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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 11 months

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THE THINGS YOU DO FOR LOVE... ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him.

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time.

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips.

he can’t be serious.

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly.

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice.

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week.

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it.

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him.

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could.

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package —

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt.

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit.

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards.

but no — he wanted you to wear it.

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?”

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too.

”— because you love me?”

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly.

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?”

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble —

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak —

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer.

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?”

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly.

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows.

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t.

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love.

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all.

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh.

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant.

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this…

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate.

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry.

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.”

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings.

it’s a perfect fit.

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit.

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves.

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute.

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?)

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses.

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you��re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together.

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer.

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear.

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected.

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.)

”… why aren’t you saying anything?”

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet.

he’s completely stunned.

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck.

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy.

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal.

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears.

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens.

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle.

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration.

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look.

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression.

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.”

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear.

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted.

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters.

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet.

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all.

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips.

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins.

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin.

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin.

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying.

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink.

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile.

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!”

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible.

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there.

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful —

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

#satoru ”my girl look so good today im abt to scream and moan and throw up” gojo #he is so husband coded to me. so unbelievably babygirl #he would absolutely wear a maid dress if u asked him to btw. and he would rock that shit so hard.#just……. gojo in a dress………….. breathe if u agree #im a firm believer in flustered satoru also…..#it wouldnt happen often but if u act cute enough i just think smth in his brain stops working #and he grins rly wide and tries to cover his face w his hands so you wont see how much hes blushing. if u tease him more he squeaks #who said that.#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

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6okuto · 1 year

Text

WEDDING MOMENTS

gn!reader | kuroo, bokuto, akaashi, hinata, atsumu, osamu, ushijima

hello everyone i'm back 🫶 these are more reception moments than wedding but y'know. give me a break man...

KUROO leans in and whispers in your ear as you dance, “is it bad i want to go home and just lie in bed with you now?” “why are you whispering as if someone can hear you?” you snicker back. tetsurou shoots you a cheeky smile. “so it looks like i’m saying something romantic.” you hit his shoulder, and he only laughs before pulling you into a tight hug. you wait for him to let go before replying. “idiot. but no, it isn’t. my back and feet hurt.” he hums, and you can feel his fingers tapping your back. “do you think it’s possible for newly weds to sneak out of their own wedding reception?”

BOKUTO is walking down the aisle again as everyone disperses to talk or get ready for the reception. you walk up to him, curiosity piqued as he bends down. “what are you doing?” “huh?” he drops a few petals that he was clutching. “crap—hi, baby. i’m just, uh, picking up some of the flowers to take with us. i saw someone do it online, and i thought we could press them or put them somewhere,” he explains softly, as if a little embarrassed. your heart flutters at the thought, and you smile before reaching down yourself. “we better get some flowers, then. and a ziploc bag or something.”

AKAASHI relaxes and rests his head against yours while you watch your guests mingling and dancing. you reach for his hand and intertwine fingers. “you okay?” he nods in response and presses a chaste kiss to your jaw. “yeah, i can finally calm down and not worry about something terrible happening.” “mm, something terrible could still happen.” “love of my life, can you please give your husband a break?” keiji blows air against your skin, eliciting a laugh from you. his tone is light, and you can feel him smiling even while you apologize.

HINATA takes one of the polaroid cameras that you got for the guests. you watch as he poses and takes a picture of himself before handing it to you. “do you want me to take a selfie?” he nods with a grin. “yeah! and also sign it so i can put it in my wallet, or maybe the back of my phone?” his sentence ends as a question to himself. you get your phone so you can check your appearance before mimicking your now husband’s pose. “sho, i swear if mine is bad i want a redo,” you say. he sputters as he looks at his forming photo. “well that’s good because i definitely screwed mine up. i’m like half in the frame.”

ATSUMU’s knee bounces as the video of your relationship the both of you got done nears its end. you shoot him a look, but he doesn’t seem to notice, gaze fixed on the scene. that’s when you hear a familiar voice, but unfamiliar clip start to play. “it’s, fuck, what day is it? november 13, and i’m pretty sure i need t’look for an engagement ring,” your now husband says into the camera. you gape, shock evident across your face. atsumu’s voice is soft as he says your name. “i love you, really. and if you’re seeing this then i didn’t fuck this up, and you decided to marry me, and i’m probably ‘bout to have a heart attack,” he nervously laughs. you turn to atsumu next to you, whose face is flushed red. “don’t look at me, the video isn’t done yet.”

OSAMU keeps holding your hand, and if he isn’t holding it he’s probably thinking of doing so. you don’t mind, finding comfort in the way he rubs the back of it. you’re sitting together when he silently reaches for it again. “i’m pretty sure you’ve held my hand more today than this entire week.” osamu rolls his eyes but smiles. you stare as he gently takes hold of your ring and fidgets with it. “sorry, can’t stop thinkin’ about how we’re actually married now.” you stare at each other, and he rests his chin in his palm. with his other hand, he brings yours up to press gentle kisses against the ring and your skin. “just another excuse to stay close t’you.”

USHIJIMA looks over when you poke his shoulder, and quickly realizes you’re trying to feed him some cake. “say ahh,” you sing song. it’s a half-joke, and you don’t fully expect him to accept, but he leans forward and opens his mouth, hand underneath the fork to catch any crumbs. despite his serious expression and stature, you can't help but think he looks cute. “i know we picked this flavour, but does it taste good?” you ask. wakatoshi nods. “it was a good choice.” he gets a forkful for who you assume is himself. but instead he lifts it toward you. “do you want to try now?”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #hinata x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #ushijima x reader #kuroo tetsuro #bokuto kotaro #akaashi keiji #hinata shoyo #miya atsumu #miya osamu #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu multi chara posts u mean the world 2 me #when no one has my back...i know u do.. can i get an amen ?!

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

Note

Hi! :) Could you write frat!Peter during a lazy morning showing reader that little vídeo he recorded back in Berlin in Homecoming? And he's like: you see, I wasn't always this hot!!! And you tell him he was still so cute and that you'd have loved dated him back then as well?

i watched it as i wrote it and i fell back in love with the lil cutie.

watch peter's vlog here

Peter hisses and shakes his arm from where you have your teeth sunk in.

“I’m sorry baby, but I can’t believe you weren’t always this juicy.”

“I’m not a steak, you can’t just take a bite of me.”

You wink and run your hand down his naked chest, “no, but you are a delicious hunk of meat.”

Peter groans and pushes your hand off, you wriggle in closer to his body, your bare chest sticks against his ribcage, evaporated sweat glues you together.

“I’m telling you now, you wouldn’t have said that like five years ago.”

You kiss his chest, his hand tries to lay down your hair, “I’d take you up on that bet.”

“Oh really?”

You frown when your lips meet air, the skin you dotted kisses cross ripped away to the other side of the bed, peter sees your empty pout and rolls his eyes, “gimme a second,” he rolls back the other way, his half charged phone in his hand, you softly cheer and continue to press kisses against the swell of his chest.

“Tell me you’d still date me.”

Peter’s phone is in landscape mode, his finger hovering over the play button until your attention is captured. The thumbnail was a black screen with tile words, you try to hold back a snort at the ‘A Film by Peter Parker.’ You held his wrist to angle his phone more towards you and motion him to play it.

“Oh my god!” You squeal out the words and pinch your boyfriends wrist, “you sound like such a baby! Oh my god, you’re so cute.”

“Not even ten seconds in,” peter presses play.

“You’re not supposed to show anyone this, but you’re showing me? Oh my god, that is so cute, I love you so much.”

“Are you going to do this when you see me at fifteen?”

You press against him further, he can feel your heart beating quickly against his side, you were terribly excited.

You scream when he finally flips the camera, it makes him jump slightly and you fly upright and pull the phone from his grasp to bring it three inches from your face. You jump between the screen and the boy on your right, trying to place which one you like better, both are awfully cute.

“You are such a baby! Look how cute you are, oh my god! You sound so little, look at your widdle cheeks here!” You push the phone back in his face, he finds it comical, you bring your hands to try and pinch at his cheeks but over the years he’s become more defined and has much less baby fat.

“What the fuck is that!” You choke out a laugh at his suit, you assume it was the homemade one he very briefly, one time mentioned. Peter’s blush confirmed the assumption, “hey! I did what I could.”

“I saw that montage of pretty berlin girls, petey, imagine if they knew you were a hero.” You laugh when he reaches a hand to pinch at your side, your positions changed, no longer laying next to Peter you’re sitting with your legs tucked underneath, your knees poking the side of his thigh. You’re both naked, his top sheet pooled around your waists, chests bare to each other.

Peter’s phone is in your grasp, his left hand rests on your thigh, eyes tied at your face to watch your reaction, he’s happy you’re enjoying it this much, he thought for sure you’d make fun of him and pray to the heavens you found him now, but he’s now thinking you may have liked him better as a kid.

You pout and awe at him, “you looked so happy when you got your new suit, I love you so much, oh my god.”

Your jaw drops at the end, “were you a virgin when you filmed this?”

Peter snorts, “sure was.”

“Literally, how? Cause you are so fucking hot here, like after the shower? You know your wet hair is my weak spot, and the flip? Why don’t you flip for me more, like now I know that’s a thing you can do, why are you not doing it? Like, babe, I’d fuck the shit out of you here, like my fifteen year old self would.”

Peter takes his phone back, “you’re still convinced you’d date me back then?”

He is chuffed, he won’t admit how ego inducing your praises were.

You move to lay back up against him, settling with your head on his chest you smile at him.

“You said the best day of your life was when you got your new suit, how could I not love you?”

Peter winces, “that’s not the best day of my life.”

You frown, “it’s not?”

He shakes his head confidently, “nope, it’s been updated.”

You tilt your head, “oh, to when?”

Peter kisses your forehead, “to the day I met you.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #mcu peter parker #my writing

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cosmal · 2 years

Text

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 — 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

note — this is for @sparklingsin spookinktober!! it was queued to be posted on halloween but tumblr deleted it!! so I had to rewrite it :((( so I'm sorry that this is so late and so terrible!! I tried my best to rewrite it like it was fr. i do genuinely hate this now, i’m sorry.

summary — eddie comes back after a week and sees you in your angel costume. he has to fuck you right then and there.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, smut, mdni, piv, fingering, needy!reader

wc — 1.8k

“Steve, have you seen Eddie yet?” You stand on your tiptoes to get closer to his face, leaning over the breakfast bar that separates the two of you.

Steve probably yells too eagerly. The music is loud, but you’re not exactly far away, “Y/N like I said fifteen minutes ago, he’ll be here at 9 o’clock.”

“What’s the time?” You laugh. Winding Steve up is always fun.

Steve sighs like he’s annoyed. You know he’s really not, “8:45.”

“Awesome. I’m gonna go sit on the couch until he gets here.” You tell him before spinning on your heels. The feathers of your angel wings tickle his face as you turn and Steve wrinkles his nose.

“I’m sure you will, Y/N!” he calls before you turn the corner.

And you do exactly that. You’ve waited for Eddie to get back all week, what’s fifteen more minutes? By the time Eddie arrives, the wiry angel wings on your back have grown a little itchy. You’d take them off if you weren’t excited to show Eddie your costume.

Picking at a loose thread on your frilly, white skirt, you don’t even notice the pair of knees in ripped, black denim, hovering over your own. Eddie leans forward to nudge your leg with his and you startle.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Eddie does that signature smile of his, it almost fries your brain and you forget to react.

“Oh my god, Eds!” It’s a blur of feathers when you leap from the small couch. Pushing your arms over his shoulders and leaning your whole weight into him. He almost topples when he wraps his own arms around your back. “Eddie,”

Eddie’s mouth finds its home in the juncture of your neck like it always does, breathing in your lost scene and pressing his lips to your skin. “Y/N.”

He pulls away, but not before you give him one last squeeze, holding you out at arm's length. “God, baby. You look so fucking hot,” he groans.

You turn your hips until your skirt swishes, “You think?”

Eddie reaches around to fiddle with one of the feathers, smoothing it out between his thumb and pointer. “Shit, yeah.”

“Where’s your costume?” you ask, poking him in the chest until he rocks on the balls of his feet. Heavy boots thump along with the bass of the music.

“I’m in it,” he laughs.

“Yeah?”

Eddie swishes like you did but the only thing that moves is his leather jacket that stiffly flaps around his waist, “Yeah. Your boyfriend.”

You roll your eyes like you’re actually not amused by his answer, “You wear that every day.”

“Well, you haven’t seen me in it for an entire week.” He leans in to peck your cheek. Twice for good measure. You grasp his jacket in firm hands and hold him close.

You hum, “Yeah. Missed you.”

Eddie leans in again to snake his arms around to give your ass a squeeze, bunching your skirt in his hands. You’ve forgotten where you are for a moment when he says, “Wanna show me how much you missed me?”

Pretending to act like you don’t want Eddie more than anything at this moment would be harder than telling him exactly what you want — so you don’t. You run a hand down his chest, over the cotton of his shirt, feeling the bumps and divots tentatively until your reach his waist. Hooking a finger around a belt loop to tug him closer.

“I think I do.” you smile.

Eddie groans, “Shit,”

You can’t even pretend to be surprised at how quickly it takes Eddie to drag you to the nearest bathroom. His insatiable need has you giggling the entire way there. Pushing through strangers and ignoring the pointed look Robin shoots you from the bottom of the stairs.

Once you’re inside, Eddie fumbles with the lock on the door while you tug at his free arm, “C’mon, Eds,” you whine.

Eddie cheers when he gets the door to lock, turning to lift you up and onto the basin. The ceramics are cold where it touches the bare skin on your legs and you gasp. Eddie is quick to catch any noise with his mouth when he leans in to kiss you.

“Fuck,” kiss, “angel,” kiss, “you look so hot.”

Your laughter peels from within you and you’re huffing into his mouth, “I thought I was the one who was supposed to be showing you how much I missed you.”

He pulls away to lift your skirt up so it pools around your waist, tugging your panties down until they stretch over your knees, “Just sit there looking all pretty, that’s enough for me, baby.”

Eddie lets you do as you please, placing a firm grip to stable yourself on his shoulders when he traces the tip of his finger up your slit. Grazing down to your entrance to gather the slick that’s already begun to pool on the counter.

“So messy,” he coos, exploring with his finger to push through your pudgy folds, “Missed this pussy, angel.”

You lean forward to press the top of your head into his shoulder, wrapping a hand around his bicep. When he finally slips a finger inside you, you let out the tiniest gasp and your hand tightens in its grip until the leather of his jacket squeaks.

You angle your head up to leave a line of lazy kisses along his neck. Your hot breath and tiny gasps are a whisper against Eddie’s skin. He pushes a second finger in, now middle and marriage, and you hiccup against his skin. Eddie pushes in further, determined to get you to make more pretty noises that get him all worked up.

“Eds,” you pant uselessly. More tiny gasps.

“Y/N,” he almost mocks, exploring deeper inside your weeping hole. Slick traces down his palm and threatens to dirty his sleeve. If Eddie has ever cared about that, he’s never shown it.

You rock your hips against the bench to try and get closer to his hand, his palm pushing into your clit. The stickiness of his thumb and pinky thudding against your skin echo in the tiny bathroom.

Eddie can sense your neediness, “Slow down, baby.”

You grip the hair around the base of his neck which only causes him to groan out. “Need,” you pant.

“What d‘you need, hmm?” Eddie asks, pulling back to check you over. Using his free hand to brush the hair from your eyes. You blink at him slowly.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please.” Your eyes are terribly pleading and Eddie stills, deep-seated inside you. “Missed you- need you, Eds.”

Eddie can see you working yourself up and kisses you on the highest part of your cheek. Pulling his hand from you he says, “Yeah? Need my cock?”

“Please.”

“You’re so, very polite,” he coos.

There’s a metal zzz of his zipper unravelling and the shushing of his jeans being pushed down just below his ass, before he’s tugging at his cock with familiarity. A familiarity that has your stomach aching.

Eddie wraps his wet hand around the fat of your thigh to tug you closer to the edge of the basin and you yelp, bracing yourself on his chest.

Once you’re close enough, the ruddy tip of his cock presses into your clit and you jolt, head lulling into the juncture of his neck. Eddie wraps his arms around your back and holds you close, dotting kisses over your clavicle. His teeth scrape and nip playfully until goosebumps raise your skin.

“Ready?” he asks as he runs his cock down your slit to line up with your entrance.

“Uh-“ you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles together, “Uh-huh.”

Eddie sinks in and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. “That’s it,” he groans, breath trembling, “Fuck.”

You squeeze him closer like it’s possible and gasp when the air is forced from your lungs at the proximity. Your hands tremble around stiff leather and your hips ache when he rocks in to the hilt. Filling you completely.

“Ah — Eddie,” you gasp, harder when he’s rocking in stronger.

Eddie starts to move, slow and tentatively, rolling his hips into your wet heat. Spreading your legs further apart and your underwear slips down onto the floor.

“Please,” you plead, “harder.” You dig your knees into his side.

Eddie grips your thigh to hold it up and closer to him and when he feels as if he’s not hitting the right angle, he hooks his arms under both of your legs to lift you from the counter.

Gasping, you sink down onto him, keeping your arms and ankles hooked around his body.

Eddie moves to grasp at your ass, squeezing fat between his fingers to keep you upright. Lifting you up and you help him settle back down until you find a perfect rhythm.

“So,” Eddie grunts, hard to be heard over the sounds of skin slapping and your pitched-up moans. You’re also lucky the music outside is loud enough to muffle anything. “so wet, sweetheart.”

You hum what sounds like an uh-huh, trying your best to meet his movements. Eddie’s grip is tight and it stings. Pain turns to pleasure when he starts to hit the spongy spot deep inside you.

Eddie’s doing his best to fuck you onto him. Especially when your pelvis burns and your arms ache, going limp against his frame.

His grunts mix in with your Ah ah ah’s, Eddie has no free hands to smother your noises so he plants his lips to yours, catching any sounds.

“Eddie,” you say against his lips, hot and wet, “M’gonna…”

“Cum f’me, baby,” he says, speeding up.

When he’s repeatedly hitting your sweet spot at the perfect rhythm, the coil in your core snaps, bleeding through your abdomen until you’re clamping around Eddie—tensing up in his hold.

Weak and panty, Eddie throws you back down to the basin, hips stuttering inside you.

“Fuck, where can I?”

“Inside,” you say. No, beg.

“You sure?” he groans.

You nod your head, clamping your twitching walls around him and that’s all it takes. Dragging, now slowly through your gummy heat, his own cum sobbing from your hole when he’s finished.

He’s pulling out, slowly when he watches your face crumple, keeping your legs hooked around his sides. Placing a wet kiss against your damp hairline, he says, “That was amazing- You’re amazing.”

“I know,” you grin, resting your legs down until your knees click.

“Mmm,” he kisses you again, “M’never leaving for that long, ever again.”

“Never,” you agree.

There’s a beat, that’s not very silent, filled with the party that’s still thrumming. Loud chants and chatter fill the bathroom from the crack under the door.

“We should really go home,” he says.

“I think so,” you hum, “I think I heard about ten people knocking on the door.”

“Shit,” Eddie snorts.

“Shit.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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universtvrs · 1 year

Text

Pairings: Mdom!Steven, Fsub!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), Angst, No condom, Msub to Mdom Steven, Oral (F receiving), PIV sex

——————————————————————————

You looked at the clock. It read “1:07 AM.” Where the hell is he? You said to yourself. Steven said he would be home by 10 since he had to work the late shift. Usually he would call or text you if he had to work later than said.

After about ten more minutes you decide to pick up your phone to call him. As soon as you pressed “Call” you can hear a familiar ring tone at the door, following a sound of keys jingling. When you hang up the phone you look up to see your boyfriend; Steven.

“Hey love!” He says with that dumb smile of his. You almost can’t help but immediately smile back at him. But you’re upset. Upset because he didn’t let you know where he was or that he was gonna be out later, and it really made you worried. He instantly notices your mood and drops his bags at the door and walks to the couch.

“Everything alright? D-did I do somethin’?” He inquired as he falls to his knees cupping your face in his hands. "Darling are you okay?"

You look at him then look away, pushing his hands away while your at it. You rise up off the couch to make your way to you guys' shared bedroom. His eyes follow your frame and he stands to come after you like a lost dog.

As you both sit down on the bed he asks you again:

"Are you alright? Please answer me. I just wanna know if I did anythin’ wrong.”

"Yes, everything's fine." You reply in a monotone voice. Sure sometimes Steven was oblivious but he wasn't stupid. He knows not everything is fine even when you say it. Especially if its in a tone like that.

"No. No it’s not. Can't you just tell me?"

"Can't you just leave me alone?" After those words slip out of your mouth you instantly regret it. "Oh." Is all he says before standing back up and walking to the kitchen.

Shit. Shit! You didn't mean to say that. You'd never want to hurt Steven like that. Especially if he actually didn't know what he did wrong. He's very new to relationships and doesn't understand the things he should or should not do fully. It’s not his fault.

“Steven!” You call out to him. But he just keeps walking to the couch, trying his best to ignore you. As soon as you get close enough, you grab his shoulder and turn him towards you. His eyes are filled with sorrow.

Normally he just looks tired from work but now he looks just plain tired.

You cup his face into your hands smoothing his skin with your thumbs. He falls to his knees to the floor almost sobbing. “I-I’m so sorry. I’m a terrible boyfriend. I don’t even know what I did to make you upset my love.” He says as he starts to put his head down.

“No. No you’re not. I shouldn’t have said that to you. I should have just told you what’s wrong. You’re perfect, alright?”

He looks into your eyes and nods his head as he lets out a simple “alright.”

After a moment of silence he starts to look at your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. You get his hint and thats when both of your lips crash together. Tongues fighting each other and soon the room is filled with his groans and your moans.

He grabs onto your waist pulling you onto his lap as he lays his back against the couch. He sucks air through his teeth from the contact. You can feel him get hard underneath you. The noises he’s making just makes you unbelievably wet. “Fuck Steven…”

“Aw… you like the way my cock feels under you darling? Now… imagine how it’s gonna feel inside you.” These things he’s saying are enough to make you cum alone. He’s slowly rutting into you, making you moan and whimper on top of him. Steven grabs your waist even harder, possibly leaving marks, as he starts to grind you down on top of him.

Both of your mouths are slightly parted. “My god.. just like that pretty girl, fuck.” He says as his eyebrows start to furrow. “Keep doin’ that for me baby, cmon you got it…”

“S-steven stop teasing.” You whine, rolling your head back, giving him access to your neck. He starts leaving a trail of bite marks along your collarbone and then soothing them with his tongue. “Don’t be so eager. I wanna take my time with you sweet girl.”

He lifts you up off the floor and puts you on your back on the couch. “I wanna make you feel good. Can I do that?”

“Yes… yes anything.” You pant out, barely even able to get a full sentence out.

He faces your cunt, breathing out onto you, making you shiver at the contact with the cold air. He slowly takes off the shorts you have on. He’s moving agonizingly slow which makes you groan out. “Sh..shh… be patient my love.”

He leaves small kisses at your soaked underwear. Then moves them over to the side. He swipes his tongue over your slit making you writhe beneath him. “More. Ple-… Please.”

“Anything you want.” He says right before diving into you like a starving man. He’s focusing on your clit, wanting to make sure he does the best for you. He wants to make you feel good. And that’s all he’s gonna worry about right now. He leaves small kisses every now and then, inserting his tongue while his hands spread your legs giving him better access to your soaked cunt.

He looks up at you while he’s eating you out, then comments, “Shit… all this for me baby? Fuck, you taste so good. Could eat you all night… You’d like that wouldn’t you?” His words are just slipping out like he doesn’t think before he speaks. But oh, fuck does he know what to say.

He almost hesitantly brings down his fingers to tease you. Then, unhurriedly slips in his middle and ring finger deep into you. He curls them into the right spot. Making you moan so loud you’re pretty sure your voice might be hoarse tomorrow.

Steven instantly puts his other hand over your mouth, trying to keep you as silent as possible. “Stay quiet for me please?” he says in a hushed tone.

Sure he’s not experienced with relationships, but he knows your body and how to pleasure you. As he removes his hand he puts it on top of your stomach to keep you still. “Go ahead, let go baby… cum for me.” His praise pushes you over the edge as you enjoy the pure bliss he gives you with his mouth and fingers.

The only thing you can hear throughout the room is your pants. As you try to catch your breath from the orgasm you just had.

“Fuck I love you.” As he leans up to kiss you, you see his face is covered in your slick. When your mouths crash together you can taste yourself on him. Steven reaches down to unbuckle his belt and for some reason it makes your stomach turn. Thinking about him deep inside you. Hearing his moans in your ear as he comes close to his orgasm.

As Steven pulls his boxers down, he lines himself up with your entrance, slowly sliding in, inch by inch. He bottoms out with a low groan. “Shi-it… you feel so good. So fuckin’ t-tight and wet all for me baby…” He puts his face into your neck starting off with slow thrusts. Then he pics up the pace, not too slow, but not too fast.

You ball your hands into his shirt. His voice is getting higher in pitch and his thrusts are getting faster and deeper. He has one hand on your hip and one on the small of your back.

“Oh.. baby ‘m gonna- gonna cum.” You try your best to cry out.

“Me too love- oh sh-shit.” Is the last thing you hear Steven say before he lets out a moan of ecstasy. You can feel him cum inside of you and his whole body gives out on top of you.

The room is still filled with the sound of you both trying to catch your breaths. “So… you gonna tell me why you were mad at me darling?”

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#mr knight smut #steven grant x reader #moon knight smut #fanfic #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #steven grant #marc spector

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unknownbl0ggerr · 9 months

Text

Promise me

Alex Standall x Fem! Reader

What if someone talked Alex out of doing what he did?

Trigger Warnings! : mentions of suicide, mental health issues, guns, swearing, everything you expect from 13 reasons why.

——————

“come over”

that was the only text you got, it was the only thing you needed to rush over to your boyfriends house.

you got to the front door and texted him, you weren’t gonna knock it was late and you weren’t stupid. he opened the door quickly and you could see he had been crying. he shut the door quietly behind you and grabbed your hand as you both walked to his room.

“alex what’s going on?” you asked softly as he sat on his bed. he took a shaky breath before shaking his head, “hannah’s dead and it’s all my fault.” “what?” you asked walking towards him. “no honey that’s not true.” you said kneeling down in front of him.

he had his eyes closed and you could see the tears rolling down his cheeks, “it is. you heard the tape. I could’ve fucking helped her but i made it worse. i killed hannah baker.” you held the side of his face gently, he opened his eyes and looked at you, breathing heavily.

“baby there was nothing you could do. she made her choice long before you even knew she was suffering.” he didn’t answer but the tears didn’t stop. your other hand that was on holding his wiped the tears off his face, “what happened to her was terrible. she deserved better but you can’t best yourself up over this. you didn’t kill hannah baker. she killed herself.”

he nodded slowly before crying again, you sat next to him and wrapped your arms around him, he cried into your shoulder and you rubbed his back.

——————

you laid next to each other, over the covers, holding hands, breathing practically synced. “i was gonna do it.” he said softly, voice practically a whisper. you turned your head towards him. “i was gonna end it.” this time it was a whisper. you sat up, now noticing his unnaturally cleaned room. “but that’s changed now.” he said sitting up with you, “because you’re here.”

you grabbed his hand gently and got closer to him, you were face to face now, sitting crisscrossed, knees touching, “promise me.. promise me if you ever feel like this again you call me. no matter what. no matter where i am, what time it is, what i’m doing, it doesn’t matter. what matters is you.” you held up your pinky for a pinky promise and he chuckled softly before he started tearing up, but stopped himself.

he nodded and grabbed your pinky with his, “i promise.” you smiled and so did he, you kissed him on his nose then his cheek. he rolled his eyes playfully then kissed you on the mouth which you gratefully returned before gently pushing him away.

“i hate to end this sweetheart but i do have to break it to you, we have school in about..” you checked your phone then nodded. “6 hours.” “shit..” he said still smiling. “shit is right.” you laughed.

“well, do you wanna stay here tonight?” he asked already knowing the answer. “alex i don’t really have a choice do i?” she joked making him smile again, “guess not.” he gave her a shirt and some shorts to change into and they fell asleep in each others arms.

#13 reasons why #13 reasons why x reader #13rw #13rw imagine #alex standall #alex standall x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #alex standall imagine

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penmansparadise · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson ~ The Yuletide Bluff

*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mild language

a/n: Well, it has definitely been a while since I've written anything. I really hope you all enjoy this, and I'm sure you will notice that I gave myself some room to either write another part or leave it where it ended. Let me know what you all think!

Sunday evenings used to be your favorite thing in the world. You loved having your family gather for dinner at your house. Your mom and aunts would be busy in the kitchen, hands at work creating a delicious meal while your uncles and dad sat in the living room watching ESPN, beers in hand. Your baby cousins would be running around squealing as they played, and your older cousins would just sit and watch before being elicited to help in the kitchen. It was totally and wonderfully normal and something you could never get enough of. That is until you started your senior year of high school.

It wasn’t bad in the beginning. Your mom and aunts would ask if you had a crush on anyone here and there, and that would be it. But the farther into your senior year you got, those innocent questions turned into badgering from every female member of your family.

“You’re graduating soon,” your aunt would say, giving you a pitiful look. “Don’t you want to begin adulthood with that special someone?”

“Your cousin Adriana has had a boyfriend since sophomore year, you know?” Another Aunt would say as if it were some sort of backhanded comment.

It was now the first week of December, nearly halfway through your senior year, and they hadn’t let up. So, when the hordes of your family began to file into your house while you were perched on one of the bar stools in your kitchen, you couldn’t help the way your molars ground down. You gave everyone a halfhearted smile and kiss on the cheek as they made their way to their usual places.

For the first hour or so, no one bothered you. You were able to comfortably sit at the bar, listening to the radio lull over the conversation filling the kitchen. It wasn’t until your cousin plopped into the seat next to yours that your bubble of solitude popped.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, her lips curling upward into a devious grin.

You gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Adriana.”

She toyed with one of the bangles on her wrist and crossed her legs. You knew what was coming before her eyes landed back on yours.

“My mom tells me you’re still unlucky in love.”

God, you wanted to smack the smug look right off her face. But you didn’t. Instead, you fisted your hands in your lap and hummed.

“Has she now?”

Adriana sighed, “Yeah, we’re all worried about you, hon. I mean, I know not everyone can get as lucky as Carlo and me, but still.”

You knew all too well how “lucky” your cousin and her longtime boyfriend were. They had a chance meeting in the library in the 10th grade, and the rest was history. Now, you had to watch her and Carlo walk around Hawkins High like they were a teenage version of Tommy Lee and Heather Locklear.

Adriana placed a hand on your knee and gave a pout.

“I just feel terrible watching you all by yourself all the time,” she said, giving your knee a little squeeze.

Typically, you contained your emotions when faced with adversity. Usually, the constant harassment from your family about still being single didn’t get under your skin. You could brush it off. But when Adriana poked her bottom lip out in an overdramatic pout and said, “And with Christmas just around the corner, I can’t even imagine how lonely you must feel right now,” you snapped.

Your fists balled in your lap, and before you could even think of the ramifications, you blurted out, “I’m not alone. I have a boyfriend.”

It was as if a record scratched at your statement. The hustle and bustle of the house came to a screeching halt, and all eyes fell on you. The weight of your words landed on you, but it was too late. Your mom and aunts had already started swarming you, smiles spread across their faces. Their rapid-fire questions flooded your head, but you could only focus on one person: Adriana. Her brows furrowed, and her eyes narrowed as she slowly removed her hand from your leg and crossed her arms.

“Who is it?” She asked, not even trying to cover her skepticism.

Your heart was racing as you began to babble.

“Oh, um, I don’t think that’s really important.”

“I think it is,” Adriana began looking at the other women in the room. “Don’t you?”

They all agreed in unison before silencing and waiting for you to speak. You coughed.

“You probably don’t even know him, so…”

Adriana ran her tongue over the front of her teeth and began tapping her fingers against her arm.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

You swallowed. The thought of confessing crossed your mind. You could tell everyone you were just joking, and they would just laugh and not think you were completely pathetic. But you knew that wouldn’t be the case. You dropped your gaze to your lap and sighed, seconds away from admitting defeat, when your eyes landed on the shirt you had forgotten you were wearing. The crimson red of the horned devil sitting stark against the white fabric covering your body and the telltale die of your favorite game floating next to it. You raised your eyes to meet Adriana’s again, mustered as much fake confidence as possible, put on your most believable smile, and said, “Eddie.”

His name came out more like a prayer than a statement. Your mom and aunts began cooing in your ear again, but Adriana reared back slightly, and her lips curled up into a grimace.

“Eddie?” She asked. “Like Eddie Munson? That kid you play that stupid board game with?”

The insult slapped you in the face, and you ground your teeth together again.

“First of all,” you said through gritted teeth, “DnD is not a stupid board game. Secondly, yes, that Eddie Munson.”

The squeals of excitement from behind Adriana filled the room, but you ignored them. You could tell that Adriana didn’t believe you, which didn’t surprise you. You barely knew Eddie. He had only recently taken you into Hellfire after you heard they needed a stand-in for Lucas one night and offered to do it. The two of you never hung out aside from Hellfire and lunch. You didn’t go out of your way to be around him; the same went for him. When you thought about it, you wouldn’t even really consider yourselves friends. If anything, you were acquaintances that barely said more than a few words to each other. Adriana had no reason to believe that you were dating Eddie, and she made it blatantly clear.

“How long has this been going on?” Adriana asked.

“Oh, you know,” you said, waving your hand around, “about a month or so.”

The joy that spread across your mom’s face was unmistakable, and the guilt of what you created began to claw at your stomach.

“Why haven’t you brought him home yet?” Your mom asked, taking your hands into hers.

You stared into her excited eyes and, without even a second thought, said, “I was planning on bringing him home for Christmas dinner.”

Everyone in the kitchen burst into joyous cheers. You gave them a weak smile, but all you could think was that you were going to need a bigger shovel to help dig the hole you were putting yourself into. You feigned excitement for the rest of the evening, barely getting through dinner without vomiting from the guilt and nerves wrestling in your gut. When everyone finally left, you showed yourself to your room and plopped down onto your bed, only beginning to process the shit show you just created.

The next day, you felt like you had cinder blocks tied to your ankles. You had barely been able to sleep the night before as the thought of what you said bounced around in your brain. All night you tried to think of a way to get around the situation you created, but you came up with nothing. By the time the sun started rising, it was very clear what needed to be done. You had to convince Eddie to go along with your plan.

You couldn’t focus on any of your classes as you stared at the clock, watching the seconds tick by, trying to muster up as much confidence as possible before you faced Eddie. You played a million scenarios in your head, and every one of them ended with him laughing in your face and you walking away with absolutely none of your dignity intact. The thought made you sick.

Each period passed by slower than the next until you were finally released for lunch when you reluctantly carried yourself through the halls toward the cafeteria. You knew what you had to do, and you were going to do it. You were going to ask Eddie to pretend to be your boyfriend, and it was going to be okay. At least that’s what you told yourself all the way up until you stood at the doors of the cafeteria. When you saw Eddie sitting at his usual lunch table with the rest of the Hellfire Club, all the courage you had vanished. In its place was a hollow void slowly filling with the dread of having to face the consequences of your reckless statements.

You stood in the entryway for another moment before carrying yourself to the table and sitting with the rest of the club. After giving a halfhearted wave to everyone, you retreated into your thoughts. Your mind was racing, and your stomach churned as you sat nibbling on your bottom lip. You had no idea what you were going to do. Maybe you could tell everyone Eddie wasn’t the one, and you broke up…after only one month…and so conveniently before the Christmas dinner, you said you would bring him to. You shook your head and let out a sigh just before a hand landed on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality. When you looked up and saw Eddie staring down at you, you almost choked.

“You okay?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly.

Your mouth opened and shut a few times, but nothing came out. The cafeteria was almost empty, and the rest of the Hellfire boys had already left. You were so caught up in your panic-ridden thoughts you didn’t even hear the bell ring. When you looked back to Eddie, the concern that was etched on his face only deepened, and he shifted on his feet a little, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The warmth from his palm and coolness from the rings on his fingers seeped through your shirt as he waited patiently. Your breathing grew shallow as your anxiety swelled in your chest. Eddie’s soft brown eyes held your gaze until you finally swallowed and took a shaky breath.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, your voice tinny compared to your normal vibrato. “In private.”

Eddie’s troubled look never left his face as he removed his hand from your shoulder and used his head to motion toward the door.

“Come with me,” he said, and you didn’t waste any time, grabbing your bag and following him out the door.

When you said you needed to talk to Eddie in private, you were thinking maybe in your car or under the bleachers. What you didn’t expect was to trudge behind him as he made his way through the woods surrounding the football field. Your heart was racing, and it wasn’t only because you were unfamiliar with where Eddie was taking you. But before you had time to even dwell on your emotions, a beat-up wooden picnic table sitting by itself in the middle of a clearing came into view. It looked like something out of a horror movie. You couldn’t help but look around and make sure there wasn’t some sort of sacrificial altar Eddie was about to pin you to.

“Are you going to kill me out here?” The question fell from your lips before you could stop it.

Eddie chuckled as he made his way toward the table.

“Calm down, Y/N. I have more reason to be scared of you.”

The compliment landed somewhere in the center of your chest, but you felt it all over your body. Eddie took a seat and then motioned for you to do the same. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you slid onto the bench across from Eddie.

“So,” he began, folding his hands on the table, “what’s on your mind? What do you need to talk about?

Oh, don’t tell me,” his back stiffened a little, and his calm demeanor shifted. “Did that little shithead Henderson come onto you again? Because I don’t have any problem putting him in his place again.”

You reared back a little and shut your eyes, shaking your head.

“What? No, no. And trust me, if Henderson ever tried that shit again, I’d be able to handle it on my own.”

Eddie’s lips pulled upward on one side, revealing a crater of a dimple on his cheek.

“I don’t doubt that at all, Y/N.”

Your body buzzed under his stare as his words blanketed you in an electric current you were unfamiliar with. It was nice, and you found yourself wondering why this was the first time you had ever spoken to this boy alone. You shook your head.

“Anyway,” you said, swatting your thoughts away, “um, I actually have a favor to ask you.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. You wrung your hands together in your lap, doing everything you could to avoid looking at Eddie directly. You felt like your insides were going to implode as sweat beaded on your forehead. This was a mistake. There was absolutely no way you were going to be able to do this. But when you finally brought your eyes to meet Eddie’s, that same worried look from before was planted on his face.

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

You gulped the bile that was steadily crawling up your throat and said, “I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a situation, and I need your help.”

His stare softened.

“What is it?”

You don’t know what made you say it. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like he would do anything for you; all you had to do was ask. Or the way he gave you his full and undivided attention, even though you were being so cryptic. Or maybe there was still a small part of you that thought he might sacrifice you out in the middle of those woods and so why not throw caution to the wind. Whatever it was, you rolled your shoulders back, looked Eddie Munson straight in the eye, and said, “I need you to be my fake boyfriend.”

His eyes grew to the size of saucers, and his mouth fell slightly agape. When he didn’t say anything at first, you immediately stood up and began to pace.

“I know that is a really weird favor to ask, but I’ve been dealing with my family constantly on my ass about not having a boyfriend for years now. And I didn’t care, really, I didn’t, until my stupid cousin had to get under my damn skin last night. She started going on about how she and her boyfriend Carlo are so happy and lucky and how I must feel so alone, especially with Christmas right around the corner. So, what did I do? Instead of giving her a ‘fuck you’ smile, I blurted out that I actually do have a boyfriend. And unfortunately for me, my whole family heard. They were happy, but Adriana had to start sticking her nose in my business…again and asked who it was. Well, I didn’t know what else to do or who else to say. I tried to tell her she didn’t know the guy, but she insisted, and so I just,” you paused, sucking in a deep breath and looking back at Eddie, “I said it was you, and I said that I was going to bring you home for Christmas dinner and now they’re all expecting to meet you.”

You stood across from Eddie, who was frozen in his seat. The utter surprise was plain as day on his face.

“Wow,” was all he said before the silence of the secluded woods surrounded the two of you.

You waited another moment, hoping that Eddie would say something. Anything. But he didn’t, so you continued.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t expect you to do it for free.”

Eddie’s face went from surprised to mortified within a matter of seconds.

“What?”

You shook your head.

“Not like that. I heard you say you’re struggling in Ms. O’Donnell’s class the other day. I know you need to pass her final to graduate.”

The panic that was once present on his face vanished as you continued.

“I can help you. I’ll be your tutor for the rest of the year and make sure you pass and graduate. All I need you to do is pretend to be my boyfriend for the next few weeks, put on a good show for Christmas dinner, and then we can fake breakup and act like this whole transaction never took place.”

Eddie stared at you, his fingers idly spinning one of his many rings. You couldn’t help the way your eyes traveled down to his hands and watched, mesmerized. How had you never noticed how big his hands were? The thought sent a surge through your body, and you had to bury the unholy thoughts that started to emerge in your brain.

“I just have to pretend to date you for the rest of the month, and you’ll help me graduate?”

Your eyes flicked back up to meet his, and you nodded.

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” you parroted.

Eddie sat still for a second before smacking his hands against the wooden table and slowly standing up. He rounded the table until he was standing directly in front of you. You swallowed your nerves down.

“Well?”

His lips tugged upward on one side again, putting that dimple on full display before he gave a dramatic bow. His hair fell over his face, but he still managed to look up at you through hooded eyes, sending your insides into a whirl of spasms.

“Consider me your knight in shining armor,” he said before standing back up with a flourish.

You could feel your shoulders relax as a small laugh bubbled out of you. A part of you was kicking yourself for not getting to know Eddie before now. Sure, you had always thought he was cute, but you never really gave your friendship, or lack thereof, much thought. That was until you thrust the two of you into this weird business transaction.

Your lips spread into a wide grin as you held back the urge to hug Eddie.

“Thank you so much. You won’t regret this. I promise.”

He let out a chuckle that seemed to vibrate through you.

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I thought I might regret it, Y/N. Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “when do we start?”

You paused for a minute, not having thought the logistics through since you didn’t even think, you would get this far. But eventually, you let out a huff, gave Eddie a nervous smile, and said, “Right after we create some ground rules.”

Then, you proceeded to dig a pen and paper out of your bag, sat down at that dilapidated table, and looked up at Eddie.

“Shall we?”

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader

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turcott3 · 11 months

Text

you make loving you easy

kirby dach x fem!reader

warnings: one curse word, fluff

masterlist

watching kirby crash into the bench before leaving to the locker room limping was the last thing i wanted to see. immediately, i stand up out of my seat, gather my belongings and rush up the stairs to the exit, knowing i can’t go down to the locker room during the game, trying to remain calm at the fact i can’t be at his side right now

y/n: i’m headed out to my car ik i can’t go down there rn, please call me when you’re showered and dressed so i can take you home.

i didn’t expect nor need a response because he was coming home with me regardless. i finally reach my car, frantically unlocking the door as i feel the tears well up in my eyes. what if it’s bad? what if he changes because he can’t play? what if he pushes me away? these questions and more constantly swirling through my head until it finally all came flooding out. a few moments later my phone starts buzzing in my pocket, panicking and scramble to pull it out and answer seeing kirby’s name across the screen.

“he-hello?”

“y/n?”

“yes hi kirby.”

“if you want to come down here please do. i can’t leave until the game is over and i asked them to let you down here.”

“ok im on my way.” not even thinking to wipe my tears on the way back down to the locker room, as if they stopped. i walk through the door to see kirby on a sports medicine table with his leg out straight in front of him.

“kirby.” i say, starting to cry more as i get closer.

“oh baby, why are you crying?” he giggles, hugging me tightly.

“i’m just worried about you.” i say pulling away. he brings his hand to my cheeks and wipes my tears with his thumbs, smiling at me.

“y/n i’m going to be ok, i know i will.” he says placing both of his hands on my cheeks and kissing the tip of my nose.

“how can you be sure?”

“i can’t be sure about my knee, but as long as i’m with you i’m always ok.” he replies and i smile warmly at him. kirby always had a way of making my heart flutter and my stomach fill with butterflies, even in such a terrible unknown situation.

it’s been about two weeks since kirby’s last game. the trainer has yet to clear him to play and i’ve never seen him so unrestful.

“i feel fine i just wanna play.” kirby stresses again.

“i know honey, i know.” i cooed in his ear while i stroke the hair on the back of his head gently. the last two weeks have been rough on him. his positivity quickly vanished in a few short days. he’s been unmotivated and is so beyond eager to get back on the ice.

“i’m just gonna show up at this point.”

“baby you know you can’t.”

“well it’s worth a shot. what else am i supposed to do?” he says as i see his eyes fill with tears for the first time in these two weeks.

“no kirby don’t cry.” i say sitting up on my knees, cradling his head to my chest allowing him to let his tears fall. i’d never seen him in such a fragile state and it broke my heart.

“why did this have to happen to me?” he squeaks out quietly.

“it shouldn’t have and i feel horrible that i can’t do anything to help you.” i reply.

“i can skate i know i can. i need them to let me.”

“they are obviously going to play it safe kirbs. they don’t want to put one of their best players at risk. you are so valuable. they need you to be one hundred percent. even if you feel like you are, you may not be there yet. and plus you get to spend time with me.” i say trying to crack him.

“you’re right it just sucks not being with the guys and playing with them. like of course i love spending time with you, i could spend every waking moment of my life with you but i do miss being around them and fucking around in practice you know?” he replies placing a hand on the arm wrapped under his chin.

“i understand how you’re feeling and your feelings are perfectly valid my love. i love you kirby, so much.”

“i love you y/n.” he replies as we lay back and he stays cuddled to my chest as i twist his hair gently in between my fingers. loving kirby was the easiest task god could’ve ever given me. i’ve never met someone who loves so deeply.

“hey baby?”

“yes kirby?”

“what’s for dinner?” i hear him laugh and i slap him on the back.

“we’re having a moment kirby give me two seconds of this moment and then we’ll talk about dinner ok?” i laugh.

“i mean i was hoping you would say you were dinner but i mean that works too i guess.” he giggles as i roll my eyes.

“you’re lucky i love you kirby.”

“and i couldn’t be more honored.” he smiles, grabbing my chin, pulling me into a gentle kiss.

…..ok maybe i am for dinner tonight.

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starogeorgina · 1 year

Text

Broken bonds

Paring: Ser Harwin Strong/reader

Warnings: Child birth, swearing

2.01

In the privacy of your chambers, Harwin continues to practice speaking in your mother tongue as you stare into the fireplace across the room. There was something in the flames that was drawing you in. Channeling your inner dragon was the only thing that was keeping you strong. The most recent whispers within the keep had been testing; they were surrounding the parentage of your unborn child, and it was difficult for both yourself and Harwin to remain tight-lipped when the word ‘bastard’ was mentioned. But despite what others said, your father refused to believe them, and he was now putting pressure on you to remarry. Many members of his counsel had tried to convince him to marry you to some lord, but unless you got to choose a husband for yourself, you refused.

“Dragon egg, Zaldrīzas drōmen.”

“Zaldrīzes drōmon,” you correct. Harwin’s face scrunches in frustration; if possible, his determination made you love him even more. Smiling softly, you say, “I do not expect you to learn High Valyrian, especially not in the space of a few months.”

Harwin stands behind the chair you’re sitting in, lowering his arm for his hand to rest on your round bump. “What will the babe call you?”

“Muña.”

“Muña,” he repeats.

“My handmaiden told me it’s a girl because my bump is hanging so low, but I think she’s wrong; I think it’s a boy.”

“Boy or girl, they will be extremely loved.”

“Hmm,” your thumb rubs against the back of his hand, “I’m taking Aegon to the dragon pit tomorrow to pick an egg from Dreamfyre’s clutch for the baby; do you care to join us?”

Harwin’s eyes light up. “That would be most wonderful.”

Sensing your dragon's presence, you go to the window and look up into the darkness. It’s hard to pinpoint where Varos is until puffs of flame fill the air. Seconds later, flames came from another dragon nearby, both of them letting out sounds similar to purring. It seems that after all this time, Varos has actually made a friend.

You feel the heat from Harwin’s body against your back as he stands closely behind you, causing your cheeks to heat up. His lips ghosting the fragile skin of your neck, you tilt your head back to kiss Harwin, but freeze when you feel a strange sensation in your stomach. You grab his hand, placing it where the movement was happening inside your body. “Do you feel the baby kicking?”

Shaking his head, he says, “Not really.”

You feel disappointed until you realize it’s most likely due to the thick layers of clothing you have on. Letting go of his hand, you remove your robe, letting it drop to the floor, before pulling down the neckline of your nightdress, revealing your swollen breast and the top of your bump. You replace his hand on the bare skin so he can feel the baby kicking. Harwin falls to his knees, pulling your nightdress the full way down until it hits the ground. His lips pressing against the bare skin of your stomach, he said, “I wish I could be by your side, always.”

“I believe one day you will be.”

—

“Princess, princess!”

You clasp your chest, letting out a rather pathetic sniffle as tears fall from your eyes. You’d fallen asleep while sitting on a chaise lounge chair by the fire, only to fall into a terrible nightmare that you couldn’t escape from. Thankfully, Ser Criston had woken you up before the worst part of it happened.

Upon seeing you awake, he crouches down so he’s level with you. He faces one of the servants and says, “Fetch the maester.”

“No, no, I’m fine. It was just a bad dream; I’ll be alright.”

“I heard you screaming from down the hallway.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment. “I cannot apologize enough; my mind has been plagued with troubling thoughts, and I guess it’s seeped into my dreams.”

The knight says something to the handmaiden that you can’t hear; he turns back to face you, offering you a sympathetic smile. “When I was a footsoldier, I often fell asleep hearing the cries of men I once considered brothers, but after a while, it started to fade away.”

“I dreamed of my mother's death. I remember the day my mother died so clearly. I was watching you beat my uncle Daemon at a tourney, then you asked for my sister's favor.” You trail off, thinking how you were laughing at how angry Daemon was while your mother was dying. “Nobody told me and Rhaenyra that our mother had died. Everyone around has started whispering that Queen Aemma is dead; she died in the birthing bed. Her body was sliced open so my brother could be pulled from her, yet he died a few hours later.” You wipe your eyes, “forgive me, Ser Criston, I did not ask you to come here to listen to a pregnant woman’s rambles.”

“It’s quite alright, princess; I can only imagine how frightening it must be to carry such a burden alone.”

You smile at the knight, thankful for his understanding. Since Rhaenyra’s wedding, you hardly saw her, as she was always with Daemon and Lady Laena. You found yourself feeling alone most days. Queen Alicent's attitude towards you reminded the same, but her relationship with your sister was nearly nonexistent; she talks to Rhaenyra as if she were a subject rather than her former friend. And Harwin, you wanted nothing more than to spend all of your days with him, but spending so much time together would only add to whispers within the court, so temporarily distancing yourself was the only solution, which hurt like hell.

The door to your chamber opens again, and your handmaiden returns with a tray in her hands. She places it on the table beside you and says, “Thank you.”

You pour yourself and the knight a cup of tea, ignoring the way your hands shake, spilling some of the liquid onto the small plate underneath it. “Myself and the king have been discussing the education of the younger Targaryen generation within our family, and although we have the best maesters and Septas in the world to keep teaching my siblings, we would like you, Ser Criston, to teach Prince Aegon and Aemond and my future child how to fight.”

“You honor me, princess. It would be my privilege to teach the princes how to fight.”

“Excellent,” you smile.

At first, you were reluctant to ask the knight due to his outburst that led to him killing Joffrey during the welcome feast, but the Queen vouched for him, and although Harwin would have been your first choice, you couldn’t exactly argue why you thought he’d be better suited. It eased your mind knowing Alicent wouldn’t have chosen someone she didn’t trust to be around her children, so hopefully this was the right decision.

—

You sit on the floor of your siblings' nursery, trying to teach them how to say your name, “Vai-ee-la.”

Helaena looks up at you with wide eyes in confusion, while Aegon plays with toy dragons. Neither of them had managed to pronounce your name correctly yet.

“Ella!” She proclaims.

“I thought you might be in here,” your sister says, entering the room. “I heard you’ve been getting plenty of practice in before the baby arrives; it can’t be long now.”

“Any day now,” you say, letting your sister get off your lap so she can go play with her toys.

Aegon points up at his oldest sibling, “Nyra!”

“Ray-knee-ruh.”

“Nyra!” he pouts.

“I give up,” you shrug, laughing. “How come you left the tournament early?”

The thought of attending a tourney was too much for you; the heat outside was causing you to feel nauseous, and truthfully, you wanted to avoid tedious small talk with the same lords and ladies who had been gossiping about your unborn child. Plus, it was wise for you to stay away from any place that the Lannisters were in. Tyland had never openly shared that he thought you had anything to do with his brother's death, but Jason did.

Rhaenyra sits down beside you, giving you a gentle pat on the hand. Something was wrong; her eyes were full of sorrow. “I need to tell you something important; it’s about Ser Harwin.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, “Go on.”

“During a joust, a scuffle broke out between Ser Harwin Strong and Ser Cristion Cole, resulting in Ser Harwin being injured.”

It didn’t make sense; Harwin was the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms; a simple brawl wouldn’t have ended so badly. Not when he had survived so much worse, you also couldn't understand why Cristion would want to hurt him so badly. “How hurt is he?”

“I couldn’t see what happened from my seat, but I heard Ser Cristion strike Harwin as he walked away. It was a dirty—”

“Rhaenyra!” You cut her off, her eyes glossy with tears. “What happened to Harwin?”

“Ser Harwin has a shattered elbow and broken collarbone.”

You let out a gasp, feeling a sharp twinge in your stomach. “Oh my god.”

“The hand of the king and Laenor are waiting with Ser Harwin while the maesters tend to him; he isn’t alone, sister.” She cups your face gently and says, “He will recover and be back by your side before you know it.”

“Fuck!” You are struggling to stand, causing your sister to jump to her feet to help you up. ��You need to get a maester; I think the baby is coming.”

—

“I want our mother!” You sob, gripping Rhaenyra’s hand.

“You are doing so well; they are almost here.”

Her swat at a young midwife's hand as she gripped your shoulder despite you not wanting to be held down. Varos flew above the keep, his loud roars matching the timing of your screams of pain. You had to physically bite down on your tongue to stop yourself from calling out for Harwin, the one person you desperately wanted with you.

An older midwife holds a towel between your legs and says, “Keep breathing... and push.”

You sobbed as your final push brought your child into the world. Holding your arms out, you wait for the baby to be handed to you. Pain seares through your body as a tightening knot forms in your lower abdomen. Rhaenyra pats your forehead with a dry rag, attempting to gather the sweat dripping from your face. You’re speechless as your chest heaves up and down as the pain intensifies, but you let out a cry of happiness when wailing fills the room.

“A boy, princess.”

“Praise mother.”

The younger midwife pulls a face as she watches the baby being wrapped in a clean blanket. “What is wrong?” When you don’t get an answer, you snap, “Give him to me.”

You relax into the bed as your son is placed upon your chest. You didn’t care about the blood and other bodily fluids covering him. He was the most perfect human you’d ever seen. “Vaegon,” you say, your voice shaking, “my precious boy.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the young midwife leaving the room, but pay no mind as you look back down at your son. Your finger traced over his hair, his thick dark hair.

Your sister kisses the crown of your head and says, “I’m so proud of you.”

You smile up at her, thankful she stayed by your side through your labor. Suddenly a familiar pain returns. “Fuck, I think something is wrong!”

The older midwife prys your legs open again, her jaw tightening. “A second baby is coming, princess.”

You shake your head in denial. “The maester said there was only one!”

“The maester is a man.”

You hand Vaegon to Rhaenyra, who is at a loss for words; she just stares at you. Her lilac eyes were filled with tears.

A smooth hand rubs down on your back as you sit forward, gripping the bed sheets between your fingers so tightly that your knuckles turn white. Somehow, you manage to bring forth another child, gritting your teeth so hard that it causes your jaw to ache.

“Another boy!”

The midwife saw the desperation in your eyes and placed your second son bare upon your chest. She handed you a blanket to clean him up yourself. You note his hair is thick and dark, and you wipe the blood from his head, his eyes bearing no resemblance to your own. Regardless, he was beautiful. “Aerion,” you say, kissing the tip of his nose. “Do you want to meet your brother?”

You hold Aerion in one arm while your sister places Vaegon in the other. Teary-eyed, you smile at them. Every time you stroked your swollen belly while singing a lullaby, you thought only one son could hear you, but you never thought you’d be lucky enough to have two sons.

“Do you want us to clean them up, princess?”

“No, not yet; I just want to hold them for a few moments longer.”

The chamber door swings open, and one of Alicent’s servants, followed closely by the midwife who had left, enters the room. “Unfortunately, that won’t be possible princess; the queen wishes to see them right now.”

#house of the dragon #ser harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong x you #Ser Harwin Strong #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fandom #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon x reader #broken bonds #ser harwin strong fanfiction #Ser Harwin Strong/you #Ser Harwin Strong/reader #Ser Harwin Strong fanfic #harwin strong fanfic #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong/reader #harwin strong/you #Harwin Strong x you #ser harwin breakbones

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sturnsvlg · 8 months

Text

WRONG BUT SO RIGHT- Matt, Chris x reader

-orange is Chris, blue is Matt, pink is the girl.

⚠️: smut, 3sum, no incest!!, profanity, slight cheating, unprotected sex, ecs..

“Chris do you know where Matt is?” I asked walking down the stairs seeing Chris sitting on the couch in the living room, I’d been calling my boyfriend’s phone all morning, no response.

“He went somewhere with Nick I don’t know, why? I’m not enough company for you?”

“My boyfriends company would be better”

I sigh throwing my self on the couch leaving a cushion between us.

“Mm whatever”

I just glanced at him slightly, this was a pretty often thing he’d do, compare himself to Matt, or even just flirting with me.

“Sooo whatcha watching, do you mind if I watch it with you?”

“Scream, I’m not really paying attention to it though but yeah”

“Okay cool”

I nodded turning my attention to the television, this isn’t weird for us we always watch movies together we’re not doing anything so what’s the harm.

“I like those glasses on you” his attention was fully on me “you look- you look pretty” Chris added “thanks Chris” I giggled before we exchanged smiles “I’ll be right back” standing walking to the kitchen I looked around for what I wanted to grab to drink , I decided on a Pepsi feeling hands on my waist as I bent to grab it “Matt your back” I said turning around

But it wasn’t Matt.

“Did you ask for that?” He asked me tilting his head, I felt my eyes twitch I dropped the drink from my hand both of us watching as it fell “now you have to clean that up” Chris began shaking his head “come on Presley clean it up” his tone getting more aggressive “sorry” I grabbed the paper towels and got on my knees wipping the floor.

“You look so good down there, on your knees looking at me with those innocent eyes”

“I see what Matt sees, you’re perfect you know that”

“Chris.”

“Come on, I know you want me I see the way you look at me when Matt’s not around”

“Chris stop it” I stood up tossing the paper towels in the trash

“Why? You know it’s true”

Why is he doing this to me, He knows I’m with his brother.

“Chris please, we can’t”

“Can’t what? what am I doing”

“You know what you’re doing”

“Come on Presley just let me please you, you want it and I know it”

“I don’t? I dont.”

“Mm sounds like your trying to convince yourself”

his hand began tracing my arm, this eventually turned into his hand cuffing my right cheek

“What if Matt comes home, he’ll never forgive me Chris”

“Then we better make this fast, right?”

I nodded before he connected his lips to mine, I couldn’t help it I mean am I really wrong? they’re literally duplicates, copy and paste, it felt so wrong but so right.

“Come on” he lifted me walking me to his room that was downstairs my legs separated from around his waist as he layed me down gently on his bed

“Can I take these off?” He said referring to the shorts I wasn’t wearing “mm lace huh?” he lowered himself his nose grazed my clit “Matt’s so lucky, he gets to fuck you every night” “please” his thumb rubbed my clit terribly slowly “Chris JUST FUCK ME” I groaned loudly “calm down baby, I had to wait and so do you” “Chris we don’t have time to wait, please just-” “okay” he nodded lowering my laced panties revealing the dripping due to his teasing “wet for me? I’m gonna eat you out and then I’m gonna fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked, understood?” I nodded slowly, he began placing wet kisses down my thighs and then onto my clit “mmh yes Matt” his head snaps up “oh my god” I covered my mouth “I’m so sorry” I sighed grabbing his hand “please don’t stop Chris, it just slipped out” I practically begged “uh I think we should stop” he sat up pulling my panties back up before standing off the bed “I’m sorry Chris” I stood as well pulling up my shorts.

- a while later.

“Hey baby sorry I didn’t reply I just seen your text me and Nick went to the store to get groceries” he kissed my forehead “what’s wrong? Are you okay?” I just nodded giving him a slight smile “I’ll be right back I really have to pee” “Okay press, come to our room when you done I missed you”

I didn’t go to the bathroom, I didn’t even have to pee. I needed to find Chris before he told him something I was so scared.

“Chris, there you are” I whispered grabbing his arm “I’m sorry about everything I shouldn’t have let you kiss me and I shouldn’t have came into your room and I definitely shouldn’t have called you Matt, but please don’t tell-“

“I’m not going to tell him anything, but I’m not going to say I’m sorry Presley, I’m not”

“Chris we can’t make this a thing”

“Can I just get one more kiss? Please, I really need it”

I thought about it, but clearly not enough. I said yes. I know, I know it was stupid but I just can’t help myself.

“Wow, okay so is this what y’all do?” Me and Chris parted looking back “Matt it’s not what it-“

“Yeah it kind of is what it looks like” Chris said “Stop it Chris it’s not” “so you want Chris? Hm?one of us wasn’t enough for you?”

“Matt stop” “don’t tell me to stop, did yall fuck?”

It was silent I’m not sure why cause we really didn’t.

“Wow, so how many times has this happend? I fuck you every night and you wanted more?”

“We didn’t have sex Matt I swear”

I looked at Chris wondering why he wasn’t backing me up in this.

“Does he fuck you better” Matt whispered in my ear. “I wouldn’t know” I whispered back with a slight attitude, I was getting mad.

“Let’s find out then” he shouted “god Matt you sound crazy just stop, I understand if you wanna end this but your not gonna antagonize me”

“I’m not playing”

I looked at Chris and seen him laying on the bed his hands behind his head he was amused by our argument it seemed “take your clothes off Presley” “what are you serious?”

Instead he just sent me a death glare.

“Oh okay”

And so I did, I took my clothes off only left in the same laced bra and panties from earlier.

I didn’t care if I looked like some triplet groupie I knew it was true we were just having some fun, Right?.

“Your body is so sexy, isn’t it Chris” I looked away this felt so fucking crazy. “Come here” Chris called to me I looked at Matt who nodded in approval, there’s no way this is happening right now.

I walked to Matt waiting for someone to tell me what to do next instead of using words he just patted his lap, I was so hesitant, “don’t act shy now” Chris insisted “never been shy” I lied before I straddle his lap he began places familiar wet kisses onto my face and neck I looked over at Matt who was just watching, “don’t look at me look at Chris, I’ll get to you soon”

I nodded quickly looking back to Chris my hand going from his bare chest to the hem of his red plaid pajama pants and black boxers “beg.”

He said moving my hand “please Chris, I need you” “How bad?” “Really bad please”

Wow I was really beginning right now.

“Get up”

And so I did.

He got undressed while I was looking between the two boys “aren’t you gonna undress too?” I asked Matthew “is that what you want? You wanna take both of us huh?” I nodded biting my lip “alright then”

- at this point every one way basically naked just left in our undergarments.

“Are you both hard?” Causing them to both nod yes.

“So what should we do first” they looked at eachother “lay down” they said in sync “uhm have yall done threesums before” “no” they once again said in sync “liars” I mumbled rolling my eyes before laying down “open your legs” I did watching as Chris got on his knees on the bed and Matt got between my legs.

“open your mouth” Chris lightly slapped my cheek there was to much going on, Chris was about to stick his dick in my mouth and Matt’s rubbing his thumb over my wet laced panties.

“you gonna suck my dick for me baby?” Chris asked making my nod frantically “good girl”

Chris’s dick was tracing my lips, and then slid slowly into my mouth, before hitting the back of my throat. He was bigger than Matt if I’m being honest. Meanwhile Matt had just ripped my panties off rubbing his index around my clit “Your so wet for us Presley dripping all over the bed, we haven’t even fucked you yet” I wanted to say something but I was just gagging and swallowing what his brother had going on.

“Ngghh FUCK” I shouted pulling chris out of my mouth due to Matt’s slender figures entering me “yes matty” I moaned to his touch “can I take this off” Chris was referring to my bra “yes” Chris was now sucking my breasts “raw. or. condom.” he said between kissing my clit, “I don’t care just fuck me” I groaned to their touch “okay but you have to be quiet cause Nick might hear”

he pulled his boxers off lining he tip that was leaking pre cum up with my walls, “you ready baby?” I nodded ‘yes’ this allowed him to push himself into me “oh fuck” I wanted to scream so bad. Chris sucking my breast while I jerk him off and Matt fucking me, this was like an insane dream.

“Faster Matt faster” I moaned “I’m gonna c-cum” Chris’s head tilted back “in my mouth Chris” he shoved his dick closer to my face my tongue stuck out waiting “f-fuck you look so pretty like that mama, I’m bout to c-cum” shots of warm nut hit the back of my throat and around my lips, “fuck Chris” “I’m close too baby where do you want me to cum” Matt said with his hand around my throat and the other around my waist “cum in my mouth too, switch places” “please” I added they looked at eachother before switching places.

“Can you cum again for me Chris?” I ask him grabbing his hand “for you” he nodded lining himself up with me “FUCK CHRIS NGHH” I screamed as he pushed into me “yes yes yes”

“Open your mouth” and so I did, he spit in my mouth slapping me slightly hard “I didn’t get a scream like that” “cum in my mouth matty” I grabbed his dick jerking it off tracing my tongue at his tip, before he let his hot shots hit my face “you taste so good I love you so much Matt” I moan still jerking him off slowly letting him go “yeah? More then Chris right” “mm I don’t know he’s f-fucking me pretty good Matty” I giggled jokingly, “damn right” Chris said flexing his arm .

“oh fuck Chris I’m gonna c-cum” I slapped Matt’s chest looking for his hand “right here baby” Matt held my hand “FUCK Presley cum on my dick for me” he said causing me to nod slower than ever I was grabbing both Matt’s hand and Chris’s “Chris I’m cumming IM CUMMING!” I exclaimed squeezing their hands feeling my stomach pit before releasing all over his dick.

“God y’all are perfect” I moaned “you did so good for us” Chris sighed pulling his shorts up “how do you feel did you like that?” Matt asked pushing my hair behind my ear “imma get her cleaned up” Chris stood getting a wet towel “I feel- I feel good, I think?” I was so confused. “You shouldn’t feel anything but good, it’s okay we just gave you what you wanted, right?” He said pecking my forehead “I know I just kind of feel guilty, it felt so wrong but like so right” I sat up rubbing my face “I enjoyed it” Chris said coming back in the room with a dripping towel I giggled watching as he ran the towel around my walls he then kissed my stomach while pulling up my panties.

Stop I never wrote a smut like this before it took my kind of long to write so sorry if it’s not good…

#matt sturniolo #fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #ao3 #smut #threes0me #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #Spotify

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imaginefan · 1 year

Text

Every Problem *Part 2*

Klaus Mikaelson X Grandson!Character

Word Count: 619

Requested: @emaz-0225

Request: Hello can you do an part two for Every Problem where Elena kills Y/N ( Damon's Wife and Klaus Daughter) right in front of Y/N and Damon's son who then curses Elena and turns to the originals side and he turns to partying ans Drinking and Klaus takes him to New Orleans where he meets Hayley who is pregnant with his aunt or Uncle and Y/S/N starts to hear voices telling him to kill himself and one night he gets super drunk and cries for his mom and Hayley and Klaus get him to calm down and Klaus call Stefan to get Damon to help with Y/S/N

Warning : Reader is Dead, Depression, Grieving

*Part 1*

No one knew what Elena was thinking when she killed you and Elena refused to talk about it, it left an orphan and a very powerful family angry at them but to their surprise they all just left, Klaus was first to leave and he took (Y/S/N) with him both of them heading to New Orleans, followed by Elijah and finally Rebekah. Damon knew that he should check on his son but he was sure that he didn’t want that considering how much he hated him before you had died and now his girlfriend was the reason that you were dead and he still loved her.

In New Orleans Klaus was knee deep in a scheme to take back the Quarter while (Y/S/N) occupied himself with drinking and cornering young tourists to drink from. One evening he came home to find Rebekah sitting on the steps with a girl, he knew that she had been staying at the house however he hadn’t asked what she was doing there. “Where have you been!?” Klaus asked, his eyes shifted to the Hybrid as he held up the bottle of boos that had been swigging. “Having fun.” (Y/S/N) answered. “Is that all you do all day?” Klaus asked. “It’s about the only thing that I have left that I like.” He answered with a shrug “so it’s the only thing that I’m going to willingly be doing for a long time.” “(Y/S/N), you know your mother wouldn’t-” “Don’t! We don’t know what she would want because the Doppelganger killed her and last I checked I wasn’t allowed to kill her because you needed her for a plan that you’ve ultimately abandoned so don’t… Please don’t tell me what my mother would have wanted.” (Y/S/N) warned as he turned back towards the house “good luck to anyone else born into this fucked up family, I don’t think there’s a single one of us worth saving.” They all watched as he walked into the house slamming the door behind him. “You didn’t tell him about the baby?” Rebekah asked. “As you can see he’s not in any shape to be keeping a secret.” Klaus said.

It was a couple of weeks later that he walked in on one of Camile and Klaus’ meetings and got roped into a therapy session that he didn’t ask for, it ended just as terribly. That night he was far more drunk than he usually would be and he cried, Klaus was the first to find him as he reached out a broken voice asking for him to bring his mother back. “I can’t bring her back.” Klaus said softly “but it will do her no good if you spend the rest of your life angry and bitter Klaus muttered as he pulled the boy into his chest. (Y/S/N) saw Hayley standing at the door and sniffed. “Is it true that you two are having a baby?” He asked. “It is.” Klaus answered. “I didn’t mean what I said before, I just thought if I could hurt someone like they hurt me, it might make me feel better but it didn’t, I don’t know how to feel better.” You admitted. “How about we talk to Camille tomorrow about some proper sessions and we look for something to live for like protecting the little one?” Klaus asked “surely we can agree that she deserves a better life than the one that we’ve both lived.” “Yeah, okay.” He nodded. “Let’s get better together.” Klaus said softly, Klaus finally admitting that he was grieving he had lost his daughter and his brother but maybe you could both get better together.

Requests and general question!

#the originals imagine #the originals imagines #the originals #klaus mikealson imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikaelson #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #male reader

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rreskk · 2 years

Text

Make me

Boohoooooo, I’m copying some fanfics from my Ao3 (WHICH YOU CAN CHECK OUT BY THE WAY~)

Right here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RRESKK

TW: Bottom boy Trevor, and implied smut at the end Summary: To all the hotties who’d like to see more of bottom boy Trevy Trev.

He flared his nostrils and breathed in the intoxicating smell of gasoline from his red plastic cup. Trevor lets out a satisfied groan from his throat and leaned against the kitchen counter, hazily watching the News. It was sunset and he had an exhausting day of dealing with business (totally not assassinating anymore of his enemies).

“I found it!” He heard from his bedroom.

“Found what?”

You appeared in the doorway and smirked, raising a visible steel tweezer. “This.”

Lowering his cup, he stood alarmed. “Don’t you go anywhere near me with that fuckin’ weapon.”

“Yeah… But your eyebrows need plucking.”

Trevor shook his head. “My eyebrows are fuckin’ beautiful, leave ‘em alone!”

You squinted your eyes at his dismissive behaviour. You could see his monobrow from here. Where did it even come from? Who knows. You only hope you pick it.

“Come here.”

“No,” He refused. “You drop that fuckin’ thing or I will make you regret it.”

You rolled your eyes and walked closer. Your smile grew wider with every step you saw him took back. Big bad Trevor afraid of some tweezers? Priceless.

“Don’t you FUCKING dare!”

“It’ll be fine if you lowered your voice, sweetie.” You teased with a laugh. It took several minutes to properly hold onto Trevor, managing to reach his shoulder despite his cries of help. Dramatic.

Trevor tried to corner himself in the kitchen and failed TERRIBLY. He lifted his head up, soon feeling your harsh grip around his neck. Suddenly his fears were not existent. He tilted his head and smirked widely.

“Babe… If you wanted to fuck me, just say.” He cooed.

You scoffed. “I’m not fucking you. I’m trying to pluck your goddamn eyebrows.”

Your hand dug deeper on his throat as he slowly dropped to his knees, watching you closely.

“You know, your tattoo should say ‘choke here’ instead of ‘cut here’.”

Trevor licked his lips. “Are you suggesting that we-“

“Oh my God, no Trevor. Just let me fucking pluck your eyebrows!” You protested with frustration, forcibly pushing his head back against the cabinets so he sat stationary.

“Fuck babe,” He choked out, impressed. “You never told me you were a good choker.”

To shut him up, you dived into his eyebrow and yanked out a mismatched hair which led to him yelping.

“Fuck! You sadist!”

“Stop being a baby,” You winked. “Only a few more hairs and we’ll be done.”

Trevor gulped but remained silent. His hand found your wrist, using it for support whenever he can feel the cold steel move closer to his face.

You managed to pluck as much hair as you can, releasing your grip from his neck, “We are done here.” You moved to the sofa and sat down.

“You can relax now.”

With a sly grin, he lifted up your right leg and moved it over his shoulder. His scarred hands began moving up and down your leg, squeezing and rubbing.

“I can’t relax.”

Using your free foot to press against his forehead, you showed no mercy and threw him back. He liked it rough.

“Jesus!” Trevor laughed. “You can’t just do that and expect me to relax?”

“Oh my God, Trevor! Just sit down and chill!”

He looked at you through his eyebrows.

“Make me…”

The next hour was a blur. You recalled grabbing his neck once again but what did you do? Out of your memory. Was it the adrenaline? Probably. You were tired, maybe you called it a day and forced him to sleep? Well… The position you woke up in says otherwise.

His face was buried in your lower stomach, hands cradling your hips and legs open wide. You were positioned beside him with your leg wrapped around his body keeping him close. You were still fully clothed, but Trevor was stripped naked.

God.

His back was covered in claw marks and his neck, if you looked closely, was smothered with bruises and hand marks. He looked so peaceful sleeping? Like he doesn’t look brutally assaulted.

He unknowingly lifted up his and gazed over to you.

“Remind me to tell you that… You can pluck my eyebrows any damn day you want babe.”

#trevor philips #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips/you #trevor philips x you #gta fanfiction #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips fanfiction #GTA V #kms

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howdoyousleep3 · 1 year

Note

Hi, mama k. Honestly. I just wanted to share this lil thought I couldn’t get out of my head with senator Steve and intern Bucky.

We’re Bucky is having a horrible day, and it’s just little things coming at him one right after the other. (Maybe he got a terrible grade on something, maybe he got coffee spilled on his favourite sweater, he missed his alarm, just little things)

He’s stressed out from these little things, and maybe he’s just feeling soft and sensitive today, moreso than usual.

Maybe when he’s meeting up with the senator in his office he’s being a B.R.A.T.

And obviously Steve has no idea what’s going on. He pulls Bucky close by the loops on his jeans, mutters in his ear, “stop bein’ a fuckin’ brat, do you hear me, Buck? I ain’t gonna ask you twice. It’s been a long day, and I don’t have patience.”

And Bucky can feel the tears stinging at his eyes because he doesn’t understand why the day is affecting him so so much.

Maybe Steve tries being sweet, saying something like, “you wanna get something to eat after this? I know you like that Italian restaurant down the street.” Maybe offering to “or we could just get coffee. That insufferably sweet coffee you manage.”

And Bucky just snaps at him with something like. “No,” or go as far to say “fuck no. Or *fuck you*” if he’s feeling really bold.

The senator is obviously shocked. He grips Bucky’s hair and looks down at him, simply because Bucky’s knees are crumpling. The senator is thinking of fucking the answers right out if Bucky. Slapping his pretty little ass until he’s whining and breaking down, telling the senator what’s going on and why he’s being the way.

“What’s goin’ on with my boy, Buck? This ain’t you. What’s goin’ on? Hm? You need-

And Bucky just breaks.

Tears come flooding down his cheeks as he struggles to catch a breath. He tries to keep it in, because this has never happened before and he doesn’t understand.

But Steve knows better. Daddy knows better. “Bucky, sugar, hey…” his voice is soft this time, softer than it usually is. Because Bucky normally isn’t this vulnerable. Or he’s never been like *this* when he was vulnerable. “Look at me, Buck. Up here. Eyes up here on Daddy, sugar. C’mon.”

Bucky eventually looks up at Daddy’s eyes. Hand covering his mouth while gasps and hiccups escape. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He sure as hell doesn’t want it to happen. He feels powerless and vulnerable with the senator enough. He doesn’t need him to see this mess that he’s never even seen himself in before.

“There’s those pretty blue eyes.” Steve would be so gentle (I hope) as he strokes through Bucky’s hair. Tugging on it, but only softly. Leaning down to kiss a few tears off Bucky’s cheekbone. “Whats going on with you, baby? Hm? Daddy ain’t mad at ya for snapping. Be he’s gotta know what’s happening. ‘Else he can’t help you.”

Bucky would explain that it’s just small things throughout his cries and hiccups. And Steve would try to gently explain its a panic attack. Because of the stress of the day, perhaps the stress of the weeks, taking on too much.

Daddy would sit down with Bucky on his lap, maybe between his thighs on the floor. He’s cup his cheeks and kiss the salty tears as they come.

Bucky might cry for a little while longer. And Daddy would make sure Bucky is taking deep breaths. He’d have Bucky’s hand in his own heart, while his larger hand is covering that. Reminding him that he is O.K. And he will continue to be okay.

I picture some soft non sexual submission later that turns into sex (possibly).

I’m soooo sorry. I just really wanted to share this with you.

I love all of your work. And I couldn’t get Steve pulling Bucky out if a panic attack out of my head.

I hope this was ok!

😭 Oh! It's perfect, it's perfect. 😭 I've written something like this, where Bucky was spittin' mad, but it led to spankings and then a complete breakdown on Bucky's part. But when the senator is soft like this? My heart. I imagine there would definitely be that moment where Steve is like "Okay, shit he's serious," because Bucky can be bratty at times for sure, but he's never hateful. And Steve would likely push too hard because he loves pushing, but he's a good Daddy and knows when he needs to make those executive decisions.

This was lovely and angsty and perfect, thank you so much for sharing! 💕

#askK #senator and intern #tw panic attack #senator rogers is such a good daddy to breakdown around ugh

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lu-sn · 2 years

Text

#kpweek2022 day 5: do it for me

vegaspete, prison break, BAMF boyfriends, D/s undertones, hurt/comfort, 3K

Vegas feels his bruised ribs protest as his body is flung on the ground of the cellar room. He groans, turns over just in time to see Pete tossed in right after him.

The hulking thug who dragged them there — whom Vegas will take a very personal pleasure in guiding to a slow and painful death, if he gets the chance — gives them a sneer before slamming the door shut. The deadbolt slots into place with an ominous thud.

Vegas breathes out harshly, collects himself, lets the surging adrenaline fade and the pain settle to a dull throb. Then he pushes himself up slowly to a seated position, hissing at the stretch in his side. It takes more core than he’d like to be using right now, but his hands are cuffed behind his back and his ankles are tied together so tightly that he almost can’t feel his feet anymore.

Pete rolls onto his back, thunks his head back lightly against the floor. “Goddammit,” he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Vegas glances over Pete, searching for any major injuries and finding none. Good. Better him than Pete. Then he scans the cellar for anything they could use to free themselves. No sharp objects to cut away at the rope on their legs, at the very least.

He watches as Pete slowly lifts his knees in the air, tucks them to his chest as he wriggles to try to get his own cuffed hands to loop behind and under his ass. From there, he could probably fold his legs through the circle of his arms and end up with his hands in front of him – but his wrists are cuffed too closely together to get that far. After a few moments of struggling, he gives up, swears under his breath as he ratchets up to a seat next to Vegas.

“Good try, baby,” Vegas says.

Pete shrugs dully. “Not sure it would have helped.”

Vegas lets out a huff of laughter, then immediately regrets it as his ribs flare in response.

Pete glances worriedly at him. His sweaty hair falls in his eyes as he slumps forwards, tries to get a better look at Vegas’s side. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had worse,” Vegas says wryly.

“Yes, I’m sure your four bullet wounds were just terrible in comparison.” Pete shifts closer, gently bumps his head against Vegas’s shoulder. “I’m serious. How are you feeling? That guy really socked you.”

“I think my ribs are bruised,” Vegas says truthfully. “But I can manage. It’s the least of our problems.”

The van that drove them here had kept going for far too long for them to still be within city limits. They’re out in the middle of nowhere, Vegas figures. And if these guys are good at shaking a trail, it’s going to be hours before anyone can track them down. Vegas hasn’t seen any of these men before, but he has an idea of who could have planned a kidnapping like this, who would have benefitted. If he’s right, then – well. He doesn’t think there’s going to be room for negotiation.

“Pete,” he says, voice low. “If we don’t manage to get out tonight, there’s a good chance we’re dead by morning. We need to get those cuffs off of you.” Once Pete’s free, the odds tilt considerably in their favor. The shack they’re sitting underneath is small, and there were only three men in the van with them, and Vegas didn’t see anyone else on the way in. It’s going to be close, but an uninjured Pete can take down three men. It would probably even be easy, if they could get Pete a gun. “Pete, can we force them open? Have you done that before?”

“Vegas,” Pete says, hushed. He’s looking down at Vegas’s lap. “Vegas, they left your belt on.”

Vegas follows his gaze down. “Oh,” he says.

In what feels like a past life, Vegas had left a bleeding, handcuffed Pete alone in a room with a belt. Minutes later, Pete was running for the docks.

“Can you unlock the cuffs from behind your back? Do you need to see what you’re doing?” Vegas asks.

Pete, still staring at the belt, remains motionless for a moment before nodding slowly. “I can do it.” He looks up at Vegas.

Vegas nods back, then lets a grin spread on his face. With only a little wincing, he leans back until he’s supporting his weight on his elbows, torso and legs stretched out in front of him. He raises his eyebrows at Pete. “Well,” he drawls, “what are you waiting for? Take it off.”

Vegas expects Pete to turn his back to Vegas, fumble clumsily at Vegas’ pants with his shackled hands until he manages to shake the belt buckle loose. Vegas is fully prepared to enjoy this.

Instead, Pete’s eyes go dark. He swivels around until his upper body is facing Vegas, and then he carefully, deliberately lowers his head into Vegas’s lap. He settles there, gets comfortable. Then he glances up at Vegas.

Vegas inhales sharply. “Baby,” he says, “you wanna use your mouth, hmm?”

Pete nods, shifting against the crease of Vegas’s hip. He drops opens his mouth just a little – looks like a perfect, untouched angel on the brink of ruin.

“Go ahead,” Vegas says. “I’m watching.”

Pete turns a little, leans up and over, and then he neatly fits his teeth around the free end of Vegas’s belt, which is tucked further down under a belt loop on his jeans. He lifts his head up and gently pulls the end free.

Vegas hums in approval.

Pete then goes straight for the part of the belt strap looped into the buckle, yanks at it a little to loosen it. He isn’t able to get it free with just that, though, and he whines a little in frustration.

“You’re going to have to lift the prong too,” Vegas says helpfully.

Pete glares darkly at him. Vegas feels his own mouth pull into a crooked smile.

“Are you giving up?” he says, faux-sweetly.

Pete looks back at the buckle, clearly thinking. Then he sticks his tongue out, pushes it under the strap to get at the prong. It takes some effort, and Pete’s mouth turns shiny with spit as he tries again and again, but eventually he’s able to lift the prong enough that the strap bulges up and out of the buckle. He quickly grabs the strap with his mouth and pulls the loose end through the buckle, then tongues the prong again to flip it to the other side and out of the way. He makes a victorious noise.

“Good boy,” Vegas says. He wishes he could run his hands through Pete’s hair, reward him properly. He’ll settle for verbal praise.

Pete tugs at the strap from the other side to get it fully out of the buckle, and then he just has to pull the belt free from around Vegas’s waist. He looks up at Vegas expectantly.

Vegas snorts, turns around to lie somewhat face-down so Pete can get the strap out of the belt loop on Vegas’s lower back, then turns back up. Pete clamps the buckle firmly between his lips and twists to pull the belt out in one smooth motion. He drops the belt on the floor, beams in triumph.

Vegas wants to kiss him, keep kissing him until their lips are swollen and sore. Vegas wants to flip him over and rip his pants off and fuck him into next week.

Pete turns around whip-quick, leans back to grab at the belt with his hands. He shuffles it until the buckle is in his hand, and then starts contorting his wrist in an attempt to wedge the prong into the hinge of the cuff. “Tell me if I’ve got the wrong spot,” he says hoarsely.

“A little to the left,” Vegas says, squinting in the low lighting at Pete’s wrists. “Right there – no, the angle’s not right, tilt it up a little-” and with a click, the cuff springs open.

From there, it’s quick work for Pete to get himself and then Vegas out of the cuffs, and then they hastily untie their legs. Pete groans as he removes the last of the rope, starts massaging the feeling back into his own calves.

Vegas shifts into a more stable cross-legged position, prods gingerly at his ribs and applies pressure and support to the most tender areas with his hand. “Come here,” he says.

Pete scrambles over, concern written clear on his face, but Vegas ignores it in favor of using his free hand to push Pete’s bangs up and out of his face. He rubs at the back of Pete’s scalp, drags him in for a hard and fast kiss.

“Okay,” he says after he pulls away. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Vegas gives the signal, and Pete bashes one of the crates in the cellar against the wall. As they hear someone curse from above at the noise, they rush to either side of the door. Vegas’s pulse thuds in eerie time with the heavy thumps of someone coming down the stairs.

As soon as the door cracks open, Vegas wrenches it open all the way as Pete elbows the man in the throat, then flips up his hand to dig two finger knuckles into the man’s eyes. As the man shouts in pain, Vegas watches as Pete knees him in the balls and hits him in the back of the knees to take him down. Then Pete puts his full weight on top of the man to immobilize him, arm tightening around the man’s throat from behind. Vegas spots a holster on the man’s hip and surges towards it.

Someone starts shouting from the top of the stairs. Vegas manages to get the gun out of the holster before he hears two gunshots hit the frame of the door. Vegas swears, pulls Pete out of the doorway and behind the safety of the wall. “Here you go,” he says, handing the gun off to Pete, breathing harshly as his side screams in pain. Pete checks the ammo, flicks off the safety and moves forward slowly before rapidly circling to stand in front of the door, firing off one shot and then another. Vegas hears a body collapse onto the stairs.

“There’s one more, right?” Pete says, arms up, gun still pointed at the doorway.

Before Vegas can answer, Pete abruptly angles the gun down to the ground, where the first man is stirring. The man rolls out of the way and grabs at Pete’s leg. Pete yelps as he goes down, gun slipping out of his hand as he moves to wrestle the man away. Vegas quickly grabs the gun, ignores his ribs as he tries to get a clear shot at the man without Pete in the way, but the scuffle is too volatile.

And then he hears a gunshot go off anyways from the direction of the stairwell, and the man drops on top of Pete as blood blooms across his back, but Vegas’s eyes are on Pete, Pete whose body goes limp as he gasps, as his arms fall to the floor and his eyes screw shut in pain.

Vegas doesn’t scream, doesn’t think, doesn’t do anything except slowly turn towards the doorway where he hears the third man make his way stealthily down the stairs. He lines up the gun at eye level, waits for the man to walk through the door, and takes the headshot.

Then he drops his arms, rushes forwards and falls to his knees, hauls the first man’s body off of Pete and sees the entry wound just at the edge of Pete’s torso.

“Pete, Pete,” he says, frantic, voice too-loud in his own ears, “Pete, baby, look at me.” He puts both his hands on Pete’s face, turns it towards his own, pats at it sharply.

Pete opens his eyes sluggishly. He looks blankly at Vegas for a long moment before he smiles a little, like the maniac he is. “Don’t think he nicked anything important,” he slurs.

Vegas cannot deal with this right now. He moves Pete’s shirt out of the way, then looks at the floor right under the wound and doesn’t spot any blood coming out from Pete’s back. This is bad. This is really bad. “Pete, I think the bullet didn’t make it out.”

Pete’s face is visibly paling, but at least he’s still able to speak. “Then get it out of me.”

Vegas thumbs at Pete’s cheek shakily. “I’m going to go look for a first aid kit,” he hears himself say. “Stay awake, okay? I’ll be right back. You have to stay awake.”

“Okay,” Pete whispers.

Vegas sprints up the stairs, taking in the entirety of the shack in one swivel of his head. He tears apart the small bathroom in the corner and comes up blank, then trashes the rest of the main room until he finds a small kit tucked away behind the leaky kitchen sink. He doubles back to grab a lighter off of the counter before running back down to the cellar.

“Okay,” Vegas says, as he tears off a strip of gauze, wads it up and gives it to Pete to bite on. He repeatedly wipes down the tweezers he found with alcohol swabs, then flicks on the lighter and runs the tweezers through the flame for good measure. “You’re going to keep your hands here,” he says as he gently tucks Pete’s hands under his neck, “and I’m going to reach in and pull it out, and it’s going to be over soon, and you can scream and shout but you have to stay still for me. Do you understand?”

Pete nods weakly.

“I’ll help you, see,” Vegas says, as he moves to straddle Pete’s hips, clamping them in place with his knees. “And I know you can do the rest.” He leans over, presses a kiss to Pete’s damp forehead. “Are you ready?”

Pete makes a small sound of assent.

“Remember to breathe,” Vegas says, “keep breathing through it, and then we’ll be done,” and with extreme precision and care, he inserts the tweezers into the wound.

Pete’s entire body tenses up, and he shrieks through the wad in his mouth, but he doesn’t move, just breathes erratically as Vegas keeps pushing, in and in and in, until Vegas meets resistance. Vegas slowly loosens his grip, lets the tweezers expand around the bullet, and Pete starts sobbing slightly at the feel of the stretch.

“Breathe,” Vegas says. He doesn’t know who he’s talking to anymore – Pete, or himself. He exhales fully as he tightens the tweezers around the bullet. Then he begins to pull.

Pete is shaking now, but he’s still being so good, he’s holding so still for Vegas, and Vegas continues to pull bit by bit, until he can see the bullet – and then it’s just a matter of time, as he wiggles it out carefully, and then it’s out, and Pete’s body goes completely limp with relief.

Vegas moves quickly now, applying pressure to the freshly bleeding wound with one hand as he unrolls more gauze with the other. He lifts his hand to sterilize the wound site before taping on the cotton pad and wrapping it tightly in gauze. He haphazardly wipes the blood off of his own hands and then removes the gauze wad from Pete’s mouth, brushes the tears off Pete’s face.

“You were so good for me,” Vegas says, almost mindlessly, “you’ve been so good today, I’m so proud of you.”

“Vegas,” Pete says.

“I’ve got you,” Vegas says. He smiles at Pete, does his best to make it look steady and sure.

He makes a splint out of the remains of the crate in the corner, lines it up against Pete’s torso and wraps that into place. His own side is throbbing dangerously now too, so he splints himself as well.

“Okay,” he says to himself, forces himself to calm down. “How are you feeling? Do you think I can get you upstairs now? Do you need a moment? Water?”

The edges of Pete’s mouth quirk up, just enough to reassure Vegas that they’ve hopefully made it through the worst part. “I think water,” he pauses, swallowing dryly, “and a moment.”

Later, after they’ve hobbled their way up the stairs and to the van, after he’s secured Pete into the passenger seat, and after Vegas tosses back way too many painkillers in an attempt to put himself in driving condition, Pete reaches out over the center console to grab at Vegas’s hand. “You did good too,” he says softly, “thank you.”

Vegas squeezes tightly, then lets up – but doesn’t let go. “I’m going to give you the whole world, once we get out of here,” he says. And he cranks the ignition, and the engine sputters to life, and then they’re finally, finally on their way home.

day 1 - day 2 - day 3 - day 4 - day 5 - day 6 - day 7

#kinnporsche #kpweek2022 #vegaspete #vegas theerapanyakul #pete saengtham #mine: fic

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