#the carnage he left behind after he did this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starsinthesky5 · 5 months

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drunk in love || joe burrow x reader

description: after a whirlwind of a few months, Joe finds himself being more open with the public about your relationship, which takes you by surprise.

a/n: im glad i could get this up in time! i think the tag needs to be filled with more positivity and the usual joey b content. we can push through :)

requested by the amazing and extremely talented @joeys-babe, you gave me great inspo! i have also learned that i loveeee writing little flashbacks into my fics just to add more context to the situation. when I’m writing it’s like i'm painting on a blank canvas, and i'm going wherever the brush takes me :)

warnings: smuttttt, language, angst

word count: 7.7 k

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The sounds of enthusiastic fans echoed as you and Joe arrived at the Fifth Third arena for Joe’s podcast taping. Joe had been asked by the Kelce Brothers to be a guest on their live podcast recording of New Heights since they were in Cincinnati, and who better to have on than the QB1? And Joe being the polite and respectful man he is, agreed to do it. You were a bit surprised he was willing to go out in front of a big crowd of people like this and just talk. He rarely did podcasts or lengthy interviews because of the anxiety they brought him and he didn’t like to share his personal life in front of thousands of people, so you were watching him like a hawk the whole night to make sure he was doing okay.

Right now, you both were sitting in the locker room while the brothers were doing the game portion of their podcast. You were snacking on some pretzels, offering Joe some since he hadn’t eaten anything since this afternoon, but he refused.

“Joe, you have to eat something,” you say while pushing a bag of pretzels towards him.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled while looking at the monitor to see what was going on in the arena.

“I refuse to believe that. We’re going to Woodys after and we both know that you drinking on an empty stomach will cause carnage,” you giggle expecting him to laugh as well, but he continues to stare at the monitor, seemingly lost in thought.

You look down and notice that he’s bobbing his left leg up and down and is picking at his fingers, an instant signal that his anxiety was slowly creeping in.

You quickly place your snack down, scooch your chair closer to him, and place your hand on his thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. He felt the light touch of your hand and stopped bouncing his leg before looking over at you.

His eyes met yours and you could easily tell that he was getting anxious by the way they turned a shade of deep blue. “Are you alright J?” you ask.

Joe stays silent for a few seconds before letting out a sigh, “Just a little nervous,” he quietly says causing your face to drop. “I haven’t done this in a while and I don’t wanna get weird out there if they ask anything specific, you know?”.

Joe was referring to getting weird if they asked any questions about his personal life. He never talks about his life behind closed doors and rarely talks about you in respect of your privacy. He was worried that they’d ask him about you or your relationship and wouldn’t know what to say or how to answer them. He never really threw the “girlfriend” tag around many people for quite a few reasons. One was that it was mostly implied that you were together, another being that he didn’t want people who may not have known about your relationship to bombard you with questions about him. He kept your relationship carefully locked away because it was the most important thing in the world to him and he was afraid that the world would rip it to shreds if you opened the door a little too much. He wanted to talk about you all the time, even telling you that he might not even be able to stop once he starts. But he just never knew when or how to talk about your relationship without making you sensitive to public discourse.

“You won’t get weird Joe,” you say as you rub his thigh. “It’s okay to be a little nervous, especially because this is out of your comfort zone. You are going to do great and I am so proud of you for doing this,” you say. “I’m gonna be right there, front row on the side. Orlando will be up there with you too. And I know Jason and Travis will respect your boundaries. Maybe they’ll just keep it all about ball,”.

He nods and grabs your hand and gives it a gentle kiss. “Thank you for being here,” he says, finally flashing you a genuine smile.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you say while pressing a kiss on his cheek. Joe puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in for a warm hug. He knew he’d be fine out there but couldn’t help but get a little nervous when he realized all eyes would be on him. Sure, in a football game, all 50,000+ eyes are on him, but that never bothered him because the game was his shield.

“If you feel flustered, give me a look and I’ll cause a distraction for you to run away,” you giggle against his neck.

He laughs and presses a kiss on your forehead, “My knight in shining armor as usual,”.

A few minutes and a handful of pretzels later, you’re sitting on the side of the stage while Jason and Travis introduce Joe. The crowd erupts as they say Joe’s name and the song choice for his introduction makes you laugh like a hyena. “Get the Gat” was playing, a nod to the era that truly started it all for Joe. He was scanning the crowd for you as he walked toward the stage, eventually catching you in the front row, just like you said, in your stunning white dress that highlighted your most precious features.

You gave him two thumbs up and mouthed “You got this,”. He gives you a big smile before walking up onto the stage and greeting the brothers.

Things were going pretty smoothly for him. They were talking to him about his injury and recovery, his questionable tweets about aliens that got the entire crowd laughing their asses off, and some playful football + rivalry talk between Travis and Joe. He seemed incredibly relaxed up there and you felt relieved, until they changed the subject to the one thing that Joe was worried about.

“So enough about ball,” Travis said. “What has Joey B been up to this off season. Where you been, Who you been with?”.

“Uh oh,” you whispered.

Joe laughed softly before saying “Just hanging around. Obviously training and getting better, some UFC events here and there, some boy's trips, spending time with family, but mostly spending time with my girlfriend,”.

Your eyes widen at his words and your mouth slightly falls open. He just mentioned you in front of god knows how many people, and so casually? What the actual fuck.

“Ohhh,” Travis smiles. “Is your lovely lady here tonight?” He asks.

“Yeah, she’s right there,” Joe smiles and points over to you, causing literally everyone in the arena to turn and look at you.

“Ayeee,” the brothers say in unison as the camera points over to you.

Your cheeks turn tomato red as everyone starts cheering and waving at you, and you flash a big smile in return even though you were completely freaking out internally.

“Yep, that's her. She’s the best person in the entire world. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without her support and love,” Joe says as everyone turns back to face him. “She really knows exactly how to deal with me when I’m too in my head and always shows up for me no matter what happens. I owe a lot of how I am and how I handle things, to her” he adds.

“Awww,” said Jason.

“Especially with this injury. I seriously don’t think I would’ve been able to get through it without her. I was in a really tough spot, mentally and physically, and she really stepped up for me,” Joe says. You feel a shift in his demeanor when he says that. From relaxed and positive, to now a little tense and serious.

The wrist injury took a toll on Joe, and unfortunately your relationship. It took everyone by surprise when it happened as Joe was just hitting his stride after recovering from the calf strain. This was supposed to be his year and when that got taken away from him, he shut down. You tried your hardest to be there for him, and he appreciated you so much. But he needed to figure stuff out on his own which caused a bit of tension between you both. And all of it got too much for you to handle; you had to deal with his emotions, your own emotions, and help him recover on top of 100 other things that were being thrown your way.

Little arguments became common as they always would stem at the most unexpected times. Sometimes they would happen when you would check in on how he was feeling, they’d happen during a happy moment where one of you said something that didn’t land correctly, and sometimes when he would come and apologize to you for snapping at you, but you would become a child and remain stubborn even though you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and let everything out.

Flashback to December

It had been a few weeks since Joe got surgery on his wrist. Ever since then, he’d been acting strangely and it was driving you insane. He was watching some film all day in his office so that he could help out at practice, so you’d hardly have seen him all day.

You got off the couch and decided to bring him a snack, some strawberries and bananas, and made your way up the stairs.

You made your way into his office, making sure that you weren’t getting in the way of anything. He was rewinding some footage with his left hand, but was struggling to do so since his dominant hand was in a cast.

“Here, let me help,” you say as you place the bowl of fruit down in front of him.

“It’s okay, I got it,” he says trying to grab the mouse, but he was too late as you already grabbed it and fixed it for him. You looked over at him and smiled, but in return got a loud sigh and an eye roll.

“Gee, I was just trying to help,” you replied.

“And I didn’t ask for any,” he mumbled, slightly irritated. Your face dropped at his tone but you decided not to push it.

“I brought you some fruit. You skipped out on lunch so I thought you’d be hungry,”.

“Thanks,” he says as he pushes the bowl to the side and goes back to the film.

You stand there for a few moments, debating whether or not you should leave him alone or talk to him. You decided to talk to him because this mood he’d been in was not welcomed.

“Is there something wrong? Does your arm hurt?” You ask as you rub his shoulder.

He immediately slams the mouse to pause the film and looks up. “What’s wrong is that you won’t let me watch the film for this week. I told you I'm not hungry and you’re bothering me,” he snaps.

You’re taken aback by his sudden anger, “I was just trying to help, Joe-”.

“And how many times have I said, I don’t need it,” he spit out.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took a step back. “I’m sorry, I- I just wanted to make sure you were okay,”.

“I’m fine” He said, slightly shouting as he looked back over to you.

The tears in your eyes made their way down your cheeks as you felt more angry than sad. His attitude was unfucking called for as you were just trying to check in on him.

“You know what, fine. I’m done asking you if you’re okay and if you need something. I get that you’re hurt. I get that this is hard for you. But do not for one second think that I’m just going to sit here and take this bullshit. You’ve been acting like this for weeks, on and off. And quite frankly, it’s giving me whiplash,” you unload as more tears stream down your face.

“Y/N-,” he interrupts.

“No. Listen to me. If me helping you is bothering you, If I am bothering you, just say the word and I’ll stop. You don’t have to tell me how you’re feeling, and I’ll just stop asking. I love you, you know that. But I’m done acting like this is okay,” you spit out, tears running down your cheeks faster than a trackstar running a mile.

He stays silent for a few seconds so you take that as a response and nod your head. You leave his office, making your way into the bedroom and slamming the door shut. He immediately felt bad for yelling at you and making you cry. He fell back into his chair and looked up at the ceiling, thinking about how shitty he was.

You lay down on your side of the bed, crying into your pillow. A million thoughts flooding your head, and a million emotions flowing through your body. You felt bad for him, you really really felt bad for him. But you started to feel bad for yourself because of how he was acting around you. Did you do something to make him act like this? He wouldn’t talk to you much about how he was feeling, so you were in limbo.

You curled up into your pillow, a few tears still falling down your face as you heard the door open. Joe walked in and saw you laying on the bed, immediately feeling like shit because he did this to you. He walked over to the bed, crawling onto his side and gently rubbing your arm.

“Y/N?” he asked.

You didn’t look over at him and remained facing the windows.

He let out a sigh before saying, “I deserve that.”

“Listen, I am so fucking sorry for that. You didn’t do anything and I took my feelings out on you which was totally uncalled for. It’s just, I have alot going through my mind right now. But that is no excuse for me to do that to you, and you have every right to be mad. I’ve been putting you through alot lately and you’re just trying to help,”.

You turned over to face him and moved up. “So then talk to me, Joe?”. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay. I’m here, I’m always here,” you say as you wipe your tears.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. I just don’t want to burden you with all my feelings,” he says.

“You could never. We’re in this together, we have been since we first met. I want you to talk to me whenever you need to. Please, do not keep your feelings bottled up like that,”.

“You’re right,” he says as he pulls you into his arms, his hand rubbing your back for comfort. “I am so so so sorry for treating you like shit. You have been nothing but helpful and patient since the surgery and my dumbass can’t seem to fathome that,” he says.

“You’re not a dumbass,” you say as you look up at him. “You just have alot going on in there,” you say as you move your hand into his hair. “Just let me in and let me help you figure it out,” you whisper.

So that’s exactly what he did. He unloaded all of his heavy feelings, self doubt, and fear onto you. And instead of running out of fear or anxiety, you stayed. You stayed and you helped him just as you said you would.

End of Flashback

You were holding your breaths around each other for a little bit, but luckily you got through it. It was a bumpy few months, but in the end, you got through it together and came out the other side stronger like you always do.

“Seems like you got yourself a great lady,” Jason says, snapping you back to the present.

“I sure do,” Joe laughs while meeting your eyes, setting off butterflies in your belly.

“So what have you guys been up to, if you don’t mind sharing? I think the fans would love to hear it,” Travis says as the fans begin to cheer.

Joe lets out a laugh and runs his fingers through his hair, “Yeah, why not. Well, we’ve gone on a few vacations, watched a bunch of movies we’ve been meaning to for a while, built some legos, and she’s taught me how to bake,”.

The crowd lets out a laugh as he says that last thing. You were surprised at how he was being an open book right now and you didn’t know if you should be concerned at this newfound openness or ecstatic, but you were sure as hell enjoying it in the moment.

“You heard it here first, Joe Burrow knows how to bake!” They announced to the crowd.

“Yup, it’s really not as hard as it looks,” Joe shrugs.

You let out a laugh when as says that. It really wasn’t that hard, but Joe was certainly not a pro baker as he was implying.

Flashback to a few weeks ago

It was a rainy evening in Cincy today, causing you and Joe to postpone your plans to walk around the neighborhood this evening. You were bored out of your mind, contemplating if you should take a nap or do something productive, but nothing sounded fun until an ad popped up on your phone for new cake pans which set off a lightbulb in your head.

“Cinnamon Rolls!” you said out loud as you just got an idea of what you could do for the evening.

You quickly walked over to the kitchen and started pulling out everything you needed to make your famous Cinnamon Rolls, which happened to be one of Joe’s favorites, but Pumpkin Pie remained number 1. Joe was probably playing video games or watching something upstairs so you’d get to surprise him later with the delicious dessert.

A few minutes later, you were in the zone and were starting to make the dough when you heard Joe come down the stairs.

“Hey Babe, whatcha doing?” He says, a slight bounce in his step. He must be feeling good today, and rightfully so. He deserved to feel loose and cheerful after the past few months.

“It’s a secret,” you giggle as you start making the liquid mixture.

He raises his brows at you before examining the surroundings, eventually putting the puzzle together and realizing you are making Cinnamon Rolls.

“Well, Can I help?” He asks as he walks over and hovers behind you, placing his chin on your shoulder.

You stop mixing the Milk and Butter and look back at him, “You want to help me bake?”.

“Why are you saying it like that?” He asks as he begins pressing warm kisses on your neck.

You stay silent for a few moments before taking advantage of his offer, “No reason. Here, let me show you how to make the dry mixture,” you say as he flashes you a big smile.

You spend a few minutes getting Joe situated with all the dry ingredients and then go back to your task. You peek over at him every few moments and although he’s making a huge mess, he seems to be doing just fine. Once you both were done with your mixtures, Joe insisted that he would make the dough in the mixer. So once again, you taught him how to use the mixer and left him to it as you started making the Cinnamon Sugar Filling. He was doing very well for someone who’s dominant hand is still not at 100%.

“Joe, this looks great!” you say as you look over his shoulder, rubbing it as you inspect the dough.

“Yeah?” he asks, feeling proud that he was doing good for his first time baking.

“Mhmmm, just the right consistency. Very impressive for a rookie,” You tease.

The next half hour passes by as you finish prepping the rolls. You roll out the dough and spread the cinnamon mixture across the sheet and Joe helps you roll it back up to cut the buns out. You place them in the fridge to rise and Joe takes responsibility for making the icing, so you pull over a barstool and watch him figure it out.

“You’re doing great babe,” You smile as he begins mixing the ingredients while carefully looking at the recipe.

“This isn’t so bad,” He says looking back up at you. “You wanna taste it? I’m almost done,”.

“Okay,” you say as he dips his finger into the icing and puts his finger out to you. A huge smirk appears on his face once you realize what he is implying.

You pull his finger closer to your mouth and make direct eye contact for a few seconds before wrapping your lips around the sugary tip. You swirl your tongue around his finger, taking in all of the sweet icing. You both still hold eye contact, which makes you feel hot all around as you know how you are making him feel by doing this. A few seconds later, You take his finger out of your mouth and give him the same smirk he gave you.

“Was it good?” he teases.

“Soooo good,” you purred. “Very warm, sweet, and delicious,” you say as Joe walks over to you. He grabs your hand and pulls you off the barstool, causing you to let out a squeal. “What are you doing?” you giggle.

“How long do the rolls take to rise?” he asks as he lifts you onto the messy counter, flour now covering your sweatpants.

“About an hour. Why?” you ask as he starts to kiss your neck.

“Perfect. I think I need an hour to eat my favorite dessert,” He whispers in your ear before rubbing your upper thigh.

You don’t follow what he’s saying, “I didn’t make pumpkin pie silly,”.

“I’m not talking about pumpkin pie,” He says while coming back into your view, his eyes filled with hunger and desire, and his fingers untying the strings of your sweatpants.

End of Flashback

You were incredibly smiley and cheery for the rest of the recording and kept playing back everything Joe said about you. It warmed your heart that he felt a little more comfortable opening the door, even if it was just the slightest bit, to show fans your love for each other. But you were so curious as to what changed his mind. A million thoughts were filling your head, and it also didn’t help that he looked so fucking hot. Although he was wearing a comfy, laid-back fit, he looked mouthwatering and you were trying so hard not to jump at him. The extra few pounds of muscle he gained from his training this year was showing and that messy bedhead look he was sporting was filling your head with unholy thoughts the entire time.

Once Joe had wrapped up his appearance, you headed back to the locker room area to find him.

He was talking to some Bearcats coaches when you found him. No stress was apparent on his face and he looked like he was just fine. You let out a relaxed sigh as you leaned on the door, letting him have his conversation without any interruptions, but he immediately felt your presence and turned around. He mumbled something to the coaches and then they walked away.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say while moving off the door.

“Yes I did,” he says as he walks over to you, immediately pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a deep and thorough kiss. One hand cupping your face and the other sliding down your waist. You both were literally making out in the locker room and anyone could walk in at any time, but he didn’t care. He pulls away after a minute, leaving you a little breathless.

“Cherry Lip Gloss,” He says. “My favorite,”.

Joe loved your Cherry Lip Gloss. You remembered the moment when you both had your first kiss, he immediately pulled away from you and you didn’t know why until he told you how amazing you tasted and he had to let you know.

Flashback to a few years ago

You and Joe just got back to your apartment after your bowling date downtown. He parked the car in the parking lot and you both were sitting inside, wishing that the night would never end. He turned over to face you, a million thoughts flooding his head. A few being that you looked absolutely enchanting and he really really liked you. You both had been on a few dates so far, each one better than the last, and tonight felt like a dream.

“Did you have fun?” He asked as he stared deeply into your eyes.

“Best date ever,” you smiled. You were feeling a little nervous after tonight's date, only because you realized that you really liked him and that it wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment feeling, and you didn’t know if he really felt the same way. Was he just looking for a girl to have on his side who would take care of him during the season and be good enough to hook up with? Or did he want a girl that he could have a genuine and meaningful relationship with?

He let out a deep breath and said, “You look really pretty by the way,”.

A blush crept up your face, “Thank You,”.

He kept staring into your eyes as you both remained silent. He moved closer to you but you couldn’t process it because you were caught up in your own thoughts. Was he waiting for you to make a move? You both haven’t kissed yet and every date felt like it would end with a kiss, but it never did. You were all in your head about how he felt about you and you didn’t know what to do, so you thought that it would be better to just go inside and avoid the awkward moment.

“I should probably go,” you say while staring into his deep blue eyes, but before you can grab your stuff, Joe leans in and captures your lips in a gentle kiss. You stay absolutely still for a few seconds before he suddenly pulls away.

The blank look on his face fills your stomach with anxiety. Did your breath stink? Did he not enjoy it? Was it a mistake? You felt like hiding in a corner somewhere and never coming out.

“Your lips,” he says. “Is that Cherry?”.

You pause for a few seconds and say, “Yeah,”.

“I love Cherry,” is all he says before pulling you back over to him, and completely attacking your lip with sloppy and eager kisses. You feel him grin into the kiss which immediately gets rid of your wandering thoughts.

“You taste like love,” he says in between kisses.

End of flashback

He presses another kiss on your lips which snaps you back to the present. “You did great out there,” you told him. “They loved you,”.

“Yeah, it felt natural and easy,” he says as he leans back in for another kiss.

Before you could ask him about his sudden change of heart about wanting to not talk about your relationship, a team member came over to tell you both that you’re allowed to leave and go over to the bar and that everyone would join you there in a little bit. Joe nods, wrappinh his arm around your waist, and leading you both out to the car. This newfound PDA was a little weird for you as you were walking through crowds of strangers and Joe seemed to not care. You decided not to push the subject just yet, it would be better to wait till you were alone so you could figure out what was going through his head.

The after-party had a stereotypical College party vibe to it, and it being in a College Bar was definitely adding to the mix. Loud music and laughter, numerous cans of beer scattered across the room, and groups of people playing darts or beer pong. You felt like you were transported back to College and were drunk on nostalgia, and maybe something more.

Joe was standing next to you, one hand firmly gripping your waist, and a beer can in the other, as you were extremely focused on the game of darts in front of you both.

“Andddd, Bullseye!” you yell as the dart hits the middle of the board.

“Great Job, Y/N. I taught you well,” He says as you feel his hand migrate down to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze.

“That you did,” You say as you look back up at him. Here he goes again with the PDA, not that you were upset at it. You loved it, but you were also just as confused. You watched him take another sip of his beer before breaking off to go greet a few more people. You watched as he was conversing with a group of people before he looked over at you and motioned for you to come over.

“And this is my girlfriend Y/N,” he says as you join his side, his hand once again around your waist. You had no idea who he was introducing you to and were even more surprised that he was just tossing around the “girlfriend” tag so casually in front of people that he seems to have met for the first time. A few minutes later, you wrap up your conversation and decide to talk to Joe about what all this was about.

“Hey Joe?” you say to get his attention.

“Yeah? What’s up?” he responds.

“You wanna over there for a bit? I need to talk to you about something,” you say as you point over to the semi-secluded barstools in the back of the bar. He nods and you lead him over to the stools and sit down with your drinks.

“Is everything alright?” he asks as he rubs your thigh.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you say as you place your hand on his. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,”.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he questions.

“Its just, before the podcast you were getting nervous about them potentially asking you about us, and they did,”.

“Yeaahh,” he drags out as he nods his head.

“And when they did, you seemed to be just fine and were like an open book. Not to mention the out-of-the-blue PDA you’ve been showing all night,” you giggle. “I just wanna know, why the sudden change of heart? You know I don’t mind not being so open and public with our relationship, I hope I didn’t make you feel like you had to say or do something,”.

Joe looked deeply into your eyes for a few seconds before responding. “These past few months have been pretty hard for me, and us. You know that best,”. You nod in return, now feeling a little queasy at the mention of the rough moments you had.

“And it gave me a lot of time to think about life,” he adds as he interlocks his fingers with yours.

“I’m tired of acting like you’re not the reason why I can do most of this, aside from actually playing football. You always know exactly how to handle me when things get too chaotic, you know how to calm me down, you help me with literally everything, but most importantly, you put up with all the bullshit that being with me brings,”.

“Joe,” you whisper.

“Wait, I’m not finished. You’re the most important person in my life, and it’s time I make that known to everyone. I realized that I have no reason to be worried about what others will think, I love you more than anything and people need to know that. These past few months have shown me that I need you more than I need anything and the thought of you not being by my side freaks me the fuck out. Fuck their opinion. Fuck their comments. I love you and I chose you. Opening the door just a little will not hurt and if anyone has a problem with it, screw them,”.

You felt like crying as he said all of this to you. Not tears of sadness, but tears of relief. You were relieved that his feelings towards you hadn’t changed, as odd as that sounds. There were a few negative thoughts about your relationship that piled up in the back of your mind over the past few months, but you never confronted them out of fear. The injury did a number on you both and you were scared that you’d lose this special thing you had to something that wasn’t in your control.

“I love you so much, Joe. I’m not going anywhere,” you told him.

“I love you more. And good, I think if you did I wouldn’t know how to function,” he says as he pulls you off the barstool and closer to him, slowly pressing his lips against yours. His lips tasted like your cherry lip gloss and beer, a familiar mix that you would often call ‘drunk in love’. He told you during your first kiss that the cherry lipgloss you had on tasted like love, and the beer was already intoxicating itself. A mix of both felt like you were well, drunk in love.

You were caught up in a heated moment in the dimly lit corner of the bar, not caring who saw you or who cared what you were doing. Your tongues tangled in your mouth as his hand navigated to your waist, holding you tightly. He lightly bit your bottom lip, causing you to moan into the kiss. His hands continued to wander around your hips, slowly moving down to your ass. He gives it a few squeezes, pushing you deeper into him. You pulled away from his lips and said, “Do you wanna get out of here? I’m all for being a little more open, but I think we should finish this one away from public view,” you wink.

He playfully shakes his head and lets out a laugh, “Deal,”.

He grabs your hand tightly and leads you through the bar, giving it a few squeezes as you make your way outside.

“We didn’t tell anyone that we were leaving,” you said as he led you down the street to the Car.

“We’ll be fine,” he reassures you as he opens the car door for you.

He gets you situated before going around and getting inside the driver’s seat. You couldn’t wait to get home and finish what started in the bar. Once he got on the highway his hand navigated to your upper thigh, rubbing it up and down, softly caressing your exposed skin. You were already on edge from your heated makeout before and his hand being this close to where you needed him most was driving you insane.

“Did I mention that you looked absolutely sexy tonight? This white dress is really making me feel things,” Joe says.

“You’re such a tease,” you giggle.

“Hm?” He questioned, acting oblivious.

“You know what you’re doing, Burrow. Got me all flustered from earlier and now this,” you say as you pat his hand that’s on your thigh.

“How did I get you flustered?”.

You sit up in your seat and say, “Well for starters, you looked like walking sex tonight, even if it’s a laid-back fit kinda day. Something about you in all black makes me insanely horny. Secondly, your talking about me caught me off guard but my stomach was fluttering the entire time. And then that makeout earlier at the arena and in the bar? Yeah, I’m this close to literally passing out,”. You fall back into your seat for dramatic effect as Joe playfully rolls his eyes.

“Well then, maybe I should do something about it,” he says while looking over at you for a second.

“What are you proposing?”.

“Just lay back and relax,” he says. So you do as he says, knowing exactly where this would lead, especially because it wasn’t the first time.

His hand moves to part your legs, and then slowly moves higher up your thigh until his fingers are teasing the edge of your panties. He moved them to the side as you let out a quiet whimper because of the newly exposed skin meeting the cool air of the car. His fingers parted your folds, finding your wetness and sliding easily inside you. The feeling was intense, the rhythm slow and gentle as he explored the depths of your desire. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his hand, needing more of his touch.

“Joe, Fuck,” you moaned as you felt pleasure overcome you.

His fingers moved in and out of you, a familiar sensation building with each stroke. Heat and pure ecstasy were coursing through your body, your breath coming in short gasps as you reached the edge of pleasure. Joe’s thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bud and sending you fully over the edge.

“Ohhh,” you moaned as you threw your head back into the headrest.

You spent a few minutes catching your breath and he slid his fingers out of your core and up to his mouth, cleaning up the mess on his hand. “Sweet,” was all he said, flashing you a smile.

You laugh and say, “Can’t wait to get home, It’s your turn,”.

He looked over at you, pure lust in his eyes as he gripped the wheel strongly and pushed on the gas pedal a little harder. Once you got home, Joe parked in the garage and quickly pulled you out of the car, eagerly leading you through the halls of your home, not even giving you a moment to take your shoes off.

“Joe, slow down,” you giggle, slightly holding him back so he stops.

He turns around and stares into your eyes for a few seconds, then eyeing you up and down, before tossing you over his shoulders and leading you up the stairs. “Boy, someone is excited,” you laugh. He leads you into your bedroom and gently tosses you down against the silk sheets of your bed before slipping your heels off. He then kneels in between your thighs and captures your lips in a messy kiss.

You slide your hands into his messy curls and pull him closer, if that was even humanly possible, as he starts to fiddle with the straps of your dress. A few minutes later, both your clothes are now on the floor and you are back to making out, ignoring the fact that his boner was poking your thigh. You would never get enough of his lips, so soft and plump, very easy to get lost in. He pulls away and presses a few sloppy kisses around your neck before moving down your body.

You stop him before he goes further, “Wait. I told you that it was your turn next,”.

“You don’t have to, Y/N,” he smiles.

“Mmmm, too bad,” you say as you move out from under him, allowing him to lie back against the headboard. Once he gets settled, you straddle his hips and press a few kisses around his face, then kiss your way down his perfectly sculpted body. You reach his hard-on and wrap your hand around it, giving it a few pumps as pre-cum was beading at the tip.

You looked up at him, making intense eye contact, as you wrapped your soft lips around the tip of his cock, feeling him twitch in pleasure. You start to move your head back and forth, going deeper each time as sounds of pleasure escape Joe’s lips.

“Shit, you feel so good,”.

You continued to bob your head up and down his shaft until you felt him getting closer. Your hands gripped his thighs as you took him deeper and deeper, nearly choking up. His breathing became more erratic as you sucked him harder and faster. He slid his hands into your hair as started to buck his hips into your mouth, a sure sign he was about to cum.

“Fuckk,” he moaned as you felt hot spurts of his cum filling your mouth, making sure to swallow every drop. You slowly release him from your mouth and look up at him with nothing but love and adoration.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, wiping the spit and salvia off of your mouth.

“And you’re amazing,” he says as he pulls you back on top of him. You let out a soft laugh before kissing the tip of his perfectly sculpted nose. “You still up for a little more?” you ask him.

A huge grin appears on his face, “Always,” he whispers as he moves closer, once again kissing you passionately. You break away to put each of your legs around him and he grabs your waist while moving down to lie back against the bed all the way. You leaned down to press a final kiss on his lips before lining up his cock with your slick entrance. You slide down his length, soft moans leaving both your lips as the feeling of fullness feels like you’re coming home.

You begin to move your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. Your hands rested on his chest and your fresh manicure left a few marks as you dug your fingers into his tan skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You feel so fucking good,”. His hands moved up and gripped your waist, helping you move back and forth to ease the soreness that you were definitely feeling by this point.

“Yeah,” you moaned.

“Faster Baby,” he whispered. You nodded and picked up the pace, riding him faster and harder. You could feel the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing beneath you as you moved with a steady, relentless pace. Joe started to buck his hips into your slick lower half, making you throw your head back in pleasure. Your breathy moans and sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

“Shit,” you moaned as he continued to pound into you.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. You looked back down at him and smiled, he never missed a chance to praise you. He looked absolutely fucked out; his lips were red and swollen from the many kisses you shared, his hair askew, and a content grin on his face. The next few minutes passed by blissfully as you continued to ride him into oblivion. You leaned down, pressing your breasts against his chest, and started to bounce back onto his cock while moaning sweet nothings into his ear. His hands wrap around your back, pushing you closer and closer to his warm body.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he moaned.

You whimpered in response as heat was building in your belly. He picked up his pace and continued to pound into your core as he felt your walls start to tighten around him. The pleasure became too much for you, so you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your screams.

“I’m cumming, Fuck,” he moaned. You felt his hands around your waist again, tightly gripping your plush skin, as you felt him shoot his load into your core.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

You lifted your head out of his shoulder and pulled him in for a sloppy and needy kiss to stifle his moans. You were once again lost in his lips so you didn’t even realize it but he somehow managed to flip you over so now you were laying back against the bed. He moved one of your legs around his waist and ruthlessly thrusted into your core to help you find your pleasure. Your whole body shaking as he pushed you deeper and deeper into the bed which each thrust.

“Come on Baby,” he groaned. You were so fucked out and the alcohol from earlier was finally in full effect so you had zero thoughts in your head. You just felt your boyfriend pounding into your core and the pleasure building inside your sore body.

“Mmph, Joe,” you whined as you felt the increasing wetness between you both. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you finally felt the rubber band in your belly snap, causing waves of intense and deep pleasure to wash over you.

“Fuckkk,” you whimpered. Joe gently collapsed on top of you, making sure he didn’t crush you with his weight. He pressed a few kisses on your neck as you remained in your high.

“Joeee, Fuck, you’re so good. It’s so good,” you moaned as your orgasm came over you. You spent a few minutes coming down from your intense high and held Joe close against your body. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you repeatedly how much he loved you like it was a sacred prayer.

You felt him press a kiss on your cheek before slowly sliding out of you, causing you to shrudder at the loss of contact. He went into the bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up before getting in bed; your body was too sore and tired to get up to wash off the sweat and cum.

“Thank you,” you said as he turned off the lights and got into bed next to you.

“No need to thank me, Y/N,” he chuckled.

“God damn, that was a workout,” you laughed as you turned over to face him.

“My favorite workout,” he smiled as he pulled you into his side. You rest your head on his bare chest as he plays with your messy hair for a few moments.

You looked up into his eyes and saw nothing but love and warmth. “I love you, Joe,”.

He moved his hand down to your face, cupping the side and caressing the soft skin of your cheek. “I love you so much, baby. I’m glad I get to show the world how much you mean to me. It’s you and me, forever,” he says before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Always and forever,” you whisper against his lips. You moved back down to his chest and snuggled closer to him. You look back up for a second and see Joe falling asleep, a smile still present on his face. He was happy, you were happy. Everything was perfect.

—The End—

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

720 notes · View notes

viridwns · 4 months

Text

Mannequin

TW: Forced relationship, non-consensual kissing/touching, Douma being aight?, mention of gore if you squint, also didn't check grammar or spelling :/

A/N: I am working on so many requests rn, I had to work on one of my own ideas (I saw a dress on pinterest and had to make a story out of it).

"You look like a goddess."

"So beautiful."

"She's ethereal."

"Only the best for Lord Douma."

"This shows too much skin!"

You look at yourself in the mirror, turning your body every whichway to assess the dress (or rather a piece of cloth) that has been put on you.

You felt naked.

Douma kidnapping you to his cult wasn't something new. Especially after he was sent out on a mission did he just long for alone time with you. His followers taking you, dressing you, doing your hair wasn't new to you either.

But being put in this?!

Yeah, this was something new.

They never put you in a dress so revealing.

It was a strapless dress, with sleeves flowing over your lower arm, attached with a silver chain to the main part. Your top was made out of the same silver. It barely covered your breasts. You hoped the thin closing around your neck wouldn't break. The silver was further attached to the bottom of your dress. A waistband sitting snug on your hips, a sheer cloth billowing from it, and stopping just above your ankles. Aside from your lower arms and from the waist down, you were without coverage. Your only shield that protected the outing of your breasts to the rest of the world was the flimsy silver chain wrapping around your upper half.

No way you were going to wear this in front of the demon who ripped apart countless of kimono's off you. He couldn't even see your figure in those. You don't want to find out what he'd do when you were practically bare.

You let your fingers trace the silver; these chains wouldn't even survive a slight tug from him.

"Our seamstress worked tirelessly on this. Researching the western culture without Lord Douma's knowledge was a difficult task. Plus the seamstress had to start over many times; the fabric is so flimsy it ripped multiple times!" A woman looked at you via the mirror with begging eyes. You felt a pang of guilt shoot through your gut at her words.

"It's not that I don't like it! it's the most beautiful piece of clothing I ever laid my eyes on. It's just that...It's so immodest!"

You turn your head away from the mirror, getting embarrassed from seeing your form in such a state in front of all these women.

Counter arguments started to bounce off the walls. You shook your head.

"I'm not going to prance around in nothing but see through fabric and chains!"

"You must! you're Lord Douma's spouse, send by God himself to keep him company-"

You waved your hands in an attempt to cut her off. You didn't need them to obsess over the made up story Douma fed them. You were not God send, and you were definitely not here to keep the demon company.

You wished you could tell them the truth, but that would only result in carnage; The pile of corpses Douma left for you to find serving as a efficient warning the first time he brought you here.

You were never going to tattle on his secret again.

The arguing continued, a hand already pressed on you shoulder so you would sit down.

"Just let me do your hair first okay? If you really don't like it we'll dress you in different clothing.

You reluctantly gave in. Knowing that their say was final anyway. You can't even remember the last time your opinion was taken into serious account.

It's always about pleasing the demons', never about what you would like.

You watched the skillfull hand of the woman behind you doing your hair in the dressing table mirror. She was braiding it into a crown around your head, letting the back stay the way it is. She intertwined some white roses into the braid; it looked like you were wearing a flower crown.

Even though you did find yourself pretty in these fancy clothes and hairstyles; you couldn't enjoy yourself. You were treated like a dress up doll for the demons', only being allowed to look pretty for them, never for yourself.

You had forgotten the giddy emotion you got when being gifted a new dress and twirling in it in front of the mirror for the first time.

Another sigh, another careless smile from one of the followers.

"You couldn't look more beautiful. Lord Douma will ravish in the sight of you." The women all agreed in unison, complimenting you on your beauty.

You turned around to face them, a small smile on your lips.

"I will make sure to praise your work in front of Douma." A wave of excited and thankful shrieks came over you.

Douma tended to let the women you like live longer so you can enjoy their company more when you're here. You had to mention them in front of him.

A male follower came rushing into the room. The women all forming a protective circle around you-you were only to be seen by Douma's eyes.

"It's almost sunset, come quick." He rambled, waving to everyone to come with him. Urgency laced his words.

It was time for Douma to give the message of the Lord to his people.

Prick.

You stood up, relief slowly eating away the nerves that had build up in your stomach.

Sunset also meant that Akaza could go outside and get you out of here.

One thing about Douma is that he never asked if he can take you with him, he just does.

And hell be upon him when the rest finds out you're missing, coincidentally at the same time Douma isn't present either.

Akaza is always the one to get you, even if he can't stand up against Douma, he somehow always gets Douma to give you over.

Maybe it's because of the threatening shadow of Kokushibo always leaning over Akaza from behind; piercing his three pair of eyes into Douma's soul (if he even had one, you were fairly certain he didn't).

You feel the corners of your lips tug upwards at the sight of Douma being beheaded.

Maybe if you puppy-dog-eye Muzan enough when you get back he'll take away Douma's mouth for a bit. You could use a bit of peace and quiet.

You didn't notice you were being lead to the main hall, so lost in your daydreams that you only noticed where you were when a heavy silence deafened your ears.

The hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at you, gaping at you, had you realize what you were wearing, or what you weren't wearing. Your arms slipped over your figure in an attempt to keep as much hidden as you could. Your futile attempt in creating a shield for yourself was met with two female followers grabbing both your hands and forcing them to your side, keeping you in place with their determination to show you to their Lord.

Your eyes were pinned forward, gaze focused on the tall figure slowly rising upright from his cushion.

Douma looked the same as he ever did. Same hair, same clothes, same cursed eyes and his trusty hat.

The only thing different was that his expression was...well not his usual 'grin'.

His eyes were wide, mouth closed. He was unreadable. You couldn't figure out what emotion he was wearing on his features.

You noticed his hands were in taut fists by his sides.

What was up with him?

"Douma?—"

That's when he stood up, rising to his full height. You swear you could feel the floor shake as he strode towards you.

You didn't—couldn't—move. Why was he so much more terrifying when not smiling?

The women let you go; getting on their knees as their Lord approached—heads touching the floor.

He didn't acknowledge any of them as he took your wrist in his hand. You saw his sharpened nails. bile climbed up your throat, you forced it down again as you swallowed.

Douma dragged you behind him, pace quick, eyes determined. You spluttered his name, trying to ask what was wrong. He was not himself, he never acted this way.

"Douma, what are you do-"

"Just shut up."

You were taken aback by his tone, shutting up immediately. He never had any emotion except for faux happiness in his voice. Now his tone was just empty, devoid of anything.

You could hear his heavy breathing as he took you outside. You spotted the white circle gifting the world with a guiding light in the darkness high up in the sky. It was a full-moon tonight.

Your eyes snapped to Douma as he stilled his movements. He shoved you in front of him, placing you in the holy glow of the moon. You faced him with confusion lining your features. You could not figure out what he was trying to do.

He took a few steps back; basking in the sight of you. He swallowed thickly. His eyes trailing slowly over you body, analyzing every dip, mole, crook, wrinkle, imperfection and perfection you had.

You looked like an angel in the heavenly glow of the nightlight. Douma couldn't stop inspecting you. When you walked into the hall, not wearing a kimono like always, he was put into a trance. He had never seen you wearing western clothing, and even though this was extreme and probably not accurate to the western style at all-he was captivated.

You had never looked more beautiful than you did at this moment. He wasn't used to emotions sizzling in his blood. He didn't know how to put the burning sensation in him out. For once he didn't want to throw you on a bed to eat you up to your very core, but he just wanted to take in you.

You played with the ends of your sleeves as you felt yourself getting smaller under Douma's multicolored gaze. You hated not knowing what to do, not being able to gauge the demon's feelings.

A snap of twigs made your head turn away from the stone-turning stare of Douma.

You sighed in relief.

"You bastard. You can't just take her with you! Not without Lord Muzan's permission! Love, you must've been te-."

Akaza stilled, his eyes met yours and slowly drifted over your body. You cocked your head.

Not him too.

"What are you wearing? What is she wearing?" He pointed an accusing finger to Douma,

"Doesn't matter, she is gorgeous."

You had to keep yourself upright form the whiplash Douma gave you with his words. He had never sounded to sincere, so soft.

Akaza walked over to you, his footfalls not heard. He was about to hold your hand when Douma spawned next to the two of you and gripped Akaza's hand in a bone-breaking grip. His muscles were bulging under his skin as he kept Akaza from touching you.

"Let her stay like this for a little." Douma never was serious with Akaza. Always letting the upper three do what he wanted. Akaza stopped all his actions. He knew Douma could kill him in seconds if he resisted him now.

"Douma I want to go. I don't feel comfortable." It was nerve-wrecking to break the tension. It was something you never dared to do, scared of loosing a limb if you did. The air was thick and if you had a knife you swore you could cut it.

Douma turned his focus towards you. Just like that you could breathe again, all tension leaving. It was like Douma realized that he had dropped his act.

You grimaced when his grin returned on his lips. You saw Akaza visibly relax when he did.

"Whatever you wish princess."

You looked at him with suspicion. He was never this easy to persuade. Usually he would whine for an hour before inevitably giving in.

Akaza shared a glance of doubt with you. He cautiously took your hand and within the blink of your eyes you were standing in the chaos of walls, lights, floors and stairs.

You felt light-headed, your stomach sloshing inside of you. This was never going to get easier.

You held Akaza's hand as you got your bearings, slowly pushing away the nausea and pressure that was building in your head. If it wasn't for him you would buckle and fall.

"You okay? I don't understand how you aren't used to this yet." Akaza rubbed your back. You shot him a glare and released your hand out of his.

"What is she wearing?" You pursed your lips in annoyance as Kokushibo appeared in your line of sight.

"I'm getting out of this dress right now, don't worry about it." You snapped, done with this whole night already. Why were they all acting like you never dressed up before?

You were wearing a dress for the first time though...maybe that's what had them reeling like this.

"No, I like it. You look beautiful." The upper one stared down at you, his hand resting at your shoulder, slowly gliding down to your lower back as he assessed you.

"We should get you more dresses, and have Daki braid your hair more often." He mused. A shiver ran up your spine as his cold fingers kissed your skin.

"I don't feel comfortable in this. I am practically naked." You objected, looking up at Kokushibo through your lashes.

"Only bonus points if you ask me." Douma winked, his eyes dark with lust as he cocked his head with a cheeky smile.

It was like whatever happened a few minutes ago never did. He was back to his old self. Much to your relief and dismay.

"Stop acting like an animal in heat you idiot." Akaza sneered, but the dust of pink on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"Which one of you took her out of the kimono I picked for her?" There it was. A voice, cold as ice, heavy as stone and threatening like a knife against skin.

Muzan was standing across from you. His head high, hands behind his back and maroon eyes radiating annoyance.

Muzan was very controlling of what you wore, ate and just did overall.

Douma was in for a lot of shit.

"Ah Lord Muzan! isn't she pretty? My followers know exactly what to do with her!" Douma pushed you forward, showcasing you to the demon king.

You slightly pouted your lips. You hated being pranced around like an animal in a zoo. You just wanted to change into comfortable-covering-clothes.

Muzan took you in, walking around you as if he was deciding to buy a new piece of furnace. He was judging you.

"I've seen this style before. Did your followers research her western background?" Muzan asked as he let his hands wander over the material; tracing the silver that were hiding your breasts.

"They did, and they did such a magnificent job."

No they didn't. You never wore anything like this back home.

Home. You missed it.

"I wore dresses at home-" Muzan grabbed your jaw, you coughed.

"-back in my former country, they were nothing like this." You managed to get out with the aching grip of the demon king on your jugular.

You had to stop messing that up.

Muzan loosened his grip just a tat.

"You look nice in this. Maybe I should let you indulge in your own culture more."

Your eyes grew big.

"Are you serious?"

"Dare you question me?"

You shook your head no as best you could with his hands still lingering between oxygen and choking.

When was the last time you had enjoyed something from your culture?

When was the last time you spoke in your tongue?

Sadness tugged at your heartstrings when you made that realization, but you quickly cut the emotion off as you went down on your knees. Muzan letting your go to have you grovel at his feet.

You bowed down; head touching the floor the way he loved.

"Thank you, my lord." You felt the insides of your stomach climbing up your throat as you said it, but you forced it down. You had learned quickly enough to do what Muzan likes, and thank him for the smallest bit of gratitude.

Having you call him 'lord' was another one of his manipulation tactics. he wanted you to know the power dynamic between the two of you. He wanted you to know where you stood exactly.

Muzan hummed in satisfaction. You rose to your feet again with the help of Kokushibo, who so kindly stuck out his arm for you to take.

"No, stay on your knees." Muzan commanded. Your mouth fell open, but without any hesitation you bend down on your knees again. Your dress spread around you in a perfect circle.

Muzan tilted your chin up. He raveled in the way you looked up at him with those innocent eyes. You looked so fragile with those flowers in your hair and the white clothing your skin.

He felt his trousers tighten just at the thought of corrupting the innocent thing before him.

You felt the eyes of the three demons behind you burning holes in your body as Muzan traced his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Kiss me." He whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. you weren't feeling up to this right now, but the consequences of rejecting Muzan-rejecting the demon king-would be a grave mistake.

Muzan couldn't handle that a mere human could reject a near God like himself. It hurt is ego immensely.

You gently stood up, not breaking eye contact with him once, you let your breath fan over his lips, mentally preparing for what was about to come. Muzan grabbed your hips as he watched you.

Pushing back every urge to stop, you lunged forward, crashing your lips on the frozen ones of Muzan. Your warmth enveloped Muzan's nerves as he reciprocated the kiss. He was more fierce, more eager, and after a second he took back control. Forcing you to stay in place as he explored the cavity of your mouth. You felt your oxygen running out as Muzan bit and tugged on your bottom lip. He dominated you easily. Your hands were taut around Muzan's shoulders. Squeezing as the need for oxygen became to extreme.

The moment spots started forming in your vision, Muzan broke the connection. You heaved, chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. You didn't stop looking at him, you knew he saw looking away as a form of 'not wanting' (even though that's what you did feel). You felt your lips swell and your face heat up. Your eyes were glossy and Muzan wore a small grin on his face.

He loved seeing you like this. Lips plump read, face hot and bothered and eyes doe-like.

"You are talented in putting on a show, darling." You furrowed your brows, Muzan guided your face in the direction of the other demons'.

You felt your muscles tense at the sight of all three looking at you like you were the first source of water they found after days of traveling in a dessert.

You felt fear fluttering in your stomach like moths pouncing on a flame.

You barely made it out alive when with one of them. You wouldn't be able to take all four.

"N-no, please, I-" Muzan raked his sharpened nails over the silver, it broke without any resistance, just like you predicted.

"Don't worry. They'll do as I say, and for now I want them to watch."

He kissed your shoulder as the shield slowly broke off your body.

You got what you wanted though, you got out of the dress.

#yandere kny #yandere kimetsu no yaiba x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer #yandere muzan kibutsuji x reader #yandere muzan kibutsuji #yandere akaza x reader #yandere akaza #yandere kokushibo x reader #yandere kokushibo #yandere douma x reader #yandere douma #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba

604 notes · View notes

fumikoshi · 6 months

Text

REMORSE

✧ — CONTENT; Mean!Gojo, arranged marriage, death, angst

things could have been different. If he had stayed home, you would still be alive. you would still be alive...

''my love... p-please don't go''

Gojo froze in his tracks, feeling your delicate arms wrap around his waist from behind. Despite himself, a small flicker of surprise coursed through him, momentarily halting his steps towards the door. Your trembling voice reached his ears, filled with desperation and a plea for him to stay.

"I-I will prepare a dinner for you, my love... p-please don't go," you whispered, your lips pressing softly against his back in a tender kiss.

For a brief moment, the gentle touch and your plea tugged at a minuscule fragment of buried empathy within him. However, he quickly squashed that flicker of compassion.

he twisted his body to face you, his expression turning cold and unyielding once again under his blindfold. He roughly pushed your arms away from his waist, forcing you to release her grip on him. The action was swift and unforgiving.

"Your feeble attempts to keep me won't work, y/n." he spat, his voice laced with cruel indifference. "I have no use for your pitiful displays of affection. I am leaving."

He turned away from you, resolute in his decision. He regretted his words at the moment he saw the pain and sadness in your eyes. but he couldn't show it, he couldn't show any sign of weakness.

after all, he was the strongest

With a last glance, he walked towards the door and left you. As he crossed the threshold, his heart remained hardened, untouched by the anguish he left behind.

He was a terrible husband. He didn't pay any attention to you. but he wanted to change that, so he bought you a bouquet to make it up to you, and today he was going to take you out to dinner. he was going to fix everything, you were going to be happy together.

''My sweet wifey~, I thought we could have dinner today, husband and wife--''

Upon entering the house, Gojo was met with an eerie silence that sent a chill down his spine. The door wide open, the lights on – everything seemed off. As he stepped further inside, his heart raced, confusion clouding his thoughts. The scent of carnage enveloped him, the heavy air thick with tension.

Then he found you. lying lifeless on the floor, your limbs twitching slightly as the waning moments of your life escaped from you. Blood pooled beneath you, the crimson liquid staining the once pristine floors with its haunting presence. A profound sorrow washed over him, accompanied by a wave of guilt – a bitter taste in his mouth.

The flowers he had intended to apologize with dropped from his grasp, the vibrant colors now tainted by the horrifying scene unfolding before his eyes. He watched in horror as you struggled for your last breaths, your fragile body betrayed by the curse that sought to end her life.

The irreversibility of the situation dawned on him at that moment - her fate was already sealed, your time running thin. Tears welled up in his eyes as realizations flooded his mind; regrets of his callous behavior, anger, and neglect came racing back and consumed his conscience. If only he had stayed if only he had paid attention.

Gojo fell to his knees beside you, reaching out tentatively to steady her limp form. "Y/N. Stay with me," he pleaded, a foreign word in his vocabulary. "Please, don't go." His tears fell in torrents, landing beside hers on the muddied ground.

''Who. Who did this to you-''

His hands shook as he cradled you close, your warm breath steadily fading in his embrace. The pain of losing you was like a dagger piercing his heart, relentless torture he could never escape.

What was the point? What was the point of being the strongest if he couldn't even protect his wife?

At present

Gojo stands before your grave, a solemn figure with his head bowed low. The air holds a heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze caresses the surrounding trees. The weight of his loss rests heavily upon his shoulders, his heart burdened with a mix of grief and regret.

"Hey, it's me again," he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion as he addresses the earth beneath him. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I wanted to let you know... I'm doing my best, even though it feels impossible without you here."

His fingers trace the engraved letters of your name on the tombstone, his touch both reverent and pained. Memories of your time together flood his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. The weight of his remorse for not cherishing those moments to their fullest becomes evident in the way his shoulders slump, the way his breath hitches.

"I miss you, more than words can express," he admits, his voice breaking with raw vulnerability. "I wish I had realized sooner what you truly meant to me. I wish I had been a better husband, a better person for you... worthy of the love you had for me."

His grip tightens on the flowers he brought, his knuckles turning white. He places them gently upon your grave, his gaze lingering upon the fading petals.

Tears glisten in his mismatched eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper now. "I love you, and I always will. I'm sorry I realized this so late. Wherever you are, I hope you've found peace. And just know... you'll forever have a place in my heart."

With a final, lingering look at your tombstone, put the bouquet on your tombstone and turns away.

He will live a lifetime with the pain of ruining the perfect future he could have had with you.

Fumi: How was it? I would appreciate your thoughts in the comments!

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo angst #jujutsu satoru #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo imagine

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strawbeerossi · 11 months

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Punishment

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Unsub!Spencer Reid

Description: Spencer has had enough with you not listening to his instructions.

Content/Warnings: Mean Spencer, scolding, spanking with a belt, crying, brief fingering.

Word Count: 0.6K

Kinktober Day Twenty Nine: Impact Play

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You had a hard time listening. Spencer wasn’t very fond of it. He had told you not to go outside for your safety, yet he found you sitting on the front porch of the house on his walk home. You had no idea why you had both suddenly had to pack up and leave DC, nor did you understand why your husband’s job suddenly let him go.

You weren’t aware that you were both on the run, having to hide from the outside world in a small cabin that Spencer found deep in the woods of West Virginia. Sure, the woods would make it hard for anyone to see you, however Spencer wasn’t taking chances.

He’d gotten home at six in the evening when he seen you on the porch, book in your hand as you sat quietly on the steps. “Why are you out here?! I told you that it’s not safe.” He spat, hand quickly grabbing your arm as you were pulled inside. It wasn’t rough enough to hurt you, however he pulled at your arm as if you were a little rag doll that he could drag around. “It’s such a nice evening out! I don’t see what the big deal is, Spencer. We are fine.”

The both of you weren’t fine. If Spencer was found, he’d be dragged back to prison while you were made aware of the carnage and bloodshed he left back in DC. He got sloppy, leaving behind a key piece of DNA that had every major news outlet in the country reporting on him. You didn’t need to see that. You were happy with him, he didn’t want you to be afraid.

“I don’t care! I told you to stay in!” Spencer scolded, hands working on his belt as he was keeping a tight hold on your arm before leading you to the couch.

Your body was tensed up as you knew what was coming, heart beating in your chest as his body was lowering onto the couch before he was tugging you over his knee. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” You tried to protest, the male ignoring your words as he was tugging your pants and panties down your legs, belt in his right hand.

“Shut up and take your punishment. I wish you’d just listen. You know the rules. You’re counting.” He spoke, hand rubbing over your smooth skin as he was getting the belt situated in his grip.

You’d just about accepted your fate when you felt the leather belt coming down on your ass, a sharp pain shooting through your body as you let out a yelp of surprise. “One!” You shakily spoke while glancing at your boyfriend, hoping for some form of mercy as his eyes were focused on yours. “Tell me you’re sorry.” He spoke, making your lip quiver. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, although another rough smack had your hips jerking upon contact. “I’m sorry! Two!”

There were eight more that came after that, your flesh burning hot from the amount of spanking as Spencer’s big, calloused hand was rubbing over the irritated skin in an attempt to soothe you. “I don’t like doing this but it’s the only way you seem to fucking learn..” He huffed, tossing the belt on the couch beside him before his hand was gently slipping between your thighs.

Your pussy was wet, the amount of friction of your clit dragging against his thigh previously being the one to thank. “God, should I help you or should I leave you to deal with it yourself?” He asked, amusement glistening in his eyes as you were blabbering about how you didn’t want him to leave you to deal with the issue alone.

As his pointer finger slipped into your wet cunt, he was only groaning in satisfaction as your walls clenched around the digit in an effort to suck more in. “Such a greedy little cunt. Wanna be stuffed?” His words were calculated, enough to make a whine of desperation fall from your lips as you were nodding quickly. You needed him desperately and he was making you wait.

You hated this game.

“Prove it.”

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voxsmistress · 5 months

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Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part EIGHT!!!

HOLD onto your hats people this is a long one!!! Please let me know if you’re enjoying this guys – your comments absolutely make my day and make these sleepless nights writing this completely worth it!!

“Enjoy your shower, Y/n. We will see you after it, we have much to discuss” he crooned at you. Smirk growing when your gaze narrowed. Yanking your wrist out of his grip you stepped away. Winking as he disappeared when the elevator doors shut you released a nervous breath. Facing the other Overlord who was eyeing you up, displeased with what she was seeing she tutted at you.

“You gotta learn to step away when things go boom babe, blood is not kind to your clothes! Come on, lets get you cleaned up”, she slips her hand into yours pulling you through a living room and into a massive bathroom. Wait … she’s not gonna clean you right?

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

Thankfully (or not depending on your view) Velvette left you alone in the shower, just popping a towel and some clothes on the side before whisking herself off out of the room but not before giving you a cheeky wink and promising next time she’ll help wash your back.

Red faced you stood in the stream of hot water – scrubbing viciously at your skin to remove the blood splatters and stains from the alabaster skin. You would enjoy the smell of the blackberry and pomegranate shower scrub you were using but you were too focused on the conversation that was going to occur as soon as you got out of this bathroom. Debating on whether you could hide in here forever, you figured probably not. Well, you could try but knowing the three Vee’s one of them would break down the door and fetch you.

Lathering up your hair with the shampoo you watch the bubbles drop down at your feet: a mixture of pinks and reds. Ick, was all that blood in your hair? You didn’t dare look at yourself in the mirror when you walked in. Scared of what you would see. It had been so long since you had last used your shriek that you nearly forgot the carnage that came with it. There should be a splash zone warning. Shampooing once more to make sure all the blood was out of it you then condition it, hoping the blood hadn’t stained your hair. That would suck!

Taking your sweet ass time in the shower you had washed every single piece of skin, hair and scrubbed all your nails and huffed. You couldn’t put off getting out any longer. If you did it would just be your lucky for one of them to pick the lock and come get you, naked or not. Wrapping the fluffy towel around your body you wipe the steam from the mirror and observe the tired look on your own face. Glad to see the makeup had thankfully come off with the scrubbing you had done in the shower you suddenly felt more naked. When you had your makeup on it was like a mask you could hide behind. No hiding now. You wrap your hair up in the small towel then dry the rest of your body off.

Let’s see what clothes Velvette had left you. Frowning at the bra and underwear you grumbled under your breath. How the fuck did she know your size? Taking the new tags off them (why would she have new ones in your size anyway?) you slide them on grudgingly, course they fit like a glove. A black short sleeved t-shirt and high waisted black cargo pants were next – fitting again perfectly but at least they weren’t revealing. Or not revealing in the sense you were showing skin, but the t-shirt clung to you as a second skin and the pants followed the curve of your waist over your hips making your hourglass figure pop. You had to give props Velvette, even her casual outfits looked cute. You wonder if you could order more of these off her? Looking around for your blood-soaked clothes and boots you realised they weren’t in the bathroom anymore. Did you miss her coming in? What the hell? Wriggling your blackened toes on the cold tile you worried your bottom lip.

Shaking your drying hair out of the towel you give it a quick brush with a spare hairbrush you found on the side, slicking it back from your face. Catching sight of yourself in the mirror you give a fierce scowl. Come on Y/n! When have you ever been afraid to face anyone? Well … apart from Alastor but that Radio Demon had a reputation for eating people!

Done with the pity party you ready to leave the bathroom, steeling yourself. Grasping the door handle you take a deep breath in and out and then leave the safety of the room. Here goes nothing.

Grateful that they had carpet instead of tiles you let your feet lead you down the hallway to the living room that Velvette had dragged you through before. Heart pounding more and more with each step you try and breathe steadily. If you faint before you even get to the living room somehow you doubt the Vee’s would ever let you forget it.

Entering the living room, you see all three of them sat down, Vox and Velvette on the sofa and Valentino on his own in a purple and gold armchair (though ‘throne’ should have been a more apt description) all on their phones and murmuring to each other every so often. It would be quite a homey docile scene if your dead heart didn’t feel like it was about to keel over. Quietly clearing your throat, you gain their attention. Vox and Velvette’s head twist sideways to look at you while Valentino peeks over his shoulder with a flirtatious smile: “Princessa finally, we thought we were going to have to come get you”.

“Sorry about that, it seemed the blood just didn’t want to get out of my hair” you chuckled, pushing back the nerves you take a few more steps into the room lion’s den. Vox motioned to another armchair that was placed in front of the TV, you would be the focus of the three. Great.

You calmly walk to the armchair, not wanting them to know how nervous you were. The cushions sunk a little as you sat down, if you weren’t facing these three you would happily sink into this chair. It had to be one of the most comfortable things you’ve ever sat on. Crossing your legs you place your hands in your lap, back straight and head turned so you could see all of them. Time to get serious.

“So?” You start, looking questioningly at Vox – who was sat in the middle – as you were sure he was the one that would lead this conversation. His responding smile was almost shark-like. And Hell, didn’t it get your motors running. Wait no. Bad Y/n FOCUS!

“So y/n, before you had to run off and wash off all that – uh – blood you were going to confess how you killed those sinners with only a small cut to show for it”. Eyebrow raising in question, if you knew he wasn’t a manipulative bastard you’d have believed that his tone was kind. Hmm. To lie or tell the truth. What to do.

“I exploded their brains causing their entire head to detonate like a watermelon” you explain with a deadpan expression. Truth it is then. Your amusement rose when they all looked at you with shocked faces. Where was a camera when you needed one.

“You … uh you what?” Allowing a small smirk on your lips you make eye contact with Vox. Yeah, not so smug now are ya.

“I raised my voice to such a high frequency that it vibrated their brains so much that they exploded, thus causing their skulls to detonate into millions of pieces – so messy but oh so effective, don’t cha think?” you thoroughly explained, keeping the eye contact with the TV Demon. Your smirk growing larger when you observed him shift uncomfortably in his seat. Good. You hoped he was thinking what would happen to him if you used your shriek. A flicker down his body told you he was enjoying whatever thought had occurred to him.

“Princessa? You are saying you killed these sinners with just your voice?” Turning your attention to the Moth Overlord, you smile prettily at him.

“Yes”. Simply put. “Didn’t Vox show you the footage?” Tilting your head as you question them. The sharp looks the two gave Vox gave you a little bit of satisfaction. Sheepishly holding his hands up as if he was innocent, he shook his head.

“I was just waiting for Y/n to give me approval to show you both”, narrowing your eyes it took everything in you to hold in the snort of amusement. When does he ever wait for anyone’s approval to share anything?

You motion with your hand for him to show them the video footage, tearing your gaze away to focus on the bookcase across the room when you see his screen flicker starting the video. You might not be able to see it but the sounds were enough to make you flinch – thankful when you started to shriek Vox muted the sound. You don’t think you’d live much longer if by rewatching the scene you accidentally explode the Vee’s brains. Though Alastor would be forever in your debt. Hmm…

At the clearing of a throat, you turn your attention back to them. Velvette looked impressed, Valentino amused and Vox … well he looked like you were a shiny new toy that he really wanted to play with.

“Well babe, I knew you had fire in you but girl!” Velvette was the first to break the silence as she laughed. Somehow that put you a bit at ease. You weren’t sure how they other two would react but amusement you could deal with.

“What? You didn’t think I was just a pretty face now did ya?” a quick wink towards her made her laugh more. Valentino joined in, smoke billowing from his cigarette.

After a few moments they settled, both their gazes shifting to Vox who was sat in the middle with his arms crossed and a mischievous smile on his screen. That can’t be good for you.

“The only thing now is, what do we do with the footage?” He asked, eyebrows quirking at you. Steeling yourself you lean your elbows on your knees. Here was the tricky bit. How to convince him to not show the footage but making it seem like it was his idea.

“I suppose that is up to you Vox, I’d ask if you could delete it but that’s your footage and your decision now” you reply simply. You weren’t going to beg. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. A flicker of surprise flashed across his screen before he narrowed his eyes at you.

“And if I decided to share it with our adoring public?” He asked, thinking he had that over you. The fact you kept your private life completely out of your social media – no one knew what you did privately which obviously did not go unnoticed with Vox. You didn’t give out where you lived, not who you were before hell and not even your favourite drink unless you personally gave that information out online, every single post, message and picture had a reasoning and motivation behind it. You built your life in hell on only showing one side of you: the sexy bimbo who had a good set of lungs for singing. A piece of eye candy. Someone people weren’t afraid of talking in front of as they didn’t think you’d remember or understand what they were saying. The release of this footage could ruin that image. If the public realised that you had power in your voice you might not get any more jobs. Demons and sinners would fear your singing. You could lose all the hard work you’ve put into lying under the radar. All that hard work slowly climbing up the ladder gaining more and more power.

But if you kept it quiet, if it wasn’t shown and the Vee’s used it as a way to get you into a deal then you would be under their wing. Under their power. And you were really tired of being in the shadow of other Overlords.

“I suppose then the public would hear my real voice – my persona and image I have put out has served me well. But, with demons and sinners knowing that it takes only one moment of hearing my shriek to drown them in their own blood that will gain me more respect, fear and power. You are probably doing me a favour actually” you muse, tapping your chin with your blackened finger. Pretending to consider the possibility of what you just said, a sadistic smile broke across your lips.

It grew when you saw Vox’s expression darken, another flicker down his body you were surprised to see something making an appearance in his trousers. Pocketing that piece of information away for later, you raise an eyebrow at him. His move. Velvette and Valentino looking between you both, giving each other a malicious grin. After a few moments he raised his phone that was in his hand. Clicking a few buttons before putting it down on the arm of the sofa. Shit. Had he sent it out to the rest of Hell?

A harsh buzzing on the coffee table in the middle of you all made you glance down. Your phone! Seeing a notification from Vox light up the screen – since when did you have his number? You grab it, clicking on the notification it comes up with the video file. Had he sent it to you?

Your gaze back up on the smirking TV Demon, arms laying on the back of the sofa he was fully relaxed: “oh don’t worry my little Songbird, you are the only person in Hell with that video now.” Confused you place your phone back on the table. Wait what? Wasn’t he going to use it to blackmail you into making a deal? He laughed as you carried on staring at him. “Did you think I was going to try and force you into a deal y/n?” Nodding at the obvious answer, he just laughed more. “No, not this time. You’ve managed to surprise me, not many have achieved that. I want to see what else you have hidden behind those lovely violet eyes of yours before I claim your soul”, his eyes darkened again while his voice deepened with static at the end. Biting your lip, you push the blush away that wanted to burst out on your cheeks. Breath y/n.

Least you knew his angle now. Nodding to him, you look to the other two who had been suspiciously quiet. “I don’t suppose you’d mind keeping this to yourselves as well, would you?” You ask them, hoping they’d agree.

Velvette smirked at you before rolling her eyes: “babes, happy to keep it quiet for now but as soon as you wanna tell people you’ve gotta let me design the outfit you are gonna wear! I’m thinking Siren – all out mankiller outfit, yea? Lemme get some designs drawn up!” She was up and out of her seat before you could even blink. Amused, you let your gaze go to the smoking Moth Overlord. His tinted glasses made it a little hard to read him. Unless he was shouting or flirting you couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. You could see why him and Vox were a couple.

After a few more puffs of his cigarette, he shrugged his shoulders with a playful grin. “My lips are sealed here, mi cariño. Knowing you have that gorgeous scream that could kill makes me think of all sorts of ideas – you’d be surprised how many have a kink where they want their partner to kill them”. Pretty sure your eyebrows have been lost in your hairline.

“Really?” the question escaped your lips before you could do anything to stop it. Leaning forwards in his chair, smoke blowing towards you his smile grew making his gold tooth flash in the light.

“Yes, my Princessa … would you like me to show you some vi”-

“-no, no that’s fine thank you!” You interrupted him, not able to hide the blush this time making his and Vox’s smile grow wickedly.

“So shy when we speak about sex, amore, you make me curious” ooh it is definitely time to go now! Chuckling nervously, you brush it off and make a show of looking around.

“Don’t suppose you guys know where my clothes and boots went do ya?” Are you changing the subject? You betcha!

Taglist: @tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda @twinklethewarrior

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harque · 5 months

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" debt "

💭 . . . 0.6k "whenever you're ready." aventurine pov, gn!reader, angst, mild spoilers (aventurine's real name + backstory), pre-relationship, starvation

Aventurine was charming in every sense of the word.

He was handsome, a poker shark, always the life of the party, and a better friend than some might guess. He was well-learned about finer things: liquor, gems, and numerous other small, but interesting tidbits that could start a conversation. But he doesn’t know how to be a boyfriend. Or, really, how to be anyone who isn’t on the verge of falling apart.

So, Aventurine’s initial reaction to your confession was not at all soft or romantic. His knee-jerk response is to withdraw. If there was any truth left in him, you were uncomfortably close to unearthing it and he wasn’t prepared to deal with the carnage built up underneath his delicately cultivated persona yet. He does, however, understand love. He is not heartless. He had been loved, when he was younger. He could not love you now. What more did he have to offer?

His sister loved him, his people loved him—the harsh sun, coarse sand, and fleeting rain all once adored him as if he were their own. Kakavasha was very loved, but there is no sense in loving dead things. Aventurine was needed. He likes that.

Aventurine likes and wants to be needed, because being craved, sought after, desired or even admired by someone, no matter the person—makes it easier to twist the game in his favor. He can control others by being relied upon, can make them want him. As long as he could trick other people into thinking he was indispensable, he was safe.

(He carved away pieces of himself to sell as commodities, a fine cloth for the wealthy to wear until there was nothing left, no remnants of his former self, just a hollow shell to be discarded.)

You didn’t need him. He doesn’t feel safe. You know he isn’t who he parades himself as, and he’s scared.

You were too patient. Too gentle—he sees you, the wolf in the clothing of a lamb, prowling the edge of his enclosure. (My friend, we are one in the same, why do you insist on living among them? You cannot hide. You are not like them. You can layer all the pleasantries you like on top of your appetite, try to bury it, but it is always there. I know how to get it out. Kakavasha, aren’t you starving? Do you eat in secret because you can’t bear the thought of becoming an outcast?)

He sees a lover with lips that drip sweet rot when open. You lean closer, pressing a chaste, warm kiss to the birthmark on his wrist right above his watch and oh—like the pathetic, wretched sheep he was, Aventurine wants so desperately—but he was too wary of taking more than he was allowed.

“I understand," You said as you pulled away, replacing your mouth with the pad of your thumb. His pulse raced as you traced his veins. “It’s about time for me to go, anyways. Whenever you’re ready, come find me, alright? We’ll talk.”

(Come closer, come closer. The table is made, the world is your plate, I will give you everything so you will not have a need for anything. Indulge freely in my bounty, savor the flavors and feast to your heart’s content. No, even then, you are not filled, you still hunger. Do you ever stop wanting more? Do you ever feel satiated? When your belly is bursting, when your teeth are stained with the juices of the hunt, is your thirst ever quenched? Never. Never.)

With an even and calculated tone, he simply responds, “Of course. I always keep my promises.”

The smile on his face was nonchalant. It is only his hands that betray him, trembling behind his back when you leave.

#✦﹐ fics #—stellaronhvnters.#boyfriend scenarios #gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader

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weasleyreidstyles · 6 months

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Serendipity; Invisible String

series masterlist

i was going to include this in chapter seventeen to break up the angst a bit...but then i thought i'd just do it as its own separate piece so that they have a chance to explore their love without there being as much (because i couldn't help myself) angst overshadowing this pivotal moment for meadow and matty....there is also an important (not very subtle) easter egg regarding the storyline that will be delved into in a later chapter....anyway this takes place between chapter 16 & 17 xxx

warning: 18+ content, fingering, piv, soft smut, declarations of loooove!!

~∞~

After the Order members had left, with plans of meeting privately to discuss Professor Dumbledore's funeral and what they were supposed to do in the wake of the harrowing battle, Madam Pomfrey had made her way over to you to check on the wounds that littered your abdomen, and with a flick of her wand, they became faint lines of jagged silver as they scarred over. Shortly after that, she'd declared you okay and insisted that you get some rest in a proper bed. It was probably also to make space for the students, part of Dumbledore's Army, who had also been injured in the battle.

You and Mattheo left shortly after that, but not before Ron came up to you and wrapped you in a hug, tears leaking from his dull blue eyes. No words were needed, you knew what his actions meant. You held him tighter, even as his parents beckoned him to his brother's bed.

The castle halls are eerily silent as you walk hand in hand with Mattheo. Even the portraits don't stir at the harsh glow of his lit wand, as if they were grieving for the loss of Dumbledore in their own way. The two of you are the only disturbance in the still atmosphere, your soft breathes and light footsteps echoing loudly on the stone floor.

Neither of you had wanted to venture near the Astronomy tower again, afraid that the sight of the now spotless hallways would spark harsh reminders of the bloodshed and carnage that had swept through them like a petulant disease only hours before. So wordlessly, Mattheo had begun leading you towards the dungeons, his body heat sheltering you from the chilly bite in the air.

The Slytherin common room was mysteriously desolate when you entered behind him. Not a soul to be found under the dim glow of the Black Lake's murky waters; only the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth and the gentle ripple of the current against the windows could be heard over your mingling breathes.

"Where is everyone?" You ask, cringing instantly as your voice becomes agonisingly loud in the silence, despite your words being spoken with quiet cadence.

"In bed I assume, or gone." Mattheo responded with a low rasp. "It wouldn't surprise me if news has already spread and parents are collecting their children to return home."

You respond with a soft "oh", as you follow him up the stairs to his dorm.

"Draco's gone." He continued as he unlocked the dark oak door leading to his dorm. "So are Blaise and Pansy. Enzo and Theo are still here, but they'll leave soon too."

"Why didn't you tell me anything before? I deserved to know that my friendships started out as a means to an end." You ask him as you enter his room. He's silent as he observes you from the threshold, brows creased in thought.

"I would've told you eventually. There was never a good enough time though. And it wasn't a means to an end, love." Your about to retort but he continues as if you hadn't opened your mouth to speak. "It felt like the right thing to do, to tell you when I did."

"To gain The Order's trust?" You ask, running a hand through your hair.

"Exactly. Though I doubt it's done much to sway them."

"What happens now?" You ask hesitantly, reaching and squeezing his hand.

Mattheo gently guides you to where his bed sits in the corner of his room, allowing you to find a comfortable position before he finds his own one behind you. He pulls your back to rest snugly against his chest, cradling your body to his own with strong, protecting arms as your heartbeats synced as one.

"I don't know, darling. But we'll face it together." He says as he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. The two of you rest in stagnant silence, unsure of what tonight's happenings meant for the world as you knew it.

~∞~

A little while later, you turn to face him, restless anxiety clawing at your insides. Mattheo's curly, deep brunette hair has fallen haphazardly across his forehead and his onyx eyes, framed by glorious lashes, shine bright, despite all that they had witnessed in the past few hours. He has a soft smile painting his face as he admires you in tandem, although you can see his poorly hidden concern for you reflecting behind the tenderness. Each breath you take, he mirrors and your racing heart slows to a relaxing lull in your ears. Unhurriedly, you bring a hand up to his face and brush the loose curls away from his eyes, a tender look overtaking your fatigue.

"I meant what I said in the ward." He mumbles, voice betraying how exhausted he was, too.

"Yeah?" You ask, your smile widening imperceptibly. You fingers caress his face with featherlight strokes as you trace the freckles and scars that are scattered across his cheeks. Your eyes are now alight with teasing mischief as if daring him to say the words aloud, all sense of tiredness having left your face in the wake of it.

"Yes, Meadow." He responds with a quiet snicker as he pokes your side. His eyes glow with serene happiness as he watches you squirm and giggle, watches the despondency leave your pretty face. "Did you ever take me for a liar, sweetheart?"

"No." You say breathlessly as he continues to stroke at your trouser covered hips. "Never."

I want to hear you say it. You implore wordlessly. Please.

He kisses you then. It's not hard and rough and passionate like his caresses always are. Instead, it's soft and slow and entirely all consuming, like the very first time, but infinitely better. Every emotion he's ever felt for you coarses through your veins as his tongue clashes against your's.

"I love you." He says breathless and low against your lips. You kiss him with a newfound fervour, pouring your every thought and every emotion, intertwining your soul with his. Your magic practically explodes around you, casting a warm indigo glow about the dorm room, illuminating his features; guiding shadows in a dance across his face.

He looks at you in awe as you both admire the way his own magic seems to tangle seemlessly with it. Whorls of indigo and silver flicker in pretty patterns that seem to pour out around you like a smattering of a million tiny stars.

My incredible, smart girl. He tells you with a wide smile on his face as he looks at you, admiringly. You flush under his intense stare.

You undress each other with practiced fluidity until you are both blissfully nude; no barriers separating you from the other, all vulnerabilities splayed out in the open. He rolls on top of you and presses your hands above your head with one of his as his other trails lightly down your stomach, tracing the new lines of scars which seem to twinkle under the faux starlight. He presses soft kisses to the marred skin, words of love and adoration melting into you as he presses away the new insecurities without even trying.

He eventually works one finger, and then two inside you as his thumb strokes idle patterns against your clit. You mewl at his practiced ministrations as he fingers you, slow and rough, in the way he knows you love, despite never having said it out loud before.

The noises you make bring a delighted smirk to his pretty lips and he speeds up his movements almost unnoticeably to bring you close to release; teasing you through one orgasm before letting a second rush through you, all while drinking in every sound; every expression that you let overcome your flushed face.

It feels like an eternity later that he finally sheathes himself inside you, every ridge of his cock brushing sensually against your most sensitive spots as he sets a leisurely pace – starting slowly before he finds a particular rhythm that has the both of you moaning in unison. His arms are braced at either side of your head, careful not to snag on your hair which is haphazardly fanning out on the pillow beneath your head. The muscles in his biceps flex with every push and pull of his body, his core tense with the exertion of making you feel like you're walking on clouds.

Your own hands are on a journey of their own, travelling along the defined muscles of his abdomen and across his strong hips, until a particularly deep thrust from Mattheo causes you to claw at the soft skin of his back, willing him to come closer to you. The scars that litter his skin are blissfully joined by marks of your making, marks that he wishes could stay there forever in place of the others.

Where he's left love bites on your skin, you eagerly return the favour as best as you're able. Leaving deep purple marks across his chest and clavicle with your kiss-swollen lips that happily migrate from his body to his own lips as much as possible.

"I love you." You whisper against him and he lets out a barely restrained groan as he thrusts even harder into you at your admission. Satisfaction thrummed through his veins at the whiny sound you let out in response.

"Say that again." He says, pressing hard kisses to your chest, leaving more delicious marks in his wake.

"I love you, Mattheo Riddle." You repeat, a moan catching in your throat as you begin to reach your peak for a third time. "You have my whole heart. Break it. Crush it. Decimate it. Do what you must, but please know that it's yours. It will always be yours. I love you."

The both of you are pushed over the edge at that, clinging to eachother's bodies, which are slick with sweat. The euphoria causes your intertwining magic to surge around you again, and you both feel how it sparks at your very souls, the feeling never ceasing, only growing as you allow your love to manifest and flourish like its very own entity.

Neither of you want the intoxicating feeling to end, content in basking in the sensation, if only to prolong the immense amount of love that radiates from your magical cores.

"I love you, darling." He mumbles into the skin of your shoulder, exhausted and spent, breathing in the scent of you; the soft floral hint of your perfume that seems to linger despite the raging battle you'd been in and the musky scent of the sweat that clings to your skin.

You press a kiss to his own shoulder as his body flops to land beside your's on top of ruffled emerald sheets. Your interwoven magic still permeates the air, seemingly in no hurry to dissipate any time soon and you can feel it, along with Mattheo's deep in your chest. By the look on his face, he's feeling its affects too.

"That was–" You mumble with a breathless giggle, fingers trailing patterns across his marked skin.

"All consuming." He agrees with a lethargic chuckle of his own before he's pulling your body into his again, magically rearranging the sheets so that the two of you are modestly covered.

"Can you feel something-" You start, but are unable to put this new sensation into words as he gazes down at you with soft eyes. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Different? Like my magic isn't entirely my own anymore?" He wonders aloud and you find that he's voiced your exact feelings.

"Yeah. Precisely like that, actually." You say. "It's like I've unconsciously absorbed your magic again. I'm sorry-"

His lips against your's prevent your apology from fully forming and he's looking at you with such a tender expression that makes you melt.

"I'm not sure it is your siphoning, love. It's different. I can feel your's too." He says with lightly furrowed brows.

"How strange." You mumble, a yawn escaping your lips. Mattheo manoeuvres you so that you're practically chest to chest as he lies on his back, letting your aching nipples brush against his strong pecks as he wraps his arms around you.

You breathe out a content sigh that causes a shudder to rush through him as it ghosts over the sensitive skin of his neck. The impact of your shared love and intertwining cores feels like a supernova swirling inside you.

The fate of the wizarding world, and your own fate, is a haze of unknown territory, but you were entirely certain of one thing; Mattheo held your heart in his hands, and he had no intention of ever letting it go.

~∞~

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff

@babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony

@dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf

@devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj

@nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette

@prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl

@rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost

@weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf

@rainy-darling @faeriepigeons

@lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff

@gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome

@nopedefe @spencerreidsthings

@navs-bhat @agent-tempest

@magimtz23 @y0urm0m12

@sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne

@whatsupb18

#serendipity series #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #fluff #smut

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circeyoru · 7 months

Text

Sleeping Romance = Requested

[Alastor x Tired Sleepy!Reader]

The Request

You were a hazard to Alastor. A hazard to his heart. You honestly remind him he’s still ‘normal’ at the end of the day with your tiredness and for that, he doesn’t know if he’s grateful for it or terrified of it

You were an old demon, nearly as old as Zestial and boi. You don’t even have a presence. Like you can naturally scare someone without trying. Not really, you were just in that spot and fell asleep then when you woke up, there was some demon near you and you talked

“Oh sh*t! It’s The Slumber Demon!”

“Run for your life!”

Yeah, no idea how you got your title or what you did. You didn’t even bother to know. All you knew was that Zestial offered you his place and you were happily sleeping in a coffin that made you feel like you were a vampire

Oh, you found out what you did. While sleeping, you lulled others to sleep and got a hold of their souls, you devoured them in your sleep, body and soul. You were wondering why you were never hungry when you got woke before resting at Zestial’s place. Oh, Zestial was also battling against your powers when you slept. Oops. You chased Zestial out of his own home and he went to Camilla

Anyways. It might be because you were aware of your surroundings that you woke up to Alastor’s broadcast of the fall of Overlords and his rise to power. You’d find yourself listening in on the broadcast and lateron falling asleep but woke up later on and still the broadcast was on

Needless to say, you made the effort to go the the sight to see for yourself the destruction Alastor was causing to the streets of Hell. You were quite glad that you had no territory of your own since you couldn’t be bothered with managing one and with more demons to ‘care’ for. You were too sleepy to do so

Your meeting with Alastor? Well, can you even call it one. When you made it to the place, you soon fell asleep from tiredness and your powers acted up again, merely as a defensive mechanism and to gain more power for yourself. Alastor sensed it, sensed an odd ball of power near him. To him, he was positive this was another easy prey to take as his own

How wrong was he. If he didn’t try to devour you or put you into his broadcast, then he would have saved himself from losing that ‘winning streak’, cause you were the one getting stronger without you doing anything! You should have seen the shock on his face. He left you alone soon after

But you kept coming back. When he sense you near, he would leave the area. It was like hide and seek. Not really, since his broadcast and the trail of carnage he left behind was enough to lead you to him. That and Carmilla was kind enough to point you in his direction

Your little following was what brought Alastor to Rosie. The lovely auntie was amused that you had taken some form of interest in a soul that you were not sleeping (all the time). Then there was Alastor being a cannibal, so he fit right in. One reason or another, you rarely go into Cannibal Town, almost never when he was there. So he thought he found your weakness

Just when he thought he could take over Cannibal Town to avoid you in his path, Rosie showed herself and defended her town elegantly. There was a truce between the two and Rosie shared that it was because you meant no harm to her people and didn’t want to accidently hurt them when you fell asleep, that’s why you’d never frequent Cannibal Town

Either way, Alastor saw it as a win because it was like you were fighting with him to gain more power. Sadly, no one knew you were actually curious about Alastor that you followed him around. So no one could help you with this misunderstanding

Ah, Carmilla and Zestial is helping! They arranged for an Overlord meeting. All Overlords are expected to attend. Naturally, you and Alastor showed up. To surprise Alastor even more was that you were one and one of the ancient ones that were feared. It was not odd to see you falling asleep during the meeting though, yet here, you didn’t try to fight and you were just sleeping

Alastor watched with interest when Zestial pulled your chair closer to him and use his cloak to cover you while Carmilla had soften her voice and even Rosie used her umbrella to cover you from the lighting. You were very protected and cared for it would seem

It wasn’t long before he found himself caring for you as well. He noticed, the closer the two of you were with each other, the less likely you’d be trying to fight or steal energy from anything around you

Plus you seemed to have a nack for genuineness. Why he sees that is because whenever he approaches you with the intent to use your connections or to try and rope you into a deal, you’d be very very passive-aggressive with him, even worse when you fell asleep. Yet then he doesn’t (he only realizes when he has time alone to think), you were like a sleeping doe

Poor Alastor was in such denial for caring about you in a good and healthy manner. He even asked Zestial and Rosie (never Carmilla) about their relationship with you. To which both claimed that you had this aura about you that made them put their attention and care towards you, not that you even use it for any purpose. That’s why they were attracted to you, you were pure and innocent

That’s why he was attracted to you. Believe him, the two of you would have been long in a relationship if it weren’t for his denial and mostly your sleepiness. Every single time, you fell asleep midway his proposal or any plans to romantically set up the mood, he set the mood for your perfect slumber was what he did

“My sweetheart, will you do me— Wait! Don’t sleep yet!”

He lost count of how many times it happened. He was patient with you since that was your charm, he thought you’d be well rested after some time. Nope. You were just sleepy all the time. ALL THE TIME. If Sinner could go to other rings, he knew you’d be in Sloth. He jump the gun when Vox tried getting you to join him or his group, promising a perfect sleeping quarters for you

“Darling! You stole my heart and you should be held accountable for it!” Alastor exclaimed, not caring that there was no built up, not caring that there were eyes around, not caring that it was the ‘right’ time as he’d like

Never had you been so energized from that statement alone. You went over to Alastor and kissed him, he hugged you and kissed back. It was a moment the two of you treasured and felt like you were on cloud 9

“Hey! I was trying—” Never had you turned to a demon with such rage as you directly used your powers against Vox for interrupting your moment. Boy were you terrifying. You launched forward, pouncing onto Vox and tearing him to shreds. Too bad demons would respawn after some time, unless it was an angelic weapon that did the deed

Alastor fell for you again

Taking advantage of your energy and the electric energy you got from Vox’s entire being. You were in the mood to have some fun. Alastor had so much plans for you, “Let’s revisit our romantic spots.”

“We had romantic spots? And we went there before?”

“Hahaha, oh my dearest, you fell asleep on me!”

Note: I think the ending was a bit different than when I first started writing, but I can't seem to remember what it was before...

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

#alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Circe's Nighty Writings #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor #Circe's requested writings #Sleeping Romance

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lost-girl-2021 · 1 year

Text

Adopted Spider Headcanons (Metkayina Edition)

I've been reading fics where Spider's adopted by Ronal and Tonowari the past couple days and now I'm obsessed. The problem is that I mostly write angst and I really wanna read hurt/comfort, lol.

I feel like the typical/common way that I see Spider get taken in is basically him doing his little beach bum shit after everything and slowly getting adopted into their family. And I eat it up. Every. Single. Time.

Spider: *Building a campfire, roasting his own food* Ronal/Tonowari/Tsireya or Anoung: *Why is the Sully's adoptive son alone on the beach?* *Oh well, mine now*

I feel like Ronal would definitely be way at first, she's made it no secret that she strongly dislikes Sky People. But, I'd imagine that eventually, she comes to see him not just as a human, but as a child. And a child who is alone and in need of help.

Aounung would probably be the same. I have this idea of him giving Spider a hard time (after all the carnage/damage/dead people have been handled). Like, trying to mess with him as much as possible, just being an asshole. And then, maybe Spider goes under for a long time while Aounung is on the beach weaving or something. And, even though Spider has a mask and can breath underwater as well as he does above it, Aounung somehow forgot that and freaks, thinking the human has drowned.

Aounung tossed his half-repaired net aside, diving into the water. He whipped around, eyes catching on the mess of dirty blond. Pushing further, he grabbed the boy by the armpits, shooting to the surface and pulling the human onto land. He flipped him over, meeting confused eyes as he placed a hand on his chest. He was breathing fine, not even panting from being under for so—

Spider's mask glinted in the sun. Aounung was an idiot.

"Are you . . . okay?" The smaller boy asked hesitantly, making no move to sit up.

"You were under for a long time." He mumbled, pulling away.

Spider's face split into a grin. "Did you— did you think I was— "

"Quiet." He hissed, standing up. "We will never speak of this again."

Spider's laughter followed him as he stormed away.

I feel like with Tsireya, she would've immediately been all over him. Like, this is Spider, Lo'ak's supposed best friend. The human boy who acted just like he was Na'vi. It probably started mostly as curiosity, but I think that after seeing how the Sully's interacted with Spider, she'd be confused about his place, his family. If Spider didn't sleep in the Sully's marui, didn't eat with them— then where did he do those things?

Tsireya glided along the water, Lo'ak a few feet from her. "Why doesn't Spider stay in your marui?"

Lo'ak raised a brow. "Uh . . . I don't know. He lives with the humans, I guess. Always has."

"But . . . the humans left after helping Kiri. They have not returned."

"They . . . they haven't?" He cleared his throat. "I'm sure Dad has it handled. There's probably a new shack or something for him."

Consider Spider's mask running low and there isn't a spare anywhere. As a kid, he never was gone from the shack long enough for his battery to run low and during his time with the recoms, there were always spares in someone's pack when he needed it. Idk how long the masks last, but for my own sake, I'm going to say Spider got a new one the day of the battle and it lasted him about a week. Or maybe, he managed to pillage one as the ship went down so he's on his second and it's like two weeks or so.

I think that when he saw the little red light flashing, a small beep-beep sounding, that he'd probably be like a kid who forgot there was a test. He'd just panic. But, I imagine he'd also be scared to bother the Sully's by telling them, so he'd spend the next hour searching the village (discreetly) to see if there were any pilfered batteries or masks left behind when the humans visited. Let's say he has two hours from when the mask starts flashing to change it out. And where, oh where, does he wind up when he's got a half-hour left?

Spider was not panicking. Because, when a human panicked, they breathed faster and wasted more air. Norm told him that, so it had to be true. But, he'd checked everywhere he could think of and . . . nothing. There was no shack, no Norm or Max to run to before his timer ran out. No humans. Only him. And in a matter of . . . fuck, twenty minutes, he was going to die just like a human.

He sat slumped on the beach, looking out into the water and trying his best not to openly sob. He didn't want to die crying like a little baby. It was not working out well for him. At least, he'd have a good view when he died.

"Child? What is wrong?"

Spider flinched, looking up with wide eyes at the clan leader. He'd only talked to Tonowari once, when Jake had introduced him. Of course, given his spectacular luck, the man would find him when he was on death's doorstep.

With a sniffle, he held up his beeping pack. "It's almost out. Twenty minutes."

The man frowned down, grasping the device carefully. "And that is why you're so upset? Because, you don't wish to go into the village for a new one? Did something happen? Someone make you feel unwelcome?"

"There is no new mask." There was also no home to go back to. "That was my only one."

With a cut-off gasp, he pulled Spider to his feet. He marched the boy through the village and into what he recognized as the healer's marui. The Tsahik was mixing something, but she stood as soon as they entered.

"Tonowari?" She asked, stepping closer. "What happened? Is he hurt?"

"His mask, where's the spare?"

Wordlessly, the woman pulled a mask from one of the many baskets, easily connecting the tubing and turning it on. Like, she'd done it before. Spider had no time to ask why she had such a thing before she was right in front of him.

"Take a deep breath." She ordered, unlatching the straps of his mask before pulling it off. Just as quickly, the new one was secured. Spider hadn't even moved.

I think that even before deciding to adopt Spider, Tonowari and Ronal would probably make sure he had spare masks and check what food he could/couldn't eat. Like, as soon as they realize the Sully's aren't caring for him, they'd probably subconsciously take responsibility for him. Because, he was just a kid, really. And kids were clumsy and careless and needed help, needed parents. Anoung and Tsireya, despite being independent and skilled, still needed their parents sometimes. Let their mother do their hair and insisted on their father de-gutting their catches. And Spider— Spider is fragile. He's skilled and smart and quick on his feet, but he's a human surrounded by Na'vi. Not to mention, one wrong move and he's left with a cracked mask. And what if he eats the wrong food, mistakes one fruit for another and ends up poisoned?

This ended up way longer that I thought it would be, lol. But, I really love these types of fics and if anyone has any recs or wants to hear more, my comment section is open. XD

#atwow spider #spider avatar #avatar #atwow #avatar fanfiction #avatar way of water #spider #miles spider socorro #atwow fanfiction #tsireya #anoung #tonowari #ronal #adopted spider socorro

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mischiefandlies · 19 days

Text

Don’t panic

Avenger!Loki x Avenger!Reader

Masterlist

Notes: Nat is so far out of character it’s not even close, but is loosely based on one of my friends. Also, I’ve only ever had one panic attack so probably not accurate (sorry).

Warnings: panic attacks, language, Loki threatening violence (not sure if that’s a warning or just his personality?)

You, Nat and Loki had been sent on a mission. It was supposed to be simple; get in, get what you came for and get out. Nat and you were sent after the files HYDRA had stored, Loki was supposed to be the distraction. Get in and get what you came for part of the plan had gone smoothly. There was just one problem left; coms went down. The last thing you heard was Loki “yeah, they’re definitely distracted, do you-” he was cut short by a gunshot on his end “-I’ll be back, out”

Nat had told you he would be fine, but something didn’t sit right. Sure, he had an uncanny ability to survive any situation, no matter the context. He also had the ability to just call you back on the radio, but why hadn’t he? And although you trusted Nat with your life, whether you trusted her with his life, you weren’t sure. She hadn’t exactly welcomed him when he showed up to join the avengers. Well, none of them had welcomed him really, which was understandable considering they had all fought him a year prior. Still, something told you he wasn’t as alright as she claimed.

The two of you got out of the building with no real complications, apart from one guard in the wrong place. Loki, however was nowhere to be seen. You had a ominous feeling, and made a decision.

“I need to go back for him”

Nat just glared. “No chance. We got what we came for.”

“We didn’t come for a bollocking from Fury, which is what we’re gonna get,” you pointed out.

“We were also assigned to come back with the documents,” said Nat “whether we come back with him doesn’t matter; Fury’s expecting him to bolt at the fist opportunity. He’s probably scarpered, and I’m not about to chase him. He’s big enough and ugly enough to fight for himself.”

“Then you won’t mind me checking? Just to make sure he didn’t rat us out.”

“I’m not saving your arse because you wanted to check up on the nutcase.” She replies. “Be my guest, but don’t be surprised when he’s sitting there drinking whiskey with the arms dealers.”

“Just get the documents back to base, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Wait.”

You turned back to her.

She sighed, “I’m not leaving you here. I’m in the café over there, call when you’re in hot water.”

You smile back at her “This is why I love you.”

She rolls her eyes “Just hurry up!”

After scouting most of the bar (Loki had made a very good distraction, the place was carnage) you were able to slip in the back rooms unnoticed by the frantic staff. Having subtly checked every room, you eventually realised Nat was probably right. There was no traces of Loki.

You were just making your way back to the bar when a security guard rounded the corner. You turned and bundled through the door to your left, straight into a storage cupboard and...

... face to face with Loki.

He immediately stood up where he had been perching on a shelf before. His eyes looked red and swollen, like he had been crying, and he tried to turn away from you. It being so tiny, all he really did was throw you off balance, and you had to reach for him to stop yourself falling over. His hands shot out to catch you.

“Wha-”

You clamped your hand over his mouth. “Shhh!” you hissed, pointing to the door. His eyes suddenly widened, and he retreated as far as the tiny cupboard would allow. Both of you waited with baited breath as the guard came and went.

Eventually, his footsteps receded, and you let out a breath. “Well, that was close, I thought...” you trailed off at the look on Loki’s face.

“Loki? Are you ok?”

He let go of you. “Fine”

“What’s wrong?”

He glared at you. “Didn’t I just tell you everything is fine?”

You just glared back pointedly. “And you expect me to believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Well, first of all, you’re shaking.”

He glances down at his hands, and pulls his sleeves over them. Turning away from you, he just mutters “Shouldn’t you and the widow be long gone?”

“I came back.”

He then turns to stare at you. Not the usual piercing stare that he fixes you with when you finish the packet of earl grey or try and initiate a conversation with him. This is a more dumbfound, what-the-fuck-did-you-just-say-to-me kind of a stare.

“You came back?” he asks dumbfounded.

“Yes”

It takes a few seconds for his demeanour to shift. All of a sudden, he’s hostile, threatening towards you. He then turns to tower over you, caging you between him and the door. His voice drops a few octaves before he practically growls, “Whatever you thought you were doing, it was a grave mistake. I suggest you go back to the widow and run off home, or you might find I turn the tables on this little game you are so desperately trying to play.”

You -much to his shock- were having none of it. “Ok, first of all, sorry for scuppering your escape plans, but your the one whose ended up crying in a fucking cupboard. Second, I’m not playing games, I came back because A, I don’t wanna get yelled at by Fury, and B, you’re more tolerable than Cap or Tony, and if I have to work with those morons again, I’m going to get arrested for homicide. Has it occurred to you that I actually don’t mind working with you?”

Apparently, it had not, because he now backs off again. “You’re lying.”

“Am I? Then why am I here?”

He ponders this a moment. “I-“ his voice breaks “I-I-I don’t k-know.”

He begins to tremble again. You can hear his breathing get faster and his eyes begin to water.

“Loki?”

“Stop, ju-hic- stop. Just get out. I don’t n-need pity.” He really can’t breath well at this point. The cupboard’s too small for him to turn around, but he angles his head so you can’t see him. Even so, you can hear him hyperventilating. You grab onto his shoulders and turn him towards you.

“Loki, you need to take big breaths for me, ok?” you hold his face looking him in the eye. “We’re going to do it together, alright? In for four, out for four.” You begin breathing and counting.

“One, two...”

Loki is still hiccupping, but he’s trying to follow along,

“Three, four...”

And again.

“One, two...”

He’s shaking a little less now.

“Three, four...”

His breath is starting to even out. You take one of his hands in yours.

“Once more, okay? One, two...”

You brush the tears off his cheeks. He seems to have calmed a little more. You two go on like this until he seems more steady. Eventually, he is back to normal, and manages to talk.

“Which way out?” he asks.

The two of you sneak out without any trouble, and meet Nat at the café before heading back to base.

Loki doesn’t talk on the car ride back.

Actually, he doesn’t talk when you get back to the compound either.

He doesn’t talk to you at all for the rest of the week. Nat clocks it, and questions why he seems to leave the room whenever you enter. Not wanting to tell anyone just yet, you to play ignorant. You know full well Loki gave more than he bargained for the other night, and that you probably (definitely) weren’t supposed to see that. You just chalk up his odd behaviour to feeling vulnerable, or that you fucked up his getaway plan and he was pissed about it. Either way, you each kept yourselves to yourselves.

It takes almost three weeks before he finds you. And by finds you, that means he breaks into your room and appears sitting on your sofa.

“Err... hi?”

“Afternoon” he responds.

There’s an awkward silence. “I made you tea” he says, gesturing to the coffee table.

“Thanks?” you answer. “You don’t know how I take it”

“Black, two sugars” he says.

Mildly impressed, you sit on the sofa and take a sip. He’s made it perfectly, much to your amusement. “So, did you start lockpicking, or did you just break in for fun?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He says.

“About what?”

“Last time we were on a mission, when I felt...” he fumbles for the word, “Distressed. You knew what to do. How?”

You just smiled “ You never had someone help you with a panic attack?”

“A what?” he asked.

“A panic attack. It’s like a physical reaction to extreme stress.” You explain. “Generally, it’s only people with anxiety or ptsd that suffer them, although some people just experience them if they’re under a lot of strain or have really bad fear at that point in time, although if that’s the case then it’s not normally on a regular basis. I’d wager that’s what you were experiencing the other day. Basically, you feel sick, lightheaded, hard to breath, and eventually you feel faint and pass out. Sound familiar?”

“Yes.” He studies you suspiciously, as if weighing up whether you’re trustworthy or not. “And these attacks, they are... well documented?”

“Eh, they’re medically recognised”

“So what’s the cure?” he asks.

“There isn’t one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, they’re a reaction to stress. The more you stress, the more they happen. Unless you wanna do some funky brain chemistry alterations, I can only tell you to try and reduce stress, and hopefully they’ll subside.”

He looks intrigued. “And you know this because...?”

“My ex-girlfriend used to suffer really badly with them. She still does. Did CBT for a bit, and that gave her some coping mechanisms. She used to do the breathing techniques, but there are sensory ones too. Whatever works.”

He just nods. “And they are more manageable?”

“Basically”

“CBT?” he asks.

“Talking therapy.” You answer “You kinda… er… you shoot the shit with someone trained.”

There’s a long silence. He seems to be considering all that you’ve said. Finally, you ask, “You’d never heard of any of this?”

“Never.” He replies “ I was never supposed to suffer with these ailments. I am a prince – we must lead by example. And Asgard is far superior in medicine to you midguardians, we just see no reason to study the mind. It will not help for battle, protection or hounor, so it is secondary.”

“So... everyone in Asgard is supposed to act like... Thor?”

“Pretty much”

You both sit there considering what you have learnt. Eventually, Loki stands up.

“Thank you for helping me.” he says “Or for continuing to help me.”

“No worries.” you smile at him “You ever having an off day and need a friend, you know where to find me.”

His cocky grin appears. “Of course. Although it goes without saying that I will rip you limb from limb should anyone else find out about this.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You smiled back at him. “Thanks for the tea. I’ll see you out.”

Loki still ignores you most of the time. Occasionally he shows up at your room with books, and questions about midguard. Sometimes he even shows up with tears streaming down his face, and in need of your help. And you always help him through the panic attacks and give him all the comfort he needs. You two form your own little habits. Movie nights and the occasional coffee. Training together. Going to the office to finish reports only to end up throwing pens at each other. You become friends.

Eventually, you piece together what happened. He never tells you, but snippets catch you by. That he was tortured. That he had mind control problems. Thor, while completely rat-arsed, even lets slip that Loki was adopted, and that he felt abandoned by both families. And over time, you begin to see why Loki became the way he is.

The team, however, don’t share your compassion.

“...enough bombs to tear down the entirety of New York. Couldn’t let that happen again, not after SOMEONE already tried that once.”

“...all these new SHEILD agents, I mean, c’mon, I don’t mind an ex-assassin or two, but personally, once it’s called genocide, I feel like we should draw a line.”

“... and Fury’s all up on my ass, it’s not like I, I dunno, tried to take over the fucking planet.”

It wouldn’t have irked you quite so much if they had just been muttering these between them, but these were all virtually spat in his face. There was nothing you could do except bite your tongue. Until one time, over dinner, Loki left over a few spiteful comments. You had to stick up for him.

“Guys, I don’t know when you all forgot, but no-one at this table is innocent. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. I’m not saying what he did wasn’t awful, I’m saying at least he’s trying, and by god if none of you can respect that and keep your traps shut, then can you blame him for not wanting to help you. He’s been through hell and back, and for you to just sit here and slag him off is a dick move.”

You just picked up your plate and walked off.

The next morning, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers on the table, and a suspicion that he’s duplicated your front door key.

#loki laufeyson #loki series #mcu loki #loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #marvel loki #loki fanfic #loki x y/n #avengers #tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston loki

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the-lonelybarricade · 7 months

Text

Breaking & Entering - (2/2)

Summary: Before the room was swallowed into darkness, she found her eyes drifting towards the entryway, listening to the heartbeat that drifted to her through the wooden door. It followed her all the way to the House of Wind. And in her sleep that night, the beating stopped.

Or; The story of how Elain discovered that Lucien Vanserra sleeps naked.

A Part II and a happy ending by popular request!

Read on AO3 ・ Part I

The nondescript sleeping tonic Lucien purchased in the market hadn't come with any instructions. He didn't consider this unusual.

Seeing that the shopkeeper hadn't provided any cryptic warnings upon its purchase, Lucien assumed, as with other sleeping tonics he'd ingested in the past, he simply needed to consume the vial shortly before he was ready to go to bed and sleep would find him more readily.

When Lucien tipped the vial down his throat later that night, he found its taste unexpectedly pleasant—ginseng and honey with a tart, unmistakable aftertaste of magic that told him the potion would be potent. He remembered locking the doors, undressing from his day clothes, and lingering for a moment in front of his balcony door, unable to keep himself from staring towards the rising mountain range in the distance. The windows and verandas of the House of Wind were indistinguishable from his apartment, but it hardly mattered when he knew precisely which side Elain's room was kept.

Her scent still clung to his nose. He hadn't been able to rid himself of it since he'd visited the townhouse earlier that day and found the smell of jasmine and honey still wafting through the steam of an abandoned cup of tea, as if she'd fled the second he knocked on the door. He hadn't dared ask after her and Feyre, whether out of sympathy for him or loyalty to Elain, had not commented on her sister's whereabouts.

Lucien dragged his gaze towards his bedside table, debating whether he should choose a book from the small collection he kept in Velaris to distract his thoughts until the sleeping tonic took effect. But his eyes only made it so far as the jeweled dagger he'd rested on the table's edge before his attention swiveled back towards the glass door and the distant glowing lights in the mountain. He might as well have shoved that dagger into his chest and twisted, the way he let himself imagine what she was doing with her evening, practically another world away. Did she like to read before she fell asleep, too, or did she need something less idle? And during those moments when her mind wasn't occupied, did she ever let it wander towards the mate who slept in the city beneath?

That was the last thought he remembered before oblivion. There was no soft drift into darkness, nor did he lap gently against the tides of waking. One moment, he recalled standing in his bedroom, wallowing in his misery, and the next, the sun was up, his mouth was stuffed full of cotton, and the room stunk of salt and copper.

And… jasmine.

He sat up. Sunlight flooded in from his balcony, bouncing and glinting off the thousands of glass shards littering his bedroom floor. A broken plant pot lay haphazardly in the wreckage, clumps of soil spilling away from the cracked ceramic. Last he'd seen that pot, it'd been sitting lovingly on his outdoor table.

Someone had broken into his house, and from the bloody footprints trekking through the broken glass, they hadn't been prepared for the carnage they'd wrought. Lucien took a moment to assess his own feet, just to be sure the tonic hadn't sent him on a violent sleepwalk. That was when he noticed the blood on his bed sheets.

His intruder had climbed into his bed. And along with their blood, they'd left their scent behind. One that stirred at instincts he tried very, very hard to keep buried. She'd been here. In his bed. His mate had been his bed. But more importantly—

His mate was hurt.

Beneath his skin, something primal was itching awake, thrashing at long-held restraints. Lucien took a deep breath. He needed to keep a level head and piece together what happened. Why had Elain come here? Why had she hurt herself trying to get in? Had she been running from something, had she come to him for protection that he'd failed to provide?

Just like he'd failed to protect…

Lucien flung open his wardrobe and shoved himself into clothes without paying attention to what he was grabbing. The fact that he didn't run into the streets naked was a testament to his self-control. He bothered with only as many buttons as was required not to be indecent before he winnowed outside the wrought iron gate of Feyre's townhouse.

It wasn't far off dawn. Perhaps it was too early to be wailing his fist against the door of an uptight High Lord. Rhysand's expression certainly said as much when he answered after the third round of knocking.

"Lucien," he said in a flat greeting, not bothering to adjust the black silk robe hanging off his shoulders. At least it was tied at the waist, however precariously. His violet eyes dragged over Lucien in one quick, unimpressed assessment before he quirked a dark brow. "I assume there's a reason you're disturbing my otherwise very pleasant morning?"

The love bites along his neck spoke for exactly what sort of pleasant morning Lucien was interrupting. And Rhysand's insufferable smirk confirmed it.

"Where's Elain?"

"Sleeping," Rhysand said. "Like you should be."

"Lucien?"

Rhys turned at the sound of Feyre's voice, his hard expression softening as he watched her pad up to the doorway, her own robe tied much more securely—thank the Cauldron. She frowned as she came closer and glimpsed Lucien's expression.

"Is that blood on your face?"

Lucien immediately swiped at his cheek, his fingers coming away covered in the dust of dried blood. A growl rose in the back of his throat as he demanded, "Take me up to the House of Wind."

“No.”

“No?” Lucien snarled.

Rhysand's eyes gleamed as though amused by the outburst, eager to see how far Lucien was willing to escalate the situation. The subtle step Rhys took to position himself in front of Feyre didn't escape Lucien's notice, either.

"Not until you calm down."

"Tell us what happened," Feyre said, voice far more coaxing. She pushed her hand against her mate's shoulder, moving him out of the way with a stern sideways glance. Rhysand's expression shifted just enough that Lucien knew they were in each other's minds, having some conversation he wasn't privy to.

The rational part of his brain knew that they wouldn't take him to Elain unless he complied with their questions, but his sensibility was in a losing battle against the primal instincts slipping loose. Through gritted teeth, he managed, "Elain's hurt."

"Azriel reports that she's fine," Rhys replied, crossing his arms. "Safe in bed and fast asleep."

"Let me see her, then."

"So she can wake up to a snarling male? I doubt that will win you any favor."

"Rhys," Feyre warned. She looked to Lucien, and he could hardly bear the pity in her eyes, the way she spoke to him like a spooked animal as she said, softly, "I'll go check on her."

"Take me with."

Feyre sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea, Lucien."

And before he could protest or even try to convince her otherwise, Feyre vanished, leaving Lucien alone with the High Lord of the Night Court. Rage blistered through him, and in that moment Lucien wanted nothing more than to wrench their door off its hinges and slam it into the smug bastard's face. But rather than pick a fight he couldn't win, he turned on his heel.

"Lucien."

He paused at the gate to peer over his shoulder at Rhysand. Some of Rhys's smug demeanor dropped, regarding Lucien with an expression close enough to understanding to make his stomach heave.

"Feyre says Elain is fine. She had some cuts on her feet, but nothing that can't be healed. Take some time to decompress, and you can return when she's awake."

Lucien didn't respond. A thanks didn't feel deserved, but if he was honest, he knew it was for the better that they didn't let him storm into Elain's room, half-feral and mad with panic. He didn't know what had driven her to come to him last night, but whatever her reasons, she'd decided not to stay.

It was enough to know she was safe.

Resigned, as he was with all things pertaining to Elain, Lucien returned to his apartment to clean up the pieces of his life she'd left shattered.

Most burglars flee the scene of their crimes, never to be seen by their victims again. Elain showed up the next afternoon with a basket full of baked goods and an apology she'd been rehearsing since she woke up.

She used the front door this time, and waited on Lucien's doorstep until he answered.

To her relief, it didn't take long to hear shuffling on the other side of the door, and soon it swung open to reveal her mate, alive and awake. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and he briefly glanced down at himself as though regretting his attire. The first four buttons of his shirt were loosened to show a generous amount of toned brown skin, the rest of the fabric tucked loosely into his beige trousers. It was the most casually dressed she'd ever seen him. Before last night, at any rate.

The memory caused her face to redden. With a great deal of effort, she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes. They stared at each other, neither speaking, for far longer than convention would prescribe. Elain, dragging her eyes over him to soothe that now dormant instinct that had begged her to ensure he was okay. Lucien, assessing her from head to toe with poorly disguised concern. She supposed she had so scarcely expressed any interest in engaging with him, it would be his assumption that she was only seeking him out because something had gone wrong.

And in a way, that was precisely what she was doing.

"Elain," he said, finally. He took a moment to clear his throat before continuing. "It's lovely to see you. Are you well?"

"I'm perfectly well." Wracked with guilt, her response was more of a whisper than intended. Now, it was Elain's turn to clear her throat. "I came by to see if you were well, actually."

"Me?" He blinked. "Yes, lady. I assure you I'm in perfect health."

That he was. The evidence of his perfect health burned so fiercely in the back of her mind that she blurted without thinking, "Feyre told me you had a break-in last night. I came by to see if you were okay. And I brought you some pastries. Not from me. From a bakery down the street."

Lucien nodded, accepting the basket when Elain thrust it towards him. "That was very kind of you." He took a moment to study its contents before his eyes gravitated back towards Elain. "And you needn't worry about the break-in. If the thief stole anything, it's escaped my notice."

So he didn't suspect anything. That was good. She should go. Leave, while he was still oblivious to what she'd done. But it was as if her legs were cemented to the stone beneath her, and her mouth opened of its own volition. "Still, it must have been concerning to wake up to."

"Concerning?" He let out a soft laugh. "You could say as much. It's not often you wake up covered in blood that doesn't belong to you."

Elain coached her voice not to strain as she said, "You must have slept through a great deal."

"The consequences of a sleeping tonic." He offered her a wry smile. "A lesson learned, I suppose."

"Do you have trouble sleeping, Lucien?"

He stilled. And Elain thought perhaps… Perhaps that was the first time he'd heard her say his name. Of course, he didn't hear her shouting it last night. Or when she often whispered it, quietly, into her pillow. A confession for her ears only.

Lucien raised the basket in offering. "Would you like to come in? I could put on some tea and regale you with the story of my midnight thief in greater detail."

It would be so incredibly foolish for her to agree.

"That sounds nice."

Not anymore foolish than breaking into his house in the middle of the night. Or refusing to know him in any meaningful way outside of her visions.

A moment later, she was settled across from Lucien at his dining table. An elegant teapot sat between them, steam billowing from its spout. Someone with a better education of Prythian might have been able to glance at the stamps in the porcelain and the delicate artwork to identify its court of origin. From the blue brushstrokes rising and cresting like waves along its side, Elain could only guess that it was from the Summer Court. A relic from his many travels as an emissary, or something more sentimental? She didn't have the courage to ask. And he was oblivious to her musings as he lifted the teapot by the handle to pour her cup before serving himself.

"Your apartment is lovely," she said, in an effort to make conversation.

Lucien hummed his gratitude. "I've forgotten this is your first time coming here."

"Yes." Elain lifted the teacup to her mouth before her expression could give away her lie. It was too hot to drink, but she'd developed something of a habit in hurting herself in Lucien's apartment. She set down the cup only once she'd composed herself and added politely, "It's a shame I hadn't visited sooner."

"Indeed," Lucien said. He rapped his knuckles against the table. "You might have been able to spare my plant pot."

Elain froze, falling every bit into the role of the doe she was so often compared to. "Pardon?"

"My thief used the plant I kept on my balcony to break in last night. I'd been trying to nurse it back to health for months. With your interference, it might have been healthy enough to put in my front garden, and the thief would have needed to find some other means of breaking in."

At a loss for words, all Elain could think to say was, "My condolences for your plant."

Lucien smiled. "Don't worry, there's humor to be had in it. You see, I kept a spare key planted just beneath the soil. If my thief had taken a moment longer to investigate, they might have saved their feet from getting cut by the glass."

"They sound like a very poor thief," Elain said, not looking up from the streaming surface of her tea.

"Exceptionally," Lucien agreed. "I've been wondering all morning—who breaks into someone's home with bare feet?"

"Perhaps they were too poor to afford shoes?"

Lucien leaned back in his seat. "That's the curious thing; the thief didn't take anything valuable. As far as I can tell, they simply broke down my door and climbed into bed with me."

It seemed it was now Lucien's turn to pick things up and hurl them towards her. Elain knew what it felt like to be the glass door shattering to pieces as the full impact of his words slammed against her. She knew that nothing malicious had been done to him, nothing besides an inadvertent glimpse, but Lucien… he must have suspected the worst. A violation so horrifying that she dropped her face into her hands.

"It was me," she squeaked.

"I know."

Elain snapped her head up, surprise momentarily overtaking her shame. "Azriel told you?"

The coy smile toying at his lips suddenly flattened into a line. "Azriel?"

Oh dear. She pressed, "Feyre, then?"

Lucien ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Elain, I didn't tell Feyre about my break in. The fact that you knew of it was all the confirmation I needed."

Cauldron, she'd make a terrible thief and even worse spy. Elain bit her lip, refusing to give anything else away.

He suffered her silence for a minute longer before he sighed. "I'm not angry, but I am confused. Would you please explain to me what happened last night?"

Elain thought she owed him that much, at the very least. After taking a deep breath to compose herself, she asked, "Do you remember when I told you that I can hear your heart?"

A nod, accompanied by an absent look in his eyes and a frown that suggested it wasn't a pleasing memory. It wasn't for her, either. Those initial months after the Cauldron blurred together, a swirl of darkness as chilling as the water that had seized her mortality. She remembered rotting in her despair, day by day, aimless and hopeless and cold. And she remembered him.

I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

She remembered that name, pulling her to the surface for the first time in weeks. Her only breath of air since the moment she'd been pushed under. A glimpse of sunlight.

A trick.

Elain blinked away the memory of that girl, one she still resembled more closely than she'd like to. And she looked at her mate, equally a different male from the one that had once sat before her with his fingers trembling against his teacup. But he was the same in the ways that mattered. He was patient with her, sipping his tea while she sifted through her thoughts. Still so kind, still radiating warmth even as he held himself guarded.

"I've listened to your heartbeat every day since then," Elain said. "I hear it louder than my own sometimes. It's the first thing that greets me in the morning, and it's what coaxes me to sleep at the end of the day."

Lucien lowered his tea and pressed his hand to his chest, feeling for the beat that echoed through her. He didn't say anything, simply waited for her to continue.

"Last night, I heard your heart stop beating and… I panicked." There was no other word for it. Pure, blinding panic. "I asked Azriel to fly me down from the House of Wind so I could come here to check on you. I tried knocking on your door and pulling on the bond and you weren't responding to anything and I just—" She took a rasping breath. "I just needed to know that you were okay."

Lucien opened his mouth, but Elain blurted, "And when I realized that you were fine, I panicked again because I know I made such a fool out of myself and I just fled. I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry for breaking your door. And for killing your plant. And for—"

"Elain," Lucien soothed. "It's alright. You have nothing to be sorry for. Well, besides my own panic this morning when I woke up covered in your blood. You think I wouldn't recognize the scent of my mate?"

My mate. She'd heard Feyre and Rhys use that phrase countless times before and always felt disconnected from the endearment. It was so… faerie. Blunt and possessive and primal. Lucien had only said it in front of her one time, during the worst moment of her life. She didn't think hearing it again would stir anything inside her.

My mate—mine.

Elain felt her entire body warm. "I didn't know what you would think, if I'm honest."

"I thought something terrible had happened," he said, a strain to his voice that she recognized as a shard of the same cutting fear she'd been under last night. "Feyre said I wasn't in any state to go see you in the House of Wind, but she assured me you were fine. I thought about taking those ten thousand stairs anyway, just to see for myself, but I didn't want to…"

He trailed off, his eyes not leaving her face. Elain felt it then. The pull, the ever-flowing current she'd been swimming against for years, terrified of losing control. She decided to give into it for the very time, just enough to let it guide her hand forward until it was covering his.

"Didn't want to what?"

Lucien's throat bobbed. He held himself so still, as if worried the slightest movement would send her fleeing. "I didn't want to scare you. I wasn't thinking clearly."

She let out a dry laugh. "I know the feeling."

His lips twitched. The makings of the smile that made her feel as though she'd swallowed hot coals. "Yes, as it turns out I had no reason to be concerned. Who would have thought that polite little Elain could be so feral?"

"Feral?" She repeated, snapping her hand away. "I thought you were dead!"

"And there wasn't a single glass door or freshly cleaned sheet that would get in your way." He smirked. "You know, I noticed something strange when I was cleaning up your little mess. Somehow, you managed to get your blood beneath the blankets. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Elain's chair scraped against the floor as she exploded to her feet. "You are—"

His eyes gleamed. "What?"

"Crude!"

"I'm crude?" He raised a scarlet brow, far too smug for Elain's liking. "You were the one sneaking perverse—"

"I was not!" Elain protested. "I was…" Gods, the excuse sounded pathetic even in her own head. "I was ensuring you weren't wounded. It was strictly clinical."

Lucien cocked his head, unbound hair spilling over his shoulders as he grinned at her like a fox cornering its next meal. "Do I get a turn assessing you for wounds, then? It's only fair, given you were the only one bleeding out of the two of us."

"I'm healed."

"If that's the case, prove it to me."

Nesta or Feyre would have snapped at their mates for being so demanding. Elain debated doing the same, but part of her was curious where he was going with this. And since something had knocked loose in her last night, she was getting into the habit of giving in to her impulses—at least those regarding her mate.

Elain walked around the table until she was standing above him. He stared up at her, expectant, and she held out her palm for his examination, all the while trying not to notice the way his legs spread over the chair, and how she knew what his thighs looked like beneath the taut fabric. Muscular. Lean. Powerful.

Lucien cleared his throat.

She blinked, ripping her gaze away from his lap. He didn't comment further on the indiscretion, though she'd never seen him quite so self-satisfied as he reached for her hand and drew it closer for assessment.

He dragged his thumb across her open palm, prickling heat in its wake. Elain restrained a gasp. They hadn't touched since the moment he'd lifted her off the floor in Hybern, and back then she had been stone cold and so numb that his touch barely registered. Now… it was like feeling sunshine warm her skin.

"You have so many calluses," he noted. "I'd almost think you were a warrior."

"They're from gardening," she said, uncertain why it came out so breathless.

"Why not use gloves?"

She searched for an accusation in the question. He'd once gifted her a pair of enchanted gardening gloves so that no thorn need ever cut her skin. Those gloves were still tucked in their original gift box, collecting dust where she'd shoved them under her bed.

"I prefer to feel the dirt beneath my fingernails," she said. That was the honest answer.

Sometimes, she felt too separated from the world, as if she existed behind a thin film, always observing events as they unfolded around her but never present. A glove was just another barrier. She wanted to feel the earth. She wanted proof that she was here.

Lucien made a noise as though in understanding. "Well I can see that your hands are unharmed, but what about your feet?"

"How am I meant to show you my feet?"

He grinned in a way that said he was hoping she'd ask. Lucien pushed aside the teapot and his cup, then patted the table in front of him.

"Take a seat."

For a moment, all she could think about were the erotic novels Nesta liked to read so much. The ladies in those stories often found themselves deposited atop a table with a male between their thighs. Even if Lucien had the most innocent of intentions—and from his wide grin, she wasn't convinced—she would still be sitting above him, her skirts short enough that she would need to be conscious of how she moved lest she expose…

It was horribly uncouth.

When Elain told him as much, he only laughed and assured her, "I won't tell a soul, you have my honor."

It wasn't her reputation that concerned her, though she didn't know how to express that to him without betraying the direction of her thoughts. And she could refuse, but a spark in his eye challenged her to stay, to see what happened.

Swallowing her pride, Elain situated herself on the table before him and scooted back until she could present her feet in his lap. It was then he began unlacing her boots, and it was so intimate to see him undressing her, no matter how innocently, that she needed to turn her face away.

Her eyes wandered across his dining room, from the blue and white knotted rug of unknown origins to the display unit against the wall housing trinkets and fine dining sets. Considering how infrequently he stayed here, the apartment was well-decorated. Was that his doing?

"Tell me something," she said to distract herself.

"Anything."

"How do you like living in the mortal lands?"

"Truthfully, I don't mind it." He'd finished unlacing one of her boots, and his broad hand curved behind her calf to maneuver it off her foot. Once the boot was off, he let his hand linger. "Vassa and Jurian have become good friends."

There was a contentment in his answer that made her feel uneasy. She knew she should be happy that Lucien had made peace with his circumstances. Particularly when she had been the one to push him from Velaris. But if he felt settled in the mortal lands, could she expect more time between his already infrequent visits?

"Would you…" her throat burned. "Would it be a great burden if you were to visit Velaris more regularly?"

"That depends on the nature of my visit."

A diplomatic answer. Elain turned to him in an effort to read his expression, but he gave nothing away, dedicated to his task of unlacing her second boot.

"What if you visited outside of your obligations to Feyre and Rhys? Just to enjoy the city?"

Lucien glanced up, arching a brow. "Alone?"

Elain shrugged, too mechanic to express the nonchalance she wanted to convey.

"Perhaps with company."

Their eyes met. The mechanism in his artificial eye clicked once, twice, refocusing as though he were assessing her sincerity. Elain held her breath, wondering if this was how it felt to lay her head on a chopping block, to feel the gravity of those seconds before the axe swung down.

"That would be wonderful," Lucien said, with a smile that sent the breath whooshing from her chest.

His hand returned to her calf. The last boot came off, and it was then that Elain remembered she was wearing stockings. Lucien looked as if he'd only just put that together as well. He was already shaking his head, prepared to backpedal. But they'd come this far.

"Go on," Elain goaded, lifting her leg in invitation.

Lucien searched her face, lips parted in shock. Shock that melted into rakish delight as he realized she was serious. His broad hands returned to her calves, squeezing playfully just to test the waters. Elain sucked in a breath but didn't pull away. She kept her eyes locked on his and nodded her permission.

Those hands glided up, pausing at the crook of her knee, where he used his grip to part her legs further. Then he rose from the chair, and Elain wasn't certain whose heartbeat went soaring first, but she could hear them both thundering in her ears as Lucien wedged himself closer.

Scarlet hair spilled over his shoulder, tickling her neck, her chest. Since his hands were already on her, pushing up her skirt as they slid over her thighs, she saw no reason why she couldn't reach up and fist her hands against his scalp.

Lucien groaned in response, leaning further into her touch until they were chest to chest. Until she was close enough to feel his breath fanning over her cheeks. His eyes were half-lidded, their focus on her lips, watching her every breath. Waiting for an invitation. She felt his hands rise to the hem of her stockings and still.

"You're not getting distracted," she whispered. "Are you?"

He huffed something close to a laugh. It was exhilarating to watch him war with his own restraint, knowing that this male exceeded her in age and strength and power, and yet he yielded only to her desire. He would touch her exclusively in the ways she gave him permission, no more or less. Even as her lips drifted excruciatingly close to his.

"Who would have thought you'd be a horrible tease," he said, a roughness in his voice that she'd never heard before. Like a stone scraping over pavement. She could feel it drag against her skin, utterly intoxicating. She wanted to hear him say her name in that voice. Wanted it, but feared it would be her undoing.

"I think we're learning that I'm full of surprises."

"Indeed." Lucien hooked his fingers beneath her stockings. "I have never been more delighted to be caught off guard."

His shaky breath chased her own, and it was a relief to think she was not the only one whose composure was slipping, carried down, down, down with her stockings, all rational thought and sensation narrowed to the brush of his fingers, their trail of fire, the impropriety of letting him undress her. Letting him touch her bare skin, when this was all so new, so fragile.

The ability to breathe only returned once her stockings hit her knees and Lucien needed to pull away to finish the act of removing them. A soft protest bubbled to her lips, but she pushed her teeth down to catch it.

"See?" She said, ignoring the foreign rasp in her voice. "They're completely healed."

Lucien ran his thumbs along the soles of her feet, assessing the faded marks. "So they are."

"Are you satisfied?"

His metal eye was clicking again, and the russet of his right eye was nearly swallowed by his pupil. There was a wildness to the look he gave her, one that reminded her no matter how refined his diction, how cordial his manners, he had been born to and tempered by the flames of Autumn.

A fire coursed through his blood, and she could see it burning in his eyes as he said, "I fear I'm unfamiliar with the meaning of that word."

"I should go," she said. Before she was tempted to challenge that notion.

Lucien nodded. He knew just as well as she did that they were teetering off the edge of something they couldn't take back. Maybe it was already too late. It felt like it would be impossible to reign in the ache splitting open inside her, to return to the feigned indifference she'd managed just yesterday.

She scrambled off the table and shoved her feet back into her boots without bothering to put her stockings back on. They could be his trophy for somehow convincing her to do this in the first place.

"Wait," Lucien said as she turned towards the door.

He stood from the chair and pushed a hand into his pocket, producing an iron key that he held out to her. "Take it. So that you don't hurt yourself the next time you come to my daring rescue."

Elain stepped forward and curled her fingers over the metal, warm from his pocket, and surprisingly light for the weight of the gesture. She wanted to give him something in return. An apology and a promise and all of the complicated feelings in between.

So she gathered her courage and rose up on her feet to press a timid kiss to his lips. It lasted all of a second before Elain moved to withdraw, at which point Lucien caught her at the waist and drew her back for a proper kiss. And despite the years of longing and the tension they'd kindled this afternoon, each burning like a forge in her chest, his kiss was soft. Gentle.

Elain sighed into this sweet, final surrender, yielding at last to the force that had always been pulling them together, long before she knew his name or had any awareness of the fae. Golden light coiled in her chest, and her fingers slipped back into his hair, needing him closer. His lips, warm and petal-soft, parted and moved against hers, but there was no urgency. His touch wasn't colored by lust, though she could feel his racing heart and flushing skin.

The fae dealt in magic and bargains. They were casual with their intimacy, unruly in their courting. Here, a kiss could be meaningless. But in the human world, a kiss was a vow. It was the penultimate stage of a courtship, a promise that a gentleman intended to intertwine his life with that person.

Lucien kissed her as if they were human. With his eyes shut and his hands staunchly fixed to her waist. There was reprieve in his expression, like a man who had waited patiently for this moment, who was promising that this was only the start of a much longer journey—one they would travel together.

His eyes opened, and he pulled away when he saw her staring, unaware that she had been carving the sight of him into her memory.

She spoke before he saw fit to offer an apology. "I have one last question."

Lucien cleared his throat before speaking. "You can always ask me anything."

Oh? Elain wondered if he would regret saying that.

"Do you sleep naked in the mortal lands, too, or is it just when you're alone?"

His answering smile was nothing short of fiendish. "Why don't you visit me in the mortal lands and find out?"

#breaking & entering #Elucien #Elucien fanfic #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfiction #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain

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xhoneygirlxx · 1 year

Text

One Of The Girls

Modern King!Steve x Fem Reader

summary: Steve only hits you up when it’s convenient for him and you’ll always answer because it feels nice to be what he wants, even if it’s just for a night.

warnings: fboy!Steve, modern au! circa 2018. reader and Steve are both in their early 20's. reader is given the nickname 'trouble'. ooc steve, he's a big meanie and pretty much a douche bag. angst. Minors DNI smut: unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos), fingering, oral receiving (m), daddy kink, swearing, slight dom/sub, cream pie, insinuations to reader being on birth control, possessive steve, toxic steve! hair pulling. Steve's job is mentioned briefly, I like to think that this version of him works for his dad landscaping, so that's what i put lmao. this is named after The Weeknd's song from the idol and I also use his song 'Try Me' in this, awe well. if i miss anything please let me know! also bad writing and grammar mistakes, not proofread.

a/n: hi my loves! i was inspired to write something based off of this blurb. again, smut is so not my strong suit so i beg that you be nice to me :) i also want to mention that when i was looking for pics for this fic, i couldn't find one picture that gave me fboy vibes bc joe keery is simply bf coded lmao. thank you all for interacting with my posts and just being so lovely to me! i appreciate you all and i hope you enjoy this <3

divider by: @saradika

You knew from the moment you met Steve Harrington it would be trouble, that he'd have you locked down for as long as he wanted. The pretty boy with the nice smile, who said all the right things and made all the right moves. You were a fool from the get go and he knew, he knew it the moment you let him hit that you were his.

Everyone knew about 'king Steve', the boy with the puppy dog eyes but a closet filled with so many skeletons that the door refused to shut. From what you heard he wasn't a relationship kind of guy, that he collected bodies like he was paid for it, and then went on his merry way no matter what carnage he left behind.

He was bad news and you swore you would stay away, not get swept up in the honey like vortex of his eyes, but when he said your name it sounded so right and who were you to refuse someone as tempting as him.

The name satan isn't far off for him, both so beautiful and angelic but rotten to the core, so evil that you often wonder if they were ever created with a soul.

As much as you wanted to let him go, block him out of your life completely, you simply couldn't. All your friends thought you were stupid for playing such a dangerous game but they didn't know him like you did. They didn't know how he actually took care of you when he was done abusing your poor hole, how he'd buy you little gifts simply because it reminded him of you, and they certainly didn't know the boy who would make you laugh so hard your ribs bruised.

At least that's what you tell yourself, how you sugar coat the simple fact that Steve Harrington treats you like trash because let's face it, he does. For every thing he does 'right' he does a million other things wrong. He goes weeks without texting you and the only time he does is when he's desperate. He only takes you to secluded spots just so he can get a nut. And most importantly, he tells you everything you want to hear so that you stay.

You were connected to Steve by a string, no matter how far you pulled away he would pull you right back in. If you were a masochist then he was a sadist and you would take whatever torture he gave you with the biggest smile on your face because at the end of the day you were his and only his.

It's a Friday night and while you'd usually be out with friends, you opted to stay in tonight, too tired from the work week to physically get out of bed.

Under the warmth of your comforter, you scroll through Instagram blindly liking different post on your timeline. The white numbers in the corner of your screen read a little bit past midnight and as badly as your eyes wanted to shut, your brain simply couldn't resist the glow of your screen.

A notification pops up at the top of your screen and your ready to fling it away to dismiss it when your heart rate picks up at the name.

IMessage:

Harrington 🙄

Your finger moves faster than the speed of lightning, hitting on the bubble to open the messaging app.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

It's a simple enough message but you sit and ponder how to respond. You don't want to come off too desperate but you also don't want to wait too long to respond knowing he has other options lined up. Without overthinking too much more, you move your thumbs across the keyboard and sending your message.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

You: nm, why?

Waiting with bated breath, you watch the text bubble pop up to notify he's typing.

Harrington 🙄: wya? lemme scoop you

Bingo.

You: im at home. how long do i have before you get here?

Harrington 🙄: bet. gimme 15 mins.

Your heart shouldn't be beating as fast as it is and you shouldn't be hopping around with joy like Snow White when she's singing to the birds, but like always Steve says jump and you say how high.

It should make you sick how he hasn't texted you in two weeks, only now asking to come get you so he can fuck. It should make you sick when you put on your brand new panties, that you may or may not have bought for just him. It should make you sick when you spritz yourself in his favorite perfume, growing flustered at the memory of him complimenting you for it.

All of it should make you sick to your stomach but that's not a possibility when he chose you. He chose you to keep going back to, he chose you to continue seeing and not one and done your ass. A twisted part of your brain is so convinced that he has some sort of feelings for you, the way you do for him. It's like a kaleidoscope, no matter how you twist or turn it, the colors are always so beautiful.

And if everyone wanted to tell you any different, all you had to do was show them the sparkling diamond necklace that hung from your chest. A thoughtful gift from the man they all claimed didn't have any love in his heart, even though you and everyone else knew it was a way to show his claim on you.

The familiar sound of Steve's blacked out Jeep pulling in your drive way makes your heart jump with excitement. Wasting no time, you dash down the drive, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer.

Pulling the door open you're met with the all too familiar scent of him, Ralph Lauren Ultra Blue swirling in your nose and going straight to your head.

He looks so good in his grey joggers, hugging his thick thighs that he knows drive you crazy. The white Hanes tee he wears is crisp, like he ironed it before putting it on. The sleeves wrap about his toned chest oh so perfectly causing some of his wild chest hair to poke out. To add the icing on the cake he's wearing that gold chain, that damn gold chain you loved looking at when he had you on your back.

"Hey trouble." White teeth flash in the darkness of the car, like the moon that's hung in the sky.

"Hi Stevie," You internally cringe at how needy it sounds, "how was work?" He gives you a small chortle at your question, still smiling that damn smile that could cure deceases.

"It was fine, had to cut the college's lawns. Ya know, the fun stuff." You nod your head at his answer, too nervous to even give a spoken response.

"Anyway, I thought we could take a ride down to lover's." It's said like it wasn't common knowledge already. Giving him a small okay, he leans over and places a quick peck on your lips, before putting the car into drive.

The ride to lover's lake from your house was a short seven minute drive but for some reason it felt like the roads were getting longer and longer. You want to jump out of the car, bile rising in your throat knowing how this is going to end. The heartbreak, the sadness you were gonna feel the minute he pulls out was already hitting you and it hasn't even happened yet.

His radio plays at a louder volume, The Weeknd's 'Try Me' bumping through the speakers.

You're the best I ever had

Baby girl, remind me, mind me

Let me now if it's on

And you know where to find me, find me

Havin thoughts you never had, yeah

You want to roll your eyes at the words but then again maybe he put this on because this is how he felt about you. The logical part of your brain tells you to get real but when you feel the fuzziness in your cheeks, your logic is all but ignored.

Maybe this time will be different, you think.

When he pulls onto the dirt path, he pulls the car under the big oak tree he always does. You wonder if this is where he brings all of his hookups but decide to push that though in the back of your head, not wanting to ruin the night.

"I missed you, trouble." Steve leans his back on the driver side door, watching you with those eyes you feel for all those months ago.

"And I bet you say that to all your little girlfriends." You jest back, making him roll his eyes dramatically.

"You and I both know that's not true." The low husky tone in his voice makes the fact he didn't deny the accusation of having other girls around, go down that much sweeter.

"You're all talk Harrington," You say seductively, leaning over the center console, "Why don't you show me how much you missed me?"

Steve's smile is wicked, pulling the keys out of the ignition, pointing you to get into the back. When you're settled in, he maneuvers ungracefully over the center console, making both of you laugh.

Sitting his body in the middle seat, you swing your leg over his lap, immediately locking your lips with his. Steve's not as rough as he usually is, taking his time like he's trying to memorize the way your mouth felt and tasted.

When you try to speed it up, he wraps his hand in your hair, yanking you off of him.

"Slow and steady, baby. We have all the time in the world." With your hair wrapped around his fist and his hard cock digging into your thigh, his voice is all but calm and sweet.

Moving back in to meet his lips, you match his energy. Rolling your hips slowly, you relish in the way he groans into your mouth. When you drag your hips over his again, you shudder with the way his hard on catches on your throbbing clit. Wetness starts to fill your panties, tummy tightening with want.

Steve's hands move to your hips, guiding your movement. Spit soaked lips leave yours, moving along your jaw down to your neck. Leaning your head up to the roof of the car, he takes that as invitation to massacre the tender skin.

He sucks hard, right where your vein pumps frantically with lust, leaving another mark for you to carry around. One more tattoo right on your heart that beats for him.

Pulling away, a thick finger grabs onto the chain that hides under the collar of your sweatshirt. The small diamond glittering softly in the darkness of the night.

"Look at my baby, wearing her present so proudly. Isn't that right?" It's cocky and it should make you shiver with an ick but it doesn't. It only fuels your delusions.

You hum in response, too dumb off of his kiss to even open your mouth.

"Nuh uh, I asked you a question." Moving your sight down to him, he's already looking up at you. His lips are shining, cheeks puffed from the smile that glitters up at you.

"Yes, daddy." A deep growl comes from the back of his throat, a feral look painting over him.

You pretty much get whiplash from how fast he rips off your sweatshirt, revealing the pretty lace bra in the color he adores so much on you. His lips suck harshly on the skin of your chest, leaving reminds of him for only you to see.

"Can I suck you off, daddy?" It's breathy and so desperate leaving your mouth, all that talk about not wanting to look needy right out the window.

When his head moves away from the valley of your cupped breasts, he looks like a kid on Christmas. Eyes twinkling with excitement, like he's been waiting for all year round to hear those words.

"Don't need to beg me now, trouble. It's all yours." The smirk that paints Steve's lips is devilish and if you were in the right headspace you'd scoff at his condescending tone. But right now he was giving you exactly what you wanted and you weren't about to complain.

Clambering off of his lap, you move into the seat next to him, kneeling down. You could double as a dog who waits patiently for their owner to drop their treat, tail wagging and heavily panting.

Steve lifts his hips pushing down his joggers and underwear in one go, his heavy cock jumping up in excitement, bouncing off of his stomach.

The saliva in your mouth pools, almost escaping through your slightly parted lips. Your metaphorical dog bone waiting in front of you but you can't have it until he tells you to, so you wait for him to get get comfy again.

Looking over at you, he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'well?', and that's all you need to hear to move forward, making sure to arch your back when you do.

You decide to tease him a bit, kitten licking the head before sliding your tongue up the prominent vein that sat on the underside. The feeling of him shuttering spurs you one even more, bringing a hand up to his heavy ball sack and gently running a finger over it. You can feel your panties being drenched even more with wetness, just from the thought of how he tastes.

As weird as it might sound, you loved Steve's dick. It was a good seven inches, with the slightest curve that made him hit that special spot every time. He was thick too, so thick you that he always needed to prep you with his three of his fingers before hand.

Bringing your head back to the tip, you dripple spit onto it, smearing it with the precum that's already beaded out. Ever so slowly, you take your hand and begin you jerk him at the base of it. Looking up at him, you can see him eyes closed, brows furrowed together, as his chest moves rapidly up and down.

Deciding that you can't wait any further, you put him in your mouth and start bobbing up and down. Not even halfway down his shaft and you begin to gag around him. Using your hand to take whatever your mouth can't, you move faster. The raunchy sounds of you slurping him up fill the small space of the car.

When Steve jolts his hips forward you can't help but choke, throat closing around him, making him moan deeply.

"I know but you can take it, right?" You do your best to nod your head with him in your mouth. You look up at him with glassy eyes, drool coming out both sides of your mouth, and he chuckles at you.

"So fuckin' pretty." Steve says breathlessly and you beam at the praise, going back to taking him further in your mouth.

You push through the want to gag, putting more and more of him in your mouth. You want to prove something to him, prove that no one else can make him feel like this and it seems to be working when he whines so loud it rings in your ears.

Pulling your hand off of the base, you cup his balls in your hand, messaging the sack gently in your hair. The heavy weight of his hand lands on the top of your head, once again yanking you by the hair.

You whine at the loss of his heavy cock in his mouth, pouting childishly at him when your at eye level with him again. He's panting hard, cheeks fleshed pink, and his hair messy from him running his hand through it.

"It was so good, honey," he breathes, "but I really wanna finish inside of you."

The sentence makes your belly burn even harder than before. Trying to move around in the cramped backseat is challenging, both of you pausing to laugh when your pants get caught on your foot awkwardly.

Once your leggings and panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, Steve takes his time admiring you. His gaze burns you with every movement of his eyes. Here you are, clumsily sprawled out for him in the backseat of his beloved Jeep.

Bringing a hand to your thigh, he rubs it up and down the skin, causing the skin to raise in goosebumps every time his finger would catch on the lip of your heat.

You whimper at him, raising your hips trying to meet his touch where you need him most. Tisking down at you, he shakes his head.

"What's the magic word?" He teases and you pout even harder.

"Please, Stevie? Need you." You say wetly, the burn of tears coming back in your eyes. Steve leans over you, so close that if you brought your head up just an inch, your noses would touch.

"The right answer was, 'Steve is the coolest', but I'll let it slide since you sound so cute." He whispers to you, placing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

The tip of his finger runs along your slit and you mewl at the feeling.

"Do you always get this wet, trouble? Or is this just for him." The smile pulled on is one like the joker. Sick and twisted and yet all you see is an angel from above.

"S'for you. S'always for you, daddy." It comes out like a slur, so drunk off of one little touch.

"That's my girl." It's more like a whisper when it comes out of his mouth.

His finger diving into the sticky mess that's been made in between your legs. Swirling his finger around your hole, spreading the wetness up to your bundle of nerves, moving in slow figure eights around it.

Steve hasn't even put a finger inside you yet and the lewd squelching of your pussy can probably be heard for miles. The feeling of him putting more pressure on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure. When the first finger breaches your hole, your eyes close in euphoria.

Even with just one of his fingers inside of you, it feels way better than anything else. The thickness of it stretching you further than two of yours could.

Still using his thumb to circle your clit, he pushes another finger in. Starting off slow, he pumps both into you, curling them up in a 'come hither' motion.

You're high off of him, off of the way his hands feel, and how good he's making you feel. All of that waiting and wondering when he'd reach out to you paying off in this very moment.

"You can take another one, right? You gonna take three of daddy's fingers like the good girl you are?" His voice is intoxicating and you drink it right up.

You nod your head, babbling 'please daddy' and 'more, more, more". He's eating it right up, the way he's got you dumb and he hasn't even fucked you yet.

Without another word, another thick finger joins the other two. This time he decides to go faster, hitting that spot you struggle to reach on your own. With his thumb still swirling around and now three fingers deep, you can feel the tightness in your stomach building.

You can feel your slick dripping down your ass onto the leather seat beneath you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, legs pulling up from where he's sat between them, toes curling in a death grip.

"I'm gonna, fuck, I'm cumming," The sentence gets cut off with the air that's trapped in your throat.

His movements don't stop, guiding you through your orgasm. When the waves of your orgasm washes over you, your legs relax like they're filled with jelly, slobber running down the side of your face, and your chest moving unsteady as you try to catch your breath.

You hiss when he removes his hand from you, mourning the loss of feeling full. Moving his fingers to his lips, he sucks your juices off of them one at a time, releasing them with a pop when he's done.

Using his other hand, he brushes some of the hair that's sticking to your face with sweat behind your ear. Placing delicate kisses to your cheeks and forehead, he glances down at you. The harsh black that once enveloped his irises are now softened with a look that you have yet to decipher.

"You did such a good job for me, sweetheart." He coos at you, running his thumb along your jaw. "You okay? Need a break?"

"No, I'm okay Stevie." Your smile is nothing but pure happiness. Blame it on the after glow of your orgasm all you want, but the happiness is purely due to his attentiveness to you.

Placing one more kiss to your deprived lips, he moves his attention to his aching cock. Spitting into the palm of his hand, he jerks himself a few times before lining himself up to your entrance.

Pushing in gently, his tip breaches your hole and all the air is punched out of your lungs. Even with his prepping, you never seem ready for the real thing.

Going inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to catch your breath, he finally pushes all the way in. After waiting for the okay, he doesn't hesitate to pound into you.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, reworking each and everyone of your organs, but you could careless when it feels this good. You want this feeling forever, the feeling of his weight on top of you, him spreading you out so well.

The gold chain that hangs from his freckled neck dangles in front of you, hypnotizing you with the way it moves back and forth. With all the strength you have, you watch him trying to remember how he looks when he's inside of you so when he ultimately ghosts you, you can close you eyes and imagine it.

Steve looks so beautiful like this, eyes closed tightly, browns pulling together, pink puffy lip tucked behind his straight teeth. You want to take a picture, hang it in a museum for all of the world to see, but this is for only you to see. Your own little memento for you to keep to yourself.

"Fuck you're so wet, hmph, and warm. Jesus" Steve grits out, bringing you back to reality.

Skin slapping off of skin echoes out, loud moans and groans making a lovely soundtrack just for you two.

"Shit, right there!" You cry out when his cock hits just perfectly on your cervix.

"Bullseye," He whispers to himself before ramming into you even harder than before.

Your mouth curls into an O shape, no words or sounds coming out. The feeling of your finger nails raking down his back backs him grunt loudly.

"You and this pussy are mine. Tell me you're mine." He demands but you can't do it, too overwhelmed with the way your stomach has started to tighten.

Because you don't answer right away, he snakes his hand down to your abused clit, circling it again causing you to jolt from overstimulation.

"Don't make me tell you again, trouble." He spits out.

"I'm yours Steve. S'yours." You shout, your orgasms approaching faster and faster.

"S'always gonna be mine, right? No one else?" He question and it sends your head reeling.

"Always yours, always fuck, yours." You're babbling now, tippy toeing on the brink of your release.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock." He pants, going faster and faster as he does.

Without argument, you're hurdled over the the edge, gushing and pulsing around Steve. He continues to fuck into you, chasing his own high now.

"Cum in me, daddy. Wanna feel it so bad." You coax, wanting to feel the warmth of his seed filling you up.

"I love how you feel, baby. You got, motherfuck, no idea." His strokes are starting to lose rhythm, sloppily moving as he continues.

"I love this pussy s'much. Fuckin' love yo-" Before he can finish his statement, he cums with a guttural moan.

Your mind goes blank, eyes snapping open with confusion. Was he about to say he loved you? Is that what he was going to say? Every single question runs through your mind while the boy in question is collapsed on top of you, breath choppy and erratic as he comes down.

After what feels like the world's longest minute, he removes himself off of you, pulling his dick out from your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, missing him even more than before.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls open the center consul and takes out a couple of napkins. Returning his attention to you, he wipes down the mess of you and his release off of you, causing you to shudder. He repeats 'sorry' over and over again as he does.

After that, he uses what's let to clean himself off before getting redressed. You move from your position on your back, sitting upright to ungracefully put your clothes back on. In the darkness of his car, you can't find the panties you were once wearing, deciding to forget about them and pull your leggings back on.

The blissful after glow that was once there is now demolished, a big elephant taking up most of the space now. When he moves back to the driver seat, you follow right behind him, planting yourself in the passenger.

Steve doesn't turn the car on just set, he just sits looking straight ahead through the clouded windshield to the darkness of the woods that sit in front of you. You want to say something, break up the awkwardness that sits between you two but you don't know what to even say.

It smells like sweat and sex, every window is fogged up with both of your hot breath, and the only sound that can be heard is the breaking of your heart.

You know he won't be back in two weeks, you know that his texts will stop rolling in, and that he'll eventually find someone to fill your spot. The bloodshed that's now left, of whatever this was, now fills the backseat of his car. A crime scene that will haunt him every time he looks in the rearview mirror, a murder by his own hands.

This cat and mouse game isn't fun anymore for Steve, not when he's lost at his own game. You're the cause of his demise, the girl that's broken through all his barriers.

Unbeknownst to you, you're all that Steve thinks about. Every morning, noon, and night, it's you that is on his mind. The months of seeing you, feeling you, the taste of you, were killing him softly. Steve didn't buy gifts for other girls, yeah he fucked around, but he never kept one around the way he did with you and he surely didn’t fuck them raw the way he does with you.

Steve was falling for you, opening himself up in such a vulnerable way that it scared him. He stopped the late night drive going nowhere, switching it to strictly going to lover's lake. The talks that he had with you, all the times you made each other laugh, were now replaced with short answers. Meeting up with you almost all the time now became once every couple of weeks.

You were the one thing, the one person Steve wanted and needed in his life but he couldn't give into it. He was a bad person, an asshole who turned good people into shells of themselves, and out of everyone he couldn't ruin you. He wouldn't ruin you.

Putting the keys into the ignition, he turns the car on, headlights illuminating the trees around you. Cracking the windows, he lets the cool air sweep the scent of you out of his car. Putting the car in drive, he presses down on the gas as hard as he can, taking off of in a flash.

The car ride home is silent, only the hum of his music can be heard with the whooshing of the wind. Anxiety fills your body, picking and pulling the skin around your nails with your teeth.

The loud ding of his phone rings out, a notification popping up on the Apple radio screen. Your heart cracking when you see it.

IMessage:

Jess💦: Still coming over?

Taking his phone out of the cupholder, his eyes are still trained on the road. As he pulls up to the red light, he types out something quickly and then puts it back down.

Another ding is heard and another notification pulls up on the larger screen.

IMessage:

Jess💦: See you soon daddy

Tears fall quietly from your eyes, your heart now completely shattered in the front seat of his car. You should've know, you did know and you still did it. You let your naïve heart believe that maybe you could change him, and you ended up looking like the idiot everyone said you were.

You can't even be mad because they were right, you were a goddamn idiot to think Steve Harrington loved you, let alone liked you enough to change.

More tears fall onto your cheeks, the burning feeling of a choked sob sits in the back of your throat. It feels like everything that could've went wrong, did just that.

The cold nip of the night air can't compete with the way your veins have frozen over and your heart slowly turning into a lump of coal. When he pulls in front of your house, he puts it in park and looks over at you.

“So,” he hesitates, “do you need money for a plan b?”

Your mouth hangs low in shock and he’s looking at you cluelessly. Scoffing at him you pull the handle to the door open.

“Don’t worry Harrington, I’m on birth control.” Putting a foot onto the ground, you got to get out, pausing turning your head back to him.

“Not like the world needs another you in it.”

Getting out of the car, you slam the door so hard you're surprised the glass doesn't shatter.

This was the end of whatever you and Steve were, him being the one to cut that pesky string that kept you close to him. Steve Harrington has changed you, a hateful person now replacing the sweet girl he loved so much.

The girl that Steve Harrington loves was now dead and Steve Harrington was now dead to you.

Thank you all for reading. The ending is rushed but we won't speak on that lmao. Love you all <3

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