#like i am not in anyone elses bed anymore i do not need to have it in there all the time
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"obstinate, headstrong girl" part 2 - aaron hotchner x fem!reader
read part 1 here
wc: 3000
cw: mentions of food and alcohol! enemies to lovers! poorly researched medical information lmao i am a liberal arts girly i just need it for the plot. typical bau meddling, reader is lowkey a bully but dw bc hotch is still a little bitch, part 3 to come c:
a/n big fat thank you to my bestie @cerisereids for all her help workshopping / brainstorming with me! i also got the BEAUTIFUL dividers from the immensely talented @saradika-graphics
You.
With your red dress and your attitude, throwing back amaretto sours like they’re tequila shots - who gets drunk on amaretto sours? They’re basically safe to drink while pregnant. To be fair, you didn’t get sloppy, or even really that drunk. By the end of the night, your eyes appeared just a bit heavy, like someone had tied miniature weights to your eyelashes.
Your eyelashes. Aaron had never found eyelashes, of all things, to be attractive, but here he is, in the middle of a work day with a report half-finished (and half-assed, at that), and he’s thinking about your eyelashes.
He’s thought of basically every part of you already today. Your knees, your dress, what’s underneath it. You have been sucking him into a black hole all day long, and he’s to the point where he’s halfway wishing for a serial killer so he can focus on something else.
He plows his hand through his dark hair, shaking off the overwhelming thoughts of you. He checks the silver Rolex on his wrist. It’s nearly time to leave. Aaron doesn’t usually do this, but he decides to leave this report for tomorrow, when he can look at the letters on the page and not see your face, hear your voice.
Just as he starts packing up, there’s a knock on his open office door. Aaron’s dark eyes flicker up to see Garcia standing in the doorway, Morgan’s tall frame looming behind her. “Hotch, you got anything going on tonight?”
Aaron shakes his head. For once, he actually doesn’t. “Jack’s at a sleepover,” he says. “What’s up?”
“We’re taking Spence and Jacqueline to this nighttime vendor market thingy,” Penelope says, scrunching her nose up with a smile. “You remember Jacqueline?”
It’s been a week since Derek’s birthday, when Jacqueline and Spencer were introduced. More relevantly, since Aaron laid eyes on you. “I remember.”
“You wanna come with us?” Penelope asks with bright eyes. Aaron opens his mouth the decline almost immediately, but Penelope beats him to it. “Y/N’s not coming.”
Aaron arches a brow. “What makes you think I care if Y/N’s coming or not?” he asks.
“Oh, c’mon, Hotch,” Derek puts all his weight on the doorjamb. “We saw you staring at her at my birthday. It’s about time you moved on from Haley, any-”
“If I say I’ll come out, will you stop talking?” Aaron cuts him off, grabbing his briefcase.
Derek ponders this for a second, even looks to Penelope as if to ask permission. He shrugs his shoulders in what Aaron suspects will be the first little white lie of the evening. “Yeah.”
How anyone was able to sprain their ankle while shopping for books is beyond you. Leave it to Jacqueline, the wide-eyed, quirkily clumsy ingénue of her very own romantic comedy, to trip over a curb while gazing starry-eyed at the oh-so dreamy Dr. Reid. She called you from the emergency room with a shrill panic lining her voice, and you immediately leapt up from the couch. You didn’t even bother pausing your show on the TV, just slid some shoes on, grabbed your bag, and bolted out the door.
You’re taking extra long strides, your flip-flops smacking obnoxiously against the linoleum tiles of the hospital floor. When you spot Jacqueline sitting up in the bed, still in her own clothes, you feel instant relief. At least she’s not panicking anymore. Spencer sits diligently by her side, fidgeting with the edges of the sheets. Jacqueline’s right leg is elevated atop several pillows, with a meek smile on her face once her eyes meet yours.
“Spencer, you’re supposed to keep an eye on her at all times,” you joke with a weak laugh, sighing as you plop down in the empty chair beside Spencer’s.
“She saw something shiny and wandered off,” Spencer shrugs, and Jacqueline glares at the both of you.
“This whole talking about me like I’m not here, thing? Not my favorite,” she deadpans. There’s the Jacqueline you know and love. In crowded social settings, she can be reclusive and difficult to open up. But with only a few people around - especially people she’s comfortable around - Jacqueline is a completely different person.
You’re glad she feels comfortable around Spencer after just a week of knowing him. They’re not even officially dating, per se, but tonight they went out with Penelope and Derek to test the waters. You think it’s cute - like two fifth-graders on a chaperoned outing to the movies, with their parents sitting a row behind them.
You were invited to tag along, but you didn’t want to be the fifth wheel. You also were having a really long, insufferable week, and you simply needed some recharge time. So you politely declined.
“Oh, shush, you’ve got bigger fish to fry,” you tell Jacqueline playfully, eyes darting down to her elevated foot. “So, what’s the damage?”
“Sprained ankle, possibly fractured,” Spencer rattles off. “Usually an x-ray isn’t required, but since Jacqueline’s having pain in her malleolar zone - that is, the top part of the ankle that connects to the tibia - the doctor ordered one. We’re waiting on the results to come back, but I think they’ll just put her in a brace for a few weeks. Statistically speaking, only about 15% of sprained ankles result in significant bone fractures.”
You release an awkward little chuckle, very nearly overwhelmed by the amount of information Spencer just dumped on you. Jacqueline shrugs her shoulders a little, like this is just how he is, and I love it.
You blink a few times as you absorb all of Spencer’s ramblings. “So.. she’s gonna be fine?”
“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Spencer cracks a smile, and his thumb brushes affectionately over the top of Jacqueline’s hand. Your friend blushes furiously, ever-so-clearly under the fluorescent lighting.
“So what exactly happened?” You ask.
Before either of them get to answer, imposing footsteps grow louder, and you hear a familiar voice say, “Okay, coffee acquired.”
Smooth like the neat whiskey he was throwing back the night you met him, Aaron’s voice drags down your spine. Your belly does acrobatic flips. You visibly tense up for a second before turning around to see Aaron with a cardboard drink carrier in his hand containing three to-go cups of coffee.
“Oh, hi, Y/N. When did you get here?” Aaron’s voice goes flat, and he meets your eyes civilly.
“While you were getting coffee, I presume,” you deadpan, and you swear you see one of those imposing brown eyes twitch.
“Right,” Aaron hands Jacqueline her coffee, and then has to lean over you so he can give Spencer his. You catch whiffs of pine and espresso and dark leather. His chest is basically in your face for a solid three seconds. God, he’s broad. He’s also in a suit, save for the jacket and tie, and your eyes catch the crinkly lines in his white dress shirt, no longer crisp from being worn all day. They look like rivers on a map. “Well, I guess I’ll be going. Glad you’re okay, Jacqueline, that was quite the fall.”
“Oh, no, Aaron, you don’t have to go!” Jacqueline pipes up, holding her coffee with two hands. “I mean, only if you need to, but, we’re still waiting for my X-ray to come back, and I know I’d love the company.”
You look at Jacqueline with a bewildered expression. “I mean, I’d love the company of all of you,” Jacqueline corrects, her cheeks pinkening.
You cross your ankles, suddenly aware that you’re in your loungewear - beige linen shorts and a blue Georgetown sweatshirt - and your hair sits in a haphazard knot on top of your head. You have to remind yourself that you don’t care. That Aaron Hotchner’s opinion of you does not matter.
Aaron seems momentarily frozen in place, standing at the foot of Jacqueline’s bed. His eyes dart to you as if to silently ask permission to stay, and you give a subtle, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shrug and tilt of your head. He inhales and you see his nostrils flare. He clears his throat and says, “Let me find a chair, then.”
There’s something humorous about a man as tall and imposing and draconian as Aaron Hotchner looking for a chair in the emergency room bay of a hospital. Shoulders hunched so he doesn’t inconvenience anyone. You hope he feels embarrassed and humbled by the experience. A muted smirk rests upon your lips as you watch him most unhelpfully, not even bothering to move from your seat.
Eventually he finds a free chair in the corner and drags it to the other side of Jacqueline’s bed, keeping a respectful distance. He looks across the bed at Spencer, who sits beside you. “Did you tell her that Garcia basically pushed Jacqueline over the curb?”
Fluorescent lighting had never been so flattering before. Under its clarifying spotlight, Aaron gets to see details of you he’d missed at the bar where you first met. The texture of your skin, an extra little sliver of thigh from those linen shorts he wasn’t privy to before.
And when he leaned over you to give Reid his coffee? He caught your intoxicating scent and now he fears it will either be stuck in his nostrils forever, or it will fade too quickly, before he can commit it to memory.
“Penelope did what?” You’re asking, looking at Reid, then Jacqueline, brows creasing in the middle.
Aaron folds his left leg atop his right, then nods with an amused smile. It’s clear you still don’t like him - might even hate him for how cold he was to you at the bar the other night. He can tell by the way you refuse to look at him unless absolutely necessary, how your jaw visibly tenses every time he addresses you directly.
“I have no solid proof,” Aaron begins, offering the information as an olive branch. Your eyes snap to his and he’s jarred for a second, then he continues, the corners of his lips ticking up into an amused smile. “But one second, I see Garcia and Morgan at least three feet behind where Jacqueline’s walking, and the next thing I know, she’s on the ground and Garcia’s apologizing profusely.”
“Why isn’t she here?” You laugh softly, and Aaron’s chest thrums. He can’t diagnose his reaction to it, but your laugh, no matter how strained and merely polite it might be at this moment, could be the thing that kills him.
“Something about feeding JJ and Emily’s cat while they’re on vacation,” Jacqueline chimes in. Aaron clocks the younger woman’s eyes and how glued they are on Reid. She’s been so closed off every time Aaron’s around, so this tidbit of information coming from her surprises him. Aaron’s wondered this whole time if she truly likes Reid or if she’s just being kind.
You nod in understanding and lean back in your chair. Little wisps of your hair fall into your eyes and you brush them back delicately with your index finger.
Jacqueline pipes up again, her voice still timid and maybe a little tired. “Would you mind maybe getting me a snack?” She asks you.
Aaron watches the softening of your expression as you look at Jacqueline fondly. You would do anything for her, and he can tell. “Of course,” you squeeze Jacqueline’s uninjured leg as you rise from your seat.
“And maybe Aaron can go with you? Since Spence is pretty hungry, too, right, Spence?” Jacqueline proposes.
Your soft expression twists into one of slight irritance.
Aaron knows exactly what Jacqueline is up to, but it takes Reid a lingering moment to catch on. “What - oh, yeah, I’m starving,” the good doctor adds, even going to far as to pat his stomach, as if to say it’s hollow in there.
Your eyes shrink in annoyance, and you seem to plaster a sickly sweet smile onto your lips, one that would make demons shake in their boots. You lock eyes with Aaron, as if to say, well? What’s it gonna be?
Aaron asks Jacqueline and Reid what they want, then leads the way out of the ER and towards the cafeteria. The hospital’s signage is fairly easy to follow, and Aaron slows his usually long strides so you don’t have to struggle to keep up.
He gestures to your Georgetown sweatshirt. “You graduated from Georgetown?” He asks.
“No, I just like to wear merchandise for schools I didn’t attend,” you deadpan, and there’s that goddamn attitude again.
Aaron considers laying it all out - right here, right now. You’re not even thirty yet, from what Garcia’s told him. He shouldn’t be attracted to you, but he is, and god, is it killing him. Instead, he just furrows his brows and doesn’t say anything.
“Yeah,” you soften a little, shoving your hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt. You seem to be cutting Aaron a little bit of slack, for whatever reason. “Yeah, I went to Georgetown.”
Aaron holds the door open for you when you reach the cafeteria. You feel a little bad for your snarky comment in the hallway. You were not raised to be outwardly rude. You were raised to hoard your resentment like a precious flower, nursing it so it grows big and strong.
“Jacqueline made it really sound like an emergency, huh?” Aaron asks, following you to the line. You shoot him a quizzical brow, and he gestures to your ensemble.
“Oh, excuse me for not wearing an Armani suit to the hospital,” you roll your eyes, but they linger on the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “You just went out right after work, then? In your fancy suit?”
Aaron smooths his fingertips over the white cotton. The color reminds you of freshly cleaned bedsheets. “Yeah, and it’s not Armani, for your information.”
“Sorry, Mr. FBI. What is it, then, Dolce & Gabbana? Ralph Lauren?”
“Tom Ford.”
“Like that’s any less pretentious,” you scoff.
“Hey, I can spend my money however I choose,” Aaron says, and you know he’s right. That doesn’t mean you’re not going to give him shit for it.
“Must be nice to just burn cash,” you say dryly. “I’m sure your wife loves that.”
“I don’t have a wife.” You look at him over your shoulder and his eye twitches a little when he says this.
You’re not sure why you mention a wife anyway. Maybe you’re merely curious, but then again, you’ve already clocked that he’s not wearing a wedding ring. “Girlfriend, then,” you correct. “Do men your age call them girlfriends, or do you prefer the term mistress?”
“Men my age?” Aaron laughs bitterly. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. His voice is stringent, right on the line of annoyance. You smirk to yourself and grab a tray so you can carry the food. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t call her my mistress, because I don’t have a wife to cheat on with her.”
“Bachelors in the 1800s called their girlfriends mistresses,” you point out, though your facts are coming from Bridgerton, so you’re not sure if they’re entirely accurate. “I don’t know how old-fashioned you are.”
“I’m not,” Aaron says simply as you load an individual-size veggie pizza on your tray for Jacqueline, then grab a bag of chips and a soda for yourself. Aaron grabs the sandwich Spencer requested, and you lead the way to the checkout.
The cafeteria worker punches in your items, and then Aaron’s. “Oh, we’re not together,” you correct politely.
“It’s fine,” Aaron insists, pulling a silver AmEx out of his wallet. You reach for your own wallet to try and beat him, but he’s already swiped by the time you even get it out.
You thank the cafeteria worker before gathering everything in your hands. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say as you and Aaron head out of the cafeteria. He holds the door open for you, again.
“It’s not a big deal,” Aaron says as you walk through the open door. “Chivalry is still alive, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Not old-fashioned, huh?” You smirk as you look up at him, feeling your cheeks redden a bit. Wait, when did this become playful jesting rather than straight-up bullying?
“Maybe a little old-fashioned.” Aaron’s lips hint at a smile, and you feel your mouth go dry.
“Shocking that you’re still on the market,” you say, admittedly because you’re curious about what Penelope said the other night at the bar. Something about Aaron going through a hard time.
“My job requires a lot of my time,” Aaron explains. Your footsteps slow a little and he matches your pace. “Even if I found someone worth all the trouble, I don’t think I’d have the time to dedicate to a relationship.”
“Worth all the trouble?” You repeat, a scoff lining your voice like a thousand tiny needles. Aaron resists the urge to visibly wince at your reaction.
Why you’re prompting all this relationship discussion is beyond him. He’s a profiler, for Christ’s sake, but he can’t pin you down, for some reason. He lays the brickwork down and builds his walls up again. For a moment, back in the cafeteria, he was starting to let you in.
But, no, it doesn’t matter how god-forsakenly adorable you are when you scrunch your nose or call him out on his bullshit. Aaron’s not ready for this kind of thing yet, so iciness is necessary. It protects him, it protects Jack, but - and, maybe most importantly - it protects you.
You’re young and you’re willful. You’re a goddamn hurricane, a force to be reckoned with, but your stubbornness is a house of cards. Aaron Hotchner knows that if he hurts you, the cards will fall. And he could never forgive himself for something like that.
So when you look at him for some kind of explanation, throwing him an arched brow and the opportunity to explain himself, he doesn’t take it. Instead, he watches as you pick up your pace and walk ahead of him, leaving a hell of a view and a frustrated, fully-grown man in your wake.
#criminal minds#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfic#hotchner x reader#basketonthedoorstepofthefbi#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner enemies to lovers#criminal minds fic#criminal minds imagine#aaron hotchner x you#hotchner x you#hotch x you
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hm. maybe..... it's not that important?
#mind blowing thoughts at 10:40 watching youtube in bed stressed out of my mind#maybe. it just. doesn't really matter#i will apply to grad school and i will try but like. life will keep going whether or not it's perfect#i will find more schools and will apply to them#and if i apply to enough one of them will take me#so maybe it's not that important? maybe i don't need to feel this much panic over a resume and a ~1000 word essay#maybe my sexuality doesn't really matter#maybe literally no one cares#i can be whatever and it's chill. i could decide i am only attracted to transformers and i don't think anyone would give a fuck#maybe my gender is just 🤷🏼 and whoop dee do.#maybe i'll get top surgery just because i'm tired of living in discomfort#and maybe that doesn't mean anything besides. i don't want this pain anymore#it's just..... not that important#this isn't a big thing i don't think but it feels revolutionary#maybe i don't have to take on all this stress and worry because... maybe it's not important#life will keep going no matter what i pick or choose or do or feel or say#and that seems more important than anything else
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would it be insane to ask out the guy that's going to quit soon. bc we aren't close or anything but i just wanna see what happens. yes right.
#i think my friend would be mad at me bc her best friend used to have a crush on him#i had a dream last night that when i tried to do that he revealed he's been dating a girl he's known since middle school#who also has a very similar first name as him?? and that i wasn't allowed to tell anyone else we worked with#uhm. i am in fact losing my mind a bit bc of [redated] related stress. also hi rosa if ur reading this i miss u and the hive#i think not seeing queer ppl regularly anymore is affecting me negatively also. bc like. :(#things are still weird (read: i'm continuing to make it weird) wit h. anna has a full time job now. the hive is all the way across the city#robey has to juggle school now on top of his other friends and his bf and the job and we're never scheduled together anymore#i have a million other things to do rn. fuck. i need to get out of bed and stop being unwell.#they speak!
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i only cleaned my bag out just last month to make sure i didn’t get flagged at a concert and somehow it’s heavy again
#i usually keep a change of clothes with me at all times but that was a old habit so idk why i even still do it#like i am not in anyone elses bed anymore i do not need to have it in there all the time#but then it became about anxiety like. what if i NEED a change of clothes and i look in my bag and IT’S NOT THERE#i would at LEAST have to keep a clean pair of undies and fresh socks#because of period surprises and also being a person who jumps in puddles#but i guess i don’t need a whole outfit. this is probably female socialization.#its usually just like a tshirt and a pair of those like stretchy baggy pants with the elephants on em that i got in thailand#it’s not an Outfit outfit but still i should probably break the habit. but on the other hand my bag is gigantic
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#I suppress so much of what I’m feeling when I’m around my parents#like just automatically. I don’t feel super happy and I don’t feel super sad I’m just fine#because I have been taught that I can’t be anything other than fine when I’m here#I can’t relax here either. I was given homework from therapy to try a relaxation meditation and I just can’t relax and actually do it#I could when I was with the psychologist though. because I wasn’t here#i always forget how detrimental being here is to my mental health and it sneaks up on me slowly but it always impacts me#i push myself too much and don’t use my cane enough because I don’t want to have to explain it or argue my healthcare choices to my#parents. because they can’t adjust to me using a cane full time so I don’t use it until I need it#but it was never meant to be that. it’s supposed to be a preventative measure and then a support. not a fallback#I want to try this medication that should help my pain and reduce my flare ups but my dad doesn’t want me to start it without giving pt a#chance when my last pt told me that I had to take pain medication before I could continue with them because my pain wasn’t going down#is this pt better? yes. am I expecting it to magically cure my pain? no and neither is anyone else!#this med won’t cure my pain either but it would be wonderful to have something that can actually alleviate some pain even when I can’t do pt#for a stretch. It would make it easier for me to do my pt because I’m in less pain!#everyone keeps expecting an immediate change after one appointment and no one seems to understand that there’s intake and then I have to#actually do things for a while before they can help#is my posture a bit better today? sure! is it a radical lasting change? no because that’s not what happens after one day of pt!#I just don’t want to be in pain. that’s it. I want to be able to go skating after work. I want to lie in bed without having to take stock of#what hurts and whether I can do anything about it or not and if it’s even worth it to try#i just don’t want to hurt anymore
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“my baby” you murmur softly against his skin. hands cradling both side of his face gently. “my sweet, sweet baby”
toji hates to admit how that makes his heart tremble with pure love, and how the simple act is the sole reason for the crimson color risen within his cheeks,
“that, i am” he mutters with a small smile playing on his lips, tugging you close by the waist. “you love me?”
a small gasp escapes your lips, as if you’re offended by that question. “i can’t believe you have to ask! of course i do” another kiss presses against his temple and down to his cheek bone,
he suppresses a cute giggle from it, not wanting to be embarrassed if you ever caught him letting out such sound. it’s quite fascinating how you are the only person who has a way to make him feeling flustered. as if you’re looking at a teenage boy who finally scored a date with his first high school crush,
“just making sure” toji finds comfort against your naked chest, feeling himself melt under your touch while your fingers toy with his raven haired. he frowns and lets out a boyish groan when you pull away,
“noo, noo” he whines, taking your hand before plopping it back down on top of his hair. “don’t stop. keep playing it”
a confused yet amused frown make its way towards your face, a small giggle heaves out of your mouth,
“look at you. my big boy” the nickname just sends shivers down his spine, causing his grip around your waist to tighten. he loves it when you call him that. “touchy today aren’t you?”
he responds with a hum, letting his eyes close for a while as you continue to play with his loose strands of hair. he’s so comfortable like this. being with you is his favorite place. no large house nor king sized bed could ever compare if there’s no you in it.
he’s dreamed of this for far too long. when his wife was taken away from him years ago, he didn’t think that he could find a solace in someone else’s arm anymore. he had given up on love and pour his frustrations out in a very toxic way. drowning himself in alcohol and getting into fights was his way of coping.
then you came a long,
with your pretty smile, pretty aura, pretty hair, pretty voice… pretty everything. knocked the wind out of the man, he couldn’t even form the right words when you stood in front of him.
‘s-shit—wh-what were you saying?’ he laughed nervously when he realized he was staring at you for far too long,
it was an adorable sight. you really did have some sort of power to make men weak in their knees
his heart bloomed when he heard you giggle, ‘i said… did you come here with someone?’
‘oh! n-no! not at all’ he scratched the back of his neck while looking down on his drink, ‘all alone’
‘oh—well then’ you took a seat beside him at the bar, his eyes didn’t move an inch from you. ‘guess we can be alone together’
“my sweet big boy—wouldn’t even dreamed about leaving you”
and that’s enough to make him feel at ease. to let go of the fears he had been holding back. to let go of the past that had corrupted him in more ways than one. to finally say goodbye to his long gone wife and say thank you to you instead for being here. for being so patient. for being so stubborn despite the times he had pushed you away. for not backing down because he knew how much he needed you, he just didn’t have the guts to tell you.
what’s that saying about the song you had shown him? if life is a movie, then you’re the best part?
yeah. that’s the one. but he knows deep down that you’re better than a movie.
because after all these years, toji fushiguro had finally found you peace,
and may lord helps anyone to those who will try to take you away from him,
maybe toji will remove fushiguro from his last name and take yours instead in the near future
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—𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞—
pairing. ex! Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader
summary. in a day you simply wanted peace, two unexpected visitors showed up. for one of them, you were glad.
warnings. smut! I am NOT responsible for your content consumption! — making out, thigh riding, strap on usage, cursing, angst (w happy ending), soft dom Nat.
notes. my first language is portuguese, so I apologize for any grammar errors. feel free to give me advice, though!
divider credits: @cafekitsune ★
Natasha Romanoff was known as a cold, ruthless woman, who never cared for anyone besides herself. Most of the people didn't know this was due her past — the Red Room was always in complete secrecy, so they feared her. She was already used to it. Whenever she started something with someone, in the next day, she had an empty bed as a gift. To be completely honest, she always felt used. Men and women touched her, to leave her in the morning.
That changed when she met you.
You could say you'd changed her completely, for the best, of course. She became more open with you, learned to express herself better and was not known as the most selfish Avenger in the team anymore.
But just like people say, not everything is a bed of roses.
Instead of using that achievement to improve your relationship, she began to care a little too much about her team of superheroes. At some point, she was no longer paying attention to you.
Reports this, reports that. Missions and more missions. "I have to go somewhere with Cap." "I have to train with Tony to a mission." "I can't, I'll have to go with Clint."
When you confronted her about this, begging for her to understand and willing to help her change, she decided that it was a better option to part ways. You were devasted, and she saw it. That made her heart ache — someone actually lov— liked her enough to want to stay.
This was the one and only reason Natasha didn't forget about you. The only reason she thought about you everyday. The only reason she teared up whenever entering her car and seeing the polaroid with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on her rearview mirror, that she didn't dare to take down.
Today, you were leaving work, heavy tired steps echoing on the pavement's wooden floor as the moonlight illuminated the room. The building was already empty, the streets, darker than your thoughts.
As you started walking to the nearest bus stop, you heard quick footsteps behind you — it was already late and usually there was no people on the streets like this. You turned your head, "you gotta be kidding me".
"Hey, Y/n!" Peter exclaimed, running to catch up with you. "I didn't know you were going to be here at 11:30pm."
You rolled your eyes and took a sharp inhale, but like always, tried to be polite. This so called coworker of yours was always looking at you, following you everywhere, and asking you things, not always work-related. You always made it clear that you weren't interested in men, and he insisted on saying he could 'change your mind'.
"Hey, Peter." you replied, faking a smile and nodding. "You need me to review your documents again?"
"Oh, no. I was just wondering if you wanna go on a date with me. Did you see the restaurant that just opened over there? I could treat you to—"
"No, I don't." you cut him off, more harshly than you intended to. "Look, Peter, I'm sorry. But I don't want anything to do with you, alright? So if you want, go ahead and find somebody else."
You shook your head, not even waiting for his reply and picking up the pace again, quickly rushing to the bus stop. That's when the guy showed you a side that you just suspected, but preferred to believe he didn't have
"C'mon, Y/n." he grabbed your arm, nails digging into your skin. "You won't broke my heart, will you? You're such a gentle, beautiful, kind woman. You will give me a chance."
You cleared your throat, feeling him get closer, and thinking about a certain Red Head — how she would gently, delicately graze your skin with her fingers, so softly whispering into your ear and bringing you to her embrace—
"Back off."
"Oh, no." he laughed. Such a creep. "I won't back off. And if you don't cooperate, I'll make you give me a chance."
Your hands trembled now, silently praying to whoever was seeing this just call the cops or do something. You didn't know the guy anyway. He didn't talk to anyone at work beside you, and you never got to know him, you would never. That's when it would be a good use to have a spy girlfriend. Just the last thing you expected to happen was to hear the sound of a gun cocking behind you, and a very familiar female voice.
"She said back off."
Relief unconsciously washed upon you as your arm was released, only because of the gun, though. You knew that if if wasn't for her, who knows what could've happened there. Peter left, annoyed, but the Russian swore to herself that she'd make his life a living hell.
"... Natasha?" you whisper, turning around with a confused and even scared frown.
"Yes," she worriedly rubbed your arm, shooting you, slowly making the feeling of the disgusting hand fade away. "Are you okay?"
"I am..." you nodded subtly, leaning into her touch. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I saw a woman being harassed. What was I supposed to do? Mind my business?" she said, obviously avoiding your question.
"You know this is not what I mean." you frowned, carefully letting go of her caress and wrapping your arms around yourself.
Natasha sighed, trying to think of a way to explain herself. 'Oh, I'm here because I miss you so much I can't even sleep anymore.'? No, it wouldn't do.
"I... followed you."
"Oh, great, so I'm being stalked twice today." you hissed, making Natasha look down with your harshness.
"No, Y/n.. I'm here for.. personal reasons. I saw you leaving work, and I noticed that guy following you. I decided to follow too, until he grabbed you and I knew I had to intervine." she explained quietly.
The fact she had said 'personal reasons' deeply hurt you, but you couldn't do anything, you had broken up after all. You nodded, and prepared yourself to walk tp the bus stop again.
"Wait," Natasha quickly stopped you, her eyebrows furrowed. "I won't let you go home like this."
This was something about the old Natasha you knew, the protective one. It was okay, you were tired, and a ride would be no harm. "Where's your getaway car?"
She smiled softly at your joke, and tilted her head. "Around the corner."
You two walked silently towards the vehicle, as she unlocked the doors with the keys and you entered the passenger seat. You threw your bag on the backseat before you could focus on the environment around you, and see the polaroid of you and Nat with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on the rearview mirror.
Natasha noticed your gaze as soon as she entered the driver seat, clearing her throat and starting the car's engine. "Couldn't bring myself to take those down."
You stayed silent, but your eyes could tell everything. I'm glad. Oh, I'm so glad.
Natasha remembered your address as if you hadn't broken up nine months ago, and when you reached your place, you too much disappointed for your own good.
"Thank you for the lift," you whispered, turning your body to be able to grab your bag from the backseat — in the exact same moment Natasha turned to unbuckle her seatbelt — your fronts touching, which made you two a little startled.
The problem was that you didn't pull away, neither of you. You slowly turned your head to meet Natasha's gaze, your face so close to hers you could feel her breath. Familiar. It was pure instinct, almost muscle memory, of the times she always kissed you goodbye when dropping you somewhere.
You didn't even notice your hand going up to hold the back of her neck, much less when she placed her hand on your thigh, and leaned in so your noses brushed. Natasha closed her eyes for a brief moment, almost savouring your closeness, your aura enveloping her once more. Then your lips barely, barely grazed, breath hitching, as she couldn't take it anymore.
The redhead pressed her lips against yours, giving them a long peck. It was surprising how much time you lasted without air. You didn't break the kiss, just darted the tip of your tongue out to lick her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She gave in, trying to pull you closer but being stopped by the goddamn control panel. As soon as you felt her tongue touching yours you realized that this was going too far. You pulled back harshly, leaving you two panting for air and a disappointed Nat.
"Do you..." you shakily breathed. "... wanna come in?"
"Mhm." Natasha hummed, turning off the engine. "Can I?"
You didn't answer, just opened the door and slipped out the car. As you entered, you could practically feel Natasha's eyes burning the place. How you didn't take down any picture of yours. How her stuff was spreading across the pavement. It gave her a sense of... hope? Of course, since she was in the same situation.
"So.. are you seeing anyone?" you asked her while kicking off your heels and leaving them by the door.
"I think you know the answer for that." the redhead practically hissed, making your head snap towards her.
"But I want you to say it." you retreated. "I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn't forget me. I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me the reason of why you came to my town again and followed me when I left work. I want you to tell me the reason of why you kissed me just like we always did before."
"I didn't! I didn't forget you, Y/n!" Natasha snapped, looking away and tucking the loosen strands of hair of her braids behind her ears. "I didn't forget you and I never did. Alright? Happy now?"
"Is that so?" you laughed humorlessly, crossing your arms. "I thought you cared more about your superheroes buddies. Where are they now!?"
"I left them." Natasha replied, looking at you again with a mixture of anger and pain. "I left them and came back, to you, Y/n."
You froze at her words, swallowing your saliva. "... okay?"
"I came back here, because I wanted to at least a chance to explain myself. I wouldn't be able to live knowing that I hurt you, and that you think that I did it on purpose. So please, just give me a chance."
"...go on."
Natasha sighed in relief, exhaling the air she was holding. "I'm sure you know my story. You were the first one to know everything about it, about me. And I'm also sure you know you're the first one to ever love me. No one else ever loved me like you did."
You leaned against the kitchen counter, listening carefully to her words, ready to give her time and patience, like you usually did.
"... I didn't know what I was doing, Y/n. Every other relationship I had, ended in less than a week. Love is a weapon and it's letal for me, for people like me. I was, I am startled by all of this, by this fuzzy warm feeling that you always gave me, that you still do, in my thoughts.. the Avengers were my first family, and when I panicked, I tried to hang on to them. In order not to hurt you, and myself." she didn't even realize the tear rolling down her cheek, and shook her head. "That's it. I'm sorry for everything, but Y/n, you will always have a piece— you'll always have my whole heart in your hands. I'll get off your hair n—"
You couldn't. Not anymore. You rushed towards her and grabbed her face, cutting her off with a deep kiss. She was taking aback, but her hands traveled to your waist, pulling you flush against her, your fronts pressing. Nothing changed. Natasha pushed you backwards against your room's door, her tongue entering your mouth and dancing with yours. You could feel yourself getting lost in her, damn it, once more. It was like she had this spell on you — you were trapped, and didn't complain.
"Y/n," the russian uttered, hands slipping inside your shirt and giving your waist a squeeze. "I've got to have you again, at least for one last time. Please, just this once—"
Tired of her rambling, you smirked and grabbed her by the jacket, pulling her into a kiss again and dragging her into the room, slamming the door shut. Natasha took this as a 'yes', and her hands, under you shirt, went to unclasp your bra, making it fall to the ground and a groan of relief escape your throat. Before she could remove the rest of the fabric of your body, you stopped her, pushing her down to the bed.
"I always wanted to do that," you started to slowly, so slow that it almost tortured her take off your clothes, stripteasing for her.
"Shit, Y/n." she quickly started to get rid off her jacket, snd everything else she was wearing. You were careful not to trip on the pile of clothes on the floor, and walked over to her again, straddling her leg on the edge of the bed.
Natasha's hand grabbed your hips roughly, keeping you in place and it didn't take two seconds before you started to grind on her. "Nat," you breathed, arms going to circle her neck.
"Who else touched you like this while I was away?" she growled in your ear, pressing your body against hers. "Answer me,"
"No one," you whined, giving her a subtle shake of your head. "No one, Natty. J-just myself,"
"My poor girl," Nat began to roam her hands up your sides, her lips pressing kisses on your jawline, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help,"
"You're here now..!" you gasped, your movements faster, as she began to move her thigh to stimulate you more.
"And I don't plan on going away," Natasha murmured, tilting your head to look at her in the eyes. Even in your high, you could make sense of her words, and the weight they beared.
"Nat!" you moaned, closing your eyes shut. "I need... please.. I—I need you, inside me."
Natasha almost lost her mind with that, grabbing your hips and pinning you down to the bed. She reached her arm out for the drawer that she hoped your strap still was, and luckily, she was right. "I'm gonna fuck you like never before, Y/n." she attached the silicone cock to her hips with urgency, holding your hips in place as she ran the tip of it across your folds, making you whine in need.
"Don't tease me," you gently gripped her arms on your hips and looked at her with dreamy eyes. She couldn't resist — but your walls were so tight she had to put a little effort to enter you.
"Holy fuck, baby." she moved her hand to brush your hair behind your ear, giving you a little time to get used to the length. "So fucking tight for me,"
"I—" you breathed, interrupted when Nat started to slowly move in and out you, her red hair falling into your face. You moaned, putting her hair up in a makeshift ponytail and with your free hand, holding her neck. "God, I missed you,"
Natasha pounded faster in you with those words, your moans only getting louder by the second. She grabbed one of your legs and placed it over her shoulder, allowing her to hit your g-spot repeatedly. You thumb went to your mouth, wetting it and starting to rub her clit — she couldn't say she expected that, her soft moans saying everything.
"Cum with me," you breathlessly requested, eyes fluttering close. Natasha didn't have to be asked twice. Her hips slammed into yours, the wet sounds of her thrusting echoing the room. "Natty!"
You back arched, head thrown backwards as your orgasm hit you. Natasha's legs shook, her weight falling onto you and your arms immediately wrapping around her, keeping her close.
"Don't make me go away,"
"I could never."
#Spotify#natasha romanoff x reader#marvel incorrect quotes#natasha romanoff soft smut#natasha romanoff x you#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff#natasha x y/n#natasha x you#natasha romanov#natasha marvel#natalia romanoff#lgbtqia#angst with a happy ending#angst#fluff#aftercare#can't stop thinking about her
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hii i noticed your reqs are open, if you dont mind can you do a pt 2 to jjk men vs their gf's plushie collection? with geto, choso and nanami :) thank youu
JJK MEN VS THEIR GF'S PLUSHIE COLLECTION
featuring. geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento x fem! reader
warnings. none
note. ooooo anon, the first part of this got a lot of love and i was actually contemplating on making a second part for it, so thank you for requesting <33 tbh if anyone messes with my plushie as a plushie collector, i will throw hands.
GETO SUGURU. for the first few months after he finds out about your plushie collection — the male actually doesn't mind it at all, in fact, he contributed in adding soldiers to the collection. but as time goes by, he began regretting it (just a teeny tiny bit) because he realizes that these plushies are close to stealing his spot as a partner.
"angel." he calls out to you in annoyance, his hand reaching out to grab circle around your ankle.
his mouth was full of distaste, he wanted to throw away those plushies from your embrace — he grabbed your ankle, pulling your body towards him with an angry grunt, "com'ere." he mutters out.
"sugu, what's wrong with you?" you ask him, blinking in confusion to what has gotten him in such a sour mood.
"that." he points at the plushie in your arms, "i don't like him." he snatches the plushie away, glaring at it.
"are you jealous of it?" you sang out happily, throwing your arms around his neck.
"i'm going to say it once, yes, 'm jealous of it. i'm not buying you anymore because why are they getting more attention than i am? are they the boyfriend?" he sputters out, looking away, avoiding your gaze.
you laugh lightly, grabbing his jaw to make him face you and kissed him shortly, "you could've just said so, you big baby."
CHOSO. is so confused, what did you find so entrancing about characters filled with cotton when you had a real life plushie by your side? (talking about him, by the way).
he didn't understand the feelings that were burning in him, but he didn't like it. not one bit. it was the kind of feeling where he'd want to use his technique on your plump plushies — but choso knew that you wouldn't like that so he has never done it.
when you're both home, the male trails around behind you like a lost puppy. very much confused to why the plushie was in your arms instead of him, but couldn't bring the heart to say it to you so he ends up just placing himself beside you on the couch, on the bed, wherever.
"cho, why are you looking at me? do you need anything?" choso was surprised at your sudden question, yes he was looking at you, precisely at the plushie squished in between your arms.
he shook his head and faced forwards, before you know it, his head turns to you again for a long time. eyes narrowed and lips puckered out, "i don't like this feeling," he mutters out.
you turn to him, "what feeling?"
"like i want to punch that in the face," he points at the dragon plushie in between your arms, and you burst out laughing.
"are you actually jealous of my plushie?" you put the plushie aside and opened your arms as an invitation for him, "why didn't you say so, hm?"
he didn't answer you and just dropped his weight into your embrace, burying his head into your shoulder, "because you like them."
you kissed the crown of his head, "but i love you."
NANAMI KENTO. he actually doesn't mind you having a collection at all — the thing he minds it when you pamper them instead of pampering him. nanami doesn't get in bad moods easily, but when it comes to you giving attention to your plushies first instead of him, he gets pretty upset.
working late was a total bum to you (to anyone else really), and coming home — nanami was ready to give you love, but when you greet him with a simple "hello" before running to the room to grab your favorite plushie out of the collection, he didn't know why; but he felt like he was actually losing to a whole non-living object.
and it actually made him upset.
"ken, why are you being awfully silent?" you jumped onto the couch where he was sitting at, the same plushie still in your arms.
the male stares at you for a bit before looking back towards the television — and you by now were worried, had you done anything wrong? or did something happen in his work place?
nanami wouldn't even admit it, because he knew if he admitted that he was jealous; he'd never hear the end of it. even if it was from you.
you tugged on his shirt, "did i do anything wrong?" oh, god, of course you didn't — but just the fact that you're asking him that made him feel guilty, so the male sighed, pulling your body close before shaking his head.
he grabs the plushie and throws it aside before pulling you into a hug, not breaking a word. he just hugs you in silence, not that you were complaining, "ken, did something happen?"
"i'm a little upset."
"can you tell me why?"
"you come home and go to your plushie? when i was the one waiting for you? i didn't even get a hug or a kiss," he mumbles out into your hair, and you lightly laugh, rubbing your hand on his back.
"so you're jealous?"
"no. i'm upset."
yes, yes. he was upset.
© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen fluff#fluff#jjk fluff#suguru geto#suguru geto x reader#geto fluff#choso kamo#choso#choso x reader#choso fluff#nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami fluff
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Can I please request any Twst character seeing their crush kiss their tsum?
⊹ kissing their tsum tsum
premise. maybe leaving their tsum somewhere to come back to wasn't such a good idea anymore when it's clearly taking the attention of the person they like.
parts. floyd (i somehow forgot him help)
content. gender neutral reader
characters. riddle, leona, jack, epel, sebek
cw. written by someone who hasn't played through the event and does not know shit lol
note. are they just plushies??? or do they have a consciousness of their own??? I am so confused but wow I wrote somehow
I just slapped whoever had cards on the event onto here 😭 caters part is my favorite ugh
riddle rosehearts
left his tsum in it's custom made velvet chair to grab another jar of sugar since riddle didn't know it ran out.
and yes, he had one made for it. smaller version of his own and stuff, it literally has better privileges than any other resident of the dorm.
^ he totally drinks tea with it and believes that even if it isn't actually alive it's him and if this tsum didn't drink tea at the exact time for a specific rule he still feels like he broke one.
he even pours a cup for it hekasbkqkas.
I mean the liquid doesn't get drank by anyone obviously but riddle still does it.
so as he's walking back, opening the chair to take a peek to see if it's enough cubes once he closes it, and looks up he almost just trips on air and drops the glass jar.
he fumbles with the object for a second, blinking rapidly at the sight of you snuggling into his tsum then giving it little kisses every now and then, did he hear you calling it cute—?
"wha...what in the world are you doing?!"
"it's so adorable.." you mumble, hearing the boy but it just goes in one ear and out the other.
good lord he doesn't know whether he'd like to melt into a puddle, combust from his red face, or be that tsum.
should he be jealous? no. but is he? yeah. even if he's denying it severely.
next session the tsum was left with no tea and was promptly caged in his room in hopes that you would not do all that to his tsum, and to his real self instead.
leona kingscholar
I honestly don't think he would really care for it??
I mean wow. it looks like him. cool. whatever. what's he supposed to do with it? it's just a plush no need to work up so much for it.
not that doing effort for it benefits him in anyone but he just keeps it on his bed since he didn't really wanna go anywhere else and his bed just happened to be near so...
*yoink*
no one tells him this, especially not ruggie but he actually sleeps with it. an arm over it sometimes and usually coddling it in his arms.
trust me ruggie has proof.
100 madol for 5 seconds fr
well as usual it's in his bed just there in it's habitat just like the real leona kingscholar.
even someone like him takes the time to actually go to the bathroom so while he's gone, and when he's on his way back he immediately knows you're there.
that's a scent he can recognize anywhere (well duh. bro spent so long tryna engrave it) and if he can smell you so close to his destination then obviously you're in his room.
also he left the door slightly closed and it's more open than before so that's that.
just like anyone else he completely stops before he could open his mouth and is actually flabbergasted and flustered?
why are you kissing his tsum?? "that's kinda creepy ain't it?" he drawls but his tucked ears says I wanna be it so bad.
"guess i'm creepy then."
you say simply and go back to coddling the damn thing. leona scowls at the relevation. there's no way a small, lame version of him is gonna win you like that!
move over so you can enjoy the real thing >:(
jack howl
mr. everyday is leg, arm, everything day guy.
I believe he's more of an outdoors dude, a very sweet outdoors dude.
the kind of sweet outdoors dude that would buy a miniature plushie version of weights for his tsum so it can get the eveyday is leg, arm, everything day too.
cute thing is jack is actually so proud of himself 😭 evident from the cute lil' wag of tail he does.
he's so pure!!
and him and his tsum totally 'work out' together.
well it's mainly him but he likes to think that his tsum is too. if he's doing an exercise that doesn't require a lot of moving his tsum is just there somewhere with it's weights facing him.
if he's running he has it on his shoulders awww..
sometimes he can get a little distracted though. from his intense focus he didn't even hear you approaching, let alone sitting down and basically hogging his tsum all to yourself!
at some point you just made the tsum copy whatever the real jack does. jack is doing push-ups? damnn.. tsum is doing is so easily.
you get the point.
it's only then when jack notices when he hears you and mistakes your comment for him.
"ahh, you did great cutie.. so strong, so cute." he hears you mumble and turns pink before turning back to look at you and the happy movement of his wolf traits pause.
oh that wasn't for him.
jack stares in envy. HE SWEARS THAT TSUM JUST SMIRKED AT HIM.. LITERALLY TRAITOR.
man just feels betrayed.
cater diamond
absolutely adores him tsum to bits!!
ever since he got it he practically drags it everywhere and his magicam page is full of it.
I reckon cater named it. maybe dia(mond) or something, if not then the classic cater 2.0 which is funny cause now he got 3 clones!!
^ the other two and now lil' cater 🎤
which makes me wonder. it'd totally be cute if he had like, two other tsums that are copies of the result of his unique magic. now it's actually cater 2.0 for real!
cater 2.0 is definitely more popular than some students so you could go up to one and say: you know who this is *picture of random student*
they'll be like: ehh... can't say I do, or seen them before
you holding up a picture of cater 2.0: what about this?
them: oh thats cater 2.0 obviously!
random student crying in the backround.
IMAGINEEE (laughs in pain)
ahem. he likes to have his tsums (tsums cause he actually got 3 to match himself) around everywhere so he can incorporate them into his selfies.
also he needs to feed everyone more cater 2.0's content. there's cater D, cater I, and cater A who all spell out dia :DD big brain
in the music room of his club where's he's peacefully testing out a riff behind him his tsums lay..
so obviously he didn't hear you shuffle into the room, let out the quietest gasp ever and just take the three into your arms and look like you're in heaven.
you stay like that for a while, smiling and hugging the tsums cause wow were they just adorable! and there's three of them!
you all spare the three a sweet kiss before realizing that the music has stopped and cater is pouting at you.
"aw that isn't fair!" he whined, and smiles cheekily. "these guys and I want some of that too!" he points to his two splits that has recently conjured.
now you got three miniature caters that got the kiss, and three real caters that want one yayy!
sebek zigvolt
said he was not going to care for.. something like that and if there was anything like.. that, the only thing he'd care of was one of malleus'.
then said that 'he wanted to educate the plush' even though it was a plush. he's already contradicting himself here, where's the hate??
legit just rambled to the plush for an hour straight preaching about the greatness and glory of his young master.
where silver actually woke up from! silver!! crazy, right?
it must have been a lot of even silver rose from it.
said he was not going to spend anything on it unlike the other people who had spent a hefty amount of madol for the comfort of their tsum and for them alone.
but he figured.. just getting a small painting of the young master so the tsum would look at it everyday isn't too much of a stretch.
that's what he said before and now he's on his way to get another smaller version merch of malleus.
god forbid if malleus ever came inside the room cause he's just gonna see a lot of stuff.. but don't worry cause sebek atleast has a separate corner for all that.
'I will not care for it' my ass.
of course he had completely forgotten that he had invited you over and was outside fetching his blade he forgot to bring inside.
as per dorm rules! don't want it flying away anywhere if a.. *coughs* storm suddenly appears.
lilia had already invited you in and insisted it was fine for you to enter sebek's room beforehand even with your doubts he just pushed you in and you weren't in a place to argue when he didn't even budge when you tried to stop.
once you just walked around out of curiosity it was only in due time where you would see the plush.
an idea pops in your head.
sebek did not expect to see you inside his room.
let alone on his bed, with his tsum in your arms and you dutifully committing yourself into showering it with love and affection.
he's just flabbergasted, shocked to silence, every synonym near to those. but there's an increasing amount of steam pouring out of his ears as his face twitches more by the minute.
"WHAT ARE YO—"
you kiss it so casually that sebek shuts up and almost faints out of embarrassment and fluster.
WHAT IS GOING ON?? he's so confused. WHO LET YOU IN??
bat chuckling somewhere
epel felmier
would very much like to dress up his tsum.
he knows because vil already saw the tsum looking like a monstrosity covered in dirt and leaves, only spared a disappointed look but stayed silent.
not in the way you'd think cause he feels like he can do whatever he'd like to this tsum and vil wouldn't really care like the man would to real epel.
a hallelujah for him honestly.
he doesn't really put much love to his tsum but it's pretty cute that's all. rook finds it way more appealing than him though which he isn't sure how to interpret.
epel doesn't leave it just anywhere when it's outside of pomefiore. cause students there are polite and definitely would not wreck a plushie that looks exactly like him.
if he did the tsum would probably disappear on campus and be found in a dumpster.
*chills* cause he somehow feels for the tsum.
when he's angry he just vents to it and vents whenever. including the times he's just having a crisis about you.
if that tsum was alive godddd epel would be so exposed.
he left the tsum somewhere outside, in the middle of the garden.
he was practicing his make-up there, as per vil's instructions and went out to go fetch a product he had forgotten to grab along with the others.
he figured he might as well take a cup of water as a drink to go.
epel is just gulping down the water when it's just coincidence that he lowers the cup, sees you, there's water still in his mouth, then you give his tsum a little cute kiss so he just spits it all out.
OH MY GOD WHAT WAS THAT. he thought completely out of it. he stares intensely at the tsum.
he's definitely regretting venting to the tsum about you cause epel somehow thinks it's somehow alive and is now rizzing you up, with the knowledge HE gave IT!
he's so mad help 😭
*epel trying to aggressively rizz you up too*
"you don't need that." *snatches and throws the tsum away*
IN JEALOUSY.
meanwhile you watch it fly with sad eyes. :(
mad epel.
note. jesus christ I wrote all of this RIGHT AFTER I posted that /srs ☹ AND I DID ALL THIS IN LIKE AN HOUR HELP ME WHERE DID THAT COME FROM
commision me!
#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst fluff#twst imagines#twst scenarios#riddle rosehearts x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#cater diamond x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#epel felmier x reader#riddle rosehearts#leona kingscholar#cater diamond#jack howl x reader#jack howl#twstnexus#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !
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Emergency Contact
Frankie Morales x f!reader
Summary: Frankie gets in trouble and this is the last time you're helping him. At least that's what you tell yourself.
Warnings: angst, smut, post break up, mentions of drug/alchol use/abuse, military ptsd, frankie on a downward spiral and needs to get his shit together, emotional smut because I had to, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, frankie is literally this emoji -> 🥺 the whole time
w/c: 6.8K
a/n: part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0!!! I picked puppy eyes brown and my genre was angst with the prompt: "Tell me how to fix this." And guys listen. I literally never write angst I’m such a softy but I tried my best with this okay! and I obviously had to include some smut I just couldn't resist hehehe. Also thank u to my baby love @undrthelights for finding theses pics and for everything else you do :) enjoy!
my masterlist
You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.
But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.
“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."
The vibrations of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulls you from a deep slumber, your heart is already pounding at the sudden noise, the rest of your body slow and sluggish as you try to gain your bearings.
You paw for your phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen when you find it. A call from a number you don't recognize. You debate letting it go to voicemail but the area code is local and that makes you pick up, a raspy Hello? leaving your mouth as you roll over in bed, glancing at the clock.
2:13 am.
The sound of your name crackles down the line, the immediately recognizable voice causing your heart to plummet to your ass.
"Frankie?" You ask, sleep quickly leaving you as tension takes its place.
"...Yeah, sorry, I…I didn't know who else to call." His voice is frail and pinched.
You don't have to ask him what's wrong, your brain already piecing the puzzle together You've been in this exact position before. The anger is already starting to creep in, your brow furrowed and stomach twisting as a familiar rage blooms in your chest.
"You couldn't have called anyone else?"
You know the answer is no. The rest of the boys are on a mission, leaving him behind after he failed on his promise to stay clean for long enough to get cleared to go. And now, you’ve fallen victim to that decision too,being the only person left to call whenever he finds himself without a leg to stand on. Frankie in trouble, you bailing him out. Just like normal.
"I'm sorry I didn't want to bother you I just..." he takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm at the station on Oak street. Can you maybe... pick me up?"
You close your eyes and take a moment to compose yourself and reign in the anger at the way he's gotten under your skin already.
"What did you do this time, Frankie?"
He's quiet for a second before he finally says, "DUI. And um, slightly resisting arrest? It’s uh, it’s my first one and I didn’t blow too high so they’re letting me go as long as I show up for court in a few days."
His voice is soft but you can hear him fighting back emotion, his voice cracking and straining under the pressure. the sound eliciting sympathy you desperately wish you didn't feel.
"Jesus, Frankie," you sigh, defeated already.
It shouldn't even faze you at this point. It should be expected given the path he's fallen down since his return home from their last mission 3 months ago. The Frankie you knew before he left had been a steady force. Protective, headstrong but soft in his demeanor, so sweet and full of love. The man now standing in his shoes still holds some traits of that Frankie, but they've all been scarred and tainted with his fall from grace.
Memories of the nights spent tucked in his bed, his arms around you, his hands buried in your hair come flooding back like they usually do. The sound of his laugh, the feel of the downy hairs on his forearm pressed against your skin and the steady thrum of his pulse under his jaw as you placed kisses against his neck. The words you would speak softly to one another in the early hours of the morning, secrets only shared with each other under the protection of black velvet night sky.
All of it traded for bitter resentment and anger towards a version of the man that was ripped away from you.
When he was gone, you’d sleep in his shirts and on his pillow, clinging to the faded scent of his cologne as your brain conjured up ghost touches from his fingertips. Dreaming of the day that he'd come home, how he might touch you, and kiss you, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin on yours. A reunion so deeply desired that the day after he returned was a sharp double edged sword - a blessing, and a curse. The Frankie that walked back in your life was broken, smothered with the weight of the innocent lives on his hands.
Warmth and tenderness traded for stony silence. Nights now spent at the bar, warming himself up with vodka instead of your embrace. Fights ending in harsh words and raised voices as he stubbornly dug his heels in deep, too ashamed to admit he needed help. Staying out late with no warning and coming back at dawn smelling of smoke, weed, and liquor. You are always wondering where he went, who he was with, if he was safe, or if he’d found someone else to soothe the pain.
Then the coke. An old habit that was kicked to the curb in his earlier years now back with a vengeance. Your ultimatum quickly following.
This or you.
A choice you prayed he'd be strong enough to make, but was clearly not.
And now here you are. Two months since you walked away, trying to convince yourself it was for the best. The majority of the last two months of his life is a mystery to you, which you've accepted is probably for the better.
"I know," he finally replies. "I'm so sorry baby, you know I..."
You can almost hear the way his jaw snaps shut, three words catching on his tongue. You don't need to ask to know what the next words are. Tonight was not the first time he's tried to use them in a vain attempt to patch up a crack in the foundation of your crumbling relationship.
There’s nothing but silence on the line as a war wages within you. Part of you wants to believe that he’s the selfish, careless man that he’s recently proven himself to be. But your heart whispers in your ear a softer notion. He's scared. Fragile. Battered. Embarrassed. Alone.
With a heavy sigh, you run your hand down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the grogginess clinging to you.
"I'll be there in 20," you say.
There's a pause before he speaks, "Really?"
Always an air of disbelief.
"Yes. But this is the last time I'm doing this Frankie, I mean it,"
"I know, I... thank you."
You don't bother to reply, simply hanging up the phone as the heaviness of this final gesture sets in. The gravity of the situation, of the line you're about to cross, already threatening to consume you.
This will, without a shadow of a doubt, be the last time you show up to save Frankie’s ass.
At least that’s what you tell yourself. Just like you told yourself the last time this happened and the time before that. But this time will be different. You'll set new boundaries. That's it, just ride this storm one final time and be done.
You know it’s a lie, one you desperately want to believe it.
___
He’s standing outside the doors of the small station, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the still night air. He looks up as he hears the engine of your car approaching, the red glow of his cigarette temporarily highlighting the deep frown on his lips as he takes one last drag before he flicks the butt aside and heads your way.
The anxiety radiating off of him is tangible as he drops into the passenger's seat, gently shutting the door and peering at you with wide puppy dog eyes full of shame. You don't look at him, focusing on backing out of the parking spot before pulling onto the road.
He picks at the skin around his thumb and bounces his leg, his jaw tight. You wonder how long he’s been at the station. How long he’s been sober. You’re still not sure if he entirely is right now.
Most of the ride is silent save for the hum of your engine and the clicks of your turn signal. His eyes never leave you, he can feel him boring a hole in your profile, trying to catch your eye as you watch the road.
"What?" you finally snap.
"Nothing, just...I was wondering if I could stay with you tonight. I can sleep on the couch, I…I don’t really want to be alone right now" he speaks so softly it makes your stomach lurch.
"Absolutely not."
"Please? I'll leave early in the morning, by the time you wake up I'll be long gone."
The rage is back, glowing red hot in your chest, fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, your knuckles white and tense. How fucking dare he ask.
"Absolutely. Fucking. Not," your grit your teeth with each word, biting off the end of the sentence with a sharp finality.
"Right. Okay."
Silence takes over once again, your heart slamming against your chest, heat crawling up your neck as your cheeks grow red and damp. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. Absolutely not.
Frankie leans his head back against the headrest and rolls it to the side to watch you again. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him, hear him sniffling, his eyes, big and glassy, pleading when you glance over at him.
It would be a lie to tell yourself that your “plan” isn't already halfway out the window as your jaw clenches and your gaze ping pongs between the road ahead and the man beside you. Deep in the darkness of your soul you know that with Frankie is where your comfort lies. It’s tucked in the space between his ribs, squished alongside his heart and lungs, running the length of his spine and settling between each vertebrae. You worry you may never be able to completely dislodge it, unsure if it would ever fit anywhere else in any other person.
Maybe it would be easier if Frankie didn't fill up the cracks in your heart with the fractured parts of his. If he didn't take up room in your brain that's not his to own, if he didn’t crawl under your skin and take root into your DNA. Now every cell in your body knows what it feels like to be next to him, now programmed to cry out for his presence when he isn’t near.
And it’s no different now. He’s here, looking so pathetic it’s almost laughable, staring at you with tears sliding down his cheeks that glisten in the glow of the headlights passing you by. Crying over something that’s entirely his fault. You should be the one crying right now. Not him.
So you do.
Hot angry tears spilling over your lash line. Though you can’t decide who you’re more upset with. The man who drank himself out of your life, or yourself for falling for him once again in spite of it all. Either way, it’s not enough to convince yourself to stay firm in your decision.
Fucking pathetic. Both of you.
“You’re out first thing in the morning and then I’m done Frankie. I fucking mean it this time, we can't keep doing this to each other."
“Okay. I promise baby, I will. First thing, I promise." He replies quietly.
Your hand flinches with the urge to reach over and slap him for calling you baby. But instead, you clench your jaw and you shake your head at him.
"Don’t call me that, Frankie."
He quickly nods his head in understanding, his eyes again facing forward as he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, watching the road the rest of the way to your house.
—
Neither of you move once the car is parked in your driveway. The silence is heavy, cut only by the tick of the engine slowly cooling once you remove the keys from the ignition. You chance a look at him and find him picking at his thumb once more, his face red, his eyes soft and timid when they meet yours.
“Tell me what happened, Frankie?”
You ask even though you don’t really want to know.
Frankie sucks in a breath and scrubs a hand down his face.
"I got into a fight at the bar, got kicked out, made the dumb fucking decision to try and drive home and...now I'm here," he laughs mirthlessly as he waves his hands as a vague gesture to you, your house, his current situation. You can't tell if he's telling you the whole story, his answer simple and devoid of context. The context you’re sure wouldn't be good for you to know.
“You could’ve killed someone, Frankie. yourself included,” you say after a few beats, your voice comes out sharp, frustration bleeding in each syllable.
He slowly nods as huffs out a breath.
"I know... it was stupid, and I was an idiot I...shit I was really careless and not thinking straight I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I-"
"I mean seriously Frankie,” you snap, cutting him off. “Do you ever, I mean ever, think about anyone but yourself? Or has it genuinely never crossed your mind that your shit might possibly affect the people around you?"
Frankie opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he's about to respond. You don’t give him a chance to.
"How many more times are you going to take advantage of me, make me look like a fucking dumbass always showing up to rescue you? Why am I always the one covering for you, taking your crap, cleaning up your messes, only to have you throw it right back in my fucking face, every single time!"
Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, chest heaving with each word that flies from your mouth. Two months worth of bitterness bubbling up from deep down, spilling over and cascading down your face in the form of frustrated tears.
"When did you become so fucking selfish, Francisco?!"
Hearing his full name fall from your lips spurs Frankie on, the last of his shards of resolve flying away as his walls come down.
"I don't fucking know okay?! I don't fucking know!" You flinch at the rise in his voice and his tone stings. But it's how quickly he follows up with a softer, feeble excuse that adds fuel to the fire, "I'm doing the best I can."
That does it for you. Hot searing molten rage pulses under the skin of your face, the tips of your ears hot with blood.
"Doing the best you can? The best you fucking can, Frankie? Fucking bullshit! Getting into bar fights, spending all your money on booze and blow, losing your fucking pilot license because you were too coked up to see straight? Was losing your driver's license just putting your best foot forward? Throwing your whole life away just because you refuse to get clean? Is that really the best you can do?"
You pause and swallow, giving Frankie a second to take it all in, letting him process the onslaught of scalding truths you've thrown at him, before you quietly continue,
"I can't keep doing this, Frankie. I just can't."
He sniffs and shakes his head in what appears to be defeat, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap.
“I know...fuck. I know I’ve fucked up alright? I know that. I just don't know how to fix this," he admits quietly, his wide eyes watching you helplessly. “Tell me how. Tell me how I can fix this. Please."
You bark out a laugh, sarcastic and cynical.
"Are you serious right now? What do you mean you don’t know what to do? How many times did I help you try to find a therapist, try to get you into a program? How many times did I suggest AA? Don't fucking tell me you don't know what to do because you do."
He nods, shifting around in the seat, sniffling yet again as he looks back at you. "Okay, okay. I get it, okay? But what can I do right now? To fix this at least for tonight?"
You sigh, deep and heavy, your entire body now just exhausted. You half wish he would put up more of a fight, call you a bitch, snap back at you for going off on him. Maybe it’d make it easier for you to let him go. But instead, he looks at you with desperate eyes and you can feel your resolve crumbling once again.
"Just forget it, Frankie.”
But he won’t give up that easily. The man is persistent, you’ll give him that.
"I'm serious. Tell me what I need to do right now to fix this. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?"
You stare back at him, jaw clenched, biting back the next words you were about to speak. They die on the edge of your tongue. You know the answer is.
Not a single damn thing.
"Look, I'll try harder, I fucking promise alright?” His tone becomes more frantic as your silence stretches on. “I’ll fucking try harder, please just...please," Frankie pleads, more tears welling in his eyes.
Your throat is tight, your head spinning and aching as your blood roars in your ears. He's already taken enough, stealing more would simply be the end of you. Giving in now would mean you've swallowed the bait, falling hook line and sinker into his trap, stepping back onto the slippery slope you've fought so hard to escape. And for what? More heartache, more bullshit excuses, more fighting, more pain?
But one glance into his wide-eyed, watery gaze and you know he's got you. Again. Faster than you can tell your mind no, your heart, foolish and hopeful, speaks for you instead.
"Lets just get some sleep, okay? It's late. We can...we can figure it out tomorrow."
"Thank you," he whispers immediately, relief coming off of him in waves. "I really mean it, I-thank you, I promise I’ll—“
“Can we not talk anymore Frankie? I just wanna go to sleep."
"Yeah. I'm sorry, let’s go."
There's nothing left to say, washing over the two of you as you make your way inside. You give him a towel and dig up some of his old clothes that live in the back of your closet from when he was here almost every night. You're back in bed before he’s done with his shower, tucked underneath the covers with your face pressed against your pillow, the silk fabric soaking up your tears of sadness and frustration.
The water shuts off and you can hear him getting settled in the living room. A pillow being fluffed, the creak of the couch when he sits.
And then soft footsteps on the hardwood 5 minutes later, padding their way into your room.
He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t bother speaking either. He just simply creaks open the door and walks over to the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers before slipping into bed beside you.
You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.
But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.
“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."
You don’t have any fight left in you. Because at the end of the day, a night spent wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, touching his skin and his beating heart is worth a thousand fights. And a million shattered dreams.
You don’t answer him, but you don’t tell him to leave either. Instead, you block out any looming thoughts, the impending worry of where this could go, or how bad the damage will be. For now, you chose to focus on the rise and fall of Frankie's breath against your skin, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms.
One more night.
Frankie presses a kiss into the back of your neck, repeating his previous sentiment in a rough scratchy whisper, "Just one more."
And you listen to it resonate, bouncing around the walls in your head and tickling the space behind your eardrums.
Inhale
Exhale.
You should want to fight.
But instead, your body melts his, molding your bones and flesh against his, fitting into all the creases and gaps that have been carved out and reserved just for you.Trying to forget, to bury this pain as deep as possible,. Just for tonight.
He waits a few more minutes, waiting until your breathing levels out with his before he makes his next move. His fingers trace mindless patterns on the skin of your stomach, goosebumps erupting under his fingertips, rippling outwards like a rock being tossed in a pond. He leans in once more, slowly dragging his nose up the length of your neck and curling his lip to press another kiss behind your ear. Then another.
And then another, this time lingering as he sucks softly on your skin.
Inhale.
You close your eyes, hoping for anything but this, yet feeling the sting of arousal spark below your skin.
And exhale.
You’re better than this. You won’t stoop down to his level, you won’t let him chew you up and spit you out again.
But fuck, his lips are soft and warm, so is the breath as he exhales against your neck, lightly swiping his tongue and soothing the faint red mark he left behind with a small little hum.
“Frankie..." You warn, albeit much more breathless and weak than you would have liked.
“Tell me to stop and I will," he murmurs, his beard gently grazing your sensitive skin, causing your toes to curl.
You take another deep breath, but this one is shaky, as you can't help but tighten your grip around his hand, squeezing his fingers as you lean your neck to the side, exposing more of your soft skin to him.
Dead in his trap. Caught so fucking easily. Pathetic.
But if his teeth and lips and tongue and soft, gentle touches are how you go down, then so fucking be it.
He hums his appreciation against your skin, scraping his teeth down to your shoulder, latching his mouth on a spot and sucking harder. Strong, callused fingers continue exploring, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to give him permission.
He rolls his hips forward against your ass and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper at how hard he is against you, his soft grunts in your ear traveling straight between your legs and fanning the flames building.
Then suddenly, he's sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist and traipsing over your chest until he’s cradling the weight of your breast in his palm, his thumb slowly brushing over your peaked nipple, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan out loud.
A small gasp escapes you instead, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand.
"Frankie."
This time not a warning. It’s a plea. A desperate, burning want that you should be ashamed of.
He murmurs into the shell of your ear then, his tone is deep and scratchy.
“I miss you...I need you, baby. Just tell me to stop if you want. But I... fuck I miss you so much."
You don't tell him to stop.
You roll your hips back instinctively, a warm wave of arousal washing over you at the feeling Frankie's hardened length pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts in satisfaction as his palm slides from your chest and up your throat to your jaw. His grip is gentle as he turns your head to face him, his lips against yours without missing a beat.
It’s too easy to fall right back into him, back into the practiced, very well rehearsed routine. To let him glide his tongue along the seam of your lips and coax them open so he can lick into your mouth, getting the taste of his tongue stuck behind your teeth. Too easy to let him remind you just how easily you fit in the palm of his hand, how tightly you’re wound around his finger.
He kisses you fervently, desperately almost, lips and tongue moving against yours as though he’s trying to devour you whole, just like he used to. He’s been starving for too long.But right now, he's finally found nourishment, the feeling of your body under his hands and the taste of you on his tongue feeding his soul. Wanting more. Always more, entirely unable to help himself.
“Wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, his mouth half a centimeter away from yours. “Let me make you feel good baby, please.”
As if you could say no.
As if you even wanted to.
He pushes his leg between yours, thick, firm muscle under warm skin pressing against your clothed core and you answer him with a roll of your hips, seeking out any sort of friction you can.
It takes less than half a second for him to have you flipped over on your back. When Frankie truly wants something, he does it quickly and efficiently.
He moves above you, licking and kissing a trail down your neck. He makes his way down your body, greedily nipping at the skin stretched over your collarbones. He swirls his tongue over each nipple, only moving on when he’s satisfied. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to your ribs and your tummy just above your navel, his beard tickling skin, making it twitch under his mouth.
Your body is cooperating far more than it should, your hips lifting up instinctually when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, your thighs automatically parting further, and your hands migrating to his head. Your fingers tangle in his soft curl, your nails softly scratching his scalp just like you know he likes.
And when his tongue drags up your thigh you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the reactive moan. But your back arches with pleasure anyway, the last bit of your resolve evaporating into thin air as you give into him freely.
His hands burn hot where they smooth over your skin, a comforting weight and a familiar drag of calloused palms fueling the fire and tightening the coil in your stomach.
“Missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your pussy before you feel the first stroke of his flat tongue up through your center.
This time, you're not strong enough to hold back the breathless mewl that leaves your mouth. You immediately push down on his head while simultaneously canting your hips upward, needing more friction, dying for more of everything he's willing to offer. He slides his arms underneath you and hooks his hand over your hip bones, holding you down and keeping you in place as he tries to find salvation between your thighs.
Heavy breaths through his nose as he uses his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to take you apart. Lapping and sucking at your clit while his fingertips nudge at your entrance, dipping just enough to tease, waiting until he hears the high pitched whimpers that he's after.
And when you've reached that level of desperation he wants from you, whimpering and panting, he slowly dips a finger in.
He moans along with you as though he's the one experiencing the pleasure. He's always gotten off on this almost just as much as you. The warm, slick slide of his fingers in and out of you, how you gush on his tongue, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, the tingle of his scalp when you tug on his hair.
More addictive than any substance he's ever found solace in.
And against your better knowledge, you're more than happy to indulge him, let him chase the high you give him and let yourself drown in it as well.
Your back arches off the bed as he adds another finger, grunting into you and thrusting faster as you tighten and flutter around them. He finds the spot he's looking for with practiced ease, whimpering into you and groaning along with you as he drags his fingers back and forth along the spot that has you bucking your hips into his hand.
He knows how to get you there. Knows how to do it fast. And right now, that's what he wants. He's craved it too long, spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock your name on the tip of his tongue as he fucked up into his own hand. He wants to hear you fall apart again, feel you coming on his tongue, your walls clenching as they try to suck his fingers in deeper. Wantsto know that he hasn't ruined absolutely everything between the two of you.
"Come on baby, lemme feel you,” he urges, voice deep and rough as he brings you to the edge. His mouth, licking and sucking at your clit, works in perfect rhythm with his fingers, sliding in and out, crooking them at the exact angle and speed he knows will get you there.
"Please, Frankie...need to– fuck, I'm..." Coherent words evade you as he works you towards your peak, your breath stuttering as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. Your grip tightens in his hair, tugging roughly in an effort to ground yourself as the wave of euphoria starts to crest, the undercurrent pulling you down.
Frankie growls in approval as you tighten around his fingers, all your muscles tensing as the sensation crashes into you. Your mind and body shut off and float into that sweet state of oblivion as Frankie's name falls from your lips, mixed in with a litany of profanity and slurs and choked back moans. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down until you're yanking on his hair hard enough for it to hurt, trying to wiggle away from his touch.
Frankie raises his head up and locks eyes with you, the tip of his nose, beard, and cheeks shiny with your arousal as he looks up at you through his dark, heavy lidded lashes.
"Want you so bad," he sighs, breathless and needy, crawling up your body and resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. He kisses you again, soft and sweet as if he has the right, tasting yourself on his tongue.
You whimper into the kiss and hook a leg over his hip to pull his hips towards you. His cock strains almost painfully in his boxers when he grinds it against you, your warm arousal dampening the front of the fabric.
"Gonna let me baby?" He rasps when he moves to your neck, his teeth scraping sensitive flesh.
You both already know he's won. You're not even putting up a fight at this point, any dignity you thought you had left totally abandoned the moment you picked up the phone. But he asks anyway, needing the verbal affirmation, needing the confirmation that you want him as badly as he needs you.
And you can't lie.You're both equally weak and vulnerable. Two pathetic, heartbroken creatures chasing a temporary relief. A small glimmer of something to make the pain more bearable, something to fill the hole for the briefest amount of time.
You both know. And neither of you care.
No response to his question. Instead, you push up the hem of his shirt up and he does the rest, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor before he hooks a thumb underneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his hips and off his legs.
Your hand finds his cock and he hisses at the contact, his hips shuddering as he pushes forward into your grip. You swear he's thicker and longer than before, heavier and hotter where you hold him. Your thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the pearls of pre cum around, coating the rest of his length to ease your glide. Frankie's mouth finds your neck again, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, his shaky breath in your ear.
You try to push up onto your elbows in an effort to roll him over, wanting to take over. But a palm finds your chest, gently pushing you back down until your flat against the bed again.
"Wanna look at you," he says simply, as he pushes his length into the palm of your hand once more before sliding out.
He lets his length rest against your sensitive clit and gently rocks his hips, slicking himself with the mess between your legs, sighing whenever you gasp each time his tip nudges at your clit.
"Please..." you whisper, feeling pathetic and needy, but at this point too desperate to care.
And he’s equally impatient, not waiting another moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing in.
You tense at the initial intrusion, not having been with anyone in far too long and the feeling is almost overwhelming. You're trying to remember how to breathe again as you let your head fall to the side, trying to hide from his intense stare. But Frankie's there, using a gentle finger to tilt your face back up towards him as his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace to let you adjust.
"That's it baby. Look at me."
And you do, the heat in your belly burning brighter with his eyes boring into yours as he witnesses your surrender to him. Your heart aches, still raw and tender and in pain from all the hurt that's transpired. But you ignore it and tell yourself the tears in your eyes aren't a result of a broken heart, but rather of how full you feel as Frankie's length finally bottoms out in you.
"Fuck..." You both curse under your breath as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts to move his hips. You cling to his broad shoulders as he pulls out of you, his eyes glued to where you’re joined, his thick cock slick and shiny with your arousal before he slides back in again with a quiet groan. He repeats the motions over and over watching as he pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, stuffing you to the hilt.
"Shit,” he hisses under his breath, his eyelashes fluttering when you clench in response. “You feel so good baby, fuck."
He buries his face into your neck, panting and pressing soft kisses as his pace starts to speed up. The soft grunts in your ear turn into more desperate moans when you lock your legs around his waist, pulling him, trying to get him even deeper than he already is.
Your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, hoping that you’ll leave half crescent moon shapes embedded into his flesh. A painfull reminder for the morning that you were here and this was real, despite the circumstances.
His hands slide under your ass, angling it upwards to let him hit just that little bit deeper inside, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust. The muscles in his forearms flex and strain as he tries to hold back, always making sure you finish before he does.
And he doesn't have to wait much longer. Your orgasm is creeping up and taking over your body and Frankie can sense it. He knows exactly what to look for, knows all the signs.
One hand moves to reach between the two of you two fingertips pressed against your pulsing clit, drawing fast, tight circles just like you like it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails digging into the skin and dragging down his back as his thrusts become more erratic.
"Keep lookin' at me," he grunts and you struggle to keep your eyes open. They sting, the image of him above you starting to blur around the edges as he drives you closer and closer to your release.
"That's it, baby. Lemme see it, lemme see you come on my cock."
He doesn't have to tell you twice.
You come undone again just like that, dizziness spreading and heart hammering in your chest as you sob out, pleasure consuming you from within. He fucks you through it, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, as he curses and rambles in your ear about how he's missed this, how he's missed you.
You've barely started to come down when he grabs one of your legs behind your knee and pushes it into your chest, letting himself sink even deeper into you. The new angle has your head spinning, drowning in an unparalleled amount of pleasure. Your eyes flutter and roll back in your head as you whimper his name, fingers curling into the pillow above your head.
He doesn't last much longer, breathless moans and strangled whimpers into your neck as he gives you the last few sloppy thrusts. He's almost there, and when he tries to pull out, it's the way your leg tightens around his waste and your needy whine that sends him over the edge, groaning and cursing with his face in the crook of your neck as he spills himself into you.
His cock pulses inside you with every wave, his hips chasing his release, tiny jerks as he empties into you. He stills, his heavy breathing in your ear, his weight resting on you, heavy but grounding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.
Once the room stops spinning and the stars clear from behind your eyes, you drop your legs. With a shaky sigh, Frankie starts to pull out, both of you groaning in protest as he slips out.
His cum leaks out of you, quickly pooling between your thighs no matter how hard you squeeze your legs together. And when he catches sight of it, it makes your face burn. At the mere sight of his sticky, warm release spilling out of you, mixing with your own, Frankie swears he could go another round right then. Something about knowing he marked his territory, his claim on you established once again. He looks up at you, your eyes closed, forehead creased, and he has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dragging his fingers through the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back in, keeping it where it should be.
But the weight of reality is starting to press on him once again, the fear and shame from earlier taking root again and tugging at his stomach and pulling him out of the euphoria.
He kisses your hip bone once before making his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. The room is silent as he cleans you up, wiping gently between your legs, both of you keeping your eyes on anything except each other's.
When he's done, he stands and moves to gather his clothes off the floor, tugging his boxers back on before heading towards the door. But your shaky, watery voice breaks the silence and freezes him where he stands.
"You're leaving?" You ask, voice squeaking at the end as you pull the sheet up to cover yourself, as if it would protect your heart when he ultimately breaks it again.
He turns to look at you, his heart aching in his chest from the innocent way you're looking at him. The way your eyebrows draw together, and your lips pull into a frown, the way your lower lip trembles as your eyes fill with tears.
"Can I stay?"
His voice is quiet, fragile, as if speaking any louder would scare you off, would cause you to start yelling at him again until you ultimately kick him to the curb for good.
He stares at you through the darkness of the room as you chew on your lip and try to grapple with the split decision you’re facing.
The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say no and end this right here and now. But that part of your brain is buried and silenced underneath the heaviness in your heart. That desperate need to hang onto whatever's left. You swallow the lump in your throat and give in.
"Please," you plead softly. "Don't...don't want to be alone anymore."
A rush of air leaves his lungs as the pressure is released from his chest as he climbs back into bed beside you. Your head finds his chest, curled into his side and letting his arms wrap around you. His embrace is familiar, comforting, your safe space.
You count the steady beats of his heart in your ear as his blunt fingernail scrape lightly up and down your back, knowing it always soothes you. No words are spoken but the air between the two of you is thick, full of the things you both want to say, but neither of you speak.
Sleep wraps its tendrils around you once again, exhaustion settling in your bones. You welcome it fully, even though you know when you wake up, you'll have to face the reality of the situation once again.
You can only hope that he'll still be here in the morning to face it with you.
For now, you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace, pushing away all the other things that are gnawing at you and letting yourself relax in the arms of the man who broke your heart.
Just one more night.
Thank you for reading!! :))
#writing challenge 2.0#frankie morales smut#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales#triple frontier#triple frontier smut#triple frontier fic#pedro pascal characters
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Matching Tattoos
Eddie Munson x reader
Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, DO NOT GIVE ANYONE OR YOURSELF TATTOOS AT HOME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GO TO A PROFESSIONAL THIS IS FICTION AND A VERY UNHYGIENIC SITUATION FOR NEW TATTOOS, blowjobs, gagging, swallowing, friends to lovers, Eddie is so fucking sweet, porn with some plot followed by fluff.
Part 2
"Isn't she pretty?" Eddie grins, producing the homemade tattoo gun from under his bed. Pretty was a very strong word. More like a clump of sketchy looking metal held together with even sketchier looking screws and rubber bands.
You scoff. "If you think she's pretty I'm seriously starting to question your taste, Munson. Going from Chrissy Cunningham to this? That's quite a decline."
Eddie rolls his eyes.
"You're never going to drop that are you? Chrissy was a 5 minute crush, besides, she's been dating that douchebag Jason Carver for ages now." Eddie waves his hand to signify his distate. "Anyway, nowadays my taste is more...refined, thank you very much. Hence why I am going through the world's longest dry spell at the moment. Now shut up, and get on the bed. We're doing this." He buzzes the tattoo gun for extra effect.
"Yessir." Giving him a cheeky salute, you lie down on Eddie's bed as he messes around with the ink, and something crinkles beneath you. Your brow furrows as you dig underneath you, and you pull out a dog eared magazine. You flick through the pages, your cheeks flushing. "Jesus, Eddie, resorting to porno mags? You really are suffering." You throw the crusty magazine at him, laughing. Eddie quickly kicks it under his bed.
"What? I got needs, Y/N, and its not exactly like there's a line of babes wanting to fuck the town freak."
"Not even with the whole struggling rockstar vibe you've got going on?" You cock your eyebrow, shooting him a smirk.
"Right? I should be drowning in pussy," he grins, and you roll your eyes. "Still want it on your hip, right?"
"As long as it can be covered by a bathing suit so my parents don't murder me, have at it."
Eddie gulps as you unbutton your jeans, shimmying your hips out of them and exposing your simple black panties to him. You then roll your shirt up your stomach and tie it in a knot to prevent it from getting in his way.
It wasn't like he hadn't seen you like this before, he'd seen you in a bathing suit hundreds of times but this....this was different. This was you, half naked, on his bed. You that Eddie had been harbouring a crush on for a good year or so now, hence the dry spell. He didn't want anyone else, he wanted you, his best friend, his partner in crime, his girl. Nobody in this deadbeat town even came close, not anymore.
He was ashamed to even admit that the magazine you'd fished out from his bed was merely a distraction tool. So many nights he'd fucked his fist thinking of you, the way your body glistened in the sun that time when you sunbathed out the back of his trailer in that black bikini, the way your breasts threatened to spill out of the cups and your ass peeked out from the bottoms that left very little to the imagination.
He had to get you out of his head. It was sick, it was wrong, you were his best friend. His beautiful, funny, smart, sexy as hell best friend. If he had to beat off to some random chick in a disgustingly cheap porno magazine just to stop him thinking about you, so be it.
But honestly, when you'd asked him to give you a tattoo on your hip, the magazines just weren't doing it anymore.
Eddie cleared his throat. "You sure about this Y/N?"
"Eddie, shut up and ink me already," you smile, playfully nudging him with your foot. "You drew it up, yeah?"
"One bat comin' at ya," Eddie grins, showing you the little stencil he'd drawn. It was an exact copy of the largest bat out of the swarm on his arm. "You know we can never not be friends after this right? Matching tattoos is a pretty big commitment."
"Until death do us part." You teased.
"I fuckin' do," Eddie kissed your hand, making you snort. Your friendship had always been like this, flirty to the point where people were always wondering if you were together or not. But that's all it ever was, all bark and no bite per say. "Can you move your, uh, your-"
"Panties, Eddie? For someone who used the phrase 'drowning in pussy' earlier I refuse to believe 'panties' gets you all flustered." You tease, pushing down your panties and exposing your skin to him.
Eddie can feel his palms sweating as your panties slip dangerously low, almost exposing that dip between your legs. His mouth is as dry as the fucking desert when he catches a glimpse of your smooth, soft skin. God, he wants to put his mouth there. He wants to put his mouth all over you actually. He coughs once more.
"Right, let's do this, pretty girl." He carefully cleans the area you want tattooed with some antiseptic liquid before laying the stencil down, carefully pulling it away to reveal the outline on your skin. "Looks metal, babe, you ready?"
You nod, clutching his comforter in one hand as he brings the needle to your skin and the buzzing starts. You bite your lip as you feel the needle meet your flesh, a searing burning pain but not too unbearable.
As he drags the needle across your soft skin, Eddie is sweating. He's so close to a part of you he desperately wants to explore, to kiss and lick and make you scream his name until you're sobbing in ecstasy. But he can't. Why would someone like you ever be interested in the town freak? The nerdy metalhead that spends his free time planning extensive D&D campaigns, or playing in shitty dive bars to a crowd of not even 10 people didn't compare to the jocks who went to endless parties, or did something better than spending their spring break in their trailer getting high and watching horror movies.
"Whatcha thinking about, handsome?" Your sweet, sweet voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks up at you. God, you look like a fucking angel right now, all draped across his bed with your hair over his pillow. He knows he'll be able to smell the shampoo you use on that later.
Eddie, always one to almost never lose his cool, shoots you a cheeky grin.
"Thinkin' about how I could tattoo my name on you, pretty Make sure everyone knows who's girl you are."
"Everyone already knows, I've only got eyes for you, dungeon master."
Fuck, he wishes you wouldn't call him that. Not like this anyway. Not with this amount clothes on. Or not on.
"Less of the dirty talk, you. I'm trying to concentrate here." He growls, wiping the residual ink off your skin, refilling and continuing his work. You try to ignore the throbbing in your panties and how good his hands feel on your bare skin.
-
35 minutes later, it's Eddie's turn. After cleaning and covering your new artwork, you get yourself dressed (much to Eddie's disappointment) and turn to him with a wicked grin.
"Pants off, Munson."
"Yes, ma'am." Copying your salute from earlier, he unbuckles his handcuff belt and undoes his jeans, shimmying out of them and tossing them somewhere in his room. He also pulls off his Hellfire shirt. You raise an eyebrow. "What? Can't risk anything happening to it, I gotta wait another week before I can get more!"
"Alright, nerd, lie down." You smile, rummaging around in your bag for the little design you'd drawn up for him. You pass the small design of the devil from the Hellfire logo to him and he grins.
"That's metal."
"So metal that nobody is gonna see it unless they're going down on you."
"Yeah, but we'll know it's there. It'll be like our dirty little secret, Y/N."
"Hot," you laugh as Eddie lies down, putting his arms behind his head. He tilts his head down towards his hips.
"Get to work, missy."
You'd been practising on that gross fake skin stuff in preparation for this, but nothing could have prepared you for touching Eddie...here. His skin was so soft and warm, and he smelled so good. A mix of his old cologne he'd gotten from you last Christmas, smoke and a hint of sweat. It was so Eddie, it made your heart flutter and somewhere else flutter too.
You think Eddie takes the needle like a champ, but when you look up at him about 20 minutes later, his eyes are screwed shut.
"Hurt that much?" You grin and he shakes his head, eyes still closed.
"Nah, babe, honestly, I'm...fine." He hesitates. You stop for a second, tilting your head to the side in question. You go to wipe off some of the excess ink and your arm brushes over his boxers accidentally.
Oh.
"Eddie, are you-"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, don't talk about it." Eddie chokes out, his cheeks flushing. His loose plaid boxers had done a good job of hiding his semi, but when you'd brushed against it, it was game over.
Eddie was hard.
"I-is this like a normal reaction to getting tattooed, or...?" You stutter, your mouth feeling dryer than fucking Gandhi's flip flop.
Eddie sighs, throwing an arm over his face.
"No, it's a normal reaction to a very, very pretty girl hovering near my dick, babe." He says in a small voice. Your cheeks flush as you place the tattoo gun down on his bedside table.
"O-oh. Well, do you want me t-to stop? Or I could help with...I could help you with that?"
Eddie groans behind his arm.
"Babe, don't tease me like that, that's just cruel. 'Sides, wouldn't you feel...weird jerking me off?"
Your mind had not gone to jerking him off. In fact, it had gone a step further.
"Oh, I-I wasn't...I was gonna, um-"
"Blow me?!" Eddie throws his arm off of his face and stares at you, and you pretend you don't notice his cock jumping in his boxers. "You, my super hot best friend Y/N, are seriously offering to suck my dick right now?!"
"I-I’m sorry-"
"Sorry?! What the fuck are you sorry for?! Making all my wet dreams come true?!"
You giggle. "Eddie, shut up."
"No, I'm serious, Y/N, you've been in here-" he sits up and taps the side of his head "-doing some nasty shit for so fucking long. Why do you think I'm jacking off to shitty porno mags instead of chasing pussy?"
You're silent, a slow smile spreading across your face as your hand creeps over his crotch, gently palming at his cock which jumps in your hand.
"Well, lucky for you, dungeon master, you've also been the star of my wet dreams."
Eddie falls back onto his pillows with a groan. "Fuck, I can't believe this is actually fucking happening."
"Tell me what you want to do to me, Eds." Your voice is low and sultry as you give him a squeeze. He looks at you, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. You tug at his boxers, giving him a questioning look. He grabs your wrist.
"Are you sure about this, Y/N? Cos if it's a choice between getting off, or keeping you as my best friend, I'd rather keep you babe. Blue balls and all."
You smile softly; Eddie was too sweet for his own good. It was one of the things you loved most about him.
"What about if you get to get off and still keep me?" You say, pushing his hand away and slowly pulling his boxers down. His cock springs out, slapping against his lower stomach. He was long and thick, uncut with an upwards curve that the very sighmade your pussy clench. You huff out an exasperated laugh. "Holy shit, Eds."
"Good 'holy shit', or bad 'holy shit'?" Eddie's cheeks are flushed as he smirks.
"You know the answer to that." You wrap your hand around his cock, making him hiss as you stroke the silky skin. You pull the foreskin down to expose his angry looking, reddish purple mushroom head, and a drop of precum blurts out. You continue to stroke him, eyes fixed on his face.
"Fuck, stop looking at me like that," Eddie groans, his cock twitching in your hand. "'S too much."
"Like what?" You smirk, straddling his thighs. He can't answer you, any sort of answer immediately wiped from his brain as you lower your mouth to the head of his cock and lick, tasting him for the first time. His hips buck, forcing more of his cock into your mouth, making you gag out of surprise.
"Shit, sorry, sorry," Eddie gasps. "Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good, don't be surprised if I come like, super quick, okay? Been thinking about this for so fucking long you have no idea. And you look....God, you looking so fucking beautiful right now."
You shoot him a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his cock before taking him into your mouth properly, swallowing as much of him down as you can.
Eddie's hand comes to your hair, gently stroking it as you bob your head up and down. The flavour of him blooms over your tongue and makes you hum in appreciation.
"Fuck, babe, your mouth...shit, it's so fucking good, taking my cock so well..."
You pull up and suckle the head, flicking your tongue over the slit. "Holy shit, you're gonna kill me, sweetheart."
You smirk, pulling back and pursing your lips, allowing a glob of spit to fall from your mouth onto the head, dribbling down the shaft. Eddie falls back onto the pillows. "That's it, you've killed me, you're blowing a dead man, baby."
"A dead man who's gonna come in my mouth, right?" You mumble, jerking him quickly, your spit allowing your hand to slide over his shaft with ease. Eddie keens, his teeth gritted.
"You can't say shit like that, angel, I'm about ready to blow as it is."
"Do it, I want it." You reply, taking his cock into the warmth of your mouth once more. You allow him to fuck your face, both hands now resting on the back of your head as you swallowed around him.
"Shit, fuck, oh my fucking god, baby, Y/N, I'm gonna come, fuck I'm gonna come so fucking hard in that pretty mouth of yours, yeah? God, you're such a good girl, so good f'me, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck!"
Eddie comes with a broken moan, his hips thrusting upwards and his hands holding you in place as his cock pumps rope after rope of cum down your throat. You moan, relishing the taste of him, which makes Eddie shudder at the overstimulation. You swallow everything he gives you. "Fuck, sweetheart, can you show me?"
You begrudgingly take your mouth off of his cock and open your mouth, tilting your head back slightly and sticking your tongue out to show him that you had indeed swallowed his cum. "Holy shit. I'm gonna get hard again." He groans, his chest heaving and his cock twitching slightly. You giggle and place a kiss to it, and Eddie grabs you, pulling you on top of him, careful to avoid the new ink. "I can kiss you, right?"
"I think we're past that, Eddie" You smile and squeak in surprise as he pulls your face to his, capturing your lips in a hasty kiss. It's a chaste kiss, experimental and you break away briefly. His eyes lock with yours, as if he was trying to search them to see if this was okay. "It's okay, Eds" you whisper, nodding gently. His eyes dart to your mouth and back up to your eyes.
"Do I get to keep you?" He whispers, his fingers softly stroking your cheek. You brush your nose against his.
"You get to keep me."
#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fluff#stranger things smut#stranger things fluff#eddie munson
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party king (steddie)
“You want me to what?”
“Go to a party with me,” Eddie says, looking at Steve like he’s the weirdo here. “What’s the big deal, King Steve? You’ve been to plenty of parties.”
“You know, no one actually called me that,” Steve tells him, abandoning his tapes to put his hands on his hips. “Billy started it. I think he just wanted people to call him a king.”
Eddie visibly considers this before nodding, like it makes sense. Which it does. Billy was, in Steve’s private thoughts, an egotistical maniac who needed to calm down.
May he rest in peace.
“But you’ll come to the party with me, right?”
“Give it up, Eddie,” Robin calls from where she’s rewinding tapes. “Steve hasn’t been to a party in forever. He’s basically a grandpa now.”
“Hey!” Steve objects. That’s rich, coming from her. Going to bed at nine some nights so he gets a few more hours of sleep before waking up in a cold sweat does not make him a grandpa. It just makes him traumatized
“Steeeeeeeve,” Eddie whines, widening his eyes until it looks like they’re going to pop out of his sockets. His exaggerated pout isn't going to do him any favors either. No matter what the kids say behind his back (looking at you, Henderson) he isn't a pushover.
“Why would I want to go to a high school party?” He crosses his arms, leaning against the counter. “I graduated. I have better things to do with my time.”
“Like lose arcade games to freshmen?” Robin asks. He flips her the bird.
“Please, Steve?” Eddie asks. “Pretty please? Pretty pretty please, with cherries and whipped cream and six little nuggets on top?”
“What the hell are you even saying anymore?”
“You want him to eat his babies?” Robin shrieks. “Like Kronos? Is one of them going to cut off his head and free the rest?”
Eddie’s eyes light up, and Steve slaps a hand over his mouth. He doesn’t know who that guy is, and he doesn’t want to deal with the two of them chattering over whatever movie villain he’s assuming is in their weird cult classic films when he still doesn’t know why Eddie is asking him to this party.
He doesn’t even flinch when Eddie licks his hand.
“I’ve been slobbered on by actual monsters,” he says flatly. “Your spit has zero effect on me.”
Eddie bats his eyes and gives his palm a kiss, right where he’d laved his tongue. Steve rolls his eyes and wipes his hand on the side of Eddie’s face.
“Hey!”
“Don’t dish what you can’t take,” Steve says. “Now, why exactly am I getting asked to go to a high school party?”
“Jessica Roberts needs some kush, and she asked me to sell there.”
“Okay? Still not answering my question.”
“There’s gonna be jocks at the party,” Eddie finally confesses, “and I don’t know if they’ll try shit. But given my track record lately…”
“So you need a bodyguard?”
“Hey!” Steve shouts, and is summarily ignored by everyone. So he does what any normal person would do, and slams an abandoned beer bottle against the edge of the counter so it shatters.
The jocks turn and look at him after that.
Steve glances down at the jagged edges of the bottle in his hands, flipping it like it’s his old ice cream scoop. Yeah, this should work.
“Leave him alone,” he says, steely inflection to his voice.
“Or what, Harrington?” One of them asks. “Heard you just been sittin’ in this room all night. What, you hanging around the queers now? Didn’t take you for a f-”
He stops talking when Steve grabs him by the hair and presses the broken bottle against his throat.
“Here’s what's gonna happen,” he says quietly, taking a look at his buddy. He’s let go of Eddie, a lot more spooked now that his friend is shaking in his Nike’s. “You’re going to leave this room. You’re going to leave Munson here alone. You’re not going to bother him, or anyone else in his dragon club ever again. If I hear that you or your little friends are fucking with him, I have a very nice nail-studded baseball bat in my trunk I’d be more than happy to introduce you to. Capisce?”
“Woah, woah, woah,” the guy that was holding Eddie says. “What the hell, Harrington?”
Steve doesn’t break eye contact with the guy he’s threatening. “Capisce?” He asks again, putting a little more force into the word.
“C-capisce.”
“Good,” he says, shoving him away. “Now get outta here.”
They scramble away. Steve walks over to the trash can and throws away the remains of the bottle, running a hand through his hair. He finally turns around to see Eddie staring at him with wide eyes, frozen.
“Sorry-”
“Fuck me.”
“What?”
Eddie’s entire face flushes, like he didn’t mean to say that. “Uh.”
Steve looks at him, and then around the kitchen they’re in. Glass and beer on the floor, music blasting loud enough to set him on edge, a crowd of people that look at him like a zoo exhibit. Fuck, his head hurts.
“Yeah, okay,” he decides. “We’re going to mine, though.”
“Wh-what?” Eddie looks like a deer in headlights, even though Steve’s offering exactly what he asked.
“I…have no idea what I’m doing,” Eddie confesses.
“Oh, are you not…” He trails off, gesturing towards Eddie’s back pocket. “I assumed…”
Eddie laughs abruptly, slapping a hand over his mouth like he startled himself with it. “You know hanky code, Harrington?”
“Can you call me Steve when you’re in my bed?” He’s already got his shirt off, for God’s sake. “Listen, man, if you don’t want this, it’s no biggie.” He starts to get off, and Eddie’s hand clamps over his thigh.
“No, no, no, don’t you dare. Just gimme a minute, I’m processing.”
“Processing,” he repeats flatly.
“Yes, processing. I’ve got the guy of my extremely virginal wet dreams shirtless on top of me. I did not think this would ever happen. I didn’t even know you were queer until tonight.”
Steve’s mouth shapes into an “o” of understanding. “You’re a virgin?”
“Jesus, could you focus on anything else I said?”
“You dream about me?”
“Let’s go back to the virgin part.” His fingers start nervously tapping against Steve’s leg.
“You’re not subtle,” Steve says flatly. “I know when you stare at my ass.”
Eddie colors in a flood of bright red. “What if I wasn’t? What if I was…uh, jealous or something?”
“I guess that’d make sense, since you’re flat as a board.”
“Wh—hey!”
#party king au#stranger things fanfic#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve being unhinged is so fun#furthering my 'eddie has a flat ass' agenda one fic at a time#honestly i don't think steve is UNpopular after s1-2 like i feel like he'd exist in this weird space#where everyone likes him but he has no friends outside the party#and maybe he went to a couple of parties post s3 with robin but they got bored and bailed
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casual - rafe cameron ೨౿
🎧🪩 casual - chappell roan
pairing: rafe cameron x reader
summary: you and rafe have been casually seeing each other for what feels like forever now, but is your relationship really casual?
warnings: angsty, rafe is a dick in some parts, not proofread!!
"baby, no attachment" is a phrase you know all too well, one that rafe cameron whispers to you between passionate kisses, before getting on his knees and devouring your pussy in the passenger seat of his jeep. nothings official between you two. you're relationship is casual, according to rafe. he's confusing, to say the least.
rafe could be all over you, wrapping his arms around your waist in front of the entire club, drunkenly telling you how beautiful you looked. he'd call you in the middle of the night, to say "m' pickin' you up be ready in 5. we'll go to that diner you like, i miss your face." you spent countless nights with each other, sharing your deepest secrets and the most intimate parts of yourselves. your favorite bra is still in his dresser from the first time you hooked up, and he refuses to give it back to you because he likes the "constant reminder of your tits." you even got invited to spend a weekend with him and his family in paradise island.
but you're relationship is casual. right?
you hate yourself for letting it drag out this long. rafe's different around his friends, distant. there are even rumors going around that you're "just a girl he bangs on the couch." you try your best to be nonchalant and give him his space, but deep down you know you're not capable of that.
it's casual but you spend hours on late-night phone calls, having the deepest conversations and confiding in each other with things you have never told anyone else. you're his casual hook-up but picks you up in the middle of the night to take you back to tannyhill because he misses you. so really, is it casual? no.
it's 1:52 am. you find yourself underneath your plush duvet cover, you're small reading light illuminating the space, on facetime with rafe, again. you always carefully listen to everything he has to say, trying your best to console him, especially when it comes to everything going on with his dad. however, this time it's different. you're sick of the constant state of confusion he puts you in, you decide that now is the perfect opportunity for you to confront him about it.
"rafe. can you come pick me up? i wanna talk to you about something." you're soft-spoken but your tone is stern, you're not going to allow yourself to continue to play these games with him, you want answers.
he's unfazed by your request, simply grumbling in response. you can hear his bed squeak as he gets up and grabs his keys off his nightstand. he mumbles "mhm, text when i'm there." before ending the call.
you rush to your dresser, throwing on your favorite brandy melville set and fuzzy slippers, he'll be here soon. rafe's massive headlights could be seen from down the block, you didn't need him to text you to be aware of his arrival.
you step up into the passenger seat, carefully shutting the door behind you as you get into the truck.
"hi. missed you today. what did you wanna talk about?" he motions his hand toward your thigh, gripping the soft flesh under your shorts. the truck was freezing. you could feel the goosebumps appear throughout your limbs as you sat their, you're only relief from the cold being rafe's hands.
"rafe... i know you said no attachment but i can't do this whole casual thing anymore. 'm not that kinda girl." you're eyes dart down to the carpet beneath your seat, trying you're best to avoid contact with him until he responds. .
he lets out a large, exasperated sigh as he removes his hand from your thigh, brushing his fingers through his greasy curtain bangs as he shakes his head.
"listen kid. alright? 'm not in the headspace to be in a relationship right now. i don't wanna get into anythin' serious. i don't wanna hurt you. yea?" he brings his focus back to the road ahead of him, driving around in circles as his firmly grips the wheel.
your face drops. you're in complete disbelief that he had the audacity to say that to you. "you don't wanna hurt me? are you fuckin' kidding me? rafe you're casual bullshit has been hurting me for the past six months." you begin to yell, anger completely taking over you.
he pulls over, not wanting to get distracted while driving, he knows how much you hate it when he doesn't pay attention to the roads. "hurting you huh? so you mean to tell me that i'm hurtin' you by buying you shit, listening to your rants, and givin' you the best sex you ever fuckin' had? really?" he throws his arms up in defense, licking his lips while eyeing you down.
you could feel the tears starting to spill out from your eyes. you manage to let out a "rafe it's not fair, i can't just do casual" between sniffles, you place your head into your hands as you continue to sob into them. oh shit— he knows he fucked up.
he parts his lips, letting out a large exhale as he tries to come up with a quick way to calm you down. he moves his body so his torso is situated above the glove box, making it easier to reach you. he pulls you into his arms, wiping the tears off of your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, pepping soft kisses to the top of your head.
"sh. i know. i know. 'm big bad rafe cameron yea? 'm sorry i hurt you. i gotta figure my shit out. 'm gonna take you back to my place, we'll talk about it in the mornin' alright?"
you nod in response, embarrassed that you let yourself break down like this in front of him. you know it's wrong, but maybe you weren't delusional after all. maybe when you wake up in the morning you wont be casual anymore.
#💌#♡ rosie writes ! ୨🎀୧#divider by crazyfm#rafe cameron#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe cam#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron concepts#rafe cameron fanfiction#chappell roan
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"Well, that was fun!" says Jimmy.
"Oh, was it?" says Grian, grumpily. He's on top of the mountain, assessing the damage from Martyn's end crystal. It's blown up part of the bed shrine, which might actually be more of a loss than the twenty-two hearts of damage it did to him. "You did seem to be enjoying making me do completely ridiculous stuff, don't think I didn't notice that."
"It was pretty funny though," says Jimmy. "Remember when you got Cleo and Etho to spin in circles for no reason?"
"...Okay, that was pretty funny," Grian admits.
"Ooh, and when you got them to do the zombie dance," says Jimmy.
Grian shakes his head. "I can't believe no one said anything." He frowns at the place where the wolf spawner used to be.
"Yeah, pretty crazy right?" says Martyn.
Grian spins round and flinches back, letting out a shriek.
Martyn is leaning casually up against one of the trees, watching him. "Honestly Grian, I think maybe you need to reevaluate your life if Timmy controlling all your actions didn't set off any red flags with anyone," he says.
"You couldn't have let me know that was coming, Tim?" asks Grian, exasperated, staring up into the empty sky.
Jimmy is quiet for a moment longer than Grian expected. "Say hello to Martyn," he says.
"You know I don't have to do what you say anymore, right?" says Grian. "I'm fact, maybe I'll do the opposite of what you say."
"Hey, no!" cries Jimmy.
Martyn makes a quiet noise, and Grian's gaze snaps back to him. "Oh no, don't let me interrupt," he says airily.
Grian clears his throat. "...Hey, Martyn," he says awkwardly.
"Hello, Martyn," says Jimmy softly, as though Martyn will be able to hear him.
"Hello," says Martyn. He looks around, up into the sky. "Timmy still about, then?"
"Maybe," says Grian. "Why? I'm not about to pass notes for your tearful reunion, if that's what you're here for."
"Aww," says Jimmy. "Why not?"
"No," says Martyn. "You need to get rid of him."
"Hey!" cries Jimmy. "Wait, what-"
"Whatever this is," continues Martyn, "it needs to stop."
"It's not up to me," says Grian, narrowing his eyes. "I don't see what you're so upset about, though."
"You don't?" says Martyn, coolly. "Look at you. Like you're dragging his corpse around to parade before the entire server."
"I am not!" snaps Grian. "And frankly I resent the suggestion!"
"Oh yeah?" says Martyn. "What do you think you were doing, then?"
Grian glares at him. "A task!"
"Right, yeah, course." Martyn glares back. "And why'd you think the session was so calm, huh?"
Grian frowns, thrown off. "I- Wait, what?"
"What do you mean, what?" snaps Martyn. "You're the one who brought the canary back to haunt us!"
"Haunt me, you mean! And anyway, he didn't even die first this time, that was Lizzie."
"It's not just about dying first," says Martyn. "It's about what comes after. He dies, and then it all goes wrong. Everything falls apart."
"I don't know, dude, I'm doing alright." Grian shrugs.
"And then he comes back," continues Martyn pointedly, "and on a server full of reds and yellows, not a single person properly dies. You don't think that's weird?"
Grian considers, but not for long. "I don't know," He crosses his arms. "I think you're just twisting the narrative to suit what you think it should be."
"Oh, really?" Martyn scoffs. "And what does Jimmy think?"
Grian rolls his eyes. "Alright fine, Timmy, what do you think?"
There is silence.
"...Tim?" says Grian.
There is more silence.
"Well?" asks Martyn, eventually.
"I think he's gone," says Grian.
"Gone," says Martyn flatly.
"Yep," says Grian, suddenly nervous.
"Gone?" Martyn raises his voice. He looks up to glare at the clouds. "Are you serious?"
"Look," says Grian. "I don't know what you actually wanted to talk about, but-"
"Really? I had one person! One!" Martyn shouts at the sky. "And you took him, too? He was dead before! He was already dead, and then you gave him to someone else, and then you took him, again?!"
Grian shifts nervously. He's not entirely sure that Martyn's talking to him, but- "I didn't do it on purpose! It's a task, Martyn, come on! It's random chance!"
Martyn turns abruptly to look back at Grian. "It's not random." He says. His hand goes to his sword, and Grian suddenly feels rather unsafe. "It's not random. It's never random."
"Okay," says Grian, slowly inching back and away. That doesn't sound right, but it doesn't seem like the time to argue.
"You think this isn't planned?" snaps Martyn. "You think this isn't just more and more ways to mess with us? Over and over and over again?"
Grian think they mess with themselves pretty well already, but he isn't about to say that right now. He opens his mouth to respond, and-
"Grian?" Cleo's voice—oh, thank goodness. Cleo's voice carries up from the base below. "You alright up there?"
Martyn and Grian make eye contact.
"I'm good, Cleo! Could use some help, though, if you want to come up?" calls Grian.
"Kay, be there in a minute!" Cleo shouts.
Martyn narrows his eyes. "I'll see you at the end," he murmurs. "This won't last much longer."
"Probably not," Grian replies, just as quiet. "It never does."
Martyn turns to go.
Before he leaves, Grian sighs. "Jimmy told me to say hello," he says, some foolish sense of obligation forcing out the words.
Martyn pauses, but doesn't look back. After a moment, he vanishes into the trees.
Grian looks at the aftermath of the exploded end crystal. The broken shrine. The scars on his hands.
"It never does last," he says again. "Not when people do stuff like that."
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𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 | 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
【Synopsis】 : What was one way to prove to your father you weren't a little innocent girl anymore? How about sleep with the enemy?
『Word count』 : 646
-> Genre: Smut, Angst
Paring: MobBoss!Bucky x MobPrincess!Reader
[Warnings] : Unprotected sex. Edging. Pussy slapping. Swearing. Mafia gang stuff. Pet names. Sir kink. Mean-ish Bucky. Big dick Bucky. Beefy Bucky.
Masterlist | Navigation
You couldn't help but live with only one purpose. To please Mr James Barnes. He was a ruthless killer and a lavish lover. He spent most nights at his nightclub, waiting for his next prey to satisfy himself. But when he laid eyes on you. The most beautiful and elegant little flower. He knew he needed to have you.
You were just too perfect. A young girl looking for a fresh start, so why did you stumble upon a bar filled with drunken mistakes and drugged-up nobodies? The truth is simple. You were looking for excitement. Looking for trouble.
Needing to prove to your father that you weren't an inconsequential girl anymore. You could take charge, leave a room breathless at your presence, and take what you wanted. But alas, when you crawled into James's lap. You both knew your oh-so-perfect image came crumbling down...
"P-please S-sir I, I wanna come so bad." James has held you tightly down on his bed for the past hour, edging you until your pussy was puffy and sensitive. He wanted to see the tears rolling down your face before he would let you come. And every time you were close to the edge, his cock would slip out of your soaked cunt and he'd give it a slap, making you scream so loud you were sure his bodyguards heard how pathetic you sounded for him.
Tsk. He clicked his tongue, smirking sadistically from above you. His face was mere inches from yours, but when you tried to reach for a kiss, he'd pull back, making you whimper even more. "Come on, darling. I wanna see those tears. Can't you do that for me?"
He knew you were close to tears. You just needed one more push. So he sank his thick cock back into you with a sharp snap making you gasp out, gripping the silk sheets below you.
"JAMES!"
"My, my. Look at you, my little dove. Imagine what your father would think, knowing you were so cock drunk off his enemy."
Yes, that's right, James was not only trouble but the trouble your father warned you about. If you were going to be your father's successor, his enemies would become yours but here you were letting his number one adversary fuck the living shit out of you until you were nothing but a crying, pleading mess.
"Sir please I've been a good girl, let me cum." Tears finally broke down your face making Bucky snap his hips harder into you. You could feel his balls slap against your ass, as his cock drives deeper into you.
"You feel so good, baby. So warm and tight. Fuck you swore I'd never fuck you before." His words were pure vulgarity and you loved every second of it. "Are you gonna cum now baby? Come on, make a mess on your cock. It's yours, isn't it? Just like I'm yours and you are mine."
You cried in response, feeling more tears fall, beginning to wet the bed.
"Say it, doll. Who owns you? Who owns this fucking delicious cunt of yours?" His hot breath pooled against your wet cheek, making you finally open your eyes to meet his. They were no longer the soft blue but dark, blown out with an inhuman nature mixing with lust. He was going to be the death of you—literally—. But deep down, you knew he would protect you the moment you met him. You had to pick sides and prove to not only others but yourself that you were just as capable of being in this line of work as Bucky or your father. You were just as much trouble as anyone else.
"Yours..." You spoke clearly for the first time tonight.
"I am yours..."
#1-800-jjbarnes#marvel#jjbarnes#bucky#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky fanfic#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#mob!bucky#mob bucky#mafia!bucky#mob bucky fluff#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x you#james bucky barnes x reader#james barnes#james buchanan barnes x reader#james buchanan bucky barnes#bucky fic#bucky fluff#bucky imagine#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky barns angst
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In The Middle | Satosugu
anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen
character: gojo satoru & geto suguru
words: 798
pronouns: they/them
request: none
notes: probably an overused prompt but idc sue me, i needed to write one of my own. im a sucker for misunderstanding. i haven't written anything in such a long time, it's been a while im sorry, satosugu have been on my mind for a while, and i needed to write something with them because i love them so fucking much. it's gonna be a series, so hopefully i dont disappear after one part lol... later on it might be specific on some insecurities bc i need it and i thought well let's just share it with the world and other who might need it. sorry for any mistakes T-T
not proof read
song rec: SHE'S - In The Middle
genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?
warnings: bad english not my first language, satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious (is that the right one?), insecure and self conscious reader
You've always told yourself you weren't the type to live with anyone, you liked your quiet and your peace. Alone in your little bubble, without a soul to disturb it. And yet, here you were awoken by your roomates lover quarrel in the room next door, for the hundredth time this week.
"Don't you love me anymore? Am I not enough for you?" a whiny voice whisper-screamed
"Satoru, my love, it was a dream, it was all in your head." an exhausted voice replied
"So what?? It doesn't mean anything? Are my feelings not valid?" Gojo huffed.
"How are you so dramatic so early in the morning? Let's go back to sleep come here.", Geto carefully lifted the blanket so his boyfriend could go back exactly where he belonged, asleep and quiet in his arms.
Such occurences weren't new to you, you could even say there were your daily life, that's why you laughed hearing the bickering couple, and turned around in your bed to try and fall back asleep while their muffled voices could still be heard in the background. This was without counting on what part of their conversation your brain decided to pick up on next.
"I dont know for how much longer I can do this Sugu.." Satoru sighed.
"Me neither love, but there is nothing much we can do about it.They live with us." His black haired lover replied.
"I know, ugh I know, but it's getting so much harder everyday. Seeing them is becoming unbearable. I can't stand it anymore, we need to do something." He went on.
"Shh, I know, I feel the same. But we can't just drop this on them all of the sudden and expect it to go well." The oldest reasoned.
Your heart shattered on the other side of the wall, now sitting against the headboard, an unstoppable flow of tears falling down your face.
You were a bother? You thought the three of you were friends, shit, scratch that, best friends. And yet, yet, this was how they felt about you.
Fuck
fuck
FUCK
You needed to calm down, it's okay, you're okay. It must have been a nightmare, yeah that's right, a nightmare. Your brain loved playing tricks on you, waking you up in the middle of the night with the most vivid and realistic nightmares ever, enough to send you into full blown meltdown. Nothing to worry about, it was just a nightmare, nothing else.
That's what you told yourself and yet when you woke up you couldnt shake this weird feeling in your stomach. You contemplated staying in your bed all day and avoid your roomates but that would be silly to ignore them for something that was potentially just a dream. So you shook the silly feelings away and got out of your bed, made your way to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Your two roommates were already there, being lovey dovey in each others lap and the weird feeling made its way back into your stomach.
"Hi there." You greeted tiredly, only to be met with an echo of short hms, and not even a nod to accompany the cold greeting.
The lack of acknowledgment not helping with your already overthinking mind, you decided to take a quick breakfast and just leave them be. It could just be a coincidence, nothing to worry about haha, right?
Or so you thought, because you were back in your room mindlessly scrolling through tik tok when you once again hear the muffled voices of your roommates. Your brain screamed at you to put your headphones on and drown out their conversation, but you couldn't get yourself to do it, and you decided to listen to them, to at least finally be able to know whether or not you dreamed what happened last night.
And maybe you shouldn't have, but what else could you do now but listen to the cruel words of the ones you once considered your best friends.
"Suguru, we need to do it soon. I can't even handle looking at them in the eyes anymore, let alone utter a word to them. We can't keep going like this." Satoru complained.
"I know 'Toru, I know, but you need to understand it's not as easy as you think it is." You heard the black haired man answer.
And it was enough for you, you needed to get out of there. You obviously were no longer welcomed here, and the sooner you left, the better it would be, for both parties. So inbetween tears you picked up a bag and threw some spare clothes and anything that you could think of in your frenzy state before you ran out of there, determined to never come back, at least not for a while.
here u gooo!! sorry i've been away for a while, i've been finding it hard to write and staying focused, but i missed it so much, especially for these two. i'll try not to take too long to write AT LEAST a second part, but would love to do more than this bc i want it to be extremely slown burn and a little bit angsty krkrkr
part 2 is here!!
#saturn's writing#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#satosugu poly#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x gojo satoru x reader
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