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xbellaxcarolinax · 11 months

Text

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it.

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something.

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken.

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel."

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for.

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration.

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring.

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me."

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you.

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch.

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708.

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda.

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.”

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.”

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?”

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.”

“Miguel, what the fuck—”

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.”

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?”

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.”

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?”

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?”

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal.

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count.

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you.

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side.

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat.

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste.

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core.

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo."

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass.

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had.

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

#spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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dduane · 7 months

Note

Do you have any recommendations on what to do when you can’t write?

I’ve been struggling to write for years, but telling stories is all I want to do. I have ideas and plots and characters all figured out! But actually getting the words onto paper? I just can’t do it. There’s a mental block or something getting in the way.

I want to write, I so badly do. I want to tell my stories! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love the story, the words never work properly. I can day dream scenes up perfectly, but as soon as I’m near paper the words all vanish.

I guess what I’m actually asking is: how did you defeat the blank page?

Well, first of all, I can confidently tell you that your storytelling per se is working just fine. You just told me a perfectly cogent story right there, in writing. So that's good to know.

Now let me put your mind a little at rest by telling you something reassuring about the Writer's Brain:

It's not the sharpest knife in the block, if you take my meaning. It can be tricked. It can be fooled. It can be bamboozled into working when it doesn't want to... sometimes with embarrassing ease. (And this approach is, by and large, far preferable to sitting around over-analyzing one's interior life to figure out what went wrong with your developmental process somewhere in the dim lost past. Just hornswoggle the silly thing into working and then do the analysis later, if you can be bothered.)

Sometimes just changing something basic in the process the Writer's Brain is expecting is enough to make it lose the plot (so to speak...) and let you get on with work. And in your case I'd say, more or less immediately: Have you tried telling the story to yourself out loud, recording it, and then transcribing the recording?

Because this problem is a commonplace among storytellers. Sit them down in the pub and give them tea or a drink and start them going, and you'll get half an effortless hour of hilarious prose about What The Cat Did In The Middle Of The Night or When The Neighbors Were Fighting In The Street Again Yesterday. But show them blank paper, or an empty screen, and (now that the pressure to perform is suddenly in place) they freeze.

So try doing an end run around your writing brain. Borrow or otherwise procure a little recorder of some kind. (Or if you've got a smartphone, add a voice recording app to it.) Go get comfortable somewhere and get yourself into that daydream state, and then—making sure the recorder's on—start talking.

It doesn't have to be perfect unblemished prose. The pursuit of that comes later, after draft zero-minus-one. Just tell the story... or some of it. Or a fragment of it. Even a few paragraphs is a triumph, in a situation like this. You may, during the recording, have to talk yourself into the story stage by starting out talking about something else first. Let that happen.

Then when you're done recording, listen to it and transcribe it (typed or handwritten, as you please).

And maybe a day later, do this again. And a day or two later, once more. And so forth.

You're going to have to keep at this, because your Writer's Brain may start suspecting what you're up to, and try throwing spanners into the works. (Its favorite being "Oh, this isn't working, I may as well give up..." Pay no attention to that nagging little voice behind the curtain. Just keep doing what you're doing. Persistence is a superpower.)

The thing to keep reminding yourself, as you settle into this process, is that sooner or later the WB's resistance is going to flag, because you really do want to tell stories. It does too. What you have to teach it is that—to coin a phrase—resistance is useless. :)

Anyway: give this a try. You'll need to be doing this daily for at least a couple of months to find out whether it works or not. So let me know how it goes.

(BTW: once you've broken through the barrier, you may well find that dictation is a good routine way for you to generate your first draft. At that point—should you feel inclined to go a little higher-tech than recording and hand transcription—let me recommend Dragon Anywhere. This is a month-to-month subscription version of Dragon's flagship text to speech program—the one @petermorwood and I got Terry Pratchett to use when he started having difficulty typing. I use Anywhere a lot, on days when it's easier to write stretched out or lying down than it is sitting up. It transcribes what you say, and then you can just email it to yourself and cut-and-paste it into your writing document. Very handy.)

Hope this helps!

#writing #writing advice #the Writer's Brain #storytelling

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tojikai · 8 months

Text

Sundered 7: TIES

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, mentions of sexual assault

word count: 6.0k

And he was happy. But never the happiest.

Naomi couldn’t count how many calls she had made but the wetness in her cheeks is proof of how frustrated she already is. “Please, pick up.” She bit the inner side of her cheeks, tapping her feet on the tiled floor. Naomi regrets what she did. She regretted that she still proceeded despite knowing how wrong it was.

She warned herself not to be greedy at the beginning of their relationship. She remembered telling him they’d take it step by step, not rushing anything because they were determined to make it work. Now that she’s thinking about it, maybe he’s only determined because he wanted to forget about you so badly.

“Mom, please. He threw me out.” Naomi spoke on the phone, tapping her feet as she stood in the middle of her room with her things around her. She took all the things necessary and left. Satoru would probably put everything she left in the trash but that’s the least of her concern right now. She lost everything she had with Satoru and it’s all because of her stupidity.

“What did you expect? You sexually assaulted my son and you want me to help you?” The woman hissed at her. Naomi was naive; thinking that she’ll have her back just because she wanted her for Satoru. “If anything I could even get you arrested—” She began but Naomi was quick to defend herself.

“You’re part of this. Didn’t you basically tell me to use a child to keep your son?!” Tears of anger pooled in her eyes as her hands shook in fear, fury, and heartbreak. Naomi remembered when Satoru’s mom would free her schedule so she could spend time with him and Yui. She would suggest activities and let Naomi tag along and that’s how they started to fall for each other.

Or rather, that’s how she started to fall for him while he just wanted an escape.

“But I never told you to do that to my son! Naomi, do you really think someone would side with you on this?” Every corner of Naomi’s room felt like they were closing in on her, ready to squeeze her till she was nothing but dust. Of course, no one would be with her. No matter what Satoru’s mother told her, she still chose to follow it so the blame’s on her.

“For someone who finished school with flying colors, your mind is dull.” She chuckled, letting Naomi hear all she truly is. “You got a pretty face, you know? That’s another reason why you caught Satoru’s eyes easily.” At that point, Naomi didn’t know if it was still a compliment. She’s pretty and kind, and smart and perfect for him, like she said. But why can’t she have all of him?

“But I’m afraid that pretty face would be useless now. If I were you I’d go start over alone somewhere far.” She clicked her tongue, cutting Naomi’s thoughts off every time she tried to voice them out. “Like, imagine graduating only to get jailed over some dumb, desperate shit? Naomi, you screwed up. And that’s why you lost all chances with my son.”

Naomi shook her head, the warmness of her emotions dampened the smooth skin of her face. “No, you made me…” She breathed out, covering her mouth before running her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t want to do that…No.” She bawled and bawled but the line only went more and more silent.

She fucked up and she’s right. The shame and the loss of self-respect are not something she could live through in this city. She must go, she must leave. Like how they always did when she was a kid; fleeing the scene with her embarrassment of a family who can’t live without humiliating them. They have no decent source of living so they gotta strive.

Now, she’s doing all of it again, all while losing all of it. Again.

“Save yourself. I won’t let them know of your plan. After all, you were once of help to my child. I’m truly sorry.” With that, the call ended; with Naomi sitting on the floor as she put a balled hand over her throbbing chest, and the thought of going away to start as someone new settled in the middle of her head. Naomi learned a lot from all the troubles she went through.

This time, she learned that you could have someone's body but their heart could still be somewhere else.

—-------------------------------------------------

“What is it?” Satoru heard through the phone speaker. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, letting relief flood his veins and calm his shaking flesh. “When are you free?” There was a long pause before Satoru’s father replied, “You know I can make time.” Clearing his throat, Satoru massaged his temples, thanking the heavens that his nightmares weren’t real.

“Let’s meet later if that’s alright.” He whispered, scared that his voice would break. Satoru knows that he is the only link between the relationship of his parents. Just like how his older brother would’ve been the connection his father was hoping to keep his first, real love close. Until they got tired of it all; the matters brought by his mother. And him.

Just like how she drained Satoru out. And right now he just wanted to run away from her too.

“Of course, just send me the exact time.” Satoru nodded as if his father could see him, “Are you alright?” He asked after a few seconds as if sensing the trouble from his son’s voice. “Yeah, much better now, at least.” Satoru rubbed his eyes as he shook his head, eyeing the negative results of the vaginal swab test. “Dad, Mom can’t know.”

He’s almost sure that the request would prompt questions from his father, knowing that he’s aware of how close he is to his Mom. But he was surprised when he simply agreed, murmuring an “Okay.” before letting his son end the call. Satoru pictured him on his office chair as he nodded away, brows furrowed with worry like he always is when it comes to family matters.

When Satoru was a child, his nanny would tell him that his father wasn’t always so workaholic when his ex-wife was still there, co-parenting with him. After she ran away and left, his father started to immerse himself in work more. He knows that he tried with his mother since they were already there and married. But it was just never the same.

His father was happy with them. But he could never be the happiest again.

Leaning back on the chair, he put a hand over his eyes and let his frustrations stream down his cheeks. He let out a shaky sigh, grabbing the papers before looking at them in a brighter light. It’s negative. Nothing happened. You woke him up just in time. He tapped on Naomi’s contact, quickly typing his last message before attaching a photo of the results.

‘I’m mailing the rest of your things tomorrow.’ It only took a minute for her to respond with an apology but Satoru doesn’t care anymore to read it. He blocked the number as soon as he made sure that she received and read the message. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her.

He knows he is wrong for not telling her about his feelings as soon as he can. But that doesn’t equal what she did to him and what she almost got them into. Satoru checked the clock before sending the time to his father, hoping to end all of this mess before the mess ended him.

His mother has been calling him nonstop, and he always had to pretend that he was not home during the previous days. He stayed in watching movies with his little girl, sending you videos and pictures every now and then. He slept in her room during those days, a desperate attempt to calm his brain down. His head hurts from overthinking.

Putting the papers back into the envelope, Satoru took it with him to his room. He made sure to put it in his bedside drawer, just in case some other shit comes up. If this happened before, he’d probably think that Naomi is not that kind of person. But after what she did to him, all of the trust and admiration she has for her went to waste.

Changing into something more comfortable, Satoru tried to take a quick nap. He doesn’t want to look this tired when he meets his father. He’d probably convince him to get a general checkup just to make sure that nothing was wrong. Satoru knows that if it weren’t for him, his father wouldn’t ever put up with his mom. He’d probably spend his whole life searching for his ex-wife.

A few hours of nap felt like nothing because when Satoru woke up, he still felt tired. The only difference is his heartbeat doesn’t sound like it’s trying to come out of his chest anymore unlike when he was waiting for the results. A little progress is still progress; just like how he’s trying to make it all up to you.

If Satoru’s being honest, he’d fall down to his knees and beg you to take him back if you asked him to do it. The only thing stopping him is his brain telling him how happy you are right now and how he wouldn’t want to destroy that. He can’t force himself to stop thinking about you but he can force himself to move on if it’s for you.

Satoru leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, reading a text from his father saying that he was on his way. Another text was from you; it was a picture of Yui holding up a coloring book and a crayon. He was just with her earlier but he misses her already. He wondered if he could visit when he doesn’t have other things to do even if it’s not his schedule yet.

Sending a response with a small smile on his face, Satoru heard the doorbell ring, signaling his father’s arrival. He peeked through the spaces of his window curtains to ensure that it was him before opening the door. Satoru’s still unsure of what he’ll say but he hopes that his father can give him a better solution.

Satoru thought that if he ever cut ties with his mother, it’d be for you and Yui’s safety. He didn’t think that it’d be for him too. “Dad,” He gave his father a hug as he stepped in, following his son as they walked to his house. “What’s going on?” He asked as soon as Satoru closed the door. They walked to the kitchen, settling on one of the barstools.

“It’s because of mom…” He began, placing a glass pitcher atop the counter.

—---------------------------------------

“Smile~ We’ll send this to Dada.” You cooed, pointing at the camera as you tried to take a picture of your daughter. At first, she didn’t want to do it, wanting nothing but to play with her book and crayons but when she heard that her Dad wanted to know about it, she got real creative with the pose. “You don’t listen to Mama, anymore.” You pouted at her as you hit send.

She scrunched her nose, sticking out her tongue at you before picking on her colors. You still can’t forget how dead Satoru looked when he dropped Yui off. You wondered what he talked about with his mother that caused him to be like that. Even with the soft tone of his voice, you could hear roughness that probably came from the lack of sleep.

If it concerns you, then you definitely have to know. His mother probably said something bad about you, but you doubt that it’s affecting Satoru by how he was talking and looking at you. He just looked so done with all of it, but even so, there was still a tender look in his eyes when they met yours.

You sighed while looking at your phone as you waited for a text from Toji. He’s been so busy with work lately, you’re just glad that you already talked about your problems. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well had it stayed unsaid for a couple more days. It wasn’t completely back to normal, but at least, you’re both trying to make it better for each other.

“I would try,” He whispered to your ear as he hugged you from behind, “I can’t promise not to think of her–“ You turned around, looking up at him with a solemn look in your eyes, “I’m not asking you to not think of her, that’d be selfish of me.” He nodded, kissing your forehead, “Alright, what I mean is, I won’t make any comparisons.” You hummed.

“I need you to stop worrying about Satoru and I.” You put your head on his chest, “I know it’s easier said than done, but I just want you to know that I am with you.” Your fingers traced figured on his skin, “I’m keeping that in mind.” He placed his cheek on top of your head, sighing deeply as he let go of you.

“I’m taking Megumi to my Mom’s.” He pushed your hair back with his fingers, making your eyes flutter close as you felt his face get closer to yours and his breath ghosting on your lips. “I’ll see you later.” He pecked your lips, “Take care, I love you.” He murmured as he gave you a long kiss, before turning to get their stuff.

One thing that you notice about Toji is that he never waits for you to say anything back. You don’t want to take the words lightly, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the same way as him. You still have a long way to go, and you don’t want to rush anything. When you mention it to him, he just says that he needs you to hear it.

“Mama, look!” Your daughter pulled you out of your head as she showed you a picture of a cat, “Dada buy Yui.” You looked closely at the picture, laughing as you realized that she was talking about the cake that they ate. “Yeah, you're right! That's what Dada bought you!.” You patted her head as she giggled.

“Yui, baby. Did meemaw come to see you?” You held her small hands, trying to keep her attention to you. “No. No meemaw.” She pulled at your hair gently, trying to color it with her crayons. “What about…what about Naomi?” You can’t help but chuckle as she pretended to think, eyes looking up as she pouted her lip.

“No Naomi!” Her answer gave you a bit of an insight. You would assume that maybe she was just busy, but hearing about how Satoru’s mother reduced her workload made you doubt it. Satoru sent you tons of pictures during his time with her but you thought that Naomi just wasn’t in the frame.

If the ‘talk’ between her and Satoru didn’t end well, you could only assume that he already told her about it. He’s probably down because he wouldn’t want to hurt her like that. With all the progress Satoru has made, you doubt that he’d be so happy to have broken a heart. She was still once a friend to him.

A heavy feeling settles in the middle of your chest, like an anchor weighing your heart down, thinking about how his mother would probably find a reason to drag you for it. But if that’s the case, you’re sure that Satoru wouldn’t let harm come to you.

With how gentle Naomi was, you couldn’t think of a worse thing to happen.

——————————————

“What did she do this time?” His father looked away, clicking his tongue. If one would ask Satoru, his parents would’ve probably divorced years ago if it weren’t for him. His father knows how he is with his mother, and the thought of giving him a hard time switching between the two of them pained him.

Satoru wished that he thought about it too before he decided to go and selfishly start over with someone else. Your words the night he confessed to you echoed in his head. He came to a realization that you probably wanted to ask him to come back but held yourself back as he let you know how happy he was with Naomi.

And he was happy. But just like his father, he was never the happiest.

“I don’t really know how to open this up to you…” He bit his lip, “…But I just want this to be over, Dad.” Satoru felt so vulnerable at that moment. The only time he had a talk this serious with his Dad was when he found out about your pregnancy. It was just more of a news, unlike right now, which is a call for help.

“Naomi…Mom and Naomi talked about…” His father’s eyes coaxed him as if sensing his distress. “Naomi tried to…” Shaking his head, Satoru breathed out. “Naomi wanted to conceive. Because our relationship was falling apart.” He can see his Dad’s brows pull together to a scowl, probably getting a hint of what happened.

“She talked to Mom about it and she…” The man sat up straight, bouncing his leg like he already knew what his wife did. “She said Mom brought up the thing about how you and him got together.”It was hard to talk about this to his father, knowing how sensitive it can be for him. “Naomi told me about it. I recorded it, just in case—”

“Satoru, what did your girlfriend do?” Satoru looked down, fingers fidgeting like he was a kid again. “And your mother’s involved? What happened?” Rubbing his face, Satoru threw away all his fears. If he’s not going to fix these problems, then who will? “She got me drunk, and then she tried to sleep with me.” He blinked fast, watching his father’s face.

“I heard her talking to Mom on the phone, and I took it from her. That’s how I found out that she played a part in all of it.” It was hard for him to accept. The person he used to protect, the one he always tried to understand was the same person who betrayed and put him in this position; the position that also made his father the person he is today.

Another long silence surrounded them. His father’s hand was balled into a fist, covering his mouth as he blankly stared at the marble surface. “Where’s Naomi?” His father pulled out his phone, and Satoru could tell just what he was about to do. “I don’t know. I’m sending her things away. I’m cutting her off. I’m filing a protective order against her and mom–“

Satoru didn’t get to finish his sentence before his father spoke again, probably finally taking in the information he just provided him. “I’m divorcing your mother.” His mouth fell half-open. His voice was low, serious, and full of all the grief that he’s been feeling for years ever since he lost his first wife and son. “And I’m sending that woman to jail.” He added, raising a finger.

“There’s…I don’t want that.” He breathed out, earning a questioning look from his dad. “You don’t have to send her to jail. I…I messed up if I just told her that I still have feelings for Y/N, then she wouldn’t have resorted to that. She wouldn’t have talked to Mom and this wouldn’t have happened.” He stood up, leaning on the counter as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Satoru thought about it too when he caught her in the act. But after some reflection, he realized his shortcomings, his mistake of not just telling her about what was really going on. Even though there was no excuse for what she did, Satoru can’t help but feel like he’s the one who caused all of this to happen. And he probably really is; a victim of his foolish choices.

“But other than that, I don’t want Y/N and Yui to be caught up in this. I don’t want to expose them to this kind of problem, they’ve been through so much because of me already. I just want to do better this time.” Thinking about dragging you into another mess made Satoru feel weak. He promised to make it up to you, and he’d do anything to prove that.

His father put his phone down on the table, taking in a deep breath just to calm himself. “But you’re not stopping me from divorcing your mother.” Satoru doesn’t know if it’s right to agree to that. It felt like he was encouraging the separation of his parents; celebrating his mother’s heartbreak.

But his father’s been suffering heartbreak for years. It’s only fair to set him free.

“It’s up to you. I…” Satoru shook his head, sure of the decision he was about to make. “...I don’t think I can just forgive and forget what she did. It’s not something small, and I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.” His eyes itched, ready to let his tears go any minute. “I don’t even know if I still want to be associated with her.” He turned away, sighing as he blinked away his pain.

When he and Naomi went for the examination, he made her spill all the details regarding the said conversation with his mother. It took everything in him not to fly into a rage while breaking down as he heard of it. All this time, his mother saw him as a pawn to keep his father, regardless of whose life she was tearing down; Satoru’s, his father's ex-wife, and his first son.

“I wanted to take you away when you were a kid.” His father admitted, looking ahead as he reminisced of the decisions he made. “I wanted to just take you and raise you with your brother. Of course, with the hopes of getting my ex-wife back.” He leaned back, tapping on the screen of his phone. The bitter tone in his voice can’t be missed.

“That was my plan when I found out about you. But when you were about a year and a half old, she disappeared. All I knew was she was…tired; drained of all the chaos that our son and her were exposed to. What with having to co-parent with me as I was with your mother.” His eyes played the emotions he chose to hide away many years ago.

“I know you know about this. She and I got divorced. I thought it was over for us, I thought I made the right decision to turn away and try another start. And I was dating your mother. Then we had you.” His arms were crossed and Satoru could almost see the similarities between his feelings to how he used to feel about yours and his relationship.

“Then, realization came running for me; haunting me in my sleep. I was ready to get her back again, but it was too late. She was already gone.” Satoru absently poured water for his Dad, listening intently to his story. “So, I felt like the only thing to do was to marry your Mom. I reminded myself that still have you, I can’t just spiral down.” He smiled at Satoru.

“I tried to convince, tried to brainwash myself that it’d be fine. That I could learn to love her and I did. Just not the kind of love that lovers have.” If his mother could hear his Dad right now, she’d get shattered. Satoru doesn’t want to see that, but she would have to. She has to understand that she’s putting this man through.

“I loved her because she loves me; because she cares for you and me.” Leaning over to pick up his glass, he looked his son in the eyes. “But true love is unconditional, Satoru. It should not have a reason.” He took a sip, pursing his lips before continuing. “Reasons might vanish, and when it does, so will the love you feel for that person.”

In the middle of it all, Satoru could only think of you. Why does he love you? When did he realize that he loves you? How did it happen? He doesn’t have an answer for it. He cannot find a reason for it. He doesn’t remember loving you just because you put up with him, he doesn’t remember falling for you just because of the life you created together.

All that he knows is that one day, he woke up and he already knew that he was in love with you. Like he’s been doing it for years; like that’s all he’s ever known.

—-------------------------------------------------

“I’ll keep in contact with you regarding the proceedings.” Satoru’s father spoke on the phone, stepping inside his mansion and smiling at his helpers. He asked Satoru if he wanted to have a word with his mother but the thought of having to look at her after what she tried to make his ex-girlfriend do makes him feel dizzy.

“Honey, you’re home.” The woman tried to welcome him with a kiss and open arms but he quickly turned his head, rejecting her. “Come up to my office, we got something to talk about.” The mask of a loving wife was quickly covered with fear and dread.

“What about in our room? So, you can rest.” She nodded her head once, trying to coax him but he was tired of closing his eyes and numbing his heart from feeling the pain and regret of having to lose the love of his life for the comfort that this woman offered him before. “In my office. It’s not a small matter that I could sleep on.”

Leaving the woman baffled, he made his way upstairs, not waiting for her to walk beside him. There was a deafening silence in the big room, save from the footsteps of her husband and the door of his office slamming with such force that it sent a crack in her heart.

She took a deep breath and ran her palm on top of her dress, thinking of all the reasons she could give him just to prove her innocence. She didn’t want any of that to happen. She didn't think that Naomi could be so dumb as to come up with such a heinous and unpleasant plan.

That wasn’t even what she did to Satoru’s father. It was just working to keep them together. And that’s why Satoru came.

With her found determination, she held her head high. Swallowing the terror rising up her throat as she let her thoughts convince her that she did nothing wrong. She never explicitly told Naomi to do that, she’s the one who schemed that. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

She walked up the stairs, caressing the smooth, cold surface of the handrail. Satoru wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He’s her boy, her pride and joy. He’s the only ally she had when his father was openly pushing her away.

Satoru wouldn’t just ruin what she and his father had because of baseless information from his sick girlfriend. Entering the office, the man sat on his swivel chair. Forehead pressed to the heel of his hand. “What is it, dear?” She smiled sweetly at her husband, appearing unaware of what he had in mind.

Oh, how she wished she was just unaware of it all. She wished that she didn't know what the problem was. She wished it wasn’t what she thought it was and that she was just overthinking because of how– “I want a divorce.” Those four words halted the spinning of her world.

“What?” She raised her brows, checking if it was just her mind playing tricks on her and making her hallucinate. “I want a divorce. And I want it as soon as possible.” His eyes no longer held any emotions towards her; no sadness, bitterness, fading love. None. Not even pity.

“Listen, honey, I didn’t think that Naomi would do–“ She took quick steps towards him, hoping to get him to listen. “So, you knew about it?” He glared at her, “You knew about it and you didn’t tell me anything?” He shook his head, and she could only open her mouth.

“Doesn’t matter. Satoru told me everything.” He stood up from his seat, towering over her as he stared her down. “It’s nothing like that–“ She breathed out, panicking. “I’m not really interested in what you told Naomi. I’m just thankful that my son’s safe.” He stepped away from her.

“What I want to do right now, is to be free from this.” It’s over for her. All the alibis that she was composing, thinking of for this moment are useless. He doesn’t need an explanation, this was simply the final push that he needed to kick her out of his life. And probably out of Satoru’s too.

“Please, don’t do this. We’re already too old to–“ She tried to grab his hand and he only grabbed it with the other to put it away. “You’re right. We’re too old, our son’s too old for me to still pretend that we want to be in this position.” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Please, listen. I wouldn’t do something that could harm–“

“I know,” His voice was calm. “Of course, to harm him wasn’t your intention, right?” She nodded eagerly, thinking that he was finally listening to her. “But you wanted to decide for him. You got in between him and Y/N, then pushed this woman on him because you thought you knew best for your son.” Tears fell down her eyes, and she lost all hope.

“Now, look at what you did to him.” He gritted his teeth, stepping forward to get her out of his way. “But this is not just about our son anymore. This is also about me, finally choosing to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Opening the door, he spoke to her one last time. “All you have to do is sign. The actions that your son will take is all up to him.”

With that, he left her with all of the nightmares of their past coming back. How he only wanted the best for his sons, how he wanted to take full custody of Satoru, how he wanted to get back together with his ex-wife, and how he only married her because she was gone. She was never the first option. She was never the original pick.

She wasn’t chosen, she just happened to be already there.

—————————————

“Hey,” You heard Satoru speak as Toji opened the door for him, nodding. This was kind of similar to how they first saw each other but you’re just glad that this time, it’s a lot calmer. Megumi ran to his father, peeking up at Satoru as he waved at him.

“Yui, your Dada’s here.” Toji left the door open to let Satoru in. Megumi was holding onto his pants, staring back at Satoru. “Yui Dada,” He picked his toy up, staring at a distance before walking closer to him. “Blue!” You laughed from the kitchen, as you packed some snacks for the little girl.

Today, you’re going to the zoo as Yui requested. The animal drawings from her coloring book got her asking you to call her Dada late at night, just to babble about it. “He’s referring to your eyes,” Toji spoke as he went back to the living room to pick up some of the toys.

“Megumi, it’s not good to point at people, what did I tell you?” He warned the toddler as he went back to your room, eyes meeting yours as you made your way to Yui's room. “Ah, yes. Yui and I have the same eyes.” Satoru smiled at the child.

“Dada!” Yui ran towards him, stomping her shoes extra hard to show him how they light up with dancing colors. “Woah! Did Mama buy you those shoes?” He opened his arms, urging the little girl to run to him and she happily did, giggling as she nodded. “It’s awesome!” You smiled at how he tried to flatter his child, encouraging her to do a little jump.

“Where are we going today?” You asked her in a playful tone as you put the lunch bags on the coffee table in front of them. “Zoo!” You watched a Satoru give her a sincere smile, patting her hair gently while complimenting her little butterfly clips. “I’m sure Megumi’s been to the zoo before.” He poked the little boy's tummy.

“Yeah. Animals. Bears and lions.” He stood behind you, peeking at Satoru as he talked. Megumi isn’t usually shy, but he doesn’t easily warm up to people. “We went there on his second birthday.” You almost jumped at Toji’s voice behind you as he picked up his child. “He’s a smart kid.” Satoru answered with a friendly smile.

“You guys should come. If you want..” It surprised you that he was initiating something like that. Although, you know that Toji wouldn’t be so comfortable with that and would most likely reject the offer, it’s still nice to see that Satoru’s trying to make an effort to get along with him.

“That’d be nice but his grandma's waiting for him,” Toji answered, chuckling awkwardly. “Dada work,” Megumi added, earning a hum from his Dad. Making sure that the bag is packed with everything Yui needs, you zipped it up. “You ready to go now?” You tapped the toddler’s cheek, feeling Satoru’s gaze at you.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Standing up with his daughter in his arms, he took the bag from your hands. He put the toddler down to hug her friend goodbye, before walking hand in hand with her outside. You laughed at how she kept squealing with each step she took, looking up to see her Dad’s reaction.

“You guys have fun, alright? I’ll just lock the doors before we go.” Toji pulled you to him, giving you a kiss. “I’ll be back later.” You put your hand around his neck, standing on your tippy toes before pecking his neck. With that, you walked out the door to join your toddler who was patiently waving at you from her car seat.

“Okay, it’s zoo time!” You wiggled your brows at her as you slammed the door shut, making her giggle. You checked your face in the mirror, trying to ignore Satoru’s soft eyes as he watched you. “How are you?” You tried to start a conversation but it was quickly interrupted as you searched around for your daughter’s binky.

“Maybe we left it inside,” Satoru spoke, opening Yui’s bag to help you find it. “Yui, where did you put it?” Remembering how she placed it on the coffee table as she showed off her outfit to her father, you started to unbuckle your seatbelts but Satoru stopped you. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.” He was already stepping out of the car before you could stop him.

Satoru jogged up your steps, knocking a few times before proceeding to open the door. Toji was just about to open it for him when he entered, “It’s Yui’s pacifier. She left it.” He put on the most polite smile he could muster, wanting nothing but to get rid of the awkwardness between them if they were both going to be in your life.

“Oh, alright. I thought it was someone else.” Toji let out a rather awkward chuckle, not knowing how else to react or what else to say. But just as Satoru uttered ‘thanks’, Toji remembered the thing he’s been thinking of for almost a week now. “Uh, Satoru,” He called, making him pause as he held the door open.

Her brows raised, waiting for him to say something. Toji doesn’t know if you’d be happy about this but it’s better than just letting his feelings, thoughts, and opinions all pile up inside of him. This is for you and Yui. Not just for him.

“I’ve been thinking about our situation with Y/N and… I was wondering if you could set aside a bit of your time for a chat?”

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

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selfishdoll · 7 months

Text

NOW PLAYING…. FANTASIZE

I know what you fantasize about

TAKUMA INO x SUCCUBUS! READER.

sum: ino, desperate to feel the touch of a woman, seeks out alternative options. which includes, summoning a demon into his house.

cw: ooc characters, modern au (no cursed techniques), lowkey loser ino (i love him), virgin!ino, switch (both of you), handjob, blowjob, cowgirl, praise, pussy-drunk ino, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names (on both sides), demons, demon rituals, angst if you squint, porn no plot, chubby reader, gojo is a bit of a dick, etc.

it was so funny looking up rituals for summoning a succubus, i know the person watching my phone activity is concerned. also, does this count for kinktober? idk i’m new around here. but i got this idea while working so…:) hope you enjoy. unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

Takuma Ino was having a bit of dilemma. It wasn’t anything serious like a sickness or losing his home, rather— it was actually quite silly.

He has never, in his twenty-one years of living, made love to a woman. Or anyone for that matter.

Now he’s been on dates before. Has flirted with woman, hell; even kissed a few. But, it never went farther then that. He wasn’t sure why, it ate him up inside that he didn’t have such experience like his seniors Gojo and Geto, even Nanami. And as much as he’d like to find the root of the problem, Ino refused to ask any of them for some perspective.

The thought alone made him want to curl into a ball and die.

But him being inexperienced wasn’t a secret, given Satoru teased him on it constantly. Much to the younger man’s dismay.

Things really took a turn one night, however, when Gojo said something a little off-putting.

At this point, you should just summon a succubus.

The statement was quickly overshadowed by Geto stating the white-haired male was being rude, along with Nanami agreeing. But in that moment, Takuma Ino wasn’t focused on Gojo’s lack of manners, rather; his mind swarmed with that idea.

Was it possible? Were such creatures real? Could he really summon one?

Ino was desperate. He felt something was lacking inside of him having no experience and all. So, just the thought of a solution like this.. well, it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?

Which brings him to tonight, the man seated crisscrossed on his bedroom floor; staring down at the pentagram and candles in the middle of the room. He had spent hours before searching the web for summons, deciding on a relatively easy one. Drawing the pentagram took much more time then he wanted it to, along with placing the candles down. It was currently dark out, the moon shining into his already lit bedroom.

Ino pursed his lips, a bout of anxiety developing in the pit of his stomach. What if, he messed it up somehow? The thought of dealing with something worse then a succubus scared him much more than never having sex. However, another thought plagued him..

What if it didn’t work? Was it really worth wasting time on some stupid comment Gojo made?

It took a moment for Ino to decide his next choice of action, leaning on his crossed legs as an exasperated sigh escaped him. Moments of silence passed before he rose up, a small fuck it, escaping him. Leaning against his bed, the man glanced at his phone, reading through the remaining steps quickly.

“Okay, blood.. then chant.” Ino gulped softly. Settling his phone back beside him, he reached for the pocket knife off to the side. Flipping it open, he placed the blade against his palm, squeezing the handle of the small weapon. His breathing got heavy for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth— glaring down at his hand. Quickly, Takuma slid the blade across his skin, a sharp hissing escaping him once the wound started to sting. He watched as scarlet red blood slowly bubbled from the cut, breath hitching as the sight.

Ino breathed, lifting his hand over the pentagram and rose petals in the middle; watching droplets of blood slowly fall from his hand, into the pile. His lips moved, softly chanting the spell he had found on the internet, dark eyes glaring at the ritual.

The chant escaped his mouth five more times before he stopped, resting their silently for a moment. Waiting for.. anything, really. A signal, a sign the ritual had worked. That his desperation wasn’t all for not..

That he hadn’t cut his palm for some odd fantasy.

Unfortunately, nothing happened. Nothing, except for the sting of his hand and the one of his dignity. He was such an idiot— taking Gojo’s word at face value instead of as a joke.

Takuma Ino, felt pathetic.

Silently, he pulled his hand back, ignoring the sting of it as he began to collected the dirtied petals. He moved to blow out the candles next, collecting them as well to throw away. Once that was completely he exited his bedroom to his bathroom, coming back with a wet rag shortly after to rub away the pentagram.

Still silent, still completely mad at himself.

That was about five hours ago, Takuma deciding to push the event to the back of his mind and sleep. He couldn’t dwell over his stupidity for too long, he had work in the morning.

Curled up under his blankets, the man slept soundly, face pressed into his pillow. The room was quiet, atmosphere soft, his legs, heavy… heavy. Why were his legs so heavy? The half-asleep man turned, pulling his blankets a bit, thinking it was simply that.

But, no. Ino quickly realized it wasn’t that. Sleep was slowly drifting away, annoyance traveling into his body. Did he accidentally place something on his bed? Did something fall? Such question entered his mind, blinking away sleep as he turned— shutting his bedside lamp on.

Takuma Ino blinked slowly, eyes peering down at.. something, someone. A woman. She was, pretty. Cloaked in warm mocha skin, a form figure will full hips and curves; pudge pushed against the blankets underneath her. Her hair was neat, styled in long braids that rested in curly ends just below her ass.

And from what Takuma could see, she was completely bare.

“Wh—what..” The man stuttered under his breath, slowly pulling his legs from under her body, backing to the headboard of his bed. Biting the inside of his cheek, he reached over, planting a hand onto her shoulder. “Hey.. uh— miss?” He spoke, watching her stir just a bit. To his horror she turned from laying on her stomach, Ino quickly tossing his blanket in her direction. “Miss— its time to wake up!” Ino spoke again, voice holding much more urgency then it did before.

You slowly stirred from your sleep, blinking and yawning softly. You tilted your head to spot Ino already staring at you, a look of shock and nervousness painting his features. You only smiled, turning once again to rise up on your hands. “Hi..”

Ino gulped the moment your voice hit his ears, range a sickeningly sweet tone, soft; traveling into his mind so easily. He bit his cheek, clenching his pants in his hands. “How did you..get in here? Are you lost?”

You blinked at him for a moment, coming to sit comfortably on the bed, nearly smiling at the way he refused to look at you. Or rather, your body. “I’m not lost.. you summoned me here, right?”

As the words left your mouth, his breath hitched; eyes widening in shock. The ritual, actually worked? He had really summoned one, a succubus? There was no way, this had to be a prank.

“You look human.”

“I look how you want me to look..” You spoke softly, leaning back, sliding your hands down your body. “Or rather, your type.” You grinned, watching a warm red spread across his cheeks. You leaned, crawling up to him until you were far too close for comfort; watching as he sunk into the headboard to gain some space. “But, would you like me to change? Is there something else you wish to see?”

Ino breathed heavily, eyes finally falling from your face and to your body; trained on your soft plump breasts, your thighs, your hips.. everything was just so, perfect. Change? Such a thought would never pass his mind.

His trance was interrupted the moment a pretty giggle escaped you, his entire body stilling the moment your hand rested upon his lower stomach. You pushed up until your mouth was against his ear, speaking lowly;

“Looks like your body answer the question for you..” He hissed softly as your hand breached his black tshirt, gliding your fingers along his vline. You were so close, yet so far from he really wanted you to touch him; his head leaning back as you continued to rub gentle circles into his skin.

“Please..”

“Hm?” You feigned innocence, pulling back to glance at his face. His eyebrows were pinched a little close, eyes closed as he gently bit his lips. The sight was very pretty, you had to admit. “You want me to touch you more?”

“Yes—“ Ino spoke far too quickly, raising his head to look at you. His cheeks were flushed with red, embarrassed out of his mind— but he didn’t care. Not one bit. “Please.. please touch me more.”

Your glossed lips curled into a small smile, leaning over so you two were only a breath’s away. “You’re so cute, Ino.” You spoke softly, closing the gap to capture his lips. Slowly, you two enjoyed the other’s mouth, pressing your body against his own. You felt his hand twitched with uncertainty, slowly lifting to gently grasp your waist. You smiled against his lips, gently biting them in response. The moment a soft gasp escaped him, your tongue intruded his mouth, while your hand.. reached into his pants.

His fingers gripped your bare skin as your own traced his shaft, feeling him slowly harden under your touch. You wrapped your hand around his cock, slowly pulling him out of his pants and boxers. The man groaned softly as your thumb traced his tip, feeling precum slowly drip from the slit. You pulled back, cooing at the sight of his strained face. How cute..

You leaned over, lips pressed against his neck as you began to drag your hand up and down his shaft, slowly, watching him twitch with each glide across his sensitive tip. You sucked a kiss into his skin, switching around to kiss against his throat; relishing at the gulp you felt under your lips. Your hand quickened around his cock; focusing around his tip, grinning at the way his hips rose up into your hand.

“So cute..” You murmured to yourself, watching him carefully. He felt so sensitive from your touch, gasping out; soft groans escaping him every so often. The hand on your hip was bruising by now, fingertips digging into your skin, holding on for leverage. He’s never felt anything like this; your hand completely differently from his own. You played like him as if you knew his own body more than he did, grazing across secret places he’s never known about.

“O—oh, fuck..”

“You’re close, handsome?” You questioned softly, eyelids lowered as you hand got even faster. The man was bucking up into your hand at this point, fucking it, chasing his release. One he reached easily, lips parted as a husky, prolonged moan escaped his throat. You hummed softly as his warm release coated your fingers, glancing down as your hand slowly came to a stop. You tilted your head with a little simper, traveling down the bed. “You made a mess of yourself, Ino.”

Your voice brought him down from his high, blinking tiredly over at you. To his horror, you were leaning down towards his cock; the man gasping the moment your lips brushed his tip. “F—fuck..” He whined softly, gripping the blanket under him, a stuttered groan escaping him as your tongue traveled up his shaft, collecting his cum. “‘M too sensitive, please—“

Ino’s own pornographic groan interrupted his words the moment you took him into his mouth, eyes rolling back at your warm cavern. He could only lay there, overstimulated whines escaping him as you took him deeper into your mouth, tongue gliding across his cock; allowing his tip to hit the back of your throat.

You bobbed up and down his length, eyes closed and focused on your breath. Your hands resting on his thighs, feeling the muscles shake and clench with each movement of your head. It didn’t take long for the poor man to come again, his voice much louder than before; painting your mouth and throat white. Your moaned around his cock, slowly sucking him dry, feeling his hand press against your shoulder— gasping from the sensitivity. You pulled back slowly, swallowing the rest of his release, eyes peering over at him.

You warmed as his hand traveled to your face, feeling his thumb gently wipe away your mouth. You leaned into his palm, “Did that feel good, Ino?” You questioned sweetly, watching the man nod rather quickly; still breathless. You gently kissed his palm — right above his wound —, slowly traveling up his body, settling on his torso. His hands found your ass, gently caressing the warm skin— clenching when you pressed against his chest lightly.

“You want more, don’t you?” You spoke softly, leaning closely. Your noses brushed, moving in as if to kiss him, only to back away the moment you saw his eyes fluttered. His hand clenched your ass, a small chuckle exiting you as a result. “Use your words..”

Ino breathed sure his cheeks and ears were terribly red. He never imagined his first time would go like this, but, he wasn’t complaining. He glanced into your eyes, “Please.. I—I want to feel you.” He spoke, watching as you moaned softly at his words. He felt accomplished the moment you rose your body, scooting down a bit to hover above his crotch.

Your hand collected his cock, breathing slowly as you lined it up with your entrance. Pressing your knees into the bed, you slowly lowered yourself on his length; feeling his hands grasp your thighs the moment they began to shake. You moaned as he stretched you, velvety walls clenching the deeper he went. Soon, you settled into his lap, pressing your hands against his stomach to still yourself.

“Ar—are you okay?” You glanced up to spot the tinge of worry in his eyes, your cheeks warming at this. You leaned over, kissing his chin.

“Of course.”

Digging your knees into his soft blankets, you rose yourself up until only his tip remained inside— dropping down in one swift motion. The action caused the both of you to moan, his hands clenching your skin; resting his head on his pillows. You hands pressed against his stomach, fucking yourself on his cock; pretty moans escaping your swollen lips.

Ino was holding you so tightly at this point, allowing you to do anything you wanted; trapped under the pleasure you were giving him. Your plush walls clenching him, your hot skin pressed against his own— it was all so much, but he loved every piece. Hazy eyes slowly focused on you, watching work yourself up and down his length, how erotic your expression was.

“Look.. fuck— You’re so pretty.” Ino gasped out, hands traveling to your waist, slowly meeting your thrusts. His hips circled, watching you clench his shirt, pretty babbles of his name escaping you. He wanted to see more of it, needed to. You were far too much, yet he craved it.

A surprised whine escaped you the moment he began to fuck up into you, his feet flat on his bed, holding you tightly on his cock so you could do nothing but take it. The sound of skin on skin contact entered the room, your jumbled noises of pleasure surrounding the space too. Your bodies moved against each other, desperate for release— for the other’s as well.

Repeated fucks escaped you, leaning over to wrap your arms around his neck as he rose his hips more; reaching even deeper inside your messy cunt. You held onto him tightly, eyes pinched close as your nails dug into his covered skin. “F—fuck, so close, so close— Ino!”

His breathing was ragged, face stuffed into your neck as he felt his hips began to stutter. “Me.. me too, fuck— can i come inside? Wanna.. fill you up, oh fuck!” Ino’s voice came out in harsh whimpers, thrusts turning desperate, slamming into you as his mind grew cloudy. In the midst he heard your soft pleas for his cum, your pretty whines enough for him— pushing him over the edge. Spilling into your, fucking his seed into you; stuffing you full.

You gasped, eyes rolling back as you came as well; wet walls clenching, milking him of all he’s worth. The two of you panted heavily, his hips slowly falling to the bed as his arms wrapped around your middle. Your fingers curled into his hair, eyes closed as you simply laid on him.

“… Are you leaving now?” His tone was soft, voice scratchy from its previous abuse. You smiled at his words, shaking your head. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

To your surprise his arms wrapped tighter around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

“Good.”

#mani writes ━━ ★#mechahrt #mdni #jjk smut #jjk x poc!reader #takuma ino #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino x black!reader #black!reader #fem!reader #x reader #chubby!reader

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weneeya · 2 months

Note

Hear me outttttttttt

the Gojo scene with Hanami.. but imagine him being that unhinged and pissed because someone touched you.. like 🥴 Please bless us with your work with this!! I’m begging

Overprotective

Gojo going feral

ur brain 🤝 my brain I've literally thought about this a thousand times omg thank u for requesting this

You were supposed to be alone on this mission. Everyone had faith in you and they were right to think that way: you were a strong sorcerer. But Satoru had a bad feeling about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in you, in fact he was probably the one who believed in you the most ; but something was off and he couldn’t find what.

He couldn’t just follow you there, because he knew it would hurt you. You were an overthinker and he didn’t want to put this weight on your mind. So he simply waited for you to come back to Jujutsu Tech, still worried that something could go wrong.

The first thing that got him out of his mind was his phone ringing. When he saw your name, his heart skipped a beat. It was unusual from you to call him in the middle of a mission, especially as hard as this one. He didn’t hesitate before he picked up the phone. When he heard your trembling voice asking for help, the world stopped around him. Nothing else mattered or even existed right now, except you.

He had never been this fast in his entire life before. He knew where you were for the mission, so he didn’t have to ask anyone else to come with him. He didn’t need anyone actually, because he was going to destroy the thing that touched you all by himself.

When he finally arrived where you were, he really thought about going crazy. You were almost on the floor, as way too much blood was leaving your body. You were so pale, he could tell that you were just about to pass out. He reached your height in a second, carrying you to put you on the floor behind him, where you would be safe. He left a kiss on your forehead, sounding way too calm for it to be normal.

“It’s okay, my love. Stay awake, it’s gonna be quick.” he sounded so soft to your ears, as you closed your eyes and finally breathed again. Everything was going to be fine now that he was here, you knew it.

When Satoru stood up again, facing the creature that did that to you, a smile appeared on his lips. The last time he felt this angry, he was completely out of control. The only thing that was able to calm him down was when he was sure that his opponent had suffered twice more than what he had done. And this one, it hurted you ; so it needed to suffer even more. His piercing blue eyes were looking at the curse who soon rushed on the exorcist.

Or at least it tried to. The curse was quickly stopped in his movement, not able to move at all. As it started to panic, trying to fight back, Satoru kind of appeared in front of it. His psycho smile was even more terrifying than before as he slowly tilted his head to the side.

“Now, we can play,” was the last thing you heard before losing consciousness. The sight of Satoru being feral like this worried you a little, because you knew the man was unstoppable when he was like this. But at the same time, you knew that the mission was going to be handled just right. There was nothing to worry about anymore.

OMG FERAL GOJO he's really driving me crazy I don't even have the words anymore with this man

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs

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ja3hwa · 1 month

Text

♡ 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 | 𝐉.𝐖𝐘 ♡

【Synopsis】 : You started to think you were losing your mind. Where on earth is your underwear disappearing to? Your roommate wouldn't happen to know, right?

『Word count』 : 750

-> Genre: Smut. Roommate au.

Pairing: Bestfriend!Wooyoung x AFab!Reader

[Warnings] : Masturbation. Pantie fucking. Swearing. Pet names. Kisses. Light banter. Flirting.

Note: I'M BACCKKKKKKK!!! DID YALL MISS ME HEHE.

My darling @shinestarhwaa , the minute i saw your request, i was up all night thinking about it. I would have made this longer, but Idk why i didn't, honestly, haha. I hope you like it hehe.

Based on this request ♡

Masterlist | Navigation | Buy me a Ko-Fi ♡

This was the fifth pair in weeks that had gone missing. At first, you thought you might have been forgetting them at the laundromat in the basement of your apartment. But when you couldn’t find them there you started to believe only one thing. Standing in your silky robe with your hands on your hips, you head down the hall from the bathroom, going past your room towards your roommate. If anyone knew what might have happened it’ll be him.

But little did you know, Wooyoung, your precious roommate was the one stealing them. It didn’t start like this at first. One time he did his laundry with your stuff and one of your pretty pink pairs of lacy panties got mixed up with his stuff. Tucked perfectly in his jeans. Out of sight. When he was putting his clothes away, he couldn’t help it, you were napping and he didn’t want to sneak into your room, fearing he’d wake you.

So he did the natural thing. He was going to leave them on his counter and wait until you woke up. He was going to leave them on his counter…. He was going to wait. Wait for you to wake… How on earth can your panties be so soft? Are they silk? So warm, and they smell like your floral detergent. God, they're perfect. “Fuck…”

He was ashamed at first, rushing to pull his sweats down, awkwardly wrapping the garment around his aching cock. He had never came so hard in his life before feeling the sweet material around himself. It was messy, filthy. Sinful. He couldn’t help himself, as the days turned into weeks and one pair turned into five. He hid them under his bed, of course, not knowing what to do with the cum filled cloth. He couldn’t just put them in a wash, cause you do the washing nine out of ten. And he couldn’t possibly say all of these panties just happened to end up in his load. He was in too deep. So hiding them became the best option.

Then a knock at the door alerted him. He was right in the middle of pleasuring himself with your panties when you walked in and man the look on your face turned him pale. Pure shock was best to describe your features. Standing there in a bathrobe of all things, looking at him with utter disbelief. Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to hide away, and never return. Tucking his cock away in his sweats, his hand was tightly clutching the -your- panties. “I… I. uh. I can explain.”

“I was wondering where my panties went. What the fuck Youngie!?” You folded your arms across your chest, tapping your bare foot on the ground. “Do you have the rest of them??”

Wooyoung’s brain had successfully stopped working, just staring at you like a deer in headlights. In his mind, your friendship was over, but in yours, he needed to be punished. Sure it was weird but not the worst thing you’ve seen. And it probably doesn’t make it as bad since you have a huge crush on him. So right now, you wanted to play a game. Since he made you lose your mind, you wanted him to have just a taste. “Well? Why did you do it? I’ve been searching myself stupid for them.”

“Look, doll, I’m so sorry. It just happened and I couldn’t stop. I uh… god I’m a creep.” He was still seated in the middle of his bed, banging his head lightly on his headboard. You were silent for a moment, letting him sit in some guilt before you couldn’t hold back the smile. Starting to laugh. This caught Wooyoung’s attention so fast, letting him snap his neck in your direction.

“Oh lighten up Youngie.” You waltz over to him, leaning down so your face is inches away from his blushed one. “Just tell me so I don’t lose my mind over where they went.” he kissed his cheek before turning away and heading for the door.

Wooyoung didn’t move though, no, he sat with bulbous eyes watching you with a stopped heart. You gave him one more smile before saying. “Oh and next time you want to fuck your cock with something of mine. maybe try my pussy.”

And with that you left with a beaming smile, closing the door to leave Wooyoung with his short-circuited mind and aching hard cock.

—

Special Taglist: @wlv-asteria @isiloiale @imperfect0angel @sugarnspice630 @yeorisanaxox @maeleelee @uarmytess @mxnsxngie @shuporangporanglinossss @nopension @sanhwalvr @gypsythrift @hyukssunflower @dearinsaniiity

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thecreelhouse · 2 months

Text

⌞ it felt like love & drugs ⌝

Paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 7.2k

Summary: After Steve helps you relax when your vibrator died, you want to return the favor, but it escalates, fast. // This is part 2 of it’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend ! part 3 - crystal clear 🥰

CW/Tags: language, roommates/FWB, Steve and reader getting stoned together, panic attacks, taunting/teasing banter, smut (duh), switch!steve/switch!reader, oral sex (m & f receiving), PiV rough/unprotected sex, light voyeurism/exhibitionism, ruined orgasm/denial, overstim, fluff

A/N: this was supposed to be sub!steve, I swear, but whoops. my hand slipped. hope y’all enjoy ♡ title is from love & drugs - the maine

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘‎♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘‎

When Steve offered to help you … “relax”, after your vibrator died at the end of a horrid day, you thought you were dreaming. That was two weeks ago, and you’ve been a wreck ever since.

Yes, you were counting the days.

It was all you could think about, and you were silently hoping another opportunity would appear to return the favor to him, but no time felt right enough to bring it back up.

Despite Steve saying it wouldn’t make things weird, it did make things weird, for you. It was relatively easy to shrug it off on the outside, but you were losing it internally. On the other hand, he seemed fine, like nothing ever happened. Like he never went down on his best friend in the middle of the kitchen.

The sweet pet names he used casually weren’t helping much, either.

“Hey, babe, how was your day?”

“What movie do you wanna watch next, sweetheart?”

“I grabbed the big pack of batteries, just to be safe. They’re all yours, honey.”

That last one had to be intentional.

It was beginning to drive you insane, and the tension was building enough to slowly bubble over. You’d only be able to keep this to yourself for so much longer before blurting to Steve some filthy comment about going down on him.

Self doubt settled in; maybe he didn’t want what you offered last time. Maybe Steve was just being polite. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to you like that. He was just being a good friend, helping you in the heat of the moment.

Let it go. Just forget it. Don’t bother him with the idea.

So, you do. At least, as best as you can. Steve’s still on your mind when you play with yourself, quietly in your room. It’s obviously not as good as what he did with you, but you can’t just ask for him to eat you out again, just because. Choking on him is the first thought while you push your fingers into your own mouth.

Even when you’re not getting yourself off, you’ve had some moments of weakness where the thought crosses your mind while you have a lollipop in your mouth, or a popsicle. Licking ice cream off the spoon. None of it compares to what the real thing would be, but the concept of pleasuring your friend, your roommate, with your mouth, is becoming an unhealthy obsession.

On a rare night the two of you have off the next day, it’s spent getting stoned out of your mind with Steve.

It’s happened before, enough to be familiar with one another as you zone out, laugh at stupid shit, and raid the kitchen together. Tonight, though, you notice Steve’s not his usual relaxed, goofy self when high. He’s jittery. He’s quiet. He’s anxious, and you’re watching his weed-fueled spiraling unfold in real time.

You’ve only seen this happen once before, but it happened in a group of your friends; Robin was able to distract him, roping Steve into a nonsensical discussion of which female character from all of the movies released that year was the hottest. That worked, of course.

Except now, you’re alone with him, and scrambling to find the right words to keep him calm.

While you lay on the couch, he leans back onto it from the floor. You tried to get him to sit on the couch, but he insisted the floor was comfier.

Then, the spiraling starts, but it’s subtle. He kicks it off with the strange question of, “If both of us are single by our thirties, you wanna get married?” He seems okay, at first. Odd thing to ask, but he’s asked much weirder questions while high.

You choke on the hit you’re taking, coughing roughly as the smoke hangs in your lungs far too long. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah… like, you’re not afraid you’ll die alone?” He reaches for the pipe and lighter in your hands, but you pull it back.

Brows knitting together in confusion and a bit of concern, you ask, “Steve, where the hell is this coming from?”

“What if I’m dying?” He sputters, shoulders slumping before he continues. “What if we’re both dying? And what if we both die alone? That’s so… sad.”

You purse your lips before responding, “I mean… don’t we all come into this world alone? And then we leave alone? Everyone does, right?”

Steve groans, hands reaching up to snake his fingers through his hair, except he tugs on his locks halfway through as his eyes squeeze shut. “Don’t say that.”

“M’sorry, you wanna talk about something else?” He shakes his head as his hands fall back to his sides, head falling back against the couch cushion.

“Wanna not be high anymore,” He murmurs, looking over at you with a desperate, needy stare. “Make it stop.”

“Stevie, you’re okay, I promise. We both are.” This would almost be comical if he wasn’t slipping closer and closer to tears. You slide off the couch onto the floor next to him, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. “Maybe you should drink some water. When’s the last time you had any?”

Steve sticks his tongue out to pinch it, and feel if it’s dry or not. It takes everything in you not to start giggling. He lets go for a moment to answer, trying to joke, “Eight years, at least.” He turns to you with a frown, eyes red and hooded. “Do we have some?”

That, unfortunately, lets a laugh slip from your lips. “Steve, we live here, and last I checked, we paid the water bill. We have running water.”

“Stop laughing,” He pouts, pulling his knees to his chest before resting his head on them, face still turned towards you.

“M’sorry, honey,” The pet name slips easily, more than your laughter moments ago, catching Steve off guard as he blushes. “I’ll get you some, okay? Hang tight.” You set the pipe on the coffee table, out of his reach, but he doesn’t seem interested in the slightest anyway.

As you push yourself to stand, Steve reaches out and grabs your ankle, still pouting. It’d be cuter if he wasn’t panicking, but he’s got something weighing heavy on his mind, and you can tell through how sad his eyes look. “Are you leaving?”

“Gimme like… one minute, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

Steve sits up, readying himself to stand, but he moves an inch before falling back against the couch. He looks up in your direction, “I wanna come with you.”

“Stevie, just stay put, I don’t need you breaking your neck or something.”

“Breaking my ‎what?” Panic floods his face and you realize you said the wrong thing. You crouch back down to him, gently taking his face in your hands, trying your best to ignore how warm he feels.

“One minute. You’re fine. You’re safe. Give me one minute.” You run into the kitchen before he can grab for you again, sobering up a bit with a mission in mind.

When you fill two glasses of water, one for each of you, but you’re sure he’ll need both, you stop at the freezer before calling out. “Hey, I’m grabbing a popsicle, want one?”

Steve’s head pokes up from the other side of the couch, only past his eyes, though. You giggle at the sight. “Uh-huh,” is all he can manage to respond with.

You return with each hand holding a popsicle and glass of water, sitting back in the spot you previously had. Steve wastes no time downing not only his glass, but yours, too, as expected.

“That was yours, wasn’t it?” Steve bashfully asks, only feeling guilty for a moment before unwrapping his popsicle. “We should get, like…. Twenty more of these.”

You’re glad to see he’s already distracted, thoughts wandering away from anxiety about death, and into something mundane. Hopefully it continues.

“Twenty more popsicles?”

“No, no, boxes of popsicles. So like…. A lot.”

Laughing, you ask, “Where do we have the freezer space for twenty boxes?!”

Steve glances over to the fridge, then to you, eyes narrowing, “I’ll make it work.” You’re sucking on the tip of your popsicle when Steve looks back at you, still glancing at the freezer while your lips make a subtle smooch noise as you pull off to laugh.

Steve’s frozen in place, gaze glued to your mouth as your tongue slips out to lick along the side of the popsicle, then puckering around the tip again, before taking more of it into your mouth.

You’re not even trying to rile him up, but Steve’s definitely distracted from his panic attack now, watching you satisfy your oral fixation with the red ice. As you turn back to him, melted cherry juice drips from your lips, onto your hand holding the popsicle, and some on your chest. Your eyes land on the bright red droplets first, missing his reaction to all of this.

“Shit, I hate getting sticky.” Truly, you’re innocent right now. Not a dirty thought in your mind that’s pushing you to act this way, or to say what you just said. “I should get a napk— ” Your words dissolve on your lips as Steve’s motions play out; he grabs your wrist, his tongue lapping along your fingers, slowly trailing to the source in your grip.

Even for Steve, this is bold, high or not.

“O- or that works too, I guess,” You breathe, eyes locked with his as he pulls back, grip still on your wrist. Trying to break the tension, you joke, “You’re somethin’ else when you’re high, y’know that?”

“You’re the one always trying to keep your mouth busy.” Your eyes widen, dropping the popsicle remnants onto the wrapper on the table. He smirks, “What, you think I didn’t notice?”

Pausing before you retort, you notice the pipe was moved from where you set it on the coffee table. “Where’s the— Jesus, Steve, please tell me you didn’t smoke again.”

Steve giggles with a shrug. “I dunno nothin’.” As he puts his hands up, you see it in his palm.

“Oh my g— Steve, you were just panicking! You’re done, okay?” Grabbing the pipe from his hands, you glare at him. “I’m finishing this bowl off and then we’re both done. Got it?”

While you inhale, he moves over to you, grabbing you by the chin as his lips hover over yours. The close proximity makes you nervous, dizzy, almost exhaling too early as he gravelly demands, “Shotgun.” You shake your head as best as possible with his grip still on your face, lungs burning while you still hold your breath.

So he waits, like the conniving asshole he is, watching your eyes water with a wicked smirk. “C’mon, give it t’me.” His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers inching closer to where you want him most. It doesn’t take much, just a feathered touch of one finger, slowly dragging up your clothed core, and you’re a goner.

You exhale with a whine, trying your hardest not to cough in Steve’s face as his lips part to take the smoke in. When he releases you, you’re turning your face away to cough wildly, eyes watering even more. Catching your breath, you glare at him with glossy, red eyes, while wiping away the excess spit on your lips with the back of your hand.

“What the fuck is your problem, Harrington?” You rasp, chest still burning, from the smoke or annoyance, you’re not sure.

Exhaling secondhand smoke, he smirks again, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Steve is infuriating like this, getting under your skin, slamming all the right buttons, and beneath it all, you love it.

Yet, you warn him, “Steve, you’re pushing it.” He’s not. He knows that, and you know that, but you’re both too high for this right now. Whatever… this is. “And you’re gonna be really high any minute now, a- and…”

He’s got his hand back on your thigh, leaning in towards you, close enough to kiss you. “We shouldn’t… we’re both… we…” Your warnings fade out as your arms wrap around his neck, contrasting with your words. “Steve, this isn’t a good idea.”

Steve grabs you quickly, helping you straddle his lap. It takes a couple seconds for your mind to catch up with the rest of your body. His hands grip your waist as he flexes his hips up into you, ever so slightly. You gasp as you feel him, already hard beneath you.

He rolls himself up into your core, brushing against your clit ever so softly. “No? Why not?” You bite back a moan, shoving your hands onto his thighs to try holding him down.

“I- I mean, it is, but we shouldn’t do this now, right?” You’re trying to be the voice of reason, but you’re losing, fast. How are you supposed to resist this when you’ve been thinking about even just touching Steve for weeks. “You- were you this hard the whole time?”

He loses his filter easily when he’s stoned, so he blurts, “Uh-huh, pretty much every time I looked at you the last two weeks.” Pushing his hips up, your efforts of holding him down were useless while he grinds against you again. This time, his head falls back onto the couch, eyelids weighed down with desire as he watches you give in, grinding down onto him.

“Oh m- my god, so that’s why you kept hiding in your room, huh?” You smirk at the thought of flustering him so much, he has to resort to jerking off at the most inconvenient times. “What were you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Steve’s tugging at your shirt, sinking deeper into his high, “Off. Now.”

“No, I asked you a question, honey.” You purr, kissing along his jawline. His breath hitches at the touch. “What do you think about when you’re worked up over me?”

Steve whines, hands exploring under your shirt, and you’re too far gone to order him to keep his hands to himself. “You.” Is all he can bring himself to say as he feels you nip along his neck, soothing the love bites with wet, open mouthed kisses. “Baby, please…”

“That answers nothing, Stevie. Lemme rephrase my question,” You pull back, hands on his face, stomach flipping over the way he stares back at you, desperate and needy with shallow breaths already. “What do you imagine us doing when you fuck your fist? What do you want me to do?”

He tries to throw his head back while squirming underneath you, but you keep him in place, and he whines, louder this time. “Dunno where to start,” He breathes, pouting at you in a cute yet pathetic way.

“I might know… What’s off limits?” You ask just as he asked you two weeks ago. He swallows sharply, shaking his head.

“N- nothing.”

“You’ll tell me if something changes though, right? Or if you don’t like something?”

Steve’s nodding enthusiastically, “Yeah, uh-huh. Nothing’s off limits with you.”

You do your best to ignore the way heat blooms throughout your body from that.

“Can you get up? Y’need help?” You slide off of him, watching as he tries his hardest to hide another pout at the loss of your body on his. You nod towards the couch behind him, “Want you up here, s’that okay?”

Without a verbal answer, Steve scrambles clumsily onto the couch, eyes growing wide as you stay on the floor and push his legs apart. You’re not sure where this confidence is coming from to take the lead, but you kind of like watching Steve become submissive.

“M’dizzy,” He murmurs, hands at his sides, gripping the couch’s fluff while looking pained.

“You okay? We can stop, honey, it’s okay. What do you need?”

Like you anticipated, he whimpers, “Too high,” with a frown. You sigh, head falling forward and resting on his thigh, not really thinking much about the placement; he tenses up when he realizes how close you are to where he needs you the most.

“Stevie, I told you this was gonna happen,” You say this softly, not wanting to freak him out more.

“I know, I- I got nervous,” He admits, panting from panic building. “You’re killin’ me the last two weeks, wanna touch you and hear those cute noises you make again…” Running his hands through his hair, he twists his eyes shut as he continues to ramble, “and I just- I thought maybe getting really high would help not think ‘bout it. I fucked up, baby.”

Despite this being the consequence of his own actions, you feel for Steve, knowing firsthand how awful it can be if you get too high, how fast your thoughts can snowball, or feel like they’re completely melting out of your ears. Your hands splay out as you rub your palms softly, slowly, up and down his thighs.

“I can give you a distraction, you want that?” Steve frantically nods. “You trust me?” Again, he wordlessly replies with a nod. “Tell me if you wanna stop, or need something else, ‘kay?”

Steve watches you as he holds his breath; you reach for the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down slowly. You’re shocked when you’re immediately met with his throbbing length instead of a pair of boxers, freezing before you can pull his pants down fully.

“What’s wrong?” You don’t realize you’re staring until Steve asks this, worried. “Is it— is this okay?”

You feel your mouth water over the sight of him, naked from the waist below and up close. Tongue darting out to lick your lips, you force yourself to move and pull his pants off completely.

“More than okay,” You breathe, watching his cock kick as precum pearls at the tip. “You…” You’re struggling with your thoughts, trying to find the balance between being carefree and fun, and accidentally blurting out your feelings now that you’re really fucking high.

Kissing up his thighs, alternating sides every so often, you take your time, reveling in his needy whimpers. The sweet, soft kisses continue up his body, taking your dear, sweet time in hopes it’s beginning to distract him.

Steve can’t focus on being too high if he’s more worried about you moving too slowly, right?

“Angel, need you now,” His pleas of lust are music to your ears as you reach his shoulder, sucking softly along the sensitive crook of his neck. Your hand winds around to the nape of his neck, fingers weaving through his hair as you hold the back of his head, keeping him upright. “Needa’ kiss you.”

When you pull away, a glistening thread of spit follows you, attached to your lips for a moment. Steve bucks upward at the sight, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

“This is what good friends do for each other, right?” You whisper, breath hot against his own lips as you move closer. Maybe if you say it out loud enough, you’ll believe it. “Just fuckin’ around… helping each other out.”

Steve frowns, but doesn’t protest, just whimpers as your grip tugs on his hair.

“Can you be good for me?” He breathes out quick ‘uh-huh”s, about to reach for your hips, but you pin his arms to his sides. “I’ll take care of you, but you gotta do one thing for me.”

You begin to sink back to the floor, with a detour of your lips hovering just above his tip, gaze locked with his as you spit slowly onto him. Not even spit, more like drool. Steve gasps sharply, chest heaving, “Anything, name it, I’ll do it.”

“Hands to yourself. Everything stops if you touch me.”

Steve looks offended, “You’re kidding me.”

You giggle, “Dead serious.”

“But I- I wanna— ” You know what he’s about to say, it’s the reason you’re making this rule to begin with.

“Fuck my face?” As you cut him off, his face drops. “Not ‘til I say so.”

“What the fuck, how’d you know?” Steve’s voice drops to a whisper. You smirk, shrugging as you feign innocence.

“Might’ve heard you a few nights ago, walking by your door.” While you wish you heard him moan your name, the sounds you stumbled upon were still too sweet to let go. “You’re also an idiot for watching porn out here, thinking I wouldn’t see,” Your teasing makes his face flush red with embarrassment.

Mortified, Steve stammers, “I- I thought you were sleeping!”

To be fair, you were about to go to bed, but curiosity got the best of you that night.

You slipped down the hall, peeking around the corner and past the kitchen, where the living room’s only source of light was the TV’s glow of filth.

Steve was on the floor, sweats shoved down to his ankles, leaning back with his legs spread; he was fixated on the scene of some dude snapping his hips into a woman’s face, fucking down her throat. He thrust his hips up in time with the jerking motions he made, fist shining in the TV’s light from precum spilling over.

You were burning up as you watched, knowing it was wrong, you should give him space, stop being nosy… but it was also wrong for him to fuck his fist out in the shared space.

With a mind of their own, your hands rushed to where you needed them most, one between your thighs, the other under your shirt, grabbing at your chest; you tried your hardest to imitate Steve’s pace and pressure he had the day he offered to help you, but your own touch never came close to his.

You bit your lip to hold back your own noises as he groaned lowly, murmuring things like “That’s it… my good girl can take it all, huh?” The moans from tacky porn he watched were drowned out by his own. Silently, you joined him in the filthy fantasy, hand slapped over your mouth as your fingers toyed with your clit, cunt soaking through your underwear already.

Steve had no clue the two of you came together.

“I tried, ‘til I heard you moaning,” You admit without shame. “I’m not mad, Stevie. You could’ve invited me, though.”

“You… you watched me?”

Fuck. Should’ve kept that to yourself.

Should’ve really not done it at all.

Slightly grimacing, your hands slide off of him, “I— yeah. I know I should’ve gone back to bed, but… but you sounded so hot, I- I couldn’t sleep without knowing what you were doing.”

He grabs your hands and pulls them back to his body with a dopey grin, holding a hint of smugness as he breaks your rule already.

Through his hazy high, he manages to admit clearly, “Only did it ‘cause I wanted you to watch me.” Your jaw drops, unsure if you’re mad he played you at your own game, or if you’re impressed.

Nodding silently with a petty smile, you ask, “Hey, Steve? How’s your high going? Guess you’re done panicking, so you don’t need this—” in one fluid motion, you lean in, sliding your tongue up his shaft, lips wrapping around the tip, and take him in without hesitation.

The noises that leave Steve as his hips jerk are sinful and raw; his hands twitch as he keeps his hands near his sides, dying to grab you and fuck your face. He stays… well, not still, but he’s not touching you, like you asked.

As quick as it started, it ends all the same; you barely have him at the back of your throat before pulling back, drool following your lips as his dick is left throbbing and sticky. He’s panting, arm thrown over his eyes with his head thrown back onto the cushion.

“Right? You’re good enough to finish on your own?” You stand, spitting over Steve’s cock one more time before walking away, “If you still need some help, you can borrow my vibrator.” Your taunting is helping him race to the edge, almost over it, almost losing control and cumming without your mouth still on him. He wants to start stroking himself, almost does, but grabs you as you round the back of the couch before walking out.

You whip around, glaring at Steve, then his hand gripping a fist full of fabric from the back of your shirt, keeping you here. At the same time, he kicks his pants off completely.

“Oh, that vibrator? The one I got batteries for?” His high must be wearing off, just enough where he’s able to stand up and swing his leg over the couch. He’s behind you, half naked, with one hand snaking around your hips to pull you against him; you can feel how hard he is as he holds you tightly, slowly rutting into your backside. “The one that died on you? The one that doesn’t make you moan as loud as I did?”

You’ve got your thighs pressed together over his words, while his other arm slides around to your chest, over your neck, holding you in the position of a chokehold without actually doing it. Watching his arm flex as it winds around you, your stomach flutters while your pussy throbs.

“C’mon, honey, you can tell me.” The hand on your hip slides past the waistband of your sleep shorts, sliding over your cunt before dipping his middle finger between your folds. Steve groans as he feels how wet you are, enjoying how easily he can tease your clit in small, slow circles. Your head throws back onto his shoulder, and he kisses your temple, lingering to hear your breathy moans in his ear.

“Barely touched you, and you’re already going dumb on me,” He can feel the way your clit throbs as he taunts you. “What happened to you being in control? You had it for a second there, babe.”

There’s only two thoughts taking space in your mind right now:

You hate Steve right now.

You need Steve, right fucking now.

Shoving his hands away— he never had a tight, promising grip to begin with— you spin around to take his face in your hands, kissing him roughly. Steve stumbles back towards the wall, lips still attached to yours as he sighs through his nose; a muffled grunt vibrates into your mouth as his back hits the wall. You’re not even trying to take back control, you just couldn’t stand another second without kissing him.

As he pulls back, Steve catches your bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging a bit before letting go, breathless. His hand grips your chin roughly, “You wanna finish what you started?”

Steve releases your face, and you nod with a pout and lust-blown pupils; you start sinking back to the floor, but he holds you up by your hips, tugging at your shirt again. “Off.”

“Only fair if you do the same, Stevie,” Your shirt rolls over your body and crumples on the floor. You’re about to remove your shorts, but Steve’s faster, leaning down to your chest, biting along the swell of your breast. “F- fuck,” You’re gasping as he continues and flips you around, with your back against the wall now.

Immediately he’s sucking and swirling his tongue around your nipple; low, muffled groans add to the dizzying work his mouth does. His large hand reaches for the other nipple, pinching a bit before his palm is blanketing over your breast, groping roughly. You’re whining and bucking your hips towards nothing, so he takes pity on you, shoving a leg between your thighs.

“St- Stevie, I was— oh, god,” You can’t focus with his hands and mouth on you, all while pressing his thigh against your core. You really are going dumb for him, and you wish you could have this all the time. “I was t-trying to take care of you, asshole.”

“Didn’t say you can’t, just wanna play with you for a bit.” He’s kissing back up your chest, up your neck, skipping your jaw and cheek to jump right back into a rough, messy kiss. It’s a lot of tongue and spit and teeth and nothing close to the softness of the first time you two kissed, but you need this right now. You need him like this right now.

Pulling back, you snap “I’m ‘bout to lose my mind if you don’t fuck my face or cunt in the next ten seconds.” Steve freezes, pulling his leg away, hands finding their new spots pressed against the wall, arms caging you in.

“Don’t tease me like that,” Steve warns, licking his lips as he looks down at you. “Because you have no idea how badly I want— need that,” He exhales roughly, forehead falling onto yours, ignoring how his cock twitches, desperate for attention. “And if anything makes our friendship weird, s’gonna be that.”

With wide, sweet eyes, you gaze back at him, pushing him back a bit, “So make it weird.” His eyes fall shut while he sighs loudly. “Steve, this has been weird since the damn vibrator died, it’s going to be weird forever, just accept it and fuck one of my holes already. I need— ”

Steve’s ripping your shorts down and off of your legs, pushing your legs apart when he pauses to look up at you from the floor. Hands grip your hips so roughly, you know he’ll leave handprints behind.

It happens so fast— his mouth is on you, hot and unforgiving, pace nowhere near the soft and sweet demeanor he had the first time he went down on you. Your hands fall to his head, fingers weaving through his locks to pull, hard. The shameless groan he lets out into your cunt makes your knees buckle, vibrations only adding to the intensity he sucks and laps at your clit with.

“Oh, fu- fuck,” You’re going to climax before he’s even inside you if he keeps it up, wishing you weren’t so easy to please. His pretty doe eyes, still red from his high, never leave yours while he continues burying his face between your thighs. “S- St— ohmygod— M’gonna cum t’soon, y’gotta stop.”

“That fast?” His fingers seamlessly switch with his tongue for a moment, murmuring, “Y’can just cum again.”

“But I— ” Your body jolts as his tongue flicks at your clit while two fingers slide into you with ease. “I w- this was supposed to be ‘bout you…” Your words become lost as you notice the steady, repetitive motion of his arm, stroking himself as he eats you out.

Steve doesn’t reply, he’s just working relentlessly to push you over the edge. You’re too far gone to make him stop, whining while grinding onto his face, so close, so very close—

He pulls back, hands still holding you up, watching as your body reacts to a ruined orgasm; twitching, legs shaking, walls fluttering, moaning, all while feeling so empty. The spark of your high had been snuffed out, leaving you with an ache still between your thighs despite being a breathless mess.

You’re walking a thin line between retaliation and desperation, eyes stuck on Steve as he stands, smirking as he leans in close.

“Guess we’re even now, huh?” He taunts you with that gravelly voice that sends blood rushing straight to your core. You’re speechless over his ill-intent, how close he brought you to an earth-shattering high, just to leave you in the dust.

You want to switch, take over, make him beg, but you’re so hung up on the lost bliss, you can only bring yourself to nod as you pout, ready to cry.

Steve notices the tears building before you even do. He’s holding your face softly, concerned, “Too much?”

Shaking your head, your bottom lip trembles; you’re overwhelmed from the way he just ruined you, and all you can respond with is, “Need you.”

“Honey, you need a break, it’s okay,” You’re shaking your head again, but his hands tighten just enough to hold you in place. “M’sorry, I— ”

You surge forward, kissing him roughly as your hands slide up his arms, holding him as he holds you. Your arousal is still sticky on his lips, tongue slipping between them to tease against his. Moving his hands slowly, you guide him down to your hips, moaning into his mouth. Your hands move to his face, forcing him to look at you as you pull back. A string of slick follows your lips while slipping slowly from his own.

Eyes locked with his, you’re certain in your demand, “I. Need. You.”

Steve’s frozen as he takes in your words, still registering the messy kiss, your emotions, everything that just happened. Thankfully, it’s only for a moment.

Breaking out of his daze, he’s helping you stay steady as he hitches your leg up and around his hip; Steve’s arm slides under your leg to keep you in place, quick to use his free hand to grab his cock, sliding the tip along your folds. You gasp and shudder as he teases your over-sensitive clit.

“Need what?” He gets it now, you like this, the humiliation, the overstimulation… What he thought was payback for the way you left him high and dry, only made you more of a submissive, pliable mess. “Need me to stuff that pretty little cunt with my cock?”

Your eyes roll back between the dirty talk and the feeling of his length sliding between your folds, cruelly brushing against your clit. It’s not enough.

“Ye- yeah, Stevie, need that.” You’re whimpering as he teases your entrance, barely pushing through. You whisper shakily as he pulls back, “F-fuck.”

“Okay,” Steve simply replies. Then he stops right at your entrance, eyes flickering to yours with a wicked glint, “Beg. Go ‘head, like you do when you’re touching yourself.”

The desire to be dominated by him takes a backseat. Instead, you break from the haze you began slipping into,close to sub-space, glaring as you spit, “I hate you.” You don’t, but you sure hate the way

“Hm… doesn’t sound much like begging at all.” He starts to pull back, but you tighten your leg around him, pushing him against you.

The switch is rapid. “You wanna go back to fucking your fist?” You spit— literally, you spit down between the two of you, coating his length with extra slick and making him shiver. “Because you can go do that if you’re gonna play games.”

Neither of you ever know when to quit.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this-” He thrusts into you, hard and fast, throwing your head back against the wall as you cry out. The stretch is instant, and he stays still, deep inside as you adjust, thankfully. It still doesn’t make the sting subside… but you kind of love it. It hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt, nothing you’ve felt before with anyone you’ve ever fucked. “— Was what you wanted. I don’t think your useless toy can make you feel like this.”

For how weak Steve feels at the knees over how you flutter around him, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. You, on the other hand, your leg still on the floor is shaking as you try to stay up. Steve notices, cradling your face by its side in one of his strong hands while his eyes search yours for any signs of distress.

Instead, you just look completely fucked out from just one thrust already.

The hand still on your face slides behind your head, keeping you from slamming your head back. Arm still under your leg, he firms his grip. “I got you, won’t let y’fall, don’t worry,” His tone is soft and caring, a noticeable change from moments ago.

“Such a gentleman, even w- when you’re balls deep in your roommate, huh?” Your joke comes out shaky, still adjusting a bit, but that doesn’t matter anymore. What you care about right now is for him to actually fuck you. “Steve, need you t’move, please.”

Steve smirks, slowly rolling his hips back before slamming into you again. “There she is, that’s m’girl,” He rasps, repeating his motions, slowly reeling back to impale you on his cock again. Your heart flutters when he calls you that.

His girl. It means nothing to him, but for now, you can keep it to yourself and play pretend.

All you can do is whimper and moan, shaky and incoherent. Steve’s voice is sweet, soft, with a taunting edge, “It’s okay, only asked you to beg once. Y’want me to take care of you, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” You pant, fingers digging into his back, scratching, marking him up. “Don’t trust you, though.”

The power dynamic drops from Steve while buried deep in you, admiring how angelic you look like this, lost in the consequence of your desires.

Angelic probably isn’t the word that fits your attitude in this moment, but the way you tilt your head back further into his palm, trusting him, how your hips roll into his while your eyes flutter shut, softly whining while resisting your eyes wanting to close, wanting more than anything to admire him in return— yeah, you’re as close to an angel as he’ll get.

“Promise you’ll get to finish, I mean it,” He breathes. “No more teasing, I mean it. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as his thrusts pick up ever so slightly, trying to nod to acknowledge his promise, but you’re already fucked-out, dumb and cock-drunk.

Steve twitches inside of you, “Bet no one’s ever made you feel this good n’ full before, huh?”

“N- no,” You rasp as your arms wind around his neck, “Can’t have anyone else after this.”

That shoves Steve closer to his own high, making him groan, “No? Why’s that, honey?” Every time he calls you that, you tighten around him, earning a hiss through his gritted teeth.

“Don’t think anyone— h’my god— can fuck me like you can,” You can’t hold back your thoughts or feelings. “Don’t w- want anyone else.”

Steve’s trying his best not to let his mind wander, not to let his thoughts and feelings consume him. You’re not saying what he thinks you are, what he wants you to confess. He continues railing you, grasp leaving your head to touch you, bring you to that blissed out high you deserved from the start.

Fingers on your clit, your head falls back, bumping against the wall, and he can’t help the snort that comes out while you giggle and groan over the ache.

“Jesus christ, don’t fuckin’ do that,” He warns after feeling you tighten around him while laughing. He shoots a winded, lazy smile. “Next time we’re fucking in bed, promise.”

“N- next time?” You’re asking, and Steve just murmurs a quick “Uh-huh” as he snaps his hips roughly up into yours, rewarding him with the most sinful moan he’s heard from you yet. He’s fucking you fast and hard, only focused on getting you off, for real this time.

“Steve, you— you’re— ” You’re fighting yourself, kicking your feelings aside; you can’t ruin a good thing, even if neither of you never figured out what this ‘thing’ is.

“I got you, c’mon, lemme feel you soak my cock,” He’s mumbling, eyes darting from your expression to where the two of your bodies meet, mesmerized as your hips stutter while he feels you reach what you wanted all along. “That’s it, just like that.”

His praise sends you over the edge, choking back a scream and failing miserably, “M’close, so cl— oh, fuck!” You begin to tremble and pulse around him, eyes twisting shut as you almost throw your head back, but Steve grabs you in time— that’s a habit you really need to break— tugging you towards him and kissing you roughly.

Moans are muffled to whimpers as he melds his lips with yours, feeling his own high just in reach. You pull back as he continues stuttering his hips, thrusts growing sloppy as his cock pulses deep inside you.

You’re still riding out your climax, yet somehow manage to ask him, “You close, baby?” Steve nods as a breathy, sweet sound shudders out of him. Barely finishing on him, you push him back, just enough to pull off and sink to the floor.

“Wh— ” Steve watches through hooded eyes the way you slide your mouth back onto him, tasting yourself as he pulsates again against your tongue; he takes back over, thrusting fully into your mouth while holding your head in place. “H- oh— honey, m’gonna—“

Steve’s moans are the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard, breathy and vocal as he shudders out a string of expletives while he comes undone buried in your throat. Greedily, you swallow what you can, but it becomes too much; you pull back and hold his shaft, letting him finish on your face.

For a moment, Steve is stunned. He wasn’t expecting you to let him finish like this; you might look angelic to him, but that’s no match to your sinful demeanor and unholy desires.

“Fuck… that’s my girl.” His praise tugs at your heartstrings when you know it’s not that deep.

You can’t help giggling as he comes down, aware of the mess on your features, licking your lips while gazing up at him. You’re going to kill him, no ‘ifs, ands, or buts’ about it.

Though you never asked, he’s certain he won’t find anyone who compares to you.

Dropping to the floor, Steve leans in to kiss you, catching you off guard he tastes himself on your lips, moaning lazily into you. Pulling you into his lap, his hands wind around your waist, knowing how gross the two of you are right now, but he needs you. Ignoring how he’s still half hard, he just needs to be close to you, to be vulnerable with you.

He never said it, but he’s absolutely positive he won’t find another friend who trusts him this much, another roommate who puts up with his nonsense, high or not, another lover who can laugh at the real and awkward moments during sex and still stay intimate.

Your soft, drained voice breaks his thoughts, “Did that help, Stevie? Or d’you need more distractions?” You’re joking, but secretly wishing he’d say yes.

Steve wants to say he needs more distractions, needs to fuck you on every single surface in this apartment, needs you to put him in his place while he promises to be good for you, be so good for you that you’ll throw out that goddamn vibrator and use him whenever you need.

Instead, he only asks, “I thought you said you don’t have much experience?”

Again, you laugh, and all he can think of is the way he could feel you laugh while balls deep inside of you. “I don’t, I just read a lotta corny romance novels.” As you stand, you hold a hand out for him and ask, “Wanna share a shower? Heard it saves on water, or whatever. Y’know, the thing you thought we didn’t have in the apartment.”

Grabbing your hand, Steve just laughs softly with an eye roll. “Yeah, you’re right, you definitely read a lot of corny romance novels with lines like that.”

It’s so comfortable, so natural, to go from such intimate, filthy moments, to joking so casually with you.

So while you lead him into the bathroom, while the two of you kiss lazily under the hot, running water, while he’s riling you up again with your back pressed against the shower wall, Steve’s so sure of one more, tiny detail with his feelings towards you: he’s fucked.

So, so fucked.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #my fics #it felt like love & drugs

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upsidedownwithsteve · 10 months

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can i request grumpy gamer Eddie & sunshine reader who just wants to sit on his lap?

Fluffy goodness, maybe his friends who are playing too get really confused when he suddenly really soft and gooey when talking to his gf

i absolutely loved the gxs period fic!! It was so cute 🥺

thank you bby! 🧡

Eddie was losing. Badly. Eddie hated losing.

You’d watched him from his bed, his back to you as he sat on his chair, shoulders tensed, his comically large headphones smashing down his pretty curls. You couldn’t see his face, and you’d been flipping through one of his music magazines for the majority of the game tournament, but you knew he was pissed.

“God fucking damn it, Gareth! He was right there!” Eddie jammed his thumb into the controller, pressing buttons at random just to exert some of his frustration. “We’re losing to a bunch of kids, man, this is pathetic.”

There was a garbled response from Eddie’s headset, an indignant voice blurring with the distinct staticky glee of Dustin Henderson. “Su- it, Mu-son! Told you we cou- ick your a-”

Eddie didn’t get to reply because you’d pushed the magazine to the side, padding barefoot across the room until you could push at his chair and drop yourself into his lap. The boy blinked, feeling guilty that he’d almost forgotten you were there, too wrapped up in his game and annoyance. But you curled into him, bare legs folded up, feet tucked under his thighs. Your pyjamas were tiny things, soft shorts that were a happy, bright orange, your T-shirt an old thing of Eddie’s that you’d tie dyed in his front yard last summer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured and you could feel him relax underneath you. He forgot about his game, the headset, his mic. “M’sorry, been neglecting you, huh?”

You didn’t mind, not really. Eddie spent a lot of his time with you, and since Mike was visiting El in California for the month, and Jeff was at his grandmothers in Houston, they’d swapped their weekly Hellfire meetings for an online game night instead.

You just hadn’t expected Eddie to get so worked over a game where most players danced every time they shot someone in the head.

“Christ, Henderson! Are you doing the fucking running man over my corpse?”

“A little,” you said, pouting even though it was mostly for show. You liked the way Eddie’s frown smoothed out when he looked at you, how he dropped his controller in favour of running his warm palms over the tops of your thighs. You sighed, forlorn and dramatic. “You’re awfully grumpy.”

From the headset, you heard Dustin snort. “He is, isn’t he?”

Eddie scowled again, shoving the thing off his head and pulling you closer all in one motion. The game was still playing, a new round starting but Eddie’s played remained static.

“You should fix it,” he murmured, squeezing his arms around your middle as he pushed his face to your neck, grumbling playfully as he pretended to gnaw at it. “Need some lovin’ from my girl.”

You squeaked, pushing at his forehead when he didn’t relent, the faint scrape of stubble tickling your skin. “You do?” You were beaming, a bright, wide thing that Eddie swore could stop the world from spinning. “C’mere then.”

Eddie grinned back, the controller slipping from his knee to the floor as he pulled your over his lap, your thighs slipping and spreading over his. He gave your ass a little tap, humming happily, a million miles from the boy who was scowling and swearing at his computer screen five minutes ago.

“Kiss,” Eddie demanded, full lips puckered, eyes twinkling.

You smoothed your hands over his cheeks to oblige, holding him gently as you leaned in, both of you ignoring the sounds of protests and distant explosions from the mic at Eddie’s feet.

#Eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson drabble #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson oneshot #Eddie munson blurb #Eddie baby blurb

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sundrop-writes · 2 months

Note

Hi! I love your works! I saw your request are open, so I was wondering if I could ask how would Spencer react to the reader fainting into his arms?

I love this request so much. As a POTSie, this is really close to my heart - and idk if this was your intention or not, but I decided to make it that the reader has POTS.

Requests are OPEN

How would Spencer Reid react to you fainting around him?

Warnings: Reader's gender is not described - reader is gender neutral; the reader's looks are not really described either; the reader faints due to a pre-existing medical condition; the reader is mentioned to have POTS; this is Spencer during his Professor era; the reader is also a Professor at the University that Spencer teaches at; this fic uses Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); the reader loses consciousness completely and Spencer attends to them to make sure they are okay; some light fluff/romance; I think that's it? Not really proofread. This could be described as hurt/comfort (I found it very comforting to write) - even if you aren't chronically ill, I encourage you to read and enjoy!!!

...

Spencer didn’t really know you.

Since he had started teaching at the university, he had seen you around many times, and a face like yours - someone as gorgeous as you definitely stuck out in his mind. But he had never formally introduced himself. He could have used the excuse that he was busy preparing his lectures, and racing back and forth to the BAU between those lectures. But even if he hadn't spoken to you, he had been admiring you from afar for a long time.

That was why, when he found a notebook that belonged to you sitting on one of the benches on the quad, he didn’t hesitate to bring it to your office. It needed to be returned to its rightful owner, and that owner was someone he had been secretly admiring for some time now. It was the perfect excuse to introduce himself to you. He thought that sitting on the notebook when he went outside to take his morning coffee break could be considered fate. Especially when he flipped open the cover, looking for some sign of who it belonged to, and he saw your name written on it.

(Did he also flip through the rest of the pages, seeing the poems you had written, along with some beautiful sketches of birds and stills of flowers, and felt his stomach stir even more, realizing that he was falling for you before even talking to you? Maybe. He would have denied it, though.)

He knocked on your door late, on his way out for the day, hoping that you were still there, and he was surprised to find the hinge creaking open underneath his fist.

“Hello?” He called out. “Professor L/N?”

“Oh, come in!” You called back.

Spencer walked in and found the room to be a mess of papers - many open file boxes scattered about the room, with papers scattered everywhere in an utter hurricane of paper.

You were focused on the file box in front of you, a frown knit across your brows as you flipped through them one by one, clearly intently looking for something.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer apologized. “Is this a bad time?”

“Oh, uh-” You finally looked up from your searching, and when you locked eyes with Spencer, you were surprised to find a doe-eyed, curly-haired, incredibly attractive man standing in the middle of your messy office. “I’m sorry. I- you’re that FBI guy, right? Reid?”

You ignored his question in favor of being introduced to him properly - you had heard his name from the mouths of other people; gossip from your colleagues about how a real FBI profiler would be teaching a class about the psychology of serial killers and profiling.

“Yes.” Spencer nodded. “I’m Doctor Spencer Reid. But you can call me Spencer, if you prefer.”

“Spencer.” You repeated back, grinning at him. “I’m Professor L/N, as you said. But you can call me Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I just came to return this.” Spencer explained, reaching into his bag and pulling out your notebook.

Your eyes instantly lit up at the sight of it.

“Oh my gosh.” You gasped quietly. “Thank you so much.” You took it back, giving him a grateful smile. “I don’t even know where my head is today, I-”

Spencer gave a small grin as he followed your gaze around the mess you had created in your office.

“I know this looks chaotic, but…” You looked for an excuse. “A student asked me for a copy of an essay they wrote a few years ago as a reference for their thesis. And I thought I had everything well organized. But - apparently my head is just not on very straight.”

The forgetfulness, and your inability to go through the files in an efficient way - the lack of focus, it was only compounded by your pre-existing condition. Which was only made worse by the fact that you had forgotten to eat lunch, and it was well past dinner time now.

“Oh, that’s completely understandable.” Spencer chuckled. “I can help you look through some of these if you want?”

Your hands were shaking as you grasped the notebook and as Spencer became blurry in your vision - you thought about going to sit down in your office chair for a break after it was too late.

“Y/N?”

He became worried when you didn’t respond, when the expression on your face became more distant and he noticed your lips paling from a healthy color.

In the next moment, you were falling.

Spencer rushed to catch you, his instincts kicking in - everything in his body screaming that he needed to keep you from hitting the floor, that he needed to keep you safe. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, and the other arm wrapped around the middle of your back - he was surprised by how heavy your body felt when you were purely dead weight, your body entirely limp as you went completely unconscious, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in a scary way.

He knelt down slowly, taking you down to the floor in the most gentle way possible, not wanting to drop you accidentally and have you hit your head because of his incompetence. The more the seconds ticked on and your eyelids stayed limp, your lips almost purple and your mouth gaped - the more his own heart thumped in his chest with intense fear.

“Hey, hey, come on.” He continued to cradle your head with one hand, but now that you were mostly resting on the floor, he moved his other arm from your back to gently rub across your cheek - hoping to rouse you back to consciousness. “Come on, stay with me. Y/N. Wake up. Please?”

He gently tapped your cheek, no where close to slapping you - but hoping to stimulate your nervous system with touch in some way.

A huge breath of relief sucked through his chest when your eyelids started flickering and your eyes began moving around, clearly searching for something in the room as you regained consciousness. You let out a moan, trying to form words, and Spencer put a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. Just relax.” He told you, trying to keep his voice calm - trying not to betray any of the anxiety that he was truly feeling.

His first instinct was to call an ambulance - obviously you needed medical attention. What had happened to you? What if it was something serious?

And while he was patting down his pockets for his phone, you let out another moan and lifted one of your limp arms, drawing his attention to the jingle of a medical alert bracelet on your arm.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and moved to grab the pendant on the bracelet, reading it carefully.

Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome

There was an emergency number listed, but it wasn’t 9-1-1 - Spencer had to guess that it was a family member of yours, or a doctor. So he had to guess that calling an ambulance wasn’t the thing to do. The condition sounded familiar to him - he read medical journals on occasion because he found them to be mentally engaging, and - because of occasions like this; if he could use the information to help someone.

He remembered that it was a condition in which the autonomic nervous system fails to regulate blood flow, resulting in fainting when too much blood pools in the legs. So elevating the legs can help a person with the condition regain consciousness easier.

Spencer hated to rest your head on the hardness of the floor, but he rushed to take off his blazer, and folded it up to put it underneath your head as a makeshift pillow, and then he looked around frantically - and the only good thing he could find were the file boxes. He stacked a few of them and brought them closer, and then situated your legs so they were elevated up on top of the boxes, above your prone body.

He took your hand and held it - again, simply out of instinct. Wanting you to know that he was there with you while you lingered on the edge of consciousness. But with his helpful first aid, it wasn’t long then - only a minute or two - before your eyes blinked open more confidently and you tried to sit up.

“Hey, take it easy.” Spencer implored, pushing you gently to lay back down. “Just rest for a few minutes, okay?”

Usually - you would have rushed to become upright again, even if it was against medical advice. But something about Spencer’s presence was gentle and soothing, and you found yourself actually listening to him.

“Sorry,” You muttered out, the word practically turning into a slur on your lips - your face tingling and numb as the blood slowly migrated back to your head. “I - I didn’t mean to s-scare you.”

“You did scare me a little bit.” Spencer chuckled. “Hopefully next time I see you, you don’t end up on the floor.”

“Well, my condition gets b-better when I eat s-salty foods.” You remarked, telling him the truth about the medical advice you had been given, feeling bold to let this roll into a flirty opportunity. “Maybe you could t-take me to dinner-r next time?”

Spencer grinned down at you, and let out a light laugh.

“Sounds like a date.”

...

A/N: I have to say that this was so comforting for me to write. The amount of times in my life that I have fainted and been terrified, or I have been berated by the people around me for ‘faking’ it when I was feeling incredibly ill and barely conscious. If I fainted and I woke up to Spencer holding my hand and treating me so well like this - I would feel so relaxed and comforted. This was so amazing for me to write, and did help to heal a small fraction in the huge lifetime of medical trauma that I have.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

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sv5hive · 2 months

Text

too little, too late. | lh44

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

content warning(s): angst, swearing, lewis is a bit of a dick in this sorry, unhappy ending because i love being miserable 🫶🏻

word count: 1,763

note: thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs on my first work a few days ago!! i didn't expect all the love so it is very, very appreciated :) this is a bit long so get comfy! and i also listened to you're losing me by taylor swift while writing so... yeah.

(psst! part 2 is here!)

(masterlist!)

memories from the night you two met flashed through your mind as you stood alone in the dim kitchen. the hangover from the next morning meant most of the night was a blur of shots, flashing lights and sweaty bodies but those deep brown eyes and endearing smile remained sharply in focus.

you stared at the two cold plates of dinner abandoned on the table and a bottle of wine nearing the end.

where had it all gone wrong?

six years.

six years of supporting him through everything.

and you loved being with lewis no matter what. seeing him in his element while racing was just as exciting for you as it was for him. but when would it end? you couldn't keep your life on pause forever.

back in 2017 when you first started dating you discussed a life of peace. a life with a big family and a nice house in england where your children could grow up normally like the both of you did. and you weren't foolish. you would never truly have peace when you were in a relationship with lewis hamilton, the face of formula 1. but you were willing to give up any sense of normality if it meant you could be with the love of your life.

or so you thought.

years passed as you watched all your friends get engaged and married, settle down and start their own families. at every bachelorette party, wedding reception, baby shower, family event you would be asked the same questions.

"when is he going to pop the question? you two have to get married! i bet he's planning to do it soon."

and every time you would have the same response.

"oh we're just taking it slow. he's pretty busy with racing and we both agreed that it wouldn't be fair for him to be away so much."

and you really did believe that at first.

either you didn't notice the stares of pity or you ignored them to convince yourself that everything was ok. it was only when you brought up the idea of finally having kids that you started doubting yourself.

"hey, lew. i've been thinking."

"hmm, yeah? what about." he replied absentmindedly, still searching netflix for a good movie to watch.

you passed him the bowl of popcorn to hold while you got under the blanket.

"i was thinking that we're finally ready to start a family."

he stilled. that was the last thing he thought you would bring up.

"lewis?"

"i want a family too, you know that. but i can't retire without getting that eighth championship. we're almost there. besides, i don't wanna leave you at home with a kid and not be there for every step of the way."

both of you knew at the rate mercedes was going, lewis would need a miracle and a half to win another title against red bull and their rocket ship.

he avoided your eyes and clearly thought that was the end of the matter so you accepted that when he was ready he would tell you. right?

you tossed and turned that night, unable to get the way he brushed off the topic so coldly out of your head. did you imagine it? that flicker of hesitance on his face? a pit of uneasiness settled at the bottom of your stomach as you desperately tried to reason with yourself. no. everything is fine. you had already waited a few years. what was a couple more?

so you tucked away your dreams of a family into the back of your mind for the time being and just enjoyed your relationship with lewis. every date felt like the first and you never wanted your love to end.

"lewis...this is too much!" as you stared in awe at the lone table in the middle of a completely empty restaurant.

rose petals led you two all the way from the entrance to a table with a single rose stood in a vase in the centre as candles flickered softly.

"for you? never."

staring at him in the golden light, you couldn't help but blush at his romantic gesture. he was making up for being away during a triple header and you hated to admit it but you could get used to this.

racing. you smiled at the thought of seeing lewis race. it was like seeing an artist produce a masterpiece every time pencil hit paper. he truly was an incredible sight to see.

you were there for each of his championships since 2017. you witnessed the joy of 2020 and the heartbreak of 2021. you were there, celebrating each win with him and consoling him after each loss, every time. you had fallen in love with the sport you once had no knowledge of just as hard as you had fallen for lewis. you knew how much of a toll each season took on him and you were always going to be there to pick him back up. his world became yours as you met his team and soon enough you were a familiar sight in the mercedes garage.

wasn't seven world championships enough for him?

you would never ask him to give up his career for you. and he would never ask that of you. but after years of waiting for the next step you couldn't help but wonder whether he still wanted that with you.

he was more than an hour late now. both of your schedules had been almost completely full for the past few months and you thought it would be nice to catch up over homemade dinner.

apparently he didn't think the same.

you hadn't bothered calling or texting. he always turned his phone off while at work anyways. as you finished off the last mouthful of wine the jingle of keys and the door unlocking brought you back out of your thoughts.

heavy footsteps trudged through the hallway.

"hey baby, i didn't think you would be up- what's all this?"

"dinner. i've been waiting for two hours now." you turned away from the counter to face him.

"shit. i am so sorry. i just got so caught up at work. we've been trying to improve the car to-"

"-to beat red bull. i know. i know."

"i promise i'll make it up to you. what about dinner next week? at that chinese restaurant you really like?" he walked towards you and went to wrap his arms around you before you pushed him away.

"stop, lewis. just stop. i can't keep doing this." you couldn't look him in the eyes.

a pin drop could be heard as lewis' blood ran cold.

"what?"

the change in atmosphere almost made you wish you had never said anything. almost.

"i can't keep waiting on you, lewis. i'm sorry."

"i said i would make it up to you." the look of pure confusion on his face would be amusing if it weren't for the fact that you were on the verge of tears.

"it's not just about dinner, lewis."

"then what is it about?"

"everything. god, we've been together for eight years and we're not even engaged and nowhere near starting a family. we have nothing to show for it. i knew i would have to wait and i was fine with that but i just can't anymore. this isn't what i imagined for us."

"so what? you're just going to leave? you know how i feel about having kids."

"and i get that, i do. but are you even planning on retiring in the near future? we're not getting any younger and i've been ready for a while now. i just don't think our ideas of our future are the same anymore."

"am i just meant to drop everything for you then? give it all up?"

"fuck, of course not, lewis. i would never ask you to do that. never. but sometimes it feels like you choose your career over me. and i know what it takes to be in formula 1 to win, i know you need to give it your full focus. i just, i need you to choose me for once. choose us."

"no, you don't know what it takes because if you did, you wouldn't be doing this to me right now. in the middle of the season."

you blinked. once. twice. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"are you fucking kidding me, lewis? i'm ending our six year relationship and you're thinking of how it's going to effect your season?"

"yes! fuck, this is my whole life. it always has been and it always will be."

there it is. confirmation from the man himself. you stumbled on your words trying to convey your anger as your blood continuously boiled at his miserable attempt to fix his mess.

"have you ever even thought about how i've felt all these years? giving every excuse in the book to our families and friends about why we haven't taken the next step in our relationship and defending you when they said i was too good for you? you may get to avoid them by going to the races but i don't have that privilege."

your throat was dry at this point as you gasped for air and still, he was stood almost unbothered at the fact you were hopelessly clinging onto the last remaining threads of your relationship, willing him to fight back.

"so that's it? you're not going to stop me?"

tears pooled at your eyes as you realised this was really happening.

"well clearly you've thought this out pretty well."

you didn't know whether to laugh, cry or throw the empty bottle of wine at his head.

"you are fucking unbelievable, lewis. i thought this meant something to you but clearly not."

you stormed towards the door and opened it. you paused while silently hoping he would beg you to stay. hoping he would risk everything for you.

but it never came.

you wiped away your tears and tried to at least sound somewhat assertive despite your voice wavering.

"let me know when you're not at home and i'll come get my things."

you slammed the door shut with a resounding bang and walked away from the place and person you had called home for so long.

he sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. as he moved to get a beer out of the fridge his gaze fell on the calendar stuck to the front. there was a red heart around today's date with "anniversary!" written in your handwriting.

fuck.

note: yikes. i hope you aren't too sad because of me. any feedback is appreciated!! let me know what else you wanna see :)

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton angst #lh44 #lh44 x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fanfic

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