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hitlikehammers · 9 months ago

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to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)

rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)

this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️

“Oh fuck, not you, too.”

Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—

“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.

“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“

“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—

He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.

That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.

“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.

But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.

He swallows anyway; not that it helps.

“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—

“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”

Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.

But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.

“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.

“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.

“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.

“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:

Not you.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.

He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark: “I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.

Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.

“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:

“That you’re here, too.”

And, oh. Okay.

Okay.

They’re here, then. Together.

Here.

___________________

It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.

They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.

For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.

He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?

Who’s gonna fucking know?

Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.

He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.

He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.

He craves this.

He doesn’t know what that fucking means.

But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.

And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.

But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…

Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:

That’s not death.

___________________

Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—

Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.

Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.

He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.

Doesn’t change his question.

Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”

Steve gapes a little.

“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck

“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.

Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:

“Pick your poison.”

And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…

“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:

“Go Fish?”

And Steve, he, like—

This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.

He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…

In a while.

___________________

“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.

“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.

They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.

“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:

“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:

“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.

They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.

“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“

“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.

“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—

Steve likes how they fit.

“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”

Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.

___________________

“You’re really good company.”

Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.

“What?”

Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.

“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”

Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.

“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”

And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside. “Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:

“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:

“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.

And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:

“Me too, sweetheart.”

And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—

___________________

Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.

He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…

It’s not just his smile.

“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.

“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.

“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—

“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?

Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…

That feels more

___________________

It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.

“You called me big boy.”

Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.

His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.

Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—

“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”

Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.

“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—

“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—

“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.

“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—

“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.

Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.

But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.

“You’re not stupid, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.

“I’m very stupid.”

And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on…Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?

And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.

“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:

“About, you know, matters of the heart.”

Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:

“Heart?”

But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:

He thinks he can hear the hope.

“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.

“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—

“And kiss me, you dick.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—

“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.

“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”

Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.

“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?

Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?

Fuck. Fuck.

If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.

___________________

He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.

The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.

Steve fucking hates it.

“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.

“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.

He cannot fucking accept that.

“I don’t want you to die at all.”

Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—

“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—

“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“Maybe we’ll wake up.”

Maybe. Maybe.

“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:

“Kiss me again when we wake up.”

And Steve will, he will, but.

He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.

He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.

So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…

Whatever happens will take them both.

___________________

Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—

“Eddie!”

He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—

And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.

Covers his hands. Presses.

And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—

“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—

There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.

“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:

“That the only reason?”

He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—

Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—

Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:

“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead

in-love, in-love, in-love—

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #falling in love #angst with a happy ending #(also oddly fluffy?)#presumed dead #(but obviously NOT)#happy ending #the black void place with the water on the floor is LIMBO #and they maybe kinda fall for each other in the space between life and death because OF COURSE THEY DO #and these boys are maybe kinda stuck there #steddielovemonth #love is a fire that never goes out #stranger things

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sleepingdeath-light · 1 year ago

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abyss monarch cookie smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (02/07/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; abyss monarch cookie

outline ; “I'm back ahaha- Abyss Monarch Cookie smut and relationship hcs? I think they're interesting.”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, use of tentacles, size kink, dom!abyss monarch, dumbification

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

they’re a dominant by nature and there’s no chance of you being able to dom them — at best they might sit back and let you use them to get yourself off but even then they’ll maintain a distinct air of control over you (a looming, lingering sense that they could flip you over and fuck you stupid whenever they want, that your brief flickering control in the moment is only there because they allowed it)

their tentacles are incredibly dextrous and versatile and they’re more than capable of putting them to good use — bondage, suspension, pain play and punishment, penetration and so on

though, of course, the ones that they use to penetrate you (be that orally, anally or — if you have one — vaginally) differ from the other tentacles as they’re intended for reproduction: smooth, lacking in suckers, thicker and they produce their own lubricant

they have a thing for filling and stretching you to the brim and making you look small and fragile, so for them belly/throat bulging and size kink go hand in hand

abyss monarch also has a bit of a sadistic/cruel streak which tends to come out most often when they’re punishing you — using degrading and humiliating language as they poke and prod and grope and pinch at your body, edging you until you’re sobbing and drooling and pleading and apologising

they also have a very slight thing for dumbification — for turning you into a limp, drooling, trembling, cum filled/smeared mess only able to moan and whine and whimper — but this only really comes into play when they’re engaging in rougher play with you and have gotten past the point of overstimulating you

they’ll either call you your name or ‘little one’ in bed — of course adding any degradation or praise onto them based on the mood of the evening — as the first lends itself to their more impersonal approach to your relationship and the second aligns perfectly with their size kink

if they had a phone they’d definitely have a secure album dedicated to photos and videos of you during or just after sex: legs spread with their cum dripping out of your hole(s), the sounds you make when you’re absolutely cock drunk, a video depicting their tentacles filling and thrusting into all of your holes until you squirt/spurt all over them and yourself, etc.

they’re apathetic about being caught as they’re so isolated and reclusive that the chances of anyone coming across you in the first place is so slim it’s not even worth considering — but if the unlikely were to occur then they’d probably throw their cloak over you to cover you up, not even stopping what they’re doing as they practically obliterate the intruder

they’re not really a fan of sex toys as they’re confident enough in their ability to provide whatever sensation/stimulation you want — equally they’d probably punish you with a maddening amount of edging followed by mind numbing overstimulation to show you precisely what they’re capable of

not really a fan of receiving or giving oral straight up — but if you beg them enough and have been on your best behaviour then they might just hoist you up over their face and use their tongue, lips and other appendages to drive you to the edge over and over and over and over again until your voice is shot from moaning

they use some of their suckered tentacles to explore and grope along your body whilst you’re suspended in a punishment — two thick smooth tendrils fucking into you relentlessly whilst a half dozen slender ones flick, pull, grope and caress their way up and down your body (throat to chest to stomach to sides to ass to thighs and back again and again and again) — it’s enough to drive you mad

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #minors dni #minors fuck off #minors don’t touch #smut #smut hcs #cookie run smut #cookie run x reader #cro smut #cro x reader #abyss monarch cookie smut #abyss monarch cookie x reader

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sadboyeddie · 2 years ago

Text

Some Like It Violent

October 17th: Blood + Knifeplay

Kinktober 2022

Summary: Steve and Eddie prove that you belong to them

Warnings: (Minors DNI 18+ only) smut, non-con, violence, dub-con?, dark!steve, dark!eddie, Stockholm syndrome, blood, gore, mutilation

A/N: This one gets dark my loves, please heed the warnings, blood play and mutilation is marked by ‘⇨ 🩸 ⇦’

This is Part 2 of ‘Things That Go Bump In The Night’

Part 3 Here

4.8k Words

Masterlist

You sit on your “bed” in the small, cement room. It was cold but they gave you lots of blankets.

The cellar was big enough to fit a double bed, a small tv and a dresser but not much else, there is a walk in storage closet that’s closed tight with several different locks, you have a bit of room to walk to the partially closed off bathroom but other then that it’s pretty cramped.

Not the you minded the size, it was how impersonal it was, there was no posters on the wall, no pictures or any of your things. Steve promised once you’ve proven to been good you’ll start to receive your stuff in small doses.

You have no idea how long you’ve been stuck down here, there’s no clocks on the wall and they took your watch. You tell time mostly by their food schedule, three meals a day.

Your wrist has healed and the bruising and swelling in certain areas of your body has lessened since that night.

That horrible night that everything changed.

Two men who you trusted more then anything, loved more then anything had turned around and hurt you in such a horrible way.

You sit on the bed and absentmindedly rub over the tender wounds on your stomach, they’ve closed over but they’re still red and raised. You stand and walk to the mirror in the bathroom, it sits behind a thick layer of hard plastic so you can’t smash it, you raise your shirt and trace the new formed scars with your eyes.

On one hip in a messy scrawl is the initials E.M that has been carved into your skin, and on the other hip is a slightly neater set of initials, S.H.

-x-

When you woke on the first day it was to a cold, empty room. Your entire body was on fire and you could barely move without feeling the need to throw up.

When you heard a metal door creaking open your eyes shot to the cement staircase as the room began to flood with outside light, unfortunately you weren’t able to hold back the vomit as Steve and Eddie descended the stairs.

It hit you all at once.

The eery feeling of being watched, the familiar voices, their insistence that you were only being paranoid.

At least you had the forethought to lean over the bed and vomit on the floor instead of on the comforter.

Due to your lack of food the only thing that came out was acidic bile that burned your throat on the way up, tears sting your eyes at the pain, your throat already hurting from the rough treatment from last night.

You think you’re done vomiting but Eddie is instantly by your side, grabbing your hair and rubbing your back as you empty what remains in your stomach onto the floor which only causes a fresh wave of nausea to hit you.

Steve disappears up the stairs before returning with a mop, meanwhile you’re openly sobbing and trying to push Eddie away as he forces his comfort onto you.

You already hate yourself for giving into pleasure last night, you don’t need to hate yourself more for actively seeking out comfort from your abuser.

Unfortunately your body is sore and a lot of the fight was snuffed out of you last night so after a half-assed struggle Eddie manages to pull you into his lap and rub soothing circles on your back.

If your stomach wasn’t empty you’d vomit on him just to be petty.

You shut out the two men as best you can as you try to figure out just what the fuck is going on.

You start to cry harder into Eddie’s chest, your mind is firmly against this, them, but your body is seeking out the warmth and comfort that Eddie is providing and it’s driving a wedge through your mental state.

You’re not aware of how long you’ve been crying in Eddie’s lap, at one point Steve joins you both on the bed and presses his cheek against your upper back. You end up dozing off in their shared embrace, mind and body currently at war with one another.

-x-

You're pulled out of your self examination by the, now, familiar creaking of the cellar door. You walk back into the crampy room just as Eddie skips down the stairs with an extension lead. Every day, night?, he comes down and watches a few movies with you, Steve usually joins him but not always, not when he has work.

“I got ‘Back To The Future’,” Eddie smiles as he chucks the tape on the bed and pulls out the keys from his pocket before heading to the comically locked closet.

When it’s open he wheels out the small tv and places it in front of the bed before setting everything up. You sit at the head of the bed and leave room for Eddie to climb in besides you, when he does he pulls you into his side before kissing you gently on the forehead.

You don’t fight his touches, not anymore, the punishments were swift and severe when you did.

“We’re doing this for you, baby,” Steve kissed away your tears as Eddie applied cream to the raised welts across your thighs, “you have to behave for us.”

“The world will treat you worse then this,” Eddie pipes up, “we love you and want to protect you.”

When you did behave their treatments weren’t too bad, and even when they punished you the aftercare was soft and thorough.

The worse punishment was when you screamed at them to leave you alone, and they did.

They still gave you three meals a day but they never lingered, touched or even spoke to you, barely even giving you a second glance. You felt so alone that only days later you craved their attention.

The walls of the cellar felt like they were closing in and you couldn’t take the loneliness anymore.

After the third day you were begging, pleading with them to talk to you, you even tried latching on but they’d gently remove you before exiting the small cement room.

You swear you’ve never cried so much in your life.

Finally after a week you were apologising to them, promising to do better. You had never been so happy then in that moment when Eddie smiled and wrapped you in a hug.

You barely let him go for almost two days, only releasing your hold when Steve came in to take over for a while.

The more you became to depent on them — the more you didn’t mind.

You let out a small hiss as Eddie runs his fingers over his initials, the movement bringing you successful back to the present.

The sci-fi movie was a good distraction, one of Steve’s favourites, not that you minded. Eddie had put on a horror a few days ago and it triggered a pretty severe panic attack so they decided to stick to safe movie options for the time being.

The longer Eddie’s finger outlined the scar the more your mind starts to drift back to the night he gave it to you.

-x-

You were cowering at the head of the bed, room barely illuminated by the dull glow of the small globe on the wall but it did manage to calm your panicked state just a little.

Unfortunately the moment doesn’t last as the door is thrown open and two pairs of eager steps quickly defend the stairs. You pull your knees closer to your chest and wrap your arms around the shins, trying to make yourself as small as possible, as Eddie comes bounding towards you.

It throws your mind into a spin, he’s acting the exact same way he always does when he sees you, full of happiness and excitement, somehow the fact that just days prior he and his pal assaulted you doesn’t seem to hindered the pep in his step.

Eddie ignores your poor attempt to push him away and he tugs your legs from your hold, your whimpers and small cries only make him giggle, the same childish giggle he had when you two used to play fight in his living room over who got to pick the movie.

The distant memory has tears stinging your eyes as you fail to push him away, Steve all the while watches from the side with a smirk.

Steve was the more serious one, the firm hand, while Eddie was more playful. You’ve noticed that Eddie tends to get carried away in how he acts and Steve has to step up to reel him in.

Once your legs are away from your chest he pulls you down until your back is flush against the comforter, he straddles your hips with a triumphant grin, happy he conquered you, before leaning down and blowing a raspberry on your cheek.

You turn your head away from the action but that was a mistake because that just gave him access to your neck which he gladly takes advantage of. He starts licking and sucking around the soft skin, leaving marks and slobber across your throat as he nibbles and bites.

Eventually when he pulls back he keeps his face close to yours, the tip of your nose lightly grazing against his.

“Get off, Eddie!” You cry, once again trying to push him away but to no avail.

“Don’t be bratty, princess,” he chuckles with a smirk but there’s a dark warning behind those big brown eyes.

You don’t listen as you inwardly start to panic, the beginnings of a anxiety attack starting to grow in the center of your chest.

You distantly hear a frustrated sigh coming from beside the bed but you ignore it as you manage to use all your strength to push Eddie completely off you to the side, your knee makes contact with his ribs and you’re positive it was only the shock and slight pain from your actions that distracted him enough for you to throw him off.

Your small rush of glee is short lived as Eddie’s guard dog steps in.

“Hey!” Steves voice is booming as he takes a few menacing steps towards the bed.

In a fight or flight moment you choose flight.

You slide to the edge of the bed to make a run for it, if you had taken a moment to think your actions through you would have realised that there was no escape and nowhere to hide in the storm cellar.

Unfortunately that doesn’t really matter because before your feet can even make contact with the floor there’s a hand in your hair and your being dragged back across the bed.

You let out a pained screech as you reach up to grab the hand tangled in your locks but it’s no use. You’re pulled completely to the other side as you come face to face with a very irate looking Steve.

He’s kneeling on the bed and his breath is hot against your cheek, you wince when he snaps your head back, your scalp burning, so he can have better eye contact with you.

“That wasn’t very smart of you, sweetheart,” he sneers, you try to turn your head away, not liking the intense look in his eyes but he uses his spare hand to pinch the bridge of your nose.

You let out a high pitched nasally cry as he squeezes the tender appendage cruelly between this fingers.

You can hear Eddie’s mean chuckle as he watches Steve mistreat you, clearly enjoying the sight in front of him.

When you stop struggling Steve let’s go of your nose but keeps a firm hold of your hair, just in case.

“Where were you planning to run, babe?” Eddie snickers as you sniff to clear the passage in your nostrils, “doors locked,” he shrugs, “and even if you did get out there’s a whooole lotta woods out there,” his smirk is right in your face and you feel your heart drop with each word from his mouth, “you might be able to outrun me, sure, but you think you could get away from Hawkins Highs star athlete?” His laugh is sadistic and it causes you to slump in your spot.

When you don’t answer Eddie taps your cheek, it’s not hard enough to be a slap but it’s not gentle either.

“You belong to us,” his voice is quiet, “stop fighting it.”

You don’t think before answering, a reoccurring issue you seem to be having lately, as you snap, “you don’t own me!”

Instead of this angering them like you assumed it would they laugh, and not the short cruel laughs, no these were full belly laughs until they were almost keeled over.

Confusion and humiliation fills your body as you try to think what was so damn funny?

“Silly girl,” Steve gasps for breath, his grip no longer tight in your hair, “I guess you’re gonna need more of a reminder, huh?”

Before you can protest you’re thrown down on the bed and Eddie takes the liberty of restraining you while Steve goes over to the storage closet. You don’t see what he’s doing but after a few minutes of rummaging around he comes back over to the bed with restraints in hand.

You watch in horror as he fastens them to the bed posts before securing your hands through the scratchy cuffs.

Steve notices you screw your face up at the feeling of the material and he scoffs, “you don’t get the nice stuff until you start to behave.”

You whimper as you’re locked in place and completely left to their mercy.

“What should we do first, Eds?” Steve asks as he slides behind Eddie who now sits between your open thighs.

“M’not sure,” Eddie watches your chest fall and rise in a rapid pace, “but she’s wearing too many clothes.”

Steve hums in agreement as he kisses Eddie’s cheek, then neck, then shoulder, before pulling out a sharp blade that he had hidden behind him, tucked into his belt.

He hands the weapon to the metalhead who graciously accepts it with a kiss to Steve’s chin.

He returns his attention to you and brings the knife to the collar of your shirt and a cold terror spikes down your spine. You let out a high pitched whimper as he starts to cut away the material, deliberately leaving it in tatters, you suspect as some sort of power play.

You’re only wearing a shirt and panties, all that you were given from your captors. Every item of clothing is slashed away and discarded beside the bed until you’re lying naked and exposed in the cool air of the cellar.

Steve rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his midsection as he observes the Dungeon Masters movements, eyes following the tip of the blade as it’s brought down from your clavicle to your sternum. You try your hardest to keep your breathing shallow, not wanting to get nicked.

You bite your lip to muffle your cry as the cold edge of the metal grazes across your nipple, goosebumps line your arms as you keep your eyes trained on the knife.

You let out a breath as Eddie sits aside the knife so he could use both hands to pay attention to your legs. He rubs his palms flat against the flesh of your thighs as he ascends upwards, stopping his movements when his hands are close to your heat.

He pulls the hood back from your clit and you mewl at the contact, you’re not given much time to do anything else before he’s lining his fingers up with your entrance and plunging two inside.

You jerk your hips, trying to push him out but his other hand keeps a firm hold on you, you let out a defeated sob as slick gathers around the opening of your hole, cringing when you hear the wet sucking of your pussy as your arousal starts to drip down towards the bed.

You’re mad and confused as to why your body responds to their cruel touch, you don’t want this… right?

Just as desire starts to build in your lower stomach and you can feel yourself being forced to the precipice of your climax Eddie removes his fingers completely from you, the empty feeling tears a whine from your lips and you instantly pale when two sets of laughter mock your disappointment.

What is wrong with you?

Before you can open that Pandora’s box, you suck in a breath as Eddie picks up the knife, you watch as he grabs a scrap of clothing, that was teetering near the edge of the bed, and wraps it around the blade of the weapon. Your confusion is short lived as he gives you a smirk before moving the knife down to your entrance.

You shake your head and plead out protests as tears glide down your cheeks, you’re already humiliated enough. Steve chuckles at your expense as his eyes remain trained on Eddie’s hands.

When the thick base of the knife touches your folds you choke out a sob, seconds later the entire hilt is being impaled into your pussy. You wince as the sharp ridges catch on your sensitive walls but you’re not given much time to adjust before Eddie is pulling it out and ramming it back in.

While your pussy is being abused you will yourself to focus on something, anything, other then the object inserted into you.

Movement from Steve catches your eye and you watch as the younger of the two grinds his lower half against Eddie’s backside, his arms are taught around the metalheads waist, his chin is resting firmly on his shoulder and his lower half never actually leaves contact as he humps against him.

A fresh wave of tears and confusion wash over you as a pang of desire shoots right to your core at the sight. Before any of this happened you always hoped something would transpire between the three of you. Just not like this.

Steve’s pace matches the movements of the knife and Eddie’s smug expression lets you know how much he’s enjoying this. He speeds up his movements and you audibly cry out as the hilt knocks against something inside you.

Your mind starts to go hazy as your body starts to convulse, your pussy clenches around the wooden base inside you and you let out a wail as you’re pushed over the edge. Pleasure pulses through every inch of your body and you grind down against the inanimate shaft of the weapon to ride out your high.

Your pleasure dissipates quicker then you’d hoped it would and all your left with is ice cold shame. The looks of smug pride mirrored on each of the men above you only adds to the rotten feeling swirling inside your chest.

Before you can spare any more time focusing on your conflicted emotions Eddie pulls the knife from you as Steve untangles himself from the man. Eddie moves to the side as Steve replaced himself between your legs.

He leans down and briefly sucks a nipple between his lips before suctioning his mouth and flicking his tongue over the peak. Steve has an obsession with your tits.

He pulls back and discards his clothing in haste before slotting himself in his previous position. He pulls you down the bed a little more and your arms burn at the uncomfortable stretch, you’re not given much time to focus on that however as Steve drives his hips forward and spears you on his cock.

You clench your hands in tight fists, your nails cutting into your palms slightly, and you let out a harsh whine. Steve is much thicker then Eddie and a whole lot bigger then the knife.

His pace is brutal and has his cock stabbing against your cervix, pain and pleasure fill your lower stomach as you screw your eyes shut at the overwhelming feelings. Every snap of his hips has you pushing harder into the mattress, the scratchy comforter starting to chafe the underside of your body.

While physically you’re not in as much pain as the last time they fucked you, but mentally you’re in agony, you know you should hate this, you do hate this, but what if you don’t hate this?

As the turmoil rages through your mind, pleasure rages through your body. You feel the familiar pressure throbbing through your clit and you know you’re close.

Would it really be so bad to enjoy this? You’re in an impossible situation so you may as well get something out of it… right?

Steve makes contact with your clit and instantly starts rubbing circles into the engorged nub, your hips jerk at the touch as a white light bursts behind your closed eyelids. You feel Steve’s cock throb against your insides, his heavy breathing turning into low moans as his thrusts become shorter but deeper.

You open your eye as the pressure builds and you look at Steve before turning to Eddie, who lounges beside you stroking his cock as he watches Steve fuck you, when he senses your eyes on him he turns to face you.

His gaze is intense and full of heat as he locks eyes with you, his gaze flickers to your slightly opened lips before he’s lunging forward and connecting his lips with yours.

You snap your eyes closed and pretend for a second that the searing kiss with Eddie, filled with passion and lust, is happening under different circumstances. And for a brief moment you’re sitting on your bed at home making out with Eddie as a movie plays in the background.

The stuttering rhythm coming from Steve followed by guttural moans is like a bucket of ice cold water and you’re instantly brought back to the current situation.

When you stop responding to the kiss with Eddie he pulls back and watches you with slight confusion. Before he can open his mouth to say something Steve’s loud grunt fills the room as his cum fills your pussy.

You whimper at the burning hot feeling of his seed painting your walls, he thrusts a few more times, the cum that’s not being forced deeper in you is spilling out around the base of his cock and you wince at the feeling.

Steve pulls out and slumps down with a huff on the other side of you, his face is dazed and he looks happy and your heart flutters at the sight. He looks peaceful, like your old Steve.

While you were distracted with the former jock Eddie takes his place between your legs and wastes no time before pushing forward. You hiss and whine at the new intrusion but your pussy welcomes him inside. You’re still on the verge of cumming and instead of fighting it maybe you should take advantage of it?

Eddie lifts your legs until they’re dangling over his forearms before leaning forward, you’re practically sandwiched against the man and the new position has him driving deeper into your hole.

You cry out at the feeling, deciding in your haze addled mind that just letting go this onetime won’t hurt.

His pace is punishing as he slams his lower half flush against yours with every thrust of his hips. You throw your head back against the bed and let out breathy whimpers and moans at the pleasure beating against your core. Eddie pulls back suddenly and drops your legs, you let out a whine that’s turns into a groan as Steve slots his mouth over your left nipple.

You fight against the restraints, the urge to run your hand through Steve’s soft hair almost overwhelming. He hums around the stiff peak and the vibrations send waves of pleasure down your spine.

With all your focus on Steve’s action you don’t pick up on what Eddie’s doing.

He keeps ups his steady rhythm as he unwraps the cloth from around the blade of the knife and drops it beside his leg before abruptly stilling his movements.

You let out a mewl of confusion as you turn your attention to the metalhead, as you see the knife in his hand you almost wished you didn’t.

“This is still a punishment, babe,” is all he says before bringing the knife to the flesh of your left hip.

⇨ 🩸 ⇦

Before you can process what’s about to happen Eddie cuts into your skin, you lets out a scream at the sting and instantly jerk your hips, the motion causing the man to mess up the ‘E’ a little bit.

Steve sits up and holds down your hips as the metalhead ‘tsk tsk tsk’ your behaviour, slightly scolding you for messing up the first initial. You look pleadingly up at Steve, realising Eddie is getting a sick enjoyment out of this and out of the two Steve is the more responsible one. The younger man at least has the decency to look a little shocked at Eddie’s actions as a brief look of pity? guilt? crosses his features but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Eddie finishes his carving and you let out pained cries at the burning in your side, sobbing harder as you feel the warm blood start to trickle down your hip.

“A box cutter blade would’ve looked neater,” Eddie sounds sickly calm as he observes the fresh wound.

“Do you want me to go grab one?” Steve offers and your blood turns to ice in your veins, you’re starting to choke on your tears and you’re finding it harder to breath.

“Shh shh shh,” Eddie rubs soothing circles on your cheeks, smudging your tears, as Steve slings his arm around to the other side of your waist and snuggles in close to you.

You sniffle and twitch closer to Steve’s warmth and you hate yourself for seeking out his comfort, you hate yourself more when you realise that it’s actually working to calm you down.

Once you’re no longer on the verge of a panic attack Eddie resumes his previous movements, you let out a startled cry as the tip of his cock nudges the spongy bundle inside you, he shares a smirk with Steve and continues to hammer into the spot causing your breath to catch in your throat and black splotches to hinder your vision.

You hiss out in pain as Eddie drags his fingers through the blood, that’s pooled over the wound, before using the sticky liquid to write his name on your stomach below your breasts. He continues to dip his fingers into the blood and retrace the lines until ‘EDDIE’ is very clearly printed across your skin.

Steve follows suit and writes his name over your chest, you can’t really see the letters but you can smell the iron from the blood as he layers it on thick.

You feel slightly nauseous as you feel them continue to play in your blood. Drawing hearts and stars across your body like it’s a living canvas.

Eddie places his hand over the wound and covers his whole palm in blood before grabbing your chin with his clean hand and smearing the blood across your face, you gag at the warm, sticky feeling followed by the strong metallic smell filling your nostrils.

When they’re both done Eddie’s pace starts to pick up, he rubs his dirty, sticky fingers over your clit and you jerk your hips against his crotch. You’re momentarily shocked that you’re somehow still turned on.

Eddie’s cock batters against your cervix as Steve suckles a nipple back into his mouth and hums in content.

Moments later you let out a high pitched shriek and your orgasm rips through you, more pain then pleasure but it starts to equal out when Eddie presses harder against your clit. He lets out harsh grunts of his own as he follows you over the edge, his cum spurting deep inside you and mixing with Steve’s.

When he pulls out he collapses beside you and wraps his arms around you before nuzzling his head into your neck. The soft? moment is cut short, as your breathing starts to level out and Steve’s gruff whine can be heard.

“What’s up, big guy?” Eddie chuckles.

“I didn’t get my initials on her skin,” Steve nods to your bloody hip.

You start to panic and stutter out protests but Eddie’s voice cuts you off, “it’s only fair, princess.”

Seconds later Steve is hovering over you with the knife in hand and you’re stuttering out cries as you beg for him not to. It all falls on deaf ears as a searing burn, almost identical to the last one, makes itself know on your skin as Steve carves his initials into your right hip.

⇨ 🩸 ⇦

-x-

Looking back on the incident you’re at least happy that Steve’s writing is much neater then Eddie’s.

You snuggle in closer to the metalhead who happily cuddles you closer as ‘Back To The Future’ continues to play and you feel yourself start to drift off.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all?

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #my writing #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington #joe keery #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x reader #steddie #dark!steve harrington #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson x f!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steddie x you #steddie x reader #kinktober

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist !

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

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oilivia · 4 years ago

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"worth the wait" - w/ Gojo

a/n: this ended up much longer than i intended to, but after watching the new JJK op Gojo was the only thing on my mind. no beta and smut after the cut. hope you’ll enjoy it and reblogs are appreciated!

pairing: Gojo x fem reader

tw: teasing, corruption themes, size difference, masturbation, nipple play, knee grinding, multiple orgasms, mindbreak, cum play

word count: 1.9k

You hate that you can’t hate him. You wish you didn’t find his stupid jokes so funny, or the matter-of-factly way in which he says “I’m the best” so attractive. It would all be much easier for you if you could snicker and roll your eyes at his confidence when he’d say “I know you think about me at night.”

Instead, thinking about him at night is exactly what you do. Hand between your thighs, fingers buried in your hole as you get off to the thought of him on top of you, pumping in and out of your tight cunt. You wonder how he’d react if one day you’d reply to his comment with an ‘Yes’. Would he laugh? Would he tease you? Or maybe you’d finally get to taste his lips, to wrap your fingers around his cock.

“What are you thinking about?” you flinch when you feel a hand on your shoulder. “Is it me?” he whispers in a teasing tone, a shiver running down your spine when his hot breath hits your ear. How much of an asshole can he be sneaking up on you like this? Well, fuck it, you think. What’s the worst that could happen?

“And what if I was, Gojo?” There is a short pause and you internally facepalm, maybe confessing it wasn’t such a good idea. But then he laughs and your eyes dart to him.

“So you’re finally admitting it. Took you long enough.” You don’t even get to say a word before his mouth is on yours. With a hand on the back of your head and one on your waist, he’s pushing you until your back is pressed against the nearest wall. He pries your legs open with a knee, pressing it against your crotch and when you whine, he pulls his tongue from your eager mouth with a smirk. “I thought you’d fight back a bit more. But I guess you find me irresistible, huh?”

You feel your skin burning at his words and the way he’s rubbing his knee on your pussy with only a couple of thin layers of clothing separating you isn’t helping. “You’re such a jerk,” you retort, but he just chuckles.

“And you’d like it if this jerk railed you right here?” He gathers both your hands and pins them above your head. Your heart is beating faster, the way he’s towering over you driving you crazy, his luscious lips within inches of yours. You want to give in so badly.

It’s now or never. “Not here,” you whisper, trying to convince yourself as much as him. You’re right in the middle of a hallway at Jujutsu Tech, not the best place to fuck. Not if you don’t plan on finding another job at least. It’s getting harder to hold in your moans the more he’s teasing your covered clit and at this point the spot on his pants that’s pressed on you must be wet as well.

“Hmm, I’ll indulge you since it’s our first time,” he chuckles and picks you up. A few moments later, he gently throws you on a bed “I brought you to my apartment if you’re so shy, though I’d rather have taken you right against that wall.” You know some things about Gojo’s cursed techniques, but still, it never fails to amaze you just how strong it is. Maybe that’s part of the appeal. That, and the few times you had those otherworldly eyes staring down at you.

You don’t have much time to analyze your motivations, not with the man himself climbing on top of you, jacket thrown next to the bed and shirt half unbuttoned. He is going to make you work for it if you want to see him naked. He enjoys seeing the battle within you between your desire for him and your desire to remain unbothered. It amuses him. It’s always fun, making the cool and collected ones lose themselves with lust. Have them crawl to him on their knees. And he knows just how to do it.

“You look so pretty splayed like that on my bed,” he mutters as he runs his hand up your naked leg, leaving a trail of goosebumps from your calf to your inner thigh. “I think we should take these off, they’re drenched,” he coos, tugging down your panties. You whimper when you feel the cold air hit your drooling slit. His lips are closing in to your ear again “And I’m keeping them - a memento of how much you want me.” He loves watching your expressions when he pushes your buttons. It’s easy with you, you respond so cutely to his teasing, so sensitive, so needy. He can’t wait to see how you’ll squirm when he’s fucking you, how your eyes will roll at the back of your head.

“Pervert,” you hiss, but he only chuckles at that. Gojo licks the shell of your ear, hand kneading your breasts. A whine escapes you and you feel the corners of his mouth tug into a grin as he’s planting kisses on your jawline - he’s breaking your defenses, slowly but surely. Why would you be resisting him anyways?

“So you’re into perverts, hmm?” He slips a finger between your wet folds slowly and you moan oh, so prettily for him. “Moaning like this from just a finger, such a cutie. What are you going to do when I put my cock inside you? Good thing the walls aren’t thin.” He pushes in and out of you while he’s lifting your top, planting kisses on your stomach and moving up to your breasts. He frees them from the confine of your bra and latches his mouth on one of your nipples, sucking as he adds a second finger in your cunt. You whine and he relishes the way your walls are sucking in his digits. You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around his cock.

Tingles run through your body. When you do it yourself it doesn't feel nearly as good. But you want more - need more. So when you see him release your nipple with a pop and pull his fingers from your sopping cunt only to stare at you with an impish smile, you can’t help but whine “Gojo, please!”

“Call me Satoru,” he grins “You’re always so formal, even naked on my bed. And please what?”

“Please stop being such a tease and just fuck me already!” Your cheeks are burning up, you can’t believe he’s making you act like such a needy slut.

“All you had to do was ask,” he chuckles, untying his blindfold “I want you to look at me while I make you cream on my cock.”

Gojo’s eyes are just as mesmerizing as you remember and staring into them feels like taking a plunge off a cliff, just to fall into the sky. You bite your lip, you could be so cheesy sometimes. But you can’t stop looking, barely registering the way he takes your hands and places them on his shirt, unbuttoning it with your own fingers and then moving to undo the clasp of his belt.

“Just like this,” he coos, pushing you on your back once he’s done making you undress him. Your eyes widen when you see his cock, fully hard and drops of precum leaking from the tip. “You like it?”

“I-I’m not sure it’s going to fit-”

“We’ll make it fit,” Gojo coaxes, placing your legs on his shoulders and pressing the tip against your entrance. You whine, the way he’s spreading your muscle rim both painful and delicious. Inch by inch he’s stretching your tight walls, your back arching. He’s rubbing against each and every one of your sensitive spots and you’re so close to cumming just by having him enter you. “Oh, look at you, you’re so fucking wet and still so fucking tight.”

He grunts, sheeting himself inside you fully with one deep thrust. He gives you a moment to rest, enjoying the way your walls clench around his length. Gojo had his eyes on you for a while. He saw the way you always hesitated for a second every time he teased you, how you’d fight laughing at his jokes. And how you swayed your hips so alluringly each time you walked away as if spending one more second in his presence would make all your defenses crumble. But he knew it was just a matter of time before you’d fall right into his arms. You were just too cute, too innocent - he had to have you.

“S-Satoru,” you moan his name when he starts moving again. Each thrust is hard and deep and each of them makes the coil in your abdomen tighten. His hands are on your ass, spreading your cheeks. You cry his name over and over. And he just pounds into you, slamming his hips into yours. He isn’t going to be gentle just because you never had a cock as big. He can’t, he’s not that merciful. You’re just too pretty, how you whine and squirm, how your much smaller body shakes when he touches you, when he fucks into you. Your eyes are glazed over, but you don’t close them, no, you’re looking straight at him. Drool is dripping from the corner of your mouth, and slick is running down your thighs.

“You’re such a mess. Such a pretty fucking mess,” he smirks and thrusts harder. Your hands grip the sheets. So desperate, so needy. You need to hold onto something to keep you from bursting. But when he leans on you and his lips wrap around your nipples once more - you can’t hold it anymore. The coil snaps as your mind goes blank, your body frantically trying to pull him deeper inside you, squeezing, milking him.

He’s panting as he keeps fucking you through your high. He’s chasing his own release, trying to decide which part of your body he should mark with his cum. Your bouncy tits? Your pretty face? Or maybe he should just finish inside you and watch as it drips from your well-fucked hole. He’s close, so close. And you’re still cumming - is it the second or the third time? It doesn’t matter.

Pulling out of your velvety walls, he strokes his cock while rubbing your clit. He wants to see you squirming for a little while more. His body jerks and with a grunt he sprays his cum all over your stomach and breasts, a few drops landing on your face as you’re cumming again from the pressure on your clit.

He’d ask you if you’d be able to fuck another man after this, but there was no point. You are so out of it, your walls clenching around nothing and body still shaking - you couldn’t answer him anyway. Gojo will just have to wait until you’re coherent again. He knows you won’t be able to stay away from him anymore, you’ll just be crawling on your hands and knees back to him, begging for his cock. And he’s going to give it to you, he’s going to fuck you in every corner of the school. It seems the wait was worth it.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #gojo scenario #♡.cherry

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spnfanficpond · 2 years ago

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September 2022 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Welcome to this month's Angel Fish Awards!

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE (you don’t have to be a member) CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. Everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that this fun, thoughtful award will do just that.

Be sure to read through this whole post as people who were nominated more than once only had one tag activated for Tumblr tagging purposes!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE THIS MONTH’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

The Pact (series) by @coffee-obsessed-writer

I had lost track of this series a while back, but I recently found it again, and I’M SO HAPPY! For those who steer away from smut, the smut is minimal in this series, but the plot is maxxed out! There’s everything you could want: mystery, intrigue, magic, enemies to lovers, daddy issues, found family, and true love. (The masterlist doesn’t have the two most recent chapters on it, but they are easily found on Jen’s blog.) Only start reading this if you’ve got some time to spare because you won’t want to take a break!

Proud by @waywardnerd67

Tumblr was being a pain and decided that I didn’t need to see any of Nerdy’s tags for me for... *checks calendar* ...FIVE YEARS. I missed a couple of YEARS worth of these little drabbles and ficlets! Well, 2017′s loss is 2022′s gain because I’m getting them all in dribs and drabs, now. This is just one of the dozens of these little stories that are like little, yummy snacks of fics. They’re bite-sized morsels of mostly fluff (there are some that are angst or smut, too) that are perfect for when you’re on the go! Be sure to check them all out!

The New Mrs. Winchester (series) by @percywinchester27

I thought I had already nominated this series, which is my only reason for not having nominated it before!! This is a Sam x Reader AU with so many mysteries that I’m on the edge of my seat waiting to find out what happens next. We have heard just enough of what has happened in the reader’s past to know it wasn’t pretty, but Sam’s past, and why Dean is nowhere to be found, is still completely unknown. The back half of your chair won’t get much use while you’re reading this because you’ll be on the edge of your seat!

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Nominated by @percywinchester27

Reluctant Renegade (series) by @deangirl93

I really like how the SPN scenario is completely reversed in this one. I've only just started with it, and the story has already gripped me. I'm curious to see how much more of an anti-hero Dean can be and the reader is very interesting! Looking forward to reading more!

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Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

Family Matters by @glygriffe

I thought it was a really great story and I loved that it was different! I really liked the « what if this happened instead » ! I really enjoyed it!

~*~*~

Nominated by @princessmisery666

Hunter/Hunted (series) by @talesmaniac89

I need to catch up but the 15 parts I've read are amazing. So few words in each part but each one gave me just enough to want more and enjoy the ride. Excellent work.

Without A Stitch by @raidens-realm

I loved the idea of the bunker being a living entity and wanting to take care of the boys. Bonus for Sam being naked most of the time 😂

Butter Knife by @fictional-affairs

Can't beat a bit of miscommunication and love confessions. 💓

A Little Trip by @mariekoukie6661

I could totally picture the guys walking around in absolute amazement and getting lost like we all do in Ikea.

The Best and Worse Plans by @girl-next-door-writes

I am a total fangirl for @girl-next-door-writes and I can never resist putting in a request when they open them up. This one was perfect for that gif.

Big Brother by @girl-next-door-writes

Emma indulged me again and this broke my heart but is soooooo in character 😭Dean will always sacrifice his happiness for his brother.

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE AWESOME WORK AND GREAT FEEDBACK!

These are not actual awards, as in, there is no competition! This system is set up so everyone has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author in the Pond that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#angel fish awards #angel fish awards masterlist #spnfanficpond #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #spn fan fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fic rec #spn fic rec #supernatural fic rec

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shig-a-shig-ah · 3 years ago

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Shigaraki’s been scribbling a lot of shit down in notebooks in AtBI, which got me thinking about his stationary preferences, which means I spent way more time than I should have this week looking at different notebooks trying to decide what his go-to would be.

I cannot imagine many people are interested in this analysis, but I’m giving it to you anyway.

1. Size. This was the biggest consideration, for a number of reasons. I assume our little gremlin man is going to want something that says ‘convenient to shove in your pocket with your dead dad’s hand’ which immediately ruled out any full size notebooks. But, at the same time he’s got those big-ass yaoi hands and a destructive quirk, so anything too small is probably going to just lead to frustration, which means none of that passport-sized nonsense. Seems like something right around A5 size (~8 x 5 in/21 x 14 cm) would be the sweet spot; small enough to shove in a hoodie or even the pocket of a pair of normal men’s jeans, but big enough to not be a pain in the ass.

2. Thickness/flexibility. Very related to the above. Assuming that he’s going to be periodically shoving this beat up thing in some pocket means I ruled out anything with a hard cover; I also pretty quickly ruled out anything with a high page count, because anything too bulky will take up space, and won’t nicely conform around his thigh when he’s shoving it in the pocket of his jeans or whatever. So, he’d need something thin--probably somewhere between a 50-80 page count. He also seems like the type to like folding the cover all the way back or whatever for ease of use. Technically a spiral notebook would do the trick in that case, but would be way more uncomfortable to haul around in a pocket, and might not be quite as flexible if it’s getting forced into odd shapes. So, in addition to a soft cover, he’d need something that was thread or glue-bound.

3. Line ruling. There’s a lot of options for what pages look like--college or wide rule, graph paper, dot grids--and I think he’d want none of them. There’s a really good meta somewhere on all the newspaper clippings he has up in his room, and how he’s probably a visual learner, and I pretty much agree with that. I think he’d prefer blank pages so that he doesn’t necessarily have to jot things down in any neat order, and can just kind of let chaos unfold on the page as he marks stuff down or processes information on paper.

4. Aesthetic. This is not to say that I think Shigaraki cares about aesthetic stationary; the opposite in fact. I think he’d specifically go for something minimalist and utilitarian--basically blank covers, no frills or bells or whistles or anything.

So, after all that and a lot of googling, I was left with three contenders:

1. Muji Thin Pocket Notebook. This one is slightly smaller than an A5 size, but is thin with a nice shape and obviously very portable. But it lost points because it is a little small, and because I don’t think Shig would be into the built in bookmark thing. I think he’s very much a ‘dog-ear relevant pages’ kind of guy.

2. Muji Paper Bind. These actually come in a couple different styles, like the standard linked there or a similar one with rounded corners.

3. Moleskine Cahier, large size. The large size of these is actually A5 sized paper, so exactly what we’re looking for. They’re also completely unadorned--plain cover without even the little stripe the Muji notebooks have--and the only frill they offer is a little folder insert in the back (or, what would be the front for a Japanese user.)

After ruling out number one thanks to the tinier size and bookmark, I… well I ordered the other two for comparison. Don’t mind that the cahier in the pic is lined—that’s for me since I needed a lined notebook, lol.

As you can see, the cahier is a little smaller than the muji one. I also found that the binding was more flexible—it’s less squared off than the muji, making it easier to lie flat, or fold in half. The cover of the cahier is also a little softer, which is another plus. And, it comes in a 3-pack, which is super convenient if you’re a NEET who hates running errands.

Even after all that, I was admittedly a little hesitant to commit to a non-Japanese brand, but it does look like Moleskine stuff is common enough there, too. So, in the end I think the Moleskin cahier (large size, with plain pages) wins for being a villainous boy’s notebook of choice. I do think he’d go with black or the plain brown as far as colors though, if he could be bothered to do more than just grab the first ones he saw.

And, shoutout to @arozaur and @feral-creep for listening to me spend way too much time talking about this nonsense the other day.

#this is THE most useless thing I have ever written #shigaraki #shigaraki thoughts #ghuleh.speaks

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years ago

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Whumptber 3rd - A Hairs Breadth From Death (Gun to Temple) - Paramedic AU - Eddie + Joyce TW: Mention of Guns, Drugs, Medical Equipment

It’s rare Eddie gets to work with Joyce. It happens, of course, but it’s been months. Chrissy’s out with the flu and Murray got put at Base 3 for the day, so they’ve taken ambulance 13 out of rotation, leaving he and Joyce to be on 12. He loves working with the woman, and he’s pumped when he walks in and she tells him the news.

“Hell yes! Team Myers for the win!” Eddie holds his hand up for a high five, and Joyce laughs, slapping her palm against his.

“Don’t sound too excited or I may just ask to switch,” the brunette woman jokes, grabbing them both a cup of coffee as they settle in for the morning.

“Chrissy could deal,” he shakes his head, but they both know he has a soft spot for the two year younger EMT he’s been partners with for years.

“I can go start doing inventory,” she pushes herself off of the counter, ponytail swinging back and forth.

“We can both do it, it’s almost cathartic right?”

They sit in peaceful silence, both taking one half of the inventory checklist. Eddie works on drugs while Joyce works on saline bags and braces. The long haired man thinks of how different this morning is compared to others. Normally, he and Chrissy go back and forth with fake scenarios, or he’ll quiz her on random drug dosages, wanting to help her prepare for her upcoming paramedic class.

This morning, it’s serene. He looks over at the older woman, watching as she skillfully goes through neck brace sizes, like she’s been doing it her whole life. He wonders if that’s how he looks to his partner. Eddie grabs what they’re missing, thankful they’ve not been interrupted.

Of course, he drives for the day and lets Joyce be the decision maker. He’s not one to overstep higher authority, and while he may be a paramedic just like her, she’s got years of experience he doesn’t.

The pair have been napping on the large recliners in the common area when their radios crackle, the familiar base 1 tone coming through, waking them up.

“Dispatch, Base one, ambulance 12, medical call, first response to 1327 Elmdale Street, for a 35 year old male complaining of chest pain. House is blue with a red door.”

Both adults groan. Eddie fumbles for his radio and stands

“Ambulance 12 to dispatch, responding to medical call,” Eddie continues as they head out to the truck.

As Eddie gets more information, he hops into the drivers side and thanks his past self for leaving an unopened energy drink in the cup holder. Joyce flips the lights and sirens on, and Eddie pulls out, giving her a smile.

“Morning,” he drawls, laughing when she yawns and gives him a tired look.

“You’re welcome to have my energy drink if you’d like it.”

Joyce grabs it and pops it open, downing half in one go. He thinks she might be the coolest woman he knows.

They arrive and Eddie grabs the stretcher and LifePak as Joyce heads up to the door. He hopes they won’t need to do any resuscitation tonight. As he slams the back door shut, he freezes, stomach plummeting. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

A man in his thirties is standing near the ambulance with Joyce, a gun to her head. Hands trembling, he goes to reach for his radio and the man walks closer, dragging Joyce with him.

“Don’t think about it, pretty boy, or I put a bullet in her brain.”

Eddie instantly takes his hand off of the radio, both hands up, palms open. It’s not uncommon for ambulances to be raided but damn he never thought it would happen to him.

“Okay man, hey. Take the gun off of her. You wanna shoot someone? How about me, I have more clearance than her,” he lies, licking his lips.

The man stares at Joyce, who’s looking wide eyed, then looks back at Eddie.

“I want your drugs. Morphine, Fentanyl, Dilaudid.”

Eddie nods. Number one objective- keep Joyce safe, which means making the guy keep his attention on him. Fucking scene safety his ass.

“Alright, I can give it to you. But you gotta get the gun off of her. I’m the one that knows the codes.” He stares at Joyce, trying to communicate, trying to tell her not to radio in anything. Better to make it out of this shit alive and drugless.

The man holds on to Joyce but points the gun at Eddie. Thank god.

“Follow me.” His hands shake as he opens the back, feeling like he’s been shot up with far more adrenaline than any epi could carry.

Walking up and into the cab, the long haired man goes to their drug drawers, typing in the four digit code. The guy is now next to him, gun pressing into his temple. Eddie can feel himself sweating.

“No funny business. Give me the right shit.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Eddie snaps, and the barrel digs in harder.

Carefully, he grabs the bottles of the narcotics and hands them to the man, who shoves them all in his pockets, smiling. Eddie keeps his eyes trained on Joyce, who’s been sat on the bench.

“Syringes,” the man says as if it’s been obvious he’s waiting.

“Right,” Eddie huffs to himself, earning a hard blow to his temple, the guy grabbing his pulled up hair.

“I didn’t ask for back talk, pretty boy.”

“And I didn’t ask to be held at gunpoint,” Eddie spits, and fuck he needs to learn to keep his mouth shut, because the man’s eyebrows raise and he once again directs a blow with the butt of his gun to the paramedics temple.

Eddie thinks he hears Joyce gasp.

Clenching his jaw, Eddie grabs the package's syringes and then looks back at the guy, temple aching. He wants to ask ‘anything else your highness’ but decides against it. He remembers Joyce is still at the mercy of this prick too.

The man grabs the syringes and takes off. Eddie swallows and looks at Joyce, before grabbing her and hugging her tight. She lets out a shaky breath and he feels her press herself close.

“I’m sorry, he grabbed me before I c-“

“If you’re apologizing for being held hostage by a drug addict, I’m going to scream,” Eddie looks at her.

The woman looks shaken, face pale and big eyes wider than usual. She’s shaking, and Eddie moves, grabbing a blanket from the shelf they keep them on, wrapping it around her. He leads her to the passenger seat, then goes and puts the gurney back, shuts the back doors, and walks to the drivers side, getting in. He can feel his adrenaline dropping fast, so he grabs the radio and holds it to his mouth.

“Dispatch, th-this is ambulance 12, requesting police on scene. Code silver,” Eddie forces himself to talk, and Joyce grabs his hand.

Two minutes later, they’ve got three police cars, Hopper, Callahan, and others the paramedics only briefly recognize, on scene. Eddie feels bad Hopper and Joyce have to keep their relationship under strict ruling, otherwise he’s sure the woman would be clinging to him.

Head still aching, Eddie runs a hand over his face.

“Can we sit down for this?”

Hopper looks at him, frowning.

“You alright Munson?”

“Yes, yeah, I’m ok. I just..have a headache, and my adrenaline has just been shot to hell and back.”

“He hit you?”

“His gun, he hit it on the side of his head twice,” Joyce interjects before Eddie can assure the Fire and Rescue chief he’s alright.

They all sit in the back of the ambulance, cramped and tight. The warmth of everyone’s body heat feels oddly nice. Eddie plays with his pen, capping and uncapping it quietly as he talks to the police, and refuses treatment for his head. He’s a paramedic, he knows the signs of a concussion, and he doesn’t have them.

By the time all is said and done, and they return to the base, it’s almost five am. He and Joyce are told to go home. Eddie can’t help but be grateful. After hugging Joyce tightly and telling her to call if she needs anything, the paramedic walks out to his car and sits there, letting the events soak in. He’s drained, feels like he’s been run over and then thrown into hell and spat back out.

What if Chrissy had been there? What if Joyce had been shot? What if he had been shot? What would that do to Hopper, to Steve, to everyone? A knock jolts him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see Hopper standing there, a look of concern on his face. Eddie rolls the window down, heat blasting.

“Do I need to call Harrington to come pick you up?��

“He’s working, I’ll be fine. I just..needed a minute.”

“Don’t pull away from us, this isn’t the time to try and do shit by yourself. You’ve got a whole team here for you okay kid?”

Eddie nods, rubbing his eyes that are burning.

“Got it Chief. Thanks.”

He doesn’t drive home. Instead, he drives to the hospital, the only thing on his mind is Steve. Walking in, still in uniform, still looking rattled, he sees Steve, Robin, Nancy and Billy at the nurses desk.

“Eddie?”

“Hey, you okay?”

“What’s going on?“

“Munson, if you’re not here with a patient, you need to leave.”

Eddie walks up to Steve and presses himself into the man, breathing shakily as he hugs him. The nurse wraps his arms around him, hugging back.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Where’s Joyce?”

The paramedic shakes his head, so Steve leads them away and into the nurses lounge, thankfully empty. Steve stares at him and waits.

“We had a druggie take meds from our truck,” Eddie voice is fragile and wobbly, and he feels just about the same.

“Wait-what?! Are you okay?! Eddie, oh my god!”

“Made sure Joyce wasn’t the target of the gun. I gave the guy his drugs and he ran. Dealt with the police for hours. Just left the station. Came here, wanted to see you.”

Getting pulled into another hug, Eddie’s not sure how long they stay like that. He hears the door open, but he doesn’t move.

“He okay?”

Nancy.

“Druggie held him and Joyce at gunpoint. I need to leave early.”

“No problem. I’ll let Owens know.”

They get back to their place and Eddie burrows into the bed with Steve, too tired to do anything but sleep. He’ll talk more when he wakes up, but right now, laying with his boyfriend, feeling safe, is all he needs.

#my fic #whumptober22 #em #st #jb

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

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pretty eyes & starshine: iii

(Mostly SFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i || part ii || part iii (epilogue)

word count: ~2.2k

Nothing ever really ends. It just grows in different ways with different parts.

warnings: description of post-injury, reader and hawks being traumatized but coping, a soft epilogue

the ending folks :’^) thank you for reading this far. here is something gentle for all of us, with some future, past, and the present for sweet starshine and keigo :’^)

enjoy loves 💞!!

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Keigo doesn’t break promises.

He loves white lies, the silly kind where he can rib you for a minute or two before soothing any ruffled feathers with quick kisses. He never leaves big wounds, nothing gaping or jagged, just loving pokes in your sides to get you to laugh and quip back at him.

He never goes back on his words that count.

His journeys out of the house remain short and rarely surprising. He never leaves without a goodbye, whether that’s a sleepy fuck or two, or a hand-written, tooth-rotting note on a scrap of paper next to a steaming cup of coffee on the kitchen island.

Keigo’s used to the open skies, rolling forever. The curve of the horizon is his primordial friend that he never got to say goodbye to, but he still chases it a few times a week. Little drives he takes by himself, hikes, and things that he let him feel a bit of that free wind in his shaggy hair.

It takes you a while, but you don’t look forlornly at the door anymore.

The awareness that of his absence from your little bastion lingers as you move throughout your day, but you know he’s good for his word. He always returns, bearing a toothy grin, and usually an armload of snacks or takeout.

It’s better, and you’re both a bit more alive.

...

Spring in the mountains reminds you of something you can’t place.

The memory of it is foggy, far-off and untouched. Probably a bit dampened from, you know, a year of trauma, but the feeling of it makes your quirk burst to light without fail.

It comes when you notice the little patches of wildflowers that spring up in new grass that rings around the porch. Heat flares in your eyes when you see the little seedlings you and Keigo planted into the window boxes begin to bud and flower.

The days get longer, sweeter, and the summer comes easily.

...

The bad days never cease, but you both learn to cope to some degree.

Your scar... cracks one day. You’re doing some half-assed stretches in the living room (mostly arching your back so Keigo gets a good peek of your ass) when it happens. Your right leg bends at the knee, and a resounding ‘crack’ and shatter echo off the walls of the cabin.

You both panic.

Keigo instantly urges you on the couch, trying to soothe your own panic with little coos from the back of his throat. You feel numb as Keigo shoves up your pant leg, looking for any damage.

The scar looks relatively unchanged. It hasn’t writhed since your days at the hospital, and its edges have only faded a shade or two with time. It’s long, obtrusive, and something you still avoid looking at.

All the same, Keigo traces the gnarly flesh, nimble fingers searching for the source of the sound. Any bit of pain he can identify and soothe, ideally, remove. The pads of his fingers drift to the crook of your knee, pressing against the shiny, black seam of the scar.

His eyes go wide before awe shines through, without a lick of fear.

He warns you to take a deep breath, ‘breath with him’, before pinching at the glassy center and pulling. There’s a bit of resistance as he pulls, you’re not sure what he’s doing, and you see ‘it’ before you really put it together.

Keigo holds ‘it’ up for you to see.

The inky glass of the scar.

Literal rock. Inky obsidian pulled from your flesh, about the size of your pinky and painfully jagged.

“W-what is that?” You asked, grabbing his wrist to examine the bit. “That’s... the scar?”

Keigo nods his head, scrutinizing it with you, pinching at it, “Weirdest scab I’ve ever seen.”

Scab.

You have never thought about calling the ugly root of the scar a ‘scab’ but looking at the way it so easily was pulled away, it makes sense. After a bit of examination and tender prodding, the tissue around it looks healthy, albeit thick and burned. The scar goes deep into your flesh, feels raw to the touch, but the skin that’s beneath it is somewhat alive. Maybe too alive, given how sensitive it is.

Nonetheless, you marvel at the little piece of volcanic glass that Keigo had pulled from you like it’s the most precious stone in the world.

...

It takes a long time to convince both of you.

Keigo never receives another call from Suits, ‘president’, what the fuck her name is. Thank fucking god. His snap seemed to have scared her and her crumbling organization away. You can only hope that it was for good.

The potential return comes from kindness rather than demands.

Calls from both Endeavor and Miruko, ‘Enji’ and ‘Rumi’ as they insist you call them. Rumi chatters on the phone for hours with Keigo every few weeks, puts the phone on speaker, and has you give your piece as well. You like her, she’s funny and loud and Keigo smiles when he talks to her.

Enji actually visits.

Once or twice, maybe more. You stop counting when the extra bodies in the cabin don’t have you breaking into a cold sweat anymore. It had taken a great bit of coaxing, but you opened your cabin up for the former pro and his entourage.

He brings along his daughter and the ‘Three Musketeers,’ as the media calls them. The boys train in the mountains nearby, never lingering too far based on the shouting from the blond one that echoes against the hills.

The rest of you settle into the walls of the cabin whenever they come to visit. It feels warmer than normal; it makes sweat gather under your arms and in droplets on your forehead. Even if you wanted to attribute the heat to the old flame hero’s presence, it wouldn’t account entirely for your thumping heart.

You work through it, slowly.

You like watching Keigo and Enji. They both look worn. Keigo’s a bit too young for grey hair, but Enji has more than his fair share around his temples. The beard around his jaw glints silver in the lowlight of the cabin whenever he tilts his head to sip at his tea.

They smile like old friends, talk like it too.

You end up in the kitchen a lot during their talks, distantly cooking and observing. You’re always listening to their stories, the banter. It’s hard to keep up with, a lingering vestige of Keigo’s old persona that clings to him and his mannerisms.

You don’t mind it, even if it feels foreign.

...

“Can you pass me that honey, dear?” Fuyumi asks, voice sweet and close.

You nod, sliding her the jar across the corner top. She carefully spoons a glob of the thick liquid into the four waiting mugs, humming just under her breath.

The cabin feels warm, and it’s not just the ambient heat Enji gives off.

The ‘three musketeers’ plan to camp in the mountainside and ‘rough it’. You couldn’t imagine the freshly-greened hills giving them too much trouble. They bicker, you have found, constantly. Blunt jabs from Enji’s son, met by explosive remarks from the blond one (why is his hero name so long? You can never remember it well.) Consider your growing aversion to loud noise, you like Deku the best. He seems like the peacekeeper (and peacemaker) of the trio and compliments your cooking. What a gem.

The guest room has been polished into an actual guest room. Fuyumi takes it, and Enji, bless his heart, takes the creaky fold-out couch. He doesn’t mind, he tells you, something about enjoying tending to the hearth at night.

Keigo calls the nights where they fill the house ‘sleepovers’, and he adores them.

They’re a bit overwhelming for you if you’re being honest. But Enji is far less intimidating now that you’ve seen him nodding off and slack-faced on your couch. Fuyumi has patience you’ll never fully understand, and babies you a bit, which you don’t welcome but don’t refuse either.

She does just that, scooping up three mugs after pushing your own toward you. You regather and sit next to Keigo at the kotatsu, slipping your legs under the thick blanket and sagging with the heat. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he presses you into his side, pressing a few kisses to the top of your head. It’s an idle action, habitual and welcomed as the conversation flows.

(Something about one of Keigo’s old sidekicks. Another about Endeavor’s agency, still chugging along with him at the helm, albeit not as an active hero. The new hero charts, the new rules established, legislation. Things are getting... safer, a semblance of order being re-established now that much of the League has been apprehended.)

(Things are settling, as horrifying as the change is.)

The thought of so much makes you sleepy, long-standing exhaustion heavy in your bones. You nod off at some point to the kind, safe voices.

Keigo coaxes you awake once the conversation dies down.

“Love,” he purrs, rubbing your side, “let’s get up now and get you to bed.”

You follow him, the way he rises and guides you to the bathroom to help you ready for bed. Enji is settling on the couch, tugging a few throws over himself on the futon. You give him a shallow wave with half-lidded eyes, meeting his own.

Eye contact feels hard, but you manage to hold it for a few seconds.

In the bathroom, you pop onto the counter and slowly brush your teeth. Sleep clings to you, and you know it’ll return quickly, but the process of moving and interacting wears you down so easily. Your toothbrush almost slips from your grip.

“Just a little more, and then you can rest, dove,” Keigo urges, reverent as he finishes his own routine in tandem. You watch as he splashes water on his face, wetting the tufts of hair that fall around his face.

The cabin feels warmer.

You notice it as you enter the bedroom, Keigo already hopping into bed to assemble the ‘nest’ as both affectionately refer to it. The old throw, a few extra soft blankets, and a buttery soft duvet must be arranged just right before he is satisfied.

Keigo knows it’s a remnant.

He carries plenty of them, little chunks of him that are old and worn, old and unused. He can shake them, can’t bury them, they just simply are.

The birdish ones are nice, he thinks. He likes that he can preen you. He loves that you can preen him. That you’ll indulge him in that way, running your hands through his overgrown hair. You detangle any knots, soothe the snarls and rub at his neck until he’s liquid in your lap.

He likes nesting. The cold of the cabin can be almost forgotten in the little nests he makes. The mountains of bedding and pillows that you both can settle in. It’s peaceful, and it's shared, and things are okay.

It’s all slow, and a bit tedious, things that the remnants of ‘Hawks’ scream and thrash at. But, really? Keigo has no reason to listen to a ghost. He tries not to let himself be haunted.

He indulges himself for the first time in his life, probably.

As Keigo nestles you into the sheets beside him, he gives you a bit of room to get comfortable. Adjusts your pillows how you like, tangle your legs together in the comfiest way. Your own version of nesting that makes his palms sweat and his words turn to mush.

You settle together, chest to chest, Keigo’s chin hooked over the top of your head.

“Did you have a good day?” You ask, soft and sleepy.

Keigo nods easily, “I did. Enji doesn’t seem to quite as much of a square as he was a few years ago.”

You snort, muffling a giggle into his chest, “He’s definitely a little bit of a square. But I like him.”

“He offered to host us at the estate if we ever want to go back.”

You swallow, thick and slow, and try to bury yourself deeper in him, “... Do you want to go back?”

“No.” He pauses. “Maybe. Not yet, and not anytime soon. But the offer is on the table. It’s nice to have, even if we don’t take it.”

It’s insurance, somewhere else to tuck yourselves away if the mountains stop favoring you.

The thought of the future makes your head spin, as it tends to. The scar aches, but maybe it’s a tad duller than it was a few months ago. The pains only last a few moments, only stab so deeply. The place where the little chunk of obsidian fell out doesn’t feel quite as tender.

You lay your cheek on Keigo’s chest, your breath coming in time with his.

“‘M tired,” You murmur into his chest. “Can I sleep?”

“Of course, starshine.” He pushes back your hair, clears your forehead to press his lips to the skin, lightly. Little kisses piling up on top of each other. “Get some rest.”

“You too, pretty eyes.”

You both need it. For more than just a day with the folks who stuck around. You and Keigo need more rest than a being can responsibly accumulate during a human life. There are things to be stitched, worn parts of you that need tending to, and burns that’ll need salve until the day you die. It’s not any less than it was in the month’s past.

But it’s easier to manage.

You snuggle into Keigo’s chest, drifting off to the thought of fresh coffee and crackling heat.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

thank you for reading!!💞

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #my hero academia #mha fanfic #mha x reader #hawks imagines #wow :'^)#thank y'all for reading

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heavyy12 · 3 years ago

Text

Colin and Tripp: Part 2

“I just hope this whole thing doesn’t implode on us.” Colin said as he folded some jeans and placed them in a suitcase. “This is going to come as a HUGE surprise to them.”

“You’re not kidding, babe.” Tripp said as he closed his laptop from atop their bed. “HUGE, indeed.”

Tripp got up and walked behind Colin to rub the belly that contained his unborn sons. Tripp had never been so turned on by another person than Colin in all his pregnant glory. Colin had ballooned over the past couple weeks and easily resembled a man nearing full-term. At 29 weeks, Colin had managed to pack on forty pounds, all of which seemed to go to his belly.

He was so perfectly round and miraculously had very little stretch marks. His ass had become far more plump and his pecs were noticeably fuller as they sat atop his protruding midsection.

Tripp swatted the clothing from Colin’s hands and lifted his pregnant lover’s shirt over his head.

“Really, babe?” Colin smirked, “I have to get this packing done! We leave in the morning.”

“I won’t be long.” Tripp whispered as he kissed Colin’s neck and lowered the pregnant man’s briefs to expose Colin’s plump cheeks from beneath.

“I want a piece of that pregnant ass,” Tripp continued as he slid his erection between Colin’s bare cheeks.

“Well, by all means, daddy, have at it.” Colin cooed.

Colin was on his back within seconds, belly high in the air and his thick thighs hugging the sides of his growing orb as Tripp positioned himself to begin fucking his pregnant lover.

Tripp couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off Colin’s belly as they fucked. The father-to-be was constantly looking for signs of his unborn sons through his baby mama’s massive orb. Colin knew what Tripp was looking for and when he’d feel a kick from within as Tripp’s cock was impaling him, he’d guide his baby daddy’s hand to that location on his belly. The pair couldn’t get enough of pregnant sex.

Colin decided to tell his parents of his pregnancy before the dinner Tripp had planned. There was obviously no hiding his condition, so it was an abrupt conversation. After a few minutes and the question of paternity came up, Colin said it was someone they knew. Their most shocking revelation of Colin’s pregnancy was that Tripp was the father and they were in a relationship.

His father pressed Colin to be honest whether Tripp took advantage of him and the pregnant college student assured him that wasn’t the case. Mrs. Lacey was able to calm her husband down and Colin explained the dinner he had planned was actually at Tripp’s home down the street.

The dinner started off awkwardly, but by the end, everyone seemed comfortable with Tripp and Colin’s situation. The pair said goodbye to their dinner guests and after the caterers left, they retreated to the backyard for a bonfire.

It was a cold, late-fall night and Tripp donned a baggy Cornell sweatshirt, chinos, and boat shoes, while his pregnant lover lowered himself into an Adirondack chair wearing a similar outfit. Tripp had a beer in his hand as they discussed what they believed was a successful dinner with Colin’s family.

As the fire grew, Colin became overheated and removed his sweatshirt, revealing the underside of his massive belly in a tight, white tee. Tripp noticed while Colin hadn’t yet and started snapping pictures of his pregnant lover in the firelight.

“What are you doing babe?” Colin asked as the flash from Tripp’s phone nearly blinded him.

“You just look so beautiful sitting by the fire and so full with our children.” He replied.

“Well, I feel like a hot, sweaty blimp.” Colin said as he lifted his tee for air circulation.

“We can go inside. It’s been a long day.” Tripp said as be began getting up.

“No, no, a couple more minutes.” Colin insisted, “I’m going to need help getting up from this damn chair anyways.”

Tripp was already up and moved over to his pregnant lover, ran his hands through Colin’s hair and bent down for a kiss on his forehead. While his older boyfriend kissed his forehead, Colin felt an unpleasant jab coming from within and moaned as his hand immediately went to assess the action.

“Are the boys giving you trouble?” Tripp asked as he noticed Colin’s expression and joined his pregnant lover in examining the situation.

“I think they’re a little overheated from the fire.”

“No worries, babe, it was nice while it lasted.” Tripp said as he began extinguishing the fire. “How about a nice, relaxing bath before bed?” he suggested to his pregnant lover.

“I’d love that.” Colin answered as he covered his belly back up and reached his hands out signaling Tripp to help hoist him from the chair.

Colin and Tripp returned to Ithaca after a couple days so Colin could finish out the semester before winter break. With a February due date and Colin already a semester ahead from college-placement classes in high school, they decided he’d take the spring semester off to have their sons.

Colin’s family had plans to spend Christmas and New Years apart in different places around the world. It left Colin and Tripp on their own; which they preferred.

Tripp planned a vacation getaway, the last as a childless couple, to the Caribbean. Colin was cleared to fly at 33 weeks, although he easily resembled someone who was overdue. For convenience, Tripp chartered a jet for their two-week vacation.

When they arrived in the Caribbean, Colin was excited to see that Tripp reserved a penthouse apartment with a butler for their duration. Their balcony had amazing views of the ocean and surrounding islands, as well as their own rooftop pool.

It wasn’t long into their first day that Colin stripped naked and lowered himself into the refreshing rooftop pool. After Tripp finished unpacking and pre-ordering dinner, he was surprised to find Colin already soaking up the Caribbean sun in all his naked, pregnant glory.

“Damn babe, we’ve only been here for an hour and you’re already getting me worked up with that view.” Tripp exclaimed as he removed his cutoff shirt and stood over Colin from the pool’s ledge in a speedo.

“Being cooped up on the flight and drive here was too much for these two!” Colin said as he stood up in the shallow end of the pool, his belly exposed above his recently popped navel and dripping wet. “I didn’t know how else to calm them down!”

“Well you know they get tired after a good fuck, sooo…” Tripp suggested as he removed his speedo, exposing his hard eight inches.

Tripp entered the pool and the pair began making out as both their erections grew. Tripp’s poked his pregnant lover’s lower belly and Colin’s poked his underbelly with nowhere else to go.

Tripp hoisted Colin, with the pregnant man’s assistance, onto the pool ledge. They continued making out with Tripp’s hands firmly planted on the sides of Colin’s massive orb and Colin’s on his baby daddy’s plump ass cheeks.

Colin’s erection was covered by his immense midsection and was getting uncomfortable as his own heaviness weighed down on it. He laid back with Tripp’s help and positioned his legs atop his baby daddy’s shoulders. Tripp slowly inserted himself into Colin’s hole from inside the pool.

The pool’s slate tile wasn’t the most comfortable on Colin’s back as his belly weighed him down, but he easily worked through the pain because of the ecstasy from being impaled by Tripp’s thick cock.

Tripp grabbed handfuls of Colin’s fuller pecs and picked up speed. Colin played with Tripp’s nipples as they both neared climax. As Tripp slowed to deposit a warm load within his pregnant lover’s hole, his right hand caressed Colin’s cock and the pregnant man soon blew his load between his protruding belly and Tripp’s lower abs.

“What a way to start the vacation!” Tripp exclaimed as he pull out.

“I’d say! The three of us enjoyed that, daddy!” Colin said as he cradled his belly in their afterglow.

Tripp kissed the mound that held his unborn sons sensually before pulling Colin up to a seated position. The pregnant man then lowered himself into the pool where the pair relaxed for the next half hour as their bodies cleansed of sweat of cum.

Islanders at their resort were astounded by Colin’s size every time the two men decided to leave their penthouse suite. Although they had a capable butler, every time they’d walk to the beach, two or more additional staff would offer their assistance. They both spent their days on the beach where Colin resembled a tanned, beach whale, before retreating upstairs to prepare for an exquisite dinner.

Tripp made sure to always have snacks and lunch ordered for their time on the beach so Colin and his boys wouldn’t go hungry. The expectant fathers always made sure to accentuate Colin’s pregnancy, as if it wasn’t already truly astounding.

When they’d have lunch delivered to the beach, before the waiter had time to leave, Tripp already had one hand caressing Colin’s belly and the other feeding his pregnant lover. They didn’t care how awkward it made anyone else feel. Nobody at the resort had seen a pregnant man of Colin’s size before and could rarely take their eyes off his belly. It also didn’t help that Colin wore speedos that barely fit his plump ass cheeks and when seated and being served on the beach, eluded to being nude since his belly covered every inch of fabric he had on.

On the last day of their vacation, Tripp hired a photographer for the day to capture Colin in all his pregnant glory. The pregnant twenty-one year old was nearing his 35[sup]th[/sup] week and had gained 70 pounds, ballooning to 285. His tanned, stretched skin was nearly 60” around. Tripp often wondered how big his pregnant beau would get at this rate.

They took intimate pictures in the morning on their bed while both wore just briefs. The focus of both men was Colin’s belly. After nearly two weeks in the sun, his tanned, olive skin covered any faint stretch marks he had. His belly button almost looked cartoonish and stuck out far from his massive middle. His fuller pecs were accentuated by enlarged nipples that Tripp often sucked on.

Tripp stood behind the photographer for Colin’s solo photo shoot in bed. He couldn’t contain the erection that was forming as he watched Colin cradle their unborn sons and pose so sensually; nearly nude in the bed they fucked in the night before. They both changed into 5” inseam shorts and linen, short-sleeve button downs and headed to the beach for more pictures.

While Tripp’s shirt stayed mostly buttoned, Colin’s was opened almost instantly to show his massive baby bump. Tripp’s favorite pose during Colin’s solo beach shoot was when his pregnant lover sat in the sand, folded and tucked his right leg under his lifted left leg, leaned back into the sand with his right arm and rested his left forearm on his raised left knee. Until then, Colin hadn’t looked so massive to Tripp. The sun beat down on him as sweat glistened on his chest and belly. Tripp popped another boner thinking Colin still had over a month left of growing.

After their final dinner on the island, the pair decided to take a midnight stroll on the beach. Both men had plotted fucking in the sand and were hoping to do so that night.

They came to a curve in the beach that had a grouping of palm trees hidden from the resort’s view. They smirked at each other and Tripp guided Colin to the middle of the palm trees and ripped off his pregnant lover’s clothing. They made out with Colin in all his naked glory and the moonlight reflecting off his ballooned belly. Tripp quickly surveyed the area once more before pulling his shorts down.

Tripp was leaking pre-cum on his pregnant lover’s belly before turning Colin around to expose the pregnant man’s inviting hole. Colin bent slightly and grabbed ahold of a palm tree as Tripp’s warm mouth met his hole. After a minute or two, Tripp’s tongue was replaced by his dick and the two began fucking wildly. Colin’s fat ass cheeks were clapping uncontrollably as he moaned from being fucked so hard. His tits were bouncing violently atop his perfectly round baby belly. Tripp had his hands planted on the sides of Colin’s belly as he thrust harder and harder into his pregnant lover’s hole.

Tripp normally lasted much longer but felt himself getting close after only a few minutes. He moved his hands up Colin’s blossoming body and grabbed a handful each of Colin’s pecs and pulled his pregnant lover back, plush against his body. Tripp slowed and kissed Colin’s neck and bit his ear as he flooded the pregnant man’s hole with another huge load of warm baby batter.

They stayed in that position for another minute, making out madly as Tripp’s hands caressed Colin’s belly and his cock grew limp from inside the pregnant man’s hole. Tripp pulled out, turned Colin around to lean against the palm tree and consumed the pregnant man’s cock before swallowing the load the shot from it.

“That was so fucking hot, babe.” Tripp said as he lifted himself up to Colin’s eye level. Colin noticed his own cum was still left on the sides of Tripp’s mouth and wiped his baby daddy’s face with two fingers before shoving both and his bodily remnants into Tripp’s accepting mouth. They kissed and hurriedly put their clothing back on before retreating to their suite.

The pair returned to the states with a little over one month left in Colin’s pregnancy. Since Colin was taking a semester off to have the twins, they moved everything back to Tripp’s Manhattan apartment. Contractors and interior designers were in and out the entire month of January preparing the nursery.

Photos from their pregnancy shoot in the Caribbean were returned to the couple at the end of January. Colin noticed how enamored Tripp was with them that he had one blown up, nearly life-size, and framed for their foyer. It was a surprise for Tripp, so Colin had it hung while he was at work and unveiled it one day in early February.

Colin was just two weeks from his due date when he stood by the door waiting for Tripp to return from work. When Tripp arrived home, he noticed his pregnant lover in the foyer and the massive, covered frame on the wall.

“What’s this, babe?” Tripp asked as he hung up his coat.

“I have an early Valentine’s Day gift you.” Colin smiled as they kissed.

“You didn’t have to do that babe, our boys are the gift of a lifetime.” Tripp said as he caressed his pregnant lover’s belly from beneath Colin’s navy polo.

Colin backed away and removed the drape covering the 56” x 70” frame. It was the photo of Colin sitting in the sand during their beach photo shoot that Tripp liked so much.

“Babeeee” Tripp exclaimed, pulling Colin close so the pair could look at it together. “You are so breathtaking.”

“I knew you liked the picture a lot.” Colin said, “And although I’m not a huge fan of having a life-size photo of myself in our home, I knew you’d appreciate it.”

Tripp kissed Colin and rubbed his 38-week belly that recently surpassed 63” and 305 pounds.

“I LOVE it.” Tripp exclaimed. “And I love YOU.” He continued as they kissed again.

“I wouldn’t mind making this a tradition.” Tripp suggested.

“What do you mean? Colin asked.

“Well, did I ever mention I wanted a BIG family?” the baby daddy smirked.

“Oh yeah?” Colin cooed as he backed away from Tripp and smirked back. “How big?” he joked as he turned side to side to accentuate the belly that was home to their unborn sons.

“Of epic proportions.” Tripp smiled as he approached Colin and pinned him against the wall. At this point in Colin’s pregnancy, Tripp had to lean far in to meet his lover’s face. The belly that stood between them was no joke. “Is my baby mama up for the challenge?” Tripp whispered in Colin’s ear.

“Challenge accepted.” Colin replied before the pair began making out and undressing in their foyer.

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cloveroctobers · 4 years ago

Text

PLASTIC HEARTS — ALL

Synopsis: what the characters are like in the mornings since I’m currently writing this at midnight lol + I feel like ask memes are really underrated and they’re quick to write so I’m open to those too amongst the 100 of other things I have on my list/have yet to write (typical writing probs lol)

Jordan: I feel like with Jordan is either 50/50 with him. If he has to be up pertaining to football then he’s up and determined! it might take him like 2-5 mins more extra in bed to fully get up if his parents (more so billy) don’t drag him out of bed but he still manages to get up and function somehow. If he’s partying the night before then that’s a different story, he’s always hungover and feeling that shit the next morning so he’ll move super slow and will be late to class/grumpy as hell. He’s either happy and functioning well making sure he’s getting a meal regardless if he’s in a good mood in the morning or not cause the boy likes to EAT (just like Michael’s ass) + if there’s no food at the house best believe he’s cruising to a cafe to get him a meal before heading to boredom high—I mean Beverly

If he’s in a crap mood then he’s mean to everyone in his path. It’s best to leave him alone and let him sulk in his corner until he’s out of his grumpy mood which he does get out of...eventually after arguing with someone or snapping on them, taking a nap in the back of class, or after football practice.

Olivia: I’m squinting as I’m thinking this over. I don’t really think she’s a morning person? but she sets her alarm for herself and can get up in the morning without the help of her parents unlike Jordan lol. She is the type to set her alarm ten minutes before she actually has to get up so she can get extra time in the comfort of her bed. It takes the girl some time to get ready in the morning okay? Have you seen her hair? It takes time to get it right for how she wants it and she always says she should pick her outfits the night before but she always seems to get side tracked so that never happens which also takes up more of her time. Eventually she almost always makes it downstairs before Jordan does. They DON’T ride to school together, hardly, unless one of them has a issue with their car or something but they’re usually doing their own thing but have some sort of conversation in the morning over breakfast—trying to build the closeness of their relationship back

Liv likes to be on time if she can or just right on time, either or. And if things come up, then she’s a little anxious which she normally is until she’s meeting up with someone she can hold a conversation with. Half of the time there’s no need to be anxious? It’s just there and she hates it despite the lonerism she found herself in

Spencer: I think Spencer can be a light sleeper since he’s used to some sort of noise going on in his house. Plus his room is in the center of where the noise will take place. If it’s too quiet, like it usual was at the baker’s he finds it a little hard to sleep all the way? There has to be something going on for him to fully sleep like the light noise of tv? Or a sound machine. James said he was the same way as a baby, always alert. So when he wakes up in the morning, he always lets out a soft sigh closing his eyes letting the alarm go off for a few more seconds before he smacking it off. He has to get in the shower to fully wake him up tho. If he doesn’t take a shower in the morning then he’s not fully up and if he doesn’t take a shower at night, he knows he’s not going to sleep well either.

If he has to walk Dillon to school, then he doesn’t mind being late. Now that Dillon is getting older he doesn’t mind walking on his own or with a friend or two but being the protector that Spencer is, he’s going to try his best to make time for Dillon no matter what and the boy secretly appreciates it but understands now if it can’t be all the time. Spencer doesn’t have his license so he’s either catching the bus (if he was still going to Beverly, Jordan or Liv would scoop him up ofc) or speed walking to school which he seems to make just in time?? Always.

Layla: I always view her as someone so chipper. She IS a morning person (unless the depression is hitting her hard, some of us have those days) and usually has it together. She’s a big planner and if she doesn’t continue with being a producer like her dad in the future, I can see her being a event planner big time. Anyways she’s usually very organized, outfits steamed and hung up for the week, weekly calendars and reminders in her phone. Alarm’s set since she’s the only one in the house and only has herself to depend on. I feel she does take a lot on her plate for a teenager so she tries her best to follow a routine/schedule most of the time. Wake up. Stretch. Slippers. Robe. She does not check her phone until after she is done taking care of herself! Brush teeth. Shower. Skincare. Get dressed. Does hair. Checks phone on her way downstairs to breakfast. Layla is a açaí bowl or oatmeal kinda girl, fight amongst yourselves. I see it. I manifest it. She always has to have her hands in something and when it comes to breakfast and baking, you can count on her to always make something. It became something she loved since her mom and her always did that together. And she often likes taking the long way to school and the long way back home.

Asher: not a morning person. Never on time unless it’s for football on Saturday mornings. he’s a cereal kinda guy since his dad can’t afford a professional chef anymore. His favorite cereal is probably Rice Krispies with strawberries and wh*le milk or cashew milk if he remembers to buy it from the grocery app. I feel like he would eventually have to get a job his senior year since it’s kind of a struggle with his dad settling into his new job. It’s a big adjustment with his parents divorced and although his mom still slips him money when he see’s her every other weekend, he’s more tired than he ever was before. He’s used to sleeping in cars if he’s not in a king sized bed but can pretty much sleep everywhere. He can sleep through anything and always has multiple loud ass alarms to wake him up since his dad is either gone before he wakes up like before or just about to leave for his new job. He never bothers to wake him anyways. Asher is a grumpy grouch in the mornings and is addicted to ice coffees and loves a good pastry if he can’t have himself some cereal in the morning.

He’s also annoyed if he doesn’t get his cartoon’s in too before school. Don’t bother him until mid-morning, early afternoon if you know what’s good for you.

Coop: if she’s something else when she’s angry what do you think she’s like in the mornings? Annoying either way? Probably lmao. She’s probably a talker in the morning expressing some wild ass dream she had or either how she had a sucky night and couldn’t sleep properly so she was up writing a new song or something. Since she’s dropping out of school, her mornings could probably start later around 11am? Unless her mother is still home and making her get out of bed to run errands with her or clean the house while she’s gone for the day? Either way she’s probably dancing, talking your head off, blasting music as she gets ready, or browsing Twitter as her form of “morning news”

Chris: I get night owl vibes from Chris. Which is more difficult to do in high school, whew! He has to use melatonin spray or cream to help him knock out and if it fully doesn’t help, he’s dragging the next morning once he fully crashes. Sometimes it can be a good morning or it can be a sucky one. Due to his injury, he gets occasional pain in his joints which he keeps a secret from mostly everyone from his team since they were only described as spasms from his doctor. He deals with it even if it freaks him out from time to time. If it’s a sucky morning, he has to wake himself up with a splash of water to the face and then tending to the pain in his joints before carrying on about his day.

I do think he’s on his phone a lot. Before bed, actually watching soothing videos to help him knock out—don’t tell anybody that and then checking his phone again when he wakes up. Which is apparently unhealthy for the mind but hey with technology continuing to take over, what can you do?

Patience: the girl doesn’t care if she’s late or early. All that matters is trying to get through the day. She’s not crazy about getting up early to sit in 7-8 classes a day but if she’s got to do it, then she’s going to take her time. She wasn’t named “Patience” for no reason okay? When it comes to her appearance, she’s going to make sure she puts in the effort because if she looks good then she feels good and can go about her day. Most of the time she takes a quick breakfast with her on her bus ride to school (thanks to her hair not doing what she wanted it to) and then if there’s time heads to the cafeteria to get whatever they’re serving for breakfast there. At least that’s better than the lunch they serve there.

JJ: total morning person! Or if he’s not? You can never tell. The guys always in the best mood. Even if he was out partying and doing too much the night before, the dude is never hungover. Everyone wants to know his secret. And when he tells them, they don’t believe it. He’s usually a slob of a eater but he also knows how to take care of his body and all about his protein shakes and juicing. He definitely has a meal plan that he takes the time to post on his Instagram stories. The guy loves Instagram and is always posting there. If you need positive words of affirmations, JJ is your guy. Check his stories or if you run into him in person he’s all hugs and uplifting you to get through the day. He’s the guy you need around if you need it. If you don’t want to be bothered? Make sure he doesn’t see you and keep your distance because he will tackle you down and turn into DJ Khaled on your ass.

Simone: she hates mornings and thinks it’s cruel to be up five days of the week for. If she physically feels like she can’t get up due to intense studying or up binge watching real housewives or whatever, she knows it the night before and puts her plan into motion the next morning. Her parents are usually always on her ass, especially her mom so it takes a lot of persuading to let her stay home. And it still doesn’t feel like a free day because her mom is checking up on her every hour on the dot from work. She makes it feel like Simone should have just went to school. If the answer is, “there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re going.” Then Simone is definitely in a sour mood. Her dad almost always drives her to school and she checks up on her son every day through socials if she doesn’t message his second mother. Simone’s also not much of a breakfast person but if her dad is making her eat they’re stopping somewhere before he drops her off or encouraging her to take some of whatever dish he made before they leave.

Now? If there’s something on her mind? Then she’s active and stressing over it before she’s talking to someone about it. She’s out getting a light jog on around her gated neighborhood (she’s getting her fitness game back up after deciding to take tennis seriously again) before showering and getting back into bed for at least thirty minutes to forty five before she has to be up for school. Worries erased for now.

Darnell: is a morning person even if he grumbles that he doesn’t care for it. He’s a sunset kinda guy not a sunrise. It’s not much of a issue for him to get up and start the day with a long exaggerated sigh. He’s not as talkative but get something in his belly and he’s bringing up some interesting facts or news about what’s going on with certain celebrities he keeps up with. I also feel like he knows how to cook and breakfast isn’t his speciality but lunch foods are? Grits, eggs, bacon, and jam on toast is his fav thing to eat for breakfast with apple juice. That’s right, apple juice over orange juice no matter what Spence and dil have to say.

His version of appetizers (which are too big of portions but to each their own) are his go to make for lunch. For breakfast if he can’t have his fav meal in the late morning, he always eats light since he says his stomach is too sensitive in the mornings which has been proven to be true...The James’ can vouch for that

Kia: again 50/50. Depends on her night. She’s also someone who is very active in clubs so it all depends when she gets home and how fast she can get things done at home before she can crash. Sometimes she takes a lot on as well but she thrives off it? It makes her feel productive but she also knows how to balance and have free time when she wants to. Her breakfast always consists of fruit, she loves her fruit. And even if she finds herself running late then she quickly adjusts and cuts out what needs to be cut out of her morning routine and get where she needs to be making herself have the time. Which can be good or bad, depends on how you look at it. Kia is great at handling whatever is thrown at her it seems!

Vanessa: Morning person after she’s fully awake lol. Hates how she looks in the morning, thinks her face is too puffy and definitely uses a jade roller no matter what to help. Her mom is always on her ass + she’s a coach so just imagine that on top while struggling to get up. However once she’s settled, she gets this burst of energy—coach montes believes it’s “the vitamins” and “always eating properly” but the small girl always seemed to get random bursts of energy throughout the day no matter the circumstance. loves a food bagel or pastry for breakfast with orange juice or water, either is fine. She especially loves sunny mornings in California, it just makes her feel better—as it should. She even thanks the sun when it greets her face. Which is something she used to do as a kid too.

Fin.

A/N: I apologize for any typos in advance. It’s now 2am, phones about to die and it’s surely time to crash. Goodnight/morning wherever you are in the world and I’ll fix what needs to be fixed later lol. Feel free to send me ask memes for this week if you want when I do have the energy to write. Toodles!

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sunsetcurvecuddles · 3 years ago

Note

“Let me bandage you up,” Tía or Ray and Reggie, just to be different. 😁

hi i loved this so much omg. huge thanks to Ángela @angela-feelstoomuch for the spanish help as well, any remaining mistakes are totally my own fault haha. warning for some swearing and mentions of bl00d/minor injury.

ao3 link in reblogs!

Honestly, being an honorary Molina is pretty great most of the time. Reggie loves having a little brother, would have done anything to convince his parents to have another kid when he was younger (and alive), though he knew they never would, since one kid was already such a pain in the ass. So Carlos is amazing.

And obviously Julie is his favourite girl ever, and his favourite still-alive person in the world, and she sings like an angel and thinks his country songs are cool and he would do anything for her and et cetera. It’s nice to see Luke and Alex settle in, get more relaxed - Luke doesn’t shy away from Julie every time Ray enters a room, and Alex doesn’t make excuses to miss dinner so that he doesn’t have to say grace, because he’s realised Ray doesn’t make him say grace.

“Niños!” Ray is calling from the kitchen, oven mitts on his hands, grin on his face, “Help setting the table?”

Even from here, dinner smells amazing. “Coming!” Reggie calls, manages not to say ‘dad’ at the end but it’s close, as he and Carlos bounce up off the couch and run to the kitchen.

Ray is the best. Reggie’s own dad was - look, it’s not that he was awful, it’s not that Reggie hates him, it’s just - he saw these dads, in movies, and on TV, and in other peoples homes, and he wanted one even more than he wanted a puppy, or a little brother, and Ray is that dad. He’s understanding, and encouraging, and funny, and a great cook, and he never raises his voice even when he should be mad about something. Reggie feels so lucky that Julie and Carlos let Reggie share their dad, even unofficially.

“Carlos!” Tía snaps, as he runs past her and ducks under her elbow, narrowly avoiding the tray in her hands, “Cuidado! La bandeja está caliente!”

It’s Tía Victoria who kinda scares Reggie.

It’s not that she’s not nice. Tía is nice. She brings over food and drives Carlos to ball games and pesters Ray about dentists’ appointments he almost forgets to go to. It’s just that she’s a little more like the other adults Reggie knew. She barks her words, sometimes, and she doesn’t get Julie’s music thing quite like Ray does, even if she’s supportive for the most part. And she doesn’t always believe Carlos about things, which Reggie understands more now that he’s been conned by Carlos about several random things (for example, Eggos are not in the house-sized waffle business in 2020 as Carlos told him, and they did not manage to breed dragons into existence with new DNA cloning technology) but still. It makes him nervous.

“Sorry, Tía!” Carlos chirps as he slides on his socks into a crouched position in front of the cupboard where they keep all the plates and bowls. Since Carlos has them handled, Reggie goes for glasses instead, reaching overhead for the cupboard on the opposite side of the room.

“Carlos!” sighs Tía again, more irritated than before, and Reggie feels his shoulders tense even though he wills them not to. “Let me help carry some of those, you’ll drop them, sobrino.”

“Fine,” Carlos huffs, and there’s the clink of plates as he passes half his pile off to her and they head for the dining table.

Reggie counts in his head as he stacks the glasses in the crook of his arm. There’s him and the boys, so four - wait, no, three - plus Julie, so four - then Ray and Carlos and Tía so five six seven -

He’s too caught up counting, is the problem, and doesn’t focus enough on how he has the glasses balanced. It probably would have been fine, except there’s a loud thud! Which Reggie registers a moment too late as being Luke, jumping from the top of the stairs to the bottom, enjoying his alive body. The sound scares Reggie about a foot in the air, and he fumbles the stack of glasses, and almost manages to save it.

The glass from the very top of the pile smashes on the floor, a harsh shatter that makes every head in the room turn in his direction. Reggie feels the panic surge up in him like a forgotten pot on the stove suddenly bubbling over. With trembling hands, he puts the rest of the glasses on the counter and scrambles down to the floor, tries to gather the glass shards together into a pile from where they’ve scattered, desperate to tidy the mess, to give some sense of responsibility, instead of just standing there like a stupid kid. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and his voice shakes more than he’d like, almost more than his hands had, “I’m sorry, I can clean it-”

“Reggie!” interrupts Tía, and her voice seems sharper than the glass.

“Victoria-” Ray begins, but Tía doesn’t let him finish, either. She’s already practically at Reggie’s side, crouching down next to him on the floor.

Her closeness makes Reggie’s hairs stand on end, and he’s not sure what he expects, but it’s not for her to gently lay her fingertips on his wrist and say, in a much softer tone, “Mijo, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh.” Reggie blinks. Looks at his arm, next to where her perfectly manicured nails have landed. She’s right, he sees. There’s a few little gashes, nothing huge, trickling blood in tiny streams down his forearm. In a few more moments, the blood would have reached his hand, and he would have noticed, probably. Except when he turns his palms up to look at them, he realises they’re cut up, too. Probably from grabbing glass shards with no protection.

His lip wobbles before he can stop it. He can still feel everyone looking at him. Knows what they must be thinking.

Stupid fucking kid.

“What are you staring at?” Tía says, back to business as usual. He flinches at her voice, before he realises she’s not talking to him. She’s talking to the others. “Come on! Ray, grab the dustpan and some shoes, clean up this glass before anyone else gets hurt. Carlos, finish setting the table, and Luke, go fetch the others para la comida.” In his peripheral vision, Reggie sees everyone bounce back into action, like her words broke a spell on them, and it’s a relief to know they’re not all looking at him any more. Tía continues, as she tucks an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, “Reggie and I will be back.”

“We will?” Reggie asks automatically, as she helps him balance on his wobbly, baby-giraffe legs.

“En un minuto,” she tells him confidently. “But first, let me bandage you up.”

He’s not exactly going to argue with her. Honestly, any excuse to get out of the public space is appreciated when his eyes still feel so close to swimming with tears. Firm yet warm, she leads him to the bathroom and has him sit on the closed toilet lid while she pulls Ray’s first aid kid from the cabinet, pulling from it some disinfectant, bandages and a pair of tweezers.

“Just in case any glass is left,” she explains briskly, settling on the edge of the bathtub and turning his arm over, palm up, so she can see the scratches. She tuts softly. “Your poor hands!”

Reggie ducks his head, whispers, “I really am sorry.”

“¿Por qué?” she asks. “It was an accident, right?”

“Huh?”

She sits back again and looks him in the eyes for a moment. If it was Ray, or one of the boys, Reggie would shy away from the look, but she has the same skill Julie has, to pin you in place with her gaze, so Reggie assumes it’s from Rose’s side of the family. “I know you didn’t throw that glass on the ground on purpose. It was just an accident. These things happen.”

“You’re not angry?” The question slips out before Reggie can think about how silly it sounds, but instead of rolling her eyes, or her jaw clenching in annoyance, Tía’s expression softens somehow.

“No, mijo. Not at all. Estaba un poco preocupada, maybe, but that’s only because I care about you.”

Reggie doesn’t know what to say to that. Bites his lip as she gently applies disinfectant along the wounds, once she’s declared them sufficiently glass-free, and wills himself not to cry as she wraps the bandages around his arm and a little around the palm of his hand. At least if he cries she’ll just think it’s because of the sting, and not because he braced himself so hard to be yelled at and called names and then it never came.

Not because he keeps remembering that he feels like glass himself. Always a moment away from falling onto the ground and shattering, so teeter-y that the kindness of adults he barely knows can almost knock him over the edge.

“Terminado!” she declares, tying off the last of the bandage, and gives him a big smile. It looks genuine enough. Not like she’s bottling anything up to let out at him later. Not like she’s fronting, or lying, not that Reggie’s ever been particularly good at telling the difference with anyone. She must see the puzzlement in his face, because she adds, “Just an accident.”

It really seems that simple. Like everything’s just fixed and okay. Like she doesn’t think Reggie is stupid. The feeling is sort of overwhelming; Reggie’s stomach feels all warm, and - empty, actually. It grumbles loudly in that moment, and Tía laughs, and Reggie laughs with her.

“Vamos a como?” he tries, because he’s been listening, and trying to pick things up.

“Vamos a comer,” she corrects him, but he can’t mistake her tone this time for anything other than delighted, her expression for anything other than fond and relieved as she helps him up. They go back down the stairs, her loosely holding his hand the whole way, not enough to hurt his wounds, but enough to remind him she’s there.

She presents him to the table with a goofy little ta-da! gesture, much to the joy of those already at the table. “Our Reggie, back in one piece!” she says. Laughter and relief radiates from all the others, and Tía grins, pleased, puts her hands on her waist. In that moment, despite all his preconceptions, she reminds him more of Julie than anyone else.

Maybe she isn’t so scary after all.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #reggie peters #reggie molina #tia victoria #ask #queenofthequillandink

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princecharmingmendes · 3 years ago

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Heart by Heart | Chapter I | Raul Mendes

*secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Helloo, this is the first chapter of this series and I'm super excited about it. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. I plan on posting a chapter weekly, which means new chapter every Thursday (and maybe a sneak peak every monday). Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like it as much as I did. I'll stop rambling now, byee. Happy Reading!

masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 3.4K+;

*Warnings: cursing, descriptions of violence, blood, injuries, hostage situation and a whole lot of teasing. Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: July 1st, 2021.

-*-

Raul Mendes was a pain in the ass. Y/N loves him way too much for her own good, but he was a pain in the nonetheless.

He was the only person she knew who could be in a possible life-or-death situation and still make fun of her through their communicators. And sure, that made the whole thing lighter and less scary, and sure, he was the best agent she’s ever met, but damn did he get on her nerves. And Raul always knew how to get her frustrated or squirming, he enjoyed it more than he was willing to admit. Sure, they’ve been friends for a long time and she should be used to him, but it never got easier. The fact he had a killer smile, the looks of a legit greek god and had this whole tough guy exterior, but secretly had a soft spot for her did not make her case any less complicated.

Y/N and Raul knew each other ever since they’re basically born. Their parents met when they worked together at a company of secret agents, it was only a small corporation back then, and they were known as the best agents at the time. After they retired from field missions and eventually desk jobs, they became only advisers and emergency contacts. But despite that, they kept their friendship going though all the years and that’s how Y/N was introduced to the triplets. They’re always together, doing everything with each other and protecting themselves. And of course she loved Peter and Shawn with her whole heart, they’re like family to her, but Raul was different. Y/N wished it wasn’t, but there are certain things in life you can’t exactly control. Like falling in love with your best friend.

And it’s not like she stood a chance, to be honest. Regardless of his looks, he treated her like she hung the moon and stars on the sky. Sure, he was a tough guy, who rode motorcycles and wore leather jackets, and wouldn’t admit alive that he cried while watching Lion King. But he took care of her when she was upset or having a bad period, he would take her driving around town at midnight on random occasions just because he knew it would make her feel better, and would always be so mindful of everything involving her. And yeah, he teased her endlessly, but it was part of it and in reality, Y/N didn’t mind it that much.

So when they started growing older and decided to follow their parents career, it only made sense they trained their asses off and got the job together. The company their parents worked for grew a lot, a team that was originally formed by 15 agents turned into a massive business, with over 100 employees, doing various functions. Shawn was picked for a more diplomatic field, always in meetings with important people and traveling around the world. Peter became a tech engineer, developing the coolest gadgets and weapons imaginable, something out of Totally Spies! Raul was clearly a field agent, an expert on body combat and weapons, best out of the four when it came to their physical test. And Y/N was the one who guided the operations, the hacker and responsible for strategies, also for the tech part and best sniper out of the three of them.

That made her and Raul an unbeatable team and the best duo ever. Their chemistry on the field was recognized by their bosses on the first week, basically glueing them together for every future mission and it worked. For the company. But it only dug her little crush deeper on Y/N’s heart. And obviously no one knew it. She was a spy for fucks sake, she knew how to lie and she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. Raul didn’t date, working on this field made everyone’s love life a bit harder than it was already, and he never seemed interested enough in anyone with the same career to have a long lasting relationship with. That didn’t mean there where a lot of people interested, which made Y/N’s heart twist in her chest.

“Sweetheart, you still with me?” Raul’s voice came through her earpiece bringing her back to reality.

“Of course I am, you idiot, I take this job really seriously” Y/N replied rolling her eyes as if she didn’t just daydreamed a bit.

“Oh sorry, doll, didn’t mean to insult you hard working” he chuckled “but could you please check in the corridor number 6, half the team is heading down there right now”

“Sure” she quickly typed on her computer changing cameras really quickly, perks of being Peter’s best friend is that she could usually take extra stuff and the newest gadgets on the market “It’s clear and, by the way, you look pathetic with this glasses”

Raul laughed clearly amused, throwing his middle finger up in the air in the direction of the security camera he found “Oh really? Tell that to Peter, he’s the one who created them”

“Technically their still a prototype, so make sure to let him know”

Raul scoffed playfully as he climbed another set of stairs, the man and woman with him following without questioning, used to his ways of leading “Of course, I’m sure he’ll like to hear your fashion critiques to his million dollar glasses”

“I’ll write it down, now careful, you’re approaching the level where they’re at”

“Sure, mom, I’m always careful” he said in a hushed tone signaling to his teammates to keep quiet and try to find the possible security team they left to watch the hostage.

“Shut up” Y/N said trying to hold back the smile from stretching her lips, already letting the airway team know to be ready to pick them up as they approached their target.

They’re currently in the middle of a mission where they needed to recover another agent who got caught up in an ambush two weeks ago, and now they’re being kept as a hostage. Raul’s leading a team to retrieve the agent as quickly and as silently as they could, two with him and three other on the opposite side to meet halfway. All that while Y/N’s on the under construction building across the street seated among her gear, gun in hand following their every step and guiding them through the camera system and the big windows that other building had. It’s not the worst mission they’ve ever been, no apparent violence or blood bath, just a simple rescue mission, but they still felt a little jittery and always worried about each other’s lives. And through the years, they noticed that their copying mechanism to make this less stressful (at least a tiny bit) was through light banter and jokes. That somehow brought a bit of normality to their very non ordinary job.

Y/N did her best to keep them hidden while they crashed into the building as quietly as possible, trying go unnoticeable since they didn’t have enough munition or people on the tactic team. It would also prevent them from moving the target around or opening fire. And despite the fact Raul kept on trying to joke around and that she’s been doing this for at least four years, the fact that they’re working with a less experienced and fresh out of the academy crew made her a little jittery. Not that she didn’t trust Raul to command everything and boss everyone around if things got messy, she just didn’t want him to get in the middle of a crossfire again.

He had the terrible habit of playing the hero in the most inconvenient times, like when they were little and a guy twice his size, with three friends mocked her pigtails. He didn’t stand a chance, but he went after them anyway. They ended up having to run as fast as they could so they wouldn’t end up with a black eye or something. And that was nothing compared to the stupid shit he could do on field. And Y/N couldn’t be more pissed whenever he came home with more bruises then he should just to play Superman or something. Sure, that was admirable and the fact that he put everyone on his team on his top priority was definitely something fantastic for a captain, but not for Y/N’s heart.

And for that reason, she was always extra careful, but when he had a newbie joining him on the field, Y/N tripled the attention to avoid putting the kid in danger, and, consequently her best friend.

Raul was quick to take down two man on their level without raising much alarm, grabbing their munition, dragging the unconscious bodies away from where they’d be easily seen and moving forward to another set of stairs. He was a very skillful agent, with great physical development and worked great under pressure, with quick thinking and a natural leader. So it didn’t shock her when he was able to do that as if it was the most natural thing in the planet. While Raul was more of a passionate person, Y/N was more rational, was analyzing every possibility and coming up with creative solution, she was also really cold on work (she just had one exception) and was a quick thinker, great person to rely on. It’s almost as if the complimented each other and that’s why it worked. That’s why when she tells him to shoot, he does without thinking, or to jump, he wouldn’t blink before doing it head first.

And that’s why they’re able to reach the hostage without much trouble.

“Told you to chill out, I knew we could make it” he murmured through their coms and she giggled, shaking her head incredulously.

“You should watch the entrances while your teammates take care of the hostage”

“That’s why I have you, sweetheart” he said with his infamous smirk stretching his annoyingly pink lips.

Y/N shook her head when she felt her face warming up a bit, stupid boy “Well, actually I’m pretty busy calling for our ride, so watch your own back this time, you’re a big boy, I’m sure you can do it”

Raul scoffed but did as she say either way “fine, are we clear?”

“On your floor yes, climb three more levels and meet me on this side of the street, don’t stall champ, they’re going to notice there’s something wrong with the cameras and their man who aren’t responding, so be quick”

Raul chuckled as he helped balance the hostage on Roman’s arms and signaling them to climb the stairs again “Yes, ma’am, anything to keep you from frowning and scolding my ass”

Y/N rolled her eyes smiling, sighing in relief that half of their mission was done and it went as smoothly as it could have been “Great, now get your ass out of there now, Raul”

The tactic team started moving to the floor they’d have access to jump, and everything was going too smoothly to be true, not even a minor inconvenience. And that was not normal, at all. That’s when Y/N started getting worried.

Everything was great until Seth, from loosing a lot of blood and being severely dehydrated, started loosing his conscious, making Roman’s job a lot more complicated and making everyone move slower. And while that was happening, Y/N saw when one of the guys saw his partners laying limply on the corner of a hallway and finally the pieces clicked. Luckily she was able to caught it quickly enough to be able to mess up their coms, so instead of a dozen men, they’d have to deal with two. She was also quick to let Raul know, so he jumped into action, telling everyone to rush and grabbing Seth’s right side, basically carrying him alongside Roman up the stairwell.

But as they’re almost reaching the door, Raul heard footsteps rather close, rushing Roman up the rest of the way, warning he’d be right behind him, that he was only to be a bit far back so he could hold whoever was coming.

He ran downstairs, quickly blocking the door to the staircase with a fire extinguisher, running all the way upstairs to reach his teammates and jump to go home. But as he had just reached the door, his colleagues waiting for him with their gear (and also his) ready to cross to the other building, he felt the barrel of a gun touching the back of his head. Raul raised his hands in surrender, his teammates staring at him with horror in their eyes as they aimed their guns to whoever was behind him, but he knew they couldn’t do much before he got shot. He also knew they’re too young, apart from Roman and Cara, who were both holding Seth up, they weren’t experienced enough to do something like that. But before the person could pull the trigger, they grunted in pain and Raul felt the barrel slipping away.

He turned around to watch the guy on his back in the floor, clutching to his left ribs, a little pool of blood already forming underneath him and gun long forgotten. Raul looked around to see if it was anyone from this guy’s side or anyone on the stairs, only to be met with silence and a single security camera with the green dot on, meaning Y/N was still in their system. He shook his head in disbelief, dragging the whining man outside of the room, quacking his gun down the stairs and managing to lock the door so they could escape safely.

“Still with me, baby?” Y/N’s voice teased mimicking the way he said it earlier.

Raul shook his head with a smirk on his lips, before moving to where his teammates stood still a bit shocked with all that happened in front of them “Wouldn’t dream of leaving you, sweetheart”

“Alright boys, the helicopters are coming for us, meet you all on the roof in three” Y/N said through the coms for the whole team, quickly shifting to a line only the captain, Raul, could hear “and if you dare be late just to make a big entrance or another dramatic scheme you can think about, I swear to God I’ll leave you behind”

“You wouldn’t dare”

“Try me” Y/N sing sang picking up her stuff and quickly shoving them down in her backpack, gathering the rest in her hands before turning around to climb to the rooftop.

As she climbed the last set of stairs, Y/N saw their helicopters approaching as the seven agents she was waiting for used a special gun to shoot a line to her building, before locking them in place before zip-lining their way to meet her. She helped Seth, the agent that was kept hostage climb up the little wall since he was in a pretty bad shape, throwing his arm across her shoulders and basically dragging him to where they thrown the stair to climb up to the helicopter with the medical team waiting for him. Cara and Roman climbed first since they’re going to report what they saw and assist Seth as best as they could. Roman grabbed him and the rope stair, shouting to pull them up so he could be taken care of.

Raul was the last one to arrive, as always staying behind to insure everyone got there safely and no one would try to kill them or anything. He graciously climbed the all as if it was nothing, pulling the gun from the string and cutting it so no one could follow them up there that quickly. Raul told everyone to climb onto the helicopter and they’re quick to follow his order, only one person stubbornly waiting for him, as always. He held back the relieved smile from stretching across his features, noticing how warm and relaxed he felt only by seeing Y/N standing besides the hope ladder. She looked worried, a frown on her beautiful face and Raul wanted to smooth his fingers over it as if it would ease all of her troubles away.

She nodded as soon as he was close enough, Raul being quick to pick up the heavy backpack she was carrying and leaving the rest to her “Are you okay?”

“What? Of course, Why do you ask?” he knew why she was asking, hell, his heartbeat was still a bit too fast to be normal, and yeah, partially was because he was standing in front of Y/N, but on the other hand he almost got killed. She only arched her brow at him and he sighed in defeat “Of course I am, doll, you know me, I’m always okay”

“That’s what’s scares me the most” she said with a sad chuckle and started climbing the rope ladder to the helicopter and Raul was quick to follow behind.

“Dude, that was insane, I can’t believe you didn’t miss or accidentally shot Raul from across the street!” the youngest guy from the mission shouted as soon as they reached them on the vehicle, Raul closing the door behind them.

Y/N only giggled in response “yeah, a bit crazy, isn’t it?”

“That’s because she’s the best, Tommy, but she won’t believe it” Raul said as he sat on one of the vacant seats, waiting for her to join him.

“Oh shut it” she said unable to stop the smile from forming.

They kept on talking about the mission for a while, Tommy and the other two kids who recently joined still high from the adrenaline, but Y/N couldn’t be more worn out and Raul was quick to catch it. He leaned closer to her and she automatically laid her head on his shoulder, a movement that was almost mechanic to both of them. He gently grabbed her hand that was placed on her knee and interlaced their fingers together, letting her play with his hand to pass the time.

Y/N sighed and mumbled after a while, when most of the kids were too distracted to pay attention “Are you really okay? Don’t say that you’re always fine, I mean it”

Raul had mastered the art of the poker face. He could easily be having the worst time of his life, but he would never let it showcase always with a quick sarcastic remark and an easy smirk on his lips, ready to flirt with anyone to distract them from the real problem. Raul was not the best when dealing with feelings and emotions, always thought it was easier to push them away, but Y/N saw right through him. She always did, ever since they were little. After that, he never tried to hide it again from her, always being as honest as he could with her about how he was, and obviously it didn’t always work, but she understood and respected it. It’s not like he needed to say anything for her to know.

But at the same time, she didn’t know that he would always be fine, as long as she was safe and right next to him, the rest didn’t matter.

“I promise you I’m fine, you saved my beautiful ass and we’re going home, I’d say we’re fantastic” he said after a while, pressing a long kiss to the back of their laced hands.

That seemed to be enough to convince Y/N, since she huffed through her nose and let out a tiny giggle, before leaning closer to him and Raul took it as a sign to drape his arm over her shoulder pulling her closer to his chest “your beautiful ass is really annoying, you know that, right?”

“Oh, I do, but you love it anyway” he said with a giggle, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, as she just showed him her middle finger, making him laugh even more.

Yeah, he was definitely fine. For now.

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

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