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#He can visit but it's hardly the same
halfabouros · 1 year
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"Phantom, you don't understand-" Superman tried, confused and desperate to stop this very powerful ghost from potentially attacking him. He may have been a bit preoccupied, but he could just drop Superboy and do so.
"No, you're the one who doesn't understand!" Phantom snapped back, green eyes glowing dangerously while he gently patted Superboy on the back. A comfort to the weapon, Superman supposed.
"He was created to be a weapon! His creators trained him to take over my life and destroy me!" Superman incredulously tried to explain why exactly he felt nothing for the clone of himself. Well, mostly himself. Turns out cloning wasn't exact to metas or aliens just yet, though the cloning of other humans sure was nearing perfection at an alarming rate, if not yet perfect already. And this "ghost" child was acting like he was just an infant, or his own child he abandoned!
"And? Does he want to do that? Did he have any say when they were brainwashing him? Did you even try to see how he was after he found out his whole incredibly short life was a lie?" Phantom retaliated, putting himself between Superman and Superboy. "Do you even know his name?"
That final question took Superman off guard for a moment. "Of course I do! Superboy needed to tell us something before we let the team use him."
The room suddenly felt colder than the Arctic, and the formerly bright lights in the area shattered, raining glass onto the 3 standing in the area. Now the only light in the room came from Phantom's glowing toxic eyes. "Conner needed to tell you something before you let the team USE him?" Superman didn't have a clue how to fight off a ghost- the one time he had been allowed to fight one, he'd gotten possessed (Overshadowed Phantom had said) and had been defeated by Phantom knocking him out. If this was headed to a fight, he wasn't sure if he could win it. "Phantom, calm do-"
"Clones scare you that badly huh? Well. I understand perfectly that cloning without you consent is uncomfortable- Don't say shit because I Do know. But it literally wasn't a clone's fault they were created! Conner- By the way, he chose the name Conner- is just a few short months old and you were the only one there who could've helped him transition to a semi normal life before I got here."
"You weren't ever cloned Phantom, y-" "Real funny you say that when you've literally met my clone."
Superman went rigid. Phantom had a clone, and with his powers that was highly dangerous! "What do you mean I've met it!?"
"Clones aren't things!" Phantom snapped, stepping closer just as Superman had to take a step back. This conversation was a huge concern! He was going to have to convince the League to do something about Phantom's clone. There's no way they could let him just roam free! "Since I can tell I won't be the one to get that through your fucking skull, and it's clear you don't actually want custody of Conner, I'M taking him! Royal decree from the King of the Infinite Realms, you gave up all rights to your child and now I have a new sibling. Hope you don't fuck up again Supes, because ghosts will take that very seriously."
Phantom and Superboy stood there for maybe a moment, probably waiting to see if he'd rebuke but... if Superman couldn't fight Phantom, then wasn't it way safer for Superboy to be with Phantom instead? He wouldn't have to deal with the potentials of Superboy giving in to his programming and attacking the Team if Phantom kept him by other ghosts!
So, Superman supposed that the ghost realm was the safest place to put Superboy.
Phantom left Superman to stand alone in the silent and dark room. Superman sighed and resolved to call a Team Meeting, one to say Phantom took Superboy, and one to create plans to track down and contain Phantom's clone.
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writingsbychlo · 3 months
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BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy
summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.
word count; 8928
notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?
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Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction. 
Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat. 
“Good day?”
“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”
“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations. 
A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”
Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.” 
He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there. 
“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.
“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?” 
The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official. 
You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment. 
It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games. 
Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”
Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time. 
Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either. 
“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”
Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”
“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics. 
You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.
“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side. 
“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised. 
The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you. 
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”
The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.
The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over. 
You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.
“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”
“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you. 
A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.
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Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.
The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room. 
Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests. 
Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. 
The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one. 
You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it. 
“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.” 
She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. 
“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had. 
“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of. 
He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white. 
You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness. 
“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her. 
“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”
Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you. 
Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;
“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”
Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you. 
“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return. 
“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye. 
“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes. 
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go. 
“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath. 
“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”
He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.
The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you. 
He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.
Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass. 
He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course. 
As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate. 
Men did love a little attention, after all. 
Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.
You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.
“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.
As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”
“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down. 
“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar. 
“It is, I think.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere. 
When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”
You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”
“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”
“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.
“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”
“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.
“The theatre, then?”
Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”
“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”
“And you, Elliot.”
Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed. 
You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.
You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair. 
You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch. 
As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone. 
To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through. 
He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat. 
His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low. 
Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover. 
Until, Theo spoke up. 
“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.
“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.
“When?”
“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you. 
“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”
“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”
“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”
“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”
Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”
“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”
“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”
“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.
You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth. 
“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”
You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from. 
You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair. 
“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”
Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend. 
“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.
Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after. 
Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know. 
It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”
“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”
Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one. 
“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”
“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”
Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk. 
You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return. 
“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”
“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”
He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”
“That is up to your cousin.”
“Touché.”
You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing. 
He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night. 
As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”
“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”
“He’s not even here to listen!”
“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”
A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. 
“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered. 
Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”
“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”
It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you. 
“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment. 
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”
You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”
“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.” 
You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them. 
“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”
Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…” 
Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away. 
“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.
Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. 
You’d spoken to Draco’s parents. 
They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment. 
It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”
“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”
“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.” 
Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”
The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”
Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps. 
It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”
“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”
His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…
“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”
His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.
“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”
He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”
“No?”
“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”
“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”
“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”
He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.
When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music. 
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye. 
“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”
“Why do you think I wore it?”
His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”
“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together. 
“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”
Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you. 
“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features. 
“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all. 
“‘We’?”
“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news. 
“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”
“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more. 
“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”
“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted. 
“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.
“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”
“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes. 
“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”
You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats. 
Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left. 
“Where are we going, Dray?” 
“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice. 
Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food. 
The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face. 
“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”
“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”
He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile. 
“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”
“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow. 
“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”
His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”
“You never gave me any other indication!” 
“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”
The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side. 
Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.
“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”
“Yes. I told her days ago.” 
“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”
As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”
“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”
“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”
“Blaise.”
“The bracelet?”
“Theo and the Notts.” 
At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”
“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”
“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Dray.” 
He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”
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daisynik7 · 6 days
Text
Rub You the Right Way
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Pairing: Choso x f!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Word Count: ~4.1k
cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – oral sex (cunnilingus, fellatio), hand job, face-riding, face-fucking, use and mention of sex toys, cum eating
Summary: You've always been cordial with your shy next-door neighbor Choso. One day, you receive the package you've been expecting, finding out a little too late that it isn't your package at all; it's his. What you find inside makes you wonder that maybe your sweet and quiet neighbor has wild side, one you’re curious to see for yourself.
Author’s Notes: First Choso fic! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Consider this my unofficial return from hiatus. Enjoy! Divider by the wonderful and super talented @/cafekitsune!
part 7 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series
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The trek home from the office is especially grueling today. Your backpack is heavy with a clunky work laptop that’s been due for an upgrade along with a pile of documents that need to be reviewed ASAP. One hand carries the dinner you bought at the station while the other hoists a heavy bag of groceries you picked up during lunch, thinking it would be productive to get as much of your errands done today before hunkering down for the weekend to do a job that doesn’t pay you enough to work overtime. 
You eventually arrive to your apartment complex, making one more necessary pit stop to the mail room. Inside, you recognize the distinct pink-hair of the boy standing in front of the lockers. He’s your next-door neighbor’s younger brother who visits from time-to-time. “Hi Yuji!” you beam at him. 
He turns to face you, eyes crinkling happily as he smiles. “Hey! How’s it going?”
You drop your bags to open your own locker. “I’m alright. Got a busy weekend working. And you?”
He kneels down towards the boxes in front of him. “Same, except studying for exams.”
“Are you picking up your brother’s packages?” It’s a well-known fact by now that Choso isn’t fond of leaving his apartment or interacting with people in general. It doesn’t bother you though; he’s a great neighbor who barely makes a peep. Never has he ever rubbed you the wrong way, despite his reclusive nature. Sometimes, through his brother, he’ll give you an offering of cookies from the batch he baked that week. On the days you’re working overtime, he’ll send Yuji to check in on you, making sure you’re not too stressed or overexerted. And on the rare occasion that the two of you meet face-to-face, either entering or leaving the apartment at the same time, your heart skips just the tiniest beat at how his face softens when you greet him with a smile. From these tiny gestures alone, you’ve determined that Choso Kamo is a sweetheart. Quiet, but most importantly, a sweetheart.
Yuji slides the stack out from Choso’s locker, answering you. “Yup. I also had some stuff delivered here, so I figured I’d just grab everything.”
You stare at the small package in your own locker, evaluating how you’re going to carry it to your room in one trip. There’s no space in any of the bags and you’re almost convinced that you can balance it on top of your head as if you actually possess the proper skills to do so (you don’t). “Need help?” Yuji chuckles. Before you answer, he grabs it, placing it on top of a box similar in size on his stack.
“Thank you so much!”
As the elevator rides to the third floor, you continue to chat casually with Yuji. The two of you walk to your neighboring rooms and when he reaches for his keys, the stack topples over, the boxes now strewn across on the hallway floor. He blushes, collecting them hastily back into a neat pile. “I’m sorry, I hope there isn’t anything fragile in there.” He quickly slides you a box, avoiding your gaze to hide his embarrassment. 
It's new office supplies you ordered for your workstation at home, so you hardly care even if there is a bit of damage done. “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good,” you assure him, using your foot to push it towards your front door. “Thank you for your help, Yuji. Tell your brother I say hi.”
“Will do. Have a good night.”
Finally home, you drop all your belongings, letting out a relieved sigh. One-by-one, you put everything away: the groceries in their appropriate places, your lukewarm dinner in the microwave, and all your work junk on the dining table, where you’ll be sat at for most of this weekend starting tomorrow. You save the package for later, planning to refill your supplies tonight so you don’t have to worry about it the next morning.
You soon find out that something even better is waiting for you inside. 
~~~
Choso is sprawled on the couch, too lazy to cook dinner. He ordered delivery from Yuji’s favorite pizza joint a few blocks away, which should be arriving any minute now, according to his calculations. When he hears the door open, he sits up, watching his brother enter with a tower of boxes in his hands. “I don’t remember ordering that much stuff,” he grumbles, standing up to help him. 
“Most of these are mine. I think only this one is yours.” Yuji passes him a small box, which Choso quickly grabs to toss into his room, hoping to avoiding any questions about it. Truth be told, the contents of that box is way too embarrassing to explain to his precious baby brother. Inside is the sex toy he recently purchased online. It’s essentially a silicone cock sleeve, open on both ends for simple clean-up, made entirely of pliable material for ease and comfort. To put it simply, it’s a fleshlight. A state-of-the-art, new and improved fleshlight, he would like to emphasize. He’s been looking forward to using it all week and once Yuji leaves tonight, he’s going to give it a proper test run until he’s a puddle in the sheets. 
It’s been a while since Choso’s been intimate with someone other than himself. A few bad breakups and past betrayals have led him to distrust most people outside of his intimate circle. The unpredictable nature of people, strangers, is frightening to him, so it’s better to avoid them completely. He has the luxury of working a job that’s fully remote, and aside from his brothers and the few colleagues he is forced to converse with periodically, it’s easy for him to remain a recluse, and he’s perfectly content with that. As for his sexual needs, he’s managed to make it this far in this drought thanks to sex toys and pornography. And while he’s aware that it’s not the most glamorous lifestyle, it works for him. 
“By the way, your neighbor says hi,” Yuji mentions, opening his packages one-by-one. “She came into the mailroom.”
Choso says your name in the form of a question to clarify, though he’s certain of the answer. The only other human contact he has outside his circle is with you, his next-door neighbor. He doesn’t leave the house much, but on the occasion he does, he always hopes it’s you he runs into. He often worries that one day, you’ll realize what a pathetic loner he is and stop showing him that gorgeous smile of yours. So far, that hasn’t happened yet, so he cherishes those tiny moments every chance he gets. Something about that smile, something about you, makes him feel good. Safe.  
“Yup,” Yuji confirms. “She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.”
Before Choso can inquire any further, there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of their pizza. After thanking the delivery man, the two gather at the dining table, ready to dig into their dinner. Choso listens intently as Yuji laments on his weekly occurring university woes with a mouth full of pepperoni and sausage. As much as he adores his younger brother, he’s eager for his departure so he can have alone time to break in his new toy.
At eleven, without a crumb left of the pizza and the recycling bin filled with flattened cardboard boxes, Yuji finally announces that he’s leaving. He stuffs his newly delivered items, which includes textbooks, notepads, and a bunch of miscellaneous items, in his bag. “I’ll see you next week, bro. Take care of yourself,” he says, squeezing his big brother into a warm embrace. There’s always the smallest hint of concern in his voice whenever he leaves like this. Does he worry about him? For living a life of seclusion, constantly in fear of the outside world? Sure, it may sound lonely. In fact, it is lonely. But it’s easier to stay safe in the comfort of his own home than risk being hurt from the unknown. It’s better this way…isn’t it?
Choso muses on his brother’s parting words in the silence of his apartment for much longer than he intends to. He decides that the best way to keep him from spiraling further is a distraction, and that means fucking himself silly into temporary bliss until he knocks out for the night. Hidden away in various drawers of his bedroom are a plethora of options to choose from: vibrators, masturbators, cock rings, even the sex doll tucked deep in his closet. Tonight, however, is all about his shiny new toy. Pristine and untouched for him to ruin as much as he wants. He picks it up from the floor, ripping the tape off quickly, too impatient to inspect the exterior for any potential damage. When a stapler drops, almost hitting his feet, he stares down at it, confused. Thinking it’s a weird bonus item the sex shop has sent him, he chuckles nervously, still searching. Each item he uncovers leaves him more and more baffled: a container of paper clips, a wad of sticky notes, bundles of red pens, another fucking stapler. Finally, he checks the shipping label ripped partially from his haste, whatever color remaining on his face draining completely. 
This isn’t his. It’s yours.
Which means…
By the way, your neighbor says hi. She came into the mailroom.
She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.
Oh fuck. 
~~~
It’s near midnight when you’re ready to turn in for the night. You almost forget about the box sitting idly on the floor by your shoes, exactly where you left it a few hours ago. With your computer all set up for work tomorrow, you think it’s best to organize your new supplies before you actually do forget. At your desk, you open the package with a pair of scissors, excited for the new staplers you bought, a standard one and a heavy duty one. It’s surprising how neatly it’s wrapped, covered in tissue paper like some sort of gift. After removing all the extra layers, you finally get to the reveal, which renders you speechless.  
Nestled neatly amongst more delicate tissue paper, the translucent material almost luminous against the dim glow from the lamplight, is a sex toy. Call it what you want: a penis stroker, a male masturbator, a pocket pussy. There’s absolutely no doubt in your mind what is before you. A fucking fleshlight.
Besides the obvious appearance, the dead giveaway is the user manual included with it, displaying in big, bold print “The Cock Stroker 3000 – New and Improved!”. Lifting the box up to inspect the shipping label, you notice that it says Choso’s name, not yours. If you weren’t so stunned by this unexpected discovery, you’d be giggling at the absurdity of it all. Instead, you’re gawking at the lewd gadget, unsure what to do next. 
“Fuck!” 
An intense shout from the other side of the wall snaps you out of it. That’s the loudest you’ve ever heard your neighbor, and you can only assume that he has also just realized this unfortunate mix-up. There’s no way the two of you can pretend this isn’t happening. Besides, the last thing you want is for Choso to think you have a bad impression of him after this. Because you don’t, not one bit. It’s perfectly normal for people to have sex toys. In fact, it’s healthy. Even the thought of him using it on himself intrigues you. The hungry expression on his face, tongue lolling out of his mouth, those usually pale cheeks blushing a deep red. The obscene squelch of the wet silicone surrounding his engorged cock, leaking with precum. Closer and closer to the edge, ready to burst any second with your lips near the tip, ready to swallow his load…
You almost curse out loud yourself, ashamed for having such lewd thoughts about your sweet, innocent next-door neighbor. But maybe he’s not as innocent as you think.
Ultimately, you decide the best way to move forward from this is to nip it in the bud. With the opened package in your hands, you walk over to his front door, knocking three times. You hear a faint, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” from within, then hurried footsteps growing louder. Without removing the chain lock, he answers, peering at you through the narrow crack, not saying anything.
Nervous, you greet him with the best smile you can muster. “Hi Choso. I think there was a little mix-up.”
He clears his throat before mumbling a short, “Yeah.”
You glance away from him, staring at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his gaze for this next part. “I opened it without checking the label first. I’m so sorry.”
He shuts the door suddenly, startling you. There’s the distinct rattle of the chain being fiddled with and the door swings open fully, Choso towering over you, a serious expression on his face. He shows you a box, revealing all the office supplies you ordered earlier in the week. Without saying another word, you do the exchange, anticipating that this will be the end of it. 
It surprises you when he apologizes quietly, focused on the small space separating you. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” He hides it behind his back, as if doing so will erase the image of it from your memory. “You must think I’m disgusting.”
You shake your head, ignoring the instinct to step closer and comfort him with a hug. The last thing you want to do is cross even more lines tonight. “I don’t, not even the slightest. It’s okay, Choso. This is totally normal and totally fine.”
“You don’t have to say that – ”
“But I mean it! I really do! There’s nothing wrong with it!” Desperate for him to believe you, you confess, “I have sex toys too, plenty of them!”
This time, he actually looks at you with a mixture of intrigue and skepticism. “You don’t have to lie for my sake.”
“I’m not lying!” you urge him. 
He retreats inside his apartment, speaking once again through the crack. “I appreciate you trying to make this better, but I think it’s best that we never speak again. Goodnight.”
With that, he shuts the door, leaving you with a lump in your throat, devastated. In your frenzied attempt to fix this, you return to your room, searching your bedside drawer for your favorite vibrator. If words aren’t enough to convince him, then maybe actual proof will. Without taking a moment to reconsider the hole you’re digging yourself deeper and deeper into, you pound on his door, the sex toy clasped in your other hand. 
When he answers, you shove it in his face, vindicated that you can prove your point with physical evidence. “See? I told you! I have toys too, so there’s nothing for you to be ashamed about.”
He squints at the vibrator squeezed in your fist as if inspecting it like a foreign object. “That’s it?”
You glare at him, offended by his response. “What do you mean?”
He tilts his head to examine it at another angle. “There’s only one button.”
“One button is all I need,” you argue, defensive about your favorite being criticized. “Sure, it’s small, but that’s what I like about it. It fits comfortably in my hand and with just a single push of the button, I can experience three different levels of intensity. What more do I need?!” 
He smirks, amused at your rambling. “I just don’t see how something this simple can be useful, that’s all.”  It’s the closest to a smile you’ve seen from him; it has your belly fluttering. 
You hold back a laugh. “I bet it packs more of a punch than that Cock Sucker 2000 or whatever.”
“3000,” he corrects, grinning, causing your heart to race. “I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s the best on the market right now.” He hesitates, his next words coming out of his mouth slowly, testing the waters. “Maybe you can show me what your little toy can do. Prove me wrong.”
You never expected this from him, but that’s what makes this exciting. All you can think of in this moment is showing him just how wet you can get. “Fine,” you agree, stepping towards him. “But only if you show me what your little toy can do, too.”
~~~
Never in a million years did Choso predict that this would be the outcome of your bizarre mix-up. You, his next-door neighbor, on his bed, naked from the waist down. Your t-shirt riding up your stomach with your legs split apart, the cute vibrator you love so much pressed to your clit. He kneels in front of you, too transfixed at the erotic sight before him to give attention to the erection strained in his sweatpants. 
“You’re next,” you say, glancing at his lap.
He nods, all the confidence he had just a few minutes ago when he initially proposed this idea thrown out the window. Now, he’s back to being his nervous self, afraid to be vulnerable with someone he barely knows. 
You set the vibrator beside you, closing your legs. “Are you okay?”
He’s frozen, tempted to call the whole thing off. Go back to being neighbors and nothing more. Go back to being lonely Choso and pathetic Choso, who’s scared of everyone and everything  and – 
“Hey.” It’s only now he realizes that the two of you are face-to-face, foreheads pressed, noses touching. Your voice is gentle, your palms soft on his cheeks. You smile at him, full of warmth and compassion. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone,” he admits. “I’m nervous.” A myriad of what-ifs play out in his head. What if he’s bad? What if you don’t like it? What if this ruins whatever sliver of hope the two of you have at being friends? At being anything more? 
“We’ll go slow then,” you assure him, brushing your lips to his. That genuine smile of yours is enough to convince him that it’s worth the risk. That, and how fucking good it feels to have your mouth on his. He closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss, relishing the warmth of your breath. He finds himself gradually losing control of his inhibitions, his carnal instincts taking over, hungry for more of you. He slips his tongue inside, swirling around yours, kisses growing frantic and sloppy. You tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. His heart pounds in his chest as he roams your body, fingers grazing your perked nipples from outside your top. You whisper his name, so luscious and sweet in your voice. He’d be lying if he said he’s never imagined it before. How you’d sound whimpering from his touch. How you’d feel between his massive hands. How you’d look with his cock filling you up to the brim.
He can’t stand it anymore. He’s aching, begging for release from the confines of his pants. Quickly, he removes them, freeing his throbbing erection. You gasp, marveling at the size of it. “Oh fuck, Choso. You’re so big.”
“Yeah?” he breathes out, fumbling for the Cock Sucker 3000 beside him. He slathers a generous amount of lube on his shaft and inside the toy. Foreheads pressed together once more, you both focus on his lap, watching it sink smoothly down his dick. The coldness of the lube and rubbery flexibility of the silicone surrounding him is familiar, though having someone spectate makes this all the more titillating. 
“Fuck,” you swear, amazed at how it covers his entire length. You ogle at him as he starts slowly, eventually increasing to a steady pace. Your pussy flutters, incredibly aroused to see this man pumping his cock in front of you. For you.  
“Do it with me.” His gaze flickers to the vibrator beside you. “You should feel good too.”
You spread your legs, displaying your cunt to him, already sopping wet with arousal. His eyes follow your every move as you tease the tip slowly up and down your pussy lips. Finding the right spot on your clit, you place your finger on the button of the toy, bracing yourself for what’s to come. As soon as you press it, the vibrations from level one alone are enough to send you wild. Knees shaking, feet flexing, moans pouring out of your open mouth. He continues to watch you, restraining his grunts as he strokes himself faster. Desperate for more, you click the button twice, increasing the vibrations to the max level. Within seconds, you’re coming, back arched and head thrown into the pillows behind you. Tossing the vibrator aside, you stare up at the ceiling, dizzy and disoriented from your ecstatic high, pussy shiny with your orgasm. Choso’s voice is so faint, you don’t understand him at first. You sit up to face him, waiting for him to repeat himself. 
“Can you ride my face?” he asks meekly. 
More than willing to accept his request, you nod in response, grinning. His expression relaxes and when you lean nearer to him, palm pressed flat on his chest, he even cracks a smile as he’s lies down on the bed, eager to have you like this. You straddle him, facing away from the headboard while his head rests at the foot of the bed. Carefully, you lower yourself until his mouth is pressed to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit slowly and he releases his grip from his toy to hold onto your ass, squeezing the soft flesh firmly. You don’t take your eyes off each other as you rub yourself across his face, his mouth open, swallowing every drop of you. When you reach your second orgasm, you’re practically bouncing on him as he smothers himself deeper, humming in satisfaction as he sucks hard on your clit, flicking it with his tongue. 
You lift yourself off him, spent and completely wrecked. Still, you want to touch him, treat him as well as he treated you, make him come as hard as you did. You position yourself between his thighs, admiring the silicone sleeve hugging his dick. “Your turn.”
Sitting up on his elbows, he watches as you grab hold of the toy, stroking him with it. He moans, tongue hanging of his mouth, drool leaking from the corners of his lips, eyes half-lidded. His moans turn into whimpers when you start cradling his balls with your other hand, his body twitching from the sensation. The tip peeks out from the other end, a thick wad of precum collecting at the slit, so enticing that you’re salivating for a taste.
“Your mouth,” he stammers, barely able to speak.
“What?” you ask breathily, inching closer and closer. 
“Want your mouth.” He swallows hard, voice trembling. “Please.”
Excited, you remove the toy from him, in awe at the way his fat cock flops heavily against his abdomen. You take him in your fist, loving how hot and throbbing he is in your grip. He’s coated in lube and precum, so slippery with your fingers wrapped around his girth. Unable to resist any longer, you bow your head, licking the pearl off the tip, savoring the taste. He shudders, letting out a loud, “Fuck!” 
It’s so much better than a toy. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him is better than any masturbator, fleshlight, pocket pussy, whatever silly contraption he uses to get by. The swirl of your tongue gliding along the shaft, the vibrations of your moans as you take him all the way to the back of your throat, the view of your pretty head bobbing up and down his lap. Nothing in his collection compares to this. This is real. You are real. 
He fucks your throat, unable to resist bucking his hips against you, timing his thrusts to meet yours. It doesn’t take much longer for him to be pushed over the edge. You pull off for a brief moment to smile at him, pumping him fast. “Come for me, Choso. Come in my mouth.”
At this, he completely loses himself, muffling his incessant moans into his forearm, too shy to watch you guzzle down his entire load until he’s milked of every last drop. You scatter delicate kisses along the entire length of him, even down to his balls. Too sensitive now, he pats you gently on the head, making you look up at him, a warm smile on your face. He smiles back, caressing your cheek, thumb grazing your soft skin. You lie beside him, nuzzling into his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to a steady, relaxed pace. He slides his arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.”
This world is a terrifying place for Choso Kamo. But with you in his arms, he feels a bit braver. He’s safe with you. 
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groguspicklejar · 3 months
Note
Okay so you can totally delete this ask if it's too much, but do you think there's ever a thought in mafia!141 reader's head that she should just... End it?
Cause I always imagine it would feel so tempting in that situation, especially when the fear of losing their interest and the things they could do to you once they do.
Also I live for the whump potential in it, like Ghost blowing up like that only to find out you ended it. All of them questioning why they brought you into this situation when they could have just let you go from the start.
And maybe you left a note, telling them all the things your husband did and them seeing how you had seen similarities between them all and them all just dying on the inside.
So heavy on the whump, sorry 😅
the way i clutched this ask like a white woman clutching her pearls... non-canon to the events of [mafia!141] but I'd like to think this takes place maybe a little after [cracks in the wall] warnings: one suicide attempt (successful), grief, severe angst (blame the one who sent this ask. i wasn't even thinking along these lines).
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it was Johnny who found Kyle performing chest compressions on you while Simon was on the line with Price and at the same time, both of them desperately pleading for you to wake up.
you were so cold. motionless. damp hair. eyes closed. for the first time in weeks, you looked... peaceful.
Johnny doesn't remember much about that day. maybe the sound of Kyle's cries echoing in the bathroom while Si tells him that it was too late. that you were gone. maybe he might recall Price standing frozen next to him, tears welling in his eyes when he saw you. trying to stay strong for his boys, for all of them. Kyle refused to leave your side when they pulled him away from you.
the penthouse had never been so quiet those first few nights. none of them saying a word to each other besides the bare minimum, stating only the necessities of your... funeral...
telling your mother had to be the worst part. she screamed at Price, at all of them for letting this happen. telling them it was their fault. that they killed her. rightfully so. she didn't know the full truth but she wasn't far off.
Kyle slept in your room after the first month. or at least, he tried to sleep. couldn't bring himself to stop crying long enough to let himself slip into even a short slumber. he wasn't sure if the your scent on the pillow he clung to helped or made it worse.
it was hard to keep his charm around people. even harder to cling to his compassion. he sees you everywhere he goes. you whisper in his dreams. begging him to save you. asking why he didn't. asking why he failed. he was your best friend. the one you were closest to. he should've been the one to save you.
sleep evades him more often than not. weeks pass and he finds himself dreaming the sight of you at night.
Johnny came to visit every once in a while your place. he would leave with one of your shirts, the one with your perfume. one of the few things that remained of you. he'd trace his fingers over the bottles of your skincare products, trying to recall their names, trying to recall your specific routine. he remembers sitting you on his lap while you applied one of your fancy moisturizers when he got a little curious.
he hardly ever smiled anymore. hardly joked around. he got into more fights in a week than he did in an entire year because for some reason, you took his patience to the grave. he broke his hand when some prick mentioned you in a way that was uncalled for. Ghost had to pull him off the man... after caving his skull in.
Price couldn't bring himself to step inside your room. too haunted by the echo of your voice, by your laugh. there's one vivid memory that comes to him when he has his hand on the door (though he won't open it). the night you called him your husband. even if it was fake, it felt real. too real. and then-
i've done all you wanted.
i've been your pretty little sex toy.
just another hole for you to stick your cock in—
what is it you want, Blair?!
his hand pulls away from the door handle as if it burned him. he walks away with a heavy heart.
Ghost never set foot inside your apartment ever again. he doesn't touch your stuff. doesn't have the stomach to look at the stuffed bear Gaz swiped from your place.
he goes to visit your grave instead. then goes to his mother's. he says nothing to either one. yet another woman he cares about that he couldn't save. another woman dead because of him.
nothing was ever the same for 141 after that. you cracked a hole in their system when you left. a mark of your departure. just a little bit of revenge as you said goodbye to the land of the living.
one the day he finally decides to come to your apartment, which had been kept clean and preserved, the weight in his chest crushes him. he's not sure how he was the one who found the letter, the one sitting between the pages of the book you were last reading.
and it tells him everything.
how they hid behind the excuse of protecting you. how they chained you down and kept you in a golden cage for their viewing pleasure. how Blair used to do the exact same thing.
Simon cried for the first time in a very long time. especially when he reads the last line;
hope to never see you in the next life. -xoxo
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don't look at me :) banners by @cafekitsune mafia!141 masterlist offer a note in the picklejar
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chuluoyi · 4 months
Text
✎ newlyweds
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- gojo satoru x reader
you and your new husband make out in the most inappropriate place possible
genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—in the form of gojo eating you out and some fingering?
note: oh god what have i done… to the anon who requested this, yeah… i’m kinda nervous, and i can't bring myself to proofread it SKADSK pls forgive my sins i’m logging out until tomorrow bye
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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It began innocently enough, or as innocent as a visit to your husband's office should be.
You had wanted to drop by to simply see him for a bit. Perhaps because right after your wedding, he had been whisked away on missions all over Japan, leaving you with hardly any quality time together. You had been feeling rather lonely as a result.
You had expected over-the-top greetings and maybe some silly jokes, but the instant he spotted you entering the room, he swiftly pulled you close, tracing his fingers along your spine while studying your face intently.
"Satoru?" you tilted your head to the side, clearly confused. However, little did you know, your husband had different thoughts in mind.
He wanted to feast on you so fucking bad.
"My cute little wifey," he purred, a bright smile on his face. He was definitely your stupid husband still, but the way his eyes darken with desire told you that the other side of him had awakened as well.
You frowned in realization. "No, this is—"
But then Satoru quickly took his chance and crashed his needy lips on your soft ones. Taken by surprise, you sank into his arms that held you tight.
"—your office," you gasped amidst his fervent kisses. "Satoru, you can't—mmm!"
"Mm, you talk too much, wifey," he murmured against your mouth, still with that playful grin. "And I most definitely can. I've missed you, you know... just allow me this, please?"
Frankly, you missed him too. It had been a while... it'd be a lie if you said you didn't long for his touch.
Satoru steered you by the waist towards the desk, and then he started peppering your neck and collarbone with kisses.
"Mmm, Satoru—" your hands grasped his silky hair, gently kneading his scalp. The hard surface of desk was uncomfortable on your back, and yet you were still sprawled out there and the heat within you only grew stronger.
You could feel him sigh against your neck and tighten his grip on your hips. And to your surprise, one of his hand suddenly went to grope your chest, and at the same time he sucked on your neck, causing a whimper to escape your lips.
"You make the cutest noises," he grunted, voice husky with lust, and even you felt turned on. “I love it.”
This was so highly inappropriate. This was still his office at Jujutsu High, where anyone could enter at any time. No, more than that, this is public place!
"Satoru—ah—don't..." you were ashamed that your voice didn’t sound firmer, lost in the sensation of how he fondled your breasts. "We can... continue this at home?" you managed to offer, but right at that moment, he sucked hard on your ample bosom, making you gasp.
When had he managed to unbutton the first two buttons of your shirt, and how had you not noticed it until now?!
"Uh-oh, sweetheart," he mumbled against the valley of your chest, lips still practically on your generous mound. "I can't wait that long."
"Mmph…"
"You see, we're still what they call... newlyweds, no?" you could feel his smile grazing your skin and despite yourself, you felt really warm already down there. "Even I'm entitled to this much."
You knew this wasn't right, but—
Just for a while... won't hurt, right?
—and so you took a leapt of faith, betting on him to have locked the door.
Suddenly his head dived between your legs, placing them on his shoulders. His skillful hands moved quickly to push up your tight skirt, part your legs, and toss your underwear away.
"All of this," he cooed, his long, nimble fingers ran down your slit teasingly, and you unwittingly whined, feeling so exposed.
"For me, yeah? Just for me, hmm?"
Then, he began to pleasure you down there. He started trailing his tongue along your moist folds—causing you to let out a sinful moan. From your vantage point, you could see the greed in his bright eyes.
The space between your legs was soaked in no time and you felt your orgasm building fast. You couldn't gather your thoughts or respond coherently as you tossed your head back and writhed in pleasure when his plush lips casually nipped at your wet, delicate flesh. It was overwhelming, almost dizzying, but undeniably wonderful—
"Sa—toru!" you mewled, gripping his hair tight and pulled him even closer. In response, his lips pulled up into a tiny smirk and he lapped with even more fervor.
The way you cried his name made something dark and twisted inside Satoru twitch. You never knew but yes, there was always this darkness ingrained in him— Suguru leaving, the loneliness, the overwhelming power of his Limitless. He thanked all Gods that he had you with him to keep that part of him at bay.
Ah, but when it comes to carnal desires… that twisted side in him would be harmless now, wouldn’t it?
The next thing you knew, you reached your climax and the tension inside you finally burst. You felt your release spilling out of you and to his tongue as you turned into a puddle of broken wails and whimpers. You could only feel, feel and feel everything he brought upon you, as he sucked the living daylights out of your dripping cunt.
You could barely make out Satoru wiping the corner of his lips with that smug smirk. "You taste good as always, darling, and look at you… so, so wet. For me."
Now his beloved wife, and long before that, just you, whom he had cherished for so long. The satisfaction of bringing you to the pinnacle of pleasure was a reward in itself. Witnessing you sopping wet and blissed out like this had always been a part of his most vivid fantasies—ones he knew he could turn into reality.
"So perfect," he murmured, mostly to himself. In his eyes, you had never looked more beautiful.
You heaved, jerking your hips, feeling your sticky, hot walls squelch at nothing and wishing for something—like his fingers, at least, to stretch you out. As if he heard your silent pleas, he pushed two at once, and you were overtaken by spasms of pleasure.
"Hm? Surely this isn’t your limit." Satoru inserted a third finger, chuckling, prodding at that one certain spot there and you actually squealed, tears in your eyes at the feeling of being pushed to your limit.
You were a drenched mess as he fucked you with his fingers—and good lord, did your juices stain even the papers on his desk?
You could barely collect yourself as Satoru dirty talked you—now getting on your eye level, yet still twisting and scissoring his fingers inside you, telling you how much he adored this sight of you so vulnerable exclusively for him like this, and how hard he was getting himself.
"My pretty wife," he groaned, a wolfish grin curling on his lips and a sheen of sweat was palpable on his forehead. You shuddered from the feeling of his breath on your ear and how stimulated you were. “You sure are the prettiest when cumming, huh? Don’t you know what you do to me? Don’t you know it’s taking everything I have—” a grunt, “—not to fuck you senseless?”
You thought you couldn't take this any longer, but just as that thought crossed your mind, you went rigid as your absolute worst nightmare happened. You heard the door to the room click open, and holy hell did you see—
. . .
Megumi.
Stopping right in his tracks.
. . .
How he his eyes widened exponentially at the sight of you, whose skirt was hiked up and legs spread open in front of Satoru—
—who was bent over the desk, trapping you beneath him, his fingers plugged inside you.
. . .
And… that underwear on the floor—
. . .
. . .
The poor soul made a horrified strangled noise, and then bolted away, slamming the door so hard that it rebounded, failing to close entirely.
. . .
. . .
You wanted to die.
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Epilogue
“Tsumiki? Is… Megumi okay? Can I see him?”
“Ah… Nee-san, he’s been having high fever for days now… he’s sleeping.”
“I-is that so… how about I take him to the doctor?”
“Thank you, but… Will Gojo-sensei be there?”
“Uh…”
“I’m really sorry… but he said he didn’t want to see Gojo-sensei for a while…”
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targaryen-dynasty · 7 months
Text
PRECIOUS DELIGHTS.
Prev. Part | Next Part
Maegor Targaryen x pregnant!niece!Reader
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WORDS: 2.4 K
WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (uncle and niece), p in v, pregnancy sex, lactation kink (finally found the perfect plot to add this!!), size kink, breeding kink, soft Maegor Targaryen (yes, that's a warning lmao)
NOTES: You know I'll never let the chance of writing some uncle and niece Targcest slip. So, here it is. The bathtub scene is inspired by the one of Vizzy and Aemma. This is based on this request, and I bless my Maegor squat for planting this plot in my brain. @borikenlove @fairysluna @connorsui
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Moons had passed since the maesters informed your uncle-husband Maegor that you were with child, and thereafter, you were confined to your chambers. Three stillborn children were born to him before the announcement came, and thus, your husband was more than determined to not make it four. 
Several of your ladies-in-waiting tended to your every wish ever since, doting on you and keeping you satisfied and well cared for. So it seemed, at least. 
The handmaids could only do so much, but your body longed for something they couldn’t give you, for someone, despite your middle being heavily swollen carrying a pureblooded Targaryen offspring. With the end of your pregnancy creeping closer and closer, Maegor’s visits became rare, and the doors to your chambers opened scarcely to welcome anyone other than a maester or maid. Everytime you asked them to call for your husband, the same excuse followed: ‘he is meeting with the small council.’ 
When the doors to your chambers opened around the Hour of the Eel, and the clicking of the lock pulled you out of your slumber, you were ready to scold your maid Talisa for disturbing the quiet hours of your bath, but the approaching footsteps were eerily heavy and clearly didn’t belong to her. With how well protected your chambers were, main entrance and secret passageway alike, there was only one man they could belong to. 
“You spend more time in that bath than I do on the Throne,” his raspy voice rang out. 
You blinked a few times, raising a hand from below the warm water to rub your eyes, before Maegor’s paw came to rest upon your other one on the rim of the earthenware tub. “How would you know that?” you asked, your purple eyes meeting his own as he crouched down next to the tub. “You hardly visit me anymore.”
He dipped two of his thick fingers into the water, and couldn’t stop to trail his eyes over the curve of your breasts that slightly emerged from the opaque water. “It’s tepid,” he remarked, not paying any attention to your previous words. 
“The maester’s will not allow it any warmer,” you said, “and since this is the only place I can find comfort these days, I bow to their orders.”
“Don’t they know dragons prefer heat?” Maegor asked to which you just hummed. “After this miserable pregnancy, I wouldn’t be surprised if I hatched an actual dragon,” you said, looking to the side. The pregnancy itself wasn’t as miserable as you claimed, however, it was the dungeon you had found yourself in, not allowed to leave your chambers nor set one foot in front of the other for longer than a few moments. But not even that stopped you from hearing the castle’s rumors, and you knew the majority of the people around you blamed Maegor for the failed pregnancies of his other wives, yet Maegor had told you on more than one occasion that it was the doing of his third wife, Tyanna of the Tower. 
Maegor caressed your hair with his other hand, unusually tender, and a part of you begged to be with child even longer, because he had become a different man around you, less cold and rough, and it actually seemed he genuinely cared for you–if it wasn’t for you being locked up on his orders. 
He hadn’t retorted anything to your comment, merely fidgeting with your slender fingers and massaging the palm of your hand, before pressing a tender kiss to the back of it. “Please, let me out, Maegor. I want to walk the Keep,” you eventually whispered, wide, pleading eyes searching his for any sign of sympathy. “Have dozens of guards escort me on the walk, seven hells, escort me yourself, but you know better than to chain a dragon up.” 
You leaned toward your husband, clasping his large hand in both your small ones, and watched his brow furrow with what you could muster as uncertainty–something you hadn’t seen on his face before. Your chin rested on your joined hands, a soft ‘please’ leaving your lips. 
Maegor sighed, “you know I can’t do that.” 
“Birth is unpleasant enough as it is, so, why shall I prepare for it with a woeful pregnancy?”
Pity was written all over his features as he bowed his head closer to yours, and though you spotted it on his face for the first time, you loathed the sight. It made you feel weak, vulnerable and even worthless, knowing you had no say in anything that concerned your own body. 
“I can’t risk exposing you to any danger,” Maegor eventually confessed after a pregnant pause, “not if it means I could lose you or the boy, or both of you at once.” The boy. He had proclaimed the babe to be a boy very early into the pregnancy, and consistently pointed out that he had never been more certain of anything. In his dream, the boy wore the crown of his father, the Conqueror, and would wield his sword when he was older. But you knew nothing would cause the babe to grow a cock, if it didn’t already possess one. 
His forehead dipped against yours, and the proximity caused you both to close your eyes and release a deep sigh. You understood his reasoning, especially after he had lost three children and a wife before, which still didn’t mean you agreed to his methods of keeping you safe. 
Your arms wrapped around his thick neck, his heavy shoulders supporting them, and without having to say anything, Maegor knew what it was you wanted–or needed. His hands grabbed your upper body just under your armpits, effortlessly lifting you out of the bath with a tenderness that was borderline frightening. 
He was careful with your swollen bump, and immediately placed one hand on your arse and the other on the small of your back as you bound your legs around his waist. With your head resting against your upper arm, he pressed his lips to the side of your face, and carried you into the chambers to gently place you down on the bed.
There were rarely any moments you weren’t in the mood for him, but with the built up aching in your core, and his soft demeanor towards you, you were desperate. 
Maegor kneeled between your parted legs, one hand resting on your knee, while the other one ran over the swell of your stomach. Before the pregnancy, his paws covered your stomach in its entirety, yet, however, they seemed more fitting in comparison to it.
“Look at you,” his voice was reverential and raspy, and the purple of his eyes was almost non-existent, drinking in the sight of you lying bare in front of him. His hand trailed up to cup your heavy breast, teasing the darkened bud to the point a few droplets of milk leaked out of it. Your breasts were sensitive to the touch, and a pathetic moan left your lips, which grew in volume as the bull of a man leaned forward to lick over your teased bud, gathering the liquid with his tongue. 
You released a shaky breath at that, your mouth agape, and your eyes were wide. “I need you, husband,” the words a throaty whisper, and your own despair had you rutting your hips against the front of his breeches as far as your bump allowed you to. 
His lips had latched around your bud, suckling on it, and he let you rub yourself against him to a certain point, a large hand on your hip applying just a bit of pressure to keep your movements limited and shallow, barely giving you enough friction. It prompted you to whine in despair, despite the relief his mouth brought to your breast. 
“Gods, please, fuck me,” you whined, and Maegor slightly tilted his head to meet your eyes, the cocked eyebrow indicating that he was surprised by your choice of words, since you hadn’t used a term like that before. He pulled back from you with a lewd pop, licking his lips to collect every drop of your milk that had spilled past them. 
“You want my cock?” he teased, and started to pay attention to your other breast, dragging his tongue around the perky bud, before wrapping his lips around it to release some of the tension from you. 
Your hands disappeared into the short strands of his silver hair, and your back arched against his body, shoving your breasts into his face. “Yes, please,” you breathed, “give it to me.” One hand fisted his hair and the other cupped his face in a lousy attempt to push him off you, yet Maegor didn’t budge. How could he, with you using so little force?
Even though there was no urgency in any of his movements, Maegor merely reached between your bodies, as he kept his lips on your breast, to undo the laces in the front of his breeches and not undress any further, freeing his hard cock that stood to full attention. You blamed it on his inability to part from you, having been without you long enough already. 
When he withdrew his mouth from you, he pressed a fervent kiss to your lips that stood in stark contrast to his previous actions, though you welcomed it with a matching ferocity. 
“How could I ever resist you?” he asked, making you blush. “Not if you look like this, swollen with my child under your heart.” There was a possessiveness in his tone that alone had you moaning, and you bit your bottom lip as you looked at him with pleading eyes, nodding eagerly. 
Being soft and gentle was unlike Maegor, especially when it came to the pleasures of fucking, and watching him move his bulky frame to lie on his side right next to you, draping your leg over his hips as he angled them just so his cock prodded at your entrance made you feel appreciated. He saw you, and paid attention to anything other than himself, to your current state, because in any other setting, he would’ve flipped you onto your stomach, pounding you into oblivion without much preparation. 
The position allowed you to lie on your back, one leg raised without you having to do that much, without struggling to keep them up and parted. He was close to you, his massive size in comparison to yours allowing him to embrace you almost completely, one hand possessively placed on your bump while the other supported the back of your head. 
His cock breached your tight entrance, pushing in with little resistance thanks to your arousal. While you braced yourself for the stinging pain of the stretch, you fisted the bedcovers with one hand, and grabbed his waist with the other, his flexing muscles tensing and relaxing beneath your palm. 
Despite his carefulness, he was pushing into you all the way until his cock was enveloped by you like Dark Sister by its sheathing. You clenched around on him, and Maegor inhaled a sharp breath that didn’t go unnoticed by you, even though your heartbeat was pounding in your ears. 
“As soon as this boy is born,” Maegor rasped, drawing his hips back to the point only the tip stayed inside, shoving his cock right back into you, “I am going to fill you up again, breeding you, so you’re always round with my child.” His words were interspersed with grunts and groans, and he moved quick enough for your voice to catch in your throat. 
You clung to his waist, digging your nails into his flesh tight enough it would surely leave some bruises in the morrow despite him still wearing a tunic, but you didn’t care–not when he gave you the pleasurable pain you had waited for for so many moons. 
“You were made for me,” he grunted, “made to carry my children–to give me my heir.” 
Your back arched, and your hand released the covers to rest atop his on your belly, grasping his fingers and squeezing them tightly. “G–Gods, yes,” you hiccuped, your eyes closing for a moment. 
It was a race for completion, and Maegor seemed to have lost some of his initial inhibitions, pounding into you as fervently as the position allowed. He fisted the silver hair in the nape of your neck in a feeble attempt to keep his urges at bay, he mostly did, and as much as you wanted to whine and squirm away from the sting at the back of your head, you couldn’t–not when he was making you feel so good at the same time.
“I shall fuck you all day once the babe is born. You’ll be dripping with my seed,” he groaned. “Is that what you want?”
“Y-Yes, husband, yes, please!”
Your fingers clung to his thumb as his hand trailed down to the apex between your legs, his thick digits swirling around the bud that made you writhe beneath his touch. Not long after, you toppled over the edge of your peak, moans loud enough to let the whole Keep know how well your husband was tending to your needs escaping your throat. 
His precious, silver hair stuck to his forehead as he fucked you through your peak, until he reached his completion, too. When his cock spent itself inside of you, Maegor shuddered, the movements of his fingers seizing. “Good girl,” he growled through gritted teeth, “take everything I give you.”
Judging by how long his peak took its toll on your husband’s body, you were certain you would’ve been with his child after that–if you weren’t carrying his offspring already. It seemed that he hadn’t been indulging himself with his other wives for as long as you had. 
When both your breathing slowed down, and his cock had grown flaccid again, Maegor bent a bit closer toward you to lap up droplets of milk that had leaked out of your buds from the force of your peak. 
You gasped at that, still as sensitive as before, if not a bit more, and smoothed out his dampened hair. “Might you stay for a bit?” you asked almost shyly, as you were afraid to be rejected by him. 
Maegor looked up at you, the purple of his eyes reflecting in the dim light of the candles lit around you. “I will stay all night.”
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General Taglist: @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1
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earthtooz · 9 months
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x : SLEEPY FAVOUR :*+゚
in which: you've unwillingly become jing yuan's cuddle buddy for his afternoon naps.
warnings: fluff, 700 wc, bad writing lul, established relationship, dialogue-heavy, gn!reader teases a clingy!jing yuan.
a/n: two fics in two days. wow. who am i. enjoy. (i posted an itoshi rin fic yesterday pls feel free to check it out!)
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“you cannot keep doing this, jing yuan.”
sitting up to look at the man, your complaint is hushed quickly by the general, who places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you back down into his arms. he wraps himself around you like a vine and you groan at the suffocating sensation. still, jing yuan does not let up, not giving in to your complaints and grumbles as he draws circles on your arm.
“when you messaged me earlier about paying you a visit, i did not anticipate for it to be because you were simply feeling lonely. and clingy,” you sigh and the white-haired laughs.
“then what else?”
“something of value? something that will contribute to the wellness of the luofu?”
“is this not of value?” 
“calling me as your cuddle buddy for your afternoon nap is hardly of value.”
“i object. in fact, i would beg to differ. is the wellbeing of the luofu’s general something to take lightly?”
you huff, turning around in his arms to face him. jing yuan looks at you through half-lidded eyes, fatigue evident in them as he smiles softly. instinctively, your hand reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind of ears and at the graze of your touch, he shuts his eyes, seemingly peaceful and content. 
“flaunting your title, are you?” you ask. “what happened to your humility?”
he’s quick to reply. “gone if it will prevent you from leaving.” 
a smooth talker. your lover, jing yuan, has always had a way with words, laced with carelessness yet drenched in honey, there’s little of him you can resist. even now, you feel your frustration subsiding with one simple comment.
“and why should the general have a few hours of the day just to slack off?” you ask. “your afternoon naps can wait, luofu’s safety shouldn’t.”
“you say that, yet how many centuries of peace have we lived through?”
“why is everything i’m saying only inflating your ego?” then, just to spite him, you pull your hand away and his eyes open at the lack of contact that grounds him to a realm of peace and comfort. immediately missing your warmth, jing yuan finds your wrist and moves it to rest on his face once more. 
you don’t give him the satisfaction, hoping to give him a piece of your mind by once again, retracting your hand out of his hold and his sleepy gaze darkens into something akin to displeasure.
“won’t you indulge in me?” questions the cloud-knight. “i have worked so hard today already, i have been looking forward to taking an afternoon nap.”
“and is that not possible without me?”
he shakes his head with the temperament of a child and a pout to match. what will the court think when they see this side of your feared and revered lover? “ever since you rest with me that day, no, and i will never go back.”
where did his perseverance go?
“you suggest these things as if i am not busy myself. i cannot listen to your every request and demand when i have mountains of work to complete too!”
“i have requested that they be pushed back until later. your schedule has been cleared out for the next few hours.”
“jing yuan!” you exclaim, pushing him away lightly. “you cannot do that!”
“i can, and i have.”
before you can even utter another word, jing yuan has rolled over to lie on top of you, placing half of his weight on you to act as an anchor, effectively preventing you from moving anywhere.
the press of his muscles against you and the tightening of his arms around your torso are like cannonballs against your determination, and considering that he discarded his armour the moment you stepped through the door, it’s only fair if you do the same.
“come on, my love, do you not care for your general?” he asks, borderlining a whine. 
“fine.” you surrender, finally wrapping your arms around him as well. “only because i want him to be at top performance.”
“what about your lover? don’t you wish for any benefits for him too?” 
“he is of lesser importance,” you tease. “in fact, he should suffer for what he puts me through.”
jing yuan chuckles and his laugh reverberates into your heart. “i would hate to be him, then."
"watch yourself, jing yuan."
"of course, anything for you," murmurs the white-haired before he finds purchase in the bend of your neck. surrounded by you, he wordlessly dozes off without a care in the world.
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© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
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writer-in-theory · 1 year
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Ever since he can remember, everyone has always said Steve looked like his Mama.
He acts like her too—that persistent kindness and protectiveness for the people they love, the ability to talk to people with relative ease, even the propensity for having a bit of an attitude. Even his soft brown eyes and the texture of his hair, all of it was Maggie Harrington.
Maggie always said that Steve was her greatest accomplishment, one of her best friends. She was so proud of her son, first for being Hawkins High's first All-State Champ in swimming and then for being a good role model in town. She'd missed the moment when he began to distance from her, from his parents, until she hardly knew anything about his life. She thinks it might've been because of Robert.
Steve Harrington could only have the best in store for him, which is why she'd allowed Robert to be tough with him. He knew what it meant to build a good future, what it would take to find happiness and stability. So she'd let Robert yell at him for throwing a party at their house and allowing a poor girl to go missing there. And she'd thought it had worked, based on the way Steve started bringing around sweet Nancy Wheeler and stopped hanging out with the Hagan boy. She thought it had worked.
When the Harringtons came home from their last business trip to Chicago, Steve was being dropped off by Police Chief Hopper. It looked like he'd been in a fight, and as much was confirmed when the Chief told him to stay out of trouble. Robert had been furious, ready to lay into Steve about the Harrington name and respectability, but then a group of kids Maggie didn't recognize tumbled out of the car, too, all hugging Steve and thanking him. He was their hero, they'd told the Harringtons, Steve was the best babysitter ever. Steve had never showed interest in babysitting before, but the way all of those kids so clearly looked up to him had Maggie in near tears.
Maggie had a feeling the mall job was a mistake. She'd felt it the moment Robert made the decision, loudly proclaiming that their son would learn what it was like to work a tough job, that he'd realize how lucky he had it that there was a family business he could be hired in. Maggie hated the humiliated look their Steven had given the first time he set out for the mall in that sailor's uniform, but her husband knew what it was like to be a teen boy, surely he had Steve's best interests at heart.
But then she'd gotten the call that there had been a fire, that Steve was involved and they needed to get down to the hospital. If she thought the fight in '84 looked bad, then nothing could have prepared her for the sight of her son in that hospital bed, vomiting profusely into a container and wincing through the obvious pain in his head. The morning after, that same group of kids fought the hospital staff to visit Steve, demanded it. The one with curly hair and the youngest girl loudly proclaimed that Steve had saved their lives, that he'd risked himself to make sure they were safe. Her baby was an actual goddamn town hero and she'd almost missed it, she almost never knew because she was too busy worrying about his future.
Maggie stopped worrying about family names and legacies, after that. She was the first to ask how his shifts at the movie store were and never minded when his talkative friend came over for dinner. Maggie kept waiting for the moment Steve would admit the two of them were dating, but he kept insisting they were friends, best friends.
She never saw Eddie Munson coming.
After the fourth tragedy to befall Steve, Maggie was convinced he needed to get out of Hawkins before it destroyed him. No one could find Steve in the immediate aftermath of the earthquake. He wasn't at the shelter, or the hospital, or with any other search parties. She'd worried briefly that the serial killer had gotten him, too, that they'd have to see what was so horrific about the method of killing that had left the town sparking a witch hunt for the guy.
He was found later at the Munson trailer, wearing military-style gear and bleeding out from his abdomen and neck. Maggie would never understand how an earthquake could cause that level of damage, nor the kind that was found on Eddie Munson just beside him. When Steve had woken up in the hospital, he'd simply told her that he couldn't talk about it, that it was better if she didn't know. She thinks that might be true.
Once Steve recovered, he stayed by the Munson boy's bedside every day. He'd bring a book, or a hacky sack, anything to keep himself busy while Eddie slept off his injuries. And when he came home, Steve was with him constantly. They were volunteering, he'd told her.
Then one day, months after the earthquake, Steve came home looking nervous.
"Mom." Maggie ached for the days when he'd come waddling into the living room screaming Mama, missed when he felt like he could tell her everything. When had that disappeared? "I need to tell you something."
"Of course, Stevie. You can tell me anything." Steve winced in the way she figured he would: they both know that hadn't been true in years.
Steve shuffled on his feet, wrung his hands together and worried them through his hair. Finally he stood ramrod straight, eyes focused directly on hers as he blurted the truth out. "Mom, I like guys. And girls. It's called being bisexual and I'm not sorry for it. I can pack a bag tonight if I have to, but I won't pretend anymore. I won't."
It was supposed to be scary. Maggie knows the version of her four years ago would have been terrified by the statement, angry or upset. Maybe she still is a little scared, only because she knows what the world is like for people who are different. She used to be upset by people who were different. In '83, she might've kicked Steve out for the fear of it all. But looking at him now, she saw the kid who drove those middle schoolers to the arcade because he could, and who saved peoples' lives in the mall at the near expense of his own, the guy who believed Eddie Munson was innocent even when the entire town had turned on him out of fear of the Other. She saw Steve Harrington, her darling son who'd grown up before she even realized it, becoming far greater a man than she could have ever hoped for.
"How long have you two been dating? You and Eddie Munson?" Maggie asked gently, a smile working its way on her face. She'd wondered why he hadn't dated anyone after Nancy, but maybe it was simply that he wasn't telling her about that part of his life anymore.
Steve's eyes widened, lips parting like he was surprised by the response. He floundered a little, looking around for an explanation. "Um. Since last summer, we met at the mall. How did you...?"
Maggie laughed then, far brighter than it ever had been in years. "I know when my son's in love. I just didn't know where to look, didn't notice the answer was right there."
"You're not...mad? Disappointed?"
"Honey," Maggie sighed, taking a few steps forward so she could grab onto his arms. "Steven Robert Harrington, you are my son. I will always love you, no matter what. I'm so sorry I ever ever made you feel otherwise. All I've ever wanted for you is happiness, and if that's with Eddie Munson then that's that."
"Mom," Steve croaked, voice cracking around the word as he pulled her in for a hug. She could feel him shake in her arms, sniffling like he was trying to hide the tears. "Do you want to meet him? Eddie, I mean, do you want to...?"
"He's outside?"
"He came over to support me, in case we needed to, well." In case his parents were kicking him out. God, where had they gone so wrong? "Do you want to?"
"Please," Maggie answered quietly, knowing this wouldn't be enough to make up for the years of wrong they'd done. She wanted to know her son, wanted to know the people who made him happiest. She wanted to hear about his day and know that if something ever went wrong that he would call his parents himself, not wait for the hospital or the police to do so. "Please."
Then Steve was bringing in Eddie Munson, who stood out in the pristine, polished Harrington home but who made Maggie's son's eyes light up in a way she'd never seen them. He was smiling, holding his hand out for a handshake.
"Mama, this is Eddie," Steve was saying, and Maggie could cry because it felt like she'd done something right, because she could see how deeply in love Steve was with Eddie because it was a mirror of her own expression when she looked at Robert. This was her son, and her future son-in-law, and Maggie couldn't be prouder.
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upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months
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Simmer #1
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CH1. Home Style | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.
Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.
In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.
The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.
The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.
—————
Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.
It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.
So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.
She smiled at you.
So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.
The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.
You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.
“You lost, kid?”
You were. Just a little.
“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”
You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.
“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”
“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”
The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”
The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.
“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”
The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”
It turned out Wayne was right.
You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.
Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.
The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.
No one came.
So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.
The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.
You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”
You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.
You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.
“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”
“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”
No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.
“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”
You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.
“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”
You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.
A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.
“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”
Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”
You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”
The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”
You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.
“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”
The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”
You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”
The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.
“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”
—————
Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.
Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.
Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.
The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.
“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”
You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”
“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”
The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.
Librarian's assistant.
Barista. For two weeks.
Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.
“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”
Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.
“You ever worked a kitchen?”
You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”
“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”
Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”
“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”
“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”
Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”
You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”
Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”
You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.
“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”
The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”
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dilemmaontwolegs · 30 days
Text
Irresistible {7} || CL16
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: After everything, you get a happy healthy ending. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, smut, fluff. WC: 4.5k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven
Your Playlist:
Big Girls Don’t Cry - Fergie
Pretend - Secondhand Serenade
No Right To Love You - Rhys Lewis
You Broke Me First - Tate McRae
Lose You To Love Me - Selena Gomez
The Night We Met - Lord Huron
Wicked Game - Violet Orlandi 
Charles’ Playlist:
Your Call - Secondhand Serenade
The Loneliest - Mäneskin
Roses And Butterflies - Making April
Amnesia - 5sos
Miserable At Best - Mayday Parade
Love Is Gone - Slander
The Man Who Can’t Be Moved - The Script
Charles was spiralling with every mile that grew between where he was and where you were. The only updates he had from you were in the form of photos on Instagram and his concentration went into waiting for your next post instead of the preparation for the final free practice of the day. He had sent you enough unanswered messages to know you were ignoring him and it hurt more than he dared let on.
“She’s not home yet,” he said as he caught up to Max in the paddock. It was half a question and half a statement, but he needed some sort of confirmation.
“I know.” Of course Max knew. You kept in touch with him, sending him sporadic messages when you stopped to take in the beautiful countryside on the quiet roads. It should have been a four hour drive but you were content to make it last the day so you didn’t have to think about what you had left behind. 
Max looked like he was going to say something else but he closed his lips as an arm curled around Charles’ waist. Whatever information he was going to offer was replaced with a simple, “I’ll see you later.”
Charles turned to Charlotte and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I thought you left.”
“Because we had one little fight?”
“I would hardly call it little.”
“Whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, now that Y/N’s gone things will be so much easier between us. We can get back to how we used to be. We are good for each other, Charles.”
Charles briefly entertained the idea of pushing her away but then he remembered how lonely it was sleeping by himself. It was completely stupid to even think the relationship could go back to how it was but he was selfish, if he couldn’t have you then settling for her was going to be the next best thing. 
“How about we talk after practice?” His voice was full of defeat and Charlotte knew she had already won as she kissed his cheek and let him go.
“I’ll wait in your garage.”
He faked a smile and headed after Max.
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The air was stale when you stepped into the apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as you dragged yourself down the hall and into your room. Charles’ bedroom door was still half open, the bed unmade and clothes spilling out of his drawers, sending a pang of hurt to your chest before you pulled it shut. You collapsed face first on your bed and just managed to send a message to Max letting him know you arrived safely before you let your emotional exhaustion take you under. You didn't bother to text Charles, he was probably busy anyway.
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Dawn came with all the same enthusiasm that you woke with. The skyline was a watery grey and even the birds failed to raise any sort of trill with their woeful calls down on the mariner. Dew clung in the air and on your cheeks as you opened the balcony door and chased away the stale air from being closed up for weeks since the last visit. 
Your memory here before the lockdown began didn’t hold a lot of details but you did remember the aroma of coffee drifting up from the cafe below the building. Unfortunately there was only the tang of salt and storm on the air as you inhaled deeply before making the call that was long overdue. 
As expected your father answered straight away, the confusion clear in his voice as he realised that his little night owl was up at dawn. “Hey kiddo, is everything okay?”
“Can we have a donut day?”
You could already hear him moving around the house and he must have covered the microphone as he said a muffled goodbye to a sleepy Pascale. “On my way.”
Donut day was created the day you got your first period. As a panicking solo dad he had rushed to the supermarket for supplies, but he left with mostly donuts and other treats. Thankfully Betty was better prepared and soon arrived with everything you needed, along with calm instructions on how to use them. After that, any day that was absolutely terrible was called a donut day. You and your father would sit on the couch and scoff down a box of donuts until the comfort food worked its magic. 
You paced the living room until the doorbell rang and practically tore it off the hinges in your haste. You really hadn’t noticed just how lacklustre months of video calls were until you threw your arms around your dad and buried your face in his shirt. Video calls couldn’t capture the smell of his aftershave or the feel of his beard when he kissed your forehead like you were still a little kid. 
“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He pulled back to look at your face and his brows pinched together. “Rough night?”
You snorted a laugh but it cracked in your chest and your head fell down. “The last time you asked me that was in Monaco too.”
“I remember. Is this about a boy?”
You nodded and took a seat on the couch while he pensively watched from where he stood. “Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”
He huffed and went to the kitchen instead, grabbing a plate and emptying a bag of pastries onto it. “This is the closest to donuts I could find, sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s not about the donuts.” You picked at a pain au chocolat while he took a seat and grabbed a pain au raisin. “I…”
You didn’t know where to begin or what to say, you just knew you had to get the truth off your chest so you could try to move on. Maybe by admitting the mistake you made, it might somehow ease the guilt you were carrying.
“A boy, right?”
“Yeah,” you murmured. “The same one actually.”
His eyebrows shot up his forehead.“From when we visited?”
“The very same.” You swallowed but the pastry seemed to coat your throat and you nearly choked before you abandoned it. “It was Charles.”
“Oh,” he said with a nod before it seemed to connect and his eyes widened. “Oh…well…shit..”
“I should have said something sooner but I didn’t want to make things awkward for you and Pascale but I…I really fucked up, dad.”
You could practically see his thoughts crossing his face as he remembered how you had called him the first day, asking to stay anywhere else. A heavy sigh fell and he seemed to deflate into the couch cushions. “I thought you were with Max?”
Your eyes narrowed but you didn’t deny it. “How do you know that?”
“Charlotte posted a picture of you and him the other night.”
“That bitch is a-”
“Uh-uh, no,” he tutted. “Correct me if I am wrong but I am going to assume you and Charles have been more than just friends…” 
Your silence was damning. 
“I don’t think you have the moral high ground to go around calling her a bitch then. I raised you better than that. Does Max know about Charles?”
“Max knows everything,” you admitted quietly, still feeling the sting of the reprimand. “He’s good for me.”
“Okay, so then what’s the problem?”
“I just really thought it was a chance - with Charles. We made plans, a future, I could see it.” Now all you saw was the note on the table and how he chased after Charlotte. “It was stupid and naive and I feel so embarrassed.”
“Love makes everyone stupid at some point.” Your father sighed again before wrapping his arm around you. “So Max huh? You know he’s got a bit of a reputation. Bit of a hot head.”
You wiped away the tears that had been building and scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see in the media. They portray Charles as this wholesome boy next door and Max as an angry man child. Both are wrong.”
You grabbed the pastry and ate it, this time able to stomach the idea of food, before grabbing another. It wasn’t as sweet as a donut but the sugar from the chocolate was starting to hit your blood and perk you up.
“I can’t live here anymore. Not Monaco,” you corrected when you saw his eyes widen. “Just here, with Charles. I need somewhere away from him.”
You didn’t know the exact reason why your mother left but you thought maybe she felt like this, maybe it was healthier to leave than to stay. 
“The house isn’t finished but the kitchen and your bathroom are done, so it’s livable. You’ll need some moving boxes. A lot by the looks,” your father said as he stood up and looked around the room to see your belongings strewn across the place. “I’ll be back soon.”
“You’re not going to give me a lecture?” you asked as he made his way to the door.
He scanned your features that reminded him so much of your mother. “You look like you’ve learned your lesson to me. Do you need one?”
You shook your head meekly and he nodded to himself. “I’ll be back with some boxes soon.”
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“Hello, handsome,” you greeted Max as soon as the video connected. He had just returned to his hotel after qualifying and securing the 5th starting place on the grid. “I’ve found a new hobby, painting.”
His smile brightened at your mood that had dramatically lifted in the past 24 hours and you showed him around your new bedroom. Paint bottles lined a sheet-covered table and dirty brushes sat in a murky jar of water, but you panned across the wall to show him the artwork you had made.
“What is it?” he asked with a forehead crumpled in confusion. He tilted his head trying to see from a different angle but he still couldn’t process the splatterings - it reminded him of a Rorschach test, one he was doing badly at. 
“I didn’t say I was good,” you clarified with a laugh as you also tried to interpret the design that was no longer just on the walls. It was a good thing the carpet hadn’t been laid yet. You had tried to push the hair out of your face and smeared paint across your cheek and it had ended up everywhere by the time you were finished. “It is a mess just like me.”
“You're not a mess, schat,” Max said as he sat at the end of his bed and fell back to watch the tour of the rest of the house. “Are you okay there on your own?”
“It’s certainly quieter than the paddock, that will take a bit of getting used to, but I don’t mind it too much.” You did miss the other friends you had made at Ferrari, but felt it was best to give everyone in red a wide berth for a while. You had seen how poorly Charles qualified and knew he wasn’t at his best partly because of you. You still hadn’t been able to answer his calls or texts.
“Well, you could come back, if you want, you’ll always be welcome at Red Bull.”
“If you miss me, you can just say that,” you teased and he sat up.
He combed a hand through his damp hair and you bit your lip remembering how it felt to be the one doing that. “I do miss you,” he admitted seriously. “That’s why I’m coming back first thing Monday morning - I owe you breakfast.”
“You know there are no cafes open?”
Max smirked and the sight made your heart skip a beat. “Who said anything about a cafe?”
You wanted to know what his plans were but there was a knock at his door and Daniel’s voice reached you through the phone. Max was tempted to let Daniel continue pounding on the door but you both knew he wouldn’t leave quietly and Max groaned at that truth. “Go answer that, I’ll call you in the morning.” 
Max dragged his feet as he padded across the room. “I would rather talk to you.”
“Me too.”
“Finish the phone sex already, you pervs,” Daniel shouted through the door before Max ripped it open.
“Oh, oh, yes, Max, don’t stop,” you called out, turning Max’s ears pink as he rushed to turn the phone around and show Daniel the screen and just how fully clothed you were. “Sorry to disappoint you, Danny, no phone sex - this time.”
It was only when Daniel bent over laughing that you saw he wasn’t alone. Charles was out in the hallway with Carlos and Lando, his eyes falling to the carpet when you noticed him.
“We’re getting dinner, you wanna come?” Daniel asked, and thankfully the phone rotated back to Max who looked a little torn at the offer.
“He does,” you answered for him before he could decline just to talk with you a little while longer.
“I’ll call you in the morning, schat.”
“Okay, have fun.”
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Charles found nothing to celebrate when the race ended so he made his way home before the rest of the crew even realised it. He thought his weekend couldn’t get any worse after he DNF’d. The only silver lining was that despite his better qualifying, Max had also failed to finish the race. But he still won where it really mattered when it came to you.
Charles pulled into the apartment complex and saw a new sleek black Mercedes AMG parked in one of his many reserved spaces and hope fluttered in his chest. He grabbed his suitcase and darted up the stairwell to his apartment, nearly snapping the key in his haste to unlock the door. That hope turned to ash when he found it eerily silent and every inch of the place perfectly tidy. It was unlived. 
The artwork you had purchased still hung on the walls and the shaggy rug he had made love to you on still covered the floor, but the spirit of it all was gone. The colours of the paintings were drained and the temperature controlled air was no longer comfortable. He didn’t even need to go to your room and check, he knew you were gone.
He knew you were gone the moment he saw you on the video call to Max. He had gone with his mother to her new house enough times to know what it looked like, even if it appeared that a rainbow vomited all over the walls. The truth just hadn’t really settled in until he stepped across the threshold and into the house that was once a home.
You had tidied the place as if you were cleaning a crime scene and needed to scrub away all evidence of being there except you couldn’t get it all. You still remained in the pantry cupboards where everything was labelled in your handwriting. You still remained in the linen closet where you folded the sheets and the towels into perfect rectangles. You still remained in the scented candles that sat on the centrepiece of the table.
Charles’ eyes stung as they lingered on the table where the keys to the apartment and the Mercedes sat, right next to his credit card and the picture you kept in your wallet.
Kicking the door closed, he abandoned his suitcase and rushed down the hall. His heart hammered knowing what he would find but he had to check as he pushed open your bedroom door. No, it wasn’t your bedroom anymore, it was a guest room. 
The feminine floral duvet his mother had chosen was gone, replaced with a plain white coverlet, and the windows were latched slightly open so whatever scent of yours he may have been able to save had already been cast away to the breeze. 
“Fuck!” he screamed as he punched his fist into the mattress. “Fuuuuucckk!!!”
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Max must have left before Pierre had finished partying after his shock win. It wasn’t even morning really as the sun was still cresting over the hills, and it was far earlier than you were expecting him. You thought perhaps you were dreaming when you woke to a knock and opened the door to find Max on your front steps. 
“Oh my god, are you okay?” you asked as you pulled him inside and inspected the bags under his eyes. 
“I’m better now,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair. “I told you I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” you murmured into his chest before pulling away so you could look into his eyes. “You need to sleep.”
“I’ll be fine, I have plans first.”
“Your plans can wait.” You took his hand and led him through the house to your room that overlooked the mariner. Your blankets were still warm as you nestled under the covers and patted the empty space beside you. “You’re not going to be comfortable in jeans.”
“Five minutes and you’re already trying to get me naked,” he teased as he pulled his shirt over his head before he unbuttoned his jeans.
“I never said naked,” you pointed out. The air froze in your lungs as he pushed them down his muscular thighs and you swallowed at the sight before.
“I’m not wearing boxers.”
“No, you certainly are not.” Your tongue rolled across your lips as you drank in every inch of him, the idea of sleep quickly departing your mind. Almost everything departed your mind, except want. “I think I am overdressed.”
“You make a habit of that.”
“I do, don’t I. Maybe you should come help me fix that.”
Max didn’t need to be told twice, he had been waiting for this moment since he had the memory of how your body felt against his. He pulled the covers back and knelt between your legs, his hands roaming up your body and under the baggy shirt of a band he didn’t know. The morning air was cool on your skin as you lifted your arms and he discarded the shirt over the side of the bed. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he traced his lips over your racing pulse. A fiery trail of goosebumps remained where his kiss had been and he made his way to your lips before stealing the very breath from your lungs.
Your own hands went roaming, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch until you reached his proud erection. He shuddered above you and moaned into your mouth before he pulled back. “I need you,” you begged, unabashedly. “Please, Max.”
His hands reached for your panties and the lace tickled as he dragged them down your legs. Even with your begging, he didn’t immediately bury himself in you. He took his time, settling back between your legs. He gently massaged your inner thighs with his strong hands, his thumbs dancing teasingly close to your core until a strangled whine escaped you.
“Relax, schat,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you.”
He shifted onto his stomach and dipped his head to your core. You lost the ability to think as he gripped your hips and tugged you right onto his open mouth. A wordless cry filled the room and it took a second to understand it was coming from you as you lost yourself in the pleasure Max was giving you. You knew Max had an internal drive to succeed at everything he did and this was no different. He was determined to taste you completely and drive you into oblivion with his tongue and his fingers before he thoroughly fucked you. 
Max looked wild and untamed as you came undone around his fingers and he savoured the taste of you on his tongue as he rose above you. His eyes were dark and his lips swollen, his chin was damp and his smile satisfied. 
“Hi,” he chuckled with amusement. “Feeling alright?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed, because correlating a conscious thought into words seemed impossible as your body still trembled with aftershocks.
“Would you like a break?”
You reached between your bodies and wrapped your hand around his cock, guiding him closer to your entrance. “No, I want you, Max.”
“Completely sober, right?” he confirmed as the head pressed to your wet core.
“Not quite,” you teased, his brows pinching together at the words, “I’m drunk on you.”
The relief in his eyes was palpable and you cradled his face in your palm as you wrapped your legs around his hips. Your bodies united torturously slowly and your eyes fluttered at the fullness when every delicious inch was seated inside, your lips parting with a heady sigh.
“Open your eyes, schat.”
You obeyed in an instant, watching him watch you before his eyes drifted down your bodies. His lip was pinched between his teeth and he groaned at the sight of your pussy taking him so well, something he made sure to tell you.
“Fuck,” you choked as his words made your cunt clench in response, each thrust burying him deep in your cunt until stars dotted your vision and you were tipped over the edge into another orgasm. “Fuuuckk…”
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Six months later. “Babe, have you seen my shoes?” Your voice carried throughout the large penthouse apartment you had moved into with Max when the season ended. 
“Here, with your dress,” he called out from the living room. 
You followed his voice and found the luggage being neatly stacked by the door. He pointed to the two garment bags hanging from the coat rack and at the bottom of the longer one were your heels, next to his polished dress shoes.
“I packed your coat too,” Max said, kissing your temple as he passed to get the car keys.
With the COVID restrictions being lifted Pascale hadn’t wanted to wait a minute longer for the wedding, so winter nuptials in February was the go. At least they were taking place in Sicily so it would be a little warmer, but of course Max would think to pack a coat for when the temperatures dropped at night. He was always thoughtful like that.
“Did you want a coffee?” you asked as you turned on the machine and put your travel mug under it. It was only a three hour flight on Max’s private jet, but you hadn’t slept well with the knowledge you would see Charles for the first time since Christmas. 
Cordial is how you would describe that relationship. The familiarity and intimacy was gone, replaced with standoffish politeness. You were both trying to find where the line could be drawn on a platonic friendship that had the history of more and it was slow going. You didn’t want anything you said or did around him to be misconstrued. 
Max made you happy, and just as importantly, Max was healthy for you. You did sometimes wonder if he tried harder to be better because he had witnessed toxic relationships growing up. He knew how that toxicity could poison and break someone so there was a conscious effort in the way he spoke and acted to everyone around him. Even Charles. 
That was why he had offered his plane for everyone to use, including Charles and Charlotte. For better or for worse, Charles was going to be a part of your family in less than 24 hours and Max respected that. Like he said, he didn’t care about your past and your future was one with him.
“Schatje,” Max called, one hand on your waist, the other reaching past you to the overflowing mug in the coffee machine. “Everything alright?”
You came back to the present with a few blinks and turned in his arms, surprising him with a deep kiss as you fisted his shirt and pulled him closer. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He pulled back to see your face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you said with a shake of your head but he saw right through it. “Everything you’ve done for me…a simple ‘I love you’ just doesn’t seem enough. I can never say it enough.”
Max’s hands cradled your jaw and he dipped his head to indulge in a slow but thorough kiss that had your stomach clenching with a fresh wave of desire. When he pulled back this time he smiled as he found the clear want and need for him written on your face. “It’s enough for me.”
He turned the machine off and poured the ruined coffee down the sink. “I’ll get you a proper coffee on the way to the airport. We should get going, can’t have the best woman be late for the rehearsal.”
“I think dad settled on the term groomsmaid,” you corrected with a laugh. You had nearly cried when he asked you to be his best man, before accepting the honour. It was fitting considering the bridesmaids were Pascale’s sons. “It’s not too late if you want to be a flower girl?”
He grinned and his eyes flicked to the door where the dress you had paraded for him last night hung. “I’m quite happy to sit back and watch.”
“If I recall, you didn’t sit still for long. I hope you have more self restraint for the ceremony.”
 “For the ceremony, yes. But as soon as we hit the hotel room you’re mine and that dress will be on the floor, I promise you.”
You bit your lip at the promise, knowing he would keep it just like every other one he had made. 
“We should probably go before I do something that makes us very late,” Max groaned, stepping away from your tempting body. 
“Ugh, fine.”
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The ceremony was more than just a wedding and it represented the joining of the Leclerc’s and the Y/LN’s, something that had surprised you and also made you grateful for having waterproof mascara. You didn’t dare look at Charles when the celebrant spoke about the union of the two families, but Arthur grinned and Enzo winked, your father narrowed his eyes and you laughed.
The celebrant, thankfully, didn’t understand.
The cashmere coat Max had packed hung over the bag of your chair as night fell and you danced with him under the open stars. The only light came from the fairy lights strung around the stone pillars that had survived centuries on the island. His arms kept you warm as you swayed to the music and you spoke quietly to each other in a world of your own.
“Hey, can I, uh, can I cut in?” Charles asked hesitantly.
You took a deep breath as you debated the question, your eyes glancing around and quickly finding Charlotte at a table with Arthur and his girlfriend. You looked at Max to see if it was okay. He just smiled and kissed your cheek, whispering, “I’ll get us a drink.”
Charles waited until Max had made it off the dance floor before offering his hand, the other coming to rest on your waist. The first step was tentative, like he wasn’t sure you were actually going to follow his lead. “You look happy,” he said after a few more steps.
“I am.”
He nodded to himself, looking at Charlotte. “Good. That’s good.”
He looked miserable. “I hope you find real happiness one day.” You were being honest.
“I had it.” And he was being honest too. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever really apologised, not properly.”
“It’s fine, if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have met Max.”
“It was meant to be us, though, right?” His eyes were begging you to agree with him but you had spent sleepless nights poring over the very same question.
“I think our paths crossed to make sure our parents met,” you admitted, smiling at the newlyweds as they danced too. You had never seen your dad happier.
“You really believe that?”
The song came to an end and you found Max returning from the bar with two drinks in his hand. “I have to,” you said as you slipped out of Charles’ arms. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step away from him.
“Why?” He took a step closer, only stopping when you took another step back and held up your hand. “Why?”
You took a calming breath and steadied your voice. “Because the alternative would only break my heart again.”
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jasmines-library · 1 month
Note
Would it be too much to request a batsis oneshot, about her knowing how to cook😆 like whenever Alfred is not available he leaves her in charge to help ensure the other family members are eating without buring down the house🤭 also a lil thing u could add is she often visits the manor just to cook cuz Alfred always keeps the kitchen fully stocked with ingredients which means she can cook pretty much anything she desires💜 I just thought it'd be cute to have Bruce be envious of his daughters cooking skills whereas he lacks them🤭
Kitchen Antics
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Thanks for requesting! This was cute to write!
Word Count: 1k
⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤
“I still don’t think this is very fair.” Bruce pouted as you slid the plate in front of him.
“Hm?”
“This.” He gestured to the plate that you had served to him, piled to the brim. It had taken you hours to prepare, especially without Alfred’s help, but it was well worth it. “How come Alfred lets you cook and not me. I’m a fully grown adult. I should be allowed to cook a meal for my family.”
“Maybe it’s because you can’t actually cook.” You threw over your shoulder with a smug grin. 
That earnt a snort from Damian which he hid poorly behind a hand. Bruce shot him an unamused look. 
“Can too.” Bruce said. This time you raised a brow as you slid into your seat.
“Oh yeah, because the last time you cooked it turned out great.” Jason rolled his eyes. 
You remember it distinctly. It was one of the first times Alfred was away and had reluctantly let Bruce use the kitchen. He had regretted it the moment he returned because his kitchen was hardly recognisable. And the food Bruce had cooked was less so. If you could even count it as food. It was the furthest thing from edible. Somehow undercooked and burnt to a crisp around the edges at the same time. Even Alfred wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, and he had seen almost everything when baking with the rest of your brothers. It was safe to say that Bruce was no longer allowed in the kitchen after that. So, the responsibility turned to you. 
Alfred had always said you had a natural talent for cooking, though you swore it was because you had the best teacher: You had spent countless hours helping him when you were younger and you were the only person he didn’t seem to physically wince at when you walked into the kitchen. So, naturally when he announced he was leaving this week he entrusted you to make sure the family were fed without the entire manor being burnt down, or being filled with takeout boxes.
Your brothers had tried countless times to worm their way into the kitchen, but you ushered them out every time. They were just as bad as Bruce when it came to cooking. There was one time Damian and Dick had tried to bake a cake to surprise Bruce on his birthday. And it did…when the fire they had started nearly set the whole kitchen alight. Luckily Alfred had smelt it before any real damage could happen, but the pair of adults were far from happy. Jason had never shown much interest in cooking. He would usually just grab himself a snack from one of the cupboards instead of actually cooking himself something, so he had never really been an issue to keep out. Though, often he would try to sabotage your work just to wind you up. As for Tim, he was the best out of the four boys. By no means a master at work, it was often slightly bland but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill everyone with his cooking so he got bonus points for that. 
“That was one time.” Bruce turned his head away, pouting like a small child.
“Tt. Father, I think you’ve tried to poison us every time you’ve gone near the kitchen.” Damian jested through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps you should ask Joker to try it. Might take a villain off of our hands.”
Tim stifled a laugh. “This is lovely, Y/N. Thank you.”
You smiled. “Thank you.”
The six of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, before Bruce finally spoke up again. Cutting through the sound of cutlery scraping against china plates.
“Is my cooking really that bad?”
He was answered with silence. And a lot of smirks.
“...Are you jealous of Y/N, Father?” Dick grinned.
“Psh…No.”
Bruce was a terrible liar. 
~
“Do you need any assistance, Miss Y/N?” Alfred poked his head around the kitchen door. He had returned from his trip not too long ago, glad to see that everyone had been well fed and that the house was still in one piece. 
Glancing up from the bowl of ingredients you were whisking, you met Alfred’s proud glance. “No thank you, Alfred. You already have everything I need.”
Alfred smiled up at you. It was nice for you to stop by once in a while to see them. He enjoyed seeing you cook. Better yet he enjoyed tasting your new creations each week so he kept everything stocked, even if he knew he wouldn’t need it himself. The shelves were lined with all sorts of spices, flours, sugars and ingredients for you to create something new so that if you ever decided to stop by (which you liked to do at least once a week) he would have everything  you could ever need.
Your brothers loved it when you would bring over food to them too. Most of it would be gone in minutes and they would turn to you asking for more. Bruce would do the same too, although he would still have that look of teasing jealousy on his face. But he was proud really. And glad that at least one of his children had enough common sense to not set the entire manor alight when baking a cake. 
BATFAM TAGLIST:
@aestheticdaisies
@hell-o-kittys
@xxrougefangxx
@mamapucket
@hearts4robs
@harleycao
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luveline · 5 months
Note
i have a request idea! maybe aaron x reader where the reader is bullied/ being maltreated by her roommates like that one remus headcanon you filled? i love protective hotch but i get it if you don’t think this goes with him! your fics give me sm comfort thank you for writing them <3
thank you my love. fem, 1.5k
cw bullying/ unfriendly roommates
You can't believe it's Aaron's car. No way is his timing this bad. There's just no way he's home from a case, that he's chosen to visit without calling first, today. Right now. 
He's out of the car before you've so much as wiped your cheeks dry. You've never seen him park that fast. 
"What are you doing out here?" he asks, looking you up and down. "Let me help you up, sweetheart." 
Sweetheart so soon after seeing you —you must look terrible. You take his hand and stand up off of the floor, unperturbed as he brushes down your butt and thighs. 
"Why are you sitting on the floor?" he asks, soft, "It's wet, honey, you're crying– What's wrong?" 
You remember suddenly that you have someone on your side. Shaking, you tuck your arms under his and cross them behind his back, the fabric of his suit jacket familiar under your trembling fingers. You feel like a kid again at the mercy of other people's cruelty, but this hasn't been something you could run away from. The meanness takes root at home. But now Aaron's here and he's holding you, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head delicately, his voice a murmur as he reassures you, "It's alright." He presses his cheek to the plane just adjacent to your eye. "Honey, please don't cry." 
"They smashed my vase," you say into his chest. 
"Who?" 
"My roommates, Aaron, they don't– don't like me." The vase was a gift. Special to you, irreplaceable, you've brought it safely from one place to another without ever having broken it. It was in the kitchen, housing your most recent bouquet of flowers from Aaron. "Macy said it fell over, but they were laughing, and they said the same thing about my bag, my– my sketchbook. They keep ruining my things, they throw away my food, and they laugh at me all the time, even when I'm not doing anything. I know they are."  
The laughing is honestly the worst part. Like your reaction isn't even worth considering, it doesn't bother them that you're upset, they just giggle and tell you to feel better. Sometimes they apologise like it wasn't them. Sorry about that, maybe don't leave it somewhere it could get ruined? with a smile that hardly counts as sympathetic. 
"How long has this been happening?" he asks. 
Months. "Since we met, at least." 
Aaron makes a noise you don't understand. You wait for him to say more, but he only rubs your back diligently for a time before ushering you into the car. A bag of takeout has gone cold in the passenger seat, the backseat busy with his go bag and a new bouquet. He's very, very good to you. 
In the car, he reaches across the console to fret over you, stroking your damp cheeks and rubbing your shoulders. You feel as though all your energy has been stolen. All you can do is lean into his hand as he wipes away your quiet tears. 
Hotch watches you cry in his passenger seat and feels pretty angry. It's not often like him to turn to anger when the people he cares about are upset. He's more of a problem solver. But when it's as bad as it is now, he doesn't bother restraining himself. 
He knew there was something about your roommates that you weren't telling him. Obviously, as the partner in the relationship who doesn't have roommates, Hotch hosts the majority of your 'sleepovers'. It's easier and awards more privacy most of the time, and honestly, he's not at the age where he's very interested in bumping into people on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He'd prefer to be home, and much prefer to have you there. 
He was wondering about asking you to move in, but there never seemed to be a good time, and right now your answer would likely be influenced by the insecurity of your home rather than true desire to live with him. He knows one day, he'll ask, and one day you'll say yes, (or he hopes), and so he keeps it in mind but otherwise proposes a temporary arrangement. 
"Let's go get some of your things and you can stay with me for a few days," he says. 
"Are you sure?" you ask. "What about Jack?" 
"He'll be happy for the company. Trust me." 
Hotch isn't shallow, but he likes being that little bit taller than you, and he's no brute, either, but he knows he's intimidating at times. He'd never use his position to scare private citizens in civilian disputes, but seeing the amusement in the eyes of your  roommates turn to nervous recognition when he follows in behind you makes his day. 
She's not alone, he thinks, putting his hand to your back. 
He might put their behaviour down to jealousy. Not so much that they wish they were with Hotch, there's hardly been any desire for him coming from either woman, but your happiness. You're a nice girl, a good girl, good in the sense that you don't need to knock others down to be happy. He treats you accordingly. 
He pointedly doesn't greet them as you show him the corridor down to your room. Your door is ajar, which he doesn't like, but you don't say anything about your things. 
"What do you need?" he asks.
"How long will I stay?" 
"However long you need to. If you want time to feel better while we manage this, or you need to move. I'm with you." He again thinks of the lack of a lock. "I'd say bring your valuables, honey. So nothing miraculously breaks." 
He ends up packing for you. He knows you well, and he's more than aware of what you'll need to survive for a week. What clothes, which pyjamas you favour, even your skincare. He has a career in identifying small details, but it's a better duty knowing you so well. He does that for fun. 
You stop by the door and turn into his side, hesitant to leave. He hates seeing you wilted, usually so bright. "They're talking about me." 
Your roommates are indeed whispering in the kitchen and Hotch would bet money that you're correct, but he doesn't want to encourage that line of thought. It could easily become a seed of doubt that leaves you anxious and paranoid. 
"I'd hope they were discussing their own bullying," he says. 
You rest your forehead on his arm. "What did I ever do to them?" 
"You're happy. You're grateful and loving, and some people can't stand it. They can't rope you into their misery," he guesses. "Have you considered the possibility that you're a bad roommate?" 
You laugh into his jacket reluctantly. "You know I'm not."
"Maybe you behave with me," he says, rubbing the top of your shoulder. Your laughter draws a silence in the kitchen. Hotch can't help himself. "Don't forget to turn your security camera on before we leave," he says, holding a finger over his lips. 
You smile. "Oh, I almost forgot about that." 
Your roommates aren't so full of cheer as you go. At least without a lock on the door, Hotch can be confident that his… bending of the truth will buy your possessions a few more days of safety. You don't have to tell your roommates that you're leaving, evidenced by your bags, but Hotch is feeling awful, and he says, "Do you have your bathing suit? Your passport's in the bag." 
"What is wrong with you?" you whisper through laughter as the door closes behind you both. "I had no idea you were this quick to tell lies." 
Hotch pulls your bag further up his arm to take your hand. "I wasn't lying about anything, your passport is in the bag, and I asked a question. If that question implies that you're about to have a fun weekend, that's coincidental." 
He doesn't want your roommates thinking they have any power over you. Not an inch of it. And he doesn't want you thinking that they do either, knee deep in plans for the forthcoming days. He's going to spoil you to death if he can, starting with a new vase for your waiting flowers, and a good squeeze on the way down to the car to prompt you into relaxing. 
"Sorry about all the fuss," you say. 
He kisses you twice. "Don't think of it that way." Rather boss-toned, he softens, "I'll deal with anything for you. I'm sorry they've been cruel." 
You exhale. He can tell from the tug of your eyebrows that it's partly for his benefit, and the more lax set of your shoulders that it's partly genuine as you brush it off. "Doesn't matter. Just an excuse to spend more time with you, yeah?" 
"Yes," he says immediately. "You're right, honey. Exactly right." Starting with one of his clumsy neck massages and a much more practised kiss, he thinks. 
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Text
My Heart Is Thrilled By The Still Of Your Hand
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: okay uh praise kink, touch starved bucky, kinda size kink, a little bit of cockwarming, creampie, unprotected p in v (wrap it UP), oral f receiving, minor overstimulation idk I think that's all but I'm probably missing something
Genre: fluff + smut
Summary: You find out your very not physical boyfriend is actually touch starved
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***
Your boyfriend does not like physical contact. You'd figured that out pretty soon after you'd met him. Granted he started out as your neighbor so there was really noreasonto have physical contact exactly, but when you introduced yourself to him, he didn't shake your hand. You seriously thought you messed up that first impression when he glanced at your outstretched hand and just nodded a hello. You obviously didn't because after months of friendly conversation, he eventually asked you on a date. A date on which he didn't touch you not once. Even when he was guiding you somewhere, his hand hovered at your back but never actually made contact. You thought maybe he was being overtly cautious to make sure he didn't cross any boundaries. Your second date was the same and while you tried not to think too much of it you'll admit it was a little awkward when you returned to your apartments and he rushed out a goodbye before disappearing into his place when you had stepped forward to tell him you had fun. Your third date went similarly, except you grabbed his hand while crossing a street without thinking and though he did let go after a few minutes you took it as a good thing that he didn't immediately snatch his hand back.
His lack of physicality didn't bother you really, especially because you'd met his closest friends and they don't seem to touch him either. When they visit he sits in the armchair while they're on the couch even though his couch does fit the three people. You know it does because when you hang out with all of them you usually take that third spot on the couch with your back against the armrest closest to Bucky. You know not everyone likes being touched so you allow Bucky to decide most of your physical contact. Aside from the rare occasions where you hold his arm for balance while walking in heels or grab his hand in busy places, which he tends to avoid, you let Bucky initiate things. He hardly does but your relationship is still new, a few months at this point, so you don't feel the need to rush him. You're perfectly comfortable with that choice until Sam pulls you aside one day when you're all at Bucky's apartment.
"I need to talk to you for a second y/n." Sam tells you, grabbing your arm before you can follow Steve out of the kitchen.
"What is it Sam?" You ask, tilting your head.
"What's up with you and your man?"
"I'm not sure what you mean?" Your brows knit together at his words.
"How do I put this? If I didn't know y'all were a couple I would assume you barely know each other. You don't hug, you don't kiss, you don't cuddle, you don't even sit together when we all hang. At first I thought you were just shy about affection around strangers but we're friends now I think and nothing has changed."
"I'm sorry do I need to reintroduce you to my boyfriend, one of the most physical touch adverse people I think I've ever met?"
"So it's not a you thing?" Sam asks.
"No! As far as I know Bucky pretty much hates being touched. I figured that out when I met him. I just don't push the issue." You shrug.
"I mean I know he doesn't like being touched but you're his girlfriend."
"Being his girlfriend doesn't give me permission to ignore his boundaries Sammy."
"I'm not saying ignore his boundaries, I'm saying his boundaries are probably different with you."
"Sam it took Bucky three dates to hold my hand and that was becauseIgrabbedhishand to drag him across the street. I really don't think I'm an exception."
"At this point I think you've made it seem so small that he assumes you don't like it either. If you showed him that you cared about all of that stuff I'm sure he'd show out." He says.
"Okay but Idon'tcare about all that stuff." You sigh, "I mean, I guess I do but not in the sense that I want to force him out of his comfort zone or anything like that- I'm fine Sam really."
"Are you guys coming because I will start this movie without you!" Steve shouts from the living room.
"We're coming!" You shout back. Sam grabs your arm before you leave the kitchen.
"Just give a little nudge." He says quickly. The two of you make it out to the living room and Sam nudges you as soon as you're by Bucky's seat. You trip just a little at the sudden shove and shoot a glare at him. He makes a not so subtle gesture at Bucky and you roll your eyes.
"Did you guys pick something?" You ask hesitantly placing a kiss on Bucky's cheek before taking your seat on the couch next to Sam who's in the middle. You don't notice the way Bucky touches his cheek or blushes at your sudden affection.
"Technically Sam picked this movie." Steve says.
"I did? Is itNow You See Me? Y/n you know they've never seen that?"
"I believe it." You nod.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve scoffs.
"You two are basically grandpas, now start the movie." You wave your hand at him, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Sam's lap. Sam laughs while Steve starts the movie. By the time you've finished both that and the sequel it's pretty late and everyone seems ready to wind down for the night. Steve and Sam say their goodbyes while you stick around to help Bucky clean up.
"I'll do the dishes tomorrow doll, just leave them in the sink, okay?" Bucky says when he sees you turning on the faucet.
"I don't mind doing them now-"
"It's late,andyou've already helped me straighten up. I'll take care of those." He pulls you away from the sink and turns it off. You put a hand on his cheek, your thumb gently stroking his face for a moment.
"You're sure?" You ask quietly. Bucky's eyes have fallen closed at this point and he lets out a content sigh before he replies.
"I'm sure." He says eventually.
"Alright, then I'll see you soon." You say giving him a quick kiss before going back across to your own apartment. It shouldn't, but your fingers against his skin stir something inside Bucky he hasn't felt in a long time and it makes him ache in more ways than one. For the next few weeks you take Sam's advice and test the waters in small ways. You put your arm around his when you're out together, offer hugs and kisses whenever the opportunity presents itself, you've even been finding ways to touch him while you watch TV together as opposed to sitting on opposite ends of the couch. It's all little innocent changes that you implement over time gaging Bucky for negative reactions and adjusting accordingly. He's not noticeably averse to anything you do so while there's no acknowledgment of your increased affection, you presume he's indifferent to it. Oh, how wrong you are. With each soft touch or gentle kiss, Bucky is only wound tighter over time. It takes everything in him not to react when you press yourself against him while leaving the movie theater or when you shyly kiss him before rushing into your apartment after saying goodnight. The more you do it the more he realizes how desperate he is to feel you but he can't bring himself to do anything about it. He wills himself to relish in the touches you give and not crave more. To his credit, for a while, that works. He's content with your shy kisses and gentle caresses until tonight. You're even more affectionate than you've been as of late and while Bucky loves the feeling of your hands on him, it's making the blood rush south while you're watching TV.
"Bucky are you alright?" You hum looking up at him from where your head is resting against his shoulder.
"Hm? Yeah, why?" He asks.
"Well, you've been pretty tense since I got here. I didn't wanna say anything but- I can feel your heart racing." You say patting his chest for emphasis.
"Oh is it?" He asks with forced ease that makes you chuckle.
"Babe what's going on?" You sit up to look at him.
"Nothing. You don't need to worry doll." He says grabbing your hand that's resting on his chest and squeezing reassuringly.
"Bucky, you don't have to lie to me." You frown.
"I'm not- lying." Bucky says. You look at him for a long moment before you shrug and lay your head back against his shoulder, turning your attention to the TV again absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest with your finger. A few minutes pass before Bucky lets out a harsh breath and you sigh.
"What's going on with you? And don't say nothing this time. If you're bored or something you can just say so instead of acting all weird."
"I'm not bored, trust me."
"Then tell me what's up with your behavior."
"I'm just- on edge. I guess." He shrugs.
"Why? Did something happen today?" You ask, concern in your voice.
"No no, nothing happened. I'm sorry for being weird, I'm just- god you drive me crazy." Bucky sighs.
"What didI do?" 
"The way you touch me is maddening doll."
"Wait what? I haven't been doing-"
"I know. It's embarrassing how easily you manage to rile me up. All you've done is hug me and now I want to pin you against a wall." He grunts out. Your eyes widen at his confession.
"Pin me against a wall?" You gasp.
"I've been trying to control it so much I'm sorry I-"
"Bucky I'm not scandalized that you want to fuck me, I'm your girlfriend. I'm just- surprised because you hardly initiate contact and sometimes you shy away from it, I kind of just assumed you hated it."
"Well I, I'm not usually comfortable with it and with you, it, makes me dizzy. I can't think straight."
"So like this," you place your hand back on his chest, tracing gentle swirls against his thin t-shirt, "this makes you dizzy?" You ask curiously. Bucky's hand grabs your wrist in an attempt to keep you still.
"Yes it makes me dizzy. It's been making me dizzy for the last hour."
"I had no idea you'd be so easily excitable." You giggle.
"I'm not it's just you." Bucky says.
"If you want to pin me to a wall so bad I won't stop you."
"Y/n, don't tempt me."
"I mean you don't have to if you're not ready for that-"
"That is not the problem."
"Well what is?" You ask.
"Y/n," Bucky sighs and you shrug.
"Like I said, we don't have to. I know it's not you're thing, I'm only teasing." You tell him. Bucky lets out a grunt before pulling you into his lap so suddenly that you gasp.
"I don't think you understand how hard I'm trying to not fuck you silly doll."
"What if I want you to?" You ask and Bucky's hand tightens around your waist. He brings his other hand up to the back of your neck and sighs.
"You're going to be the death of me." He growls out before pulling you down to kiss him. The kiss is rough, Bucky's tongue claiming your mouth. When Bucky pulls away, you're panting harshly as he trails kisses down to your neck. He litters your throat with marks that have little whimpers falling from your lips. "God you sound so pretty." He mutters against your skin. Your hands slip under his shirt and you drag your nails across his abdomen, enjoying the way the muscles tense under your fingers. When you attempt to tug his shirt over his head he stops you.
"Is everything okay?" You ask breathlessly.
"Bedroom." He grunts.
"Does it matter?" You frown.
"To me yes. I'm not fucking you for the first time on my couch." He says. He tucks his hands under your thighs and stands from the couch with ease. You wrap yourself around him, leaving teasing kisses along his neck as he carries you down the hall.
"I'd let you fuck me in the back of an alley if you wanted Bucky." You tell him when he kicks the door of his room open.
"What're you trying to do doll? Gimme a heart attack?" He grumbles tossing you onto his bed.
"Never." You giggle tugging him towards you by his shirt. When Bucky's shins hit the edge of the bed he falls forward with his lips against yours, bracing himself against his hands on either side of your head.
"Hard to believe when you talk like that." He jokes as he sits back on his knees. He tugs his shirt quickly over his head and you let your eyes roam freely across his chest.
"God, you're hot." You sigh which makes him chuckle. He leans forward to kiss you and then pulls your shirt up and off of you, tossing it somewhere behind him. Bucky dips his head to your collarbone, scattering your skin with wet kisses as he tugs your bra below your breasts. With your boobs on display, Bucky is quick to take one into his mouth, his tongue and lips lavishing your nipple with attention while his fingers tug and tease the other. Your back arches against his ministrations, quiet mewls filling the space.
"I love your little noises baby." He mutters, swapping his attention.
"Your mouth feels so good." You whimper, threading your fingers gently through his hair.
"Wait til you feel it between your legs doll." He smiles, kissing down your abdomen. Bucky pulls your shorts and underwear off in one go as he shuffles down the bed. "Such a pretty pussy." Bucky mutters, his hands on your thighs hold your legs open as he stares at you.
"Bucky," you frown, squirming against his hold impatiently.
"I gotchu doll." He says licking slowly between your folds. You suck in a breath at the feeling of his tongue against you. Bucky lets out a groan at your taste before burying his face fully between your legs. He laps at your core like a man starved, his tongue sharp and unforgiving against your clit. He has you so worked up that you're writhing against him, making him wrap his arms around your thighs to keep you still enough for him. Bucky pulls an orgasm from you embarrassingly fast, that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your gut snapping so soon it even shocks you. You draw a shaky breath that turns into a shakier moan when your body registers Bucky's mouth still on you, even stronger now than before.
"B-Bucky wait." You stutter out as you twist in his hold unsure if you want more or less of him.
"Gimme another baby. Love seeing you lose control." He growls out, two metal fingers joining his mouth, gently working you open as your walls continue to spasm helplessly in the aftermath of your first orgasm.
"I- Bucky- wai- I nee- God! I can't think!" You pant out, your fingers in his hair tugging harshly.
"Good, don't. Just be good and cum for me doll." Bucky says and when he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly as his fingers curl just right against that spot inside you, you have no choice but to follow the directive, cumming with a loud whine as Bucky eagerly indulges in your juices. When your breathing starts to slow, Bucky lets up, adjusting enough to shove his pants off and line himself with your entrance. "How ya doin' sweetheart? Still with me?" He asks, softly caressing your cheek. You hum in response at first, giggling as you lean into his touch. "Need you to speak for me doll. Can't give you more til you use your words." He chuckles.
"It'll take more than that to take me out baby." You wink at him, taking his dick in your hand and stroking it slowly. He's hot and hard in your grasp and you smile when Bucky's head drops to your shoulder as he groans at your touch.
"You're killing me sweetheart." He laughs breathlessly. You let out a laugh of your own and turn your head enough that your lips kiss the shell of his ear.
"It's only fair." You whisper, scraping your teeth gently against his earlobe. You can't help but delight in the way he shivers. Bucky pulls your hand from his length, trapping it under his against the bed.
"Who said anything about fair?" He manages before you feel him thrust into you. Your head snaps back at the feeling of him stretching you as he slowly rocks into you inch by inch. His size is almost overwhelming but you can't help but moan when he's finally bottomed out. Bucky's groan is strained as he sets a measured pace, clearly trying to give you time to adjust. His unhurried movements only serve to rile you up more and you're squirming against him as your hands still trapped under his clenches around it.
"Fucking hell Bucky move, please!" You finally grind out when it becomes unbearable. When your walls clench around him, any plans of leisure Bucky had in mind are tossed out. He grabs your hips tight enough that you're sure there will be bruises come morning, but you have no time to dwell on it as measured movements become unrelenting, his hips snapping against yours so hard the bed moves with each thrust. Your back arches into him as he presses into you repeatedly.
"This what you wanted doll? 'Be split open on my dick huh?" He huffs out.
"Yes- fuck, ohGodyes!" You cry out, your body overwhelmed with the feeling of him.
"That's it baby, scream for me. Let everyone know who's got you like this." His commands are breathy and gruff when they reach your ears.
"Bucky! More please! Oh my God Bucky!" You whine.
"Fuck you look so good taking my dick baby. Nice and stretched out like you should be- damn I could get used to this." Bucky's words only pull more sounds from you as another orgasm builds inside you. His fingers reach between the two of you to toy with your clit, rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves and hurdling you faster towards that third release.
"F-fuck- fuck I'm close- god I'm gonna-" it's not a full sentence, your brain is too scrambled to string together the proper thought.
"You gonna cum for me baby? Gonna make a mess all over my dick?"
"Yes, shit- yes, god yes."
"Go ahead doll, cum. Wanna feel you squeezing me." Bucky huffs out and with a few circles against your clit, you're doing just that, your third orgasm making you shake so hard Bucky has to hold you to chase his own release. His thrusts are more frantic now focused on finding his own end.
"God you fuck me so well baby, you're gonna cum in me aren't you? Want your cum leaking out me Bucky. Please- please fill me up." You whine.
"Fucking hell- you want itinyou? Want it flooding that needy little pussy?"
"Yes! Please Bucky! Please cum in me. Want it so bad." You plead breathily. Moments later his hips stutter and you feel the heat of his release as it fills you. His harsh breathing is the only sound in the room for a few minutes as you feel your heartrate slowing.
"Yeah you really are going to be the death of me." He chuckles breathlessly as he attempts to recover from his high. You giggle and wrap your arms around him, pulling his full weight onto you.
"Wait a sec babe let me-"
"Whatever it is can wait, I just wanna lay like this for a while." You tell him. Your soft voice and gentle strokes of his hair are too soothing for him to even want to argue and so you lay like that for who knows how long. Bucky's head on your chest as you play with his hair, he doesn't even attempt to take his dick out of you, just wanting to prolong your closeness.
As it turns out your boyfriend does like physical contact, but only when it comes from you.
***
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muzanswaifu · 1 year
Text
Rengoku x Maid!Fem!Reader
18+
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A/n: “My request is a fluff/smut Kyojuro x reader. The reader is a housekeeper for the Rengoku estate, she and Kyojuro have a secret relationship.”
Warnings: Smut, fluff, yandere themes, obsession, panty stealing, masturbation, cunnilingus, blowjobs, vaginal penetration, unsafe sex, creampies, secret relationship, sugar daddy kyo
Your relationship starts off so innocent
Master Rengoku is hardly around regardless, so not much happens initially anyway
You do as your told, clean the bedrooms, dust the doors, sweep the floor boards, life is simple in that you sleep, eat, and work in roughly the same schedule everyday
Your closeness with each other develops slowly, your first official meeting being the master calling for assistance in a nearby room as he’d spilt some cleaning solution, you’d apologized profusely, taking full blame for leaving the bottle out in the open, mentally hitting yourself for being so forgetful
He promptly tells your not to not to worry so much, it was his fault for being so clumsy, as a hashira he should know better
You go to bed that night feeling a bit embarrassed about the encounter and about being so damn awkward, you’d always thought he was kinda cute and handsome, despite only seeing him face to face for a total of 10 seconds
The next day you’re surprised to be called out to the garden, Rengoku wants to eat with you, although you oblige with some persuasion, you remind him of his fathers strict rules about the help slacking off, he tells you to relax, he’ll take full responsibility
When you ask why he wants you to eat with him, he tells you it because of what happened yesterday, he didn’t like how tense you were whike talking to him, wanted to reassure you that he in fact does not bite
Your nervously accept his “apology” and promise to not “be a stranger”
It only grows from there, the man insisting to accompany you everywhere you go when he visits, helping you with tasks that he’s humorously not very good at being from noble upbringing, its nice you’ll admit, but you’re horribly afraid of getting in trouble with his father
You’re especially panicked when you catch him in your room late, a scream nearly tearing out of you before you stop yourself, no need to draw more attention to this damning sight
He quickly apologizes, somewhat stuttering over himself as he excused his intrusion up to the need to find you, when you ask what he needs, he falls silent, eventually muttering out that he forgot and exits the room
Your confusion outweighs your frustration, only compounded in the following weeks of lingering touching and longing stares until it all leads up to the night your catch him touching himself in his room with a pair of your panties pressed to his face
You fall into a trance watching him through the creaked open door, your panties pressed deep against his nose while his hand works so fast that you can hardly see the entirety of his cock, only the blurry image of it, the sight has your thighs pressing together
When he finishes with a long groan, you break from your spell and attempt to step away until he calls with laughter from within the room that you can come in now
You hesistantly enter the room, eyes downcast as you realize he’s already gotten up and standing nude and proud before you
Its beyond embarrassing to be in the presence of the master's bare body but you try to grit through it as he explains to you his excitement of you finally coming to his side of the estate at this hour and that he was beginning to lose hope, you bit your tongue to stop yourself from admitting it was to use his fancy restroom he’d given you permission you to use a while ago, miraculously you didn’t even have to go anymore
When you do work up the nerve to ask him why he had your underwear he laughs delighted and admits they’ve been a great help to him at night to relieve stress, speaking of which...
You don't deny him when he asks you to lie with him, nor do you stop him from stripping you of your night clothes and setting you down onto his bed, one far more comfortable than your own you might add
Its hard to count how many ways you let him defile you that night, letting him shove his tongue into your mouth, kiss all over your body, bury his head between your legs, pierce his cock your guts, empty his sperm inside of you
you want to feel strong regret afterwards, anything to get punishment for what you’ve done, yet your feel none of it, instead overcome with the pure, unadulterated need for more, more of his company, his smile, his body, his mouth, his fingers, his tongue, his big, beautiful cock
Hell you wish it was harder to sneak around to get some alone time, but the effort proves to be rather unnecessary as the maids avoid his side of the estate like the plague and its not like his father’s nosing around looking for anything suspicious, though there were a few times when senjuro had nearly stumbled into you about to do the deed
When he does have to leave for missions, he puts into order two rules, you are to give him at least 5 pairs of panties, used, and you mustn’t touch yourself, at all, he wants you completely desperate for when he returns, as desperate as he will be for you
When he does return from those long, tiring missions, he expects you to be ready for him, on his bed naked and spread for him to go at you for hours
Rengoku doesn’t have the stamina of a normal man, his own ability outweighing theirs in the thousands as he’s able to go round after round with a sinfully short break time
It all gets to a point where you’re hardly even working anymore, only dancing room to room with him so he can take his pick of conversing with you, eating with you, playing games with you, or fucking you, you can even tell based on his posture which option he’s looking for
While it can be at times overwhelming, you dont at all mind the sex as kyojuro is a most giving lover, taking care of your needs first and foremost before he even thinks about pleasing himself , “your pleasure is my reward” is what he always says
But there are times when you force him to allow you to take control, pushing him back on the bed, telling him to keep his hands to himself as you descend on his erection, kissing his veined flesh all over with sloppy, wet kisses before glucking at his cock as best you can
The one thing you don’t like about this whole arrangement (other than the stressful secrecy) is the payment, the man insisted he pay you for your troubles, “triple what my father pays you” he said, you’re sure he doesn’t mean to, but his money makes you feel bad, like your some gold digging whore girl who extorts money from her sugar daddy, so you save all the money that he gives you, every cent, so that if things ever go south, you can give it all back to him
Because despite how…. sexually based your relationship is, you really do care for him
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Floyd, Leona, Malleus, Riddle, and Deuce reactions to visiting the MC in their world and finding out they have an overprotective father who doesn't like their kid's S/O.
Deuce Spade:
Deuce is sweating it out, wanting to earn your parent's approval. He’s the squeakiest, cleanest version of himself, at your beck and call, acting as his normal gentlemanly self while going above and beyond to take care of you. It can impact the quality of the time you spend together when he’s too exhausted to even cuddle or talk after a day of trying to prove himself to your parent, and he admitted as much as he loved taking care of you, it was making him feel like he was putting on an ‘act’ as he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone but you.
Floyd Leech:
For Floyd, this situation will likely end badly. Floyd’s not gonna feel any type of way just because your parent doesn’t approve of him, the attitude he gives off the same as always. You almost think he’s purposely on his worst behavior, mildly stressed at the way Floyd seemed dead-set on giving your parent a real reason to dislike him. There’s no clear way to patch the situation up but Floyd’s feelings for you are honest and direct, something your parent could see at least regardless of their irritation at his attitude.
Leona Kingscholar:
Leona, while not surprised, is still secretly hurt about it, almost wondering if this would cause you to turn your back on him. He's used to whispered opinions about him and he's hardly seeking their approval, but it was annoying to not find a place of peace. If he was in your parent's position and someone like him came along he knew he'd likely feel the same way, so he simply rolled with the punches and acted as he always would.
Malleus Draconia:
Malleus is on his best behavior. He understood the protectiveness your father felt over you, and he had been treated like this by plenty at several points in his life, treating it as if it were any other day. He doesn’t think he has much to be worried about as your love for him had always been true, and surely your parents would see that should you spend several days together. You can tell that he’s not letting anything bother him, with Malleus responding he was too happy to spend his days with you to let anything ruin it. He might not earn your fathers complete trust but he hoped to earn an iota of respect.
Riddle Rosehearts:
Riddle doesn’t like the feeling of judgment but the environment he was raised in was just as tense, and left him with the same need of proving himself. He knows his feelings for you are true and that as a person, he was certainly boyfriend material, so he assumed once your parent understood that the issue would dissipate. When you apologized to him for your parents frosty behavior he told you not to take it to heart, as your experience at his own home had been no easier to deal with.
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sooniebby · 10 months
Note
Can I ask for a completely separate fic of Riki and M!reader not in the same universe but just like a non canonical thing of where M!reader begs Riki to try and impregnate him because his stomach is feeling all weird and achy. M!reader doesn’t know it’s his heat all he knows is that he wants his children.
Fic ends with the reader pregnant ofc, breeding mink, biting, dumbification, go crazy on it. If you don’t plan to make any side fic of Riki that aren’t canonical to the main 2 parts then u can ignore this <333
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ఌ 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘
꧁ 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂
➤ Riki's story (but this isn't canon to the original plot)
Word count › 2.9k
Rating › NSFT
Warnings › you and Riki are morons
Kinks › a/b/o, breeding, biting, lite somno
╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
╰┈─➤ BEGINNING
(Name) had been feeling weird. He woke up tired and his head was hurting. When he went downstairs, he saw his parents and instantly wanted to throw up.
“Mom…”
“What (Name)? I have somewhere to be.” His mother answered, not even sparing him a glance.
You’d think a mother would pay attention to her child. Especially a child that sounded so weak but she focused solely on her phone. (Name) sighed to himself before walking away to the kitchen. She didn’t even try to stop him.
(Name) ignored his father. His father was worse when it came to paying him any mind. He rummaged through the fridge for something but nothing was appealing. If he had to be honest, they all made him feel sick.
His stomach was hungry but not for whatever was in the fridge.
“Dad, I’m not feeling well.” (Name) said. “And everything in the fridge is making me feel sick.”
“And what can I do about that? You’re 18. An adult. Go buy some medicine and food that you want.” His father said, walking away.
(Name) didn’t even feel sad. He knew what type of answer he was going to get. The sound of the door slamming was music to (Name)’s ears. He loved whenever they left. But he didn’t feel happy right now.
His stomach was cramping. And he didn’t know what it was.
Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to anatomy lessons for omegas and alphas. Now that he was an omega and all.
The only thing on his mind, besides his killer headache, was to go see Riki. His inner omega was whining for it. But he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he just needed some comfort. Yeah, getting some cuddles sounded great right now.
With that, (Name) sluggishly got ready to go see his alpha. The bus ride felt odd. People kept staring at him. He wasn’t used to the stares. Being a beta since he was a child, most people ignored him.
He wondered if his scent was finally coming in. Did it smell bad? He didn’t think too much of it when he finally reached Riki’s house. It was smaller than his own but still cozy the last time he visited.
(Name) rang the doorbell, feeling himself sweat into his shirt. It was sticking to his skin now. But the sun was hardly out. It looked as if it would rain in an hour or so. (Name) wanted to take a cold shower.
The door opened showing a sleepy Riki. Wow, he was still asleep this late? It had to be almost 1 pm now. Riki seemed to wake up a bit when he realized it was (Name). He pulled him inside quickly and held him close, leaning down to scent him.
(Name) still didn’t feel much from scenting. But he allowed Riki to do so. He knew Riki’s alpha loved doing it. (Name) closed the door behind himself as Riki pulled him over to the living room.
They plopped down onto the couch as Riki moved (Name) around to sit on his lap. Riki’s voice was muffled as he muttered something before focusing on scenting his omega. (Name) simply nipped at Riki’s mating bond, not knowing how to fully scent someone yet.
“You feel warm.” Riki said.
“I think I have a fever…”
“Oh, did you take anything?”
(Name) shook his head. Riki huffed before standing up, ignoring (Name)’s shriek as he quickly wrapped his legs around his waist to not fall. Riki only had to use one hand to hold (Name) up as he brought him to his room, laying him down on the bed.
“Sleep. I’ll make some porridge.”
(Name) hummed as Riki left his room. Having been in his room before, (Name) didn’t care too much to look around. He mainly focused on stripping his clothes off and moving the sheets around to make a makeshift nest.
He wasn’t sure how he knew how to make one. It was probably just an omega instinct. With just his boxers on, (Name) finally felt cool. His stomach was still cramping—getting more painful by the minute.
Was it something he ate last night? (Name) sighed as he took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. He wanted to just sleep the pain away. Getting comfortable, (Name) hugged a pillow to his chest and drifted off to a dreamless slumber.
But it wasn’t fully dreamless. In passing, he dreamt of Riki’s neck. An odd dream. What was so sexy about a neck? A few other times, he dreamt of what Riki would look like shirtless.
A groan left (Name) as he tried to dream of something other than being horny. But it didn’t work. Anytime he dreamt of something more wholesome with Riki, it ended with Riki pulling off his clothes. (Name) was beginning to feel hot again.
His skin was burning that even the fan that was turned on didn’t do anything to calm him down. The sheets felt too warm but whenever he pushed them away, he felt panicked. Like he couldn’t part with it for some odd reason.
“(Name)…”
A cool hand brushed his forehead as he sighed in relief. Finally, he felt himself cool down. The hand moved to his neck, feeling around before pulling away. (Name) whined at the lost.
“Your fever as gotten worse. Let me call my mom.” Riki’s distant voice was heard.
That only made (Name)’s stomach clench tightly, causing him to scream out. Riki didn’t get far as he quickly grasped (Name)’s arm, trying to shake him awake.
But (Name) didn’t scream again. His face that was twisted into one of agony was calm. Riki sighed in relief and moved his hand away only for (Name) to cry again.
Riki decided to test something. He touched (Name), noticing how calm he was before pulling away. Like clockwork, (Name) began to whine at the lost.
This didn’t make much sense to Riki. What type of fever worked like this? None that he knew. Riki glanced at the porridge on his desk. He’d force (Name) to eat it later. Riki gently pushed (Name) further on the bed before joining him, keeping a hand on his skin.
The first hour or so was fine. Riki even fell back asleep. (Name) work up with a start, wondering where he was. He didn’t even remember waking up. He glanced around the room before noticing Riki snuggled close to him.
Oh. When did he get here? (Name) hummed as he rubbed his stomach. It was still cramping but it didn’t hurt as much. It felt more like a very light burn. But it didn’t feel like hunger.
He should’ve been hungry since he didn’t eat this morning. (Name) sat up, wanting to go get something to eat before feeling something wet. He didn’t even notice he was naked. Well he still had his boxers on but it was wet.
(Name) pulled off his boxers, tossing them across the room as he looked down at the bed sheets. It was also wet but how? He gently touched it. It was sticky. He frowned.
What did he pee glue? What the fuck was this?
“Riki.”
Riki didn’t wake up.
(Name) groaned. He felt sticky, hot, and uncomfortable. A bath would be nice but he didn’t feel comfortable just using Riki’s shower without asking. They may be mates but they haven’t known each past a month yet.
They hadn’t even had sex yet.
(Name) was ready to just shake Riki awake when he felt his spine tingle. He gasped, feeling something wet gush out of his asshole. Slick?! Why was he producing slick? (Name) reached down to confirm, feeling the slimy wet slick that he produced the day Riki had bit his scent gland.
Was he going into heat? No way. His doctor said he had two weeks before it started. So his body can ready itself for it. (Name) sighed to himself. He must’ve been horny due to those weird dreams he had.
Riki wouldn’t mind him masturbating, right…?
(Name) easily slipped in one finger inside of his asshole, groaning at the sudden gush of slick. Why was he feeling like this? He thought having something inside would feel better but that only caused his stomach to ache. As if it wasn’t what it wanted.
He glanced over at Riki, looking down at his boxers. (Name) felt his inner omega purr at the sight of Riki. He thought about waking him up. His body wasn’t liking his fingers. It wanted his alpha.
In his head, the thought of being knotted slipped in. (Name) felt his hole clench around his finger. He liked the thought of that. To be knotted by his mate.
(Name) moved to straddle Riki, sitting himself on top of his boner. Riki didn’t even flinch. He really was a deep sleeper. (Name) knew how to wake him up. He gripped Riki’s boxers and pulled them down, allowing his cock to pop out freely. It rested against Riki’s stomach, twitching slightly.
Riki had a large cock. No denying that. But it wasn’t too surprising. Most alphas had large cocks. Riki’s cock was thick as well. He wanted it inside, quickly.
Yeah, that’s what his stomach needed. He needed to be breed. (Name) felt himself shudder at the thought of being stuffed full with Riki’s come. The idea of having pups.
(Name) grasped Riki’s cock and positioned it at his awaiting hole. He slowly lowered down, gasping at the burn. His slick worked overtime to make it less painful.
“(Name).”
“Huh?!” (Name) shrieked, accidentally slamming himself down onto Riki’s cock. He cried at the feeling, his cock cumming. Riki simply hummed, reaching to grab (Name)’s hand.
“You couldn’t wake me up?”
“Sorry…”
“It’s fine. I’m your alpha right? So my cock is yours to use,” Riki grinned. He had actually been awake ever since (Name) flung his boxers off. The boxers had actually ended up on his face instead of where (Name) had imagined.
His moves were way too sluggish to actually fling something. Riki had woken up due to the slick directly in his nostrils. He pushed it away and was about to call out to (Name) until he noticed (Name) fingering himself.
He wanted to watch, so what? Only an idiot wouldn’t like to see someone they liked masturbate.
“I feel so weird.”
“Your fever?”
Watanabe Riki was a dumbass. As well as Tanaka (Name). Only total idiots couldn’t tell the signs of a heat. But only idiots would bond themselves to the other after knowing each other for a total of two weeks.
“Maybe you should eat.”
“No. I wanna have sex.” (Name) hummed.
“Alright. You’ll eat after.” Riki said, easily flipping (Name) over to lay on his back. (Name) watched in glee as Riki grasped his legs and pushed them forward, to (Name)’s ears. Riki’s thrusts at first were slow and calculated.
It made sense. To him, (Name) was sick. He didn’t want to go too harsh. He focused on mainly rubbing against (Name)’s prostate—enjoying the soft moans he got. The sound of slick was filling be room, making (Name) feel embarrassed.
He didn’t know why he was dripping so much slick. But it wasn’t enough. It felt nice but it wasn’t what his omega was craving.
“Riki, faster.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
(Name) whined, hoping his puppy eyes would persuade his mate. Riki only leaned down and nipped at his pouting lips.
“Cute.”
“Riki….! C’mon!!”
“Why do you want it so rough?” Riki asked, picking up his pace. It was still slow but at least it wasn’t too slow. (Name)’s inner omega purred in delight.
“My body wants it rough. An omega thing.”
“Really?”
No, it wasn’t. (Name) was just talking out of his ass. And Riki was a bit stupid to not notice. He was pretty horny himself and didn’t like his pace either. But (Name)’s comfort mattered more to him.
“I can handle it. I’ll tell you to stop.” (Name) wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him close. Riki hummed. He still wasn’t too sure. But the tight wet heat of (Name)’s ass felt good.
He really wanted to cum. And no way could he cum from these piss poor thrusts. Riki leaned back, grasping (Name)’s legs tightly and began to pick up his pace.
His thrusts were harsh and fast, repeatedly aiming for (Name)’s prostate. (Name) cried out, clawing at Riki’s shoulders. He arched his back at the feeling.
“(Name), it’s my first time… is it yours?”
(Name) shook his head. “No…”
Riki’s thrusting stopped. “Huh?”
“Riki, why’d you stop?”
“Who was it?”
(Name) glared at him. “It was two years ago! C’mon, don’t stop.”
Riki growled. “Did you enjoy it?” He began ti thrust again, his grip on (Name)’s legs harsh. (Name) stared up at him in confusion. Why did he care so much?
He was mated to him. He belonged to him.
“No. We were both betas…”
Any sort of anger within Riki quickly disappeared. A smile appeared on his lips. “You should’ve said so. No beta can compare to an alpha.” His cock dragged against (Name)’s wet walls, aiming continuously at his prostate.
(Name) mewled. “Why’s, ngh, that?”
Riki smirked. He maneuvered (Name) to lay on his side and have one of his leg’s on his shoulder. This position gave total control to Riki as he seemed to reach even deeper inside of him. It felt as if he was even reaching his stomach, judging by the small bulge in his stomach.
“No beta can knot their omega. Give them pups.” Riki grabbed (Name)’s right arm and brought it to his lips, biting down at the skin. It hurt, his canines digging into his skin. But (Name)’s inner omega jumped for joy. An alpha biting your skin with their canines meant you were truly theirs.
And (Name) really did belong to Riki. Riki left multiple sharp bites on (Name)’s arm, a few stringing out small amount of blood.
“No beta can make an omega dumb off their cock.” Riki suddenly said, slamming his cock deep inside (Name). (Name) cried out, his cock once again cumming on his stomach. He didn’t think he could handle much more.
At least his cock couldn’t. But his hole, his inner omega?
Oh, it could go all night.
And Riki seemed to know that.
“Do you want my knot, Omega?”
“Won’t I… hngh! Won’t I get pregnant?”
“You shouldn’t. I’m not in my rut.” Riki gently bit the leg on his shoulder, glancing down at (Name)’s shaking form. (Name)’s eyes were dilated. He truly felt gone mentally at this point.
All he could think about was being knotted.
And if Riki was right, he wanted it badly. But a small side of him felt disappointed. He wanted to get pregnant. His rational side was screaming at him not to but his omega side purred at the idea of being filled with pups.
“Inside, Alpha. Please, knot me with your cum.”
Riki grunted, flipping (Name) over again to rest on his knees, face on the pillow. (Name) cried at this, not wanting to face the headboard. He wanted to look at his mate but when Riki slammed back inside, he clenched down tightly around his cock.
This position was the best out of the other two. Riki’s cock kissed his stomach (womb) with ease. His prostate was constantly brushed against—earning cries from him with ease.
Riki gripped his waist tightly, holding him close once his knot began to swell. (Name) mewled at the knot brushing against his prostate. Riki leaned down to rest on (Name)’s back as he bit his scent gland, using his canines. (Name) felt himself black out at the pleasure, a scream off his lips.
As (Name) felt himself get tired, Riki slammed in one last time, right against his prostate. His knot released, filling (Name)’s hole with his cum. It felt warm inside. But it wasn’t a small load. It seemed Riki’s load was pretty big.
(Name) felt overwhelmed. He didn’t think an alpha could cum so much. It also didn’t help that the knot was rested nicely against his prostate. Whenever the knot swelled to release another batch of cum, it stimulated his prostate.
He mewled each time, gripping the bed sheets underneath him. Riki sighed as he left small bite marks on his back. He was tired. He wanted to fall back asleep but knew if he did that, he’d crush (Name) beneath him.
Riki moved to lay on his side, holding (Name) close. His cock had finally stopped cumming but his knot was still swelled. It’d take a minute for it to go down. This was mainly for the cum to stay inside, making sure the omega’s womb took every last drop.
But (Name)’s womb wasn’t ready for pregnancy yet, anyway. At least the doctor said so.
(Name) hummed. The cramps he was feeling was long gone. Who knew sex could help so much. He glanced down at his stomach to see a small bulge there. It looked to be from the cum. He felt himself purr at the thought.
He didn’t know why he suddenly felt excited at the thought of being breed so full.
The two idiots fell asleep, holding the other close.
But six weeks later, when (Name) felt nauseous, Riki was swiftly slapped by his mother and was called an idiot. Yeah, (Name) was pregnant.
He guess he should start looking online for baby names. It felt as if it wasn’t about to be one pup.
(Name) just wasn’t sure how to tell his parents.
╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
╰┈─➤ END
Riki’s a bad boy, not a smart boy :/
It was so fun writing fluff for Riki tho since the original story isn’t there yet
Thx for the request!!
Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life69 @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @nakedtoasterr
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