#hes pathetic too massive W

[needycatboy]

fingering is so underappreciated. nothing makes me moan more while topping than feeling his cunt stretch around my fingers as i rub and spread and wiggle them around, and nothing makes my love whine more than when he's so so full of me that he can't think anymore.

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe loves to put his fingers in sensitive!reader’s mouth & her favorite place in the world is his lap...

c/w: rafe being mean & making her choke on his fingers, heavily suggestive, size kink, use of daddy & dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.6k

in love w this man so more of him on the way xx

this is an additional part to this & u can read more here

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Rafe has had a bad day.   

She notices it immediately by the way he greets her with only a brief peck on her cheek; carelessly throwing his jacket on the couch before slumping down against the cushions and letting out a washed-out exhale.   

For the entirety of the week, gloomy clouds have painted over the dusty, colorless horizon and wet water puddles have saturated the socks of passing pedestrians and dog walkers alike. However, Rafe is not someone who particularly minds rainy days, which is why she assumes that the reason for his disgruntled mood has something to do with business, as it more often than not does.    

He scratches at the buzzed hair still slightly damp from the rain while she simply stands there and blinks; unsure whether he wishes to be alone or not.    

“What are you doin’? C’mere,” he suddenly orders in a somewhat of a stern tone and she has no choice but to pad over to his sprawled-out legs, lowering to sit on top of him and letting him paw at her waist as his beefy arms pull her closer. And she can't really complain when the heat of his body seeps into her flesh in such a comforting way; makes her insides feel all fluffy and featherlight.   

In the same way that Rafe seems to enjoy her needing him to take care of her when everything feels like too much, she loves being there for him; likes to feel useful, needed. 

“Do you wanna...talk about it?” the muted melody of her vocal cords reaches his ears as vivid raindrops pitter patter against the glass of the windows and he groans in exhaustion at how perfect she is for him.    

“Not really,” he dismisses her with a shake of his head. “How was your day, hm?”   

“It was uh, okay. I don’t know, the usual. Had some boring lectures, almost fell asleep…questioned every decision I’ve ever made,” she huffs out and settles her palms on his strong biceps.  

“Mm,” he’s only half listening; beginning to mindlessly twirl a strand of her hair around his index finger.    

And she takes that as her cue to continue blabbering out complete nonsense as she begins to grow slightly restless being this close to him. Truth be told, she’s pathetically been missing him the whole day; the only thing granting her the motivation to go about her routines being the thought of seeing him at the end of it all. And now that he’s here, he seems frustrated; mind entirely elsewhere and she doesn’t know what to do except ramble on and on about her dull day.    

Then, completely out of the blue, he’s grabbing her jaw into his massive hand and hushing her.   

“Shut up for one second, yeah?” he mutters out before he’s tucking a thumb past her lips; a surprised squeak leaving the back of her throat at the sudden intrusion because he was the one who asked for her to talk in the first place.    

However, she can’t exactly say that it’s unexpected. He often gets a tad bit meaner whenever he’s had a dreary workday and takes it out on her in some form or another. And regardless of how unhealthy all of it might seem, there’s a crooked part of her brain that yearns for it; wants him to come to her whenever he’s upset. If she’s utterly honest, the thought of him searching for solace in anyone else makes nausea creep up her bones.   

For some reason, the firm pad of his thumb making her tongue feel heavy in her mouth placates her; turns her brain into a needy, dingy muddle in a way that only Rafe is capable of.   

“Shit, just needed somethin’ to suck on, huh?” he pushes down on her tongue, making her swallow around the digit with a whimper.    

“So fuckin’ pathetic sometimes, you know? Just take anythin’ daddy gives you,” a low-pitched chuckle thunders from his chest, seemingly amused by the ease in which she gives into him.    

However, there’s also something gooey, syrupy beginning to whirl in the pit of her tummy. It reminds her of the countless times she was perched on the park swing as a little girl during the balmy summers of her childhood; thinking she could reach the fluffy clouds with the tips of her sneakers if only she could fly a little higher.    

“Feels nice to have somethin’ in your mouth, doesn’t it?” he ogles her, mesmerized with intrigue twinkling in the Carolina blue that has always made her think of the sky.    

She lets out a faint moan when he drags the digit out and then back in, making her gag around it; her hips involuntarily rutting against the growing bulge straining against the zipper of his pants, desperate for some sort of friction if even through the soft material of her sweatpants.    

“Didn’t give you permission to move, did I?” he feigns confusion with a furrow of his brows that gets her to reluctantly halt her shifting.    

“Daddy, need your...” her words are cushioned against the obstacle he’s planted between her teeth.  

“Can’t really hear you, baby,” he mocks before he’s pulling the thumb out of her mouth altogether.    

However, the next thing she knows, he’s stuffing in his index and middle finger both at the same time. They reach far deeper; a muffled sound of gagging following his actions as he seems to discover a perverted sense of satisfaction from her struggle.   

"What did you say?" his lips twist into a cruel smirk when she whimpers pitifully and tries to draw away from him in order to catch her breath but his other hand only grips her jaw tighter, keeping her exactly where he wants as she’s forced to breathe through her nose.    

“I think you can take it for a bit longer, yeah?” his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he simply stares, seemingly absorbed into the obscene scene before him.    

And she should feel embarrassed, demeaned even. And she does! However, the humiliation of letting him do whatever he wants as if she’s nothing but a cheap toy for his entertainment blurs over the lines when her cunt throbs in response to his degrading attention. She flutters uselessly around nothing; powerlessly begging for some sort of alleviation with a whine that merely earns her a tut of his tongue.    

Therefore, the only thing she can do is sit there like an obedient animal because he’s already scolded her once. She hasn’t turned entirely dumb just yet; knows firsthand how ‘daddy doesn’t like to repeat himself’ and that the next time she misbehaves will result in a punishment her poor cunt probably wouldn’t be able to handle in this helpless state of hers.   

“Don't think you could take dad’s cock even halfway in this pretty mouth,” he mindlessly croons, thumb smoothing over the skin of her throat as she swallows the spit beginning to dribble down her chin.    

The thought manages to pique her curiosity because his cock has been at the forefront of her mind for a couple of weeks now, due to him constantly teasing her with the notion of letting her suck him off properly. He keeps murmuring about training her throat and fucking it raw but never actually doing it; merely allowing for her to drool and mouth over the tip because apparently, she's 'not ready yet'.    

She’s beginning to turn into something desperate because whenever she tries to take more of him into her mouth, he stops her with a click of his tongue and big hands lifting her head off him. “Don’t be greedy now, sweetheart,” he’d scold her but she's certain she’s going to die if she doesn’t get to feel his cock nudge at the back of her throat soon.    

“Ray…” she tries to fruitlessly speak but he’s not exactly making it easy as he keeps stroking against her tongue. However, she doesn’t need to say anything. He knows what she wants.  

“I mean, can barely fit into this tight cunt, don’t know why you keep whinin’ about wantin’ me in this mouth so bad. Don’t think you’d even enjoy it that much. It’s a lot, you know?” there’s something almost patronizing in the way he’s speaking to her as if he’s not the one who brought the idea up in the first place.   

It’s like he’s trying to talk her out of it yet his fingertips keep prodding past her gag reflex every few minutes, almost as if testing the waters before plunging in and it’s making her head spin.    

She whines and tries to defend herself but the digits fussing with the inside of her slobbery mouth don’t allow for her to form anything audible as she begins to grow troubled.   

“What was that?” the line of his mouth curls when he pokes deeper once more, causing her to moan with watery eyes pleading him for anything at this point.    

“Such a dirty girl. Bet you’d like choking on my cock, huh?” he grunts and she hums in response; nodding fervently before he’s finally withdrawing his hand and smearing the spit-stained fingers against her pouty lips.   

They’re both panting heavily as he gently swipes at her under-eyes in order to catch the teardrops ready to trickle down before petting at the apples of her cheeks with a tenderness reserved only for her.  

“Shit, always know how to make me feel better, don’t ya?” he rumbles fondly against her mouth; following his saccharine words with a messy kiss soon after. Maybe he’ll finally allow her to have what she so badly craves. 

[p1astr81]

nothing special -fc43

in which: Franco’s flirting with the journalists almost causes him to lose something dear.

pairing: Franco Colapinto x journalist!fem!reader

warnings: angst, fluff (at the very end), Franco being clueless and stupid, borderline emotional cheating, not proof read (sorry!!), use of y/n

an: sorry this is so late I’ve been sick and it’s also exam week. n e way, ty to everyone who has been patiently waiting ♡︎

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Franco was a flirt. It was in his blood. It happened without him even thinking about it. Like an instinct. Everyone was sure that flirting was his fuel, like it was his coffee in the morning.

You always thought his persistent flirting during interviews was quite funny. You would remain professional while he tried every trick in the book to get you to break. It never happened, and it massively intrigued him.

He begun to purposefully flirt with you, and eventually worked up the courage to ask you out.

That was two months ago, and you’d been dating since. You thought your relationship was good, and while it may have been too early to say, you felt secure. Well, up until your conversation with Marie.

Marie, one of your journalist friends, walked along with you through the paddock. “Franco has a serious flirting problem. I thought he would have stopped after I agreed to that date with him but I think if anything, he’s more persistent.” You laughed, but it actually worried you a little. While there wasn’t any threat to your position yet, you felt a looming anxious feeling that your boss would eventually do something about his very public displays.

“Oh that’s just him. He flirts with all of the journalists.” Marie let out a small chuckle. Your face fell, your steps faltered. “What do you mean?” You were hesitant with your inquiries. Her words insinuated a fact you did not want to face. “Well, you didn’t think it was just you, did you? I know you’re dating and all, but before that—and even now—he still flirts with like all the girls.” Marie spoke to you in a tone that suggested the fact was common knowledge. Maybe it was, but you still weren’t aware of it.

You felt totally blind sighted. Betrayal twisted in your gut, swirling the contents of your lunch and threatening to force them back up. “I’ll… I’ll catch up with you later.” You fumbled to excused yourself from the conversation and ran the last few meters to your car.

In the solitude, you didn’t know what to do. Were you to scream? Cry? Curse the air? “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” You chose to be angry, hitting the steering wheel with every word. “How could you be so stupid?” You grip the wheel, your head falling forward to rest your forehead on the top of the faux leather. “Of course this would happen.” You laugh pathetically to yourself. “Of course!” You gasp, tossing yourself back against the seat. Your arms thrown out to the side. “He’s hot. He’s famous now. I’m just a journalist!” You had not realized you started crying until the hot streams steadily flowed down your face. You flipped the visor down to peer at yourself in its mirror. “Why would he want you?” You stare through your own eyes, trying to find an answer to your question, but doubt had already infected every region of your brain and you couldn’t see past it.“Stupid.” You muttered under your breath, and shoved the visor back up.

In silence, you drove yourself back to your hotel. You just wanted to shower the events of the day away, and bury yourself into your notes.

As you were flipping through your notes and rewatching the clips from the prologued media day, your phone began to buzz.

You left him on read. His obliviousness had started to irritate you. It wasn’t fair to you. He couldn’t have it both ways. He couldn’t have you and still flirt with other women. It was borderline emotional cheating.

He was one floor away. You could confront him in person, but you had no proof. You had no proof. It hit you then that you were believing Maria’s words without an ounce of proof, just a belief on the base of friendship. You opened a new tab on your laptop, quickly searching Franco’s name. You selected the first video of him that came up, a spark of hope in you that Maria had been lying.

However, that spark quickly diffused. Within the first twenty seconds of the interview, Franco was flirting with the journalist. To make matters worse, she was a journalist you were acquainted with, one you knew he had seen you chat with on numerous occasions.

You were just another journalist. You were nothing special to him.

This time, it wasn’t betrayal that overrode your senses. It was anger that ignited a fire in your stomach. Anger at the audacity. Anger at your own stupidity and obliviousness. Anger at this acquaintance.

You shut the laptop in one forceful shove.

———

Friday came quickly after a tireless sleep. You stood in the media pen as the drivers gave you dull answers to your questions about free practice. It didn’t affect you that much, as your eyes kept drifting to find the boy adorned in his deep blue fireproof shirt.

Often times your eyes only absorbed his bored figure, his eyes darting everywhere but the journalist who was wringing him for answers. The other times though, you’d caught him in the act, his body language unmistakable. The kind of body language that could only be accompanied by flirty words and that charming smile—which only ever made an appearance when he was flirting.

Dread burdened you, weighing heavy on your heart. “You okay?” Alexs body was stretched past the barrier, and he asked the question lowly so the mic wouldn’t pick up his voice. You realized you’d left him in silence for more time than what was considered professional.

Alex and you have gotten closer through your relationship with Franco, nearly close enough for you to comfortably call him a friend.

“Yeah, sorry. Spaced out.” You laughed, trying to brush it off, but the sound came out nervous and laden with the dread that caused your heart to ache.

Alex wasn’t stupid. He’d followed your eyes and seen the disappointment that clouded your expression. He refused to comment on it then and there, only bringing it up to Franco in private.

“Did something happen between you and y/n?” Alex questioned his teammate. They stood together in the back of the garage while the team finished up their duties for the day. “No. Why? Did she say something to you? I think she’s avoiding me.” Franco spoke quickly, hoping to squeeze an explanation out of his teammate.

“She didn’t say anything,” Alex started, to which Franco huffed. “But when she was interviewing me, she was completely zoned in on you, but she looked…” Alex tried to find the word to describe your expression. “Upset? Like with the look on her face, my first thought was that the two of you broke up.”

Franco scoured his memories for whatever event would have caused you to act in such a way. To look at him with such an expression. He could only shrug, completely clueless. “I don’t know. But last night she was making excuses not to come over, and this morning when I asked her if she wanted to eat breakfast together, she made more excuses.” Your distance frustrated Franco. Sure, he saw you in the media pen, and in the paddock, but he had to keep things somewhat professional there. He couldn’t be affectionate.

Alex sighed and clapped Franco on the shoulder. “I think you’re gonna just have to corner her, mate.”

———

It was not his intention to be creepy. But by standing outside what was seemingly a random person’s hotel room, he definitely achieved that.

You rounded the corner of the hotel’s hallways. You were rapidly typing something on your phone, unaware of his presence just a few meters away.

To not startle you completely, he softly called your name. Your footsteps ceased, your eyes wide as they stared at him. After a moment, your expression changed from one of shock, to one of distaste. From where you stood, you dug your keycard from your bag. You ignored him, brushing past him to let yourself into the room.

He stopped the door before it closed on him. “Y/n come on. You’ve been avoiding me all day.” Franco pleaded with you. You laughed bitterly. “Yeah, it’s on purpose.” You muttered, tossing your bag onto the bed. “But why, amor? What have I done?” He followed you with his eyes, watching as you stood as far away from him as possible. “You’ve made me look like a fool!” You exclaimed. Your eyes, glaring at him with a terrifying level of ferocity, were covered with a sheen of tears.

Franco’s expression twisted into a look of confusion, which only fueled your fury. “How- I don’t understand?”

“You’ve been flirting with every other journalist! And everyone sees it. Do you realize how humiliating that is for me?” A tear ran hot and slow down your cheek. You didn’t bother wiping it away.

“Flirting with…” Franco sighs, “the only journalist I flirt with is you.” He took a step forward, but didn’t dare to progress any further as your hand shot up to stop him. You swallowed the knot in your throat. “I was really hoping you’d just own up to it.” You tell him quietly, your disappointment palpable. You took your laptop from the back, typing something quickly. “Tell that to the videos.” You tossed the laptop on the bed to face him. He watched his own face on the screen as he flirted with a woman who wasn’t his girlfriend.

Franco never even realized he’d been flirting.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I had no idea.” He confessed. She laughed at his apology. “No idea? Come on, you can think of a better excuse than that.” She shot back harshly. She crossed her arms over her chest, physically closing herself off from him.

“I’m honest!” He pleaded. “It was fully accidental. I would’ve never done that to you on purpose.” He shook his head with fervor, trying to make her understand. “You remember how I was when I flirted with you! I was a mess, fumbling over my words.” He continued, but it did little to convince her.

She shook her head. “Just leave, Franco.” She instructed, her voice quiet but firm.

He froze. His heartbeat slowing to a dull, stagnant rhythm. His body felt heavy, as if someone replaced all of his blood with lead. “Are you— ending this? breaking up with me?” He shook his head, not wanting to believe it himself.

She considered the question for a moment. “No. But I need time.”

“So… a break?” Franco’s voice cracked.

“I don’t know.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Just go, please.”

“Y/n-“

“Franco.”

The firmness in her voice got his body moving again. The last thing he wanted was to upset her, so he did as she requested. Without another word, he exited her hotel room.

———

It had been week. A long, agonizing, painfully lonely, and miserable week.

He missed her texts. The morning and night ones, and all those in between. Including the daily updates about whatever seemingly mundane activity she was conducting.

He missed her voice. Her laugh. Her jokes.

At least he got to see her face, even if it was from across the paddock. Even if it hurt him. It hurt him to see you. His stomach lurched, a crippling pain blooming inside his stomach at the sight of you. On top of that, it felt like someone had a white-knuckle grip on his heart.

It made him come to the scariest of realizations, one he would never admit this early on. Especially not when things between you two felt over.

To make matters worse, you had to interview him.

“Quite a decent Friday for you and the team. Do you think you can continue the momentum into tomorrow?”

It was terrifying to him, the way you looked right through him. Like he was every other driver here. Like he was nothing special to you. He pushed down all of his feelings, forcing himself to be professional for once.

“Uhm,” unwillingly, his voice cracked. He quickly cleared his throat. “Yeah, definitely. I think the car is well suited for the track, so we’ll definitely try and get through to the last of qualifying tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Franco.” He frowned, usually you’d have more than one question for him. At least three at the minimum. But you’d turned around and started conversing with your camera guy. He supposed it made sense, but it still hurt.

———

Somehow, Franco went the whole weekend without cornering you and forcing you to give you guys a label, whether it be broken up or on a break. He needed a definitive name for what was going on. He needed you to define the boundaries.

So he found you in the paddock club, sitting by yourself with a coffee cup in front of you. Silently, he took the empty seat across from you. You looked up, and took a shaky breath at the sight of him. You tried to stand and bolt out of there but he was quick to grab hold of your hand. “Y/n, please. I just need to know what we are now.” He pleaded, his voice so low that you nearly missed his words.

You glanced at your surroundings. “Can we go somewhere more private?” You felt too exposed to have this conversation here. Too many peering eyes. Franco nodded quickly.

He led you to his driver’s room, the thought to lock the door crossing his mind but he didn’t want to freak you out, so he kept the lock undone.

“I don’t know what we are.” You confessed with a deep sigh. “I know, and that’s killing me.” Franco muttered and sat on the physio bed. “I don’t know if I can talk to you, or text you, or call you, or even look in your direction.” He fiddled with his fingers. Like he said, he wasn’t sure if he could look at you.

You leaned against the wall across from him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You hurt me. You humiliated me. You made me feel like I was worthless. Like I was nothing special to you.” The disclosure wasn’t intended to hurt him, or incite pity in him. You just wanted him to understand.

He nodded. “I know. I know. And I’m so sorry for that. It was fully my fault and I can’t change what I did, and I know that. And you’re so so special to me. More than you know.” It was impossible to describe just how much he cared for you without dropping those three little words on you. “If you want to break up, or want a break, I get it. But I- I don’t want that.” He met your eyes. His big brown eyes silently pleaded with you. His puppy look was always impossible to resist.

You pushed off the wall, stepping to stand in front of him. “I don’t want that either.” You told him honestly. His big brown eyes looked up at you and glimmered with hope. “But it might take me a little time for me to trust you again.” A subtle smile outlined Franco’s lips. “So… we’re still…?” He was hesitant with his words, leaving the labels up to you. “Boyfriend—girlfriend?” You suggested. His smile broadened. He gave a subtle nod.

“Yes.” You answered simply.

[prettyboykatsuki]

u give rin pussy ONCE. and hes in the best mood of his life afterwards. is sooooooo clingy too

no like. exactly...

i dont think rin can do hook-ups. he gives very like. 'i dont understand hook up culture. die in my arms.' type vibes BUTTT

i think there's a very real instance like pre-relationship where he is acting like a massively pathetic dick to you (bc hes in love w u ... he needs to heal so bad.) and you pause like. rin we should fuck. i think you'll be more tolerable if we fuck

RIN DOES NOT DO HOOKUPS. but he's not so out of touch that he's gonna pass up on a chance to have sex with u in particular. the sex you have is INSANEEEEEE. you have never seen him act like that in your entire life. he's kind of ... needy ? but very aggressive at the same time. just over all intense. he shakes a lot. ill be honest i can very easily see it being his first time and he doesn't bother telling u cause he would let u take it any ways. bonus if it is not your first time. makes him crazy

u have crazy ridiculous sex and run out of condoms via his disgusting athlete stamina. and ITS LIKE A SEDATIVE LOOL.

he's so easy to handle afterwards. loses his bite. he doesn't argue w u at all. he's just....clingy and kind of sleepy. if u initiate affection he will fold INSTANTLY. he can't do it bc of his pride (before u are dating. afterwards he doesn't care at all. literally) but if u do he's like lowkey going yipeee in some deep recess of his brain.

u can't say a damn THING bc if u even think of teasing him he will revert to his tsundere ways but it really clicks that he actually likes u bc he has an arm around you and his face in your neck like inhaling you and he's like mumbling whenever u move to stay put. like who even is that. its so funny its such a change.

he is a mess after that. like constantly in conflict over 1. accepting his feelings for u bc ur annoying 2. figuring out how to get into a relationship w/out folding (which is impossible.) bc he hates hookups. he's insane

[soullessdianthus]

Please 🙏 please 🙏please more Perv!könig!!

A/N: How about Perv!König the brat tamer? Idea suggested by @mxx-mayari ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Warnings: abuse of authority, degradation, dry humping his boot, leash/pet play?

The colonel basically dragged you into his private office, pushing your smaller frame inside by the arm he was gripping so hard. You stumbled over your own feet, before turning around to face an enraged man.  

König closed and locked the door, his palm was splayed over the wooden frame as he exhaled the air slowly. You observed as his shoulder sank, before he spoke.

━ What were you thinking?

His voice was harsh and filled with venom. König’s blue eyes piercing through your soul. For the first time in a while you felt truly terrified. And since you were tied to a private military, there were very few things that made you this vulnerable. Your colonel was one of them.

You took a step back, glossy eyes nervously looking around the room. There was no way out besides the doors he just locked. 

His large figure moved towards your direction. König seemed rabid, but only his voice revealed that fact. Otherwise, he moved steadily, his spine straightened out – the Austrian man was already towering over you, he only did that to scare you further. To make you feel small.

━ I did what I had to to save my college, sir. 

━ But I specifically told you not to. Then why? ━ König finally stopped right in front of you, a little too close perhaps as you had to turn your head away, not to bump into his chest. ━ Do you pity that boy, schatz? Is that the reason?

━ No. Are you jealous, sir?

You scratched his ego, testing the waters – his true intentions. You weren’t blind. You’ve noticed the colonel took a liking to you some time ago and lately his behavior got more… bold.

━ Watch your tone, when speaking to your superior, pretty thing. ━ He carefully squeezed the bone of you jaw with his bare hands and made you look up at him. You looked so cute for him – beautiful eyes staring at him from underneath the eyelashes, somewhere at the edge of crying for him. It went straight to his cock.

━ If that’s everything, I’m going to go, sir. 

Once you tried to walk past him, his grip over your jaw tightened. König hooked two fingers of his other hand over your belt, pulling you closer. He was standing so close, yours and his heat blended together. 

━ Oh, you won’t walk away without punishment for insubordination, soldier. On your knees, maus.

━ W-What? ━ For a second you thought you misheard something he said. But the colonel repeated the order in a more demeaning manner. At that moment, when blood ran cold in your veins, you realized you were in serious trouble.

You didn’t exactly know how you found yourself in this situation – humping your superior boot with a belt looped around your neck. Everything happened so quickly, when he pushed you onto your knees, warm heat pumped within your ears. König said it was your punishment for disobedience, that he was disappointed with his kleine maus.

König forced you to entangle your arms around his massive thigh, one of his hands keeping your head against his crotch. It looked like you were a little child, glued to his leg, begging him not to go.

The man had to put a spell on you, because how on earth would you ever agree to this humiliating thing? Somehow your colonel managed to wrap you around his finger, threatening to abuse his authority.  

━ Come on, you need to work harder, schatz. Apologize. ━ He said, tugging at the “collar” made of his belt. You whined, when he squeezed the loop around your throat again, threatening to cut off your oxygen.

━ I’m sorry. ━ A pathetic sob escaped your lips, when a knot in your lower tummy began to painfully sting. You continuously rolled your hips over the surface of his shoe laces, leaving the sticky arousal on top of it. It was messy and degrading, yet somehow you managed to get yourself riled up.

Obviously König made you lower your pants and underwear, he wanted to feel your bare cunny sliding along his feet, even through the shoes. He could feel precisely how you rubbed yourself to make it pleasurable. 

And he kept staring at you from above, admiring how much the colonel had managed to ruin you. You fell into his nasty, little games he played.

━ Look at you, humping my leg like a bitch in heat ━ colonel laughed, looking down at your pathetic state. By this time your flustered face was stained with tears and it turned him even more. ━ Oh, you wanna cum, pet? Is that what you want? 

But you weren’t very mouthy when overstimulated. You only sobbed and whimpered, when he tilted the tip of his shoe further into your wet folds, causing you to jump forward and arch your ass better. 

━ Be careful, maus ━ the Austrian colonel warned about your noises, gently rubbing your head that rested upon his bulge. You could feel his scent through the material of the pants, his cologne and arousal. ━ They might hear you. 

━ Pl-Please, sir. I-It hurts! 

You pressed your eyes shut, feeling as the tiredness finally got you. All of the struggle against your own release, made you palpable and weak. Suddenly, there was not enough willpower in you to keep talking back to him. You just wanted that sweet release!

━ Will you follow my orders from now on?

━ Yes!

━ Gut, then you can have your little reward, schatzi. Be a good girl and cum over my shoe. 

And you didn’t need much more than this. A few more rolls of your hips and you reached that tingling sensation, warm spreading inside each limb. Your pussy and his shoe was covered in your sticky juices as you shivered, falling deeper into the embrace around his leg. 

━ See? It wasn't that hard to obey orders. ━ König finally said, his big hand still caressing the top of your head. You did so good for him.

[msriri030]

Saving By Hare Pt2: The Love Doctor

Mafia!König x Doctor! Reader

Cw: mention torture and drugs. afab!reader but try most to be gn.

Part 3

Horangi was walking down the hall when his attention was caught by Hutch and Roze standing in front of a one-way mirror. Curiosity piqued, he asked, "What are you up to?"

"Watching the boss torture an enemy underling," Roze replied, her eyes glinting with amusement as Hutch chuckled happily at the scene unfolding before them. 

Raising an eyebrow, Horangi stepped closer to the window. He saw König pacing back and forth, visibly anxious, as he spoke to the enemy, who looked increasingly unsettled. Suddenly, König slammed his hand down on the table, causing the enemy to flinch.

"What’s the torture?" Horangi asked, confusion etched on his face. Hutch smirked, adjusting his shades. "The boss is asking for romantic advice from Deadman."

Horangi sighed, watching König slowly lower himself into the chair across from the captive, his hulking frame almost too large for the delicate wooden seat. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, a nervous habit uncharacteristic of the usually imposing man.

The captive, a wiry man with a bloodied nose, looked utterly bewildered. Sweat dripped from his brow as he stammered, “W-why are you asking me? I don’t—I don’t know anything about dating!”

König leaned forward, his icy blue eyes narrowing as he demanded, “Then what do you know about wooing someone? Surely you’ve liked someone before. Speak.”

The man fumbled, glancing toward the one-way mirror in silent desperation, as if pleading for a rescue that would never come.

Roze stifled a laugh, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. “I never thought I’d see the day. Our Big bad Boss, König,…asking a guy who can’t even keep his own teeth in his mouth for advice on romance. This is priceless.”

Hutch let out a low chuckle, pushing his sunglasses up. “The boss is down bad. I mean, look at him—he’s got the guy more scared of giving the wrong pickup line than getting shot.”

Inside the room, König pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly frustrated with the captive's nonsensical answers. The poor man was a stuttering mess, rattling off clichés like, ‘Buy them flowers,’ and ‘Compliment their eyes.’

König growled softly, not out of anger, but sheer exasperation. “This is useless.” He stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, causing the captive to flinch again. König loomed over him, arms crossed, his massive frame casting a shadow over the trembling man.

“I don’t need basic advice!” König barked, his voice deep and commanding. “I need something… meaningful. Specific. If you were trying to win someone over—someone kind, strong, and… special—what would you do?”

The captive blinked up at him, wide-eyed and utterly lost. “I—I don’t know! Cook for them? Write them a letter? Please, man, I don’t even have a girlfriend!”

Horangi, watching from the other side of the glass, finally sighed and turned to Hutch and Roze. “This is pathetic. Should we step in before he kills the guy with his awkwardness?”

“Nah,” Hutch replied with a grin. “This is better than TV. Besides, it’s not like the guy’s bleeding out or anything.”

Roze tilted her head, feigning innocence. “You think König will actually take advice from someone who’s tied to a chair?”

Before Horangi could respond, König’s voice boomed again, shaking the room with its intensity.

"Write what, exactly?" He leaned in closer to the captive, who was now shaking like a leaf. "Give me something better than 'flowers' or 'letters,' or I will personally—" He caught himself, exhaling sharply and stepping back, muttering under his breath in frustration.

The captive, desperate to avoid whatever fate his imagination was conjuring, blurted out, "S-surprise them! Do something unexpected! Something only you would do! Something that shows y-you’re thinking about them!"

König paused, straightening to his full height. His imposing shadow loomed even larger over the man as he stared down at him with piercing eyes. Slowly, a glimmer of realization crossed König’s face. He said nothing for a long moment, then gave a curt nod, muttering, “Hmm. Yes. That’s… something.”

The captive sagged in his chair, relief washing over him as König turned abruptly and made for the door.

From behind the glass, Roze covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “I swear to God, he’s going to come back tomorrow with a dozen roses and a poem, isn’t he?”

Hutch snorted, shaking his head. “If he writes a poem, I’m retiring. I’ve seen enough for one lifetime.”

Horangi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid… like kidnapping them instead of asking them on a date.”

The door to the interrogation room slammed open as König stepped out, his gaze distant, as if he were already lost in thought. He brushed past the group without a word, his broad shoulders rigid and his stride purposeful.

“Yup,” Roze said with a smirk, watching him disappear down the hall. “He’s definitely writing a poem.”

Hutch clapped Horangi on the back. “Good luck keeping him out of trouble. You’re going to need it.”

Horangi sighed again, glancing toward the interrogation room before reluctantly following after König. “This better not end with me having to talk him out of some overly dramatic romantic gesture…”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Roze and Hutch exchanged a look before bursting into laughter, their amusement echoing through the observation room.

It had been a couple of weeks since you last saw König. The memory of that night lingered in your mind, resurfacing at the most unexpected moments. You found yourself wondering—was his wound healing properly? Had he taken care of himself?

The thought gnawed at you as you went about your day, your hands busy with patients, but your mind elsewhere. You had done everything you could to stabilize him that night, yet the worry persisted. Men like him, with their dangerous lives and stoic fronts, weren’t the type to follow medical advice.

You sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face as you closed your clinic for the evening to grab some lunch. The streets were quiet, the crisp winter air biting against your cheeks as you locked the door behind you. You paused for a moment, glancing down the empty street, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows.

Was he okay? The question echoed in your mind again, and you shook your head with a small, self-deprecating smile. Why do I even care so much?

But deep down, you knew the answer. There had been something in König’s eyes that night—something that stuck with you. A vulnerability beneath the ice, a fleeting glimpse of someone who, for all his sharp edges and danger, carried a burden far heavier than any physical wound.

And now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just okay in general. You groan in frustration kicking a discarded can. Why?! You just met the man. You sighed. You look at the sky a little bit to ground yourself before continuing along your way.  You entered your favorite dinner, Dash out.

The warm, familiar hum of Dash Out greeted you as you stepped inside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, a sharp contrast to the biting chill outside. You waved to the staff behind the counter, giving them a tired but genuine smile.

Sliding into a booth near the window, you let out a long sigh and leaned back against the worn vinyl. This was your safe haven—a place where the stress of the day melted away with every sip of coffee or bite of a greasy burger.

A waitress approached, her name tag reading Lisa, her smile as warm as ever. “The usual?”

You nodded. “Please.”

Lisa scribbled on her notepad, her gaze flickering to your face with a touch of curiosity. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind. Long day?”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “Something like that.”

Lisa gave you a knowing nod before walking off, leaving you to your thoughts. You stared out the window, watching the soft, lazy flakes of snow drift down, the streetlights casting a warm, amber glow over the quiet street. Your reflection stared back at you, and for a moment, you barely recognized the furrowed brow and distant eyes.

Your food arrived swiftly, the plate settling in front of you with a soft clink. A classic burger, fries, and a steaming cup of hot cocoa—comfort food at its finest. Lisa let you know the pie was on the house. You took a bite, hoping the familiar taste would provide some distraction, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

The sound of the diner door opening pulled you from your reverie. You glanced up absently, expecting nothing more than another weary worker grabbing a late meal or perhaps a family seeking warmth from the biting cold outside.

But before you could focus on it, a pair of warm, calloused hands gently covered your eyes, halting your sip mid-air. A playful, familiar Scottish lilt followed. “Guess who it is, lass?”

You couldn’t suppress a smile, a soft laugh escaping as you tilted your head slightly. “Soap,” you said, the word slipping out with amused certainty.

The hands pulled away with a chuckle, and there he was—grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off the world’s greatest prank. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned casually against the booth.

Next to him, Ghost stood silently, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the cheerful exchange. He rolled his eyes and scoffed under his breath before turning toward the counter, his gait purposeful as he went to collect the protection money for their boss.

You giggled, glancing back at Soap. “I see you brought Ghost with you on your rounds.”

“Yup, Doc,” Soap said, scratching the back of his neck with mock exasperation. “Didn’t want to, but you know—gangster life’s no walk in the park.” His grin widened, as if the admission didn’t carry the weight it should have.

Before you could respond, Lisa returned, balancing a tray with your pie. She set the plate in front of you with a warm smile. “Enjoy, honey,” she said before bustling off to tend to another table.

“Thanks, Lisa.” You glanced at Soap and tilted the plate slightly in his direction, your voice teasing. “Want some, Soap? Or is gangster life too glamorous for diner fries?”

“Never! That’s like forgetting the roots you came from!” Soap declared dramatically, as if you’d just suggested the unthinkable. “Plus, I love sharing fries with the person who’s saved our arses more times than I can count!”

Without waiting for an invitation, he plopped himself down in the seat across from you, stealing a fry with a triumphant grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. As Soap munched happily, Ghost returned from the counter, his dark gaze flicking between the two of you before settling on Soap with a mix of amusement and quiet disapproval.

You looked up at Ghost with a smile, gesturing toward the plate of fries you were now sharing. “Want some?” you offered lightly.

He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips under his mask as he slid into the booth beside you. “No thanks, Doll,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll leave the fry-stealing to him.”

Soap, mid-bite, pointed a fry at Ghost. “That’s because you’re no fun, mate.”

Ghost gave him a sidelong glance, muttering, “I’m plenty fun. Just not when it comes to your greasy fingers all over the food.”

The banter made you smile as you picked up another fry, savoring the rare moment of levity amid the chaos their lives seemed to attract. It was hard not to think back to when you first met them. Soap had stormed into your clinic, practically kicking the door down, with Ghost slung over his back and bleeding profusely.

You’d barely had time to process their arrival before Soap started barking orders—half panicked, half determined. Ghost, even in his weakened state, had muttered something about "not scaring the doc." It had been a whirlwind of blood, adrenaline, and sharp commands, but you’d patched Ghost up, and from that moment on, the two had made you an unspoken part of their world.

Since then, they’d drop by every so often—not just for patch-ups, though those were frequent—but also to walk you home after late nights at the clinic or during their rounds collecting protection money for their boss. You knew the line of work they were in was dangerous, but you couldn’t deny the strange sense of security you felt whenever they were around.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Soap said, snapping you out of your thoughts as he stole another fry. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just remembering how we met,” you said with a small smile, glancing between him and Ghost. “And how you two basically barged into my life like a hurricane.”

Soap grinned, unrepentant. “Aye, but a good hurricane, right?”

Ghost shook his head, muttering, “More like a bloody disaster.”

You laughed softly, their easy camaraderie a welcome reprieve from the weight of your own thoughts. Likewise, your presence seemed to brighten their otherwise cold and chaotic world, though they’d never outright admit it. Yet the way they smiled at you in that unspoken, rare softness said enough.

After finishing your meal, the three of you stepped outside into the biting cold. They insisted on walking you back to the clinic—something they’d done countless times before. As the chill seeped into your bones, you tugged your jacket tighter around yourself, but it wasn’t enough to keep the cold at bay.

Ghost noticed, his sharp eyes catching the subtle shiver you tried to hide. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The material was heavy, smelling faintly of leather and a hint of something clean and woodsy.

“Here, Doll,” he murmured, his voice low but kind in its gruffness.

“No, I—It’s okay,” you stammered, feeling a bit flustered by the gesture. “We’re not far from the clinic. You’ll be cold.”

You tried to hand the jacket back, but Soap looped an arm around your shoulders with a grin, stopping you in your tracks.

“And let our favorite doc get sick?” he teased, his tone playful but firm. “Never! Ghost and I have seen enough blood for one lifetime, thank you very much. Now let’s get to the clinic, warm up with some tea, and then we’ll handle the rest of our business.”

You rolled your eyes with a fond smile but didn’t argue. Wrapped in Ghost’s jacket and flanked by the two men, you felt a sense of safety you didn’t often experience. As you walked, the quiet of the night was punctuated by the soft crunch of boots on snow and Soap’s endless chatter about everything and nothing.

For a moment, as the warm glow of the clinic’s lights came into view, you let yourself forget about the dangers that lurked in their world—and your own. The three of you entered the clinic, the familiar scent of antiseptic and faint lavender welcoming you like an old friend. Without hesitation, you all made your way to the break room, a cozy little space you had managed to make feel homier despite the sterile surroundings.

Soap, ever the ball of energy, immediately busied himself grabbing three mugs from the cupboard. “Tea’s on me!” he declared, his enthusiasm almost infectious as he examined the mismatched cups with mock seriousness.

Meanwhile, you filled the kettle, setting it to boil. You handed Ghost his jacket back, and he took it with a quiet nod, draping it over the back of a chair before sitting down. His tall frame seemed oddly at ease in the tiny space, though his ever-watchful gaze remained sharp, flicking from you to Soap and back again.

“Thanks for lending this,” you said softly, glancing at Ghost as you adjusted your sweater.

He gave a slight shrug, his mask concealing any hint of a smile, though his tone held the barest trace of warmth. “Didn’t want you catching cold. You’d be no use to anyone if you’re laid up sick.”

Soap turned around with a playful grin, balancing the mugs in one hand while gesturing dramatically with the other. “See, Doc? That’s as close to a love letter as Ghost will ever get. Cherish it!”

“Don’t push your luck, Soap,” Ghost muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you set the tea bags into the mugs Soap had placed on the counter. Once the water was ready, you poured it carefully, the steam rising and curling in the air. The quiet hum of the kettle, the clink of ceramic, and the shared companionship filled the small room with a sense of peace that felt rare in their chaotic world

 The phone's shrill ring sliced through the comfortable quiet like a blade, cutting Soap off mid-sentence and making Ghost’s gaze sharpen instantly. Pulling the phone from your pocket, you glanced at the screen. The number was vaguely familiar, but as a doctor, you were accustomed to unexpected calls from patients in need.

With a soft sigh, you answered, balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you continued preparing the tea. “Hello, this is Dr. [Last Name]. How can I help you?”

A beat of silence stretched on the other end, broken only by faint, shallow breathing. A chill prickled at the back of your neck. Something about it felt wrong.

“Hello?” you repeated, this time with more authority.

The voice that finally responded was shaky, almost desperate. “Hase? Is this... is this you?”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. “König? Yes, it’s me.”

You didn’t notice Soap’s eyes widened or Ghost’s gaze turned cold as they recognized the name. König—the mob boss who controlled half the city and the territory just down the street from your clinic. A heavy silence hung in the air before the voice whispered, almost painfully, “Yes, it’s König, my Hase.”

You felt a warmth flush your cheeks, but you quickly brushed it aside, forcing your expression to remain neutral. “What can I do for you?”

There was a brief silence, the sound of steady breathing on the other end before König’s voice returned—tentative, yet edged with a quiet urgency. “I was wondering… if I could take you to dinner tonight at the Diamond Petals. Or tomorrow, if you’re not working. As a thank you… for everything.”  

The request hung in the air, unexpected. Dinner at such a fancy restaurant? You smiled, a soft giggle escaping. “Yeah… I’d love to have dinner with you. Maybe tomorrow, though—I’ll need to shop for new clothes. I don’t have anything good to wear.”  

“Nien,” he replied smoothly, his tone firm yet gentle. “Anything you wear looks like gold.”  

The words, simple yet laced with affection, sent warmth flooding to your cheeks. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could recover, he added, “What about I pick you up and take you shopping for clothes?”  

His suggestion caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless, your mind racing to process the unexpected offer. Meanwhile, Ghost and Soap, lingering nearby, exchanged knowing glances. The palpable tension in the air was broken only by the sound of their deliberate throat-clearing, an unsubtle reminder of their presence.  

“Sure,” you finally managed, your voice slightly flustered. “I’ll send you the location of my clinic then… see you later.”  

You ended the call, the phone still warm in your hand as you set it down on the counter. Ghost calmly lifted his mask just over his nose, sipping his tea with deliberate slowness. The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly, a subtle sign of amusement, while Soap, never one to miss an opportunity, grinned widely.  

“So~ you’ve got yourself a boyfriend now, eh?” Soap teased, leaning against the counter with a cheeky tilt of his head.  

You blushed furiously, waving your hands in protest. “It’s not like that!”  

Soap’s grin widened as Ghost let out a low chuckle. “Aye, Doc. Whatever you say.”  

Meanwhile, König stood in the dimly lit expanse of one of his warehouses, the sharp tang of metal and oil lingering in the air. His broad shoulders were tense, his posture rigid as he turned to the scene behind him. Vega and Roze hovered over their latest victim—a poor drug shipper whose trembling form bore the tattooed mark of the 141 on his neck.  

The man's muffled gasps and splashes filled the room as Vega pressed his head underwater, his grip merciless, while Roze crouched beside them, her dark eyes glinting with cruel amusement. She glanced over her shoulder at König, an arched brow accompanying her mocking tone.  

“So~ what did she say?” Roze asked, her voice dripping with feigned curiosity as she twirled a blade in her hand, its edge catching the faint light.  

König’s gaze flickered to the struggling man for a moment, then back to Roze, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, though his voice, when he finally spoke, was calm, almost detached.  

“She said yes,” he murmured, the weight of the words carrying an edge that made even Vega glance up from her task.  

Roze grinned, sharp and predatory. “Look at you, big guy. Dinner at the Diamond Petals, huh? Gonna make it all romantic?”  

König’s towering frame shifted slightly as he took a step closer, his boots heavy against the concrete floor. “Focus,” he said, his voice cold enough to make the room feel even icier. “The questions are not for me.”  

Roze’s smirk faltered, and she shrugged, motioning to Vega, who yanked the man’s head back above water with a violent jerk. The shivering victim gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, as König loomed over him, his massive shadow swallowing the man whole.  

“Now,” König said softly, his tone deceptively calm but carrying an undercurrent of menace. “Let’s try this again. Who sent you?”  

After promising Soap and Ghost that you’d text them after your “date,” you closed up your clinic and waved them goodbye. Their knowing smirks lingered in your mind, but you brushed them off, focusing instead on the evening ahead.  

Standing outside in the cool night air, you waited patiently, smoothing down your outfit one more time to make sure everything was perfect.  

Moments later, a sleek, black BMW with tinted windows pulled up to the curb. Your breath caught when König stepped out. Even with his mask on, you could tell he had gone out of his way to prepare for this. His broad frame was wrapped in a perfectly tailored black button-up shirt and slacks, the subtle sheen of his polished shoes catching the light.  

The faint scent of musk and cedar drifted toward you, the unmistakable aroma of freshly applied cologne mingling with the lingering freshness of a recent shower. You couldn’t help but notice the effort he had put in—it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.  

You instinctively sniffed yourself, worried for a fleeting moment about how you smelled. A wave of relief washed over you when you realized you didn’t smell unpleasant—your perfume still lingered, light and floral.  

“Guten Abend,” König greeted, his voice deep and soft as he extended a hand toward you. “You look… breathtaking.”  

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you smiled shyly, taking his hand. “Thank you. You look great too.”  

He held your hand for a moment longer than necessary, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles before he released it and gestured toward the car. “Shall we?”  

You nodded, letting him open the car door for you. As you slid into the plush leather seat, your nerves began to settle, replaced by a growing excitement. Whatever tonight had in store, it was already starting to feel like something special.  

As the car cruised smoothly toward the eastern side of the city, you stole a glance at König. His focus was trained on the road ahead, his large hands gripping the steering wheel with a surprising gentleness. The soft hum of the car’s engine filled the silence between you, and you found yourself nervously fiddling with the ends of your sleeves, wracking your brain for something—anything—to say.

Your gaze drifted out the window in quiet defeat, watching as the snow fell in lazy flakes, blanketing the streets in a serene glow.

Little did you know, König was locked in a similar mental battle. Small talk had never been his strength. Socializing, in general, was a struggle, a deep-seated insecurity born from years of bullying and isolation. Even now, he could still hear the mocking laughter of his classmates, and feel the sting of their taunts. The only reason he’d entered the mafia world was because a mobster had seen him, bloodied but unyielding, defending himself against a particularly cruel bully.

König let out a heavy sigh, the sound breaking the quiet tension in the car and catching your attention.

“Sorry, Liebling,” he muttered, his voice low and tinged with self-consciousness. “I am not... how do you say? Good at starting conversations. Sorry.”

His admission was so earnest, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten. You smiled softly, shaking your head.

“Don’t be,” you said, your voice kind. “I’m not that great at it either.”

You hesitated for a moment, then, desperate to keep the conversation going, asked, “What about your wound? Is it healed?”

Your cheeks flushed as soon as the words left your mouth, and you inwardly cringed. Of all things to ask…

König’s head tilted slightly toward you, and even with the mask, you could tell he was surprised—and perhaps a little touched—by your concern.

“It’s much better now,” he said, his tone warming. “Thanks to you.”

You glanced at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile beneath the fabric of his mask. His hand briefly left the steering wheel to tap lightly at his side. “Your stitches—they hold perfectly. You are... very skilled.”

His compliment made your blush deepen, and you ducked your head to hide your smile. “I just did what anyone would do.”

“No,” he replied firmly, his voice softening again. “Not anyone. You cared.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and the comfortable silence between you both felt surprisingly warm. You realized something else now—König had called you Liebling instead of his usual Hase. You couldn’t help but wonder about the change, and the question bubbled up before you could stop it.

“König,” you asked, your curiosity piqued, “What does Hase mean? And... why do you call me that?”

The sudden question seemed to catch König off guard. His face, though still obscured by the mask, darkened in a deep flush. He cleared his throat, a nervous, almost sheepish sound, before turning his attention back to the road as he guided the car into the parking lot of a luxury store.

You watched him closely, waiting for him to speak, the soft hum of the engine accompanying the brief pause.

After a moment, he exhaled, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as he parked the car. He took a slow breath, as if preparing himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was more measured, quieter than usual.

“It means... rabbit or hare,” he replied, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I called you that because... when we first met, your doctor’s coat made you look like a white rabbit in winter.”

The words were simple, but the warmth in his tone made your heart flutter. You blinked, surprised, but then a small smile tugged at your lips. The idea of him thinking of you that way—fragile, maybe, but also somehow strong—was endearing.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your cheeks warming from his unexpected but sweet reasoning. “A white rabbit, huh? That’s... oddly fitting, I think.”

König shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a faint hint of embarrassment in his posture, but there was something soft in his eyes as he glanced over at you. "I think you were my... safe place. Like how a rabbit would always hide in the snow."

His words settled in the car with a quiet, tender weight that was almost too much to process. You didn’t quite know what to say in response, but the gesture—his quiet affection—spoke volumes.

You couldn’t help but rest your head on König’s arm, a soft giggle escaping your lips. “I’m grateful you see me that way,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of his presence. Then, with a playful smile, you added, “If I can say something... you remind me of a bear. You make me feel so safe, and yet, you’re so strong, but gentle too.”

König’s breath caught at your words, and a soft chuckle escaped him, a deep rumble that made your heart flutter. He gently tightened his arm around you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “A bear, huh?” he said, his voice warm and almost teasing. “I can live with that. As long as I’m your bear.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection, and smiled. The warmth between you felt unspoken, but it lingered in the air, like a silent promise. As the two of you shared a quiet moment, you stepped out of the car, his hand brushing against yours. Together, you walked towards the entrance of the store, the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet almost drowned out by the beating of your heart.  

You entered the store, the soft chime of the door marking your arrival. At first, the clerks seemed uninterested in you, going about their tasks as if you were just another customer. But when they noticed König holding your hand, their demeanor shifted instantly. Their attention focused on you, and suddenly, they began pulling out the most elegant, expensive dresses, each more beautiful than the last. Yet, despite their efforts, nothing felt quite right. You sighed, feeling a little discouraged.

"Why don’t you look around while I talk to the clerk?" König suggested, noticing the frustration in your expression. You nodded, giving him a small smile, and wandered off, leaving him to converse with the store manager.

As you walked through the store, you couldn’t shake the feeling of hopelessness. Nothing seemed to catch your eye. But then, in the corner of your vision, something shimmered—something that made your heart skip a beat. A black silk off-shoulder gown with a striking collar. The material looked luxurious, the color deep and alluring, and you felt drawn to it immediately.

Without thinking, you walked straight toward it, your fingers grazing the fabric.

A store clerk, noticing your interest, approached with a polite smile. "Would you like to try it on, Miss?"

"Yes, please," you replied, your voice filled with excitement and a touch of hope. You couldn’t wait to see how it would look on you.

When you slipped into the gown, it fit you like a glove. The silk hugged your curves in all the right places, the off-shoulder design showcasing your collarbones beautifully. You turned to face the mirror, admiring the way the gown shimmered under the lights. To complete the look, you added red heels, their bold color a perfect contrast to the black silk, and slipped on a pair of pearl earrings and a matching necklace that the clerk suggested.

As you turned to take in your reflection, you caught a glimpse of König in the mirror. His eyes were locked on you, a look of awe on his face. He stood there, frozen for a moment, his usual confident demeanor replaced with something softer. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race as you smiled shyly at him.

“You look... breathtaking, Hase,” König murmured, his voice low and full of admiration. His words seemed to hang in the air between you, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared, leaving only the two of you. 

You blushed, clasping your hands together. “Thank you, König. I think I’ll take it, but I can’t really let you pay for this. It’s… 2,500! Not to mention everything else–”

“It is a gift for saving my life, Meine Liebe,” König said softly, taking your hand and kissing it gently. His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled back to look at you, his eyes filled with sincerity.

You looked slightly puzzled. “But the dinner—”

“It was a way for me to try to confess my feelings. I’ve fallen in love with you, Meine Liebe. So now, I will properly say it. Will you go out with me, Hase?”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you froze in shock. Your heart raced as the realization sank in. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, your mind spinning. He had fallen for you? The man you had admired from a distance, the one who had quietly made an impact on your life—he felt the same way?

You couldn’t help but smile, your voice soft but steady. “Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips, but it was everything. It was the answer you both had been waiting for.

König’s face broke into a smile, his eyes shining with warmth and affection. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. The world around you faded once again, and for the first time, you truly felt like you belonged with someone.

The car ride was quiet, the gentle hum of the engine filling the space as König drove you to your apartment. The soft glow of the streetlights passed by, casting fleeting shadows through the window. Neither of you spoke much, but there was a calm, unspoken understanding between you—comfort in each other's presence.

When the car finally came to a stop in front of your apartment building, König turned off the engine and met your gaze. The silence stretched for a moment, but there was no awkwardness, only a sense of warmth and connection.

"You sure you're okay?" König asked softly, his voice carrying that familiar concern.

You nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Thank you for everything tonight. It was... perfect."

His eyes softened as he gave you a small smile. "I’m glad you think so."

You opened the door and stepped out, pausing as you turned back to face him. “König?”

“Yes–”

Before he could say anything else, you leaned in quickly, pressing a gentle kiss on top of his mask. The contact was brief, but the warmth of it lingered between you, and you felt your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

"Goodnight, König," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

"Goodnight, Liebling," he replied, his voice filled with something tender, as his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer. He smiled softly, his expression almost unreadable, but the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable.

As you watched him drive away, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. Tonight had felt like something out of a dream, and as you walked toward the entrance of your building, your thoughts swirled with everything that had happened. You were already looking forward to whatever came next.

Back in the car, König blushed deeply, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He fumbled for his phone and quickly dialed Horangi, his voice nervous.

“Horangi... you won’t believe it... She kissed me...” König muttered, his words coming out in a rush.

Horangi's voice crackled on the other end, a knowing smirk evident in his tone. “Oh, really now? What did I tell you?”

König groaned, his face flushing even deeper. "Shut up... it was... it was on my mask, but still! She kissed me!"

The sound of Horangi laughing loudly was unmistakable, filling the quiet car. “Man, you’re blushing like crazy. Just wait till the others hear about this!”

König sighed, feeling embarrassed but also a little giddy, as his mind replayed the moment over and over.

Extra

Horangi hung up the phone with an amused look, his eyes scanning the group of mobsters who had been eagerly watching him. The tension in the room was palpable as they waited for his verdict. They had been betting on how König’s confession would go—whether it would scare the girl away, make things awkward, or perhaps be the perfect moment for romance.

Horangi glanced around at the eager faces, then with a dramatic pause, he delivered the news.

“She kissed him.”

The room erupted into chaos. Hutch and Roze both slammed their hands on the table, raging over their bet that it would make things awkward. “I knew it! I knew it was going to be awkward!” Roze grumbled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Verge groaned from his corner, cursing under his breath. “Dammit! I bet it would scare her off. How did I get that so wrong?”

The only one who remained calm amidst the chaos was Oni, who was lounging comfortably on the couch, casually counting his winnings. A small smirk tugged at his lips as he observed the mayhem unfolding around him. He was the only one who had placed his bet on the doc not being scared away—and as the others argued, Oni leaned back, savoring his victory.

“Easy money,” he muttered to himself, not bothering to glance up at the group.

Part 1

Part 3

[macfrog]

brother | joel & tommy

massive thank-you to @elliespuns who was kind enough to send me so many gorgeous photos of joel and tommy to choose from for this piece. i really, really appreciate it, lovely 🤍 forever indebted to and forever obsessed with you!

pairing: joel miller & tommy miller summary: tommy visits his brother's grave. warnings: lots of grief, brotherly love (but sad), spoilers for tlou2 word count: 900 words

masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤍 | posted first on ao3!

We brought you home in a mottled sheet.

Pathetic, right? I know it, brother. I’m sorry for it. Shit, I’m sorry for all of it.

It’s the best we could find – the best they could find. The kids, I mean. I couldn’t’ve found my own two feet when they eventually managed to wake me. The room swelled into focus and everything was doubled, everything swaying side to side, all violent like.

I could hardly string a sentence together. My head felt heavy with blood, hearing still shot to hell. The first thing I did was look for you.

And oh, Jesus, Joel, did I see you.

I spat the words out in a sob. Be careful with him, I said. I couldn’t get to my feet quick enough; couldn’t reach you with my shaking hands. That’s my goddamn brother, you hear?

He’s my brother.

They found an old pallet and made a sled out of it. We tied it to Old Beardy’s breastplate and let him lead you home. Figured the old timer’s used to the weight of you by now, right?

He kept shaking his head the whole way, kept huffing these deep, achy breaths. I’d never heard him do that before – none of us had. Like he was in pain, almost. I don’t know if horses know grief like we do, Joel, but it sure seemed like he knew. He just…knew.

The gray lump of you jolted and jerked behind him. The more I looked, the more I felt like throwing up, and still – I couldn’t look away from you.

The shape of your head – this crimson bloom where your skull had been broken. Square shoulders, sturdy chest. Long legs and boots still laced – the way you once taught me. Make bunny ears, twist ‘em around each other. Yeah, just like that. Now, pull.

Tall frame, protective frame. Used to plant yourself between me and anything you thought might hurt me. Used to wrestle with me in the backyard, stomach my damn windmill punches like they were nothing.

Man, I don’t know how you ever taught me to throw a half-decent one, but you did. Mom would call us inside and you’d pat my back and say good job, little brother.

Good job. What kinda fucking job did I do this time, huh? When it mattered? Where was I, when my brother needed me most?

On my goddamn ass, that’s where. Blacked out. I couldn’t get to you, no matter how hard I tried.

I tried, Joel. I swear to you, I tried.

It was all of it, all at once. The blizzard, the woman, the room – Christ, that room. So much blood I felt it lining the inside of my lungs. So much that I can still smell it, taste it, like it’s become me. Like everything I look at is tinged red; the color of rust, the color of rage.

The room, where I became just the one. Lost something in my sleep. Hit the ground with a heavy thud, swam back to the surface to find I was short. Something taken. Something stolen.

And I’ve been without you before, Joel, but at least I always got to give you a piece of my mind on the way out.

You remember summer camp, that year I was real homesick? I don’t know what it was. Maybe just knowing you were all those miles away. You remember I wrote you about a hundred times? Jesus. I know you’re laughing, too.

I spent that whole summer with a smile pinned to my face. Counting down the days. I’d turn over in my sleeping bag, pick at the skin on my thumbs and wonder what you were up to. Wonder if you were missing me as much. Wonder if you’d thought about me at all that day.

Well, here I am. Wondering much the same.

I miss you, Joel. I don’t know what to do with that. There ain’t no bus home at the end of this; no big brother and his dirt bike waiting for me in Austin. It’s only been a week, I know that – but my ears won’t stop ringing, and I haven’t stopped looking for you.

It wakes me at night. This pain in my chest, like I’m swimming for that surface over and over, and all I ever do is drown. I wake saying your name. The doctors say it’s just bad dreams, just part of the process, but I know what it really is. I’m calling on you, and you never come.

It’s about damn time I realized you ain’t never gonna come. You’re never coming back. Not to me, not to this place. You’re on a path I can’t follow, brother. We’re on our own from here on out.

Goddamn it, Joel. Why the hell’d it have to be you?

Maybe if we’d gone a different route that day. Maybe if we’d spent a little longer in the stables. We were tryna outrun the weather, sure, but we could’ve spared a few minutes. Shit, I would’ve spared anything, if it meant I’d still have my brother.

Sun’s coming up over the mountains. I better get going. Got a mighty long journey ahead of me. I’ll make things right, Joel, I swear.

Go on, now. I’ll bet your Sarah’s waiting.

See you round, brother.

[lordsukunas]

best! friend sukuna headcanons

yall, ngl, he's just a red flag. he has his 'nice' moments but he's still an asshole! uh this is bound to be at least a little ooc bc lets bffr being his bff is unrealistic. anyway, pls enjoy! :3

best friend! sukuna who kicks the backs of your legs when you're standing, and then snicker when you crumple to the ground.

best friend! sukuna who skips the line and drags you along with him. he ignores the pathetic bitching and whining from the people who were in front of him. if they wanted their spot so bad, they should've got back in front of him.

best friend! sukuna who takes your phone off of the charger to charge his. and once his is on a hundred, he won't put yours back. you don't need your phone when you're with him anyway.

best friend! sukuna who insists on walking with you to the convenience store. it could be late at night or he could be in the middle of ripping someone's throat out for not giving him his damn money, and he'll still go.

best friend! sukuna who always makes sure you eat. post-sleepover and you're hungry? he's up, getting you something luxurious to eat at ten in the morning, and back at his apartment in a flash. he may have violated several traffic laws to do it, but at least you aren't starving.

best friend! sukuna who, ironically, cannot cook for shit. he always uses too much seasoning or disregards the given temperature from the recipe or doesn't bother with a crucial ingredient because he finds it nasty.

best friend! sukuna who enjoys poetry. it's something calming, peaceful, a stark contrast to all the blood he sheds daily. if you ask him for recommendations, he'll have an entire list engraved in his mind, tailored just to suit your tastes.

best friend! sukuna who eats up all of your snacks. oh, you have a bag of hot chips? he's eating them. the second he hears the rustling of a wrapper from your direction, he's holding his hand out. he knows you'll share. you always do.

best friend! sukuna who claims he only went to college because he was bored. while that does have some truth to it, isn't it convenient he's attending the same college as you? especially when he's never mentioned going or even caring about it, and the waitlist was so long.

best friend! sukuna who only cares for the things that directly interest and benefit him. he lives for him and him alone. you're lucky you've entertained for him as long as you have with that pretty smile, that annoyingly joyous, pure laugh and those endless rambles about the shows you've rewatched more times than he can count on one hand.

best friend! sukuna who hates how his breath catches when you show off a new outfit, how heat creeps up the back of his neck and warms his cheeks when you genuinely thank him, how he wants to cup your face in his massive, rough hands and press a kiss to your forehead.

best friend! sukuna who has never cared to love or be loved, not until he met you.

note: at some point i'll quit changing the way i format these posts... maybe idk. ALSOO i wanna write sumn abt yuuta to combat this post bc hes just a corny romantic n i love him ><

if u saw this w/o the cut... no u didn't.

[devotedlykoneshots]

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL - HE'S THE BOSS

Genre : 🔞, minors DNI, smut, boss x employee plot, nothing too dirty

Word count: 4158

↓↓↓↓

You sigh as you work another late night at the museum, it was a good job as far as the pay but the hours were killing you. You were just doing your nightly sweep of the floor, making sure nothing was moved with a clipboard in hand as you checked off another area of the massive venue.

That was until you saw a door open and it was the control room, you cautiously walked towards the room.

"Hello! The museum is closed!"you called out before a figure emerged from the room, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You can't be in there, we're closed and the cops are on their way" you tell him, it was a lie.

"Do you know who I am?"he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

"Is that supposed to mean something? You need to go home, we're closed"you couldn't believe how dense this person was being and your eyes widened as he let out a humorous laugh.

"W-why are you laughing?"you asked and he walked closer to you, you take a step back once he stands a little too close for your liking.

"Sweetheart, I own this museum"he said which only makes you burst out laughing at his pathetic lie.

"Right and I'm the long lost grandchild of queen Elizabeth, sir- I don't have time for these games"you joke back and he looks rather appalled at you accusing him of being a liar.

"I'm not playing any game"he said , looking as if you personally kicked his dog.

"Prove it"you challenged him and he laughs , this was the most absurd thing he'd have gone through in a long time.

"This is ridiculous"he shakes his head in disbelief, still reeling from the fact that you had no clue who he was.

"All you have to do is leave , the faster you leave the faster I can go home myself. Do you think I wanna be here at this hour at some museum for spoiled rich people? I have better things to do with my time"he had to admit that stung a bit but it was also kinda true.

"I have no reason to lie"he pleads, you were so stubborn but in your defense you thought you had caught a thief in the act and putting him on the spot.

Then again why would someone steal from the museum in a trench coat and no mask? A part of you started to panic the more his lie seemed to unravel to be the truth after all.

"You could be a thief, that's a very good reason to lie"you countered his claim of innocence still, unwilling to believe the man before you.

"Is the security system not working? And what about the backup security system?"he actually seemed a little worried? Well if he was actually the owner that would be understandable but he couldn't possibly be, right?

"How did you know about the backup-"he walked back to the control room and you were quick to follow him , raising a hand to stop him from touching anything but that was until you see he bypassed the security code.

"Backup security system online"he sighed as he heard the Ai voice and turned around, someone didn't turn on the backup security system before they left. He would have to deal with that tomorrow but right now, he was more focused on proving his status to you.

"Believe me now?"he asked as he turned around and you took a step back, your back hitting the wall.

"I- oh my god-"your eyes widened in horror as you realized the terrible mistakes you've been making for the past 20 minutes, you insulted his clients.

"Cat got your tongue?"he grinned and you bit your bottom lip as he takes a step forward, you have no where to go as you feel cornered in such a spacious room.

"You could be a very successful hacker"you blurted out and he raised his eyebrows at you , a laugh bubbling from his throat.

"Are you usually this stubborn?"he asked as he cocks his head to the side, maintaining eye contact.

"Only on special occasions"and he grins at this before straighting himself again.

"I think the words you're looking for is , I'm sorry boss for the inconvenience"he said and you looked down at your feet , shifting from one foot to another.

"I'm sorry boss for the inconvenience"you repeated his words and he takes another step forward, gaining your full attention.

"Louder"he demands and you bite your bottom lip before wetting your chapped lips with your tongue.

"I'm sorry boss-"you apologize again, louder this time.

"I'll take a tour around the venue and dinner on you of course"he smiled, the tables have definitely turned and he'd be so petty to admit that's why he stayed so long. He wanted to see the look on your face as you slowly realized just who it was that you were talking to and now your job laid in his hands.

"Why?"you ask , confused.

"Give me what I ask and you may keep your job that pays you oh so well , I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than search for another job at the moment as you say"not bothering to offer you an explanation, just another demand and rightfully he didn't owe you an explanation.

"I'm just a janitor-"you had no idea how to give a tour.

"Which means you should know every square inch of this establishment, am I correct?"he countered , dominance radiating from him almost making you shrink on the spot.

"Yes, sir"you answer and he's pleased to say the least.

"Good girl, shall we?"he asked and held out his arms , you link your arms together and walk out of the control room.

If anyone saw you right now they would assume you were a couple , if it wasn't for the uniform of course and you gave it your all really. He didn't seem too pleased as he corrected you everytime you would give him the wrong information but he didn't comment on it further.

------

"Where are we going to eat?"you asked him and he glanced at you, looking you up and down before focusing back on the road.

"Somewhere of your status"he said and your jaw dropped at the insinuating tone of his voice.

"Did you just call me broke?"you accused him yet again and he shrugged his shoulders this time.

"You said it, not me"he said and you scoffed, looking out of the window and scolding yourself for even thinking he wasn't so bad after all.

"Wow"you muttered, reminded why you have this hatred for celebrities.

"Can't be too broke if you have better things to do than be at work"he eventually says after a moment and you look at him, it was true that you still had money left to do whatever you wanted after paying your bills each month.

"In my defense I didn't know who you were and I'm sorry that's not what i meant"you apologized since he apologized? If that's what you want to call it.

"Oh yes it is but that's alright, no one on the face of this planet would rather be at work than out doing what makes them happy"he laughs before explaining, he was a lot more wise than you thought.

"We work because we have to not because we want to"he reminds you and you're reminded that maybe just maybe he might not be that bad after all.

He pulls up in the drive thru of a  Wendy's and looks over at you expectantly, you sigh and pull out your card as you hand it to him afterwards.

"What do you want to eat?"he asked and you take a deep breath before telling him your order.

"Double cheeseburger meal with added lettuce and cheese, you can also add a chocolate frosty and 2 loaded baked potatoes"you say and he looks at you as if you suddenly grew two heads.

"I also want a sprite"you added before looking at him , your eyebrows furrowed and he chuckles as he writes it down.

"Don't judge me"you defend yourself as you fold your arms, he shakes his head with a snort.

"I'm not I just- I'm not used to women eating so much in public my field"he explains and it makes sense , a lot of celebrities worry about their perfect image and often promote bad diets to younger people.

"I love food"you said , blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind.

"Me too"he agrees with you and both of you fall silent , he hands the cashier his own card and your jaw drops for the third time tonight.

"But-"you point a finger at him accusingly.

"What kind of man would I be if I actually let you pay but nice to see that you're trustworthy"he speaks and grabs his card from the cashier, pulling up to the next window to grab the food.

"You didn't have to do that"you tell him and he looks over at you.

"Too late"he shrugs and grabs the food, handing the food to you, pulling out of the drive thru and back onto the road.

"You never told me your name"you tell him and he glanced at you.

"That was intentional"he said and you snort.

"I thought you were quite upset that I didn't know who you were"you accused him and he laughs this time.

"Not upset just confused, this doesn't happen everyday"he gestured between the both of you and you nod your head in agreement.

"Then tell me your name"you insisted and he chuckles, you were a persistent little one.

"I will.... eventually, maybe once the night is over"he said and you looked at him in shock, the night wasn't over quite yet.

"You know some of us actually have to work tomorrow, I'm that someone"you tell him and he looks over at you before pulling into an abandoned parking lot , turning off the car and looking at you again.

"Take the day off"he says as if that was the most simplest thing in the world.

"I can't , I have bills that need to be paid"you tell him and you quite liked being able to spoil yourself after completing your adult duties.

"Then consider them paid"he said and your jaw dropped again.

"You can't be serious"yeah this definitely doesn't happen everyday.

"Are you saying no to free money?"he asked with a laugh and you run your fingers through your hair.

"I mean no but you don't have to do that"you tell him and he raises his eyebrows at you once again.

"Paying your rent so you can take a day off? Consider it a token of my gratitude for the tour"he said and you laughed , shaking your head.

"I had absolutely no idea what I was doing"you told him and he leaned his head on his seat as he stared at you , amusement evident on his face.

"Okay dinner then"he offered and you shook your head again.

"You just paid for dinner"you told him and he snorts at that.

"Okay then for keeping me entertained"he said and you bit your bottom lip.

"That was unintentional"you told and he laughs, grabbing the bag of food and giving you your meal for the night.

"I should probably take you home, you're probably exhausted"he said and you nodded, that part you couldn't deny.

"My car is still at the museum"you stressed and cover your face, he rests a hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

"I'll have someone come and drop it off tomorrow"he said and you looked over at him before reluctantly keying in your address in his gps system.

That's how you ended up in your current situation, your back pressed against the wall and very much so giving you deja Vu because after you made it to your apartment you turned around to stare at each other again.

"Have a good-"you didn't even notice you cut him off at first.

"Do you wanna come in?"you instantly blushed and he steps inside of your apartment, watching as you removed your shoes and put away your access card from work.

"Do you want something to drink? I have some alcohol"you offered him as he hung up his coat , his footsteps following you after he removed his shoes as well.

"Like what?"he asked and you looked through your cabinet, he tried so hard not to stare at your ass but he was still a man after all.

"Bourbon"you pulled out a bottle and he smiled at that, walking over to you and taking the bottle from you.

"I'll take a glass"he said and you immediately grabbed two wine glasses , he immediately pours you both a glass but he doesn't fill it up completely.

"Why a museum? I mean you still look very young I guess that's why I didn't believe you when you told me you owned the museum"you told him and he laughed softly, a stark contrast to his laugh from earlier.

"My mom was a collector, she loved antiques and preserving ancient things and when she passed my father built the museum to honor her"he explained after drowning his glass and rounding the island in your kitchen.

"I'm sorry"you said sadly, you felt for him and his father truly.

"Don't be , I think she's proud and smiling down on us everyday"he tells you as he sits his glass down in the sink.

"Any mother would be"you told him sincerely.

"I guess you're right"he chuckles and stares at you for a moment, his next question leaving his mouth before he could stop himself.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"you bite your bottom lip before shaking your head.

"No, it's either a hit or miss with most men these days"you answer him and he steps closer to you.

"I'm guessing it's been mostly misses in the past"he said and you nodded, taking another sip of your bourbon.

"You would be correct, what about you? No wife? No girlfriend?"you asked and he shakes his head as well.

"No, I have to be extra careful who I spend my time with because of my status and most times have been misses for me too"he explained, you never really thought about it like that. How celebrities put themselves at risk every time they interact with someone.

"Lucky us"you said and he grabs your glass from your hand , setting it on the counter next to the sink as your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"I'm going to be very blunt here and what you do with this information is your choice"he states and a part of you is panicking, a part of you is anticipating what he could possibly have to say.

"Uh....Okay"you give him the green light to confess.

"I want you , right here and right now"he said and your eyes widened, certainly not expecting that.

"You want me?"you asked dumbly, maybe you were interpreting things wrong because why on earth would someone like him want someone like you.

"Yes, Ms y/n" he confirmed what you already knew, your back pressed against the wall in the kitchen.

"You're my boss"you said and he cages you in with his arms, you bite your bottom lip again.

"You're off the clock"he counters.

"I also have work tomorrow"you said and he brings his hand to your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as he tilts your head up to stare at you better.

"I can think of a few ways to make you call out"he said and you blush again, looking away and biting your bottom lip.

"Kiss me"you say after a moment of silence, the both of you knew you would end up here the moment you invited him inside and now that you were here there was no going back.

His lips waste no time at all to connect with your lips and you drink him in completely, your lips and tongues tangled in a battle.

You lick into his mouth and he sucks on your tongue, his hands slide down and find their purchase on your ass, squeezing your flesh through the material of your work pants.

You moan onto his mouth and pull him closer by his shirt, he pulls away from your lips for some sir and slips his hands inside of your pants. He pushes the material over your ass before grabbing at your flesh again.

His lips leave your own and travels to your neck, licking and sucking on the skin there as he leaves a mark behind before he's pushing your underwear and pants down.

You step out of the sticky material and run your fingers through his hair, earning a groan from him at the tug as a smile takes over your face.

You kick your clothes to the side and tug on his shirt, slipping your hands underneath the nice material and feeling the smooth and defined skin underneath before you pull back to look at him.

"Take it off"is all you say as he kisses you again and he groans softly, reluctantly pulling away from the kiss to pull his shirt over his head and you bite your bottom lip at what you see.

Abs. So nice.

You don't hesitate to kiss and lick at his beautiful torso as you sink down onto your knees, licking and kissing his v-line.

"Come here"he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you up, kissing your lips again and lifting you up into his arms easily.

"Show off"you smiled against his lips and he laughs, sitting you on the counter as you use your fingers to work on getting him out of his jeans and underwear.

"Does this mean you're taking off of work tomorrow?"he asks once again and you bite your bottom lip.

"I can be persuaded"you tell him and he kisses your lips again, pushing his pants to the floor and stepping out of them.

"I can't wait anymore, I need to taste you"he said and pushes you down on your back , lifting your hips and licking your pussy softly.

A gasp leaves your lips as he hums softly and sucks your clit into his mouth, your back arching as you moan out loud and grip his hair.

"Fuck- why is your tongue so soft"you whimper as he sucks on your clit, your hips bucking against his mouth as you roll your hips.

"Feels good?"he asked with a grin and you look down at him with a lazy smile.

"So good"you bite your bottom lip and he blows air on your clit before sucking it back into his mouth, sucking harder and flicking his tongue faster.

He shows no mercy on you as his hands hold you still while his mouth works on you, you're unable to keep quiet and he certainly didn't want you to regardless.

The slap to your pussy each time you try to cover your mouth or bite your bottom lip was enough proof of that and judging by your heavy breaths he could tell you were close.

His eyes watch as your jaw hangs open and countless moans, whimpers and cries leave your lips.

"Gonna cum"you warned him and he pulls away much to your disappointment, pulling you off of the counter before he pulls out his cock from his boxers and turns you around.

He covers your mouth as he enters your pussy from behind slowly and your eyes roll to the back of your head, he starts off slowly thrusting into you.

You knew he had to have a nice cock and you were right, his cock was so nice. All of him was nice.

"You're so big"you whimper as soon as he removes his hand and he kisses your lips, pulling off your shirt and bra.

He grabs both of your arms as he speeds up the pace of his thrusts, hitting all the right spots and making your back arch as you moan loudly.

He uses a hand to cover your mouth and the other is placed over your tummy, he bites his bottom lip harshly at the way your pussy keeps sucking him right back in.

He pushes you forward against the counter and places a hand at your lower back , you hold onto the counter as he holds onto both of your hips and pulls you back onto his cock to match his thrusts.

"You're gonna make me cum already"your knuckles turning white from your grip on the counter as you squirm in his grasp from the force of his thrusts, it was almost as if he was trying to make sure you would be in no condition to go to work tomorrow.

"Cum on my cock angel"you gasp as a hand slides between your legs to rub circles on your clit, giving that extra stimulation that has your body curling in on itself as you cum.

Your body continues to twitch as he catches you before you could fall forward against the counter, pulling you back against his chest before guiding you towards your room slowly.

He brushes your hair away from your face once you're settled onto your bed, your hand wraps around his cock and you start to stroke his length.

"You're not tired yet?"he asked with a chuckle, bucking his hips into your hand and you kiss his lips for what felt like the tenth time tonight.

"I want you to cum too"you tell him and stroke his cock, moving slowly as you straddle his lap and line his tip up to your entrance.

You sink down on his cock slowly as your jaw drops once again but this time it was because of how deep he was.

"Holy shit"you take a deep breath and hide your face in his neck , he rubs your back soothingly and without a second thought he plants his feet on the bed and thrusts into you quickly.

"Ah!"you scream and hide your face in his neck, gripping the sheets beneath his head tightly.

"I know, fuck- you can take it , you're such a good girl"he whispers into your ear and kisses your lips again, you kick your feet as he grabs your hips and helps you bounce your ass on his cock.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and your muffled cries fill the room, you pull back and sit up on his lap as he continues to drive his cock into you.

"Fuck-!"you lift off his cock as you cum but he pulls you right back down , kissing your lips and thrusting into you again as he rolls you over onto your side.

"You staying home tomorrow?"he asked you again and you grip his hair tightly, overstimulation kicking in and you nodded.

"Yes, fuck- whatever you want"it was as if that was the magic word because he immediately pulls out of your spent pussy and strokes his cock, a deep mean leaving his lips as he runs his tip through your folds and painting your flesh with his cum.

His lips are back on yours as you both kiss back lazily, he pulls your body into his side and silence engulfs you both.

"Are you going to tell me your name now?"you asked him and he chuckles, you pull back enough to look at his face.

"Seungcheol"he finally tells you and you smile at him, kissing his lips once again and he cups your cheeks.

"I think I might be addicted to you now"his voice cuts through the silence and you bite your bottom lip.

"You're my boss, we shouldn't be doing this"you trace shapes on his chest as guilt rushes through your body, the gravity of the situation just now hitting you.

You just had sex with your boss.

"I'm the boss remember, I make the rules and the first rule is kiss me"his thumb strokes your cheek and you smile, shaking your head.

"Right now"he nods and pulls you down for another kiss, tongues clashing once again.

The night was still young and whether you knew it or not seungcheol still had a few more rounds left in him for the night.

It's not like you would be going to work in the morning regardless, he has you all to himself for the next 24 hours.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-eight: uniform kink

>>> all the hating bitches to the back i literally do not want to hear it!!! ttyl xoxo this is for more of my depraved self-ship needs

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: established relationship, clothed sex, reader and gojo have three kids, breeding/pregnancy kink, uniform kink obviously i swear they tie in bear w me, spankings, doggy >>> wc: 3.6k >>> event masterlist:

it started out innocently enough. well, that’s a lie. it was not innocent, ever—though it wasn’t weird!! you guys are the same age, married for years–with children! it’s only weird when there’s massive age gaps, right? either way, he feels a daunting sense of guilt mixed with devious amounts of excitement shiver down his spine as you step around the corner. 

the two of you have been pilfering through boxes all day, trying to clear out the bonus room now that the girls were old enough to have their own rooms. they were visiting uncle megumi while their parents rearranged the house to surprise them, but it seems you’ve gotten a little side-tracked walking down memory lane. the first box was full of pictures from school, some of your earliest moments with satoru memorialized forever in the stills. it does make you a little emotional to think about how far the two of you have come, the years spent together and the things accomplished side by side. these pictures tell your story; the first few days of school where you and satoru—then spitefully called gojo-kun—stood at opposite ends of the frame to be as separated as possible. satoru gives ieiri bunny ears and you’re hugging suguru’s arm–but the two of you are looking at each other. it’s clear to you now that you were trying to make each other jealous, but at the time you would have sworn to the heavens above that you couldn’t stand the man. 

now satoru always had a soft spot for you, torturing you was all just fun and games to him—until you started dating a guy from the kyoto school. this, of course, was memorialized in pictures too. there teenage you stood, all dressed up for winter formal, grinning ear to ear as you pose for the camera shoko was operating. you can remember this like it was yesterday, standing in your dorm after exchanging your uniform skirt for an icy blue cocktail dress—you were more nervous for a certain someone to see you than you were to meet up with your date. you knew what you were doing when you picked the dress out, and its effect was clearly captured with satoru’s bulging eyes, red face, and gaping mouth in the background. you pass that one to your husband after taking a few good chuckles at it, remembering shoko turning around her little canon camera to show you the picture and how good you felt after seeing gojo-kun’s reaction. 

he waves the picture in his hands, whistling in the same way he did as soon as that camera fell to shoko’s side. he looks at the picture with fondness, remembering it as the moment he decided to get serious about you. the warmth in his cheeks and jealousy squeezing his heart as your date came to pick you up had him reeling to come up with a way to stop you from going. 

“he gonna make you go halfsies on dinner?” he calls after you, and embarrassment stung your cheeks. your date, just as petrified of gojo as he should be, shakes his head no. 

“n–no, we’re going on full stomachs.” he replies, clutching a pathetic bouquet in his hands. gojo laughs. that bouquet was three dollars maximum, and you were a $30 arrangement at the least. and too cheap to take you on a real date? he shouldn’t be surprised, but he can’t help but press on at the horror on your face and the desperation in his gut. 

“ah, daddy didn’t give you any money? i’ll pay you enough to get yourself a real nice dinner if you leave the lady with me.” he sings, holding out a few yen notes for him. you’re mortified, sure this was another one of his stunts to embarrass you— but your date was easily bought. 

“but–”

“b-but–” gojo rolled his eyes in annoyance, slapping the money in his hand. “i recommend the sushi place on the corner.” he turns, beaming at you, slipping his arm through yours when the kyoto boy drops— without skipping a beat. “c’mon. i believe there’s a dance tonight?” he pulls his sunglasses down his nose a little bit to let you see the mischief and excitement swirling in his eyes. 

you bite the inside of your cheek. you want to punch him in the arm–so you do–and then you nod. it sure took him long enough. “you better make this worth it, gojo-kun.” 

he grins. “call me satoru and i’ll make it all worth it, pretty lady.” his voice is a low rumble in his chest instead of his usual light tone. it makes your heart skip a beat and that warmth burn on your cheeks again. 

you never call him gojo-kun again. the rest is history–a viewable version with the many grainy phone selfies of dates and onslaught of school photographs and even an old camcorder with some footage of you practicing your technique on him made it to this spare room. you’re amazed at how nostalgic it all feels, pulling out a picture of you and satoru on graduation day. he’s smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek—making the switch to a blindfold instead of his circular specs. his hair stands due to the fabric, but you liked the new look; especially when he pulled the blindfold up to wink at you and let you see his sunshine. he’s slumped over you, arms wrapped around your chest. you’re grinning, leaning back against him with your hands tucked into his hold on you. it’s a sweet picture—but you’re focused on the next few. you’re in the same position, but he sneaks his hand to the dip of your waist, then your hip, finally ending with a picture of you blushing from the invisible hand grabbing a handful of your ass. you pass those to satoru too, watching his expression as he flips through them, admiring the youth on your faces. 

“god you made that uniform so sexy.” he snorts, eyes dancing over the way the black fabric clung to you. at the time, he wondered if you’d ordered it that tight just to taunt him, but now he knew there was no amount of clothes that could’ve hidden that bangin’ bod. he shakes his head as he remembers just how horny he had been–not that much has changed even after three kids and over fifteen years together. “had so many fantasies of you in that thing.” 

you arch a brow, “really now?” you ask, clearly intrigued. you had seen the familiar bundle of fabric folded at the bottom of the box. “what kind of fantasies?” you purr, making the hairs on the back of neck stand up, the effects you had fifteen years ago just as efficacious now. 

how honest could he even be with that answer? yes, back then—even as your equal, he envisioned punishing you as your sensei in that little skirt—oh the ways he would have defiled you in yaga’s classroom if you had let him. he’d wondered if you would lean into the slutty schoolgirl act, if you would call him sensei instead of daddy. or would you think that was too much given his current occupation. not like it was the uniform that he liked, just the way you looked in it—and the way it felt to be young and obsessed with you. his obsession has never wavered, its just had to become more subdued as you raise your children —wanting to be a good example and all, he’s nothing but a loving and proper man in front of them. buuuuut. they were with megumi for a few more hours. “what other kinda fantasies about schoolgirls are there, gorgeous?” 

“you perv! gives gojo-sensei a whole new meaning.” you tease him, watching in sheer enjoyment as his cheeks darken a few shades and he crinkles his nose at you in embarrassment. 

“only if you say it like that.” he mumbles in his defense. great, now you think he’s a sicko. he turns back to his box of collectibles, pilfering through what he actually cared to keep now—even though he hasn’t seen any of it since your oldest was born. it’s mostly to hide his shame as he continues to think about you in that little getup with that matured body of yours. he wonders if the material would stretch to accommodate your wider hips and fatter ass. he wonders if the stretchmarks you’ve developed from carrying his children would peek over the waistband of the skirt that’s sure to ride up a little due to your widened thighs. he’s so immersed in the thought of you that he doesn’t hear you slip around the corner to tug on the old outfit. 

it certainly doesn’t fit the same, but it fits. there’s not a shred of modesty to be found– the once form fitting turtleneck top now a cropped version due to the strain from your chest. you hadn’t realized just how much your body had changed beside the obvious pounds on the scale and the marks on your skin—but your mid-thigh length skirt was now a navy mini, showing the dimples of your thighs and the bottom of your ass cheeks. you were no longer the girl from those pictures, but instead a woman who bears the beautiful changes of giving three gorgeous gojo’s life. your husband has always been a massive fan of what he calls “enhancements” to his favorite areas—loving the fluffy stomach for him to rub and the hips that fill his hands. he traces your stretch marks to soothe his racing mind at night, snuggling into your heavy chest for warmth and ultimate comfort in his free time. you know he’s only fallen deeper in love with you and it makes your heart warm with appreciation now that the differences between the young you and the current have been made so clear. you almost give up on the idea altogether, but your husband’s voice calls out for you, so you step around the corner before you can doubt yourself any more. 

he was giving you the sweetest little face—holding up your youngest’s hospital baby blanket with only fondness in his eyes. that is until it registers, as his eyes follow your bulging chest struggling against the fabric, the sides of your hips spilling over the top of the skirt—barely covering anything at all. his face turns red and the blanket falls from his hands, back into the box from whence it came. oh the shame he feels as his cock processes this shock too—making him hiss at the sudden tightness in his pants, biting his lip as he looks at you. it worked on you then and you make it your bitch now, absolutely stunning him beyond words. and he’s never short on things to say. you look even better than anything his imagination drummed up for him. fuck, you are so sexy—you only get better with age. 

the way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s falling in love all over again—eyes bouncing around your frame like he can’t make up his mind to settle on one area. your face burns under his amorous stare, but you fold your hands behind your back and sway to let him admire you. it makes your whole body warm and your cunt clench around nothing the longer he sits and stares–biting his lip, clearly in no hurry to end this moment. as beautiful as he makes you feel, you just can’t help but tease him slightly. you know he’ll pay it back in kind. “do you like it, gojo-sensei?” 

“oh aijichan, can’t you tell?” he hums, eyes falling to his clear erection before they flicker back to you—overcast and darker than usual. he usually playfully calls you his lover, but the addition of the suffix lets you know how thoroughly he’s enjoying your little act. he pats his thigh, spreading his legs even wider across the luxurious office chair. you giggle a little bit, excitement flooding your veins as you walk over to meet him. how you swing your hips and flutter your lashes is not lost on him, in fact he feels the painful buildup pressing against your thigh as you sit sideways on his, looping an arm across his shoulders. “you were such a good little girl in school. i always wondered what it would be like to treat you like a bad one.” he offers, his voice a permanent purr when it comes to the naughty things he presses to your ear. 

it sends a shudder down your spine, and you can’t help but press your chest closer to him in an automatic response. he hooks his hand around your waist, feeling the dip of your waist. he doesn’t miss the reaction—and he loves that you like it. his hand squeezes the fat on your hips, helping you off his lap before standing to full height to tower above you. 

“then bend it over, little lady.” he suggests with a wiggle of his brow, pushing the office chair closer to you with his signature smugness. his eyes sparkle with an erratic excitement, gripping the back of the chair with a tight hold—leaving his impressions in the fabric. you giggle and lean over the chair as instructed. a giddiness floods your veins while he walks circles around you, humming approvingly. “i think ten should teach you your lesson, hm?” 

you wiggle your ass preemptively and nod just to be safe. “yes sir, i think that’ll fix everything.” you purr, feeling one harsh spank to your cheek. it sends a jolt of excitement pulsating to your core, and you know that the results will be evident once he moves your skirt. the arms of the chair dig into your stomach—but it just adds to the sensation as he layers a few intense slaps to your ass. 

“well?” he talks over your loud squeals and happy giggles. “aren’t you going to say thank you?” he hums, shoving your skirt up to your waist to expose the growing redness and incriminating wetness all over your bottom half. he chuckles fondly—you surely do impress. he hits you once more. 

“yes–mmf-” you moan out at the stinging sensation. it’s so much more pleasurable on your bare skin, you can’t help but arch back into him, giving him such a beautiful view of your glistening hole and handprint-branded ass. he slaps it again, enjoying the recoil. “thank you sensei, feels so good~”

he kneads the irritated flesh a little in between the spanks–he’s not heartless, after all. you’re his wife, no amount of roleplay could make him forget the love that swells in his heart for you; especially with that beautiful ass of yours. “that’s seven—can you take your last three, naughty little thing?” 

“mhm, i can take it.” you assure him, finding it wholesome and sexy that he still checks on you even if the dirty talk never skips a beat. from the way you wiggle your bruising ass for him, he knows you’re loving this. he cups his hand under your pussy just to check even though your shiny thighs tell him all he needs to know. he’s delighted when your essence coats his hand anyway, giggling with schoolgirl excitement. hey, that’s your part—

“seems the punishment’s only making you badder.” he hums in approval, hurrying his last few spanks up in order to finally have you. he makes them count though, loud and stinging worse than a wasp—though you can’t recall the last time a bee sting made you feel that good. he can’t remember the last time you two had the house to yourselves, and he planned to put that all of that alone time to good use. you scream out and shudder at the delicious agony, tossing a look over your shoulder to see the sheer pleasure on his face–tufts of hair hanging over his vivid eyes. “seems we’ll just have to move onto something that suits you, aijichan.” 

you clamp down reflexively at his statement, nodding to your undetermined punishment, if such a thing existed under your husband’s treatment. he frees his erection with a little grunt of relief, sliding it through your sloppy lips instantly. he sighs at the feeling—but you whine at the lack of relief. the fire in your gut was burning so hot—you couldn’t take any more of the waiting.

“aw, what is it, little girl?” he mockingly pouts with you. “so needy for your sensei you could cry?” he arches a brow–sheathing his impressive length into the hilt without any more wasted time. he closes his eyes at the feeling of you, just as tight and warm as the first time he had you. it’s wild to him how three kids haven't changed how amazing it is to have you wrapped around him. 

you do cry out at how perfect he fits inside—curving into every gummy spot that needs him with hardly any effort. the sound you make is like music to his ears. you haven’t been able to be this loud since ieiri took the kids to the beach for a weekend four and a half years ago—and that’s how your youngest happened. not to say you haven’t been intimate since, just more…cautious and certainly more quiet. but that does give him an idea. 

he starts to move, grabbing a decent handful of your hair to make a handle out of, pulling you up into a pretty arch. “got one more in you, princess?” he coos, leaning over your body to give you short but powerful thrusts. you can tell from his tone and your regular nickname that playtime was over—he was too consumed by the feeling of you coupled with the undying love you bring out of him to keep up the pet names, but he could succumb to the flash of memories flooding his brain. falling in love with you, making you his for the first time which was also the day he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. he can see the day you played strip uno—which was something he made up just to be cheesy. he remembers your wedding day, you looked so beautiful and were already a few weeks pregnant with your first baby together–your son. god, the memories of you swollen and whiny—

“i—are you serious?” you giggle, a little out of breath from the rigorous way he rocks into you, keeping your asscheeks separated so he didn’t have any resistance. you knew what he was asking, and you know your heart flutters at the idea of having another one despite agreeing to stop after the ones you have. “i thought three was all you could handle?”

“i changed my mind. wanna see you big again. i miss it—’nd i can handle anything.” he says in between the sound of his balls hitting your ass. you can hear the pout in his voice, “you don’t want one?” 

“didn’t say that.” you struggle to form responses, knuckles turning white as you grip the desk in front of you. “just wanted—to be sure—you’re sure!” you squeal with every bruising thwap to your cervix, eyes scrunched shut. you’re almost so gone you might just agree to anything, but the idea of one more pregnancy, one more addition to the family, one more round of being endlessly spoiled as you wait for another gorgeous baby to arrive—it doesn’t sound so bad. it sounds perfect actually, and his words only egg you on. you clench around him in spasms, nodding. “gimme–” 

he chuckles wildly in pride. he would say he loves bully-fucking you into getting his way, but he heard you on the phone with your girlfriend the other day. you were missing that feeling of a new baby as much as he was—and he’s here to please. he moves your hips back to meet his, ass bouncing at the force. your squeals slip into screams and he’s fucking you as hard as he can in order to get more of it: of the sounds, the feeling of your womb keeping him from going any further, the way your pussy flutters around him to tell him you’re so close to cumming—everything was sending him reeling. 

“cum for me first—then’ll give you everything you want, baby.” he encourages, giving you a cocky, “yeahhhh that’s my girl.” when he feels you coat around him—gasping out moans as your legs wiggle and jump. it’s not long after that that he’s gripping your hair even harder, balls drawing up close to him just to spurt his seed as deep as it will go—hoping that his sperm is still just as successful as it’s been known to be. he helps shove it deeper with a few more rolls of his hips, to which you shiver and whine due to oversensitivity.

he pats your ass affectionately, leaning over you again to kiss your cheek as you both sit in the moment and try to catch your breath. he lets your hair fall from his fingers and gently brushes it out of your face, grinning his usual giddy grin. “you’re even sexier now, you know? feel like it’s every day, but even teen satoru would—”

“allllllright thank you, honey, that’s sweet.” you chuckle, shaking your head as he pulls out. he scoops you over his shoulder and shakes his head. 

“whaaaaat–you’re a fucking milf–” he slaps your ass playfully as he sashays toward your room with you. “that i still have–mmm forty-five more minutes give or take to knock up again.” he guesstimates, tossing you on the mattress and crawling over you—determined as ever.

[blackenedsnow]

IT'S ME AGAIN! YES I KEPT THE PROMISE AND I HAVE AN IDEA AGAIN BUT THE OTHER FIC INFECTED ME SO BAD I HAD TO GIVE PART 2 OR SUM?!?!? And I see that you have A LOT of request lately please do take care of yourself sometimes! 🤍

Anyways hold your tits! I'm explaining the part 2 of forgotten project AKA Raiden shogun!reader, (I don't know if you've ever received a request about yandere sonic characters or a love triangle with sonic characters but being the first one is flattering for me 😼)

After the massive attack on the city and litte bit of drama teader and shadow made up with each other (she made peace with Sonic, of course, and she apologized all of them) months later they all wanted to hang out together it was of course Amy's idea, but reader didn't know shadow was starting to like her...but I think it is little to like he was obsessed with her, Knuckles were coming from behind shadow because every day she and him would go to protect Chaos Emerald(s) on the angel island. And Shadow and Reader would hangout in a quiet place talk about their past or what happened to her after 50 years ago. Anyway, I'm getting to the point. They all came to the picnic together (she convinced/begged shadow and knuckles to come to the picnic) but there was only one problem..reader was getting a princess treatment by the two of course reader was cold to them because she was surprised like.....lemme give a scenario ↓

↝Reader didn't know how to tie shoelaces while everyone was waiting in the car she was in her room trying to tie their laces, then shadow and knuckles came into the room a few minutes later, and when shadow saw her pathetic state, she put him on the bed and tied her shoelaces as knuckles brushed her hair cuz her hair was messy, after doing their princess treatment for her she stared at them for a while before immediately leaving the room.

It may seem normal, but you can't call it normal when an obsessive person falls in love with you, but let's say reader/she already has a boyfriend, she was hanging out with her boyfriend, shadow and knuckles were watching them in the shadows/dark places.

One day when reader came to her house which is all of the sonic team lived of course they we're outside so sonics werent home,she was tired because of her last mission but when she entered the kitchen she found her boyfriend dead on the floor the blood was everywhere she trembled and dropped the bag in her hand to the floor, just as she was about to ran away, she turned to her back and there were two shadows infront of her..she closed her eyes after screaming for help.

I LEAVE THE REST TO YOU BECAUSE SOMETIMES YOUR FICS CAN BE SO TERRIBLE (what I mean, it can be so scary that I think of a lot of ideas, long story short..youre doing it perfectly)THAT MAYBE I CAN COME BACK WITH ANOTHER IDEA WHICH IS PART 3 OR SUM BUT I DON'T WANT TO BOTHER YOU!! PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR HEALTH!! TAKE CARE!! 🤍

twisted

WARNING: Yandere behavior, obsession, possessive behavior, murder, gore, violence, angst, manipulation

PAIRING: Yandere! Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader, Yandere! Knuckles the Echidna x Reader

NOTE: I'm so happy to see you again, and I’m thrilled you enjoyed the first part! Your idea for the continuation is absolutely amazing, and I loved writing it! Thank you so much for your kind words; I’m definitely taking care of myself too! Hope you enjoy part two! 🤍

SUMMARY: After the battle for peace, things should have returned to normal. But obsession runs deep.

FIRST PART: Here

The sky over Angel Island was a quiet expanse of blue, broken only by the distant cry of birds. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded months earlier—the storm, the destruction, the agony that had coursed through your veins like lightning. Now, the world had quieted. You had quieted. But in the silence, something far more sinister was brewing.

You glanced at Shadow, walking beside you in the stillness. His eyes were focused ahead, sharp and brooding as always, but there was a weight in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. His presence was more intense, his proximity something you could feel even when he wasn’t touching you.

There had been a time when his company brought a strange sense of comfort, his silent understanding of the chaos within you something you had clung to. But lately, that comfort had begun to morph into something else—something darker, more suffocating.

Knuckles appeared behind you both, his usual gruff demeanor softened as he fell into step beside you. He had become your protector in recent months, always by your side when you made the daily trip to the Master Emerald. His presence was different from Shadow’s—warm, grounded, safe. But even his quiet companionship had taken on an edge, a possessiveness that unsettled you.

You’d been so focused on piecing yourself back together after everything that had happened that you hadn’t noticed the shift between them.

A picnic. A simple suggestion from Amy, who always seemed to know how to bring everyone together. It had been months since the attack, and she wanted things to feel normal again—to heal the rift between you and the others. Sonic had forgiven you, of course, with his usual breezy smile, as if the destruction you’d caused had been a bad dream. Tails had been cautious, but understanding. The others had followed suit, but things between you and Shadow had... changed.

And Knuckles—sweet, stoic Knuckles—had become something of a quiet shadow himself. Always there, always watching.

Now, the two of them flanked you as you all made your way to meet the others, the air tense with something unspoken. You were lost in thought, your fingers fidgeting with the laces of your boots as you had stopped walking to tie them. The delicate motion distracted you from the strange tension building between your two companions.

The sun was no longer warm on your back as you had reached your room, but the laces still wouldn’t cooperate. Your fingers fumbled again and again, tying knots that weren’t quite right, your frustration mounting with every failed attempt.

Just as you were about to give up, a voice cut through the quiet like a blade. "Need help with that?"

Shadow’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, low and calm. He was already standing by the door, watching you with that unreadable look he always had.

You didn’t answer, but before you could react, he was there. In a blur of movement, he was in front of you, kneeling down. Without a word, his gloved hands moved over your boots, undoing the messy knots you had made. His touch was firm, precise, and his closeness sent a strange chill down your spine. You opened your mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come.

And then, as if the atmosphere wasn’t already thick enough, Knuckles entered the room.

You hadn’t even heard him approach, but suddenly he was there, his large, strong hands reaching out to gather your hair. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his touch, surprisingly gentle for someone with such raw strength. You hadn’t realized your hair had gotten tangled, hadn’t felt the knots forming in the strands, but he worked through them with an almost methodical care. His fingers brushed against your neck, feather-light and deliberate, the sensation making your skin prickle with a strange mixture of unease and warmth.

You stared at the two of them—Shadow tying your laces with mechanical precision, Knuckles carefully brushing your hair, their actions so casual yet so heavy with meaning. You should have felt comforted by their care, but instead, unease twisted inside you like a vice.

“There,” Shadow said, his voice soft but steady. He rose to his feet, his eyes locking onto yours with a depth that made your pulse quicken.

Knuckles was silent as he finished with your hair, stepping back just enough to let his hand linger on your shoulder, a quiet reminder that he was still there.

For a long moment, the room was thick with tension, their presence pressing in on you from both sides. You could feel the weight of their stares, as if they were waiting for something—waiting for you to say or do anything.

You forced a smile, standing quickly and brushing past them. "I’m... going to get my bag. We should head out."

The picnic was a welcome distraction, but the air was still heavy with an undercurrent you couldn’t ignore. Shadow and Knuckles stayed close, hovering like silent sentinels while the others laughed and talked as if everything were normal. Amy was her usual bright self, Sonic’s laughter ringing through the air as he teased her. Tails was chatting with Cream, and everything seemed perfect on the surface.

Except you weren’t sure what was real anymore.

Shadow’s dark eyes followed you everywhere, a silent intensity behind them that made you feel like prey. And Knuckles... He was different, too. His usual grounded presence felt more like a protective cage, his every glance heavy with meaning.

But it wasn’t until later—when you found yourself alone in the quiet shade of a tree with Shadow—that things began to unravel.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Shadow said quietly, his voice deep and soft as the two of you sat under the trees. His eyes were piercing, and there was something dangerous beneath his calm tone. "You’ve changed. We’ve changed."

Your heart raced in your chest, and you swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. The intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing, pinning you to the spot.

“We’ve both been through hell, haven’t we?" he continued, his hand brushing against yours, his touch cold and firm. "But I’ve realized... you’re the only one who understands.”

His words lingered in the air, heavy with an implication you didn’t want to acknowledge. You pulled your hand away from his, standing quickly as the unease in your stomach twisted into something darker.

"Shadow, I—"

Before you could finish, Knuckles appeared, his eyes narrowing as he saw the two of you together. His usual calm demeanor had a sharp edge to it now, and for a moment, you could feel the tension between him and Shadow flare like a fire ready to burn out of control.

The following weeks were a blur of confusion and tension. Shadow and Knuckles were always there, always watching, always too close. You tried to tell yourself it was nothing—that they were just being protective after everything that had happened. That they were just being good friends, looking out for you.

But then there was your boyfriend—the one source of normalcy in your chaotic life. His presence was a breath of fresh air, a reminder that things could still be okay. You spent time with him whenever you could, clinging to the feeling of peace he brought.

But Shadow and Knuckles... they didn’t like it.

They would watch you from the shadows, their eyes always on you when you were with him. Their jealousy was palpable, their obsession growing with every passing day. And you... you somehow noticed everything except for that.

One night, you returned home late, exhausted from whatever the hell it was you were doing. The house was quiet, too quiet. You set your bag down on the kitchen table, rubbing your temples as you tried to shake off the lingering fatigue.

That’s when you saw him.

Your boyfriend. Lying on the kitchen floor, motionless. His body twisted in a way that no living person could survive. Blood pooled around him, staining the floor, the scent of death thick in the air.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as terror clawed at your insides.

"No... no, no, no..." You dropped to your knees beside him, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch him—only to pull back as the reality of the scene hit you like a sledgehammer.

He was dead.

The blood... it was everywhere.

Before you could react, a shadow fell over you. You turned, your heart slamming against your ribs as two figures emerged from the darkness—Shadow and Knuckles, their expressions cold, unreadable.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice trembling, your eyes wide with disbelief. "Why did you—?"

Your world shattered in an instant. The weight of your boyfriend’s lifeless body lay heavy in your mind, the blood on the floor an all-too-vivid reminder of what had just been taken from you. It was impossible to process—the violence, the senselessness, the betrayal. You couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Knuckles and Shadow stood before you, shadows in the dim light of your kitchen, their figures imposing and silent. The air was suffocating, the silence more deafening than any words they could have spoken. It felt like time had slowed to a crawl, the seconds stretching into painful, excruciating moments where nothing made sense.

Your voice cracked as you tried to find words that wouldn’t come. "Why...?" you whispered again, your gaze flicking between the two of them. Their expressions—so cold, so calculated—stopped you in your tracks. This wasn’t them. This couldn’t be them.

But it was.

Shadow was the first to speak, his voice low and eerily calm. “It had to be done.”

His words sliced through the air like a blade, their weight knocking the breath from your lungs. You recoiled, stumbling back from your boyfriend’s body, as if distance might somehow undo what had already been done.

Knuckles, ever stoic, looked down at you with something far more unsettling than anger. There was no regret in his eyes, no hesitation in his stance. “He was in the way. We couldn’t let him hurt you.”

"Hurt me?" The words felt foreign on your tongue, your mind reeling. You had been through so much, survived countless battles and moments of chaos, but this—this was a different kind of horror. "He didn’t... he wouldn’t..."

Shadow stepped forward, his presence overwhelming in the small space, his red eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. "You don’t understand. We had to protect you. He was weak. You deserve more than that."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head in disbelief. "Protect me? You—You killed him! How is that protecting me?"

Knuckles knelt beside you, his frame making the room feel even smaller. His hand reached out, brushing against your cheek with surprising gentleness. “We did what we had to. You’ve been through so much, and we can’t let anything hurt you again.”

But it wasn’t comfort you felt from his touch. It was dread. Every word they spoke sent chills down your spine, their distorted sense of protection wrapping around you like a noose.

"You’re safe now," Shadow added, his voice unwavering. “With us.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the panic setting in fully. Safe? Safe from what? From them? The very people who had taken everything from you in the name of protection? You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, the room spinning around you as the full weight of the situation pressed down on you.

"Please," you begged, your voice shaking, "this isn’t what I want. You’ve... you've gone too far."

But they didn’t hear you. Or worse—they heard you, and they didn’t care.

Shadow’s hand closed around your arm, his grip firm but not painful, as if he believed what he was doing was for your own good. "You don’t have to be afraid anymore."

Knuckles rose to his feet, towering over you, his expression softening just a fraction. “We’ll take care of you. No one else can do that like we can.”

It was suffocating, the weight of their presence, their obsession. How had you missed it? How had things gone so wrong?

You tried to pull away, your breath coming in short, frantic bursts, but their grip—both literal and metaphorical—was unyielding. You were trapped, caught in a web you hadn’t even realized had been spun around you.

"I didn’t want this," you choked out, tears spilling down your cheeks as the reality of the situation settled in. "I never wanted this."

But your protests fell on deaf ears.

Shadow’s eyes softened, just a fraction, and for a moment, you thought you saw something normal beneath the intensity—a flash of something almost like tenderness. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same unwavering determination.

"You’ll understand in time," he said, his voice almost... soothing. "We’re doing this for you."

Knuckles stepped closer, his large hand resting on your shoulder again, his strength radiating from him like a silent promise. “We won’t let anyone hurt you. Not ever again.”

But in that moment, you realized the truth. The ones who were hurting you... were standing right in front of you.

[nomsfaultau]

How do you think Weight in Gold and Lambs Phil would react to each other.

I definitely think Lambs Phil would be confused asf as to why a giant asf bird is hugging him but he accepts it.

I think that man has chronic anxiety from being forced to be affectionate to monsters, but at least this one is blatant about it. And fluffy. Okay this is kinda nice. Lambs is still expecting to get eaten tho.

they’d have massive culture clash regarding hair, since Lambs has this whole intricate system of cultural meanings and connotations buried into their hairstyles, and Weigt in Gold is just like 😳 ribbon!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And immediately yanks out Lamb’s widow’s bow to preen Lamb’s hair. Which. Doing that outside of close friends/family is a MASSIVE no. Also probably tries to steal Lamb’s marriage ring bc SHINY!!!!! Lambs is just having the worst time lmao. But when is he not. He’s just a pathetic puppy to me.

At first Lambs is relieved he can just say whatever the hell he wants since it won’t be understood and maybe starts venting a little cause oh boy does he need it. Absolute freezes when Weight in Gold is suddenly like “█w██o██ ████——w█ ████ ███ mate ███ █th█████ at ██ ███████ ████s ████ █u█████ck█ █ ██s██ ███ should ████ █I█ ███████ kill them ██f███ or ███ you?” And Lambs loses his MIND he’s so STRESSED a monster knows his PLAN- but Weight in Gold is just like. Man this guy would be a lot calmer if he ate more dead squirrels probably.

Also Weight in Gold thinks Lamb’s roost is depressing and tries to help fix it up. Mostly by creating a giant nest in the one main room. Probably stresses the hell out of “Wilbur” since it’s so undignified unlike the Court. “Tommy” digs it tho. Probably turns into a baby Ravengence just to mess with Weight in Gold. Triggers infanticide trauma, and suddenly “Tommy” can’t escape the sad Weight in Gold, who has become aggressively broody and fatherly to cope. Tries to set the flammable birb on fire but unfortunately WIG!Techno’s enchantments are too good so he’s just trapped forever maybe.

At one point Weight in Gold coughs up some gold and Lambs just about starts crying from relief because now he can afford weapo- cough cough afford to feed his “family.”

Now, WIG Techno? That bro is a famous monster hunter! Him and Lambs would get on sooooo well. He’d just be like oh you’re dealing with ghosts, demon and a changeling? Let me check my notes… and just flip through his little journal until finding the right page and wam bam the “children” problem is solved. Which naturally would be terrible but at least Lambs would be less scared? Except for the fact there’s a pig demon thing just walking around acting like that’s normal? WIGTechno just rolls his eyes and puts up with the usual piglin racism. And then finds out Lambs is broke as hell. Waste a time…

[petermaximoffsgirl]

hold you

summary – tate comforts you after you self-harm. 

content – angst, fluff; mental health issues, self-harm

words – 0.9k

when tate appeared in your room, you were already in bed, trembling and quietly sobbing under the covers. in an instant, he was by your side, frantically scrambling under your sheets and pulling you into his arms. “no, no, no,” he whispered. “please don’t tell me you did it again, please." 

you whimpered pathetically and buried your face in the side of his neck. “i h-h-had to,” you cried. “i fucked up, i bother everyone, i can’t do anything right!” you clawed at his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “n-nobody else even notices,” you moaned. “nobody else cares about me. they all just go about their lives, thinking they’ve done such a great job with me. they all think i’m too annoying to have feelings!” 

tate hugged you tighter, like he was trying to wring your sadness out of you and absorb it himself. “then they don’t deserve you,” he whispered, gently stroking your hair. “if they only pretend to care when it’s convenient for them, they don’t fucking deserve you.” your body shook as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “show me?” he asked gently. 

slowly, you took his hand in your own, slipping them both under your pajamas until his fingertips met the fresh cuts on your skin. he applied light pressure; you moaned in discomfort. “i d-don’t f-feel anything when i do it,” you whimpered. “it s-stings after, though.” 

“of course it does,” tate said, his voice strained. “you’re mutilating yourself. what did you expect?” 

you started sobbing again. “i w-want it to hurt when i do it,” you hiccuped. “it’s what i fucking deserve!” you bit your lip, wincing slightly. “everyone thinks i’m seeking attention when i’m happy, and they can’t stand being around me when i’m upset. i’m supposed to care about what everyone who hates me is going through, but they wouldn’t even take me seriously if i said i’m not okay!” 

he withdrew his hand, pulling you against him and kissing your head. “i hate them,” he mumbled. “whatever you want me to do to hurt them, i’ll do it, i swear. i won’t let them hurt you anymore, because you don’t deserve any pain.” 

you shook your head. “no hurting people,” you said stiffly. 

tate’s face crumpled. “so, they get to hurt you whenever they want to, and you just have to take it?” 

your lip trembled. “i can’t do anything! and…i don’t want them to hurt like i do,” you whimpered. 

he smiled, his eyes filling with tears. “because despite the world treating you like this, you’re kind in ways most people can’t even dream of,” he whispered, gently stroking your face. 

you burst into tears again, sobbing into his sweater. “i can’t believe i fucking care so much! all they do is hurt me, and i c-can’t even really fathom hurting anyone back!” 

“is that why you hurt yourself?” he asked quietly. “you’re the only person you can stand to hate and hurt?” you glanced up at him, tears still running down your face, and nodded slowly. he gently took both of your hands in his own. “next time something happens and you feel upset, can you do something for me? can you come and find me instead of hurting yourself?” 

you considered his suggestion. it was plausible if you were alone in your own house, but not if you were anywhere else or had company. “what if i can’t come find you?” 

tate smiled and slid his snake ring off of his thumb, holding it out to you. “here, take this. you can wear it whenever you’d like, so you’ll always have me with you. it’ll tide you over until you can come find me.” he gently wiped away your tears with his thumb. “and whatever i’ll be doing, i promise that it’s not nearly as important to me as you are. i’ll drop it and help you instead. okay?” 

a nice feeling settled in your chest as you smiled at him. it felt like a massive weight had been lifted from your shoulders as you nodded. “okay, tate.” 

he cupped your face in his hands. “promise?” 

“i promise,” you said, sliding the ring onto your thumb and tracing your fingers over the two snakes. 

tate smiled and kissed you softly. you felt like you were floating away from everything bad as he gently hooked one of your legs over his waist and wrapped an arm around your torso. you were so close to him, and it made you feel safe and loved in a way that nothing else ever could. “now, i’m going to hold you until you fall asleep,” he said, his voice soft, “and i’m still going to be holding you when you wake up. then, i’m going to keep holding you for as long as you would like. how does that sound?” 

you snuggled against him, slowly relaxing. “i love you, tate.” 

he kissed your forehead. “i love you too.” 

[subskz]

doing this trend (https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8HBPjPm/) with each member. what would their reactions be? imagine lightly squeezing their bulge and seeing them jolt a little and squeeze their thighs together… i feel like hannie would have a massive boner while filming the tiktok LMAO. and then jerking them off with ur new set of nails after recording <3

link! (semi-nsfw)

ohh i’m obsessed w this 😽

hannie would definitely be fighting for his life the most out of all the boys lmao he would be so embarrassingly hard after just one attempt at filming, you’d be able to wrap your fingers fully around the outline of his dick through his sweatpants and feel him throb so eagerly in your hands. it makes showing off your nails kinda difficult though bc he’d be squirming around like crazy, and the longer it goes on, he eventually starts whining up a storm too. if you “accidentally” dragged one of your nails along the shape of his bulge to create a delicious friction w the material of his pants, his hips would buck up so fast. he’d beg for you to please just hurry up and finish already bc he's starting to get so hard it aches, but he keeps messing up your videos like the needy lil thing he is. which ofc makes for the perfect opportunity to insist that you won’t touch him until you get it right. he’d be a desperate, twitching wreck by the end of it, whining your name, tugging helplessly at your wrist and trying to guide it under the waistband of his pants. it’s up to you whether u wanna indulge him, or keep messing w him until he breaks down into tears of frustration before you finally wrap your pretty manicured fingers around his leaking cock

jinnie and chan would also be one step away from losing their minds if you did this to them hehe. their thigh muscles would be clenching so tight, using all their strength not to close in on each other and rub together every time you so much as brush over their crotch. channie especially would be so embarrassed w himself for getting turned on over smth like this, even when that’s very clearly your intention here…poor baby giggles nervously when you drape your fingers over his clothed dick and he does his best not to draw attention to the growing tent in his sweatpants. he’d be so sweet too, trying to give you compliments on your nails as you show them off, but his voice would crack pitifully when he speaks and his ears would be on fire. his eyes would be flickering all over the place too bc he knows staring too hard at where your hand is will make him start to short circuit. it'd be esp fun to tease him by forcing him to look bc you keep asking him questions like "is that a good angle? do they look nice like this? maybe i should spread them out more" followed by channie having to smack his hand over his mouth as a last ditch attempt to hide his shaky, pathetic groan when you stretch your fingers out over his bulge. him, hyunjin, and jisung would be very lucky that you’re putting music over the video bc they’d no doubt be letting out weak gasps and whimpers the entire time <3

jinnie would have such entertaining reactions, you can see the torment all over his pretty face from the very first take. his thick brows scrunch together and he bites down so hard on his lower lip until it swells up and the skin nearly breaks, you’d think he was getting the head of his life instead of just feeling your fingers tease him through his clothes. you’d probably also have to refilm the video a few times to get him to sit still for you bc his body is ridiculously reactive, but it just gets worse every time. once hyune’s gotten worked up, it's hopeless to calm him down again bc he’s hypersensitive to every little touch and gets so in his head, all he can focus on is how badly he needs you to keep touching him. feeling your fingers dance playfully over his bulge and seeing how your pretty nails gleam under the light, he can’t help but start to push his hips into your palm, whining low in his throat thinking abt them wrapped around his cock. a cute lil wet stain might even start to seep through his sweatpants <3

jeongin would love (and hate) this trend the most out of all the boys hehe i think he’d really go crazy whenever you get your nails done bc this boy lives for the aesthetics. he’d already be admiring them w stars in his eyes and might even get a lil touchy just to hold your fingers in his hands and run his pads over the fresh coat. so when you innocently ask him to film a video w you, he’d agree without question…only for him to realize a split second too late what ur evil plan really is. he'd sound so cute and clueless the moment it dawns on him, stammering out a sudden "w-wait, like that!?” but as soon as he catches sight of your fingers resting over his crotch, his brain turns to mush and he forgets how to speak. he’d be giggling breathlessly a lot like channie bc doesn’t know what else to do, and getting him to keep his legs from closing in on each other is a lost cause. he’d let out the cutest wail of embarrassment when he realizes how turned on he’s gotten, hiding behind his hands and huffing abt what a perv you are…which ofc you spin back around on him bc he’s the one who looks ready to ruin his underwear over some nails 🥰 he’s so irresistible when he gets flustered like that though, so you make it up to him by giving him the perfect view of your new nails sliding up and down his dick. he’d be so mesmerized by the sight and would definitely cum much faster than usual…and since he’s so into it, he can lick his mess off your fingers afterwards too~

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas

W/C: 7.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀

A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭

Masterlist

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Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.  

A senseless daydream.  

It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it.  Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape.  This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place.  It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.  

So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt.  Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life.  And last week he was suddenly dead.  It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie.  All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor.  Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.  

He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s.  Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste.  Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.  

Whatever you wanted. 

He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke.  His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you.  He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him.  He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place.  Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick.  He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.

Now just standing up seemed impossible.  Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible.  And for what?  For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions.  Pathetic, he knew.  But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.

This was it.  

This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man.  Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything.  He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come.  A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind.  And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver.  The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him.  He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Eddie told you he was feeling better.  It was a lie.  He never had the flu.  He didn’t feel better.  He wanted to die.  And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive.  Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.

And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon.  His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.

He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones.  There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did.  A flaw in the system.  And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?  

Several.

He thought to himself.  

You could have gone to school, shown up.  

Could have stayed out of detention.

Gotten arrested less.

Not get arrested at all.

Could have said no.  So.  Many.  Times.

In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death.  He couldn’t stop making excuses.  Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse.  For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together.  Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had.  It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.

Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision.  He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid.  Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.

What’s the matter darlin’?

And he just sobbed.  And remembered.

Morning pancakes and the blues.  Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies.  Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum.  Dancing in the living room.  Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees.  Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin.  Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.

Then he remembered.

Him.

Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense.  Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer.  That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised.  Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights.  Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in.  Disappearing for days.

Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home.  Only he rarely did.  Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time.  Years and years of push back.  A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.  

“My dad has a ton of jobs.”  He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.  

The kids would snicker.  Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness.  And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day.  Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them.  Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.

So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature.  At least that’s how dad described it.  It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse.  They called his dad a drunk.  They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged.  “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie.  Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time.  Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.

Freak.

Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt.  And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up.  Closure in some kind of fucked up way.  Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.

Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with.  Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.

All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes.  Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability.  No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door.  He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it.  This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions.  He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world.  They shouldn’t have to worry about me.  With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.

The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana.  A life he’d always longed for anyway.  

Be careful what you wish for.  

That goddamn voice taunts him.

The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away.  “One slip up…”  They had said.  It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him.  Literally anyone.  As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.  

Cause he was nothing if not a problem.  First and foremost.

Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–

“Eddie?”

It all stopped.  

“Eddie?!”  

There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry.  The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.

Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–

“Please don’t make me go back!”

You couldn’t form words.

“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.”  His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime.  “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear.  Please d-don’t let them take me.”

Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen.  With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made.  You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“Shh.”  You soothe. 

Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose.  A wordless commitment.  Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere.  You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure.  Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had.  Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at.  He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.  

The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house.  Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred.  If either spoke it would make it real.  Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.

He said it was an accident, and you believed him.  There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind.  Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip.  It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.  

He felt on a deeper level than most.

At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him.  In the standard of fight or flight, he froze.  Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.

“Bambi–”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

You were trying to keep it together.  His croaking voice made that hard.  But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability.  And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime.  Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him.  Maybe that was dare you even think it, love.  But that’s a crisis for another time.

“Dad died.”

Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions.  Conclusions you backtracked on immediately.  It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.      

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–”  A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.

“It’s fucked.”  His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior.  “I shouldn’t–”  There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath.  “I shouldn’t feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to.”

“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”

“And you’re still allowed to mourn.  Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”

You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet.  Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.  

“How’d you know?”  He finally asked, timid.

“Hm?”

“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”

“Needed someone?”

Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.  

“Wayne called me.”  You sigh.  “Said he got my number from Steve.  Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?”  At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it.  “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in.  Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“So you knew?”

“No.”  You assure, taking care to relax your features.  “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out.  He wanted me to check in.  I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.”  You chuckle.

Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again.  You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick.  The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor.  There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better.  You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again.  It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.

“I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.  When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.

“But right now you’re not.”

Sabotage.  In his eyes.

“But I will be.  Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”

Excuses.  Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble.  A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.

“Stop it.”  You demand.

“No, Bambi.  Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”

“Stop.”

Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key.  Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself.  And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses.  His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.

Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness.  Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in.  He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.

“Would you listen to me?!”  Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow.  “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down.  I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it.  My shit is my shit.”

You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.

“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.”  Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze.  A plea.  “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in.  I don’t care what holiday it is.”

“Go.”

You try not to take it personal.  It’s not personal.

“Fine.”

The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him.  The room turned colder, more vacant.  Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart?  His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.

Do not resuscitate.

As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall.  The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.  

It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended.  Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness.  Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what?  Stormed off?  Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat.  He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—

In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other.  And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness.  The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.

Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut.  An uphill battle.

“Bambi, what did I tell you–”

“You told me to go.”  You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth.   “And I did.  You didn’t say how long or—or where to go.  But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake.  Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“

Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.  

There he is.

Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips.  Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you.  Your boy.  

Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense.  Bambi and Eddie.  There is not one without the other, not anymore.  Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—

“I love you.”  

It just fell from his tongue.  A promise.

“I-are—are you s—“

“Am I serious?  Is that what you’re gonna ask?”  He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.

You nod, gulping.  Not because you’re afraid, no, never.  You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.

“Bambi…” He tuts.  “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”

All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.  

“Bad.”  He reiterates.  “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“

“I don’t—“

“I’m not finished.”  Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip.  “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it.  And I’ll run with it.  Far.  Because I’m pathetic—“

“You are not.” 

“I’m a pathetic man.  Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”  

“Stop saying you’re pathetic.”  You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.

“Oh, but I am.”  He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.  

Did he believe it was his last chance?

And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.

A pathetic whine dare you say.

“Sorry, sorry.”  You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.

“Don’t—ow!  Jesus fuck.”  Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek.  “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”

You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of.  Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.  

“Can you…can you do that again?”  He whispers.  Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.

Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck.  His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest  wet dreams.  

Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail.  And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.

 He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.  

“Like that, baby?”  You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.

“Please.”  A whisper that tells you everything.  “I-I never—no one’s ever—“  He tries to warn you.

“What?”  You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe.  “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”  

“Just my hand.”  Eddie jokes, voice strained.

Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap.  Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his.  Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.  

“We can stop.”  You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.

“No, no.”  His voice shakes, chest heaving.  “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”  

There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him.  But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable.  Feel sexy and wanted.

“Let me do the work.”  You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him.  “Let me take care of you.”  

He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles.  You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.

“I said, let me take care of you.”

Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you.  His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.  

Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far.  His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.

“Eddie.”  You whimper.

“M’ gonna cum.”  He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria.  “Wanna be inside of you.”

You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.  

“Please, baby.  Please, I’ve got condoms—“

You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.  

“You bought condoms?  Boy, are you prepared—“

A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.  

“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”

“Shhh, okay, okay!!”  You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back.  You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?”  You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.  

Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care.  Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed.  You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you.  Purely Eddie.  Woodsy and minty.  A tad smoky.  And some hints of apple.

Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room.  And then it plays.  A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love.  A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.  

“Well alright, cowboy.”  You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.  

“Shut up.”  He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.  

“C’mere.”  You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you.  “Wanna see you.” 

“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”

Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach.  Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago.  The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined.  While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side.  Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.

As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him.  Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants.  Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.  

“F-feel what you do to me?”

It aches.

His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet.  But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.  

You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side.  His eyes grow, lips parted in awe.  And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.  

You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control.  And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.  

Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval.  That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.

His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it.  Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red.  Painfully aroused.

He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.

“B-baby, please.”  While grinding into nothing, poor boy.  “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”

He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands.  You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.

Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth.  Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps.  Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair. 

He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot.  Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned.  Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone.  The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom.  The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.  

Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm.  Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.  

Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting.  The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.

 Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds.  Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what.  Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime.  Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.

Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm.  His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted.  You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark.  All of him.

His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you.  He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.  

Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless.  Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit.  Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”.  That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?

–

Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close.  Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.  

The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart.  Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.  

It could help though.  And that’s all that mattered.  If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing.  If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.  

While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree.  Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar.  Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works.  Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.  

You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did.  Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste.  Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.  

You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes.  While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet.  Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity.  Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips.  A dream.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”  You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.  

Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth.  It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.  

“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?”  He laughs, voice husky with sleep.  

“No but I can do you one better—“

“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“

“Next to the table.”  

Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created.  Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow.  He felt like an asshole.

“I—no I can’t—“

“Open it.”  

Eddie just stared. 

“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!”  You smile, approaching behind him.

Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you.  When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.  

“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse.  I just didn’t.  I’m sorry.”  His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.

As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck.  And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.

“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you.  I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“

“I love you.”  You interrupt.

Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table.  Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you.  Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute.  He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing. 

“You’re not just saying that—“

“I.  Love.  You.”  You enunciate each word with a peck.  “Point blank.  No exceptions.  You’re stuck with me old man.”

“Old man?  We’re like the same age—“

You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records.  A huge stack of them.  All genres.  Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal.  It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling.  That much you could gather.

“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”

“Don’t like them?”  You scoff.  “I love them.”

You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school.  You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach.  He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.  

And he was blushing. 

“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me.  I picked some out that I knew you’d like.  Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”

“Oh, we are listening to them.  Right after you open your gift.”

More blushing.

Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him.  Like Pandora’s box or something.  Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper.  A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold.  His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper.  It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head.  Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture.  At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said. 

“No fucking way.”  He smiles, half laughs.  Then repeats himself.  Over and over.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around.  Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.  

“I love it, I love you.”

Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table.  The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other.  Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between.  His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.

He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three.  Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled.  Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.

Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere.  You miss it.  But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything.  Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi.  Makes small talk with mom and grandma.  Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day.  No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her.  He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

Lastly you call up the gang.  Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual.  Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background.  Something about a broken sled.  Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.

“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either.  This would all make so much more sense then.”

There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on.  Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default.  She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially.  Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house.  Beautiful in the summertime.  Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.

Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays.  One of the records he’d gifted you.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

[homelanderbutbig]

I Did It For You (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2433 words. Hurt/comfort. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You are harassed by a scuzzball co-worker, and Homelander is a bit too forceful in protecting you.

You have been dating Homelander for a couple months now, with this fact hidden from the rest of Vought. However, you were fortunate enough to transfer from your boring desk job to become Homelander's personal assistant, allowing the two of you to spend more time together without suspicion. While most of your former co-workers are confused as to why you would take such a dangerous position, you shrug off their concerns and keep your real reasons to yourself.

One evening after a considerably busy workload, you are separated from Homelander to finish up some paperwork before signing off for the night. Making your way down the halls of your old floor, you are approached by one of your prior co-workers.

"I'm surprised to see you here again", they say, which is a bit baffling to you. The entire time you'd worked with them, not once did they return your attempts at small talk.

"I just had some forms to deliver to my old manager," you explain, trying to resume your stroll. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my boss". However, your previous co-worker blocks your path, reaching their arm out in front of you.

"Hey now, what's the rush?" they question, getting a bit too close for comfort as they invade your personal space. "You afraid that oversized supe is gonna throw you off the Tower like every other assistant he's had?"

You can't hide the glower forming on your face when they insult Homelander like that, causing them to chuckle at you.

"Come on now," they snort, eyeing you up and down. "We all know something is going on between you and that giant freak. You've lasted this long without him killing you, and you don't think anybody's noticed? You have some kinda dirt on him, dontcha?"

"I don't know what you're insinuating, but I'm just doing my job," you counter, again trying to end this awkward chat, but you are startled as they roughly grab onto your wrist to prevent you from leaving.

"Tell me what you know," they sneer as their face is right in front of yours. "I haven't been working at Vought this long to be upstaged by some newbie. You know something, and you aren't leaving without sharing."

"And what do we have here?" a voice suddenly reverberates through the hallway, causing you both to jump. You don't even have to turn around to know who has arrived, and you know for a fact he's been listening in on this whole conversation. You just pray that he's not in a bad mood.

"H-Homelander!" your co-worker stutters, letting your wrist go as they are unable to mask their unease seeing the leader of The Seven smiling down at the two of you. He rarely ever comes to this floor, and if he does it's never for a good reason. "W-We were just catching up on work matters, nothing to concern yourself about!"

"Ah ah ah," Homelander smugly retorts, wagging his finger as he leisurely saunters closer to your co-worker, forcing them to stagger backwards into the wall as he looms his massive form above them. "Don't you fucking lie to me". Although Homelander still has a smile painted on his face, it's obviously laced with venomous intent.

When your co-worker tries to flee, they are swiftly halted by his large hand enveloping their arm, just as they had done to stop you moments ago. In one quick flick of his wrist, he breaks their arm as easily as one would snap a graham cracker.

"How pathetic," Homelander scoffs, dropping his fake smile. Without any emotion, he ignores your co-worker's screams as they fall to their knees, writhing in pain. He bends down to snatch them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them back onto their feet. "You really are just fucking scum."

"And scum like you don't deserve anything," he snarls, baring his fangs. Wrapping one hand around your co-worker's neck, he effortlessly hoists them up and pins them against the wall eight feet in the air.

"Homelander, no! STOP!!" you gasp as your co-worker fruitlessly tries to break free from his iron grip, frantically kicking their legs while struggling to pull the large hand away from their throat. You grab onto his thigh, in a futile attempt to shake some sense into a brick wall.

Since starting your job at Vought, your co-workers have told you rumours about Homelander's inescapable rage. Sure you've seen his temper flare at the drop of a hat over something minor, but you're always there to calm him down. Around you, he's never gotten this mad before, and it terrifies you that he's not listening to your outcry.

You can see Homelander giving into his fury, his eyes turning red from his laser vision activating as he relishes torturing this mudperson by slowly applying more pressure to their windpipe. This worm dared to touch the only thing in the world he treasures, and he intends on making them pay. Once your co-worker's legs start to go limp, you know he is seconds away from killing them. In this moment you are aware that you only have one option left to attempt to stop him.

"JOHN!!" you shout, finally enough to grab his attention. Briefly turning his gaze to you, his face twitches involuntarily.

"Don't… don't call me that," Homelander snaps back at you, sounding more like a plea than a demand. Although his expression remains angry, he squeezes his eyes shut while breathing heavily through his nose. Thankfully, you can tell this was enough to have broken through his tough guy persona to the tender little boy he hides inside.

When Homelander first told you his birth name, 'John', he insisted you only use it in situations where you two are alone, and when he is comfortable enough. This name is the last piece connecting himself to his childhood, and he still has trouble dealing with the memories it conjures. Hearing it makes him feel small, vulnerable, and… human. You've seen how much he gets affected by you calling him 'John', even in an entirely loving way, and you understand it's something he only prefers on his own terms. However, you know you had to do something to stop him from murdering this person.

"John, please," you persist, ignoring his request. You reach up to caress his free hand, which is tightly clenched as he tries to control his conflicting emotions. "It's alright. I'm fine."

Homelander slowly relaxes his fist and allows you to weave your fingers around his own. Opening his eyes again, he looks tentatively down at you. While his outrage is beginning to soften, his pupils are still glowing red. His other hand is starting to release your co-worker's throat, albeit very reluctantly.

"Please put them down," you plead, massaging his hand while you refuse to tear your eyes away from him. "It's okay now. Everything's okay". You know he'd never laser you, and you need him to know you trust that he won't either. Luckily, he seems to understand your message as the light from his eyes slowly dims and his blue irises return.

There is a sudden thud once Homelander abruptly frees your co-worker from his grasp, dropping them hard onto the floor. At first you are alarmed that the fall could have done more damage because they appear to be unconscious, but you are relieved to at least hear them still breathing.

Looking back up to Homelander, you notice the last of his ire has vanished, now replaced by an intense distress as he comes back down and registers what he has done. It's not the near murder that's upset him, it's hearing your rapid heartbeat and smelling your cortisol levels spiking from fear. He's gone too far, and now you're frightened. He wants to say something, to put his bravado back on display and reassure you this mudperson doesn't deserve your compassion. However, he is just as petrified as you are, unable to form even basic sentences while his body is frozen in place. His mind is going a hundred miles an hour, convincing himself that you are going to realize that he is a monster and leave him.

As much as you are afraid by what has just occurred, you have come to learn the easiest way to diffuse situations like this is to soothe Homelander's anxieties. In a way it is a little disconcerting to you, having to be the one to tell him that everything's fine after what he's done. It's like the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, life and death dependent on making sure Homelander feels loved.

And yet, over the weeks you have gotten close to him… you want to be that person. You want to swaddle him with your devotion, because although he hides it from everyone else, he truly is broken. His life has been nothing but tragedy, a neverending nightmare that he has been forbidden to heal from. He deserves to be loved, and there is never a day that goes by where he doesn't display his ceaseless gratitude to everything that you do solely for his happiness. 

"Could you please pick me up, sweetie?" you ask softly, raising your arms up to signal your intentions. Homelander swallows timidly, his lower lip quivering as he fights a losing battle with his tears. Carefully, he bends down to raise you up and cradle you in his arms. Propped up to be eye-level with him, you can readily discern the profound fear in his eyes, apprehensively waiting for you to speak first.

"I know you were just trying to protect me," you say, petting his cheek. He leans into your hand, chasing for affection. "And I'm grateful that you were there to help, but…" you trail off, biting your lip. You are trying to think of the best way to put this without making him more distraught.

"I don't like seeing you hurt people," you express firmly, immediately noting how hard he is trying to conceal his pain at hearing your disappointment in him. He hates letting you down, it reminds him too much of how miserable he was everytime he displeased Madelyn.

"I… I-I did it for you," Homelander whispers faintly, angling his head lower to do his best not to look you in the eyes. He doesn't want to catch a glimpse of your face, worried that he will be forced to see your grievances for his actions. Regardless, he feels your tiny hand moving from his cheek to under his chin in an effort to redirect his vision. You lack the strength to actually lift his massive head up, but he doesn't want to frustrate you anymore than he already has, and obediently does what you want. To his surprise, you don't look irritated… you only show sympathy.

"I know baby, I know," you console him, resting your forehead on his while you nuzzle into his nose. "Please, just… no more violence, okay?" you stress, bringing both of your hands back up to scratch his undercut. You feel him nod at your words as he closes his eyes and deeply sighs, completely melting into your touches. If there's one thing he would never do, it's go against your wishes. Under no circumstances would he willingly deprive himself of you.

Suddenly, Homelander's expression goes sour once he hears your co-worker finally awaken, roughly gasping for breath. You both glance over to see them rubbing their sore throat with their good hand as they shakily stand up, their back against the wall to support their battered body. When they eventually regain their bearings, they are shocked to spot you in Homelander's arms.

"Leave," Homelander states, staring daggers into them. The one thing he wanted to avoid has now happened; someone has discovered your secret relationship. Their hesitation to move only seems to anger him more, causing his face to twitch and contort into a menacing grimace.

"I SAID LEAVE!!" he yells, his voice booming throughout the hallway as his rage reignites his laser vision. Fearing for their life, your co-worker doesn't waste a second more as they run away as fast as their unstable gait will allow, disappearing down the hallway.

Homelander keeps his eyes focused on them, following their movements with his X-ray vision to ensure they don't come back. You can't stop yourself from feeling intimidated by the incredible heat emanating from his eyes, which fortunately dissipates when he redirects his gaze back to you.

"They're going to tell everyone about this," you fret, trying to ignore how cognizant you are seeing how quickly Homelander's demeanour flipped back to fury. He reminds you of a child when he does things like this; he really isn't the best at regulating his emotions.

"They'll stay quiet if they know what's good for them," he declares, still looking quite serious with his brows tightly knit together. "I'll make sure of it."

"Promise me you won't hurt them again," you fuss, doing your best to calm him down by bringing your palm back up to his cheek. "I know they're a horrible person, but just… promise me, please."

Like magic, your caresses return Homelander to the pliable state he was in before, efficiently wiping away all of his exasperation. Again, he sinks into your hand and nods to agree with your request. He hopes you recognize the level of restraint he is showing not ending your pitiful co-worker's life. This isn't something he'd do for just anyone, he only wants to be good for you.

"Vought will deal with them," he assures you, speaking from experience. This isn't the first person he's injured on purpose that the company has had to pay off, but this is the first instance where he is actually grateful humans are greedy enough to accept these bribes.

Homelander doesn't want to worry you anymore, he just wants you to be proud of him. You're always there to save him, and he's messed up his initial chance trying to do the same for you. More than anything he wants to see your face light up as he swoops down to guard you from danger, to show you his true power as he fights off the vermin of the city, or anyone that would even look at you the wrong way.

Even if you don't want him to, he's always going to be there to protect you. And one day, he yearns to show you the same level of care you give him, when you shelter him from himself.