#into the doorframe to see if maybe this time it will work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tonycries · 5 months

Text

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now.

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be.

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What?

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird.

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer.

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street.

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing.

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.”

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation.

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?”

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?”

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from.

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now.

“Alright. Plan B, then.”

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you?

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner.

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head.

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.”

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly.

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house.

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins.

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app.

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo.

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least.

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in.

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner.

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in.

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual.

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed.

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside.

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you.

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking.

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner.

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit.

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you.

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders.

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now.

Gathered here - for you.

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them.

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second.

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane.

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.”

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily.

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up.

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru.

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold.

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to.

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list.

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain.

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands.

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod.

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight.

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting.

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it.

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.”

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~”

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.”

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours.

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table.

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before.

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today.

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic.

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.”

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.”

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave.

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips.

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach.

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it.

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were.

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.”

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.”

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip!

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically.

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub.

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you.

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard. “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now.

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.”

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please.

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him.

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-” You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want.

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue.

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear.

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time.

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself.

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now.

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all.

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back.

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.”

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard.

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything.

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot.

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be.

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much.

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy.

“Close?”

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper.

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now.

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him.

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

18K notes · View notes

a11eya · 1 month

Text

kirishima shoots up like a weed during his years at UA and in the years after.

by the time he’s well into his career as a pro hero, he’s taller than all of his friends, taller than most people he knows. (not as tall as fatgum, who’s still a good 45 centimeters above him—but maybe he’s okay with it after seeing how many times fat’s bumped his head on doorframes.)

kirishima’s taller than you. he knows you like the height difference, knows because you like it when he bends down to kiss you, when he puts his arms around you so you’re wrapped up in him. but there’s one downside about your height difference that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you about.

for dates, you spend a lot of time getting ready—doing your makeup, styling your hair, picking out your clothes. he likes to hangout with you as you get ready, admires the skill it takes for you to do all these things to end up looking so nice. he always makes sure to tell you how beautiful you look.

but once you’re both out the door and walking to your destination—he stops being able to see all your hard work.

he can only see the top of your head, really. your shoulders, some.

“sorry,” he tells you once this fact slips out one night as you’re both taking a walk around a park after dinner. he looks at you with worried eyes, biting his lip.

you stare at him for a long moment, blinking rapidly, then slap a hand over your mouth as you burst out laughing.

he’s relieved, if not a little confused, as you move forward to hug him tightly, still laughing.

“if anything, i’m sorry about the view,” you tell him, grinning, looking up into his face.

he shakes his head, saying earnestly, “no, no! the view’s great! the top of your head is very cute. but it’s, like, 5% of you, so! i wish i could see all of you at once, always.”

you snort, smiling. you reach up and grip the front of his shirt, tugging him down towards you gently.

“c’mere, you. only you would call the top of someone’s head cute,” you say, then kiss him.

#after writing for bakugou so much kiri told me ‘hi!! what about me? 🥺’#the best boy #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #bnha x reader #jess scribbles #bnha #this can be read as fem reader #even tho anyone can wear makeup

2K notes · View notes

antiwhores · 5 months

Text

You accidentally had sex with Bakugou.

You two had fallen asleep in his room after a hang out. You were bestfriends but you had some underlining feelings for him. So when you woke up in the middle of the night to him cuddling you, you almost choked.

You needed to pee really bad so sadly you had to pry yourself out of his arms. When you came back his eyes were cracked open just barely. He mumbled something before opening his arms for you to join him again.

It was out of character, maybe tired Bakugou was just a touchy guy. It couldn’t be more than that.

So you joined him on the bed. You buried your face into his neck. You had to savor this cause most likely this’ll be the last time this happens. Also, you were too tired to freak out. You just wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

You can barely explain what happened after that. He hiked your leg onto him, still with his half open eyes, and thrusted right against your clothed pussy.

The next thing you know, he’s dry humping you. And then he’s fingering you. And finally he’s fucking you.

It felt good, too good.

But the morning after? You felt embarrassed. No way you just fucked him without even a first date. He’s gonna think you’re easy. He might even tell everyone that you are.

Of course, that would never happen but you were panicked. You couldn’t possibly comprehend that the great Dynamight chose you. You weren’t famous. Not a vogue model, a hero, or even wealthy. You had nothing to give him.

He had to be messing with you.

So you slipped out of his hold at 5am sharp and went home.

You fell back to sleep in tears and woke up to several texts and calls. Good thing you had your ringer off.

Bakugou - 6:34am

Where’d you go?

I was gonna make you breakfast dumbass

Bakugou - 6:52

Y/n?

Missed call - 7:00am

Bakugou - 7:30

Is this about last night?

I’ll wait for that call back so we can talk about it.

Missed call - 10:03am

Bakugou - 10:05

Call me and we can talk about it. This ignoring me isn’t gonna make it go away.

Missed call - 11:12

Missed call - 11:26

Missed call - 11-31

Bakugou - 11:40

Fucking call me back, this shit isn’t funny.

You’re so lucky I don’t know where you live yet. I’d be there in 15 minutes if I knew.

You debated calling him back. But your embarrassment and anger stopped you from letting him explain himself. How could he use your feelings against you like that! He probably knew that you liked him and wanted a quick fuck.

You started to cry all over again.

A week passed by with no contact. He sent you the occasional text telling you to talk to him but after the 6th day he seemed to give up. At least you thought that until he showed up at your door.

You opened the door wide without checking who it was since you were expecting a package. Your eyes widened when you noticed the blonde leaning against the doorframe, still in his hero costume. He must’ve just gotten off work, saving civilians and climbing the charts. It was another reminder of how he could never want you.

“You gonna let me in or am I-“

You tried to slam the door in his face but he shoved it back open easily. He let himself in, scanning the place.

“Nice place, ‘don’t see why you hadn’t invited me over.”

Maybe it’s because your small, cosy apartment didn’t compare to his high rise penthouse at the top floor.

You grabbed his arm and tried to pull him out. But he wasn’t having it and didn’t let you move him an inch.

“You need to leave, Bakugou.”

“Wow. Last name basis and I was inside you a week ago.”

“Yeah well that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Okay but it did so let’s fuckin’ talk about it.”

You just wanted him to leave before you bursted out in tears. You shook your head, trying to pull him harder but to no avail. Your lip quivered in frustration as tears welled up in your eyes.

Suddenly, he threw you over his shoulder and set you on the couch.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

You broke down in tears.

You told him everything, every assumption you made and every insecurity. You told him how you liked him but you knew he didn’t like you back. He sat there patiently, not speaking a word until you were done.

He got up with a blank face. You thought he was gonna leave at first but he kneeled down to be eye to eye with you.

“Wanna go on a date?”

It surprised you. It was the last thing he expected you to say.

“I’ll take you on a date and prove to you how much I want you. And for the record, I’ve probably liked you longer than you have me. When we met in that coffee shop I immediately knew you were the one I wanted. ‘S rude of you of you to make assumptions but I’ll let it pass if you go on a date with me.”

You agreed as he wiped off your tears. Who were you to say no?

#i was gonna write more smut #but it was already too long #and thats out of character for antiwhores #part 2 maybe?#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou angst #bakugou katsuki

6K notes · View notes

reidsworld · 1 month

Text

A Different Kind of Training

Summary: When sparring with Logan turns into something more.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: sparring, cursing, mentions of alcohol, teasing, flirting, kissing, making out, tit sucking, fingering, heavy petting, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, knife play? (the claws come out), use of Y/N, pet names (baby, bub, darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.8k

Mars speaks… Two fics in one day? What can I say, I’m a sucker for writing (and Logan Howlett). I originally wasn’t gonna write smut for this but I locked in and nearly 1.4k words of smut later, I’m happy with how it turned out! I was imagining Logan in X-Men but this gif is too hot not to use.

Masterlist

The sun was setting over Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, casting a warm, golden light through the large windows of the gym. The usual buzz of activity had quieted down, leaving you alone to get in some extra training. The silence was almost calming, a rare moment of peace after everything that had happened over the past few days.

You were lost in your thoughts, practising your kicks against a heavy bag, when the door creaked open. Without needing to look, you knew who it was. There was only one person who could move so silently yet make his presence known so effortlessly.

“Looks like someone’s been working hard,” Logan’s gruff voice came from behind you, a teasing edge to it. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

You turned, arching an eyebrow as you met his gaze. “Just trying to stay sharp. Didn’t expect you to drop in. Thought you’d be nursing a beer somewhere.”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Beer can wait. Figured you could use some real training instead of beating up that bag.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, so you’re volunteering to be my punching bag?”

Logan pushed off the wall and strolled toward you, his movements fluid and controlled. There was always something captivating about the way he moved—like a predator, always aware of his surroundings, always ready to strike.

“Something like that,” he said, his voice low as he came to a stop a few feet from you. “If you think you can handle it, bub.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “Big words, Wolverine. Hope you can back them up.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The session began as it always did—circling each other, testing the waters with light jabs and quick footwork. But there was an underlying tension tonight, more than usual. Maybe it was the way Logan’s eyes kept straying to your lips, or the way your heart raced every time he got close.

“You’re getting slow, old man,” you teased as you dodged a punch and spun away, landing a light tap on his shoulder.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk. “And you’re getting cocky. Might have to teach you a lesson.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you both just stood there, staring at each other. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, you both lunged forward, fists flying in a blur of motion.

The sparring intensified, the lighthearted banter replaced by focused determination. But even as you fought, there was a spark of playfulness, a dance of words and movements that only the two of you shared.

“Is that all you’ve got, bub?” Logan grunted as he blocked a kick and spun you around, his grip on your arm firm but not painful.

You twisted out of his hold, a sly smile on your lips. “Wouldn’t want to hurt your ego too much, Wolvie.”

His laughter was low and genuine, and it made something warm unfurl in your chest. Logan was a hard man, but moments like these—when he let his guard down, even just a little—made you feel like you were seeing the real him. The one beneath all the gruff exterior and adamantium claws.

As the session continued, you found yourself pushing harder, testing his limits just as much as your own. Each time he got close, you felt the heat of his body, the brush of his skin against yours, and it was becoming harder to focus on the fight and not on how much you wanted him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth, you saw your opening. With a quick feint, you managed to sweep Logan’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the mat with a surprised grunt.

You didn’t waste a second, straddling him and pinning him down with a triumphant grin. “Looks like I’ve got you.”

Logan looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Seems so. What’s your plan now, darlin’?”

The way he said “darlin’” sent a jolt through you, and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifted into something heavier, more charged. You leaned in closer, your faces just inches apart, your breath mingling with his.

“Maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

Logan’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “Or maybe I’ll turn the tables on you.”

The challenge in his voice was clear, and you felt your pulse quicken in response. But before you could think of a retort, Logan’s grip tightened, and with a swift, effortless movement, he flipped you over, reversing your positions so that he was the one hovering over you.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly, but his eyes were soft as they searched your face. He wasn’t pinning you down, not really—there was still room for you to escape, but neither of you made a move to do so.

The tension between you was palpable now, crackling in the air like electricity. Logan’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if asking permission. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, but you gave a small nod, unable to find your voice.

That was all the encouragement Logan needed. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as fierce as it was gentle. It was like everything that had been building between you two—the banter, the flirting, the unspoken tension—was pouring out into that one kiss.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other’s. Logan’s eyes were still closed, his grip on your hip gentle but firm as if he didn’t want to let you go, while his other hand was on the floor, positioned next to your head.

He leaned down to lay passionate but gentle kisses against your neck.

You bit your lip, suppressing the almost vile moan that was on the tip of your tongue, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I’ve been waiting for you to make the first move.”

Logan chuckled, raising his head to look at you. “Guess I’m not as patient as I thought.”

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. “Guess not.”

The mood between you had shifted, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something more intimate. You felt a connection with Logan that you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully acknowledge before, and now that it was out in the open, it felt right.

“So, what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes darkened with a new intensity, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “How about we take this workout somewhere more private? I’ve got a few ideas on how to… optimise our training.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the suggestive tone in his voice. “Lead the way,” you murmured, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Logan smirked, pulling back just enough to help you to your feet. But before you could move, he captured your lips in another heated kiss, this one more urgent, more demanding. It left you breathless, your knees weak as you clung to him for support.

When he finally released you, there was a hunger in his eyes that mirrored your own. Without another word, he took your hand and led you out of the gym, his pace quick and determined. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, but you barely noticed, too focused on the man beside you.

Logan’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The air was filled with a quiet intensity as you both entered, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Logan’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes dark with an unspoken promise. He stepped closer, his rough hands finding your waist, pulling you gently towards him. The world outside seemed to fade away as you stood there, the anticipation crackling between you.

You looked up at him, your heart racing, as his hands slid up your back, his touch both firm and tender. “So, this is your idea of a private training session?” you teased, your voice breathless.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Just thought we could continue our workout in a more…personal setting.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s lips were on yours, his kiss fierce and hungry. The sudden intensity took your breath away, but you melted into it, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as you kissed him back with equal fervour.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he wanted to absorb every inch of you. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. The roughness of his hands contrasted with the softness of your skin, creating a delicious tension that only heightened the experience.

Logan’s lips were warm and insistent, moving with a rhythm that made your pulse quicken. He gently pushed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours, the heat and strength of him undeniable. You responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his.

The kiss was a dance of passion and exploration, each touch and caress filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Logan’s hands slid down to your hips, his grip strong and possessive as he pressed you closer against him. You could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles, and it only made you want him more.

“Jump,” Logan said, though it sounded more like a grunt than actual words. As you jump, his arms catch you, holding you by both of your legs as your hands threaded through his hair. You could feel him straining against his pants while he walked you over to the bed. You looked up at him with a smirk from where he tossed you on the bed. You slowly begin to undress, leaving you bare in front of him with the exception of your bra and panties.

“Stunning,” He muttered under his breath as he stared at you in a trance. His hand travelled down to his aching bulge, palming himself at the sight of you.

“Just gonna stand there and stare or are ya gonna do something, Wolvie.”

He let out an almost animalistic growl as he climbed on top of you, capturing your lips with his. His rough hands hands felt smooth against your skin as they travelled across your body. He pulls away from you, looking at his hands as his claws come out. He gently slides a claw under your bra, snapping it, freeing your breasts.

His claws retract and discard the bra across the room. His head quickly dives down to your tits, mouth latching onto one of your hard nipples as his hand kneads at the neglected breast. A yelp escapes your lips as he gently bites down on your nipple.

Your hands twine themselves in his hard, tugging gently as he moves his attention to your other breast. As he focuses on your breast, he shifts so that his elbow is holding him up while playing with your breast. His free hand slides down your body, slipping into your panties.

His fingers brush over your clit, making you let out a very solicited moan. His fingers run up your slit, making him groan.

“Fuck, you're already so wet and I’ve barely done anything yet, bub,” you let out an almost pathetic whimper in response. You feel him rut against your leg, attempting to get some much-needed relief. One of your hands leaves his hair and moves to push off his pants before planning him through his underwear, earning a groan from his lips.

You gasp as you feel one of his thick fingers enter you, pumping and curling in and out. It feels so good, all you can do is moan out his name. Looking into your eyes, he pulls you into a kiss as another finger slips into you. He swallows your moan with his mouth.

“Logan, ‘m so close baby,” you moan into his lips before whimpering at the loss of contact as his hand pulls your of you.

“Need to be inside you, want you to cum around my cock, darlin’” he says making you nod quickly, pulling your hand away from his groin.

He stands up, pulling off his boxers. As his cock frees, it slaps against his stomach and you almost whimper at the sheer size of it. His claws slowly extend out of his fist. He crawls back on top of you before using one of his claws to gently rip off your panties.

He positions himself at your entrance and looks up at you for approval.

“Please Logan just fuck me already.”

Gently and slowly, he pushes himself inside of you. His head falls back at the feeling of you around him. You wince at the slight sting from the size of him. He slows down and looks at you. You nod at him and moan as he bottoms out.

The two of you stay still for a minute as you adjust to him.

“Ok, you can move now, Lo.”

“How d’ya want it darlin’?” his raspy voice sounds out, making you even wetter.

“Rough baby, I thought this was supposed to be private training not–,” you tease him but are quickly cut off by your own moan as he roughly pulls out to the tip before slamming back in. His hands grip your legs, pulling them over his shoulder before moving to tightly grip the pillows next to your head. Your arms move up my your head, loosely wrapping around his.

The room is filled with loud moans and grunts as he fucks you. One of his hands moves down to circle your clit, making you cry out at the feeling. He drops one of your legs off his shoulder, changing the angle slightly.

“Oh fuck, right there!” you scream out as he pistons into your sweet spot. He throws his head back with a loud growl as your pussy clenches around him.

“Holy shit bub, so fuckin’ tight, wrapping around me just right.”

You hear the loud noise of his claws right next to your head as they extend into the bed. He uses them to give him more leverage as he fucks you harder, making you arch your back.

“‘M so close baby,” you moan into his ear as his head drops to your neck.

He doesn’t give up his relentless pace as he brings you closer to your orgasm. The sounds of his feral grunts in your ear throw you over the mess, making you scream as your insides tighten and you cum around his cock.

“Almost there,” he says as his thrusts become sloppier and his dick twitches inside of you.

“Where d’ya want it?”

“Inside, please,” you say, desperately.

Logan moves to kiss your tender lips roughly as he cums in you with a loud groan. His thrusts slow down before he comes to a stop. He drops on top of you with heavy breaths as you both lie there in silence.

Slowly pulling out of you, Logan rolls onto his back next to you before you both turn your heads to look at each other. He grins at your fucked-out expression.

“That was even better than I imagined,” he admits.

“Same,” you agree as you lean over to kiss him, smiling against his lips and muttering as you pull away,

“This was definitely a different kind of training, but I think that I still need a little more work on my form, think ya could help?”

Mars speaks... (again) I don't think I've ever locked in more than I did for writing the smut part of this. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

2K notes · View notes

emmyrosee · 7 months

Text

Sukuna hates how petty you can get when you’re fighting.

There is a part of him that loves your stubbornness, sure, like when you huff at him and make him work for your affection, but right now, you’re on day three of the silent treatment, and he’s losing it.

You enter a room and he’s already in it, you leave. You’re talking to yuuji and he comes in, you stop talking immediately. You haven’t been staying the night anymore, and you haven’t given him a kiss goodbye any time you’ve left. Even his ma is questioning what he did wrong, and he can’t give her a concrete answer.

He’s losing it.

Hes spammed texted you, he’s been trapping you in rooms by leaning in the doorframe, he’s been trying to get yuuji to be his messenger, but nothings working. You’re not biting.

“You’re over complicating this,” yuuji shakes his head and thumbing through channels. “Literally just apologize.”

“At this point I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for!”

“Well they’re on their way over, thinking you’re going to apologize, so you’d better figure it out.”

“You’ve been an immense help, thank you, asshole.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, and when Sukuna takes a deep breath and answers it, you nearly spin on your heel to leave.

“Oh I don’t think so,” he snips, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the house and trying not to focus on how you’re not even fighting against him, and that’s how indifferent you are to him. “We’re talking. Like it.”

“Hey dawg!” Yuuji cheers, clicking off the tv and waving. You wave back, your streak of not talking in front of Sukuna continuing. The younger chuckles, “I’ll let the adults duke it out. See ya!”

The room fills with silence as yuuji leaves, making Sukuna immensely uncomfortable. The way you’re looking at him has him uncomfortable, you’re making him so uncomfortable, and he just wishes you’d toss your pride to the side and talk to him and cuss him out or something.

“You look… good.”

Nothing.

“I’ve missed you.”

Nada.

“I made out with someone else because I got sick of you ignoring me.”

You scowl at him.

“Okay, I was lying. I was hoping you’d cuss me out.”

No dice.

“You’re acting like a fucking child!” He takes a deep breath in to try and ground himself, and you merely watch him with a hurt expression.

Okay. That didn’t help his situation.

“Fucks sake,” he grumbles, making a move to guide you backwards. He’s got you backed into a wall, hands on your shoulders while your arms stay nonchalantly crossed.

“I don’t get why you’re so mad at me; what did I even do?” He snaps, leaning close to your face threateningly.

You blink unamused.

Oh.

You’re gonna speak alright. He’s gonna make sure of it.

“Speak.”

You merely look him up and down and turn your head.

“Talk! Now!”

You let a tired exhale through your nose pass.

“I said i was sorry, and i know you know that was hard for me, why am i still being punished by you?” It’s bait to make you mad and talk, he knows he hasn’t apologized to the most sincere of his ability, but he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Maybe I’ll tickle ya, how about that?”

That, does, have your eyes widening but you still don’t spare him a breath. He smirks, “I’d bet you’d hate that, huh? Holding in all that laughter and begs for me to stop, knowing I’m not going to until you talk to me… and I’ll do it too. You know that.”

You merely cross your arms over your chest tighter.

He shrugs, “you asked for it.”

And he’s gotta say, he’s impressed with how little you’re fighting back from him scooping you in his arms and tossing you on the couch, straddling you, even taking your two wrists in his massive paw and holding them above your head. Your lips wobble in anticipation, and he’s got you booked now. “Any last words? A quick ‘I hate you,’ maybe?”

You blink, bored, almost calling his bluff, and he comes up to smack his face in frustration. He wasn’t actually bluffing, he did have full intentions of making you scream, but he was so sure you’d crack under his gaze, even a quick kick to him as he was adjusting your body.

No dice.

With a shrug, hands come down quickly to tickle the meat of your ribs, settling in the dips and scratching at the bones maddeningly. He sees your lip become wobblier, and he smirks down at you. “Nothing? Not even a giggle? You must be pissed at me.”

You screw your eyes shut to ignore him and he clicks his tongue, “now you can’t even look at me? That sucks.”

He leans down to nibble at your neck and ear, whispering little words against your skin to make you squeak. But it isn’t until he cheats and uses his mouth to blow a raspberry on your sensitive neck, an area he’s so used to pressing loving kisses to, that you finally crack.

“YOURE SO CHEAP!” You scream, followed by a flurry of laughter and struggling from his tight hold. Your laugh is whiny and desperate, feet digging into the couch while his fingers merely slither up and under your arms.

He smirks against your skin, “gotcha.”

“Fuck off!” You squeal, tugging as hard as you can in his grasp. “Stohop it!”

“Are you gonna keep ignoring me?” He asks. You shake your head back and forth, but he cocks a brow. “Is that a no? Are we going to talk about your issues with me, or am I going to have to tickle you for the next few hours?”

“HOURS?!” You howl.

He shrugs, “you ignored me for three days, least I deserve is to tickle you until you sob.”

“I wasn’t-“ you’re cut off by a flurry of your own giggles. “This isn’t-“ a few more yowls of your laughter when he digs in more. “FUCK OFF!”

“Nah,” he snickers. “This is more fun.” He does, however, stop his torment and pulls back, but he does look down at you impatiently. “Speak,” he echos from earlier.

You let out a few more titters slip past your lips, but you do sober up slightly, “you don’t even care that I was mad at you.”

“Uh, I was about to tickle you until you died, I think I cared too much-“

“No, Sukuna. You just didn’t want me to be mad. You never apologized and you never even bothered to try and make it better…”

This, oddly, has Sukuna’s heart twisting, squeezed with emotions and realization that he did mess up, pride couldn’t save him now and if he wanted to fix this, he’d have to prove it.

He sighs in truce, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“….”

“What?”

“That’s it?”

He rolls his eyes, “what else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to care that I was hurt!” You whine, raising on your elbows. “I want you to understand I was hurt, that you messed up! Not be so prideful and not admit it!”

“Alright, alright, jeez,” he groans. He locks eyes with you, and he knows you’re not going to like it, but he leans down to kiss you, using his two hands to cup your jaw, letting his thumbs stroke your bone lovingly. “I’m sorry. It must’ve sucked having to deal with my shitty ass apologies before. I never should’ve pulled that shit, and I hated not having you by my side.”

This, has you softening.

He presses another kiss to you, “I missed your laughter. I missed you scolding me. I missed you being sarcastic… don’t pull that silent treatment shit again, will ya?”

You hum happily, “don’t piss me off and I won’t have to.”

He blinks unamused, and as the thought of tickling you again crosses his mind, you lean up to kiss his lips giggling softly in the warmth. “I’m kidding. You and I both know you’re not going to stop pissing me off.”

“Love when you answer your own demands,” he chuckles.

The tightness in his soul loosens as you submit to his affections, and he does make a mental note to never piss you off so bad again where you go back to happy to never talk to him again. He hates it more than even he knows, drags him down and he feels like he’s missing a crucial part of himself.

But it is good to know he can get you back out of that funk.

4K notes · View notes

augustinewrites · 1 year

Text

“babe. baaaabe. babe!”

“what, satoru?” you ask sharply, looking up from your laptop to where your boyfriend has spread himself across your couch, his legs in shoko’s lap.

he lifts his shades to look at you. “was i your first crush?”

“yes,” you answer quickly.

you immediately return to the report you’re writing, missing the face shoko makes before she says, “that’s not true.”

“ieiri,” you whisper harshly, but it’s too late. your boyfriend’s already jumped off the couch to lean his palms against your desk.

“what? i wasn’t your first?!”

“you were,” you insist, glaring at your friend. “shoko is clearly misremembering things.”

“am i though?”

“you know what, it’s fine,” gojo sighs, slipping his shades back on and rolling the sleeve of his t-shirt up so he can flex. “obviously i’m way cooler than whatever lame schmuck high school you was crushing on.”

behind him, shoko’s scoff is the final nail in your coffin. “nanami is way cooler than you ever were.”

you slap your forehead, bracing yourself for gojo’s inevitable overreaction.

but he doesn’t get the chance, interrupted by a light knock against your doorframe from, you guessed it, nanami kento.

“yaga said you wanted to see me?”

cue overreaction.

“you had a crush on— on him?”

nanami swats gojo’s finger away from his cheek.

“oh my god,” your boyfriend breathes, currently experiencing a quarterlife crisis. “you liked this emo nemo?”

nanami ignores him, sending you a questioning look. “he doesn’t know?”

“what is it now?” satoru asks, slumping back into the couch. “did you guys go on a date or something?”

your lack of answer is enough for him to let his head fall back rather dramatically.

“can you blame her?” shoko asks. “he was sexy back then. in an edgy, mysterious kind of way. meanwhile, you were like…if a string bean made love to a cauliflower.”

even gojo doesn’t have a witty retort prepared for that.

you decide to clear this up once and for all. “it wasn’t just about looks. you were busy after— after riko. you didn’t have time for a relationship or…for me. you wanted to get stronger and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“you wouldn’t have been—”

“i would have.” you shrug. because you know him, and you know what he was like. “and that’s okay because we were still kids, satoru. and it was only one date! no need to get so torn up about it!”

_____

“what is this?” you ask later that night, when you find satoru hauling a huge box into your apartment.

“it’s a bowflex!” gojo explains proudly, patting the unopened box. “shoko said that i was built like a string bean, so i’m gonna buff up like nanami! and when megumi moves out next year, i’m gonna turn his room into a gym.”

you lean in the doorway, amused. nanami also has a home gym. “is that why you’re also wearing a suit and tie instead of your usual uniform?”

he does a show spin, letting you take it all in. you don’t even want to know how much it must have cost. “do you like it?”

“you do look very handsome.”

“i know,” he winks, cocky as ever. “now watch this.”

he brushes a few strands of hair over his eyes, lowering his voice a few octaves as he says, “taxes. office work. satoru, i respect you so much!”

you walk up to him, brushing the hair back to press a kiss to his forehead. “nanami would never say that last thing, but i do like the effort.”

he loops his arms around your waist, returning the kiss and murmuring against your skin, “did it turn you on though? maybe i should get an office job—”

“satoru,” you whine, resting your forehead against his chest. “it was just a short-lived crush. and it was forever ago! i’m pretty sure you’ve had crushes that weren’t me.”

“nope,” he hums, resting his chin atop your head. “all i’ve ever wanted is you. all i’ve ever needed…is you.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

11K notes · View notes

kyletogaz · 2 months

Text

title: not your usual [redacted] story pairing: johnny x plus-sized fem!reader summary: there’s a reason why he won’t leave. cw: smut with feelings, johnny being a menace to society words: 3k+

you really shouldn't be surprised to see your neighbor johnny chilling on your couch when you walk through the door, but you are.

you could have sworn you told him you wanted to be alone today.

that man has a habit of loitering in your apartment whenever you’re out. you’d be so irritated whenever you came home to see him lounging on your couch, as if he was the one paying the damn bills around here. you've told him to fuck off plenty of times, but he refuses. and it’s not like you can have him physically removed either.

try it if ye wan’ to, hen.

you’ve filed multiple complaints with your landlord, but he just looks at you like you’re crazy, before asking you if you’re unwell. because you weren’t sure what he meant by that, you stopped coming to him. maybe he was the crazy one.

fed up, you threatened to call the cops on johnny’s ass. your threats did nothing to keep him away though, it only made him worse. walking around your apartment with his stupid boots on, even though you’ve asked him a thousand times to take them off. rearranging things on your coffee table, opening your mail, stealing your underwear, and snooping through your personal items. hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he slept in your bed whenever you were away.

you think johnny’s favorite thing to do, just to further the torment, is to throw away your toys. and it’s even worse when he makes slick comments about you needing a real cock in your pussy. at the time, you were so stunned, your words had failed you when you tried to tell him off.

and then there’s his mouth. johnny’s a yapper. he never stops talking, whether it’s about the military, his family, or his friends. any information you didn’t ask for, he’ll tell you all about it anyway. sometimes you find his incessant talking endearing. it made you feel less lonely in your apartment. other times, you really wish you could glue his mouth shut for a few hours, just to have some quiet time.

you think the most off putting thing about johnny is the creepy shit he does, things that make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. it always has you thinking he’s not entirely human. the unnerving staring, when he's lying down and his body is perfectly still, too still for it to be considered normal. or when johnny doesn't blink at all, and you’ve convinced yourself that there’s something terribly wrong with him. and he’s always looming when he’s close to you. it scares the shit out of you, but you never bring it up.

if you didn’t know any better, you’d say johnny mactavish was haunting you.

when johnny gives you a lazy wave, you don’t bother getting yourself worked up, as you breeze past him to get to your bedroom. all you do is offer him two words, “get out."

johnny follows you like a damn puppy of course. "bunny, ye dinnae mean that,” he whines, a pout already forming on his lips while he’s leaning against your doorframe.

you fix him with a glare when you hear the nickname he’s given you. “how many times do i have to tell you to stop calling me that? and i meant every word, johnny. go home.” you’re exhausted and you just want some peace and quiet. you want him to leave.

but johnny doesn’t leave. he’s told you time and time again he doesn’t answer to you.

asshole, you think to yourself, before rolling your eyes at him.

your peace lasts for all of five minutes, before johnny starts touching your shit. you’re rummaging through your closet, when you hear your dresser drawers being slammed shut. when you turn your head, your eyes narrow in suspicion at the sight of johnny feigning innocence, as if he didn’t just have his hands on a pair of your panties.

“do i come to your house and meddle in your shit? stay out of my dresser, johnny!” you can feel a scream trying to work its way out of your mouth, but you suppress it. you really wish he would go terrorize someone else.

yeah right, as if that’ll ever happen.

your eye actually twitches when he flings himself onto your bed and gets comfortable. you’re obviously staring at him longer than you should be, because your breath hitches a little when his shirt rides up, giving you a lovely view of muscles and body hair. your not so subtle staring turns into full blown gawking when johnny slips a hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, making your mouth go dry the same time slick starts to gather in your panties.

shit.

you snap out of it when you realize that this is johnny you’re ogling. “get out of my bed, mactavish.” your words come out colder than intended. you try not to shrink away when piercing blue eyes meet your gaze.

“what’s wi’ that attitude of yers, bunny?” johnny asks coolly. there’s an edge to his tone and a tick in his jaw. “need me tae fuck it out of ye?” he snorts at the scandalized look you give him.

“as if i would ever let you touch me!”

that was over 24 hours ago when you made that statement, and now here you were on your back, pussy wet, and full of want while johnny took his sweet time exploring your soft body.

"why are you so damn cold?" you hiss when two large hands cups your tits, a whine leaving your throat when the hands are suddenly replaced by johnny’s hot, wet mouth.

he ignores your question, hoping you won’t ask again. it’s not like you can anyway, with the way he’s distracting you with his mouth. he licks and sucks your nipples until they’re covered in his saliva. a soft laugh slips past his lips when your fingers sink into his overgrown mohawk, as you drag him up for a kiss.

johnny puts everything into the kiss. he’s nipping at your bottom lip and doing his best to shove his tongue down your throat. you pull away to gasp softly when his thick fingers slip between your slick folds, letting out a pitiful sound of disappointment when he removes them almost immediately. and then he’s pressing those glistening fingers to your lips and telling you to open up. when you don’t move fast enough, he pries your mouth open then slips his fingers in.

“taste yerself, bun.” you do as you’re told, sucking your own pussy juice off johnny’s fingers. you ignore the way your heart flutters when he coos at you and calls you his good girl and tells that he would have done this sooner if it would have kept you from hissing and spitting at him like a damn cat. he’s got you right where he wants you, in bed and eager to take his cock.

johnny loves the way you whine and spread your legs wider for him when he drags his cock up and down your sticky folds, smearing precum all over your pussy. you have to stop yourself from begging, when he teases your hole with the tip of his cock. he does it repeatedly, until you’re blinking away tears of frustration.

you sniffle when he cups your jaw and says in a sickeningly sweet tone, “poor bunny, thought ye hated me. now look at ye beggin’ for mah cock.” the laugh he lets out is mean and it hurts your feelings.

“please,” you whimper, voice cracking and eyes full of tears. “i don’t hate you, johnny.” you may be telling the truth, but he looks a bit skeptical.

you open your mouth to speak again, but johnny’s already feeding his cock into your pussy, inch by inch, and groaning because of how wet and tight you are. the way your spongy walls clench around him when he’s fully engulfed, is enough to make his head spin.

“fuck, bunny. ye feel so good stretched out aroun’ mah cock,” johnny moans in your ear. “feels like this cunt was made f’me.”

the first thrust knocks the air out of your lungs and has you shrieking and clawing at the skin on johnny’s back. “do that again,” you beg breathlessly, not caring if you sound desperate. you want him to ruin you.

like the obedient mutt he is, johnny obeys, and does it again and again and again, until you’re wailing and creaming around his cock. you’re a bit shocked at how fast your orgasm crept up on you. not offering you any respite, johnny demands for you to give him one more, and you almost tell him that you’ll give him anything, as long as he keeps fucking you like this. he’s fucking you like it’s his last night on earth, his fingers intertwined with yours, while he moans and pants in your ear. johnny’s fat cock pistoning in and out of your fat pussy while he hits your g-spot repeatedly is almost too much for you to handle.

all you can do you is cry and writhe up under johnny while he gives you the best dick of your life. your pussy nearly strangles him to death when he chants mine mine mine with every snap of his hips. you're not his. you can't be, you refuse. and yet, when johnny asks whose pussy is this? you sob and tell him, it’s yours, johnny.

“what about ye?” he asks through gritted teeth, “yer mine, yeah?”

there’s no hesitation in your voice when you answer with a breathy, “yes, i’m yours.”

deep down, you feel like you’ve bonded yourself to him with those three words.

“thas’ right, bunny. mine. gonna keep ye forever,” johnny snarls, before sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your throat and giving a powerful thrust that has you howling his name and digging your nails into his back.

he’s marking you as his.

you’ll panic later when you’re not getting fucked stupid and johnny’s thick fingers aren’t toying with your puffy clit. he doesn’t stop rubbing your sensitive bud until your back is arching and your thighs are shaking, as your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

“ye okay, bunny?” johnny asks once you can breathe again. his brow is furrowed in concentration and his forehead is slick with sweat while he continues to grind into your pussy, groaning at the filthy squelching sounds coming from between your thighs.

you answer with a garbled moan. how are you supposed to give him a coherent response when his cock is making you see stars and driving you insane.

johnny lets out a huff of laughter, before he rolls off of you and pulls you on top of him, using one hand to guide his length back into your slick pussy. “c’mon bunny, be nice for once and fuck me.”

soft cries spill from your lips when you start to grind your overstimulated pussy on johnny’s cock. with your head tossed back, you can’t see the way he stares up at you in complete and utter adoration. he’s enjoying the way your tits and belly bounce while you ride his leaking cock, and the way you cry out his name and claw at his chest. johnny’s so enamored with you and you don’t even know it.

he still hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you his secret, something he should have told you before you let him touch you. he’s been wanting to for weeks, but he’s never found the right time to do so. it’s getting harder for him to keep a lid on it. simon keeps telling him to end it. she’ll go running for the hills when she finds out what you are. he told johnny to stop coming by your place, to leave you alone and let you live your life. but johnny’s selfish. he’ll never leave let you go, especially now that he’s finally got you split open on his cock.

“fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” johnny moans, his grip on the your hips almost painful.

you cum before he does, pussy spasming and choking his cock while you moan his name, “johnny!”

the way you say his name unlocks something in him. johnny holds you close to his chest, murmuring soft words against your lips that you don’t even think are being spoken in english, thrusts becoming more frenzied as he fucks up into your worn out pussy. he doesn’t stop until up his thrusts become sloppy and his hips stutter. the drawn out moan that leaves his throat when he fills you to the brim with his cum is like music to your ears.

when johnny comes down, he strokes his hands up and down your back. he asks you if you’re okay, and all you can do is whimper. you’re a little surprised at how sweet he is with aftercare, bathing you and helping you get dressed before he puts you to bed. and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep, is a pair of cool lips on your forehead.

“you sure you gave me the correct name? there are no tenants in the building who goes by the name johnny. i've checked the records several times for previous tenants as well."

what?

"i don't understand," you blurt out, sounding as confused as you probably look. "this isn't making sense. what about the name john? have you tried that?”

"i did that as well,” your landlord says. he gives you a look of concern when you let out a groan. “are you sure this johnny person isn’t a squatter?”

he can’t be. johnny knows too much about the people and their business in this building. he wasn’t a squatter.

you shook your heard at the old man, “that’s not possible.”

your landlord just simply shrugs and says, “well if he isn’t a squatter, then he probably lives with one of the residents in this building.“

“well, that’s just perfect,” you mutter, voice dripping with sarcasm and a hint of annoyance.

how the hell are you even supposed to find the person johnny could possibly be living with? you don’t know half of the people in your building. they’ll probably think you’re insane if you knock on their door to ask them if they’re harboring a scot with an overgrown mohawk.

before your annoyance can settle in, you ask the man if any of your neighbors are in the military. it’s the best place to start if you’re going to track johnny down. and luckily for you, there is one person who goes by the name of simon riley.

you stare at the computer screen in surprise when you spot simon’s apartment number. “he lives on my floor,” you utter in disbelief.

“yes,” the bespectacled man confirms. “across the hall and just a few doors down. he’s retired from the military. think he’s a butcher now.”

you’re already out of the door and thanking him before he can blink. you make your way up to your floor with johnny on the brain. you haven’t seen him in almost a week, and it feels like he’s avoiding you. it takes every ounce of strength you’ve got in you, to keep from having a breakdown. after he’d fucked you six ways to sunday, you woke up thinking johnny would still be curled around you, but he wasn’t. he’d left, and you’d never felt so alone. much to your dismay, your eyes start to sting as the urge to cry presents itself.

johnny owed you an explanation for his actions, and you were going to get one.

you’re not sure how long you stand in front of simon’s door, just staring at the silver number plates, before you work up the nerve to knock. you bite your lip nervously when you hear the someone unlocking the door. you almost took a step back when the door swung open to reveal a hulking figure. it was definitely simon. he was so fucking big and pretty.

“you must be johnny’s bird,” he says gruffly, lips quirking up into a small smile. “was wonderin’ when you would show up.”

you stare up at simon in surprise, before murmuring a soft greeting. “is he inside?”

simon offers you a silent nod, before stepping aside to let you in. when you walk through the foyer and into the living room, you swear you him mutter something about you not being the only person johnny haunts. but then he’s speaking again, louder this time. “show yourself, mactavish,” he barks, before taking a seat on the sofa.

and leave it up to johnny to make an appearance that almost scares you half to death. he walks right through the wall to your right, making you flinch away from him with a terrified shriek.

johnny froze, and so did you. somewhere in the background you can hear rumbling laughter. you must be losing your mind, because there was absolutely no fucking way johnny just walked through simon’s wall. a wall that’s supposed to be solid, a wall that a human shouldn’t even be able to phase through.

and then it all comes rushing back to you at once. johnny popping up whenever he wanted, even when you asked him to relinquish the key you thought he stole from your landlord. never hearing your door shut when you finally managed to convince him that you needed your alone time. you thought about how johnny knew certain things you thought no one should know. the creepy comments he would make about death. when he never tasted any of the food you offered. he’d spent most of his time lying through his teeth about having a special diet.

you know what he is now, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. you’ll probably scream if you do.

“bunny?! fuck, ye wasn’t supposed tae see that. christ, simon why would ye let her—”

“johnny….what?” your voice sounds faint to your own ears and you’re not feeling too great.

“bunny? shit, bunny?!”

johnny’s hands are on your arms, but you’re not really feeling him or hearing his words.

the last thing you see before your world tilts on its axis, is a pair of worried blue eyes.

a/n: what is he? and at want point in the fic did you realize it? maybe i’ll do a 2nd part.

masterlist

#not your usual ghost story #johnny mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish x you #soap mactavish #kyletogazwrites

1K notes · View notes

yourmidnightlover · 7 months

Text

forever?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.

warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!

a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling

pt 2 -> control

two months out of forever.

two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.

in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents.

the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place.

you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely.

on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be.

they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.

so far, he’s been the opposite.

for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady.

because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light.

but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much.

the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.

the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.

you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.

those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…

you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life.

peace.

a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together.

but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door.

“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe.

“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”

you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”

“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight.

the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting.

you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls.

you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.

“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile.

“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”

“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. ��the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”

you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline.

you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun.

luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting.

t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you.

the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway.

“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men.

“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”

as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips.

“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates.

in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned.

you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes.

you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with.

you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often.

you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip.

“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be.

“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.

“i don’t-i’ve got it…”

“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.

“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband.

“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”

then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins.

“i think he might mind.”

you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away.

his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.

“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.

your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you?

you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this.

your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.

and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think.

you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted.

“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly.

“but the dish-”

“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.”

“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.

he won’t hurt you.

he has to protect his image.

you’ve embarrassed him.

you’re his wife.

you’re his business deal.

you’ve humiliated him.

he’ll hurt you.

you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident.

your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth.

and then there was a knock at the door.

your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting.

he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements.

“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.

automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.

“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft.

you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was.

“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again.

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.”

“you don’t have to-”

“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.

you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you.

how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing…

“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.

“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.

“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed.

sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point.

but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad.

3K notes · View notes

onlyswan · 1 year

Text

summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

4K notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 6 months

Text

eddie x reader

a follow up to this prompt by @rebelfell

2.6k

tw: angst, smut, minors fuck off pls teasing? is that a trigger idk.

“we need to talk.” the conversation we’ve been waiting for after you catch your best friend getting head finally unfolds

“We need to talk.”

Your blood ran cold, ice in your veins it was practically prickling your skin. The heat on your cheeks bloomed and your gut quaked at the sight of him, covered.

Play dumb! It’ll work!

“I , m-mean, now?— like right now? You have cum- company! a guest— we can talk later, yeah?”

The stuttering, calmly hands and the sweat gathered under your arms— you were a one woman walking circus, missing the clown nose.

“Why are you being so weird?” He leans into your doorframe, tattooed arms cross over his broad and glistening chest.

The flush still in his cheeks almost brought you to your knees, but it was the single flick of his tongue on his lips that had you melting and wishing he had licked your lips instead. Fuck.

“… besides, you already interrupted my guest, so she left—”

Your ears perk up at the mention of said whore leaving your apartment, and your eyelashes bat open, “she left? Why?”

Eddie huffs and puts his tongue in his cheek like he can’t believe you’re being so stupid.

“Cut the shit, okay? Will you just be an adult for a second?”

The smile on your lips falls and you take a step back towards your bed setting your keys down on the nightstand. The silence is anything but quiet. The energy was chaotic and shooting like daggers much like Eddie’s eyes into yours.

“Well?” he asks dramatically, raising his eyebrows to try to get you to speak.

Play dumb— it’s working!

“Well what?” you muse innocently.

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie spits, any softness he brought into this situation had fizzled—dead at the door.

“I—”

“Forget how to knock?”

“No—”

“Suuuure, you just thought you’d what? Barge in, ignoring our code?”

“I didn’t—-there was no hot water! You forgot to pay the water bill!”

“That’s not how water bills work.”

You stand stunned— mouth open to argue but nothing will even come out.

“It’s the water heater for this shitheap building that’s out— if you don’t believe that I paid the bill—call the water company yourself.”

“…oh.” your voice is small, quiet almost unheard.

“Wow, really great apology.”

“Oh relax! Just call her back and explain it was a mistake, who cares? She shouldn’t be so uptight.”

Eddie is fuming, blood rushing to his head as he tries not to yell out right. But fuck you were being so difficult.

“Ya know… I didn’t say shit when you had Harrington tied to your bed posts and you couldn’t undo the knots— did I? Nope—not a fucking word, I just cut him loose and acted like nothing ever happened!”

You wince, who knew knots were that hard to unlace?

“That was different!”

“Or the multiple times I caught the fuckin’ Chief slipping out of your room at 5 AM? I even bummed him a cigarette for his morning coffee!”

Your jaw hung to the floor, you didn’t know Eddie had any idea that you’d been sleeping with Hopper.

“So? What—we’re just airing out dirty laundry now?” you could be venomous too, your rattle sounding off ready to strike.

“How many months did you try gettin’ into Mary’s pants before you dumped her because she’s married to Jesus Christ her Lord & Savior? Her name is Mary for fucks sake! Not hard!”

His face pulls to anger, “don’t be a bitch!”

“And where’s Gareth? Never see him around anymore, maybe it’s because you ran over his d—.”

“That was an accident! I honked and he never moved!”

“He was deaf Eddie!” you yell back into his face, “or! How about the time I had to pick you up from the Hideout because you got so drunk you pissed your pants?”

“That was YOU!”

The two of you were standing nose to nose, shouting accusing each other of shit that didn’t even matter. Eddie had your back and you’d have his until the end. Cradle to the grave.

But this was different, you weren’t fighting like siblings or friends, you were both screaming as if you were in pain.

He’s the first to move, shaking his head and turning towards the door. when he speaks his voice is low, angry.

“When my door is shut don’t open it—turn your ass around and fuck off, got it?”

His words split your skin, vining through your body like sharp thorns. The hot spill of tears were welling in your eyes.

“Sorry to bother you, asshole— won’t happen again.”

He’s on the opposite side when you slam your door in his face. The rain brewed and stewed and finally was ready to fall from the clouds in your eyes.

Why were you acting like this?

Grabbing your keys you set to leave again, needing an escape so he couldn’t hear your wailing cries. But again— when you opened the door, he was still standing there, only this time he looked pissed.

“Move.”

He brushes you off as if he didn’t even hear you, “enough.”

“Eddie, get out of the way!”

“Do you know how many nights I listened to you fake it for this fuckheads?” How long

I’ve waited for you to admit it?”

He shuts your door behind him as he pushes his way inside.

“Admit what?”

“C’mon, baby— we haven’t been friends for a long time, not really.”

You’re confused and on the verge of tears, “what?!”

Eddie presses forward, head tilted down at you.

“Those douchebags you bring here can’t handle you the way I know you need…coming home to see their boots by the front door makes me absolutely despise you.”

“Who gives a shit? I trip over skanky high heels sometimes too.”

You were missing the point he was trying to make, way over your head.

“Never satisfied when they leave…that little vibrator in the top drawer is not as quiet as you think it is.”

You were throbbing, aching… how did he know?

He inches forward, and you double back towards the door.

“I—”

“Pretty little moans on your lips just minutes after they leave…‘m not stupid sweetheart, I know you do it on purpose— parading around the apartment in your little shorts, never wearing a bra… you’re a tease.”

He wasn’t right. He couldn’t be! Right?

“I hate you, Eddie.”

He stalks forward like a predator eyeing its prey, a stupid smirk on his face.

“No— No I don’t think you do. I think you’re so fucking wound up about me, jealous... It’s alright, I get it. I bury myself in bitches so you’ll get out of my head.”

He takes a ragged breath, his eyes pitch dark, and your back hits the door, he closes in around you, his arms on either side of your head.

“I fucking hate you, princess. I hate that it doesn’t work.. you’ve made me jealous for too fucking long.”

Your body was screaming, angel and devil on your shoulder dancing and holding hands rooting you on.

“H-how long?”

His hand falls to your chin, pulling down your bottom lip.

“Senior year. Hellfire. You laughed at one of Jeff’s stupid fucking jokes and my blood ran cold. I wanted you to look at me like you looked at him. That was just the first time I realized I wanted you.”

You shudder, fingers running along his chest, playing with the chain on his neck, “why not say anything?”

“Didn’t wanna ruin this.”

His lips nearly touch yours, he’s leaning in so close. And you don’t pull away.

“I think it’s pretty clear that our friendship is over, Eddie. I fucking hate you.”

“I hate you, too sweetheart.”

The tension is thick, spinning with bated breath and sexual desire.

“So, we hate each other?”

“Yep.” Eddie muses, angling your chin so he can see your neck.

“…and we aren’t friends?”

He nods silently, pressing his nose to your cheek, “seems to be that way.”

“You’ve ruined everything.”

“Good,” he all but whispers into your ear.

“..a perfectly good pair of underwear.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and he licks his lips. “Can’t have that.”

“No, not at all,” you tease, thumbing at your waistband and letting your shorts hit the floor.

He steps back to examine you with wide eyes, letting them narrow as he bites his lip, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I’m gonna fuck you exactly how you need to be fucked.”

Pulling him back into you by his chain necklace you ask centimeters from his lips, tasting the heat from his mouth, “what are you waiting for?”

He takes a deep breath, hovering his mouth over yours, “nothing, not anymore.”

His tongue hits you first, electric like an eel on your lips, his breath hot as fire. You moan out when his hands grip your ass, pulling you into him with such force you could have toppled over.

Eddie is loud too. Groaning with each swipe of your tongue against his.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, baby.”

His dick is pressed into your middle, hard and kicking up as your hands reach into his hair, pulling you closer to him as if he were a rope and you were climbing a mountain.

He pulls you away from the door to get a quick slap to your ass. Rough and hard and you’re mewling, his rings stinging your skin.

Your lips close to his ear you whisper “Eddie… please.”

He pulls away after leaving a mark on your neck.

“You don’t have to beg, I’ll give you whatever you need, however many times you want it, honey.”

His fingers dip into your waistband around your hips as he slides your panties down to your thighs. “Let me see that cunt, show me what I did to you.”

You step out of your panties and he lowers himself to the floor on bent knees. “Jesus Christ, look how pretty she is, ‘m gonna eat this pussy till you cum all over my face.”

You nod dumbly, body on fire from his words, the lust of having his hands touch you in places he never had, places you dreamt he would, has your mind spinning.

His bangs tickle your inner thighs, breath fanning on your clit, thumbs spreading you open. He sucks in a breath, whistling low.

A single flick of his tongue— that’s all it takes for your eyes to roll, for your back to bend in an arch like you were being exorcized of hell’s worst demons. Your fingernails scratching into the door trying to anchor yourself from grinding on his face until his nose broke.

He spits, watching it drip down to your cunt, “don’t ask me to stop.”

Diving in, his tongue is everywhere. Lapping you up, sucking your clit into his mouth. Swirling around like you would while eating an ice cream cone. Your chest heaves and your thighs tremble as he hooks one over his shoulder pressing into him and he gently pushes it back into place, his eyes never leaving your body.

When it happens again, he shoves it down with force, nipping at one of your thighs, his lips shiny and wet he groans, “keep ‘em put.”

The tip of his middle finger pushes into you, and you squeak out a gasp, leaning forward off the door to take a look at him, and he nearly laughs, “jesus, you’re tight sweetheart, gonna need to work you up a bit.”

He smiles before attaching his mouth to your thigh, sucking a bruise as he fucks you with his fingers, adding a second that’s easier than the first. Your body rolls with his motions, pushing back against him and you know your orgasm is about to snap.

His tongue replaces his fingers and the heat in your stomach releases, untying the white knot and spilling over his lips as you scream out his name.

“Thatta girl, fuck look at you, Christ.”

Your eyes open, a strange drunk feeling taking over, as if you were high on a cloud and falling gracefully back to the earth. Opening to see the blackened eyes of the guy you’ve called your best friend for years, and if you would have known his tongue could do that, maybe you would have ruined this friendship a lot sooner.

“Fuck off Munson,” you mutter, out of breath as your foot gently sets on the ground.

“What?” he laughs.

“Just keeping the fact that you eat pussy better than the devil all to yourself huh? Selfish.”

His face splits into a grin laced with evil as he stands, licking his lips, “that’s not all I can do.”

He’s on you in a flash, hoising you up into his arms, and using the other to hastily shove his boxers down. “Can’t go back after this.”

“Oh this is the tipping point? Fucking is gonna ruin it not you just making going down on me?”

He rolls his eyes as he lines himself up with you, “what happened to that sweet girl I used to chase in the trailer park, huh?”

You reach around your legs and grab his thick cock and lightly sink down onto it the head barely pushing past your puffy lips, “fuck…met a boy who grew up and started selling weed out of his van, kind of an asshole, really big dick though.”

He thrusts up into you so hard you nearly see black, vision spotty from pleasure alone, you whine his name and he practically comes undone.

“Don’t.. shit… don’t do that, I won’t last. Those noises haunt me… been wanting to hear them.”

He holds you tight and fucks you slowly, dragging his cock at a ridiculously slow speed. Groaning when you suck him in deep, biting his neck.

“There it is, the noise that started this whole mess.”

He grins into you stupidly, “I’m glad you’re perverted plan worked, you little hussy.”

His hips move faster and your both whining, accompanied by the slapping of skin on skin. “Water heaters’ been out since last week, ‘m not stupid babe, you’re the one who called and asked.”

“Whoops— oh my goddd,” you squeal before you're panting like a dog and clawing his arms with your nails, he was splitting you wide open and you were near to tears.

The tears finally fall when Eddie bottoms out in your cunt, filling you up, grunting your name as he rests his forehead to your shoulder— completely spent.

His lips kiss your collar bone and you twirl a curl away from his face exhausted around his softening length.

“Princess,” he breathes, kissing life back into himself with the sweat from your skin, “if you wanted to fuck, you should have told me sooner, could have saved us a week of cold showers, y’know?”

You kissed his lips, letting him set you down on the bed so you could both lay back in a lazy post sex high, surrounded by your blankets.

“Well maybe you should have fixed it sooner, you are the maintenance manager of the building.”

Eddie grins and pins you onto the mattress, his hair falling into your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheeks to catch a rogue eyelash, “come with me to fix it?”

“Hmm..” fingers moving his hair behind his ear, “you gonna wear that slutty stained white tank top?”

“Slutty? Why, gonna seduce me in the boiler room?” his lips move down your neck and you whimper.

“Maybe…” you tease tickling his underarm, “so if I wouldn’t have barged into your room… what else would you have done?”

Eddie only smiles, thinking of his plan to “break” the air conditioner and hide your hoodies and blankets so you’d have to come to him for warmth.

“Let’s just say, you would have ended up as my girl one way or another.”

steve tied up in readers room

taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie drabble #eddie blurb #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #stranger things

1K notes · View notes

prael · 14 days

Text

Perks

Kinktember Day 10: Mirror

Twice Mina x male reader smut

words: 4,108 Kinktember Masterlist

Do you ever look in the mirror and see someone who isn't you?

It was a simple question—if a rather loaded one.

"No," said Mina. "No, I don't think so. Not in a bad way, but maybe in disbelief of who I've become. Sometimes I expect to see the same person I was almost ten years ago. A simpler me. Maybe a more nervous and afraid version of me. That sort of thing."

"My therapist told me that was imposter syndrome," you said. "It's common, but it's pretty fucked up, the way we act like we're lying to ourselves."

"Have you thought of seeing her again?" Mina asked.

"God, that'd be awkward, don't you think?" you responded.

Mina paused, holding a glass midway to her mouth as if thinking, 'Between you and her or you and me?' Then she seemed to decide and smiled to herself, "Right."

Mina never erred into the intrusive or tactless. It's why you never have the impression that she is nosing around your life, because she gives you all the leeway to share only what you wish to share. And maybe that's why the both of you have lasted this long; in this arrangement, you found this unique level of trust, and you dare say it makes you damn good together.

"Our friend over there at the end of the bar looks like he can't take his eyes off you," you told her without looking up from your drink, not to draw attention. Mina chanced a discreet glance from the corner of her eye.

She quirked an eyebrow at you, "So? Feel threatened?"

You laughed into your drink before taking a mouthful of it, and then you told her, "I was about to get up, but you know that as soon as I do, he's going to come over."

"Of course, he will," Mina grinned into her own glass, then tipped her chin back to get at the last of it. "You go ahead to the room, I'll let him down gently." She patted at the front of your suit coat, above your breast pocket. It was a playful gesture. She had barely touched you all night until then.

"Early morning tomorrow, Mina, don't waste too much time now."

Mina smiled her "oh-shut-the-fuck-up" smile, before tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear and running her fingers through the thick long black strands. You smiled to yourself and signalled to the bartender.

It's been a long day, and tomorrow will be longer still. Hotel bars had become a sort of ritual for you and Mina, you share a drink the day before you close a deal, half in premature celebration and half as a good luck charm.

And the thing is, Mina is a flirt. Through and through. Charm and wit. It works on clients, and it's an asset. The only problem is, it worked on you. It wasn't difficult to recognise your attraction for what it was, and she obviously took notice of it too. And you, well...

You're a professional, so you would never, ever let yourself act on it. This is why you returned to your room, alone, and why ten minutes later you heard the door open to her (conveniently joined) room. You're professionals, if you're going to fuck, at least you try to hide it.

The adjoining door opens. Oops, did you leave that unlocked? How silly of you.

"Sorry about the wait. Didn't want to seem rude, you know." She leans against the doorframe.

"How long after I left?"

"Barely a minute, he did the whole 'You-look-familiar' bit, so I humoured him..." Mina cocks a smile of arrogance. "For a minute. Before, you know... Letting him down gently."

"Did he go quietly, then?"

"He tried to ask me if I was sure I wanted to be alone." She shakes her head slowly as she saunters forward. "I was sure. Sure about coming up here and riding you senseless. Didn't tell him that, of course, just up and left. Anyway, for tomorrow, I was thinking—"

"Let's rewind to that part about riding me senseless, shall we?"

A playful smile takes to the corners of her mouth. "Let's."

You climb up from the bed, your shirt hangs loosely from your body, no tie at the neck and untucked from your trousers. "So, would you say it's going to be more of a—"

"If you are going to finish that with some terrible sex metaphor, I will kick your ass so hard." She kicks off her heels at the door. That long black dress she wore earlier is long gone, replaced by the lightest of sheer black chemises and a pair of little lacy black underwear.

"Kick my ass," you tell her, placing a hand on each of her hips. "Sure."

"Be quiet." She whispers it before she kisses you, deeply and softly. The sort of kiss that makes you forget yourself. Your arms circle her waist, and her arms rest on your shoulders. You savour it, the smell of her perfume, the taste of her tongue, the feeling of her hands trailing across the skin at the nape of your neck.

But in due time, that kiss breaks apart. Her hand trails down the front of your dress shirt, button by button, she has undressed you so many times now that the motion seems so familiar, and practised, but she still takes her time in doing it, as though with every undone button her anticipation is built upon.

You place your hand against the curve of her hip, thumbing gently, with feather-light touches along the black fabric, her small waist and wide hips, firm and round and so shapely in just her lingerie—your hands could have found no better resting place.

As you slip out of your shirt, Mina slips the delicate straps off her shoulders and the skimpy piece falls away from her body like petals around her feet. Mina is bare for you, save for her panties. Her tits might not be as big as her ass but your mouth still waters at the sight of them.

"Look at me." You love it when Mina demands that, love how she smiles with smug confidence when you have nothing to do but oblige her. Mina turns herself around, and your hands slide down, down the generous arch of her back and cups around her round, firm ass.

"Oh, come now," you can't help but tease her, "How very complacent of you, to think my eyes would look at nothing else but you. You know that I am a man of refined culture." You knead at the ample flesh in each palm, so soft. "I am very clearly an admirer of the finer things in life."

"How very romantic," she laughs, sliding down her underwear with a shimmy of her hips before placing her palms flat against the wall. "Go on then. Enjoy the art, like the cultured man you are."

There is something intoxicating about watching her there, propped against the wall, naked for you, your cock uncomfortable in your trousers. You unbuckle the clasp of the belt, then, in the pause, you approach, letting a single finger trace up the arch of her spine, leaning closer to her neck to whisper, "Not right here. Look over there, the mirror."

A floor-to-ceiling mirror, to be specific. She smiles a devilish little smirk. "And what of it?"

"Mina," you tell her, pressing the front of your trousers against the curves of her body, against the supple flesh of her ass. "I want to see all of you when we fuck. Every beautiful detail."

Mina purred, content. "Spoken like a poet..."

You land a solid and deliberate smack against that big ass of hers, and she lets out a groan. "Don't let it go to your head."

Mina let out an effectual moan, knowing fully how it tempts you. You roughly press your body against hers as she does it. Hooking both your arms around her naked form, you pull her to where you want her, right over to the mirror.

"That's it, take me like you want to." She presses her hand flat against the mirror, pushing back those delicious curves against your body once more. You force down your slacks and underwear until the cool air envelops you, at least until you push against her body once more. You cup both your hands at her full ass, slipping your stiffness between the cheeks and rocking back and forth. Mina is biting her bottom lip as she looks back at you in the mirror, and you look at nothing else but her deep dark eyes, her face framed by that long, dark, glorious hair.

"Your ass. This. This beautiful, beautiful thing of yours, drives men wild, drives me wild," you breathe out as she rocks herself back into your groping hands and your hard cock grinds between her cheeks, slow and methodic. "Drives me a little bit insane."

She deepens her bend, lowering her shoulders level to her ass, and her face presses against the glass. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip again, peering over her shoulder, a shameless erotic, willing for you to take her in the most raw and depraved way. You can't deny the effect it has on you, and it has you raising your right arm, palm poised to land another satisfying spanking to her ass.

The crack rings out through the room, and she lets out a soft, sweet little, "Oh!"

You wrap a hand around her, over her stomach and down between her legs, reaching for her sweet, slick cunt, and find her soaked, wet with arousal. Wet for you.

"Fuck, you're so horny," you utter hoarsely. You drag your fingers through her juices as you drive your stiff cock over her tight asshole, so much teasing, maybe too much, perhaps too tortuous. You groan into the shell of her ear. "You get so wet for me. So wet. You need it so badly."

She moans, grinding back against you and circling her hips as if it could ease her pain. Half teasing, half goading, she says, "Maybe you should stop fucking playing around and do something about it."

She hisses when you drive your two slick fingers inside her without warning, pushing deeper in one smooth motion, as you mutter into the crook of her neck, "Impatient, aren't we, Mina?"

"Just fuck me."

In response, you slowly withdraw your fingers. She gasps against the mirror, the palm of her hand curling flat into a fist. Her words get you harder as she tries to wiggle her ass and spread herself, desperately trying to draw your dick to the slick pink centre of her sex for you. She doesn't care anymore what this does to your discipline, doesn't care at the prospect of you breaking, turning this into a savage, ravaging of her body; what matters only, at this very instant, is that she gets filled and fucked, fast and hard.

Finally, you give her that. Draw your cock out from between her cheeks, sliding the tip down between her legs, feeling the moisture that glistens on the swollen lips. You don't bother to strap up, or even ask, it's long since established that raw is how she likes it.

Slowly, you push forward. Mina sucks in a breath through her teeth. You know by the arch in the small of her back, the little trembles, that it is taking all her concentration and willpower not to throw her hips back, to force you to the hilt.

You bite the edge of her shoulder, and a shiver travels down Mina's entire body. You pull out, a little, before driving forward a little further.

"You feel..." you groan, your cock feeling like it was engulfed by satin. You sink a little further. "Fuck."

"Mhm, go on," her eyelashes flutter as you begin to take her, in this raw, animalistic way. "Tell me how it feels."

"Every time is like the first time," you continue, sliding in slow, then deeper, bit by bit, until you're all the way in and her big, round ass is pressing hard against your abdomen and her thick thighs against your legs. "You feel warm and slick and tight and wet, and oh, God..."

A sudden thrust forward as her greedy cunt squeezes the length of your shaft. A delicious whimper that sends blood to your head. A long, shaky groan slips from the both of your lips. You buck hard into her ass and watch as it ripples at the contact. "Ah! There, yes. Fuck," Mina moans.

There are two of her, perfect reflections, two Minas taking a rough pounding from behind. Each little expression on her face, each beautiful feature is visible in the reflection. And behind that her body ripples just like the one below you, and she whimpers, helpless as you penetrate her over and over.

"F-faster." She whines. "Harder. God, fuck, fuck me harder."

Mina has always liked it a little on the rough side, so you grab a handful of her hair, ball it in your fist, and pull. "Tell me, how does it feel?" You rear her head back so she has to look at herself in the reflection and tell it to herself. You pick up the pace, beginning to relentlessly pummel her from behind as you bury yourself into her tight heat as deep and hard as you can.

"So... Ah! So good." You yank her hair again, making her ass tense, making her gasp. She pants hard, short and fast as the force and strength of each thrust get stronger. "I love it when you... fuck me like this." Her chest begins to heave up and down. She raises her ass even higher for you. "When you—God, ah! Ah!—make me want to scream..."

You feel that incredible warmth building and swelling in your abdomen as her sex drips around your shaft, and it is so hard to slow yourself down when her ass slaps against you in perfect sync with your every motion, when Mina's knees shake, when her desperate moans urge you to never, ever stop. Still, you would like to do a little something before she orgasms all over your cock.

You roughly jerk out of Mina, pulling away abruptly with no warning.

"No, no! Don't stop!" She cries out immediately, her greedy body already missing yours. The flush at her neck spreading, blossoming down—her shoulders pink. "No!" She whimpers as she tries to throw her pussy back against you.

She cries out so pathetically that she doesn't protest when you roughly turn her around and lift her by her thighs, allowing her to wrap her legs around your hips and sink her to the hilt onto you. You sink her down and up and down again and again, bouncing her on and off of your aching cock in front of the mirror, gritting your teeth to keep yourself from finishing the moment her tightness wraps and flexes around you.

"I'm gonna cum so hard, I swear, I can feel it," she gasps in time with your rough pounding, arms holding onto your neck tightly, fingernails digging into your shoulders. "So close, don't you dare stop."

The harder and faster you go, the louder and harder she screams, eyes rolling back and mouth falling open. She digs her heels into your back, pushing down against you so there's nothing left for either of you but pleasure. You pound hard and heavy into her, chasing her orgasm, and when that perfect heat grips all around you and consumes you entirely, there is nothing in the entire world that compares to it—to this. The thought that very soon you will be cumming inside Myoui Mina.

It is that pure bliss, that power and sense of total control, of giving her such pleasure that you're left moaning along with her, revelling in this wonderful mess. Your bodies are sticky and tangled and you just start to let it go. Filling her pretty cunt as you have so many times before.

You grit your teeth and struggle through the overstimulation, taking satisfaction in how the trembling in her legs persists, her breathing ragged and body shaking. Doing your best to fuck your load into her—she's just so into that sort of thing—you don't think that there's anything, truly, that is better than this.

Not when Mina whimpers as she weakly presses her nails into the skin of your shoulders and when she knows not how to stop trembling. Your limits are worth pushing for a woman like her.

But even then, limits are ultimately undeniable. Her full weight in your arms, your knees weak, your legs tire beneath you and finally, as you plant a series of gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder, her mouth gasping, her nose against your cheek, you give in and fall to your knees. Mina's back leaves a mark of where it was once imprinted against the glass.

"So..." she laughs breathlessly into your ear as you sit with her on you. "Do you think management has any idea how often we fuck during these trips?"

"I imagine that if they found out it would be both of our jobs on the line." You hold a hand on her lower back, keeping her upright and then place your mouth on one of her breasts. Her nipple is firm, you suck on it and run your teeth over its delicate surface. Mina keens with her mouth falling open and her lashes fluttering, a small quiet "ah" escaping from the back of her throat.

"Guess we better stop," she jokes, breathing out in a chuckle and gently, pushing your forehead away from her chest.

You chuckle dryly into her neck, wrapping both arms fully around her naked body to pull her closer. "Something tells me you won't really be able to help yourself."

"Punishingly handsome, smart, a sense of humour—" She reaches down to where your half-soft cock is planted within her cunt. "—Great cock, excellent fuck" As though it were some sort of sales pitch. "No. No, I can't help myself."

"Is this about next week?" you ask.

"They never split us up, we're a team, so why would they send you with her instead?" Mina rocks her hips slowly on your lap. You groan into the crook of her neck.

"It's a one-off, Mina. In two weeks we'll be travelling together again." You wrap your arms around her soft, warm skin and run them down her back. "Another hotel, another set of adjoining rooms."

"Yeah," she sighs as she lazily continues her grinding. "Or, we could... See each other outside of work, you know. Like normal people do."

"We're far from normal, Mina." You let out a soft sigh as you start to harden inside her again. You pull at the small of her back, urging her on. "We're having our fun, right? It works. What reason is there to rock the boat?"

Her arms move up your chest and onto your shoulders. With that same teasing voice of hers, "There's always room for more fun. More sex." Mina pushes hard on your shoulders, and you fall back into the soft carpet. Mina is above you—over you—all-powerful beauty and you want nothing more than to grab her hips and drive up, and into her. Her hair falls over her shoulders and down her arms. Her pert little tits beg to be held. Her face, with flawless skin and those few prominent freckles, is decorated with a filthy smile.

"Two weeks, Mina, two weeks and we'll be back to doing this." You caress the silky soft curves of her sides. "Two more weeks, and then it's a real long trip. Just me and you."

She's visibly more excited, and she rides you harder now than just a gentle grinding and you hear the little wet sounds of your cock plunging into her cum-filled pussy over and over again. Her breasts bounce beautifully, and finally, you do cup one in a hand. A playful glimmer dances in her eyes, along with the lust haze. Mina's wet thighs slap against your hips, the sounds are vulgar in the best way.

"I'm going to fuck you every single morning and night for the whole trip," you tell her, and her grin widens. "Then you won't want for a thing."

Your words only seem to encourage her more, to fuck you harder and harder. She's riding your cock wildly but never has her eyes left yours. She fucks like she does everything else; with every fibre of her being, her passion is unbridled and intense. And oh, when she whimpers, it makes a hot current run straight to the end of your spine, it gets the heat in your head pulsating. That's just what Mina does to you.

"Two weeks without me. You're going to be so frustrated, Mina, so needy. You're gonna make me a promise."

"Mhm?" she gasps.

"You're going to wait for me," you say. "After tonight, for whole two weeks, no cumming."

"No," she says through clenched teeth. "Absolutely not."

"Yes, Mina, absolutely."

You clasp your hands on her hips, slowing down her speed. "Promise me."

She almost struggles to find her voice. "No way. I can't!" Her hips fight against your hold, she fights to drag her cunt over your cock and just feel the pleasure you're denying her. Mina grits her teeth, and the pain is evident on her face. "Okay! Just please fuck me now." She twists her body, trying to release from your hold.

"Promise."

"I promise. I promise. I promise!" Mina squeals, nearly shrieking as you soften your grip and thrust up into her quivering, wet heat. You let her fuck you again and she picks up right where she left off—frantic and wild. She leans in to kiss you deeply, and a little whimper spills from the corner of her lips. "Fuck. Cum inside me again."

The eagerness with which Mina rises and falls on your cock, her pussy taking in all of you, demands only one thing. Cum—the mess of you both—spilling over and running out, all over you and the floor and ruining the hotel's carpet.

"Yes," her voice cracks, high and soft, "Oh fuck. Fuck. God, I'm gonna cum."

It's good, your hands gripping her body firmly, matching her pace, and taking the chance to look behind her, at the mirror, where you can see your cock bury in and out of her again and again. Slipping up below her ass that ripples beautifully every time your hips meet.

Mina cums not even ten seconds later. With an eruption of screams louder than you've ever heard, shudders all over, and more fluid spilling between you both. She's struggling and you feel it. You slap her ass and follow with a groan of words halfway between an instruction and a plea. "Don't stop."

She doesn't stop. She sits up and throws herself back, reaching for something to balance on. A hand against the mirror, her legs spread and her body present to you, she fucks that pretty pussy down onto you so fast, she's struggling to maintain the rhythm but her nails are curling against the glass, her brows are pressed so tense together, her body shakes all over and a cry comes again from that lovely mouth.

She cums again like this as if it's a show for you and what a fucking show it is. Her legs tremble so hard they lose purchase and you begin lifting yourself up into her and the sight, the sound—her sounds—and her perfect body is making you buck and press harder into her. You've become so mindless, so desperate and hungry for her body. You can hardly keep yourself from spilling into her for a second time. But not yet, you think. Not yet and not there.

Mina's leg buckles. She fights for air. "Can't," she chokes out, breathless and shallow. Nothing left to give you. She slips from her perch, collapsing to the floor, leaning against the mirror. Her dark hair matted with sweat, her pale skin gleaming. Her expression is dreamy. "On me. Just finish on me."

On Mina, a work of art. Over her pretty face, or those luscious tits, or that soft tummy. Over that thick, firm and oh-so-perfect ass, or those equally tasty thighs. Maybe even just glaze over her messy cunt. Her eyes flicker as she looks up at you, and you have a decision to make.

"Anywhere. Cum wherever you want."

#kinktember #kpop smut #Mina smut #twice smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #mina x reader #mirror #myoui mina

944 notes · View notes

angel5ofp0rn · 5 months

Text

♡ part one ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

been thinking ab this post 4ever and need to get it out tbh.

**I’ve never done something like this b4 and I haven’t proofread so pls be nice 2 me ._. **

You have been divorced from your ex husband John Price for two years. Still, he comes over and shovels your driveway for you every time it snows.

He’s come inside and warmed up in the mudroom nearly every 15-20 minutes, puffing hot breath into his hands and rubbing them together for warmth before stepping back out and shoveling again.

You meet him in the mudroom for his fourth warm-up break and hand him a mug of hot coffee. Dash of cream, one sugar.

“Still how you take your coffee, right?” You offer a small smile, hugging your arms around yourself as John takes a sip from the mug.

“Still the same.” He nods before he takes another sip, the small smile that had appeared at the corner of his mouth quickly fading.

He leans up against the doorframe, the shovel leaning against the wall next to him. He peers out of the door's window, checking over his work.

“I'll get goin' soon enough. It ain't snowing right now, the drive's nearly clear.”

You thank him again, even though you never asked him to do this in the first place. You can’t help but look up at him, meeting his blue eyes for just a moment.

Before he could reply, your two children came running around the corner cheering and squealing when they saw their dad.

John's smile brightens at their presence, his body language immediately softening as he squatted down to their level.

“Hey, my little monkeys. Come give yer ol’ dad a hug.” He opens his arms out wide, inviting both of them to come to him. It doesn't take long before they both go crashing into him, squealing, smiling. Their giggles filled the small room.

You just smile. Even if you and John aren’t always on the best of terms, you can’t deny that he’s a great father.

“Daddy’s cold.” Your youngest shivers a bit from hugging their dad, who still had snow on his clothes and frost on his beard from shoveling.

John tries to shrug it off, but you ask him to stay and warm up for a while.

For the kids, of course.

Plus dinner is nearly ready, and you definitely made too much for just you and the kids, anyway.

More cheering, more squealing, more giggling as John finally agrees and kicks his boots off, hanging his coat on the hook.

John’s blue eyes scan the new decor and different paintings on the wall, but he doesn’t comment on how much the place has changed since he moved out.

After dinner, the two of you stand in the doorway as you watch the kids play together in their playroom, that used to be John’s “man cave”.

“They're gonna make you tuck them in.” You mention, sipping your glass of wine.

John smiles, a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“Maybe you can convince them to go up and brush their teeth?” You lower your wineglass and offer a fake, pleading pout.

He looks down for a moment, pretending not to see the gesture. Instead, he looks back to the children.

“Right then, you two little monkeys. It’s gettin’ late. Go on up and brush your teeth. I’ll come tuck you in.”

Both children protest for a while, but eventually give in without too much of a fight. That’s a new one.

John lets out a chuckle as the children roll their eyes and go up the stairs. He watches them disappear from view before turning and meeting your eyes again, still smiling for this small victory.

As if he had just realized he was staring, John’s eyes darted down into his now empty mug.

"Let me take that." You reach for his mug but he shakes his head.

"I haven’t forgotten where the kitchen is," He smiles a bit. "'ll clean up and then tuck the kids in."

John makes his way over to the kitchen, placing it in the sink and starting water. You follow, and notice that he was also washing the dishes from dinner as well.

“John, you don’t have to-“

“I know.”

And that’s that.

You chew your bottom lip. This looked too familiar. It felt too familiar.

"I'm... gonna go check on them and get them in their pj's." You gesture to the stairs in the hall.

He looks up at you briefly and nods; "Be up in a bit, love.”

Once the water is emptied from the sink, he starts loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Once completed, he starts to wipe down the counters and stovetop, wanting to make sure he left no mess behind. Then he trekked back up the stairs to tuck in the kids.

You’re downstairs again, on the living room sofa. You wanted to let John have a moment alone with the kiddos before he left again.

He makes his way down the stairs and sees you sitting there in the dim lighting. He clears his throat a bit as he walks through the living room and back into the mudroom.

“They're tucked in. Not a whisper from ‘em.” He mentions casually as he gets his snow boots back on.

You thank him, turning to watch him leave, but notice him looking out of the door window and pause. So you make your way over to the door to see what he’s seeing.

It's started snowing and the driveway is completely covered again. It looks like he hasn't even shoveled.

John lets out a grunt of disbelief and sighs, pulling on his beanie and reaching for the shovel once again.

“Don't-“ You shake your head, placing your hand on the shovel. “It's snowing hard, there's no point in shoveling it all up just for it to be covered again. Why don't you... stay on the couch or something tonight.”

He stares down at the shovel for a moment, debating it. After a beat, he sighs a bit, nodding.

“I... could do that.”

You go upstairs to the bedroom and bring John some extra pillows and blankets to make a bed on the couch with.

You set everything on the coffee table and the two of you sit on the couch for a moment, just catching up and chatting about the kids.

“The kids both want to do soccer in the spring.” You mention, your cheeks a bit rosy from the wine you had with dinner.

“Football.” He corrects with a small smirk. You roll your eyes.

“Let me pay for the lessons.” He says; not asking.

Of course you refuse.

Of course he insists.

You settle on splitting it.

Then it happens again. Your eyes meet his. Neither one of you speaks. Suddenly you’re transported back to the first night you met; you were newly 21 and already tipsy when your eyes met those of an older man in his fatigues as he sat at the bar. You remember drunkly telling the older man that he had the prettiest blue eyes, and that you wanted a hundred of his babies that looked just. like. him.

You have two, at least.

“Oh!” You sit up a bit straighter, snapping out of your daydream. “I was going to ask you to look at something on my laptop. It's doing that thing again. It's upstairs.” You get up and head to your home office, John right behind you.

You open your laptop and hand it to John. He knew how to fix it last time, so it should take him no time.

He sits in your office chair and you step away into your bedroom across the hall to get into a pair of pajama shorts and a hoodie, since it's getting late.

The laptop whirred softly before he got it running again. Only took a minute. He sets it on the desk, leaning back in your chair with his hands behind his head as he looks up through the open door where you can be found, changing in the bedroom.

You were his wife at one point, anyway. Isn’t something he hasn’t seen before…

After you’ve changed, you lay on your bed, scrolling through your phone as you wait for John to fix the issue with your laptop, unaware that he was watching. Unaware that the laptop has been fixed for a while now, and he was just wasting time.

Eventually, his voice wafts through the doorway.

“Think I got it, love-“ He pauses for a moment. “Er, Y/N.”

“Ugh, thank you.” You sigh and sit up, taking the laptop from him and setting it on your nightstand. “Stupid thing always acting up.”

John sits on the edge of your bed as you take the laptop back from him.

“Not a problem. It was a quick fix.” He offers a small smile, rubbing the back of his head.

He takes a glance at you, noticing the pajamas you had put on.

"...Is that my sweatshirt?"

You blush a bit sheepishly, looking down at the oversized, grey 2XL Special Air Service hoodie you’re wearing. "Um..."

Another small chuckle escapes his lips. He shakes his head a bit, trying to contain his amusement.

“S’what I thought. You look... comfy." He reaches his hand out towards your leg, running his hand lightly over your bare legs, exposed by the shorts you were wearing.

Without realizing what he's doing, he has his hand on your thigh, and he gives it a light squeeze.

Eventually his hand travels higher to rest on your sex over your pajama shorts.

Usually, you'd tell him off. Monologue about how this isn't how things work because it complicated things and you both need to set boundaries.

But tonight you don't.

Maybe it's because you had two heavy-handed pours of your favorite wine with dinner. Maybe it was seeing him with your kids again. Maybe it had just been too long since you'd felt anything other than a cheap bullet vibrator.

So you let him slip his hand down your panties.

But it's a bit jarring to feel his wedding band still on his finger.

You look down at his hand for a beat when you feel it.

You look back up and place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in and crashing your lips together.

John wastes no time in laying you back on your bed and tugging your shorts and panties off, tossing them somewhere behind him.

His lips are on your neck, his hands spreading your soft thighs apart. You can smell the musky scent of himself on him, mixed with that familiar cologne of his, and you breathe a sigh.

“Take this off f’r me.” He mumbles against your skin, sliding your his hoodie up your body.

Your body aches for this to continue, and John doesn't plan to disappoint, but he takes a moment to admire what's sprawled out in front of him. He lets out a satisfied smirk as he pulls you closer by your thighs. He's undone his belt and shrugged out of his jeans in no time.

You pull his shirt off over his head before you close your eyes and tilt your head to give him easier access to kiss your neck.

His scruffy beard tickles your neck, his calloused hands gripping your thigh and rubbing your slick, dripping pussy.

“So needy.” John observed as your back arched and your body squirmed at his touch. "Poor thing... No one's been keepin’ you satisfied, hm?”

You shake your head a bit. You hate that he’s right. You hate that he can tell. That he knows you too well.

But he’s right; no random Tinder hookup and no blind date that your friends have set you up with could ever compare to your ex husband.

“Should’a told me...” He murmurs as he leans lower, positioning his head in between your thighs, pressing desperate kisses to your aching clit.

He’s got you figured out completely. He’s always been good at that.

A smile forms as his hands move to grip your thighs. He lets out a quiet groan as your legs instinctively clamp around his head. The look of his veiny hands gripping your plushy thighs with that damn wedding band still around his finger is doing things to you.

His tongue slowly plays in circular motions, teasing you, loving the game. He takes his time, enjoying himself, as you continue to squeeze your thighs against his head. Hell, he’d let you suffocate him if it meant he could eat your pussy this one last time.

You try not to, but you let out a desperate moan of pleasure. He knew exactly what you like, exactly where to lick, exactly where to kiss, exactly where to nibble.

Damn him.

“You sound s’pretty, lovey. S’pretty f’r me.” He pants, his praise ending with a whimper.

Your eyes roll back. Fuck, he has you. He knows he has you. Your moans and whimpers are uncontrollable as he picks up the pace, all but slamming his thick cock into your pretty little hole.

You’re his, and he knows it, and in the moment, it’s true. Just him. Just you. The rest doesn’t matter right now.

John pulls out for just a moment while he swiftly flips you over, roughly gripping your hips and pulling your backside into him. He’s got the angle just right now, and your breath catches in your throat, followed by a needy whimper.

“Mine… All mine… Isn’t that right?” He whispers, more of a command than a question.

Your face is pressed against the mattress as John’s grip on your hips tighten. This angle, this position, John is so familiar with it. He knows what it does to you. He knows the way it makes you respond.

John lets out a loud groan as your whimpers and moans get more needy, desperate. He knows that you’re about to come.

He finishes right then and there, along with you.

You gasp a bit, surprised by the synchronization. Should you really be surprised, though? Only he would know your body like that. You’re his. He’s yours.

John slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, lying on the bed and pulling you into his chest. His hand grabs your thigh, draping your leg around his waist in an attempt to hold you closer.

He lets out a few deep breaths, letting the adrenaline and endorphins just fade away. Neither of you wants to move right now, both just content being in each other’s arms. Both content feeling the heat of each other’s bodies, just listening to each other breathing.

“Better than I remembered it.” John murmurs, his voice laced with a smirk.

You catch John’s left hand after he reached up to push your sweaty hair from your forehead. You hold it in yours, playing a bit with the wedding band.

next >>

1K notes · View notes

seafarersdream · 1 month

Note

Thinking about Reader who has the ability to sleep everywhere and the cast always bothers her for that and they put things on her to see how long it takes her to wake up. But on one occasion she falls asleep on Ewan/Tom's shoulder and he's just a mess?? 😭

I don't know if it makes sense but the idea is there!! I love your work by the way

Out Of It (Ewan Mitchell x Y/N)

Y/N had always considered herself pretty grounded. Sure, she got to hang out with the cast, swapping jokes and stories like they were all old friends. But there was one little secret she kept tucked away, like a guilty pleasure—a huge, and she meant huge, crush on Ewan Mitchell. But, she reminded herself on the regular, it was just a celebrity crush. Nothing serious. A harmless little fantasy she kept to herself, because let’s be real—she was just the makeup girl, and he was, well, him. Then, one day, the universe decided to have a laugh at her expense.

TW // Strong language and profanities.

PS: I decided to take a different approach to the plot, hope it’s okay!

The sun was barely rising over the horizon when the makeup department bustled with activity, its team members moved with choreographed precision. The trailer was alive with the scent of coffee mingling with the chemical tang of latex and adhesive, the lifeblood of the team that assembled at ungodly hours to work their magic.

The door creaked open, letting in a gust of cool air, along with the unmistakable presence of Ewan Mitchell. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, taking in the scene with a wry smile. Dressed casually in a worn leather jacket, another one of his band t-shirt, and dark jeans.

“Morning, sunshine,” Y/N greeted, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she glanced up from the prosthetic jaw she was carefully painting.

“Morning, Y/N. You look absolutely thrilled to be here,” Ewan replied dryly, his mouth curling into a smirk. He perched himself on a nearby chair, his lean frame relaxed but his gaze keen as it flicked over the team’s work.

Tom Glynn-Carney was already in the chair, his eyes closed as he tried to find some inner peace amidst the whirlwind around him. His usual charismatic energy was subdued, replaced with a resigned patience that only came from enduring this process multiple times. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he muttered, peeking out from under his lashes. “Are we sure we need all this crap? It's just a flesh wound, right?”

Y/N laughed, a bright sound that cut through the tension like a knife. “Just a flesh wound? Sure, if you call half your face melting off just a flesh wound.”

He groaned slightly as one of the other makeup artists adjusted a piece of latex on his forehead. “Maybe just light me on fire for real next time.”

“I swear to God, Tom,” Y/N said, her voice cutting through the soft murmur of the trailer. She leaned in, squinting at the edges of the prosthetic around his left eye. “If you move your face one more time, I’m going to staple it in place.”

Tom’s laugh was muffled, careful not to disrupt the delicate work being done on his cheeks. “Sorry, boss. Just trying to keep the old face from going numb. Can’t feel my arse either, for that matter.”

“Is he behaving, or do I need to step in?” Ewan said from behind them.

“Barely,” Y/N replied without looking up, her hands steady as she pressed down the edge of the prosthetic along Tom’s jawline. “You can take him if you want, though. Maybe scare him into sitting still.”

“Fuck off,” Tom muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. “Last thing I need is Ewan glaring at me while I’m trying to get through this torture.”

Ewan chuckled as he stands up and walked further into the trailer, his boots making soft thuds against the floor. “Don’t worry, mate. I’m just here for moral support.” He glanced at Y/N, his eyes lingering a bit longer on her than the others might have noticed. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” Y/N said, her tone matter-of-fact. She finally glanced up, meeting Ewan’s gaze briefly before returning to her work. “This is a fucking beast of a job, though. Five hours minimum, and that’s if Tom doesn’t fidget.”

Ewan nodded, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the counter beside Tom. “You’re a miracle worker, Y/N. Don’t let this tosser tell you otherwise.”

“Hey, I’m the victim here!” Tom protested, though his grin betrayed the seriousness of his words.

“Victim, my ass,” Y/N shot back, a playful edge returning to her voice.

Tom chuckled, though the movement caused Y/N to pause and glare at him. He immediately stilled, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be good.”

Ewan watched the process with interest, his eyes following Y/N’s every move. He was always impressed by her skill, the way she could take something so gruesome and make it look so real. It was an art form, one that required patience, precision, and a bit of madness. And Y/N had all three in spades.

As Y/N worked, she could feel Ewan’s gaze on her, a constant presence that was both comforting and distracting. She ignored it as best as she could, focusing on blending the colors to create the perfect shade of burnt skin. But it was hard to ignore the way her pulse quickened whenever he was around, the way his voice seemed to vibrate in her chest whenever he spoke.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N finally leaned back, surveying her work with a critical eye. The prosthetics were in place, the scarring realistic and horrifying, just as it needed to be. She let out a small sigh of relief, wiping her hands on a cloth before tossing it aside.

“So, Ewan,” Y/N said, breaking the silence, “what do we think? Does our dear Tom look like he’s had a close encounter with dragonfire?”

Ewan stood, walking over to examine Tom up close. His face was thoughtful, eyes narrowing as he took in the horrifying sight. “You know, I think we could go a bit heavier on the singed eyebrows. Aegon doesn’t exactly seem the type to worry about grooming after this.”

Tom let out a groan. “Fucking hell, you two. I’m gonna look like I went through a meat grinder.”

Y/N laughed again. “Relax, Tom. You’ll be the prettiest corpse on set.”

Ewan smirked, stepping back to lean against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “Gorgeous, really. You’ll be the talk of King’s Landing.”

Tom rolled his eyes, clearly fed up but too deep into the process to protest further. “Great. Just what I always wanted.”

As the final touches were completed, Y/N stepped back, her eyes scanning over her work with a critical eye. “Okay, you’re done. How does it feel?”

Tom slowly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Y/N’s in the mirror. “Like I’ve been fucking roasted alive, which, I guess, is the point.”

“Perfect,” Y/N said, satisfaction in her voice as she began cleaning up her tools. “Alright, Glynn-Carney,” she continues, with a wave of her hand. “You’re done. Get out of my trailer before I change my mind and add a few more scars for good measure.”

Tom stood, stretching his arms and rolling his neck. “God, I can’t wait to see the reactions on set. Thanks, Y/N. You’re a fucking genius.”

“Don’t I know it,” Y/N replied with a grin. She watched as Tom exited the trailer. A spring in his steps.

Ewan stayed where he was, watching Y/N as she cleaned up her station. “You really are something, you know that?”

Y/N glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Just doing my job, Mitchell.”

“No,” Ewan said, shaking his head slightly. “It’s more than that. You’ve got a talent, Y/N. And a way of keeping us all in line.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. “Somebody’s got to keep you lot in check.”

Ewan’s smile was slow, genuine, and it made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “Lucky for us, we’ve got you.”

They stood there for a moment, the silence stretching out between them, thick with possibilities. Finally, Y/N broke the gaze, clearing her throat.

“Well,” she said, her voice a little softer now. “Off you go then.”

Ewan nodded, still watching her as she moved around the trailer, his eyes never leaving her. “Yeah… I’ll see you on set.”

“See you,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper as he turned to leave.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she continued to tidy up.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

A hush falling over the room as the cameras rolled. The bedchamber set was dimly lit, the heavy velvet curtains drawn to block out the sunlight, casting long shadows that danced eerily across the stone walls.

Y/N stood on the sidelines, her arms crossed loosely over her chest as she watched the actors take their places. Andrij Parekh, the director for this episode, was seated in his chair just a few feet away, his sharp eyes focused intently on the monitors in front of him.

On the bed, Tom, fully transformed into the broken and battered Aegon II, looked like a man who had been to hell and back. The prosthetics had turned his face into a grotesque mask of burns and scars, his once vibrant features now hidden beneath layers of latex and makeup. His eyes, however, remained sharp, flickering with a mix of pain and defiance as he prepared for the scene.

Ewan, in full costume as Aemond Targaryen, stood near the foot of the bed, his posture rigid, every inch the cold, calculating Prince Regent. His long silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, the eyepatch over his left eye adding to the menacing aura that surrounded him. There was something chilling about the way he carried himself, a quiet intensity that made even the most seasoned crew members uneasy.

“Action,” Andrij’s voice cut through the silence, a single word that set everything into motion.

Ewan stepped forward, his boots barely making a sound on the stone floor. “Brother,” he began, his voice low and smooth, almost soothing, though the underlying threat was unmistakable. “How fortunate that you are awake. I was beginning to think you might sleep through the entire war.”

Tom shifted slightly on the bed, his movements slow, labored, as if even the act of breathing was painful. “Aemond,” he croaked, his voice hoarse, almost a whisper. “What… what do you want?”

Ewan’s lips curved into a thin smile, the kind that never reached his eye. “Only to ensure your comfort, Aegon. You’ve been through a lot, after all. It’s a wonder you even survived.”

Tom’s gaze flickered, a mix of confusion and fear crossing his features. “I don’t remember,” he muttered, his brow furrowing as if trying to piece together fragments of a nightmare. “I don’t remember what happened.”

Y/N watched intently, her eyes following every subtle shift in their expressions, every carefully chosen word. This was the kind of scene that could make or break an episode—the tension between the brothers, the unspoken accusations hanging heavy in the air.

Ewan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, yet each word was laced with ice. “Good. Best you don’t remember. There’s nothing to be gained from dwelling on the past, after all. The future, however… that’s what matters now.”

Tom’s eyes darted to Ewan’s face, searching for something, anything, in the cold, indifferent mask that stared back at him. “I don’t… I wouldn’t…”

Ewan cut him off, his tone sharp, his patience clearly wearing thin. “You wouldn’t what, Aegon? Speak of things best left unsaid? Confess to some… imagined slight? No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.” He straightened, the threat clear in the deliberate casualness of his movements. “We’re brothers, after all. Blood of my blood. We wouldn’t want anything to come between us. Not now, not ever.”

Tom swallowed hard, his throat working as he tried to form words, but nothing came. The fear in his eyes was real, a reflection of the strained relationship that had been growing between the two of them, now laid bare in this moment of vulnerability.

“Good,” Ewan said softly, almost tenderly. He reached out, his hand hovering over Tom’s burned face, but he didn’t touch him, didn’t need to. The implication was clear enough. “Rest now, Aegon. Leave the burdens of the realm to me. You’ve earned your peace.”

With that, Ewan turned and walked away, the scene coming to a close as Andrij called out, “And.. cut!”

The tension in the room broke, the spell lifted as the crew sprang into action, adjusting lights, resetting props, preparing for the next take. Ewan relaxed his shoulders, the hard edge of Aemond’s persona slipping away as he returned to his usual self. Tom let out a long breath, his body sinking deeper into the bed, clearly relieved that the intense scene was over.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, impressed by the depth they’d brought to the scene. Ewan caught her eye as he walked over, his expression softening as he approached. “So, what do you think, Y/N?” he asked, his voice warm, a stark contrast to the cold menace he’d displayed just moments before.

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk playful. “Not bad, Mitchell. You almost made me believe you’re the cruel bastard you play on screen.”

Ewan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “Almost?”

“Hey, I know you too well,” she teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against a nearby prop table. “But seriously, you guys nailed it. That was intense.”

“Thanks,” he replied, his smile genuine, a hint of pride in his eyes. “It helps when you’ve got a good team watching your back.”

Y/N spied Tom’s hand moving from the corner of her eyes. “Fucking hell,” Tom muttered, reaching up to touch his prosthetic-covered face.

“Don’t even think about it,” she scolded, her voice carrying a mix of playful sarcasm and genuine concern. “You start messing with that, and we’ll be here for another few hours fixing it.”

Andrij approached them, nodding in approval. “Great work, everyone. We’ll take a short break before moving on to the next scene.”

As the crew began to disperse, Y/N caught Ewan’s eye again, her heart doing a little flip at the intensity of his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at her, something that made her pulse quicken, but before she could dwell on it, he was already turning away, slipping back into the role of Aemond, preparing for the next bit.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

The set was finally quiet, the last echoes of the day's filming fading into the background as Y/N, Ewan, Tom, Fabien, and Phia settled themselves near the steps of the Iron Throne. The towering seat of power loomed above them, but for now, it was just a backdrop to their impromptu snack break.

“God, I’m starving,” Tom groaned as he unwrapped a sandwich, his voice muffled as he took a massive bite. “You’d think they were trying to kill us with these hours.”

Phia laughed, shaking her head as she reached into a bag of crisps. “You’re such a drama queen, Tom. It’s only been, what? Twelve hours?”

“Twelve hours of torture,” Tom countered, wagging the half-eaten sandwich at her before taking another bite. “I deserve a medal, not just a bloody sandwich.”

Fabien grinned as he popped open a can of soda. “Maybe we’ll get you one shaped like the Iron Throne. Then you can lord it over everyone else even more.”

Y/N, perched comfortably beside Ewan, raised an eyebrow as she munched on a kebab. “Speaking of the Iron Throne, did you know that Emma and Matt tried to recruit me to Team Black today?”

That got their attention. Ewan, who had been quietly eating beside her, looked over with a curious glint in his eye. “Oh yeah? How’d they manage that?”

Y/N leaned in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “They promised me a seat on the Iron Throne, no questions asked. Said it’s about time someone else gets a chance, since someone” she shot a pointed look at Tom, “—has been hogging it all season.”

Tom feigned shock, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. “I’m just fulfilling my royal duties, Y/N. It’s not my fault you lot don’t have the je ne sais quoi to claim the throne.”

“Je ne sais quoi? Really? You’re so full of crap.” Phia repeated, barely containing her laughter.

“Exactly,” Y/N chimed in, leaning back on her hands as she eyed the throne. “But seriously, Tom, I need that selfie, okay? You’ve been banning everyone else from even getting close, and I’m not above switching sides to get my shot.”

Fabien smirked, leaning back against the stairs. “It’s true. You’re a tyrant, Glynn-Carney.”

Tom shook his head, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You all talk a lot of shit, but the throne belongs to me. You want a selfie? You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

“That can be arranged,” Ewan deadpanned, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

As the conversation continued, the weariness of the day began to catch up with them. The energy slowly ebbed away, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. Y/N, who had been unusually animated, started to feel her eyelids grow heavy. The warmth of the room and the low murmur of voices lulled her into a drowsy state, and before she realized it, her head began to droop.

Without warning, she leaned over, her head coming to rest on Ewan’s shoulder. The sudden contact made Ewan go rigid, his eyes wide with shock. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do. Should he move? Say something? Wake her up? But the last thing he wanted to do was disturb her, especially since he had been harboring a massive crush on Y/N for what felt like forever.

Tom, who noticed the situation first, nearly choked on his sandwich, desperately trying to stifle his laughter. He nudged Fabien, who quickly caught on and shot Ewan a wicked grin. “Looks like someone’s got a new pillow,” Fabien teased in a singsong voice, causing Phia to glance over and giggle.

Ewan’s face turned an impressive shade of red, his usual cool composure completely shattered. “Shut up,” he hissed, his voice low and tense as he tried to keep still, not wanting to wake Y/N. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, her hair tickling his neck, and despite his best efforts, his heart raced.

Y/N, oblivious to the chaos she’d unintentionally caused, snuggled a little closer, her breathing soft and steady. Ewan’s mind was in overdrive. Okay, don’t freak out. She’s just tired. She doesn’t even know she’s leaning on you. Just… act natural.

Tom, unable to resist, leaned over and whispered, “Careful there, Mitchell. Wouldn’t want her to wake up and realize she’s been cuddling with you.”

“Tom, I swear to God—” Ewan began, his voice a strained whisper, but he was cut off by Y/N shifting slightly in her sleep, making him freeze once more.

Phia, trying to be the voice of reason but failing miserably, leaned in with a grin. “Maybe she just knows you’re a softy, Ewan. Perfect for napping.”

Ewan shot her a death glare, his embarrassment only growing. “You’re all assholes, you know that?”

Fabien chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, but let’s be real, mate—this is adorable.”

Ewan groaned inwardly, knowing there was no escaping the teasing he’d endure from this moment. But as much as he wanted to retort, a part of him couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of Y/N resting against him, even if it was just because she was exhausted. His hand twitched slightly, tempted to brush a strand of hair from her face, but he resisted, not wanting to push his luck.

The ribbing continued around him, but Ewan barely heard it, his focus entirely on Y/N. For now, he’d let her sleep. And if it meant enduring the endless teasing from his friends, well… it was a small price to pay.

“Just wait until she sees the photos,” Tom whispered to Phia, pulling out his phone to capture the moment. Ewan’s eyes widened in horror, but it was too late.

“Don’t you dare!” Ewan hissed, trying to keep his voice down so he wouldn’t wake Y/N, but Tom just smirked, already snapping a few shots.

“This one’s going in the group chat,” Tom said smugly, causing Fabien and Phia to dissolve into laughter.

Ewan could only sigh, resigned to his fate. But despite the teasing and the inevitable jokes that would follow, a small, secretive smile tugged at his lips.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

Y/N had barely made it through the door of her flat before she collapsed onto the couch, her body finally catching up with the exhaustion of the day. She kicked off her shoes, letting them land haphazardly across the room, and leaned back with a groan, rubbing her temples as she tried to shake off the lingering embarrassment from the day’s events.

The picture of her sleeping on Ewan’s shoulder had exploded in the group chat, with the cast and crew having an absolute field day over it. The jokes had ranged from harmless teasing to outright accusations of a backstreet romance, leaving Y/N feeling mortified beyond belief.

God, I can't believe I fell asleep on him, she thought, covering her face with her hands for a moment before letting out a frustrated groan. She knew she had to address it, to apologize for the awkwardness, but the thought of actually texting Ewan made her stomach churn with nerves.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she steeled herself and typed out a message.

Hey, Ewan. Just wanted to say sorry for crashing on you earlier. I was so embarrassed when I saw that picture in the group chat. I hope I didn’t make things weird or uncomfortable for you.

She hit send and then dropped her phone on her lap, closing her eyes and letting out a long breath. The flat was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city outside her window, and for a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist in the stillness, trying not to overthink the situation.

When her phone buzzed a few minutes later, she opened one eye and glanced at the screen. Seeing Ewan’s name made her stomach flip, and she quickly unlocked her phone to read his reply.

Hey, sleepy head. Honestly, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t uncomfortable at all. You looked like you really needed the rest, and it was no trouble at all. Seriously, it’s no big deal.

Y/N felt a small wave of relief wash over her, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message came through.

Fuck it, this is me shooting my shot—are you free this weekend?

She froze, staring at the screen as her brain tried to process what she was seeing. Was Ewan really asking her out? She reread the message a few times, half-convinced she was imagining things, but it was still there, plain as day.

A mix of shock and excitement surged through her, making her heart race. She sat up straighter, her mind spinning with possibilities. After what felt like an eternity, she finally mustered the courage to respond.

Wait, are you serious? Because if you are, then yes, I’m free. But if this is some kind of joke, I swear to God, Mitchell…

She held her breath, waiting for his reply, her fingers tapping nervously against her thigh. When her phone buzzed again, she almost dropped it in her haste to read the message.

Not a joke, I promise. I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while, just never found the right moment. And, well, maybe now’s the time.

Y/N felt a giddy warmth spread through her, the earlier embarrassment completely forgotten. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she tried to come up with something clever to say, but in the end, she opted for honesty.

I’d love to, Ewan. I guess I’ll see you this weekend then?

His reply came swiftly.

Definitely. And hey, if you need a nap while we’re out, I’ve got a shoulder for you anytime.

She couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in her chest finally releasing as she typed out her response.

You better be careful with offers like that, or I might just take you up on it.

Another ping.

Looking forward to it, Y/N.

As she put her phone down, Y/N found herself grinning like an idiot. She curled up on the couch, the weight of exhaustion lifting slightly as she thought about the weekend ahead. It seemed like this little nap incident might have been the best thing that happened after all.

#hotd #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell x y/n #ewan mitchell x you #aemond targaryen

509 notes · View notes