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prettyboykatsuki · 7 months ago

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BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone.

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it.

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity.

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him.

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally.

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful.

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance.

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks. Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way.

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true.

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read.

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time.

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice.

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties.

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm.

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane.

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.

It's relieving in the worst way.

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little.

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago.

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you.

You look at him.

“You’re horrible.”

“Tell me something new.”

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.”

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already.

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.”

“The contract. Are you serious about that?”

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.”

“And that’s me?”

“Seems like it,”

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol.

“...Fine.”

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to.

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy.

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower?

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all.

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.”

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid.

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle.

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears.

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery.

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria.

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least.

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression.

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face.

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.”

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is.

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness.

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it.

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?”

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions.

“How would I know?”

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?”

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.”

Sukuna barks a laugh.

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?”

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.”

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can.

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors.

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh.

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.”

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?”

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy.

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that.

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again.

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up.

“Thought of something, brat?”

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine.

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.”

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?”

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.”

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.”

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?”

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want?

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.”

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter.

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him.

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat.

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.”

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it.

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you.

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear.

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.”

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.”

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,”

“There what is?”

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?”

“What is it, oh.”

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical.

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire.

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice.

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation.

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.”

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers.

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.”

You don’t even think about asking what he means.

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.”

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?”

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static.

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body.

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins.

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.”

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you.

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago.

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge.

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.”

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.”

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs.

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity?

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you.

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes.

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name.

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades.

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.”

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly.

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.”

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.”

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.”

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #writing tag #dark content cw #incest cw #dubcon cw #abuse cw #grooming cw #<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross.#THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY

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majestyeverlasting · 2 months ago

Text

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Paring Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary In the wake of a storm, you seek out Eddie because he gives the best hugs and may be the only person in Hawkins who has the answers you need [fluff, 2.1k]

A/N Eddie didn’t come back wrong. Not in the way you’re thinking, at least. But he does hear things from time to time…

The sweet scent of wet earth lingers inescapably as you pedal, bike wheels whirring softly as they weave around potholes filled with rain. The familiar stillness that follows every storm has settled over Hawkins. Cool droplets fall from tree branches onto your skin, contrasting the warm fall air. With the wind at your face, the heaviness in your chest begins to lift as you travel further from home.

When you arrive, rain drips from the Forest Hills entrance sign. The old, chipped wood has survived years of vandalism and wear. Puddles of water have collected on the gravel road, and colorful toys have sunken into muddy portions of front yards. The closer you get to Eddie’s trailer, the more you hear muffled music permeating from within the four walls.

The lights are on, visible through the curtains. It isn’t until you’re close enough to dismount your ride that you realize you’re hearing Ozzy Osbourne. Eddie’s voice passionately joins in as the chorus circles back around, a smile pulling at your lips as you rest your bike against his trailer.

The moment you knock on the door, he quiets. There’s brief shuffling, then purposeful footsteps until he’s finally swinging it open. The way his eyebrows shoot up at the sight of you is comical. A guitar solo pours out to greet you as well.

His curly hair is pulled back in a low, messy bun and a black pair of pajama pants ride his hips. Every time you see him, there seem to be more designs inked across his pale skin. They’re down his arms, splayed across his chest. The dragon was your favorite of them all. Snaked along the side of his rib cage with its mouth bared, shielding a splotch of scars.

“You’re goin’ off the rails, huh?” There’s a playful lilt to your voice as you quote the lyrics back to him, tilting your head.

His cheeks flush as he opens the door wider for you, your perfume wafting as you walk in. “Every day of my life—fuck me, I can’t believe you heard all that,” he groans, running a hand down his face.

After shutting the door, he turns off the stereo. You sigh as you toe off your vans and take a relaxed look around the small space. With Crazy Train having come to an end, you can hear the TV quietly droning about the possibility of more rain.

For as much as there was that changed in the world, this place seldom did. With its warm lamplight and eternal coziness. The air smelled of pine, underscored with smoke. Even the mug shelves and baseball caps hanging on the walls have stood the test of time.

When your eyes meet again, he offers a boyish grin that settles under your skin. “Wasn’t expecting your pretty face today.” He tucks some wispy flyaways behind his ears.

“Sorry I didn’t call first,” you say. “I just needed to get out of the house...needed to see you.” Eddie doesn’t miss the brief shadow that flickers in your eyes, as though another thought is protesting from a cage in the back of your mind.

As much as he’s tempted, he doesn’t coax it out. “Nothing wrong with a good ol’ change of scenery.” He lifts his brows in that charming way of his. “Not that this is the Four Seasons or anything—”

Before he knows it, your arms are around him. A hum vibrates through his chest as you tuck your nose into the warmth of his skin. As he hugs you in return, the remaining tension melts right from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. Once he’s sure you’re feeling better, he starts rocking from side to side until your smile slips through.

You try to pull away, but he only squeezes tighter. “Eddie,” you whine through a giddy laugh.

“Nope, you’ve gotta commit now,” he quips. “I don’t make the rules, angel.” Hearing that, you relax into him, exhaling at the playfulness and familiarity of his embrace.

“How do you do it?” You murmur into him like he’s some sort of magic.

He smooths his palm up your back, gently massaging at the base of your neck. “Do what?”

“Make everything better,” you whisper, feeling the rest of your worries dissolve under his touch.

A weak chuckle rumbles through his chest as he pulls back to look at you. The honesty in your eyes makes him feel like he’s an imposter. Like he’s somehow got you fooled. “I don’t know about everything...”

Life has been different since the Upside Down. There were scars from that day that were never going to fade, engraved beyond skin deep. It was the voices from before, the rumors and taunts, that made him feel like he was that same punk teenager who corrupted everything he touched. Like being himself was innately wrong.

It was hard to believe that someone like you genuinely enjoyed his company, found him helpful, thought he was good. But he was getting better about it because he didn’t make it this far for those old voices to hold the same power. These days, new voices echoed around him, not confined to memories but strikingly real, intimately near. Never unkind, just disembodied and drifting through the in-between.

They didn’t scare him anymore. He learned when to listen and when to tune them out. Something was bound to follow after he crawled his way back to the land of the living. Nevertheless, he’s grateful for a second chance at life. If things had ended any differently, he never would’ve seen how much better things could get—or cross paths with you.

You think for a moment before speaking up again, “Then we’ll agree to disagree.”

Eddie takes your chin between his forefinger and thumb, eyes flitting over your face in awe. You grow shy under his gaze, and that’s when he leans in to kiss you, his plush lips soft and slow. A satisfied sound rises in your throat as you trail your hands along his waist, feeling the different textures of his scarred skin beneath your fingertips.

Caught up in the warmth of your mouth and the pleasant stirring in his gut, he doesn’t feel you pull the elastic from his hair, letting it cascade down over his shoulders. However, he smiles at the feeling of your fingertips gently scratching his scalp.

“I got something for you,” he eventually whispers, pecking your lips one last time before heading to his bedroom.

Butterflies dance in your stomach as you trail after him, toying with the hem of your shirt. You take a seat on the foot of his bed, watching him saunter to his nightstand, humming under his breath. Your eyes drift to the dagger tattooed between his shoulder blades, the blade descending a short way down his spine.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, turning back around with something hidden behind his back. Eddie snickers as he approaches, your eyes adorably shut. It’s a contagious sound. The bed dips as he takes a seat, his thigh pressing against yours.

He taps your nose with something soft, prompting you to open your eyes.

It’s a small stuffed ghost with two black buttons for eyes, and an even smaller one for a mouth. You’re quiet as you take it from him, thoughtfully turning it over in your hands. Shaped like a comma, it has two adorable arms raised up from the sides. Faint stitching is visible along the perimeter like it was homemade. Eddie shifts and scratches the back of his neck, unsure how to interpret your silence.

A smile finally breaks across your face. “He’s adorable. Where’d you get him?”

Eddie runs a relieved hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna believe me, but Wayne and I went to visit Ruth in the nursing home the other day. You remember her? The lady who used to live a couple trailers down.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “They happened to be having one of those activity days where someone comes in to lead a craft or whatever…“

“And you stayed?”

He kisses your cheek. “Bingo.” Then his voice grows fond. “All I could think about was making one for you.”

Warmth spreads throughout your chest. “I’m gonna name him Ghostie.“

The distant sound of a car door shutting makes you jump and look towards the window. Eddie almost laughs, but stops himself at the way your shoulders slump in dejection. Like you’re upset at yourself for reacting.

He leans in, talking carefully, “You alright?” You shake your head in dismissal, but his attentiveness doubles down. “Talk to me, Goose.”

The reference makes you smile, and you nudge him for it. “I’ve just been a little on edge.” There’s something else you want to add, but don’t. Eddie’s ready to prod it out this time around, but you’re quick to tap his nose with the stuffed ghost. “I might just be going off the rails like you and Ozzy.”

He huffs an amused breath. “Not gonna let that go, huh?”

“Never.”

•••

The rain starts back up again. Slowly, before pattering down harsher against the roof. By then, you’ve already eaten dinner and settled on the couch for Beetlejuice, the sun long set. Eddie’s arm rests over your shoulders as you lay asleep in his lap, Ghostie tucked into the crook of your elbow. He had a feeling things would end up this way.

When he shakes with a chuckle at yet another wacky scene, you stir. He doesn’t realize until you shift with a soft hum. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he practically coos, squeezing your shoulder.

“How dare you laugh and be amused.” Your voice is soft and groggy in that way he adores.

“I know, I’m awful,” he agrees with feigned gravity. “Gotta go turn myself in. Tell the kids I love them.” You snort as you sit up, snuggling into his side with Ghostie in your lap.

The lights flicker as a strong gust of wind blows outside. A concerned furrow forms between his brows at the way you gasp and stiffen. This jumpiness is unlike you. He rubs your arm in hopes of loosening you up, but darkness promptly envelopes the room. You can hardly see aside from mere outlines.

The sides of the trailer creak as the wind continues, a bit fiercer than before. Eddie curses under his breath at the inconvenience, while you’ve grown even more rigid and silent. There’s a false glimmer of hope when the lights briefly flicker, but darkness soon prevails again.

“It’s okay,” Eddie assures, pulling you closer. “Wind’s just disturbing the lines. They’ll be back on in a second.” The lights flicker before dying out again.

Tears well in your eyes. Your voice wavers as you speak, “Eddie?”

“I’m here,” he assures. “I’ll go grab a flash—”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Now it's his turn to still. It’s not a foreign question, not by a longshot. It’s one that was peppered throughout his childhood, and always returned in the later half of every year when the nights began to grow a little longer. It’s the sound of your voice that sets it apart this time around. You’re not seeking an answer for fun or on a whim. You’re searching for a second opinion. Deep down you knew, out of every other soul in Hawkins, he’d have one to give. No one came back from the Upside Down without a few ties that lingered.

He’s quiet for a while, the sound of wind and rain filling the space between you.

“It’s not a matter of belief,” he finally says, swallowing hard. “If something’s real—God, Satan, ghosts, whatever…” he pauses. “It’ll keep existing whether you believe it does or not.”

“So do you think…are ghosts real?” He can’t see your attentiveness, but he can hear it.

He chuckles humorlessly, blindly taking your hand in his so you know he’s not making fun of you or messing around.

The two of you start talking at the same time, “I—”

“Can feel them,” you breathe. “At my house. It started a few days ago after you left.”

Like he may have left them behind.

The lights stutter back on as the TV bursts back to life, somehow picking right back up. Eddie reaches for the remote and turns it off, his finger lingering on the button. When his attention settles back on you, there’s a sense of disbelief in his dark eyes, like he’s looking into a mirror for the first time in a while.

“Feel them?” he slowly repeats, searching your gaze for more.

“Hear their voices... like soft whispers,” you continue. “So I know they’re real.”

There’s a thoughtful beat of silence.

“Me too.”

Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #halloween 2024 #joseph quinn #stranger things s4

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pretentious-blonde · 3 months ago

Text

after the storm

pairing: remus x reader

summary: the full moon is looming and remus takes it out on the one person he promised not to.

warnings: smoking, arguments

a/n: this is my first fic ever so please be nice!! if people like it, there might be more <3

The moonlight shone through the thin curtains of your shared flat, the beams from the sky cast pale, silver lines across the dark wooden floor of the apartment. It was a modest space the two of you had saved up for, tucked away behind an alley, just off the main road to quiet the bustling sounds of the city outside. The flat, which was on the smaller side, was home to you both. The original ornate fireplace crackled quietly in the corner, the warm orange glow from the flames it emitted danced across the pale walls. Books that the two of you have collected over the years filled not only the bookcase, but a few had migrated to the shared desk in the corner and coffee table. Their spines old from years of use. The familiar scent of parchment and tea permeated the air, and the smell of herbs drying near the windowsill felt comforting. It all reminded you of him.

The evening outside was unusually quiet for a night in the city. Cars and passers-by were not as loud as they normally were, instead, there was a silence that felt almost oppressive. Spreading across the shared space. The full moon was due in just a few short days, the weight of that fact hung in the air you both shared.

Remus sat by the slightly open window, back hunched with a cigarette in hand, staring out at the dark sky above him. The warmth of the fire didn’t quite reach his body, leaving him partially veiled in the shadows surrounding him. His whole posture was tense, his shoulders had turned in on themselves as if he was trying to make himself smaller, as if he could somehow disappear. His brown hair, messy from how many times he had raked his fingers through it, fell into his sunken eyes.

He has always been on the leaner side, however, the days that lead up to the full moon only helped accentuate his lanky figure. His stress usually makes food seem irrelevant around this time. The faint lines around his mouth and eyes, formed from laughing with you or James or Sirius, were more pronounced. His deep amber eyes looked empty and fatigued, lips dragging once more on the cigarette in his hand, jaw clenching as he exhaled. Holding back words he dare not say.

You were snuggled into the couch just across the room, your gaze unable to focus on the book in your lap as concern gnawed away inside of you. You were more than familiar with nights like these. The shift in his mood, shutting you out. He became distant as the moon loomed over him, more irritable than usual. The weight of his condition becoming more burdensome, even with you there. Tonight, however, felt different. He felt darker in the way he held himself. His movements were sharper, tighter, you could feel the tension radiating off him much like the fire that was warming your tired body.

Placing your book down on the coffee table in front of you, standing as you began to approach the boy in the corner, the floor creaked gently as you came closer. He had smoked half a pack just this evening and you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you in his arms.

“Remus?” You used his full name to get his attention, your voice was filled with a soft tenderness that always seemed to calm him. “Are you alright?”

There was a brief pause as he didn’t respond to you. His eyes were glazed over as he continued to focus on the dark sky outside, his long fingers tapping on the windowsill, a small sign of the restless energy that was threatening to burst through him. When he did finally respond, his voice was low—lower than usual.

“I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath, though the words felt hollow. He stubbed out his cigarette and formed a fist with his hand, the knuckles turning white as he tried to ground himself. “I’m just tired.”

Your eyes softened as you understood, but you knew better than to leave the conversation there. You could see the cloud surrounding him and couldn’t just sit there and pretend that nothing was wrong. Taking a tentative step further, glancing down at your sock-clad feet, feeling the warmth of the fire on your back as you moved closer. “Rem,” you began gently, “I know the full moon is in a few days, do you want to talk?”

Remus’s gaze finally tore away from beyond the window, his dark eyes now locking on yours. You could fully see the damage the stress had done to him. The shadows under his eyes made him look older, more worn than a boy in their twenties should be. His lips parted as if he wanted to respond to you, but they soon shut as he shook his head from frustration.

“No,” he said sharply. His eyes flickered with irritation that you knew he wasn’t trying to direct at you. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

The silence that followed was more unbearable than the previous one, his sharp words pressed down on the both of you. Your heart clenched in your chest, but you, being ever stubborn, refused to back down when he looked like this. You knew it was not in his nature to be cruel, the sweet boy that captured your heart all those years ago, but his tone hurt all the same. Ever the martyr, he tended to shut people out, even those who cared for him. He had built walls around himself for protection, rightfully so, but the isolation you felt was becoming too much to bear.

Taking a deep breath as you nervously clenched your hands at your sides. “Remus, you can’t keep treating yourself this way,” you tell him, keeping your voice firm but caring, but Remus could hear the tremor of hurt beneath your facade. “I know what you’re going through and that you’re hurting, but I’m trying to help. Please, don’t push me away.”

He scoffed and the sound felt cold and bitter, he finally stood up. He towered over you as he shut the window, his tall frame pulling away from yours as he paced over to the living room, running his hand once again through his hair in frustration. “Push you away?” He repeated your question sarcastically. “I should have done that years ago.”

He spun his body around to fully face you, his eyes blazing with so many emotions it was hard to pin one down. It was frightening. He had never frightened you before, not like this.

“You really don’t get it,” his voice lacking all the usual tenderness it had when talking to you. “Living like this, every month, turning into this—this monster. I can’t—I shouldn’t—have to put you in danger because of me.”

His words stung deep as you try not to flinch backwards. “I’m not scared of you,” you insist, keeping your voice level so as to not match his rising tone. “We have been over this. I know you—the real you—you should know better than anyone that I’m not going anywhere.”

“Have you ever thought that you should be scared?” He snapped back at you, his voice filled with panic and self-loathing. “You think you know what it’s like, and that’s the problem. You think you do but you don’t. You’ve never seen me—what I become—you haven’t seen what I am capable of.”

Your features softened as your frustration turned into sympathy, but you refused to allow him to shut you out more. “I know you’re not a monster,” you say truthfully, voice firm. “You are kind, kinder than anyone I have met before, strong too. This part of you doesn’t change that.”

He barked out a sharp laugh, one filled with no humour as he shook his head back and forth. “Of course, you say that now,” he muttered under his breath. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw what I turn into. One day, I will lose control, and you will despise everything you think you know about me.”

The words hit you like a blow to the stomach, you knew he was spiralling and your demeanour faltered slightly. You could feel the raw pain behind his outburst, the fear that had been eating this boy alive for years at this point. You refused to join him in being afraid, not allowing him to shove you aside.

“Rem,” you said lowly, voice determined. “I know you’re scared. I know you think you are protecting me by lashing out like this, but ultimately, this is my decision. I am here because I love you. Every part of you.”

His expression twisted painfully into one of disbelief. “Love me huh?” He asked. “You don’t even know every part of me. Not really. All you see if the version of me that I let you see. The one who tries to act normal, to convince everyone that everything is fine when really that is the furthest from the truth.

“Do you understand what is it like to live in fear of hurting someone you love? To be terrified of yourself? I know you can just pretend that everything is fine, but—fuck—I can’t” His voice rang out through the room, now still with the implication of his words.

You stood frozen in place, the weight of his confession hitting you with the intensity of a steam train. You both didn’t speak for a while and you felt your throat tighten, your waterline burned with tears that threatened to spill. The warmth from the fire did nothing to alleviate the coldness you felt from him now, the distance between you felt greater than just a few feet.

How many times have you held him whilst he struggled with his condition, picking up the pieces it left when it tore at him from the inside? This uncensored anger, brutal honesty, was new. The more you stared at him, the more you saw the scared boy that you fell for back in school. You couldn’t bear it any longer.

“I…” you began to say, unwilling to raise your voice above a whisper, in fear you would break down in tears. “I can’t be around you right now.”

Remus’ eyes widened slightly at the words that left your mouth, as if that response was unwarranted after his outburst. He wanted nothing more than to take it all back, but something held him back from speaking anything else.

You shook your head as the ache in your chest continued to grow. You wanted nothing more than to be there for him and expected nothing in return, but the pain of his words was too fresh to do any of that now, too overwhelming. You still loved him, but you couldn’t show it well right now. Not when every fibre of your being was screaming with hurt.

“I just… I need some time alone,” you turn away swiftly, not allowing him to see the tears fall.

You quickly retreated to your shared bedroom and softly shut the door behind you. The click of the handle sounded so much heavier than usual, the catalyst that broke the dam. Silent tears slipped down your face as you leaned on the frame for support, Your hand covered your mouth so as to not allow him to hear the effect his words had on you. Trying to catch your breath and calm down.

In the room just across from you, the soft crackle of the fire was the only sound that remained. Remus stood in the centre of the living room, aching as he looked at the door you had just shut. Locking him out. The realisation began to sink in, slowly, painfully. More painful than any transformation he had felt before. His body was cold, he felt hollow.

His fingers trembled as he combed them through his hair for the hundredth time that evening, guilt shattering through his frame and completely drowning out the last of his anger. He pushed you too far. Way too far. He didn’t mean anything he said, none of it. The one person who had always stood by him though everything was now hiding from him. The thought of it made his stomach churn.

He allowed his eyes to wander to the couch where you once sat, the soft cushions piled up to hold you comfortably, something he should have been doing. He glanced over to the bedroom. There was no way you would want to see him after tonight, let alone share the bed with him.

With a defeated sigh, he sunk down onto the couch, catching his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. The shadows from the fire danced around his vision as he stared at the floor, mocking him as his mind reeled.

•••

The morning light shone through the curtains he forgot to close last night. The sky was dim and muted, stereotypical of the English weather, making the apartment feel even more depressing than he felt. The dying embers of the fire drowned out the sounds of the city waking up outside, he tried to get his mind to focus on something—anything—that wasn’t the previous evening.

He groaned as he shifted uncomfortably, his tall frame stiff from the hours of not sleeping on the couch. He welcomed the ache, a self-inflicted punishment of sorts, one he deserved. His mind continued to race, he didn’t need to look at his watch to know that it was early, way too early. But he couldn’t bear to lie there any longer.

Eyes looking over to the bedroom door that was still shut. The urge to simply go over there and open it, to fix things, was overwhelming, but how could he just barge in? Especially after what transpired. The hurt look on your face was burned on the back of his eyelids, something he never wanted to see again. Ever.

He sighed and decided to stand, making his way to the kitchen fully on autopilot. His fingers shook slightly as he picked up the kettle, holding it under the tap to fill it up, the sound of it bubbling to life filling the silence. His mind flicking through everything he could say to you.

He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, like you were a burden to him.

The kettle began to whistle as he opened the cupboard for the tea bags, the familiarity of his actions helped him ground himself as he prepared the tea, just the way you liked it. It was a small gesture, nowhere near as big as it should have been, but it was all he could think to do. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it could be a start. A pathetic attempt at an apology, but hopefully, it would show he wasn’t trying to run away again.

He poured the tea into two cups, he selected your favourite one too. One he picked up for you in one of the old antique shops in Diagon Alley, you refused to drink out of anything else for a week. For a brief moment, he paused, staring down at the steam as it slowly rose from the mugs. The anxiety shot through him and everything inside was telling him to leave the tea on the counter and walk away. But he couldn’t. Not to you. You needed him as much as he needed you and even his fear couldn’t keep him away.

His breath shook as he inhaled, picking up both mugs as he made his way to the shared bedroom. He pushed down on the handle with his elbow and winced at the creak of the door as it opened, stepping inside as quietly as he could manage.

The room was perfectly still, the same soft light from the morning cast gentle shadows across the bed you were huddled up in. His eyes fell to your sleeping figure and his chest clenched. You were fast asleep still, engulfed in the large blanket, but even as you slept, he could see the clear evidence of the night before—the faint tear stains that marked your cheeks, brow still visibly tense.

Remus almost dropped the cups in his hands, breath catching in his throat. He caused this. Made you cry. The guilt was overwhelming, suffocating him, it wrapped around his chest as breathing became more strenuous. If he hated himself yesterday, he loathed himself now, forced to face the consequences of his own fear. Drove away the one person, who only ever asked him to love them.

Carefully and quietly, he set the two cups down on the cluttered bedside table, hand trembling slightly as he knelt down next to the bed. His eyes were fixed on your face, the tear tracks were a painful reminder of everything he wished he could take back.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered from beside you, voice barely audible as you slept so close to where he was kneeling. He didn’t know if you could hear him, he didn’t know if it would make a difference, but he needed to say it anyway. Even just for himself.

His eyes began to burn with the tears that didn’t fall last night as he sat back on his heels, staring at the floor as regret washed over him in waves. In truth, he knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness, but he wanted—needed to try. Maybe when you woke up, you could talk. Maybe he could try to explain. Maybe you would yell at him. Anything would do, as long as you didn’t walk out that door.

He remained there, kneeling by your side, watching over you as you slept. Praying for any sign that you might forgive him. He didn’t want to wake you, if you had slept as badly as he did last night, you needed all the rest you could get. He would wait. It was the least he could do.

You felt yourself drift back to consciousness as the light continued to pour into the room. For a brief moment, everything was still, quiet—until the events of last night came rushing back to you. Unease filled your body and the argument flashed through your mind. How he pushed you away. How he looked at you.

You blinked slowly, eyes still heavy from the lack of sleep and last night’s tears. You turn your body slightly, and you are face to face with the sight of your boyfriend kneeling by the side of your bed, eyes wide with worry and regret. He looked even worse than yesterday, like he hadn’t slept at all. His dark circles were more prominent and his posture slumped over, like he didn’t have the energy to hold himself up. You felt your throat tighten.

Brown eyes met yours as he shifted uncomfortably on the floor, body thrumming with nervous energy once again.

“Hey,” he said softly, testing the waters with a tentative tone, almost breaking. He attempted to give you a weak smile but it fell before it could reach his eyes. “I—I made you some tea.”

You pushed yourself up into a seated position and glanced over at the bedside table, the anxiety increasing as you sat up, pulling the blanket closer to you for comfort. You glance between the tea and Remus, not knowing how to start this conversation just yet, scared of what he might say.

He seemed to sense the distance between you both. “I…I’m sorry,” he began, his words rushed, as if he was scared you would leave before he had the chance to fully explain himself. “Last night—I didn’t mean any of it. I was out of line, and I—” He took a breath and fiddled with the fabric of his sleeve. “I’m an idiot.”

As he looked at you, you could see the same raw fear that filled his being. “I was angry at myself, not at you. Never at you, darling.” He spilled out, stumbling over his own words. “I shouldn’t have let it come out like that. I’m so so sorry.”

Your heart softened at the familiar pet name that fell from his lips, the usual warmth of his voice was present as he fought through his panic. You wanted to tell him to stop. To slow down. Tell him you weren’t angry. But the nerves that lingered from that evening held you back. You had seen him unsteady before, but not like this. It was jarring to you, to see someone who was usually so composed, so calm, completely unravelling before you.

Remus reached forward but stopped himself, scared to touch you without permission. His slender hand retreated backwards as your heart broke for him. “Please, dove… don’t—don’t go. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

His voice cracked as he finished his sentence, his whole body rigid as if to prepare himself for the final blow. He wasn't just sorry—he was terrified. Terrified that he allowed himself to ruin everything, that you won’t forgive him, maybe he had pushed you too hard this time. Too hard to bring you back.

The tension in your chest eased slightly, the pain from last night was now beginning to soften as you saw your sweet boy crumbling just below where you sat. You had always known he carried so much on his shoulders, so much uncertainty, but seeing it so raw—laid bare in front of you—was a different experience entirely. His words no longer hurt you, what did was knowing how much he hated himself for using them.

“Remus…” you began to speak, voice a little hoarse from the tears last night.

“I love you,” he blurted out suddenly, desperate to let you know. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I was scared—I was so bloody scared of hurting you I couldn’t realise I was doing it myself. I need you to understand I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you but—Merlin—I can’t bear to lose you.”

He leaned forward, his soft eyes searching your own for any sign you still want him. “Please, darling. Forgive me.”

Your heart constricted tightly in your chest at the sight of the broken boy on your floor, his vulnerability broke the last of your resistance. He was horrified by the thought of you leaving, it was clear it was tearing him apart.

You sighed gently and took his unstable hand in your own, heartbreaking as you felt his fingers curl desperately around yours. “I forgive you,” you reassure him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know you didn’t mean it. You were just scared.”

The relief that washed over Remus’ face was immediate, his body relaxing as he let out a shaky breath. He smiled as he looked over at your two hands intertwined, running his thumb gently over your soft skin. “Thank you,” his voice was still filled with emotion. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

He leaned in closer to you, cupping your face with the same tenderness you were so used to. “I love you, dove,” he tells you honestly, his eyes shining with adoration. “More than anything.”

You both stayed like that for a moment as you let all of the negative emotions leave the room, allowing it to be replaced with a now comforting silence. He made mistakes in the past, far too many to count probably, but he owned them. He was willing to make things right, and that was all you could ask for.

You allowed yourself to lean back into the pillows behind you, muscles relaxing for the first time today. You glanced down at Remus, his face still a little bit pale, but the nervous energy had seemingly disappeared, now replaced by relief.

“You know, I expected you to come in here last night, it was terrible. Sulking on the couch might be a new low for you.” You say teasingly, a playful smile now playing on your lips as you test the waters with humour.

He blicked up at you, caught off guard slightly, but allowed a small smile to grace his features. “Oh, is that right?” He asked with a tired but amused expression. “And what else am I so terrible at, darling?”

You pulled your shoulders up and shrugged, pretending to think deeply for a moment. “Let’s see..brooding? You are certainly a natural at that. And it was a relief that you weren’t there to steal the blanket last night too.”

He lets out a small chuckle, tilting his head to admire your happier expression, something he was unaware that he missed so much. “I’ll have to work on that I suppose,” he replied, although his voice was still laced with concern.

“Are you really alright?” You ask once more, still wanting to help like you did last night. “The moon is full in a few days.”

The brunette’s smile faded ever so slightly as he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted, now feeling better about having this conversation. “I’ve been worried. More than usual, I think.”

You frowned and squeezed his hands once more, silently communicating that you were there for him. “Why don’t you get in, lie here for a while with me? It might help calm you down a bit.” You ask, hoping beyond anything he would say yes. “And since it’s the weekend, we can do whatever you want. Sleep, read, watch a movie…or just stay here, as long as you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He asked as he looked at you with a silent gratitude, followed by a light chuckle. “That sounds dangerous.”

He quickly clambered into the bed beside you, pulling you into his aching arms and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Thank you, darling,” he hummed with satisfaction as you snuggled deeper into his chest.�� “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He pulled you even closer as if you might disappear in a moment. You allowed his body heat to soothe all of the residual emotions you felt last night, melting into his embrace. Leaving only the quiet sounds of your breathing getting heavier as Remus heard you drifting back to sleep, in his arms. Right where you are supposed to be.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #marauders #marauders x reader #remus x y/n #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin x you #remus #remus lupin oneshot

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satorusdiary · 1 year ago

Text

eyes on me - satoru gojo x reader

WARNINGS: smut, breeding, size difference, nsfw, possessive sex type shit, unprotected fucking, multiple orgasms, praise/ degration, gojo calls reader a whore ( but he dont mean that yk he loves you, ) tummy bulge, hair pulling, squirting, marking/claiming, pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty baby, etc,) spitting, drooling, anal play, lmk if i forgot anything else.

REQUEST: jealous! gojo, reader purposley flirting with a guy at a party so satoru would angry fuck you in his car. (i like this req thank you anonymous <3)

AUTHORS NOTE: not proofread, don’t mind any mistakes or errors please

“ya know better then t’ flirt with other guys in-front of me, hm baby?” satoru groans, pushing down your head farther down onto his cock.

“—mmph!” your muffled cries force satoru to look down at you, his blue orbs looking back at your teary eyes.

he chuckles, pushing your head down more. you deserved this, after everything that has happened during the party, the least you could do is please him and apologize.

“right, ya can’t reply with my cock down your throat. you think his cock could ever reach this deep inside ya throat?” he smirks, watching as you struggle to take all of him. yet your tongue continues to swirl against his large dick.

as you continue to struggle, his cock twitches in your mouth. he’s close, almost ready to dump everything inside your throat. your hands give up on trying to get up from his cock, and instead you grip the base of his cock, squeezing all you can to make his release faster.

“o-ohh fuck..” his hips jut up, making you gag. his nodded eyes look down at you, pushing your head down more aggressively as a warm, salty, liquid enters your throat, immediately making you swallow.

“s-shit! take it all, ‘fuckin whore.” satoru grunts. your pussy continues to leak out the more he empties himself inside your mouth, all of this was cruel. yet it fed onto your arousal.

he pulls out of your mouth, watching as you breathe in and out almost too quickly. as if you weren’t able to breathe for hours.

satoru groans, cupping your chin and forcing you to look at him with your mouth opened. he pumps his cock, slapping it against your tongue making you moan out loud. at this point you didn’t care if anyone was able to hear, you just wanted to get fucked.

“ride me baby, imma make you all the work since you ‘wanna be a slut.” he grins, hands going down to your waist to help you get on top of him. you whine, legs almost giving out as you tried getting on top of him by yourself.

you’re sore and sticky. legs dripping with cum, and your own juices. and your whole body messy with sweat and satoru’s cum. the last hour was just rough tucking, and you never had your own release.

“y-you’re so mean! i wasn’t even flirting, jus wanted you to pay attention to me.” you huffed, wincing as your forcefully getting sunken down onto his cock again.

satoru cups your cheek, lovingly rubbing it before softly slapping it. “now that’s a lie, don’t lie to me baby. unless you want a bigger punishment.” he starts off, his thumb teasing the entrance of your asshole.

“i’m being nice, don’t be so bratty now sweetheart.” his jaw clenches, using his other large hand to guide you on his cock. bouncing you up and down, knowing you were already at your limits.

your stomach erupts into hot flames, his cock continually stretching you out, probing at your womb, and hitting at places you didn’t even know his cock was able to reach.

maybe that’s what you get for getting with an attractive man, with a huge cock. you were not complaining though, besides now.

satoru caresses your thighs, leaning in to suck into the skin of your neck. his thumb sinks into your asshole as you’re bouncing on his lap, you let out a loud cry at the sudden penetration.

“n-no! ‘ts too much, ‘m sorry!” you beg, having both of your holes stuffed was something that would always drive your head crazy.

he pulls away from your neck, his hands now forcing your hips to bounce on his cock 2 times faster than before. your head pulls back from the bliss, and overstimulation. you still haven’t came yet.

“stop fucking complaining. if you wanna cum, then be a good girl and take this dick.” he grunts into your ear, aswell as biting it.

fat tears were falling down your puffy cheeks. satoru took in the sight in-front of him, his cock leaving a print inside of you, along with a bulge that boosted his ego. then he looked at your face, it was full of tears, sweat, and semen from previous blowjobs that you had given satoru.

you let out choked sobs and gasps as his cock continues to sink in deeper inside of you. and it wasn’t even because of you bouncing on top of him, it was because of him.

“jesus, look how deep i am inside you, pretty baby.” he murmurs, cupping your chin with his free hand so you could look down at your stomach. your eyes widen as you watch the bulge in your stomach move up and down.

“y-you’re so deep! ‘s too much for me.” you complained, looking away at the sight to sink your head into the croak of his neck. satoru feels tears leaking onto his shoulder.

your legs continues to shake, despite the lack of effort you were able to put into riding him. you were tired. the bubble forming inside your stomach begging to be released, you needed to cum.

“t-toruu lemme cum, please!” you continued to beg, your arms wrapping around his neck once more. leaving tiny kisses on his jaw line. your voice hoarse, dry with tears streaming down your cheeks.

he hums in response, almost moaning completely by how much your cunt is sucking him in. satoru’s cock drunk, there is nothing else better than your pussy. and he is sure of it.

and of course he isn’t going to share, not with anyone else.

“say you’re sorry, and that this pussy is mine. maybe i’ll consider letting you cum.” he groans, thrusting into you more deeper than before, making you gasp out surprised.

“i-i’m so sorry, for flirting with him! ‘m all yours, please, please.. lemme cum.” you begged once more, hands gripping at his wrists.

his thrust begin to be sloppy, aswell as his abdomen tightening up. signaling you that he was going to release inside of you.

“fuck! hurry and cum w’ me.” he starts off, pulling you into a heated kiss. his tongue intertwined with yours, rolling it around lewdly as he spits inside it.

satoru’s lower half becomes wet with your juices as you continued to squirt, you were now a crying mess. even if you were kissing him, all tongue included. his cock bully’s your cervix, his thick and hot cum spilling inside of you.

your mind goes fuzzy, and blurry. the feeling of your womb getting filled up once again makes your legs shake, going numb.

when you both pull away, satoru’s face is flushed red. he kisses your wet and puffy cheeks, making you look back up at him. you still looked beautiful even after crying, and him fucking the life out of you.

“you’re mine, pretty baby.” he starts off, pulling out of you. a mixture of yours and his cum dribbles out of your sore, abused, and puffy clit.

“i see you flirting with another man, you get it worser. do you understand?” his tone gets dark, looking deeply into your eyes.

though he has been harsh to you, you smiled and nod your head. your hands grip against anything around you as he pushes himself back inside of you to keep all the cum inside of you.

“yes toru, ‘m so sorry. i love you.” for the first time in awhile, he gives you a genuine smile. his lips meet your jaw, giving it many small, but meaningful kisses.

“i love you more, sweets. you learned your lesson?” he questions, one of his hands caressing your jaw. you nod your head, a smile still on your beautiful features.

what shocked you was when he began rocking you back and forth, you winced at the feeling. your whole lower body begin tightening up, still sensitive.

“w-wait toru—“ he cut you off, shushing you sweetly. his hips slowly thrusting against yours.

“last one baby, promise. needa make sure you actually learn your lesson.” he smirks, noticing how your breathing gets heavier. yet your hold against him gets tighter, as if he was going to leave.

“be a good girl for me and take this dick. if i see my cum leaking out of you, i’ll fuck you harder then before.”

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yanderefarm · 18 days ago

Note

Now I need us “pretending” to forget about Emil, only to actully forget about it him.

Like, as a punishment we lock him in the basement and forget about him as a joke, send a maid down there once a day to feed him, but then we genuinely forget about with him, because we didn’t realize how much work Emil does.

He gets feed once a day from a maid, but that’s the only interaction he has. (Need some more angst before it gets fluffy🙏🙏)

part 3 of this & 2

i don't know why i love this series so much i want to break emil so bad. i have so much fun writing pathetic emil whump.

cw;; domestic abuse, drugging, unsanitary, manipulation, dehumanization

things had been relatively peaceful since starting the divorce process. a process you had paid the information guild to purposely obstruct and delay while also leaking all the information about. at this point you met the guild master more than your own husband, in spite of emil's attempts. every day you would wake up to find some kind of expensive gift and your maids would inform you that emil was there to see you, to which you would dismiss both. but emil kept trying.

he wasn't even being drugged anymore but the effects had clearly taken their toll on his mind. according to the servants of the main house he wasn't doing his work, he would spend all his time wandering or sitting like he was the living dead, and they even heard him crying. your name and even mention of the queen title had been all but banned by his advisors in an attempt to get him to pull himself together. he wasn't.

the first time you saw him in 6 months was shortly after a meeting with the guild master discussing your next steps to take over the kingdom. you had decided with everything squared away you would go out for a walk by the fountain.

the moon was the only light on the usually vibrant garden, casting it in a somber darkness. the air was cold and heavy with the chilling change of seasons on the horizon so you were wrapped in a shawl. it was the perfect night to find him. your husband was standing on the bridge overlooking the fountain, he was staring down into the water longingly. you could see from his reflection in the water his eyes were sunken and there were bags under them, his hair was messy and uncombed, and he was paler than normal. he looked sickly and the cold blank look in his eyes didn't help.

he didn't even seem to notice as you approached when usually he would be on high alert or draw his sword. or he did notice.

"if you're going to kill me please make it quick." he must have thought you were some kind of assassin but more notably his voice was so soft and weak unlike anything you'd ever heard from him.

"i have no intention of killing you." your voice made his head shoot up with all the speed his weakened state could allow.

fresh tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "(y/n)..? are you... real..?"

he stumbled towards you his feet struggling to carry him. you reached out and caught his surprisingly light body.

"you're re-"

"what's wrong with you? do you think dying will make things better?"

he flinched and his head fell to the ground.

"i thought you would break eventually and just admit you were wrong. but you'd rather die, hm?"

"i- you- i tried-"

"i don't want your excuses, emil."

he swallowed hard as tears began falling freely from his eyes. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. you couldn't help but take some kind of pity on the poor man, your hand running under his chin and forcing him to look back at your face.

"you're so pathetic... this is what the terrible tyrant becomes?"

you ran your thumb along his bottom lip before you leaned in close enough to feel his ragged breath against your lips.

"give up your pathetic life. give everything to me. everything ends when you give it to me."

he tried to lean forward enough to catch your lips but you kept out of his reach. instead of letting him kiss you, you pulled away from him completely. you stood up straight and pulled your arms away from his body causing the pathetic man to drop onto his knees. his body hit the cobble like you'd dropped a corpse but you decided not to care, choosing to turn away instead.

you started to walk away when you heard scratching and clawing at the stone under your feet.

"-ing please. please!" his voice clearly strained to try get your attention.

you stopped in your tracks waiting for him to speak but instead you heard more clawing and shuffling. eventually you felt his head bump into your leg like a cat greeting its owner. his bloody hands grabbed your leg and he held onto you as tight as he could while rubbing his head against your leg.

"emil. let me go."

"please take it... please take everything..."

"let me go."

"you want everything its yours. please."

"emil."

you finally dared to look down at him. he was so pathetic, his tears and blood were staining your pants. you let out a heavy sigh and reached down, your hand running through his tangled mess of hair.

"if you mean that then tomorrow concede your kingdom to me."

his peachy pink eyes looked up at you.

"do you understand?"

he nodded.

"then let go. you're getting me dirty."

he hesitated but he slowly let go of your leg.

———

of course your husband came through. he did as you ordered him, meaning you ascended to the title of king ahead of your schedule. while it certainly had its benefits it did leave a few things unfinished specifically on the guild master's end. so after everything settled into place you used your new found power to help staple in the final touches.

your husband who had been so happy to have you next to him again the past few months had to resume the drugs just so your hard work wouldn't completely slip away. he was still walking around like a corpse just a better maintained one. but no one seemed to have the time to pay much mind in the chaos of making you king. no one had the time to wonder where he went near the end of the chaos as you took over. and it was only when it was too late did his advisors even notice he wasn't anywhere to be found in the castle. you had to reassure them that he was currently tucked away from the public receiving the utmost medical care for his poor condition.

you ran a hand through your hair as you descended the dungeon steps, you were currently complaining to your maid about all the tedious parts of your job. there was an undeniable smile on your face though, the pride of having the most powerful kingdom in your hands made even the tedium valuable. your smile only widened twisting into a sick smirk as your torch caught onto the dirty form of your caged husband. he was on his knees clinging to the bars of his cell with tearful dead eyes.

"how long has it been, emil...?"

you walked over and crouched in front of him, he immediately went to push his head against your hand.

"your highness it's been 6 months since your last visit." your maid hung the torch nearby.

"really...? it's been over a year since i started this..."

your maid set about preparing emil's food while you pet him gently.

"i didn't mean to forget you down here."

the poor man didn't even seem to realize as he rubbed his head against your hand.

"oh emil... to think it only took a little over a year to break the mad king. to take everything away from you. to trap you in a little cage like you did my family."

the maid returned with some fresh water and a bowl of porridge. you pulled away from emil as she gave him his food. you watched his pathetic eyes look up at you desperately and you cocked your head to the side.

"your highness he's asking permission to eat."

your eyes lit up as you looked over at your maid. "oh my goodness!! you're incredible! i remember telling you i wanted to train him but to think you really went the extra mile..."

"thank you, sir. it's an absolute honor to break the man who destroyed my home."

your smile didn't fade as you looked down at the pleading former tyrant. "go ahead. but you can't use your hands."

emil hesitated before he finally shoved his face down into the bowl, eating like a pig with slop. it was a disgusting but amusing site, you and your maid had a good laugh at his expense.

once he was done you decided to give him a reward for good behavior. you crouched down in front of him and gently cleaned the mess off his face with a warm wash cloth. it was the closest thing he'd had to a real bath in the past 6 months. he was sobbing as he leaned into your hands.

it didn't last as long as he'd liked and you pulled away again.

"continue training him. id like to parade him around eventually so we should work with that goal in mind."

"you'll have his complete obedience. he won't even think to breathe without your permission."

"wonderful." you ran a hand down through his tangled mess of hair. "... I'll give you a budget so you can properly turn this area into the perfect training facility and our private friend can help you with the details."

"i look forward to it, your highness."

"i do too. when we're done with you you'll finally tell me you love me. you'll thank me for all of this, emi."

all you got was a whimper in response. you left your precious husband down in the dungeon, a forgotten and disgraced king.

#replies #yandere oc #sub yandere #yandere x male reader #male reader #top male reader #yandere king #dom male reader #villain reader #mindbroken emil au

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grapejuicenharry · 10 days ago

Note

HI, could you write a blurb where Harry is a rich businessman and he is really busy with his work etc etc and is really stressed with something so yn goes to him and gives him a blowjob so that he feels good. Something like that?

a/n: sorry it took me a while! but i hope u enjoy it <33

warnings: blowjob, smut, 18+, kissing.

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

It was that time of the month again, the most stressful time for Harry. Mid-November had arrived, and with it, an overwhelming workload. He'd recently fired a few employees, which only added to his responsibilities. Between catching up on finances, preparing presentations, and attending client meetings, the pressure was taking a toll on his health. The air outside was chilly, snow was starting to form, and Harry, running on low energy, desperately needed rest.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company, just at the age of 28, he had his name appearing in Forbes several times. He owned homes in London, Los Angeles, Italy, and New York. But after getting married, he and Y/N chose to live in a luxurious penthouse—Y/N loved the city life and feeling like a spoiled kitten.

They first met at a business conference, where Y/N was there with her clients, managing a project. The moment Harry laid his eyes on her, he felt a connection. He instantly knew she was the one he wanted as a life partner, the mother of his children.

After their wedding, Y/N decided to leave her job. The constant stress and long hours had been wearing her down. Harry supported her choice completely, happy to see her take a break and enjoy life. Now she could relax at home, focus on their relationship, and indulge in the luxury that Harry’s success provided.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Throughout it all, Y/N had been his rock. She supported him at every turn, stepping in whenever he was overwhelmed. She made sure he was taken care of—preparing healthy soups, ensuring he took his medicines on time, and giving him massages whenever his body felt sore and achy. She understood when he was too drained to talk or spend time with her, simply letting him rest his head in her lap, where she would gently scratch his scalp until he fell asleep.

Despite his gratefulness, Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew he wasn't spending enough time with Y/N. There were days when they barely exchanged a word, and even when she asked if he was okay, all he could muster was a tired nod. He tried-he really did— setting aside at least an hour from his hectic schedule to be with her, but his heavy eyelids, sunken eyes, and pounding headaches often got the better of him. Still, he knew Y/N understood; she stayed by his side, making sure he didn't collapse under the weight of his responsibilities. He felt blessed to have her as his wife.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Today, Harry was working from home. He had been in online meetings since seven in the morning, and it was now eleven. Y/N had brought him coffee and breakfast earlier, giving him a quick peck on the cheek, like the good wife she was. But after five straight hours of him being hold up in his study, she decided he needed to take a break. He needed to rest, and she had an idea she'd been wanting to try for a while.

Entering the room quietly, she was dressed in one of Harry's old T-shirts that said safe sex and a pair of tiny shorts. Her sock-clad feet tapped softly against the hardwood floor as she approached. Harry's eyes were glued to his laptop, his hair messy atop his head, glasses slipping down his nose, like he hasn’t gotten the time to push them. Hearing her, he looked up, a tired but soft smile curving his lips. "Hi, baby," he greeted.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his gentle tone. His voice never fails to excite her. She circled around the table and settled onto his lap. "Hi," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and inhaling his scent. "I miss you."

"Mmm," Harry hummed as she threaded her fingers through his hair, the gesture immediately easing some of the tension in his head. She pulled back slightly, adjusting his glasses and gazing into his tired eyes.

"You need a break, Harry. You've been working non-stop for hours. You deserve to relax," she insisted, ending her words with a kiss near the corner of his lips.

Harry's smile widened in amusement. He knew she was right—his body was sore from sitting in one place all morning. "And how do I relax, baby?" he asked, lacing their fingers together and kissing her knuckles. "Are you here to help me unwind?"

"Y-yes," she whispered, surprised he didn't need convincing. Her confidence wavered for a moment, but she pushed her nerves aside, determined to follow through with her plan. "Let me help you relax, Harry. I want to."

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his jaw, trailing wet kisses down his neck, nibbling his earlobe—a spot she knew he loved. Harry's head tipped back slightly, giving her better access, his eyes fluttering shut. Her nails lightly grazed his toned abs under his shirt, making him shiver. "Fuck," he muttered, voice low.

He pulled her close and kissed her deeply;the kiss was a heated mess of tongues, teeth, and moans. His hand slipped under the hem of her shirt to get rid of it—but she pulled back with a teasing shake of her head. Sliding off his lap, she kneeled before him, his eyes widening as he realized what she had in mind.

"What are you doing, baby?" he asked, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

"Helping you relax," she whispered, parting her lips and taking his thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his voice husky. "Yes, I'm sure.” that all the encouragement he needed. He withdrew his thumb, smirking.

"Filthy girl, my filthy girl," he murmured while shaking his head, his words sending a jolt of arousal straight to her core. "This was just an excuse, wasn't it? You just wanted my cock in your mouth."

A whimper escaped her lips at his words, her panties already damp with arousal. "Take me out," he ordered. Without hesitation, she fumbled with his shorts, pulling down the zipper and freeing his hard length. She swipes her thumb on his tip, and licking it off, Harry’s eyes darken with lust, eager to see what she does next.

Y/N licked a slow, deliberate path from the base to the tip. She kissed the tip before taking it into her mouth, sucking it gently. She starts prepping kisses along the length before taking it in her mouth. "Fuck, baby. Just like that," Harry groaned, his head falling back as he tangled his hand in her hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail without pushing her down, letting her set the pace.

"My good girl," He breathes out praise, encouraging her, while running his hand through her hair. In response, she moans out, the vibrations bringing him close, making him grip her hair tighter. The praises made her pussy clenching around nothing. Her own arousal pooled between her thighs, and she squeezed her legs together in a desperate attempt to relieve some pressure.

She popped his cock out of her mouth briefly, taking a deep breath before returning to him, this time taking one of his balls into her mouth, licking and sucking gently. Harry's hips bucked involuntarily, hitting the back of her throat. "Sorry," he panted.

"Don't hold back. Fuck my mouth," she whispered, looking up at him with wide, eager eyes.

Harry smirked, "Yeah? You think you can handle it, baby?"

She nodded, unable to respond with her mouth full. That was all the confirmation he needed. He gripped her hair and began thrusting gently, fucking her face at a steady pace. Y/N focused on breathing through her nose, taking him deeper in her throat, her hands stroking what she couldn't fit into her mouth. His breathing grew heavier, moans escaping his lips. Y/N knew he was close, so she starts fondling with his balls, squeezing them in her palm. The sound of his moans and her gagging filled the study. Y/N, thank heavens the housekeepers went off early today.

"I'm gonna cum, baby." he warned, his thrusts growing sloppy.

"Cum," she urged, her voice muffled. With a groan, he released into her mouth, “Y/N,Y/N—fuck, so good, so good baby.” He pants with a loud cry. warm spurts filling her. She keeps sucking him until he's completely dry, making sure to take every drop. She swallows without hesitation, the familiar salty taste not bothering her at all. His eyes softened as he looked down at her, her teary eyes, lips glistening with him. He wiped the drool from her chin.

"Are you relaxed now?" she asked with a small smile.

Harry chuckled, pulling her up onto his lap. He kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. "So relaxed," he murmured, pecking her lips again. "So relaxed."

They both laughed, his silliness lightening the room's heavy air.

────��ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

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kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

Text

— help

Just thinking about looking after Bakugou for a change, because he deserves it.

Warnings: 18+, sub!Bakugou, handjobs, Bakugou fucks your fist, spit, overstimulation.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.0k.

Dynamight always has a mean and imposing aura surrounding him, a man that holds so much dominance and power to everyone that beholds him. Standing tall as the number two hero, a protector for the people. But a man that carries the weight of the world on his broad shoulders sometimes needs someone to look after him too.

You know the days he’s like this, when he comes to you with tired eyes and sunken shoulders. The days where it feels as though his back might break from carrying all the pressure, the weight that might cause him to be buried in an avalanche beneath it.

"That's it, baby," You coo," "Doing good for me."

And he is— his teeth gnaw on his lower lip as he ruts his hips forward, fucking into your palm as you tighten your grip around him. Even though his hulking body has you pinned against the wall, it’s you that holds every ounce of power over him.

“You’re so pretty like this.” You thumb the leaking blush pink tip of his cock, throbbing and swollen from all the pent up frustration brewing inside him, “You like when I touch your cock?”

He’s embarrassed, and he hates to admit it. A gruff grunt your only response as you tease your fingers against the prominent veins that fork along his length. Teasing the messy tuft of hair at his base as you feel his pelvis concave, lurching as he feels his balls already begin to tighten. His body heavier against you now as he pins you down, leaning into you.

“Spit on it, baby.” Your free hand cards through the buzzed hairs at the back of his neck, nails drag against his scalp as you find purchase in his messy spikes.

Pushing his head down between your bodies as you still your hand, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs before he puckers his lips. Obediently spitting downwards as the drooling glob lands on his cock and your fist, smoothing the moisture into his skin as you roll your wrist.

“Good boy.” The praise pulls another salacious moan from his chest as he buries his face in your neck, embarrassment evident on his features as he palms your hip pathetically, “Look at the mess you’re making.”

His cock is drooling pre, collecting it against your palm as you stroke it, mixing it with his spit as he continues to meet your movements.

“Are you imagining it’s my cunt, Katsuki?” He ruts his hips at your crude tone, a choked grunt vibrates against your neck as he shudders, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck—” He whimpers and you can tell he’s close, he certainly won’t last if he feels the wet warmth of your walls wrap around him.

“You’re close already, sweet boy?” You murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as his warm breath fans against your skin.

Bakugou’s only response a gruff pant as his lips move against the curve of your neck, unable to control his senses as he drools against your skin. He’s a mess like this, giving up all the power and control he so easily wields and offering it to you.

“Need your pussy,” He rasps, “Please.”

“Need my pussy?” You coo, condescension oozing from your tone, “You don’t need it do you, baby? I think you’re about to cum just like this.”

His thrusts are sloppier now, shamelessly fucking himself into your fist as he searches for his own release. Your other hand slips between his thighs to press the pad of your finger against his taint, dangerously close to his tight rim as he splutters a string of incoherent words. Tightening your fist around him as he ruts his hips, heavy balls knocking against your hand with each forward movement.

“See, I think you’re going to cum for me aren’t you, sweet boy?” You can tell from the way he’s leaning his weight on you, teeth grazing your neck as he bucks his hips sloppily. Much like the ferocity of his thrusts when he wields all the power, pounding into your tight heat as he presses your thighs up to your chest. The tables turned as you steal that very power from him for now, controlling the moves like the Queen in chess as you move to protect your King.

“Show me how pretty you look when you cum, Katsuki.” The sound of his name uttered so sweetly is all it takes for him to find his end, a debauched moan tumbles from his chest as his hips begin to stutter. Unable to control himself as he lets his pleasure take over his consciousness and he dives into his release, white hot spurts of cum spurt from his thick cock as they splatter onto your tummy.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good boy for me—“ You resume your pace as you feel his hips begin to slow, taking him through his high as he whimpers from overstimulation. Blunt nails dig into the meat of your hips as he stutters incoherently, stroking his cock with fevor as you try to coax more out of him.

“I can’t,” He rasps, “S’too fuckin’ much.”

“I know you can, baby. Come on— for me?” Your finger moves from his taint you push against his tight rim, feeling it flutter around you as you push in to the first knuckle as he begins to curse. His legs buckling as he fucks into your fist wildly, his chest now pressed tight against yours as you still manage to fist his cock between you. Another load spurting from the swollen tip as it coats both your bodies, stray globs drop to the floor as Bakugou almost follows. Keeping himself steady against you as his body curves over you, panting as you give a few final gentle strokes to his softening cock.

“That’s my good boy,” You whisper, peppering kisses against his collarbone as he tries to regain his breath, “You did such a good job for me.”

Because even a man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, needs someone to shoulder that burden sometimes too.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut

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dearhargrove · 8 months ago

Text

Sink or swim

summary When the tsunami hits you're at the pier, watching in confusion and shock as the huge wave nears. You're swept away with a dozen others but gain back consciousness with a weirdly attractive guy and his.. son?

tags medical inaccuracy (I made everything medical up pls ignore it), blood and injuries, one POV change, cursing

word count 2831

a/n just watched the episodes with the tsunami and oh my god? I’m so in love with Buck, Chris and Eddie. These three are adorable. Also these episodes were just good as hell, wtf? Andddd I hope I didn’t make any of them OOC (out of character) but if I did forgive me yall 🫶🏻 also English isn’t my first language, so… 🥹

masterlist

Maybe you should've guessed what it meant when the sea started retreating and a huge wave built up more by the second. But somehow it seemed so surreal that you didn't. You clung to the thought that it was an optical illusion, after all there was no way a tsunami would hit that one time you're at the pier.

Now moments later you regret not running faster, earlier or simply finding a spot to hide. You're pulled under the surface every few seconds, swallowing mouthfuls of salty seawater that makes your nose burn and eyes blur.

You're choking when you're swept against a hard object, it's sharp edge digging into your waist. “Fuck!” you curse, though it ends in a gurgle when more water sweeps over you.

When you resurface you're facing an object that turns out to be a sunken fire truck. The red is striking against the blue and Grey around you and you could cry at relief when you manage to hoist yourself onto it.

You're exhausted, your side hurts and you're dizzy. Your phone is useless, the water having destroyed the technology. Cursing, you pocket it again and lean back. You're about to relax, aware that it could take hours for emergency services to reach you when you hear high pitched screaming. You look up, just in time to see someone with a yellow sweater being pulled towards you with the current, screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Jesus,” you swear and crawl to the edge of the truck, yelling to get their attention with your arm reached out as far as possible.

You almost faint when the person turns around and a small child looks at you, red glasses full of water and messy brown hair. He's crying, reaching out as he's struggling to stay afloat.

“Hey! I'm here, grab my hand!” You yell and lean over the ledge as far as you could. As soon as you saw that little boy you knew you'd jump after him if he couldn't grab your hand now.

“I got you, sweetheart, come on!”

Your assurance seems to help and he kicks his legs, managing to move closer to where you are. In a split second you grab his hand and pull him over the railing and onto the truck, holding the little boy close to your chest in relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, coughing a little as he adjusts his glasses. You try to look as calm and collected as possible, gently smiling at him and beckoning him further away from the railing and rushing water.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He shakes his head, biting his lip as he looks out at the water again. He must've been with someone else, you guess when he sits up at every piece floating by.

“Are you looking for someone?” You ask gently and he nods. He slowly speaks, hands fidgeting in his lap, “B-Buck. He's a firefighter.”

You stop yourself from cooing at this adorable child and nod, “We're gonna find him, okay? Just stay here and it'll be okay.”

He looks worried but slowly nods. You go back to sitting between him and the railing, looking out for anyone else.

Just as you spot someone, the small boy moves rapidly and pulls your shirt, “Buck! It's Buck!” He stutters loudly.

You whip your head back around to the rushing water and try thinking of a way to save him too. You couldn't just grab his hand, he would probably just pull you off the truck and you wouldn't risk leaving the kid by himself.

“Shit,” You mumble as you look for a way to help the man, the boy desperately crying out for ‘Buck’ behind you.

It seems you don't need to do much when something slams into the truck and seconds later the man pulls himself up and next to you.

And, damn. He was attractive. His dark blonde curls stick to his forehead as his blue eyes fixate on you and then the boy, strong arms holding him up as a smile builds on his lips, “Christopher!”

You move a bit as the two reunite, the boy- Christopher throwing his arms around the man's neck and giggling wildly.

You watch with a smile, the adorable sight momentarily distracting you from the tsunami keeping not just you but these two strangers trapped on top of a fire truck.

He turns around after a minute, keeping Christopher in his lap as he looks at you. He clears his throat and nods, “Thank you for saving him.” You shake your head and wave your hand in dismissal, unsure how to deal with compliments.

“No, really. I was going crazy when I couldn't find him,” his eyes are fixed on your face and you blame the heat creeping up your neck onto the temperature changes from the water and sun, smiling nervously. “It's all good. Your son is a sweetheart.”

He chuckles, “He definitely is. Though he's not my son,” he mentions, poking the boy's side when he mumbles something. You quickly nod, embarrassed. “Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed-” he shakes his head and a relaxed smile sets on his face.

“It's fine, don't worry. Did you have any luck reaching 911?” You shake your head and hold up your broken phone, screen flickering sadly as you do. He sighs and brushes a hand through his hair (you try not to stare at the hot sight because wow, what are the odds of meeting such an attractive man in the middle of a tsunami?).

“We're probably just gonna have to wait. It'll take time to get boats and units here. It probably looks like this everywhere,” he explains and you tilt your head in surprise before remembering that the kid had mentioned he's a firefighter. Meaning he knew the protocols.

“Right. Christopher mentioned you're a firefighter.” You smile when the boy perks up, a seemingly never faltering smile on his face. “Guess I'm lucky to be stuck with you. Safest I could be.” You shrug, a bashful smile on your face.

“Buck will s-save us all,” Christopher proclaims proudly and you coo at the cute boy. The man now seems a bit uneasy and sighs before his eyes widen, “Shit, right, I'm Evan. Everyone just calls me Buck, though.” You shake his outstretched hand and introduce yourself in turn, biting your lip as a nervous habit.

“So you're a firefighter?” You prompt curiously.

“It's a bit complicated right now…” He sighs, a frown setting on his forehead. You're about to apologize for overstepping when Christopher speaks up again, “He threw up blood.”

Your eyes widen and Evan- Buck pinches the boys’ side in reprimand. “Blood clots,” he elaborates as he looks at your slightly shocked expression. You hum sympathetically before realizing something. “Wait. You were the one trapped under that fire truck? On the news?”

He chuckles (which makes him even more attractive, what the actual fuck?) and nods, “Yep, that's me.”

You grimace in sympathy at the memory and automatically glance at his leg, “Is it all healed? You don't have to talk about it, it's fine if you don't-” he waves you off assuringly, looking relaxed.

“It's fine, don't worry. Yeah it healed fine, had some physical therapy and stuff but now I have blood clots kicking my a- butt.” He stops himself from cursing with Christopher on his lap and you almost smile at the adorable expression of confusion on the kid's face, when Buck presses his hands over both of his ears and whispers what he was originally going to say.

You laugh at the two and a relaxed and almost light atmosphere surrounds the three of you, momentarily disregarding your situation.

“It's kind of ironic isn't it?” He starts and you tilt your head in question. “You saved me, a firefighter, by pulling me onto a fire truck,” he elaborates and you can't help but chuckle, “Right. It should've been the other way around,” you sarcastically add and he holds up his hands in mock surrender.

You relax back against the railing, your eyes drawn to Buck again just to notice him already looking at you. You cock your head questioningly and he bites his lip before grinning, “Sorry, you're just- like, really beautiful.”

Your jaw drops momentarily before you compose yourself and hide behind your hands, “Stop! Geez,” you laugh and he does as well. You exaggerate a shake of your head as you look at Christopher who giggles happily and exclaims, “He likes you!”

Now both you and Buck fluster as he continues, “He's always angry but n-now he's happy.” You notice the small struggle of getting his words out but you couldn't care less, you'd wait hours for this sweetheart to finish a sentence if you had to.

“Oh, really?” You ask in mock surprise and he eagerly nods before Buck intervenes, “Woah, Woah. I'm not always angry. Just.. grumpy.” Christopher makes it a point to look at him and then at you, rolling his eyes and shaking his head which makes it hard to refrain from laughing.

When Christopher busies himself with leaves floating around them Buck lowers his voice a bit as he speaks to you again, “Don't get the wrong impression it’s just, it’s hard. Not being able to work, saving people and all that.”

You nod quickly, “No worries. I’d go insane if I was in your place. I’m guessing they’re keeping you from really doing anything ‘dangerous’?” You ask, careful in case of him wanting to change the subject.

He nods and drops his head back against a siren light, “It is. They’re trying to put me behind a desk! I mean, I’m supposed to be out here, saving lives, fighting fires. That’s my purpose.” He frowns and you hum to show that you’re listening.

“I know they just want me to recover, but…”

“It feels like they’re holding you back?” You finish for him. He chuckles in surprise at the accuracy of what you said and nods.

“I’m probably in no place to tell you this, but trust me, it’s worth it. Get better, do the light work and sooner than you think you’ll be back doing what you love. But if you start now and ignore your health.. it’s going to catch up with you. And it’ll be way worse than a few weeks behind a desk.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment before slowly nodding, “You're right. Thank you.” You smile and put a hand on his leg, making sure he doesn’t mind before adding, “I mean look at you, crushed by an entire ladder truck and you’re up and running already.”

“I’m just that great,” he sarcastically pats his own shoulder and you both break into laughter.

You don't know if it's been minutes, seconds or hours when you wake up, laying on top of destroyed concession stands and other things. Something is digging into your back, your leg is awkwardly bent and your ears are ringing.

Groaning you sit up, wincing in pain when a sharp pain strikes through your back at the movement.

Around you is just more trash and destroyed cars, you see an arm laying on one of the cars and decide to avert your eyes as quick as possible for your own sake.

Every step hurts but you keep going; walking through the flooded streets with your eyes looking for either of the two boys you’d spent earlier with or other survivors.

The sun is starting to set and you’re starting to get hopeless. You have no clue where you were, completely disoriented as you pass houses that look entirely the same. Your phone is useless and you’re alone. Shouldn’t you have met at least one person by now?

Your back has gone practically numb, same as your leg, when you see faraway lights in the distance. Your steps get quicker as you see people and to your utter relief firefighters. You don’t know if the tears in your eyes are of joy or utter despair from what happened but you couldn’t care less when a man with short, brown hair spots you and approaches.

You’re trying to walk closer when a small voice somewhere close stops you. You’re not sure if it’s your imagination but you turn around, squinting your eyes in the darkness. And then you see it. A small boy, waddling your way with his arms stretched out like he couldn’t see.

Could it be..?

“Christopher?” You see his head perk up and he tries going faster, stumbling over his own feet. Your heart drops in relief and you gather your last strength to run to him, “Hey, you remember me right?” He nods and you note the missing glasses.

“There’s help, come on,” you point out but he doesn’t look happy. He looks almost angry, “Buck.” You had almost forgotten about the charming firefighter. But your priority right now was Christopher.

“We’re gonna find him. Let’s get you help first,” you say with fake enthusiasm in your voice. He doesn’t look okay with that but stays silent and you awkwardly wrap your arms around him after making sure he’s okay and lift him into your arms.

It’s hard to avoid any obstacles while walking but you manage, seeing the brown haired man from a few minutes ago still there.

“Hey! I need help! It’s a kid!” You yell.

He waves you over while walking towards you and as soon as you can actually see him you’re once again surprised. What was it with these firefighters and their good looks? Jesus.

When he’s close enough you nudge Christopher, “There’s help, he’s gonna make sure you’re okay,” you nod at the man and he stands still before running the last feet over to you, basically ripping the child from you.

“Chris!” He cries, clutching the kid with all his might. Oh, this must be his father.

You smile, relieved that they found each other. He looks up at you with gratitude, “Thank you so much. Thank you.” You just smile.

“He’s found us himself. I couldn’t find him after..” you don’t even know what happened- you just know you passed out and woke up alone. Sighing you rub your temples and shake your head.

“You should get checked out, too. You’re barely walking,” the medic (you guess) advises. You take in the people behind him, the full cots and stressed professionals. “I’m okay. There’s people that need more help,” you nod.

He frowns and shakes his head, “I could tell you at least two injuries of yours that need treatment. Come on.” He nods his head in the direction of one of the tents and you chuckle but follow him. At least you try to. Four more steps and your legs give out, you clutch a random person's arm to prevent your fall, mumbling a sorry when they just barely catch you.

The ringing in your ears is back and you groan when you’re laid on one of the cots, your back protesting painfully.

Your vision is blurry and you can’t understand what’s being said - what the hell was happening to you?

“Wait, she’s- she was with me and Chris.” Eddie looks up in confusion as he hooks you up to an IV, checking your pupils with a small torch. “What?”

Buck nods, “Yeah, she saved Chris and then me. When the last wave happened she was swept away- we were all swept away.”

Eddies brows furrow and she looks down at you, your hair a damp mess, clothes dirty and bloody. “She saved Chris?” His best friend nods and crouches down next to you - Eddie notes the pained groan he tries to conceal as he does so - extending a hand and awkwardly patting your shoulder.

“Will she be okay?”

Eddie's answer is interrupted when you open your eyes and wince at the lights surrounding the tent.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Buck asks before Eddie can get a word out, and you almost faint again seeing these two fine men looking down at you with concern. Great first impression, you think.

“Feel like I was in a tsunami,” you grunt and both of them laugh a bit. A third voice pops up next to you, “We were in one, silly.” Leaning over your head and looking upside down at you was Christopher, a smile on his face.

You huff a laugh and hum, “You’re right. Smart boy.”

Eddie looks at Buck at the exchange and he just shrugs with a grin. Chris walks to Eddie and leans into his side, eyes still on you.

“Is there something on my face, or..?” You ask half joking as three pairs of eyes stay trained on you.

“Just beauty,” Buck grins and there’s a second of silence before Eddie gags and rolls his eyes, “That’s so creepy, díos.” You laugh as Buck tries defending himself, simply looking just as cute to you as earlier.

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 spoilers #911 show #911 fanfic #oliver stark #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz

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