#alright next week -- let's see where this goes!
Note
CLUBMOMCLUBMOMCLUBMOMCLUBMOMMMMMM-
*ahem*
I apologize for outburst- allow me to demonstrate my idea in a civil manner.
CLUBMOMMY GIVING SEVIKA A HARD TIME BY NOT FUCKING HER FOR A WEEK AND SEVIKA LITERALLY BEGGING ND SHIT TILL CLUB MOM THINKS SHE"S HAD ENOUGH AND FUCKS HER A CLOSET NEXT TO THE STRIPPER BATHROOM ND SEVIKA TRYING TO STAY QUIT BUT THERE GOES CLUB MOM MAKING HER DO A SQUIRTING ORGASM W HER DICK FOR LIKR THE THRID TIME SO SHE"S JUST CRYING AND BEGGINF FOR MORE LIKE SHE DOESN'T WORK THE NEXT DAY ND NEEDS TO USE HER VOICE FOR MEETINGS AND-
*ahem*
Very eleoquent, I know. My love for you and the public knows no bounds.
Besitossss [kisses]!!! ilyyyy!!!
💐💐💐💐
*cracks my knuckles* alright lets do it
men and minors dni
you and sevika got in your first big fight a week ago.
you've been dating for two years, living together for a year and a half, but until this week, your disagreements have remained small.
sure, you spat and bicker all the time-- but that's mostly just because you and sevika 'give major old married couple vibes'-- at least, according to crystal.
but this fight was different.
sevika had a horrible night at work, and all she wanted to do was pick you up from the club, take you home, and have you wrap around her like a koala while you scratched her scalp and gently hummed her to sleep.
you, on the other hand, had had an excellent fucking night. the club was jam-packed with a bachelor party from piltover-- and the girls scammed those rich suckers dry.
so after close, when you and the girls were counting money and getting ready to head home, cherry popped a celebratory bottle of champagne. which resulted in another bottle-- which resulted in you shaking your ass on the stage for a dozen of cheering laughing strippers-- all throwing money at you and chanting, "go mom! go mom! get it mom! go mom!"
it's not like you were naked, or dancing alone. all the girls were dancing beside you, and the club was empty besides you, them, and jimmy, and you were all high off a night of great earnings and a little tipsy on champagne.
but when sevika stumbled through the back doors, exhausted, beaten up, likely concussed and stone cold sober, she didn't see any of those details.
what she did see was you shaking your ass for cherry where she sat in a recliner on the floor.
it got really ugly, really fast.
a screaming match in the alley became a screaming match at home which became you packing a bag and leaving.
and now it's been a week of you sleeping on cherry's couch.
you miss sevika so fucking much.
she misses you too.
when you'd left, you'd tiredly, shakily asked sevika to give you time.
she did. for twelve hours.
but the following night as you clocked in for work, you were shocked to see your girlfriend sitting in the back of the club, sipping on a whiskey.
"i told you i needed time, sev." you huffed as you trudged over to the booth she was tucked in.
"i'm not here for you." she lied. you raised an eyebrow at her.
"buying a dance?" you asked. she huffed and rolled her eyes.
"fuck off, you know i'm not. obviously, i'm here for you-- i couldn't fucking sleep last night... i know you want time. you can have it. i won't bug you, but... please don't make me leave." she whispered this last part, her voice a little wobbly. "i just... miss you. wanna see you. i won't talk to you, i promise."
you'd sucked in a shaky breath, tried to keep your tears from falling, and nodded quickly before turning around and fleeing to the locker room.
and now, it's been a week of sleeping on a lumpy couch and listening to cherry hook up with jimmy through her thin-ass walls; a week of sevika's big puppy eyes watching your every move while you're out on the floor, of her having the girls bring you drinks and food, of her stuffing flowers and apology notes into the slats of your locker; and you're done fighting with her.
you miss her so much it hurts. you love her so much it hurts.
so tonight, you've got a plan: you're gonna make her grovel a little more, and then you're gonna go home with her.
you've got your duffel bag packed and waiting in your locker and everything.
sevika seems to have caught on to the fact that she's out of the doghouse. she's been grinning at you all night, waving you over like she's a customer who needs help, only to try to make chit chat with you and flirt for a while. she's adorable.
right now, she's watching you make your rounds around the club, her gaze burning on your back.
"did you 'n sev get in another fight?" trinity asks from behind the bar. you blink at her in confusion.
"no, why?" you ask.
she nods to where sevika's sitting across the bar behind you. "she's lookin' at you like she's plottin' to kill you." she says. you bite your lip and try to keep back your nervous giggle.
"y-yeah, that's... that's her horny face." you admit. trinity bursts into laughter, throwing her head back as she cackles. you groan, reaching across the bar to pull the bottle of tequila out of her grasp, and quickly pouring yourself your own shot before handing the bottle back to her. "are you good over here?" you ask, already backing away from the bar to avoid your friend's teases.
trintiy's still too busy laughing to answer verbally, so she shoots you a thumbs up and waves you away.
you finish your go around the club pretty quick.
frosty has you help her find the tip of the broken nail she'd chipped off-- using your flashlight to scour the floors of the dark club until you found the glittery nail, then gluing it back on for her.
you help a shaky old man figure out the cash-machine, withdrawing a stack of ones for him then helping him to a seat, waving star down to dance for him-- she likes the older gentlemen.
and then, after putting band-aids on the blisters on the back of shelly's feet, making sure mandy takes her medicine break, and spraying body glitter on buttercup's back for her; you finally get to turn around and catch sevika's gaze.
she grins when you approach her booth.
"hey, mama."
you shiver. 'mama' is her own personal take on the nickname your girls have for you, and it makes you weak in the knees hearing it now after a week. "scoot over." you mumble, trying to ignore her knowing smirk.
sevika slides into her booth, letting you sit beside her, passing you her drink so you can have a sip of her whiskey.
"you seem awfully happy tonight." you say.
sevika shrugs. "i've got a good feeling." she says simply. you raise an eyebrow at her, and she giggles. "think i might get lucky tonight; might take a pretty girl home with me."
you snort, elbowing her but not denying her accusation.
sevika's smile grows cocky, and her arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into her strong chest. she presses a long, firm kiss to your scalp, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, before she sighs and pulls away, blinking her eyes back open. "i've fuckin' missed you." she whispers.
you sigh, melting against her. for a while, you guys just sit together, letting the loud thumping of the club music take over the conversation.
you finish sevika's whiskey. she doesn't seem to mind, her lips are occupied by peppering kisses on your head. eventually, you speak again. "cherry's couch is fucking horrible."
sevika snorts. "i'll give you a massage when we get home." she mutters. you giggle.
"you seem pretty certain that you'll be takin' me home tonight." you tease. sevika's eyes widen a bit in worry and she stiffens beside you.
"but... i am, right?" she asks, her voice insecure. your stomach bursts into butterflies. you were not expecting that reaction.
you were expecting her to say something suave and hot, to turn the tables and tease you, or to just straight up kiss you. you weren't expecting the needy, whiny tone of her voice.
it's rare, but sevika gets like this sometimes. you're not surprised it's happening now after a week apart, you just didn't expect it. but now that it's happening, and sevika's looking at you with those big, begging eyes, you're thrilled.
you give your plan for the night a quick mental edit: you'll make her grovel a lot, and then you'll take her home.
"depends." you answer, smiling at your girlfriend and reaching up to cup her cheek. she nuzzles into your touch.
"on what?" she asks. you grin, kiss the tip of her nose, and then whisper in her ear.
"how pretty you beg."
you don't wait for her reaction. you just kiss her cheek and then slip out of the booth, sauntering back to the locker room. you can feel her shocked gaze on your retreating figure, so you swing your hips a bit, making your ass sway a little more than usual. just before you reach the locker room, you can make out an emphatic "fuck" above the music coming from sevika's booth. you burst into laughter.
sevika wastes no time taking you up on your challenge.
two minutes after you push through the doors, sevika comes tumbling through, her eyes wide and her smile soft as she trails over to your little desk in the corner.
"baby..." she starts. you snort, and sevika sits her ass on your desk, looking down at you where you're in your chair. you prop your legs up into her lap, and her hands immediately grab your ankles to start rubbing circles in the skin. "please lemme take you home." she whispers.
the locker room is empty right now, all the girls are out on the floor. so, you decide to be evil. "what?" you ask. "didn't hear you, baby."
sevika grunts, and rolls her eyes. "please let me take you home tonight, honey." she asks at a normal volume. you smile, reaching out for her hand and pulling it forward to press a kiss to her knuckles.
"i'll think about it." you tease. sevika groans, kicking her feet a bit. you have to bite back your smile.
"babe!" she cries. "i-i-i missed you so much." she pouts. "i missed your fuckin' laugh and the crumbs you're always leavin' in bed and your morning breath and... and i missed your tits babe, fuck!" she whines.
you pull your feet out of her lap and stand up. her slouch against your desk means you're towering over her, now, and you smile down at her as you cup her face in both of your hands. "i missed you too, sev." you whisper. the smidgen of worry in her look of general desperation disappears at your words, and you relax a bit, knowing that now she's just horny and not worried you're still mad.
she puckers her lips, expecting a kiss. you snort, then lean forward a give her a quick, chaste peck.
it's not enough. it's nowhere near enough, and now that you've kissed her again after a week, your desperation for her is becoming incredibly apparent in your underwear. but still, you pull away. because you want to see how far you can take this.
"tell me more." you whisper against her lips.
sevika makes a little noise of protest when you pull away from her face. "i, uh..." she tries, blinking rapidly to get her brain working. "i missed the way you're always nagging me. turns out you're right, about most of it. i tripped over one of the socks i left on the floor in the middle of the night and nearly broke my neck-- i couldn't decide if you'd laugh or cry when you found out i died that way." she whispers.
you laugh then kiss her again as a reward for her words. "i'd cry. and then laugh. and then cry forever. tell me more." you demand. sevika smiles, catching onto your game quickly. her hands reach out and hold your hips, and you allow it... for now.
"missed your ass." she says simply. you snort, and kiss her again, licking against her bottom lip this time. her eyes are hazy when you pull away.
"tell me mo--"
"missed your smile." she whispers. "fuck, 'specially the one you give me when i wake you up in the mornings. 'n that annoyed one-- where you're trying not to laugh but you really want to." she giggles a bit. your heart melts, and you kiss her again. "i missed your lips." you kiss her. "i missed your hands." you kiss her. "fuck, baby, i missed your pussy." she whines. you grin. bingo.
sevika cracks one of her closed eyes open when she's not immediately rewarded with a kiss for her confession. she pouts at you, but you talk before she can complain.
"oh, sev." you whisper. "i missed your pussy."
sevika nearly slides off the desk at your words. if it weren't for you standing between her legs, she'd be on her ass on the floor after her knees locked. you laugh as you steady her on your desk, then swoop forward to capture her lips in a hot kiss, threading your fingers in her hair.
sevika's clawing at your belt loops and shirt, trying to drag you impossibly closer to her body. you chuckle against her lips, working one of your hands between your bodies to start fiddling at her pants button.
"lemme touch you?" you ask. sevika's already gasping for air like she's run a marathon, her eyes big and glossy and needy as she nods. you grin, and shove your hand down the front of her boxers.
she's soaking fucking wet, and she immediately leans forward to hide her face against your shoulder while you gasp at your discovery. "sev." you whine. she grunts.
"shut up."
"my needy girl." you continue. she whimpers, then turns to bite your throat.
you don't even mean to start fucking her-- she's just so wet that two of your digits slip right into her, with no resistance. you both gasp. "fuck! please!" sevika cries. you laugh.
"keep it down, baby, the girls could come in here any minute."
"please don't stop, please, fuck mama, i missed you so fuckin' much--"
you shut her up by pressing your lips against hers, swallowing her words as you nip her lip.
when you pull away from her to suck in a breath of air, you push her mouth to your neck to keep her quiet.
still-- even with her whimpers and whines muffled, her cunt's so wet and loud anybody'd know what you two are doing if they came through the door.
"shit, honey, do you hear yourself? you're so fucking cute, missed me so much, this is all for me, isn't it?" you ask. she mumbles something incoherent against your neck, her hips humping your hand, her head nodding. you laugh. "fuck, i missed you, too sweetheart." you whimper. she growls against your throat and you giggle. "cum for me, love."
sevika cums with choked whine, soaking your hand as she falls apart.
you pull her away from your throat to kiss her through her orgasm, slowing down the rhythm of your fingers until you're still. sevika's still twitching and whining when you pull away.
"you okay?" you ask, pulling your hand out of her pants and licking up her cum.
sevika grunts, then falls forward, her forehead against your tits. "so fuckin' good." she says. you laugh.
"god, baby. i wish i had my strapon, i'd fuck you over my desk."
sevika's head snaps up from your chest, a non-orgasmic blush creeping up her cheeks. you raise an eyebrow at her.
"uh..." she mutters.
"uh?" you ask.
"just... fuck. c'mon." she grunts as she shoves herself off the desk and past you, her legs shaky as she walks. you laugh as you follow behind her, wrapping your arm around her waist to keep her steady as she guides you to the supply-closet in the back of the locker room.
the room's barely big enough to fit the both of you, but you shove in after your girlfriend to see what she's rummaging around for.
she turns around with a shy smile, avoiding your gaze.
"sev?" you ask.
she sighs, then shoves something she was hiding behind her back in your hands. you look down at the jumble of fabric straps and metallic buckles, and burst into laughter. "what's this?!" you ask.
"the emergency strap." sevika says, shrugging. you hinge forward at your waist as laughter overtakes you, reaching out to steady yourself on your girlfriend's arm.
"wh-- the what?!" you squeal. she groans, rolling her eyes but smiling a bit at your laughter.
"it's exactly what it sounds like! i keep 'em stashed in various places in case of emergency, like right now."
"how many emergency straps do you have sev?" you ask.
sevika shrugs. "half a dozen stashed around zaun. one in piltover, behind that bakery you like so much." she says. "it started with just one here and at the last drop, but then you jumped me in the alley behind your salon and i was completely unprepared, so i decided to stash one near all our go-to spots."
you can't stop laughing, you can't believe the woman in front of you is yours. "i'm so fucking in love with you it's insane." you manage to laugh out.
sevika's embarrassed expression melts, and she pulls you in for a crushing hug. you wrap your arms around her, the dildo and harness dangling from your hands and brushing her shoulders as you laugh in her arms. "i love you too." she mumbles. "i don't wanna fight with you ever again. not like that. i'm so sorry."
"'s okay baby. you were pissy, i was drunk, neither of us were in the place to settle a disagreement. i'm sorry i left. that was shitty."
"don't apologize." she whispers. you chuckle, then pull away from her shoulder to catch her eye.
"okay. but only if you don't apologize either." you ask. sevika smirks.
"alright, deal." she says. then, she reaches behind you and pulls the door to the supply closet shut. "now put that thing on." she demands.
you burst into laughter, but start navigating the loops of the harness regardless.
five minutes later, and you're balls deep inside your girlfriend as she fucks you.
sure, you're wearing the strap, but sevika's got you pinned to the door, working her hips and ass on your cock as she groans into her folded arms resting on the shelf of cleaning supplies in front of her.
"holy fucking shit, sevika." you huff. she whimpers, and you smack her ass. "baby--"
"more!" she chokes out. you growl, smacking her ass again and widening your stance as you try to keep up with the pace she's set. "fuck, fuck, more, i need more, please, mama, please gimmie m--"
you sink both of your hands into her hips, use all your body weight to crush her against the shelf in front of her, her back arching gorgeously, and you give her ass one more nice smack before you start hammering into her.
disinfectant bottles and sponges start falling off the shelves, which are hammering into the back wall. your hips are smacking violently against her ass, and she's doing nothing to muffle her cries anymore.
"yes! yes, yes, yes, baby, fuck!" she cries. "shit, i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna cum on your fuckin' cock, mama, fuck i missed you, i love you so much, don't stop, don't stop, please don't--"
"i'm right here, baby. not goin' anywhere."
sevika falls apart at your words. you hitch an arm around her waist to keep her upright as her knees wobble, and when she starts to squirt all over your cock, thighs, and the floor beneath her, you cum.
"shit, sev!" you cry. she's still cumming, gasping and getting out choked half-laughs of pleasure as you fuck her through your orgasm. with each snap of your hips, a little gush of cum leaks down sevika's legs. by the time your hips still, sevika's shaking and shuddering like she's being electrocuted. you laugh as you watch her twitch, little drops of cum 'plink plink plink'ing to the ground from her cunt. "you alright, baby?"
"mmmuhng..." she mumbles.
you chuckle and kiss her back. "'m gonna pull out." sevika winces and squeaks when you pull out, one final stream of squirt trickling down her legs as you do. you just grin, then turn her around to face you. she's grinning, her eyes closed in post-coital bliss, and you kiss her cheek gently. "open your eyes, baby." you whisper, reaching up and cupping her face.
sevika blinks her hazy eyes open, smiling at you. "hey." she grins.
"hi, love." you laugh. "how're you feeling?"
"babe..." she grunts, glaring at you a bit and flopping her arm out to gesture at the general soaked state of the closet around you. "jus' flooded your supply closet with cum. i'm amazing." she giggles.
you snort, and then swoop in to kiss her on the mouth.
it's surprisingly easy to clean the mess you made-- since you made it in the cleaning supply closet. the mops take care of sevika's puddles, a few paper towels dry hers and your thighs. she shows you where she stashes the emergency strap, in a tile in the ceiling, and you snort and make a mental note to disinfect it tomorrow.
you get dressed, straighten up sevika's hair as she does the same for you, and then you both stumble out of the supply closet, giggling.
cherry's standing in the locker room, an unimpressed look on her face. sevika groans in embarrassment, hiding her face against your shoulder, and you just laugh at your friend's face.
"hey cherr-bear." you great. she rolls her eyes.
"you two are disgusting. you traumatized poor shelly."
"you gave jimmy a blowjob during your smoke break just yesterday!" you squawk.
sevika perks up behind you at the new gossip. "you're hooking up with jimmy?" she giggles.
cherry snorts and rolls her eyes fondly at sevika.
"it's completely different if me and the girls hook up here. you are our mom. and you're, like, our cool new step-dad or something!" cherry shouts, waving her arms at you and sevika. "nobody wants to hear their parents hooking up!"
"thanks for taking care of her while i was being a shithead." sevika says, ignoring cherry's rant. she deflates, a sweet smile on her lips as she considers you and your girlfriend.
"just don't do it again. i had to stop, like, four girls from tryna murder you for hurtin' mom." cherry says.
you blink.
"wait, what?" you and sevika ask simultaneously. cherry just shrugs.
"'m just glad you made up. any longer, and trinity was really gonna call up her big brother." she says. sevika bursts into laughter behind you, and you smile, equally touched and disturbed by your girls' protective behavior. "you two go home. y'all clearly got a lotta catchin' up to do. i'll watch the girls the rest of the night, mom, and i'll keep your earnings for you until tomorrow." you raise a suspicious eyebrow at your best friend, and she laughs. "okay, i'll give you eighty percent of your earnings. i gotta take a little off the top-- rent for the past week of you crashing on my couch."
sevika's already in your locker, gathering your stuff and tugging you toward the back door. "thanks cherry!" she calls over her shoulder.
you let yourself be dragged out, blowing cherry a goodbye kiss.
in the alley, sevika shoves you against the brick wall for a sloppy kiss.
when she pulls away, her eyes are gentle and sweet. "lemme take you home?" she asks.
you smile. "lead the way, babe."
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain
#this is like the third or fourth fic i've written where reader and sev hook up in a cleaning supply closet lmaooooo#sevika#soft sevika#sevika x you#sevika smut#sevika x reader#sevika arcane#sevika imagine
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🔮💨 crystal ball weed bong mickey 🔮💨
part 14 for @galladrabbles & @shinygalaxyperson's prompt: end of the world
master post (updates weekly!) | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13
✺ | ✺ | ✺ | ✺ | ✺
There’s an old poem about hollow men. Stuffed men. Men without sight; shape without form. Line after line of war and faith and shadows. Mickey’s not sure why he knows it. Doesn’t fully understand how it’s come to live in his brain and his bones. But here it is now:
This is the way the world ends.
Gallagher turns, his gaze a challenge. “Don’t what?”
This is the way the world ends.
“Just…”
This is the way the world ends.
Mickey’s breath catches in his throat.
Not with a bang but a whimper.
Gallagher’s lips twitch, but he stays put.
#phew really cut it close this week but HERE IT IS#the poem is 'the hollow men' by ts eliot#& i am very pleased with my brain for remembering it!#thank you to jujubee who always reads these first & allows me to edit in real time in our discord chat#draft one of this had my bootlickin' babe walking out the door#but we love a little canon twist if it means he'll stay#alright next week -- let's see where this goes!#crystal ball weed bong mickey ily#bright eyed bootlicker ian you are so precious#shameless#galladrabbles#ian x mickey#bee writes 🐝 ✍🏼
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Sun Eats Moon
Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader
Word count: 9.1k
Part two: Earth Kills Moon
Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.
(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)
You wanted to quit the second you read the name.
You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.
It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.
You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?
It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.
"Is everything alright?"
You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.
Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."
The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.
He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.
Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.
It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.
You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.
He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.
"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."
His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.
Nothing.
Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.
"I look forward to working with all of you."
𖤓
If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.
He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.
But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.
Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.
"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.
Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.
"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"
"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."
You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.
𖤓
The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.
You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.
He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.
You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.
It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.
Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.
𖤓
You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.
Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.
He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.
You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.
It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.
"What?" Because you must have misheard him.
"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."
You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.
You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.
"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.
He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.
Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.
𖤓
It was something minuscule.
Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.
"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey.
The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.
"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."
He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."
When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.
Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.
Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.
Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.
Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.
He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.
You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.
"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-
"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"
Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.
The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.
When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.
𖤓
You don't have proof it was him.
It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.
But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.
In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.
At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.
There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.
Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.
You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.
Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.
Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.
“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.
You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.
“That's good,” he says anyway.
You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.
You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.
“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”
He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.
“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”
Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.
You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.
Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.
Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.
Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.
You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.
It's worse than anything you could think of.
Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?
This wasn't bullying.
This was abuse.
Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.
You were so tired.
Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.
"Why?"
Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.
"Get lost."
They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.
"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.
"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"
It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.
"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"
You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.
"Anything, right?"
You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.
"Get on your knees."
You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.
"I-I-Gojo you-"
"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"
He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.
To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.
You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.
"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.
"Gojo I-"
"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."
You look down at the grass. Green, soft.
"Satoru."
His eyes flash in satisfaction.
"Open up, pretty girl."
The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.
"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.
"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"
If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.
"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.
You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.
"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."
But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.
"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"
If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.
He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.
He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.
So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.
"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."
His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.
(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)
"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."
You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.
"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.
"My laptop...it's broken."
You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.
Satoru only scoffs.
“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.
(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)
“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”
He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.
The sunset is pretty today.
𖤓
It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.
You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.
"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"
You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.
"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."
She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.
"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.
Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.
"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."
Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.
Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.
You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-
"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.
The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.
It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.
𖤓
By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.
You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.
Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.
He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.
"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.
"Thank-"
"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."
He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.
There are theories that the Moon once had color.
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.
When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.
Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.
You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.
Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.
"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"
You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.
You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.
"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."
On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.
Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.
"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.
You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.
He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.
Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.
"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."
He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-
Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.
He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.
You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.
Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.
"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"
He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.
"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.
You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.
"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl."
He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.
You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.
"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.
"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him."
His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.
"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.
"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.
You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.
You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.
"I love you."
You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.
"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.
Fuck three weeks.
You needed to get out, now.
𖤓
The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.
His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.
Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.
Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.
And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.
His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.
"You're off the clock, Ijichi," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"
His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.
The door shuts with a click.
"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.
You take one back. He puts his hands up.
"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"
He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.
"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.
He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.
When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.
"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."
"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.
"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.
He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.
"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."
His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.
You go to move.
Satoru's faster.
Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.
"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.
It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.
"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"
"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.
You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.
Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.
When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.
You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.
"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."
He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.
"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.
Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.
"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."
"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.
"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.
"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.
"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"
His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.
He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.
Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.
"That's-"
"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.
He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.
"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.
It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.
"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.
Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.
Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.
He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.
"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"
You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.
"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."
You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.
Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.
It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.
"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.
"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."
"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"
"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."
"No-I-I-can't-"
He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.
"I'll make sure it takes this time too."
Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.
He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.
You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.
He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.
"I love you."
You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.
Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.
"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."
"Not ever again."
There are theories that the Moon once had color.
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.
If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.
How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.
#yandere jjk#yandere#yandere gojo satoru#dark content#dark jjk#dark gojo satoru#x reader#gojo satoru#reader insert#afab reader#bullying#harassment#forced relationship#tw: dubcon#tw:noncon
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description.
Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 7)
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6
-
You watch him like a hawk after that.
Not because anything’s changed. In fact, nothing’s changed. Seeing him drag a man by the collar of his shirt, the look in his eyes punishing and severe, has only confirmed the essential imbalance in your relationship. You don’t suffer the same fate as that man being dragged from the bar not because of mercy or leniency or forgiveness, but because the truth hasn’t yet come out. You’re safe because the truth is still hidden, a fact that could change at the drop of a hat.
The thought makes you wary. You watch John in the days after with a scrutiny that borders on the paranoid. Does he already know? Has he left you stewing in ignorance all this time while waiting for the proper authorities to arrive? When he looks at you, does he see the blood on your hands? Does he know that he’s looking at a murderer? Does he know that your sins weigh on you like heavy stones dragging you down into the earth?
Every time the porch steps creak, your heart turns to stone and betrayal rushes up your throat like acid, and it burns.
Then the door opens and John walks in. His face lights up when his eyes fall on you. “Hi darlin’.”
All you can do is let out a shuddering breath and slump into his embrace.
You’re waiting for it to happen. Even when he pulls you into his chest at night, a big arm settled around your waist and his palm spread wide over your belly, you tense and wait for the truth to come out. But all he does is sigh and fall asleep, tucking you closer into his chest. You stare at the wall until the grooves between the wooden boards start to expand, the darkness encompassing every inch of the wall before bleeding down to the floorboards and up to the ceiling. Then you wake up and it’s the next day.
The truth is imminent. It shines its light on the darkened path before it and stalks forward. You cower in the shadows waiting for it to find you, hopeful that it won’t. Sure that it will.
There’s never a good moment to pack your bags and leave, and the longer you stay—as the days turn into a week since you first disembarked from the train and wandered into a town soaked in russet and red—the harder it seems to get a moment of peace. Though John wasn’t exaggerating when he said that a sheriff’s job never stops, you hadn’t thought that it would involve so much.
Between chores and John and the townsfolk, you can’t get a moment to yourself. The closest you come to it is when Kate leaves you to your thoughts while she helps the customers. Even then, she still comes by every now and again to offer you a tea or brandy ball to suck on.
You resent the idea that you need to be babysat, but he isn’t exactly wrong either. You’re not too stubborn to admit that. Under Kate’s watchful eye, you aren’t scurrying off anywhere. Instead, you help out around the shop where you can, offering to stock the shelves and sweep the floors. On occasion, you even get on your hands and knees in front of the shop to pull up the weeds, but that draws more attention than you’re comfortable with. They simply aren’t as concerned with weeds out here.
Most of your time is spent loitering around town waiting for John to take you home. Sometimes you join him for the day, trailing along after him when he goes out to collect the taxes or you accompany him when he has to attend trials and hearings in the court house, where you sit quietly in the public gallery and watch in rapt attention as the magistrate conducts the court proceedings, but there are days where that’s simply not possible.
“You’re gonna spend the day with Laswell, alright?” John tells you, pinching your chin to tilt your head up.
He loves that little gesture, you’ve realized. Loves to touch you and guide you with a hand on your back or chin or arm, a hand brushing down the side of your waist to pull you in, gripping you by the nape of your neck just to hold. Even now, in broad daylight and in front of the window to the general store where anyone could look out and see the two of you, he keeps his thumb there, reluctant to let you go. The thought makes your neck go hot.
“When will you be back?” you ask.
“Later this afternoon—before dusk, so don’t go worrying about heading home without me. I have to see to something a few towns over.”
“Oh…what do they need you for?”
John frowns. “You’ve got an awful lot of questions today.”
“Never mind. Have a safe trip.” You don’t know why his reluctance to tell you anything frustrates you so, especially when he has good reason to, but even you can hear the way your voice grows petulant.
His thumb squeezes against your chin, holding your head in place when you try to turn away. “I’m overseeing a hanging. Couple of men were found guilty of murder.” He studies you so intensely that he can practically see in your eyes the way your stomach turns at that. “See, I thought that might upset you. This is why I didn’t wanna tell you, darlin’.”
“It’s fine,” you say, swallowing. “I’m a big girl.”
“Yeah,” John agrees, brushing his thumb up your chin until it tugs at your bottom lip, watching the way it snaps back into place when he releases it.
He makes every moment feel like a last goodbye and a homecoming. You almost can’t meet his eyes under the intensity of his stare, but you also can’t look away. Not with how he looks at you like some precious thing.
You expect it before it happens, but when he dips his head to plant a soft kiss on your lips, you go breathless for a moment. His beard is bristly against your skin, just south of coarse. The kiss turns into another, even more tender than the first. You resent the way you lean forward when he pulls away, chasing after him.
“You be good for Miss Kate, okay?” he says, waiting for your reassurance.
“I will,” you rasp, mortified at how easily he unravels you and how plainly you let it show. John grins when he hears the tremble in your voice.
Then he leaves, riding off towards where the horizon dips below the visible and you watch until he disappears completely, falling away with it. Kate beckons you inside after that, and it’s just hot enough out that you gather up the skirt of your dress and follow after her, climbing up the steps to the general store.
Kate is a tough nut to crack. She’s kind and never rebuffs your questions when you make conversation, but she also isn’t exactly forthcoming with personal information. She seems more than happy to let the conversation lapse into silence. When there isn’t a customer to serve, she’ll take out a leather-bound notebook and write, going so deep into her own thoughts that you sometimes need to call her name a couple times before she’ll respond.
“Kate,” you say again, waiting for her to finally blink and look up, which she does with only the faintest glimmer of impatience in her eyes. “Care to join me on a walk? I need to stretch my legs and…well, I don’t know my way around just yet.”
She snaps her book shut, winding a bit of string around it before placing it back beneath the counter. “There’s a restaurant on the other side of town if you care for a bite as well. I could do with something to eat.”
It’s not as much of a walk as you might have expected. You learn along the way that Kate has lived in town for several years, taking the shop over from her predecessor, a former employer prone to drinking and prone to expiring from that very same vice. She speaks of him with familiarity and affection for the dead, but none of the longing and misery that you’ve come to expect from someone grieving a loss.
“You came far just to find a husband,” she remarks when the two of you are seated at a windowside booth in the restaurant. She spreads a cloth over her lap and you follow her lead.
You bite your lip. “I’ve heard good things about the frontier.”
Kate looks amused by that. “Now who’s been lying to you?”
You laugh, half genuine and half to keep the atmosphere light. You don’t tell her that no one lied to you about going out west because no one had said those words to you in the first place. There hadn’t been enough time for a conversation after the event, only enough time to unlock the study door and wash your hands of the blood in the sink downstairs before fleeing the manor with only your purse and cardigan, the feather duster still lying on the floor upstairs. You hadn’t even bothered going home.
There’s no telling what your aunt and uncle must have thought. You try not to think about that because there’s no going back now. You had the luxury of a single cry on the train as it chugged away from the station and the day slipped into night, but nothing more than that and nothing since.
You tuck into your food when the waitress comes back with your meal.
“John said you were a schoolteacher before this?” Kate says, pulling you back into the conversation.
It makes you nervous to lie too much about a subject you hardly know, so you smile and nod instead of responding.
“You must be quite the polymath,” she continues, eyes downcast, not allowing you a good read on her. “Arithmetic, writing, history—goodness knows the skills one needs nowadays with the leaps and bounds in education. Thank goodness for the Common School reformers, giving women the opportunity to develop young minds.”
“Yes,” you croak, then clear your throat. “I certainly did my best to…educate the children.”
Comical, given that you’d dropped out of school at the age of fourteen to work in a factory sewing buttons onto shirts.
“And was the profession enjoyable? I know John mentioned you were keener on starting a family than continuing on as an instructor, but was it an informative experience?”
“Oh yes, it was. I enjoyed it. Immensely.”
“It must have been nice to work in a profession with such little turmoil.”
“I couldn’t have asked for better,” you agree, your smile tight now, wavering only a bit at the corners.
Kate stares at you for a beat too long. It makes your stomach hurt and you fight against the urge to wilt under her stare. You can’t imagine you’ve said something wrong with how little you’ve said, but her stare makes your skin crawl.
Finally, she smiles, the skin around her eyes creasing. “Well, that’s just lovely to hear.”
You put the conversation out of your mind on the walk back, sure that you must have imagined the flicker in her eyes.
John comes back earlier than you expected. You swear your heart jolts in your chest when you hear the sound of a horse whinnying outside the shop out of nowhere and a man’s low, rough voice responding back, soothing it. You hear the sound of dismount, boots hitting the ground hard, and then come up the steps, each step making the spurs on the back of his boots rattle.
When he opens the door, his eyebrows jump up at the sight of you already there waiting. Your eagerness should embarrass you, and it does, but there’s not much you can do about it, and there’s even less you can do about the way you melt when he says, “There you are, darlin’. Time to go home.”
Precious is the world where home has come to mean something tender and soft, even as much as you’ve pushed against it. You still hold fast against the notion, steeling yourself when John helps you up onto Buttercup and follows suit, riding home at almost a gallop. You hear his laughter on the wind when you yelp and nearly slide off, his arm around you the only thing holding you in place.
“It’d be easier to ride if I had pants,” you complain when you dismount, hands pressed to his shoulders when he helps you down. “How do women even ride sidesaddle on their own?”
“Plenty of women do, darlin’. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“We can get you pants if you need them so badly,” John says, looking up to the sky like Lord help me suffer this woman. “But that means I’ll be teaching you how to ride Buttercup on your own. Think you can handle that?”
You balk at the thought. “…Let me think about it.”
He snorts. “You do that.”
He leaves you to your thoughts when he takes the horses out to the paddock for a bit.
You sit out on the porch and watch the sunset while the horses run around the pen, soaking in the last hour of daylight. Overhead, clouds as big as mountains pass, heavy like an oil painting. Off in the distance, you can see thick clouds blotting out the sky entirely, the belly of them split open and letting out a downpour of biblical proportions. You only grow a bit nervous when you notice the wall of rain moving closer to your house with the wind, inching forward more every minute.
It’s not long before John notices it too. He whistles for the horses and waits until they trot back over to the gate, fixing the lead to their mantles again and leading them one by one back into the stable. A light drizzle begins to pour. It churns up the dust and dirt when it hits the ground, scenting the air with the fragrant smell of earth.
You head over to the stable as John brings in the last horse, hovering by the door while you watch him run his hand down Buttercup’s muzzle, whispering softly to her. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t acknowledge it, his attention focused solely on her.
It gives you a chance to admire him from the back. Thick thighs in indigo jeans that seem almost painted on. Shirt tucked into his jeans, stretched taut at the shoulders; dark droplets of rain drying already. The dusting of hair on the back of his neck. You can see the fine lines on his forehead and in the corner of his eye from the side angle and it reminds you again that he’s older and more weathered than you, settled into his age rather than floundering in it.
“It’s raining,” you say, just to have something to say. You shrink under his gaze when he turns towards you, faint amusement in his eyes.
“I noticed.”
You cringe at that, aware that he knows. He’s the one that brought the horses in after all. There’s just something in you that feels compelled to open your mouth when he’s around. An impulse that makes you cheep like a bird.
“Looks like a bad one,” you mutter instead of shutting your mouth, instead of hightailing it back to the house and shutting all the windows to keep the rain from coming in. Useless girl.
“Probably rain all night,” John says, squinting out at the sky through the open door. It’s darker now, a storm brewing.
“Is there…is there anything we have to do? To get ready?” You don’t know why you say we like this is a partnership, but it comes unbidden and you know if he told you to hurry back and take in the porch chairs, you would.
“Nothing to worry about. I’ll close up the stables and seal the windows—storm probably won’t hit for another hour or two. After dinner, we’ll turn in early.”
With a final stroke down Buttercup’s jaw, he steps away and moves towards you. You feel rooted in place again at his approach; the thought of taking a step back never even occurs to you. When he finally reaches you, he doesn’t hesitate to reel you in by your hips, drawing you into a deep, wet kiss that he breaks only when you whimper into his mouth.
“You feelin’ better about being out here?” he asks, low and intimately. “Looked like you had a good time with Laswell.”
“She’s nice,” you say, deflecting from the other question.
John hums his agreement, readjusting his hold on your waist until every inch of him is pressed against you. Your breasts are flattened to his chest, belly pressed to his; every hard inch of him, solid as an oak.
“C’mon, honey, talk to me,” he murmurs. “Have I been treating you right? You still have any reservations about marrying me?”
“Bit late for reservations, isn’t it?”
He clucks his tongue. “‘Course it ain’t. Won’t change anything, but I still wanna know.”
It’s hard not to consider the possibility of being honest with him for a change when his gaze borders on the devout. No one in the history of time has ever looked at you like this, like you hung up the moon and stars. The thought chokes you up. In all the years of your life, has one other person looked at you and asked if everything was to your liking? John’s love borders on reverence, straddles the narrow divide between the telluric and the celestial, the earthly and the divine.
It’s dizzying. And you’re not built for subterfuge. Not built to lie to the one man that, despite everything, despite taking you from your former life by force, has offered you a new one on a silver platter.
You wet your lips, conscious of how dry your mouth suddenly is. John’s eyes follow the glide of your tongue over your lip.
And then you lie. “None whatsoever. I’m happy here.”
Maybe it’s a half-lie. After he shuts the stable doors and barricades them to keep the doors from swinging open in the midst of the storm, you wind up back on the porch watching the dark clouds up in the sky slowly approach, John at your back this time.
John tilts your head up into another kiss. You don’t know when you made the conscious decision to let him think you amenable to this relationship, but you cling to that thought desperately when his tongue licks into your mouth velvety smooth.
The roof extends out over the porch, keeping the two of you dry, but you can hear the sound of raindrops pelting the slate shingles.
“You’ll see, honey,” he says against your lips, the words rumbling through you, buzzing under your skin and making it tingle. “‘M gonna make you so happy. Never gonna even think of leaving me.”
The words dissolve on your tongue. Swallowed down dry. With his arm hooked around your waist and hand tilting your head up, there’s no way you could think of anything else except wanting more.
It’s hard to talk when he has you up against the railing, your dress pulled up and his fingers spreading apart your lower lips. It’s not the first time he’s touched you there, but it’s the longest he has, at least without the barrier of your underwear. His fingers spread your labia delicately, middle finger running up the wet seam. He hums into the back of your head while he does and presses a kiss into your hair.
“Always so soft and wet here, darlin’,” John murmurs, stroking his fingers up your inner lips and petting the sensitive nub at the apex of your sex. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been aching for it? Been waiting for you to give me the word.”
Waiting, he says, while tucking a finger into your sex, curling it up into you and chuckling under his breath when your hands clamp tighter on the railing and your back arches. Just a single finger feels like more than you can handle. John has thick fingers; thick fingers with calluses that you can feel on the delicate flesh between your legs. It plugs you up tight, more so when your core clenches involuntarily around his finger. His chuckle descends into a groan, then a sigh.
He pulls his finger out against the squeeze of your internal muscles, ignoring the way you whisper, “No, please” under your breath.
You only stop pleading for more when he swirls his finger around your pearl again, lavishing it with attention. “Aching? I’m not—”
“You are, darlin’,” he breathes, and now you feel him pull you from the railing, stepping back to take a seat on the porch swing. He pulls you into his lap, sitting you across it instead of with your back to his chest like he did in the bath the other day.
“Anyone could come by—” you hiss, fluffing the skirt of your dress out around your thighs when he tries to push it back up to get his hands back on your nethers.
“You tense up when you’re nervous, honey,” John cuts you off, forcing his hand back up your dress until he pushes his finger back into your quim, delighted to find it hotter and wetter, practically dripping onto his lap. “See, there you go. Just relax. I’ll make you feel good, darlin’. We’ll take care of that nasty ache.”
You pant through each pulse of his finger. You don’t even think about looking up to meet his eyes, not when he stares down at you with obvious adoration and devotion, the emotion splayed across his face. He looks entranced at the sight of you coming apart on his fingers, a flush high on his cheeks.
“No one’s gonna come by. Not this far out. ‘Sides, they know to keep their distance. Newlyweds need their space, right, darlin’?”
Supposing he’s right and no one comes out this way. Isn’t it still unseemly to do this out in the open? So far from your marriage bed? John seems incapable of relegating his affections to that space, unconcerned with propriety or modesty. You wonder with a spark of fear if he’d even budge if someone were to come trotting up the walkway on horseback or if he’d just wave them off and send them on their way. You don’t think he’s the kind of man to want an audience, thank the Lord, but he seems entirely unphased by even the idea of being intruded upon.
You melt when he shushes your worries, feeling you tense against him, and sinks his fingers in deeper, now another. Don’t fret, he murmurs against your temple, sighing softly. I’ve got you, honey. Ain’t going nowhere.
You aren’t, are you, you think wildly. The land around here goes on forever and the train whistles by only twice a week if you’re lucky. Then townsfolk know you by face and a false name, but that would be enough for them to grow concerned if they were to spot you heading for the train with your suitcases packed, and with John or one of his deputies always in town, there’s little chance you’d be able to board without one of them interfering.
Still though, it’s better than the alternative. For over a week now you’ve been on high alert, waiting for an arrest warrant to be slipped onto John’s desk with your likeness drawn on it, and for him to come collect you stone-faced and furious. It could still come.
He keeps you tucked into his arms and nestled close, shushing you when you hiccup and pinch your lips together to keep quiet. He lets you have that, unphased by the way you try to hide it, only tutting when you try to fight it, curling his fingers up inside you and rubbing a spot inside of you that makes it hard to breathe.
“I could just take it, but you’re gonna give it to me, darlin’,” John says.
And you do. Messily, noisily. Burying your face in his neck and sobbing it out, humiliation wrung out of you, squeezing out every drop. He smells like musk and old sweat, amber warm. Liquid gold. You press your nose into the skin of his neck and draw in a breath so deep that you go lightheaded.
John keeps his fingers tucked in you until you stop shaking, talking you through it even though you hardly hear a word. How could you over the rush in your head, the blood in your ears? When you open your eyes and look around, the sky is swollen and dark, the wall of rain
“C’mon, honey,” he says, pulling his fingers out and placing his hand low on your belly. “Let’s go inside.”
You sit across from him at dinner, eating under candlelight. The weight of his gaze for once isn’t stifling.
The rain only starts in earnest when he’s pulled the quilt over the two of you and pulled you into his arms. The rain pelting the windowpane dulls to a low roar when you turn over and snuggle deeper into John’s chest, pulling the blanket over your head. Tomorrow, the grass will be greener than the day before. You can feel it in your bones.
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#price x you#john price x reader#price x reader#price/reader#john price/reader#john price
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Yandere bully x gn reader headcanons
warnings: yandere tendencies, obsessive behavior, mentions of bullying but no direct explicit scenes or descriptions of it, stalking
yandere bully who doesn't give you a break, as soon as you step foot into the school building he's already up in your face making sure you start your day terribly
yandere bully who makes it his top priority to somehow take up all of the space in your life, Wherever you go he's there with an evil glint in his eyes, whoever you're talking to sprints away when they see him headed in your direction, you start to actually become paranoid, yes he wants you to be miserable but there's something so..wrong with the way he's always around you.
surely even he has other things to do?
yandere bully who steps proudly in the school hallways with a smirk plastered on his face, people passing by cowering slightly but he pays no attention to these people his eyes are eagerly scanning the halls for you, his tipped smile falters slightly when he doesn't see your figure near your locker or roaming in the halls.
yandere bully who shakes off this uncomfortable feeling and decides to carry on with his day, he was sure you were just avoiding him, he doesn't mind.
he likes a good chase
he starts to get irritated when he doesn't see you for the rest of the day, did you seriously not come at all? he was definitely gonna make you pay for that
days go by and you still don't show and now he's starting to get nervous, were you sick? he doesn't recall you showing any symptoms but why else would you be gone for that long?
a week goes by and he snaps. he charges to your class his eyes set on Jackson, a classmate he's seen you talk to frequently.
he slams his hands on the desk startling the boy sitting and earning a few worried glances from the others in the class. The boy looks up already cowering slightly "um..do you nee- hey- wait!" he grabs Jackson from his collar lifting him up from his seat "alright spill. y/n hasn't been here for a week where are they?" he glowers at him watching the boys expression go from terrified to confused "y/n? you mean you don't know?" he grips his shirt tighter and jerks him forward earning him a yelp "know what?" Jackson swallows before answering "y/n moved schools a week ago..b-before you ask I don't know which school!" he stays quiet for a few seconds as the new information dawns on him, he lets go of the boy's collar abruptly and speeds out of the classroom.
moved schools? what the fuck is all that about?
he's filled with anger at this, in his words, stunt you pulled but his anger twists into discomfort when he realises he won't see you every day anymore.
yandere bully who threatens almost every student in your school, talks to every teacher he even goes to all the places you frequent outside of school but you never showed, did you move to a different city or something?
yandere bully who finally finds a lead to where you are and wastes no time in tracking you down and showing up to the school itself, waiting by the doors for you, his heart jumping with excitement when he sees your figure walking, phone in hand still unaware of his presence.
yandere bully who finally feels like he's found some sort of relief since the day you moved when you lift your head up and lock eyes with him.
he smiles and starts to head in your direction, you step back slightly turning on you heel to walk when he grabs your wrist stepping closer and inching down next to your ear.
"found you.."
#yandere blog#yandere bully#yandere oc#yandere themes#gn reader#yandere bully x gn reader#yandere bully headcanons#yandere headcanons#yandere#male yandere#yandere x reader#yandere bully x reader headcanons
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Change His Ways | Tommy Shelby x Reader
Request: no
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Summary: In which Tommy falls for a woman out of his reach and does whatever it takes to get closer to her.
Warnings: Tommy’s certainly not canon here, language, smoking, religious themes (Tommy goes to church)
Word Count: 4025
A/N: I dusted this WIP off because I was itching to keep writing after I finished my celebration blurbs. The idea has Tommy ooc, but it was one that I just had to write down while reading a book - I’ll share a bit more about it down below for those who are interested (it’s based on a true story). Enjoy! :)
I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!
Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in stories similar to this one!
Tommy's world stopped the second he saw her. She was in Polly's main room, gathering her cleaning supplies as he stepped into the home. He watched from the doorway as she tried, but failed, to take them all into her arms, the bucket and broom falling to the ground. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Gray," she quickly apologized to the woman standing next to the fireplace for the commotion, crouching down to - try and - gather it once more. Polly didn't say anything, only watching on as the younger woman struggled.
"Let me help you, miss," Tommy spoke up, balancing the cigarette he was smoking between his lips before he stepped over to her, leaning down to grab the stick of the broom before she could.
"Oh, thank you, mister," she smiled over at him, her (y/e/c) eyes instantly mesmerizing Tommy. He almost forgot what he was doing.
"Where do these need to go?" he asked after clearing his throat and pulling himself from his thoughts.
"Just outside. My father's picking me up," she responded, smiling over at him gratefully. He felt like she had knocked the wind out of him.
"Alright then," he nodded, standing in time with her and taking a bucket from her full hands so that she'd have less to carry. He then let her lead him out to where an older looking farm-typed truck was waiting. The man sitting in the driver's seat just glared at Tommy, who ignored his presence altogether. "Should be it," he remarked as he sat the broom and bucket into the back of the truck.
"Thank you, really," the woman smiled at him.
"You're welcome," Tommy nodded politely before she got in the truck and he walked back up the path to his aunt's house. Polly was standing in the entryway with her arms crossed when Tommy re-entered the house. "What, Pol?" he questioned, brushing past her into the main room.
"She's a good woman, Thomas," she heeded a warning. A warning that Tommy disregarded completely.
Tommy showed up at Polly's every day for a week until he figured out what times the unnamed, beautiful woman was present at the house. And each time she was, he would help her with the things that she needed to carry out to her father's truck.
He didn't quite get to his destination today because the very person he was looking forward to seeing was walking along the sidewalk about three blocks from his aunt's house. He slowed down his car with his brow furrowed, and bent his head down to look at her. "All ok?" he asked after he watched her take a few more struggled steps. "Your father coming to pick you up?"
"Not today," she shook her head, the tone of her voice showing how much she was struggling to keep everything in her arms. "He's been held up at the farm."
Tommy was out of his car the second he heard her answer. He walked around the side of it with a quickened pace before he took the bigger cleaning supplies from her arms. "I can take you home," he offered, already opening the back door of his car before she gave him an answer to set the supplies he'd taken inside.
"Oh I can't bother you like that," she tried to decline his offer politely, but Tommy didn't want to hear it.
"I insist," he stressed, his eyebrows raised slightly to show his seriousness. He held his eyes on her and saw her weary expression form into a smile. She nodded her head in agreement before he opened the passenger's side door for her to get into the car. Once she was in, he shut the door and walked back around to the driver's side.
"Do you have a name, sir?" she asked him almost immediately after he'd sat in the front seat, "because I feel like I should know the name of the man that has so kindly offered me a ride."
"It's Thomas Shelby," he said, clearing his throat before adding: "you can call me Tommy though."
The woman smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you, officially, Tommy. Thank you for driving me home," she spoke politely. “My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," she added, her cheeks heating up slightly when she realized that she hadn't formally introduced herself to him.
"It's nice to officially meet you as well, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but smile as he tried her name out for himself, "and there's no need to thank me...the pleasure's all mine here," he concluded his sentence by turning his car back on and pulling away from the sidewalk so that he could take her home.
There was an older man leaning up against the side of a rusted farm truck as Tommy pulled into the driveway that (Y/N) said was hers. He looked rather intimidating standing there, and if Tommy wasn't in the line of work that he was, he definitely would have been put off by him.
"Hi, daddy," (Y/N) smiled as she got out of the car so that she could grab her supplies from the back. She was too slow, however, because Tommy already had it in his hands.
"Where do you want this?" he asked her.
"Just by the shed over there," she answered as she motioned to said shed, "I can place them where they need to go later." Tommy nodded and then walked the short distance so that he could rest the supplies against the wall of the shed. "Thank you, Tommy," she sent him a bright smile once he'd finished.
"You're welcome," he nodded, deciding that being paid in her smiles would be better than any lump sum of money he could ever receive.
"You Thomas Shelby?" (Y/N)'s father then came into the situation, his voice making Tommy's expression go serious as he turned to face the older man.
"I am," he nodded, extending his hand.
"What are your intentions with my daughter?" her father got right to the point, glancing at the hand but not shaking it.
Tommy found himself feeling like a young boy again, and it made him wonder just how interested he was in (Y/N) for him to be feeling like this. "I brought her home. She was struggling with carrying the supplies," he explained himself.
The older man looked Tommy up and down before nodding slightly. "Ok," was all he said before he turned and started to walk over to one of the barns on the property.
"Thank you, Tommy," (Y/N) sent him another smile, pulling him out of the confused stupor that was brought on by the previous conversation. "I hope you make it home safely."
"You're welcome, (Y/N)," he responded, loving how her name sounded coming from his mouth. He then returned her wave before he walked to his car and got into it, backing down the driveway and away from the beautiful woman who was standing and watching him leave.
"I think you're a bloody idiot for coming up with that idea," Polly spoke her mind after Tommy had finished explaining to her where he'd gone a few days ago.
"That's why I'm doing it properly," Tommy tried to work a different angle.
"Properly or not, the (Y/L/N)'s are a God-fearing family, and I can't remember the last time you stepped into a church with the intent of speaking to the Maker," she remarked, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. Tommy sighed in response, shaking his head as he brought the cigarette back up to his mouth. He and Polly then stared at each other for a few moments before the woman sighed and hung her head, "but you'll still give it a try anyway," she stated in defeat, knowing just by his glance alone that her nephew's mind was made up.
Tommy cleared his throat as he stood from the chair in Polly's living room. He grabbed his coat and pulled it over his shoulders so that he was ready to leave the house. Polly tried to call after him, but he wasn't listening to her words as he opened the door and exited the dwelling. After getting in the car and starting its engine, he began driving to (Y/N)'s house with the full intention of winning her father over.
"You cannot court my daughter," (Y/N)'s father spoke firmly from where he sat across from Tommy in the front room.
"She's a very lovely woman, and I will be a gentleman to her," he tried to sway the older man, laying on the Shelby charm in full force, "all I am asking is for a date with her." If only his family could hear him now.
"If you want to see my daughter, you'll see her at church," her father decided, nodding his head once to show his decision was final.
"Mr. (Y/L/N)..."
"Save it, Shelby," the older man cut Tommy off, standing to leave the conversation. Tommy watched him walk, knowing there was nothing more that could be done. He also stood, showing himself out. He looked to the farmhouse after opening the door to his car and saw (Y/N) standing in one of the second floor windows. A sigh escaped his lips. He knew what to do.
Tommy met the (Y/L/N)'s at their church that Sunday. No one bothered to question how he knew where they worshiped, and he was thankful that he didn't need to explain.
They all sat in the same pew, Tommy to the right of (Y/N), of course, while her father sat on her left. He didn't listen much to the sermons, or participate in singing along with the choir.
He did, however, try to get even closer to (Y/N). After a few glances down, he slowly inched his hand closer to her lap. At first he attempted to take hold of her hand. She moved it away the second she felt his fingers brush hers. But she didn't look his way though, still focused on what the preacher was saying. So he let his hand stay there. Instead of holding hers, he flipped his palm down and draped his fingers over the curve of her thigh.
His hand had just started to warm from her body heat when he felt a sharp, but silent, smack land on the back of it. It made him remove his hand and quickly look her way. She was still looking straight ahead. Tommy kept his eyes on her, his brows furrowed. He was sure that he hadn't imagined that; she'd just smacked him.
The feeling of his eyes on her made (Y/N) glance to her right. She knew he wouldn't look away until he addressed her. But her father would instantly know that her attention had been taken off of the message being told. Ever-so-slowly, she leaned closer to Tommy, getting close enough so that he could hear her whisper. "There should be no touching in the Lord's house. It's considered blasphemy."
Tommy couldn't respond because she sat straight again the second she finished speaking. He took one last look at her before looking straight again, his hand resting on his thigh once again.
Tommy continued going to church with (Y/N) and her family every Sunday, and eventually they got into a routine of him walking her back home.
Every Sunday, they'd stop at the beginning of her dirt driveway, and she'd thank him with a kiss on his cheek. They'd then say their goodbyes and she'd begin walking to her house. Tommy would stay and watch, waiting until she was on her porch before he left.
This Sunday was different. (Y/N) was unusually quiet on the way home. The walk that was normally filled with her sweet laughter and entertaining stories was now overruled by silence.
They stopped at the end of her driveway, and (Y/N) turned so that she could face him. Tommy's eyes were immediately on her, and he noticed that she was looking at the ground. "I won't be in church next Sunday," she finally spoke, playing with her fingers in hopes it'd give her something to focus on. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes then, seeing that he was looking out at the fields for a moment. Thinking now'd be the best time to say goodbye, she lifted her head and leaned in to press her lips to his cheek.
Tommy turned to talk to her at that same moment, and he was met with the most rewarding accident he'd ever been given in his life when his lips met hers. The kiss was soft, quick, and innocent. Too quick for his liking.
(Y/N) pulled back with a gasp the second she realized what was happening. She looked at him then, her eyes now opened wide; looking as if she'd just seen a ghost, or a horrible crime be committed. I've fucked this up, Tommy thought to himself, the breath caught in his throat. The worst part about it was that he didn't quite know what to say that could make the situation better.
So he just stared at (Y/N), watching as her eyes searched his for what seemed like eternity. Then, after what felt like forever, (Y/N) leaned in and pressed her lips to his again. She kissed him more soundly this time, and he took hold of her waist to make sure that she wouldn't leave him too soon. When she eventually moved to pull back, he let her, keeping his eyes closed when she stayed close and rested her forehead against his.
"Why?" he asked once their breathing had returned to normal.
"Huh?" she was clearly confused by his sudden question, and she finally pulled back to look at him once more, her eyebrows furrowed.
"Why won't you be there, love?" he asked with a soft laugh, squeezing her waist softly as he remembered that he was still holding onto her.
Realization struck her and her confusion melted into a sheepish smile, remembering what they were talking about before the kiss happened. "My family and I are traveling to see my grandparents. We'll go to the service at their church since we'll be staying through the weekend," she explained the reason behind her initial statement.
"Should I find you there?" he asked her then, wondering if he could still make things work. He'd been seeing her every Sunday for a month and a half now, and he'd be lying if he said that he didn't look forward to it every week.
"There's no need for that, Tommy," she giggled, her stomach filling with butterflies at the sweetness of his voice. "I'll be home before you know it."
"Then I'll be waiting," he nodded, showing his sincerity as he squeezed her waist once more, his actions making her smile. His eyes flitted down to her lips then, their closeness and inviting nature becoming paramount in his mind again. "Can I?" he asked permission before doing anything, something he never could have imagined himself doing weeks ago.
"Please do," she smiled at him, her hands finding his collar as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once more.
"Fuck," Tommy huffed, pressing his fingers to his eyes in frustration.
"So what do we do, Tom?" Arthur asked his brother, clasping his peaked cap in his hands. "He's there. He's for the taking. We could just..."
"No," Tommy cut him off abruptly, leaning forward so that he could rest his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands, "no, there'll be problems if we do that."
"Then what?" John chimed in, a bit of an incredulous look present on his face. "We know he did it. He shouldn't get to even think he got away with it."
"We do it another way," Tommy insisted.
"What way?" Arthur asked.
"I don't know yet," Tommy huffed, finally looking at his brothers before he continued, "but you fuckers better not try anything." He accented his direction by pointing at each of the two men as he spoke, his eyes wide to convey his seriousness.
Silence fell in the room then. John and Arthur shared a look before focusing back on their brother. They were both thinking the same thing...but who was going to be the one to say it?
Arthur looked to John again. "Seems like our brother's gotten himself a new perspective," he commented aloud, seeing Tommy's eyes snap to him from the corner of his.
A grin formed on John's face as he heard his older brother speak. Arthur was the one to cast the first stone. Now the floor was wide open. "I think it's because he's been going to that bloody church each weekend," he shared his thoughts on the situation.
Arthur shook his head. "Nah. The only reason he's going there is so he can give that girl a quick shag. You think it'll be worth it, Tom?"
Tommy was now seeing red. "What the fuck are you two going on about? Eh?!"
"That girl from Pol's place. (Y/N), was it?" John answered, even though the previous question was meant to be rhetorical.
"Yeah, yeah. That's her name. She's real pretty," Arthur commented, a smug grin now present.
Tommy couldn't take the comments anymore. He slammed his hand down on the desk, commanding their attention immediately. "Enough!" he bellowed, his eyes wide with anger. "You're not going to talk about her like that. In fact, you're not going fucking to talk about her at all. Understood?" He let out a heavy breath then, looking between the two of them before he swiped at his hair, returning the strands that had fallen over his forehead back to their resting place.
Neither John nor Arthur responded verbally to their brother's statement. Arthur let out a grunt of agreement and John merely nodded, both surprised by the show of emotion they'd just witnessed.
Tommy nodded in response to the silence. "Good. Now go out and figure out how we can get this guy. We need to do it cleanly," he gave them an order, one that made the two of them nod before turning and heading to the door.
John exited without another word, but Arthur stopped with his hand on the door's handle. He looked back to his brother, who had both of his palms placed flat on the desk as he finished recollecting himself.
"She really means something to you, doesn't she?" he broke the silence hanging in the room. His question made Tommy look up. They held eye contact for a few moments. Not a word was said. Arthur got his answer though; he could see it in Tommy's eyes. So instead of prolonging the staring contest, he nodded and exited the office.
Tommy let out a huff as the door shut, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the chair. (Y/N) came to mind then, and he relished in the thought of her as it made his stresses wash away.
Tommy just happened to be sitting out on the floor of the betting shop when the most out of place looking person entered the building. He clocked the man speaking to Scudboat and continued working on the papers in front of him as he tried to listen into the conversation.
"Is Mr. Shelby in?"
"He's busy. You'll need an appointment. That can be arranged with his..."
"I just need to speak to him for a moment."
"You'll need to arrange an..."
"He's fine to speak with me, Scudboat," Tommy cut into the conversation, coming over to where he and (Y/N)'s father were standing by the door.
"Yes, Mr. Shelby," Scudboat bowed his head as he left the conversation, knowing he was no longer needed.
"What can I do for you, Mr. (Y/L/N)?" Tommy asked (Y/N)'s father then, his eyes trained on the man who still looked so out of place.
"I'm not here to spend any money," the older man quickly replied, a rather sour look present on his face.
"I never thought you were," Tommy responded, hoping that his level voice would ease the other man's inhibitions. "Has something happened to (Y/N)?" he asked then, his brows furrowing as a feeling of worry washed over him.
Mr. (Y/L/N) looked around the room for a moment before his eyes found Tommy's again. "Can we speak somewhere more private?" he requested, the inflection of his voice not giving Tommy any concrete answer to his question. He hated that.
"We can," the gangster nodded, then moving towards one of the private offices - a little too quickly for his liking. "Has something happened to (Y/N)?" he asked again once the two men were behind the closed door.
(Y/N)'s father sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head every so slightly before he began speaking, "I know what you do...and I know that it's not right, nor good..." he started, his eyes darting around the room so he wouldn't have to hold Tommy's stare. "But I've seen you with my daughter, how you've tried to open up and let God into your life..." he paused again, taking another deep breath. Tommy wished he'd say what he needed to already. "She sees something in you that I can not, Mr. Shelby, and I hope that you see something in her that goes beyond physical desire."
"Way beyond, Mr. (Y/L/N)," Tommy was quick to tell him, "she's...she's changed me in ways I'd not thought possible."
"Good," the older man nodded, looking pleased with the response he'd gotten. Silence hung in the air then, and both men stared at each other. It was almost like one was waiting for the other to crack; for the other shoe to fall. Mr. (Y/L/N) was the one to speak first. "You have my blessing. You can court my daughter."
Tommy exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding upon hearing the other man's statement. He immediately extended his hand. "Thank you, Mr. (Y/L/N)."
"Treat her well, Thomas," her father sternly said, accepting the handshake Tommy had offered.
"I will."
Tommy and (Y/N) arrived at the road to (Y/N)'s home, and (Y/N) turned to face him like she always did. She smiled at him, sweetly thanking him for walking her home from church. Tommy smiled at her, tipping his hat and making her giggle - like he usually did. (Y/N) then leaned in and pressed her lips to his, giving him the quick kiss that she'd always leave him with. This time, however, Tommy's hands found her waist and he held her close to him when she pulled away.
"Be mine," he whispered against her lips, pulling back slightly so that his eyes could find hers.
"Tommy," (Y/N) breathed in response to his statement, "my father..."
"He gave me his blessing," he assured her, "will you be mine, (Y/N)?" he asked this time.
A smile spread across (Y/N)'s lips as butterflies erupted in her stomach. This is what she'd been waiting for. Everyone had told her that Tommy Shelby was a man who was to be feared, but that was not the Tommy Shelby that she had the pleasure to know; to get close to. And now he was asking her the question she'd hoped he'd ask ever since the first kiss they shared.
"Yes, Tommy," she answered with a slight nod, excitement bubbling up inside of her, "yes, I'll be yours."
Her words made a smile form on Tommy's face, and instead of saying anything in response, he leaned in and kissed her, showing her how happy he was to hear her answer through the passion he put into the kiss. She was the only person who'd get him to change his ways...and now she was his.
**a little bit about the background: this was based off of a vignette that I read in a book about America in WWI — a man, who was rather rowdy, into no good things, took interest in a woman, and the woman’s father told him that the only way he’d get to court her is if he came to church. The man essentially changed his lifestyle around for her because he was so interested in her and they eventually got married — so just like Tommy, he got the girl.
———
Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife
MASTERLIST
#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby one shot#tommy shelby oneshot#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fanfiction#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders x y/n#peaky blinders x you#peaky blinders one shot#peaky blinders oneshot#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic
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I love your work about the 141 gossiping about Ghost, love the concept of him having a “secret wife”.
Please please please write more with “secret wife y/n”, I beg of you. 🙏🏻
ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANON. <3 Ghost and secretwife!reader are my sweet babies I love them so much.
Tw: blond Simon & smiling Simon. Read at your own risk.
If there’s one thing Gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up. And if there was ever a time to employ that skill, it was now. Now after he’d been frozen watching the two of you reunite after a close call. After he’d discovered your dirty little secret. Suddenly feeling like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. Hurtling back down to earth. He was certain that when he moved there would be a crater under his feet where his stomach dropped.
He’d gone so green that another nurse came up and gently tugged on his arm to see if he was alright. He snapped his jaw shut, nodding and mumbling something that didn’t sound anywhere near reassuring. But he forced himself to leave the medbay. Left the two of you behind the curtain, where in his final glance back he saw that your feet were still neatly on top of Ghost’s big boots. Pushed up on your toes to be able to wrap your arms around his shoulders.
He made some excuse not to meet with you that evening. Could barely look you in the eye when you caught him in the hall, looking significantly more cheery than you had been that morning. You pried, asking if he was alright, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand, but he claimed the stress of their mission had just hit him and he really needed to sleep.
It took him weeks to get over the initial shock. Couldn’t stand next to Ghost during conditioning. Made a point of sitting catty-corner to him during meetings and in transit so he had the least chances of accidentally catching his eye. Feeling like he’d deeply bastardized the idea of ‘Ghost.’ Blurred the lines between the man Gaz knew and the man he was in private.
He tried to reason with himself. Keep it fresh in his mind that he’d seen the signs, just hadn’t been able to fully connect the dots by himself. And it was an accident. He’d never intentionally pry into either of your personal lives like that. It wasn’t in his character. There was nothing innately wrong with the two of you hiding a marriage. Probably would have been an HR nightmare. Gotten both of you re-stationed. He was certain you both had a good reason to hide it. And there was no better person to find out than him. He’d actually be able to keep it a secret. Soap would immediately run his mouth. Get on the intercoms and scream the news as loud as he could. Price would pull the both of you aside and try to have some heart-to-heart. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, it just would have felt too forced. Wouldn’t have served any real purpose.
So eventually he gets over it. Never pressed you about your marriage again, and you never seemed too keen on following up his request from months ago. The dust settles in his mind. He shelves the information like an old book. Life goes on.
And then the weather turns. Starts getting colder. The first few weeks of cold after summer where the wind stings a little more. Finds it’s way through jackets and uniforms a little more artfully. Soldiers are catching ill and passing it around like it’s a competition of who can infect the entire base. The medbay is busy, but a different kind of busy than summer when it’s an optimal time to see missions through.
The medics are tasked with rounding up all the soldiers on base and issuing flu vaccines to hopefully prevent further spread. You trudge to Price’s office in the early morning. He notices you look a little pale. The rims of your eyes and tip of your nose are blotchy. A gentle shade of pink that he assumes is from the weather or the cold you were bound to catch. You chat for a bit, catch up because you haven’t had the opportunity for a few weeks. Let him know that he and the boys need to make their way to the bay for their shots at some point.
You feel a little woozy. Pressing into his doorframe for support, white-knuckling it to keep yourself from swaying in your spot. He looks a little concerned. Asks if you need to take a few days away to recoup. You wave him off, tell him it’s nothing you can’t handle, but he insists on walking you back to medbay. And he’s glad he did because on the short walk back you find yourself having to duck into a dark meeting room so you can vomit into a trash can.
He keeps a steadying arm wrapped around your waist when you stumble back out into the hall. Shaking his head when you profusely apologize. Slowing his normally long strides so you were comfortable. Gently lets you down on your own cot and instructs you to stay where you are while he goes to find a few other doctors that can delegate your work for the day between them so you can have the day off.
He sends you home despite your protest. You’d already gotten your color back. Claimed you must’ve had something off to eat. He wasn’t having it. Said he wouldn’t have his best doctor spreading sick because she’s too stubborn to get off her feet for a few hours. He’s a bit more stern than usual because he knows you won’t listen otherwise, but he brings you a ginger ale and sits next to your bed until you’ve finished it.
Later that day, when he and the boys finally get around to the bay for vaccines, he notices the way Ghost’s eyes dart around like he was looking for something. His shoulders tensing when he sees your station empty, and moments after he’s taken his shot, Price sees that he’s slunk off to a corner to make a phone call.
He doesn’t think much of it. He’s been trying to give Ghost some space. So he just shrugs it off. Let’s him finish up whatever he’s doing before they get back to work.
The boys have gotten in the habit of taking a week off as the snow melts. Just before Spring brings rain and the soft buds of new leaves on the trees. Unofficial tradition proposed early on to have a few more days rest before things inevitably picked up again. Usually gave the boys time to kick off to visit family or get some well needed time away from base. Get in a well needed break because God knew they wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.
Soap finds himself a little North of Manchester in his time off. Went out to see his godparents in Bolton for a couple days before getting back up to Iverness to see his parents. Meandering through a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for his godmother and a bottle of bourbon for himself. Could have sworn he saw Simon turning a corner at the end of the aisle. Chalked it up to a trick of the light. Seeing things after months of close quarters with his L.T.
But then he saw the man again. Stood in line at the butcher’s counter. No mask, but the same crooked nose and cropped blond hair. Same scar hooking his jaw. Swapped out his uniform and gear for a thick leather jacket, white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Would have been unrecognizable if Johnny didn’t know him so well.
He was about to head over to say hello. Make some wise crack about Ghost missing him too much, but he was stilled for a moment when a woman approached Simon. Pushed her cart up next to him and nudged his side with her hip. Prompted him to give her a small smile- the only smile Soap had ever seen Simon grace anyone with. No teeth, just a curve of his lips, but it changed his face completely.
Ghost said something to the woman. She reached up to fuss with the collar of his jacket. Johnny saw her shoulders shake slightly and heard the quiet tinkling sound of her laughter. Completely shell shocked. So imagine his surprise when the woman turned away from Ghost and it was you. Only you looked wildly different. He knew your face well enough, but after almost six months not going to the medbay on a weekly basis, something had changed.
Even wearing an oversized sweatshirt he could see the way it pulled taught against your swollen belly. Saw the way your arm was cradling it like second nature. He didn’t even realize that the bottle of wine had slipped from his fingers until he watched Simon’s head snap toward the sound. Ears perked. Tense like he’d suddenly flashed onto the battlefield. His eyes went wild for a moment as he scanned the busy aisle, calmed only a degree when he found you.
It’s like that Spider-Man meme where the three of them meet and point at each other. Johnny’s smiling sheepishly (for once), your jaw is dropped in surprise, and Simon is glaring daggers at Johnny like somehow it was his fault that you were all in the same place at once. You’re the first one to move. Rushing up to him as quickly as you could- now moving a bit awkwardly with the disproportionate weight of your pregnancy on your front. Asking if he was alright. Grabbing his hands to make sure the glass hadn’t cut him.
Simon tailed you like a hulking shadow. Glowering down at Soap something fucking ferocious. Didn’t even give him time to tell you he was fine. Pulling you back behind his arm by the wrists with a kind of gentleness Johnny had never known the L.T. to possess. You twisted your face in displeasure, batting his hands away and stepping back out from behind the wall that was your husband. Ignoring the wine and the soft crunch of glass under your shoes.
And to Soap’s absolute bafflement, Simon stood down. Didn’t try to yank you back, didn’t voice his protest, just drew his mouth into a hard line and let you push past him. He was speechless. For what well may have been the first time in his life, John MacTavish had no words. Couldn’t apologize for the mess. Couldn’t crack a joke. Couldn’t even say hello. He was pure dead at a loss.
Somehow, he allowed you to guide him away from the mess he’d made- staining the waxed tile a muted crimson even after the disgruntled looking employee came over to mop it up. Found his voice in your tugging him along after you and Simon to the checkout where you insisted you’d pay for the bottle of bourbon he’d managed not to send careening to the ground. Tried to tell you no, but you’d already sent it down the belt. And by the time you’d rooted through your purse in search of your card, Simon had already finished paying and was tucking his wallet into his back pocket.
Shuffled out with the two of you into the car park. Making a point of putting distance between himself and Simon who was pushing the cart with one hand and had the other planted firmly on the small of your back. Always walking on the side of oncoming traffic.
Johnny tried to keep up with your conversation. Asking him about his break. Where he was staying and for how long. How had he been. But it was tense. He could feel Ghost’s eyes on the back of his head. Burning through him. Making him feel like he had a target tacked to his skull.
He said a quick goodbye when Ghost helped you into the passenger seat of your car. You said you’d see him soon enough, said if he had any extra time before they went back he’d have to come by for dinner. Simon closed the door before you could say anything else. Looking monumentally irked.
The two men stood in suffocating silence while Simon unloaded the groceries into the trunk. Johnny tried to ignore the glinting of the silver band on the L.T’s finger. Caught the light every time he set a new bag in the back. A little unsure if he was being dismissed or if Ghost was just waiting until he was certain you wouldn’t hear the lashing he was bound to receive.
But it all stayed relatively calm. Maybe the eye of the hurricane. Simon pushed the bottle of bourbon into his chest before swinging the trunk shut.
“Appreciate if you’d keep this between us.”
Ghost spoke first, the words sounding a bit sticky in his throat- like they didn’t want to come out.
“‘Course.”
Johnny’s voice wasn’t much better. Both of them shifted on their feet. Not use to this kind of conversation. Uncomfortable being pushed from their usual dynamic.
Simon just nodded, moving to push the cart back to the corral. Johnny followed.
“How long you been keepin’ this in?”
“Which bit.”
His response was flat.
“Dinnae, L.T. Seems yer a man o’ mystery these days.”
Soap prodded, unable to help himself. A smile crept into his voice.
“Don’t push it.”
Simon bit back.
“Bonnie thing for a brute like you.”
“Johnny.”
“Looks ready’ta pop.”
A harsh sigh from Ghost. He reached into his jacket pocket like he was going for a cigarette. Tightening his jaw when his hand showed back up empty. He hummed his agreement.
“Few months.”
They’d reached Johnny’s car by this point. Just a few rows over in the car park. Stood by his driver’s side door shuffling their feet once more.
“Ken it’ll turn out like you?”
He couldn’t help but ask. Never pictured Ghost the fatherly type, but the idea was growing on him now that it’d been planted in his mind.
“Hope not.”
Simon gruffed back. Johnny snorted.
“Boy o’ girl?”
This earned him a nasty look, but he figured he was in deep enough as it was. No harm in asking.
“Girls.”
#this had me giiiiiiiiiggling and kicking my feet anon thank you#self indulgent dad!simon fluff#picturing him with twin baby girls I’m tearing my hair out holy shit#cod mw2#call of duty#cod x reader#141 headcanons#moongreenlight#moongreenlightwrites#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#secret wife
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hii could u do sturniolo triplets x fem reader where they treat her like one of them and toss shit at her but then they accidentally hurt her and they all panic. (maybe one of them have a secret crush on her up to u?)
★‧𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭‧★
Sturniolo Triplets x fem!bsf
Genre: Fluff
Synopsis: Filming a car goes wrong when a small accident happens.
Warning: Blood mentioned.
*this is gonna be just platonic so they’re just besties*
I love this request by the way, tysm! 🫶🏻
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I’ve been friends with the triplets for longer than I can remember. They practically call me their sister now. So it isn’t unusual for me to appear in their videos. I’m usually in the vlogs just because I think they’re funner to film than car videos.
We are all currently sitting on their couch watching random videos on YouTube eating ice pops.
“Guys I’m bored” Chris says.
“Ok then what do you wanna do?” I ask.
“I don’t know but something other than whatever this is” Chris lays back on the couch sighing.
“How about we start filming the car video for Friday?” Nick says.
“But it’s literally Sunday” Matt says looking at Nick.
“Yea but we already have our Wednesday video filmed, and if we film our Friday video today we can have the rest of the week free” Nick explains.
“That’s a good idea” I say.
“Would you be in it y/n?” Matt asks.
“I’ve got nothing better to do so yea” I chuckle.
“Ok then let’s go!” Chris jumps up from the couch with a sudden outburst of energy.
-
“Look over there it’s all empty” Nick points to an empty part of the Walgreens parking lot where we chose to film.
“Ok that’s good, Chris start getting the camera ready” Matt says, driving to the spot farthest away from people.
Either way it is 12 am so there weren’t much people out anyway.
“Do we even have a topic?” I ask.
“No but we can just start speaking and see where it gets us” Nick replies.
“Do you guys want anything from Walgreens before we start?” Matt questions as he looks at Nick and I from the rearview mirror.
“Yes I want candy and a drink” Nick says.
“Me too” I say looking at Matt.
“Alright I’ll go get it” He answers while unbuckling his seat belt.
“I’ll go with you” I quickly say.
“Yea same you never get me the right candy” Chris rolls his eyes.
“Ok well I guess I have to go too now” Nick sighs.
We all got our candy and drinks except for Nick who couldn’t decide what he wanted to drink. Per usual.
“For the love of god Nick fucking choose” Chris groans.
“But there’s so many options!! I can’t do this” Nick replies grabbing his hair in frustration.
“Nick if you don’t choose something in the next 20 seconds we’re leaving” Matt sternly says.
“Oh my god look” Nick gasps.
“What” I say confused.
“They have glass bottles of coke!” Nick exclaims grabbing one from the fridge.
“Why the fuck would you want a glass bottle of coke? Just get the can” Chris comments.
“No I’m getting this. What if it tastes better in a glass bottle than in a can?” Nick questions.
“Just give me the damn thing so I can pay and go film the video for fucks sake” Matt says annoyed at his brother, as he walks to the check out.
“Mamas mad” I joke causing Chris and Nick to laugh.
-
“What the fuck is up YouTube! Welcome back to this week’s Friday video that we happen to be filming on a Sunday” Chris screams as soon as the camera starts recording, causing us all to flinch.
“Chris stop being so loud” I say grabbing his arm.
“Well we have to have a memorable intro no?” He answers, turning his body to look at me in the backseat.
“Well yea but don’t yell” I chuckle.
“Guys is it just me or did this car shrink” Nick says moving around swinging the bottle of coke in his hands.
“Nick stop you’re gonna hit me” I say shielding my face in case he does hit me.
“I hope he hits you and you break your nose” Matt says with no emotion on his face.
“Damn alright Matthew very sweet of you” I sarcastically say.
“Did you guys know that every star you see in the night sky is bigger and brighter than our sun” Chris randomly says.
“That’s not fucking true” Matt argues.
“IT IS TRUE SEARCH IT UP” Chris yells.
“Chris how many times do I have to tell you to stop screaming!” I raise my voice at him.
“Well he’s doubting my facts!” He argues back.
“Well Matt did you search it up?” Chris smirks.
“Shut up” Matt smiles.
“I told you soooo” Chris laughs.
“I finished my coke” Nick burps.
“You’re gross” I scrunch my face.
“Yea dude stop fucking burping everywhere you’re turning into Chris” Matt replies going off what I said.
“What did you say to me? I am most definitely not turning into Chris. In fact I’m better” Nick starts to argue still swinging the bottle around as he moves his arms.
“Hey! What did I do!” Chris complains.
“Oh my god” I sigh knowing they’re all about to fight.
“Oh shut up Chris sit down” Matt says in Chris’s face.
“You sit down tough guy get out of my face” Chris argues back.
“Can ya’ll just shut up please” I say rubbing my temples.
“Sorry sorry” Nick says exhaling as he rests his head on the head rest of Matt seat.
“Here I’m done with my Pepsi” Chris throws his empty can at me.
“Do I look like a trash can to you” I say annoyed.
“I’m done with my sprite too” Matt says throwing his empty spite bottle in my face.
“Oh my god why am I being attacked” I laugh.
“Wait this was from yesterday I’m done with it too” Chris adds on, throwing an empty Fanta bottle at my face again while laughing.
“That’s so gross” I laugh at him.
“Oh take this one too” Matt laughs throwing another empty soda bottle in my face which I attempt to shield.
“How dirty is your fucking car” I giggle.
“Here take mine too” Nick says throwing his glass bottle at my face, forgetting it’s glass.
“Ow Nick what the fuck that’s glass!” I raise my voice grabbing my nose as I feel a burning sensation.
“Oh shit I forgot it’s glass oh my god” Nick gasps.
“Nick why the fuck would you do that! You ok y/n?” Chris yells at Nick then turns to me.
“No not really” I quietly say trying to hold back tears.
“Lift your head up y/n” Matt softly says grabbing my chin to lift my face.
Their eyes all widen as they see blood coming out of my nose.
“Oh fuck” Chris says getting out of the car and opening the door to my side.
“Y/n im so sorry oh my god” Nick freaks out.
“Nick apologize later right now to into Walgreens and buy tissues or paper towels and some Advil for the pain. A bottle of water too” Matt says to Nick then rushing to where Chris had pulled me out of the car so I wouldn’t get blood on the seats.
“C’mere sit down and tilt your head up” Chris softly says pulling me to the ground and gently grabbing my head and tilting it back.
“I’m gonna have a panic attack I hate blood” I say as my breathing picks up and tears slowly slide down my face.
“Hey hey shh. It’s ok me and Chris are right here with you and Nick is getting some stuff to help you ok? It’s okay” Matt comforts me and pinches the bridge of my nose to help stop the flow of the blood and rubs on of my shoulder with his other hand.
“Does it hurt?” Chris asks while he rubs my knee.
“Mhm” I mumble closing my eyes.
“Here I got the stuff. Fuck I’m so so sorry please don’t die” Nick freaks out.
“Nick she’s not gonna die don’t say shit like that calm down” Chris replies.
“It’s okay Nick it was an accident I forgive you” I quietly say trying not to move my head much.
“Alright here hold that there” Matt puts some paper towels under my nose to soak the blood which was starting to become less.
“Can you swallow a pill?” Nick questions.
“Mhm” I nod.
“Open” Chris taps the side of my cheek indicating me to open my mouth, and so I do.
“Here’s water” Chris softly says, handing me water to swallow the pill he put in my mouth.
“How’s your nose sweetheart?” Matt asks, moving hair out of my face.
“It’s better and the blood stopped” I answer moving the paper towel away to see that there was no more blooding come out.
“Y/n I’m so sorry please forgive me” Nick engulfs me in a hug.
“It’s ok Nick I promise. I’m not mad it was just an accident” I say forgiving him and hugging him back.
“Alright c’mon let’s just go back home and order food and watch a movie how does that sound?” Chris asks me as he helps me up so we can all get back into the car.
“Mhm sounds good” I mumble.
“I kinda jinxed this whole situation I said I hope he hits you” Matt laughs as he starts the car.
“You really did jinx it Matt” I say.
“Guys the camera was recording the whole time” Chris points out.
“Well then this a hell of a video” Nick laughs.
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Tried my best 🤗😛
#y/n#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#happy friday#walgreens
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Baby Love | Joel Miller
A Trial & Error One Shot
Summary | It's coming to the end of lambing season, but there's one sheep left to give birth. Noticing she's struggling, you spend the night trying to soothe her, reflecting on your own experiences in her position.
Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader
Word Count | 2.7k
Warnings | Joel & Pretty Girl are still as horny as ever for each other so this is explicit. Mentions of ranching, sheep and animals giving birth. Mentions of human childbirth and pregnancy (I have never had my own children so please go easy on me), also mentions of how dirty it is when a sheep gives birth (blood/guts ect). Explicit smut including oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV smut IN THE BARN, creampie, Joel being a menace, PRETTY GIRL ALSO BEING A MENACE. No use of Y/N, no-outbreak AU.
Authors Note | It has been such a joy to write Pretty Girl again, I've missed her something terrible, and I'm so happy that the dynamic between her and Joel is still going strong, even if I have abandoned them for a while. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and if there are any aspects of this families lives that you'd like to see, feel free to request it in my ask box!
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
Lambing season is coming to an end - something you’re eternally grateful for. It’s been a busy few weeks - early mornings and late nights for both Joel and Tommy, leaving you with the twins, Joshua and Ellie to keep entertained. Not that you’d have it any other way - your dysfunctional little family makes you happy every day.
With Joshua at school and the twins with Joel as he took Ellie into town for an appointment, you’re out in the fields with Tommy, making sure the remaining sheep yet to give birth are doing alright. You don’t profess to being an expert, but you’d like to think that your motherly instincts can go beyond humans, knowing when certain sheep are due and when some of them are starting to struggle.
It’s been an easy lambing season this year - most of the girls are seasoned professionals by now, needing only a light touch and a refill of their water more than anything, but there’s one sheep you are worried about. She was from lambing season a few years ago and this will be her first time. When you head into the barn, she’s stood in the corner of one of the pens, moving very little but bleating every once in a while. You know it’ll happen soon, but you’re worried about her.
“Don’t worry your head, sugar,” Tommy soothes, running a hand down the back of your head when it’s time to leave, “It’s nature, she’ll know what to do.”
But, led in bed that night, there’s something that you can’t push from the back of your mind. This worry that takes over you. She’ll be on her own in there, being one of the very last to give birth, and what if she’s scared? What if something goes wrong? You remember how scared you’d been when it came to having Joshua.
So you sigh, push back the sheets, and get dressed. You leave Tommy a note in case he wakes in the night and worries about where you are. You can’t say the horses in the small stable next to the house are enthused about having a torched shined at them in the middle of the night, but thankfully yours doesn’t put up much fuss when you saddle it and make the journey through the dark fields to the barn.
Flicking on the lights, you’re immediately glad you came. The sheep in question is led on her side, breathing laboured and fast. As you walk towards her, she kicks her legs a little and lets out a pained bleat.
“I know baby,” You coo, making sure the gate is shut behind you, “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
You fall to your knees in the soft hay a little way from her, hoping not to spook her, but she doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence. She’s led down near the wall, so you crawl over a little and lean your back against it, stretching your legs out, just to be near her if she needs you.
The sheep lets out another pained bleat but she moves a little, up from her side and onto her feet. She walks closer to you, leaning down to prod your hand with her nose. You let out a little chuckle, letting your hand run down her head. The ranch dog likes when you scratch behind his ears, so you do the same here, which has her settling back down onto her side with her head on your thigh.
“It’s one of the most wonderful things,” You speak to her softly, continuing to pet at her head, “Having babies, but they always forget to mention how much it fucking hurts.”
She lets out another soft bleat, moving her body a little to get comfortable, or as comfortable as is possible when you’re in labour.
Watching her, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to your experience in her position. The first twinges of pain, low in your back that turned into pain everywhere. There wasn't a single position that was comfortable, no way to sit or lie or stand that could take the pain away. Then there was the exhaustion - after hours of waiting and more time pushing and pushing, there were moments when you didn’t think you could do it anymore, that you’d just close your eyes, drift off and wake up with a lovely, healthy baby perched in your arms.
But then, there’s that moment of relief, when the midwife had told you it’s okay honey, one more push and it’ll be done and it was and you could hear him crying and then he was on your chest and you were crying and so was Tommy. No-one ever mentions that bit either - how within seconds you could look down at a baby, your baby, and be completely and utterly in love with him. That’s what made it all worth it. That’s what made you want to do it again. It’s what makes you think you’d do it for the rest of your life if you could, just to have that one moment where that baby is in your arms for the first time.
“It’s worth it though,” You speak down to the sheep, “All this pain will be worth it in the end when we’ve got your beautiful little lamb with us.”
And it is. It’s all a bit dramatic in the end. The lamb gets stuck and you need to offer a helping hand to get it out, but almost immediately the mother sheep is doing exactly what she should, cleaning it off as you do the thing you’ve seen Joel do to help clear it’s airways, sticking a little bit of hay up one of it’s nostrils.
“Look mama,” You coo at the older sheep, a hand on her head as she works to get her little lamb clean, “Look what you did, you clever girl.”
Joel doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the barn that morning, but it certainly wasn’t to see you on your knees in the hay, rubbing a newborn lamb with straw. He can see from this angle that your clothes are filthy, covered in blood and God knows what else. Did you…? Have you….?
“Pretty girl,” He speaks softly, not sure you know he’s there, “What are you doing?”
You turn to him and it’s clear to see you’ve done exactly what he thinks you have and helped this sheep give birth, the gunk all over your clothes is also wiped across your cheek and forehead.
“She-” You trail off, “The sheep, she was struggling and I didn’t want her to be on her own.”
He opens the gate to the pen, walking in to fall beside you on his knees, “Have you been here all night?” He asks, letting his hands give the small lamb the once over.
“Pretty much,” You nod, “We had a lovely talk, didn’t we?” You ask to the mother sheep who is standing a few steps away, carefully observing Joel as he looks at her lamb.
“Did she do okay?”
“I had to get in there at the end,” You explain to him, “I think it was stuck, so I just gave her a little helping hand.”
Once he’s satisfied that the lamb is okay he shuffles back a little, watching as you do the same, letting the mother sheep have some time with her baby, “You did a good job,” He praises, letting his hand run down the back of you head, “Proud of you, pretty girl.”
He helps you to you feet, bends a little to brush as much stray hay from your jeans as he can before he steps back and really takes you in. It’s unconventional, but there’s something about the fact that you’ve got your hands dirty, spent your night here on your own to help one of his sheep, and the fact that you’re covered in dirt and hay, something about it all makes his jeans go a little tighter, something that he’s not quick enough to hide.
“Are you hard, cowboy?” He hears you tease before you’re stepping forward, “Does the sight of me covered in blood and guts turn you on?”
He rolls his eyes and turns his back on you, leaving the pen now he’s satisfied the sheep will be okay, but he can hear your feet following him and then your hand on his arm to get him to stop.
“You’ve not gone all shy on me, have you?” You speak softly, gently moving him so he turns a little.
“Have I ever been shy, pretty girl?”
“Then tell me,” You shrug, smirk plastered across your face, “Does this,” He watches as you drag a hand over the mess that is your clothes, “Turn you on?”
“You wanna know the truth?” He asks, voice low, “I wanna bend you over and get you to shut the hell up.”
Joel can’t help but let his own smirk show when your eyebrows raise, but it’s a fleeting later in your guise, because you’re turning around, showing him your back as you walk towards the stacked bales of hay in the corner. He can hear the clinking of your belt buckle and the telltale sound of you unzipping your jeans.
He’s stuck to the ground as he watches you pull down your jeans and your underwear, baring your backside to him. You pull them all the way down, letting them pool at your ankles as you spread your legs a little wider, bending yourself over the hay in the exact position he had in his head.
“Come on then cowboy,” You say, head turned over your shoulder to speak to him, “Come and shut me the hell up.”
It’s been an automatic response of his for years now, that when you present yourself to him, in any way, he falls to his knees like someone praying to an altar, and today is no different. He’s on his knees behind you, at just the right height to grip his palms to your ass, spread you open wide for him.
He wastes no time, he rarely does anymore, letting his mouth close over the hole of your pussy, somehow already weeping for him. He lets his tongue dip inside, lapping at your slick. It’s been years and he still doesn’t think he’ll get over how good you taste, how it lingers on his tongue for hours whilst he goes about his day.
Whilst he’s lapping up your slick, he lets one of his hands reach around, thumb searching out your clit, little circles rubbed across the little bud. He listens, feeling his cock throb in his jeans when you let out a gasp and a little moan.
“Not so talkative now, are we, pretty girl?” He mumbles, barely pulling off your pussy to speak, before he’s switching his hand and his mouth, leaning just enough so his tongue can flick against your clit, one of his fingers slipping inside you easily.
He chuckles against you when you moan at the curling of his fingers inside you - he loves when he can reduce you to a whimpering mess in seconds. It doesn’t take him long to feel the telltale signs that he’s going to make you come either. He can feel you start to fluttering around the two fingers he now has buried inside you, can feel the way you try and tighten your thighs around his face, so he carries on exactly how he is - suckling at your clit and moving his fingers in and out of your cunt until you’re coming for him, a high-pitched moan of his name from your mouth.
Joel doesn’t wait, he can’t wait. He stands, making quick work of pushing his own jeans and underwear from his body, finally freeing his aching cock from the tight confines of his trousers. He spits obscenely into his palm, running a tight fist up and down his length a few times before he’s dipping his knees, rubbing the head of his cock against the slick hole of your cunt, listening as he pushes himself inside you, giving you every inch of him as slowly as he possibly can, until he’s sheathed inside your tight heat.
He leans forward, covering your body with his own, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he gets used to the feeling of you clenching and fluttering around him. He can feel you wiggling a little under him, trying to get him to move, so he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, squeezing a little, stopping your movements altogether.
“Keep still,” He warns, “You need to keep still a minute, baby.”
There’s never going to be a time where he doesn’t need to do this. The soft, wet heat of your cunt and those first movements inside you that make him feel like he’s eighteen again, ready to come with a few thrusts.
He gives himself another minute before he starts pulling his cock out of you, slowly dragging through your slick until just the tip is left inside you, then he’s slamming himself back into you, setting a bruising pace.
The sound is obscene - there’s the wet squelch he can hear whenever he pushes his cock back into you, the slapping of his skin against yours and the way you both sound when you’re moaning each others names. He’s not going to last long, he knows it. All of this combined with the fact that anyone could wander in and see you has a thrill settling across his spine.
Joel leans forward again, letting his teeth bite down gently on the skin of your neck. He can feel the way your cunt is clenching, if he can just hold on, just a little longer, he can get another one from you, he knows it.
“Tell me,” He chokes out into your ear, “Tell me how to get you there.”
You let out a loud moan, turning your face to his, kissing him, all teeth and tongue and clumsy, “Bite me again.”
So he does, he lets his teeth sink into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking gently, sure to leave a mark, his hand slinking underneath your belly and down to your pussy, soaked bud of nerves exposed just right for him to use his fingers to swirl across it a few times.
“Oh my God-” He can hear you moaning, “Joel, fuck, please, don’t stop, just like that.”
Within seconds, he can feel you coming on his cock - cunt pulled tight, sucking him in. He feels the gush of slick from your pussy too, cock angled just right to have you squirting for him, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. It’s the tightening of your walls around him that sets his own orgasm off - that flush of pleasure across his body that blooms even more as he empties himself inside you. He can feel everything, the way your pussy clenches every time he gives you more, sucking his spend in as deep as possible.
He pushes himself up off you a little, hands on your hips, frantically sucking in air. He groans a little as he pulls himself from your cunt, standing back to admire how his cum drips from you. He doesn’t linger long, bending down to pull your clothes back up, gentle kiss pressed to the swell of your bottom as he does. He lets you zip yourself up whilst he puts himself right.
“Well, that was a great start to the morning.” You muse, pressing up on your tiptoes, gripping at his flannel shirt.
He’s about to speak when there’s a bleating from the sheep in the pen behind you, you both laugh, “Someone else agrees.”
He dips down, kisses your mouth slowly, gently, “Go and get clean,” He speaks against your lips, turning you around and giving you a tap on your ass as he does, “You’re filthy.”
“Still turns you on though.”
“Go on, get outta here.”
#Joel Miller x reader#Joel Miller x female reader#Joel Miller x f!reader#Joel Miller x you#Joel Miller smut#Joel Miller#Joel Miller fic#Joel Miller fanfic#Joel Miller fanfiction#Tommy miller x reader#Tommy miller x female reader#Tommy miller x f!reader#Tommy miller x you#Tommy miller fic#Tommy miller fanfic#Tommy miller fanfiction#Tommy miller smut#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo#hbo the last of us#joel x reader x tommy
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kiss me (m.s)
master list
matt sturniolo x reader
warnings: none!
preview: you were the odd one out from the group. nobody really paid attention to you and you were aware you weren't a sight for sore eyes. never anybody's choice. little did you know someone saw something in you.
a/n: this imagine is sort of based off 'she's all that', not entirely, but that's where I got inspo to write this! listen to the song for the full effect lmao. enjoy!
"alright people! prom is coming up! make sure to purchase your tickets in the auditorium if you're planning to come! tickets at its lowest price!" you hear over the inner come. you didn't even bat an eye at the announcement. you never understood the fascination in prom. the fancy dresses, the excitement of being prom queen, and etc. it was not your scene.
your thoughts were interrupted by someone shaking you. "y/n! are you excited? our last prom!" Nick says excitedly still shaking you. you look at him with a still face. "totally." you respond sarcastically. you watch him frown as he responds, "oh come on y/n. why are you being sarcastic?" you sigh, "you know this isn't my type of thing." you respond. "you got that right." Chris blurts out. you weren't even fazed by it. Nick shoots him a sharp glare, "don't be rude."
"no he's right Nick, I am not someone who should be at prom." you say. all Nick does is roll his eyes, "everyone is welcomed at prom. can you at least think about it?" he says with a small pout.
you let out a small laugh, "maybe. now stop bugging me about it." all he does is nod and smile. the bell rings initiating that lunch is now over.
Matt's POV
i was sat at the dinner table, right next to Chris, as we ate our food in silence. our parents were out doing something so we ended up getting raising cane's. Nick and Chris started bickering when Chris asked him for some fries. "you can't have any since you were being rude earlier." Nick sternly says, pulling his fries closer to him. "dude she said it herself she doesn't belong at prom." Chris replies trying to reach for his fries. “how can you act like that? y/n has feelings you know.” i said as both of them look at me. “you care why?” Chris asks with an eyebrow raised. “because Nick doesn’t owe you any fries.” i reply. Nick looks at Chris with a face as he goes “ha ha”. I had to agree with Nick on this one. Chris’ reply to what y/n said earlier was uncalled for. she didn't need his opinion.
i don't get how she doesn't think she belongs at the event. I always overheard her conversations with Nick and Madi. she always thought of herself as the odd one out. I never thought that. so what if she didn't look like every other girl? to me, I thought she was beautiful in her own unique way. i'd be teased if anybody found out I thought that. but it was nothing but the truth. I couldn't tell her that. I knew she was just too focused with school to even care what I had to say anyways.
End of Matt's POV
*time skips to the week before prom*
it was a Friday evening. you were at Nick's house sitting on his bed, right next to Madi, who was painting her toe nails. "have you given any thought about prom?" Nick says as he's holding his suit and tie against his body in front of the mirror. you let out a groan, "no nick. what is so exciting about it?" you respond. Madi and Nick look at each other then back at you, "maybe because this is the last time you'll have the opportunity to dress up and kill it on the dance floor." Nick says doing a little dance. you shake your head letting out a small laugh. "yeah I don't know about that one." you say, “i think prom is just an excuse for a guy to get into a girl’s pants.” you continue. “if you hang with the right people, like me and Madi, you will avoid that.” Nick says.
you see Madi stand up with her toes pointed up. you and Nick laugh at the scene. "what? I don't want to ruin the paint!" she says with a giggle. you see her reach down to her bag as she pulls out three tickets. "don't tell me the third one is for me." you say, shaking your head slowly.
all Madi does is smile waving it in front of her, looking at Nick, then the both of them looking at you, "you know it is!" they say in sync. you cover your face with your hands shaking your head. you felt defeated. Nick sits right next to you speaking, "it will be fun trust me! you have to take advantage of every moment." "I don't know how to dance, I don't do makeup, and I have nothing to wear." you exclaim.
"don't worry y/n. I got you I promise!" Madi says with the biggest smile on her face. you let out a sigh. what did you get yourself into? Nick gets up doing another little dance, "y/n is going to prom! y/n is going to prom!" he says in a sing song voice as Madi joins along.
Matt's POV
as I was walking down the hall, I over hear Nick and Madi practically singing over and over again. I got closer to Nick's bedroom door as I hear them say, "y/n is going to prom!" I laugh quietly at the chants. they actually convinced her. i'm glad they did. now i wont be the only one not enjoying the experience since Chris is dragging me along. maybe y/n and I will bond over the dreadful experience.
my thought was interrupted by the door opening. my eyes land on y/n. "oh hi Matt." she says with a soft smile. I couldn't help but smile back. I analyzed her face. she had prominent freckles I had never seen before. maybe because I haven't really paid attention. I laugh softly to myself noticing how big her glasses were against her face. they were slightly slipping a bit from the bridge of her nose.
"what's so funny?" she says, raising an eyebrow. I kept a smile, pushing her glasses back up delicately, “nothing.” i say as I turn around to walk away.
as I laid down in bed, closing my eyes, all that popped into my head was her face. the freckles, the soft smile, and the glasses. how could she not realize I notice her? she always talked about how she could never be a first choice. but to me? in a crowd of people I would look at her first. even though I just pointed out that she had freckles, i've never seen, I knew little things she did. like when she laughs she covers her face, when she drinks a beverage she sticks out her pinky finger, and when she's stuck on something she scratches her head a little from frustration. I open my eyes staring at the dark ceiling, smiling at the thought of her. I let out a small sigh. if only she knew.
End of Matt's POV
it was the day before prom. after school, you, Nick, and Madi end up at a little boutique looking for the perfect dress for you. you looked around feeling hopeless. everything looked too much for your liking. "how about this one?" Madi says holding up a pink sparkly long dress with off the shoulder sleeves. you shake your head indicating a 'no'. pink was not your ideal color. you felt like it was too bold.
Nick then walks over with a handful of dresses. "oh my goodness." you spoke, "Nick that is a lot." all he does is smile shaking his head, "come on! try these on!" he says. you hesitate for a bit as you grab the dresses from his hands, walking into the dressing room.
after a few dresses, you were still feeling hopeless. "this isn't working guys." Madi and Nick look at you wearing a green dress with a scrunch on their faces. "yeah no definitely not that one." Nick says. you sit down looking around. your eyes catch a beautiful simple white dress. you get up and walk over to it. "I mean hey. simple is timeless." Madi says smiling. "try it on!" she continues. you nod your head as you walk back into the dressing room. you slip into the dress looking in the mirror. you look up and down at yourself with a smile. Madi was right. simple is timeless. you walk out the dressing room as Nick and Madi cover their mouths in sync. "you are definitely wearing that dress!" Madi squeals in excitement. "definitely! you look beautiful in it y/n." Nick says pretending to sniffle, which caused all three of you to laugh.
Y/n's POV
today was the day. the day I've been dreading. prom night. I stand in front of the white dress I picked out slowly running my hand down it. I let out a small breath as I shake off my nerves. "alright lets do this." I say looking at Madi and Nick who were behind me.
Madi was already done getting ready, so was Nick. Madi was in this beautiful purple corset dress and Nick was wearing a suit with his tie matching the shade of purple of Madi's dress. she sits me down quickly, taking off my glasses, and putting my hair up to get it out of my face. “trust me. you will look like a work of art.” she says smiling at me. me and Nick just laugh. she starts doing my makeup. i've never done my makeup before. I told her I wanted it as simple as possible. which she did.
she hands me a hand held mirror as I look into it. my eyes widen at myself. "Madi... you actually made me look... pretty." I say quietly. she giggles, "more like gorgeous!" she says. Nick then pretends to sniffle, "oh my goodness. our baby girl is growing up so fast." he says. me and Madi laugh at his choice of words. "thank you so much Madi." I stand up hugging her. "don't thank me! it’s literally just your face that’s perfection." she says grabbing my dress, "now, put it on!" she says with a smile clapping her hands excitedly.
i laugh at her actions and grab the dress. I go into the bathroom to change.
End of Y/n's POV
you finally were ready for the night you never expected to attend. you look at yourself one final time in the mirror smiling. "here we go." you whisper to yourself before picking up your heels.
downstairs, Matt and Chris were struggling to do their ties. Nick gets downstairs and sees them. "i'll help with that." he says walking up to the boys. "thank you." Matt and Chris say in unison. "are we all ready to go?" Chris says looking around. Madi steps down the stairs clearing her throat. "where's y/n?" Chris says.
"she will be down in a second. but first! I would like to say, this is my favorite masterpiece yet!" Madi exclaims smiling. "okay well get her down here." Chris says with an eyebrow raised. Madi looks up the stairs and yells out, "oh y/n! get your cute butt down here!" everyone laughs as Madi steps down completely from the stair case. steps now can be heard going down slowly. Chris stares with his jaw dropped. Matt looks up as he freezes in his place with his mouth agape.
Matt's POV
as I looked up at the stairs and see her, all I could do was stay still taking in a gulp. she was beautiful. she lets a small smile appear on her face. i couldn't take my eyes off of her.
End of Matt's POV
as you step down slowly, you stumble a bit at the end of the stairs as Madi quickly holds on to your hand. "still learning to walk in these." you let out a nervous laugh. Chris repeats his question, "how?!" Nick rolls his eyes, "don't ask stupid questions."
everyone, except you and Matt, step outside preparing to leave. you had your glasses in your hand, placing them down on the counter. Matt rubs the back of his neck slightly, "uh hey." you hear him say. "hi Matt.” you say turning around looking at him up and down, “you look really good." you say smiling. "thank you. you look- uh-good too." he stutters out a bit. you let out a small laugh as you thank him. "lets go!" Nick shouts.
*time skips to the prom*
you all walk inside as you look around at everyone. there was loud music blasting and you see couples dancing up against each other. you cringe at the sight. Chris walks off meeting his buddies. Madi and Nick grab your hands pulling you onto the dance floor. you shake your head quickly as they both laugh. "let's dance the night away!" Madi screams out. you kind of just stood there not knowing what to do. but you swayed a little to the music. Nick was going all out making you laugh. "okay Nick! work it!" Madi shouts smiling.
“wait wait wait!” Nick stops in his place a little breathless. “let’s go get our photos taken before we look like a mess from all of this dancing.” he says. you and Madi nod walking with Nick towards the photographer waiting in line. you were still feeling anxious about what could happen tonight. you didn’t want to make a complete fool out of yourself.
you catch a glimpse at the photographer. it was your math teacher, ms. rose. as you guys were next you couldn’t help but notice her face. “y/n? is that you?” ms. rose says smiling. you nod smiling back, “hello ms. rose.” “i’m glad you made it!” she says looking around. “did you bring a date?” she asks excitedly. you shake your head quickly, “absolutely not.” all she does is laugh and prepares to take a picture. “alright pose!” she exclaims. i was in the middle of Madi and Nick, all of us smiling for the camera. “beautiful!” ms. rose says as she snaps the picture.
Matt grabs a drink looking around. his eyes locks on you taking a sip from his drink. he watches as you smile for the picture. he smiles admiringly. he couldn’t help but stare at you.
as time passes by you decided to step off the dance floor. you were feeling a bit overwhelmed. especially because you couldn't shake off the thought of how stupid you look trying to dance. you grab a water as you step outside. as you're walking around for a bit you notice Matt sitting in the outside courtyard. you decided to go keep him company. you sit next to him as he looks at you. "what's on your mind?" you say looking up at the moonlit sky. "not much. what are you doing out here?" he asks still looking at you. "I was feeling overwhelmed. which I feel bad because I know Madi and Nick have been waiting for this night and I just left." you respond. “well how about you? you can't just think about what they want." Matt says trying to read your face. "well, I didn't want to come in the first place." you laugh softly, "I feel stupid on the dance floor." you finish speaking. “you weren’t bad.” he says, “but it did look a little forced.” he says causing you both to laugh.
still looking at the sky, Matt suddenly stands up, stepping in front of you, holding his hand out. you look up at him taken a back. "what are you doing?" you ask softly. "I want to make this experience memorable for you." he says with his heart beating fast. you gulp as you take his hand gently. you stand up holding his hand as he pulls you into a slow dance position. your arms wrapped around his neck, while his hands rest on your hips. "i-i don't know how to do this." you say nervously, avoiding eye contact. "don't worry. just follow my steps." he says reassuringly with a smile. you nod as you look at your guys' feet. you accidentally step on him. "oh- i'm sorry." you say biting your lip softly.
"maybe you should look up at me. it'll distract you from your feet." he whispers. you do as he says. you look up up at him already looking down at you. you look into his eyes having your throat swallow. your heart was pounding. "hi" he whispers. you felt the nerves go away from the sound of his voice. "hey" you whisper back. it was quiet for a bit as you both sway from the faded music coming from the gym. you notice him analyze your face as you do the same at him. you never really looked at Matt in the way you were feeling in this very moment. your chests nearly touching, his hands caressing your hips softly, and the eye contact. it was making your stomach flutter.
"you know how you said you don't feel like you belong here?" he whispers. you nod waiting for what he has to say next. "well i'm glad you're here." he says not breaking eye contact. the light from the moon shines on his face.
"really?" you whisper. "yes really y/n." he pulls away a bit, "I'm always happy when you're around. even if you don't notice." he says. you couldn't hide your smile. this whole time you felt like nobody's choice. when this whole time the person who wanted you the most was right in front of you. "can I kiss you?" he says softly.
"kiss me." you whisper back. he grabs you by your face gently, pulling you into a soft deep kiss. you felt yourself melt under his touch making you both lean back, having him dip you slightly, still attached by the lips. you couldn't believe this was happening.
when you both finally pull away, you both look at each other breathless, shortly laughing after. "let's head back inside?" you ask smiling. "one second" he answers putting his hand in his pocket, taking out your glasses. you look at them with confusion. he steps closer to you placing them on your face gently, taking a step back smiling. "perfect." he says. you laugh at his actions and grab his hand walking back inside to the loud music with your mind now replaying the perfect moment that just had happened outside.
you and Matt head over to the dance floor once the song “Kiss Me” starts playing hand in hand as you repeat what happened outside. “what a perfect song.” Matt says with a soft laugh. “well you have no choice but to listen to the song.” you say as the song says ‘so kiss me’. he smiles pulling you in closer kissing you with his soft lips.
“i thought you didn’t have a date?” you hear a familiar voice shout out. you both pull away as you look at your math teacher noticing a smile on her face with her arms crossed. “now she does!” Matt shouts back happily.
a/n: this took me a while to write but somehow seems so short lmao. I loved writing this! I hope you enjoyed reading. likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated! follow for more imagines!
#Spotify#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fluff#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo triplets imagines#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo
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Hello there! hope your day is going good and if not I hope it gets better.
I was wondering if I could request a scenario (you can do headcanon format) Where Mc is in a life or death because a lower demon is about to kill them and Mc actually kills the lower demon with their own magic. how would the undatables react/comfort Mc after they killed someone because their life was in danger.
Thank you in advance if you do decide to write and make sure to stay hydrated!
hi there! i can do that :)
hope you're having a great day too <3 just drank water with a liquid iv in it so hopefully im super hydrated now haha. i've had a bit of a sore throat for the past few days now so i've been really chugging water better than i usually have which says a lot! love me my 30 oz water bottle that goes everywhere with me
enjoy!
Undatables react to Mc killing a lower demon while defending themself
Diavolo
he's very proud of you but quickly goes on high alert
you've never seen him more serious
he's doing all sorts of things such as upping security measures and looking into the background of the now deceased demon to ensure your safety and to make sure there wasn't anything more behind the attack
he makes sure to give you a huge hug and lets you know exactly how he feels <3
Barbatos
if you hadn't killed them, he would've finished the job for you
since there's no work there for him to do, he'll be taking a visit to see that demon's relatives in the near future
in the meantime, he'll help you unwind and try to take your mind off it
perhaps a tea party with all your favorite treats and little d's there, if you'd like :)
Simeon
he won't ask questions and he'll heal you no matter what
even if you didn't get very hurt, he insists you stay under his care for a little bit
you'll get the best bedside care and soup ever
let him dote on you, it'll make him feel better too knowing you're safe in his arms <3
Luke
he's immediately freaking out
what do you mean a lower demon tried to kill you!!!
100% in tears and refuses to let you out of death grip hug he has on you
the next day, he gifts you an amulet with an angelic blessing on it and asks you to carry it everywhere with you. doesn't care if that means the brothers can't get anywhere near you now. better for him that way anyways haha
Solomon
he's very impressed!
gah they grow up so fast. it felt like just yesterday he gave you the nickname of his apprentice
deep underneath his gushing, he's worried but he knows that you're capable
even goes as far as to give a few little tips for the future. love at it's finest haha
Mephisto
he's furious with himself that he even let you get in that situation
he almost feels as if he's failed you, but he tries to hold up a facade of nonchalantness
it won't take much coaxing to break down this barrier and see how upset he actually is
if you notice him being extra loving in the next week or so, try not to comment on it but accept his affections
Thirteen
she's with you as much as she can be, but she knows it's just impossible to be by your side all the time
she's angry at herself and the now dead lower demon because that window of time when she's away is never very large
but, she knows you are more than strong enough to take care of yourself if it wasn't already apparent before
she'll make excuse after excuse to be with you until she eventually just spills the beans. she really cares about you <33
Raphael
he's gonna check you at least three times over to make sure you're alright
but right after he almost scolds you, in a loving way
he tells you he should've been the one to do it and that he should've been by your side
he was just very nervous he could've lost you, but is so proud of how you stood up for yourself <3
#obey me#obey me!#obey me x reader#obey me thirteen#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon#obey me luke#obey me raphael#obey me mephisto#obey me solomon#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date
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Dad Bakugo x mom reader - I need more children in my life 😭✋🏾
def calls his kid "squirt" and "buddy"
in mY universe, he has a boy and a girl bc he needs the best of both worlds
CALLS YOU "MA" GOODNIGHT
we all know he wakes up really early, earlier than you even, so he's the one to check on the babies/kids every morning to see if they're ok :)
definitely keeps schedules of you and your kids days like exams, report cards, if they're going to a friend's house, etc
yk how most kids tend to be like "ewwww" whenever their parents kiss?? not ur kids nono. first of all, your son is the quieter one. not that he's not talkative, he just has a little bit of a hard time expressing himself. anyhow, his sister is very loud. but either way, they both think its sweet. your daughter even said something like "i hope my husband kisses me like that" once (when she was an older kid tho lol)
your son goes to talk to you a lot. he adores you so so much. but one day when he wanted to hang out with you, you weren't home. you were busy running errands while katsuki was at home watching tv. your son started crying and katsuki was like wtf?? eventually, your son grew accustomed to speaking to katsuki. as he got older, he actually talked to him more than you.
teaches your son how to be a man :,) katsuki knew he was bitchy in his younger years and he didn't want either of his kids to be like him. he taught them both manners and how to properly have a conversation.
little pitter patter of their feet ran into your guys' shared bedroom on christmas morning and began jumping your bed. katsuki groaned and rubbed his eyes aggressively. "it's christmas, mommy!" your little boy shouted. "wake up daddy!!" your daughter shouted in his ear. "alright alright you rugrats"
at your daughter's kindergarten graduation (idk if everyone had this but i did lmao), katsuki was tearing up and although he tried to hide it, he had to remain the strong one while comforting you while you bawled your eyes out.
p.s your daughter is the oldest
when she brought home her first boyfriend... ooo chile
i see a lot of people writing how katsuki would act up but tbh in his older years, i think he'd be a lot more mature. he'd greet the dude politely and treat him like he would any of her friends
btw lemme just say: your daughter is a mommy AND daddy's girl. she loves u both insanely
honestly while eating dinner with the boyfriend or something, katsuki would be very blunt and not pay too much mind to him LMAOO he'd be like "'tis is great, doll" as if you don't cook dinner every week and it's only when your daughter brings up how he wants to work at katsuki's angency, where he perks up
"oh shit, no kiddin'?" and you smack his arm lightly.
well this changes everything! he practically gave the kid his blessing. "welcome to the family son"
your son doesn't really care about them together, he just doesn't wanna see his big sis get hurt. lets say that your son is 15 and your daughter is 17. "so, bf/n. have you fucked her?"
you almost spit out your drink like a cartoon. your daughter is shook, katsuki's rage from UA is all coming back to him, and the boyf is scared for his life
you, katsuki, and your daughter have a little talk after dinner
"use condoms" kats stated. "i- WH- nono you can have sex next year." you corrected but ur daughter is like huh?? "wha why next year?" you scoff. "because you'll be a legal adult thats why."
"no offense, momma, but that's really dumb. when did you and dad start having sex?" she folded her arms. katsuki shrugged. "like i said, use condoms."
you and your daughter gossip like crazy alr?? ur like the gilmore girls except you're married and didn't get pregnant at 16 (almost)
and this is nothing new to katsuki, he's heard u guys gossip trillions of times. but when he found out you guys talked abouy HIM TOO??
he busts into the room. your daughter squeals and runs behind you. "hi honeyy-" he shushes you, "you guys talkin' shit 'bout me?"
"nope" you guys say in unison. "there's this other guy, uh.."
#gonna probably make this a separate thingy where its like one part is when the kids were little and one where they're older#just so its more organized bc this was all over the place#katsuki fluff#katsuki#bakugo#bakugo x reader#dad bakugo#dad bakugou#mom reader#fem reader#mha#mha x reader#𝓴𝓪𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓲 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾
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MC's brother: Peek-a-boo!
Baby Liora: *giggles*
MC's brother: Omg! He definitely likes me!
MC's brother: Because of that, here's a gift for you~.
MC's father: What is he going to do with your photo?
MC's brother: Father, this face of mine can ward off evil spirits. Duh~. 🙄
MC's brother: This will work as a protective charm for him. 😌
MC's father: Evil spirits are not scared of your face. They are just annoyed.
MC's brother: Father, you're such a hater. 😒
Falena and his wife: *chuckles*
Falena: Your father and your brother are fascinating to be around, MC.
MC: ...
MC: At times, yes.
Leona: Though the sister is a different case. Tch. Good she didn't tag along this time.
MC's brother: *heard him* Well, she said she needed to do something and it was unfortunate that she wouldn't be able to play with her nephew.
MC's brother: Like I'm going to believe that.
MC's father: Still, you need to be nice to your sister.
MC's brother: Being nice goes both ways. She was never nice. Why would I be nice to her?
MC's father: You should at least pretend to be considerate. Unlike you and MC, she didn't get the chance to meet her mother.
MC's brother: What the heck? MC didn't get to meet theirs too and you never tried to be considerate of them. What's that? Favoritism?
Falena and his wife: ...
MC and Leona: ...
MC's father: ...
MC's father: I am so sorry. My son doesn't know how to control his mouth sometimes.
MC: ...
MC: Playtime's over. I'm bringing Liora back to our room.
MC: *their brother handed Liora to them*
MC's brother: Bye-bye, Liora! See you next time?
Baby Liora: *lets out a cute smile*
MC: ...
MC's brother: Sorry.
MC: It's fine. We can't really do anything about your talkativeness.
Leona: ...
Leona: You never got the chance to meet your mother?
MC: I was entrusted to her loyal servant.
MC: And the nanny would show her portrait to me from time to time.
Leona: ...
Leona: I see.
MC: ...
MC: Is there something more you would like to ask?
Leona: Do you know where your mother is?
MC: She must be living somewhere in Briar Valley.
Leona: Hm. Do you want to visit her? We can go there and spend a few week's vacation.
MC: There's no need when I feel no attachment to her.
Leona: Okay. If you say so.
MC: *watching Liora sleeping in his crib*
MC's mother: Oh dear... How beautiful you are...
MC's mother: I wish Mama could watch you grow.
*Her kissing their forehead.*
MC's mother: I love you.
MC: Even if you had disappointed me the day you were born,
MC: I promise to never leave you, Liora.
Baby Liora: *smiling in his sleep*
Leona: *who is listening behind the door*
Leona: ...
A servant: My lady, I have refilled your honey glass jar.
MC's sister: Alright. You may go now.
*The servant bowed and left.*
MC's former attendant: My lady, have you been craving honey again?
MC's sister: Yes. I could never live a life without honey. To be honest, I'm planning to share it with MC the next time we visit to the Royal Palace.
MC's sister: I'm sure they're going to like it.
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okay but all i can think of is grid kids: where y/n and sebastians’ daughter gets her period while being with the guys and they freak out while she is completely calm😭😭😭
Grid Kids: It’s Just a Little Blood
Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: the grid kids have always been their little sister’s role models and teachers but it turns out that they have some things left to learn themselves
Series Masterlist
“She’s bleeding out!”
Lando’s panicked face fills your screen as the FaceTime call connects.
You immediately sit upright, heart racing. “What? Where? What happened?”
“We found her in the bathroom,” Charles adds, holding up a suspicious-looking red spot on the bathroom rug.
George, on the brink of hyperventilation, rushes in, “We need to call an ambulance! It’s a lot of blood. So much blood.”
Max is basically begging, “Just tell us what to do.”
From the background, you hear your daughter’s exasperated voice, “Guys! It’s just my period! Calm down!”
There’s a collective pause. Mick, with wide eyes, slowly asks, “Period? As in ... the monthly thing?”
Your daughter rolls her eyes but is clearly amused, “Yes. Welcome to female biology.”
You laugh, trying to calm the situation. “Okay, first of all, she’s not bleeding out. It’s totally natural. Didn’t any of you take a basic health class?”
Lance raises an awkward hand, “I might’ve skipped that day ... or week.”
Sebastian is trying not to laugh next to you, “Did any of you ever have a girlfriend? Or a sister?”
Lando sheepishly responds, “It just ... never came up in conversation, I guess?”
Your daughter holds a pad up like it’s a game show prize, “Alright, class is in session. First lesson: how to attach this to underwear.“
The line goes silent for a second before George finally speaks up, “You know, I have a newfound appreciation for what women go through.”
You giggle, “As you should. Time for lesson one of many. Pay attention, boys.”
***
The phone buzzes with an incoming call, Lando picking it up instantly. “Hey, kiddo! What’s up?”
“Can you come pick me up?” Her voice, cracking with frustration as she tries to keep her tears at bay, comes through the phone. “I’m in a lot of pain but the physical education teacher won’t let me sit out despite my cramps being really bad.”
George, overhearing the conversation, frowns. “Seriously? She can’t be that heartless.”
Max grabs the phone, his protective instincts kicking in. “We’re on our way. Just hang tight.”
Within minutes, the grid kids arrive at the school, walking determinedly towards the gym. As they enter, they spot the physical education teacher, a stern woman with a whistle around her neck.
“Can we help you?” She asks, eyeing them suspiciously.
“We’re here to pick up our sister,” Charles says, stepping forward. “We heard she’s not feeling well.”
The teacher scoffs. “She’s been trying to get out of class because of some little cramps. It’s just an excuse for her to be lazy.”
Mick tries to keep his cool, “Cramps can be debilitating. It’s not just an excuse like you claim. It’s a real physical pain.”
Lance jumps in, “You wouldn’t make someone with a sprained ankle run, would you? It’s the same thing. Why make her suffer?”
The teacher is about to argue but Lando interjects before she has a chance, “Look, we get that you have a job to do but she’s genuinely in pain. All we ask is for a little compassion and understanding.”
“And maybe,” George adds, “in the future, a crash course on menstrual health and how not everyone has the same experience might be beneficial.”
The teacher nods, sufficiently cowed. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“Thank you,” Max says and the group makes their way to where their sister is curled up in a corner. As she stands up, looking a little pale but relieved to see them, they envelop her in a group hug.
“Feeling okay, kiddo?” George asks with concern, carefully brushing a stray hair from her face.
She offers a weak smile, “Better now that you guys are here.”
Lance winks, “How about we go get some milkshakes? Ice cream cures everything.”
She chuckles, “I could go for that.”
***
The media room is buzzing, cameras being set up and reporters getting ready to fire questions. The grid kids are seated next to each other, patiently listening to their weekly dose of Maxplaining while waiting for the interview to start.
A reporter from a tabloid magazine, aiming for a provocative soundbite, smirks and directs a question at Charles, “Rough race today? Are you on your time of the month or something?”
The room goes silent for a moment, a few gasps and whispers are heard. Charles looks taken aback, his cheeks reddening slightly, but before he can answer, Max steps in, voice firm.
“That’s really inappropriate. Jokes like that are not only disrespectful to the drivers sitting up here but also to female racers and women in general.”
Lando nods, “Our little sister wants to be in Formula 1 one day and she should never have to face comments from people who think that they can demean her because of her gender.”
George throws his hands up, “Come on, it’s 2034 for crying out loud! You should know better than this. We should all do better than this. ”
The reporter attempts to defend his statement, “It was just a joke. No need to get so sensitive.”
Lance counters, “We’re not being sensitive. We just want you to show some basic respect. A natural process shouldn’t be turned into a sexist joke because you have nothing of substance to ask. Women deserve to be treated with dignity.”
The reporter mumbles an apology, clearly caught off guard by the unified response.
Charles finds his voice and glares at the reporter, “Let’s keep the questions related to racing.”
“And,” Mick looks towards a group of FIA officials sitting off to the side, “Someone better make sure to take away his media pass.”
***
After the press conference, back in the drivers’ lounge, your daughter squeezes between the grid kids on the oversized couch and looks up at them with earnest eyes. “Thank you for standing up for girls like me today.”
Max ruffles her hair gently, “We’ve always got your back, kiddo.”
George nods, “We haven’t always been perfect but we’re trying to learn and grow.”
Lando adds, “And we hope, by the time you get here, motorsport will be a much better place for you and all other women aspiring to be drivers.”
Charles bends down to her level, “We want you to race in an environment where you’re only judged by your talent and not anything else.”
“You’ve got the same passion and determination any of us ever had,” Mick chimes in. “Don’t let anyone ever dim that light.”
“We’ll be cheering the loudest when you make it to F1. No one should underestimate you,” Lance adds with a wink.
She beams, wrapping her arms around them in a tight group hug. “Thanks, brothers.”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#sebastian vettel x reader#max verstappen x reader#charles leclerc x reader#lance stroll x reader#george russell x reader#lando norris x reader#mick schumacher x reader#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#sebastian vettel imagine#max verstappen imagine#charles leclerc imagine#lance stroll imagine#george russell imagine#lando norris imagine#mick schumacher imagine#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader
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☆┆”THAT WAS CLICHÉ..”
SUMMARY: cliché moments with our twst boys
CHARACTERS: HEARTSLABYUL
ROMANTIC
WARNINGS: cursing, cringey cliché tropes that i’m a sucker for
PARTS LIST — heartslabyul. savanaclaw + octavinelle. scarabia + pomefiore. ignihyde + diasomnia
reader is g/n, reader is yuu
✧༺♥༻✧ HEARTSLABYUL
RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS : TURNING THE CORNER !
you hastily sped past the halls, a large stack of papers in your hands. crowley felt like dumping all the responsibility on you again, keeping you busy for the next week.
you needed to pass these to crewel before the next class, which didn’t leave much time. turning corner after corner, you kept a steady pace. not slowing down for a second. until..
BAM!
“ACK—!” a voice winces in pain while papers flutter across the halls. your faces darkens at the sight as the thin sheets fell to the floor. oh fuck. “ARE YOU OKAY? IM SORRY!”
the figure before you was one you’re all too familiar with. the one and only, riddle rosehearts. “SORRY, RIDDLE!” you apologize once more. his expression shifted as he realizes it was you instead of some other arrogant student.
“it’s alright. you should really look where you’re going, prefect.” he sighs, picking up the sheets of paper from the floor. you lean down and grab the scattered notes that have made its way across the halls.
“i know, i know. i’m just kind of in a rush right now..” you groan, reaching your hand out for another paper. “is that so? may i ask why?” he questions, also reaching for another paper.
just then, both of your hands meet in one place. his hand was right atop of yours, slightly squeezing it subconsciously. his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed red in color, flustered from the sudden touch.
time seemed to have paused in this moment, each second passing by feeling like hours. you hesitantly pulled back your hand, the intimacy breaking between you two. “ahem.. i was taking these down to crewel.” you answered his question, voice slightly cracking.
riddle clears his throat and swiftly collects the rest of the papers from the floors and stands upright. “then i shall accompany you.” he states a matter of factly, waiting for you to stand. “aw you’d do that?”
“of course. it’s the least i could do after everything you’ve done for me..” he faintly smiles, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. he quickly walks towards crewel’s classroom, needing to run to catchup to him. “hey! wait for me!”
ACE TRAPPOLA : THIS ONE’S FOR YOU !
attending basketball practice was always an interesting sight to see.
floyd going through several mood swings the entire practice, jamil trying his best to escape (ultimately failing), and ace either instigating in the madness or shooting hoops on his own.
right now, he was practicing by himself. you watched him from the bleachers, in awe of his form and quick movements. ace noticed your eyes burning holes into the back of his head, and being the little shit he is, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tease you a little.
“what’s up, prefect? like what ya see?” he winks, causing you to cringe. “in your dreams.” you retort, making him scoff at your comment. he was attractive though cmon let’s not lie. “whatever.”
ace dribbles the ball and shoots, doing his best to perfect his shot. before this attempt, he looks at you and smirks, much to your confusion. “PREFECT!” he shouts, almost the entire gym goes silent. eyes had landed on him and then to you as he spoke.
“THIS ONE’S FOR YOU!” he winks, shifting his attention back on the hoop. you felt your cheeks warm up at this sudden declaration, all eyes in the gym lying on you.
ace takes a deep breathe, calculating the shot and playing it back in his head. he analyzes the trajectory in which the ball should be at, equaling his absolute success. he did all the math in his head and had the perfect equation for absolute success.
too bad he’s an idiot that can’t do math. he shoots the ball, the suspense killing the others. spoiler alert: it doesn’t go in the net. it hits the backboard then hits him dead set in the forehead.
good job, buddy. you suck your teeth as the impact looked painful, watching as he fell right on his ass. he looked like a moron out there, but the gesture was sweet.. sort of.
you owe him a drink and a kiss on the cheek for this one.
“dont you dare take a photo, damn it.”
DEUCE SPADE : I GOT YOU !
today, you and deuce were on library duty together. both of you needed to rearrange some of the books because these savanaclaw students keep putting them in their incorrect spots.
you stood on the ladder as deuce held it steady, ensuring that you wouldn’t fall. “deuce, pass me that book please.” you ask, reaching your hand out. “right!”
he grabs the book and passes it to you, putting it in its rightful spot. thankfully this was the last book to be put away, meaning the 3 hour job was finally finished. “phew, that was the last one!” deuce smiles, wiping his brow.
“all you did was hold the ladder.”
“..a-anyways, get down slowly.” he stutters, watching you climb down. “yeah, yeah i got it.” taking it step by step, you slowly climbed down the ladder.
an annoying fly circles around deuce’s eyes. it’s been bothering him for the past hour, never getting the hint to not come back. feeling tired from dealing with this fly’s shit, he grit his teeth and tried swatting it.
“you annoying piece of—” it landed on the ladder, and since poor deucey has a singular braincell, he slapped the fly with all his might. the ladder shook, causing you to lose your balance.
“DEUCE?!” you shriek, before falling off the wood. he hears your cry, horror filling his eyes as he watched you fall. without a moment to lose, he opens his arms to catch you.
“I GOT YOU!” he shouts, determined to catch you no matter what. you fell into his arms, the impact not hurting nearly as much as you braced yourself for. he caught you bridal style, causing heat to rise to your cheeks.
you tightly gripped the fabric around his chest, trying to keep yourself from dropping. “it’s alright, i caught you.” he reassures, brushing a stray hair out from your face.
“aha.. thanks, deuce!” your voice was shaking, still in shock from the fall. “dont mention it!” he smiles, his grasp tightening slightly. you stare at him, not realizing how attractive he was before. the light somehow highlighted his facial features, enhancing his appearance.
he didn’t notice your staring til a short while, causing his face to heat up and turn red. you both stared at each other a moment longer before you broke the silence. “y-you can drop me now..”
“R-RIGHT! SORRY.” he shouts, putting you down slowly. the air in the room was awkward, you and deuce just standing next to one another. “i guess holding the ladder really is an important job, huh?”
you smile at his attempt to break the silence and look back at him. “yeah, i guess.”
CATER DIAMOND : LOOKS LIKE IT’S JUST US !
cater wanted more alone time with you. it felt like all the people you hung out with was the iconic adeuce duo. boooo, let him in on the action.
he felt himself ascend to heaven when you agreed to hang out with him! ..and trey. does he have to beg to get the things he wants??? why does this world hate him.
feeling distraught, he decided enough was enough. he will have this moment. just you and him. all it takes is a little convincing!
“so where’s trey?” you ask, standing by the rosebush with cater. “trey said he had something come up! looks like it’s just us!” he exclaims, looking at you with a bright smile.
“aw, too bad. he’s gonna miss out on all the fun!” you joked, returning the smile right back at him. he felt as if cupid pierced an arrow right through his heart as you graced him with your cheerfulness.
“kay-kay! let’s be off!” he giggles, grabbing your wrist and dragging you away. the entire day spent with him was blissful. drinking boba with him, trying pastries together, watching him reluctantly eat it (all for you), taking enough selfies to last til next year, all of it was fun!
there was a good handful of selfies, but also a handful of natural photos. ones of you smiling. ones of you laughing. ones of you just being yourself. he cherishes those photos more than anything, and they’re all reserved for him.
nobody else has these photos but him, and that’s special to him.
“last spot on our tour is the mostro lounge! they have an all new potato dish that is so trending on magicam!” cater giggles, opening the door for you like a gentleman. “thank you, sir.” you chuckle, watching his face slightly turn red.
“no problem~☆!” he winks, going in right after you. an octavinelle student stands by reception and leads the both of you inside, taking you to a booth in the back. the wait for the dish was long, but definitely worth the wait.
cater excitedly took a photo or two and dug in. the hangout was shorter than expected, the two of you wrapping up as he walked you to ramshackle.
“thanks for today, cater. we should hang out together more often! just the two of us.” you placed a swift kiss on his cheek before waving goodbye. he stares at you, a dumbfounded expression covering his face.
he snaps back to reality and tries covering his flustered emotions. “totally! see ya later [MC], byeeee!”
cater skips back to his dorm, excited for the next hangout you two do together.
TREY CLOVER : TAKE MY COAT !
the cold air blows in your face, causing a shiver to go down your spine. “shit.. it’s cold.” you mumble, feeling the temperature only decrease each step you take.
“prefect?!” a voice cuts through the silence behind you, turning to reveal none other than trey clover. “ah, trey. morning.” his eyes were filled with concern, basically seeing icicles develop from your nose.
“where’s your jacket?! it’s freezing out here.” he felt himself shaking from the cold just looking by looking at you. the temperature was wayyy below the average and here you were with no sweater.
“i had to give it to grim,” you sighed, looking at the fuzzy creature walking ahead of you. “he wouldn’t stop complaining about the cold so I gave him jacket to shut him up.”
“is that right?” trey chuckles, taking off his coat and draping it over your shoulders. you feel your cheeks warm up as he ghosts his touch against your neck. he was warm to say the least. “take my coat. it should keep you warm for the time being.”
he smiles, causing your heart to explode. your entire body felt warmer than earlier and your nostrils were filled with the smell of baked goods. should’ve expected that. “won’t you be cold?” you ask, seeing as he now only had a jacket to wear.
it didn’t look warm at all. there was no fleece like there was inside the coat he had handed you. “don’t worry about me, i’ll be fine. i’m more worried that you might catch a cold.” he reassures you, noticing your concerned expression.
“so, where are you off to?” trey asks, now walking beside you. “sam’s shop. i have to buy more snacks, grim ate em all.” you grunt, remembering that horrific scene of grim lying on the floor with a full belly.
trey laughs, imagining the image in his head. “if that’s the case, then how about i bake you some treats? i was on my way to sam’s too.” he suggests, causing your eyes to light up. “really? that’d be great!”
the two of you continue your conversation to sam’s shop, completely forgetting about freezing temperatures. his warm presence (and his incredibly warm coat) was enough for you.
A/N: hi. it’s been awhile. anyways live laugh love heartslabyul
date published: 2/23/24
© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!
#twisted wonderland#disney twst#twisted wonderland fluff#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade x reader#cater diamond x reader#trey clover x reader#twst fluff#heartslaybul x reader#heartslabyul#deuce my boy#I love heartslabyul
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can you do a story where y/n is really sick (a cold)
and chris is loving and takes cares of her
SNUG AS A BUG
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve been fighting this terrible cold for about a week, and your boyfriend loves to take care of you.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing, crying
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 570
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: fun fact this is based off when i was sick and dying in like october LMAO it was the worst i’ve ever felt.
hope you like it anon!
i’m feeling jolly today so i might post a smut later ;)
here’s to day a million of being sick. realistically, it’s only been a week, but you still felt like shit.
the TV was playing your favorite show since you’ve had enough free time to binge. it feels like you’ve been glued to the couch forever.
tissues were scattered on the snack table next to you along with two empty bowls — one with soup from breakfast and one with ice cream. those are the only two things you can eat since your throat is killing you.
your parents have to work, so chris has been coming over to take care of you when they’re not available.
the front door opens; you don’t have the energy to look at who it is (even though you know)
“i got you your soup from wawa and some more water.” chris smiles sympathetically at you, placing the things on the table.
“thank you.” you hoarse out.
“how are you feeling?”
“terrible.”
he pouts. “i’m going to go to your room for just a second. let me know if you need anything.”
you nod as he walks away, making his way up the staircase. however, he pauses midway when he hears your sniffles.
it’s not just congested sniffles. they’re cry sniffles.
he snaps his head to you. you have the soup in your hands, but you’re not eating it. instead, you’re using the spoon to mix it.
he quickly goes back down the stairs to come rushing to you. “oh, no. none of that.” he takes his thumbs and wipes your tears, leaving his hands cupping your cheeks afterward.
“i don’t want to be sick anymore.” you sob. his heart is breaking seeing you like this. he hates it when you’re upset. “my h-head hurts so bad. a-and i feel so weak.”
“i know, i’m sorry.” he places your head into his stomach since he’s standing in front of you, and your tears start to wet his shirt. “just keep taking the medicine the doctor gave you and you’ll get better in no time.”
“i don’t want the soup.” you cry. you tend to say nonsense when you’re this upset about something.
“that’s okay.” he grabs it from your hands and places it with the other bowls. “we can save it for later, alright?”
a chill runs up your spine. chris starts to take the blanket off of your body and before you can protest, he speaks. “let’s bring you to bed. it’s much more comfortable.”
he takes your hands in his and helps you off the couch, walking at your pace until you’re upstairs and into your room. you immediately head under the covers, plus two more blankets for your chills.
chris starts tucking you in with a goofy grin on his face, as if he’s a father tucking in his child. “feel snug?”
you smile warmly. “as a bug.”
“i’m going to go get your medicine and water so you have them. i’ll be right back.”
you yawn but nod as he leaves the room.
moments later chris returns, but you already passed out. he quietly makes his way into the room when he notices this, placing the items on your nightstand.
he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before kneeling to kiss you on the forehead. “i love you.” he whispers, backing out of the room and closing the door, leaving you to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo fluff#sturniolo fluff#✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!
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