#not to mention I have a con at the end of the month and I’m cosplaying toga

[moron-hassaikai-and-more]

Younger Aizawa: It’s so fucking hot. Like. It’s so hot having the window open does nothing because there’s no wind to move the air about. I was not built for this. I’m an emo with an emotional attachment to onesies and hoodies with sensory issues. I’d be better in fucking Antarctica than here.

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[esouliie]

DON’T YOU LOVE THE DEVIL?

– pairing | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

– synopsis | wanda was everything you wanted in a mom. she was kind and loving, even to those who weren’t her own children. she, however, loved you in a very different way…

– warnings | porn with plot, non con that turns kinda dub con, smut, mommy kink, spanking, thigh riding, overstimulation, aftercare, wanda is a perv lmao (18+)

[word count: 3.4k]

Summer was always your favourite time. It meant avid beach trips, ice cream dates and - most importantly - bestie sleepovers. You enjoyed staying at Natasha's house, which was much larger than yours. Wanda, her mother, was always very kind to you, even more so than your own. Because of this, throughout high school, you found yourself always at the Maximoff’s. When you were going through a difficult time, you would always turn to her for support; she was a solid shoulder to cry on as her hushed whispers soothed you.

Much like your house, Natasha’s dad was never in the picture. And because Wanda never seemed to date, it was always just them two and sometimes you. Their house was your safe haven and Wanda was your beckoning angel. Now in your last year of college, you still find yourself coming to the older woman…

Countless nights, you wished she was your mom instead.

Reaching into your pocket, you fumble around for the front key, feeling its familiar shape between your fingertips.

This was your usual routine – Natasha would text when she was nearly home from work, and you’d arrive shortly after, letting yourself in with the spare key she had given you months ago.

The door swings open with a soft creak, revealing the warmth of the home beyond. The living room is empty, just the faint hum of the TV can be heard.

As you step into the kitchen, the warm aroma of burnt vanilla envelops you. Wanda stands against the island, dressed in a large, red sweater and black skirt, with one hand scrolling through her phone as the other holds a glass of red wine. She looked radiant as ever. A grown woman confident in her own skin and her ability.

“Hey, Wanda.”

She places her phone down and greets you warmly. “Hey there, sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m good.” You take a seat next to her and she busies herself with pouring you a glass of red. You watch her, marvelling at how effortlessly she moves around the kitchen, her movements always graceful and fluid.

"So," Wanda begins, setting the glass in front of you, "another bestie sleepover?"

“Yep! Natasha’s going to be busy with Bucky next week so we’re spending as much time together.”

Wanda scoffs at the mention of her daughter’s partner, “Yeah, she said something about going to his parent’s lake house for the week.”

You hum, reaching for a sip of the wine, awkward in the revelation of Wanda’s distaste for her daughter’s boyfriend. I mean, it’s not like you like him either. You hate him actually. He was always so weird about your friendship with the redhead, always starting arguments around how much you guys hang out together and how he thinks you have a crush on her.

Plus, Natasha was way out of his league and he sometimes treated her like shit. It was only last week when Natasha was complaining about how they had an argument during their date and Bucky left her to find her own way home…

“I really don’t know what she sees in him.”

You sigh, setting the glass back down. “Me neither. He’s an asshole.”

Lost in thought, you fail to notice Wanda’s approach until an arm laid upon your shoulder, and a hand twirled around your curls.

“You know, I always thought Natasha would end up with you.”

Shocked by her confession, you try to respond - to deny that nothing would ever happened - but your mouth is unable to move as her nails scratch against your neck.

Wanda settles down in the stool beside you, hand retreating to stroke down your arm.

"I just don't understand. He’s boring and doesn’t deserve Tasha, whereas, you’re… you’re so much better than him.” She admits softly, her gaze fixed on you.

"You’re so much more than him.”

You shrug, expelling a shaky breath as you watch her manicured nail draw patterns against your exposed skin.

Silence envelopes you both, Wanda deep in thought and you pretend to act calm about the fact that Wanda’s touch has trailed down to your hands, resting in your lap.

“You know if I were her…” Her breath flutters against your ear, “I wouldn’t even think about anyone else… when I have you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her admission.

"I..." you begin, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to articulate the jumble of thoughts and emotions swirling within you.

It felt so wrong, and yet you didn’t want her to stop.

To keep stroking your hand,

To keep whispering in your ear.

To keep close to you.

“I think… I want to kiss you.” Wanda murmurs, her thumb gently running over your lips.

But before you could say anything, she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

“So pretty.” She whispers, lips closing in once again, but the sudden closing of a door upstairs startles you both as you pull away. Eyes wide in fear that Natasha could’ve seen you kissing her mom.

Wanda leaves her seat, an unreadable expression on her face, and disappears into the living room, Natasha’s thundering footsteps break you from looking at her as she comes downstairs. Her hair is wet, her bangs clinging to her forehead. She must’ve been in the shower.

“You made it!” Natasha exclaims before briefly hugging you and dragging you with her upstairs, “Come on. Let’s watch a movie.”

…

A few hours later, and a few movies down, you end up back in the kitchen, in search of a drink. You spot Wanda in the living room watching a show, her presence both comforting and unnerving. No longer elegantly dressed, she lounges in a maroon satin night gown. The thin fabric barely covers her long legs as it glows complimentarily against her pale skin.

Summoning as much courage, you take a seat on the other end of the sofa. The drink long forgotten. She recognises your presence but you both don’t say anything, engrossed in some reality show on TV. This distraction works for a while but then, like a shadow in the morning sun, the memory of the kiss surfaces. Heat blossoms against your cheeks but you feel it weighing on your mind, a heavy burden demanding acknowledgement.

“Wanda,” your voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it, ‘I think we should talk about earlier.”

With a delayed hum, she turns towards you, waiting patiently for you to continue. Your words stumble out clumsily, faltering as you try to convey the complexity of your emotions. You want to explain that the kiss was wrong, that she was your best friend’s mom and that nothing like that could happen again, but you don’t want to hurt her feelings in the process.

Her expression was unreadable, you could almost hear the pounding of your own heart, the uncertainty hanging thick in the air between you. And then, finally, she speaks.

“I’m sorry, darling. I thought- it was silly and inappropriate of me.” She reaches over to briefly squeeze your hand.

“Let’s forget it happened.”

You exhale with relief, “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

Quick to change the conversation and clear the awkward tension, Wanda asks, “How come you’re down here anyways? Where’s Natasha?”

“Oh she fell asleep.” You giggle at the unattractive image of your best friend, snoring somewhat loudly and taking up your side of the bed.

“Besides, I’m not really tired, so I thought I’d come down for a drink.”

Wanda hums, a smile on her face at the sight of you giggling so cutely.

But you notice her hands run over bare arms, soothing the goosebumps and the slight shiver, “Are you cold?”

She looks at you for a moment, eyes taking in your concerned features before she nods.

“I’ll get you a blanket.” You move to stand but a grip on your wrist halts you.

“Don’t bother. Just sit here.”

She leans back against the pillows, legs parting slightly. Your brows furrow in confusion.

She tugs your wrist softly, “Don’t think, just come here.”

She pulls you to sit between her thighs, flush against her front as she winds her arms around you. It wasn’t uncommon be hugged by the older woman but it’s never been like this. But despite earlier, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort wash over you. The room even felt cosier now all that tension was gone. So, you lean back into her embrace, feeling her steady heartbeat against your back and her warm thighs brush against yours.

“Hm, much better. You’ve always run hot.” Her face snuggles into your curls and you giggle.

Her large hands dip, holding softly onto your hips, pulling you even closer with a silent groan, before descending to your thighs. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine, but you maintain composure, thinking nothing of the surely innocent touch as you focus on the TV screen in front of you.

Her touch is gentle, sending a warm current through your body with each stroke. You feel your legs widen, following in the direction of her strokes, not wanting the caress to stop. The show on the TV fades into the background as your attention becomes solely fixated on her.

She leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “Pretty girl... feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod, allowing yourself to melt further into her embrace, your head resting against her shoulder instead of watching her hands.

Wanda tuts, “No, baby, head up.”

A single hand moves from your thigh to hold the back of your head, forcing you to look down at your entwined legs. Another hand wanders higher than expected, tracing small circles into your inner thigh, jarring you out of your trance as you go to wiggle free from her grip. “Wanda… that’s-”

Your speech is cut off as fingers slip under your shorts, and you gasp, squirming with renewed vigour. But her hold refuses even the feeblest motions as she wraps an arm around your waist.

“Wanda… please!”

“Don’t think, baby.” She warns again, fingers gliding further into your shorts. “Just let yourself feel good.”

You fight harder, hips snapping away from her touch as hands pry at her wrist. “Get off me!”

“No, you’re not getting up.” You squirm again, and without warning, she digs her nails harshly into your soft skin. “I said, you’re not getting up.”

You whimper in pain and stop your movement. Instantly, her nails pull back from your skin, leaving red angry crescent marks. Those fingertips gently caress the marks to soothe them before moving up under your shirt.

“Good girl.” Those words bring an odd warmth to your body and suddenly you think that letting Wanda have her way with you couldn’t be as bad as you initially thought…

But light fingers caressing up and down your stomach, inching closer to your breasts reminded you of the position you’re in.

This was your best friend’s mom.

Natasha didn’t deserve this.

“Wanda, we can’t… it’s not right. What about Nat-?”

“It’s fine, princess.” She interrupts, placing a few chaste kisses against your neck. “She won’t find out.”

Suddenly, those hands slide up over your bare breasts and gently squeeze. You take in a deep breath and exhale slowly with a soft whimper. Pleased with the response, she begins to knead them kindly alternating between light and firm pressure.

“You like that, baby?” Wanda coos then nibbles on the side of your ear, descending your neck carefully to not leave bites and marks in place.

Your back arches slightly, pressing your breasts deeper into her adept grasp, and your defiance fades ever so quickly with each breathy moan.

“Hm, so needy, so responsive…” thumbs swipes over your perked nipples, “and all I’m doing is playing with your tits, princess.”

Your increased whines answer in reply and Wanda doesn’t bother wasting time anymore. Lifting a hand from its spot under your top, she glides down under your shorts. Her lithe fingers ghost over the soaked underwear, travelling low enough to feel the wetness seep from your slit, and she moans lowly at the sensation. “You’re so wet… fuck, is this all for me?”

Battling between not wanting this and giving in to her, you also fight the urge to thrust your hips upwards, to search for some needed friction, to end the maddening ache between your thighs.

The older woman’s light touches feel like heaven and hell as nimble fingers slide up and down the fabric that clung to you, purposely missing where you needed her most.

“That’s it, baby. Relax… let go for me.”

A strange fuzziness washes over you completely as you relax - moral sobriety long forgotten - as your legs spread apart limply for Wanda to grope in every direction.

 “M’kay.” You reply, barely hearing yourself, lost in the moment.

Wanda sighs contently, forever pleased she’s put you in this headspace with such little fight.

Focusing back on your neck, she licks along the flushed skin, and as she bites against your pulse a little harder, the slight pain has you quivering.

You melt into the warm heat below you, head resting against a firm shoulder, as you let out a moan laced with pleasure and slight frustration. Hips bucking slightly back into Wanda’s hoping she’d take the hint and get on with it.

The quicker you gave her what she wanted, the quicker it would be done.

Finally, her index finger slides higher, the tip of her nail just brushing against your clit slightly. Your thighs shake at the motion, wanting to clamp shut around her but never doing so in fear she would stop. A cry falls from your mouth in surprise as her finger finally reaches, circling your swollen nerve endings in a slow yet firm motion.

Your words stumble out clumsily, unable to string a full sentence together as Wanda practically purrs against your ear.

“Oh, you’re doing so well, baby.” She coos, before pressing open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, “So well for me… come here.”

Tipping your neck up, she dips forward, pressing her hot lips against your own. A choked note of dismay comes from you as Wanda forces your mouth open and shoves her tongue inside. The older woman dominates the clashing of tongues, making sure that you know your place.

You fail to notice Wanda pull your shorts and panties down from your hips until her fingers press against you harder, and you can’t help but grind against it with such aching desperation. She marvels over how pathetic you look… one minute begging for her to stop and now humping against her like a bitch in heat, swallowing her tongue down your throat.

Such a depraved mental image and yet it only feeds into her desire for you.

To claim you as hers, no matter if you wanted it or not.

Because she didn’t care.

She could feel herself getting wetter, as she met your grinding with her own thrusts, your ass pressing flush against her soaked panties.

The kiss eventually comes to an end, a few hungry strands of saliva briefly clinging to your lips, linking you together. Wanda gazes lovingly at the sight of you, a growing smile on her lips, as you writhe in building pleasure.

“Can you look at me, princess?”

Wanda asks in a sultry tone and you struggle to open your eyes, squinting against the light as her blurry face comes into focus. Her pupils are blown out, partly consuming those emerald irises, her cheeks painted a flushed pink, and her lips part as she pants freely.

She looks so beautiful.

Her green eyes shine clouded over in a different colour than Natasha’s…

Natasha.

Dread seeps into your bones, your body ripped from its relaxed trance as you recall your best friend and how she’s sleeping upstairs as you’re fucked by her mom.

You don’t want to think about how upset she would be to find you like this.

“Baby…” She reels your mind back to focus on her, noticing you’re beginning to spiral. “You ready to come for me?”

Her fingers speed up perfectly but you shook your head in defiance, your mind no longer free to just enjoy Wanda’s touch.

“No,” she coos, “you don’t want to come for me, baby? Don’t want to come for Mommy?”

A whiny no leaves your lips, not giving in to the beautiful temptress behind you.

Annoyed, Wanda rolls her eyes, clearly upset that you wouldn’t just give in to her and that you’re not nestled in that special little headspace anymore.

Without warning, she twists your thigh over the other, ass on show as she lashes out with a sharp slap. You cry out at the unexpected blow, your hands grabbing tightly onto whatever part of the woman you can reach. You weren’t sure if you were trying to push her away or pull her close.

“I thought we were done with that, baby.” She unleashes a few more spanks, “Thought you were going to be my good girl, hm?”

You gasp for air at the same time Wanda gropes your marked flesh, pulling your cheeks apart as she rubs in soothing circles. The breath turns into a choked moan as Wanda spanks you one more time, before returning you to your original position, back to pressing firm circles against your clit.

Once again, you fight her touch. Hips wiggling in each direction until ankles wrap around your legs, locking you in place.

Tight circles turn to quick taps, the once pleasing hand now bringing pain upon your pussy in rapid succession, not allowing you to writhe in her generosity for too long before returning to cruelty.

A beautiful blend that muddled all of your defying thoughts until there was nothing left.

Your body betrayed your mind. Your legs fell completely limp, as you lay at the mercy of the older woman. Taking whatever she deemed necessary to give.

Finally, she had you.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to. You’re going to cum all over my fingers for me.” She concludes with a kiss on your cheek.

And not caring if you cry loud enough to wake up the rest of the house, her fingers speed up for the last time, sending you headfirst over the edge.

…

After what felt like hours, Wanda was done with you. You had moved into her bedroom, deciding the sofa was not adequate to continue. Now her head rests against your stomach after she had spread you open to lap up your next orgasm.

Your body spasms randomly, wave after wave of aftershock rolling over you. A warm hand cups your core firmly, and you buck away from the sensitivity, not wanting her touch anymore. But her fingers remain, gliding slowly up and down your slit, marvelling at your swollen skin, before pushing against your entrance.

You’re overwhelmed. What little fight you have left mentally can’t keep up with the fatigue of your exhausted body. If she wanted to, she could have her way with you. Again and again. Fresh tears fall from your eyes as you sob inconsolably into hands covering your face.

Wanda leaves you be, moving up your body to grab onto your wrists.

“Hey, baby… it’s okay, you’re okay…” she coos, fingertips wiping away your tears, “Mommy went too hard on you, didn’t she?”

You struggle to find the words, and Wanda shushes you, stopping you from thinking too much in such a delicate headspace.

You feel movement, feel Wanda get off you, and your eyes snap open in a slight panic but she sits beside you and swiftly draws you onto her lap.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” She says gently, reeling you in with false empathy. She was glad she pushed you too hard you broke.

“Mommy couldn’t help herself.”

You scoot closer, close enough to bury your head into her neck as fingers trail up and down your back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. Can you forgive me?”

Her soothing words are music to your ears as you whimper softly against the woman, not willing to talk or move away. You just want her to hold you.

“Say it, princess. Say you forgive me.”

She guides you out of her neck to look at her.

“I forgive you.” You choke out, upset you’re no longer buried in her chest, as your hands run back to cover your eyes. Too ashamed to even look at her.

“Sweet girl, come here.” Wanda doesn’t wait, moving your hands to wrap around her neck as she kisses you hungrily, swallowing any little disapprovals as you push languidly against her chest, trying to force her mouth off of you.

It’s fine, it’s fine,” she ushers against your swollen lips, “I just want to make you feel better.”

You whine in disapproval but your arms wrap tighter around her.

“You love me, don’t you?” She whispers against your cheek, but doesn’t let you reply, as you choke on her tongue, stroking deep against yours.

“Say you love me, baby.” She moves to kiss your forehead, before moving down against your collarbone.

Hands groping your ass as she rocks you steady against her thigh.

“I love you,” a few tears burn down your throat as you hiccup,” I love you, I love you.”

Wanda mumbles her gratitude into your skin, fresh marks blooming against your chest as she fucks you against her.

“Keep saying you love me, baby.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” flies from your mouth in quick succession, your mind once again empty as the tell tale signs of another orgasm come into view.

“I love you too, princess.” She returns to your lips, tongue prodding past them as she coaxes your tongue into her mouth.

“Come on. Be good for me.”

It slams into you, body tense as you fall over the edge, pressing your face deep into her neck. She shushes you, not letting go of your body until the convulsions stop, and even then, you’re curled into her chest. Unwilling to part from her.

She allows you to sob freely, your body shaking uncontrollably as hands stroke all over until you calm down. Almost asleep in her arms.

A hand runs through your damp hair, “That’s it, baby. We’re done.”

“No more.” You mumble out, eyes already shut as exhaustion washes over.

“No more, baby. Go to sleep.” Wanda shifts you down her body, your face now against her chest, as she covers you both with her duvet.

Unable to resist any longer, you drift off in Wanda’s warm embrace.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Coveted.

Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader (+Yandere!Gojo) [JJK].

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Set Two or Three Years Post KFC Break-Up, Intimidation, Prolonged Stalking, Future Dub/Con, Mentions of Non/Con, and Unbalanced Power Dynamics.

[Part Two]

“You’re Satoru’s date, right?”

The voice was masculine, deep and as rough as it could be without crossing the line into gravelly. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders and burrowing your nails into your palm as your eyes darted across the table – where a man with dark hair and an off-putting smile was currently sliding into the unoccupied side of your booth. He reached out, clearly planning to shake your hand, but when you failed to move, he only let out an airy chuckle, propping his chin on his fist as he went on. “I’m a friend of his – Geto Suguru. You can call me Suguru-chan, though. Has he already told you about me?”

He was dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed – his attire limited to a form-fitting black shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants in the same color, his hair pulled into a loose bun. His tone was friendly, light. You returned it with a dead-pan stare, hoping it conveyed the weight of your exhaustion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that what he told you to say?” Another laugh, somehow more blood-chilling than the first. Your attention shifted outward, to the late-night diner where Gojo had asked you to meet him. There were only a few other customers, the skeleton of a proper staff, but single other person would’ve been one too many. You didn’t need to make a scene, not again, not after last time. “That sounds like him. He’s always been a stingy bastard.”

With a pressed frown, you pushed yourself to your feet, but Geto’s grin only broadened. He snapped his fingers and as if it’d only been waiting for a queue, a shape manifested at the end of your bench. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at it, but you saw enough out of the corner of your eye; a bulbous torso, shrunken arms, too many eyes to resemble any living thing. Instantly, what little courage you still had was replaced with a knot of dread, a bolt of pure anxiety. You half-expected it to lunge, to bite, to attack, but it didn’t move, only standing guard at the foot of your table.

It didn’t move, but it didn’t have to. In a moment, you’d fallen back into your seat and shoved yourself against the wall, fighting not to shake. It was a sight Geto seemed to take a particular joy in, letting his head lull to the side as he watched you curl into yourself. “You can see them. I was starting to think I had the wrong person.” A pause, a glance towards his summoned monster before his narrowed gaze skirted back to you. “Don’t be shy, now. How much did he tell you?”

It took you a moment to find your tongue, another to swallow back the tremor in your voice. "He said he could protect me.” It was harder to admit than you’d expected – not so much that you needed protection, but that there was something you needed protection from. You’d spent so long writing off your monsters as hallucinations that it was still a struggle to act like they were anything more. But, for as unwilling as you were to confront your little monsters, the resounding ache in your right leg where that thing had dug its claws into you was impossible to ignore. “He… he didn’t mention anyone else, but we’ve only spoken once. He was supposed to explain—” You gestured to the monster. “—all of this today.”

A slight hum, a look of genuine surprise. “So, he’s got some self-restraint after all! I thought he would’ve cracked months ago, considering how long he’s been following you around like a lost puppy.” He must’ve seen your expression fall, your posture slacken, because he didn’t wait for a response before going on. “I mean, you must’ve known that, at least. Did you think he’d play knight-in-shining-armor for just anyone?”

“I…” You trailed off quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t care. As long as he can protect me, I don’t care why he’s doing it.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say. You wouldn’t want to make Satoru feel so replaceable, now, would you?”  

At that, you met his stare. “What do you want?”

His eyes skirted towards the monster, who took an obedient step back. For a second, you considered running, trying to slip away before the man in front of you or your newly-realized stalker could make you regret ever showing up at all, but Geto was quick to cut off your escape route, filling the empty space beside you before you could so much as pick which door you would barrel through on the way out. “Well, now that we’re on the same page,” Unlike his monster, he didn’t give you the option of leaving him in your peripheral; settling close enough for his leg to press into yours. At this proximity, you could pick up the smoke on his breath, the scent of stale gore clinging to him like a second skin. As if he’d just stepped out of a blood bath. “I’d like to make you an alternative offer.”

“You’d protect me?”

“Oh, I’d do more than just that.” His hand fell to your thigh. “I’d have everything you’ve ever been afraid of bowing to you by the end of the night.”

You swallowed dryly. “You didn’t answer my first question. What do you get out of helping me?”

His answer was nonverbal, but clear enough. With that same idle grin, he nodded toward the streaked window, to the building across the street. Your heart fell into your stomach. It was one of those sleazy, by-the-hour hotels – the sign missing more than a few letters and the parking lot as empty as the diner. It was the kind of place that you only went to for one thing, and you had a feeling Geto hadn’t found some miraculous second reason to want to be alone with you in one of those bug-infested rooms.

You weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe to buy yourself time. Maybe because you couldn’t stand the idea of being left in silence as what was left of your rational mind screamed at you to get out of there. “I don’t have any money.”

“It’ll be my treat.”

“What happens I refuse?”

“I kill everyone here,” His nails bit into exposed skin. “And then fuck you on this table while their bodies attract flies.”

You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so tired.

You might’ve done anything, if you could bring yourself to care about anything but keeping those awful creatures at a distance.

Stiffly, with your eyes shut and your teeth grit, you forced yourself to nod. Geto rewarded you with an impossibly wide grin, a breath of a laugh. “Smart little thing.”

This time, he didn’t pretend it was an option; reaching out, taking your trembling hand in his own, and squeezing so softly, you could almost convince yourself he was being gentle.

“It’s only a shame Satoru isn’t here to join us.”

[blueparadis]

╰┈➤ BLOODSTREAM ✦ NEUVILLETTE.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ Neuvillette has always avoided you when he is in heat, more like ghosted you but not this time, not when you are knocking at his doorstep to take care of him.

+

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣fem!redaer, abo dynamic,heavy marking, nipple stimulation, blood k!nk, cockwarming, knotting, piv + unprotected, monsterfucking, mention of rut, oral acts, mild dub-con; 1k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

There is a rustle of rumor amongst the people in Fontaine ever since you came to Fontaine in search of work, that Monsieur Neuvilette has a separate chamber, adjacent to his main office, where he spends his time when in a rut. Some people even say that he is just a pesky knockoff of god, inhuman, a puppet and so many more just because he enacts impartial judgment devoid of any feelings and emotions. But you begged to differ. They have not seen him closely like you. They have not seen him soaking himself wet when the sky weeps. They have not seen him when he is in your embrace. Like now.

Your fingers partly cover your face leaving room for the eyes as you inhale deeply, moaning and feeling a stinging pain inside your lower belly that makes you arch your head backward with a long inhaling moan. This is perhaps the fifth time he has made you cum and just by eating you out, surlping your juices and fingering your whole. You have lost track of it since every time you feel less sane, less human. As you gradually straighten your head again, accompanied by cloudy vision, shaky breaths, and sweaty skin you see Neuvillette licking the wounds on your supple skin. They are just love bites, you remind yourself feeling the sharp end of his fangs graze along your boobline. His tongue encircles around your pebbled nipple making you moan again. 

“Monsieur Neuvilette, Are you feeling better now?” you ask feeling his fangs sit along your boobline. He does not bite. He never does yet you find yourself crawling back to those evenings when he would keep you in his embrace, let his teeth touch your skin whenever he kisses you. He is cautious around you. You do not understand why he is like that even though there is no risk if he crosses the line more than that. Your relationship with the iudex is ambiguous at best, but those little moments always come back to haunt you. He has never fucked you before; sure there were intimate moments but never went to the point of sex. It is frustrating at times given he has confided so many things in you.

Neuvillette mouth pauses, hung open around your boob.He does not answer but rather poses a question.“Why did you come here again?” You recall having a need to visit him to submit some papers and also, to get some official papers signed by him. You wince as his tongue lapped over one of your wounds. “Remember. You asked for this.” He states before taking your nipple in his mouth, pulling it away by holding it with his lips. He is careful not to let his fangs touch, not to get swayed by desire. 

You do not deny any of it. It is true that you came to visit him during his rut when he strictly forbade you do so. Not only you but it is forbidden to visit him in his inner chambers for a certain time span once or twice in every month. Curiosity got the best of you, and the pressure of piles of papers had you totally forgotten about this rule. Breaking rule in Fontaine is not tolerated at any cost but perhaps once the chief justice regains himself he might punish you; maybe he is already doing it. 

“I know. I’m aware.” You exclaim and he holds you by your waist, curling his arms around them letting his eyes fall upon you. They seem to sparkle or maybe it is just the lightning. “I’m just a beta. There is nothing to worry about of we … if we.” 

Such a naive little thing you are. You stutter to say the very thing you wanna do. It makes his stone-cold heart warm. “You know nothing. But need not worry, I’ll give you a taste of it,” he whispers in your ears before focusing on what he was doing before. Your innocence tempts his desires so much. You try to laugh it off but then he says, “The rumours, they are not just rumours. Rumours grow when some of it is at least true, won’t you agree?” He arches you a little to align his cock with your entrance. You do not resist as he pushes his cock inside you.

The tip of his cock hits deep inside you as his knot starts to mature making you shut, tears pooling at the corner of them. His palms latched around your waist and they almost covered your whole waist now. His touch is cold, slippery, and wet. Neuvillette starts to make you bob up and down his cock as his cock grows inside you. The scales on his arms which you have so longed to see before were now slowly developing. He was transitioning. You want to see him but something blocks your eyes. It is not his hands, they are on your waist. A rumor that is shaping into a reality. 

You moan and whimper as you feel another orgasm approaching. You can feel his high emerging too but you can not see. Your eyes are wrapped with something but you can not focus on what it is because his cock is hitting your sweet spot with so much precision that all the pain you have endured so far is now becoming pleasurable. Hot spurs of liquid shoot inside of you while his fangs sink at the dip of your neck, biting and sucking your blood. You can feel it. The flow of your blood from your vein to his mouth. You can even hear him gulp. You think you are going to lose consciousness but you did not. 

You can see him now. His true form is in full glory. “You’re mine now.”  He exclaims letting his tongue clean the blood over your neck as he twirls and swings his tail. “It will take a while for me to get back to my human form. You can rest now.” he says, guiding your head along his nape as he keeps himself busy licking those two symmetrical wounds clean. It does not hurt, nor sting. Maybe it is him who is healing it.

[luffysscraps]

Thinking about dog! Hybrid Luffy🔞

Cw; Fem reader. Pet play. Non-con/Dub-con. Breeding kink. Established relationship.

-He leaves holes everywhere in your yard. Literally the moment you step out into your back yard you almost create a sinkhole due to his digging habits. And he’ll just stare at you with a smile and lick you all over.

-He’s very energetic, running up and down through the house, dashing around every chance he gets and begging you to play with him. “Y/N! Play with me! Throw ball! Throw the ball! Please! Play! Play! Play!” Luffy begs his black tail wagging as he runs in a circle around you.

-He can speak a little, but nothing complex. He says stuff like “let’s go outside!” “I’m hungry!” “Can I sleep on the bed?” “Pets please!” “Walk! Walk!” Despite his simple way of speaking he understands everything you say, but takes a while for it all to process. But he doesn’t get the concept of math at all, numbers don’t make sense to him so don’t even try to teach him it.

-“Luffy!” “ Hi Hi! Y/n!! Good morning! Wanna play? Wanna eat?! I’m hungry! Let’s play! No let’s eat! Can we do both?! Hi hi!” He appears the second you call him babbling on and once you call his attention. You mutter the syllable ‘L’ And all you hear is the jingling of his collar. He’s just so happy you called him! He thought he’d just be squeezing his chew toy all day without you. (Which he squeaks on all day regardless)

-Eats all the meat in the house. You literally can’t stock pile meat and have to buy meat literally two portions at a time. The butchers stare at you funny when you only buy three chicken legs at a time. Or one small tiny portion of beef to feed three. And you come here like every day? Little do they know you have a menace in your home who will eat every scrap of meat you have with no shame. You usually only eat one serving while Luffy eats two plus snacks and extra meals when he begs. And he’s in healthy shape due to his energetic nature.

-"LUFFY NO!" is one of your most used phrases whenever you bring him outside with you. He’s very protective of you and any other male hybrid in around you. He’s quick to jump into fights without any warning signs. He’s happy and docile one minute and then he just pounces on whatever male hybrids come close to you. A crocodile, a bear, a flamingo, he was even crazy enough to fight a dragon?!?

- As aggressive as he is, he’s also super friendly?! Like once hybrids clarify they’re not after you he’s trying to play with them after just giving them a black eye??? And somehow it always ends up working???

-He loves to explore and adventure. He’ll just get up, give you a kiss goodbye and run off for days at a time. He has so many friends with other people and hybrids that you’ve never met or heard before. Like you’re sure half of the people he’s mentioned don’t even live in this area. Where the hell did he go? Well he always returns home safe so there’s nothing to worry about. Plus he’s always so excited to see you when he gets back. “Y/N!! I missed you! I had so much fun! But I missed you a lot! “

-Call him a good boy and he’ll melt. His ears stand up and his tail starts wagging. “Really?! I’m your good boy!” He really likes that nickname.

-Oh and if you don’t like being active I’m sorry but Luffy is not the hybrid for you. He’ll literally drag you out with him, and force you to play with him. Trying to do homework? Mf eats it. Trying to play a video game or watch tv? He unplugs it. Trying to simply rest? No you’re not because he wants to play and he’s a selfish bastard. “Let’s play now Y/N!” He says with those puppy dog eyes as he unplugged the TV for the one hundredth time.

-Brings and makes you gifts all the time! They’re not the usual expensive gifts you expect from a partner. He gifts you, your sock he stole from you like a month ago, Old bones from meat he already ate and gnawed on, Dead rats he killed. And then he also likes to draw and write, he draws pictures of you and him with hearts everywhere. Your fridge is filled with them. And he writes you love letters, they’re simple and short but very sweet.

‘Y/N I love you. You pet me on my head. You play with me. You’re pretty and kind. My heart goes fast when I’m with you. -Love Luffy’

-Now when he’s in heat he turns into a horny demon. “Sex! Sex! Sex! Sex!” He chants bouncing around ripping his clothes to shreds and tackling you to the ground, dry humping your body as you just got home from your nine hour shift.

-You’ll know he’s in heat because now he’s walking around the house butt ass naked, balls out with a sweet and devious smile on his face. Don’t try to make him wear his clothes because he’s not going to AT ALL. He’ll rip them to pieces right in front of you and simply say. “Too hot!”

-Steals ALL of your panties. Literally keeps a heap of them in his bed. And has no shame in it, licking them while you’re watching him. His bed sheets have to be washed daily when he ruts because he cums gallons and will jerk off all day long.

-He just stared at you with lidded eyes. “Please Y/N… sex…” He whines out licking your earlobe. He tries his best to hold back, he really does but his urges take over after holding out for so long. He needs to be inside of you and now.

- And when you bend over it’s practically over. That’s you basically inviting him to mount you and stick his hard on inside! One minute you’re bending down to pick up a book you dropped, the next you’re on the ground, face first with Luffy’s large meaty hard cock inside of your cunt.

-He never really asks but he can smell your hormones. You want it too. Plus your moans are enough to tell him you do! Or are those his moans? He can’t tell at this point, he’s so horny and he needs to release.

-You honestly don’t mind his heat, he’s surprisingly gentle and will stop if you ask him too. But the only thing you have to do is always be on the pill- Luffy has no idea what condoms are and when you tried to put one on him he ripped it off in seconds. “Feels weird. No way!” He says with a smile before pounding into your pussy raw. And because he’s in heat, his number one goal is to get you pregnant.

-So every time you guys fuck and the next day your stomach isn’t big and round with his kids he gets mad. Just staring at you and your stomach. “What’s wrong?! Get pregnant already!” He whines with frustration. Oh well if you didn’t get pregnant the last time, he’ll make sure you do now, every last bit of his cum is going in your pussy. He doesn’t let a drop escape it when he finally releases into you.

-Yeah your hybrid boyfriend is pretty hard to handle, but would you settle for anyone else? Not a chance. <3

[aemondavenue]

desolate {aemond targaryen x reader}

word count: 1.3k

parts: one | two

warnings: 18+. mentions of dub-con sex. toxic/unhealthy dynamics. angst. proceed with caution.

note: all grammar mistakes are my own. this ended up going differently than planned because i didn't want it to feel rushed. + part 2 is up!!!

Once a week, Aemond would bed you.

Ever since your wedding, now only a couple months ago, Aemond would come to your chambers when the hour was late and take you on your bed. Only to leave once the deed was done.

His orgasm would overtake him as if he hadn’t been chasing it in the first place. He had sex with you- no. He would fuck. This was somehow separated from you. This was his duty. His burden as your husband to plant you with his heirs. Your place as his wife was to take it and you did. This must be the truth of most marriage alliances, you thought. This was not the story that lied between the pages of the books on your bookshelf. This was your life. This was the order of things.

You didn’t know if you felt disappointed, you didn’t know if you were allowed to. You had married into a house more noble than your own. Every other perk of being married to a prince had fallen in your lap. People tending to you. Intricately tailored dresses. Glorious feasts. You could not have it all. You felt it was out of your place to complain.

One night you were called into Aemond’s chambers for the first time ever. He had never asked you to be brought to him, he had only ever come to you. You were getting ready for bed. You were dressed in your silk nightgown and your hair was released from the braids and pins from the day. 

“Aemond,” you called out to him as the door closed behind you.

“Wife,” he sat in his usual seat facing the fire, back turned to you.

You padded over to him.

“You sent for me?”

“I did.”

You shrug at him and your eyes find a letter in his hand.

“Do your eyes wonder, wife?”

You grimace, “I’m sorry?”

He reads off the paper, “My mother’s garden is far from lacking, still, I do miss the smell of roses.”

You furrow your brows at him and at the mention of your preferred scent.

“Now . . . have you been seeking the company of other men?” he looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Yes,” you lie. What were you doing?

His eyebrows raised, he let out a dry laugh, and looked into the flames of the fireplace, “Hm . . .”

He shakes his head and says, “Get out.”

“Do you want to know what me and this man would do in each other’s company?” What were you doing?

“Get out,” he was looking at you now.

“Depraved things,” you whispered, eyes locked on him, feet planted to the ground.

 “Get. Out.”

“And he would . . .,” you reached for the straps on your nightgown, the loose fit allowing the straps to come off your shoulders causing the silk to fall from your body to a pool at your feet, “touch me here-“ you channeled the best you knew from the novels tucked tightly into your shelves. You hand moved at a snail's pace towards your lower navel-

“That’s enough!” Aemond rose from his seat and took long strides towards you. He grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements. His eyes burned into yours, seemingly unphased by the sight of you completely bare before him. Blinded by his rage. 

You didn’t know what you were thinking. You weren’t. However, you knew you liked seeing him like this. 

“Your lover’s head will be delivered on a spike to his family due morning. Do you understand me?” 

You look up at him, jaw clenched, smile bright on your face.

“And I myself will deal with you.” 

“Oh yeah? How so?” you tilt your head at him.

“What has gotten into you?!” he implored.

“I’m lying!”

He takes a step back from you, disgusted and obviously not buying it.

“I have lain with no other man, husband.” you shook your head.

He moves to pick up the letter, the paper crinkling in his fingers.

“On my mother, I haven't, you must believe me!”

He looks up at you then, eyelids heavy. He moves to throw the letter into the flames of the fire, watches as the parchment is engulfed by the flames, then turns to walk back to you. He grabs a firm hold of your jaw and pulls your face to look up at him. 

“On your mother?” he knew you held such sayings with high reverence.

“On my mother, on everything. I am not aware of why he remembers my scent” you say with a now shattered veneer.

“Why do you forget yourself?”

“I liked for a moment that the idea of someone else claiming me would make you upset. I liked the idea of you fighting for me. I liked seeing you angry and that it was because of my doing. It makes me feel-”

“What? Amused?” he furrows his brows at you.

“Wanted. Aemond, it makes me feel wanted. Men writing letters to me is more indicative of your character than of mine,” you moved your arms to cover your body now, somehow feeling more naked, “does it not bother you, not that they want me, but that they see a gap in our marriage wide enough to prod at?”

After a moment you wait for him to respond, but there’s silence and you shake your head. You bend down to grab the nightgown at your feet and pull the straps back over your shoulders. You take one more glance at him before walking to the door.

“Wait,” he reaches for your arm. You turn to him.

“Sleep in my bed with me tonight,” he says.

When you don’t answer, he sweeps you up from your feet and carries you bridal style to his bed. After setting you down, he slings his trousers and tunic to his chair and crawls in with you. He lays his head on the pillow next to yours, facing you. You lay flat on your back staring at the ceiling. You could feel his eye scanning your face.

You thought about how silly it would sound if you explained to your closest friend that after this amount of time into your marriage, though short, you were just now laying in your husband's bed. You also thought about how he only did this after being threatened with the idea of another man wanting you. How you were only worth fighting for because another man deemed you worthy of doing so. You began to cry. 

Aemond sat up and pulled you into his arms. He cradled you close to his chest as you sobbed. The only sound filling the room was your muffled weeps into his chest. He rocked you back and forth and pulled you tighter to him.

“I have wronged you,” he says.

You say nothing.

“I told myself that I was doing you a favor by distancing myself from you as we are not bound by love,” he said, “I created a sequence in my head: a marriage before the septon then a baby as consummation. My job as a second son, a pawn. My favor to you after our wedding was to make this process as stealthy as possible. My way of coping with that was to take the human aspect out of it. Remove the fluff. Make it impersonal. That was my mistake.”

“You don’t know how lonely it’s been,” you responded, voice quiet.

“I want to make it up to you,” he sounded desperate, “how do I make it up to you?”

“Time.”

“That’s all I need.”

“Effort.”

“Of course.”

“I would like you, for the time being, to make love to me instead of fuck me and it will be when I say,” you look at him.

“Okay,” he responds in a hushed tone, eyes darkening.

“Not now, another time,” you sigh, “but tonight you will hold me as we sleep and I hope not to wake up to an empty bed in the morning.”

He nods and lifts you to lay you back on your side of the bed again. You fall asleep with your back to his chest. This would be the new order of things.

[dilfartist]

Selfish

Pairing; Yandere Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; You escape your captor during one of his many missions. You stop by a diner searching for help. What will happen next? Find out by reading

Word count; 3.8K

TW; Kidnapping, non-con touching, Stockholm syndrome, maybe just a tad bit ooc, Yandere (obviously), obsessive behavior, cussing.

Notes; hopefully you enjoy reading. It’s not the best since I’m still maturing as a writer and because of my hiatus; but I hope you enjoy.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Sapphire-embellished twilight transitions into dawn’s light blue hue bringing alongside the sun. Birds sang good morning to one another, on their side of the forest. You ambled down the road that ceased the strong odored forest from connecting.

You stared at the endless road up ahead. Night to morning, ahead of you was forest and road. Perhaps this reason is why your captor moved into the isolated forest since raccoon city incident.

Or maybe he wanted to live a life of normalcy given the opportunity; the monsters he claimed he fought, seemingly every month, stressed him greatly and you noticed. Plus, he mentioned he needed a vacation frequently.

You pause, double-checking onward on the ostensibly never-ending road. Was your hard work a waste of time?

Looking back on the way he treated you, you pondered if it would have been smarter to stay home. Most days he wasn't overbearing. Once in a while, he’d annoy you, other than that he was tolerable. Besides being unable to leave the house unattended and having no say in choices at times, he gave you more freedom than most.

But then you remember the day before. At the crack of dawn, he’d left for a mission: bidding you goodbye with a note and breakfast at your night table side. You were left all alone, so naturally you sought a form of entertainment.

The television; Which was your only option.

You were clicking through the television channels when you came across a crime documentary. The story was similar to your personal life so you continued to watch the channel.

The story was about a woman, age twenty-three, who was kidnapped for around four years. During her kidnapping, she fell deeply in love with her kidnapper to the point they had to detach her from the cop car when they arrested him.

In your situation, you’ve been abducted for at least eight months. Her situation only took a year till she developed Stockholm syndrome.

Clarified by the show as the psychological condition of a victim who identifies with and empathizes with their captor or abuser and their goals.

Learning this information a thought came to mind.

Would you become like her once it hits New Year's? Loyal to a man that took you away from society. No. You refused to allow the same situation to happen to you.

You’d never allow it to happen.

When it came to the relationship your captor so desperately longed for with you, you caused many difficulties to prevent any form of romance.

Any attempt at affection had him pushed away or smacked. Discussion about the past before your absconding was simply ignored. And in general, you kept your distance from him. Well, at least you tried to. He stays at your hip like a lost puppy majority of the time he has off work, talking your ear off. There was no way in hell you’d fall for him. Not after the months you spent in that isolated house.

Regardless of how certain you were, you mulled over it some more. You finally concluded running. So far, you felt regret and relief.

Out of nowhere, a loud reverberating sound of a car grew closer, arising behind you. You quickly spun around to see what the sound originated from.

The engine growled, sending a ping of fright to your heart. You spent no time thinking about Leon’s reaction to your escape. However, now your mind consumes thoughts of his response.

Could your captor's fury be so robust that the car in the distance embodied his rage? Knowing him since your best friend introduced you to the man becoming a rookie cop in raccoon city; you’ve never seen him enrage.

From time to time his witty replies and mean scowl would showcase his anger. Of course, that didn't mean his rage wasn't feasible. But never had you ever witnessed a stronger emotion from him.

Inching closer, you were able to discern the details of the car. It was a massive black car, with tinted windows. A car your captor might arrive home with after a mission. It announced its presence with its vociferous roaring.

You observe with dread blooming in the pit of your stomach, every other part of your body tingled.

Although the person driving the car was yet to be revealed, you were petrified, stuck in place like you had been glued onto the concrete below you.

It must be him.

Why else would they be heading so fast toward you?

Already, you’re willing to surrender. Your captor is a forgiving person when it comes to you, so there’s a likelihood he’ll forgive you if you cooperate.

Standing on the side of the road, you acquiescently wait for the car to stop. Waiting for him to take you back to your prison.

The car slows but even then it's at a fast pace. The car passes you momentarily. Slightly it reverses until the passenger window is in front of you. Unhurriedly, the shadowy window rolls down. In the driver's seat, instead of who you believed it to be, it was a woman.

She looked to be in her middle thirties. She wore black sunglasses in her strawberry-blonde hair, a red blouse with denim jeans. Her makeup reminded you of Jennifer Tilly in Bride of Chucky, but she wore a sweet smile.

“Oh my lord, are you alright darling?” The woman asked like you were a child outside without a jacket in the freezing winter.

You continued to stare at her. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt drier than sandpaper. You opened your mouth, wheezing a bit as you sipped the fresh air. “I don't know,” you responded as loud as you possibly could. So barely above a whisper.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Are you safe?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

The woman shook her head disapprovingly, then she began to throw whatever laid in the passenger seat into the backseats. “Come on sugar, get inside. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Okay, thank you.”

She reached over and pushed the passenger door open. You entered the vehicle, settled in, and got comfy. You buckled in making sure you heard the reassuring click.

“There you go,” she commented with a smile. “Now, we're going to make a stop by a gas station, then we’ll find out what we can do with you. Is that alright?

You smiled back, “Yeah, I don't mind.”

The car began to ride forward and the air conditioning blew on your overheated body. You relished the cold air. You hadn't realized how hot it had been outside, even in the early morning. Where were you?

You put that thought aside. Now you needed to worry about something to drink and eat.

“Do you…have anything to drink or eat?” you glanced at the woman.

She nodded. “Of course sweety! Why didn't I offer before?” she looked away from the street to grab a half-empty bottle of water from the side of the driver's door. “Sorry, that's the only drink I have at the moment.” she apologizes.

Without a second thought, you unscrewed the cap off the water and chugged the water. Water had never tasted so refreshing before. It was like you’d been roaming in the desert for hours on end and finally found a source of water.

The woman glances at you. You must have looked crazy. “How long have you been out there?”

“Since eight last night.” You sounded better. No more raspy voice that hurts you to speak. “I should have packed a bag but something came up.”

Before you left the house last night, you weren't in your right mind. Your captor never gave you an exact time he’d be home. His return ranged between the eight at night, the dead of night, the crack of dawn, or the morning. Recently, he’d been arriving home at eight. Which is the reason you left with nothing. Looking back, you had no confidence in yourself at getting away. You believed you were going to be caught in a matter of ten minutes. Now look at you.

You turned to the woman, “Thanks…” She finishes the sentence with her name. “Amanda.” You nod rephrasing your sentence, “Thanks Amanda for picking me up.”

Amanda smiles again, this time wider showing off her pearly white teeth. “I couldn't just leave you out there. Now, what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and hope she somehow knows it. Maybe the news reported you missing when you weren’t watching. You hoped so.

Rather than freaking out, realizing she had found a missing person, she simply responded with a “nice to meet you.” You died a little at the rejoinder.

Did no one care enough to report your absence? Not your family or close friends, no one attempted to reach out to the police?

No. You’re just overthinking. Not everyone watches the news or actively looks for missing people. You just had to be around more people. Someone was bound to know your identity.

Still, you can’t ignore the way your hands shake at the thought of being forgotten.

“So what were you out there for? If you don’t mind sharing that is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What were you to say? Tell her the truth and find out she was with your captor the whole time or keep your mouth shut and have no help in case he does find you.

A white lie would help.

“Escaping my abusive boyfriend.”

A frown pulled at the woman’s plump lips, her eyebrows scrunching together at your answer. “Do I need to the cops, family members?”

“No,” you responded quickly and harshly. The car fell silent. You took a small breather before speaking. “No, thank you.”

“Please, tell me, is there anything else I can do to help you any further?”

You needed cash, shelter, and a job. There was only one thing you were sure she could help you with. “ I need money and a hotel.”

“Don't worry, I got you covered,” she said softly.

The car began to slow when she placed her foot on the break. She turned the car and moved into a spot that contained a combination of a gas station and an old fashion diner. She parked the car next to a gas pump, then powered it off.

She dug into the middle counsel, pushing around pens and important items, and pulled out a pink wallet. She unzipped the front zipper and pulled out some money.

Amanda held the cash out to you, “Here’s 100 dollars. There's enough for lasting food, a hotel to stay, and a bus.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt just to hug her tightly. “Thank you!” you repeat over and over, like an unanswered prayer. She returned the hug, telling you she didn't mind lending you some service. The hug ended and you needed to plan your next move. What would you spend your money on first?

Well, all you knew was what you’d spend what was given to you on something important.

You looked out the window. Your eyes shift toward the diner. Mo’s dinner was on the sign, “been here since the ’50s.” which was written below.

Right. Food. You haven't eaten since yesterday. Walking as long as you did, you tried to forget your hunger and focus on the main goal of finding shelter or at least some safety.

“I think I’ll have myself a hot breakfast!” you announced. Amanda unlocked the passenger door, “go right ahead. Enjoy your freedom.” You nod, fleeing the car akin to a little kid whose mother gave them money for an ice cream from the ice cream truck.

The entrance bell chimes when you open the door to the cream-colored establishment. Once inside, you settled yourself in a booth in the far back. An old jukebox plays aged music ranging from the 70s to the ’50. Besides you, there was a single person in the restaurant. A man at the bar sipping his morning coffee whilst reading the newspaper.

You extend your arm over to the menu across the table. The menu displays numerous appetizing dishes, varying from breakfast to a juicy steak dinner.

Flipping the page your eyes landed on a mouthwatering breakfast sandwich, including bacon, egg, and cheese.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Stephanie, I’ll be serving you this morning. What would you like?”

You placed the menu aside to give the waitress your whole attention. The woman was of average height, wearing a pink uniform that reminded you of the 50s. She wore a smile that did not reach her black doe eyes. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, feeling anxious about possibly pissing her off. “Could I have a number six and a sweet tea?”

“Of course, is that it?”

“Umm…yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright then,” she replied disinterestedly. She left quickly, retreating to the kitchen.

You continue gazing at the closed door to the kitchen. What else could you do? You should have brought along something to entertain you, then again there wasn't much back at the house you called a jail cell. For the remainder of the waiting duration, you’d have your thoughts to amuse your lethargy.

Ding Ding

Instinctively, your head turned. 50s music began to fade, superseded by the loud thumping of your heart. Your breathing became shaky, parallel to your hands. Dirty blonde hair is what you see first. It’s him! You repeat in your head, like a religious prayer.

“Jessica, hey!” you heard a joyous exclamation. You watch as the man from the bar rushes over to the person entering the restaurant. Your anxiety left as quickly as it came. A hand places itself onto your cheat, and on the spot your heart thumped rapidly. You had to calm down. You took deep breaths, and your heart slowed with each sip of air. You rest your head on the table.

After taking the time to calm yourself, you analyzed the restaurant furthermore. Now, the place was vacant, since the man had left. Fifteen minutes passed and you found a newspaper from the newspaper rack adjacent to the front entrance.

Nothing in the article was new to you. At your captor’s home, you watched the news almost once a week to see if anyone had reported your disappearance. Nothing ever came up though. At least you were up to date with everything going on.

Your waitress finally returned, carrying your meal on a maroon-colored tray in her left hand. “Sorry for the wait, ma’am. Kitchen malfunction.” she apologized, giving you a guileless smile. This would be the only expression besides tedium that you’d receive from her.

“It's alright,” you said, watching as she placed the food on the table for you to dig into. She left carrying the tray back to the kitchen she emerged from.

You took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. Juicy and delicious are solely vivid words to illustrate the taste. The egg had a spongy texture that combines well with melted cheese. And the hickory bacon wasn’t too crispy or chewy, it was simply perfect.

Back at the prison, your captor wasn't the best cook. But he tried to be for you. Still, you preferred takeout. Chinese, Italian, and burgers began to become a boring taste on your taste buds. Having a breakfast sandwich was refreshing, to say the least.

“Enjoying your meal, huh?” rough voice inquiries. The question was said cockily but their wrath was audible in the way the last word was spoken.

You stop mid-chew, the overwhelming flavor vanishing from your mind. It now tasted bland. You kept your eyes shut. Were you afraid? No. Afraid couldn't explain the ineffable amount of dread you felt at the moment. Ruffling could be heard on the opposite side of the table; He was sitting down. Your eyes open involuntarily like your body already knew what he wanted it to do.

Across the table, seating snugly is your captor; Leon Kennedy. He looks rougher than the last time you’ve spoken. The dark circle underneath his eye has grown darker. His brunette roots have begun peaking out ruining his natural blonde facade. And he looked exhausted. Must have stayed up all night looking for you.

He looked more than pissed. He appeared disgruntled. Compared to Leon, you were small. But now, Leon was like a giant towering over you. Despite never abusing you in any shape or form, your body shakes like a leaf in the wind. The way he glares down at you drives you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Do you know how long I've been up for, y/n?” he asks whilst pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket.

Regardless of how parched you are, you force yourself to converse with him. “No,” you're voice is brisk and faint.

“Two days. For two days I’ve been on my feet.” He takes a swig of the flask and then continues to rant. “I could have joined you in bed and fallen asleep, but there was a problem. You weren't anywhere.”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is the matter with you? You could have gotten hurt. You probably are.”

Leon is getting angrier, you can tell by the way the furrowed eyebrows deepen and his frown morphs into a glower, as he utters each sentence.

“I’m sorry.” That's all you can say. It's all that comes to mind.

“Sorry won’t make up for the scars you've gotten.” he retorts angrily.

Now you're mirroring his expression. You’re angry and tired as well. Definitely not as tired as him but still tired. “You’re acting as if I didn't have a good reason to run.” you petulantly cross your arms, akin to a child not getting a toy from the store.

Leon wasn’t delusional. Back in the day, when he was a rookie cop, in some aspects he was delusional. However, as the years continue to pass so does his past self. Leon understands what he has done to you is inhumane, but he can’t help it. He kept you locked away for a reason. You won’t get hurt with him by your side.

Leon sighs, closing his eyes and leaning closer with his forearms on the table. “I know, I know.”

You tilt your head, “really? So, why are you mad at me?”

His eyes open, displaying icy-blue orbs. They hold Empathy in them. Empathy Leon has a difficult time communicating to you.

“I keep you in the house for your safety.” He began, taking your hands into his own. “To keep our relationship safe.”

“But I don’t want a relationship with you.”

“I know.”

“So why are you forcing me to stay with you?!”

Leon’s hands squeezed yours, provoking a cry out of you. “All my life I’ve been a generous man. I saved many and gave up my life for others. I’m always providing for someone else and rarely caring for myself. And the one thing I yearn for to the point I was convinced I deserved it. It was you.”

For a beat, he ceases his gabbing. Leon stares down at your connected hands, his thumb starts rubbing against the back of your hand. It’s a domestic act that earns your displeasure.

“For once, allow me to be selfish,” he mumbles, eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours. His lips press your hand, giving it a chaste kiss. “You’re the only thing I’ll fight to keep for myself.”

Part of you wishes the relationship was normal. Leon truly did care for you, and you still cared for him, But he did something unforgiving. He took away your free will.

“...you can’t just steal a person, Leon. You can’t expect me to love you.”

“I don’t.”

“So why won’t you let me go? You still have Ada, don’t you? You were more into her than me. Why isn’t she in my position?”

“Because I love you, not her. You haven't betrayed me. Well, not until now.” he jokes, letting out a faint chuckle.

Leon pulls out his wallet, his fingers sliding through the pockets to find his card. “Wrap your food up. We’re leaving.” he puts his wallet back in his back pocket, “Be right back. Stay here.” he commanded sternly.

The waitress is at the bar, cleaning the counter with a blue rag. Leon approaches her with an “Excuse me.”

Leon put too much faith in you because you were on your feet immediately when his back was turned. You quietly inched towards the door and ever so slowly dragged the door inwards. Leon was distracted, the waitress deciding she’d flirt with him despite seeing you and him together. You manage to slip through the door before Leon notices your second escape attempt.

You bolt out the door when you hear the enraged roar of your name from behind. You grip the railing to the stairs, running down them, tripping a couple of times. You don’t look but you know Leon’s on your tail. The door slams against the wall, the bell ringing loudly.

“Y/n, get back here!”

Amanda’s car was still parked by the gas pump. You sprint towards it, slipping through the tight space of the car and the gas pump. Luckily for you, Amanda was in the car, applying her strawberry-pink lipstick.

“Amanda!” you shout, startling her enough that she drags the lipstick across her cheek. She shouts, frightened by your sudden appearance. She looks at you, like you're crazy. She says your name to clarify the person at her window, “What are you doing.”

You shake your head, “yo-you gotta help me, he-” you say breathlessly.

“Hey, Amanda.” you hear Leon’s voice call out. Unlike you, he isn’t out of breath. Thanks to his military training. Amanda peeks her head out the window, she smiles waving at Leon. “Hey, Lee!”

Your eyes widen till it’s physically impossible to widen anymore. She knows Leon. Your body feels numb as you watch them interact like old friends. You feel like you aren’t real at the moment. Like you're watching the scene unfold outside your body.

“Sorry, she just came back from the hospital. She isn’t in her right mind right now.” Leon excuses, leading you to his car like a shepherd's dog guiding the sheep to its pen.

Amanda nods as she understands completely. “No worries, I’m just glad I found her before she hurt herself.”

Leon puts you in the passenger seat and closes the vehicle door. The keys lock the door from the inside, so you are left choiceless.

Leon joins you in the driver’s seat, definitely too angered to chide you. He seethed quietly, powering on the engine with the quick twist of the car keys.

Wordlessly, you buckle up. You wouldn’t make an endeavor to anger Leon any further.

You’d allow him to be selfish. Allow him to have you.

What other option did you have now?

[mayearies]

BAD HABIT miles g. morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY. miles can’t communicate. he has trouble recognizing his emotions, rio knows this. uncle aaron knows this. you don’t know this. you don’t really know anything is wrong, but you always wish him the best. but you can only wish upon the same star so many times until something changes. CONTENTS. miles being head-over-heels, mentioned break up, rio worrying for her son, uncle aaron being against the whole relationship thing, mentioned meeting his parents AUTHORS NOTE. haii i’m not back but ill feed you once every few months also format ib: luvjunie

rio .

mother knows best. we all know this. a mother knows when she sits on the couch and her 15-year-old sits next to her and starts going on about his girlfriend, how he’s everything she’s ever wanted that he’s in love.

but, a mother also knows her son. “miles, let me ask you something.” she sighed, “how much does she know about you? you tell me all these things about her, does she know the same?”

he paused, taking a soft breath, “i mean, no. but she doesn’t seem like she wants to know all that much.”

her brow creased, “if she’s dating you obviously she wants to know more about you. ¿de qué hablas?”

“yeah, i know, but she doesn’t really ask me.” his brows raised then creased a little.

confusion and concern.

“i’ll tell you one thing, girls tend to not say a lot of stuff that’s on their minds,” she cleared her throat, “they want you to tell them first. it takes a while for them to be comfortable with you.”

miles sighed and bit his cheek. now he was doubting you weren’t comfortable with him. you had only been dating a month.

“i just… want you opening up more. your uncle does too.” her voice turned softer. now miles felt a bit bad because he thought she was being unreasonable with the whole uncomfortable thing.

plus, uncle aaron knows he can’t open up like that to her. he barely has time for his hobbies because of this whole… prowler thing. so what the hell can he talk about? not to mention he can’t even talk to his mother about this because she doesn’t know that either.

“talk to her about comics-con!” miles groaned when she said that. “ma. no.”

rio pouted, “you gotta open up at some point, miles. i mean it.” she noticed one of his braids was slightly undone and braided it for him, “you’re like a shell now. i worry about you.”

miles kept quiet, after a bit he leaned on her shoulder and kept his eyes straight. “i know.”

they didn’t say anything else. rio knew miles knew already. he mumbled a ‘sorry’ and they left it at that with a kiss to his head. there wasn’t a point in talking anymore.

aaron .

“i’m tellin’ you, this isn’t gon’ work out well for you, man.” he warned, “someone’s gon’ end up getting hurt. both you, and her.”

“not like you liked her that much anyway.” miles muttered under his breath, sitting on the couch ans watching the news. just the same thing every week. sinister six this, sinister six that… god damn.

“i never said that, i just don’t want you making a mistake,” he huffed.

aaron was more rough around the edges than his mother, that’s for sure. he didn’t hate him but he was so serious sometimes for no reason. takes part in why he doesn’t talk about this stuff with him. not like he has a father figure to turn to anyway.

“how do you know i’ll make a mistake?” miles felt a bit more defensive now.

“because that’s how it goes—you fall in love, think everything is great, something goes wrong, everything crashes, you move on. it’s a cycle.” he paused before saying this next sentence. “how do you think your ma’s marriage went? think about it.”

miles softed a bit, but he was still a bit irritated. “you didn’t have to go that far.”

he knew that. but it was a perfect example of the worst thing that could have happened. miles sighed, sinking into the couch and turning off the tv. there was tension, and it filled the silence.

“you’re saying i shouldn’t be in love? it’s that bad to like someone?” he kept his eyes on the ceiling.

aaron sighed, finding a better approach to it. “be in love all you want. tell her all about you. your hobbies, what you like. you know how closed off you are, man.” he paused, “just… don’t tell her too much. don’t make a stupid mistake.”

“…alright.”

present day .

miles walked through the apartment door, looking the same as normal. but rio sensed something was off. “qué pasó?”

“nothing. hi, ma.” he kissed her forehead before walking off down the hallway. he didn’t really act like this. his mom could always tell the difference.

“how are you and your little girlfriend doing?” he chucked lightly, trying to make light.

“oh, uh… we broke up.” there was a long silence, “like, today.”

rio was not entirely surprised, but she couldn’t help but ask why. miles shrugged, not facing her.

“just because.”

@ MAYEARIES ‘24

[hoejosatoru]

Well Trained

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Feitan, Fem!Reader x Chrollo (separately)

Summary: Chrollo is a particular man, with particular taste. Though he loves everything about you, he has yet to see how you preform in bed. He fears that if you disappoint him, it will ruin everything that you’ve built together. Luckily, he knows someone who can teach you to behave exactly how he likes.

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: Dub con that borders on noncon at times. If you’re sensitive to that at all I would skip this one, toxic relationship dynamic, manipulation, face slapping, choking, scratching, rough sex, degradation, praise, Feitan is mean but we know that, Dom Chrollo, calls you good girl a lot, body marking, oral (fem receiving), raw sex, cream pie, not proof read. MDNI

a/n: So I’ve had this idea in my head FOREVER because I want both Chrollo and feitan badly. Writing this concept out was lowkey kicking my ass though. I think I ended up pulling it together, but I hope y’all enjoy.

Dating Chrollo was a dream come true. He was everything you ever wanted in a man: intelligent, attentive, and sweet. Not to mention so handsome. He treated you like a princess and you loved it. Everything was perfect.

Well, almost everything.

You’d been dating for a couple months and you hadn’t had sex yet. At first you thought he wasn’t that into you, but when he kept coming back for more dates you knew that couldn’t be the case. You wondered if he was a wait till marriage type, or was shy in some way. You respected the boundary, despite wanting to sleep with him so bad. If he needed more time, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but it was starting to worry you. 

Little did you know, Chrollo wanted to sleep with you just as badly. Maybe even more so. He was very picky with who he slept with, hence this long period of courting. However, the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he had genuine feelings for you. He has had some relationships in the past, but he always knew they would not be very longterm. You, however, he felt was someone he could see himself with forever. 

This revelation made him want to make sure everything was perfect. He liked women with experience, who knew what they were doing and how to please him. However, he hated having to put the work in to get his partners there himself. Luckily, he knew someone who was a very effective teacher.

“My love,” Chrollo spoke over his wine, “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

He smiled at your eagerness. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Your cheeks colored at the blatant question. Chrollo loved how demure you were. “Y-yes, I do. A lot, actually.”

“Good,” Chrollo replied, taking a sip of his deep burgundy drink, “I have wanted to for some time now, but there is something I need you to do first.”

Your brows knitted. “What is that?”

“I’m a very... particular person. As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Chrollo explained, “And I want to make sure everything is just right.”

Your heart dropped a little bit. “Am... Am I not good enough for you?”

Chrollo shook his head and placed a hand over yours, comforting your nerves. “Not at all, my love. Quite the opposite actually. I love you so much that I don’t want anything to get in the way of our relationship.”

You nodded, feeling slightly relieved. “What is it? What do you want me to do?”

Chrollo thought about what the best way to explain it was. “I have a friend. He can teach you what I like, much better than I can.” He say the confused look on your face and continued. “You trust me, don’t you y/n?”

“Yes, of course,” you replied instantly. And it was true.

“I know it is an request,” Chrollo went on, “But it is important to me. Everything about you is so perfect. This will simply make sure it stays that way.” He kissed your hand, making your stomach fill with butterflies. “I want you in my life forever. Will you do this for me, my love?”

The way he looked at you and spoke to you made your body feel weak in the best way. The answer was easy for you. “Yes, of course.”

A smile spread across his face. “Excellent.”

A few days later you found yourself in a building outside of the city. It was a bit dumpy on the outside, but the inside was furnished nicely. You were aware that Chrollo engaged in a very secretive business and decided awhile ago not to ask. You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to. It didn’t matter, anyways, you loved him. And he loved that about you. 

Chrollo led you into a bedroom, occupied by one other man. You felt a pang of anxiety, not fully knowing what Chrollo meant by being taught what he liked.

“Y/n, this is my friend Feitan,” Chrollo introduced you to smaller man standing before you. The way his cold eyes appraised you sent a shiver down your spine.   You said a polite hello, but he was silent. Chrollo continued, “Feitan is on the quiet side, but I trust him completely. He is going to show you what I want.”

Your stomach rolled anxiously. “Wh-what does that mean, exactly?”

Chrollo gave you an almost sympathetic look. “I don’t want to lie to you, my love. I want you to have sex with Feitan. He’s going to... mold you into the exact type of lover I like.” 

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Chrollo was a bit possessive, even early on in your relationship, so you couldn’t believe he was telling you to have sex with another man. Your eyes flicked over to Feitan, his aura making you nervous. “Chrollo I don’t-”

Chrollo gently took your jaw in his hands and turned your face back to his. “I thought you trusted me, love?”

“I do, I ju-”

“It will be okay, I promise. This will make our relationship stronger. Everything will be perfect. You want that, don’t you? You love me, don’t you?” He was so close to you, speaking so softly it made you dizzy. You almost forgot Feitan was there and what this situation was for. You never understood the effect Chrollo had on you, just that it was very strong.

“I do, I love you so much,” you replied. 

“If that is true, you’ll do this,” Chrollo replied sweetly, “And I know you will, because I know you love me.”

You nodded. You were nervous, of course, but you couldn’t say to him. “I will, I promise.”

Chrollo smiled. “My good girl.” He kissed your forehead. “Now go sit on the bed, I need to talk to Feitan quickly.” You did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the bed as the two men stepped out side and spoke in hushed tones.

“What rules boss?” Feitan asked.

“Get her how I like them. You know the way,” Chrollo replied, “Do whatever you need to. Choke her or hit her if you need to. Just nothing that will leave a mark, especially not on her face. And don’t cum inside her, that is for me only.”

Feitan nodded. “Understood.” 

With that, the smaller man slipped back inside the room. Your anxiety spiked being alone with him. He pulled his jacket down, revealing his full face. He actually quite handsome, almost similar to Chrollo. He, however, looked more cold and harsh than your boyfriend did.  He was silent as he approached you, appraising your body language. He could tell you were nervous, which excited him.

“Take clothes off,” he stated. With you on the bed and him standing he was able to look down on you.

“I don’t-”

Before you could finish your sentence he gripped your jaw. “It not a request.” You nodded, shaking. He was not someone you wanted to challenged. You slowly took off your shirt, then your pants. You reluctantly went for your bra, but he grabbed your arm. “I do that. You undress me now.”

You nodded, your voice still feeling lodged in your throat. You were just happy to have the focus be on something other than you. You stripped off his jacket, shirt and pants, leaving him in his underwear. “Good,” he said before climbing on top of you. 

Your body instinctively shrunk away from him, which made him scowl. “You treat me like Chrollo. You would not hide from him.” He place his hands on your shoulders, pressing your body into a more relaxed position on the mattress. 

“I’m sorry I- this is just hard for me,” you admitted.

“If you listen it will be easy,” he replied. He placed a kiss to the center of you check. “Chrollo will mark you here.” He kissed the top of your breast that your bra didn’t cover. “And here.” He kissed your neck. “And here. And you’ll let him.” 

“O-okay,” you replied. 

“Now we kiss.” He pressed his lips to yours, which were warmer than you thought they were going to be. Still, you felt you couldn’t kiss him back, your lips feeling glued shut. Feitan’s hand wrapped around your neck, making you gasp. Feitan laughed, licking into your mouth. “If you kiss Chrollo like that, he won’t like.” Feitan tightened his hand around your throat, choking you slightly. 

You kept your eyes closed and tried to pretend you were kissing Chrollo. It was hard at first, especially with Feitan tightening his hand more. “Do better.” Eventually you were able to get into a rhythm; you knew you were doing it right when Feitan loosened his grip. 

His grip loosening, however, meant dipping lower to your chest. He squeezed at your boobs over your bra for a moment, before taking it off. You couldn’t help yourself, you moved to cover yourself. Feitan, of course did not allow it. He gripped your arms and pinned them above your head, tsking. “You are slow learner.” 

Feitan kissed and licked at your breasts and neck. He was very careful not pay attention to too much on one spot, as he did not want to leave a mark. Feitan took any job Chrollo gave him seriously, but especially this one. He knew how much trust Chrollo had to have in him to allow him do this. He would never break the trust, but he would make sure the job was well done. By any means necessary. 

“If I release your hands, you will listen?” Feitan questioned.

“Yes,” you replied, still with a shake in your voice. 

Feitan did as he said he would. “Put them in my hair. Gentle. Chrollo like that.” You slid your hands into his dark locks, running your fingers through them softly. Feitan went back to kissing you as you did this. He smacked you bare thigh when your lips got too stiff again. You yelped, but continued to kiss him like he wanted. Like Chrollo wanted, you reminded yourself. this was for him.

His hand slid down your body, between your thighs. Your legs shut, making him slap your thigh again and roughly pry them open. “Stop fighting.” He ran his hand over your clothed cunt. You focused on kissing him and running your hands through his hair as he touched you. His rubbed your clit through the fabric. You were surprised how it made your stomach curl, how it felt... good. 

It made it a little easier to kiss him and touch him. You let your hands wander a little further down his back, making him hum in approval. You gasped when his finger slipped inside you, but recovered quickly. Feitan curled his finger into a spot that made your breath go ragged. He pumped his fingers faster, your cunt getting wetter by the minute. Your brain was a confused mess. On one hand it was weird to be touched by this stranger, on the other it did feel good. 

Feitan slid in a second finger and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Feitan gripped your jaw. “Don’t be quiet. He’ll wanna hear.” Feitan scissored your his fingers inside you, stretching you out. This time you let a moan slip from your lips. “Good.” He pulled his fingers out of you and put them in front of your lips. “Now suck.”

You took in his fingers, sucking at them. “More.” He shoved them deeper in your mouth, making you gag a little. You tried to correct yourself quickly, letting your tongue roll up and down the length of them, tasting yourself. Feitan yanked your underwear off and it took everything in you not to hide yourself. You felt so exposed under his gaze. 

As he stripped off his underwear and climbed on top of you, the reality of what was about to happen set in and you started to panic. “No!” you cried trying to close your legs. It was no use, Feitan was so much stronger than you. He dug his nails into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making you wince.

“You obey, not fight,” Feitan growled, bullying his way between your legs. You brought your hands up and start smacking his chest and shoving him away. A sudden, swift slap to your face stunned you into stillness. Your face stung as he gave you a look that struck fear into you. He gripped your jaw achingly tight and got in your face. “Chrollo never love you like this. He want girl who behave. Who listens.”

“But-” He dug his nails into your thigh more, making you yelp.

“And you never say no to Chrollo,” he practically spat. He released his grip on you, but his gaze kept you pinned in place. “You going to behave now? Or do I tell Chrollo you don’t love him enough.”

You gulped. “P-please don’t.”

“Then shut up and take it,” he replied, flipping you in your stomach. “You can’t be trusted on back.” He took both go your hands in one of his, holding them to your lower back, effectively making you immobile. You felt the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance, covering himself in your slick. He gave you no warning when he pressed into you, making you gasp. 

Despite his smaller stature, his cock stretched your cunt. You whined as he thrust into you, not giving you any time to adjust. A slap came down on your ass. “Arch back more.” His free hand went down the length of your spine, putting you into place. The new position allowed him to get deeper inside you, hitting a spot that made you see stars. “Feels better for him. And you.” He was right, it felt so good. Your pussy throbbed with each brush of his cock at that sweet spot.

When you bit your lip to stifle a moan, you earned another sharp slap to your ass. You opened your mouth to cry out in pain, but it turned into a damn near pornographic moan as Feitan pounded you through it. “Like that. Let me hear.” 

He continued to pound into you rough and hard. You knew you should hate it, that it shouldn’t feel so good, but god it did. You weren’t even faking your moans, they were all real reflections of the pleasure he gave you. Just when you thought it couldn't get more intense, his free hand snaked around to play with your clit.

“Fuck Feitan!” you cried out. You were on the precipice of an orgasm when he pulled his hand away, making you whine.

“You want to cum? Beg.”

“Please!” Another hard slap on your ass.

“Better than that.”

You begged, desperately, “Please Feitan! Please! Let me cum. I need to!”

“Good.” His hand was back on your clit, rubbing rough circles. “Now cum.” Your body responded immediately, tensing then melting into a deep, euphoric state. You were sure to moan loudly, to show him just how good it felt. You have heard him say good again, but your mind was too foggy to be sure. All you know is that he didn’t slap you again, so you must be doing something right.

Feitan pulled out of you quickly, spilling his cum on your ass and back with a low groan. He very much enjoyed when Chrollo gave him jobs like this. “Chrollo will cum inside. And you let him.” You nodded, feeling hazy and spent. Your body collapsed on to the bed as Feitan got up. He tossed a towel at you and told you to clean yourself up. You did your best to wipe his release off yourself as he dressed and disappeared out of the room. 

You were just finished dressing when the door opened again. This time it was your boyfriend. “Chrollo!” you cried out with relief. You ran to him, hugging him tightly. He chuckled lightly; you played right into his plan. He knew Feitan would be rough with you and knew that would make you love his gentleness towards you even more. It was just another way to manipulate you into believing he was a good guy, to make you desperate for his approval.

“My sweet girl,” he hummed rubbing your head. “Feitan said you did good. Just a few more lessons and you’ll be perfect. I'm so proud of you, angel.”

You sniffled. “Really?”

“Of course,” Chrollo replied, giving you a chaste kiss. “I know you must really love me to do this. It makes me so happy. I hope you know I love you, too. All of the is for us, for out relationship.”

Maybe if you weren’t in such as haze you’d realize how ridiculous this all was. Or if you weren't s enamored with him. But both of those things blinded you. “I do love you! I know you love me too. I’ll do anything, I’ll learn fast. I promise.” 

You returned to Feitan’s bed handful of more times over the next few weeks. He taught you to be the perfect lover for Chrollo, someone who submits fully and is eager to please. Overtime you found the lessons to be easier, even enjoyable. Well, maybe that was too strong of a word, but they were pleasurable. Feitan wasn’t gentle with you, but the more you learned and complied, the less he hit or was unnecessarily rough. You couldn’t deny that Feitan knew what he was doing.

Your favorite part, however, was how Chrollo treated you after. You lived for the praise he showered you with, how he kissed and held you. You never once doubted that he loved you, despite handing you over to Feitan. Your hard work paid off when Feitan finally told Chrollo you were ready.

You were a mix of nervous excitement as Chrollo led you to his bedroom. The two of you went out to dinner to celebrate and now it was time to show him you could be the perfect girl for him. You knew Feitan taught you well, but you couldn’t help but be a little nervous.

Chrollo’s lips found yours as you settled into the bed. Your lips moved against his with ease. You parted your mouth slightly, allowing your tongues to swirl together.

“Take your clothes off, my love,” Chrollo whispered in your ear.

“Yes sir,” you replied. You slid out go your dress, letting him admire the lingerie he bought for the occasion.

“All off.”

“Yes sir.”

Your cheeks flushed as you removed the final article of clothings covering you. Chrollo’s gaze was definitely softer than Feitan’s, but it still made your stomach flutter with nerves. You kept a brave face, letting him look without covering anything.

Chrollo smiled. “So beautiful,” he crawled on top of you, kissing your breasts. “My beautiful girl.” He sucked at the skin, in a way that would definitely leave a mark. “And all mine.” He continued kissing, sucking, licking up your chest and neck. You slid your hands through his hair, pressing your body into his touch. Chrollo hummed approvingly. “I allowed Feitan to touch you, but you’re mine. Everyone will know it. You want that right, baby? To be mine?”

“Yes!” you practically cried out as he sucked on a sensitive part of your neck. “’M all yours. Only yours.”

“Good girl,” he purred. He kissed you again as his hand traveled down you body. You slid your thighs open, allowing him access to your throbbing cunt. His fingers slid through you, letting your arousal coat them. “Soaked for me already? Didn’t realize you were so desperate for me.”

“Need you so b-oh,” your sentence died off in a moan as he pressed a finger inside you.

“What's that? I didn’t hear you,” Chrollo mused, pumping his fingers in you. He curled his finger against your sensitive spot, which had you mewling. 

“N-need you so bad!” you cried. His thumb made contact with your clit, making your body jolt. Your thighs instinctively wanted to close from the pleasure, but you kept them open, as you knew he wanted.

“Think I wanna taste this pretty pussy. Would you like that, y/n? What my mouth on your cunt?” Chrollo asked, toying with your pussy.

“Yes sir! Want it, want whatever you want,” you replied breathlessly. 

Chrollo smiled, loving your desperation, how it was clear you would let him do anything he wanted. He laid between your legs, licking a stripe up your pussy. “Mmm, so sweet.” He went straight to your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud. You didn’t stifle your moans at all. Your hands slid through his hair again, running your nails along the scalp. Chrollo let his tongue tease your hole, while his finger took over at your clit. You rolled your hips into him, grinding your pussy against his face just as Feitan told you to. 

Chrollo’s tongue and fingers switched places. He fucked you with his fingers more intensely, giving your pussy a nice stretch.

“P-please, can I cum?” you questioned, trying to desperately to hold on. You did not want to cum before you were allowed. That was a big no.

Chrollo smiled. “Because you asked so nicely.” Your body responded immediately, releasing on his face. Your cried out his name as his tongue flicked your clit through your orgasm. Feitan had made you feel good, but Chrollo made you feel amazing. You knew your love for him made it so much better.

Chrollo sat up, appraising your body. He loved the power of you being naked and him being dressed.  He loved that he could already see bruises forming on your neck. How you already looked fucked out from just his tongue. How you were looking up at him, desperate for more, but waiting for him to tell you what to do. He made a mental note to thank Feitan again.

“Undress me.” 

You complied immediately. “Yes, sir.” Your body was weak from your orgasm, your hands shaking. Chrollo was amused by how your were so desperate for him that you struggled with he buttons on his shirt. You planted kisses down his body as you removed his clothing, another lesson from Feitan. When he was finally naked, you sat back and waited for his instruction.

Chrollo climbed back on top of you and you parted your legs for him dutifully. He teased his type at your hole. “Beg for it.”

“Please Chrollo! Want you so bad,” You begged, “Need you. Only you. Please let me make you feel good!”

Chrollo made a noise of approval. “Such a good girl for me.” He slid his cock into you, making you gasp. He was definitely a little bigger than Feitan, giving you a stretch. He pushed himself in slower than Feitan did, but didn’t give you much time to adjust. He rolled his hips against your yours, his paces quickly increasing. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. His thumb brushed against your lower lip. You parted your lips, allowing him to slip the digit in. You sucked on it, keeping your eyes on his. You could feel Chrollo’s cock throb, egging you on. You began rolling your hips up to meet his, just like Feitan taught you. 

“Fuck, I love you angel,” Chrollo groaned, “Knew you’d be my perfect girl.” He slipped his thumb out of your mouth, but kept his hand wrapped around your throat. You moaned, despite his grip getting tighter around you. That combined with him pounding into your pussy made you teeter close to edge.

“Chrollo I-nngh ‘m close,” you gasped. “Please can I cum?”

Chrollo dipped in to kiss you before responded, “Yes baby. Cum on my cock.” Your head lolled back as your second orgasm flooded your body. His name slipped from your lips in a desperate moan as the pleasure had you seeing stars. Chrollo fucked you through it, your spasming walls eventually pushing him over the edge. He moaned your name - the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard - filling your pussy with his warm release. His final way to fully claim you as his. 

He didn’t pull out even when you both finished, leaning in to kiss you more. “I love you so much, you were so perfect,” he praised between kiss. “And now you’re mine. Forever.” 

[darnell-la]

Knock you up.

word count: 2.2k

pairing: perv!delusional!Eddie Munson x innocent!bratty!reader

warning: CNC, hair pulling, choking, stalking, perving, angry/hard sex, whining, defenseless, mention of drugging reader, non-con-face cuming while sleeping, age gap, etc.

WE DO NOT CONSENT TO ANY COPIES OF OUR STORIES!

————————————————————————

3rd person pov

God knows Eddie is a sick bastard. Never a day in his life since 9th grade has he not jerked off to some random thought or woman. Usually, it would be y/n. The girl he’s been crushing on since she started high school.

Munson was a senior when y/n arrived at the school. She was the cutest little thing he’d ever seen. The way she dressed, the way she looked and all the way up to the way she acted was perfect to him.

She wasn’t a child, and she was pretty mature for her age. The only thing about her that makes Eddie a creep, is how innocent she looks.

Y/n seems like a girl who wouldn’t drink unnecessarily, have unnecessary sex, miss classes or school, or do anything Eddie might have done his first year in school.

The innocent girl is now a senior and in the same class as Eddie. He’s failed 3 times, but this year has to be his last. He has to go wherever y/n plans to. He can’t just let her go.

All the years of walking past y/n and occasionally hanging out with her, he could never get her to feel as comfortable around him as he wanted.

Maybe that was his fault though, because he’d always pressured the poor girl to smoke with him, knowing she’d knock out every time.

He hadn’t used her body like he’d dreamed of when she would be knocked out, but he definitely did jerk off until he came on her face. He’d slip her tiny skirts up to take a smell of that cunt.

He could never get passed that point. Not even to free her tits or maybe eat her till she cums because he’d cum just from the smell of her.

After all these years of uncomfortable situations, y/n decided to tell Eddie, their senior year, that she was moving in different directions of friends. She offered to hang out occasionally, but he didn’t like that.

Eddie threw a fit and her neck ended up wrapped in his hand. He said some very nasty things, rather that was calling her “My fucking slut,” or saying “If you keep makin’ me wait, I’ll take it from you,”.

This was a couple of months ago, and since then, y/n hasn’t spoken a word to him. She can’t look at him or talk about him. He’s done too much.

“Y/n, just talk to me! I-It’s been so long,” Eddie stalked behind y/n as she walked through this surprisingly big school. “I don’t want to, Eds,” she said as she began walking up the stairs.

“Please, princess, I’m sorry, okay? I really am, I just- I just needed you,” Eddie said, aching that his baby girl couldn’t even look into his eyes. “Why do you need me? You’re like 21 Eddie. I just turned 18,” y/n rolled her eyes as she hit the top of the stairs.

Of course, y/n had a crush on Eddie since she was a freshman, but over time, she’s met other people. She’s never gone far because she’s had this voice in her mind saying Eddie. She could only be for Eddie.

Now that her feelings died down, she’s been getting better with letting these college boys make out with her. Maybe even finger her, but she’s never given to them or had sex.

Eddie of course knows about this, which makes him furious. She’s never told him about her feelings, but it’s not hard to see a shy girl.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that. We both know you love that. I’m mature and strong and can take so good care of you,” Eddie kept following the girl. She’s just trying to get to her class. She can’t have this conversation right now.

“I don’t need to take care of Eddie! I’m an adult,” y/n grew annoyed. “You’re not a fucking adult! You’re still going and need protecting,” Eddie’s delusional thoughts got out.

“Fuck off, Munson,” y/n finally got out. Eddie’s face and attitude about this situation, change right after her response to him pouring his heart out. This fucking brat.

Eddie quickly ran up behind y/n and grabbed her, causing her books to fall out of her hand. “Eddie, what the hell! Get off of me!” She yelled as she fought. They went at him for quite some time, but sadly, her bag ended up on the floor and she ended up pinned against the lockers by her neck.

“Calm down!” Eddie huffed in her face. As much as he loves the fight, he wants to set her straight. “Eddie, stop,” y/n whined as she kicked, but that didn’t bother him. “Stop it, y/n,” he moved his head inches away from her face, but she wouldn’t listen. She’s just acting up!

Eddie pulled her off of the locker and then slammed her back into it, knocking the wind out of her. “You do this do yourself. It’s all you! If you would just shut up, keep your head down, and listen, you’d be fine,” Eddie’s mind started racing.

“But no. You walk around her, actin’ single and open when you’re not. I fucking calmed you! I came on your pretty little face every chance I got. You’re marked,” Eddie spilled his secrets.

“N-No,” y/n didn’t believe him. “Oh, yes, and I think you I would. Just look at me, baby,” Eddie said as he began slowly grinding himself on her. She moved her face to the side after his lips touched hers, but that didn’t stop him from moving back into her face.

“You do something to me, and you know it. That’s why you let me hang out with you at such a young age. You’re a fucking tease, and you’ve been teasing me for far too long,” Eddie said

Seconds later, Eddie threw the poor girl to the ground. She’s been such a brat. She needs to be taught. He can’t go through this life of not stuffing her like one of her stuffed animals.

“Eddie, we’re at school!” Y/n yelled whispered as she tried backing up, but he soon got on top of her. “Good. Let them watch me take your innocence. Let them see that the freak is the only one to fill this bratty cunt,” Eddie whispered in her ear before tugging at her clothes.

Eddie turned the poor girl around, hurting her knees, but he couldn’t care less. He’ll take care of her when he takes her home.

Y/n begged, hoping no one would hear them and come out to see this mess, but him on the other hand. He wants that. He wants them to watch her so corrupted on his cock. They need to see.

“Please, Eddie,” y/n’s eyes began to water. She should have known this would happen. She’s even dreamt and prayed for something like this to happen years ago, but now, she doesn’t know. Does she still feel the same?

“Fucking Christ, y/n. You’re such a fucking hassle,” Eddie forced the weak girl's skirt to her mid-through. “These fucking panties don’t make this better,” Eddie chuckled, seeing how puffy her cunt was. Her pretty wet cunt.

“I’m gonna fuck into this pretty thing while you keep it down. All you gotta do, baby, is keep it down,” Eddie whispered in the girl's ear as he slowly pulled her panties to the side.

He’s always wanted to fuck her in her uniform. After she made the cheer team, he just had to fuck her in this outfit.

“D-Don’t touch there,” y/n stuttered as Eddie reached into his jeans. “Oh, baby — You know I’ll do more than just touch you,” Eddie stroked his already so painfully hard cock. So painful.

“I’m gonna rip you in two in these high school hallways,” Eddie said before spitting in his hand to get himself wet. She’s wet enough, but he can’t take his time fucking her. He’s already around the corner from cuming.

“You ready baby?” Eddie asked, which remained y/n, she didn't even fight anymore. “No!” She began moving and giving Eddie a he’d time, once again hoch pissed him off quickly.

“Fuck, y/n! You’re so damn hardheaded!” Eddie grabbed the fighting girl's head, making her arch her back. “Ow!” Y/n whined. Eddie brought a heavy hand to her ass, slapping it a few times to shut her up.

“If you keep fuckin’ with me, I’ll give you a harder time at my house. Trust me, you will not handle a cock in your ass,” Eddie threatened. The girl didn’t completely stop fighting back, but she did calm down. She still whined, knowing she couldn’t stop this. Apart from her doesn’t want to stop it.

“Good girl,” Eddie Said as he slowly began pushing into the whining girl. “Agh, fuck! Fuck, you’re s-so fucking tight,” Eddie slightly moaned as he got deeper and deeper into her.

Y/n’s legs began to shake as the taller dude began thrusting his hips. “Yeah, just like that,” Eddie slowly moved in and out of y/n as she shook uncontrollably with her sweetest whines.

“So fucking wet, baby. I could drink you for days,” Eddie said in her ear as her clot began to swell. “Eddie,” she whined, eyes rolled back and fucked out like he wanted her. He’s waited so long to see his princess like this.

“Mhm, you like it? Like went Eddie fucks his cock into your innocent pussy?” Eddie kept his mouth so close to her ear as she slowly began rocking her hips back. “Yeah — So fucking desperate for a cock. Always knew you were a slut. Fuckin’ told ya,” Eddie spoke as he sped up.

“Aah!” Y/n moaned, trying to keep herself down as her cunt got louder and Eddie’s thrust got more aggressive. He wants to risk it all. “C’mon, baby! Let it out. They then hear you,” Eddie encouraged as he pulled her head back more.

“Let it out!” He demands with a slap on her bare ass. “No!” Y/n still thought she had a say in anything. “You’re gonna regret it,” Eddie growled in her ear before pushing her face to the ground.

The huge man kept a hand on her face, causing her back to arch then grabbed her waist. With that, he began to fuck into her inexperienced cunt like a fuck doll. He has to do it. He gave her no choice.

“Fuck, Eddie!” She cried out as her ass clapped back into Eddie’s. “Yeah,” Eddie growled, losing control of the way he fucks into her. He almost forgot she hadn’t done this before.

“Want me to slow down? Is my cock too much for your fucked our cunt?” Eddie asked as he leaned closer to her face. “Want daddy to hurry up and breed this little pussy, and make you his little girl forever?” Eddie asked Y/n, knowing she couldn’t respond back. He’s so good at this.

“Yeah, I know you do. You wanna be trapped with me. Want me to knock you up on school grounds for everyone to see,” Eddie felt himself getting close as y/n whined at the twitch of his cock.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie’s voice cracked as he slammed into her cunt to make her feel it all. She didn’t know how, but just at that, she came. She couldn’t hold it anymore. She tried her best, but she had to let it go.

“Ah huh! Ah huh!” Eddie’s thrusts stuttered until he finally buried himself so deep, he was sure she’d become pregnant. “Oh fuuck!” Eddie groans loudly, surprised that no one has come out yet.

“Oh my god,” y/n moaned as her juice leaned all over her skirt. “Oh fuck,” Eddie chuckled, feeling his cock twitching in her walls. He knows he’s not as empty as he wants to be. As soon as he takes her home, he’ll empty the rest.

“Fuck,” y/n whined low as Eddie slowly pulled out and y/n’s lower body slumped on the ground at how weak she was. Eddie admired the cum leaking out of her plumped cunt. He even thought about eating her out.

“P-Please,” y/n aimlessly said, so fucked out, she will not be able to walk. “I know, baby. It’s a lot. But remember how bad you were. You don’t get to rest today,” Eddie said in her ear.

Eddie fixed y/n and himself up before pulling y/n to her feet slowly. “You’re coming home with me, okay?” Eddie asked. “Okay,” y/n said low, wanting all this taking care of that he mentioned. “Good answer, princess,” Eddie kissed the girl's cheek.

After coming home from a long fuck session in the middle of their school hallway, Eddie couldn’t help himself. He let hit sweet girl rest next to him on his bed after he cleaned her up.

She begged him too much for him to say no. Y/n surpassingly gave him a peck, causing his eyes to water. He finally made it. All the days he’s stalked, perved, and even punished her not too long ago, he made it to the point he wanted to get to. Which is with her forever.

[thxliaaa]

it changes everything | steve harrington

synopsis - before you and steve divorced, you found out you were pregnant with his baby but didn’t tell him because you didn’t want it to influence his decision about the divorce. 

pairing - steve harrington x reader 

genre - angst. secret pregnancy trope ;)

warning/s - mentions of pregnancy, blood, miscarriage, divorce, fighting. 

author’s note - japril’s divorce broke my heart, they deserved better &lt;3

based on one of the scenes from grey’s anatomy 

also i’m so sorry for the steve only content. I've been obsessed with him these past few days. i promise to post about the other characters soon so stay tuned. 

ps. in this imagine, the younger group is like 15-16 whereas the older group is like 25-26

part two

masterlist | join my taglist

The day you got married to Steve was the happiest day of your life. At first, everything was perfect. Both of you never left the honeymoon phase. Sure, the two of you might have arguments every now and then, but it was nothing major. You always knew that Steve wanted six babies, and the thought of it never fails to bring a smile to your face. However, when the two of you started trying for a baby, that’s when everything started to fall apart. 

Test after test, everything would always result in a negative one. You were getting weary of expecting something big, yet get nothing in return. Steve would always comfort you after everything even though he too was getting exhausted of being optimistic thinking that one day two lines might appear on your pregnancy test. That was until one night. 

Seeing two lines in the pregnancy test in your hand, you were ecstatic about this. You were finally gonna be a mother. When you told Steve about the good news over dinner, he was overjoyed. A tiny blob was finally growing inside of you. 

Steve was protective over you, he would never let you do simple things by yourself, he would always insist on doing it for you. You two were happy. But as they all say, everything good must come to an end. 

One night, you had just finished doing the dishes until you started to feel something running down your thighs. You went to the bathroom to check on it, and you saw blood. You started to feel pain on your lower abdomen, and in that moment, you knew something was wrong.

You grabbed the telephone that was on the bathroom counter and quickly dialed Steve. Once he answered, you told him about the predicament that you were in. "Steve, I'm bleeding so much right now"

As you said those words, Steve wasted no second at all and rushed to see his boss and told him about your current situation. Once he was permitted to go, he went to his car then started driving as fast as he could.

When he got home, he saw you lying on the floor with blood surrounding you. He quickly picked you up then started driving to the hospital to get you the help you needed.

Once he got there, he fought with the nurse just to make sure you get the medical attention you needed, and as soon as a doctor got to you, his hands ran through his hair because of worry and sat down. He was worried about you. 

As soon as you woke up, you were greeted with bad news. You had lost the baby. The good news didn’t even seem like good news to you, the thought about you losing your baby was the only thing on your mind right now. Why was life so unfair? You’ve done everything right, yet you get this in return? Everything felt like a fever dream. 

Weeks had passed and you shut everyone out. You knew Steve was trying hard to cheer you up, but even he had to fight his own battles with his own demons. Trying to conceive a baby was hard enough, but losing the baby you had tried so hard to create was even harder. You felt as if a part of you died that day. 

Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The pain was unbearable. Every night, you would cry yourself to sleep with Steve hearing your soft sobs as he tried to console you, but nothing helped. 

Steve has had enough one day so he decided to confront you about it. “When are you gonna move one, (Y/N)?” 

You turned to look at him in disbelief. Was he really asking you this question right now? Is he that insensitive that even you miscarrying was nothing to him? 

“When I’m ready, Steve” You scoffed. “We’ve been trying for months and having the thing we tried so hard to get stripped away from us is hard for me” You added. 

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “I can’t believe you right now. Do you think this isn’t hard for me?” 

“I lost a child too, (Y/N)!” He exclaimed. “The best thing you can do right now is at least help yourself accept that it happened.” Steve added. 

“I can’t help you all the time, honey. It’s time you accept that our baby is gone.” He stepped closer towards you as he hugged you. “We can try again, (Y/N). We can always try again”

You closed your eyes as you sighed. “I know, it’s just that this is hard for me. I’m sorry, Steve” 

“I know, baby. Let’s just stay like this for a while” And that was what you did. 

Though that small talk may have worked a little, you still shut everyone around you out. Sure, you and Steve had your little arguments every now and then, but it was nothing major. However, Steve started to drift away from you. 

You started to notice this because of the way he acted. He became colder than usual and whenever you would ask him about his day, he would always respond with “It's nothing, just the usual” everyday. The consequences of your actions had finally started to show. 

So, you tried to be better, day by day, you picked yourself up piece by piece. You weren’t fully healed, but you were definitely better than before. Realizing that there’s no point in crying over something that happened, you decided to accept what had happened to you and let your baby move on to a better place. 

One night, when Steve got home, he went to the master bedroom to rest. You were building up the courage to tell him that you were ready to try again, but you were scared. Sitting down on the cold bathroom floor, tears started rolling down your face. Thoughts started filling your head. “What if this won’t work and we fail trying to conceive a baby again?” “What if it was a success yet you miscarry again?” 

Still, you ignored those negative thoughts and wiped the tears off of your face. You finally worked up the courage to tell Steve that you were ready to try again. Walking into the bedroom, you saw Steve laying down on the bed as he was watching TV. 

When you entered, he glanced at you for a second then back at the TV again. “Steve” you said softly as he turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“I think I’m ready to try again” 

“What?” He asked as you repeated what you had said. “I said, I think I’m ready to try again for a baby” You sat down on the bed beside him as he did the same thing. 

“Are you sure? I’m not pressuring you to do so. I’m ready whenever you’ll be ready” He said as he held your hand in his. “I’m ready now, Steve” 

“Are you sure?” He looked into your eyes as you nodded in return. His hands were on your face as he pulled you in for a passionate kiss. 

And you spent your entire night making love with him for the first time in months. 

The predicament did not change, even after trying and trying, you still were getting negative results back. You were getting pessimistic again. 

With that, the two of you started drifting away from each other often burying yourselves with work to avoid interacting with each other. If you did talk, it would only be an exchange of 2-3 words. It turns out that you weren’t the only one who noticed this, Steve did too, and he decided to do something about it. 

One night, you and Steve were eating dinner in silence after work, only the sound of utensils filled the air. That was until Steve finally spoke. 

“I want to get a divorce” 

The clattering of your utensils stopped at his remark. You raised your head to look at him only to see him already looking at you. “Why?” you let out softly. 

“Because it’s not the same anymore, I miss the old us. But we both know that’s not gonna happen again” He stated. “What would happen if we tried again and again and got the same results every time? Would you still act the same as you did before? Would you let me pick you up over and over again?” He asked. 

“I’m getting tired too, (Y/N). I think it’s best if we go our separate ways” He said. 

You were stunned and stayed still in your position. You knew that he was right, and you didn’t bother fighting him. Tears just started rolling down your face as you let out a soft “Ok” in agreement with what he said. Steve’s heart broke at the sight of you, but he knew that this decision was for the best. 

That was until you started experiencing pregnancy symptoms. Nausea, sensitive to certain smells, and most importantly, your period was late. Other things could’ve been the cause of it too, but you knew that it would be better to know if it was what you think it was. 

You bought a pregnancy stick from a store, and as soon as you got home, you peed on it. Two lines appeared on it. You were pregnant. Joy was the only emotion you had right now. But it was soon replaced with sadness. 

You wanted to tell Steve so badly, but you knew that if you did, it would change his perspective on the divorce. You didn’t want him to stay with you just because of your baby, you believed that two people should stay together because they love each other, not because of a child. So, you decided not to tell him about it. 

The divorce did happen after a few weeks, and Steve let you have the house. Your morning sickness wasn’t getting any better. 

When you were walking around the mall to find baby items. You saw Steve and another girl with him. They were holding hands and kissing every now and then. You couldn’t help but feel jealous. That used to be you and him. But, you just ignored them and continued shopping. 

This secret was getting too heavy for you to hold on to so you had decided to tell your bestfriend, Robin. 

You, Steve, and Robin were close since high school and up till now. Robin was the first one to know about the divorce before you told the others about it. And now, Robin would be the first one to know about your secret pregnancy with yours and Steve’s baby. 

Once you told Robin about the news, she was so excited to find out that she was going to be an aunt. She caressed your belly as she started talking to the baby inside of you. 

“So how far along are you?” She asked. You sighed, “I haven’t gone to the doctor ever since I found out about this. The only time I went was to find out if I really was pregnant or not” You replied. 

“What? That’s nuts! You should go to the doctor to at least find out if the baby is healthy or not!” She exclaimed. “No! I won’t go to the doctor, not until I finish my first trimester. I’m scared that I’m gonna miscarry again. So no, I won’t go and nothing you say will make me change my decision about it” You fought back. 

“(Y/N) that’s dumb! You need to go to the doctor!” 

“Enough! I will go when I end my first trimester and my decision is final” You replied back as you slumped in your seat. Robin didn’t put up any more fight with you, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to change your mind about it, so she decided to go to the person she knew who could maybe help. 

You always had game nights on Fridays at Nancy and Jonathan’s place. They got married a few months after you and Steve did. This would be the first time you'd face Steve after your divorce. 

Everyone except you was already there when Steve had arrived. He greeted everyone in the room until Robin pulled him aside into the kitchen to talk with him. 

“So, how are you Steve?” Robin asked as Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you asking me that in general or is it about the divorce?” He queried. 

“Uhh, both?” Robin smiled awkwardly as Steve raised one of his eyebrows at her. “Well I’m good in general and I’m doing well after the divorce. I’ve been seeing other people now”

“Wow that didn’t take long at all” Robin scoffed as Steve defended himself “Hey, Hey! It’s been a few weeks since the divorce, okay?” 

“I waited and did not get right into it unlike other people” He added as she sighed at her friend. “Ok that’s good. I need to go now” She said but Steve pulled her back before she could even go. 

“How’s (Y/N) doing?” He asked worried about his ex-wife. “She’s doing good” Robin replied hesitantly before facing Steve.

Robin took a deep breath before telling Steve the truth that her best friend hid from him. Something that haunted her every single night debating whether or not to tell Steve about it. “(Y/N)’s pregnant” 

Steve stood there dumbfounded from what Robin had revealed to him. “It's yours, and she’s refusing to go to the doctor and I need you to convince her to go because she won’t. She just won’t go.”

Just as soon as he was about to reply, the front door opened revealing you. “So, I forgot to bring something but I ordered pizza, and I- Ooh is that Nancy’s cupcakes I smell? I need to have a taste of that” you giggle as you remove your shoes. 

Steve walked towards you furious that you kept your pregnancy from him. “Oh hi” you smiled at him, but he didn’t return the smile back. 

“Since when did you know?” He asked. “What do you mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Since when did you know you were pregnant?” 

You froze. Robin told him about it. You turned to face Robin who was behind Steve with a worried look on her face. “You told him about this?” you exclaimed at her. 

“She did, but that’s not the point. You told Robin and not me?” He asked. “I don’t have time for this right now Steve” 

“Then when do you have time? Were you even planning on telling me about this?” He raised his voice at you. Everyone’s eyes were now at the both of you. “Steve, please don’t. Not here, not right now.” 

“You had enough time to tell me about this even before the divorce. You don’t think a pregnancy would have affected my decision to go forward with a divorce?” He asked

“I knew it would! But you didn’t want to stay with me!” You exclaimed. “People should stay married because they love each other, not because of a baby!” you added. 

“You think I want you to stay for my baby–” “Our baby” “And have you hating me for the rest of my life?” you argued with him. 

You and Steve continued to exchange more words until Nancy pulled you two apart from each other. “Hey, stop this now! There are teenagers watching you guys. Settle this some other time." She said.

The two of you were now staring at each other furiously. “This doesn’t change anything, Steve” 

Steve scoffed, “You’re right, it changes everything!” He replied as he went out and slammed the door on you. 

You stood there by the door, loss of words. The one person you trusted had revealed your secret, your ex-husband practically hates you now, you were embarassed that the others had to witness your fight with Steve.

And then, everything turned black.

taglist:

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[selarina]

This is Part 2 because you guys asked

This florist guy is a peculiar lanky character, who later revealed himself as Gojo Satoru, who is apparently the son of a rich guy, the grandson a rich guy. He descended from a whole lineage of rich men and women, and so, it seemed particularly odd that this scion of affluence was was cooped up in a barely running florist shop.

So, you didn’t end up texting the guy after he cheekily slipped his number on the card but you did get rather… intrigued?

There’s something so strange and unreal about him. Apart from the oddity, the lankiness, the outright boldness that could only be a result of a privileged upbringing, he’s also interested in you — and boldly so. It’s never truly happened to you before, even your current boyfriend took about 6 whole months of weighing out the pros and cons before asking you out. It feels nice, you do suppose.

You’re lounging on your bed, the red roses from the shop lying beside you on your bed table almost dead from the rejection of the apology you gave. And honestly, you thought not to put waste to such pretty flower. You intended to put it into a vase or an empty bottle but you never ended up doing it. It’s funny how you’ve managed to neglect them over the past few days. It seems like a cruelly fitting metaphor of your relationship.

you: remember that florist guy

yue: sighh

yue: yeah you haven’t shut up about him all week if you haven’t noticed

you: shut up i only mentioned him like twice

you: anyway

you: i’m pretty sure he told me he wished my boyfriend died

yue: WHAT

yue: he’s just like me fr <3

You sighed. He is just like her. She’s never liked your boyfriend and saw right through him to be the facade of a temporary high school relationship based on nothing but superficial optics that would hurt at least one of you on the way.

But now, at the very least, she felt safe knowing it won’t be you, regardless of how cruel and selfish that may be. She always prioritised only the people around her. It’s something you admire about her, you wish you could care about the people around you as much as she did.

You mulled over the prospect of texting the florist, Gojo Satoru. For starters, he’s clearly interested in you, and you’re clearly in an odd limbo of a relationship and the ethics of that are well… pretty grey. And also, he came off strong, bold and you’re just meh. The first taste of your bitter sweetness and he’ll run.

A week passes, the withering roses sit comfortably at the bottom of your trash bin, amid ruffled paper, tissues and other junk alike. You stil find yourself thinking about Gojo Satoru, pondering whether you should send him a message.

If he's going to run away, you reasoned, you don't see the harm. Well, you do see the harm for your current relationship but again, he's going to run. So, it doesn't truly matter. So, you text him.

---

A week elapsed, and you received no text back, it started to eat you alive just a bit. The single checkmark next to your message mocked you every time you opened the chat. Did he give you a dead phone number? Was he just being nice?

It's all too odd, and the memory of you meeting the guy starts to feel like something you made up. You try not to dwell on it much, focusing on school, chores, sports, friends. Yet, after exhausting these distractions, you found yourself lying in bed, bones growing drowsy, thinking and dreaming about the man.

So, several days later, you do something slightly insane. Some might argue it was the most sane course of action, namely... Yue. But who cares? You're the only one here to judge.

You really, truly do not have interest in him but you do find yourself slowly taking the long route back home, walking past the flower shop every chance you get this week. But you always made sure to maintain a distance, choosing to walk on the other side of road, because like you said before — you aren't interested, just curious really.

And it would truly insane if this meant anything because he's just some guy you met while buying roses for your boyfriend.

You start to notice the little things about the shop itself — how it seems perpetually quiet, how the flowers displayed outside changing is the only sign of it being active, and then you eventually manage to catch a glimpse of Satoru inside, tending to the blooms like he's a practiced still from a movie.

You started to wonder if he was purposefully ignoring you. His quaint and unpopular shop always seemed devoid of customers. What did he do with all his time? From all the times you have crossed past the shop, not a single one of these instances has had any customers in them.

And one day, you decide to finally go back into the shop. No excuses prepared, you decide to make it all up as you go.

"Thought you'd never come in," he greeted you with a grin, leaning casually against the counter as if posing for a photograph.

You turned to scan every corner of the shop, checking to see if anyone else was present, reluctant to divulge your teenage romantic conundrum to an audience.

But to your relief, the shop was empty, save for the two of you.

You turned back to Satoru, noticing how his signature black sunglasses lay perched on the bridge of his nose. That's another one of those unusual things you've noticed about him, how he's always wearing his glasses.

One day you got late at school, having stayed back to hang some posters, so when you walked back you noticed the man still donning his glasses, even though the night had already set itself in the sky. You didn't understand why he would wear them. Perhaps, he has an eye condition.

"So, you didn't reply to my text," you say, striving for a casual tone as you pocketed your hands and approached the counter. You try to ignore the implications of him knowing you were walking past here all week.

He doesn't say anything, tilting his head, before he startles you by taking off into the backroom.

You wait there, confused, staring at the silent flowers beside you, as you wait and you wait.

He reemerged with a bag, rummaging through it for something? His phone, maybe?

Yes, his phone. "Right! Sorry! Sorry, I had my phone off," he explained, his eyes focused on his loading phone.

"You have one... right here," you remarked, removing your hand from your pocket and pointing at another phone resting on the counter.

He chuckles, "Huh, yeah. I do have another phone, but that's more for business stuff. My personal phone is the one you texted," he clarified, nodding toward the device in his hands.

"I see," you replied plainly, slipping your hand back into your pocket.

"I'm sorry for not responding. How about I make it up to you over some Mochi?" he grins. "Today? Right now?"

"Whoa, hold on. I didn't agree to go on a date with you. Remember, I have a boyfriend," you reminded him.

"Right," he grits with restrained chuckle. "Well, I didn't ask you out on a date. Just Mochi."

You can't help but raise an eyebrow at his response, amused by his persistence.

"Just Mochi, huh? Are you always this forward with all your customers?" you tease, finding yourself intrigued by him and all his boldness and audacity.

"Well, you're not really a customer today. Unless, you want to buy me flowers before our date?" he grins, abandoning his apron, as he comes from behind the counter.

"Hey! I said this wasn't a date," you find yourself yelling back at him, leaving only a slew of chortles as a response from him.

[cloveroctobers]

FEBRUARY FLUFF — CARMY BERZATTO.

A/N: so carmy won this time around!!! Thanks to all those that voted and ultimately made this decision for me lol. Hope you guys enjoy this and have a safe, healthy, and happy love season 🩷 + yes this is a mixture of fluff and angst...i mean come on! I wouldn't be me if i didn't include that in here somewhere!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 1. “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.” “What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?”  + always giving the other the first bite of their food < or the last.

WARNINGS/SN: I wrote with a black or brown reader in mind although reader isn't physically described + they’re given a name only when mentioned, language is a thing here duh!, this is LENGTHY, lots of timelines: reader + nat became friendly before season 1 during the summer prior to 7 fishes which is estimated to be five years before season 2, reader knows of carmy due to past work, I feel like she can be just a few year(s) older than carmy but younger than nat—there’s a age gap for the Berzatto’s anyways, sexual relations are mentioned, this piece takes place months after the grand opening, & finally there’s a possible chance for a poly relationship or maybe just multiple crushes going on? Take that how you will.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

it was a Sunday.

The kind of Sunday you woke up embarrassed about but knew you had to swallow your pride and just send out that text. You knew you wouldn’t be judged regardless reaching out to Fak because he’s built to deal with things like this and never made you feel like shit about anything.

You usually had to squeeze it out of him to get him to lay out any cons about a situation but appreciated most times when he didn’t. Your minds been going haywire with a recent assignment as a food journalist and it really slipped your mind, although you were usually a quick thinker, you’ve been stressed over this recent restaurant. Thankfully it clicked for you after throwing a tantrum to simply reach out to Fak to come help you out.

The stupid lever in your bathroom decided to stop flushing on you and of course you panicked. Who wouldn’t panic in a situation like that? You no longer had a roommate and strongly debated if you even wanted to search for another; after the shady actions of the previous one, so you really didn’t have to worry about them giving you shit either. (Let’s see if your rent feels the same next month!)

It was just you in the end and perhaps you were learning to be okay with that.

Yet that didn’t stop you from FaceTiming Sydney about it. “Hey Siddy, how’s your day going?”

“Pretty good, yours?” She politely asked as she moved down the hallway of her shared apartment to prop her phone on the pedestal sink, moving around her functioning bathroom to grab some oil to grease her scalp.

Smacking your lips you glare, “it fucking sucks.”

“Oh?” Sydney questioned, appearing back in frame, “what happened? Did someone egg and scratch up your car again after a review you gave them? Noo wait, don’t tell me there’s a bullet hole?!”

That was light work compared to New York (it really wasn’t a competition of which state had its worst moments but your home state left you kinda triggered, not gonna lie!) where you were just starting off and those that were in tune with the culinary world didn’t take your words with a grain of salt. Most nights you still woke up gasping for air, reaching for your throat due to some trauma of a break in from a well-known nepo-baby chef. Don’t get that twisted, your mom didn’t raise no punk but that didn’t mean those events didn’t mess with your mental and you acknowledged that every time you had a nightmare. They only served three years and five months compared to the original five year sentence.

Ah the system…got to love how that works out for the privileged!

You shrugged, “no…the threats have been pretty tame lately so I can give myself a pat on the back for that. However! I still am in a crisis.”

Sydney begins to move her braids around to expose her scalp, “Elaborate for me.”

“My toilet won’t flush!” You whine, laying flat on your messy bed. You tended to not make your bed on Saturdays and didn’t get around to making it today—although it was after 3pm.

Sydney asks, “Like the waste won’t go down…?”

“Exactly!” You confirm throwing your arm over your eyes dramatically, “The lever thing is moving like my old dislocated shoulder.”

Sydney gags, “don’t fucking remind me of that day. That was spooky to witness but I am glad you healed from that.”

“Thanks girl, means a lot, truly.”

Sydney gives a small smile, “don’t mention it…have you considered YouTubing it? That’s what I do when I don’t want to ask anyone for help and figure it out by myself.”

You hummed knowing this was true. In a sense you could be like that too, especially when it came to the working field, since writers can tend to be some nasty bitches and always in rivalry with each other. You made a name for yourself in Chicago as well, coming from New York where you worked just as hard-maybe even harder than the rest to mean and write exactly how you felt about cuisine, regardless if anyone agreed or not. It wasn’t about if people liked you, the relationship with food would always be more significant and hold value in your life, just like the rest of these chef’s you encountered and you got that, people were allowed to be sensitive about their work. You’ve come toe to toe with many chef’s around the world who didn’t like your take on their craft but that didn’t mean you didn’t understand them. They hardly took the time to really dive into your ratings and automatically took it as you shit talking or not having any idea what you were saying since you “weren’t really a chef,” but you knew your worth most days.

Yes you could be straight forward but that didn’t mean you lacked compassion like some chef’s liked to think according to your reviews. You often wrote in a way that was puzzling to some, almost philosophical or riddle like with your own twist. Some just didn’t get it and that was okay but you wouldn’t back down from any confrontation. The second they didn’t want to really listen, that’s when you removed yourself from the escalating problem. It didn’t have to get violent like some wanted to inflict.

“Why didn’t I think of that?!” You exasperated, slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead.

Sydney snorted, “maybe because you’re under a lot of pressure lately and the most simplest of things don’t come as easily as they should.”

“You would think I have high blood pressure with the way these past two weeks have been.”

Sydney says, “give it time.”

“Gee, thanks! That’s exactly the kind of shit I want to hear from you.” You roll your eyes at the blurt of words that commonly escaped the braided girl’s mouth.

Sydney breathes out a laugh, “I’m just joking!”

“Yeah, yeah! Maybe I should text fak back and tell him not to come by!”

“You asked fak instead of the apartment manager?” Sydney is in amazement.

“Fuck that noise, he’s so full of shit that he should see a doctor about it. He’ll show up to analyze the problem, then acts like he’s going to fit you into the schedule and then when you catch him in the lobby he pretends that he has amnesia.” You commented with a scowl.

You get ready to minimize the call to text fak but some obnoxious knocks at the door made you pop up from your bed. “That was fast!”

Hopping up from the bed and padding out of the last bedroom in the apartment, you made the journey through the foyer to the awaiting black front door. Peeking through the peephole you spot Fak grinning widely up into it, almost making you jump back.

“He’s made it Siddy! I’ll call you back!”

“K. Good luck!” Sydney calls out before you end the call to pull the door wide open.

“Neil!” You scream, quickly latching onto his tatted wrist ready to yank him in until you notice someone else is with him, “…why is he here?” You point.

Fak quickly glances over at a brimmed Carmy who raised a brow at him in a silent told you so manner, “I mean we were having a boy’s day when you called and I didn’t want my buddy to be left out. Plus, it’s always great to have some assistance.”

“…i find it hard to believe that Carmen wants to fix my toilet.” You cross your arms, poking out your hip as you stare at him.

Carmen shrugs his shoulders, “I wanted to wait in the car if it makes you feel any better.”

“Hmm…it doesn’t.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose briefly in agitation, “you know what, fak you’ve got this right? I know you do so—

“Nope!” Fak quickly interrupts, “this maybe a two person job so aspie if you just let us do what we came to do—

Shooting an arm out to block the doorway you peer into Fak’s dark teal eyes to show you mean business, “didn’t I say I dislike that nickname, Neil?”

He nods.

“Also i find it offensive that you brought an uninvited guest to my place.”

“Just be glad it wasn’t Richie because that was also a possibility before he ran off to pick up the kid.” Carmy snaps making you roll your eyes.

If Richie was here you been would have slammed the door in both Fak and his face. Sure you had some sort of tension with Carmy and beef with .......his cousin but at least Carmy only gave it back to you when he had the energy to—meaning if he was already on one. The issue was simple, you wrote a not so nice review once before when the eldest berzatto, Michael was alive and running the joint. Richie couldn’t forget that and actually kept the clipping, yes the clipping of the review way back when. He had the receipts to show Carmy and Carmy actually brushed it off then, not seeming to really care or doubt some of the words that were said.

He came to revamp the place because Mikey left it for him, to fix the mess his big brother left behind, to create what they’ve always dreamed of. Sure he got shit for it in the beginning and part of him felt like maybe that was your case too? He could relate to you on that, yet the weight was slightly different on his part and he even spoke with you not long after he found those tomato cans.

That gave him a certain push he couldn’t really explain. He may have done a brief dive on you, wondering why you felt acquainted to him—completely forgetting about seeing you once around Noma—choosing to start with reading previous reviews by you on other restaurants here in Chicago and a few interviews you’ve done over the world. You weren’t just some nobody, you held your titles well and it reflected in your work.

You weren’t clueless.

He just didn’t really know what he was dealing with until a short time ago.

What he didn’t expect was for you to show up again on opening night with a certain head chef, also from New York. That made carmy more anxious than anything, seeing you sitting beside that four eyed fuck ready to set off a tornado in the heart of the bear. Was that your motive all along? With carmy attempting to build a bridge, not for you to kiss his ass with praise but there was a odd need to have a simple conversation with you. It was weird but it seemed like Sydney, Fak, and Nat liked you?

The jury was still out with the rest—except Richie but you were a mystery to Carmy. However carmy wasn’t the best at putting a read on people or their emotions in the first place, he was good at fucking that up unless you’re screaming it into his face. That’s just how he operated.

“You two can come in—only because I don’t have the patience with the manager here and Neil’s the best I’m gonna get.” You state while fak slaps a hand on his chest.

“That was really sweet, Aspen.” Fak cooed ready to pull you into a bone crushing hug but you hold up a finger.

“Save the hugs until after you fix my problem.”

“You got it boss,” Fak salutes before diving under your arm to travel through your apartment, ooo-ing and ah-ing before finding the bathroom around the corner from the living room.

Sighing you drop your arm and wave carmy through, who keeps his view straight while traveling through the hallway. You call out to him, “you can have a seat on the couch.”

“What? Did you drop a load or something and is that the real reason why you don’t want me to help Fak?” Carmy comes right out with it, nose twitching in amusement after whipping around to face you in the center of the living room.

See…only when he’s frustrated or overly focused will he just let it out. Some may look at this as Carmy attempting to make a joke but you took that somewhat personally. The only thing you were thinking after he said this was: What an ego on this one huh?

You stop on your heels and tilt your head to the side, “are you telling me that you think women or fem pronoun users don’t take shits? Do you know what it feels like to have period shits?”

Carmy blinks at you and shouts with his hands out, “I...don't even know what the fuck you're getting at? I wasn't even trying to be sexist to you just then! I asked you a honest question—

“About you being in my business,” you pointed out, “contrary to your beliefs I have a heart and decided to be nice to you and let you stay in my place to keep warm. You’re welcome!”

“Oh bullshit, don’t act like you’re doin’ me any favors.” Carmy scowls, “you don’t even want me here.”

You shrug, “yet you’re here in my apartment, yelling.”

Carmy exhaled while you smirked at him sweetly before turning to lean against the wall that leads to the bathroom.

“Everything okay in there, Neil?”

“Oh yeah!” He says, “I think I figured out the problem. Easy peasy!”

“Great!” You exclaim, pulling your phone out from your sweats to read a very important email.

The weight of stress seemed to lift a good chunk as you quickly responded to a email that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been invited out (squeezed in) to a taste test at this restaurant for this evening that you’ve been trying to get into for a month before you brought it up to your employer. The deadline was approaching for the end of this week to have a review ready and they just responded to you five days before that deadline! Reading over it twice, the squeal in you slipped through your smile until you read the exceptions.

If you were to go over the amount of food purchased, which you would put on the company card anyways, you can get a discount if you brought a plus one and some reimbursement if the review was satisfactory to the owners—which the last part wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

You usually didn’t bring a plus one to any of the places you did reviews for, you got comfortable doing outings all on your own but this was different. Sure you were somewhat known in the culinary world but that didn’t mean you were a millionaire and this restaurant was apparently upscale. There was a waiting list regardless of your status—even for the celebrities that went there so this was a big deal and they gave you a short notice. Usually Sundays were known for a reset for the week but what better way to start it?

You don’t go forward with reaching out to anybody else that you work with. This was your battle and you were aware that two of your other co-workers also reached out to this restaurant. You just hoped you were the only one they picked and wouldn’t miss out on the great opportunity just because you weren’t sure about your guest.

A few hours before show time and you had to find somebody to attend with you. Your best friend was away in Cabo for a honeymoon, the other (who recently planned on moving to ATL) was dealing with the flu and had their no good ex boyfriend taking care of them, Sydney was suddenly MIA, and you even considered inviting Natalie Berzatto to piss carmy off just a bit.

“Hey, Nat!” You greet into the phone as you walk into the kitchen, witnessing Carmy perk up from the couch.

It’s small talk at first: you asking about how her day is going as a mom to be, if she’s going to be at the bear tomorrow, did she watch the Emmy’s the other night, tell her husband you said hello, and then finally if she had plans for tonight.

“…are you asking me to hang out?”

“We had fun at that club way back when no?”

“Yeah! But that was how long ago?”

You knew it’s been awhile. You were always friendly with Natalie, meeting her first—well second out of the siblings down at the small mart one summer you helped out at that your great-uncle owned. She was huffing about something her boyfriend at the time, Pete forgot to bring her and some groceries she was picking up for her mom. You were cool enough to become Facebook friends, exchange numbers, go out for coffee and go to the club together. This wasn’t unusual to call each other randomly but you knew she commonly got shit from Michael and Richard about her talking and hanging out with you.

The thing about Natalie Berzatto is that she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes she saw your review yet she kinda laughed about it initially but it was all fuck you’s from the other two loud mouth’s. Of course she was going to listen to her brother but she still had a mind of her own. she didn’t care to listen to Richie go off but she understood how Michael felt, although she was the only other Berzatto that heard you out.

Except you didn’t owe anybody an explanation even if some felt you were more cutthroat in your younger years.

“...Before you and Pete even thought about marriage?”

You were younger than them but you imagined how it would always work out for Nat and Pete, which included growing old together.

“Wow! Yeah that sounds right.”

“So…?”

“Can’t do it.”

“You didn’t even hear all the details!”

“I know, I know and it sounds like it’ll be a real fucking blast but if this kid wasn’t sitting on my sciatic nerve constantly and if my feet weren’t the size of two honeydews…I totally would! But I’ll have to decline this time around—so please don’t hate me!”

“I could never!”

“You know you could always ask carmy-

“Why on earth would I do that?” Your reply was instant.

Natalie sighed over the phone, “aspen…the potential of friendship and love is a beautiful thing.”

You scrunched up your face at the phone before placing it back to your ear.

“Do you want me to hang up on you?”

“I’d call you a rude bitch if you did but then get over it.”

“I can live with that because I know it’s real love between you and I.”

“…whatever that means.”

“Right.”

You both laugh, knowing just how weird the subject of love can be. Although you didn’t talk all the time it was always okay for one of the other to drop a venting text or call each other’s way and know the other would get around to responding. The both of you may not be the best of friends but you did consider each other friends regardless. There were conversations between the both of you that no one knew about and would be a constant reminder of what kind of friends the both of you would remain.

Natalie wished things could have been resolved between you and Michael but she reassured that the dislike wasn’t as deep as it seemed. There was no secret that you felt awful about how his life ended and being there for nat during that time also meant a lot. She told you that one of the last conversations she had with Michael was about you and it felt as if he was learning to let go of your review, slowly taking in Nat’s words of you not having a cruel bone in your body especially with all that you’ve done for her.

Anybody that showed his sister true friendship couldn’t be complete garbage. As much as he tolerated Pete, Michael was always aware that he was good enough for his sister. They were all cut from different cloths and the Berzatto’s were just from the same but opposite corner’s.

Natalie telling you this was not to erase any worries you had since that is always brought to the surface when someone you’ve been face to face with before decides to end it all. It was to show you that nobody ever truly knows what anyone is thinking whether there is love there or not.

You can feel Natalie smiling through the phone, “Think about it…all that tension could be smoothed out if you extend the olive branch…now it’s your turn.”

“It’s not my fault he switched up on me after your opening night.” You didn’t lower your voice or make it louder but you were definitely staring at carmy now who was side eyeing you, looking like phineas from phineas and ferb.

“That’s something you need to talk to him about, don’t you think?” Her tone was always so gentle that it made you sick sometimes because she could be right.

“I’m not here to do think pieces.”

“…aren’t you a writer?”

“Have a good night, nat.”

“Ta-Ta!” Natalie sing-songs, “be sure to send me the deets later because carmy never tells me anything! Bye! Chat later!”

Hanging up the phone, you slide it onto the counter and tap your nails against the island. To the right of you, you pick up on some clinking in the bathroom—which sounds somewhat normal and zone in on carmy who’s also holding onto his phone but staring at the blank tv in thought.

“Hey, Carmen.” You call his name.

His bright blues turn to you as if he hasn’t been eavesdropping on your conversation here and there between his texts with Marcus.

“You. Me. The Saffron Simmer. 7pm.”

The air is frigid as the both of you hunch your shoulders shoving through Chicago’s winter. Shockingly the streets are filled with cars tonight so you had to park on the next street over before walking up and around to The Saffron Simmer. Carmy offered to drive, which was a debate—no shock there—since there was no way he was leaving the bear stock van behind for no license having fak to play around in.

Fak definitely found that offensive and said he didn’t mind hanging out at your place, being done with your toilet but with the look you sent him he said he’s find an Uber or fak2 can pick him up. It’s not like you didn’t trust fak in your place…it’s just that the possibilities of what he can get into are endless.

You also didn’t want to ride in the bear’s van not because of shallow reasons, you just wanted to annoy carmy just a bit more for fun. Walking mostly everywhere was the way to go growing up in New York and Carmy working there so doing so here in Chicago wasnt foreign either. However with the type of cold here in this city is enough to give the bravest of hearts hypothermia. So obviously driving was the best option, it’s just the petty back and forth between you two of who will drive had to be spewed.

Eventually you gave in and sat in the passenger side of the van, being on DJ duty for the twenty-five minute drive—something carmy didn’t care to argue over. The both of you made it on time, throwing the door back for carmy to catch then bouncing on your toes while he blew into his gloveless hands waiting on the greeter to find your reservation.

The pictures didn’t do The saffron simmer any justice. There was so much to look at with its modernized speakeasy décor and the high ceilings did a superb job of making the both of you feel small in the spacious space. Thankfully the dress code was business casual so you didn’t have to go all out but you still put in the effort of looking your best in simple attire. You’re shrugging out of your scarf, earmuffs, and puffer coat while Carmy is already seated; with only the removal of his cap across from you in a chair.

He’s watching you as you place everything neatly to the right of you before you're taking a seat in the leather oversized chair, then digging through your tote to pull out your notepad, Sony camera, phone, and bolt pen. You quickly scribble something on the first line and circle it before dropping your pen.

Rolling the sleeves of your long sleeves back underneath your blazer, you roll your shoulders with a close of your eyes before opening them with a look of determination.

“Wow, that was something.” Carmy tells you, making you set your eyes back on him, forgetting just that quick that he was your plus one.

Clasping your hands together you quirk up a brow, “What?”

“Watching you prep.”

You dip your head, “should have seen me before I got dressed…much worse.”

A smirk appears on the corner of Carmy’s lips, “oh yeah?”

“Well yes, I can contain myself in public, Carmen. Your home is supposed to be your safe space so that’s the best place to go a little crazy sometimes.” You inform, yet still not giving too much away.

“Why are you in your head about this place anyway?” Carmy peers around the slightly filled dining area before meeting your eyes once more.

You lift your shoulders, “have you seen the way they market this place? Giving not too much away although it’s top ten restaurants here and I can either contribute to its success or its downfall. They picked me for a reason so my review matters at the end of this year.”

“But you uh-get a thrill out of this shit don’t you? It’s what you signed up for, right?” Carmy is actually relaxed against the chair across from you.

Which is a sight to see.

You state, “it’s part of the job, if that’s what you mean.”

Carmy blinks and seems to get it, “and so you stay.”

“So I stay.” You echo while holding his stare, which is broken by a piece of the stone table lifting and showcasing the menu illuminated by sepia lighting in the dark of the restaurant.

Carmy’s bright eyes are wide as he stares at the menu that appears right in front of your faces. There’s a grin on your face as you rest your fingertips around its rough edges, almost as if you were expecting this while carmy blows out a breath.

“The hell is this place?”

You peek over at him, “some next level shit, berzatto.”

“Yeah…I think I’m starting to catch on.”

You turn your attention back to the menu, swiping your fingertips along the touch screen although you’ve heard things about the menu, which they kept offline since apparently it renews monthly.

“What looks good?”

“Uh…these pages aren’t even labeled." Carmy exhales through his nose, eyes searching all over the tablet, "I have no clue. You?”

The words come at ease for you, "One of almost everything maybe?”

“Sounds good...I guess?”

“On me by the way,” you state with a wink as you flash your company card.

“I’ll get the tip then.” Carmy pats his jeans, the left containing his carton of cigarettes, the right holding his keys, lifting his hips he checks for his wallet although he’s been sitting on his behind for about ten minutes now.

You don’t argue with that, eyes in awe at the selection of items as you start ordering, “don’t forget to order your drink.”

“Water should be fine,” Carmy mutters to himself, eyes scanning over the first strange title of water that is described as flower and ginger infused purified water and decides to go with that.

You finally express after rapidly letting your fingers go over the screen and taking a picture with your phone, “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.”

It sounded so easy to you as you quickly shifted to pick up your pen and start writing notes.

“What was that?” Carmy pressed his elbows into the edge of the table, making sure he heard you right since he’s not even sure if he can trust his inner thoughts lately.

You’re still scribbling but also turning your face towards the messy haired chef, “you heard me. We have to act like we’re in a relationship because I’ve definitely went over the budget on the card.”

“That’s not really my problem?”

“Yes it is,” you demand, “you agreed to be my plus one so that’s that. Plus this menu further confirmed my suspicions from the email.”

Carmy scratches at his brow confused, “what are you talking about, aspen?”

“Here,” you swipe across your screen towards Carmy’s device, which brings up another screen instantly to carmy who’s in awe but scans over the details.

You didn’t share the email with him but he’s heard about how high tech this restaurant is but didn’t have the time to do his own research.

*Significant others in attendance are subject to applicable discounts.*

Carmy feels his stomach cramp at the fine print and it so small that he was sure anyone could have missed that.

Not you.

“…how exactly are we supposed to prove that, hm?” He's gripping at his greasy hair now, feeling himself getting a bit worked up about this.

You fanned your hand along, “just do what couples do and follow my lead...Depending on our witnesses,” you whisper as you look around, “they could always assume that’s what we are anyways.”

Part of carmy didn’t like how that came off.

“What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” Flies out of Carmy’s mouth before he can even process what he’s saying.

That stoops you too, making you press your back against the chair in thought. That wouldn’t be going down in the notes, as you stare at the pen in between your fingers for a moment. Which brings you back to Carmy’s tatted fingers first that touched you in ways that romance novelist craved to write about.

So you may have left that out, how a shared conversation about the “heartless” review of then Chicagoland turned the bear melted into hot and heavy actions in the front seat of your Mazda. It hits you in those same flashes you take of dishes: the unsure sloppy kisses, you taking the lead to get Carmy to just touch you, shaky hands that trace the tattoo from your rib cage down to your hip before soon holding steady and angled just right beneath your red tapered trousers.

“Where did that come from?” You question just as a server greets you, delivering drinks and announcing the small plates should be out in the next five minutes with a timer appearing on both of the stone tablets.

Carmy says, “you—you didn’t just think I forget right?”

“Well I was hoping.” You were honest, “neither of us are ready for relationships—especially hearing about you and Claire.”

Carmy felt his eye twitch, “and how do you know about that?”

Sydney.

You wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that although you could tell carmy already knew.

“I have my resources but don’t think I’ve been asking around about you or anything like that.” You sipped at the raspberry mint cocktail, it could be stronger.

His thumbs are shaking first on the table top but his icy stare made your chest pulsate in a way you didn't particularly like, “…would that be so bad?”

You and carmy didn’t exactly know each other well enough besides a conversation once had and with his hand down your pants! and you trying to get him to crash, clothes still on right in the center of his lap—It was a spur of the moment hookup and you could tell it was not something that happened often for carmy. He never had time for it or bothered to get attached but there was something about you that had him thinking otherwise. What was supposed to be a one time thing that you swept to the back of your mind was being brought up again.

The annoyance overtook what that feeling brought in the front seat of your ride. You weren’t ignoring carmy after that but the both of you had a lot on your plate with him renovating a restaurant and you diving back into your own work. Both fields of work seemed to matter more and not once did you think he ever thought about you in that way.

Communication was important people!

And here you thought he wanted nothing to do with you, especially with you showing up to the grand opening of The Bear. Now here you were months later, basically at your benefit, face to face hearing only pieces of what Carmen Berzatto was thinking.

“Hey, guys!” A familiar voice gathers your attention and you both turn to see Sydney smiling at you two.

Carmy widens his eyes, “Syd, what’re you doing here?”

Sydney snorted, “doing the same thing you’re doing? Having dinner.”

“Right.” He lightly shakes his head.

“Oh my god…am I interrupting this um? Date?” Sydney quickly connected the dots eyeing the both of you back and forth while you’re choking on your drink, “you okay?”

She pats your back for you while you gasp and Carmy slides over his water your way although you have your own glass near by. Gaining some air, you swallow some water and breathe through your nose. Normally you would have a response for Sydney’s joke but given what carmy just said to you had your mind running along with some burning tears you wiped away.

“So this is where you’ve been instead of answering me back?” You decide to switch the subject-you were great at that-wheezing a bit while Carmy scoffs and looks away.

Sydney frowns, “huh? When did you call me besides the FaceTime call…” she starts and pulls out her phone, “oh shit sorry. I placed it on do not disturb like thirty minutes after you didn’t call me back. I got wrapped into some entail about the menu from one of the chef’s that works here and is also a friend.”

Carmy speaks, “Didn’t know you had a connect with anybody here, Syd.”

“Can’t reveal all my moves, Carm.” She winks and lightly elbows him while Carmy sends her a small smile and a shake of his head.

Carmy asks, “scooping out our competition?”

“Only a little," She pinches her fingers before continuing, "and my dad thought it would be a place I wanted to try.” Sydney admits, “and if you two weren’t on a date I’d say let’s make this a group thing! so I’ll be going! I see my dad coming back from the bathroom…he’s got like a bladder problem and I don’t know why I’m sharing that with you two. But bye! Enjoy and just know I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.”

“Fuck,” carmy exhaled feeling his nerves rising, “don’t do that.”

Sydney chuckles to herself and sends a wave to you two before walking back to her table by the window.

“Siddy kicked me to the curb for her dad,” you sigh resting your cheek into your knuckles for a moment, “can’t be mad at that.”

“But you can be mad at me for what exactly?”

“You wanna do this with me right now?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“I thought we could move past what happened—

“You can say it you know? Me with my fingers inside—

“Excuse me!” You hiss, “I don’t need you to repeat action by action thank you. I was there too. We both know what happened, we’d agreed we can coexist around this big ass city. I show up to support—

“Did you though?” Carmy pressed, “support me? Or am I waiting for something else to be thrown at me with your upcoming review?”

“What?!” You bite, “is that what your stank ass attitude is about?”

Carmy tightened his jaw just as the first serving was handed over. You let him sulk in that for some time as you study the plating of the four appetizers, making note of each before taking more pictures with your sony.

“I wasn’t there to write a review.” You reply.

“I saw you—

“Let me finish. I understand pressure so I get it but you have to learn to channel your anger and this grief, elsewhere and deal with it better without projecting it onto any and everybody. I’ll tell you that right now that won’t get you anywhere and especially with me, Carmen.” You affirm.

You’ve been in Carmy’s position before so you can speak with experience. He seemed to always be waiting for the worse to continue filling up his plate but it takes time to accept the good in life. He was giving you something but you weren’t sure it was the best option for the both of you and you weren’t afraid to say that.

“Alright…I didn’t come here to talk about feelings either you know? That’s what those meetings are for.” Carmy spills just a tad.

You stare at the vibrant but delicate plating but his tone and the soft upbeat tempo above your heads don’t go unnoticed. “What did you come here for then?”

Carmy blinks and snatches up a spoon, almost weighing it in his hands before he dives the utensil into the dish. He stares as the stretch of cheese, twisting the spoon to break it apart before holding the Macaroni and Brie with Crab out for you to take the first bite.

He doesn’t answer for awhile and so you do the honors of taking a bite and savoring it's texture and taste.

“…that’s not my favorite.” You announce and notice that Carmy waited for your view.

He raises his brows, “tell me about it?”

“They need different plating.” You deeply sigh, “I know that type of plating works best for a dessert and that’s not it. There’s more breadcrumbs than meat, which seems to not be fully removed from its shell so be careful with that. It’s also lacking flavor even with the brie, which is my least favorite kind of cheese in Mac, although many swear by it.”

Carmy flicks his attention to your disappointment to you scribbling into your notepad with a shake of your head. If he was making you a dish, he’d try his hardest to make sure it was everything you ever wanted.

He quickly has his share and thinks to himself.

Carmy can agree, this was lacking flavor and the breadcrumbs didn’t even have a crunch to them. You can’t just depend on the cheese to give you flavor in Mac and cheese.

“What’s your favorite dish? I—I don’t think I ever asked you that. We just went straight into talking about the beef.”

And doing dirty things in the front seat but who needs to relive that?!

You look up from your notes and lift your chin, “you’re looking at it. It’s childish I know...but that’s exactly what it reminds me of: my childhood. Mac and cheese! then as I got into my adulthood…crab kinda took over. Which is funny because I hated on it for so long growing up. My papa—my grandad, he helped my mom raise me, he's from Ocean City so you can only imagine the amount of seafood on our table.”

You’re smiling to yourself and Carmy can’t help but to feel his small laughter lines appear by his lips as you’re locked into some memory only you can remember vividly. This was the most Carmy was learning about you, sure it may not look like much but he didn’t feel the need to dissociate even if at times he really couldn’t help it.

You were the question mark that he wanted to figure out and get all the answers to. Maybe it was his gut and he shouldn’t have blabbed to sugar about you because now Carmy was thinking this was Michael’s doing.

If you believe in that shit.

So the both of you take your time trying the small dishes before getting the main courses. It seems the longer you sit across from each other—the tension was definitely still there especially with Sydney’s eyes burning into the two of you across the room and attempting to not get caught—although she had once or twice but gradually it lifted as you and carmy shared this time together.

He watched you work while you asked for his input before you told your own. He also provided a few things he would do to tweak it if he agreed with what you didn’t enjoy. Which was eye-opening for you, yes you went to school for journalism and sat in on some cooking classes once that also tied into your passion for learning. After completing your first degree you decided culinary may take you to different heights and enrolled into culinary school. You didn’t find the need to continue going through with being a chef after Copenhagen, finding writing to be your stronger suit but you still understood food and the relationship with it when it came to chef’s.

So you took carmy’s input into consideration.

With the last serving being a Asian dessert called, “Jjan Hae,” which consisted of: coconut rice pudding served with fresh citrus (orange, grapefruit, kumquat) and coffee ice cream, topped with crispy pop rice & a shot of Korean rice wine, it was a strange concept but the both of you came to terms with the dessert working well.

Carmy even took a video to show Marcus tomorrow at the bear and sent a photo to an old colleague, Luca, that you were also familiar with considering Noma was a thing that you didn’t bother speaking much on…but it was your turn to give carmy the last serving.

He hesitated since he had his own bowl, which he finished way before you did but it was clear you wanted him to have the last bite so he also took it while saying something with his eyes.

Breaking the stare, the both of you felt your phone buzz with a text. Carmy didn’t jump to answer it right away…he was the worst texter according to Nat and Sydney but you can answer for the both of you as it was a group text from Sydney who was long gone with her dad.

Siddy + (773) XXX-XXXX: Carmy, invite aspen to breakfast in the morning?? See you guys then! 👍🏾😉

“You guys do breakfast at the bear now?” You say lifting your eyes from your screen.

You heard Sydney made a mean omelette but you haven’t been back since earlier this year and you weren’t in the mood for that that night.

Carmy frowns and closes his eyes with a shake of his head, “uh yeah it’s a new thing that Syd came up with but we agreed to do that with everyone once a month…later this month. Why?”

“She wants me to have breakfast with you guys…knowing I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s not happening tomorrow anyway, so what is she talking about?” Carmy digs into his jacket, where he carelessly shoved his phone into after sending the photo off to Luca.

Another text rings out: at carmy’s place. just us three???

Not Sydney making plans and then placing it all at Carmy’s apartment.

He’s taking a breath, almost as a silent reminder for him to do so before his thumbs move over his screen: i don’t even eat breakfast, Syd.

Syd: well youre gonna.

~ Syd has notifications silenced 🌙 ~

“Well, looks like your work wife told your ass.” You laugh, which you translated into her message but didn’t comment further than that.

Carmy harshly exhales through his nostrils in disbelief, “my work wife huh?”

He didn’t hate how that sounded but he also never thought about marriage or relationships in awhile.

“Yeah…the proof is in the pudding, no matter what anyone says.”

Carmy pinched at his bottom lip as he attempts to dryly joke, “I thought it was rice? and what about outside work…”

“That’s something you have to figure out yourself.” You shrug, getting ready to pack up your notes and cameras.

You turn your attention to the table, which knows just when to lift as you tap on the screen to signal that you’re ready to pay while holding out your company card, “are you paying cash for the tip or card?”

“Uh, cash.” Carmy answers, “…what if I’m starting to think about what come’s next?”

“With Syd?” You question, your now sage and mint scented hands flying over the screen as you select the correct paying method before tapping your company card against the screen.

Carmy starts bouncing his leg underneath the table, “with everything.”

“Well…when you’re ready you’ll make moves to make it happen won’t you?”

Carmy dips his head, “you bet.”

And here comes the intense eye contact that you can’t help but to huff out some laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just people with light eyes always do this thing where they’re just staring into your soul you know? Like damn, relax!”

Carmy’s confused as he holds his wallet open, “uh sorry for having eyes?”

“Shut up, glacier eyes.” You tell while Carmy just snorts at you.

The both of you don’t waste any time rushing back to his car as the clock is approaching 10pm. The wind’s definitely picked up and the temperature dropped, making it easier not to get caught up in the night time city lights which you often liked to do. Back in the van, carmy doesn’t wait to crank up the heat and you don’t bother to mess with the radio this time.

“So?” Carmy asks as he waits for the car to warm up some.

You keep your attention outside the window shield, “yes?”

“What’s the rating?”

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you that, Carmen?” You continue holding yourself.

He sniffs, “I mean—I was sitting across from you the entire night while you told me some of your thoughts.”

“So you thought you should also get the final score? I don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“Ah, I think you’ve got some idea.” Carmy lolls his head over to peek at you.

Laughter bubbles past your lips, “I do. I’ve absolutely had better because—what the fuck was that?”

Carmen feels a crooked smirk appear on his own face, “I don’t want to completely bash other chef’s work but fuck, I thought it was just me? You said it got a 4.3 out of 5? The ambience and service was spot on but…the flavor for most of the dishes?”

“I knew you knew something about seasoning,” you continued laughing while carmy rolled his eyes, “should spend less on the tech and interior and more on some fresh herbs.”

“Isn’t it called simmer saffron?”

That made you laugh even harder as you gripped your stomach, “You’ve got that so backwards!”

And carmy couldn’t help but to scan your features as you laughed and he felt his chest getting somewhat lighter? Just listening to the sound of you and being beside you. What kind of feeling was this? He’s felt it before looking at someone else but that feeling was more of a tug with that light while this one slowly poured in from the black.

“Don’t be too hard on ‘em though? There’s always room for improvement.”

“Sure, but we both know the bear is better and you guys don’t have a waist list months in advance.”

“We also don’t have any celebrities showing up either.”

“Yet.”

Carmy taps his fingers against the steering wheel, appreciating that, “right, yet…I’m sorry about March. I was too in my head about so much shit and you’re right, I took it out on everyone and I’m still trying to make up for it.”

“Effort doesn’t ever go unnoticed if people look and feel it hard enough.”

Carmy chews on his lips at that, “if you believe that…then why do you feel what I said about dating—uh us—about us dating is out of the blue?”

“I said that?”

“Your eyes did. It’s the most expressive thing about you which is funny to me when you talk so much shit about mine when you hide the rest of it away on your face. It’s fucking confusing but I think I gathered that from our dinner tonight.”

Carmy was just as detail oriented as you. It was in his language with food and maybe even in his tattoos that you tried to understand starting with his fingers first. The way he spoke about what he would do with the dishes that were lackluster, except for the dessert—that was pretty good. Carmy wasn’t much of a talker because he wasn’t sure how to express himself, always been that way since you knew of him at Noma…but he told just enough in his dishes and you told just enough between the lines you wrote.

Someone just had to look hard enough.

“…I ever tell you I was engaged? Of course I didn’t, we’re still…I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here Carmen but I’m starting to sense that we could be special if we both want this badly.”

“What do you want?”

“Does anyone ever really know?” You laughed, “ I guess someone to look past the circumstanial and I had that once but then he died. So that was the end of that.”

“You swore off love.”

“Love is many things but maybe I closed off the long lasting part.”

Carmy could relate to that as least with family. He never had much interest in romance even growing up because he lacked that confidence in anything being permanent besides the chaos he’s used to, then he found some of it once he proved what he fucking set out to do yet cooking was all Carmen really opened himself up to. While Luca and others encouraged him to have a night out in the town, he always left early or if there was one person that caught his interest, they get to talking and both get bored of each other since Carmy hardly made the move to take them back to his. Before Noma?

Maybe.

Back in Paris there was one that could have been permanent but Carmy had to break her heart since Noma was calling. Culinary was his true love and he honestly couldn’t tell you what she even looked like now if you asked him. Things that should have mattered tended to get buried in the blue of his mind unfortunately.

He didn’t have the time to be attached and you didn’t want to have your heart ripped out again.

“How’d—

“He was a firefighter.” Was all you said and just those words alone told carmy it was anything but peaceful.

It took a lot for carmy to scream at himself how Michael went out and he imagined it might have been the same for you. So he wouldn’t dare ask for further morbid details because what did that help?

So maybe you weren’t wrong about the both of you not being ready to take that step on going on dates but change was everlasting.

“Uh—what about breakfast then after that not so great meal?” Carmy asks as he pulls off from the curb now.

You think about it. Really think about it that carmy starts to assume you may have dozed off.

“Depends on the time honestly? And who am I to turn down a free meal?” You beamed at Carmy who lifts his shoulders with a chuckle.

Carmy explains, “Syd and I usually start our days early, sometimes even earlier for me if I don’t get enough hours in. but thanks to the reno those on the early shift can get prep ready and I heard…you’re not a morning person?”

You’re just as sarcastic but there’s no lies, “I don’t even know my name or birthdate when I first wake up…what do you think?”

Carmy snickered at that, “okay? So how does 10am sound?”

“That’s pushing it but…I think I can be there so that’ll give me the rest of the day to work from home.”

Carmy nods, “can’t wait to read it. Shake on it?”

“On what? My review or showing up?”

“Both.”

“I’m not sending you a sneak peek, maybe syd or even nat but not you.”

“Ouch.” Carmy mocks, still waiting for your hand to touch his.

And when you do there’s a spark, that makes you yank your hand back and you feel like you’re in one of those cheesy teen movies.

You’re aware carmy’s felt that too but he just clears his throat and placed his hand back on the steering wheel. Leaving you to lightly massage the palm of your hand, now glancing at the profile of carmy’s face.

Life takes time to live but once you start to just let it be, the green starts to stand out more and can be equally as joyous…once you get through the rain and mud that is.

And once the ice blue sets back on you, the both of you can’t exactly see the future but there’s always warmth waiting for the cold to give them a try.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

February fluff anthology series continues here.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Commission for the AMAZINGLY patient @i-likebread . Thank you so much for such a fun idea and again, for your patience during my summer writing dry spell. ^_^

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader, Yuji Itadori x Reader

Summary: At the end of the day, curses were trophic beings. Sukuna? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed. Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. The prey.

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

CW: Dub-Con, Non-Con, Rape by Deception, Cuckholding, Rough Sex, Virginity Loss, Painful Virginity Loss, Manipulation, mentions of Ero-Guro

If you're interested in getting your own Commission done, please refer to my Commission Sheet and shoot me a DM or e-mail! ^_^

Cross-Posted on AO3.

Everyone had told Yuji Itadori that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea. After all, just dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer at all came with its fair share of risks. Dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer while sharing a body with the King of Curses? It should’ve rendered him completely celibate. But to go beyond that, to not only date, but to date a normal, powerless girl with absolutely no knowledge of the existence of Jujutsu society and curses?

Now that was downright stupid.

Those were Gojo’s words too! Satoru Gojo’s — the stupid idea savant! That had certainly gotten Yuji to second guess things. When he left to meet her for their first official date, he’d gone there with all the intentions of breaking things off. But then…

Well, there wasn’t any big revelation. She’d just been her. And he just couldn’t let her go. There were very few moments in his life these days that were able to be just sweet and simple. So any he could have, he knew that he had to cling to, and cling to tight. And moments spent with her? They made him feel like life would never be complicated again.

So six months later, here they were at the matsuri of a temple near her school. And boy, watching her knelt over the shateki stall, silly little tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated so deeply on the balloon she was aiming at, could he not regret it any less. Especially not when she looked so damn cute in that yukata.

POP!

 “I got it!” she jumped back from the carnival game with a squeal, accidentally knocking Yuji in the chest with the pellet gun.

“Oomf—!”

She gasped, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” and rushed forward to check his chest, almost hitting him in the face this time, “Are you hurt?!”

He was able to anticipate it this time though, catching the muzzle of the rifle in his palm with a laugh, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just put this down, alright?”

She relinquished it immediately, bringing her hands to her face to try and cover her blush as she nodded frantically. The moment had finally caught up to her, the fact that she’d almost taken him out twice with the toy rifle and got completely in his face, touching his chest. And the cutest embarrassment came along with it. 

That was one of the things he really liked about her. She was shy and soft-spoken, but that didn’t stop her from ever living or hiding her true feelings when push came to shove. Especially when they involved other people. She often got ahead of herself, feet moving before her brain, throwing manners out the window if it meant helping somebody in need, blurting out the silliest little nonsensicals to try to ease an awkward silence. But never failing to revert back to that shyness and feel embarrassed about it in a way that always brought a smile to his face.

“Your prize, Miss.”

They both turned back to the game-tender, and Yuji instantly froze when he saw the prize being handed to her.

A little yarn doll, just big enough to be a keychain, and it— holy shit, it looked like—

“Aww, look at him Yuji!” she beamed, holding the doll up next to his face, “It looks just like you!”

He could feel his heart freeze with dread, his stomach twisting.

“W-What are you talking about?! No it doesn’t! It’s got tattoos!”

“Yeah. And four arms,” she rolled her eyes, “But look! It’s got your hair and eyes and that mischievous little smirk,” she wiggled it closer to his cheek, “That’s all troublemaker. All Yuji Itadori.” 

He swatted the little doll away from his face, growing more and more prickly the longer she held it so close to him, “Is not!”

She giggled, taking his whining as embarrassment over being teased rather than anything serious,and pulled the doll back to clutch into her own palms lovingly.

“And it’s cute…” she blushed a little as she whispered, “...just like you.”

Yuji softened at the sight. 

He needed to take it easy. It’s not like she could know the history there, the thing it actually looked like — he’d made absolute sure that she hadn’t, after all.

But still, the question remained:

“What’s it supposed to be anyway?” he asked, “A mascot or something?”

He had to know, it was just uncanny how much it looked like Sukuna. And this temple didn’t have any ties to the Jujutsu world that he knew of. Not that he knew a lot. But he hadn’t seen any sorcerers or cursed energy residuals in the area. If anything, it was weird how few curses — even flyheads — were in this area, considering how old the temple was.

“I guess it’s the guardian spirit of this temple,” she answered.

Yuji’s eyes widened. No. No, there was no freaking way.

“This thing?” he pressed in disbelief, “But he— I mean it looks more like a demon than a guardian spirit.”

“That’s kind of the interesting thing!” she explained excitedly, “My homeroom teacher was telling us about it last week. I think the story goes, that in a war between spirits and humans, the peasants this temple served were constantly caught in the crossfire. That is, until a dedicated, benevolent demon came along and vowed to protect the temple even while the rest of the world burnt around it.”

She presented the doll to him, “This little guy is that demon.”

It was all Yuji could do to not roll his eyes at her. Okay. Now he knew it was just a coincidence. Because sure. Benevolent. That’s what Sukuna was. 

What a bunch of crap.

Oi. Sukuna suddenly gruffed in his head. I’m plenty fucking benevolent. 

Yuji went rigid. Sukuna didn’t talk to him often. And honestly, he preferred it that way. He could nap and plot and flit away the time however he did in his own soul, while Yuji enjoyed the life surrounding his. Rarely did he actually tune in and observe Yuji’s life unless there was a battle or an… opportunity at hand.

So the fact that he seemed to be paying attention now was more than a bit worrying. 

What, you gonna tell me that the story is true or something? Yuji snapped right back at his squatter bodymate. That you actually protected a temple?

Could be.

Yuji’s breath hitched.

O-Oh yeah? he demanded, trying to not reveal his wavering confidence. And what was the catch? There’s no way you were some guardian out of the goodness of your heart.

He could practically hear Sukuna smirk inside his head and it unnerved him. Sukuna was privy to all kinds of information about curses and Jujutsu that Yuji learned at school, a lot of which even involved the King of Curses himself. Yet he hardly had anything to comment on then. So why was he so damn talkative about this story?

I protected the shrine… Never said shit about the people in it. And then that horrible, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s echoed in his head.

“Shut up!”

“Huh?”

Yuji snapped back to his girlfriend, who stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Shit. He said that outloud, didn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up— no way they’ve got fluffy ice!” he tried to save, pointing past her to a nearby stall, “We gotta get some!”

She looked behind her, following his finger, and then laughed, relieved that it was something as simple as that rather than something she might have said, “I swear, all you ever think about is food, Yuji.”

“That’s not true… I think about you a lot.”

…is what Yuji would’ve said if he were smoother, more confident, and convinced that a line like that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. But of course, he wasn’t any of those things. So he just rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh and nodded when she suggested they go get in line for some.

He wanted to just enjoy the night, to forget about curses and Jujutsu and most of all Sukuna — he practically dared the curse to make another fucking remark, to get all of his unwelcome commentary out now while he could. But the inside of his head had gone, thankfully, radio silent. So he made peace with the fact that Sukuna had gotten bored with all of this and had gone back into his own soul to sleep.

But no. Sukuna was not gone, nor bored. Far from it.

He was hungry.

Sukuna watched Yuji’s little girlfriend through his host’s eyes.

He’d excused himself to go use the restroom soon after they’d gotten their fluffy ice to split, and now he’d just stopped to watch her, sitting on a bench near the edge of the temple, the mouth of the forest, and enjoying her frozen treat with childish glee. The lovestruck fool was living in the moment, watching her with a heart full of warmth and just wanting to take it all in.

For Sukuna however, his stare was full of a hunger growing more and more ravenous with every second.

Of course she looked delicious at all times.  In her school uniform (girl’s uniforms were one of the few innovations of this era he could fully get behind), in her gym clothes the times she and Yuji went jogging together. Even that little floral sundress number she’d worn on their last date had really gotten his motor going. She was just a gorgeous little thing, and exactly his type.

Sickeningly sweet and salaciously stupid.

 But there was something about her right now, dolled up in a snow white yukata, walking under the warm glow of the traditional lanterns, down the path of a temple he once called home — she looked like she could have existed just like this, a thousand years ago. That she could’ve encountered him when he was at the height of his power, looking just like this.

It took everything in him not to utter “Extension” and tear her to pieces in front of every pair of prying eyes right here on this stone path. 

But no. He had to control himself.

He had to plan his moves carefully, he couldn’t just cause havoc willy-nilly, not without raising an unignorable alarm for the Jujutsu Sorcerers to put Yuji Itadori and himself down like Old Yeller. No, now was not the time to rape and pillage and have his fun.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it, though.

Somehow, there was something even worse about not being able to have his way in this form then it had been when his soul was fractured for a thousand years. At least before he’d manifested, he was held back by the fact that it was impossible to do anything else — he literally couldn’t have physically let loose even if he wanted to. He was essentially stuck in purgatory.

But now, when he had the full ability to ravage but had to keep himself in check, with only himself and his self-preservation to answer to? God, it practically fucking burned. It wasn’t right. If he didn’t get some kind of outlet soon, he was going to go crazy. 

It was like he was a dog, kept chained and locked up within the cage of his own skin. But that’s not what he was. He wasn’t a fucking housepet. He was a hunter, a predator.

And a damned good one at that.

There was a huge difference between other Curses and Sukuna. The sorcerers had decided to define this difference by grades. But Sukuna believed that the real explanation was much less academic, much more simple.

After all, just because a curse was “Special Grade” didn’t mean that it was worth a damn. It could have all the cursed energy in the world, but if it didn’t know how to properly hunt? It’d be lucky to last a century. 

They were trophic beings at the end of the day.

Low-level Curses, like flyheads? They were, at best, Primary Consumers. If he were being blunt, most of them were Producers, barely above algae. They tended to draw in more Jujutsu Sorcerers than they were worth. Sitting fucking ducks.

That waste of space from the Juvenile Detention Center? A Secondary Consumer. He could pick off the herbivores that were humans. Injured zebras falling behind the herd like his host and the little girl with the hammer.

And the little patchwork punk? The one that dared to put his pathetic mitts on his soul twice? Sukuna would be generous and call him a Tertiary Consumer. He sure did give that Seven to Three Sorcerer and his host a run for their money.

But Sukuna, himself? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed.

Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. 

The prey.

…

Okay, so maybe she was some low-hanging fruit, but it’s not like he could be too choosy. And boy was she ripe for the picking.

Besides, a top of the food chain hunter such as himself knew how to make some fun, a chase out of anything. 

Yes, little Yuji Itadori should’ve listened to his teachers. Dating a non-sorcerer, bringing such a tempting piece of meat into his eyeline and waving it around so proudly was a very bad idea.

And Sukuna lived for bad ideas.

“Extension.”

She perked up as Yuji re-approached, “Hey—!” then paused, head cocking as she noticed something… different about him.

“What’s with the…?” she gestured over her face, indicating the black marks now running across his skin.

“They were doing some face-painting at one of the booths,” he answered simply, lowly, “Looks good, right?”

She flushed a bit at the timber of his voice, eyes dropping to the cup of fluffy ice in her hands. Even imitating Itadori, there was a huskiness, a darkness in Sukuna’s voice that couldn’t be masked. And it sent shivers straight up his prey’s lovely spine.

“Y-Yeah… Looks really good.”

He smirked. Trap set.

“Really good, huh?” he purred, sitting on the bench not only next to her, but with his legs pressing hard against hers.

Her cheeks flushed, giggling as he slid his arm behind her shoulders on the bench, and giddy embarrassment set her body afloat. She liked this, liked it a lot. She always wanted Yuji to sweet-talk and touch her like this, more than she really should honestly. But she was way too embarrassed to ever admit that herself. So this extra flirty mood he seemed to be in at the moment was sending her straight to Cloud 9.

“...Uh— Uh-huh. R-Really good.”

She hazarded a look at his face again, the intensity, the uninhibited desire burning like coal in those lazy-lidded eyes sending an all new feeling of excitement through her body. One she’d been denying for a while.

With a squeak, she looked back forward, jutting the cup of fluffy ice over in his general direction, “D-Do you want some more?!”

He barely paid the measly little treat any mind, far more invested in the delicacy so pretty and wrapped up in an obi for him. 

“Yeah, why not.”

She turned towards him, eyes focussing on his tight chest rather than his sinful eyes, so that she could pick up the spoon and feed him. But before she could even touch the utensil, he reached past it, towards her, and caught a little drip of sweet syrup at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. 

Her breath hitched, loud and embarrassingly. But this only seemed to spur him on. He brushed it slowly along the length of her lower lip, pressing it in ever so slightly when he got to the center, kissing the pad of his thumb to her teeth. He could feel everything about her through this, the way her throat bobbed anxiously, the shuttering breath against his skin, the way her tongue sank forward instinctually to meet him. 

She couldn’t help it, the hypnotic lull that it pulled her into. Her eyes started to shutter closed, but in doing so she noticed something.

His nails.

Sukuna clocked this almost simultaneously, whipping his hand back before she completely lost her stupor and bringing the thumb to his own lips, nails hidden from sight. He made a show of licking the residuals of sweetness off of it, eyes boring straight into hers.

“Tastes even better this way,” he purred.

She flushed and turned away quickly and completely, her back to him, beyond embarrassed, “Y-Yuji—!”

“What?”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she squeaked.

“What do you mean?” he husked, leaning in from above her, pressing impossibly closer into her back, “What’s so embarrassing about loving the way you taste?”

Sukuna could feel her cheeks heat up as he slotted his nose into her shoulder, “In fact…”

He pressed his mouth, motionless, into the nape of her neck. He breathed into it, doing everything in his power to get a whisper of a taste of that skin, without devouring her whole.

“I’d love to taste more.”

He ran his hands down her arms, nails catching on every goosebump. They were going slow, teasing, but they weren’t stopping. No, they were not stopping their descent. Not until they got to—

“Y-Yuji,” she gasped out an embarrassed laugh as his hands slipped down to cover her own over the cup, sticky and cold from the fluffy ice dripping forgotten over them, “Come on, there are people around…”

“And?” Sukuna’s fingers weaved with her own squeezing tight, his hips slanting flush against her ass, “If there weren’t people around?”

She tilted her head back, startled by how close his lips were to hers when she did so. Startled, but not scared off. No. Intoxicated. Caught in the center of the spider’s web.

Trapped. Right where he wanted her.

Sukuna’s smirk widened and he caught her lips, all pretense gone. He was going in for the kill.

There was a reason why she was easy prey, and it wasn’t just because she was meek and malleable, easy for Sukuna to overwhelm even without powers.

It was because she wanted this from Yuji, had wanted it for a while, actually. If he didn’t know from all the needing looks and batting lashes she’d sent his way over the last six months — a virgin whore if he’d ever seen one —  it was more than obvious now. The way she grinded against him, gasped excitedly as he shoved her against a tree, back arching as he turned the top of her yukata into a belt, exposing her bare chest to his rough, relentless palms.

He was brought back to the other fucks he’d had under this very tree, when he’d been able to dig his claws into the flesh of shrine maidens until he felt bone. Or that village girl whose spine he’d snapped in half as he came.

This wasn’t nearly as physically exhilarating as those times, but there was something oddly even more exciting about it on a sentimental level. Of course, it was his first fuck in over a millennia, and a virgin at that (his fucking favorite), but she was Yuji’s too. 

Yuji’s girlfriend, Yuji’s love, Yuji’s prize to be won — and he’d stolen her right under the brat’s nose. The only thing that would make it better would be if Yuji could actually see it right now.

He could let that go for now though, especially considering how pliant and eager she was, the way she held back her yelps and locked down any complaints as they slipped down to the cold, crackly ground, her bare back grinding hard into the bark. He knew that it hurt her, he could smell the blood and feel the way her breath hitched in his mouth, and yet miraculously, she didn’t say a word. She wanted this to happen, she wanted to make him happy. And she was too shy to voice anything that might result in otherwise.

“You ready?” he purred, already shoving his pants down to his knees and giving himself a few preparatory pumps, regardless of her answer.

She gulped, and nodded hurriedly.

As soon as he moved her panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance exploratorily, Sukuna knew she was lying. Her body was clearly not quite there. She was plenty wet, sure, but she was still tense from the nerves, and shallow from the lack of prep. 

That was fine though. Actually, it was great. That added ring of resistance? That’s what made virgins and victims the absolute perfect prey, that’s what made them intoxicating.

He couldn’t have held back if he wanted to.

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips forward, fucking her fully.

She cried out with a volume that was clearly not all from joy. She was hurt. And he almost came on the spot at the sound.

“Are you okay?” he asked, just to keep in character. He didn’t care either way.

“Mm—! Mm-hmm!” she nodded frantically, tears clear in her eyes and hesitant to open her mouth, lest she reveal the actual pain she was in.

Oh, a little tough girl, huh? He could fucking fall in love.

Sukuna kept a serious face, but inside he was splitting in two, smiling.

“You sure? Do you want me to stop?” he insisted. It’s not like he would, even if she wanted to. But the idea of her powering through the pain, begging him to keep going even as he broke her? It was just too good to pass up.

“Y-Yes,” she yelped out in such a sweet, strained voice, “P-Please, keep going Yuji!”

He reached forward, running a hand through her hair, that once perfect little updo now frazzled and ruined with leaves and dirt, “I’ll be gentle, okay?”

She sniffled and put on a brave, quivering smile, nodding. He dragged out of her to the tip, slowly, expertly, pulling from her the first little gasp of pleasure.

Then he bottomed out inside her.

She cried out loudly, nails clinging into his back with vicelock strength as he fucked her, truly fucked her. She tried to make those cries sound pleasured, like moans. But she couldn’t hide the screams they truly were. She pulled him closer so that she could try and muffle them into his shoulder. 

But that wouldn’t do. No, that would not fucking do.

The hand in her hair tightened, pulling her head back harshly so that she had nowhere to direct her noise but into the night sky as he pounded into her. She bit her lip, trying to keep them at bay.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” he groaned, genuinely, “What about you, baby? Do you feel good?”

She tried to just get away with nodding and whining.

“Tell me baby,” he pressed, “Tell me it feels good.”

“I-It… It feels good!” she finally cried out, desperate for him to stop, “Y-Yuji, it feels so good!”

He pressed his lips into her cheek, almost cumming on the spot as the streams of tears down her skin touched his tongue.

“I love you so much,” he growled shamelessly.

She smiled a face-splitting smile, eyes wide and puffy, and body completely open and raw, as she tried to love away the pain.

“M-Me too!” she almost gagged, “I love you too!!”

In this life, the previous, or even the next, Sukuna was sure he’d never cum as hard as he did when he saw that face. 

Yuji stared down at her in absolute horror. What had he done? No, what had he done?!

His girlfriend, that pure, perfect girl, the one true light of his life, was laid out beneath him, a complete mess. Covered in dirt, hickeys, and a sheen of her own sweat and tears. 

Raped.

Her bare chest rose and fell heavily (he could be thankful for that at least), and her cheek rested against the twisting roots of the tree they were under as she tried to catch her breath.

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her eyes blinked open as she felt a splash against her flesh, pulling her from her post-sex daze. She turned to look up at Yuji, instantly shocked to see him hunched over her and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Yuji?” she gasped, “Yuji what’s wrong?”

“I… I-I just—” he choked, trying desperately not to throw up. His fingers ran shakily across the divots in her skin, the scratches and bitemarks, “Are you o-okay?”

She followed his stroking hands to her marred shoulders and whipped back to him with a gasp.

“Ohhh, sweetie no— don’t worry about those! I’m fine!”

“A-Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Of course!” she pulled him down into a tight embrace, “I loved it, Yuji.”

Those words stabbed him harder and hotter than anything else she could’ve said. Made it all so much worse.

“I absolutely loved it.”

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[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 6 - Simon's Been Restless

Slasher Handler Masterlist

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Oral sex, manual penetration, piv penetration, multiple orgasms, afab reader, feminine terms used for reader, brief blood mention (not reader's), heavily implied non-con intox

It’s not unusual for you to wake up alone, but it’s been happening more frequently. There was a period of about two months after Simon punished and rewarded you where you always shared your bed. But after that, he’d tapered off to his usual four or five nights a week.

Once, after he’d tucked you into bed and while he stared at you from across the room, you’d decided to ask about it. “What are you doing, when you’re not sleeping here?”

“Serial killer things,” he’d answered, flatly.

Most of the time you wish you could pretend it was a joke. But that night, right on the edge of sleep, you had thought it was the funniest thing he’d said in weeks. “Sharpening your knives and practicing your menacing voice?”

“Checking the acoustics of abandoned buildings,” he’d said, dry as a tundra. “For the screams.”

The next morning, he told you that you’d commanded him not to get tetanus. You don’t remember that part.

Over the last three weeks, Simon has only slept in your bed once. You’re a little irritated with how much it’s thrown you off. Part of it is that you feel paranoid when you don't know where he is. But it's mostly that you've gotten used to sleeping with him. He’s so damn comfortable. All of that muscle has just enough give to make a good pillow. As cold as the inside of his head is, his body throws off heat like a furnace.

And, you’re horrified to admit, you miss the sex.

After dinner, you throw a leg over both of his on the couch and drop your hands to his shoulders. He makes a curious noise, wraps a big hand around your thigh. It takes a little wiggling to get comfortable, but eventually you’re settled close and sharing breath. When you run your fingers through his hair, he presses his nose to your temple and takes a subtle (for him) sniff.

After much consideration, you’d decided that your first time initiating sex would start with nibbling on his collarbone. He makes a soft rumbling sound at the first feeling of your teeth. You feel like that’s a pretty good sign, so you keep at it, add sucking kisses to his skin. That gets you a big palm wrapped around the back of your neck.

“What’s this, then?” he asks.

“Miss you,” you answer back, between kisses. After another minute, you sit back to look him in the eyes. “You haven’t been around.”

“Been busy, luv,” he answers.

Too busy for me? You barely resist asking. Instead you say, “Too busy to sleep over?”

“Been sleeping during the day,” he answers with a shrug. “You’ve been nappin’ on me.”

You try not to pout too hard. “It’s not the same.”

“Thought you’d like having your own space,” he chuckles. “Used to like your privacy.”

You give him the driest look you ever have and tilt your head to look directly into the hidden camera in one of your plants. “Oh, yes, the privacy. So much of that happening.”

He chuckles and takes the opportunity for a gentle bite to your throat. “You need to see me giving you attention, then? Not enough to know I’m watchin’?” He drags biting kisses up to your ear. His voice rumbles through you when he says. “Wanna watch with me, sweetheart?”

The thought makes you flush hot in an instant, but you push through. “I just want to be with you. Stay with me tonight?”

Simon takes a moment to consider. Eventually he says, “Got a project that’s almost done. Could be done tonight if I’m not distracted.”

Sitting back to look into his eyes, you ask, only partially joking, “You’re not killing people, are you?”

He cocks his head with an amused curl of his lips. With the flat voice that makes your hair stand on end, he says. “No.”

Your body cools remarkably quickly, “Are you torturing people, Simon Riley?”

He drops a peck on the tip of your nose. “Not yet.”

“Simon!” you yelp, slapping at his shoulder and leaning away. “You can’t torture people!”

“You like a little bit of torture,” he mutters, easily overpowering you to pull you close enough to kiss at your chin, your throat, your collarbones. He snickers, asks, “Can’t a man have a hobby?”

“You need a new hobby!” you gasp, wiggling to get away. The part of you that loves his dry humor is drowned out by near panic. “I’m not having sex with you if you’re planning on killing people.”

That declaration is a miscalculation on your part. Next thing you know, you’re on your back on the couch. He’s caging your body under his, with one hand around your throat. The other hand easily catches one, then both of your wrists as you try to squirm away.

“Make you a deal,” he drawls, not an ounce of strain in his voice as he holds you down. “I’ll stay with you tonight. Give you all the attention you’ve been needing. And tomorrow, I show you what I’ve been working on.”

Brandon’s terrified face flashes behind your eyes. You fight back tears. “No, Simon!”

“I won’t kill anyone,” Simon coos. “I promise. Not even wounding anyone. Won’t be nobody but you and me. Been working on it for almost a month. Was gonna show you next week, but the weather’s gonna be real nice tomorrow.”

For all that he’s an absolute psycho, Simon has always kept his word. You stop squirming, hiccup, “You promise?”

“Cross my heart, precious girl,” he purrs. “Not planning on torturing anyone but you for a long time. And last time, I was the one bleeding, remember?”

At the reminder, you tap at his chest. Obliging, he drops down so you can kiss his scalp, right where your fingernails had dug in. It’s a ritual you started the day after you’d scored him, when you finally got a view of the damage. Simon had been a content and satiated polar bear while you’d fluttered around, horrified. He wouldn’t let you bandage it properly, but seems very happy now to let you kiss the spot whenever you want. The pattern helps to calm you down.

“I don’t like being tortured,” you whisper against his hair.

“You love to take what I give you.” Simon pushes you back down to the couch by your neck. His lips brush against your cheek as he growls, “Got you all scared right now, and I know you’re still so wet for me.”

When his lips meet yours, they’re surprisingly gentle. Everything about him softens. The hand around your neck starts petting you, while the other releases your wrists and makes its way down to your waist. His fingers inch under the hem of your shirt before tickling their way up your ribs. It would be so easy to relax into his touch, but you’re not fooled. He’s still Simon.

“Let me make you feel good, pretty thing,” he breathes against your lips as he pets at you. His hips rut down against yours, slowly, letting you feel where he’s hard and wanting. You can’t help but grind back. “Been missing the way you taste. Can give you a couple fingers before my cock. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It does sound nice. Too nice. “You’re up to something,” you moan.

“’Course I am,” he agrees, easily, pressing fleeting kisses to your lips. “Gonna make you cry, sweet girl. Gonna make you bleed me again. Show you you’re mine, and that I’m yours.”

“I just cut my nails,” you sigh, scrubbing your short fingernails through his hair. “And crying sounds a bit intense for tonight. Can we… the rest sounds good. Can we do that?”

Simon hums as he kisses your mouth again. “Alright. Can I eat you out right here? I’ll wash the blanket tomorrow.”

That’s a downright reasonable compromise, so you nod. It doesn’t take long for Simon to divest you of your clothes, but he doesn’t actually move things along further. Just kisses you and kisses you for a long few minutes. Gradually, you settle in for a rare, extended make-out session. And as the tension eases out of you, Simon goes almost boneless with a happy purr.

By the time he pulls away to start kissing his way down your body, you’re warm and languid. It wouldn’t be Simon if there were no teeth, but the little nibbles and biting kisses he gives your breasts are gentle. His hands gently coax your legs up as he makes his way to the floor, on his knees. He’s gentle as he gets you angled so that he is holding up one of your hips without pulling the rest of you off of the couch.

His eyes are piercing when you look at him between your legs. He holds your gaze as he leans down to press gentle kisses to your mound and lower. His tongue is slow and indulgent when it makes its appearance. When his lips purse to create gentle suction over your clit, you let your head drop back. He hums when your fingers pet over his head, and sets to.

Sex with Simon is always overwhelmingly good, but he doesn’t usually give you both time to savor the experience. Tonight is different. After a half hour, you’re most of the way to orgasm before he slips a finger into you. You’re so wet that it’s barely a stretch.

“More?” you sigh.

Simon gives you another finger, easy as anything. He’s almost reverent when he curls them both up and forward. It makes you gasp and clench around him. He groans, but doesn’t speed up, doesn’t change his pace at all. Lets you wind tighter and tighter for long minutes before your peak rolls through you. He keeps going, stringing you along for a long, perfect moment. Then he gentles you through it until you’re panting.

“Another one?” he murmurs against your pussy. “Or my cock now?”

You roll your neck to look at him. “Another?”

“’F course, precious,” he says. And gets to work.

The second orgasm is just as easy and sweet as the first one. He gives you one more finger when you ask for it, calls you a good girl for asking. His other hand is large and hot, holding you close to his mouth.

Once you make your way through the waves of your peak, he climbs back onto the couch. You’re pulled into his lap and against his chest before he eases you down onto his cock. Even relaxed as you are, he feels so big inside of you. You mewl against his throat. He rumbles back and pets both hands down your back.

When you grind your hips down into his, he makes a gentle shushing noise against your temple. “Easy, easy. There’s a good girl. Let me do all the work, yeah?”

He keeps talking, praising you, as his hands guide you into a slow back and forth roll that leaves him buried deep. When he does start rocking under you, he barely withdraws an inch before he’s plunging back into you. Every few thrusts, he holds you down, coaxes you to rub yourself against his chest and belly. And then his hands are enticing you back into that effortless grind.

“Simon,” you moan, after a small eternity of this. You can hear the way your hips are slip-sliding together. “’M gonna come again.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead for a long moment before answering. “You want to?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Then you should, precious,” he rumbles. “Want me to keep fucking you after? Keep going? I can, you feel so good.”

You can’t imagine doing anything but agreeing. When you nod, he draws you into another kiss. Underneath you, he shifts, changing the position of his hips until you gasp into his mouth. The new angle, even without changing the pace, pushes you to the edge and over it before you really know what’s happening. You moan into each other’s mouths as you clench down. Everything is so slick and he doesn’t stop. Just keeps grinding your clit into his body while his cock fills you just right. Just keeps talking you through it.

It’s only when he’s getting close himself, a long time later, that his touches get a little harder, his pace a little faster. But even then, his hands are big and warm and hold you reverently. One of his palms holds your head so your face is pressed to his throat. The other holds you up by a thigh so he can thrust up into you. If you weren’t so hazy with pleasure, you might have been embarrassed by how wet everything sounds. But all you know is the next orgasm that is rushing up on you and the sound of his voice as he calls you perfect, precious, mine as he shudders and comes.

Later, he brings you a glass of water and coaxes you to finish it all before he climbs into bed behind you. He’s not going to sleep for a while, you know, but he seems content enough to cuddle you and hold one of your hands in his.

“That was really nice,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Wasn’t bad,” he rumbles.

“You didn’t like it?” You twist to look at his face.

“Don’t worry, pet, I liked it plenty,” he reassures you. “’S nice, you being so soft for me. ‘S just different.” When you nod your agreement around a yawn, he chuckles. “All worn out from being spoiled? Sleep, sweet girl.”

“Been busy these last couple of days,” you protest, pulling his arm closer around you.

“I know,” he says. He squeezes you like a teddy bear. “Been working real hard at your new job. And I’ve not been here to help you sleep.”

“Yeah,” you agree, eyes heavy. “Sleep better when you’re here.”

He says something else, but you don’t quite hear it. You feel him press a kiss to your temple and hear, just before sleep takes you. “Sleep well.”

When you wake up, you’re cold and your sinuses feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. Simon must have opened the curtains for you when he climbed out of bed this morning, there’s so much light shining through your eyelids. You lift a hand to block some of the light out. Something clinks.

When you open your eyes, your heart starts racing immediately. You’re not in your room. You’re not in Simon’s room, which would be scary enough. You’re on a mattress on the floor, under a rough, dingy blanket. Your hands are cuffed together, with a chain that goes over the side of the mattress.

When you push yourself to sit up, your vision swims for a few seconds before settling.

“Morning, precious.”

You get so dizzy when you whip your head around that you’re afraid you’ll fall back over. When your eyes are able to focus, your stomach drops.

Sitting on a metal chair across the room, Simon’s eyes peer out from a skull mask.