n, Uncle Jamie is here!" He jumped up in excitement hearing the rumble of a motorbike pull up outside, running to the fence, waving over to him.
"Let's see this Uncle Jamie of yours" You said with an amused expression, wondering who managed to close a lunch lid so tightly. His uncle certainly wasn't what you imagined, watching a tall, broad man parking his bike. He was dressed in all black, parking the bike and pulling his helmet off, letting it rest on one of the handle, running his hand through his short chestnut locks, a toothy grin spreading on his face.
There was no way.
"Oh my God-
"Uncle Jamie!!" The little one ran off to his uncle, jumping into his arms, hugging him with his entire body. The super soldier grinned, catching him with ease, blowing a raspberry against his cheeks making him squeal and sending him into a fit of giggles.
"Hey little man" He chuckled, cradling his nephew and giving him a few extra cuddles before setting him back down and taking his backpack from him. You'd wondered what the hell was in his little backpack which was strangely heavy, gasping when you saw him pull out a tiny leather jacket.
"Arms up, buddy" Jamie lifted his arms, letting his uncle secure the jacket on him.
"He didn't eat his lunch, we couldn't get the lid open" You handed him the thermos with an apologetic look, "He had a grilled cheese instead, I hope that's okay"
"Sorry, doll" Bucky smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "Guess I didn't realize how tightly I closed it" He took it from your hand, opening it up with ease, steam still billowing from the contained from when he'd heated it up that morning.
"He didn't tell me his Uncle was the very Sergeant James Barnes" You ignored the heat that crept up on your cheeks, an equal blush spreading across Bucky's. "He's been talking about you all week"
"He's been talking about you too" Bucky said with an edge of a flirty tone to his voice, his nephew had said just about everything there was to know about you but the little runt left out just how pretty you were. How sweet. Super cute.
Actually that was a lie, he definitely went on about how pretty you were.
It would appear he had more in common with the three year old than he thought; they both had an apparent crush on you.
Get it together Barnes, you just met her.
"He's a little rascal" Bucky chuckled, looking over his shoulder to find his nephew impatiently wiggling, waiting for a ride, "We're actually just around the block so not a long ride but he loves it" Bucky chuckled as he strapped Jamie into the sidecar, plopping a tiny helmet onto his head.
"Bye Ms. y/n!! See you tomoowo!!" Jamie waved making you smile at how adorable he was, his voice muffled in the helmet.
"Bye baby, see you tomorrow!" You waved back, your breath hitching in your throat when you met the other set of sparkling blue eyes peering at you.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Ms. y/n" Bucky said with a wink making your stomach flip, giving you a cheeky smirk before pulling the visor down.
You couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.
-
Okay imagine after two weeks of little parking lot interactions he obviously has to ask you out on a date. Then another. Another. Soon, little Jamie is excited to see you having sleepovers at Uncle Jamies!! He's bragging to all his friends about how he gets to see Ms. Y/n all the time.
Then you're over for Christmas! And New Years! Now you live with Uncle Jamie and it's the best thing ever! And obviously, little Jamie is the ring bearer at the wedding. A year or two later, he finds out he's going to have a baby cousin to play with.
Just an idea.
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lilacgaby · 2 months ago
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˗ˏˋmy first, my last, my everything ୭ৎ ིྀ
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pairing: exmafia!bakugo x reader
summary: katsuki left that life behind for you. but when the life you two built from scratch together was threatened, what else could he do but go back?
tags: fem!reader, wife!reader, mafia mentions, violence, angst to comfort, cursing, blood, pet names, no quirk au!, threats, guns, mention of death, clingy katsuki
status: complete.
wc:~2.5k
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katsuki had been around blood for most of his life.
whether it was his own, or a bastard who he had to handle for his own, he'd grew comfortable to it. almost intolerant to it.
but seeing you, freaking out with a bullet in your shoulder, your blood spilled over the floors he'd taken you to pick out?
it was something he never prepared for.
glass was shattered, he ran to your side immediately. the hot flash of pain in your arm unbearable, even more so as he pressed down on it, his shirt now ripped as he had to keep the blood from pouring.
your wails echoed throughout the shop, the one you decorated and planned for months together.
he needed to call someone, anyone. you were bleeding and he needed the kit-- but it was too far.
he was failing you. you were crying and he was failing you.
he was shaking, "babe? fuck. stay awake." everything around him was mocking him. his phone being too far, everything was just out of his grasp. out of his control.
he couldn't get up and leave you, if he let up the pressure you could die in the minute it'd take for him to set up.
he always failed you in the end. this was all his fault.
until, kaminari and kirishima walked in, about to yell out and bug katsuki for some food like usual. "yo bro! what's--"
the sight in front of them was one they never expected to see. katsuki almost crushing your arm with pressure, your blood all over the place. the front of house ruined.
it was enough for them to jump into action. katsuki holding you still as kirishima worked to get the bullet out of your arm. kaminari throwing the medkit over from where katsuki had it stored in a shelf. it had barely missed an artery, you were a milimeter away from death.
honestly, they hadn't liked you for a while. before meeting you they only saw you as the woman who was taking one of their best friends away from them. from their own.
but they learned that you only wanted the best for him, so you'd all become close. they learned how katsuki made this choice because he wanted better life for the two of you.
how he was growing sick of the repeated bloodshed that never amounted to anything. how his heart ached at the sight of you crying over his wounds, his black eyes and knife cuts embedded in his skin.
how he vowed to himself that before he'd ever propose to you, that he'd tie up all loose ends with his group, before he knew he could fully dedicate himself to you.
and he did.
nobody couldve ever imagined that they'd be here, kaminari working to keep you calm, helping regulate your breaths. you were freaking out, and that wasn't good for the extreme amount of blood you were losing.
katsuki would be forever grateful for them. he didn't know what he'd do if they weren't here, if you had died in his arms.
your screams were haunting, but at least you were alive. they finally died down into groans of pain when the bullet was out and the fabric was tied tightly around your shoulder.
your shirt was bloodied, his hands were too. he picked you up and mindlessly followed the two into a car that they must of called when he wasn't listening.
back to his old life he went. his eyes were sharp and angry, his hand gripping yours tightly, his finger over your pulse.
he had frozen up. and that could've costed you your life.
your eyes were half-lidded, but open.
only the noise of the road was heard throughout the car. he was the only one in the back, holding you in his arms as he faced straight ahead. he didn't think he could handle looking at you right now.
"'suki?" you said, so quietly the thumping of the road almost completely blocked it out.
but he heard you, he always did. "don't waste your energy. we're almost there."
you nodded, squeezing tighter. your eyes stuck on his bloodied shirt.
you were immediately rushed to the medical wing, the old woman dubbed 'recovery girl' taking you into her care. "she'll be fine, young man. she was lucky. they missed." she scurried off behind the operation team, who had immediately taken her into surgery.
those words carried only a bit of comfort for him. he was guided back to the meeting room, the one he'd been in several times before. the one he took brutal beat downs just to get out of.
but he was back, and it was for you. the same reason why he left.
he stared back at his old blood. deku had taken over for all might a couple years back, so he stood at the head of the table waiting for the rest of them settled in.
he wore a soft face of sympathy. "go change." deku finally said, handing him a pair of spare clothes. "we'll wait for you. you look like.. crap."
"to say the least." katsuki muttered, before accepting the clothes and going to where he knew the old bathroom was.
he washed his hands of your blood, but he knew it'd never really leave. he had stained your life, put you in danger for something as fragile as love. you could've died today, for the only reason of you being connected to him.
he changed, emptying the tattered shirt and slacks into the garbage. he didn't want anything to do with them anymore.
after splashing his face with some water, he headed back to the room.
every old face was there waiting for him, some with understanding small smiles.
he sat next to kirishima, arms crossed as he looked to the head.
"kacchan." deku started. "you, you aren't seriously thinking of coming back, are you?"
all eyes were on him, his body tense. "of course i am. i'm going to find the dumbfuck who did this and bury them."
"but you're not one of us anymore." todoroki cut in. "you left, if you come back it's like you did all that for nothing."
"you can never truly leave though, if you think about it." iida replied before katsuki had a chance. "this is just proof of it. even though he worked so hard to get rid of the connections to us, she still ended up targeted."
"and by an ally no less."
"a what?" katsuki said, his hand slamming on the table. "repeat that shit to me scarface?"
"it's not confirmed yet--"
"don't lie midoriya, it's obvious from the bullet. even the color is mocking us." todoroki said, sliding a bag across the table, over to katsuki.
a bright purple bullet was in it. it was bigger than he remembered, a 12.7 mmx99. it took up almost the entirety of his hand. whoever shot this really had wanted to kill you.
but it couldn't be...
"..shinsou?"
"that's who it points to."
"but. it doesn't make sense. your wife was close friends with him, and we haven't had bad relations with '2 Block' for decades!" midoriya reasoned.
"that doesn't change the fact there was a bullet in her arm." katsuki grumbled, moving it around in his hand. he slammed it back down onto the table.
"wow bakugo, if you couldn't pick up on that, i don't think you should be working this operation." kaminari said, a hand behind his head.
"shinsou wouldn't have missed. she'd be dead the second he aimed for her. you should know that."
silence enveloped the room. kaminari was right, if he didn't pick up on that, he was rusty.
his eye twitched. "i fuckin' knew that dumbass."
"you have personal stake in this, we get it. but you'll end up dead if you keep thinking with your shit attitude." kaminari responded.
"he has a point kacchan. why don't you let us handle it, and you can--"
"no."
he silenced them all with that single word. a face of sincerity and vulnerability he barely wore present in that moment. "i have to do this. i can't sleep at night if i don't. you guys of all people should understand."
a collective silence came over the room. they didn't say anything, but they knew if this had happened to them they'd want back in too.
they knew midoriya had the final say though, so they wished for his opinion.
"fine. but youre not doing this alone. we'll all get in on this. you were one of our best before, im sure all might would agree."
everyone nodded in agreement, saying some variation of 'if you say so'.
kirishima patted katsuki on the back. "hey man, our duos back again!"
"only for this mission though."
"aw man."
"we start tomorrow, so fix yourselves up. i have a feeling we'll be traveling around some tomorrow." midoriya ordered. "dismissed."
everyone poured out, katsuki walking directly to the medicine ward. he passed by the hallways, the pictures representing the allyship between them and the several surrounding gangs mocking as he walked by.
it all felt so familiar, it had only been a year. not much had changed, except for the atmosphere that he brought along with him.
he finally made it to the ward, looking past all the rooms. 'lets see, torture room.. cell.. no she'd be here.' he thought before walking into a hallway.
there he found only one room with a light on. he was right, he looked in to see you, fast asleep with bandages wrapped around your arm.
'at least you were safe', he sighed. jumping slightly when 'recovery girl' started speaking to him. "you did well, a moment later and she'd be dead. don't beat yourself up young man."
a moment passed between them, her words resonating in his mind. he'd done all that he could doz
"you can go wait inside, just don't wake her. there should be a spare bed you can pull out."
and with that, she left.
he walked inside, pulled out the bed and held your hand as he slept. the guilt never dissipated, it was all his fault. and so he'd have to fix it.
he woke up to the feeling of you moving. he'd been on edge the whole night, so the feeling of your hand jerking out of his woke him up immediately.
"katsuki." you said, sounding so tired and confused it broke his heart a bit.
" 'm here." he hugged you quickly, being mindful of the wound in your arm. a desperate, tearful kiss shared between you.
you took his face into your hands, making him stare into your eyes.
"i was so scared, you don't even know." you said nervously. "i thought i was gonna die."
katsuki held you tighter, still so disappointed with himself for even letting you get to that point. he felt like he should've taken the shot. that he should be the one injured right now, but instead he leaned in closer to you. "i was too, but you're here now. safe. with me."
"mhm."
you held him for a bit longer, looking at the room surrounding you.
while he was thinking of the possibilities that could've happened, his one wrong step from you could've left him all alone, you examined the room.
it wasn't a regular hospital, probably not a hospital at all. you knew that from the guns laying on the counters. the stitches all around ready for work, the empty body bags that were bloodied. mocking as they hung from the ceiling.
the windows, all reinforced heavily. the door that had a bolt lock on it.
you didn't get to feel relieved for long. "katsuki. be honest with me."
he tensed up, he knew you'd find out eventually. but he wanted to finish this mess before you ever knew about it. "always am."
"are you.. back in this?" you asked, looking into his eyes with an anxious expression. your hands clinging to his sides.
he sighed heavily. "y'know i have to. i'll never relax if i know that fucker is still out there. he could come back and.. and hurt you again."
"and i can't change your mind about this?"
"...no. it's for.. for us. i wouldn't have left if i didn't care for you, you know that."
"i do."
"then.. just-- wait for me okay? i won't leave 'til later today."
you nodded, laying your head in his chest. "if you get hurt too i think ill die."
"i won't get hurt."
"you promise?"
"i swear."
you leaned in and pecked another kiss on his lips. though you were interrupted by kirishima walking in.
"oops, i really should've knocke-"
"yeah you should've dumbass."
"hi kiri!" you waved, shoving katsuki off of you. "hey [name]!"
katsuki had one arm around you, squinting seemingly annoyed at his partner annoying his wife.
the topic would randomly change from shows you were watching, to fun things that have happened recently, but it took a deep turn into what had just happened to you.
"so, [name]. you heard bakugo's hanging with us for a while, right?"
"yeah, i did." you said, holding him just a bit closer subconsciously.
"so, did he tell you who we think did it?"
"shut the fuck up kir--"
"you already know?" your attention was on him fully. the look in your eyes revealing just how much you wanted answers. "well, it's just a guess for no--"
"shut up kirishima."
"but we think it's shinsou."
your face twisted in confusion. "shinsou?...
no, you're wrong."
"babe, please stay out of this."
"shinsou wouldn't do this-"
"they found his bullet in your arm. nobody else who isn't retired or dead uses that shit."
you physically recoiled at that. "no way." you looked to kirishima, who only confirmed it.
"this has to be a set up or something? he wouldn't do that!"
kirishima made a face, which made katsuki squint his eyes in confusion. "what?"
"i mean.. she could be right y'know. we talked a bit before you came bro." kirishima said, walking in and closing the door behind him.
"right about what? shinsou is associated even if he wasn't the one who shot the bullet." katsuki asserted, standing up to meet kirishima, even if he was taller. this made kiri shoot his arms up in defense.
"i'm saying you're both right. we think it's someone closely associated to shinsou, someone who either taught him or was close to his teacher."
"eraserhead? the guy with a thousand hits under his belt?"katsuki glared, shoving a pointed finger in kirishima's chest.
"hey man, i'm just the messenger. but, no. someone else who learned from him too. but, midoriya called 'you know who' for information."
katsuki sighed, knowing the asshole who went by 'hawks' was about to be here any moment. "fine, i'll be ready soon. just.. let me take her home."
kirishima nodded, leaving the room with a "be back soon man!"
"i'm taking you home baby."
"fine."
"and you have to take all the medicine and stuff when i call you. we'll have to use burners again."
you rolled your eyes. "..fine."
"and, i want you to text me every hour and before you go to sleep."
"fucking fine. let's go already, this place creeps me out."
"good."
he grabbed your hand, helping you up. he let you change into some sweatpants and a tshirt so you didn't have to be the hospital gown for much longer.
you drove home, taking the long route so you wouldn't have to the see the remnants of your , almost, death in your own shop. he had to leave you in front and he wasn't happy about it. opening your door and hugging you tightly, you knew he wasn't going to see you for a couple days.
"babe, text me whenever you can. send me photos or voice messages i don't give a fuck."
"it's only a couple of days kat' you'll be fine, but i'll do it. you text me too, tell me when you sleep and stuff."
"don't let anyone in the house and don't tell anyone what's happenin-"
"i know, babe. i'll be okay."
he shared one last kiss with you. with a determined face he turned away, he would not sacrifice your life together like this. he wouldn't not let you get hurt again.
he would not fail.
next part
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fanficsformyfaves · 1 month ago
Text
She Got Away
Agatha Harkness x Fem Witch!Reader
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WARNING: ANGST, SMUT 18+, Violence, Mentions Of Sickness And Symptoms, Mentions Of Murder, Lovers To Enemies To Lovers Trope, Agatha Uses Sex Magic To Give Herself A Cock, Rough Sex
PREFACE: Reader and Agatha were together back when they still lived in Salem, but when Agatha takes the coven's power and kills almost all its members, she fled, living only Reader alive
A/N: Flashback In Italics!
Marvel finally grew a pair and gave us the lesbian angst we deserved
And yes this was heavily inspired by Chappell's unreleased song 'Subway'
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All I remembered seeing, as the last of my vision faded into darkness, was someone stashing me inside a hollow tree and growing vines shielding me from view. In the far distance, her silhouette turned to face me once more, before disappearing into the thick fog ahead.
I hadn't seen Agatha since then, but I was determined to find her. After everything we'd been through, the last thing I ever expected was for her to betray me the way that she did. She killed our coven and ran off like it was nothing. Like what we had was meaningless and insignificant to her.
From that day forward, I vowed to make her pay, if it was the last thing I did.
It took a while, but I managed to track her down in New Jersey. It became difficult when I couldn't sense her magic anymore, but I knew she was there. It was just a feeling I couldn't shake.
I walked down the lane of houses, wary of the eyes following me, when I arrive at the very last one at the end of the street. I take a quick glance through the window and that's when I felt my heart drop.
The woman I loved all those years ago. The same woman who made me feel like I was actually worth something, just to take it all away from me.
Amidst the blinding rage that coursed through my body was the agony I felt when I she first left. It was a knife twisting inside me with no way out.
Wanting to end this once and for all, I stormed the house by kicking the door open to find her huddled in the corner of her kitchen. She tried hard to mask her fear with a cocky grin, but of course I saw right through her.
"Well, if it isn't (Y/F/N). God, how long has it been?"
"Three hundred years, six months and six days"
"Awe, you kept count-"
She was interrupted by a dagger I threw her way. The blade striking the cabinet when she ducked.
"I see you picked up knife-throwing", she teased.
I lunge forward, grabbing the back of her head and slamming her into the wall. I wanted her to hurt the way I hurt. Only ten times worse.
She falls to the floor, holding her head, as I grabbed another knife, but before I could drive it into her chest, she stops me by my wrist.
"Remember pain? Kinda tickles doesn't it?", I said through gritted teeth.
I only managed to draw a drop of blood, before she reached for the chair and knocked me off of her. She gets back on her feet and makes a run for the door, when I use my magic to block off her only exit.
"I'm surprised you aren't using magic to get out of this one", I say, following her into the living room and blowing a fallen strand of hair away from my face.
She sighed through her nose, not taking her eyes off of me.
"Don't tell me you've reformed?"
"Another witch took my powers. The Scarlet Witch"
I scoff in surprise.
"So you finally got what was coming to you"
Her lips were set in a fine grimace.
"Well...almost. I'm just here to finish the job", I say, using my powers to launch her across the room.
She hits a glass case and falls to the ground with a thud, wincing. Just as I go to throw another one of my daggers, she holds a hand out.
"Wait! Wait", she pleaded, halting me.
"This isn't what you want. Me? Without power?", she chuckled nervously, carefully getting back up.
"This is- this is undignified! Don't you want me at my best?"
She stretches out the kinks in her neck, making sure not to take her eyes off of me.
"Admit it, you prefer me-"
"Horizontal? In a grave?", I cut off.
"Formidable", she answered.
"Come on, baby. You love it, the anticipation", she whispered, taking a step closer.
"Hm. That would be fun", I shrugged.
"Wouldn't it? Just...let me get my purple back and come find me after-"
"Not a chance in hell. Which is exactly where I plan on sending you. I promise to make it quick", I mocked, winding my blade back.
"Wait! Please!"
I roll my eyes, irritated with the stalling.
"Look. I hurt you, I'm not denying that", she swallowed thickly.
"But I didn't want to. I didn't have a choice", she shakes her head.
"You always have a choice. Like not killing our coven for example"
"You don't know what happened-"
"Or leaving me...when I needed you", I struggled to hide the hint of sadness peaking out from behind my anger.
Up to this point, I was able keep my composure, but the longer I looked at her, the more I felt the pain I'd been carrying around for years creep up on me.
"(Y/N)-"
"I woke up alone, surrounded by nothing but a pile of bodies and no one to turn to. You did that!"
Agatha bows her head, unable to hold my hurt gaze.
"I loved you, so so much", my voice was reduced to nothing but tearful whispers.
"So could you imagine just how much it killed me when you left? To find out it was all one-sided?", I hissed through gritted teeth.
"I did love you-"
"No, you didn't. You don't leave someone you loved behind"
I could tell that struck a nerve in her, when the brim of her eyes began to water.
"Why do you think I spared you and hid you in that tree? Hm? So you could exact revenge on me three hundred years later? Why not just finish the job?", her tone now angry at my accusations.
I was dumbfounded by the revelation. It was as if time ceased to move and the rest of the world disappeared around us.
"What?"
"I left to protect you. It was for your own good"
"That was you?"
"Of course it was. Everyone else was dead by the time I found you again"
My brows furrowed in confusion.
"What do you remember?", she questioned, mimicking my expression.
"I..."
"We were in the woods. I was confronting my mother about conspiring to kill me, when you showed up"
Suddenly, rushes of the past engulfed my vision. The grief of losing both my family and Agatha must've been too much for me to bare and caused my mind to distort my recollection of it.
I was walking through the forest, looking for my familiar, when I stumbled upon the empress and Agatha fighting.
"You were born evil", the empress snarled, as Agatha tensed at her tone.
"Empress? Agatha? What's happening?"
The empress turns back to Agatha with a look of disgust.
"No-", Agatha goes to intervene, but was interrupted by me getting struck with a bolt of magic.
"Obviously, I struck her back and when the other members overheard us, all hell broke loose. I was running and fighting for my life for hours"
"Why would she do that? Why would she try to kill you?"
"You heard her, I was 'born evil'. Finding out about the Darkhold was just the nail in the coffin"
Each missing piece of what happened finally began falling into place.
Back in Salem, a devasting sickness swept through the town and nearly claimed the lives of all its residents. Unfortunately, I was one of the unlucky few that fell victim to the disease's rampage.
It started with a fever and a few aches, but quickly escalated to me vomiting blood by the pint. I was bed-ridden for days and sure to die as there was no traditional spell to cure my ills, when Agatha made me a promise to keep me alive, no matter the means.
"I won't let you die", she sniffled, wiping the sweat off of my forehead.
"Agatha-"
"Don't. I'll find a way"
And that's what made her turn to Dark Magic and discover a book called the Darkhold. In the dead of night, whilst everyone was either asleep or nursing the sick, she snuck back into my hut and performed the ritual that restored my health.
"I don't know how she found out, but somehow she did"
I angrily wiped away the tears that managed to escape me.
"Let's say you're telling the truth about what really happened. You still left me", my voice trembled with each word.
"I couldn't risk people thinking you were involved. If they did, you would've spent the rest of your life running and you deserve better than that", she said, getting close enough to cradle my face in her hands.
I inhale, shrugging to get away from her.
"I don't believe you"
"Seems like you do"
Finally fed up with her mind games, I grab her by the throat and spun us around to pin her to the wall. I conjure another dagger and just as I raised it high into the air. This was it. The moment I'd been working towards for the last three centuries...only I couldn't move. She didn't have her powers, so I knew it couldn't have been her.
"You can't do it, can you?", she struggled.
"It's cause you know I'm telling the truth"
She was right. The realization knocked the wind out of me like a bat to my chest. I knew deep down, no matter how much she hurt me by leaving and how much I hated her for it, she only did what she had to...because she loved me. I took a shaky breath and felt another tear roll down my cheek.
She lowers the hand I held the dagger and cupped my face.
"That's it. Easy"
Once my hands were both to my side, she pulled me into a tight embrace, as I nuzzled into her neck.
"Oh, sweetheart. I missed you", she sighed contently.
Her own voice quivering at the feeling of my trembling sobs.
She eventually pulled away just enough to wipe my face dry and in that moment, my eyes poured into her baby blues.
I didn't know whether it was the adrenaline or the burden of the last few centuries being taken off of me, but before I could figure it out, I dropped the knife, grabbed her face and smashed my lips against hers. I backed her up against the wall, careful to guide her around the broken glass.
She quickly got to work on pulling my shirt off over my head and I followed suit, untying her robe. I couldn't help but take a moment to admire her hardened buds peaking through her nightgown.
"Missed me?"
"Shut up", I exhaled, pulling her back onto my lips, as she moaned at my man handling.
Once we were done ridding ourselves of all our clothes, she spun the both of us around to pin me now. She held my wrists against the wall and trailed her kisses down to my neck.
"You're so fucking pretty", she mumbled, painting my skin with shades of red and purple.
I whine at her nibbling down on my shoulder and throwing me around her waist. She takes us to the couch and I grind myself down on her lap, groaning at the sensation. As I returned the favor and left marks all up and down her neck, she mumbles something in Latin. Before I could question what she was doing, I felt something press against my core.
"Is that..."
"Really thought I forgot your favorite spell?", she grinned wickedly, running her hands up my waist to hold me in place.
"I always did enjoy fucking you raw"
I dive back into her lips and adjusted my hips to help her along. She grabs the appendage by the base and uses the tip to rub firm circles on my already aching clit.
"You're a mess", she chuckled, taking one of my nipples into her mouth.
"Please, take me", I moaned, grasping the back of her neck and bracing for her to stretch me out.
In one smooth thrust, she filled me to the brim, as I cried out. It was much bigger than I remembered.
"God, you were always so warm...and tight", she panted between each subtle thrust.
After giving me a moment to adjust, she started with a gentle pace, reminding herself to litter my neck and shoulder with kisses to soothe me.
"My sweet angel, fuck", she groaned.
As I began to ride up and down her length. Her eyes rake over my form and the way my hips dropped forward and pulled back over and over again. With each motion, her tip directly pressed into my g-spot, making her name fall from my lips repeatedly like a cursed hymn.
Her nails claw down my back, earning a wince.
"I'm sorry", she panted.
"Don't stop"
"I don't wanna hurt you-"
"I don't care", I whine, diving back into her lips and riding her faster.
She uses her biceps to hold me in place, ramming up into me harder.
"Agatha, fuck", I whimpered, holding onto her shoulders for dear life.
"That's right, baby. You're all mine"
My climax was fast-approaching and all I could do was fight it off as long as I could, until she gave me permission. Even after years of hating her, my body never forgot.
"I can feel you getting close", she moaned.
"Do it for me, come on, baby. I need you to come", she pleaded, reaching down between us to vigorously rub my throbbing clit.
I came with a scream that surely echoed throughout the neighborhood, but I couldn't care less. My vision momentarily faded to black, as my head fell back from the overwhelming pleasure that consumed me.
She held me against her, groaning as she coated my walls with her warmth.
"Fuck", she grunted, still thrusting into me to help us both ride out our orgasms.
Both spent and covered in each other's sweat and essences, we stay still for a while to catch our breaths.
"Miss me now?"
Too tired to think of a comeback, I simply nodded against her shoulder, hearing chuckle.
"Welcome home, baby"
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stevieschrodinger · 4 months ago
Text
Part One Eight
Steve slices the apple into four parts, and then retrieves the clock from the hallway; this one will be best, there’s no glass or anything, so he can just force the hands around with his fingers. Eddie sits on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching Steve and waiting patiently.
“Okay buddy, what time does it say?”
“Four,” Eddie says confidently. Nice and easy that one, because Steve has the little hand on the four and Eddie has grasped to look at the little hand first pretty fast.
“Okay so,” Steve puts down the clock, and holds the pieces of apple together to make it whole. “This is a full apple, yeah? One. It’s whole.”
“Whole apple.”
“Right, so now, how many?”
Steve pulls the pieces apart so he has two slices held together in each hand, “two.”
“That’s right, but It’s also half.”
“Half.”
“Yeah, whole apple. One apple. Two slices. Half an apple.”
“Half an apple.”
“Right, so,” Steve puts the apple slices down, letting them split, and moves the big hand down to six, “half four.”
Eddie moves the apple pieces around, frowning, “half four. Two,” he points.
“Yeah, with counting. On the clock. Time. This is half past four.”
Eddie frowns at the clock again. He shakes his head.
“Okay, so,” Steve spreads out the apple slices, “four. Four quarters,” then he moves the big hand around the clock face again, “quarter past four, half past four, quarter to five.”
Eddie frowns again, face scrunching a little bit, and Steve can sense the distress from Eddie, upset that he doesn’t understand.
“Half, two,” he volunteers.
Steve sighs, “yeah buddy, but-”
“No! Half two!” And then Eddie picks up two apple quarters and shoves them in his mouth, presumably to make the problem go away, crumbs of apple and juice dripping messily onto his chin as Eddie chews manically with his pointy teeth.
The kitchen dims a little, thick clouds scudding over the sun. Steve looks out of the window, it’s suddenly dark.
Red lightning flashes.
Eddie moves, leaning over the counter to slide a knife from the block, “half. Two.” He says, pressing the tip of the knife to his tail; black, thick blood wells up and starts to drip, and Steve stands frozen.
Eddie's eyes catch the light strangely, flashing silver, then they glow red as lightning crashes, “it’s for the best, Steve-”
Steve wakes with his heart pounding and a scream trapped in his throat; he feels like he can’t breathe, all of his body shaking and not obeying him, the sheets and blankets tangled around his legs. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he pants to himself, finally getting out of bed.
The light in the bathroom makes him feel better and he splashes his face and then drinks a little water right from the faucet. He sighs deep, just a dream.
Just a dream.
It takes ten minutes before Steve feels better but...even though it doesn’t make any sense at all, he needs to check. He just has to see Eddie, just for a second, to make sure he’s okay. Then he’ll come back to bed and everything will be fine.
Even though it’s completely fucking irrational, and Steve knows it is, he checks the knife block first; everything is set in it’s little slot, nothings missing...which, of course it isn’t. Of course it’s fine. He’s just being ridiculous.
The kitchen looks completely normal, even if it does feel a little sinister in the dark. Steve tells himself again that it’s just a dream.
The lounge is only illuminated by the moonlight from outside, but it’s enough to make out the curled up lump that is Eddie, sleeping on the couch.
Steve breathes a sigh of relief, even as he tells himself he’s being ridiculous.
“Stee?” It must have been enough to wake him, and Steve watches as Eddie’s head, somehow, pops out from amongst the tangled ball of tail and today's blue sweater. Steve’s let him have four and washes them on rotation. They don’t come completely clean – the grass stains are impossible, and the bottom edges are already ruinously frayed, but it’s fine, they’re only sweaters.
“Sorry, Buddy I...I had a nightmare.”
“Night...mare..?”
“Yeah a uhm,” Eddie shifts, and Steve sits next to him on the couch, “a bad dream, you know when you’re asleep?”
Eddie nods, “sleep, dark,” he points to the outside.
“Yeah, right so...do you ever see things, when you're asleep?” Eddie cocks his head, “like, uhm, TV. Like watching TV,” and Steve taps the side of his head.
Eddie takes Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand away, nodding furiously, “dark TV,” he uses Steve’s hand to tap the side of his own head, “many. Many all.”
“You dream? Every night?” Eddie nods. “What do you...what do you dream about?”
Eddie frowns, so Steve gets up, retrieving colored pencils and a larger notebook, he flicks on a lamp. Steve sits back next to Eddie, and using his woefully inadequate drawing skills, he makes out a couple of withered, spiky trees, shades the sky dark, draws swirls of black on the floor and a crackle of red lightning across the sky, “do you dream of this?”
Eddie’s mouth pops open, eyes wide with terror, he taps the paper urgently, “Stee? Stee in?? Many??”
“Yeah… Stee in, but not many.”
“Stee no! Stee not safe!” Eddie taps the paper, “Stee no! Bad bad!” Eddie's clearly horrified by the thought of Steve in The Upside Down.
“I won’t buddy okay, no more,” Steve taps the page, “finished.”
That seems to placate Eddie, he sits back, staring still at what Steve’s drawn, “dark TV,” he says quietly.
Steve gets his pencil and draws a stick figure with curly hair and a long pointed tail, he draws a little arrow and writes, ‘Eddie’, next to it, “Eddidie?”
“Yeah,” Steve tells him, “we call this place The Upside Down. That’s where you come from, The Upside Down.”
“The upside Down. Stee come from?”
“Hawkins Indiana.”
“Hawkins Indiana.”
“Yeah Buddy, that's where we are now. That’s what this place is called. Listen,” Steve draws another stick figure with a tail near to Eddie on the paper, “are there more like you there?” Steve taps his little drawing. Then he draws another stick figure mermaid, just for good measure.
“Yes.”
“Many?”
“Many many.”
“Do you...miss them?”
Eddie tilts his head.
“Okay Buddy, you and me, we’re friends,” Eddie nods, “and the kids. Birdie. Jon, Nancy. They’re our friends.” Steve taps the page again, “friend?”
Eddie shakes his head, “no,” he purses his lips, looks around, thinking, “Stee...pear, celery, grape?”
“Yeah, I know, food. That’s food.”
“Food...no many food in Upside Down.” Eddie taps the page, then hisses, clawing and biting the air a little.
“Fight. You had to fight them for food?”
“Fight. Yes,” Eddie takes the pencil and aggressively scribbles out the other two stick figure mermaids, Steve can’t help but chuckle.
“Well, you don’t have to fight anyone here buddy. No fight. All the pears are Eddie’s.”
Steve wakes up to something tickling his nose and something else digging viciously into his ribs. He feels a little attacked considering it’s first thing in the morning. He blinks awake, shifting, and his back screams at him.
Well fuck. The couch might look fancy, and it might be alright for sitting on, but it’s shit for sleeping on.
Especially when you’ve got a bony as fuck fish guy sleeping on you, “hi Eddie.”
“Hi Stee,” Eddie replies into the front of Steve’s shirt.
“Any more bad dreams?”
“No. No bad dreams. Stee good,” and Eddie pats Steve’s chest, “Stee dream?”
“No buddy, I’m all good too. But...if you do have bad dreams, you should come find me, okay? If you want to.”
“Stee find Eddidie?”
Which, yeah, Steve guesses, that is what happened last night, “yeah Buddy, like that.”
Eddie shifts again, and Steve realizes that it’s Eddie’s bony fucking elbows that might be trying to stab him in the guts, “we should get up,” and Eddie does, sitting up with no regard for the fact that means he’s sitting right on Steve’s lap – and his morning wood.
Eddie wriggles.
“Right, nope,” Steve sits, spreading his legs so that Eddie falls through and gets dumped onto the couch cushion, letting Steve slide away and stand up, “I’m going to go shower.”
“And Eddidie?”
“Yup, but you can go after me,” Steve is telling him, as Eddie follows him up the stairs.
That night, Steve isn’t even really asleep yet when he hears the quiet noise of Eddie making his way up the stairs. The soft susurration of Eddie moving across the carpet, and then the door being pushed the rest of the way open.
Steve lifts the covers, inviting Eddie in, “but take that off, it’s got dirty today,” Eddie does, pulling off the jersey and climbing in, lying face to face with Steve.
“Hi Stee,” Eddie whispers.
Steve smiles, “hi buddy,” he whisper back, “bad dream?”
Eddie nods.
“What about? Tell me?”
“Tell...dream?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie thinks, biting his lip a little, probably trying to work out how to explain it. Eventually he volunteers, “in Upside Down.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, because he figured as much.
Slowly, Eddie brings both hands up. He puts his palms on his cheeks, then covers his face with interlocked fingers. Steve has a mounting sense of horror; already certain he knows where this is going.
Slowly, Eddie lifts them, unlacing his fingers, like the spread of petals on his face.
“Demogorgon,” Steve whispers.
“Eddidie is food.”
Steve can’t really express the sheer amount of horror the thought fills him with, so he just pulls Eddie into a hug instead, “you’re safe now buddy. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
Steve actually manages to fall asleep alright with Eddie’s tail wrapped around his legs, and if he dreams, he doesn’t remember it, coming awake to the now familiar sound of a chair being dragged across the kitchen floor.
Steve heads downstairs to see what Eddie’s up to; he’s at the bottom step when the smell of coffee hits him, and he vaguely wonders if Robin or someone is here.
No. Just Eddie. He’s seen Steve work the coffee machine enough times to work it out for himself, obviously, and there’s a full cup waiting ready on the counter. On the table there’s a plate with a piece of dry toast on it, but there’s a jar of jelly from the fridge. A half full bowl of cereal (no milk) and a single pear.
“Eddie...did you make me breakfast?”
Eddie grins at him, and Steve just about rescues the mug of coffee from him before Eddie tries to make it across the kitchen one handed.
“Buddy this is...so good. Thank you so much.”
Part Ten
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entitled-fangirl · 4 months ago
Text
The midst of death and destruction.
Cregan Stark x wife!reader
Summary: Bolton takes Winterfell in the dead of the night, leaving the Starks to fight in any way they can.
Summary: BOLTON IS A FUCKING CREEP!!!!! Blood, cursing, threatening, perverted talk of reader, attempted s.a.; Def read at your own discretion.
A/N: based on an ask! I totally fooled you guys and finished this earlier than I thought! SUPRISE!!!
Masterlist
part 2
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.....................................................
Her eyes cracked open at a sound deep in the castle. 
She sat up, forcing herself to wake up and noticed Cregan's absence from the bed.
His side was still very warm, signaling that he had just left. 
The sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand was sword on sword. 
An imminent fight in Winterfell. 
She pushed herself out of bed in a hurry, throwing a robe loosely over her shift and opened the door to her chambers. 
The entire hall was dark, save for her lone guard that stood outside of the door.
The guard, Ser Henry, stood vigilantly, but she could see the facade he put on. He was scared.
"Lady Stark, I'd advise you return to your quarters. It's not safe," he urged quietly.
"Where is my husband?"
Ser Henry sighed, "I do not know. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I'd assume."
Her face paled. "I cannot stand here while he fights."
"I was instructed to keep you here until I receive word from Lord Stark himself."
She leaned against the doorframe, trying to block out the sound of grunts and slicing swords. "You won't let me leave?"
"No, my lady."
"I'll refuse then."
"I'd advise you don- MY LADY!"
Y/n had set off in a dead sprint, her small dagger in her hand. A sturdy blade, the handle carved intricately. A gift from Cregan, along with the lessons of how to use it.
Her guard followed behind her as she ran. 
She paused her steps at an all knowing sound.
Liquid hitting the floor behind her.
She turned her head slowly, unsure of what to expect. 
Her guard stood there in the dark, illuminated only by moonlight, a dark liquid spilling from his neck and onto the floor.
He fell to the ground dead, and another man stood behind him. 
Lord Bolton.
There was a bloodthirsty look in his eyes. For once, she felt fear in the home Cregan had made her. 
She stepped backwards carefully like a frightened rabbit that would run at any moment. 
Bolton stepped forward in tandem with her, his head cocked to the side. 
"Where ya going, pretty girl?"
The moment was now.
She fled as quickly as her legs would take her, anywhere but there. 
Consequentially, it was toward the sword fighting at hand. 
Through every dark hall, she prayed for a savior. Bolton was no doubt not far behind. 
So when she ran into her brick wall of a husband, she thanked the gods. 
His free hand reached up to her cheek, a touch of relief to both of them. "What are you doing, you foolish girl?" He yelled over the sounds. 
"I won't stay in my room while you're fighting for our home. What is happening?" She asked as she grabbed his arm in support. 
"Someone's betrayed us. I just don't know who-"
He paused as his eyes locked on something behind her. His chest puffed out as he spun his longsword, Ice, in his hand. "Lord Bolton."
Bolton stood confident, only a few feet behind Cregan's wife.
Cregan moved suddenly, grabbing Y/n's hip and practically shoving her behind him as he stepped forward to Bolton.
The two swords clash, and their fight began. 
Cregan was one of the best swordsman in Westeros. It was evident in his confidence behind the weapon, and the look he always gained in his eye. 
But the fight was cut short when a hand grabbed Y/n's dagger from her and the another hand pulled her hair. The dagger was then placed at her throat. She couldn't tell who it was, but judging by the burning sensation at her scalp and the knife to her neck, it was foe.
She cried out at the sudden pain when the hand tugged her hair, "Cregan!"
His head turned, and his eyes flooded with concern.
Bolton lowered his sword with a smirk, "Drop your sword, Lord Stark, and surrender Winterfell."
Cregan looked back and forth, a deep contemplation in his mind. "Let her go."
Bolton's smirk only grew, "I don't believe we shall."
Tears filled Y/n's eyes. 
Bolton moved passed Cregan and grabbed Y/n by the chin, pulling her to him. 
"A pretty wife you have, Stark," he mocked. "Don't you think?"
Cregan took an angered step forward, but stopped himself when Bolton pulled her closer to him. 
"Don't touch her," Cregan growled lowly.
Bolton let out a chuckle as more of his men appeared. "Tell me, Stark," he said as he studied the girl up and down, "Does she bed well?"
Cregan rushed forward in pure anger, Bolton's men moving forward to grab him, two to each arm and one wrestling Ice out of the Lord's hand. 
He grunted and yelled as they did so, "Don't fucking touch her!"
Y/n tried to pry Bolton's hands from her face, but to no avail. 
He took joy in her attempt to flee from him, "Tell me, girl. Do you bed well?"
Y/n spit at him, the saliva hitting his cheek. 
Bolton smirked widely as he wiped the spit from his cheek. He let go of her for just a moment to pull his hand back and slapped her across her cheek.
She fell to the ground with a shriek, covering her face.
Cregan began to yell now, "LET HER GO!"
"The Starks have ruled the North for generations. We've all been trampled on by their cold boots for far too long. I think it's time for a change." Bolton lightly kicked Y/n's leg as he stepped over her. He stood inches from Cregan's face in full confidence, "Surrender Winterfell to me."
"DON'T!" Y/n yelled from the ground.
"Quiet, girl."
Cregan's eyes moved back and forth from the man to his wife in contemplation. "And if I don't?"
Bolton knelt down and pulled Y/n up by the hair. He taunted the Stark, moving the girl's face close enough for her husband to feel her breath on his face. 
Cregan's eyes didn't stray from her when the proximity neared. He saw the fear that was evident in her eyes, and the angry red mark on her cheek.
"Bolton, we all know you'd be pummeled into the ground if I was not restrained currently."
Silence filled the entire hall, a strange feeling in the man's gut. 
Y/n's mouth moved, no voice coming out. She shook her head lightly, "don't. Please don't."
What were the man's choices truly? Either way, she would remain in danger. 
"Too late," Bolton sneered. 
He pulled the girl to his chest, yanking on her hair to make her look at him. His other hand caressed her face, "Be good for me, yes?"
Both of the Stark's brows furrowed at his words, but the confusion was quickly gone when Bolton quickly untied her robe.
Her hands moved to his to try to prevent him from moving further, but she was no match for the man. He grunted, "Don't fight me."
Her eyes moved to Cregan in pure fear.
Cold had never shivered through Cregan Stark. He had always thought that's how he knew he was meant to rule the North. But now that it moved down his spine uncomfortably, he began to question his right to Winterfell.
He immediately began to fight the men holding him down, "Stop. Stop now."
Bolton continued his movements against the woman. He practically wrestled her out of the robe, leaving her in her shift. 
His hands shot out and grabbed both of her wrists, keeping her there as he studied her lustfully. "Does Stark even know how to pleasure a pretty woman?"
Y/n found new strength at the questioning of her husband and she fought against his hold.
Bolton found joy in her fight and he pulled her to him. His voice spoke so quietly in her ear, that she had wondered if she'd heard him correctly, "Let me have you and I'll let him live."
She froze stiffly. It felt wrong. It all felt wrong, but what else could she do to save her husband?
She looked up at the evil lord, her thoughts racing before their lips connected.
Cregan roared, the men barely able to hold back the man's reckless movements, "YOU BASTARD! STOP!"
Y/n felt bile rise in her throat as she felt the man's hands wander. One of his hands moved up to her collarbone, moving the neckline of her nightgown until it was pulled taught at her shoulder. He then yanked, ripping it down her arm. 
She pulled away from him with a whine, pulling at the scraps of her sleeve, trying to cover herself. 
"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"  Cregan continued to roar.
Tears filled the girl's eyes as she sank to the floor in pure embarrassment. She began to lightly weep, holding her face in her hands. 
Bolton knelt down and cooed mockingly at her, "Oh, you poor little thing." His face hardened, "Some fucking Stark you are. Nothing toughens up a woman like a Bolton's seed."
Cregan stopped his fighting for a moment, his eyes beginning to take on a new flare of fire behind them.
When Bolton pulled her face up, his eyes glowed predatory, "I'll make sure carry as much of my seed as it takes to turn you to stone, girl."
His hands then moved back to her gown, pulling on it anywhere he could. 
She fought with what strength she had out of self-preservation. "STOP!" She cried. "Please," she began to beg, "Please stop."
Cregan was quick to move, overpowering the men from pure adrenaline. He began to swing at anything that was near him as his vision turned to a bright scarlet. 
He's not sure how, but he really came back to reality when he hit his knees on the floor, Bolton under him with a bloody nose. 
Cregan then grew a bright smile. He leaned down to the man's face, his voice low, "You touch my wife? I'm going to skin you alive and wear you as a fucking coat."
He began to swing at the man's face, not caring where the punches hit or how hard. The sight of more of the red liquid pooling around them only made him continue. 
"Cregan…?" Her voice rang out.
He snapped out of it. His head shot up in front of him. 
She sat against the wall, her clothes barely covering her, that much obvious by the shaking of her body- from the cold or fear, he wasn't sure. Tears still fell down her cheeks in a steady rhythm. 
Cregan looked down and determined Bolton was dead enough. 
He stood up, his muscles aching and his clothes stained in the bright color. 
He stepped to her and held his arms out, "C'mere."
She hiccuped and shook her head.
Disappointment ran across his face. He knelt down next to her and slowly pulled her limbs away from herself, making her open up to him both physically and mentally. 
She let him.
"Can I take you to bed?"
His voice was soft, sweet. Hoarse, but calm. A complete change to what it had been only moments before.
She immediately moved to him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his neck. 
"Love, I'm covered in-"
"-Don't care," her muffled voice spoke.
His kissed the side of her head, pulling his comforting arms around her waist. "I've gotcha."
"Are… are we going to be alright?" 
Cregan pulled her face away from him so he could look at her. His fingers brushed over her cheek. "I'll always make sure we are."
"Are you angry with me?"
He wanted to scoff, but he restrained himself. "No. No, my girl. I'm anything but."
She slowly inched her lips closer to his, as if waiting for him to decline her. 
He wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. 
Their lips connected softly, the two Starks finding love in the midst of death and destruction.
..................................................
Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest
Part 2
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the-monstermash · 3 months ago
Text
UNBROKEN BETROTHALS
Aemond Targaryen x Reader
Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken
Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language
Word Count: 2,187
> **A/N:** AHHHHHH this is my first character fic, and only the second one I've ever been brave enough to post! I also had to post this on mobile because my browser was being wild so sorry for any formatting issues!
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The sound of senseless fucking had never seemed to bother you. Easy to filter out, truthfully, and not as traveling as one would think it to be. No, there are many things worse, like for instance the smell. One never takes into account the smell of sex, much less the smell of alcohol fueled, desperate, old haggard men driving the last of their life-force into some disinterested cunny eager to make a coin. Eager to spend a coin, as well.
That's where you came in. Whores work up quite an appetite, one you are all too happy to satisfy, no pun intended. You'd been with Sylvi for years, after you'd run from your family in the dead of night, afraid of the life they'd planned for you.
"Everybody must eat," Sylvi sighed the night she met you, disinterested. "If you will not fuck, you will feed. We earn our keep around these parts, you'll do well to learn quickly."
That was the start of a very standoffish, albeit maternal, relationship. Sylvi had never truly cared for your company, but she cared for you, and that was more than many could say, and more than you could say of any kin. She had taken you in, given you shelter among her girls, and had asked very little of you, knowing your past. She'd seen you into young womanhood, and taught you all you wished to know about life. She was not coddling, nor cruel. She was just what you needed, and it seemed many shared the sentiment.
You were in a daydream as you went about your nightly tasks. The brothel would be closing in a few hours, the girls would need food, and you had really set into it, working quick and messily, spinning and turning about in an attempt to do too many things at once.
Just as you'd turned from the broth and made way to the oven, a wall had manifested itself and blocked your passage. No, not really a wall. Moreso a tree, in it's slender and sharp way. The branches had reached out to hold you, wrapping around your waist and breaking you from your reverie. Suddenly before you was a bare chest, pale in color and smooth like silk. He was taught with muscle, cut like marble. The kind of statue kings pay fortunes for, just to place in their hallway and walk past every morning.
"Sir, no one is meant in the kitchens." You had spoken before you'd had the chance to understand what you were saying, turning from him and back towards your oven to retrieve the loaves. "You'll need to return back to the brothel, Sylvi will not have men in her kitchen."
"'Twas Sylvi that sent me. I've come for wine." The voice was quiet, but in a way that made the ears strain to hear him, instead of drown him out.
Wine? Why would he not stop at the many*tables he'd have to pass to get here?You'd thought. This man must have ill intentions.
Slowly grabbing your bread knife, you turned your head to the side to face the intruder.
Prince Aemond Targaryen.
"My Prince! " The sound of metal rang through the room as you dropped the blade unto the table to turn fully towards him. "My sincerest apologies, my prince! Please forgive me, I had no idea!" You did your best curtsy, and prayed to the Seven that he wouldn't find me impertinent, and would be in a forgiving mood. What you'd just done could be viewed as treason, an attempt on the prince's life.
In the state he was in, which you had noticed, you surmised he just might be in a forgiving mood. He was nude from head to toe, his brow beaded from heat and, hopefully, exertion. The hook of his nose looked sharper as his purple eye followed it to look down at you. He was beautiful, almost overly so. It could only have been Prince Aemond, the eye patch gave him away, even though you'd never seen him before, you'd be a fool not to know the stories of the one-eyed prince. And you'd known him to be a rather fond client of Sylvi's, as she boasted often to the other girls at dinner.
His presence there in your safe haven was unnerving, and once again the sounds of debauchery were drowned out, but now it was as if he'd sucked the noise from the room. He was too tall for the room, it was not made for him. What would a kitchen made for a God even look like? The very notion to build such a thing seemed almost blasphemous to you. He was looking at you like you didn't even exist, almost through you. His stare was too deep for that of a stranger, but perhaps he had to look so intensely because his lack of an eye.
He finally cleared his throat, as if it would've pained him to repeat himself.
"The wine, yes. We are a humble establishment, so you will have to be forgiving with our selection. I'll have our best sent to you at once!" And with that, he let out a low hum and left you to your duties.
You'd quickly managed a carafe and two goblets, and sent it through with a boy, with strict instructions to deliver it to the prince. You'd have delivered it yourself, but as you did not know where he was, and did not have the time searching the brothel for him, you'd relented to send it through a lord's boy, and hope he was competent enough to manage it.
As the sounds died out from the front of the house, you'd began shuffling out with bowls of broth and loaves for the girl. They took it gratefully, each dropping two coins in your hands and sitting to eat, sharing small talk and whatever gossip they had learned from their clients.
"Ser Lannister had quite a bit to share tonight. He speaks of war. Do you know what war means?" Lauryn spoke excitedly.
"Rapers." Another girl, Cate called from farther away, monotone. "Foreign men coming into the city in siege, taking over the villages."
"It means more clients, Cate." Sylvi's voice quickly silenced the small talk, as she walked to the table and sat, ready to be served her complimentary meal. Her place at the table, as always, was already set, and she reached for her wine immediately. "War means the king calls for more men. They leave their wives, and with no one to warm their bed, they come to us."
"Precisely." Lauryn agreed readily. "If war comes, I welcome it. I don't give a shit who sits the throne, as long as the crown prospers enough to put gold in my pocket." She lifted her goblet, a smirk on her face at her own clever musing.
"I'll drink to that." Another girl called from the back, which caused an rupture of quiet laughter through the room.
As you passed to fill an empty cup, Sylvi grabbed you arm, and pulled you in close enough to whisper.
"I require a moment with you." At your confirming nod, she raised from her seat and left to her room. You were quick to follow, leaving the carafe with the girls, who took it readily and saluted your departure.
Once in her lavish rooms, Sylvi sat at her vanity and peered at you through the mirror, an air of drama filled the room and caused you to rock on your toes in an attempt to soothe yourself.
"I see you've met the Prince."
Oh. You'd thought surely this would be a serious conversation, but as you had spoken so few words to the man, you could not see how possibly she could have taken issue with your conversation. Unless the prince had told her about your grabbing the knife, in which you were in deep shit.
"Yes, ma'am." You sat in an armchair and folded your hands in your lap. "He came to ask for wine, and I had some sent with a squire, I believe."
"He seemed to take a liking to you." She brushed off your words just as she now did her hair, her lips pressed into a tight line that betrayed her nonchalant tone. "He asked for you, the next time he graced us with his patronage."
Your throat tightened and your stomach lurched. This can't be. Your conversations were short, and you had nearly insulted him, and then only half obeyed his order by sending someone in your stead with the wine. Perhaps he hoped for a moment alone so he could punish you for your insolence. Perhaps he was just playing at a joke, and Sylvi had taken it for more than he had meant it. Though he did not seem to you a joking type, and Sylvi seemed sure in her words.
Would she sell you to the prince? It hardly seemed as though you would be in a position to refuse, should he insist on a private meeting with you. But perhaps Sylvi had a sway with the prince that others did not.
"I...don't understand, ma'am. I do not-"
"Of course, I told him you were not that type of girl." She reassured. "He listens to me, you know. I'm one of the only he bears his heart to." Her voice took on a dreamier tone. "I'm the only woman he's known."
"I had no idea." I spoke distantly, still reeling at the idea of being asked for personally, and by a man of such high standing.
"What did you say to him? When he came to the kitchens. I sent him for wine, and he comes back without wine, and with a sudden interest in you" She turns around now, her eyes appraising and scrutinizing.
"I did not say anything, ma'am. I had mistaken him for a mere lord at first, I told him to leave. And then he ordered the wine, and I told him it would be done! I promise, there was nothing untoward, and no advances."
You spoke at a mile a minute to plead your case. It was clear this woman had an attachment to the prince, and you would not give the impression that you were there to threaten it. Sylvi was a kind woman, but a burn so scalding might just scorch her heart enough to cast you out.
"I swear it to you, ma'am. I've no interest in the prince, and he none in me. If anything, he only wishes to punish me privately for the way I behaved before I knew he was the prince." She nodded at your words.
"Nonetheless, I let him know you were not available. He did not take the refusal well, but such is his way. Dragons are not used to the word 'no'." She readjusted and smiled at you. "It's nothing to worry at, my dear. Just go about your duties, and do not speak to the prince again. He'll forget you in time." You nodded and stood to leave.
"Thank you. You've done such a kindness for me, and I owe you my life. I would never make such a slight against you, please know that." Her dismissing nod and small tired smile was enough for you to turn and take your leave.
The women had filled their bellies of wine and broth, and some began to make way to their beds, others staying around to gossip. You approached the lingering girls, grabbing a loaf from the table and sitting on a chair to eat.
"So, will you?" Lauryn, who still remained, asked you, as if the incomplete question was all you needed to know. When you only responded with a questioning look, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Will you fuck him? Everyone here heard the prince and Sylvi's clash. He wanted you. He begged for you!" The other girls began giggling and wiggling their eyebrows at you. "It drove her mad! He doesn't want her anymore."
"Not wanting Sylvi is one thing, but wanting you is another." Another girl, Maria, a Dornish delicacy, played with her hair as she spoke with a natural coolness. "If you don't want to, of course you shouldn't, but you should consider it. A prince would pay handsomely, perhaps even enough for you to move on."
"I would not do that to Sylvi, I would not do it at all. I wouldn't even know how, I'm not versed in the...fetishes of men."
"She told him such, but he would not hear it. He asked for an exception to be made, perhaps a private arrangement. If anything, it seemed to appeal to him more, knowing you were still untouched." Lauryn jumped back in, eager to return back to her teasing.
"I would only lay with a man I chose. I did not have the option before I left home, but I do now, and I will choose myself who I bed." And with that, you stood to leave, retiring to your room for the night.
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scarletcomalies · 4 months ago
Text
soul bounds intertwined
Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader
Part I, Part II
Word count: 5,864
Warnings: Ghosting, public confrontation and fighting, Billy being an idiot. 18+ content, degrading, pet names, magic strap that Wanda can feel as if it's real, blowjob (W. receiving), oral (R. Receiving), strap-on usage (R. receiving), taking Polaroid pictures while doing it, slapping, overstimulation, fingering, squirting aftercare.
Taglist: @alexawynters @ageofolsen @imjustvibingsworld @huggingkoalas @unadulteratedballoonduck @megsheather @kimiisims-blog @morganismspam23 @reginassweetheart @vyvvycg @cindyangelicss @newyork1432 @imaginaryblogger01 @sleepless-cloudy @starryskiesandboys
A/N: This is it. I cannot begin to express how unbelievably happy it makes me to see all the love you gave to this trilogy 🥹 I also had a good laugh as I read the frustrated reblogs on part II MWAHAHA!!! Hope you like this last one part. Thank you 3000 once again. 💓
Following the incidents at the Maximoff residence, you thought that Wanda had completely cut you out of her life. However, a few months later, she reached out to you, pulling you into a situation that would lead to unforeseen twists and turns.
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You couldn't recall the last time you ran as if your life depended on it.
Your best guess was when you accidentally set the treadmill to 24 kilometers per hour, and while you were figuring out where the button to slow down was, you had to keep that pace so as not to fall.
However, the adrenaline that coursed through your veins the instant Wanda laid her hands and lips on you for the first time, followed by her command for you to leave, was so inmense that it was no wonder your body mistook it for danger, screaming for you to escape immediately.
And you obeyed, running to your car as if Wanda was chasing you with a knife, determined to snatch your destiny and your future in a matter of seconds, when in reality, she remained static. She didn't move an inch from where she left you, but her gaze haunted you all the way home.
You could still feel it piercing right at the back of your mind, causing this sensation to send unconscious impulses to your body, such as occasionally checking the backseat through the rearview mirror, when you knew there was no one but you in the car.
You scarcely noticed when you arrived at your apartment or when you collapsed onto your bed. Your mind was too tangled in a whirlwind of confusion and shock to be mindful of your own actions.
What did this mean for you and Wanda? Was there any way to turn back from this? Questions raced through your mind, but one fact stood amongst all of those uncertainties: things would never be the same again.
Three long months where your mind pirouetted through endless what-ifs.
What if you had turned down Billy's advances from the start? What if you had been more discreet about taking those photographs? What if you had never blurted out the confession Wanda had forced from you? What if you had stayed, on your knees, begging for her forgiveness, instead of running away as though your feelings were a crime?
Despite your mind's endless wanderings, your thoughts unavoidably drifted back to the same place; her lips on yours, like a forbidden fruit that was worth all of your sinning.
Oh, how intoxicatingly wet they felt, how expertly her tongue and hands managed to cast a spell of desire that tormented your very existense, driving you to a fervor that dangerously danced on the edge of madness.
And so you made Herculean efforts with words, devoting at least two hours each week to finding new ways to let Wanda know that you never intended for this situation to escalate like it did, yet none succeeded reaching to her distant heart.
It was painfully clear that just one response from her could end this torment, yet she played a cruel game of a calculated and well-deserved revenge.
She didn't block you. That would have been a closure, a clear statement she wanted nothing more to do with you. Instead, she left you on read immediately, ensuring there was no doubt she was ignoring you. She left you hanging on a thread of false hope, teasing you with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it'll be different next time.
Her behavior was akin to that of a prepotent God, relishing in the power to decide whether to answer the prayers of her humble believers or subject them to the agony of her indifference.
It took you long enough to realize you wouldn't have any of it anymore. You dared to test the predictability of her cruel game, refusing to give her power over you any longer.
Fortunately for you, in the third month since you last saw her —from which a month and a half you spent without writing to her— you received a call from her.
You let it go to voicemail twice, so as not to seem too eager to hear from her, and finally called her back the next day.
"Oh, so fast you were answering my calls before, and now you want to play hard?" Was the first thing she said to you.
You rolled your eyes.
How dare she protest for it when she had you drifting and yearning for so long?
"What do you need?" You asked in as neutral a tone as possible. You weren't going to answer in annoyance, or it would mean you were still affected by this whole situation.
"You're going to show up at the meeting Tony Stark organized, at the Avengers Compound, remember it was a pending thing?" It wasn't a request, it was an order. "This time, I'm bringing the boys, and you're going to tell Billy everything. Everything, (Y/N)."
You scoffed, both indignant and surprised. The latter due to the fact that Wanda might not have told Billy about what had happened.
"You never told him yourself?" You inquired, curiosity getting the better of you.
"I don't have the heart to tell him," she replied. "But I suppose you do, since you had the heart to do what you did."
You were going to justify yourself immediately, but stopped midtracks. You weren't going to sound like a broken record, repeating the same old story to her again.
"And if I refuse?" You challenged her.
"I can ruin things for you beyond repair," Wanda responded confidently. "Your career, your reputation, you name it. Don't underestimate what I'm capable of when pushed."
Her words cut through any defiance you might have felt, leaving you defeated and humiliated, just like that night.
Maybe it was abuse of power, but you brought this upon yourself, and she just wanted to make sure you paid for hurting someone she loved. You would have done the same, and you adored her even more for that.
At your silence, she added, "And bring all the photographs you took of me. I don't want to give you the pleasure of having a single trace of me after this."
And that's how you ended up at the Avengers Compound, Upstate New York.
If your nerves weren't consuming your stomach like a potent acid burner, you would have appreciated much more the fresh air outside the building, and how silence finally prevailed in your surroundings, the hectic sounds of the crowded city now long gone.
"Ready?" Kate asked, looking at you with a sheepish, concerned look once she pulled the handbrake.
"Yeah," you replied amidst a deep breath that you didn’t even know for how long you’ve been holding.
While you both stepped out of Kate’s car, the weight of your hand purse almost pulled you back into the seat, knowing that two things in there held the delicate fate of your relationship with Wanda and of your career.
It contained your lipstick, your phone, and all the photographs, along with a letter that would be a last attempt to clear things up.
At the front door, a female voice through a screen asked for your name and Kate's, and once it was given, she replied: "You're on the list. Welcome, (Y/N) and Kate."
You held your hand purse tightly, as you walked to the elevator and Kate pressed the floor's button. The only audible sound on the way upstairs was the click of your heel anxiously tapping against the floor, and your heavy breathing.
"Easy, you find Billy, tell him, 'Hey, I liked your mom all this time, you just were delusional,' give the pictures and letter to Wanda, take my car, and get out," Kate tried to cheer you up, making it sound as simple as she was telling it, when to you, it was a life-or-death feat.
You laughed more out of commitment than anything else.
There was no point in contradicting her words if the elevator opened within two seconds of her finishing her sentence.
You spotted Wanda almost immediately.
She was standing near the entrance, her posture rigid, and her eyes immediately fixed on you with an intensity that could burn a hole right through you and all the walls of the building together. The way she looked at you so quickly revealed that she was watching the elevator every time it opened, waiting for you.
Kate patted you on the back, and headed off to where Yelena would be.
Lucky her, she would spend the night with her girlfriend, while you were anticipating to drown in your own tears before falling asleep, knowing that you had ruined any chance with the first person who had set a warming fire in your heart, now a conflagration of despair and yearning.
With every step you took her way, your legs felt like they might give out beneath you, but you forced yourself to keep moving, closing the distance between you and Wanda.
"Wanda", you greeted her and nodded in acknowledgement of the person she was talking to. You recognized him immediately from the old pictures rummaging online of Wanda and her ex-partner. Despite his imposing figure, he was just a blurry silhouette that you didn't bother to focus on until you had him in front of you. "Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N).”
"Ah, (Y/N)," he exclaimed with a smile. "I'm Vision, Tommy and Billy's father. I'm pleased you could make it. The boys are over there at the middle table."
"That's a good idea," Wanda said. "Why don't you go with Billy? I'm sure you have a lot to discuss."
You tried to resist rolling your eyes at her sarcastic statement.
"I would prefer to speak with you first," you replied, failing to maintain eye contact with her, still appearing like a nervous lamb.
"I will consider it, after you do what I asked," she replied, turning her attention back to Vision as a way to cut conversation. The latter appeared perplexed, but perhaps Wanda would prefer to avoid the situation or lie about it, which you thanked.
Your steps towards Billy's table felt lighter, which indicated that you were far more concerned about exchanging a simple greeting with Wanda than you were about confessing to Billy that your feelings were for his mother and not him. Once again, it was evident that you cared about her more than you ever did for Billy.
"(Y/N)! Hey!" Billy greeted you with a smile, moving quickly to embrace you. "Oh, I missed you so much. What happened? My mom said you and her had an argument, but never specified why, and always gets pissed off when I ask her."
You reciprocated the embrace, unconsciously offering an apology in advance for what were going to be your next words.
"Hi," you replied, giving him a light touch on the back. “Uhm, that’s true, actually, that’s why I’m—"
"Hi, you," Tommy approached you before you could reply, and offered you a less invasive hug than his brother’s. "You know? I recently saw the infamous Kate Bishop,” he chuckled.
You joined him in laughter, appreciating his presence as a source of comfort. This brief conversation felt like a stop to the train of thought that was threatening to run over you.
"If you would like, I can arrange an introduction," you offered him, shrugging briefly. "Not with that intention, of course, but you would gain a friend. A great one."
"I'm game for new friends, always," he agreed, taking a sip of his beverage. You proceeded to walk with Tommy following you, and you noticed that Billy was completely ignored by both of you, being left behind sitting at the table by himself.
What if, during the lively twenty-minute conversation between you, Tommy, Kate, and Yelena, you had taken just half a minute to ask him to join? Everything would have been different.
"Excuse me," your smile faded and your voice trembled when your gaze fell on Billy. He had the letter in his hands and all the photographs scattered all over the table.
You had left your hand purse on there, and it was inevitable that Billy would be so curious to look through it.
A lump formed in your throat as you watched helplessly as he examined the contents of the letter with increasing astonishment.
Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest when you realized that he had discovered your deepest secret, and you no longer had a chance to find a way to reveal it in the less hurtful way that could ever occur to you. That possibility slipped like sand through your fingers.
You rushed towards the table. Every step you took felt like torture. As if you were running a ten-kilometer marathon instead of crossing a few metres.
“Billy…” you breathed, a whisper so barely audible that you hoped it would vanish in the air before the inevitable storm swept through.
His fingers trembled on the vertical edges of the piece of paper, now mostly crumbled by the force with which he held it.
Billy Maximoff had always lived in the shadow of his mother’s fame and his twin brother's effortless charm. In that dim corner, he was often overlooked.
Therefore, when he saw your letter, where you expressed regret for using Billy to reach his mother, but admitted you felt no remorse for how her lips had kissed yours with such fervor that night after the bonfire, it struck him like a frigid, merciless wave crashing over him, leaving him breathless and reeling.
A guttural, angry growl erupted from his throat, resonating with such intensity that it caught the attention of everyone present, including Wanda.
Subsequently, he threw the photographs all over the floor, scattering them like autumn leaves blown by a tempest.
His eyes, once filled with affection, now burned with betrayal as they landed on you. However, what caused an icy tendril of fear to coil around your stomach was those sacred photographs, completely exposed for others to see.
You took a step to retrieve the photographs, but a firm hand clasped around your arm, making you gasp in protest, but overall, disbelief. His grip was a desperate, silent warning for you to confront the shattered trust before you, instead of safeguarding your own dignity.
"How could you do this to me?" He questioned. He breathed heavily, each choppy exhale escaping through trembling lips. His brows furrowed in anguish, adorned the torment in his glassy eyes.
You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. All you could do was stand there, frozen, as now Billy's eyes were just one of the many pairs that fixated on you.
"Answer me!" Billy’s voice echoed through the room.
"I'm so sorry, Billy," you whispered, but the words felt shallow and inadequate.
Wanda's eyes bore into you from across the room, her expression unreadable, yet you knew she was waiting for the fallout.
Billy shook his head, as he laughed sarcastically.
“’Sorry’? Really?” His voice climbed in pitch, raw with fury. “You used me. You lied to me. And for what? To get close to my mom? MY MOM! HOW FUCKING SICK IS THAT?”
You turned around, your gaze sweeping over the room, and the collective shock on everyone’s faces nearly made you crumble right there.
But before you could fully grasp the gravity of their reactions, Billy grabbed your face with a tight grip, and pulled you closer, forcing you to look back at him, demanding your full attention.
“Look at me,” he rasped, his voice breaking with pain. “This is about the pain you caused me, not them.”
Kate, who had been watching every moment with a readiness to intervene and protect you if necessary, rushed to you both in alarm as soon as Billy’s hands gripped your face so violently.
With a sudden, forceful motion, she wrenched Billy’s hands away from you.
“You're fucking done, you hear me, asshole?” Kate hissed, towering over him as she created a protective barrier between you and Billy.
The latter whimpered in pain, a sound that spurred Wanda into action, her own distress evident as she rushed forward.
“That's enough!” Wanda exclaimed, a red wisp of magic surrounding Kate's hand and Billy's wrist in order to prevent her to cause him more pain. In consequence, Kate clenched her jaw in defeat, for she knew better than to defy someone as powerful as Wanda Maximoff.
You didn’t even notice when Natasha Romanoff appeared at your side, wrapping her arm around you with a firm, yet gentle hold.
“You’ve explained yourself,” the redhead said softly, her voice felt like the calm amidst the storm. “Let him handle the truth on his own. Let’s go…”
You were about to comply, the pull of Natasha's presence giving you the courage to leave everything behind for good.
But Billy’s last, scathing remark stopped you in your tracks.
“Oh, great! So now Mommy’s going to fix everything for me?” He snapped. “Isn’t that just perfect? Always stepping in to save the day while I get to deal with the mess you made!”
Her eyes widened in a heart-shattering mixture of confusion and sorrow. Her features altogether conformed what could be best described as the ultimate portrait of devastation.
No wonder. The sole purpose of forcing you to confess your mistakes to Billy was so you could face the consequences, and leavr you with a heavy conscience, never once imagining that she would be cast as a villain in her own son’s eyes.
And even though Wanda blatantly defended her son against your best friend —who was, in turn, protecting you from Billy’s wrath—, you couldn’t fight against the sympathy at such a heartache.
"Billy, I consider you a very dear friend, and I never meant to hurt you," you spoke up, stepping next to Wanda, implicitly offering her your inconditional support. “But my feelings for Wanda... they were never meant to deceive or harm you. I understand if you can't forgive me, but please know that it’s not her fault.”
"I think it's best if we all take a moment to breathe," Vision interjected calmly, stepping forward. "Emotions are high right now, and we need clarity to understand each other." His calm voice stood out against the atmosphere around you.
You knew that he and Wanda had drifted apart due to the demands of their lives; his Avenger missions and her career had led them in different directions. Their breakup was friendly, a mutual recognition that their paths no longer matched. Still, it was impressive how Vision maintained his composure, given the situation's nature.
Wanda nodded in agreement.
"Billy, let's talk privately. This isn't something we should handle in front of everyone."
“Oh, yes, that’s because you don’t want your superhero friends to know how you kissed (Y/N) right after I went to sleep that night, isn't that right?” He scoffed.
Although you didn't turn to check everyone's reaction, you could perfectly picture the shock once more evident on their faces, now at the possibility that maybe Wanda felt the same.
But unlike last time, where everyone decided to remain silent and play dumb, Tony spoke up from the table, “So what, kid? Good for them, now move the fuck on,” he groaned, his voice dripping with irritation that his friendly reunion had turned into a whole drama show.
“I did it to force her to confess,” Wanda justified. “And to punish her for hurting you.”
Billy’s gaze was skeptical, as he raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t feel anything when you did that.”
Wanda’s resolve fell apart at that very question. Her eyes flickered away from his intense stare, enough to confirm what Billy had feared all along.
You were overpowered by a bliss so intense it seemed to permeate every fiber of your being, immediately making you forget the pain and despair that took place these last months.
“See?” Billy’s voice rose. “I wanted a chance to be happy, to be seen for once, and you took that away from me," he choked out, his voice breaking.
“Oh, Billy, I can’t take away what you didn’t have in the first place,” she scoffed. Her sadness was now replaced by a fierce anger.
She always felt exasperated at how her son had consistently drowned himself in self-pity, ever since he made the decision to age-skip. This wasn't the first time he manipulated every situation to fit his narrative. And this was the last straw for her.
“Ohhh, you think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you?” He spat, stepping close to her. “DON'T YOU?” And in a sudden outburst, Billy shoved Wanda with a force that sent her crashing to the floor.
The room gasped collectively at his gesture, and that was when everyone decided to take action instead of just being mere expectants.
You dropped to your knees, feeling both worried and enraged. The intensity of your indignation seemed to be making the ground beneath you tremble.
How could Billy not recognize the suffering he was causing to his own mother? Why was his need for validation bigger than his capacity to rationalize?
Tommy Maximoff: Yelena and I watched everything escalate so quickly, and we agreed not to get involved if we didn't have to. My father, Natasha and Kate were alert, and my mother has dealt with a thousand times worse than some whiny college boy (pauses) but seeing how that idiot pushed my mother, and wanted to degrade her like that?! All of a sudden, my fist collided with his face.
Tony Stark: Looking back, maybe this whole scene could have made a good dramatic painting (chuckles). I mean... Yelena, Kate, Natasha and this photographer girl giving moral support to Wanda at a table in the corner, while she allowed her son to get his comeuppance for being such a brat. Meanwhile, Tommy hitting Billy so hard it took Vision, Clint and I to separate them.
Tommy Maximoff: Even I'm shocked at the fact that it took my father, Hawkeye, and Iron Man to separate me from him. I guess I had a lot of pent up anger, and that moment was my breaking point.
Wanda Maximoff: Why did I allow it? The answer is simple; I gave up and even made the person I loved suffer in order to give my son his place. And what did he do? He made showed me in every way possible that I was a disgrace to him for the simple fact of having given birth to him. Well, if that's the case, good riddance.
Pepper Potts: Oh, what I'm missing by accompanying Peter (Parker) to a debate in Germany (laughs).
Vision: After the incident, Billy has not contacted us again. He thinks he's an outlaw, and we'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I'll just say that at least he is managing to make a name out of himself like he so badly wanted.
(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I hope he's going to therapy!
Wanda Maximoff: What did (Y/N) and I do after it all ended? We went to my room, at the Compound, and… I’ll keep the rest to myself.
"Please, I'll be a good girl," you whimpered, looking up at her with trembling lips and pleading eyes.
She had you kneeling between her legs as she sat on the edge of her bed. You couldn't handle all the torturing teasing she was putting you through, as she smacked her faux cock against your lips, and every time you tried to welcome it into your mouth, she pulled it back, only to repeat the process again.
"Oh, you already are," Wanda breathed, leaning very close to your lips that you could feel the lingering smell of wine on her breath. "But Mommy wants more than just a good girl. She wants a naughty little slut who does anything to please her.”
Before you could moan in response at the nickname she gave herself, she attacked your mouth in an aggressive kiss. At this point, your jaw was sore from so much movement and your lips were swollen, but you wouldn't have it any other way. You had found home on her lips once and you were finally back.
"I’ll make you feel good, I promise, just let me," you pleaded, your mouth watering due all the panting from the anticipation. 
She gave in to the sight of those puppy eyes, swollen lips, and that upper body covered in hickies. Soon enough, she gently guided your head towards her strap, her hands resting on either side of your head. 
“Suck on me. Show me what you're made of.”
Her breathing quickened as your mouth worked its way down her cock. Her hips began to rock, seeking more contact. It was evident that with very little stimulation, she let her guard down, no longer caring to hide how weak she truly was for you.
You gagged at the intrusion but took it as best as you could, even though your eyes were beginning to water.
Just like the merciless woman she has demonstrated you she was, far from going easy on you, she gripped the back of your head, holding you in place.
Perhaps it was because it had been an incredibly long time since she had allowed herself to attend to her carnal needs, or perhaps it was because she found herself utterly and irresistibly attracted to you, or maybe it was a combination of both. 
Whatever the reason, the coil forming on her stomach overwhelmed her, and before she could even notice, the intense wave of pleasure caused her to spurt her hot cum into your mouth, leaving her breathless and trembling.
"Oh fuck," she groaned, riding herself out of her orgasm, giving you little to no participation. Simply using you as a face to get off to. 
You did your best to swallow every single drop she gave you, however a few drops trailed on your chin, and a little bit down on your neck.
Wanda grinned in satisfaction as she looked down at you.
None of your partners or hookups have ever taken the time to simply gaze down at you with anything more than burning desire. They always seemed to be in a rush, their eyes filled with nothing but lust and impatience. 
Wanda was different nevertheless. She seemed genuinely proud, filled with a warmth and admiration that made you feel truly seen and appreciated for the very first time.
"Good girl," she said, reaching out to wipe her cum off with her thumb. She then stuck it into your mouth, and watched you suck it clean. “And you know what good girls deserve after such a delicious treat?"
"What, Mommy?" You asked excitedly. 
"Their reward," Wanda purred, leaning down to kiss you passionately while her fingers trailed down your neck, and gripped it gently. "My little cum-slut deserves some good fucking.”
Wanda gave a quick beckon, motioning for you to get on your feet. You had barely stood up completely, when she gripped your hips tightly with her strong hands and forced you under her. Her superhuman force made you so featherlight in comparison to her, allowing her to have complete control over your movements, leaving no doubt about who was in charge in that moment.
The tip of her cock gently brushed against your entrance making you both shiver at the mere thought of what was about to happen.
She slowly thrust her hips forward, slowly penetrating you with her strap. 
You shut your eyes tight in response, gasping at how exquisite but painful it was to have your tiny hole stuffed by her massive cock. 
"There, you're doing well, baby,'" she said, caressing your cheek as a display of encouragement. “Do you need to stop?” She asked attentively. 
You shook your head in refusal, choosing instead to grasp her shoulders firmly, seeking something to anchor yourself to. The harshness of your touch brought a smile to her face, lighting up her eyes with a spark of joy at your silent approval. 
She slowly picked up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder into you. 
The slapping of your bodies, the headboard clashing against the wall, and your mutual panting and moaning were the only sounds echoing through Wanda’s spacious room at the compound. 
Your eyes squeezed shut, a chaotic blend of screams and moans escaping your lips as you dangerously hung on the edge of tears. 
She looked down at you, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, her eyes shimmering with delight as you writhed beneath her. 
"That's it," her hips slammed against yours with a fierce intensity. In response, she could feel your nails digging into her back, leaving angry red marks that would soon blossom into bleeding scratches. 
"Fuck... FUCK! I'm gonna cum! I need to cum," you screamed, not fighting against the tears any longer. 
"Cum for me, darling," she accentuated each worth with a single thrust. One of her hands reached between your legs, roughly massaging your clit with her thumb, determined to tear you apart through every single nerve ending that could occur to her.  
You screamed loudly, your walls squeezing her cock as you came hard. She could feel your juices flowing down her bedsheets, coating them in a warm sheen. Her seed didn't take much longer to fill you up, pushing against you as it spilled into every crevice of your pussy.
As her orgasm subsided, Wanda slowly pulled out of you, her dick slipping wetly from your hole. 
"Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now," she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Just then, an idea sparked in her mind. "Stay right there," she commanded, climbing off you.
You watched, breathless, as she stood up, her strap glistening and even dripping with both of your releases.  
She opened a drawer and retrieved a Polaroid camera. 
"What? You're not the only one who owns one,” she stated, a playful smirk on her lips as she gauged at your surprised expression. 
She lay on her stomach, the camera positioned between your pussy and her face. With a playful grin, she snapped a picture, capturing the sight of your hole still dripping with your shared juices. The blinding flash it possessed would illuminate every detail and highlight the intensity of what you both had just experienced. 
She slid a single finger inside you, provoking your walls to swallow her without hesitation once more, making you arch your back in response to the pleasure coursing through you.
She couldn't resist taking another picture, the mesmerizing sight too beautiful to pass up.
She growled in desperate need, setting the camera aside as she flipped you on all fours, her eyes glinting with desire as she admired the view you presented. She as well switched her position, this time beneath you, guiding you to lower yourself onto her face.
As you settled in, she slipped two fingers inside you, curling them in a come-hither motion that provoked you to grip her hair desperately, the headboard being too far away for you to hold onto it.
However, she continued her ministrations, seemingly unbothered and even excited by your aggressive treatment.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you weren't even able to make a single sound as your breath cut down in your throat. You felt a tightness in your chest, and each second seemed to stretch into an eternity. All you could focus on was the intense feeling restricting your ability to breathe.
"S-s-stop! STOP!" She knew from your irregular breath and whimpering what was about to happen.
She would happily embrace whatever reaction you would have. However she wanted to teach you that you didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not through reassuring words but through desperation. 
Therefore, she slowed down her fingers, upom hearing your warning. She took her fingers out of you, pulling her hand out and slapping your ass. 
“Are you sure, baby?” She asked. 
"Fuck... no," you exclaimed, the feeling of your walls clenching at the lack of her fingers was too unbearable to handle. 
She chuckled and moved back to your entrance, finger fucking you senseless with a slow but hard pace. 
To her dislike, she eventually noticed that you were holding back again, and her irritation increased. She wanted you to let go, to embrace the experience fully, and she was ready to do whatever it took to guide you there.
"Baby, if you don't cum right now, I'm going to spank you so hard you won't be able to walk for a month," Wanda threatened. She reached around and pinched your clit, making you gasp as she continued fucking you.
“Mmm, here it comes,” you warned her, a whimper escaping from your lips as you prepared to unleash the inevitable. 
With a dramatic flourish, you tilted your head back, watching as your squirt arced out of your cunt like a shimmering comet, a cascade of droplets splashing across Wanda's face, not leaving an inch unsoaked.
You took a few deep breaths, defeatedly laying on your back next to her, leaving your tits and stomach on her sight, as well as your well-fucked pussy. 
And as if you were made of the most fragile crystal, she pulled the bedsheets from under you, enveloping both of you under the warmth of her bedsheets. 
The sudden shift of treatment caught you off guard, and before you knew it, she had you pulled back against her chest, the sweat of her body mixing with yours.
You could hear her rapid heartbeat. It was both comforting and electrifying, grounding your once racing heart into finding its rhythm again.
"I've got you, little one," she whispered softly in your ear. “I'm not letting you go, ever again,” she vowed, leaving open mouthed kisses on your forehead. 
And she held onto that promise. Forever.
The next day, the soft rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, emanating a warm glow in the room. 
You stirred awake to the gentle sensation of little kisses peppering your face. The older woman beside you, with her playful affection, made you wrinkle your nose in that adorable way that never failed to make her smile.
"How are you feeling, love?" She asked softly, her concern for you palpable both in her tone and expression.
"Wonderful," you replied, stretching your limbs with a lazy grace. You leaned in and pressed your lips against hers. "And you? Did you sleep well?"
"As I’ve ever slept in my life," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and something deeper. "I want to shout to the rooftops how much I love you, how profoundly you mean to me."
Wanda loved you. Truly, deeply loved you. 
What had transpired the night before was not merely a release of carnal desires; it was an intimate, powerful affirmation of connection, a way of claiming you as hers. 
"I love you more," you replied, your heart threatening to come out of your chest, as it was not yet used to this level of bliss. 
You pressed another kiss to her lips, pouring every ounce of your feelings into that simple peck.
"I have faith in us, in all of this," she said, her voice determined yet filled with vulnerability. "After everything that happened, would you give me a chance?" You could see the sincerity in her eyes, the longing for a future together. 
"Absolutely, my darling," you reached out, taking her hand in yours reassuringly. Two souls intertwining like an ivy growing over a sturdy stone. 
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southernsmokebbq · 2 years ago
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bitchimasnake-sss · 5 months ago
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YOUR YUJI FIC WAS SO YUMMY 😳 I would love a part 2 if you’re ever up for writing it! 🥹
GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM THE FUCKING DEAD. ME. ME. I AM BACK AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH (im sorry i just missed writing). well, anyways, with me comes the power of horny <3
ps: this took me fucking four days to write and i don't even think it's good 😭😭 writers block is a bitch
🧸learning some lessons ft. yuuji itadori!
continuation of my previous fic "teaching some lessons", so, i suggest read that first to ensure you're fully immersed into the horny storyline. set-up: yuuji itadori. the quarterback, the guy you're giving "sex ed" lessons, and ofcourse, the brother of your childhood best friend sukuna. what could ever go wrong with this combination? nothing, i hope? warnings: contains nsfw concepts such as yuuji's first time, overstimulation, penetration, a bit of porn logic. and as always, sukuna, nobara and megumi are fucking menaces. stay blessed y'all, and minors DO NOT INTERACT I WILL FIND YOU AND HUNT YOUR ASSES. [ALSO A LITTLE BIT OF TOJI AND GOJO SLANDER IM SORRY] wc: 6.4k porn with A LOT of plot [like 70% plot im sorry]
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"dude." megumi's usual nonchalant demeanor had faded in a matter of seconds. now, each of his drawled out words had a certain twinge of dread, "this is actually fucking insane."
"hm?" the pink-haired quarterback didn't even bother to dignify his best friend's statement with a proper answer. he was too busy rapidly pressing the controls, trying to get the shots right.
but megumi's hand had gone slack, the controller barely held limply in his palm. he turned to stare down the forementioned pink-headed idiot. he repeated himself, "yuuji."
"gumi—" yuuji hissed back, "we're losing, fucking focus."
"you just told me that you're fucking sukuna's best friend. her." megumi deadpanned, "the only thing i need to focus on is arranging your funeral."
yuuji hissed through his teeth as his player got shot right in the head and a definitive 'GAME OVER' flashed all across the tv screen. he sunk backwards into the comfortable couch at the fushiguro household. megumi shifted backwards too, slumping next to his best friend with a resigned sigh.
the house was eerily quiet, save for the sounds of the background score of the game playing in the background. yuuji knew tsumiki was out shopping with her friends, and gojo was out annoying the hell out of someone or the other (possibly, coach nanamin). who else was to be considered in the fushiguro household? toji fushiguro? he was an enigma. he came when he felt like and left just as soon. a model poster boy for giving people daddy issues, yuuji presumed.
"have i told you your couch is super nice?" yuuji asked as he stared at the overhead lighting before sweeping his gaze over the modern living room.
"multiple times."
the quarterback snorted, "you remember the time i got drunk—"
"—and tried to take the couch home. yes, i do. i also remember the time sukuna chased you with a knife cause you took his last pack of cheetos. imagine what he would do when you take his best friend."
yuuji pouted, giving megumi a side-eye he couldn't miss, "you're no fun."
"be for fucking real." the raved head sat up, turning towards yuuji at lightning speed. his eyes squinted in scrutiny, "you're the one making idle chit-chat as if sukuna isn't gonna kill you the moment he finds out what you and her have been up to."
"yeah but—" yuuji sighed, rubbing his palms against his face slowly, "is it really that big of a deal? i mean, it's just a few lessons here and there. it's not like she likes me or something—"
"—yeah, she probably won't. ever. considering she called you her little brother."
"oh, fuck off, gumi. that was when we were five."
"just pointing down the obvious."
"i knew i should have told nobara about the situation. she would have given much better advice."
"kugisaki would have laughed at you so hard, she would have cried." megumi got up, probably to get some more chips. as he left, he quipped over his shoulder, "you're catching feelings for someone who doesn't have that kind of interest in you, itadori. you will end up looking like an idiot at the end. and possibly dead."
well, maybe megumi fushiguro had a point. but that point was so goddamn hard to see with your thighs pressed on either sides of his face.
🧸lesson 04: maybe making girls cry is okay sometimes
"mhm- ngh oh my god. yuu." yuuji placed his tongue flat against your pulsating clit. you bucked into his face, pressing his mouth messily to your hot core as you showered him in breathless praises.
nobody was home. kuna was probably gonna be home later at night and so, you both had decided his room as the venue for your next 'lesson'.
you weren't even sure which numbered orgasm it was at this point. and you weren't sure if you even existed anymore outside of yuuji and his face and his tongue and yuuji.
red, hot need ran it's course through your body as the jock manhandled you. his calloused palms pulled your jerking hips downwards to steady them and then, pulled you hastily towards himself. yur jaw fell open, going slack at the torturous stimulation yuuji had the audacity to hum in approval when you momentarily went slack under him.
"yuuji, yuuji. yuu. pl-please please- stop. st-" tears pricked at your eyes as you called out his name in a futile attempt to get him to stop. your hands bunched at his sweaty locks, pushing and pulling to get his wicked tongue on your sensitive cunt to ease up.
but the jock was unforgiving.
his tongue dipped within you, your muscles contracting and spasming against his pretty face as his nose dug deeper against your clit. his tongue was fast, delving in and out of you methodically as you bucked and keened under his touches. the salty tears fell down your cheeks.
"yuu—" you mumbled in a weak voice and he finally looked up so as to assess the damage.
"hm?" his mouth finally parted from yours, messy and sticky.
and when yuuji looked up at you, he was sure this is the last sight he would see before he was condemned to hell for the rest of eternity. your eyes were watery, lips swollen and quivering. you could barely keep your vision straight before you clenched your eyes shut and tried to pry him off of yourself.
so fucking pretty that it made him ache. and that only pushed him to kiss inner thigh and lick a soft stripe up your gushing cunt, getting back to what he was previously doing.
"fuck fuck fuc— yuu, no. no more. p-plea— fuck." you stomach was full of something hot and molten, something jittery and unstable. something that sounded and tasted a lot like yuuji itadori.
the quarterback stayed on his knees, bringing his forefinger and thumb to pinch and rub your wet clit as your thighs shook, your eyes rolled backwards and your back arched. he grinned — a feral sight — as you finally came undone on his tongue again.
he finally pulled himself upwards, using his discarded tshirt to clean off his face. as he stood before you, all he could do was watch you awestruck.
you were heavenly.
your spent figure was slumped on his bed; t-shirt pushed up to expose your bruised tits and your legs pressed together as you tried to come back on mother earth. your eyes were still closed, cheeks wet from tears and yuuji had to stop himself from begging you to let him fuck you tonight.
but he abstained. of course not. that was insane. you would never let him go that far, would you? so, instead he chose to lie down next to you and pull you into his chest.
you nudged your cheek against his pecs, finding refuge in his warmth and he gladly let you, allowing a small smile on his face. his fingers came up to push back strands of hair from your sweaty forehead and then wipe away the salty tears that had made home against the plane of you cheeks. once he was sure you had caught your breath, he pressed a sweet kiss to your skin. finally, he mumbled, "sorry, did i go too far?"
you shook your head no, curling further into him with ease. and he let you. he shifted his position so as to allow your skin on his, so as to press his nose to your hair and smell that strawberry shampoo, so as to almost pretend for a second that you were his.
but you didn't let the show run for long. a few minutes later, as you felt the energy returning to your body, you attempted to get up.
the jock's eyebrows furrowed, he sat up with you, "something wrong? do you want something? water or—"
"—no, no." you turned to give him a weak smile, "i think i'm just gonna go shower before kuna is home and he finds me like this."
oh. ofcourse. how could he forget the ever-looming threat that was sukuna?
"can you walk?" he asked earnestly, offering you his tshirt so you could put it on, "i can walk you to the shower, if you want."
"i'll be okay, yuu." you poked your head through his shirt, trying to stand up. but your legs immediately wobbled and you lost balance, "—fuck. okay. i guess not."
yuuji offered you a smile, picking you up bridal style as you squealed at his action. a blush crept up your neck and face, "what are you doing?!"
"what? i think i should be responsible for the mess i create, shouldn't i?" he gave you a cheeky smile, the kind where the cut under his eye came alive and he grinned ear to ear. a boyish grin, perhaps. and you were fortunate enough to be on the recipient end of it.
you weren't sure what it was that you felt for yuuji, or what you didn't. all you knew that right now — as he carried you out of his room clad in a t-shirt that smelt like him — it was as if he was aware of the sudden jump your heart and wanted nothing more than to be the cause of your untimely death.
"you don't have to do this." you mumbled.
what did 'this' refer to, exactly? you weren't quite sure. was it the fact that he had entertained your drunken idea for such a long amount of time? or was if the fact that in the moments even when you weren't offering him something physical, he still looked at you as if you hung up stars in the night sky for him? maybe it was as simple as the fact that he was carrying you to run you a bath.
he stayed quiet and you repeated yourself louder, "really, yuuji, you don't have to."
"i want to." and that was all he said.
you felt his biceps tense under you as he shifted your weight on one arm and attempted to open the door with the other. he gave you a reassuring smile, and you nudged your face against his chest to hide your embarrassment at his simple answer.
once he finally was through, he walked into the lliving room, attempting to make his way to the bathroom down the hallway whe—
"YUUJI?!" a voice boomed from the door and both of you whipped your head to look at the man that stood there.
ever heard of divine intervention? yeah, this was whatever the fuck is the opposite to that. satanic intervention. cursed intervention, perhaps.
"ON—ONICHAN?!"
"CHOSO?!" you scrambled off of yuuji, hitting the ground with a muffled thud.
choso immediately looked away from his half-naked brother and the girl in his brother's t-shirt*.
(*yeah, okay, just try to understand the family dynamics for a second. choso [24] is the oldest and he has graduated uni and has a job now. sukuna and (yn) [21] are in their third year, and yuuji [20] is in his second. choso knows who (yn) is since you and kuna are childhood besties or whatever. so... yeah okay, back to the shitshow 👍🏻)
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" choso asked loudly, his eyes still averted from you both so as to not accidentally see your exposed form.
"WHY ARE YOU HERE?!" yuuji retorted as you hid behind his broad figure instinctively, trying to recover whatever ounce of modesty you had.
"I OBVIOUSLY HAD THE KEY TO MY OWN HOME?!"
"WELL, DON'T WALK IN UNANNOUNCED? DO YOU HAVE NO MANNERS?"
"yuuji."
"IM SORRY 'NICHAN!!"
and that is how choso found out about your little arrangement. and that is how you both decided to never have another rendezvous session at the itadori's.
🧸lesson 05: you got this, itadori!
"what the fuck?" megumi asked slowly, eyeing yuuji as the jock shoved some french fries down his mouth.
"YEAH, WHAT THE FUCK?!" nobara repeated, louder. to which, megumi gave her a side-eye, "we're in public, kugisaki."
yuuji took his time, sipping his coke before shrugging, "yeah, so, 'nichan found out."
nobara shook her head, "no. no. turn around 360—"
"—180. 360 makes a circle."
"die, megs. anyways, turn around and tell me that part of the story where you started—" the red-head shuddered, "—doing stuff with senpai. why?! how?! why?! how??"
yuuji took a bite from his burger before saying, "well, she offered."
"fuck that all. it's old news."
"for you. cause, apparently, i was left out of the loop—"
"—much sad. anyways, is choso okay with you and her? or is he gonna snitch you out to sukuna?"
"i mean, no. i don't think so, no." yuuji tried to steal a fry off of nobara's plate and she smacked his hand off, "ow kugisaki! whatever. he gave me a long lecture about how i should actually pursue her and officially ask her out if we wanna keep doing this. after that, for whatever unrelated reason, he cried about how quickly we grew up."
"virgin behavior." nobara stuck out a tongue, quickly reeling out of her disbelief over the fact that yuuji was getting some, "i mean, that's old-fashioned. you don't have to date her, you know?"
"but your brother's not wrong, is he?" megumi offered. "don't keep doing this just cause you want a way to get your dick wet."
"megs, it's not 1920. they are consensual adults and they can just fool around if they're on the same page."
"yeah but about that—" yuuji tried to sneak in a fry from megumi's plate now, "—i think i'm in love with her. and i am pretty sure the feelings are one-sided."
"huH?!"
"what?" the jock looked at the two dumbfounded, "i like her. she's pretty and smart and i think— i like her."
he didn't think he liked you. he knew that he was whole-heartedly, as stupidly as humanly possible, in love with you.
but he didn't bother mentioning the fact.
he didn't bother mentioning a plethora of things, in fact. first, that his heart had been offered to you at the ripe age of four when he first realized that sunlight got caught against your hair strands somewhat magically, and when you smiled, he smiled; and that when he cried, you kissed his imaginary wounds better even when sukuna made fun of him.
he didn't bother mentioning that when he asked you to marry him, there was only such a small part of him that was 'joking', the larger chunk of him would have exchanged his soul for some sort of forbidden alchemy to be with you.
he didn't bother mentioning that when he was thirteen, a slew of girls had asked to be his girlfriend, and he had turned down each one of them to sneak in his first kiss with you.
but all those years of pining just turned into a small ball of anxiety, ever-growing in his stomach. he knew you didn't feel the same. so, he didn't bother saying any of that. because, well, frankly, his situation seems just a tiny-teensy bit pathetic.
"i guess i just like her... just a bit." he repeated, more to himself than others.
"we heard the first time. and the second."
"DUDE" nobara's eyes widened, "she's sukuna's best friend."
"hey, what happened to the fact that we are consensual adults fooling around?"
"oh no, fuck that. i was humoring you." nobara shook her head, "sukuna's gonna murder you."
"yeah, i know." yuuji sighed, his playfulness replaced by something more mature, "i am not gonna ask her out. i think i'm gonna call this— whatever this is— off. i don't want her to lose her friendship with 'kuna, and she... well, she probably doesn't like me anyways."
megumi and nobara exchanged a sorry expression among themselves before looking back to yuuji. but the jock put on a smile, "ah it's fine, it was fun while it lasted." he leaned back in his seat, "wanna catch a movie after this? human earthworm is out."
so the quarterback had gone back home that day with a certain resolve. he would call this off.
he put on his lucky red sweatshirt, put on the cologne you had complimented once when he had gone for one of his lessons, and he put on his best fake smile. as he passed by sukuna in the living room, he guiltily looked away from him and walked out of the door as soon as possible.
"where ya going?" the tatted man asked, not looking up from his phone.
"nowhe—" he sighed, running a hand through his hair before he bent downwards to put on his shoes, "with gumi and nobara. we're going to the arcade."
"you've been hanging out with the fushiguro kid quite a lot nowadays. a lot of sleepovers."
yuuji's fingers halted, slowly fidgeting with the shoelaces before he threw sukuna a casual look, "he's my friend. and his dad is out of town so i go over. got an issue?"
"nah, do whatever." kuna met his eyes but then went back to his phone without saying much. a beat later, he continued, "well, let me know if you'd be home in time for dinner."
yuuji stood up, dusting off his clothes, "you're cooking today?"
"yeah, thought i'd invite her over. she likes that pasta i make."
at the mention of you, yuuji looked over sukuna once. a sharp sting suddenly erupted in his chest like someone had hit him. hard. and, so, without saying anything more, the younger itadori immediately left through the main door.
things must end.
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
his fingers skimmed over the ringing bell in front of your apartment as his feet nervously shuffled around at the door. he knew you were on the other side, waiting for him. as the door swung open, he was face to face with your housemate.
"hey?" maki raised an eyebrow, a smug smile on her lips. she was dressed as if she was leaving to go somewhere, "she's in her room."
yuuji simply pursed his lips, nodded and moved past his senior. before walking into your room, he stalled in front of the door, threw his head back to catch maki about to leave, "kugisaki says hi, by the way."
and if yuuji didn't know any better, he would have assumed the glare maki gave was one well-intended to kill him.
he wasn't sure if the room was chilly or if the reason for goosebumps was something else, but nonetheless, he shut the door behind him and stepped into the room. as he came in view with the bed, he found you casually on your back, scrolling your phone.
"yuuji!" you smiled as you sat up, a familiar warmth spreading over your face at his presence. but he merely nodded, his lips drawn into a thin line.
"um," you fidgeted, standing up hastily and laughing to ease the awkwardness, "so, uh— did maki let you in?"
"yeah, she did."
"oh, well, she's going out, so we don't need to worry about her." you paused for a second before your expression fell and you tried again, "hey?"
but a same monotone expression fell across his face, "hey."
"um... is something wrong? in a bad mood or something?"
"not quite." yuuji rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the cold, wooden floors, "i wanted to talk. to you, i mean."
you nodded, although he didn't look up at you to register your expression. he continued softly, "we should stop this."
"what?"
"i—" he looked up at you, quickly sneaking in a steadying breath, "i wanted to thank you for the 'lessons'. it's been fun and i learnt so much, really. but you don't have to do it anymo—"
"why?" you interrupted, "did someone find out?"
"what? no."
"then?" you stepped towards him, your unyielding gaze trained on his face, "do you not... want to do it with me anymore?"
"no, ofcourse not." his eyes widened and he stepped forward in a desperate attempt to comfort you. his palms found purchase against your cheek, "no. that's not what i meant."
"what do you mean then?" you looked up at him, confused.
"i-" he looked at you softly, "i really can't ruin your friendship with sukuna anymore. we need to stop. it has gone for... for way too long, now, hasn't it?"
"—it's just been a few months."
"come on. we both know we need to stop." he confessed, and as his words left you hollow, so did his touch. he pulled away from you and stepped back a teensy bit to allow you some space. "it will be for the best."
you looked at him for a beat. and then one more. finally, "kiss me."
and the jock obliged without any hesitation. his lips were familiar against yours, his hands on your cheek, and his body weight pressing onto you and pushing you backwards into the bed.
the back of your knees hit the wooden frame and you stumbled backwards, falling onto the bed with a muffled thud. but yuuji didn't bother following you and caging you underneath him. instead, he stood at the edge, waiting.
"yuu?" you asked softly.
"are you sure about this?"
and you weren't sure if he was asking that question to you or himself. you weren't sure if his fingers were shaking from the betrayal or the need to hold you against him. but you nodded your head anyways, "yeah. if this is it. if this is the last time then indulge in my stupid ideas one last time." you paused, "please?"
he nodded before swiftly throwing off his hoodie off of his torso an onto the floor. bruises from a few days before laid tattered across his tan skin and his biceps flexed and moved as he slowly caged you under him.
"fuck," he breathed in slowly, taking in your low-lidded gaze, "you're so fuckin' pretty."
your fingers found solace in his pinkish locks and you pulled him closer — till your skin smelt like his perfume and his stuttered breath hit your lips, "yuuji."
"hm?" his eyes ran over your face, and the adoration in his eyes made you feel like he would set the world aflame if you so as even asked him to.
"fuck me."
his pupils widened, cheeks flushed and a breathless gasp got stuck in his throat. at his reaction, you pulled him downwards, kissing him softly before the tendrils of passing seemed to nip down on both of you. soon after, you were nothing more than messy kisses, clashing teeth and wrong decisions.
"fuuck— ha-harder." he moaned as your fingernails sunk into his scalp, pulling him harder against yourself.
your hands travelled downwards to his chest and you pushed him away only to turn him around and straddle his hips. your pelvis rolled over his, the delicious friction driving you delirious as you peered down at the man under you — kiss-bitten lips, tousled hair, flushed cheeks.
yuuji itadori looked at you as if you were his god.
and you played along. rolling your hips, tracing a finger from his jaw down to his pecs as your lips traced the path with soft kisses soon after.
his hips stuttered, trying to meet your shallow teases before he mumbled out a soft, "take off your clothes."
you smiled, putting on a show for him as you slipped out of your tshirt. leaving yourself exposed to his preying eyes, you slowly took off the bra.
"shit, look at you." he raised himself on his elbows, coming upwards to softly kiss your warm skin before slowly licking over your nipple as another hand fondled the other. your head was thrown back at the feeling of his warm mouth on you while his fingers softly tugged at the other.
soon after that, you found yourself rocking yourself on his long fingers as he sunk his teeth in your neck, getting off on the pretty sounds you made as you rut against him almost as desperately as he was. when he caught you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to stay quiet, he pulled your face towards his and kissed you senseless. when he pulled away, his hot breath fanned over your lips, "don't. let me hear, please."
and so senseless moans tumbled down your lips as you you came, still rutting against his hand.
when your breath stilled and you finally met his gaze, all you could was breath out an airy, "fuck me, please."
flushed face, hazy eyes, your mouth parted so prettily at the end of the sentence. who was itadori yuuji to deny you of anything?
"say that again."
🧸lesson 06: fuck it up, itadori!
"n-no protection? are you... sure?"
god, he was adorable.
you held back a laugh as you re-assured him a millionth time, "i'm on birth control, so, no. trust me."
"hm. hm." his breath was caught in his throat as if it were a jagged rock. your hands on his torso felt warm — too warm — as if they would char him and you blinked up at him so prettily as you laid atop those pillows.
"i- one second. i-" his voice was thick, hands slightly shaking as he tried to guide his erection into your slick cunt.
"yuu," you cooed and he looked at you in part hope, part confusion. a laugh escaped you at his expression, "you look like a kicked puppy."
"so-sorry, imjustnervous—" he mumbled, his eyes avoiding yours.
"yuu," you repeated, "this is your first time, right?"
he nodded so softly that it was entirely too easy to miss it. you held back an amused grin, "let me help, okay?"
shockwaves ran through his body as your soft hand slowly took ahold of his dick and ran the tip over your clit, gathering your wetness on the mushroom tip. you both held back a choked sigh as your hand continued the same up and down, up and down, up and down motion till you felt as if yuuji was going to cry just from the teasing.
"h-hey—"
"sorry, sorry. no more teasin', i promise." you replied cheekily, fingers finally guiding him to your sloppy hole. and as the tip finally pushed past the first ring of feeble resistance, a shuddering gasp left the man above you.
pushing in inch by inch, you gasped at the sinful stretch of him filling you. your walls spasmed slightly against him, hugging him so sinfully tight that he wondered if he would pass out just right now. but he couldn't. so he commanded himself to keep moving forward till he was all but buried within you.
"s-shit." his breath was heavy against the dip of your neck and you ran a soft hand through his hair, "you okay, yuu?"
"ye-yeah." he shook his head slowly, descending down on you to sink his teeth into your skin again as he started moving slowly.
"jus like that— yeah."
at first his thrusts were slow and shallow, as if he was just testing the waters. but as you found you keening into his touches and moaning as his tip rubbed against a certain spot, he grew sure of his actions.
his thrusts were now harder, a bit more precise and his tempo increased as you dug your heels on his back and tugged on his hair to keep him going.
"jesus" you gasped, back arching off slowly as his lower abs caught friction against your clit and his dick started ramming into your with a periodic rhythm. "fu-fuck is it your fuckin first time? for fucks sake, yuuji ngh—"
his breath was laboured, a thin layer of sweat adorning his forehead and nose, "im a quick learner, fuck— you're shi-shit, you're so fucking perfect."
lifting himself up slightly, his hand snaked in between your bodies and he found himself thumbing at your clit with ease.
"yuuji—" your voice pitched up as his circles grew in pressure. already overstimulated from his administrations on your poor cunt, you felt the pressure building inch by inch till it grabbed ahold of your body and shook you to your very core.
under him, you grabbed hastily at the sheets, at the pillow, at his hair, at anything to keep yourself on this plane of consciousness as he kept drawing messy figures on your clit and fucked into your cervix with reckless abandon.
and that unsteady, familiar feeling grew and grew and grew till it turned your body to jello and burst inwards, "f-fuck shit, ohmygod im cummin im cummin im cumm— FUCK YUUJI—"
his fingers pressed hastily against your lips but the cockiness in his voice practically dripped off of him and onto you, "shh, someone might hear, pretty."
his thrusts grew erratic, nudging him more and more towards a certain, familiar kind of high. his face found solace against your shuddering body as he cursed and spilled inside you.
"fuck." he cursed one last time as he breathed you in, just laying atop you having spent himself.
he slowly pulled himself upwards, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose, and you gave him a spent smile, the kind that had quickly became his favorite. he slowly pulled himself out, and caught the milky white gushing out of your cunt.
and with that, itadori yuuji lost all sanity.
next you knew, your face was being pressed into the mattress, your cunt being ravaged by his unforgiving dick ramming in and out easily.
"fuc-fuck, sogood so fuckin' good—"
his chest was against your back, his weight pressing down on your so deliciously and trapping you under him. you pressed your face harder into the mattress, screaming out muffled renditions of his name as he softly pinched your clit.
"i'm sorry, baby, im so fuckin' sorry" but he sounded anything but sorry as he whispered hotly in your ear, both his fingers and his dick doing everything in their power to turn you into nothing more than a woman maddened with his touch.
your fingers sunk into the sheets underneath, your death-grip growing even more deadlier as he fucked into you as a man depraved.
"this 'sthe last time," his words slurred as he left sloppy kisses down your neck, "promise, i promise."
but those promises were nothing more than candied words on his pretty lips, because now he had you on top of him, your back against his chest, his heels digging into your mattress dangerously as he fucked up into you.
"yuu— yuuJI pleaseplease ple— fucking fuc—" your voice grew in pitch, unresolved tears falling down your face as his hands fondled your tits, tugging and tweaking the nipples to his liking, and your own familiar fingers toyed with your clit.
how could he go on for so fucking long? jesus fucking christ.
"i play varsi- fuck varsity," he answered softly, "this is nothin' for me."
he pressed a soft kiss to your neck as his cock split you apart for the nth time and you fell apart on top of the man who claimed to love you more than he loved life and reason itself.
"don't." his voice grew desperate, a hand coming to hold yours over your overstimulated, abused clit, "i didn- say you could stop, did i? keep going. please. one more. fuck. please."
"yuuji stop—"
"—give me one more, please."
"pleasepleaseplease—" you sobbed, your body arching off of him as he brought you to another one orgasm. you eyes rolled back into your skull, a bit of drool dangerously on your bottom lip, and your body went slack so as to let him do as he pleased.
your cunt gushed on his dick, spraying you both in your juices he thrusted into one last time, spilling into your overfilled pussy all over again with a breathless string of pants and moans.
the quarterback collapsed backwards onto your bed with you on top of him. he reluctantly pushed the weight of your sweaty body off of him, and instinctively pressed another kiss to your head.
his hand came up to push back the sweaty hair strands that stuck to you like second skin, and to thumb at the furious blush on your cheeks. your eyes fluttered upwards at him, you barely managing a smile, "thankyou."
"for what?" he turned to his side, taking every feature of you in with a small smile. a beat passed him by in the serene room before he found his heart weighing heavily and lodging itself between his lungs.
"you're so pretty" he found himself mumbling, "i wish i- i wish i could..." but he caught himself before he could make a fool of himself and confess to a passed out girl. he bit the inside of his cheek. maybe it was better if he just left wordlessly. "nothing."
you were asleep. he knew that. but then why did you snuggle closer and whispered a soft, "i love you."
"—huH?!" any and all sanity left the jock at this point. his eyes as wide as saucers as he stared down your softly snoring form, "what did you just say?"
but you said nothing, still softly snoring in your goddamn sleep and yuuji felt like he was going insane. did you say it??? did he imagine it??? is this a punishment from the devil (sukuna) itself??? what was real anymore? was he real???
and hey what does a panicked twenty year old does when faced with the possible conundrum of his crush of fifteen years having feelings for him?? he runs.
yuuji itadori never had put on his clothes faster than he did right this moment. hastily putting one leg into the sweats and then another, he dashed to make his way to the door. before stepping out, he looked back at you one last time.
fuck itadori, are you dumb?! she doesn't love you like that. it's the post-sex hormones. his consciousness begged in the voice of megumi fushiguro, which was a bit concerning cause was the voice of reason in his head megumi fushiguro?!
but that was not the issue at hand right now. his voice of reason could be questioned another time. right now? running. yes, that was the plan.
the lock softly clicked and he stepped out into the living room before closing the door ever so slowly behind him.
"done fucking?"
and yuuji's blood ran cold.
he whipped around to peer at a certain, tatted delinquent who was sat on the couch in the living room, "brother?"
"brother? huh?" sukuna laughed, the sound so chilling that yuuji felt his blood freeze ad turn into cement, "bringing out the formalities?"
yuuji's tongue got stuck in his throat and sukuna stood up slowly, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "she wouldn't pick up my calls, and i had a spare key. sorry if i'm fuckin imposing."
"'kuna," yuuji's voice was quiet, "it's not what he looks like."
"hm, it is not?" he flashed the younger itadori an amused smile, "ofcourse it is not. what do you think i think you both did?"
"fu-fucked?" the jock swallowed hard.
"bingo."
"i didn't." yuuji didn't know if he was begging for forgiveness, and if yes, then what for? for betraying sukuna's trust or for feeling satisfied that his brother knew of his conquests?
"you didn't? from what i heard, she seemed a little too happy in there." and now sukuna stood mere inches apart, his hand balled into a neat fist.
"kun—" but yuuji's right cheek bore the fate of getting punched by sukuna.
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND, YUUJI?"
the jock nursed his cheek, still reeling from the attack. but a certain flame came alive. he wasn't a fucking child. "YEAH, YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND."
sukuna looked at him in disbelief, "how fucking could you? she meaNS SHIT TO ME, YOU FUCKFACE."
"—SO DOES SHE TO ME."
the man stepped insanely closer, grabbing ahold of yuuji's hoodie's collar, "THEN WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU RUNNING AWAY FROM HER RIGHT NOW? HUH?"
the two boys heaved heavily, anger boiling hot through their veins. finally yuuji spat up, "she told me she loved me."
sukuna's grasp loosened, "what?"
"she fucking told me she loved me."
"and you're running?" sukuna looked at his brother with a strange look. disappointment, perhaps?
"i- it's a mistake. she doesn't." yuuji looked downwards, trying not to show his pain in his soft words, "and... i didn't want to fucking hurt you, asshole."
"so you're a coward?" the tatted man scoffed.
and yuuji pushed his brother back, "fuck you."
"no." sukuna's gaze hardened, "you fuck off, you stupid fucking dipshit. she told you she loves you, and you ran?"
"for fucks sake, sukuna" yuuji breathed in slowly, "i thought you'd be elated she probably doesn't."
"you fucked around with her for god knows how long, pretending i didn't know." sukuna stepped back, his words quieter.
"you knew?"
"i'm not dumb, of course i fucking knew." he paused, "and 'nichan told me."
"jesus fucking christ, 'nichan." yuuji looked down at the floors, "what now?"
"grow a pair, and actually ask her out."
"what?" the jock looked up, confused, "you- wait, you are saying i should ask her out?"
sukuna shrugged, "you've compromised her. you must follow through with the consequences."
"did you watch too much bridgerton? what the fuck is compromised??"
"i did, 'nichan made me watch it. pleasantly surprising, actually." and yuuji was immediately mentally slapped with the image of sukuna enjoying bridgerton.
"huh?" yuuji softly shook his head, "so... what? i like have your blessing or whatever to ask her out?"
the delinquent made a face of disgust, "i'm not a priest, what the fuck do you mean by blessing? yeah, just fucking ask her out."
"and what if she says no?"
"then i will remind you of your failure everyday in life."
yuuji looked at his brother awestruck, "thanks, kuna."
"don't. when you come back home, im gonna beat you to a pulp for fucking my best friend."
"i deserve it."
"fuck yeah, you do." the older itadori made his way to the main entrance, "go fix shit."
and as sukuna left through the door, itadori yuuji slipped back into your room, crawled back into bed with you, and held you close to his chest. softly, as a giddy smile overtook his features, he mumbled, "i love you too."
next morning you woke up next to a fully-clothed yuuji with a swollen right cheek.
"yuu?! why are you dressed?! and what the fuck happened to your cheek?!"
"i fell off your bed."
"what the actual fuck?!"
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a/n: IM GENUINELY SO SORRY IF THIS SUCKS ASS, I GOT TOO MUCH INTO CHARACTER WRITING HELPPP!! i really hope it was atleast a fun read, and as i said it took me 4 days just to make it a bit coherent since i'm writing after so long. please forgive me and enjoy the meal. [sorry for any typos and such babes] tagging: @9rvm @jellibean2018 @peekawoocc @kingofthe-egirls @hugmevz [thankyou sm for sending in the request, i was already writing it here so i tagged you <3] misc.: divider by @plutism and header format by @si-eunnis plagiarism not authorized bitch.
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theclaravoyant · 12 days ago
Text
AN ~ short bucktommy angst/whump with a happy ending, coz i love torturing my boys. 8x07 spoilers and verrrrrry loosely insp by a still from 8x08
typing
Why would he type type type and not send anything?
The alarms blare and Buck throws his baking back in the oven and sprints downstairs, but his mind is elsewhere. This? This is all muscle memory at this point. His mind occupies itself with other things, wondering what exactly Tommy might have wanted to say.
Evan. No. Buck. God, he still hates it that he called him Buck.
Can we talk? Tommy always was a man of few words. Or maybe Buck is just a man of many. But what does 'can we talk' even mean? He'd be spiralling just as hard as with the silent disappearing bubble. It's better this way.
MARRIAGE, EVAN??
God, he's an idiot. A pathetic, clingy idiot. Even now he would kill for a second round, just to dig that knife in deeper. At least then maybe, he'd be able to pick up what he'd missed before; where exactly that big dimpled grin and soft eyes had turned to hard words and hidden pain. At least then, he'd be able to fix it.
Hen watches him with a knowing eye.
“Stay strong, Buck,” she reminds him as they pull up to the scene. “Head in the game.”
Buck nods. He drops his phone on the seat and packs it away to the back of his mind, as best he can. Maybe he'll get to whip out the jaws of life. They always make him feel better. Shake it off, Buckley, let's go.
He's the last one out of the engine, and he hits the ground already triaging the scene. His senses expand, cataloguing the vehicles, the passers-by, the direction and nature of the accident. Eddie and Bobby are getting a run-down from a uniformed police officer on scene and it happens a splt second before Buck's mind catches up.
“A silver-” he overhears - “oh-”
He can see it in his minds eye, almost feel it even as his own heart sinks; the way recognition sets into Eddie's face. And then horror. He looks further down the road, to a sight that's partially obstructed from Buck's view. Partially, but not so much that he doesn't start running toward it because he has a feeling he knows, he knows, he knows who it is.
Why would he type type type and not send anything?
“Buck-” Hen warns, reaching to grab him but she's already missed.
Buck knows he should be helping but his world is caving in. Bobby's barking commands but all he hears is a wordless echo. Ravi hustles the balloons and the jaws up to the worst hit of the vehicles and Chimney is already there; medkit tossed over the worst of the shattered glass as he kneels by the dangerously crushed window and tries to make contact with the person inside.
“Buck.” It's Eddie this time, blocking with his body as much as he can – and he can, even with the full force of Buck throwing himself forward - but even he can't stop the terrible, terrible knowing.
“TOMMY!”
The name rips out of his lungs, because it's the truck: it's Tommy's pride and joy. It's singing along in the passenger seat and Tommy's smiling – sometimes he joins in, even though he wouldn't otherwise care for Buck's taste. It's Tommy slinging a greasy towel over his shoulder and hitching himinto the truck bed and making out until they both can't breathe. It's spilling the salt from hot chips in there; it's shoulder to shoulder at the drive-ins; it's getting fucked into the seats; it's polishing and vacuuming just last week because he can't help with the engine for shit. He'd put a little thing of jellybeans in the cup holder after - like his old detailer used to do, just to be cute - and it hits him that that's what those little coloured smudges are, intermingled with the crushed glass littered across the road.
What if he's in trouble and he needs my help?
“Oh, God, Tommy.”
The howling turns to hopeless. Breathless. The fight evaporates right out of him and he collapses forward into Eddie's arms. Eddie's embrace is firm and steadying as he lowers them both as gently as he can manage to the curb. Buck closes his eyes, sapped of the strength to watch any more but cursed by the knowledge of what's still got to be happening. Hen and Chim will be extracting Tommy's bruised and broken body onto a backboard right about now, and then lifting him onto a gurney. They'll be doing CPR if he's lucky – and they are, he can hear it, so at least there's that.
Then it stops.
For a few, horrible seconds all he can hear is his own hammering heart. Eddie's ragged breathing. Footsteps. Bobby.
“Buck.”
It takes a second, for him to gather the courage to open his eyes and look up. Bobby's demeanour is solemn and serious, but there's a softness Buck recognises well. A lightness that promises things might just be okay, as he offers a hand to pull Buck up from the roadside.
“He's asking for you in the ambulance,” Bobby says, and there's just a flicker, just an iota of a smile as he urges - “Go.”
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